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joelsgreys · 1 year

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Just Friends (Javier Peña x Female Reader)

Part 2

Summary: You’re planning to have sex for the first time and you’re nervous—Javi offers to show you a thing or two, but just as friends of course.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags 🏷 18+ only, minors dni. reader is in late 20’s; reader is an agent for the DEA; established friendship, idiots in love lust, overprotective/slightly jealous Javi; Javi is his canon manwhore self, reader is a virgin, talks of virginity loss and her desire for no strings attached sex, a bit of pining and yearning, lots of pet names, a couple insults, friendship fluff; touching, groping, dry humping, reader gets off, Javi does not. I know, I know. I will make it up to him in part dos. this does not follow the timeline of the show accurately, Messina is in the picture, Connie is still around. reader is bilingual, no descriptions of her race or ethnicity mentioned though. *translations at the end.

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: This took me forever to edit and post because I’m scared lmao.

thank you to @cutesyscreenname for encouraging me to write this idea. I owe you cherry gansitos!

You observed your own reflection in the full length mirror in front of you and let out a curious little hum as you lifted the short, scarlet red minidress, holding it right up against the length of your body. You then held up the second dress that you had clutched in your opposite hand, a stunning, satin black midi number whose length was a lot longer than the first option, the hem of it falling down to your calves.

It appeared rather innocent, modest enough while it was still on the plastic hanger, but it fit you beautifully, just like a fucking glove. The bodice of the garment cinched at your waist and it was tightly fitted, hugging the curves of your upper body so closely that it looked and even felt like something of a second skin whenever you wore it. The billowy skirt of the dress flowed out around you, darling and sweet at first glance, however it came with a borderline dangerous slit in the side of it that stopped about two or three inches above the middle of your thigh near the hinge of your hip. It exposed the entire length of your leg whenever you walked, danced, or moved around in it—Murphy had once referred to it as the infamous femme fatale dress, telling you that it was a far, far more dangerous weapon than your gun could ever be.

You were fairly certain his remarks had something to do with the fact that you’d worn the dress on a number of different occasions while you were out on the job, going undercover in Bogotá for the US Drug Enforcement Administration.

As the only female agent on her team in Colombia and a younger, very beautiful female agent at that, Messina found herself using you to her advantage quite often these days. She would send you out all over Bogotá in that very same black dress with the hope that it would aid you in luring in members of the Medellín drug cartel in efforts to capture their leader, Pablo Escobar.

Tonight, however, you weren’t going undercover.

You were doing something much more frightening than mingling among some of Colombia’s most dangerous men.

Far, far more daunting than that.

You were going out on a date.

“I like the red dress the best,” Javier’s deep voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. He had mentioned to you earlier that day that he was going to some lounge with Murphy for a smoke and some drinks after work hours since it had been a long, draining week for him at the office; Messina had stuck him with an endless amount of tedious paperwork to do and it had just about driven him insane, but nothing a pack of cigarettes and some bourbon couldn’t fix. With the soft, Latin cumbias playing from the old stereo perched on top of the white oak dresser beside you, you had completely missed the sound of the front door opening and closing when he’d gotten home.

You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there in the open doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Javier’s dark brown eyes were fixed intently on you, a small, devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he casually leaned up against the door frame of your bedroom. Well, technically, it was actually the guest bedroom of his apartment unit that he’d let you take over several months ago. The housing department of the agency had placed you into a unit in the building across the street from his, right next door to Murphy and his wife, Connie. It had been a special arrangement requested by your diligent supervisor in an effort to make sure that no one found themselves in a compromising situation—she trusted you enough not to get any dumb ideas, but she didn’t trust Peña as far as she could throw him. It wasn’t very far.

While it had certainly been quite nice, and even kind of comforting at times to have Steve and Connie as your neighbors, you’d expressed to Javier one night over dinner at his place that you weren’t all too fond of having to live alone. Without an ounce of hesitation on his part, Javi offered to have you move into his spare bedroom that very same evening after you were both done eating, but only on the condition that Messina didn’t find out about the new living arrangement. She would wring Javier’s neck with her bare hands if knew that you two had been sharing his apartment this entire time.

Hell, she would wring yours too. And you were the favorite child of sorts. Less annoying than Murphy and certainly a lot less problematic than Peña.

She only liked you because she never had to worry about you. On or off the job.

But even though you were Messina’s number one, her star player, that would do absolutely nothing to spare you from her wrath if she ever came to find out that you were living with Javier Peña. She wasn’t a fan of just how close the two of you had become over the last several months; she’d told you herself that she much preferred it if you kept your distance from him while you were off duty. One wrong move on your part or Javi’s and it was game fucking over. Messina wouldn’t hesitate to send one of your asses packing, back home to be assigned somewhere else, somewhere far away from the other.

Pursing your lips together lightly, you turned your attention back over to the mirror. Raising an eyebrow, you lifted the red minidress up against your body once more to get another good look at it, as if you hadn’t just been staring at it for the last five minutes before he’d appeared. “I don’t know, Javi. I don’t like this one all that much to be honest. I’m not even sure why the hell I let Connie talk me into buying it in the first place. She said it was cute,” You remarked, tilting your head slightly to the side. You wrinkled your nose at the diamond cut out design in the sides of it. Whoever designed it must have not had enough money to spring for more a teensy bit more fabric. “But it’s kind of tacky. And it makes me look like a whore.”

“Mm yes, but a very beautiful whore,” Javi stated, his smirk widening as he drank in the gorgeous sight of you before him. He licked his lips, openly admiring the way you were clad in nothing but one of his shirts, his pink button up with short sleeves that you had once told him you loved so much because it was your favorite color; you’d sneakily stolen it out of his closet on laundry day a couple weeks back while all of your clothes had been in the washing machine and had never given it back to him. Not that Javier even really wanted it back at this point—his shirt looked a million times better on you than ever it did on him. Seeing you in it did inexplicable things to him and he fucking loved it when you padded around your now shared apartment in nothing but a pair of panties and his pink shirt. He took another glimpse at you, nearly foaming at the mouth at how it fit your frame, how the hem of it fell to the tops of your smooth thighs, the material hardly doing anything to cover up the tantalizing curves of your hips and your perfect ass. “Hermosura. The most beautiful whore in all of Colombia.”

You narrowed your eyes at him through the mirror, wishing you had a free hand you could flip him off with. “Gee, thanks for the compliment, Peña. You are always such a fucking charmer, aren’t you?”

“Oh, come on. Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. I’m just messing around with you. You know I don’t think you actually look like a whore—and trust me, I know what a whore looks like,” he responded with a deep and hearty laugh. He uncrossed his arms, allowing them to fall down to his sides as he pushed himself away from the door frame. He sauntered his way further into your bedroom, uninvited. “I’m being serious about the dress, though. Go with the red one. El vestido rojo. It’s perfect. Besides, that color would look gorgeous on you, cariño. I bet it would look almost as good on you as pink does.” He laughed again as he added, “Nice shirt, by the way.”

Your annoyed expression immediately softened into one of guilt. “I’ve been meaning to give you your shirt back,” You told him, sheepishly. “Te lo juro, Javi.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” Javier snorted, waving off the little white lie. He finally forced himself to tear his attention away from you and glanced around, observing the current state of your room instead. It looked like a tornado had hit the inside of your closet; dresses, jackets, and high heeled shoes were strewn all over the place. He wasn’t all too surprised by the mess. He knew you like he knew the back of his own hand by now, and this was typical of you when you were searching for the perfect outfit to wear on a free night out in the city. “I don’t remember you telling me you had any plans tonight, bonita. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with the chismosas of the office? Or are you going out for a girl’s night with Connie?”

You momentarily hesitated.

“Actually, I have a date.”

Through the mirror, you saw the smile fade from Javier’s face almost instantly.

Here we go, You thought inwardly to yourself.

“You have a date? With who?” he demanded.

Reluctantly, you turned around to face him. “You know Valeria, don’t you?”

The color drained from his face.

“That’s the translator who works up on the third floor, right?” He touched his hand to the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her around a couple of times.”

You almost laughed at the manner in which Javier tried playing dumb.

Of course he knew Valeria.

He had fucked her three weeks ago.

Javi had tried to keep it on the down low, but loud mouthed Valeria would brag to anyone who would listen all about how Agent Peña had fucked her in her office one evening while they’d been working late together and everyone else had gone home. Not that Javier even needed her services as a translator, he’d just needed an excuse to find himself in her office after hours so he could get his dick wet.

For some strange reason, you felt oddly fucking generous and decided to let Javier have this one, playing along with him and his sheer stupidity. “Yeah, her. She has an older brother who’s visiting the city for a few days. His name is Diego. He’s an immigration attorney who is here on business in Bogotá. She offered to set me up with him,” You explained, keeping everything as brief as possible. “I’m meeting him for drinks tonight.”

Javier frowned. “Have you met him in person?”

“Well no, but Valeria showed me his picture and she told me all about him. It’s not like he’s just some random ass guy I met on the street, Javi. He’s her brother, she advocated for him,” You tried to reason with him, knowing all too well where this conversation was heading. Sure, it was nice to know that Javier cared about you enough to be concerned about you meeting up with someone who was essentially a complete stranger, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself. You’d spent many evenings sitting right in the laps of the violent criminals who worked for Escobar—a blind date with a coworker’s brother was nothing for him to make a fuss over. “I really don’t think that I have anything to worry about with him.”

He rigidly shook his head. “Look, no offense to Valeria, but I don’t like the idea of you running around this city at night with some fucking prick that you’ve never even met before. And before you throw all that undercover bullshit at me, just know that it’s not the same thing. You aren’t going out on the job tonight. You’re not going out with your team on standby to watch your back, you’re not going out with me and Murphy armed and ready to jump into action if things head south. What if something happens to you?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the complete and utter ridiculousness of his drama king antics. “Oh, give me a fucking break, Peña. Diego’s not a member of the fucking cartel, he’s a lawyer. And besides that, you’re acting like I can’t take care of myself.”

“Listen, I know damn good and well that you can take care of yourself just fine, muñeca. But still, that doesn’t make me feel any better about this whole arrangement.” Javier’s hands went to his waist and he let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head once again. “I’m going to need to meet this guy before you go out with him. I don’t care whose fucking brother he is—whichever way you try to spin it, the bottom line is that he’s a still a fucking stranger and I want to check him out for myself before I let you go out with him.” He saw the mischievous twinkle in your eyes and peered at you suspiciously. “Please tell me he’s coming to pick you up here at the apartment.”

You laughed. “Of course not, Javi. I’m not stupid. I already knew you would behave like this. I knew you would go straight into overprotective mode, just like you always do. I didn’t want you scaring him off, so I’m taking a taxi cab and we’re meeting up at the bar instead.” You easily clocked the all too familiar glint in his eye and smiled sweetly at him. “And don’t even think about trying to guess which one it is so that you can show up and keep tabs on me the whole night. There are thousands of bars in this damn city and I can promise you that you’re not smart enough to figure out which one we’re going to, Agent Peña.”

Annoyed by the smugness in your tone and the way it was starting to get under his skin, Javier’s lips pressed into a thin, tight line. He watched you walk over to your closet, subtly swaying your hips to the music as you pulled out yet another dress to add to your rapidly growing list of options.

He could feel the envy prickling at each and every last single nerve ending in his entire body, his frustrations stewing at the mere thought of you going out with another man. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to shove the feeling down knowing damn well that he didn’t have the right to be jealous. Not when you two weren’t anything more than just friends.

If you’d just been a coworker, it would be different.

Javier would gladly, happily, risk mixing business with pleasure as he had so often done in the past with several secretaries—and a translator or two—in his time. But no matter how hard he’d tried over and over again to place you into that box, into that category, he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.

You weren’t just his coworker, you were his friend.

His best friend.

For as much shit as he gave you, you mattered to him. You were important to him, way too important to ever risk fucking up your friendship by fucking you.

Still. Javier would be lying if he said he didn’t think about it. He thought about it all the damn time. When he discovered that fucking himself into the palm of his hand and moaning your name quietly over and over again under his breath didn’t quite do the job for him anymore, he would find himself standing outside of your bedroom prepared to say fuck it all and make his move on you. But then it happened every single fucking time without fail—as soon as he lifted his curled fist to knock on your door, he started to remember things.

He’d remember the way you could so easily make him laugh with your clever and quick witted sense of humor. He remembered all those late nights you two would spend together lounging on his brown leather couch in your pajamas watching old, poorly made slasher films while indulging in the greasiest, unhealthiest takeout Bogotá had to offer. He remembered how you could read him just like a fucking magazine, how you always knew when something was wrong—and how you would always somehow know exactly what to say and do to comfort him whenever he needed it the most.

He would remember how you’d come to feel like his home away from home.

And then he would drop his hand right back down to his side, whirl around on his heel, and march straight back into his bedroom where he had little choice but to go back to fantasizing about what could never be between you and him.

Snapping himself out of his own train of thought, Javier carefully stepped over the mountains of clothing and shoes on the floor and made his way over to another pile of dresses that were draped over the foot of your bed. He caught a glimpse of the lingerie set on top of them, brand new with the price tag still attached to the fabric; the set was black, made of delicate, see through lace that would leave very little to the imagination when you put it on. He picked up the thong, hooking the thin elastic of it around his index finger. “Something tells me that you’re not planning on coming back home tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Confused, you turned around and gasped, dropping the dresses in your hands. “Javier!”

“Are these even going to cover anything up?” he teased you with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement as they darted between the thong and the lower half of your body. “Falta mucha tela, cariño.”

You rushed up to him and made a dive for the underwear. “Give me those!”

“How come you don’t ever wear anything like this around the apartment, hermosa?” Javi dangled them above your head and out of your reach. “All I ever get to see you in are those cotton panties, the ones with polka dots on them.” He glanced down, getting an eyeful of you and the aforementioned polka dot panties. “Kind of like the ones you’re wearing now—”

“Javier, cut it out!” You placed a hand on his shoulder as the other continued grabbing for the lingerie. “Come on, stop being such a fucking asshole!”

Although he could have easily enjoyed taunting you for hours and hours on end, Javier knew you wouldn’t hesitate to have your knee meet his balls. Not wanting to risk ending up on your floor curled up in pain, he eased up and handed them over to you.

“Idiota!” You hissed at him, furiously snatching the underwear out of his hand. You stomped over to your dresser and shoved them into the middle drawer, slamming it closed so hard the old stereo nearly went crashing to the floor. “You can be a real fucking douchebag, Peña.”

Javier wasn’t bothered by the insults; he’d grown used to those—however any trace of playfulness vanished as the reality began to set in for him. The reality of you sleeping with another a man tonight. “Wait a minute, are you really planning to fuck the guy?” He didn’t even make the attempt to mask the disappointment that laced his tone. “I mean, you haven’t even met him yet. I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, querida.”

“You sound awful judgmental for someone who brings home a different escort every other fucking week,” You snapped at him, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh, and speaking of escorts, I had the pleasure of meeting Alessandra in the bathroom this morning. She asked if I had a tank top that she could borrow since apparently you got too eager and ripped her shirt off last night.” You tilted your head, squinting at him as he started shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “If you happen to go back to her for a second round, tell her that I want it back. Washed.”

Javier grimaced, looking down at the floor. “Shit. I thought she would be gone by the time you woke up,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Lo siento, bonita. I’m sorry.”

You blinked. “Sorry for what?”

He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut.

Javier wasn’t all too sure, actually.

He didn’t have anything to apologize for, not really.

He was a single man who could do as, and who, he pleased.

Yet he still felt like a pile of dog shit knowing you’d encountered Alessandra while he had still been asleep.

You would never admit it, but Javier knew that to some extent, it hurt you to run into the women he would bring home. As if having to hear him railing them on the other side of your bedroom wall for hours wasn’t bad enough, having to meet them the following morning and seeing them half naked with their smeared makeup and disheveled hair from the previous night’s activities only made it so much fucking worse.

Having read his mind, you sighed and offered him some reassurance. “It’s fine, Javi. We both know that you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” You said, prompting him to look back up at you. You pointed a finger at him. “I do want my shirt back, though. And then maybe I’ll be nice and give you back yours.”

You expected Javi to scamper off to his room with his tail between his legs in shame. It was what he usually did—he’d avoid you for about a few hours until the dust settled, and then everything would go back to normal. Instead of running off, he stood there and spoke again.

“Are you really going to have sex with this guy?”

You tried to ignore how disheartened he sounded.

“I don’t know,” You confessed, quietly. “I want to have sex with him, but I don’t know if I’ll actually have the fucking balls to go through with it.”

“Por qué? Estas nerviosa?”

Though Javier hadn’t been poking fun at you, you couldn’t help but feel irritated with him for asking you if you were nervous; because you actually were nervous, and him asking you only made you even more fucking nervous. “And so what if I am a little nervous?” You challenged him, lightly. “Sorry that we’re not all just confidently fucking our way through this city like you are, Peña.”

“When’s the last time you had sex, anyway?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s when,” You quipped.

“That’s not fair.” Javi pouted at you. “You know when the last time I had sex was.”

“Not by choice,” You retorted. “You’re right on the other side of my paper thin wall and I left my Walkman in the office.”

Javi waited expectantly for an answer. He wasn’t going to drop the subject, and you knew that.

“You’re such a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?” You muttered. Feeling a burning heat flood to your face, you decided to give him just about the most generic answer there was in order to get him off your back. “It was a long, long time ago.”

“Okay, but how long ago?” He pressed, curiously. “Are we talking weeks? Months?”

Your stomach began to churn violently, the hidden secret you’d kept to yourself for your entire adult life now at risk of being exposed.

“I-I really don’t remember,” You stammered out in response, averting your gaze away from his. “Can we not talk about my sex life, please? Besides, it’s getting late and I still need to take a shower and get ready for my date tonight. So if you would just kindly fuck all the way off, that would be great.”

Javier took a step back and there was a very brief moment where you had been certain you’d just narrowly avoided what could have been a painful, humiliating conversation. However, just as he was about to turn to leave, Javi’s eyes widened as it slowly clicked into place for him.

“Wait a minute—are you fucking serious?”

You groaned. “Javier, please don’t. For the sake of what’s left of my sanity, please don’t,” You nearly pleaded him, wishing that a large, Twilight Zone style swirling vortex would open up in the middle of your floor and swallow you whole.

“You’ve never had sex before,” he realized. “Have you?”

Your face felt like it had caught on fire.

Not knowing what to say or even do, you clasped your hands together and wrung them anxiously in front of you.

Of all the people to find out your secret, it just had to be Peña.

“Cariño, are you really a virgin?”

Surprised, you looked up at him.

Javi wasn’t teasing you or being a dick about it.

He seemed genuinely perplexed by the fact that you’d never had sex before. Not that it made it any less mortifying.

“Yes,” You admitted, exhaling the breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. “I’m a virgin, alright? There, are you satisfied?”

“But how? Going undercover? And informants—”

Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but you don’t always have to fuck your informants to get what you need out of them, Peña. It’s not a requirement. I use my brains, not my body.”

“You’re shaming me for using my body?” he joked lightly, hoping it would further ease the awkward nature of the conversation—for your sake, not his.

“Just a little bit.” You offered him a small, crooked smile and felt your tense shoulders finally begin to relax. “You’re probably going to think it’s stupid or maybe even crazy, but the truth is that I’ve always wanted to wait and give it to the right man. Maybe even to a man that I’m in love with. But with the way my romantic life has been going, it just seems like that’s never going to happen for me.” You shrugged. “I just want to lose it already, Javi. I’m almost in my fucking thirties—either I lose it now, or I may as well throw in the damn towel and join a convent.”

“You would look kind of cute in a nun’s habit,” Javi mused, thoughtfully.

You shot him a glare, but felt the corners of your mouth threatening to turn up into another smile.

After a long minute, Javier broke the silence that had fallen over the both of you. “So then, Valeria’s older brother is the man you’re going to lose your virginity to? Tonight?”

“That’s the plan. He’s only here until the end of the week. It’d be no strings attached, so it works out perfectly.” You anxiously chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But only if I can find the courage to actually go through with it.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Not knowing what to do.”

Javier quirked an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly rocket science, querida.”

You resisted the sudden urge to go up to him and backhand the stupid smirk right off of his face.

“Could you please just take me seriously for one second, Peña?” You huffed out in frustration. “I’m just really fucking nervous about it, alright? What if I can’t—what if I’m not good at it?”

Javi’s bottom lip rolled between his teeth and he stifled his laughter. “Preciosa, you’re being kind of…” He trailed off, trying to choose his next word carefully.

You lifted your chin. “Kind of what?”

“Ridiculous. And before you come over here and start pummeling me to death with those little fists of yours...” He stopped and held up his hands in defense. He took a second or two to let eyes glaze over you from head to toe. “I’m only saying that because you’re fucking gorgeous, muñequita. Any man would be lucky to have a night with you. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s not about how I look, Javier. It’s about how I perform.” You felt your face grow hot for what had to be the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. Never did you think this would be a conversation you’d be having with him of all fucking people. “I listen to the way those women you bring home—I hear what they do to you. And I hear how much you like it.”

His lips parted slightly. “And you want to do that to him?”

“I want to make him feel good.”

Javier’s jealously simmered in his veins. But what could he do?

Nothing, that’s what. Just like him, you could do as, and who, you pleased. But if he could just get his hands on you first, at least to some extent, it would help ease the blow. He saw nothing wrong with blurring the lines, so long as he didn’t cross them.

Javi hummed. “If you really want to know how to make a man feel good, I can help you.”

“You can help me?” You repeated. “How?”

“By showing you a thing or two.”

You let out something mixed between a scoff and a laugh.

“I am not having sex with you, Peña.”

He tossed you an innocent look. “That’s not what I was suggesting at all.” He crossed the bedroom and walked over to you, reaching for your hands. He took them in his own and then started pulling you towards your bed. “If you’re really that worried about not knowing what to do, I can give you a few pointers. And calmada, querida. Our clothes stay on,” he reassured you before you could open your mouth to protest. “Just think of it as a friend helping out a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

You chewed on your lower lip. “I don’t know about this, Javi.”

Javier’s thumbs softly smoothed across the back of your hands. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Right now, I’m not so sure that I do.” You paused long enough for him to throw you an exasperated, almost offended look. You rolled your eyes at him and nodded your head. “Yes, of course I trust you, Peña. I trust you with my fucking life. Literally, I put my life in your hands at least once or twice a week.”

“Then let me help you, hermosa.”

You inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled it softly. “Fine. But remember, our clothes stay on—” You were cut off, all the air leaving your lungs as Javi yanked you forward, slamming you against his chest. You looked up at him, ready to give him a piece of your mind for knocking the wind out of you, but as his eyes met yours, words failed you and all you could do was stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

This could not possibly end well.

And yet here you were, going along with it.

He snaked an arm around your waist, holding your body flush against his. Feeling how tense you had become, stiff as a fucking board, Javi gave you a light shake in an effort to get you to loosen up a bit. “First thing is first, you need to relax. There’s no need to overthink this, cariño. Especially not with me.” He reached up with his opposite hand, letting his index finger feather along your jawline. He then slipped it underneath your chin, lifting it ever so slightly and forcing you to look right into his rich pools of espresso. “I mean it. It really wouldn’t take much for a beautiful girl like you to drive me—I mean, drive him wild.”

You tried your hardest to keep your voice from trembling, but between his touch and being in such close proximity, you were finding it a hell of a lot more difficult than you’d imagined. “Show me, Peña. What drives you—I mean, what’s going to drive him wild?”

“Well, it always starts with the right kiss.”

You quickly shook your head. “Javi—”

“Kiss me.”

Had he lost his fucking mind?

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” You echoed your thoughts

“Just a friend helping out a friend,” Javi reminded you in a murmur. “Remember?”

You should have said no. You should have decked him for even suggesting such a thing.

Instead, you gave him a small nod. You rested your hands delicately on his hard, lean chest and tilted your head upwards, lightly pressing your lips to his for a split second before quickly pulling away.

“There.”

“That was fucking pathetic,” Javier laughed softly, his warm breath fanning over the tip of your nose. “You’re not kissing your abuela, you know.”

You smacked his chest. “Javi! Leave my grandma out of this.”

“You have to kiss a man like you actually want him, querida. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

Your throat went dry as his grip around your waist tightened. He moved his other hand away from your chin and it went to the back of your neck, gingerly tilting your head up towards his. Your heart hammered almost painfully against your ribcage, beating way too hard and way too fast for him not to feel it against his own chest. You had to silently remind yourself to breathe as Javi inched his face closer to yours, slowly. You knew that he was doing it on purpose, moving an agonizingly glacial pace to allow your anticipation to build; all the while his dark eyes were staring deeply into the depths of your very fucking soul, causing a fire to set ablaze deep in your lower belly.

Your thighs clenched together involuntarily as the tip of his nose skimmed a spot near the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing the underside of your jawline.

God, he was fucking good.

“Javi…” You uttered his name weakly.

You needed to stop this. Javier was your friend—friends didn’t do shit like this.

Javi sensed your reluctance. “It’s alright, mi vida,” he whispered, uttering an affectionate pet name that he’d never used before. He gave you a small grin as he moved in to finally close the small gap of space between your faces. His lips met yours and every ridiculous cliché of sparks flying and fireworks exploding occurred the moment they did. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, gently coaxing its way into your mouth to begin a slow, sensual dance with yours. Cupping the back of your neck, he tilted your head up a bit further, granting himself better access to your mouth so that he could fully explore it inch by inch.

There was kissing other men.

And then there was kissing Javier.

Whimpering, your body melted against his as he swelled your lips with a kiss that was slow and sensual, yet somehow still hungry and possessive at the same time. Javier’s hands travelled down to your hips, his fingers skimming the hem of his shirt that you wore. He took the opportunity to sneak them underneath the garment, allowing them to meet the warmth of your skin.

Gasping, you jerked back and pulled away from him.

“Javier!” You squeaked out his name breathlessly, furiously swatting his hands away from your sides. You glared at him. “I thought we agreed, our clothes fucking stay on!”

“Funny, I wasn’t aware that I was taking any of your clothes off.” Javier reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. He then took a step backwards and gestured towards your bed. “Lay down.”

Your mouth fell open at his request.

“W-what?” You sputtered out, your eyes wide.

“You heard me. Get on the bed and lay down.”

Javi reached down, sweeping your pile of dresses off of the bed and onto the floor.

“Why? What are you going to do?” You questioned him, shuffling anxiously from one bare foot to the other.

Javier rolled his eyes and let out a small, impatient sigh. “Just do it, hermosa. You can trust me.”

Swallowing harshly, you obeyed him and walked around to the side of your bed, taking a seat. You inhaled another deep breath before bringing your legs up and laying back, your head resting against your decorative pillows. You nervously tugged and pulled at the hem of his stolen pink shirt, trying to cover yourself up as best as you could as you laid there, sprawled out before him; however Javier had other plans. He climbed onto the bed after you, positioning his body so it hovered over yours. He nudged your legs apart with his knee, settling himself right in between your thighs. He grabbed one of your legs and hiked it up around his waist, putting the two of you in a very, very dangerous position. His fingers remained wrapped around your thigh, his touch burning right into your soft flesh as he held your leg in place around him.

“Don’t be shy, muñequita.” His voice had gone low and husky. He trailed his hand further up your thigh.

He grinned, feeling satisfied with himself when he felt the goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Shut up, I’m not shy,” You fibbed, prompting him to chuckle.

“Mentirosa.” Javi’s hand abandoned your leg and he brought his hand up to the side of your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip.

“Kiss me,” he commanded, gently. “And this time, kiss me like you mean it.”

You reached up for him with trembling hands and grabbed two fistfuls of his pewter blue, button up shirt. You pulled him down towards you and lifted yourself up slightly off your pillows, crashing your mouth against his. You allowed yourself to finally release any fears that you might have had before and kissed him greedily and with fervor, as if it would be the very last time you’d ever get to kiss Javier Peña—because it very well could be the last time you would ever get to kiss Javier Peña.

You kissed him deeply, going on until your lungs began to burn—you only broke away from him once they started screaming, demanding oxygen.

Tearing yourself apart from him, you released his shirt and dropped back down onto your pillows, breathlessly asking, “Better?”

“Oh, so much better. Good girl, mi muñequita linda,” he praised, grinning again as he caressed the silkiness of your cheek. He lowered his head and lips ghosted over yours for a moment before he moved them down your neck, feathering kisses to any exposed skin peeking out from underneath his shirt. His hand found your breast and he groaned realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath it. He kneaded the perfect, soft mound of flesh through the thin fabric, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers. He bucked his hips into yours, causing a loud moan to escape from your lips the second you felt his hardened cock through his tight, light blue jeans. He caught sight of the way you blushed at the sound that he’d elicited from you and his grin widened. “Noises like that? The louder the better. So don’t hold back, preciosa.”

“What else can I do to make you—to make him feel good?”

Javier dipped his face right into the hollow of your neck, thinking it over for a moment. “A woman who takes control can be very sexy. I like it—I bet he’ll like it if you get on top.”

“I think I can do that.” Biting your bottom lip, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back, sliding yourself out from underneath him. You guided him to lay back onto your pillows and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

Shit. Javier cursed inwardly.

Maybe he’d been in over his head with this idea.

He knew at some point he’d have to stop it from going too far—but would he be able to?

“How do you like it?” You asked him, shyly. This time, you hadn’t bothered to correct yourself.

You didn’t want to know how to please another man.

You wanted to know how to please Javi.

Even if you’d never get the chance to do it.

“Depends on the mood,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders in the most nonchalant manner that he could muster under the circumstances—as if his cock wasn’t rock hard, straining against the zipper of his jeans and begging to be inside you.

“Te gusta despacito?” You start to rock your hips back and forth against his, slowly. “Do you like it slow?”

Javier’s breath hitched in the back his throat. At this point, there was no doubt about it—you could feel him underneath you, throbbing. “Sometimes,” he managed to choke out in reply. “Like I said. Just depends on the mood.”

“Or what about like this?” You grinned down at him, gaining a sense of confidence as you started to move faster on top of him, finding your perfect rhythm. You could see and clearly feel what you were doing to him. Knowing that you were having this kind of effect on Peña was nothing short of a fucking dream come true.

His hands went to your hips, holding on as you picked up the pace, grinding your clothed core down against his bulge.

You could feel your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking your panties; you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d leave behind a wet spot on his jeans. “How am I doing?”

“Fucking amazing, muñeca,” he answered, earnestly. His long, thick fingers dug into your sides as he suggested, “It helps if you put on a little show while you’re up there, too.” He then pictured you in that sexy black lingerie set you’d bought; he imagined what it would be like to slip that tiny little thong to the side so you could freely ride his cock. The mere thought had him seeing stars.

“A show, huh?” You smirked and popped the top two buttons of your shirt—his shirt—exposing the smooth valley between your breasts to him. “I think I can do that too,” You giggled, pulling the fabric to the side, just enough to give him the tiniest glimpse of the soft curves of your chest but not enough to expose yourself completely.

“Hermosa,” he couldn’t help but groan out. It took every ounce of strength he had inside him not to reach up and tear his shirt right off of you so he could see all of you.

You grabbed his hands from your hips and slowly began guiding them all around your body. You started by placing them on your breasts, giving him permission to cop another feel before moving them slowly down the lengths of your sides and placing them on your bare thighs. From there, you picked up Javi’s hands once more and placed them behind you, allowing him to take two generous handfuls of your ass. Your hands then abandoned his and you placed them on his chest, supporting yourself as you continued to roll your hips against his, riding him through his jeans. You tossed your head back and closed your eyes; the friction of your clit against his pelvis even through all the clothes felt like absolute heaven, and you let out a lustful moan that bounced off of your bedroom walls as you continued to drive your hips harder against his own.

Realizing that this was no longer a lesson and you were actually pleasuring yourself, Javier groaned again. He moved his hands back to your hips and found himself bucking his own hips upwards to meet you halfway—he abandoned any and all worries about taking it too far. He wanted you to come.

He needed to see you come.

“Javi,” You gasped his name, moaning again.

“That’s it, muñeca,” he rasped out. “Just like that, baby. Keep going. What a good girl, what a good fucking girl.”

Any and all common sense had been washed away by pleasure and by your need to reach that sweet, sweet release.

It was so close. You felt him right there, right between your clothed folds, and all you could do was imagine what it would be like to have his cock fill you up and stretch you completely.

His name began to slip from your lips, rolling off of your tongue over and over again with such ease.

Your movements fell in perfect sync with his.

You went down, he went up.

You pulled, he pushed.

No doubt about it, Javier was trying to get you off.

Somehow, you find a voice that speaks in between all your pitiful little pants.

“J-Javi, maybe we s-shouldn’t—”

Javier quickly sat up and wrapped one of his arms around your waist. He slammed your mouths together, silencing you mid sentence. He thrusted upwards, and you whined into his kiss, rubbing your clit against his bulge even harder.

The beginning of your orgasm coiled up tightly in your belly, and you knew it would spring forward any second now.

“Javi, I’m so close—”

“It’s okay, hermosa. Come for me,” he mumbled into your mouth. “I’ve got you.”

Your arms found their way around his shoulders and you buried your face into his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, your loud cries came out muffled against his collarbone as you unraveled, coming undone with one last cry of his name.

You slumped forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you fought to catch your breath, the pleasure still pulsing between your thighs.

Javier’s other arm curled around you and he said nothing as he held you.

Once you’d finally started coming down from your high, your eyes flew open and a chill went up the length of your spine.

What had you two just done?

Still straddling his lap, you pulled back. “Javi—”

Without warning, Javier flipped you over so you were on your back underneath him once again. He hovered over you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he dipped his head and captured your lips with his one final, deep and sensual kiss.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about tonight,” he murmured once he had pulled away. “You’re fucking perfect, mi vida.”

He touched the tip of his nose to yours before climbing off of you.

“I fucking hope this guy realizes what a lucky son of a bitch he is,” Javier said quietly before turning on the heel of his boot and walking out of your bedroom, leaving you laying there with your mouth parted open in complete shock.

Translations

Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. - It’s just a little joke, doll. No need to get offended.

El vestido rojo. - The red dress.

Te lo juro, Javi. - I swear to you, Javi.

Chismosas - Gossipers

Falta mucha tela, cariño. - There is a lot of fabric missing, darling.

Mentirosa. - Liar.

Te gusta despacito? - Do you like it a little slow?

#javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña fic #javier peña angst #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena #pedro pascal characters #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier peña smut #narcos smut #javier pena smut

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risuola · 5 months

Text

II — JUST HUSH // Morning after the adventure with the dangerous stranger went just like you suspected - horribly, but that wasn't the worst that was waiting for you.

contents: angst, mafia!au, violence, few suggestive parts, insults, somewhat of an obsessive behaviors, reader discretion is advised — 4,3k words

a/n: officialy, this fic became a series - I wasn't expecting it to be so loved by you, readers and I can't thank you enough for the support to this story. also, there is a suggestion in my ask!box that I took a lot of inspiration for this chapter, so whoever gave the idea, thank you ❤️

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

Being soft was a trait that Sukuna never actively credited himself with. He never had any urge to do so, never needed to explore that side of him and in his profession, that would most likely lead to a certain death. Leading people of mafia required him to be harsh and rough, there was no time and place for any kindness and gentleness and honestly, if anybody asked him about it just yesterday, he would say with certainty that the softness in him died long time ago. Even with women, he was never exactly sensual – he’s rather the type to take what he needs, devour what he’s hungry for and leave. Aftercare wasn’t his strong suit, for some reason inside his mind taking care of someone made him weak. That was before you.

You met not even a day ago, you asked for his help and once you got his attention, he knew he was fucked. You were just so gorgeous, so innocent and the way your glossed with tears eyes looked into his, he felt the strangest warmth inside his chest – a need of protection? Something so foreign and absurd that wouldn’t usually cross his mind. But then, he had you in his house, he had you on top of him and he had you hungry. You were smart, surely you noticed the gun pinned to his belt, he wasn’t exactly discreet about it and yet, you chose to stay with him for the night. It had to be some kind of sinister plan of yours, Sukuna wondered.

Were you put in his way to sabotage him?

He had no idea, but once the day was bright and now close to evening, you were still sleeping in his bed, with your head resting atop of his chest and one of your legs thrown over his own. You were breathing slowly and peacefully, so blissfully unaware of how dangerous it is for you to be in the same house with him, not to mention lay tangled with him below the sheets. As he smoothed over your bare shoulder with his fingers, he was thinking about how the night went. The sex was great, the best he had in years. You were playing along with him, you wanted him as much as he wanted you and as you playfully fought for dominance with him, he could have sworn it was the sexiest thing he’s ever experienced. The way you tugged his hair, pushing him nose deep into your dripping core and keeping him there until he made you cum almost made him cum as well, just from the slight dominance you had on him. Even though he allowed this to happen. He could still recall the delicious sting of your nails scratching red marks onto his back and shoulders. Every time his name slipped over your tongue, his heart seemed to skip a beat.

Just like that, you’ve got him hooked, but even so, he should have kept his word. He should have made you get dressed, maybe, out of curtesy, allow you to take a shower so that his seed wouldn’t run down your legs and mess up the leather in his car. He should have driven you home as soon as he was finished with you, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when you wrapped yourself around him, exhausted and already half-asleep, searching for the warmth of his body. Not when your weight on top of him felt like it was meant to lay there and especially not when your lips pressed few lazy kisses to the side of his neck before you dozed off.

You moved, rolling away from him and onto your back. You were waking up, he could tell by the sound of your quiet hums and the way your breath pattern changed from slow and calm to deep and more present. Sukuna flipped to his side, taking in the beauty of your features, now illuminated with the daylight. Your makeup kept up pretty well and even the smudged edges couldn’t take away your loveliness.

You hummed a little louder, groggily reaching up with your hands and arching your back like a cat in a long, sharp stretch. The covers slipped off your chest, exposing the pink of your nipples that now matched the many marks he had sucked onto your flesh just hours ago. Then your body relaxed, once again falling onto the mattress and a smile stretched your lips when Ryomen put his fingers against your skin. He brushed it ever so lightly along the shapes of your form, running along your collar bones, circling around the nipples and then, moving it down up and down your sternum.

“Good morning,” you purred against his lips when he reached to kiss you.

“More like good evening,” he replied, his voice quiet and calm as he moved his hand to the side of your body and pulled you flush against his chest. You hooked your leg onto his hip and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your fingers into his hair.

“That late, huh?”

“That late.”

It was dangerous. The way you looked into his eyes, the relaxed stance your body, oblivious to the fact you were in the embrace of death personified – it was all too dangerous for Sukuna. It was too warm, too lovely, too innocent. He hated the vulnerability you subjected him to and the fact his head was filled with wishes to protect you? Fuck, it was bad. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t what he stood for in his life, it was against all of his morals. He had always been a man of few emotions, always cold and never letting anything or anyone get to him. He was calculating, feared by many and respected by few. He had risen through the ranks of the underworld by means that were often brutal and always efficient. Never, not once, he had let emotions to cloud his judgement or stand in the way of his goals. But then, you happened.

“The night…” You murmured softly, brushing the tip of your nose against his own. “I enjoyed it very much, ‘kuna—” And the nickname?!

“That’s enough,” he groaned, his tone coming in sharp and cold and it immediately brought you back to your senses. The wishful daze of bliss vanished in an instant, suddenly the tension came back to your shoulders. It was too much for Sukuna, he wanted to have a nice fuck that night and he already made a mistake by letting you stay in his bed when he was done with you. It was dangerous for you, it was dangerous for him and honestly, that lovey-dovey shit has never been his brand anyway. “Time for you to go.”

“What happened? You were so delicate just a moment ago—”

“Spare me the dumb romantic shit. I just wanted to fuck you, don’t get ahead of yourself and if you wish to keep that pretty head of yours then better get fucking going. I’ll have a driver take you back home.” He shut you down roughly and from that point, it all went quickly. You were gone in just few moments. You were gone, but the man felt no relief.

…

Few days passed by. Or was it weeks? Sukuna couldn’t tell as days began blurring their edges and all he could focus on was you. He couldn’t rid himself of the memory of you rushing in fear, just barely clothed as if he was about to hunt you down and shot you in the head if you didn’t leave his space. As if the one minute longer would cost you your life. Every time he closed his eyes or got into his bed he could see the picture of your face, the display of hurt and fright that stained the beautiful innocence in the moment he had told you to leave, discarding you as if you were a toy that he used and got bored of.

What was this feeling? He was asking himself every time he had watched you from afar. Was it guilt? He couldn’t tell, it felt foreign. For Ryomen it was an everyday thing to scare someone off, the blood of his enemies is what he’s ravishing in but you… You were far from being his enemy. And so he found himself more and more often observing you, each time being in the same place as you by accident. You made him fascinated, you made him fall into your trap. He found himself drawn to you, drawn to the light that you brought with you. He was missing you. Was that your plan all along? A revenge for how he had treated you that one night?

Your heart was pure, almost too pure for this world, Sukuna thought to himself every time he had a chance to see your everyday life. A waitress, serving tables in a small, local café, wearing the smile that he could tell was fake, and yet it charmed everyone and he couldn’t help but feel the odd sense of pride when he realized that the way your lips were curved the night you were together was utterly real. And then, he would see you on your days off, wearing cozy and comfy clothes, no makeup adorning your face as you were lost in the world of music in your headphones and whatever task you had in front of your face on the screen of your computer. You were too cute for your own good, with the little scrunch of your nose whenever you closed your tired eyes and the colorful stickers of cats and sunflowers that decorated the outside of your laptop. He’s seen you feeding some stray kittens with the salmon from your sandwich, petting their little heads as they were leaning into your touch and Sukuna would never imagine himself being jealous of the feline, but there he was, hidden behind the darkened windows in his car, wishing to be the one who’s head is in the warm and delicate embrace of your soft palm. Fleeting attraction, that’s what it had to be.

Sukuna had never thought of himself as a romantic, but there was something about you that did it for him. You were soft, gentle and vulnerable in a way that made him want to protect you, to shield you from the violent life he led. And yet, you were also strong, strong enough to face him, to challenge him and even make him laugh. It was a strange combination, and it made him feel things he had never felt before. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was thinking of you more and more often. He had to be careful, though. He could tell that you were innocent, that you didn’t understand the world he lived in. If he let himself get to close, he might put you in danger and the thought of that, he couldn’t bear. He had a responsibility to keep you safe, even if it meant pushing you away. And for the first time in his life, he was scared. Scared that if he plays this whole thing wrong, he might lose you, even if he never truly had you. He was scared you’ll find out who he really was and scared of what that would do to you. He knew you noticed his gun, you had to notice it, but did you really had any idea what that meant?

For you, the time after meeting the stranger in the club was everything but easy. The hurt subsided quite rapidly, your heart wasn’t stupid enough to grow attached to a man you’d known for just few hours and deep down you knew that what you started by asking him for help had to end up somewhat similar to what happened. He wasn’t a prince from the fairy tale and you were no princess, it wasn’t a story of love, it was just sex and with that, you came to terms quite quickly. It was the fright that you couldn’t shake off your shoulders. Sukuna was a man that was keeping a gun attached to his belt, he had to be a gangster or something along these lines and considering the big, rounded and scared eyes of everyone in his proximity you’d only assume that his position in the world was at least threatening. It stayed in the back of your mind that he might have come for you, to hurt you or worse. He had shown you where he lives, after all, wasn’t that enough of a reason to erase someone from the world?

But nothing bad happened as your life went by, somehow it seemed as if it was even going smoother than it used to. The one very stubborn client, one that used to harass you every time he had a chance suddenly stopped showing in the café you work in; you even got a little raise from your boss, what despite being a bonus that you really needed, was also the most suspicious thing that happened to you lately. Your boss never gave raises. Life was good, until—

…

—you opened your eyes feeling pain. At first, you couldn’t tell what happened to you. Where were you? How did you get here? And why was everything so white?

Breathe in and out. Why did breathing hurt? And what was that beeping?

“You’re awake,” a voice made you turn your head to the side. And then, at the sight of a familiar face, it all flashed back.

It was at night, you were heading home from the meeting with your co-workers. An absurd celebration of something that you were quite certain didn’t even concerned you or your interns, but your boss required you all to be present anyways. It was tiring, to stay in the café after nearly ten hours shift, but thankfully during the event you were sitting and not actively working, so at least it was that much. Your legs hurt nonetheless, you felt fatigued after the entire week of intense shifts intertwined with classes, so when you were suddenly yanked by the wrist to the back, it wasn’t much of a surprise to you that you lost your balance.

“What do we have here, eh?” One of the men spoke and as you looked up, two faces were glaring at you with disgusting sense of superiority. “Oi, Naoya, is that the bitch you were talking about?”

“Bet it is,” the second man snorted. “She fits the description.”

Naoya? The name rang a bell so roughly and suddenly that your eyes widened in fear. It was the man you met in the club, the one that was all over you the second he met you. The one that you escaped only thanks to asking another stranger for help. But now, you couldn’t see him. Who stood above you was a man with long, silver hair and a face covered in linear scars. He was wearing a face of psychotic content, a grin so unsettling that it froze the blood inside your veins and just by the look of him you could tell he was dangerous. And then, the second one stood right next to him – his hair was pitch black and eyes probably green-ish, with little scar on the side of his lip that made itself apparent the moment you looked at him. He was insanely well-built, in a shirt that looked like one of those compression, sport-related attires.

“What do you want from me…?” You asked, your voice uncharacteristically quiet, as if the fear made your vocal cords clench. And you felt it, an unsettling feeling of upcoming death and it led to a chain of regret of every choice that you made that led you to this place and time. You should’ve taken a taxi. Or go a different route.

“Oh, we’re here to teach you a lesson,” the white-haired one responded as the other grinned like the devil himself. And then, they moved to the sides a little and right in the middle appeared the man that you do recognize. Naoya Zenin himself, with his face twisted in some kind of sick satisfaction as he grabbed your hair and yanked you up from the ground. Your back hit the concrete wall and his near proximity made you instantly tensed.

“I got you,” he grinned and there was violence intertwined into the expression his face bore. “I finally fucking got you.”

“Just leave me alone…” You demanded, your voice much weaker that you’d like it to be, much less constructive, not confident at all. You were frightened, to say the least, there was no way you could protect yourself from one man, but three? “Please.” As you begged, your own death flashed before your eyes. There was no way in hell you’re gonna survive this, that had to be it. The night was dark enough to cover the crime that was happening and even if there would be any bravery in you still left, nobody would help you. No one would be dumb enough to stand against the group that was about to abuse you.

“Oh, the little bitch is scared, huh?” Naoya laughed right into your face, his tongue leaving a wet trace along your throat and it filled you with enough disgust to wince. “Where’s your protector now, eh? Where’s your big daddy Sukuna?”

“What’s your problem?” The question slipped through your tongue in nothing more than a whisper. You couldn’t believe that you’re going to die because you asked a random man for help and that random man turned out to be a gang member or something. “I don’t have anything to do with him, I—”

“Of course, you don’t. I’m sure he fucked you and threw you out like a trash you are,” Zenin spit nothing but venom as his eyes were piercing holes into your skull. You could feel his hand sneaking underneath the fabric of your hoodie and your attempts on pushing him away did nothing to stop him from squeezing one of your breasts. “I bet you’re a good fuckthing tho.”

“Get your hands off of me,” you warned, your voice now rougher but still, too quiet to pose any threat. You wanted to nail his eyes out, to rip his heart out of his chest, but none of that you were able to do. Naoya laughed, once again, sounding like an asshole he was as he stepped back.

“Undress.” It was an order that he threw at you. Him, along with the other two, circled you as if predators would circle their prey and you felt small below the weight of their eyes.

“No.”

The moment you denied, the sharp pain sent you to the ground. He hit you, one of them, right in the face, with the top of his hand. The harsh contact of his knuckles and your cheekbone snatched you off your feet.

“You heard the order. Behave, slut.” The dark haired one was speaking calmly, but there was a certain coldness in his tone. The nonchalance that froze your insides.

“No…” You whispered, desperate to keep your dignity intact before you die. Immediately they showed you why hoping for it was foolish, as the series of kicks enveloped you in the cage of pain and suffering. You hid your head inside your arms, a helpless try to protect it from the heavy boots that not once held back before making contact with your fragile frame. You remember the sound of their voices, the feeling of their fists connecting again and again with your body.

“So fucking stupid,” someone laughed at you and you were far from sure and way too scared to check it yourself, but you could have sworn that somebody spit at you. “Don’t you understand? Nobody will save you now, no one cares about a bitch like you. I’d say it last time. Undress.”

“N-no…”, you sniffled, hugging your head tightly as if bracing yourself for another salve of hurt. But it didn’t come, no hit was aimed at your curled on the ground body. Instead, you heard the pained whines from not too far away, you heard the sounds of a battle and was it the sound of bones being broken? You couldn’t tell, it felt surreal, was that it? Was that how you’re gonna die? Because surely no one in their right mind would step into action, risking being killed themselves for you.

“Hey, I’ll take you to the hospital,” that voice. You knew that. You heard it for such a short time in your life and yet you’d recognize it everywhere. The low, slightly husky tone that you remembered as one that was enough to turn you on just by the sound of it. Now it was accompanying the very gentle arms that scooped you off the floor. Then, you dared to open your eyes.

…

“Ryomen?” Your voice felt weak, your throat hoarse from the dryness but that didn’t stop you from speaking. The more information got into your brain, the easier it got to understand what was the place you woke up in.

A hospital. You woke up in the hospital bed, surrounded by monitors and machines. Your body bruised and battered, ached with each breath you tried to take. Your head was still foggy and your muscles stiff, you had a pounding headache that only got worse as the memories of the night before came flooding back to you. You were lucky. So incredibly lucky to be alive. And yet again, Sukuna saved you. Then you probably passed out.

“You’re awake,” he sounded soft. How odd. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… why are you here?”

“I had to check if you’re alright. And also I’m gonna take you home, but needed to wait until you’re awake and doctors can give you the last checkup.” He explained it matter-of-factly and it only got you more confused than you were just a second ago.

“That… doesn’t exactly answer my question…?”

“It will do for now. I’ll bring the doctor.”

Sukuna left the room sooner than you had a chance to ask anything else. He felt as if the weight was taken off his shoulders the very second you opened your eyes and recognized him. The last hours were an agony, he stayed near your bed for the entire time and though there was nothing that was threatening your life anymore, he couldn’t help but feel so awfully guilty. The foreign feeling of it made him realize that he was fucked up good, you had poisoned him with emotions that he already forgot about, the useless display of something that he considered a weakness for the better of his life. As he was watching your fragile frame, though covered with white, clean sheets he felt the rage boiling inside his veins because he knew. He saw the damage on your body, the bruises that painted your soft skin in dark, purple-ish blotches, the patch of scratches on your side – in place where your naked hip met the ground. And your cheek… there still was a red spot on top of your cheekbone, the one Sukuna assumed was also a result of a hit and it angered him even more because if he has noticed it before, he would for sure kill those imitations of a men and not only leave them in a mush.

Sukuna felt a certain sense of responsibility due to what happened to you. It wasn’t your fault, per se, that when you were looking for help in that club when you first met him, you had the misfortune to pick a persona like him and frankly, if Sukuna would know back then that Naoya will come for you later to get his revenge, he would kill him right then and there. The more he thought about it, the more he was realizing that he would kill anyone if it was to keep you safe.

“Ready to go home?” Ryomen asked, assisting you in pulling your bruised arms through the sleeves of a hoodie he had brought you. A clean one, way too big on your frame but comfortable at that, lined with plush so that it won’t irritate your injured skin.

“I think so…?” Your reply was confused, it was unsure and still slightly underlined with fear. There was a reason to it, last time you saw the man that was now trying to help you, he threatened to rid you of your head. “Ryomen, I don’t understand—”

“Just hush,” he cut you, gently swooping you off the edge of the bed and you settled in the safety of his muscular arms, leaning your head against his shoulder, next to his neck. “I was told you still should rest so let me take you home. Alright? Alright.”

There was no point in arguing, you couldn’t do much whilst in his arms even if you tried and it was naïve, you thought, but there was a sense of protection tied tightly to the way he was keeping you close. You felt as if any danger couldn’t reach you when his hands were wrapped around you. He was dangerous, that much you knew, and yet there was a gentleness in a way he was holding you near his chest, near the place where his heart beats in a regular, calm rhythm. Fact is, you didn’t want to run away from him, though you should. And so, you leaned into him, nuzzling your head into the dip between his neck and shoulder and as you breathed in his scent, the musky note of his cologne and tobacco, you felt at ease.

taglist: @yihona-san06 @tiredscavengerskeleton @son4aras @vixorell @cecesharktales @isleqt @thickmacandcheese

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spacedace · 1 year

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Something I've seen in fics a few times but not for comedic effect is the idea that Constantine selling his soul so many times makes him look/feel Wrong to ghosts.

Like I love various Danny ghost shenanigans giving Constantine a heart attack in stories but just imagine that Constantine is like deeply, deeply unsettling for Ghosts & Liminals to be around.

To the point of whenever he and Danny meet for the first time at the Watchtower after Danny's joined the League, Constantine just walks in and upon turning to look at who just walked in Danny just shrieks like a small child and throws a chair at him out of reflex, diving behind Captain Marvel to use him as a magical human meat shield while screeching "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT???! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" At the top of his lungs and doesn't stop until Batman makes Constantine leave.

Even after Zantanna explains Constantine's whole deal and Danny explains to the Justice League how totally fucked up that looks/feels like to him ("Dude, Ghosts are their core, for us you see that before you see the shape of whoever you're talking to. Like, imagine someone walks up to you with a face that looks like it's made out of a shattered plate and the pieces are bleeding"

Or like, imagine instead it's a thing were Jason and Jazz are dating and Jazz, Danny & Elle are invited over for a nice meet the family brunch - "Brunch is fun and casual!" Dick insisted, "Way less intimidating than if we had them over for dinner!") and Constantine pops in to talk to Bruce about a case.

And the second he walks into the room all three just shriek like they're from an episode of Scooby Doo.

Elle takes one look at Constantine and just nopes out of there so hard she doesn't even gk intangible as she throws herself out the window and starts flying for the hills. Danny screeches like a cat whose tail has been stepped on and jumps onto the ceiling and scrambles away. Jazz screams like a house wife from an old Looney Tunes cartoon and starts climbing Jason like a tree - which is a bit of a problem since she's half a foot taller than Jay and throwing his center of balance off a bit and now half of the plates are smashed on the floor.

Jason doesn't even notice though because he also is losing his shit over what the fuck that thing is and unlike Elle is far more interested in Fight rather than Flight and pulls out a gun - "Why'd you bring a gun to brunch?! Guns aren't fun or casual!" - and just starts unloading on Constantine (who is very lucky Jason has switched to non lethal rounds and that he's quick enough with his spells to largely keep most of the rubber bullets from hitting him) also while screaming at the top of his lungs.

And well, turns out Jason's new girlfriend is the older sister of that ghost hero the League's been looking to recruit and Bruce is gonna take advantage of that - Phantom has been hard to pin down, which is fair, bad history with government agencies trying to kill him and all - to talk to him about a place with JL, though first he's going to have to get him down from the ceiling and that'd be a lot easier if Constantine would just leave already, they are supposed to be having a family brunch this is his one day off!

(Elle screams her all the way to Metropolis and doesn't stop until she nearly knocks Superman out of the sky. He isn’t really sure what's going on, but he does manage to calm her down and takes her to go get some ice cream. When he pitches joining JL she tells him that she thinks he's kinda lame but that Superboy is cool so she's down. It's...honestly kinda devastating but Clark manages to get through it.

A note gets made when the two ghost heroes officially join the League that partnerships with Constantine should be kept at an absolute minimum.)

And lol yeah, just, Constantine being utterly terrifying to Danny and the Pham

#dc x dp #dp x dc #batman #danny phantom #justice league #danny fenton #danielle phantom #dani phantom #danielle fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #john constantine #anger management #Constantine thinks it's kinda funny #once they get to the point that no one instinctively tries to kill him on aight anymore #he likes to sneak up on Danny just to make him jump through the ceiling #batman made him stop after Danny activated his Wail while screaming for half a second & nearly shattered all the windows in the Watchtower #Danny gets all of Constantine's soul contracts just to make John stop looking like that #Constantine immediately took the blank slate and started his favorite hustle again

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reve-writes · 1 year

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—the set-up; kaz brekker.

ʚ kaz brekker x reader | grishaverse | 1,8k words. ʚ from this request. | three times the crows plan to set you and kaz up + the one time they find out you're married. ʚ fluff; the crows are featured (incl. wesper & helnik ship); kaz's touch aversion isn't featured. ʚ a/n this has been sitting in the drafts for a bit. ive been suffering down the leon brainrot hole (honestly an excellent one to fall into). kaz calls reader schatje (i have a fic where he does this. i chose schatje because ketterdam is loosely inspired from 1500s-1700s amsterdam!). i wrote this in a goofy way honestly.

one. he smiles.

Wylan fiddles with jars and tubes filled with an assortment of chemicals—some of them tend to explode, all of them horrible smelling. He's supposed to be on guard duty and he prefers it over running around guns blazing alongside Jesper—as much as he loves the sharpshooter, gunshots give him a lot of anxiety.

He peers into the room where most of the work is happening.

You are poring over stacks of documents, eyes scanning quickly top-to-bottom to find relevant information. Kaz has his ear pressed against the front of a safe, gloved hand twisting the lock. You move around him in the cramped office space with relative ease, grabbing more files to read on the desk.

It doesn't take long for the safe to swing open.

“No safe is safe from Kaz Brekker, the safe-cracker, huh?” you comment. A light, teasing smile decorates your lips.

“Please never say that sentence again.”

To Wylan's surprise, the ever-frowning Dirtyhands smiles. Not the half-hearted hospitable smile he occasionally gives out, or the scary half-sneer half-smirk that is so intimidating it scares even Wylan sometimes. No, a genuine, amused smile. It is so unnatural that he has to look away, a hand clasped over his mouth in shock.

When he tells Jesper, the taller man mirrors his reaction, dark eyes blown wide and jaw unhinged.

“He smiled?” Jesper gives an incredulous stare as if Wylan has just told him that he is a member of the Council of Tide—which is impossible with Wylan's lack of Grisha ability, let alone tidemaking. “He smiled over that?”

Wylan nods enthusiastically.

“We are talking about the same Kaz?”

“Are there any other Kaz that we know?” Wylan sighs.

“Well, no—”

“I think we have to proceed with the plan,” Wylan ponders. Jesper blinks widely.

“The plan?”

“Nina's plan!” Wylan looks at Jesper as if he's just gotten a strike of inspiration, hand in the air, pointing at nothing in particular. “Operation Kaz and ____. Remember?”

Jesper remembers. It was so ridiculous that it remains impossible to remove from his memory to this day, even though it was mentioned in passing.

Nina, flushed red from too many drinks, suddenly shoots her hand up, flailing it limply. The founder of the idea seems to have a plan ready to set in motion.

“We are the gods of love!” She drunkenly declares, free hand moves to tap Wylan's cheeks repeatedly. “And as the benevolent gods that we are, our first mission is them.”

Nina pushes Wylan's face towards you and Kaz, sat at the bar, deep in conversation. The rest of the Crows followed suit, realising Nina's suggestion. She stumbles over drunkenly and with little-to-no care on making it look as natural or accidental as she can, "trips" over her foot and falls forward.

You take the brunt of the force, being pushed forward that you fall onto Kaz. The latter glares at Nina, hand coming to your shoulder to steady you.

“My bad.... It seems I've lost my balance,” she slurs. “Oh! Would you look at that? The two of you would make quite a pair, don't you think so, Matthias?”

Matthias raises an eyebrow, already hauling Nina with him to get back to their table.

“Poor Helvar,” says Kaz simply, nudging you to get back on the barstool.

“He doesn't seem to mind,” you retort, noting Matthias' loving gaze as he escorts Nina.

It doesn't take long before the chaos settles, leaving you and Kaz, still engaging in conversation as the last patrons leave the Crow Club.

“We would make a good pair, huh?” You tease, reaching over to brush your hand against his, leather soft under your palm. “You think so?”

Kaz looks at you pointedly, tugging your left hand towards him, fingers pressing on the small diamond adorning your ring finger. “Would I have given you this, if I didn't?”

Smooth with his words without even trying. A trait you find both annoying and endearing after all the years you've been together.

“I mean you have a lot of diamonds lying around—”

“Schatje.”

“Yes?” All train of thought immediately halts on its tracks. The petname has a hold over you that he oh-so-often uses as leverage. You pout. “Stop distracting me.”

He smiles—soft and uncharacteristic, contradictory to the harsh rasp of his voice and the rough scars on his skin. He smiles a smile he reserves only for your eyes, and you're falling for it, a hundred times over.

two. the demjin.

You don't like when Kaz gets like this—all wrung up over a waivable matter. It reminds you a lot of what he had to be before, the things he had to do and what Dirtyhands actually stood for. Not at all akin to the Kaz Brekker you know—the one who immediately comes whenever one of your crew is threatened, the one who stays up with you as you wait for the rest of your little heist crew to return, the one who goes out of his way to collect little trinkets to bring home to you.

You are hurt, shallow cuts all over your body from a little dagger scuffle with a mercenary, but you're a member of the Dregs—this, you can take. A little Heartrender magic and some bandages, you will recover in no time.

“You're back.”

Kaz stops and you look over him to find his knuckles bloodied, hair stuck out of place and clothes disheveled.

“You're alright, schatje?”

His room at the Slat isn't big contrary to popular belief. He sinks into his chair with a huge sigh. You're watching him three steps away from the edge of his bed.

“What did you do?”

He shrugs, tugging his coat off. “Business.”

“You went after them.”

“It was one part of the business.” He pulls at his gloves, shedding them into the trash—too bloodied for him to bother cleaning. “Are you sure you're alright?”

You tuck your hands into your elbows, displeasure visible across your features. “Are you?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“Kaz.”

“They deserved it,” he stubbornly says. “I had to make sure they know not to involve themselves with us. You understand. Besides, I'm alright.”

“I do understand,” you relent. It is business. The Barrell doesn't stop for poets or musicians or lovers, no, it thrives off of the back of violence, taking an eye for an eye. “I just wish that you were here when I woke up.”

His shoulders loosen and he is your Kaz again. Not the one molded by Ketterdam, birthed at its harbour. He's the man so in love that he will dry the seas for you if you say the word. Kaz takes your hands. They are warm on his skin and his heart swells.

“I am sorry, schatje.”

You kneel in front of him, leaning your elbows on his thighs to press a brief kiss on his lips. “Let's stay off business for a while.”

“Kaz?” A sound outside the door, followed by three raps. “Are you in there?”

“He is, Jesper. Give us a moment,” you reply.

You hear hushed whispers—both low voices, so you assume it's Wylan. Your suspicion is confirmed when the second voice sounds from behind the door.

“No, we—no, Jes—don't have anything urgent. We simply wanted to know if he is well. Take your time. We'll be going now.”

“Good night, Wylan,” you reply, immediately hearing fading footsteps soon after.

“Fifty kruge says they're already together,” says Jesper, out of your earshot.

Wylan rolls her eyes. “Fifty on them not dating yet.”

Jesper immediately clasps Wylan's hand with a loud “Deal!”

iii. the marketplace.

“Busybodies,” Kaz complained, walking a step behind you as you're treading through the Ketterdam food market. “They are not even hiding. In broad daylight. How have they never gotten caught before?”

“Kaz, my love.” You are trying not to laugh as you're picking and choosing fruits. “They usually do a better job on actual missions.”

They refer to your five lovely friends who have decided to tail you as you're coming down to the market. Kaz is the first to take notice—blurry figures moving erratically ten steps behind you.

“I should assign them something to do instead of... whatever it is they're currently doing.”

“They're curious.” You shrug, handing over a few slips of Kruge to the seller and leaving with your bag five apples heavier. “We've been acting suspicious lately. They'll find out soon enough.”

“I'll bet Inej finds out first.” Kaz nudges your fingers with his, taking the bag from you as he matches his step with yours. “The Wraith does a better job at spying.”

“My bet is Matthias.” An unlikely one. He's probably the least nosy out of the five.

Suddenly, you're pulled into a small nook, squuezed between buildings and he presses a kiss on your lips. One turns to two and you're smiling like a lovesick fool when he pulls away.

“We're being followed and you pull this?”

“Schatje, our pursuers are horrendously bad at this.” He shrugs, pulling away. You resume your trek through the market. “Look. They've lost us.”

iv. the marriage certificate.

“Fake IDs,” Kaz says, pointing at the towering Fjerdan. “You'll be collecting them from Anika.”

Matthias doesn't mind running errands, although he does think that he'll be better suited for physical fights other than fetching papers, but he doesn't argue. It seems he is doing more than simply fetching papers though.

“That is real?” He asks Anika, pointing at a marriage certificate she has on her desk. Marriage certificates are mundane enough not to warrant this type of reaction, but it is the name that shocks even him to the core. Kaz Brekker and you, married?

“As real as can be around here.” Anika scrambles to hide it away. “Here are your IDs. Don't tell anyone about it.”

In Matthias' defense, he doesn't end up telling just anyone. He tells Nina and Nina is the one telling everyone else. Within a week, every member of the Crows have known about it.

Wylan hands Jesper slips of fifty kruge, grumbling that this is unfair. Nina looks like spring has just arrived. Inej is probably the least reactive—but that is because she's already found out long before the others. She's the Wraith after all. Matthias is anxious. For all everyone knows, he is the one responsible for the news.

You strut into the dining room, seeing everyone gathered and raise an eyebrow.

“Why are you all here?”

“We want to ask—”

Before Nina can finish her sentence, Jesper blurts out. “You're married?”

You chuckle, shrugging. “You found out.”

“How long?”

“Kaz? Really?”

“How did that happen?”

A series of questions that you don't actually answer. You stand there, leaning on the back of one of the wooden chairs situated in the room—remorseless to your very core.

“Ask him about it.”

That ends the discussion. None of them will actually ask him about it and even if any of them actually finds the courage to, the likelihood of Kaz answering anything that's not a sarcastic remark or a threat is close to none.

“How did you find out anyway?”

Everyone points towards Matthias and to the Fjerdan's horror, Nina's pointer finger finds him, too.

You only smile, silently planning to brag to your spouse that you've won your bet.

[ ].

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #—ki writes 🍯

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faevi · 6 months

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GUNSHOT OF LOVE. - (gojo smut)

Scenario: You trust Gojo Satoru so much, even if he has a gun to your head. You'd do anything he says, with or without the gun. That's true love & loyalty.

Word Count: 10,167.

Content / Trigger Warning: PLEASE READ ALL OF THEM. female reader (she/her), DARK CONTENT, GUN-PLAY(!!); sucking on it, weapon touching intimate areas, pulling the trigger (no actual bullets), etc. threats; including death threats(!!), degradation, humiliation, pet-names, praise, spanking, tit slapping, dacryphilia/crying, sex over a desk (being bent over it), fear play, power play, blowjob, throat-fucking, spit, cum, blindfolded, bdsm, dominance submission, obeying orders, hair pulling, bruising, being marked up, lingerie, everything is very much consensual and planned, mean satoru, big dick satoru, unprotected sex, creampie, penetration, daddy kink, wth do i warn, lots of aftercare and love afterwards <33

I think that’s everything? Please kindly (heavy emphasis on the kindly) let me know if I missed anything!! It’s not my intention to.

Note: Firstly, EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL!!!!!!!!! It’s implied that the whole gun-play was discussed before, ok. Different kinks exist and it’s clearly a BDSM based scene. Not vanilla at all. Also idk about others but I have fun reading kinks (obviously not every single one, i do have limits like others) that I wouldn't ever do myself, so. It's fiction and reading be fun. Not my best writing (again). Always room for improvement. Please ignore any mistakes because I didn’t edit it afterwards dkfjgfd. Please don’t come at me if this isn’t for you - I have plenty of warnings and it’s dark content so :’), it’s to be expected. Satoru is a bit of a meanie during it but I swear he’s super sweet after <333 Please let me know if you enjoyed it ; - ;. I will try to do better for the next piece.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

You’re kneeling in his office, shivering and blindfolded. He’s forgotten about the window. The gentle breeze coming through the slightly ajar window, embracing you and you found yourself wishing for his warmth to smother you instead. Now isn’t the time. Especially with his red satin tie around your head, blinding you. You could barely glance down to see your body. He’s currently out of his home office to deal with something. Only giving you one order to obey. Kneel and stay put. He’ll know if you move.

It’s impossible to disobey Gojo Satoru.

Especially since you’re the one chasing him, craving not only his attention but his touch. You’re only wearing lingerie; laced and black. It was to surprise him when he was sitting in his office, typing away and boy did it surprise him. Your lips still feel a pleasant tingle from the searing kiss he gave you before his phone rang. You sigh softly, impatience rising and your knees start to ache from having to kneel directly against the wooden floor. Hands rest behind your back, fingers laced together and squeezing so tightly to try and contain your excitement. Satoru will return soon. So, you wait.

You straighten your back when you hear the small creak of the office door opening, sock-covered feet padding lightly against the floor until you sense someone towering above you from behind. The white-haired male gazes down at you, eyes clouded with a mixture of lust and admiration he holds for you. You didn’t move, it seems. Heart swelling up with pride, Satoru’s long fingers stroke along your hair on the top of your head. Nice and calm. Soothing.

“You listen to me so well, Y/N.” Satoru praises, nails scraping along your scalp until a soft whine leaves your lips. “Though, I do remember saying to not distract me today. You couldn’t resist it.” He sighs, crouching down behind you. Even when he’s at almost the same level as you, it always feels like he’s towering above you. Blindfold or not, you’re not blind to that. “You’re lucky that I adore you so much.” He whispers, long fingers trailing along your bare arm, grinning to himself when he witnesses you squirm from his touch.

“Daddy—“ You breathe out, tongue lolling out as you struggle with containing yourself. Your thirst for the taller male continues to grow, and your sense of touch is only heightened when your sense of sight is temporarily forbidden. With both hands now, his fingers continue to soothingly stroke along your bare arms from behind you. It’s featherlight and you couldn’t help but wonder what Satoru will surprise you with.

“It’s a good thing that I have work wrapped around my finger, they won’t question why I ended early today. Although, it’s you who is utterly tangled when it comes to me. Isn’t that right, baby girl? You’ll do anything I say. No matter how scary or dangerous it is.” He whispers low against your ear, warm breath fanning against it. His large hands now cup your breasts from behind, fondling with the soft mounds and not bothered by the fabric. You feel flustered because he’s right. You’d do absolutely anything for this gorgeous human being. Maybe it’s because you know if you did use your safe word and he’d stop instantly; that you’d do anything. There’s no one else you trust more with your well-being or life as a whole.

“Isn’t that right?” Satoru repeats himself, just seeking reassurance before he continues. His fingers pinch your sensitive buds through the thin fabric and you whimper, thighs clenching together. “Yes, Daddy. I’d really do anything—.” You confess through your needy whimpers, eyes clenching tight beneath the satin fabric of his tie. You wish you could see the way his hands expertly grope your breasts because you swear, you could come from this alone if he continues. You’re in the palm of his hand, eager to take it all. You’re completely loyal to him and it just arouses Satoru. Especially your sweet obedience.

“Mm. Good girl.” Satoru says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he stands up behind you once more. The white-haired male isn’t afraid of showing you affection any time of the day, but especially during moments like this. Simply, to ease your mind that he still loves and cares for you. No matter what he’s going to put you through. Rough. Humiliating. Pain. Dangerous. It’s all just thrilling to you both and truth be told, Satoru is the best of both worlds to you. You get everything. The rough or the gentle. Whatever the day calls for. Maybe it’s his loving warmth that seeps through, that makes you call him Daddy rather than something formal, like ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’. It’s fitting for the white-haired male and Satoru loves it when you call him it. It didn’t matter what he was going to do, he’ll always be your Daddy.

He’s not behind you. You can somewhat sense him in the direction of the desk in his office when you hear sounds in that direction. You pout, impatience starting to seep through. You hear a drawer open and close. Is he just going to make you kneel here? Suddenly, you yelp in pain, hands instinctively coming up towards the source of pain. Satoru bunched up your hair before surprising you with a forceful yank, forcing you to lift your knees until he lets go and your knees meet a— cushion? Your heart flutters despite the pain tingling in your scalp. He cares. “Hands in your lap.” Satoru orders and you quickly oblige, fingers lacing together in your lap.

Satoru is crouching in front of you now, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your pouting lips. They’re impossible to resist. Something cold and hard brushes along your bare thigh and he watches your eyebrows furrow with confusion of what it could be. His eyes light up with something sinister and exciting. “You look so pretty for Daddy. So impossible to resist. I should just have you kneeling here and actually do work. You’d be like my own personal art for the day. Hold any pose I put you through, no matter how uncomfortable it is.” Satoru coos softly and you whine, still feeling whatever it is stroking your thigh, even prodding against your covered womanhood, panties already drenched with your juices. “Maybe I’ll take you to work and force you to do that. You might feel humiliated with so many eyes on you but I’d be so proud to show off what’s mine.” He says, voice laced with his usual amusement. You huff a little, embarrassed yet aroused at the idea. You really would do anything for him.

“Part your legs and stay still.” He orders with a sweet kiss to your temple. Head cocking slightly in confusion, you willingly spread your legs far enough but still able to keep your knees against the comfortable pillow. The mysterious object in his hand brushes along your inner thigh before pressing against your womanhood and you gasp sharply, feeling the cold… metal, even through the thin fabric. Whatever it is, feels good against your needy pussy. Especially when Satoru presses more firmly until your slick-covered folds manage to spread despite the panties and the object presses against your sensitive clit. “A-Ah..” You gasp out softly from feeling a surge of pleasure wash over you as the foreign object rubs your clit slowly in a circular motion. You feel your clit throb beneath the touch, whining as pleasure continues to spread through you, leaving you to crave more of it. You’ve always been sensitive so it’s a difficult task to keep your legs apart.

Satoru loves to watch you struggle before him. He continues to rub the edge of the object against your throbbing clit, eyes fixated on your quivering thighs and how the panties weren’t enough to stop your juices from seeping out further and with the use of the metal object, Satoru smears the juices across your inner thighs. You clench your fists tightly, your mind racing with thoughts you’re barely able to process. You would have been ultra-sensitive to his warm touch alone, but the object just sparks your sensitivity further, only wishing you could know what it is. Some sex toy?

Your brows stay furrowed and Satoru laughs, delighted by your needy reactions. “Bet my pretty whore just wants to know what it is, hm? Patience. I’ve barely touched you.” He sighs out heavily and you feel somewhat embarrassed to be so reactive, face feeling hot. “Daddy, I just miss seeing your face..” You whisper breathlessly, nose crinkling as a pathetic attempt to try and move the tie around your eyes. A failure. He tied it pretty firmly. “Cuuuuute.” He coos softly, tapping the edge of the object against your bare thigh.

Satoru’s free hand cups his own cheek as his head tilts, elbow against his knee, watching you with amusement. It’s funny watching your body jerk with each slow tap, head turning towards the touch. “W-What is it?” You stutter out, unable to hide your curiosity as it grows. Satoru ignores the question for the moment, leaning back and his eyes refuse to leave you. “You’ll know soon. Take your panties off.” He orders breathlessly, his own heart pumping with excitement because fuck, he loves seeing your needy cunt before his eyes. Even if you’re pretty in lingerie.

Your fingers hook beneath the lace of your panties, hastily shifting yourself so you can tug them down the length of your legs and just as you are about to toss them, you feel his grip on them. Quickly, you let go. Without even needing him to speak an order, you move back to your original position. Kneeling on the pillows with willing legs staying apart and hands draped by your side. “Such a good girl, baby.” Satoru praises, though already sounding so distracted when his crystal blue eyes focus on your pussy.

Dripping and looking so inviting, Satoru brings your panties up to his nose and inhales sharply, groaning at the heavenly smell of your sex. His cock strains against his briefs, desperate to be relieved and touched. Your pussy clenches around nothing upon hearing his delicious groans, lips staying parted and you couldn’t stop yourself from whining. You just want to see him. “You smell so fucking good, baby. Panties drenched from being so needy, huh?” Satoru says, words muffled by the damp fabric still pressed against his lower face. He grins to himself from seeing you shyly tilt your head down and stuff the panties into the back pocket of his black slacks.

His long legs bend once more to crouch in front of you, one hand still gripping the object tightly in his hand before the other comes around to swiftly unclasp your bra. Even blind, you’d never get used to how hot the action is from the taller male. He’s taken your clothes off more times than you can count. The pads of his fingers ghost along your arm as he peels down the strap until the bra is finally off and tossed to the side. Your heart is racing, wondering what he’d do next to you, finding it even more thrilling with your ability to guess becomes non-existent when you can’t see his movements.

The tip of a mysterious object presses against the side of your breast and Satoru enjoys the sight of your squishiness. You’re still trying to figure out what it is by focusing… The end is somewhat circular and ah— You feel it start to drag between your breasts, trailing down your naked stomach and back to your dripping womanhood. Satoru could practically see the goosebumps appear, trailing after the contact the object makes and he smirks.

You start to pant softly, nails digging into your own legs. “Since when did you love to take your time so much, Daddy..” You whine, lips naturally pouting. This a silly remark on your behalf as you both know that he is never one to rush if he has time. Still, you’re only being cute to try to find out what he’s doing and what his more sinister plans may entail. “Sluts need to learn how to wait.” He sighs, sliding the object back down to where it originally was, pressing against your dripping folds.

“I’m your slut, a-ah…” You whimper out, spreading your legs further when you feel the cold metal once more gliding between your folds, thankful that panties aren’t in the way anymore. The cool sensation is only heightened from the lack of sight, leaving you all warm and tingly between your legs. Satoru is still far too calm for what he’s usually like and it leaves you dying of curiosity. What is he hiding? Whatever sex toy it is; feels so damn good as you grind against it, tiny gasps escaping from the jolts of pleasure you feel when it presses against your bundle of nerves. Your head is spinning, tilting back as moans of his name spill from your lips.

Satoru watches hungrily as you turn into a needy slut for something foreign between your legs, gaze never leaving as your hips begin to pick up the pace as you hump against the metal object, only warming it up with your sweet slick and keeping it against your hot pussy. His own lips parted in silent awe, head hanging forward and refusing to look away. Sometimes it’s moments like this where he wonders how he managed to score you for his selfish self. Eventually, he pulls it away and stands up to tower above you.

Sad sounds instantly part from you, feeling despair from the lack of that pleasure and your pussy clenches around nothing, clearly desperate to be filled up. “Do you trust me, Y/N?” Satoru asks, voice nothing but serious and a hint of excitement. You blink beneath the blindfold, shifting on your knees before your lips curl up to form a genuine smile, heart fuzzy and warm. “I trust you with my life.” You breathe out softly.

“Take your blindfold off, then.”

Finally. Your hands come up, first attempting the knot behind your head and it takes a moment but you manage to tug it free, untying the knot and keeping your eyes closed as the tie drops, draping along the front of your naked thighs. You open your eyes and deep fear momentarily crashes into you hard.

There’s a gun pointing at your forehead, dripping with your juices and just beyond the semi-automatic pistol, is Gojo Satoru smiling wide at you, eyes full-blown with carnal desire. The sight of him eases your fear, even if he does look rather manic with a gun to your head. Your trust and love for him far outweigh the fear you briefly felt. Besides… why is your cunt dripping more than ever and your heart pumping excitement through you? This is beyond dangerous and yet, you want it with him.

The pad of his index finger lightly caresses the trigger, pressing the barrel of the gun against your forehead. Your breath hitches, body starts to tremble. One pull and you’d be gone. It still doesn’t truly shake you to your core. You’re terrified. Natural to be so scared when there’s a gun to your head and yet, you also can’t shake away how aroused it feels to be forced into a position where all you can do is trust and obey Satoru. His head tilts forward, looking down at you through strands of white hair. Having you in such a vulnerable position is a blessing to him. It’s a right that only he gets the privilege of seeing. A privilege to put you through. “You look so scared, baby. Daddy won’t pull the trigger if you just follow orders.” He purrs, voice low and strained. The barrel of the gun now travels lightly down the length of your face before nudging against your pretty lips.

“Suck it.”

You whimper softly, eyes almost going cross-eyed as you try to look towards the barrel of the gun. Instead, you focus on his fierce grip on the weapon, baffled by how a large hand alone can look so hot when it’s steady and having control over something so dangerous. With a nudge to your lips, you press a sloppy kiss to the tip, glancing up towards Satoru’s face as you drag your tongue directly over the hole. You notice that his finger isn’t on the trigger anymore and assume it’s because you actually obey what he said.

“Daddy..” You whisper breathlessly, swirling your tongue around the end of the pistol. It’s not as smooth and easy to do compared to when you suck Satoru’s pretty dick. It doesn’t taste as pleasant either. Cold metal against your tongue as you drag your parted lips along the side of it until you make contact with his hand. You keep your eyes on the tall male, tongue dancing along the gun, drool coating it before you repeat the same teasing action along the other side, your heart still racing from the fact that this weapon could end you.

Your lips meet the barrel of the pistol and you look up at Satoru. Silently, he nudges it against your saliva-coated lips and you’re quick to obey. Your lips wrap snugly around the tip, metallic taste filling your mouth already as you suck on the end gently, moans muffled. Satoru curses beneath his breath, hand reaching out to tenderly stroke along your hair. He’s so very pleased that you've proven his words to be right. That you really would absolutely do anything for him. Hell, he’s sure you’d even die for him and to have someone that loving and loyal to him? To no one else? Fuck, his cock throbs harder than ever before. You look cute in his eyes as you suck on the end of his pistol. It usually sits in his side drawer, but seeing you enter his office in lingerie? It just called to him.

It’s a bit difficult compared to sucking his cock. The sliding of your mouth isn’t as easy, yet you don’t care. You still feel desperate to please the white-haired male. With your jar relaxed, you bob your mouth up and down half the length of the gun, having to keep your mouth wider to be able to fit the awkward size comfortably.

Mindlessly, his free hand begins to palm himself through his slacks and groans quietly from the friction of fabric rubbing against his pulsating cock. He begins to push the gun further into your mouth until the open end presses against the back of your throat. You gag loudly, throat muscles constricting around the metal object and it causes your eyes to sting from feeling your throat ache, scraping against the pistol. “Keep it in.” He sighs out softly and you have to breathe heavily through your nose, lack of oxygen evident from having a gun deep in your mouth. His crystal blue eyes are wide and heavy with lust as they focus entirely on you and the heavenly sight of you choking on his weapon. His finger caresses along the trigger and you whimper, completely muffled. You continue to try and swallow around the pistol until finally, Satoru relents.

Satoru slowly slides the pistol along the flat of your tongue until he pulls it away entirely. You inhale sharply, a string of saliva connected from your lips to the barrel of the gun. You couldn’t stop yourself from dry-heaving, trying to inhale the oxygen you briefly missed. His free hand reaches to tenderly stroke along your hair, lips curling to form a playful grin. “Good girl, baby. Look at you, dripping all over my office.” He comments, shifting his foot until he taps it against your dripping cunt and you whimper from the jolt of pleasure that shifts through you. Your juices drip slowly onto the wooden floor from how excited you feel, despite the aroused terror you also feel from the gun still being pointed at you.

It’s coated in your saliva still, Satoru isn’t bothered to wipe it clean. Instead, his free hand begins to unbuckle his belt. He pauses, noticing how your fingers twitch by your sides. The white-haired male chuckles, delighted by how you’re always so eager to please him. “Go on, then.” He says, tapping the end of the pistol against your forehead as further encouragement for you. You waste no time. Hastily, your trembling hands come up to finish unbuckling his belt and swiftly sliding it out of the loops to drop it on the floor beside his feet. You look up at him, admiring his beauty as you curl your fingers beneath the slacks and briefs. Your hand unzips the front and you begin to pull his bottoms done until finally, his cock springs free. Satoru steps out of the bottoms and kicks them to the side.

You practically drool at the pretty sight of his thick, long cock throbbing in front of your face. “I don’t even need to threaten you. You’re an eager slut, already drooling.” He sighs out dramatically, nudging the barrel against your cheek, making it squish. You flush with embarrassment, though you can’t retaliate. Gun or not, Satoru is right. The pillow beneath you is already damp because of your dripping cunt. Long lashes flutter and you waste no time to wrap your soft lips around the leaking head of his throbbing cock. Briefly, you tease the tip with your tongue, swirling it around and lapping up the pre-cum, hot moans muffled.

Satoru breathes in sharply between his clenched teeth, cock twitching in response to your teasing. His free hand grips firmly onto your hair and roughly yanks you forward as his hips push out, forcing his pulsating length down your throat further. You whimper, thankful that your mouth isn’t filled with the taste of metallic this time and instead with something else that you love to taste. Your tongue rubs along the underside of his cock, keeping your jaw loose as he guides your head with ease by the fierce grip on your hair, mouth bobbing up and down the entire length.

You couldn’t breathe properly, throat muscles constricting every time he slides deep enough, only leaving you to gag loudly and fucking into the saliva that gathers. It feels heavenly to him. Addicting, too. To feel the soft squishiness of your cheeks rubbing against his cock as he continues to fuck your mouth onto his cock, hips meeting each time. Tears sting every time you feel the throbbing cock push down the length of your throat until your nose presses against smooth skin. It’s even harder to breathe through your nose when it happens, the lack of oxygen making your head feel all light and floaty. Eyes roll, saliva dribbling down your chin and you could feel the edge of the gun still pressed to your forehead, his heavy pants and you choking on his cock filling the air.

You trust him. Trust overwhelming any sense of fear you have about the weapon in his hand, though it will always look menacing in his grip. People would find you to be a freak for also being aroused by it at all, clit throbbing and walls clenching with the need to be filled up. “Fucking hell— fuck. Every hole of yours made for Daddy, huh?” He groans, his stomach starting to tighten with the need to orgasm. He’d rather not. Satoru is more eager when it comes to seeing his white sticky cum dripping from your fucked out cunt. Your hands stay by your side in fists as a pitiful way to try and contain yourself, feeling high off of his words alone. His hand shifts to the back of your head, thrusting deep and forcing you to take every inch of his length once more, not allowing you to move. You stay there, scrunched nose against his stomach as swallow around his cock, throat muscles squeezing around it before he pulls you off quickly, moaning your name.

You begin sputtering and dry-heaving, desperate for the oxygen to flow back. It’s complete bliss when you breathe, throat aching from the sweet abuse. Strings of spit connect your lips to the shiny tip, coated with a mixture of pre-cum and your spit. “Ah~..” You exhale out shakily, looking up at the white-haired male with complete awe. Only he can ever treat you like this and get away with it. It’s thrilling. Hot, even. The gun momentarily dangles loosely from his hand, inhaling slow deep breaths as he looks down at you, admiring how pretty you look on your knees, already looking fucked before he even stuffs you full. Satoru’s lips curl to display a wicked grin.

“My pretty princess, all mine to play with and not a single complaint. I could shoot you and you’d still be desperate to obey me and give me pleasure.” He teases through a coo, waving the gun in your face briefly. Your puffy lips form a cute pout, whining. “Daddy sees right through me. Just want Daddy’s cock so bad..” You whisper, voice breathless and ragged. Satoru hums, long fingers dragging through his white hair before he raises the weapon once more. “You expect me to get to your level to fuck your tight pussy? Bend yourself over the desk.” He orders barrel nudging once more against your forehead.

Frantically, you stumble to your feet. You feel relief for your knees because, despite a pillow, they were starting to ache. Still panting from the result of your mouth being fucked, you make your way to his desk on shaky legs. Funny how he already has you in such a state just from kneeling for too long. “Haven’t even fucked you yet.” Satoru snorts with amusement, though silently endeared as he walks behind you, free hand gripping your hip as he guides you forward. Your eyes make contact with his belongings across the desk. “Daddy, what about your—“

Your words are instantly cut off as you watch Satoru swipe his arm across the desk until everything lands on the ground. Thankfully there is a rug beneath his desk to lessen the damage. Not that you care— That was extremely hot and before you could express that, his large hand firmly grips the back of your head to force you down, upper body bending until the side of your face is pressed against the wooden desk and you whimper, feeling a dull throb. “Baby girl~, looking even more enticing.” Satoru purrs, tapping the end of the gun against the desk beside your head. You couldn’t help but tremble beneath his grip, eyes focusing on the weapon next to you, noticing how his finger once more caressed the trigger as he shifted the angle of it to face you.

Automatic fear washes over you, soon turning into excitement that drips from between your legs. Your trust in him only deepens as you begin to teasingly sway your hips. Satoru drags the barrel along his now empty desk, crystal blue eyes refusing to look away from the seductive sight of your ass. His free hand gently glides down the length of your body, neatly trimmed nails grazing along your naked back. “You’re so pretty, Y/N. Especially like this, as if you were made to be bent over my desk and take my big cock in any hole of yours.” Satoru says and you could practically hear the cocky smirk in his voice. Your thighs squeeze together, cheeks heating up. He isn’t wrong. That’s what you often think about. How you were born into this world to belong to the white-haired male, to feel excitement and pleasure as you do anything he wants. Your fetishes and kinks always line up with his. You glance towards the gun that appears, even more, shinier because of your sweet juices mixed with your saliva. You bite back a small smile. You were made for each other.

His large hand grasps your right ass cheek firmly, squeezing harshly enough to coax sweet mewls out of you and to, naturally, admire the way your ass fills up the gaps between his fingers. Fucking hell, he loves your ass. He brings his hand back, hovering before he brings it back to the surface of your ass swiftly, slapping your ass cheek firmly. You whimper, feeling the sweet sting spread across your cheek. He alternates his harsh spanks from cheek to cheek, grinning almost like a maniac as he enjoys the joyful sight of your ass cheeks jiggling before his very eyes. His palm starts to feel numb and yet it doesn’t stop him. Nor do the tears that glue to your long lashes as your gaze stays fixated on the automated pistol pointed in your direction, looking so menacing. Spank after spank, the impact each time his hand lands seems to be harder than before, causing you to squirm on the spot and bite back your sobbing. The pain by Satoru’s hands feels so good.

You gasp out sharply when nails scrape over your burning skin, knowing that light bruises were already beginning to form from how hard he hit your ass cheeks. “What are you doing just laying there, princess? It’s like you’re asking me to pull the trigger and leave you here to bleed.” Satoru murmurs, dragging the edge of the gun across the table before you feel the cold metal, slicked with your saliva and juices; pressing against your bruises ass cheek. “If you don’t show me how much you want me..” He warns, finger tapping lightly on the trigger.

Hastily, ignoring how the deathly threats invoked some sort of wild excitement out of you, your hands come back towards your throbbing ass and you whimper softly, hands trying to gently cup across the surface of your ass and spreading your cheeks wide enough to finally reveal your both of your holes. Your pussy is on full display, folds parted and strings of your slick attached to them. Satoru grins, ignoring your whimper as his free hand soothingly rubs along your waist. “Such a good girl, baby. Always obeying me... You’re just a little dumb, s’all. Need Daddy to always guide you through it.” The white-haired male purrs, feeling daring enough to press the tip of the pistol directly against your puckered asshole and chuckles when he sees it clench. “Scared I’m going to fuck your asshole with my gun, baby? Would you prefer my cock?“

You nod your head eagerly to the thought, heat rising to your cheeks and nails dig lightly into your own flesh, keeping your ass cheeks spread. He laughs and you’re delighted to hear it, unable to stop your lips from curling. “Just love Daddy’s cock so much, made to fill my holes up..” You mumble, breath hitching when the edge of the gun presses further against your asshole. You shiver, not knowing what to expect as he drags the metal object down between your ass cheeks and rubbing once more against your folds.

He loves it, really. You looking so vulnerable. Scared by the gun and yet confused for being aroused. This power that he holds over you is so addicting; something he’ll always want to chase. The dominance to pair with your submissiveness. Satoru snaps out of his trance, placing the gun on the desk and finally gripping your waist with two hands. “Keep being my perfect girl, don’t think I won’t pick it back up and hurt you. Have you crying for me, begging for me to stop the pain. Hm? Only Daddy would be able to help you, isn’t that right?” He says, voice low and soothing as his hands come down to squeeze over your own hands that keep you spread for him.

Your heart flutters and all you can do is helplessly nod. Satoru soaks it all in. The sinful sight of you bent over his desk, sweet juices smeared along your inner thighs and dripping from your core. It’s a miracle that he’s even able to hold himself back when he’s desperate to slam himself inside of you with no warning and have you choke on your pretty tears. One hand grips the base of his cock as he guides himself forward until he’s grinding his erection against you. A heavy sigh falls from his soft lips, head tilting back as he focuses on the feeling of his length rubbing between your slippery folds, each slide so smooth from your slick. His bulbous tip leaks pre-cum that smears along your cunt, pressing against your needy hole, finally. You whine, nails scraping once more across your bruised ass cheeks that leave a burning sensation across the numb flesh, wiggling back to show your eagerness for his cock.

You still find yourself nervously glancing towards the gun that rests about thirty centimetres away. One false move and your beloved Satoru could pick it up, having every right to. Yes, you’re so willing and thankful to give him that much power. To hand over all the control to the white-haired male and deeply trust him in return. He spoils you, deep down. Cares for you. Loves you. It’s only right to be loyal and obedient. Hell, it makes it so much more thrilling. One of his large hands caresses along your bare back again, his gaze fixated on your face and so he knows where you continue to glance. It makes his cock throb with so much excitement, seeing you nervous and yet, determined to behave.

“Your trust in me, Y/N…” Satoru trails off, his own blue eyes focusing on his cock, perfectly lined up and ready. It already glistens beneath the office light from being coated in your mess. You squirm a little, wondering what exactly he wants to say and— “Ah!” You strangle out a cry of surprise laced with pleasure & pain when you suddenly feel his cock pushing in deep, hard and fast. He didn't 'prepare' you with his fingers like he usually does; to coax you into relaxing and being able to adjust comfortably when something bigger enters. Not that it's usually needed. He just knows you love the feeling of his long, slender fingers. Still, the pain of your walls stretching only adds to the thrill. Satoru slams his throbbing length into you, hips snapping forward and nails digging into your soft flesh as he groans your name out in pleasure, head tilting back. “It’s so arousing—.” He finally manages to finish between heavy pants, already feeling your warm velvety walls cling right around his erection and squeezing.

“Daddy, oh—, nngh... So big—“ You whimper out, eyes closing tightly and your words only make his ego inflate, leaving him to grin down at your naked body beneath him. “Yeah? Daddy’s so big that he’s filling you right up. Don’t deny that it feels good, baby girl. I don’t like my good girl to lie to me.” He teases, hands soothingly stroking your sides. Satoru wastes no time. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust or get comfortable as he begins to thrust, nice and slow. You lay there obedient and eager to take his monstrous-sized cock, even if the stretch of your inner walls still hurt. Your cheek presses against the surface of the desk and if it wasn’t for his fierce grip on your hips, your body would have been jerking forward with each hard thrust.

The pain begins to subside already, replaced with the pleasure you often chase for. His cock sliding in and out with ease, all thanks to how deeply aroused you are. Satoru pathetically tries to contain himself by digging his nails into your flesh, muscles tensing up as he watches his cock disappear inside your needy cunt with deep fascination. “Fucking— tight.” He pants out as he feels your warm walls drag along his throbbing length as if eager to keep him buried deep inside. You squeeze around his thickness, feeling utter bliss and too deep in the pleasure to even feel flustered from the squelching your pussy makes every time he pulls out, only to push back in. “Nn, Daddy~.” You moan out happily, mind blank as you nuzzle the hard wooden desk.

Satoru laughs breathlessly, pulling back until only the bulbous tip of his cock stays inside your warmth. Naturally, a whine of complaint falls from your lips and you try to wiggle back onto his cock. His hands easily hold you in place and you yelp with surprise when he swats your ass cheek. “Fucking whore, always so greedy for Daddy’s cock. The dumb girl can’t even think of anything else. huh? Isn’t that right? So cock obsessed that you’d just lay all day with your legs open to show off your slutty pussy. Want Daddy to fuck you, baby girl? Hm?” The filthy, degrading words fall easily from his lips and you flush with humiliation. It only drives your lust further and deeper. You feel pathetic to know that it’s true. You don’t care in the end— You just want his fat cock in your tight pussy.

“Daddy, please~. Fuck your personal toy. I’m such a whore for your thick cock, a-ah!” You cry out in sweet ecstasy when he slams into you, arching your back into the air. Instantly, he’s leaning down until his toned body is pressing against yours, hand groping your breast and squeezing harshly. He’s grinding his cock into you, leaving you feeling so drunk off the pleasure as moans spill easily from your swollen lips. “That’s it, baby girl. Take all of me.” He whispers against your ear, shivering from his hot breath and teasing tongue against your earlobe. Satoru continues to grind hard, addicted to the way your inner walls seem to desperately try to cling to his throbbing length, only for your juices to make each thrust so easy. He massages your breasts, taking his time with each and it leaves your legs trembling. His hand comes down until he presses just above your womanhood, groaning softly from feeling his own cock make you bulge.

You whimper from feeling his hand pressing down, tears glued to your long lashes. Everything just feels so good! You could barely contain yourself even if you wanted to. Satoru adores seeing you already unravel before him and it prompts the desire to see more. Satoru carefully slides out of your core and you pout, hole clenching around nothing. The white-haired male’s lips are curled to form a smile of amusement, hand slapping easily against your wet cunt as you keep your legs spread. “Patience, princess.” He says, enjoying the soft cries that escape you from his slap.

Satoru’s thick and heavy cock continues to throb and he grips your wrists firmly to tug you upwards. “Eh?” You question, though happily obeying as he controls your movements. With not needing to use much of his strength, Satoru easily manhandles you. He twists you around until you’re facing him and hoists you up onto his near-empty desk. The gun still lying near one of the corners. “Not even trying to help Daddy here, I guess you really do love me handling you.” He sighs, a chaste kiss to your forehead before his hand pushes against your shoulder and your back meets the flat surface of the desk.

Your eyes are wide from feeling the impact, gazing up at him with lust and legs open, your body looking so inviting for him. Always. Satoru wastes no time. He’s too eager to feel you around him again and so with his hand at the base of his cock, he guides himself back in. Tip pressed against your hole before sinking in entirely, coaxing mewls to spill from your needy lips. Satoru shivers, feeling you squeeze around his erection once more. Your hands grip weakly onto the edge of the desk as Satoru starts to thrust fast and deep. You moan out in enjoyment when you feel his cock stretching you out every time he slams into you, eyes rolling back and lips staying parted. His crystal blue eyes refuse to leave your face as he pounds relentlessly into you, heavy pants mixed with eager grunts and groans parting from him.

The white-haired male never gives in, no matter how good it feels to have your walls wrapped snug and tight around his pulsating cock. Satoru continues to thrust hard and fast, skin slapping against skin echoing off the empty office walls. Your breasts bounce with each pounding of his length, the office desk creaking beneath you. “Daddy!” You choke out in ecstasy, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. It only drives him further to witness you in such a delicious state; utterly drunk off of his cock alone. One hand comes down to your pussy, thumb pressing against your throbbing clit to rub teasingly in circles.

Electrifying jolts surge through your body from the contact to the sensitive nub, face scrunching up as you cry out for the taller male, clenching around his cock that continues to pound into you with no mercy. Every touch, every thrust of his is so damn thrilling that your body only chases for more, even as you start to feel delirious. Sweat lightly coats your body, tiny yelps escaping your swollen lips as his other hand slaps your breasts which continue to jiggle, thanks to his cock slamming deep into your core. “Da-ah~ Nnghh..” You babble out, cheeks glistening from your tears. Satoru is panting heavily, not minding the numb tingle in his palm as he slaps your breasts in time with his thrusts. Fuck, he swears he’s never felt anyone or anything so damn perfect before. The way your velvety inner walls cling onto his cock as if desperate to keep him buried inside of you; keep you full to the brim.

You both can sense the ultimate highs coming and yet, he refuses to give in just yet. It’s almost like magic to see how fast his throbbing cock disappears and your dripping cunt taking every inch, always stretching right around and squeezing. One hand steadies you against the desk, gripping onto your hip. His eyes are wide and alive with swirls of lust as his other reaches for the gun. Just that feeling of more power, that will really fucking send him over the edge. His long fingers wrap around the grip of the automated pistol. He pulls his cock out to the very tip, listening to your cute little whines. You want him back inside of you so badly and— “Ah!” You cry as he slams back in, eyes barely able to concentrate as he leans in, hovering over you as he continues to fuck you nice and deep.

So close, you’re both so close. Nearly there.

“Would you die for me, Y/N?” He pants out heavily, refusing to look away from your face that twists with innocent confusion from the question. You’re too drunk off of the pleasure to really think, though you know in your heart, what the answer is. “Yes— Yes, would die for, nn.. you, Daddy. Anything for you.” You moan, hand coming down to rest over his on your hip to squeeze. A single laugh escapes him, pleased by your answer. Loyalty really is the best in his eyes. To have you especially, be happily devoted to him. “Prove it, baby. I want you to prove it.” He says, voice low and breathless. You open your eyes when something presses to your forehead and that’s when you notice he picked up the automated pistol mid-fuck, still thrusting deep inside your dripping cunt, balls slapping against your ass.

Fear tightly tied in with the pleasure you feel, continues to surge through your body. Your eyes filled with tears almost going cross-eyed as you look at the gun, crying. You’re babbling and incoherent, nails digging into his wrist. You have to prove it. You want to prove it. To Satoru, your entire world. The metal scrapes against your forehead as your body still jerks with every pounding. Satoru feels like he could barely breathe now when your pussy clenches so tight around his length, forcing his grip on the gun to stay steady. “I’ll do it, Y/N. I’ll pull the trigger, just say you’ll die for me. Show me— Fuck, so tight... Show me your devotion.” He antagonises further, stomach muscles tensing. In his eyes, you look so pretty as a sobbing mess. All for him.

You’re blinded by the tears that spill down your cheeks, wailing mixing into moans of ecstasy. It’s so sinful, in your mind. To be so afraid and yet aroused. That your needy pussy continues to be coated in your excited slick, making it easier for him to fuck into you. “P-Pull it, Daddy! Let me show you!” You manage to stutter out in a broken cry, refusing to close your eyes as you look up at him. To look at your everything. “Fuck—” Satoru grunts out, cock aching from witnessing something so beautiful. “I’m pulling the trigger, baby. Three—” He cuts himself off, the barrel of the gun pressing firmly against your head.

Your body is shaking, your stomach hot and tight with the need to let everything go. “Daddy!” You choke out, eyes wide and cheeks stained with constant tears. “Two.” He warns, crystal blue eyes refusing to leave yours. He cocks the gun. This is it. This is when you’ll show your true devotion to the white-haired male; your lover. Satoru’s slick-covered cock slides out until only the tip stays nudged in.

“One!”

You hear the click of his finger pressing down on the trigger as he slams one final time into your tight heat and you swear there’s an explosion of stars. You come around his cock, walls fluttering before squeezing around him. Your eyes shut tightly when you hear the trigger, too deep in your feelings of ecstasy to process the reality of no bullet. The gun slams down on the table as his muscular arms wrap around your trembling figure. He’s groaning against your ear and finally spills every drop of his seed, filling you up to the brim. Your walls clench repeatedly around his thick length, eagerly milking him through his orgasm as you sob through your own. You cling onto him, legs and arms feeling like jelly as you do so. “I’ve got you, Y/N..” Satoru whispers, hand already stroking along your back as he holds you against his warm body.

It feels like a long while for you to calm down from your high, desperately holding onto the white-haired man as you sob through your orgasm, your excited mess seeping out from your pussy. It’s mixed with his own sticky cum and he’s still refusing to pull out of you. Maybe selfish of him, but he swears to himself that’s mostly focused on you. He has to. Wants to. After everything he’s just done. Reality soon crashes over you. Even when you’re deeply in love and trusting someone; it doesn’t stop the breakdown of relief. Relief mixed with guilt and confusion. Relief for being alive, that there really wasn’t any danger. Guilt for being aroused by something so dangerous in the hands of the man you love. Confusion... Why? Why did it arouse you?

Satoru makes gentle shushing sounds, not with the intention to silence you but to comfort you. Tears continue to spill down from your cheeks, nuzzling his broad shoulder in a pathetic attempt to hide. “You’re okay, baby… It’s okay. Daddy would never hurt you. Not like that, hm?” Satoru whispers lovingly. He finally relents, sliding out of you until his cum spills out of your gaping cunt and drips along the edge of the desk. Your walls clench around nothing, already missing the feeling of being full. A small hiccup escapes and you feel your body being gently rocked. “D-Daddy..” You mumble through sniffling and he pulls back a bit.

The white-haired offers a warm smile, eyes now clouded with the love he has for you. He presses a kiss to your forehead before taking hold of the gun. You couldn’t help but whimper, gaze fixated on it. “Look.” He pauses, sliding the magazine out to reveal the insides of it. Completely empty. Not a single bullet inside. Deep down, you knew that was the case. Satoru would never dare threaten you with a live weapon. It was all part of the play; something you both discussed wanting to try weeks ago. Everything was consensual… Still, you feel confused. Was it wrong to be so aroused by having your life in his hands? Trusting him completely? Satoru slots the magazine back into place with a click before setting it aside. With one hand on you, Satoru leans down to grab a bottle of water that he kept near his desk. He’s always a prepared man, even when things seem so spontaneous. He uncaps the bottle and gently guides your head away to press the edge of the bottle against your lips. You obey and take small sips of the water, thankful for the liquid to ease your sore throat.

“You’re not gross, Y/N. What you feel is completely normal, baby. It wasn’t exactly the gun that aroused you. Nor me. It was about the power exchange and trust.” The white-haired male gently explains and it surprises you; to be read so easily. Your bottom lip trembles and you pull back slightly to look up at him, tears glued to your long lashes. His heart aches at the sight, large hands tenderly cupping your cheeks as he scatters loving kisses across your forehead. “It feels weird, Daddy... I was so scared.” You confess quietly, sniffling. “But, I trust you so much. Even with my life. You’d never really do it, right?” You ask rather timidly and Satoru shakes his head quickly. He knows such thoughts are normal after an intense scene and you only deserve the best love and care afterwards.

“Would never ever. The only fear and pain we accept in this household is consensual. I love you so much, Y/N. You did so well for me.” Satoru praises, hands caressing your bare back as he smiles down at you as you continue to sit on his desk. Your heart flutters at the sight of his smile, wrapping your arms around his middle to cling onto him, burying your face against his firm chest. So warm and comforting. “I like trying new things with you. I know people would probably think of us as freaks, but I like it. You’re the only one I trust.” You mumble, voice muffled by your face refusing to pull away from his chest. Your words ease his mind and he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. Even a dominant person in a relationship needs aftercare and to be reassured. You know that very much. Especially with Satoru. He may be intense during the scene and heavily aroused, but he’s still someone who is soft and gentle; behind all that cockiness. “I like it, too. We’re made for each other, Y/N. Thank you for trusting me… Now, come on.”

You cock your head to the side in question before you let out a soft squeal as you feel Satoru lift you up with ease. Satoru’s hands cautiously cup your ass cheeks as he walks to the closed door. You look back towards the office — items scattered across the floor and cum dripping down the table. You feel your cheeks heat up. “Shouldn’t we clean that up?” You ask quietly and Satoru laughs, warm breath tickling your neck. “I’ll clean it up later, we’re focusing on you right now. How does a bubble bath sound? Let me take care of you.” Satoru says through a dramatic whine and you can’t stop the giggle from escaping, resting your head against his broad shoulder as he carries you to the bathroom.

“You’re the best at taking care of me, Satoru.” You say through a happy sigh. He sets you down on the counter, finally shrugging off his unbuttoned shirt off properly. You watch, eyes glazed over with love as he’s preparing the bath. It’s thankfully quite big and will be able to fit both of you comfortably. Even with his long legs, that your eyes currently admire. His hand glides under the tap of running water, adjusting the temperature to the warmth that he knows you prefer. He looks back at you for a moment, noticing you looking. “Are you admiring my ass?” He teases, lips curling into a grin and you huff, looking off to the side. “Your legs, thank you very much. Though, you do have a nice ass.” You grumble and Satoru snorts.

Once the bath is prepared and nearly overflowing with bubbles, Satoru walks over to scoop you back up into his arms. “Admire all of me.�� He says with a playful pout and chest puffing out. You lightly smack his muscular pecs, smiling. “Always.” You respond with a kiss to his lips as he settles both himself and you into the water. Your back is against his front as his long legs trap you within. Briefly, he tilts his head back and sighs, enjoying the warmth of the water and your body pressing against him. You nuzzle back into him happily, prompting him to smile. Quietly, he grabs a loofah, squirting your favourite scented lotion on it before he begins to scrub it gently against your arms. He firmly holds each arm up as he rubs in a circular motion, spreading the suds across your skin. You feel butterflies flutter in your stomach as he continues, feeling the loofah against your back and across your front. No one else in the past ever took care of you to such lengths.

Still, it’s not fair. “Satoru—” You begin, taking hold of the loofah once he is finished. You manage to wiggle yourself around until you’re facing him. With an eager huff, you begin to scrub against his skin and across his muscular body. Satoru’s playful gaze softens, keeping his arms up against the edge of the tub as he watches you. “Is this an excuse to touch my hot body?” He asks, unable to keep it in. You splash water at him and he laughs, leaning in to press a loving kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment.

“I get to touch your hot body whenever I want anyways.” You say as you pull away from the kiss, feeling giddy. There’s no sense of fear or insecurity within you anymore, completely comforted by the white-haired male’s presence. He loves you so perfectly. Satoru rolls his eyes as he sighs dramatically. “Yeah, I’m just a piece of meat.” He jokes, kissing you once more before wrapping his arms around you. “Just kidding.” He reassures, pulling you against him.

You both stay in the bath until the water starts to feel cold and so, Satoru stands up. He quickly dries himself off so he’s not dripping water across his apartment, wrapping the towel around his waist. He grabs an extra fluffy one for you, guiding you to stand up before he wraps it around you.

“I can dry myself—”

“No.”

You bite back a smile, now standing on the bathmat as he dries you off and even going to great lengths to squeeze the water out of your hair carefully. Satoru bends down to peck your lips, the towel now replaced with a fuzzy bath gown in your favourite colour. “Can you go to the bedroom? I’ll be quick.” Satoru promises, nudging you to the exit of the bathroom. Happily, you oblige. You walk down the long hallway— You still find yourself surprised sometimes by how big his apartment is… Bedroom, too. You push the door open to reveal the master bedroom, walking over to sit on the edge of the king-size bed that you happily share with the male.

Satoru quickly unplugged the bath before hanging your towel and leaving the bathroom. He walks in the opposite direction until he’s in the kitchen. He grabs another bottle of water from the fridge and two granola bars from the pantry. Perhaps some would think his actions during aftercare are a bit extreme. That cuddling is ‘enough’. A few nice words. To him, that’s barely anything. He remembers briefly of the past— You being surprised by how far he goes to make sure you’re okay. Maybe it’s surprising cause he doesn’t seem like the type. Not with an overly confident persona and playfulness. There will always be layers to discover when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

Once in the bedroom, Satoru walks over to set the bottle and granola bars down on the bedside table. Your gaze softens. “What if I wasn’t hungry?” You ask, allowing him to scoop you up to drop you down against the middle of the mattress, sinking into it. “Don’t care, you’ll still eat it.” Satoru says, guiding you to roll over onto your stomach. You make a questioning sound, sensing him moving away and you tilt your head to watch him. He walks over to a set of drawers to grab a pair of sweatpants, tugging them up his long legs and tucking himself in before grabbing a bottle of lotion from the top surface. “Satoruuuu, you do so much. Let me take care of you, too.” You whine and Satoru settles beside you, grinning a little. “You do plenty.” He reassures, pressing a kiss to your temple.

He slides the gown up until your ass is revealed to him and he sighs. “You do have a perfect ass. My favourite.” He says, slowly squeezing some of the lotion onto his palm and you pout. “I hope you don’t see any other asses.” You mumble, breath hitching when you feel the coldness of the lotion before he begins to massage the lotion in. “I don’t know, hard to not look at my own.” Satoru says lightly, kneading the supple flesh gently. He never wants to take any chances with bruising. The spanking was barely anything compared to what he had done before, but it will never stop Satoru. Maybe it’s an excuse to touch you further and the thought makes you giggle. Thankfully, his tender massage does ease the throbbing in your ass. Once finished, Satoru leans down to press a playful kiss to each cheek. “Mwah, mwah.”

You laugh, prompting him to grin before he tugs the gown back down and rubs his hands on his sweats. He sets the lotion aside before his firm grip rolls you back over. Satoru easily hoists you up until you’re settled against the pillows. He tugs the blankets over your lower half, making sure the pillows are nice and plump for your comfort. He joins you under the blankets, settled against the pillows next to you. His arm reaches behind you to grab one of the granola bars and drops it on your lap. “Eat.” He orders gently, now wrapping his arms around you to snuggle into you, happy to just finally embrace you in bed and relax... Not that he doesn’t love doing aftercare, he really does. Especially after an intense session. It’s just that nothing quite beats cuddling in the end. You feel extra cosy still in the bath gown to relax in and have your boyfriend clinging onto you. He’s always been the affectionate kind and you adore it.

You snack on the granola bar in a comforting silence, breaking a bit to feed to him. He happily takes it between his teeth before chewing. One hand comes up to stroke along the back of your head, smiling softly. “Feeling okay now? Do you have any regrets?” Satoru asks, needing to know. You tilt your head, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “No regrets at all, my love. I had fun and it feels comforting to know that we can be freaks together.” You say with a soft giggle and Satoru relaxes. “Agreed, my love.” He copies, keeping his arms wrapped around you. You smile, noticing his eyes closing for the moment. You briefly think back to the gun that was pointed at your forehead. Fear doesn’t flare up within you. You know that no matter what happens between you both— No matter how intense things could be; there will always be love and trust. You will always be happy and willing to try something new with the man you love. Besides, it’s not like it’s the only thing you both do. There’s plenty of gentle love-making, too. “I love you.” You mumble shyly, nibbling on the granola bar. He smiles, eyes still closed and snuggling into your warmth.

“I love you, too.”

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fics-and-quotes-andthelike · 8 months

Text

Better Late Than Never

Title: Better Late Than Never

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female reader

Word Count: ~2,143

In which the reader’s love language is physical touch, but has never touched Dean…in public.

A/N: I really hope you guys like this one! Thanks so much for reading and for your support. If you have any requests for a fic, feel free to give me a character and a prompt/explanation for what you’d like!

Your love language has always been physical touch. A quick brush of hands here, an innocent kiss to the cheek there. Whether it was your friend or your significant other, touch was just something you used to show that you cared.

So it meant a lot to you when, after you moved in with the Winchesters, Sam had quickly picked up on your love language and allowed you to give him occasional hugs. He’d also gone out of his way to hug you, or even just put a reassuring hand on your shoulder once in a while.

But even though you felt more than comfortable with Sam, you were the first to admit that you’d never so much as given Dean a high five.

In front of others.

In the privacy of an empty bunker or motel room, you and Dean had no problem brushing against each other and exchanging brief touches. Eventually, the brief touches had turned into longer ones, and hands drifted from your shoulder to the small of your back. Then those touches turned into sitting right beside each other, your head resting on his shoulder as he peppered kisses on the top of your head. And after that, kisses on your head turned to kisses on your lips, while hands on your back turned into hands grasping your hips.

But as soon as Sam, Cas, Charlie, or anyone else walked through the door, you would revert back to no touches at all.

It’s not that you didn’t want to. He truly meant the world to you. But every time someone would walk into the room, he would pull away. And you never wanted to make Dean feel uncomfortable, even if it was killing you inside. So, to respect his space, you’d never so much as given Dean a high five in front of other people.

Until today.

A hunt had gone sideways when a djinn had outsmarted the three of you and gotten its hands on Dean while you and Sam had been out getting dinner.

When you got back to the motel room to see that Dean was gone and not answering his phone, you and Sam had come up with a plan. A questionable plan, for sure, but it was all that you could come up with in the limited time that you were allowed.

Now, the two of you sat in Baby, reviewing the plan before you burst into the abandoned warehouse where Dean was being kept.

“Whatever you do, don’t engage with the djinn, got it? I’ll take care of him, you take care of Dean.”

You nodded stiffly, your eyes on the building ahead. “I hear you, I got it. But if you’re in any trouble-”

Sam sighed in exasperation. “Would you just listen to me for a second-”

You looked up at him, fury in your gaze. “I will not let that djinn take you, too.”

Sam’s gaze softened. For all of the sweet touches that you passed around, you were still a hunter, willing to hurt anything that came between you and your family.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and leaned towards you. “Hey. We’re going to be okay, alright? Us and Dean, we’re getting out of here. And that djinn isn’t gonna know what hit him.”

He kept his hand on your shoulder until you finally nodded in agreement, a half smile taking shape on your lips. You took a deep breath and checked the bullets in your gun and the knife hidden in your jacket as Sam checked the knife dipped in lamb’s blood and the colt in his holster one last time.

As you went through your mental checklist, you couldn’t help the bolt of fear that shot through you when you realized that the djinn could have easily killed Dean hours ago.

You shook your head at the thought. Dean was tough, and if the djinn was probably desperate to make his life force last as long as possible.

You shook out your nerves one last time before you straightened up and looked towards Sam. “Alright,” you muttered. “Let’s get this thing.”

The two of you got out of the car quietly before making your way to the door of the warehouse. Sam put a finger to his lips as he tried the door. You both made a face of surprise when the door gave way easily. Sam led the way as you crept inside, hoping against all odds that the rest of the revue would go this smoothly.

But of course, it wouldn’t really be a Winchester hunt if nothing went wrong.

As soon as you and Sam entered the building, you were ambushed by the waiting djinn. With the advantage of surprise on its side, it quickly overpowered Sam and tossed him to the side before it turned its attention toward you.

You cursed under your breath and raised your gun, knowing full well that it and your knife would do nothing to save you, since the plan had been that you would never have to face the djinn. The djinn smiled at your panic, pacing towards you swiftly.

Suddenly, Sam appeared once again behind the djinn. The djinn whirled around and just barely managed to dodge the knife that Sam swung its way.

Sam risked a glance over to you. “Go! Get Dean!”

You nodded, though he had already turned back to face the djinn.

You looked around wildly, hoping for some kind of sign as to where Dean could be. You startled when you heard faint gasping coming from one of the rooms to your right.

Dean. You sighed in relief as you followed the sound. He had probably saved himself from his fantasy world. You shuddered as you remembered what he’d had to do to escape his dream, and started moving faster.

You entered the room cautiously, gun in hand. From your left, a weak voice croaked out your name.

You whirled around to find Dean weak and bound, but utterly alive. You felt tears well up in your eyes as you ran over to him, shoving your gun back in its holster so that you could grab your knife and cut through his bindings.

Dean looked up at you and smiled weakly. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You ignored him, focused solely on setting him free. Your hands were shaking, making it harder to cut through the ropes. Finally, with an extra push, your knife cut through. You dropped it so that you could catch Dean, who slumped forward as soon as he was able to move again.

You slowly lowered the two of you to the ground, allowing him to catch his breath. “Are you okay?” you asked, a slight tremor in your voice.

Dean looked up at you, his eyes soft as he searched your face. “I’m alright.”

His gaze sharpened suddenly, and he looked around the room. “Where’s Sammy?”

Your head snapped over to the door, through which you could hear sounds of a fight. You cursed lightly under your breath as you stood.

Dean moved to stand as well, but you placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed him back lightly. “Stay here,” you ordered. “I’ll help Sam.”

“I’m not gonna-”

“Stay. Here.”

Dean eyed you stubbornly, but seemed to think better of himself, and nodded once for you to go on. He watched as you picked up your knife and handed it to him before you exited the room, jumping straight into the fight.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall behind him. Normally, he wouldn’t have stayed behind, regardless of what you or Sam said. But as he lay still against the wall, he couldn’t help but remember the dream that he’d been forced into.

You, him, and Sam. There’d been no more monsters. No fighting, no war. Just the three of you, living peacefully.

Jess had been there. She and Sam had gotten married, and Sam was the happiest man around. Or maybe not the happiest. Dean himself had been pretty happy too, with you by his side, through sickness and health. Finally free to hug and love each other freely, regardless of who was around.

He smiled as he looked back on it, but immediately broke out of his memory and jerked to attention as he heard footsteps enter the room.

Panic filled his body. Was it the djinn? Had he gotten to you and Sam? He clutched the knife you had given him in his hand, ready to make good use of it.

He heard Sam call out his name, relief filling his body. Dean opened his eyes and stood slowly, smiling at the two hunters watching him with concerned eyes. “Hey, Sammy.”

You heard Sam laugh breathlessly in relief while your eyes raked over Dean’s body, making sure that he wasn’t hiding an injury.

Dean tilted his head slightly, meeting your eyes. “I’m fine. Honest.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You were aware of Sam saying something next to you, but you couldn’t focus on his words, your attention solely on Dean.

When Dean looked over at you again, a small smile on his lips and concern in his eyes, you couldn’t help yourself. You threw down your weapon and ran over, throwing yourself into his arms.

You’d never been hugged like that before.

His arms wound themselves around your body and tightened, pressing you against him. His hands were open, one resting on your shoulder and one on your side, both tugging you closer than you thought possible. His head rested on top of yours, and he murmured reassurances into your ear as he slowly rocked you side to side.

Through it all, you could faintly hear the sound of Sam leaving the room, giving the two of you some space.

When you finally pulled back, Dean’s hands didn’t leave you, instead resting on your hips as he pressed his forehead to yours.

Your hands fluttered between his shoulders, his neck, and his face as you closed your eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. “I thought you were dead.”

Dean chuckled and gave the barest shake of his head, bringing his hands up to rest them on yours where they sat cradling his face. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You laughed. “Because my life revolves around you?”

“Because then we’d never be able to tell Sam about us.”

You felt your face change, your smile dropping as you stepped away from Dean.

He looked back at you as his arms dropped down to his sides, hurt evident on his face. “What did I do? Are we not…?”

“No!” You exclaimed, shaking your head quickly.

You saw disappointment and shame flit across his features. You shook your head again. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…I just…I wasn’t sure.”

“Sure about what?”

“It’s just…” You steeled yourself. “You always pull away from me. I thought maybe you were embarrassed or something. Or maybe you just wanted me to help you feel better-”

Dean’s whole body jerked with surprise and he stepped towards you, arms outstretched. “No, sweetheart, that’s not it at all. I’m just…” He hesitated, only a step away from you as his arms dropped. “I’m not good with mushy gushy crap. You know that.”

You smiled cautiously. “I know. Nothing wrong with that.”

He nodded, unmoving.

You took a step towards him. “Maybe we could…work on it together?”

A smirk crossed his face as he reached an arm around your back and pulled you closer. “Oh, yeah?”

A laugh crossed your lips. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Dean leaned his head down to softly brush his lips against yours. “I know.”

You felt him stiffen as you both heard footsteps re-enter the room, with Sam loudly complaining, “You guys good to go?”

You moved to pull away, muscle memory taking over, when Dean suddenly cupped your face with one hand and pressed his other hand against your back. His eyes searched yours. “Is this okay?”

Your heart was hammering against your chest, the knowledge that what you said could determine your whole relationship with both Winchesters weighing on your brain.

You heard Sam’s footsteps moving closer and smiled breathlessly. “Yeah,” you managed to say before he connected his lips to yours.

“Guys,” Sam repeated as he stepped into the room. His eyes landed on the two of you, your hands cupping Dean’s face as he pulled you closer still. He chuckled and turned away, but not before shouting, “It’s about time!”

He could hear Dean telling him where to shove it as he walked away, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that the two of you genuinely believed that nobody had noticed your secret relationship these past two years.

Oh well, he thought to himself. Better late than never.

#supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #supernatural fluff #dean x reader fluff #sam and dean #fanfic #fic #castiel #supernatural charlie #supernatural imagines #incorrect supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #fem reader #fluff

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lihhelsing · 8 months

Text

Part 2

Unknown number: Hey

Steve is sitting on the couch, he has Top Gun playing in the background just because he wanted some noise. The house feels empty whenever Robin has a different shift than him.

The message comes from an unknown number and he just watches as the three dots appear. It’s probably someone trying to sell him something but he’s so bored all he can do is watch.

When the message finally comes through, Steve feels his stomach dropping in surprise, a small rush coursing through him.

Unknown Number: It’s Eddie. The guy who was rude to you for no good reason? You know, the one who thought you were being an asshole just to embarrass himself in front of the hottest guy he had ever seen?

Unknown Number: God, I sound dumb. You probably don’t remember me but it’s Eddie.

Steve remembers. Of course he does.

Unknown Number: Anyway. I’m making it worse, aren’t I? I just wanted to apologize. I can delete your number after this, but I felt like I owed you. You didn’t do anything wrong and I was a bitch. Sorry. I’ll leave you alone now.

Steve doesn’t want to be left alone. Without thinking he dials the number. Feels like messages aren’t the best way to handle the situation.

“Hi,” Eddie says a little out of breath after the third ring.

“Hey,” Steve says back. There’s a smile threatening to bloom on his face because Eddie sounds flustered and Steve kind of loves it. “Sorry I called.”

“Sorry I messaged,” Eddie says back and Steve chuckles.

“I’m glad you did,” he says and he swears Eddie’s breath hitches.

“I’m glad you did, too.”

Steve had been debating whether or not to message Eddie. He’d told the story to Robin and she laughed at his expense as usual, but then she shrugged and said Steve should let it go. It wasn’t his fault the guy got played and Steve shouldn’t feel guilty.

He didn’t. He just really couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie.

After a beat where neither of them says anything, Steve decides to tackle the elephant in the room.

"So, uh, I'm really sorry about the whole catfish thing. I don't know why someone would be this mean."

Eddie hums on the other side of the line and Steve thinks this is it, maybe he'll offer him an excuse and hang up and actually delete his number, but Eddie surprises him.

"It's ok, you know. I should've suspected it, honestly. There's no way someone as hot as you would be interested in someone like me."

"You keep saying that and yet I remember giving you my number anyway," Steve says playfully.

"Yeah, 'cause you were feeling sorry for me." Eddie says back and Steve actually scoffs.

"Well, no. I actually thought you were pretty cute," Steve shrugs even though Eddie can't see him. He's never that forthcoming but there's something about Eddie that keeps pulling him in and he just wants to see where this is going.

"Pretty cute, huh? I'll take it."

"I can tell you what else I thought when I first saw you over… Dinner?"

Eddie's laugh fills Steve's ear and it's a glorious sound.

"You want to take me to dinner?"

"Yeah, of course. If, you know, it's not too weird. I know I'm not the person you thought you were talking to but maybe I can be cool too."

Eddie hums again and Steve thinks he's probably debating if it is too weird. He's also oddly curious about the whole thing but he has no idea if Eddie would want to talk about it.

"Yeah, ok. We can do dinner."

Maybe he's going to find out.

Steve has always been good at first dates, but this thing with Eddie doesn't really feel like a first date.

After their awkward first call and Steve asking Eddie out on a date they just started texting. A lot. Because of Steve's crazy shifts at the coffee shop and Eddie's weird hours at the bar he worked on was kind of hard to find a time for their date, but it was like neither of them was in any rush for that.

Steve discovered he was a little obsessed with finding out things about Eddie. Like how he always dreamed about becoming a rockstar but actually loved his job at the bar and creating different drinks and just getting to meet different people all the time. He also told Steve about his uncle, who he loved with all his heart, and how his dad had disappeared from his life right after his mother died.

Talking to Eddie was easy in a way Steve had never known with anyone else and he really enjoyed it. He particularly liked the little night time routine they created. Steve would call Eddie whenever he got home, knowing Eddie was just getting ready to go to work, and they would talk, sometimes until Steve was fast asleep in his bed and Eddie was driving to the bar.

But after a month, Steve is itching to see him. Even if it's just so the two could talk in person, he kind of wants to look at Eddie and take notes on all the little things about him like he'd done so many times with every picture Eddie had sent his way.

So he calls Eddie and tells him Robin finally agreed to switch shifts with him next friday so they can go out.

Steve leaves out the part where he had to promise to do her chores at the house for a month and had to make up some story about needing to see a doctor. She hadn't been budging whenever he said he wanted to go out on a date with Eddie because she kept telling him she couldn't miss her classes just because Steve wanted to get laid so, yeah, a little lie wouldn't hurt.

"So, Friday. It's a date?" Steve asks a little nervously on the phone. He's already showered and is laying in bed with his hair dripping wet. Too excited to talk to Eddie to bother blowing out his hair.

Eddie hesitates. Steve hears in the way his reply takes a minute to come. In a second he second guesses everything. Maybe Eddie had been talking to him just to realize Steve really wasn't the person he thought he was talking to. Maybe Eddie-

"Steve?" Eddie asks on the phone and Steve gets brought back to reality. "Sorry. Don't overthink this…"

Too late, Steve thinks. He says, "so it's a no on the date?"

"What?"

"You don't want to go on a date with me," he doesn't ask now. "It's fine, Eddie. It was worth a shot and it's fine if you realized you didn't-"

"Oh my god, will you shut up? Of course I want to go on a date with you. It's just… You know, I'm weird and messy and I talk too much and you're… You know. You."

"I'm… Nothing special."

"Now, you and I both know that's not true. I mean, you're hot. I won't lie, I started talking to you because I had never had a guy that hot talking to me and wanting something with me. But now I see you're so much more than that. I just… I don't want to disappoint you. What if you don't like me in person because I'm awkward and too skinny and talk too loudly and dress weird and-"

"Now you are overthinking this. I gave you my number and I asked you out on multiple occasions and I just… Really like talking to you. I would very much like talking to you in person over dinner. And then maybe inviting you over to my place so we could keep on talking, maybe. We could, uh… You know, fall asleep on the same bed for once."

Wow. Steve has no idea where all of that came from but he realizes he means it.

Eddie's voice comes out a little strangled when he speaks, "Just sleep?"

Steve coughs, feels himself blushing. What is up with all that? Why is he suddenly acting like a high schooler?

"So is that a yes on the date?"

"Yes, Steve. That's a yes on the date."

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#steve harrington #Eddie Munson #Coffee Shop AU #AU #Alternate Universe #Stranger Things #Fanfic #Stranger Things fanfic #Steddie #Steddie Fanfic #Part 2

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 8 months

Text

Great Balls Of Fire

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader 9k words (ik. i did it again. im sorry)

summary: It’s been four months since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw. Today's the day he finally comes back from his mission and you have more than one ace up your sleeve to surprise him with.

a/n: smut ahead. 18+ im serious theres smut theres a lot of smut. okay. as usual i will now list everything you may have to look out for

fancy ass lingerie, oral sex fem!receiving, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyre in a committed relationship theyve had the talk and all), a lot of begging, hair pulling, good girl's because yes, in general again bradley is a talker, otherwise that's it

top gun masterlist

It had been so long. It had been too long.

With the sun beating down hard on the pavement of the parking lot, the sunglasses on your nose doing their hardest to protect your eyes from the worst of the light, the sound of your heels clicking against solid ground as you took a few steps into the shade of the tree next to Bradley's Bronco. You had been waiting for ten minutes now, checking your phone what seemed like every five seconds, too nervous to actually pay attention to it but too nervous to keep calm either.

You had been so scared you would crash into a grandma on the way over here that you had honestly considered taking your own car instead of the Bronco - but Bradley had trusted you with it, had trusted you to keep his lady running, you, even though he never let anyone else as much as touch the steering wheel, and you would be damned if you didn't pick him up in it.

You hadn't seen him in four months. Four months.

You had been by yourself, had been on your own, had been lonely for four fucking months.

But today was the day you would see him again. Today was the day his oh-so-secret mission would finally, truly come to an end, the day that you would finally, truly see him again. Not over some low-quality video call in the middle of the night, with only your kitchen lights on in the background and your mind hazy and tired because he was nine hours ahead of you and seemed to be at the other end of the world - no, today you would finally, finally, finally see him in the flesh.

You'd been anticipating this moment for the past four months.

So this had to be perfect.

This would be perfect.

You had done everything possible to make this the most perfect day of his goddamn life. You had spent the last four months moving things from the old apartment to the new house - those things that you and him hadn't already moved anyway - and the past week, you'd been cleaning, decorating, anticipating.

He had told you so often how much he missed you. How much he wished he had been there for you, to help you pack the things, to help you take them apart and put them back together, to do more than just the paperwork and set up the bed and the couch.

But he couldn't. And now you were bubbling with nervous excitement, with the joy of sharing all of it with him, to show him the desk you'd put up in the bedroom, the pillows you'd bought for the couch, the paintings you'd hung up on the walls, the kitchen table you'd replaced, the kitchen tiles you'd painted. To show him how much better this new home was than the old apartment had been (even though you'd been very happy there for the past four years as well).

And Bradley would love it. You were sure of that.

You just wanted him to see it so desperately.

You looked up as another car approached - it wasn't Bradley, you knew that, Bradley would come out of that door opposite you, not out of a car, but... There was still some tiny little sliver of hope, the same way there had been every single goddamn time someone had rung your doorbell. It had only ever been the postman or your food.

The car stopped next to you. You watched the engine being turned off and the driver get out because, well, what else was there to do except nervously shift your weight from one leg onto the other and go insane?

So you watched the stranger hop out of their car, nodded politely at them and then refocused your attention on the tips of your sandals. At least you weren't the only one waiting here anymore.

You got out your phone again, checked the time (it'd been a minute and a half since you'd last looked at it) and let out a sigh.

It wasn't that Bradley was late. There wasn't really a "late" anyway, he'd only been able to give you a vague time he'd arrive on, but still. You'd been buzzing with nervous energy for over a week.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, wiped your sweaty palms off on the sundress you'd put on - the tiny yellow sundress that Bradley had picked out for you on your birthday last year. The tiny yellow sundress that hid the sinful white lingerie under it just perfectly. The sinful white lingerie that you had bought for this very moment.

Bradley would go feral for it, you knew that. He loved white. You thought it was because it looked innocent, chaste. Like something untainted, something waiting to be ruined. Not that you minded. One day, he had promised himself, he would admit to you that it was because it looked like something you would wear on your wedding night.

But either way, you had gone shopping for the perfect set of lingerie and you were more than happy with your final choice.

Bradley could unwrap you like a present. You were desperately hoping he would unwrap you like a present.

You had spent the last four months not doing anything other than hoping. Imagining. Remembering.

So you weren't surprised that you felt like you'd soaked through those pretty (and expensive) panties already.

Your breath hitched. You shifted your weight again.

Bradley would carry you in his big, strong arms over the doorstep, would push you against the wall, would take everything he wanted from you and give everything you needed - he'd pull your dress right off and, at the sight of your lingerie, would fuck you raw.

You had to bite down on your lip to keep you grounded. Four months away had been a long, long time. Four months in which you'd only had yourself, your fingers, your vibrator to keep you company - four months in which you'd only heard Bradley's moans spill over the phone, had only heard him call you honey and good girl through a low-quality mic, had only seen him on pictures he'd left you, on a tiny screen at best.

You were depraved. And pretty sure you'd fall apart at the first touch.

You were so immersed in your thoughts, in that lovely imagery you had created in your head, that you almost missed the door opening. Finally. Finally. You straightened up at once.

It wasn't Bradley who stepped out first - it was one of his colleagues, you guessed, with blonde hair and much shorter - but it was Bradley who stepped out second. You'd know him from miles away.

He strode out of the door and into the sunlight, all familiar brown curls and broad shoulders and Ray-Bans on his nose and an Hawaiian shirt on and his bag lazily slung over his shoulder and that moustache - by god you'd have killed him if he'd shaved that off!

He turned his head and looked at you and a grin broke out on your lips, so wide, so incredibly wide that it felt like it'd split your face in half and before you could think, before you could form any coherent thought you were already moving, your legs with a mind of their own. You were sprinting towards him. Sprinting all through the parking lot, your heels click-clicking on the pavement, and Bradley grinned, grinned and let his bag fall to the ground carelessly, opened his arms instead. Wide, so wide. He was so tall. So broad. So inviting as you ran at him, as you jumped at him, as you wrapped your arms and your legs around him at the same time, as he caught you effortlessly, as your lips landed on his.

As you crashed into him, completely, and he didn't even stagger an inch back.

You had missed four months of this.

And now his lips were on yours. Your legs around his waist. Your arms crossed behind his neck. His breath against your mouth. His lips parted. His tongue against yours.

You were desperate. And you could feel just how desperate he was, too.

You could feel all the passion, all the fiery, red passion, all the force and firmness put into this kiss as his tongue ran along yours, as your breaths met and mingled, as his hands dug into your thighs to keep you upright, to keep you snug to him.

You pulled back incredibly reluctantly. You didn't want to let go of him. You never wanted to let go of him ever again. You wanted to have him, all of him, right here, right now, and then for eternity. But you couldn't, you couldn't because this was the middle of the parking lot, and also because you at least wanted to say hello first.

So you blinked open your eyes and took him in and allowed yourself to grin as broad and as wide as you needed to right now.

"You're back", you whispered, just because that realisation still had to sink in. "You're really back."

Bradley nuzzled your nose with his and let out a hum - god, how you'd missed him. The feel of him, the sound of him.

"Yeah, I'm here, honey", he muttered, that smile of his dripping down onto his voice. "I'm here and I won't leave any time soon."

You couldn't help but lean in again, couldn't help but capture his lips again because how else, how on earth would you let him feel all the joy you were experiencing right now? You didn't even know if you could actually feel all of it. You definitely wouldn't be able to put it into words. So you dug your teeth into his bottom lip and sighed into him and pulled him closer, closer and closer, even further into you.

"I missed you", you breathed against his mouth. "I love you and I missed you, Bradley."

He chuckled, kissed you again, drew back just enough to still touch you somehow, to still have his lips on your skin somehow and be able to talk at the same time.

"I love you so much, honey", he muttered. "And I missed you so much."

And then his lips were on yours again, his fingers digging even harder into your thighs, his breath and his tongue and his moustache scratching against your skin and you moaned, because there was no more anything you could possibly have done, because you couldn't help yourself, because you couldn't stop yourself, because you didn't want to either. You wanted to let him know just how goddamn fucking much you'd missed him.

Bradley had to bite back a laugh, pulled back and looked at you through his sunglasses.

"Sounds like we should get home, honey", he said, his eyebrows raised and his smile deepening with every word. "Been waiting for that for four months."

You let out another soft moan, pushed yourself even closer to him, dug one hand into the back of his hair and scratched the other down his shoulders, down his shirt. You wanted to feel him. All of him. God, the ride home would take ten minutes. Ten minutes. How were you supposed to survive that?

"Please", you whispered onto his lips, and you didn't think you had ever meant it as much as you did now.

Bradley groaned and kissed you again, quickly, heatedly, his tongue running along your bottom lip and then pulling back again. This wasn't enough. This wasn't enough.

He set you down on the pavement again softly, your legs a bit wobbly, unsteady, and trailed one hand from your thigh to your back - anything to keep touching you as he bent down to pick up his bag again. You smiled up at him, smoothed down the front of your dress and beamed as his eyes traveled down your body.

When they snapped back up to catch your gaze, the grin on his face had turned into a much more intense expression.

"You look gorgeous, honey", he muttered, tugging you further into his side, letting his eyes drop down to your chest again. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from jumping at him right this second. He should not have been allowed to just look at you if you couldn't have him touch you too. "Did you pick out new nail polish just for this dress?"

Your grin broadened. Of course he'd notice. Bradley Bradshaw was the only man in the whole universe who would notice. And he was yours.

"Yes, I did", you smiled, looking up at him as he walked with you back to the car. He hummed softly.

"It works great together", he said. Your breath hitched. He was gorgeous and he was here and he had noticed your nail polish. He was perfect. And you wanted him to fuck your brains out. "Reminds me of your burgundy silk dress."

You had to bite down on your lip again - god, you hadn't done that nearly as often when he'd been away! - to keep yourself grounded and to keep your grin in check before it could truly split your face in half.

Your burgundy silk dress was the one you'd worn to Penny and Mav's wedding two years ago that you had spent three weeks hunting down matching lipstick and matching nail polish for. Bradley had worn that lipstick on the base of his cock for most of the night.

"You're incredible, do you know that?", you asked, your voice a bit breathy. Bradley stopped in front of the Bronco, turned to you and pulled you close again. You brought your hands up to his chest.

"I've been told", he muttered, tilted his head down to look at you and then leaned down even further to brush a kiss to your nose. "Open up the Bronco so I can put my bag in the trunk?"

You let your eyes flutter close for just a tiny little moment (he was close, so close and you would literally die if he didn't start touching you any time soon) and breathed in as Bradley chuckled. You'd put the key in your pocket and were scrambling to get it out now, taking one, two seconds too long before you heard the familiar click of the car unlocking.

"Thanks, pretty girl", Bradley mumbled, letting go of you to pull open the trunk and you had to push down a sigh of disappointment, even as anticipation rose up in your stomach. You hadn't heard him call you pretty girl in months.

When he turned back around to you, you were still frozen in spot, still smiling dumbly at him, still waiting for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you. He smiled back and you knew that he knew just what you were thinking. But you couldn't even begin to care. You wanted to get him home as quickly as possible.

"You need to stop looking at me like that, honey", he said, his voice an octave deeper and you just so managed not to let another dumb, pathetic moan slip. He closed the trunk and took a step back to you. "You know I can't help myself when you look at me like that."

At that, you did let the moan tumble from your lips after all.

He'd been away for four months. And he was looking at you with his eyes all dark and his jaw clenched and his chest rising and falling heavily. How on earth were you supposed to be normal about this? You were falling apart already and he hadn't even got you home. Four months had been a long, long time.

His hands were on your waist then, forcing you against the side of the bronco, the door handle digging into your back, the metal warmed up by the sun and your arms crossing behind his neck as his body crowded yours, one leg between yours and no more space to touch, to feel, to see anything that wasn't him - he turned his head to check if the other car had driven away and then his lips were on yours, his knee pressing against your centre.

"Bradley", you moaned into his mouth, before his tongue brushed yours and rendered you speechless. You rocked against his knee, bare skin against your thighs and you wanted to sob, you really actually wanted to sob, because this was the most contact you'd gotten in four fucking months.

Bradley pulled back an inch.

"You're soaked", he groaned against your lips, his breath on your skin, his hands on your waist and you thrust your head back against the car, against the window, squeezed your eyes shut, kept on rocking against his knee.

"I know", you whined. "Been soaked for months."

Bradley let out another groan and pulled back, pulled away from you and you whimpered, blinking your eyes open again because you'd been so close to finally getting what you wanted and now he was taking that right away from you again. You looked up at him and the only reason you didn't straight up voice your disappointment was that he looked just as debauched as you felt - running his hands through his hair, running them over his face, his curls all messed up and a considerable bulge already visible in his jeans.

"Get in the car", he rasped, taking another step back from you as though he had to physically put distance between the two of you so he wouldn't give in and take you right in this parking lot. Not that you would've minded. That other car was long gone. But that he had to restrain himself so much, that he looked so positively exhausted, that his voice was so hard and so rough and so raw, that he had already, so easily begun giving you orders drove you crazy. Orders that you knew you had to follow because this was him, this was Bradley, and if he wanted something from you.... he'd get it. You'd give it to him no matter what. You'd give him everything.

So you pushed yourself off the car with a hard breath and trailed around to the passenger side, keeping your eyes on the ground even as you heard Bradley shuffle and open the driver's door because you knew that if you looked at him, no matter how much you wanted to follow his commands, there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to help yourself.

It wouldn't be the first time.

The seat felt hot and your skin sticked to it immediately and you would have cared in any other situation, but not in this one. Not when Bradley put his hand to your thigh, to your bare skin, to just below the hem of your dress. You could have cried.

He was here, finally, and he was touching you, finally, but he wasn't touching you enough, not nearly enough. This would be a long ten minutes. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, turned your head and rested it against the head rest, smiling at the image before you - Bradley in the driver's seat of his Bronco, the steering wheel in one hand, the sun on his face, his curls longer than when you'd last seen them. Had he got more tan? Was that possible?

God, how you'd missed this man.

And he was here now, here, next to you, with one hand on your thigh and a grin playing on his lips and you couldn't help but smile. Big and broad and all-consuming because he was here again, this man that you called yours, he was right here next to you after four months. You loved him. You'd missed him so incredibly much.

His hand moved a little higher up on your thigh, his thumbs brushing, stroking over exposed skin, raising up your dress the slightest bit. Your breath hitched.

"Bradley-", you sighed, jaw clenching as you melted, melted at every little touch because you didn't have to only remember it anymore. You could just push up into him, watch him, breathe in his familiar scent, run your fingers along his arm. This was no more imagining, no more picturing, this was real, this was happening.

"God, I missed you saying my name like that", he groaned, tightening his grip on your thigh and you bit down on your lip, wrapped your fingers around his biceps, his wrist, forced yourself to keep your eyes open so you could keep watching him. You wouldn't miss out on a single second of watching him.

"Bradley", you repeated softly. "I'll say your name as often as you want me to."

His fingers dug even harder into your thigh as he let out some strangled sounding moan.

"You're gonna be the death of me", he muttered - how often you'd thought the same about him! "I'm lucky if I can hold out these ten minutes."

You watched him quietly for a second. You could sense the heat radiating off of him, could see his clenched jaw, could feel his deathgrip on your thigh, could hardly ignore the blazing arousal in your own veins. But if he'd wanted to fuck you in the back of his Bronco, he would've. (As picky as he was about who drove his car, he'd never had a single problem railing you into oblivion in the backseat.) There was a reason he was holding out. You could only guess that he wanted to do this properly - with time and room and no risk of getting caught by the authorities. Should you have minded? Should you have begged him to take you as quickly as possible? You were sure he would have, if you'd pleaded prettily enough. But you were quite alright with time and room and no risk of getting caught. At least for right now. The both of you would manage a ten minute ride, right? You had managed four months. Ten minutes were nothing in comparison.

"Okay", you said, trailed your fingers down to his and intertwined your hands. "I'll help. I'll tell you something. Distract you."

"You can try, honey", he chuckled, sneaked a quick sideways glance at you. "Tell me about the house."

You lit up at that. You had been dying to tell him about the house. So you pushed your arousal deep, deep down (which was easier said than done) and smiled up at him.

"I don't even know where to start", you said honestly, giving yourself a second to think about it. You had ten minutes, after all. And you had to fill them all if you wanted both of you to survive this drive.

So you told him about everything.

The short version, of course.

He'd heard some of it over the phone already, but he hadn't been able to call often and you'd spent most of your time crying and telling him how much you loved and missed him when he had answered, so...

The ten minutes went by more easily this way. You went on and on and on and on about the house, his fingers between yours, your eyes locked on his, with the occasional comment about how sorry he was that he hadn't been there to help. It had been unfortunate, of course, but at the same time it had given you something to put all your time and effort into, which had greatly helped you through his deployment. Plus, there had always been help when you had needed it - Penny and Amelia and Mav, Phoenix and Bob and Jake. The rest of the squad had been scattered, called off to their own missions, but those six you had been able to count on whenever.

Bradley's hand on your thigh was still highly distracting. He moved it up and down a few times, and each time your breath hitched, each time you stumbled over your own words, each time he grinned again.

At one point, his fingertips brushed so close to your underwear that you pushed his hand forcefully back down to your knee. He had been the one so worried he wouldn't manage a ten minute ride and now he was the one teasing you.

Not that you really minded.

But you truly felt like going insane.

Then, finally! you caught sight of your driveway. Bradley was out of the car the second he'd parked it, pulling his hand from your thigh and the key out of the ignition and you had barely unbuckled yourself when he was already opening your door, taking your hand and tugging you out, sending you stumbling into him, into his arms.

He pressed his lips to yours as he pushed the door close, pushed you up against it again, pushed the hem of your dress up to grasp at your bare thigh. You wrapped your arms around his neck, forced him even closer.

"Bradley", you gasped softly. You hadn't moaned his name like that in four months, you'd do it so often today he would get tired of it. Even though you knew that he wouldn't, of course - he would never get tired of you whispering his name into his mouth, into the nothingness of an empty room, into his ear, into the pillows.

He didn't pull back from you, even as he took a slow, careful step away - making sure you'd catch on, making sure you'd follow, making sure to keep you safely, steadily against him. Not that you'd have done anything else. You trusted him with your life, you would trust him to keep you upright. So you did just what he wanted, followed, stumbled with him, eyes closed, lips on his, fingers brushing along his shoulders.

He did pull back then - just an inch or two, to turn you around, to look over your shoulder once, to tear his hand from your thigh and wrap his arms around you instead. And then his lips were back on yours again and his tongue running along yours. He pushed and you followed his wordless command, your legs working quicker than your mind, stumbling, tripping backwards, backwards, backwards and you barely cared, barely even acknowledged the ground beneath your feet because you were wrapped up in his arms, because you were tugging at his curls, because he was here, kissing you, finally.

You weren't needy.

You were desperate. You were depraved, frantic, starved. He was the air you needed to breathe and you hadn't taken a single breath in the past four months.

So you weren't pretending in the way you pulled him close, closer, closer, or in the frenzied way you kissed him, or in the desperate way you sighed, groaned, moaned against him, into him. You needed him. You needed more of him. All of him. You needed to get inside so you could have him.

You bumped into the door then, just short of digging the doorknob into your spine - Bradley pushed you right up against it and you gasped into his mouth, into the kiss. He crowded you against the door much like he'd crowded you against the Bronco, pulling his arms from around you to grasp your waist instead, to press your hips up to the door as well, and used one hand to fumble for the keyhole. He did so blindly, with his eyes still closed, his lips still on yours, with one of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, your heels digging into his shorts.

Needless to say, he needed quite some time to turn the key.

You didn't mind. Not in the slightest.

You were making out with Bradley Bradshaw right on the doorstep of the house you shared with him, in the bright afternoon sunlight and truly, you couldn't have minded less. You didn't give two fucks about any of your neighbours or any passerbys spotting you - should they, by god! Bradley had come home from deployment after four months, you would make out with him on your doorstep for as long as you wanted to. You wouldn't ever stop making out with him ever again.

Not when he was here again, in your arms, with your fingers tugging at his hair, brushing along his neck, stroking along the collar of his shirt, sweeping along his shoulders. Not with your leg around his hips. Not with your lips on his. Not with anticipation, with arousal in every fibre of your body, of your soul. You were going mad with it. You were getting drunk on it.

You were euphoric when Bradley finally opened the gods damned front door.

He kept you safe and steady even as the support at your back broke away, as you almost crashed onto the floor of your own hallway. He walked you back into the pleasant cold and for once, for the first and probably the only time, you were the one to break away. You gave yourself a second to catch your breath. Then you pushed off of him completely. You took a step away, pulled the key from the door, pushed it close and when you turned back around, Bradley had set his sunglasses down on the little table you had put next to the coat rack a few weeks ago.

And you looked him in the eyes for the first time in four months.

He motioned at the table.

"Looks great, honey", he said, his voice a little too rough to sound quite normal. "Nice touch."

You shook your head softly.

"I couldn't care less about the table right now", you muttered, and with that, you were on him again. Actually, truly, fully on him again. You pushed yourself right up onto him, into him, pried his shirt off his shoulders, off his arms, let it drop down to the ground and then reached for his jaw to drag him further down, to deepen the kiss even if you knew that was impossible. So you bit down on his lip and allowed him to finally push your dress up over your hips, over your chest, over your head - you had to let go of him for a moment then, had to pull away from him so he could drop your dress on the floor and before you could even come close to reaching out for him again, he was taking a step back.

You could feel his eyes raking down your body. You could feel him taking in the white lingerie on your skin - the strings of the thong high up on your hips, intricate lace around your waist, the small bow right in the centre of it, the bra cups almost transparent, the floral white pattern covering up your nipples, the other few, small bows sown onto the straps.

You sucked in a breath at the look on his face. You hadn't seen that look in far too long.

"God, honey", Bradley groaned, reached for your waist, brushed his thumbs along the lace, ran his fingertips along the lingerie. You bit down on your lip as he pulled you, slowly, carefully, into him - gave you enough time to rest your hands on his chest, your palms against his tank top. "You look sinful. Did you buy that just for me?"

You nodded, swallowed.

"Just for you", you admitted. "Wanted to surprise you."

Bradley tugged you another inch closer, so close that your chest bumped into his, your breasts pressing against him. He let out a hum, his eyes dropping down to your cleavage.

"You did that, pretty girl", he muttered, his fingers digging into your sides. "You're incredible."

Then his lips were on yours again and you were melting, becoming putty in his hands, turning to goo in his arms. Your breaths met, lips parted. You couldn't quite believe you were finally touching him again.

He walked you back to the bedroom, narrowly avoiding the doorway, his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your bum. You reached for the hem of his shirt, forced him to stop right on the threshold so you could get rid of it - get rid of that one layer of fabric still in the way. You drew back for a second to pull it over his head, to drop it to the floor, to let your eyes travel all over his bare torso.

God, how you'd missed this man and his broad shoulders and his washboard abs. How you'd missed his touch and the sound of his voice.

"Bradley", you gasped softly, your fingertips trailing over his naked skin, down to his shorts. "I need you."

He let out a groan.

"I've waited four months for you to say that again", he muttered. You could hardly take another breath before he was on you again - lips on yours and hands on your hips and your back hit the bed a moment later, the cushy mattress, the fluffy pillows softening your fall.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows so you could watch him as he stood in front of your bed, the sunlight dripping down him like drops of water hitting the floorboards, his torso bare, his curls messed up, looking down at you with a heaving chest, his fingers on his belt, unhooking it, opening the button on his jeans, pulling down his zipper - you swallowed hard as you watched him drop his shorts on the floor, step out of his shoes.

A whine rolled off your tongue.

"Bradley, hurry up", you whimpered, your fingers cramping in the sheets, your legs pressing together all of their own accord, trying to get some kind of friction as he undressed himself in slow motion while you just lay there, your panties long soaked through and your fingers itching to trail down your own body.

Bradley chuckled.

"Don't worry, honey", he muttered, kneeling down on the ground to drop kisses to your calves before pulling off your sandals. "I'll make sure you forget about the past four months, alright?"

Your breath hitched as your heels hit the ground.

"Please", you begged softly. "I've missed you so much."

He wrapped his hands around your hips, pulled you to the edge of the bed - his breath ghosting over your underwear, over that tiny white piece of lingerie you had bought for him, for him to take you apart in. His fingers dug into your skin, spread out wide, to touch as much of you as he possibly could. He pressed a kiss right to that wet spot on your thong.

You let out a moan. God, how had you survived four months without him? You were barely surviving fifteen minutes of not having him fuck you.

Bradley grinned, raised his head to meet your eyes and seriously, you were close. Too close. He hadn't touched you yet, not really. You'd die today, you were sure, die and go to heaven.

"You look almost too good to undress, honey", he muttered, brushing his thumbs below that lace around your waist, not making a move to pull it down your legs.

"Bradley, please", you whined, your hands brushing over your own chest, running over your bra cups, tracing the flowers, desperately holding back from just ripping everything off yourself, pushing him onto his knees and riding him into oblivion. "Don't tease. I need you."

He groaned into the skin of your thigh.

"Anything you want, honey", he muttered - and then your thong was gone and he was burying his tongue inside you, dipping, tracing, licking, circling your clit, breathing you in, devouring you. Taking and giving everything. It had been four months since he'd had you like this and he wanted everything, every inch of you he could get. He wanted to taste you, every last drop of you, wanted to eat you out until you couldn't think anymore, until you had truly, fully forgotten all the time he had been away, all the time you had been forced to be on your own, alone.

You thrashed, moaned above him - your fingers clenching around your bra, brushing over your nipples. You were close. Close after the entirety of three seconds, close to tears, close to coming.

"Bradley", you choked out, tearing your hands off yourself, burying them in his hair instead - tugging him off, tugging him away from you. You took a deep breath as he let go of you, as he loosened his grip on you, looked up at you with desperation in his eyes.

"I need you to fuck me", you whimpered, already too sensitive, too tense. "I need you inside me."

You hadn't had him in four months.

Four months had been enough goddamn foreplay. As much as you loved when he ate you out, you needed him, you needed his cock, you needed to feel him inside you, you needed him to take you apart and make up for all the time lost.

Bradley nodded, nodded because he knew, he understood - he saw the frantic look in your eyes, had felt the desperate drag of your hands at his clothes, his arms, his shoulders, his hair. He'd give anything to you. Everything. He would do whatever you wanted of him.

Maybe in another situation he'd have made you beg more, would have teased you more, would have edged you a few times. Maybe in another situation. But not in this one. Not after four months of being away from you, not when you were so beautifully, so desperately spread out beneath him, looking up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, your lip pulled between your teeth, your gorgeous white lingerie still concealing too much of your skin.

As he'd said, you were almost too gorgeous to undress. But just almost.

So he rose up from the ground, pulled you up with him, pulled you in, his fingers brushing along your sides, your spine, your bra clasp. He let it fall open. You worked fast, worked your bra down your arms and off your hands and drew back from him to fling it against the wall and lay down on the bed, lay down all pretty and waiting.

You needed him to fuck you. Now.

He let out a groan, closed his eyes. The look on his face had you pressing your legs together again. Wetness was coating the inside of your thighs now. It glistened on his moustache. And you were sure you could have tasted it on his tongue too.

He was making you go insane.

"How do you want me, pretty girl?", he asked, pressing his knees into the side of the mattress. "Tell me how and I'll do whatever you want."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your nerves were bubbling up. Four months. You'd waited four months for this one question.

"Behind", you whined. "Need you from behind."

Bradley had known, of course, because that was what you always said when he stood at the front of your bed and asked you this question. His hands were on your waist, grasping, grabbing, turning you over before you had fully finished speaking, your cheek pressed against the pillows, your breath coming short and shorter, adrenaline pumping through every single one of your veins. You felt hot and sticky and needy and nervous.

Nervous because Bradley stilled.

Nervous because he sucked in a sharp breath.

Nervous, even though you had been here a million times before, in his bed and in yours, bent over desks and bars and couches, with the heat of him behind you, arousal flowing through your body like oxygen, anticipation clouding your mind.

"Shit, honey", Bradley breathed.

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw.

How you'd have loved to see his expression. But you had known you wouldn't. You had prepared yourself to be satisfied with the sound of his voice, with the feel of him so close to you.

"Shit", Bradley repeated. He took another deep breath in. "You got a tattoo?"

A tattoo.

Your tattoo.

You nodded into the pillow, scraped your cheek against the fabric, so eager, so quick to agree. Four months you had waited for this. Four months since you had begun planning this - the very day after he'd left, in a conversation with none other than Phoenix. Four long, lonely months.

Bradley ran his thumb along the soft expanse of your skin. Along that strip of skin right above your hips, just where they met your back - right above your ass, right where he could see so very perfectly.

He was gentle. Almost not touching you at all. As though he was afraid he could somehow, even after all this time, hurt you, as though he was afraid he could wipe it away.

"It's healed", you whined, breathlessly, trying your hardest not to squirm, not to push back further into him even though you felt like you were going insane. You'd known he'd take his sweet time staring at that inked expanse of skin. But you hadn't known you would be so goddamn desperate for him to fuck you into delirium while he did so. "It's fully healed."

Bradley was quiet, silent behind you. His thumb stilled, stayed still. You sunk your teeth into your lip.

You would truly go mad here. For more than one reason now.

Bradley was always loud. Always moving, always doing something. He was forward and honest and loud and it was a miracle, really, when he wasn't. When he was calm and quiet and still. It didn't always mean something good.

It surely didn't always mean something bad, either.

But it didn't always mean something good.

And you hadn't been nervous. You hadn't been nervous about showing him, because you knew he loved you and he'd love this - this show of him, this show for him. Just for him. But you had still been fidgety. You had still been excited, flustered.... nervous, after all. In a good way. Now, good was turning to less good because he was quiet, for once, quiet and you didn't know what to do, what to say. You had expected him to go feral, had expected him to fuck you raw, to go absolutely ballistic. You had imagined, pictured, visualised it, four months long. Every night that you hadn't been remembering him, you had been imagining this - this moment right here, where he read the words inked forever into your skin, and every time, again and again, your fingers hadn't been enough, your vibrator hadn't been enough, nothing had been enough. Not in comparison to him, to his fingers and his tongue and his cock.

And every time, again and again, when nothing had been enough to replace him, you thought to yourself just how right it had been to have lain on that leather table bed in that tattoo parlour four months ago. Just how right it was to have him marked on your skin like that. Forever.

Great Balls Of Fire.

"Bradley, please", you whimpered, your fingers closing around whatever piece of fabric you could manage to grab at - the covers, the sheets, the pillows. "Say something. Please"

Bradley let out a long breath.

"Great Balls Of Fire?", he asked quietly, his fingers brushing over your skin again. Some kind of reassurance, at least.

"Thought you'd like it", you mumbled into the pillow, stumbling, tripping over your words a bit, still breathless around the edges. You couldn't be expected to talk now. Not when he was so close to giving you what you needed.

"Like it?" His hands wrapped around your waist, his left thumb still stroking over those unfamiliar familiar letters on your skin - Great Balls Of Fire, in his handwriting, taken from one of his sheets of music, from his piano. His song. His father's song.

Your song.

"Honey", Bradley rasped, pulling you an inch back to him and you let a whine fall from your lips. You were soaked, you were dripping, you were desperate and still so very unsatisfied. "Do I like it? I love it. I love you. God, you got a tattoo. You're incredible. You're-"

He stumbled over his own words, trailed off, left his sentence hanging unfinished in mid air. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss right on top of your tattoo. Right on top of those letters, on top of that song, on top of your song. On top of the very reason you had met, six years ago in a stuffed navy bar.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me", he muttered, dropping another kiss onto your skin.

You whimpered again.

"You've been so good to me, honey, haven't you?", he went on, as though he wasn't hearing those little whines, those little moans rolling off your tongue. He was. You knew that. "You waited so prettily for me to come back, didn't you? You were so eager for me to be home again, so eager for me to be with you again that you even got a tattoo?"

You nodded along, nodded and nodded and kept on nodding because yes, yes and yes - yes to everything, yes to him.

"You got a tattoo just for me, honey. You can't even see it. Probably had to twist and turn in the mirror every day to take care of it, didn't you? And all just for me."

You nodded again - never really stopped nodding, not with his fingers brushing along your back, over your skin, with his voice so deep and rough and real.

"Just for you", you whined.

Bradley chuckled.

"Just for me", he repeated, his voice deeper than before - if that was even possible - his fingers stroking along your sides, roaming over your back, your spine. "Such a good girl."

A shiver went through your entire body at that - through your legs, your arms, your shoulders, through every single one of your fingers and toes. He knew just what he did to you when he said that.

He knew.

"Bradley", you moaned, unashamed now, the nerves in your veins long subsided, replaced once more by that all-consuming heat that you could never get enough of.

"Yeah, honey?", he asked. You could hear the grin on his lips. "What do you want?"

You let out a sort of sob that sounded pathetic even to your own ears. It wasn't that you minded begging. Because you didn't. You really didn't. But you had already done so, had already begged him miserably, had told him so prettily how you wanted him to fuck you. And he was starting all over again.

"Just once more, honey", Bradley whispered, dropping kisses to your spine, climbing higher and higher. "Tell me once more and you'll get whatever you want."

"Fuck me", you cried out, burying your face in the pillow, not letting even half a second pass by. Bradley always made good on his promises. And you needed him more than anything right now. "Please fuck me."

He was on you within a heartbeat.

One hand around your waist, pulling you into him, as the other one guided himself into you. He pushed into you in one smooth movement, pushed his hips right to yours, stretched you out like he hadn't in four goddamn months.

You were clenching around him, moaning his name, tears brimming in your eyes at the feeling of him again, finally. He was grunting, groaning behind you, his hands clasping around your waist as he settled deep inside you and let out a breath.

You hadn't felt so stretched out in so long. You hadn't felt him in so long. You needed more. You needed to feel more of him.

"Bradley", you whimpered. "Move."

His fingers dug even firmer into your sides. You bit down on your lip. He felt so good, so heavenly with his hands on your skin and his cock deep inside you, but you needed him to move, you needed him to move now, you needed him to fuck you and make you fall apart for him.

"Need a second, honey", he grunted, running his thumbs along your skin - along your new tattoo, just for this, just for him. "God, pretty girl, you're so tight. Missed you so much."

You whimpered underneath him, whimpered as you forced yourself to keep still for him, even as your thighs burned with the need to move, the need for more, the need to finally come undone around him. You knew you were close already. You could feel it, had been feeling it, dancing around the edges of your perception, melting in your blood, scorching in your stomach.

"Missed you too, Bradley", you moaned into the pillow, breathless and desperate for him. "Want to be good for you. So good."

"God, honey, you are", he groaned. "So good. Perfect."

And then he was moving, finally, and you let out a sobbed kind of prayer, your eyes falling shut, your fingers digging into the sheets as he thrust in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm - enjoying the feeling of you around him, letting you enjoy the feeling of him inside you.

Just that you couldn't enjoy this.

You couldn't enjoy this because you were wound so tightly, wound so goddamn tightly that tears were pricking in your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks and drop onto the covers. You needed him to make you fall apart, to make you come, you needed more. Just a little more.

You were teetering on the edge and he had you spiralling with how slowly he was fucking you. You needed him to send you over that edge, not build it higher and higher and higher up.

"Bradley", you whined, stumbling clumsily over his name as he ran a hand up your back. "More."

"Dunno if I can-" He broke off, his breath hitching, his fingers resting on your neck, brushing through your hair. "Fuck, honey, dunno if I can do more without coming."

You bit down on your lip at that, let out a moan so absolutely filthy that you were sure you would have been embarrassed of it if you'd had any more capacity to think - to think of anything other than him, anything other than how this god, who could fuck you for hours on end without tiring once, with so much stamina he could have you sobbing, coming for him four, five times on his cock alone, how this god was so desperate for you after four months that he was worried he'd come if he went any faster.

You were almost pushed over the edge just by that alone.

"I don't care", you cried, because you really didn't. "I don't need long, I need you. I'm so close."

Bradley grunted, his fingers brushing even higher up on your scalp.

"You're gonna be the death of me, honey", he muttered, just before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up onto your knees - into him, into his arms, your back flush to his chest. You dropped your head against his shoulder with a moan, let your eyes fall shut again.

He thrust up into you with vigor then, with more urgency, with less fear of coming undone, less fear of cutting this short. His hands smoothed over your sides, over your chest, holding you up against him, brushing along your breasts, along your stomach.

And all you could think was yes, this, this was it. This was what you had been imagining, what you had been picturing in a cold, lonesome bed every night, what you had been so desperate for.

His fingers trailed down your thigh, trailed up again, caught on your clit, drew a circle against that little bundle of nerves and you fell forward, doubled over, only held up by him, by his arms around you as you came undone, as you clenched around him.

Four months.

Four months and a tattoo.

And he hadn't even had you there for two minutes, had barely touched you, and now you were falling apart for him, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, legs burning, fingers cramping. You'd waited four months for this.

You could feel him spilling inside you, noticed it somewhere dancing around the edges of your perception as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your cheeks and your nails digging into your own thighs.

This.

Him.

Bradley's finger had stilled on your clit. You blinked your eyes open, refocused on your green wallpaper, on the pictures, the old vintage polaroids of you and him right above the bed until you could see them all clearly again, until you could see them and realise what they were, until you could manage to tilt your head back and rest it, once more, against Bradley's shoulder. Until you had come back to reality again.

"I missed you so much, honey", he muttered into your ear, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss onto your exposed neck. "Missed this so much."

"Missed you so much too", you mumbled, reached for his hands. He pulled his finger from your clit, let you intertwine your hands with his, rested them carefully on your stomach. "Love you, Bradley."

He pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips warm, oh so warm on your skin, soft and warm and you needed him to kiss you now, to press his lips to yours.

"I love you too, honey", he whispered, halfway to brushing another kiss onto your skin when you turned your head, met his lips with your own, cut him off by surprise.

This was a weird angle, you had to strain your neck to even slot your lips together somewhat well and you were sloppy with it, too, your chest still heaving and your mind returning to clarity just now, but you didn't care, couldn't care, not when he'd just made you come, when he was holding you in his arms, when he was finally here, right behind you again, as though the last four months hadn't happened at all.

When you pulled back, you were feeling more normal again - as normal as you possibly could feel, with him behind you, with him inside you still.

"You got a tattoo", Bradley breathed, a grin dancing around the corners of his lips. You chuckled.

"Just for you", you nodded, brushing your fingertips up his arms, up to his elbows.

Bradley kissed you again, all parted lips and breathing into each other. You felt almost melancholic when he drew back. But he was smiling - and when he smiled, you had to smile too.

"I'm never letting you go again", he said, loosened his grip on you to trail his hands slowly, softly down your body, giving you enough time to steady yourself without him holding you up anymore. "And I'm not letting you leave this bed until the sun comes up, alright, pretty girl?"

You had to bite down on your lip to keep from grinning, anticipation already bubbling in your veins again. You knew he could make good on that promise. And that he probably would.

"Yes, please, Bradley", you muttered, already bending down again, splaying out your hands to catch yourself on the mattress as you showed him your tattoo again, just for him to see, just for him to touch. Just for him. "Whatever you want. As long as you want. I love you."

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libraryofloveletters · 9 months

Text

Find Your Way Home

Daniel Ricciardo x Engineer!Fem!Reader

Warnings: the curse that is mclaren racing, < mclaren/zak slander, the highs and lows of Danny's career, monaco 2016, horner warning lmao, a few bitter words, angst, unspoken feelings, sadness, 2022 silly season and a few swear words.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: after plotting this, i realized that The Red String Of Me And You follows a similar timeline but this one is more detailed and sooo much sexier of me so enjoy it :)

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RedBull Racing - 2014; Montreal, Canada.

Under-qualified crossed your mind every time you got into your chair on the pit wall.

You had recently graduated and you were lucky enough to snag a job with Red Bull Racing. You were told it would be a job at the factory, that you would be handling the reviews from the races from an engineering point of view.

Now you were sitting on the pit wall in Montreal, your driver in your ear. "Are we set?" His voice came through.

Your eyes scanned over the screens, pressing the button. "We're all set, Daniel."

Daniel was gunning for his first race win and you've been hoping and praying every weekend that he'd win. It was your first time as a race engineer and you were starting to think you two hadn't fully clicked yet, hence why you've yet to get a win.

He starts in P6 and his teammate Sebastian, was in P3 this weekend. There's a lot of pressure when your teammate is a 4 time world champion and you're sure Daniel felt it, especially on weekends like this.

You sat patiently, buzzing into him once more before they started the countdown. "Be safe."

"Safe is my middle name, y/n."

"Whatever you say, Joseph." The use of his actual middle name earned you a laugh. The radio falls silent; three, two, one, lights out.

It's a gruesome 70 laps, there's overtaking left and right, Daniel fights his way up to P3 and you're praying he can do what he does best. You watch as the laps count down towards the final one.

67, 68, 69, and into the final corner. The navy car crossed the line and it takes you a second to catch yourself. Christian squeezes your arm from next to you, a massive grin on his face when you register what just happened.

"YOU DID IT!!" You shouted into the radio, Daniel's laughter and hollering filled your ears and your heart with love and happiness, "we did it!" he shouts, correcting you.

Everyone's running, you're following the mechanics to under the podium, all of you squished up against the fence like sardines as the navy team awaited their two drivers.

Daniel had won, followed by Nico in P2 for Mercedes and Sebastian in P3 for RedBull.

Seb runs over to his half of the garage, there's a sea of navy and everyone is mixed up together but when Daniel gets out of his car, he's looking for one person and one person only. He spots you, a big smile on your face and even though he knows you'd never admit it, there are tears in your eyes.

The driver jumps straight into your arms, putting all of his weight on you and the fence. A few of the mechanics squeeze into the hug, holding Daniel so he doesn't crush you.

Your hands cup his face, well what would be his face under the helmet. His visor is lifted, brown eyes meet yours; the crinkles by his eyes signalling to the massive smile under the helmet.

"We fucking did it!" His shout comes out muffled.

You smile, nodding. Daniel is standing again, still holding onto you. He leans into you, arms wrapped around you with his face buried in your shoulder. You kiss the side of his helmet, hand reaching down to rub the top of his back. You internally gag at the dampness that meets your hand but that was the least of your concerns.

Daniel just won his first race.

Proud was an understatement.

RedBull Racing - 2016; Monte Carlo, Monaco.

He could taste the victory.

The win was reaching out to him, the finish line on the tips of his fingers and he could feel it slipping away from him.

"Pit now," you called to him, Daniel was confused by your sudden decision. "Tyres are good, y/n."

"Team decision, please pull into the pit lane."

Daniel groans letting you know he'll be there in a few seconds.

You saw when he pulled into the pits, watching as the mechanics scrabbled to get the tyres ready in time. They had Daniel sitting there, his position falling with each wasted second.

"What the fuck!" His radio was still on, you weren't even sure what you could tell him in that moment to make him feel better. He pulls out with a sense of speed you'd never seen before. He finds himself racing to beat Lewis coming out of the pit lane but the Mercedes turns into the corner before he gets the chance too, overtaking him.

"Why did we pit?" He asks you, you pretend not to hear him as you look over at Christian. The older man gives you a look, urging you to answer the driver.

Daniel calls your name once again, his voice making you want to cry; all of the horrible emotions mixed in with the guilt of the horrible pit stop made you sick.

You finally answer; "team decision."

He scoffs, it's like you can feel the tension over the radio, see the way his hands tighten around the steering wheel as he goes into the tunnel. "Bullshit, y/n."

"I'm sorry Dan-" "Stop, nothing you could say will make this better."

And with that, the radio fell silent. The nauseous feeling builds with each passing second, your leg shaking and your eyes staying fixed to the screen until Daniel crosses the finish line in P2.

It was better than nothing but you knew he could have won the race, you knew he would blame the team, blame the crew, blame you for this loss.

Christian squeezes your shoulder as he gets up, a smile on his face - his quiet way of telling you good job. He knows how difficult drivers can be, especially when things like this happen. The race engineers are the first to take the blame, you called him into the pit so you'd take the brunt of the anger.

You nod, hearing Daniel's voice over the radio, "place?"

"P2. Well done, Daniel."

"Okay."

Daniel stood next to Lewis, Checo on the other side of the Mercedes driver. It was quiet as you watched Daniel shake the champagne bottle, spraying over his fellow drivers. He had a smile on his face but you knew he wasn't happy. You knew him like the back of your hand and once again, the nauseous feeling creeped up the back of your throat, the feeling strangling the life out of you with each passing second. You had to go, you couldn't stand there and watch him like that, knowing you were the one he was blaming.

And that he did; not in so many words but the bitterness in his voice and way he spoke was enough to tell you he did not want to be there.

The interview replayed in the debrief that afternoon, the press officers wanting to go over something he had said.

"It hurts, this one hurts a lot. More than any other."

His words hurt you.

You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him, let alone be in the same room as him. There was a sense of despair, you couldn't shake it.

It wasn't until you were about to leave that you found yourself turning back, walking in the direction of his driver's room. You stopped outside the door; D. Ricciardo, 3 - with an Australian flag beside it. As you were about to knock, Michael opens the door, a bit shocked to see you.

"Is he in there?" You asked quietly and he nodded, stepping aside to let you in. Michael shuts the door on his way out, leaving the two of you alone.

Daniel's yet to turn around or yet to realize you were there. "I'm sorry," you speak, your quiet voice startling him. "I'm not sure what went wrong."

"Everything did."

"It wasn't my decision."

"You're my engineer; when I'm out there, it's me and you. It was your decision, y/n. Only yours."

"I'm sorry, Daniel. I really am."

"Nothing you can say will fix it, and I know you're sorry but right now, I don't want your sorry."

You nod, taking a step back. "Then what can I say? Or do?"

"You can leave," his arms fold over his chest. "Because if you stay, I might say some things I can't take back. I know we aren't cool right now but I don't want to hurt you, y/n."

"You already have," you give him a tight lipped smile, the sadness clear across your face. "Goodnight Daniel."

RedBull Racing - 2018; Monte Carlo, Monaco.

It was off to a good start, Daniel had managed to give it his all and snag pole position on Saturday. He was in a good mood, there's a smile on his face and the sun was shining down on Monaco which was a nice change from the rain that was setting up in the morning.

The cars on the grid, the drivers counting down the seconds to lights out. You buzz into him, waiting to hear the little click. Daniel's breathing comes through from his side.

“50% done, remember?” You tell him.

“50% done.” He says, the radio goes quiet as he waits for lights out.

Daniel drove amazingly, despite the issues the car was giving him. He finds himself aggravated half way through the race, the car giving out on him and losing power; thus losing hope in himself. The win was slipping through his fingers all over again with each passing corner and turn.

The weight was lifted off his shoulders when you watched him cross the finish line as the winner.

"P1 baby!!!!" You shout into the radio, Daniel's hollering fills the line and a big smile on both of your faces. "We fucking did it!!" He laughed, driving his cool down lap.

You were by the fence, watching as he climbed onto the halo of his car. Daniel's hand in a fist, placed on his chest as the team cheered. You're sure you've got the goofiest grin on your face, squished between Christian and Adrian.

Much like he did after his first race win, he makes a beeline straight for you, his arms open as he jumps into yours. Once again, you find yourself struggling to hold the man up but you try your best, arms wrapped around him.

Daniel's squished against you, your hands on his helmet, holding where his jaw would be. "Got that other 50%."

"Redemption day baby!" He shouts, giving you one last squeeze.

The rest of the afternoon was like heaven on earth; the smell of champagne, RedBull and chlorine covered everyone, you all watched as Daniel dived into the pool of the energy station.

"Come on!" He shouts to you but you shake your head, "I'm not getting in there."

Daniel pulls himself out of the pool, running over to you. "Dan, no." Your finger stuck out to warn him, the man comes closer. "Stop it," you get up, about to run away. He grabs you before you get the chance to run away, his arms wrapped tightly around you before he jumps into the pool.

"Daniel!" You scream when you get back up to the surface, "oh my god!" You laughed, your hand passed over your face to wipe away the water. He laughs, swimming - more like blobbing his way over to you, his race suit was weighing him down.

He grabs your arm, pulling you to him. The team photographer takes a photo of the two of you; arms wrapped around each other, covered in disgusting pool water with the world's biggest million watt smiles on your face.

You smile at the man next to you, "I'm so proud of you."

"I'm proud of you," he smiles, hugging you once more. "I couldn't have done it without you."

RedBull Racing - 2018; Abu Dhabi.

The announcement over the summer break threw everyone for a loop.

Breaking News: Daniel Ricciardo set to join Renault Racing for the 2019 season.

You weren't sure how to handle it or what prompted it.

Well that's not entirely true; after Monaco, things went downhill fast. There was bad result after bad result and it was weighing heavily on him.

When he returned from the summer break, you didn't say anything to him about the departure from the team. You knew he must have thought about it, you don't just up and leave a team just like that. It was a hard decision for him to make.

The last thing you wanted to do was make him feel worse.

It was his last day, the race was over and Daniel had made his rounds to say goodbye to everyone. You had been busy when he made his way around the garage and hospitality but you felt like a general goodbye wasn't enough for the man who you have spent almost every day with for the last 4 years of your life.

You knocked on the door of his driver's room, Michael smiles when he opens the door. "Come in, y/n."

Daniel turns when he hears your name. "I uh, I forgot something in the garage, I'll be back." Micheal says, announcing that he's leaving so you'd get a moment of privacy.

The two of you were quiet, looking at each other for a moment before you spoke.

You break the silence. “So this is it?”

“Yeah.” He nods, shifting from one foot to the other. You hum, lips pressed together as you look around. You'd never seen the room so empty. “Do you really have to go ?”

Daniel smiles, “afraid so, bags are packed.”

“You could always unpack.”

He smiled, his heart aching at the sight of you. You reached out, your hand placed on his warm cheek. “But you’ll come back, right?”

A sad smile on his face, bringing his own hand up to rest on yours. “In another life, maybe.”

“You promise?” You stuck your pinky out towards him.

He nods, interlocking his pinky with yours like you were children. “I promise.”

Renault Racing - 2020; Imola, Italy.

The rain poured down, the night sky as dark as it could possibly get as you pulled your hood over your head; the race hadn't gone as well as you'd like but you were no longer needed for the night, on your way back to your hotel for some sleep and then home before you head off to Turkey.

You could barely see where you were going let alone hear anything over the rain. The sudden shelter over you caused you to look up; an umbrella, a black and yellow one to be precise.

The man next to you smiles when you turn to see who was next to you. "Hello stranger," he grinned, the big smile on his face.

"Hello Daniel," you smiled.

The two of you hadn't spoken much since he left RedBull, it was a hi and a hello here and there in passing but you've yet to have a proper conversation. Frankly, you aren't sure what to say without it being awkward.

"Need a ride?" He asks, his arm over your shoulder to pull you away from the rain. "If it's not too much trouble." You pull the hood off of your head, flattening a few fly aways.

Daniel leads you towards the parking lot, holding the umbrella over your head until you get into the car. The man backed out of the parking spot, the sound of the rain on the windshield filled the silence, you translated the road signs in your head as he passed them by.

"You looked good up there today," you say quietly, Daniel glanced at you when he came to a stop. "You were always suited for the podium."

"Top step though," he smiles and you nod in agreement. "I'm sorry.. about the race. Sucks for Max and Alex."

You shrugged; A DNF for Max and P15 for Alex, so all in all, a shit weekend. "That's racing, what can you do?"

"The good and the bad." He pulls off when the light turns green. "You know how it is," you smiled, picking at the chipped nail polish on your index finger.

"Daniel, can I ask you something?"

"Oh full name, you've got me shakin' in my boots, y/n; but yes you can."

You shift in the leather seat, smooth and expensive and suddenly you're aware of how wet your hoodie is. The question you wanted to ask slips away momentarily as you think of how much this must be damaging the seat.

"Y/n," he calls out to you, glancing over to make sure you were alright after you had gone quiet. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Why are you running, Daniel ?"

The question catches him off guard, the car comes to a stop as he pulls into the parking lot of your hotel. His jaw hung open a bit as if he was unsure how to answer you; which he was. You watched as he blinked, trying to gather the thoughts in his head into a cohesive sentence.

"I'm not."

You can't help but chuckle; those who are running never seem to realize that they are, in fact, running.

"You are. You have a habit of doing that, Daniel."

You reach over, your hand rests atop of his; Daniel's skin is warm in comparison to yours that's still ice cold from the rain. His free hand moves, his index finger tracing up and down your hands, from your knuckles down to your wrist; another habit of his. He would distract himself during boring debriefs, his fingers pinching at yours under the table.

He's quiet, still unsure how to answer the statement that he knows in his heart was true. His fingers wandering over your hand, the raised skin by your thumb felt out a pattern identical to his; a rose in the same spot only slightly smaller in size.

Daniel had talked you into it. Another habit of his, getting you to do things you'd never do otherwise.

You were scared, you thought it would hurt but somehow he managed to talk you into it. There you were in his hotel room, Daniel's hand in your free one as you two got matching tattoos.

It felt like a million years ago - so much has changed since then.

You speak again, breaking the silence. "I hope you find what you're looking for at McLaren. You deserve some peace, Dan. You and I both know it."

McLaren Racing - 2021; Monza, Italy.

Back where he belongs.

A hell of a drive, something only Daniel could have pulled off after the horrendous start that was McLaren. You knew it was the car, not him; if anyone asked you, the car was always at fault. Daniel was one of the most talented drivers you had ever come across and had the pleasure of working with. You'd tell anyone who asked, anyone who'd listen to you.

It was a lacklustre weekend for the team; Checo was in P5 and Max had a DNF after an accident with Lewis, which caused both drivers to lose out on points that were needed for the championship.

Despite RedBull not having a driver on the podium, you and a few of the mechanics that used to work on Daniel's side of the garage went to watch the podium to cheer him on.

You watched as he and Lando did a shoey, your face twisting into disgust much like the younger McLaren driver. Valtteri watched in a bit of confusion and disgust, shaking his head as he took a swing of champagne from the bottle like a normal person.

The champagne bottle in one hand and the other on the railing as he climbed up. Daniel shouts, a big grin on his face as he lifts the bottle above his head. Everyone cheers for him, clapping and shouting for the winner. You were needed back in the garage for a meeting so you couldn't stick around long but you made sure to text Daniel.

To Daniel Ricciardo: Congrats winner! Back on the top step.

You got caught up in the meetings, back to back that felt never ending. Eventually you have a chance to check your phone but when you feel your pocket, it's not there.

You must have put it down somewhere. You find yourself retracing your steps, asking each person you saw as you passed by.

"Y/n!" GP calls for you, getting your attention. "Looking for this?" He holds up a phone with a navy blue case, your initials inscribed in gold on the bottom.

You let out a breath, "how'd you know?"

He hands the phone over to you, shrugging. "You know I always know." You roll your eyes at your co-worker's theatrics and thank him for your phone before walking off. You see you've missed a few messages so you scroll through. One in particular catches your eye.

From Daniel Ricciardo: Thanks boss lady! Congrats to you too, you helped make me the man I am today.

The message pulled on your heart strings; it was true. You and Daniel were so young when you got paired up together. You learnt a lot about life and yourselves, how to be a good person and what you wanted from life, and most importantly, how to get it.

You grew up together and Daniel would always hold a special place in your heart.

McLaren Racing - 2022; Spa-Francorchamps, Belgium.

You couldn't believe it.

After everything he's done for the team, he'd hurt him like that. What could you expect from a team when their CEO was a walking snake?

It was a chain reaction.

Sebastian had thrown everyone for a loop in Hungary, announcing that he would be retiring at the end of the 2022 season. That left Aston looking for a replacement that came from Fernando. There was an opening at Alpine now which they just assumed they'd fill with their reserve driver, Oscar.

Safe to say Oscar wasn't a fan of that plan, actually he wasn't even aware of that plan.

While all of this was going on, Daniel had publicly committed to McLaren for the next season and McLaren was giving away his seat to different drivers behind his back, including none other than Alpine's reserve driver, Oscar.

Eventually it did come out that Daniel would be leaving McLaren at the end of the 2022 season to no fault of his own.

Returning from the summer break, everyone is left to face the music; particularly Daniel.

His music shuts off when he pulls the key from the ignition. You had forgotten your pass in the car, walking all the way back to the parking lot to get it.

"Morning, y/n!" Daniel grins, stepping out of the car.

You smiled at him, knowing you can't show the anger you were feeling to that wretched team he has to work with for the rest of the season. "Morning, Danny. How are you?"

He laughs.

The question feels so stupid, he feels so stupid. Obviously there's the obvious, he's angry, upset, sad, mad; at who was the question. There's so many thoughts in his head, he isn't sure how to answer your question.

"Daniel, c'mon. Seriously. "

"I'll be okay, y/n. Life works in weird ways."

A huff slips past your lips, arms folded across your chest much like a disapproving mother. "Life working in weird ways is finding something you thought you lost years ago, not you getting sold out of your seat without your knowledge."

He gives you a sad smile, nodding in agreement. "I know."

You can't help but reach out, a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be okay."

"I always am, aren't I?"

Red Bull Racing - 2022; Abu Dhabi.

Headphones covered your ears, legs folded under you as you went over the last set of race footage.

You hadn't heard the door open, your eyes glued to the screen only looking away to scribbling something down on the page next to your laptop.

You barely get a second to look back before someone's hands over your eyes, startling you. Instinctively, you brought your own hands up, grabbing the person. The raised skin along the wrist and the arms was enough to signal who it was but the smell of his cologne filled the room. You let go of his arms, pulling the headphones off your ears.

Daniel smiles, his hands on your shoulders before you stand up and turn to face him. “Miss me, miss me, now you gotta-“

“Gotta what, Dan?”

“Kiss me,” he says, his signature cheeky grin on his face. You can’t help but smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You smooth the wrinkles on his navy blue shirt, admiring him in the colours that meant home to him, to you.

Your hands held his face, “you came back.”

“Pinky promises are sacred.”

“That they are.”

Scuderia AlphaTauri - 2023; Spa-Francorchamps, Belgium.

He's back on the grid, his focus was on racing.

Daniel's excited to be back, it felt good to be back. Racing wasn't a burden anymore. Yuki was happy to have him, his new teammate welcoming him with a smile and a hug as did the rest of the Alpha Tauri team before he made his way to his driver's room.

The door was unlocked, left ajar slightly. Daniel just assumed the team was doing a last check, making sure things were in order.

He wasn't expecting a person to be in there. He found a woman, her back turned to him as she scribbled down something on the board.

He knows that handwriting from anywhere. The words let's fucking go written in all caps in bright blue.

"Hello," he calls, you turn with the marker still in hand. "Hello," you smiled.

Daniel can't help but laugh, "what are you doing here? Come to welcome me back ?"

"Something like that."

At that moment, Daniel noticed you weren't wearing your usual navy blue uniform. Today was different; a different logo, a different cut.

"What are you wearing? Why are you wearing that?" He points to the Alpha Tauri logo on your shirt.

Your brows furrow, a bit confused by his reaction. You thought he'd be happy to see you. "Do you not need a race engineer or.. you're just gonna wing it? Maybe you could borrow Michael to do it?"

"Don't be a smart ass," he rolled his eyes, dropping his bags as he walked over to you. "Thank you," he whispers, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

You pat his back, trying to wiggle away from him. "No need to thank me, we have a lot of work to do."

"I've barely been here for 5 minutes and you're already hassling me."

"Someone's gotta do it," you smiled, leaving him there to settle in.

It wasn't until it was time for practice that you saw the man again, you're across from him on the pit wall, looking over the stats before you hear the radio buzz.

“We all set?” He asks.

You look over the screens. “All set. Be safe.”

“Safe is my middle name, Y/n.” The words remind you of the path you walked along many many years ago.

You smiled, waving to him as he pulled out of the garage. “Whatever you say, Joseph.”

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ohcaptains · 1 year

Text

abby love spell

pairing. abby anderson x f!reader

synopsis. abby’s been handsy all damn day. can’t even take her hands off of you on patrol, where she should be focusing on something far more important...like staying alive. naively, you think watching a movie will distract her. it’s no use, really.

an. anyway slay. this is based off of this request that someone sent years, nay, millennia ago. what can i say, i was busy procrastinating writing and focusing on playing the game. again. pls enjoy, comment and reblog, etc. it makes the gay thoughts stronger<3 (not showing in tags so reblogs appreciated)

warnings. 18+. please do not read or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy my shit, i’ll find out. hand on throat (no choking), house wife kink, f!receiving penetration, strap on sex, lots of description of spit because i’m insane. references to oral, but no description. soz. maybe next time champ.

Something was up with Abby.

She’d always been an affectionate girlfriend, but today, she was stuck to you like glue. The pair of you, alongside Manny and Nora, had left for patrol in the morning. You had been busy making sure the truck was stocked, while Abby was busy trying to find a way to keep her hands on you at all times.

You were bent over the crates, checking and re-checking the contents, when her hands had slid onto your hips, thumbs looping into the belt buckles.

You went to flinch, hand coming out to grab hers, but you felt the familiar scabs on her knuckles. The familiar bumps of her veins – the map you knew off by heart.

“Hi Abby,” you sang, patting the back of her hand. Her chest pushed against your back, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Whatcha doing?” she asked, fully aware of what you were doing.

You answered her though – anything to keep her locked against you like this. There were a couple of layers of fabric between you, but you could still feel the heat radiating off of her.

“Packing the guns.”

Abby hummed, then grabbed at your hip, using it to twist you to face her. You grunted an oft! grabbing the lapels of her jacket to stabilise yourself.

“Shit – Abby,” you scorned, but she ignored you. Instead, she flexed her arms, and you couldn’t see the lines of muscles due to her jacket, but the bulge of her biceps was there all the same.

“Already got 'em, look,” she grinned, wiggling her brows, and you patted her chest, an amused frown on your face.

“What is with you?” you asked, smoothing out her jacket. “Ben put a little something extra in your porridge this morning?”

“I’m just my regular, goofy ol’ self – what do you mean?”

Her blue gaze flicked to your top, visible from underneath your open jacket.

“That’s my top,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Oh yeah – sorry,” you quickly spoke, glancing down at it, and thus not noticing the tick in Abby’s jaw. She always loved you in her clothes. Loved the way they draped over you – especially the jagged arm holes she cut into them.

The fabric would always hang loose at your sides, and she’d spend all day glimpsing at the drag of it over your chest. “Lights went out in the East block when you were at the gym. Had to get dressed in the dark—” you’re cut off, the surprise of Abby’s head dropping against your chest rendering your vocabulary to just one word, "Abby!”

“Mm,” she hummed, pushing her forehead between your breasts, “smells like me.” “Abby—” you said again, a giggle cracking at your lips. Your hands fumbled for her shoulders, shoving her away, or at least trying to – Abby was dead weight. You admired her strength. Loved it, but it was times like this when it was a hindrance to your mental stability. Finally, she stretched back to her height, shit eating grin on her face.

You were too busy transfixed on her features, that you didn’t notice her hands coming out to the bottom of your coat. Suddenly, she pulled the zip up to the top, and she knocked your chin up with her knuckle, leaning down to give you a deep kiss.

You went somewhere else for a second, the drag of her tongue knocking reality out of the way. Melted, succumb to her sudden overwhelming taste -- but she pulled away too soon.

“Cold out,” she grinned, hands rubbing at the length of your now-covered chest, and you were too dazed to respond.

It was like that all. Damn. Day.

She never once stopped playing around with you.

She’d boost you up walls, hands sliding under your thighs in an attempt to push you up. Hand at the bottom of your back to signal you to walk faster, hands on your hips to pull you out of the way.

Pulling you around like a damn rag doll.

Nice shot, she’d say, when it was actually pretty average.

Good girl, she casually praised, after you’d jumped and grabbed her arm, letting her pull you up onto a roof. That one had got you -- had to take a second to gather yourself as she spoke to Manny about which direction you were going.

Got to an abandoned warehouse and she pulled you to the side, sparing a few minutes to kiss you against a stack of boxes.

What’re you doing? You’d asked, and all she said was, kissing my girlfriend.

Now, you’re trying to watch a movie together.

Or at least, you’re trying to watch a movie – she’s too busy touching you to focus on the plot.

You’re comfy on your shared bed, resting on her broad chest as you sit between her muscular thighs, and she’s keeping you there by the arm she’s got slung around your front – bicep on your shoulder – as she lazily kisses at your neck.

It’s distracting, to say the least.

“’um trying to watch,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. The movie buzzes at you – an 80’s flick, all electronic beams, and bright colours. It’s about robots, and when Mel had brandished the disk in front of you last month, you’d been eager to have a watch.

Now, the direction Abby’s mouth is taking is far more interesting.

She scatters lazy, wet smooches over your neck, pausing before she places another as if she’s painting a picture. The drag of it makes you lethargic — makes you comfy and loose in Abby’s grip.

You want nothing more than to give into her touch. You’ve spent the whole day trying to shove down the overwhelming feeling of desire that she’d been pulling out of you. But you’ve been meaning to watch this movie for months.

No, you tell yourself. Focus. You breathe in, and shake your head, snapping back to the screen.

Abby hums. She’s so warm and soft -- her muscular chest surprisingly comfortable – that it’s lulling you into a sense of submission. You rest back against her, enveloped in her arms. Enveloped in the soft brush of her lips against your throat.

Focus, you repeat to yourself.

Got to give this movie back to Mel tomorrow, she’s been asking for it for weeks. “You can watch,” Abby whispers, brushing her mouth over your ear. The wetness of her lips forces a shiver down your spine. You try and run from it, shuffling in her grip, but Abby keeps you steady – lazily locked against you with her arm slung over your shoulder. “Just let me kiss you,” she breathes, placing a soft, delicate one on your ear lobe. Your eyes flutter again. She smells fresh from the shower. Smells clean, like her soap – pine and mint. Her hair is down too – you love it when her hair is down – and it hangs long, smelling like…strawberries? Your shampoo. Fuck fuck fuck. You shake your head, “can’t focus on the movie when you’re kissing me like that.” Abby smiles against your neck, and you feel it – feel it curve against your skin. “Sounds like a you problem.” “You’re an asshole,” you whisper, and she laughs.

“Just be quiet and watch the movie,” she orders, wide palm rubbing your bare thigh. “Quit whining.”

You grumble, mumbling something under your breath, but you do go quiet, and thankfully, she does slow her kissing. Resorts to nuzzling your neck instead, while her left hand continues to rub at your thigh.

It is nice, and you manage a couple of minutes of this, relaxing and watching the movie before you feel her hand sliding upwards.

You inhale sharply. Breathe in her scent. Wait for her to slow down. Wait for her to stop. Yet she never does.

Her long, thick fingers leisurely flutter over your bare skin as her hand inches to where you suddenly want it – God, do you – tantalisingly close to the boxers you’re wearing. Hers.

Your whole outfit is hers and you swear she’s going to touch you, or at least brush her fingers against you, but she pulls back. Slides her hand away, wide palm retreating to your knee.

Disappointment twangs.

You try not to think about it, but the buzz she’d sparked settles low in your belly.

The film continues with its garish colours and cheesy dialogue. Buzzes and crackles, its movie star taking up the screen for an up-close shot. You swallow down the fluttering of your heart.

She’s still kissing you.

Her lips are wet, exploring. Nose cold as it nuzzles against your ear lobe, breath warm as she breathes, and her tongue darts out, skimming over your throat before she kisses the spit away. You hum, hips pushing again, and Abby palms at your inner thigh.

“Shhh, baby. Can’t hear the movie with all your whimpering.” The breath of her whisper flutters over your neck, forcing goosebumps to rise to the surface. You roll your eyes back and try and convince yourself that it’s from annoyance rather than pleasure.

Her hand starts again, faster now, smoothing over your skin, not giving you enough time as she just brushes the tips of her fingers over your underwear, and your hand jolts out.

“Abby,” you warn, grabbing it. You intertwine your fingers with hers, stopping it in its tracks — clutching it on your lap, and Abby hums a laugh into your neck.

“Not gonna let me touch you there?” she teases, using the hand you’re holding to rub at your groin.

You’re betrayed by your own knuckles, the touch forcing your thighs to clench together, and hips to jolt up at the sensation. You hate it. Love it, really. She’s winding you up like a toy. “Abby,” you whisper, conflicted. The tv hisses its dialogue, music singing – a car crashes into a wall, and the antagonist cackles in delight. Who’s the villain again? Abby hums a pleased, “Hm?” into your ear. You don’t know. Just have to spit her name out. Get it out of you, before it’s back, brimming at your lips like an omission of truth.

She pushes her hand into yours, forcing your knuckles to rut against your crotch again, and fuck, your legs widen an inch, welcoming the feeling and silently begging for more.

She’s smiling, sickly sweet – you know it. Know her. Know she’s grinning from the gradual win.

You keep a hold of her hand as she rubs it into you, coaxing something warm and tingly to build between your thighs. Your face goes hot.

You suddenly can’t remember the plot of this movie. Try to come up with something convincing to Mel for when she asks for your review, but your temporal lobe has stopped working.

All you can think about is the sensation between your thighs, the comforting tickle on your chest from Abby’s hair, and the smell of her – familiar, all-consuming. She runs the tips of her teeth over the flesh of your throat, and “Abs,” you gasp, free hand grabbing onto her forearm.

Her tongue comes out, soothing the scratch from her teeth and you shift, shocked, hips bucking back against her, legs falling open, and she takes advantage – drops your hand and flattens her palm between your thighs, cupping your clothed pussy.

“Shit,” you gasp, clutching her strong forearm with both hands in surprise.

You can’t believe you’ve let her win.

She’s not even moving, just holding you, but the pressure is enough to force your thighs together, pussy clenching around nothing.

“Um’ gonna break up with you,” you quickly rush, eyes clenching closed. Abby cackles. Says, “Yeah?” “Mm,” you hum, nodding, fidgeting, trying to get her to fucking move. “Okay –“she breathes, stuffing her fingers low, thick of them pressing against you. Your mind goes fizzy. She talks. “--After I make you come though, right?” Your face clenches together, your mouth falling open. “You’re the worst,” you brandish, lying through your teeth. Meaning it wholeheartedly.

She hushes you, “Shhh, I know,” and watches your facial expressions change – watches you try to self-soothe.

“The worst,” you repeat, voice cracking. Somehow, Abby’s lips get closer to your ear.

“I know baby, but I’ll make it good, promise.”

Her admission forces your eyes open, and you look down at where she’s got you – thick fingers barely pushing against your clothed slit, and God, you have to – have to grind your cunt against her. One slight roll of your hips, up and up, then down, and you huff, curse under your breath because Jesus Christ.

“Or you’ll do it for me.” “Shut up.” “No – do it again.”

You do. With your hands holding the forearm she’s got buckled against your collarbones, you hitch your hips up, and she keeps her hand tense, making it good for you. Makes sure the ball of her palm pushes into your clit, and you sigh. A tremor shoots through your belly.

“Keep doing that,” she mutters, mouth close enough that her words echo through your brain. “I wanna see.” She grabs a fistful of your shirt and drags it up. The cool air hits the soft skin of your belly, but Abby warms you as her arm flattens against it, hefty and comforting.

You watch her strong arm transfixed. Watch the muscles tick as her hand flexes, the scars on her skin white and shiny in the dull buzz of the TV screen.

Her fingers rub at your pussy, and your hips move, back arches, grinding against her palm, your breathing hitching and catching.

She’s barely touching your clit, just brushing it, and the sensation slowly builds, pushing, making you reach down and fumble for her hand, pushing it deeper into you.

“Abs,” you choke, and she groans. Nods against your neck and admits, “wanted to fuck you all day.”

Heat rushes over you, forces you to clench together and pathetically whimper. “Been obsessed with me all day,” you breathe.

In your cloudy vision, you catch sight of the TV screen, the movie playing out to two people who couldn’t care less. Yet you try and focus, but it’s hard to multitask with her hand between your thighs.

The antagonist is being arrested, and you have no fucking clue as to why. Probably something to do with the car explosion – or was it a truck? Abby carries on kissing you, sucking at the soft skin, bruising you with her sweet lips and tongue, “m’ always obsessed with you,” she purrs, the hand she’s got strapped across your collarbones soothing the skin of your shoulder. “Mm, yeah – but something --” she rubs the ball of her palm over your clit, pushes it, this time, and your sentence catches. “Shit —” you hiss, eyes rolling back. A shiver runs down your spine as your brain short circuits. Desperately, you try to keep a hold of reality, try not to fall into the dizziness of it all.

Sometimes that happened with Abby. You didn’t mind, but you wanted to hold on to your consciousness for a little while longer. You huff, shake your head – try to remember your next sentence. “Something different about today.”

“Had a dream that I fucked you last night.”

Oh, you think, that’ll do it. You can’t help but grin -- delighted that you’ve managed to weave your way into her subconscious.

“Things were different, normal,” she explains, still taunting you with her hand. She’s pushing up, grinding up and down your clothed slit with an intrinsic kind of determination, using just enough pressure to make you delirious.

As she pushes her fingers low, your clit throbs. Your pussy clenches, tight and sore. You were never good at this bit. Never good at waiting. You clutch her hand, tense and fidgety, gut tightening as her fingers slowly push you to some metaphorical edge.

“Don’t laugh,” she adds, and you do, but not at her, more so at the situation. Your big, controlling Abby, asking you not to laugh at her. “M’ not gonna laugh at you Abs,” you pant, grinding slowly, breathing deep, trying to calm yourself down for this admission she’s so ashamed of.

She leans in close, mouth against your ear as if the TV can hear. All it does is add to the pressure, her voice so close, it’s like it’s in your own head.

“I dreamt that you were my housewife,” she whispers, and fuck, that’s not what you expected. That’s not what you expected at all. “That I came home,” she continues, sliding her fingers up and down, up, and down, and you’re wet against her. Soaked through the cotton, her fingers damp with your slick. Jesus Christ, she’s only been playing.

Hadn’t felt like she’d been trying all that hard, really, and here you are, making her hand all wet. You both watch her play with you – draw it out, fingers dragging, your hips trying to match her rhythm. “’n’ you were making me dinner, dressed up all pretty – heals on, nothing underneath.” “Y-Yeah?” you breathe, quick and short, the only sound you can make besides the quiet moans you’re mumbling. “And you waltzed up to me, said, honey, you’re home. N’ undid my tie.”

You’re wet enough that she can see the outline of your pussy through her boxers. Gently, she relaxes her palm and slides her middle finger through your slit, your legs widening, watching her, knowing what she’s doing before she does it.

“That’s it,” she mutters, finger pushing against your clit. “So fucking wet, s’so fucking hot,” she breathes into your ear, teeth on your earlobe and fuck, you nearly come.

Nearly burst, white-hot heat jolting through you, eyes clenching together, pussy clenching – want her inside of you, feels like you’ve never wanted her more than you do now.

She carries on, languidly rolling your clit around, tenderly pushing at the nerve.

“Then you dropped to your knees,” she coos into your ear, and fuck, in your haze you didn’t see her move. Didn’t feel her slide her hand over your throat, holding you still. You swallow against her palm.

“and unlaced my boots. Took them off for me, so good. So helpful.”

She keeps the pace steady. Hits the nerve at such an angle that you can’t run from pressure. Your pussy gushes, and words fail you.

Abby kisses your cheek, “You okay baby? Gone quiet on me.”

“I think um gonna come,” you quickly admit, voice cracking. You’re clenched so tight that it hurts. Just begging for something, anything, to fill the need she’s building. Your thighs twitch and you feel her smile on your cheek, curved cheekily. She ignores you. Carries on.

“Dinner on the table for me, my favourite. Dessert in the fridge, beer on ice. Your pretty little face so excited that I was back.”

Your small voice shatters through her spiel -- “Did you fuck me against the table?” you whimper, imagining it. “With my dress and heels still on?”

Abby groans. Her fingers break their rhythm for a second, go sloppy – get distracted. You think about her bending you over the kitchen table, your hair in her fist and her strap in her hand.

She gets her rhythm back and picks up speed. Rubs your clit in tight, controlled circles, and you feel yourself get closer. There’s a familiar ache at the bottom of your belly.

“Yeah baby, I did,” she breathes. “Treated you like a lady. Made you come on my cock so quick that my dinner was still warm.”

“Abby,” you burst, cutting her off. Fuck, you hear it – hear how desperate you are. “You don’t wanna watch your movie?” she teases, using the hand on your throat to push your chin to her. She looks at you pitifully, blue eyes blown wide. “No,” you whine, teeth chewing at your bottom lip, making it swollen. You manage to shake your head, and she pulls your lip from your teeth, using her thumb to slide your spit over your chin. “Don’t wanna see how it ends?” she further taunts. “N-No,” you sob, nearly crying. Actually, no, you are crying. Yeah, your cheeks are definitely damp with something.

You sniff, and Abby goes soft. For a fleeting second, she switches -- kisses away your tears, and says, “shh, okay. I know sweetheart, I know.”

She pushes her forehead against yours, and you’re lulled into a false sense of security before she pulls her fingers away.

You shatter, gasp “No!”, and Abby kisses you, shuts you up, hands tugging your boxers down, quickly pulling them over your knees and discarding them onto the floor somewhere.

She tugs your thighs open, too, fully exposing you, and the cool air hits your damp pussy just as she stuffs her fingers back, sliding her thick middle finger through your slick before pushing it into your swollen, aching hole.

The world tips on its axis. For a brief, cataclysmic moment, you go somewhere else. Mouth open, eyes clenched close. The obscene pressure is overwhelming, and you clench around her finger, so tight that she groans into your mouth.

“Jesus,” she curses, “ease up baby, lemme make you feel good.”

It takes all of your willpower to loosen up, to relax. When you do, she slides out, then in, gently, slowly fingering you, warming you up, before she adds another finger, wet enough for the stretch, and you go blank.

You don’t say anything – can’t, no words, only sounds, loud and against her mouth. Cursing her out, moaning her name – garbled and sloppy, hands clutching her forearm, nails digging into her skin -- all sensation.

You can hear how wet you are, hear your pussy squelching around her fingers.

“'m gonna come,” you gasp, and Abby nods, kisses you, tastes your spit and coaches you through it, “That’s it, baby, just let it all out.”

Seconds later, it rushes over you.

Sucks you under and spits you out, your hips bucking against Abby’s quick-moving fingers as you come, wet and hot, spilling over and soaking the sheets. “m’ my god, my god,” you whine, the white-hot feeling never-ending.

Legs shaking, and Abby watches, praises you, says, “oh fuck, look at that,” and you can’t, it’d be too much. Instead, you whine against her cheek, back arching, body shuddering, her name spilling from your lips like spit.

“Abby,” you babble, “Abby, feels so fuckin’ good, you make it so good,” you drool, words sloppy, pussy clenching tight.

The sensation continues. You breathe her name again, Abby Abby Abby – a prayer on your swollen lips. Please, you whisper — please what?

Abby won’t let you come down. Your sensitivity spirals, but Abby doesn’t stop. Drags her thick fingers through your clenched walls, and you gasp, hands grasping out to grab hers.

You clutch her wet hand in your limp grip, whimpering, please, against her mouth.

“Okay,” she breathes, barely there. “Okay, I’ll stop.”

She pulls her fingers out of you slowly, kissing your forehead as you make a soft humming sound. You’re still so sensitive.

The heat has cooled, but the feeling still lingers, and Abby kisses your forehead again, quieting the dull ache that’s washing over you. Gently, she pulls her hand away from yours, bringing her slick fingers up to her lips.

You watch through half-lidded lids as she runs her mouth over them, humming in contentment. Pink tongue darting over the digits – you flush, your own tongue licking at your bottom lip as you study her.

You curl your legs together, thighs wet, feeling the pressure that’s still there. Abby sees you wince. She studies your features -- notes that your eyes haven’t lost their glaze, and now they’re edged with something wild, as if you’ve gotten a taste, but not enough to scratch the itch.

There’s a familiar softness to you, too. Almost lethargic, as you run your nail over her forearm, eyes flicking over her strong jaw and flushed cheeks.

“You were messing with me all day.”

It’s a whisper, words tentative. Abby licks her lips, noting how your glassy eyes follow the movement. “Messing?” she repeats, inching forward, and pressing her forehead against yours. You close your eyes, a small, contented smile on your lips, then lick them, teeth coming out to chew. “Hm.” “You like when I mess with you?” she teases, and you hum again. The smile you’re donning builds, bubbling into a nod.

She can’t help but reach out, and gently run her thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip, tugging it free from your teeth. You sigh, body leaning into her touch. “You’re very distracting…” She slides her wide palm over your cheek, dragging it to the back of your neck, then holds you there, inching her head to the left and brushing her mouth over yours – a small hint of you on her lips. “…S ’almost dangerous.” “’ m sorry,” you quickly breathe, come drunk. Drunk on Abby fucking Anderson. In your hazy and small headspace, you suddenly feel bad. She must know because she shakes her head, “don’t be.”

Her breath flutters over your lips, hand flexes at the back of your neck. That pressure that she’d subsided, is back. Feels suddenly critical.

“s’my fault for thinking I have any self-control.”

You want to kiss her. The desire sweeps over you, crashing like a wave. You go to move, but she whispers, “wanted to fuck you in that abandoned warehouse,” and all you can do is ask, “Why didn’t you?” A laugh rattles through her.

“nearly did.”

You think about the blood on her hands, think about the smear of it as she pulled your hips against hers, mouth hot and desperate. She’d sucked a quick bruise under your earlobe, and you’d melted.

Electric had shot through your belly, warming between your thighs.

Abby, you’d moaned, and she’d just about growled. Teeth had nipped at your tender skin, just this side of mean, and your brain had short-circuited.

You forgot about the impending danger around the corner — all you could think about was Abby, with her wandering hands and soft lips. The way she licked away the scratch and kissed you again, said, we gotta get this thing over with so I can take you to bed.

“Would have, too, if I wasn’t so damn responsible.”

She tuts at herself, annoyed at her regiment. She licks the spit off of her lip and you pout, I wanted to do that, you think.

“I like the responsible Abby,” you manage to mutter, bumping your mouth against hers, “She keeps me safe.”

Abby hums. Her eyes close as if she’s bathing in your omission. Abby does keep you safe. She’s strong, capable — a brilliant teammate and when she needs to be, a leader. She quiets the anxious thumping of your heart, and when she’s got you like this — floaty and soft — quiets it completely.

“Please kiss me,” you suddenly breathe, overwhelmed with the desire to have your mouth on her. “I’ve been waiting patiently.”

At the back of your neck, you feel her hand flex. She brushes her mouth against yours again, gently teasing, “You have, haven’t you?” her brows raise – followed by a sickly sweet smirk.

There’s something about this space you’re in that makes even the smallest of mockeries big and meaningful.

“I have,” you just about plead, and Abby’s smirk twists, a flash of longing bleating over her features, before she catches your lips, kissing you deep and long -- your resulting moan cracking through the bedroom.

Her tongue comes in, wet and warm, forcing you closer — forcing you to just about clamber into her lap, damp inner thighs sliding against her sweatpants.

Abby pulls away, eyes dark and cloudy as she whispers, “Want me to get the strap?” and the only answer you find is, yes.

You watch as Abby drags the leather straps up her thighs, then crawls onto the bed, buckling up one side as she moves. Immediately, with an instinct she’s drilled into you, you get onto your knees to do the other, hands fumbling around the leather.

You’ve done this countless times before. Know what notch she likes it on. Knows she likes it tight, likes when the leather stretches over her thighs, marring them red. She lubes it up as you buckle her up tightly.

“So helpful – such a good girl, you know that, huh?”

She moves to kiss you, and you giggle into her mouth, catching the back of her head as she pushes you into the bed. Her strap brushes over you, and you sigh, humming at the sudden wet sensation.

She tastes like you. Tastes like musk and mint and Abby. You tongue your way into her mouth, suddenly wanting more. Wanting her, carnally. Spent all day with her -- you spend most days with her, but it’ll never be enough.

You break away from her, slowly blinking, watching a trail of spit connect the two of you. She’s propped up on one elbow, watching you.

Her eyes are navy blue under the shadow of the light, the freckles on her nose hidden, but you know they’re there. Know how they sprinkle out evenly as if they were painted there before she was handed off to her mother.

“I like being helpful,” you admit. Something flashes in her eyes. Her features shift, once playful, now soft, and her hand comes out, brushing your hair away from your forehead.

Instinctively, you move into her palm. It’s warm – calloused, familiar. You move to nuzzle your nose into it.

“I like that you let me come along on patrols,” you whisper.

You don’t see it, but Abby’s face twitches, “I don’t let you do anything – I want you there.”

There’s a beat before you respond, too busy running your nose over her palm. When you turn to her, you flash her a cheeky smile, “So you can mess around with me.”

Abby sniffs a laugh, but she shakes her head, “So you can save my ass when I eventually fuck up.”

“s ’never happened. I don’t remember.”

“Selective memory.”

Her fingers move, forefinger resting under your chin and thumb coming up to slip over your bottom lip. Abby swears she sees your eyes glaze over again. She loves this. Loves when you get like this. It lets her know that you trust her, trust her to do what’s best.

“You with me?” she just about purrs. You hum. She watches as your body goes limp like she’s pressed a hidden button. You shift, your legs open wide, and your breasts bounce with the movement. If you were watching, you’d see eyes shift over your body – hungry and desperate.

You breathe in a sigh, and it rattles in your chest. “Yeah—” you whisper, “---think so. You make me feel so dizzy, Abby.”

Your eyes flutter closed, tongue coming out to catch her thumb. Your teeth go over it, and the hood of her nail drags over your gums, your bottom teeth pushing at the soft flesh. The sensation goes directly between Abby’s thighs. Still, she shows her usual concern. She cocks her head to the side.

“You’ll let me know if it’s too much, yeah?” “Yeah Abby,” you whisper around her finger, “s’never too much though. You know me.” “Promise?” she asks, ignoring you. “Promise,” you repeat, then, “I can still taste myself on you.”

Your tongue closes around her finger, wetting it – warm and soft. Abby briefly thinks: this is what she feels like inside. She goes red at the thought. An ache builds – she suddenly wants to be nestled deep, watching you come undone again.

You suck her finger further, eyes still closed, lost in the motion. The intoxication makes you grab a hold of her wrist, keeping her steady as spit pools under your lips, dripping towards your chin.

“Is this what I did in your dream?” you suddenly ask, blinking up at her. You catch her dark eyes, and she notes the spit that’s drooling over your tits.

“When I was on my hands and knees for you?”

All of the willpower Abby had left snaps in two. She suddenly shifts, moving you by shoving her big, strong hands under your thighs and spreading you open.

“Lemme fuck you,” she babbles, hitching your hips up. You watch her try to gather her nerve, but she talks and talks as she shuffles you around – “I gotta fuck you baby. Gotta – gotta make it good, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding, seeing her lose her cool. “I gotta.” “Okay,” you whisper again. You reach over with your hand, smoothing it over her cheek, begging her to look at you, but she just takes the hand and tries to get you situated. Moves the pillow, and makes sure your hips are pushed wide enough. “Yeah – I just, fuck. Yeah, fuck. Lemme – please?” she suddenly stops, like she’s caught herself before she falls off the ledge completely. The soft skin of your thumb smoothes over her cheek, and you nod, flexing your hips up, “fuck me, Abby.”

The roles shift and ripple. When Abby gets so turned on, she gets desperate — pleads and begs instead of tells.

But when she’s got the strap stuffed against your wet hole, the roles snap back.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, suddenly overwhelmed. You’re still a little sensitive, and now lightheaded and dizzy with delirium, all you can do is pout against her pretty mouth, eyes glazed and wide. “Shhh, baby. Shh shh shh,” she punctuates. She looks down at where you connect, and slides the strap across your sopping folds, listening for your reaction. You huff, whispering her name – then jolt up when she brushes it against your clit, hands coming for the back of her head again.

“Abs,” you gasp, scuffed knees pressing on her hips.

“Um gonna make it good, okay?” she soothes, “don’t I always make it good for you?”

She does. Abby knows you like the back of her palm. Knows all your buttons, knows when to push them – how. Knows when it’s too much, or when it’s not enough. Her eyes flash open, blue and alive, and she kisses you as she stuffs the head against your hole, slowly sinking in, burying deep.

“Oh my fucking God,” you sob against her mouth, clenching, so fucking full that you have to arch your back. Your breath hitches, letting Abby know that you’re filled up tight.

“Abby,” you whine, hands reaching for your tits. You squeeze them, fidgeting, going a little frantic at the sensation. Abby watches – sees.

“Shhh, shhh, shh,” she hushes, brushing her lips against yours, kissing you sweetly. The tenderness makes you sob, the taste of her tongue intoxicating. It lulls you, quiets you, and she pulls away, ordering, “Hands in my hair, baby, know you like em’ there.”

You do as she says, sniffling, trying to calm yourself down. She’s dragged this out slowly, though. You hadn’t realised how much you wanted her until she stopped.

She reaches over you, grabs a pillow, ordering, “Hips up, high, sweetheart – that’s it,” before she stuffs it under you, the movement jostling her cock, but when you relax back, legs high on her back, Abby stuffs you again, the new position forcing the strap to hit something devastating.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck – “you curse, eyes flashing white. “‘um gonna come so fast, Abs.” “S’okay baby,” she soothes, slowly pulling out of you. She brushes her mouth against yours as she whispers, “I’ll just fuck you until you can’t anymore.”

God, it must take minutes.

Must be minutes – maybe even seconds – of her slowly fucking up into you, splitting you open on her cock, before you’re feeling the familiar swell flood your pussy.

You’ve got your fingers laced in her long, blonde strands, and you’re pretty sure you’re scraping your nails against her scalp, but Abby’s too busy murmuring how pretty you are to notice.

In your almost drunken haze, you notice how pink her lips are – all swollen from her teeth and wet with spit – and you can’t keep your eyes off of them. They spill compliments all over you.

Bathe you, before pressing them to your mouth, swallowing your desperate cries.

Abby’s got one hand at the nape of your neck, and the other is clutched around your left knee, keeping it locked up against her upper back. The position means you can’t run from her.

She’s an all-consuming presence, and it’s almost too much. She moves her hand, but you don’t dare move your knee. It’s locked there, and the position she’s put you in makes you delirious. Then she doubles the pressure with her thick fingers against her clit.

“Jesus – fuck, Abby,” you curse, eyes rolling back, the world going dark. You’re so wet that she can’t catch a grip, and her fingers swirl sloppily over your clit as her face clenches together, as if she’s doing it to herself.

“So fuckin’ wet,” she grunts against your lips, her face a snarl. You don’t see it, but she shakes her head. Shakes her head and then speeds up, fueled by the desire to make you wetter. Make it worse better for you.

The change in speed forces your eyes open. You grab onto her shoulder, hiccuping a sob, wet, hot heat pulsating between your legs.

Your eyes roll back again, mouth comes open, fingers clench tight and Abby sees it. Knows you’re about to come so hard that she’ll feel it. “Abby,” you gasp, and she nods. Presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips and soothes you with, “I know.” “S’gonna be – b-big, fuck. M’ clenching so fuckin’ tight.”

Abby feels your back arch into her, your tits pushing against her chest. She keeps at her steady rhythm – tilts your pelvis and bucks her hips with an unrelenting tempo, catching the sight of the strap, white from you.

Your orgasm blindsides you.

You’re silent as you come. Mouth open against hers, clenching so tense and tight around her cock that it almost hurts. Then, Abby sees you release, gushing over her cock as your hips stutter and legs shake, your orgasm washing over you, knocking you for a loop.

She groans at her sight, then hears you sob, strangled, followed by, oh my god Abby, oh my fuckin’ – then it’s all whimpers, your pussy still pulsating around her strap.

Abby slows her pace.

She ignores the pressure between her own thighs, and instead, kisses the drool off of your lips, shakingly saying, never seen you come so hard like that twice, s’gotta be a record, and you’re so fucked out that you don’t even laugh.

Your eyes are glazed over, sweat pooling at your hairline, and your mouth is still hanging open as if you’re trying to find something to say. Abby kisses it shut. Tries, again, to ignore the throbbing of her clit. Tries to ignore the desire to fuck you into the mattress and make herself come.

You’re still shaking for fucks sake, but Abby can’t stop. She’s already pushing it by slowing, humming against your mouth, the sounds almost a whimper.

Her face is snarled together, jaw clenched, and she sees your brow furrow. Feels you clench your fists to her chest, wondering why she’s still fucking you. When she drops her head into your neck, you understand.

“I’m sorry—” she sobs, wide palms dragging under your shoulders and latching onto them. “I’m – fuck – feels so good.”

You snap out of your delirium. Or it twists at least. You spread your legs, ignoring the pressure behind your clit – the sensitivity that never had a chance to subside. Now, you’re here for Abby.

“S’okay baby,” you drawl, voice trembling, but fuck, your girlfriend is desperate. You hitch your hips up and press against her tight, so she has to grind against you to fuck you, and Abby loses it.

The added pressure against her clit forces her to moan, the sound muffled by your throat.

“Use me, okay?” you whisper against the shell of her ear, hands in her hair, clutching her to you. “use me to come.”

“S-shit, okay,” she whimpers. “Okay okay okay—” lost to her pleasure, Abby sloppily rocks into you. She picks up the speed, sinking into your wet and swollen hole, splitting you open and moaning your name so loud that it rattles through you.

“I’m gonna come,” she whimpers, then, “holy fuck, um gonna come.”

Heat rushes over you, overwhelming. All consuming. You’re suddenly filled with the urge to kiss her.

Taste her on your tongue, and just this side of mean, you use her hair to move her, dragging your mouth against hers, letting you see her red, sweaty face and fucked out eyes.

“That’s it, baby,” you whisper, nodding, meeting her thrusts as she fucks you. “You gonna come inside of me?” you whisper, pouting, “You gonna fill me up?”

Realistically, you know she can’t. So does she, but that doesn’t stop her from nodding, hips rocking against yours. Going, “Jesus – fuck. Fuckin’ dirty.”

She hides her red face in your shoulder again, as if she’s almost embarrassed by how desperate she is.

“My fuckin’ dirty girl,” and grunts, and she punctuates it with a snap of her hips, knocking the sensitivity up tenfold.

It feels so good, and if she carries on this way, you’re likely to come again, but by the clutch of her fingers and drag of her breathing, you know she’s not going to last long enough.

Know that it’s not about you, though. Know that she’ll likely catch her breath for a second and begin all over again. Abby was like that. One was never enough.

Her high-pitched, shaky breathing brings you back. It’s there – even if you can’t see her face, you know it.

“Gonna come for me Abby?” you whisper. Then, with your wet mouth against her ear, you whimper, please baby, please come for me.

She does. You feel her body clench against you, a strangled gasp muffled against your neck, and then she’s shaking, orgasm washing over her and taking her under.

You soothe her through it. Rub her muscular back, drag your nails over her spine, and kiss the side of her head. When the aftershocks cool off, she laughs. The sound rumbles against your neck, shocked and alive.

“Holy shit,” she curses, giving your neck a sloppy kiss. Your skin is still electric, but it slowly sparks out, bottoming to a dull delicious numbness. A slow, lazy smile pulls at your lips.

Your head is still a little fuzzy.

Abby hands slide out from under your shoulders, and she presses them besides you, pushing herself up, long blonde hair falling around your head like a curtain. Her cheeks are blushed red, eyes wiry and alive.

You feel yourself staring at her. Abby stares back. She shifts idly, cocking her head to the side and leaning to kiss you. With her tongue in your mouth, she whispers, “’m gonna move.”

Gently, she slips out of you, kissing away the scrunch of your brows and pout to your lips. She quickly unbuckles the strap, pushing it to the side before leaning down again, wide palms pushing your thighs apart to try and distill the pressure there.

“Okay?” she breathes, putting all of her weight onto her elbows.

“Mm,” you hum dreamily, leaning up to give her a messy kiss, “That was really hot.” Abby kisses back, humming in agreement, “Feel like I just found out the meaning of life.” “What?” you laugh, scrunching your face at her.

You raise your brows, laughing, “the meaning of life is coming while fucking me?” “Yep,” she grins, bumping her nose to yours. She turns to the TV, the credits rolling.

“Should we start the movie again?” she asks sincerely, but you shake your head, fingers tightening in her hair.

Lazily, you slip your tongue into her mouth, wrapping your legs around her lower back and using your feet to push her ass into you. She groans, trying to catch up, but you pull away just when she matches your rhythm.

You lick your lips and lean back, your mouth curling into a delicious grin. Abby watches you reach out, your thumb running over her bottom lip, and she catches it in her mouth just as you say, “Still wanna taste you.”

more abby smut

#abby anderson x reader smut #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us hbo #abby anderson the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby anderson fan fic #tlou2 abby anderson

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orionremastered · 4 months

Note

hi! I was wondering how the bats would be with a reader who is disabled or has prosthetics? they're all just very protective of people they care about since...everything, and how maybe that could start to feel sufacating at some point? Or something, idk dude

(also-the way you write is realy cute and sweet for all of them, makes them feel a lot less heavy when they have someone to hold them <33)

Masterlist

Batboys with a Disabled S/O

Dick Grayson [Fully Deaf]

A gentle touch on your shoulder prompts you to slowly turn around, a smile stretching across your face when you realise your boyfriend's back from work.

You pull him into your arms, threading your fingers through his hair. Pulling away reluctantly, you give him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

But he's not smiling; only a sad smile that makes you tilt your head in a silent question.

Don't worry about it, he signs. Have a good day?

You nod, though your frown remains when he moves to the kitchen, always adamant that he cooks whenever he's home. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, frowning at the caller ID and puts the phone on speaker as he begins cooking.

Dick gets more and more angry as the conversation goes on, his hands waving wildly around the small kitchen, only stopping to return to the cooking.

Finally, he hangs up. You tap him on the shoulder and he turns, watching as you sign;

Who was that?

Dick's shoulders raise and drop. A case I'm working on. I'll figure it out.

You nod slowly, satisfied with his response.

Jason Todd [Fully Blind]

Mornings with Jason always start like this. They always start with you gently running your fingers across his face, mapping it out and imagining it in your head. Over his nose, his lips, his stubble.

"Did you clean the apartment?" you ask, lying on top of him as your guide dog sits next to you on the mattress. "I almost knocked one of your guns off the counter yesterday."

"I did," he murmurs. You rest your fingers on his lips and feel that they're stretched into a smile. "I'm sorry for letting it get messy."

"That's okay," you reply quietly, "Ollie picked it up before it hit the floor."

Ollie, your guide dog, makes a huffing sound beside you, causing you both to chuckle.

"Good boy," Jason says proudly, feeling him shift underneath you, mostly likely to pat Ollie.

"You're both good. Too good, maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jason asks.

"Hmm."

Tim Drake [Classical Ehlers-Danlos syndrome]

"Love? Can we go for a camping trip on the weekend with my friends?"

Tim turns his head slowly as he sits in his study chair. He taps the pen he's holding against his lips. "What happens if you get exhausted?"

"We can go back to the tent and rest."

"You can get bruises. A lot of bruises," he frowns, gesturing for you to walk to him. You comply.

"That's fine, they're just bruises," you respond, sitting on his lap. He begins gently drawing shapes on the bare skin of your thighs.

"You could dislocate something," he says to you, quieter now.

"You know how to put it back. You do it for me all the time."

Tim's brow furrows at the reminder of having to put back in dislocated joints more often than he'd like. "Fine. But if you even start to get a little tired, you tell me. Okay?"

You rest your forehead against his and murmur, "Okay."

Damian Wayne [Prosthetic Arm]

"I'll take those—"

"Damian, I love you, but I can put shopping bags into the car just fine." This and many similar conversations have been going on practically since the start of your relationship. And while you do find it endearing that he cares, sometimes you just want him to treat you like you didn't lose your right arm in an accident.

The man scowls. "But—"

"I'm not going to hurt myself, really."

He watches you warily, weighing the outcomes of the situation. "Fine. Only the lighter ones."

You suppose it's better than not being able to do any of them. Still, he watches you like a hawk as you put the lighter ones in the back of the car he bought you (you protested but that man has the most selective hearing).

He closes the trunk/boot after the bags are inside.

"Can I drive?" you ask, hoping you'll get luck there too.

"No."

"I know how."

"No."

#batfamily x reader #damian wayne x reader #batfam #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader

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bbyleiah · 5 months

Text

'Miss Me?'- Geto Suguru

| The reader encounters mafia boss Geto who takes her into his home after an altercation. Despite Geto being a busy man, The two slowly fall in love as Geto develops a soft spot for her. |

Cw: Mafia Boss!Geto, black reader, heavy ddlg themes, a brief murder scene, pet names (princess, bun, bubs, sweetheart), praise, degradation, dirty talk, dry humping, scratching, hair pulling, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), missionary position, size difference, lots of fluids, !omorashi! (reader pees on Geto accidentally during sex 🫣), spitting (he spits in her mouth), begging, crying, pussy drunk Geto, Geto whining and whimpering a few times, reader calls him daddy a lot, Geto is filthy, etc.

word count : shorter than my usual fics 😭

sn : I wrote this fic for fun bc I was inspired and decided to post 🥹 there’s lots of cute moments and plot in this fic despite the wild smut 😭 read at ur own discretion 🤲🏾

Days became weeks as you waited for your boyfriend to come back home. You knew he was a busy man though and you always tried to be a good girl and be patient but you were growing restless. You were so attached to him and him being gone was starting to get to you. It also didn’t help that he lived a dangerous lifestyle so whenever you hadn’t heard from him in awhile you always assumed the worst.

Geto Suguru; your daddy, was the top mafia boss in central Japan. He was feared by all and everyone knew his name. Those who knew of him also knew of you and they knew to tread lightly around you unless they had a death wish. Geto was a very scary man, killing people without a second thought. He terrified you when the two of you first encountered but you somehow ended up being his biggest soft spot. His sweet girl that he’d die for in a heartbeat.

It all started when he stormed into your workplace a few years back. You were working at a small restaurant at that time, a mere server. You were just like any other employee, working for money to get by. The restaurant you worked at was a little off putting and it appeared that your manager was suspicious but you never thought much of it until Geto and his men barged in and got into a shootout with your boss.

“Fucking prick. You thought you could take money from me?. Now I’m going to take your pathetic life.” Geto said before he shot your manager right in the head. You screamed as the blood splattered on you from where you hid under one of the tables with a co-worker of yours. In that moment you thought you were gonna die too. All because you decided to work at some shitty restaurant.

“Yo boss, what should we do with the mutts?” A blonde haired guy asked as he grabbed you roughly. His hand gripped your face in a bruising grip as he held you up off the floor like you weighed nothing. You cried in pain and fear as you clawed at his hands for him to release you. Your co-worker was being held by her hair by an intimidating woman with brown hair.

The guy referred to as ‘boss’ observed you with a tilt of his head. You shivered under his deadly gaze, fear taking over you completely. He had the kind of aura that instantly made you want to submit to him in fear of what he’d do to you if he didn’t. He was dressed in a black button up with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and some black slacks. His raven colored hair was tied up in a bun with a few strands left out.

“Speak.” was all the man said to you and you were dumbfounded. Your doe eyes stared at him as you processed what he was asking of you. He was giving you a chance to plead your case. “I-I..please don’t kill me! I haven’t done anything wrong, I’ll forget about all of this! Just please let me go..” you begged as you cried. Geto rubbed the butt of his gun against his chin as he contemplated your pleas.

He then told your co-worker to speak as well but you guess they had the wrong response because he told the woman to kill her before your co-worker could even finish speaking. You flinched at the loud gunshot and sobbed as you closed your eyes. “Clean her up and let her go.” The man stated, pointing at you before walking away. The blonde groaned in annoyance and dropped you.

“Why do I always have to babysit?” He muttered as he led you out of the restaurant. He brought you to a secluded very expensive beautiful home that you later found out the ‘boss’ man owned. The maid servants there got you cleaned up and even fed you which you were grateful for. “Alright mutt, where do you live so I can get rid of you now?” The blonde questioned you once you were settled.

You stayed silent, just staring at him. You decided not to speak because you were afraid but also because you truly had no place to go to. The place you slept at was the little apartment that resided above the restaurant and was given to you by your manager. Now that the restaurant building had been torn apart though, you were essentially homeless. “Silent treatment, huh?” He chuckled. “Well you can be quiet all you want but boss won’t spare you again if you don’t comply.” He warned you.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you debated your response, “I have nowhere to go..” you told him honestly. He sighed hearing that, running a hand down his face in irritation. “You should’ve just died then instead of begging to live.” He tsked while shaking his head. Those words hit you hard, bringing tears to your eyes. “Boss will figure out what to do with you.” He said and left you be.

Gojo talked with Geto about you and your circumstance and it was oddly decided that you’d stay in Geto’s house until you found your own place. This arrangement only worked because Geto was never home. It took you awhile to realize that. In the beginnings of living with him, you avoided the scary man like he was the plague. But when you began to notice his frequent disappearances or his late arrivals in the middle of the night it piqued your curiosity.

You found out through the maids what his name was. “The boss is the most dangerous man in Japan. You’re lucky he let you survive sweetie because he doesn’t do that unless he sees something in a person.” Your favorite maid; Maya, told you as you ate breakfast. “What’s his name? I’ve never had a conversation with him to ask..” you asked once you realized you truly had never conversed with the man. “Geto Suguru. Mr.Suguru. Don’t refer to him by his name though or you might end up dead.” She informed you.

You nodded in understanding as you memorized his name but not too much so you wouldn’t say it even on accident. The first real interaction you had with Geto was when he came home one night to find you fast asleep on his couch. You woke up to him standing over you and you screamed as you sat up. He was completely unphased and not startled at all by your scream which was even more unsettling. “They just left you here? No one took you to your bedroom?” He asked you.

You shook your head, “no..i chose to sleep here so it’s not their responsibility..” you replied softly. “Why did you choose to sleep here though? Aren’t you uncomfy?” He continued. You didn’t understand why he was so concerned with you sleeping on the couch. “I’m not uncomfy, I fell asleep because I got really cozy earlier. Do you want me to not sleep here? I’m sorry if I wasn’t allowed to.” You began to ramble as you stood up, tripping over your feet a little.

“No no, you can do whatever you want.” He told you, and even he seemed a little surprised by his words. “Oh!..okay.” You were surprised at him being so lenient and nice since you’d only heard the bad things about him but you appreciated his kindness. “Have you eaten?” He asked. You nodded, “mhm! Maya made my favorite pancakes earlier, the ones with strawberries and whipped cream on top!” You told him excitedly as you smiled at the memory.

Despite Geto thinking you looked adorable as fuck at the moment, he frowned. “Pancakes for dinner?. That’s not good. You shouldn’t eat sweets so late. I’ll tell Maya to not make them any time after 3pm.” He said and your eyes widened. “B-But they’re my favorite!” You pouted. “and I said no sweets for dinner. Understood?.” The tone he used now sent a shiver down your spine. “Yes sir..” you complied, knowing that he meant what he said.

“Good girl.” The words slipped out before he could even think. You blushed hearing them, not used to such praise. He cleared his throat, “Its late. Go sleep some more, in your bed this time.” He told you. You had no complaints since you were still sleepy. “Okay, goodnight sugu- I mean! sir!” You quickly corrected yourself before you rushed off to your bedroom. Geto heard you about to say his name and oddly enough he didn’t mind it. He found your little panic cute though.

That was the last time you and Geto had spoken for awhile since he had gotten busy again after that interaction. Little did you know though, Geto constantly kept tabs on you. He was always asking gojo and his house staff about you and how you were doing. He didn’t appear to care much on the outside but he did have a little concern over you. The next time the two of you spoke was a lot less casual.

You had gotten hurt because you fell off a chair while trying to stand on it to reach something. Surprisingly to everyone; Geto rushed home to check on you after hearing the news of your sprained ankle. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?” He asked you as he sat down with you and grabbed your leg to inspect your ankle. You nodded, still sniffling and teary eyed from the fall. “It hurts a lot.” You hiccuped.

Geto frowned, “You need to be more careful. Don’t ever climb something like that again. Understood?” He told you. “Y-Yes sir” you sniffled with a pout. “Boss she’s just being dramatic, it’s just sore. She’ll walk it off in a few days.” Gojo dismissed the whole thing. You were getting tired of him and his harsh comments. You glared at him which didn’t phase him at all because your glare looked more like puppy dog eyes. You then took it upon yourself to throw a pillow at his face which caught him off guard.

“Meanie” you huffed as you crossed your arms. Everyone in the staff witnessed this and couldn’t help but laugh, stifling their laughter behind their hands. Even Geto was holding back a laugh as he bit down on his lip. Geto rarely ever smiled or laughed so that left Gojo flabbergasted seeing his boss so amused. “This is some bullshit. I’m tired of this little girl boss.” Gojo expressed, irritated. “I’m tired of you too! ugly face! You should cover all of it, not just your eyes!” You spat back.

“You’re childish and a waste of time. Pesky little girl.” Gojo insulted you back. “and you’re a big meanie! Mean people are ugly! You should be fired” You huffed. Geto chuckled at the two of you, “You think I should fire him, sweet girl?” Geto hummed with amusement as he gently caressed your ankle. You nodded, “mhm! he isn’t good at his job.” You stated. Gojo was dumbfounded that his boss was even entertaining you. “Hm, well since you say so I might just consider it.” Geto chuckled.

Gojo’s eyes widened, “Boss..” he trailed off. “Go somewhere and make yourself useful. Now.” Geto told Gojo as he looked at him with a deadly stare. “Yes sir!” He quickly complied before rushing off. Geto wasn’t actually going to fire Gojo, he could never get rid of his best man. But, he knew Gojo was being unkind to you and he wasn’t going to let that slide. “Come on, let’s get you in bed. No more walking for you, okay?. If I find out you got up on this foot, you’re gonna be in big trouble. Understood?” Geto said to you as he picked you up.

You squeaked in surprise when he suddenly picked you up. “Yes s-“ you started but he cut you off. “Don’t call me sir. You’re not one of my staff so you don’t have to call me that.” He said as he carried you upstairs. “Oh..what should I call you then..?” You asked shyly as your fingers played with the collar of Geto’s shirt. “You can call me by my name if you’d like.” He hummed. “I heard it was bad to say your name though..” you uttered.

“Yeah? Well I’m the boss and I said you can. Everyone in this house obeys me and me only. So what I say stands.” He said as he looked into your eyes. “O-Okay..Suguru~” You mumbled shyly. He grinned, “Good girl.” He praised as he gave your thighs a light squeeze. You blushed deeply, completely flustered as you hid your face in his neck. From then on, you and Geto developed a close relationship.

Everyone couldn’t believe that Geto allowed you to freely say his name. They also were stunned at seeing their cruel boss being sweet to someone for once. The moment the relationship between the two of you turned into something more intimate was when you caught a cold and got sick. Geto was away when he heard the news and he ordered that you’d stay in his bedroom and sleep there until he got back.

The staff took great care of you as they awaited Geto’s arrival. “Sweetheart~” Geto called out softly once he finally got back home after a long day. You were curled up in the center of his bed looking so adorable and also really sick. “Geto..” you whined as your eyes slowly opened to see him approaching you. “Awh, baby got sick. Do you feel a little better now? I told my staff to give you the best care.” He cooed as he placed his hand on your forehead to check your temperature.

You nodded slowly, “mhm, I feel a little better. The staff are really nice to me, even gojo was nice this time.” You told him with a small smile. He chuckled, “That’s good to hear, bun.” He hummed as he admired you fondly. “Missed you..” you muttered out as your small hand moved to hold his. Geto felt his heart swell hearing that. “You did?. I missed you too sweet girl. More than you know.” He said honestly as he caressed your hand with his thumb.

“Come on, let’s give you a bath so we can get rid of those germs.” He said as he picked you up and began carrying you to his bathroom. You snuggled into his hold, curious eyes looking around since this was your first time in Geto’s bedroom. It was told to you that no one was ever allowed in Geto’s room so you felt special at the moment. Reality hit you once Geto had the bath all set and he began to look at you expectedly. “I-I..urm..” you stuttered out shyly as you grew flustered.

“Want me to cover my eyes?” He asked you. “Yes please!” You didn’t hesitate to say. Geto was amused at how adorably shy you were but he understood your wishes so he covered his eyes. You then took your clothes off before slipping into the warm bubble bath. You let out a sigh of contentment as you relaxed fully. “You can uncover them now.” You told him. Geto hadn’t had anyone tell him what to do in awhile and the fact that it was a cute thing like you of all people made him feel soft, but in the best way possible.

Geto was deeply unprepared for the sight of you naked in his bathtub. He couldn’t see much due to all the bubbles covering you up, but it sure did have his imagination running rampant. Geto stood there just staring at you for longer than he intended to until you snapped him out of his filthy thoughts. “Geto?” You called out. “Sorry bubs. Got lost in thought.” He cleared his throat. Geto then rolled up his sleeves and began washing you up. You melted into his soothing touch as he gently cleaned you up with care.

Geto tried to keep his thoughts as pure as possible as his hands felt all of your curves and dips. He let you dry yourself off once the bath finished and told you to go wear something from his closet while he drained the tub. You were in awe as you looked around his big fancy walk in closet. Everything in it was so ‘manly’ and you loved it. You settled for one of his white button up shirts and climbed back into his bed once you were dressed.

You put a show on Geto’s tv as you waited for him to get out of the shower. He had his hair down when he came out dressed in a t-shirt and some sweatpants. You gawked at the sight of him and his pretty hair, “Your hair is really pretty.” You complimented him honestly. “Aw, thanks bun.” He chuckled as he tied his hair up in a half up half down style. “Why don’t you wear it down more often?” You asked him as you watched him climb into bed beside you. “Too much of a hassle. It gets in the way, you know?” He explained.

You nodded in understanding. “Well I think I like it most when your hair is down” you declared with a smile. “Is that so?” He chuckled. “I should wear down more often then, just for you.” He mused and you giggled. “I’d like that~” you grinned. The two of you got comfy in bed and talked until you fell asleep. You somehow ended up falling asleep on top of Geto, not that he minded at all. He wrapped his strong arms around you and placed a kiss on your forehead.

Geto constantly felt the urge to kiss those pretty plump lips of yours but he fought against it. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You felt so warm and safe in Geto’s hold, it was the best sleep you’d had in awhile. You woke up the next morning to some rustling around. “Sugu?” You called out sleepily as you rubbed your eyes. “Go back to sleep bubs, it’s early and you need to rest.” He told you softly. “But where are you going?” You asked as your eyes finally cleared up to see him getting dressed.

You let out a soft gasp seeing that he was shirtless. He had on dress pants that were unbuttoned still, allowing you to see his briefs and a glimpse of his dick imprint. His hair was also down, falling over his shoulders as he got ready. You peeked shamelessly at him from above the blankets. You quickly hid your eager eyes once he directed his attention on you though. “Why are you hiding bun? You can stare at me if you want.” Geto chuckled as he walked over to the bed.

Geto then climbed over top of you, hovering over you as he pulled the blankets away from your eyes. “You feeling better?” He asked you. “mhm, are you leaving again?” You asked him. “Got some business I need to handle sweetheart.” He told you as he cupped the side of your face. You pouted, ��You’re always leaving. Do you really have to go?” Your precious doe eyes almost made him fold. “I do really have to go but I’ll be back soon, I promise” he hummed.

“You’re gonna be good for me until I get back, right?” He said as his thumb swiped over your bottom lip, his eyes seemingly fixed on your mouth. You were flustered, “Y-Yes..I’ll be good.” You reassured. “Good girl, always so sweet for me.” He cooed. “Geto..” you whined. “What did I say to call me when we’re alone?” He questioned you. You knew your ears had to be red by now. “D-Daddy~” you muttered shyly, completely embarrassed.

It was a few weeks ago when Geto told you to address him as ‘daddy’ but he never gave you an explicit reason why. “Good girl” he said before he kissed you, making your eyes widen. The last thing you expected was for him to kiss you. You whined and tried to push him away, “Daddy no, ‘m sick.” You reminded him. “It’s okay bubs, daddy is strong. I won’t get sick.” He hummed and continued to kiss you. He kept alternating between full on eating your face and then pecking your lips repeatedly.

It seemed he really enjoyed kissing you. You enjoyed it just as much, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. You let out cute little whines and mewls into the kisses that drove Geto crazy. “Fuck..you’re gonna make daddy late princess.” Geto sighed as his trailed kisses down your neck. “Daddy should stay home with me” You tried to persuade him as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I want to baby..trust me I do. But daddy’s work is very serious and I’m the boss so I have to be there.” He explained.

His actions were betraying his words though because he moved to get underneath the covers with you, gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs. “b-but ah—“ your words got cut off due to a moan you let out once you felt Geto start to grind his hard cock against your cunt. “no buts. Daddy has to work in order to keep his princess safe.” He grunted as he rutted against you. He could feel how your cunt progressively got wetter, creating a wet spot on his briefs.

“shit..I wanna fuck your cute little cunt so bad, sweet girl.” He panted into your neck. You whined, back arching slightly as your hips pushed back against his. You attempted to match his pace but you were failing miserably. “n-nasty daddy.” You whimpered. The moment got terribly interrupted by an obnoxious knock at Geto’s bedroom door. “Yo boss! Hurry up, we don’t have time to waste! I know you didn’t oversleep.” Gojo yelled from outside the door. Geto groaned in annoyance.

“I’m coming! shithead..” Geto yelled back. “sorry bun, daddy’s gotta go now.” He sighed and kissed your pouty lips. “When are you gonna be back?” You asked him as you watched him get up and finish getting dressed. “Don’t know baby..but I’ll try to come back as soon as possible.” He said as he tied his hair up in its signature bun and tucked in his shirt. Geto didn’t bother changing his pants and briefs despite your slick that was still seeped into them.

“Bye sweetie.” He said as he kissed you one last time. “Bye bye daddy~” you waved as you watched him leave. From that moment on you became Geto’s girl and he made sure everyone knew it too. The staff was unsurprised though because they noticed their boss grow a soft spot for you. Geto having to ‘take care of business’ is what had you sulking now in present time. He’d been gone for almost a month now. It’s the longest he’d been away in years.

You were lounging on the couch when you heard the door open and you rushed to see if it was Geto, only to see Gojo. “Well don’t look so disappointed. Aren’t I your second favorite person?” He teased as he laughed. “Shut up. You could’ve stayed gone forever.” You huffed. “Aw, hurts to hear you be so mean cutie. I taught you that?” He chuckled as he patted your head. You slapped his hand away since he was touching your fresh box braids.

“How come you’re here and he isn’t? Aren’t you two attached by the hip?” You pouted. Gojo shrugged, “Boss said he had some other stuff to take care of, he should be here by tonight though.” He said. “Really?” You perked up excitedly. “Yes really.” He chuckled. “You’ve been crying over him haven’t you?” He teased. “No I didn’t..” you attempted to lie but it was obvious. “Crybaby. Geto isn’t even that great.” He laughed. “Yes he is!” You defended as you stomped your small foot.

Gojo cooed, “Everyday I realize more and more why boss likes you so much, you’re just so darn cute.” He smiled honestly as he pinched your cheeks. You squirmed and giggled, you were flattered since it was rare that Gojo complimented you. “Sugu is gonna kill you for touching me.” You teased. “Shh, don’t tell him.” Gojo entertained your antics, though he knew those words somewhat rung true. Geto was serious about no one touching his princess.

“Wanna know a secret?” He whispered suddenly and you eagerly nodded. You leaned in close, gojo leaning down to your height to tell you the discreet information. “Geto has been missing you a lot, I’ve never seen him so mushy and sappy before. He brought you up allll the time. He said he was gonna die if he didn’t come back home to you soon.” Gojo whispered. Your eyes widened at the information, it made you happy to know that Geto missed you just as much as you missed him.

“Sugu can’t die though, I’ll be really sad.” You pouted. “Don’t worry, boss is literally immortal somehow.” He laughed honestly. “Oh! and he’s also been kinda a perv. he’d definitely kill me for telling you this..but he was super stressed you know? and then he kept going on about wanting to fuck you and feel your cunt squeezing him..it was hard to listen to.” He told you, seemingly cringing as he remembered his boss’s rambling. You blushed hearing the additional secret, getting shy as you hid your face in your hands.

“Sugu likes to say icky stuff sometimes..” you muttered, flustered. “Oh please don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.” He cackled as he teased you. You whined and pushed him away, “I do not!” you huffed in embarrassment. “Mhm whatever you say princess.” He chuckled. “Now go make yourself busy, I have important things to do as well.” He hummed. “I didn’t want to stay and talk to you anyways.” You giggled as you skipped away. “Ouch, that one hurt.” He said as he dramatically placed his hand over his heart.

Since you knew your daddy was actually coming home tonight, you wanted to make yourself look pretty for him. You started off with doing your makeup. You decided to keep it simple so you did a simple eye look with cute pink hearts for decoration. You contemplated what to wear for awhile until you settled on a white silk dress with a bow in the back. You paired the dress with lacy thigh high socks. You were happy with your look as you twirled while looking at yourself in the mirror.

You sprayed on your favorite perfume and then kept yourself busy as you waited for Geto to get home. You did your usual hobbies of reading, drawing, and watching tv but you couldn’t help the way your eyes constantly checked the clock. Your energy depleted the later the day got and by the time it was 10pm you were getting teary eyed. You got lost in how sad you were, fully prepared to sob that you didn’t hear the door opening behind you. “Miss me?”

You suddenly heard Geto’s voice and you immediately perked up and looked to see him standing there with flowers and a box of chocolates in his hand. “Sugu!” You cried as you ran and jumped into his arms. “oof, I don’t remember you being this heavy baby” he teased as he held you and kissed your forehead. “Why are you crying bun?” He asked you softly as he carried you back to the couch. “I missed you, thought you weren’t comin’ home today.” You sniffled.

“Awh, princess I couldn’t wait to come back home to see you. I just got a little busy.” He hummed as he sat down on the couch with you on his lap. “I got you some treats though” he smiled as he handed you the chocolates. You excitedly opened them up and began eating them immediately. He chuckled, “you and that damn sweet tooth. It’s too late to be eating sweets but since you’ve been good you deserve it.” He cooed as he wiped the tears from your soft cheeks.

“You look pretty bubs” he complimented once he got a really good look at your whole ensemble. “wanted to look pretty f’r daddy.” You muffled around a piece of chocolate. “You always look pretty, my pretty girl. So beautiful and all mine” he flattered you and you giggled. “thank you daddy” you said softly with a grin. A comfortable silence took over as Geto just admired you, content and happy to just be in your presence again. His hands caressing your thighs in a soothing motion.

You just sat there happy as ever, eating your chocolates without a single thought in your head. “I missed you so so much baby..” Geto suddenly sighed as he buried his face in your neck. “mm, you smell good sweetheart” he breathed you in. You giggled, “that tickles” you told him as you squirmed a little. He breathed out a small laugh, “sorry baby. Daddy just needs to feel you against him right now.” He muttered into your skin as he closed his eyes.

Your hands moved to play in Geto’s hair, running your fingers through it and scratching at his nape. He let out a faint moan in content at the feeling. You were happy to be pleasing him so much, feeling him completely relaxed against you. You took his hair tie out so his hair could be fully down just the way you liked it. “feels so good baby..” he mumbled into your neck. You giggled, “I like making daddy feel good” you said honestly with pride.

You felt geto squeeze lightly at your hips after you said that. You began to tug at his hair as you played with it and you felt him tense up a bit. “do you like it more when I pull it or when I scratch?” you asked him, completely innocent. You were truly just genuinely curious but you were oblivious to how you were affecting Geto. “both feels great baby..” he sighed. “Okay~” you giggled. You then continued to do both happily until you felt Geto’s dick poking against your thigh.

“daddy…you’re hard..” you muttered out as you froze. “mm, daddy’s cock missed you and your sweet cunt bubs.” He said as he pulled you even closer so that you sat directly on top of his throbbing cock. You whined and squirmed. “you gonna be a good princess for daddy and let him stuff your cute hole?” He hummed as he looked at you. “because daddy needs it..needs it really bad. You wanna make me feel good, don’t you bun?” He continued as he began to kiss up your neck.

You nodded, “m-mhm, I wanna make you feel good” you breathed out softly. “Good girl” He praised before he suddenly flipped you over onto your back on the couch. You gasped and didn’t have much time to process before Geto was ripping your panties off. “so pretty” he groaned as he spread your lips with his fingers to get a good look at your cunt. He then spit on your cunt and dragged his fingers through your slit. You whined, “f-filthy daddy” you stuttered out as you tried to close your legs.

Geto was quick to slap your thigh, causing you to let out a sob. “Don’t fucking close them or else you’re gonna get punished. Understood?” He threatened. This Geto reminded you a lot of his terrifying demeanor when you first met him and it had you spooked. But this time it had you scared in a good way. “Y-Yes daddy” you responded obediently, just like Geto liked. “Good, because daddy has zero patience right now and you’re gonna take whatever is given to you like a good slut.” He said as he lowered his face down in between your legs.

Geto rubbed circles into your clit, mixing his saliva in with your slick as he watched you squirm and kick your legs. You were always so sensitive and Geto loved it. He groaned at the taste of you as he ran his tongue along your pussy, your juices coating his tongue and driving him crazy. After that he was eating you out like a man starved. He gripped your thighs so tight to the point it hurt as his tongue lapped at your cunt repeatedly.

Usually Geto was more precise and took his time when he ate you out but he was too greedy for you to do that this time. Drool pooling from the corners of his mouth and onto your wet cunt as he ate you out sloppily. “s’ too much! d-daddy!” you squealed as you cried out and tugged at his hair. Your incessant tugging at his hair only fueled him on more as he sucked harshly at your clit. “taste so fucking good baby, ugh daddy could eat you up all day.” He moaned as he swirled his tongue around your clit.

“love this sweet pussy so much” he muttered against your cunt as he kissed it with his drool and cum slicked lips. Geto slid his two fingers into you, spreading them and curling them inside you until you sobbed and scratched at his shoulders. “there you go, falling apart so prettily for me sweetheart” he cooed as he thrusted his fingers into you while his thumb played with your clit. “s-sugu! I-I’m gonna-“ you wailed before you squirted all over Geto’s hand and his face, soaking the couch underneath you.

Geto moaned at the sight, “making such a fucking mess, sensitive bitch always coming so damn quick” he degraded and you whimpered. His fingers never ceased their movements, continuously fucking into you as gushed nonstop around his thick fingers. “Tell daddy that you’re sorry for making a mess.” He demanded as he slapped your pussy three times. The wet smacks sounding throughout the living room as you cried and your back arched.

“I-I’m sorry daddy” you sniffled. “For?” He prodded with a sadistic grin. “F-For making a big mess..” you continued as you looked at him with your big teary eyes. “Good girl” he praised as he slurped up your juices filthily. He didn’t want to waste a drop as he lapped up your mess while his fingers continued thrusting into your fluttering hole. “so fucking wet for me” he sighed in satisfaction as he listened to the squelching of your cunt. “Daddy’s cock is gonna slide right in, hm?” He said and you instantly shook your head.

“s’ too big” you moaned out honestly. Geto chuckled, “you can take it though. Your daddy’s big girl, right? made just for my cock.” He encouraged as he suckled at your clit before biting down on it. You cried out at the feeling, your hands attempting to push Geto’s head away. “hurts’ daddy” you whined. “stop that shit.” He tutted as he pushed your hands away. “you’re acting like a spoiled whiny bitch. take what’s given to you like a good whore or you won’t get to cum again.” He stated as his dark eyes looked up at you with that stern expression.

You pouted, lip quivering as tears fell down your cheeks. You nodded in response to him and he tsked in disapproval, his fingers stilling as they pressed against your sweet spot that had your legs trembling. “use your words or I’ll stop right here.” He said as he looked at you expectantly. The next whine you let out sounded carnal, all high pitched and pathetic as you tried to move against his stilled fingers to feel any friction against that spot that craved it so desperately. “y-yes daddy! -ah please! please!” You sobbed.

“My good girl” he grinned, pleased with your begging as he began to move his fingers again. He gave you exactly what you wanted, his fingers abusing that sensitive spot that had your cunt spasming and dripping all over his hand. “Want you to cum again for daddy, you can do that right sweetie?” He requested as his fingers continued their assault on your fluttering pussy. You nodded, “m-mhm! baby can do that!” you moaned.

Your hips pressed back against Geto’s fingers, matching his pace as you desperately chased your second orgasm. “fuck..you’re filthy. So eager and willing to please. Just a cock hungry slut.” He groaned as he watched you fuck yourself on his fingers, your fluids seeping through the cracks of his fingers and running down his wrist. “O-Only for daddy” you whined as you felt that knot build up in your stomach again. Your back arching and your nails digging into the couch cushions for dear life.

Once that seam burst Geto was quick to drink you up, tongue laid out and ready to taste your juices. He never got tired of tasting you, moaning into your pussy as he slurped up your new mess. You just laid there whining and twitching, already spent and stimulated. Geto was far from done with you though. “Tapping out baby?” He chuckled as he saw your fucked out face, eyes already fluttered closed. You nodded slowly, “‘m too sensitive daddy” you whined softly.

“Awh, that’s cute. I just got you all ready for my cock though sweet girl.” He cooed as he unbuckled his belt. That sound sent shivers down your spine. You whimpered and tried weakly to crawl away only for Geto to grab your legs and pull you right back. “Aht aht, can’t have that baby. Daddy waited too long to feel your pretty pussy around his cock.” He hummed as he finished undressing. His cock was throbbing and red at the tip, precum dripping down the sides of it.

You whined at the sight of it, your pussy clenching in need despite how overly stimulated you already were. A gasp left your throat when Geto began to rub his swollen tip through your slit. Your eyes rolling back and Geto groaning into your ear. “Fucks sake..this pussy is gonna be the death of me..” he muttered as he panted against your dewy skin. He took off your dress so he could see you fully. You looked unreal underneath him, almost too beautiful for his eyes. “What did I ever do to deserve a beautiful woman like you..”

You blushed at his genuine words, “I love you daddy” you told him with a smile. “I love you too little bun” he smiled back and kissed you softly. That was the extent of softness you were gonna get for awhile because now that Geto had you all relaxed he started pushing his cock head into you, stretching out your tight cunt as you cried out and whimpered. Your nails dragged down Geto’s back leaving red trails as you felt his thick cock pushing into your poor sensitive cunt. Geto gritted his teeth, groaning carnally as he felt your sloppy soft walls mold around his dick.

Geto paused once he fully bottomed out, being kind enough to allow you to adjust. “Tell me when..” he grunted out. He was like a wild animal waiting to be set loose and you had full control over him at the moment. Watching the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he breathed but also seeming as if he was holding his breath, the way his hands gripped your thighs so painfully tight to leave prints of his hands, the way his hair fell in his face as he stared down at you with a gaze that seemed as if he wanted to eat you alive.

It only took a minute or so for you to adjust and you could see Geto getting antsy. Biting down on his lower lip and trying to stop himself from rutting and grinding into you, failing miserably at times. You let out a shaky breath and opened your mouth to tell him to start and as soon as you uttered the first syllable, he started to pound into you. He didn’t waste a single second, not even letting you say the full word. You turned into a moaning screaming mess as Geto pounded into you mercilessly.

“my fucking pussy, feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock princess.” He growled as he thrusted into you hard and fast, fucking you like it was the last time he’d ever get to. He started kissing and sucking on your tits as he fucked into you, leaving pretty red and purple marks as he panted and drooled against your brown skin. The head of his cock was beating your cervix up, hitting it hard each time he slammed into you. It hurt so bad in the best way possible. You were wailing, hiccuping and creaming around Geto’s dick.

“Little pussy’s just eating my dick up -shit ngh—feel me all deep in your guts princess? pressing up against your womb?” He gritted as he watched the way his cock slammed in and out of your abused pussy over and over again. The little sputters of fluids your cunt released, forming a creamy ring around his dick and dripping down to his balls that were clapping against the cusp of your cute ass. “fuckk such a pretty fucktoy all for me..ugh ngh uh” he moaned as his eyes rolled back slightly. He was getting lost in the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing his cock.

“Daddy’s gonna fill you up so much bun, have this cute tummy all full of my cum” he moaned as he pressed his hand down on your lower abdomen making you squeal and your legs shake. You tried to push his hand away feebly because something didn’t feel right. “w-wait! daddy!” You babbled out, sobbing as you shook your head. Geto didn’t listen to any of it, grabbing your hands and using his free hand to pin them over top of your head. “I told you to stop that shit” he growled as he continued to pound into you animalistically with his hand pressing harder against your abdomen.

“b-but Sugu!” You screamed but it was too late and you were crying and pissing all over Geto’s cock. “Oh fuck..” he trailed off, watching in shock as he felt the warm liquid pour out and soak the coach and his cock. You were completely embarrassed, face flushed as you sniffed and sobbed. “shh shh, it’s okay baby -ah shit..” he tried to comfort you, moaning still because despite the piss his hips never ceased their movements. He was still fucking into you as if nothing happened. In his mind all it did was make his dick slide into you easier.

“n-nasty daddy..daddy’s -mfph nasty..” you whimpered with a hiccup. “love this sweet cunt too much to stop…fuck you really pissed all over me..fucking filthy -uh mm filthy fucking little girl” he groaned into your mouth as he kissed you and continued fucking your wet sloppy cunt. It was so wet now that his dick slipped out, making him lose his momentum but he didn’t waste a second to slide right back in. “It slides in so easy now bun, you should piss on me every time” he joked, chuckling breathily against your lips.

He slid his tongue into your mouth, kissing you messily as the two of you fucked like rabbits. “Open..” he muttered and you instantly obeyed, opening your mouth wide for him to spit onto your waiting tongue. You moaned at the lewd gesture, Geto licking into your mouth afterwards. “Good fucking girl.” He praised as he raised your legs up higher until you were completely folded up. Now fucking into you at deeper angle that had you seeing stars. You were so far gone now, just babbling and making pathetic noises with your eyes rolled back.

Geto was just as gone as you were. His hair damp and sticking to his sweaty form, cock throbbing and spurting precum into you, moaning and groaning nonstop as he used your cunt like his personal flesh toy, drool leaking from the corners of his mouth, scratches and bite marks from you marking his skin. “That’s right, just lay there and fucking take it. Just like you’re supposed to. Made just for my cock. Who owns you?” He was rambling now, completely pussy drunk as he obliterated your cunt with his thick cock.

“‘m daddy’s girl..g-geto owns me..” you managed to stutter out, the words choked up in moans and sobs. “mhm, all fucking mine.” He huffed as his hand wrapped around your throat. “shittt daddy’s gonna cum baby —ngh mfph..” he moaned, his pace somehow quickening as he felt his orgasm approaching. “Gonna milk daddy’s cock? hm?” He panted and you nodded. “n-need it -ah uhn wan’ it daddy” you whined out as you tried to fuck back against Geto’s cock. You couldn’t match his pace at all but it drove Geto crazy to see you trying to fuck yourself on him.

“fucking hell..if you keep doing that I’m gonna bust baby..” he mumbled, his words ending off in almost a whimper as his eyes fixated on the sight of you desperately trying to fuck him back. He even slowed his pace down just to accommodate yours. The two of you perfectly in sync while fucking each other. The position and the pacing made it so the head of his cock perfectly grinded up against your g-spot, making your toes curl as you whined out Geto’s name. “d-deeper daddy~” you begged and geto gladly obliged, shoving his cock deeper into your greedy hole.

“mm s’ feels so g-good daddy..” you whined breathily. Geto was the fucked out one now, groaning and whimpering as he let you fuck yourself on him. Cunt clenching around him just right and making him lose his mind. “cum’n me -heh uhn please daddy..” you babbled as you rutted against Geto, twitching as your clit bumped against his abdomen. That was all it took for Geto to snap, moaning out as he came deep inside you. Rope after rope of his thick warm semen filling up your cunt that milked it all up.

“s-shit…” geto whined pathetically into your neck as he came nonstop, his cum seeping out the sides of where his cock plugged you up. Your body trembled at the feeling, cumming soon after and adding to the huge mess of fluids as you creamed on Geto’s dick. The both of you were breathing heavily as you came down from your climaxes. Geto’s heavy body laid on top of you, practically crushing you but you didn’t mind it because he was so warm. You were trying your best not to fall unconscious, eyelids heavy and fighting to close.

“You okay baby bun?” Geto asked you after awhile of comfortable silence. “mhm..” was all you could muster out. Geto was satisfied with the reply though, climbing off of you and pulling his cock out with a small hiss. He was just as sensitive as you now. He whistled once he got a good look of the mess that was made on the couch, “well shit..I’ll just get the maids to clean it..” he muttered. Geto then got in between your legs and began to clean you up, eating the mixture of fluids out of your pussy.

He truly was filthy and you secretly loved it. You squirmed as he did it but you didn’t have any more energy to stop him. Once he was satisfied with it he stopped and then moved to kiss you, spitting the frothy fluids into your mouth as the two of you kissed sloppily. You swallowed it and Geto smiled. “Missed you so much bubs” he reminded once again before he began to affectionately peck all over your face.

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