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milky-aeons · 2 months

Text

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

౨ৎ . . . now that you've tried it, you knew you would never get used to the taste of GOJO SATORU.

warnings: sexual content, exhibitionism, love-biting, marking, possessiveness, pet-names, praising, blindfolding, oral receiving, female reader, mdni, w.c 1.6k

♪ . . . ˗ˏˋ ꒰ CUFF IT (WETTER REMIX) — beyoncé ꒱ ˎˊ-

: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who had an exceptionally high sex drive. It did not matter if you had just seen him ten minutes ago or had already collapsed together into bed after two rounds, hot and sweaty. One look at your naked body gleaming under the covers of his bedsheets, or the strong swish of your hips as you walked, or even the scent of your perfume would send blood rushing right down to his cock. And he'd never be subtle about it, typical man that he was. Satoru would press his need against the curve of your back from behind and hum into your neck, kissing skin he'd never get tired of tasting.

Your heart still hammering in your chest from the climax you just came down from, you felt Satoru's arms snake around to circle you from behind. His head buried into your neck, placing little kisses on all the spots he knew you were sensitive for. He pushed his hot, hard cock you had just had inside of you into the ridge of your ass, grinding softly, languidly. Your shock was so sudden it came out as a giggle. "'t-toru...! How are you," You chuckled, deep and intimate, craning to give him better access to your neck. "Did you not... come...?" The words made Satoru release a heady groan. "'Course I did, baby... but seeing you come made me all hard, again~" He nibbled at the lobe of your ear, his hands wouldn't stop roaming against your skin, your sensitive breasts, until his fingers found the heat between your legs and began to massage your sensitive flesh. "You're just so goddamn sexy."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who was not shy about voicing his need for you — no matter where you were; and you were more than willing to satisfy his surprising nature. The wild rush of it made the frenzy of sex more heated for you both, especially when it was in areas where you had to keep quiet. In a public bathroom of an outdoor garden, with your back slammed against the wall of the gym showers, or on the empty terrace roof that overlooked a busy street. Satoru loved watching you repress your mewls and moans so that no one would hear you. He'd lean down to your ear as he thrusted savagely, and you felt his grin against your skin; the words he'd murmur like a tempt into sin;

"Look at you, squirmin' and pantin' for me, hmm? I'd love to fuck you in front of all them, baby girl. They'd all be so fuckin' jealous that I've the most gorgeous girl in the entire world."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who revelled in the bruises and bites you left on his gorgeous skin just as much as Satoru loved it, too. He was like a canvas that was yours to paint, to mark, to claim. His neck, the pretty nail marks you created down his strong shoulders — so broad you could never reach all the way across. His favourite place to leave litters of teeth marks on you must have been between your thighs. You were the most sensitive on the inner area, and Satoru just loved to be a tease. Instead of putting you out of your misery, squirming and bucking into his mouth, he would move to kiss there, instead. And when he did, he'd always remind you that they were for your eyes, and your eyes, only.

"Your pretty thighs look so good, baby. I gotta leave a part of myself here, ya'know? Somewhere no other man can see."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who never let the distance get in between you two. As a teacher at Jujutsu Tech and the strongest shaman the society had to offer, sometimes, Satoru was summoned away. Perhaps to remote country temples where Special Grades had decided to spring up, or overseas to set a mystery that had caught his interest to rest. But even so, late at night when you needed him the most, he would come to you. With one quick clap of his hands, he would transcend time and space just to warp right into your room. Quick and ferocious and frantic, he'd have you against a doorframe or smack in the middle of your floor, before he'd kiss you long and deep and promise he'd be back soon.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who had a plethora of pet-names he showered you in, and even more deep, guttural praises he muttered against your bare skin;

"Fuuuck, that's it, pretty girl. You want more of my cock? You're gonna have to ask nicely." "What does my princess need?" "You ride me so well, baby. Shit — take what ya need from me, use me as yours, baby girl." "Greedy girl... how bad do ya want me? You wanna come here and fuck yourself on my cock, huh?"

: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who was born with an other-worldly hold on his colossal cursed energy reserves — but there was those rare moments when he sometimes let his power spike out as he lost control. When you bounced on him a little too good and angled your hips just right, or when you had him in your mouth and twirled your tongue around his sensitive tip — crash! A lamplight would go out. A vase would explode. You would feel the dangerous pulse of power that came from him — and giggle, taking it as a chance to tease the forever confident sorcerer.

"My love, do I feel so good that you just let your Limitless spike out?"

: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who was so very clever with his hands. Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer pushed the Honoured One to train even the more unlikely muscle groups — like those between his fingers or the junction of his wrist. And oh, were you so thankful for it when he had them inside you. He could thrum them against your soft walls at a speed that made your eyes roll back. He could stretch you open, and then lean down and insert his tongue, lapping at your entrance until you clenched around him. Sometimes, Satoru would use his entire hand and palm at your core until you were wet and slippery and all over him, just the way he liked you.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who always took his morning showers with you. There was an intimacy to it, of course; in how you washed down the centre of his expansive shoulders, or how he massaged the shampoo into your hair. There was also the sight of his gloriously naked body lathered in suds and foam that you would never get tired of seeing. His hair — floppy, soaked, exquisite underneath your fingers when you gripped onto it and pulled him down to your mouth. Your bodies already slick, you would fit against each other perfectly, the soft slapping noises of wet skin would send the both of you smashing through ecstasy together much more quickly than usual.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who adored how your boyfriend fucked into you with him on top — but liked just as much when you took the reigns, too. There was just something about having the strongest sorcerer of them all pinned underneath you, huffing and helpless, while you bounced on top of his cock. You would splay your hands on his flushed pectorals, he would reach behind and hold onto the headboard, thrusting his hips up to meet you in kind.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who was a master at shaman energy, and was always finding new interesting ways to utilise it. When you were splayed naked on his expensive satin sheets and him leaning over you — concentrating Limitless into the palm of his hands and running them all across your sensitive skin. The intensity of it — how he was touching you without actually touching you — it sent any and all of your thoughts into a tailspin.

"This is...!" You gasped when he roved over your nipples, the vibrations of the gravitational pull massaging them in a way so unimaginably good. "Improper use of shaman energy—ah!" "Oya?" Satoru murmured, and you could hear the cheeky grin in his voice. He let those terrible, terrible fingertips pass down your naval and to the ache between your shaking legs. "You sound like you want me to stop, pretty girl..." Your eyes knocked to the back of your head. "Don't you fucking dare."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔, who had a favourite position, and it involved you flipped over on your stomach and him, leaning over you, thrusting from behind. There was so many aspects that were in reach to him. He could feel the swell of your ass against his naval with every push his hips gave. He could hug you close — impossibly close, one hand braced beside your head, the other curled underneath to massage your bouncing breasts. Not only that, but it was so easy for him to lean down and whisper filthy secrets into your ear from this position — some of them going something like;

"Who's my pretty little girl? You feel so good. You always feel so. Fuckin'. Good."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who asked him specifically to use his signature blindfold during sex. It was so coarse and dark — you could see nothing through the fabric, which was exactly what you wanted. All your senses sharpened when one of them was taken away — his touch was magnified, it felt like starbursts along your skin, like little flecks of fire. And when he'd make you come, you would do so violently. Your body would bow up from the bed like the straining bow of a harp. You would bark out his name, until he caught you, until he folded you against his heaving chest and gently lifted the blindfold from your eyes. He would run his fingers across your dazed expression and whisper;

"You are so beautiful. My gorgeous, gorgeous girl. It's okay. Come back down, come back down to me. I gotcha. Won't let ya go."

✎ . . . requested by lovely nonnie!

WRITING REQUESTS

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #gojo x reader smut #🎋 — writing requests #💓 — thump

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residentreid · 5 months

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Helping Hand

Only you can give Spencer what he needs.

Warnings: Sub Spencer but more like Spencer is just totally whipped for reader, handjob, whining, whimpering

WC: 1.4k

You leave early for work in the morning, knowing that Spencer has a day off and intending to give him the day to himself to relax. Spencer rarely gets to take time off and rest, and you know that he wouldn’t have chosen to stay home unless it was ordered. You know he must be exhausted, and as such, you’re surprised to get a text from him in the afternoon that reads “SOS.” Fearing for the worst, you tell your boss you have an emergency and rush home.

You’re home in record time, fumbling with your keys as you rush inside. Dropping your bags haphazardly, you slam the door shut and try to quell your panic. Spencer has never given you a cause for concern about his well-being, despite the nature of his line of work.

“Spencer?” you call.

No response.

You try again, “Spence?”

He doesn’t respond, and your heart drops. Approaching the door to your bedroom, you listen intently and register something that sounds like crying. The sight that lies behind the door isn’t one you’re prepared for.

You’re greeted by the sight of Spencer, tangled in bedsheets and propped up against several pillows, arm pumping as he strokes his cock aggressively. Resisting the urge to snort in disbelief–this is an emergency?–you take it in, the way his body glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, the broken whimper that escapes his lips as he continues to touch himself, the way his head is thrown back. Sunlight filters in through the blinds, illuminating him like a goddamned painting, and he looks absolutely fucking divine.

You take all of this in, but most importantly, you focus on how painfully hard he looks, the veins of his cock bulging and tip an angry shade of red. As you enter the room, his eyes snap open, and he gazes at you through his lashes.

“Hi,” he grins, sheepishly.

“‘Hi?’” you quip. “Spence, baby, why did you need me for this? I was at work.”

“I know, I know,” he pants, hand continuing to move at an unrelenting pace. “Just–needed you. Need you. Please.”

You raise an eyebrow, sorely tempted to give in to his pleading eyes, but he’s pulled you away from work in the middle of the day simply because he needs you so desperately. Knowing you have that effect on him is altogether intoxicating, and you intend to continue exercising that control.

“I don’t see what the problem is. You have two perfectly good hands, not to mention an eidetic memory,” you say, crossing your arms. “You could think about any time we’ve been together and replay it like it was happening right then and there.”

“But it’s not the same,” he whines. “Not just about…what we’ve done together.”

His voice cracks and he has to pause and swallow harshly.

“Need you. My hand’s not the same. I need it to be you.”

That gets to you. Your breath hitches and your thighs clench involuntarily as you think about how Spencer not only needs you so desperately that he’s called you home from work but how he quite literally can’t get off without your help.

Spencer’s voice cracks again as he whimpers again, resorting to begging, “Please…please, I need you to touch me.”

You walk closer to the bed, stooping so you can be at eye level with him. He glances at you, and he looks absolutely, completely ruined. His pupils are blown and he looks almost feral, hand moving back to his cock as he strokes himself to the sound of your voice.

“Exactly how long have you been at this?” You gesture vaguely.

He struggles for words, mouth opening and closing as he thinks.

“I don’t know,” he admits with a groan. “A while.”

“And…I assume you haven’t been able to…take care of yourself?”

Spencer shakes his head quickly, and you can see that his eyes are beginning to water. He’s visibly desperate, thighs trembling as he continues to run his hand over his length.

“Ohh, baby,” you click your tongue. “Let me take care of you.”

You can see the split-second change in Spencer’s demeanor as he sags against the bed in relief and his head tilts back against the headboard.

“Thank you, thank you,” he groans. “I’ll be good…”

Humming noncommittally in response, you clamber clumsily onto the bed and seat yourself between his thighs. Spencer’s eyes open wide as he tries to glean what you’re about to do, gaze fixed on you, chest rising and falling heavily with each breath he takes. His eyes track each movement of your body as you make yourself comfortable between his thighs and he licks his lips in anticipation.

You nudge his thighs open wider with your knee, forcing his body on display for you. His breath hitches–he feels so exposed. But for you? He can live with that.

Your hand ghosts over the tip of his leaking cock and he groans–and God if that doesn’t shake you to your core. You haven’t even touched him yet, and he’s already a mess for you. His cock is glistening with precum and you bite your lip in fascination as more spurts out the instant you graze his tip.

Glancing up, you watch Spencer’s eyes roll back into his head and he whimpers softly, chasing your touch as he thrusts his cock into your hand.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” you chide, withdrawing your hand. “I thought you said you’d be good?”

He whines dejectedly at the loss of your touch but reluctantly obliges.

You set a torturously slow pace, focusing your attention on his cockhead. He’s so wet and responsive, and it makes a downright sinful squelching noise when you tighten your grip and squeeze his length.

“Fuck…” Spencer pants, sucking in a sharp breath.

His back arches involuntarily and he moans obscenely as you run your thumb over his leaking tip.

You’ve barely touched him, yet he can feel his core tense and thighs tremble and he’s already so close. Pathetic, he thinks. But it’s no use. He’s a wreck, only for you. Always, for you.

Noticing Spencer’s growing desperation, you recognize the tells of his impending orgasm. His uneven breath, erratic movement of his hips, and unending stream of moans tell you all you need to know. Smirking, you loosen your grip around his cock and slow down.

“So close already? And here I thought you’d built up some stamina…”

Spencer’s eyelids flutter as his breath catches, clearly teetering close to the edge. He whines softly in protest as you decrease your pace, hips bucking as he fucks himself roughly into your loose grip around his cock. His voice cracks as he whimpers loudly, hands grasping frantically at the sheets when you tighten your grip again.

“Oh–I…oh–fuck…”

You smirk at the threadiness of his voice, relishing in the control you have over him. As you stroke him from base to tip he throws his head back and releases a stream of thoroughly desperate moans.

“Please…please,” Spencer groans, nearly incoherent. “Please, let me…”

His words trail off, caught in his throat and all that comes out is a needy, breathless moan. His grasp on the sheets tightens as his hips stutter, thrusting his throbbing cock farther into your grip.

His thrusts become more and more erratic, and he might as well be hyperventilating with the speed at which he’s panting.

“‘M close,” he warns.

“I know, baby, I know.”

You coax him over the edge and Spencer releases a nearly ear-shattering moan, limbs thrashing as he scrambles to grab something–anything to keep himself grounded as your touch sends him out of this world. His vision goes white, and he finally gets the relief he’s been seeking for hours.

His release spurts over your hand and coats his abdomen. It’s messy and obscene and God help you–beyond hot.

Spencer breathes heavily, chest heaving, and stares at you with a blissed-out, love-struck grin.

“Thank you, baby,” he murmurs.

He reaches out and tucks your hair behind your ear, cradling your face. He kisses you fervently, tugging lightly on your hair, and bites your lip.

You pull away slowly and smile at him. Spencer looks decidedly fucked out, hair messy and face and chest flushed–and he’s never looked more beautiful.

You whisper quietly, “You owe me one.”

“Mm…give me a couple of minutes, baby, and I promise I’ll pay you back.”

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader smut #sub!spencer

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lovebugism · 7 months

Note

Spoooooky request, what if the gang went to a haunted house and everyone made fun of reader for being scared, but Steve holds her hand and walks with her 👻

thanks for requesting angel! i switched it up a bit and did a sort of second part to this fic! you def don't have to read it but it'll give some context :D — you're still getting used to the world post-vecna, but it's easier with steve holding your hand

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

The haunted house off Fifth Street looks strangely familiar. Two stories, faded cornflower paint job, boarded up windows. It looks like a dollhouse from hell. It looks like the goddamn Creel House. It’s like some kind of sick joke.

It didn’t take Hawkins very long to recover from last spring. Mostly because it was just an earthquake to everyone else. No one died, nothing was ruined beyond repair. To the rest of the town, it was just a minor natural disaster — an inconvenience more than anything.

No one knows that a thirteen-year-old girl killed the monster trying to end the world. No one knows that the local freak nearly died saving a bunch of teenagers. No one knows that one song, one heavy metal guitar, and one good memory just narrowly saved your life.

It’s secrets all of you are gonna have to keep for the rest of your lives. It weighs you down accordingly.

“Am I crazy, or is that…?” Robin trails off, freckled chin tilted towards the velvet blue sky as she gapes at the artificially rotted house. It glows a sickly green color on the outside. The windows light up red every now and then, in time with the screams echoing from the upper story.

“Yeah,” Nancy answers, breathless and equally dumbfounded. “I think it is.”

A beat of silence falls over the group of you. It doesn’t feel so heavy with the surrounding chatter. The crowd continues to bustle around you on the street, falling over themselves with laughter and lingering fright. They have no idea the ghost story they grew up with nearly destroyed the world.

The bitter realization makes your chest ache. Steve seemingly understands this and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You wonder if he can feel the way you tremble.

Eddie scoffs a cynical laugh from the other side of you. A pink, sadistic grin tugs at his lips, almost as wild as his curls billowing in the autumn breeze. “It’s basically kismet then, huh?”

Steve shoots the boy a half-hearted glare, then deflates because he realizes he can’t really be mad about it. Those damn demobats might’ve taken a pound of flesh from his stomach, but it’s nowhere near the feast they made out of Munson.

“C’mon on, dude,” he murmurs quietly with a subtle nod down at you.

“What?” Eddie snorts. “If I don’t laugh bout it, I’ll start crying, so… Take your pick, man.”

Steve wants to tell him that there’s no shame in crying. That he’s done it plenty of times since the fall of ’84. He’s cried for you, for himself, for the kids who will never get to be kids again. He figures it’s better than letting it all build up until you damn near explode.

But now’s probably not the best time for that talk. Or any time, really. He’ll get you to get all serious and sappy with Eddie about that another time, just like you did for him.

“I’m gonna, uh— I’m gonna go get the tickets,” Jonathan murmurs with his usual Byers mumblings.

He wasn’t around for the whole Vecna ordeal — just the weird shit in California and the secret lair thing in Nevada. He feels like he can be a bit braver about the whole thing for the four of you.

Nancy brushes a kiss to the boy’s cheek before he leaves. She does that a lot now, with Jonathan and all the rest of you. She always feels like she needs to say a proper goodbye and I love you whenever someone leaves. Just in case the world decides to end again.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Steve mutters to you, gaze twinkling with sincerity but stern still. “You know that, right?”

He knows that you know, but he feels the need to say it anyway. Mostly because he knows you were already scared of most things before everything went to shit. You’ve always been delicate, tender, like an open wound. Now, you can’t step outside without shaking. You’re always shuddering with the distant fear that the curse might return and no one will be there to save you.

Steve knows this, too. That’s why he holds so ardently to your trembling hand. It’s a silent reminder that he’s there, that he won’t let anything happen to you again, that he’ll always be around to save you when you need him.

“Oh, my god,” Robin groans, eyes wide and head tilted back. “Leave her alone, Steve! She’s fine!”

You know she’s just trying to be supportive. She thinks Steve’s coddling you because you’re quiet — that he’s sticking up for you because he thinks you can’t stick up for yourself.

He is. And you can’t. But still, she’s only trying to help.

Steve looks to his left to glare at her. They seem to communicate telepathically for a moment. His eyes soften again when he turns back to you. His deep cinnamon gaze swims with a honeyed concern, a silent “Are you fine?”

You nod. “I’m okay,” you tell him, mustering a soft smile that wavers at the edges.

He doesn’t believe you, not completely, but he doesn’t press it any further.

Jonathan returns with the ticket stubs. They’re black and blood red. You take the one he gives you with hesitant, clammy hands. He seems to notice how terrified you are without you having to say a single goddamn word.

“I’m not a huge fan of these things either,” he confesses with a thin-lipped smile. A light-hearted way of telling you that you’re not alone in the fear you keep hidden (very poorly hidden, you figure).

You smile back at him, but it doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

Your fingers fidget with the paper stub — maybe a distraction for yourself or maybe to hide how you’re too anxious to stay still. Steve figures it’s a bit of both. ‘Cause he knows you too well and not a thing gets by him. There’s nothing about you that he doesn’t notice.

He turns to face you completely while everyone else gets their ticket. He keeps his wedged between his middle and forefinger as his hands curl around the outsides of your elbows. He’s serious, but still soft — gentle, but still firm.

“Babe—”

“Stevie,” you interject with a similar tone. “I’m okay.”

“You heard her, Stevie. She’s fine!” Robin retorts, curling her maroon-tinted lips into a smirk. She scoffs out a laugh and gestures up to the fake haunt across the street. “This shit is basically for kids. No one’s dying here, alright?”

You know what she’s doing. She’s sticking up for you and taking the piss out of her best friend at the same time. It’s nothing new — hell, it’s her favorite hobby. She’s got your back now the same way she had it in that house last spring.

But still, her words sting a little.

Because she’s right. This place is for kids. And you still feel a bit like you’re dying.

Steve knows this, too. He knows everything about you. Even the stuff you wish he didn’t.

His sneakers scuff against the pavement when he turns to Robin. His eyes narrow in a challenging squint as he crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t look quite as intimidating as usual in his fluffy, cable-knit sweater.

“Well, you know what? I’m scared, actually. I don’t wanna do it, okay? You got me, Rob.”

The girl grins something cynical. She shakes her head all slow, like she’s just caught him in some kind of lie. “I knew it. You little baby.”

Steve lets her tease him. It’s not like he isn’t used to it by now. He just rolls his eyes and bears it, lets her laugh about it with the rest of the group as they head towards the haunted house.

You watch with an attentive gaze while they head inside, flinching softly when you hear a thunderous boom and the sound of their screaming a second later. It leaves you secretly grateful that you hadn’t gone in behind them.

A wavering sigh tumbles from your lips, a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Steve exhales a gentle laugh from beside you. He smooths a wide palm up your spine and down again. He leans over to press the side of his hip against yours.

You cross your arms over your chest to make yourself as small as possible while you glance over at the boy beside you. You look at him so far beneath your lashes you’re basically peering at him from the corner of your eye.

“Thank you,” is all you say. It’s all you need to say.

Steve shrugs with a plush, crooked grin. “’S okay. I know you’re too sweet to say no, so…”

“I wanted to do it,” you confess, clearing your throat when your voice breaks.

“I know.”

“I guess I’m not… as used to everything as I thought.”

“I know,” Steve repeats. His hand curls around your waist and makes a home in the very center of it. He pulls you closer with the urge to melt into you. His brows raise, eyes sparkling when his smile widens. “But that’s why I’m here, though, right? We’re gonna get better together.”

You nod up at him, smiling more sincerely now.

Arms still crossed, your hands ball into fists to fight the urge to smooth a hand through his hair — to push back the rogue chestnut strands hanging over his forehead.

You hesitate, so he beats you to the draw. He swipes a golden hand over his head right before he leans down to kiss you.

He smacks a sweet peck to your smile. A bright light flashes with another thunderous boom a moment later. You flinch and pull back. You swear you hear Eddie screaming, “jesus fucking christ!” from the upper story. You forget to be scared.

You didn’t think it was possible. The whole getting better thing.

Steve makes you feel like could be.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: fictober!

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pasteilian · 8 months

Note

Do you have a recommendation when designing a black character? Or tips, or maybe pages you visit for references?

Suck at explaining stuff but I’ll try

‼️ Ethnic Features ‼️

So, the art world is in a very weird place when it comes to ethnic features. The conversation was about how using POC ethnic features as an insult in media was damaging and needed to stop, and that somehow morphed into people being scared about drawing people with those features.

Black people have big ears, big noses, and big lips. That's not the problem. The problem was that media was using it to make us look like giant ape, monkey, monster creatures. It's okay to give them these defining features.

Also, remember that brown people have lighter pigment under their feet, hands, and bottom lips. 🌸 (didn’t really know where to put this but drawing mix people is basically a spin the wheel we come in all different shapes and sizes and features. There’s really no wrong way to draw a mixed POC.)

‼️ It's Just My Style ‼️

I'm so goddamn tired of hearing this goddamn excuse. A style does not mean you can't properly represent POC. I would even go on to say that if your style is stunting you so grossly that you can't draw a proper black person, you have a bad art style. Sorry—not really.

Media has shown us that style does not stop representation. The only thing stopping that is your ignorance and refusal to improve. Great examples of ranging styles still being able to represent different POC are "Adventure Time," "Disney's Soul," "Proud Family," "Afro Samurai," etc. I'm just saying this because I've seen this excuse be more prevalent in the art world, and it's just better to nip that in the bud.

‼️ Whitewashing + I Don't Know How to Use the Color Brown ‼️

I've seen people make the excuse that the skin color is lighter because they use a pastel style, but they never bring up the fact that the only color in the art that's lighter is the skin tone. 💀

Also, the whole thing about people saying they don't know how to shade and color brown palettes is just completely bullshit. I would even say that trying to shade pale colors is harder than shading darker colors. Additionally, there are multiple artists and tutorials showing you exactly how it's done. You have no excuses other than you just don't want to.

YouTuber Sinix has a great video on painting skin tones!

‼️ Black Hairstyles ‼️

I love dreads. Dreads are a very pretty hairstyle. However, we have more hairstyles other than dreads. If you're going to draw black characters, I would encourage you to branch out and explore beyond dread heads. There are so many unique black hairstyles out there. We need to move on from just focusing on dreads.

YouTuber Ari has two wonderful videos on black hairstyles in video games. I would recommend checking them out.

‼️ References ‼️

I love referencing old black media such as "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air," "The Proud Family," and "Little Bill" (before all the Bill Cosby stuff came out). I also appreciate how "House of the Dragon" implemented black people into the lore. Other references include "BOTW/TOTK Rottmnt," etc.

Some artists I reference all the time are Mohammed Agbadi, who doesn't do many art tutorials anymore but often discusses black characters in media, and his art is still amazing. Ethan Becker has a very interesting video on the racist triangle that I recommend checking out.

On Instagram, I love the art of Jojo.Dreamie, Chibichanga12 (holy shit, love their art), Bruniosktch, and Caw.Chan. I also just reference my family a lot. 💀

This is a lot of rambling, but what I’m gonna say is don’t stunt yourself by tricking yourself into believing that your art can’t include POC 🌸🌸‼️💌💖💌💌🎀💕💘‼️🧁

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt mikey #pastriesart💌#pastrieschat💌#this was long but hope I got my points across #as a Afro head I challenge dread heads to a duel

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sometimesanalice · 1 year

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Like I Can (Part 3)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 7.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

(All’s well that ends well❣️ Enjoy!)

You’d been on edge all day.

Having slept terribly the night before, you’d woken up early and giving up on the idea of going back to sleep had ended up at a sunrise yoga class, hoping that some movement would help you clear your mind. By the end of the hour you were even more frustrated than you were before you arrived, the poses feeling unnaturally forced instead of flowing seamlessly as they usually did.

So much for some goddamn inner peace.

Work was even worse. You had arrived to find that the espresso machine was broken. And whoever made a pot on the ancient drip machine, that was undoubtedly pulled out of a dingy storage closet somewhere, clearly hated everyone else since it tasted like tar. You could barely focus enough to clear out your inbox, when your work nemesis started breathing down your neck about a proposal that wasn’t due for another two weeks.

Time was dragging on. And every time you looked at the clock thinking it had been at least an hour since you’d last checked, were continually shocked to see that barely fifteen minutes had passed by. Thankfully it was Friday, so your boss didn’t care when you called it a day and left at lunch. It was better for everyone this way.

You had tried painting your nails, but didn’t have the patience to let them dry and smudged them trying to open a package of crackers. Ignoring the crumbs that got everywhere as you ate them while working the cotton pad over the remnants of your pretty pink polish. Your new favorite show didn’t hold your attention like it usually did and you found yourself mindlessly scrolling on your phone, missing most of the plot you’d had to restart it. Twice.

Not even the scenic drive along the coast to the restaurant you were supposed to meet your date at had done anything to alleviate your nerves.

You had been surprised at the choice of location when you had received the text message with the information about this particular date. As much as you enjoyed going to the Hard Deck, you were very much looking forward to drinking something other than a beer. Sure, Penny could make a mean spicy margarita, but sometimes an overpriced aesthetically pleasing cocktail just hit the spot better than anything else.

But most of all, you were thankful for a change of pace and the privacy this offered you. You had never been one for the spotlight, and dating on display had left you feeling drained.

You’re sitting in a surprisingly comfortable wooden wicker dining chair on the outdoor patio of the new trendy fusion restaurant you’ve been dying to come to. From your spot tucked away in the corner you can see the ocean waves rolling in and back out again. The golden rays already promising a stunning sunset later in the evening.

The foliage of the giant potted monsteras and birds of paradise made the terrace feel like a lush oasis, and contrasted stylishly against the large painted terracotta tiles on the ground. The pergola that covered it was dotted wisteria amongst the other climbing greenery, and numerous oversized hanging rattan sconces. The dainty lights woven throughout reflecting off the wine glasses on the table.

This was exactly what you needed. Too bad you couldn’t let yourself enjoy it, the twisted knots in the pit of your stomach had served a constant reminder of your nerves all day.

You had used this date as an excuse to finally buy the deep green floral dress you’d had your eye on for ages. The gentle drape of the neck was subtly sophisticated, while the high slit on the side added some serious sex appeal.

There was nothing wrong with a little retail therapy you had told yourself as you’d swiped your credit card. If you looked good, maybe it would help you to feel good.

In all honesty, it probably had a little too much sex appeal since you couldn’t stop fidgeting in your chair trying to get the silky dress cover up more of your thigh that was currently displayed rather provocatively. It felt like the more you tried to get it to lay right the more of your leg was exposed.

It probably didn’t help that you couldn’t stop the restless bouncing of your leg. You weren’t usually an antsy person, leg bouncing had always been more of Rooster’s anxious habit than yours.

Maybe you’ll feel less exposed once you draped the linen napkin across your lap. You’re tempted to do it now, but you don’t want to disturb the artfully laid out tablescape before your date has arrived.

It had been three weeks of back to back truly terrible dates. You could see the finish line now, but you couldn’t say that it wasn’t wearing on you. It had sounded like fun in theory, but now you weren’t so sure you would said yes again if you were offered a do-over.

You were tired.

Tired of going through the motions with men who could hardly be bothered to do the bare minimum. Tired of trying to sell the best version of yourself. Tired of putting on a show when all you wanted to find was an easy kind of love.

And this particular date had you more on edge and anxious than any of the other ones you’d gone on.

Even if you were pressed, you could not remember a single thing about the guy Payback had set you up with on your most recent blind date.

That evening you hadn’t even bothered trying to put together a cute outfit for the meeting. Instead, the only real effort you’d opted to put in was painting your lips a bright red as an attempt to psych yourself up for it. You didn’t usually wear such a bold color, but when you did it never failed to make you feel more brilliant.

And while you couldn’t remember anything about your date, what you did vividly remember was the fight you got into with Rooster that night.

You had been coming back from the restroom and on your way back to your date when you had bumped into him rounding the corner.

“Sorry, that was my fault,” he’d said as he reached out to steady you with hand going to your waist, dropping it once he realized it was you. “Oh, hey.”

Glancing over to your date who seemed absorbed in some game he was playing on his phone, you figured he wouldn’t miss you if you spent a few extra minutes away to catch up with Rooster.

He had been acting really distant lately, taking a couple days to respond to texts rather than a couple of hours like it usually took him. Natasha had told you about the rigorous training they were being put though, and you had assumed it probably had something to do with that. However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off between you two.

Rooster was already pulling away from you and taking a step towards the bar when you reached out grabbing his wrist to keep him with you. Looking around for a quiet place to talk, you’d heard him sigh behind you, but still held on to him as you made your way to one of the high-top tables in the corner by the empty stage.

You’d stopped and let go as you turned towards him, only to find him already looking at you with an expression that landed somewhere between expectant and exasperated. The cuffs of his shirt straining around his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well?” he grunted out.

Was he mad at you? You couldn’t think of any recent arguments you’d had recently that would explain the harsh tone he was using with you.

“Is everything ok? I feel like you’ve been really off lately. You know I’m always here for you, right?” Your hand was already reaching out to touch him, but you resisted the urge not wanting to further agitate him.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m surprised you even have time to talk to me with all these washouts you’ve been wasting your time on. You’re the one with the busy social calendar, not me.” He was looking over the top of your head avoiding your gaze now, the bitterness in his voice had stunned you.

“Seriously? What is the matter with you?”

He’d never been so intentionally callous with you before and it hurt.

“Listen, if there is an issue me dating the people your friends have been setting me up with, you need to let me know,” you’d said pointing a firm finger at him, your anger rising. “This was supposed to be a fun no pressure situation, but I don’t want to be in the middle of this if things are getting heated between you guys. It’s not worth it to me. But you don’t get to ignore me for days and then claim that I’m the one avoiding you.”

He made a noise of frustration as he dragged both hands through his curls. You could see the flex of his jaw as he’d clenched his teeth together.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he ducked down to that his eyes were level with your, and you could see the remorse in them. “You’re right, that was shitty of me to take it out on you. I’m just… tired.”

You’d simply nodded at him, feeling like you weren’t on the same page as him didn’t sit well with you. “Phoenix told me about your new training program, it seems intense,” your voice sounded small even to your own ears.

“Yeah, the training,” he’d sighed out pausing for a moment as he weighed his words, rubbing at his chest, “It’s taking a toll on me, but that’s my problem. I mean it, I’m sorry.”

“Are we good?” you searched his eyes, your friendship with him was so important to you.

“You and me? We’re good, kid. Always.” He’d reached out and squeezed your shoulder before heading back to where the group was gathered together pretending like they weren’t just watching your argument play out.

Needless to say, your head was somewhere elsewhere entirely as you made your way back to your date. You’d felt bad being so distracted, but your mind just kept playing the argument on repeat. It was like your brain was trying to pull apart every little word to decode something that you didn’t think was there.

After Payback’s friend had left, you rejoined everyone else around the pool table. You couldn’t tell if the mood was off or if it was just you reading into things, since they hadn’t been prodding you with questions like they usually did.

Natasha was in the middle of giving you a glowing review of the man she had been bragging about since she first offered to set you up, when Rooster came to sit with you both.

“He’s just your type. He’s an engineer, so he’s smart. He’s got that whole glasses wearing and floppy hair thing going for him. And he’s funny. Rumor has it that he talked back to his Rear Admiral one time and got away with it because the guy had found him amusing. I fully expect you to name one of your future children with him after me.”

Rooster had surprised the pair of you when he stood up so violently that he almost knocked over the beers on the table.

“What the fuck, Bradshaw?” Nat had exclaimed as you both worked to rescue the teetering bottles from becoming casualties from his sudden movement.

You had no idea what he was going to say as an explanation for why he’d jumped out of his seat the way he did, but what he ended up unexpectedly announcing instead of answering Nat’s question had sent you into a tailspin.

So now here you are in a restaurant you’d be dying to go to, fidgety and anxious in a probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative dress for a first date with the guy who Rooster was willing to break his long-standing rules for to set you up with.

To say you were feeling the pressure was an understatement. No one knew you like Rooster did. He’d seen you at your best and at your worst. He wouldn’t just pick any random guy he knew, he would be picking the one who he thought would be the best for you.

The thought should be comforting, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness.

You pick up your phone again and double check the time in the text that Rooster had sent you with all the details for your date with his friend.

It was either that do that again or moving the ever-so-slightly crooked gold salad fork back into place.

You’re about to open Instagram for the third time since you sat down, turning when you hear a throat clear purposely behind you.

“Hey, sweet girl.”

For Rooster, when you’d first agreed to participate in the bet with his friends those dates started off as annoying inconveniences. Just inconsequential disruptions that got in the way of his time with you.

You were his best friend and at his bar, yet he felt like he’d hardly seen you these past couple of weeks- or at least not as much as he would have liked.

Sure, he got some time with you here and there at the end of the night like when you had late night tacos on the beach. Or when he’d taught you his favorite pool trick, well more like attempted to teach you, he loved how stunningly bad you were at the game. But he felt like he was competing with these idiots his friends had picked out for your time and your attention.

He wasn’t used to sharing you. In the past, if you had a date that conflicted with something spontaneous he wanted to do or something that the group had planned together, more often than not he could get you to move it or cancel completely.

He’d never been above a little bribery to get his way, he knew what you liked.

You going on dates wasn’t a new concept to him, but seeing them paraded in front of him was a different story. And he was getting really tired of watching you from across the bar while feeling like you were out of reach.

The more of them you went on, and the more he heard Natasha crowing about having the perfect man for you the more agitated he felt. The worse that feeling in the pit of his stomach got.

The evening of date for Payback’s pick, they’d all seen you walk in through the doors of the Hard Deck wearing that shade of red lipstick. You’d wore it so well. His friends had immediately started speculating about what it meant. Phoenix had called them all idiots, and while he couldn’t claim to know anything about make-up and those things, he did know you didn’t just wear that color for no reason.

He had vague memories of his mom putting the color on when they’d go greet his dad, at least he like to think those were his memories. Or maybe they were just something he’d created in his head from all the time he had spent looking at old photos of his mom and dad together, her smile always outlined in the color. His favorite was the one where his dad’s cheeks were covered in bright red lipstick kisses as he smiled indulgently down at his mom while a young Bradley was propped on her hip clutching his prized F-14 Tomcat. He had that one framed on the end table next to his couch.

And seeing that color on you for a date with this random guy had rattled him.

He’d felt so terrible later that evening when he took those feelings out on you. Hating himself as he lashed out at you. Hating himself as he saw your face fall and the hurt in your eyes. Hating himself for being the person who made you feel bad.

And the crux of it all was that you weren’t wrong, he had been deliberately distant by being slow to reply and ignoring texts from you. He wasn’t proud of it, but he didn’t know what else to do. He’d hoped by creating some space that it would help him to try and get his head back on straight.

He’d let you assume that he was tired from the new training program they were being put through. What he didn’t tell you was that he was already outperforming everyone on the team, and that he hadn’t had to do any extra push-ups in a week and a half.

He was tired because he hadn’t been sleeping, and he couldn’t sleep because every time he tried to close his eyes all he could see was you on these dates. Replaying them in his mind’s eye wondering what the outcome would have been had they not gone so terribly wrong each time.

The what-ifs swarming around his brain day and night like agitated hornets.

While he had been quick to apologize for being a dick, the sharp pain that settled behind his sternum wouldn’t subside no matter how much he had tried to rub it away.

He didn’t know what was more unbearable, the idea of losing you to a chance encounter of circumstance. Some meet cute courtesy of the universe that he couldn’t see coming until it was too late, when it’s already too far out of his hands and out of his control. To see you grinning that smile so bright, the one so wide it made your dimples appear, as you introduced that guy to him.

Or sitting here night after night analyzing every little thing as you date the people some of his closest friends had picked out for you. Watching and hoping that these dates would just be funny stories you told on drunken nights out rather than the story told at your wedding about the night that everything changed when you met your person. Of having to be happy for you even as you pull away from him.

His ears were ringing and he’d felt his stomach drop.

He could see it now, a day when your life ran parallel to his rather than entwined as he was used to. Of you with a partner. With children. Of him as ‘Uncle’ Rooster, demoted to the rank of ‘longtime friend of the family’ rather than a core member of it.

The thought of it making him feel sick.

All evening he had been moving around like a ghost completely lost to the thoughts in his head, but now it felt like he’d been shocked by a live wire. He’d pretty much jumped out of the chair he had just settled in, almost knocking the beers in front of him off the table completely.

“I want in, I’ll do it,” he’d blurted out, interrupting the conversations that had continued on around him while he had been spiraling. “This whole thing has been a complete shit show. I can’t watch this anymore. I know a guy, I’ll set it up. I’m in.”

His hands were sweating as he hoped no one would call his bluff. He’d made it a point to actively avoid looking at you. You had such an uncanny way of reading him.

“I don’t know, Bradshaw. You’re a little late to the game, aren’t you? I’ve been saving the best for last, and I’m ready to collect my winnings.” He’d expected some shit from Hangman, but he never would have guessed it’d come from Phoenix.

Feeling his anger flare up, he reached into his back pocket and fished out a $100 bill from his worn leather wallet, double the original entry fee. He slapped it down on the table, leaving no room for any further discussion, “I’m the one setting her up for the next date.”

He’d caught a look between Hangman and Phoenix, but he couldn’t be bothered to read into it as he tried to keep his temper in check.

He wouldn’t lose you. Not to someone who didn’t deserve you, especially when he already knew the person who could make you happy.

“Alrighty,” Jake had drawled out, as he pocked the bill. “Looks like we have another player. I look forward to taking your money.”

He’d extended his hand out and they’d all shook on it, reaching Phoenix last her grip firm and her smile sharp. And that was that.

Now he was here at the new popular restaurant he’d heard you talking about a few weeks ago, his feet cemented to the tiles beneath him just gazing at you.

He could tell from where he was standing behind you that you were nervous by the way you were opening and closing apps without truly looking at anything. He knew it was a habit of yours when you were feeling anxious, something for your hands to do as you tried to distract yourself.

He had sweet talked the hostess over the phone into reserving the best spot on the outdoor terrace, and you looked so beautiful sitting there wearing his new favorite color. Your hair is held back by a delicate golden clip on one side leaving the line of your neck exposed, the sea breeze picking up a few wisps. It makes his teeth ache with want.

He knew you were gorgeous, he’d stared down enough men at the Hard Deck to know that others thought so too. However, he’d never let himself sit with those thoughts for too long, not trusting himself to keep his mind from wandering.

You were his best friend.

And best friends don’t think about how the other would look so perfect in their bed, that pretty green dress forgotten on the floor.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look under his arm.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look with his ring on your finger.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you are for him.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect he is for you.

Him.

It was a good thing he didn’t want to just be your best friend anymore.

He’d already done too much thinking, done too much waiting. He wasn’t going to miss his moment.

Taking one more deep breath, he made his way to you.

“Rooster? What are you doing here?” He was the last person you’d expected to see when you turned your head to see who had been trying to get your attention, “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

Did he get emergency orders? Did your date get in an accident?

Your anxiousness was quickly morphing into panic, you’re already half way out of your seat when he puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb stroking the skin there reassuringly.

He is standing there looking completely at ease, as if he belonged there, “Nothing’s wrong, sweet girl.”

And there it was again, you hadn’t been sure if your ears were playing tricks on you the first time he’d said it. That simple term of endearment silencing the alarm bells that were going off in your head, the edges of the lush restaurant softening around everything except him.

“Your mom always called me that,” you say softly.

You cherished all the memories you had with Carole, the woman who had been such a significant figure in your life for so long. You knew your mom still sent Rooster a cake every year to celebrate her birthday from whatever bakery was closest to wherever he was stationed.

“I know, I remember,” his voice so warm and deep, “She loved you.”

He says it so simply, so sincerely. As if his presence here hasn’t just completely untethered you and sent you adrift in a sea of bewilderment.

The writhing snake that had made a home all day in the pit of your stomach finally disappeared, only to be replaced with the fluttering of wings that you were desperately trying to ignore.

You’d been so shocked when Rooster had exclaimed that he was going to set you up with someone, your mind had been whirling so much at the time you could barely focus on anything that had been said in the aftermath of his announcement. Maybe you had missed some caveat he’d come up with for his participation in the bet? That could make sense, considering how adamant he had always been in the past about never getting involved in your love life.

He was standing there looking so good in his best short-sleeved button up shirt, the one that was scattered with vibrant palm leaves that fit snugly against his body. And wearing the white slacks that usually had you looking anywhere else in the room to avoid acknowledging the way they clung to your best friend’s thighs and ass. If only he knew how weak they made you.

There just has to be a logical reason for why he’s here, but the soft smile on his face was rendering your brain uncooperative.

You were getting tired of feeling like you were missing something that should be so obvious, “My date is supposed to be here soon, are you going to hover in the back like you have been at the Hard Deck? Or are you just planning on pulling up a chair and third wheeling up close and personal?”

“Why would I need an extra chair,” he asks as he pulls it out and eases his large frame down onto the wicker seat, “When mine’s already free?”

You move to open your mouth when the waitress arrives, asking if you had your drink orders selected.

“I’ll do the Bourbon Sidecar. You feelin’ like a gin, sweet girl?” You just nodded at him mutely, still desperately trying to catch up. “And the Clover Club for her, please.”

It’s what you were planning on ordering to calm your first date jitters before had Rooster arrived and sent you into a complete tailspin. He hadn’t even looked at the thick textured cardstock of the drink menus that were strategically placed just to the right of the golden soup spoons on the artfully laid out table.

The butterflies were threatening to break free from the tightly locked cage you had attempted to shove them in.

The waitress took down the drinks, and you watched her as she crossed the patio pausing to tap away on the screen of their POS, trying to give yourself a few more moments to collect your thoughts.

“Bradley. I don’t understand, what’s going on?” He’s sitting there looking so secure, so steadfast, so sure.

His cheek ticks up, “I like it when you call me Bradley. Why did you stop calling me that when you moved out here?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Why did you stop calling me Bradley when you moved out here?” he asks again, leaning in. How does he expect you to answer a question, when your mind is going 1,190 miles an hour?

“I don’t know,” you start with a halfhearted shrug. “You’ve made a name for yourself in the Navy, you are ‘Rooster’ to everyone here.” You open your mouth to say more, before closing it quickly.

“There’s more going on in that head,” you feel his foot reach out tapping against yours under the table, before leaving it there a steady presence. “Tell me.”

You know you can tell him anything, but this feels different.

The intensity of his stare has you fighting the flush you feel spreading across your cheeks.

It wasn’t something that you’d ever given much thought to before, but you know if you answer truthfully now that he’s asked you it’s going to leave you feeling more exposed than you’ve ever been with him.

You sit up more fully in your chair deciding to be brave, “I mean, we haven’t really truly been in the same place since we were teens, and things are so different now. It was easier to start calling you ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’ like everyone else, because it didn’t make me feel like I was piece from a different puzzle trying to force myself into a new picture. I wanted to fit into the life that you’ve built here, to feel like I still have a place with you as you are now.”

You’re actively fighting to keep your eyes on his. It would be so easy to look away or to laugh off your confession, but for whatever reason, you don’t want to take the easy out.

“I never knew you felt like that, but I wish I had,” the look in his eyes is softer than anything you’ve ever seen from him before. “I like being Bradley to you, I want to be Bradley to you. You aren’t just a piece to me, you’re the whole picture. You’ve always had a place here, exactly as you are you are now.”

It’s never been like this between the two of you. It feels like you both are saying too much and not enough all at the same time. As much as you find yourself wanting to sink into these intoxicating yet unfamiliar feelings, you know you’re still holding yourself back.

God, he is so handsome. You had been right, the sunset that was just starting was stunning, but the way golden beams were hitting the lightened strands of his curls was spectacular.

You’re almost too afraid to ask, but it’s unbearable not knowing, “Why are you here right now, Bradley?”

Of course, the waitress chooses that moment to return with the drinks.

She sets them down in front of you, the skewered raspberries sitting daintily on the side of your glass are suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room. You vaguely hear him saying you both need more time and that he’ll flag her down when you’re ready to order.

He waits for her to leave to attend to her other tables before turning his heady gaze on you once again.

“I thought I’ve been making my intentions pretty clear here, sweet girl.”

He takes a sip of his Sidecar before continuing, the slight bounce of his leg the only thing giving him away that he might not be as self-assured as you’d originally thought, “I’m here for our date.”

There’s no hope of containing the butterflies now. You’re a lost cause.

“Bradley.” You can only imagine the emotions he is reading on your face. It would absolutely break your heart if this was some kind of bad joke.

“He’ll never love you like I can.”

“What?” you ask sounding every bit as dazed as you feel.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says shaking his head slightly, huffing out a little laugh at himself, “I got ahead of myself.”

You watch as he resituates himself in the chair, wiping his hands on the front of his slacks before restarting.

“Watching you on those dates has been hell, I don’t want to be jealous of some guy you gave a second glance. I don’t want hold back, not when we can be so much more,” he reaches across the table, taking your hand between his two large ones, “I thought having you as a friend was enough for me, but how am I supposed to sleep at night knowing that I could be the one who makes you happy and then do nothing about it? That I’m the only one who can love you the way you deserve to be loved?”

You’ve always known he’s cared for you, that was unquestionable, but to be loved by Bradley Bradshaw? It was something you’d never let yourself imagine, let alone dared to hope to for. It had been kinder to spare yourself from the heartache that came with hope. But now? With him sitting right here in front of you saying you could have him like this?

Was this how he felt flying in his F-18 every day?

He gets up and rounds the table coming to your side, hooking an ankle around the tapered leg of your chair pulling you out a bit. You’re suddenly very thankful for the probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative for a first date dress you purchased when you see the way his rich brown eyes turn molten as he gets a glimpse of your exposed thigh.

He settles into a crouch before you, his warm hands seeking out both of yours, “You don’t need Phoenix or anyone else to set you up, because he’ll never love you like I can. Let me show you how good it can be. Let me be it for you, sweet girl.”

The man in front of you is everything you could have ever possibly wanted for yourself. And to be the one who could get to keep him forever? There’s no doubt in your mind, it’s worth everything.

You’re sure you will have to have a more serious conversation about what this means for the two of you, but that can wait for another time when he’s not in front of you with his eyes so earnest. So hopeful. To another time when he’s not wearing his heart on his sleeve as he patiently waits for any kind of response from you.

It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him right now.

So easy to learn what that mustache would feel like against your skin.

To learn how his lips and tongue would feel against your own.

To learn how his mouth would move with yours.

But what’s a couple more hours when you’ve had years to build up to it.

“Well then, Lieutenant. I guess you better show me how it’s done,” you bring your hand up to cup his face, your thumb gently stroking along his cheekbone. “But I’m warning you now, I fully intended to give you as good as I get.”

Being on the receiving end of a Rooster smile was something special, but it had nothing on the beaming grin that Bradley Bradshaw is giving you now.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” he says as he lands a lingering kiss on your cheek before standing and pushing your chair back in for you. “You’ve always known how to keep me on my toes.”

He returns back to his surprisingly comfortable wooden wicker chair, stretching his leg to rest it against yours. When the waitress comes back you both end up picking your meals at random, having been too absorbed with each other to actually bother reading the menu.

You’d barely eaten all day because of the knots in your stomach, and now you were starving. Thankfully, Bradley at least had the commonsense to ask the waitress to pick her favorite dish as a third entrée “for the table”.

It feels the same in many ways, he knows what to say to make you laugh and what to bring up to get you fired up. And you know what questions to ask to keep him talking and how to push his buttons just right.

But it’s also different when he doesn’t bother to hide his knowing smirk every time he catches you looking at his lips. And it’s even better when you don’t bother trying to hide yours when you catch him doing the same.

Afterwards, he takes your hand in his as you slowly make your way to the parking lot, his fingers lacing between your own. He surprises you when he leans against the Bronco, murmuring something about not wanting to let your pretty dress get dirty. His long legs extended wide as an invitation for you to come stand between them, his strong hands stroking the silky material of your dress on your hips as you step closer.

You’ve been ignoring the pull low in your stomach all evening, the tension between you two the most luscious feeling you’ve ever experienced. The combination of his heat, his woodsy smell, the headiness of his gaze on you almost too overwhelming.

Almost.

Your hands settle on his broad chest, playing with the button of his shirt now a bit nervous. Your faces closer than you’ve ever allowed them to be before. If what you’re hearing is the sound of the waves or the roaring of the blood in your ears, you couldn’t say.

You know he is waiting for you to make the first move. You see the moment when he’s about to say something, knowing him the words would be wonderfully reassuring and perfectly Bradley.

Why would you want to talk when his mouth was already waiting like a question. Why would you want to talk when you could learn what it’s like kiss him instead?

So you do.

When your lips meet his for the first time it feels like the sweetest kind of devotion.

bradleybradleybradley

His mustache scratching satisfyingly at the skin of your upper lip. His mouth tasting like the Sidecars he sipped on throughout the night and something that was just fundamentally Bradley.

Your hand moves on its own to stroke the side of his neck, your fingers seeking out the line of the longest scar that adorns his skin there from that night all those years ago.

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest as he licks his lips before bringing his face down to yours again. Your other hand tightly clutching his shirt in anticipation.

He’s always been so in tune with you, so when he tilts your head just right before leaning into the kiss it feels like a homecoming.

thisthisthis

One of Bradley’s hands makes its way up your back, pressing you closer to him as the other bands more securely around your waist. And when his tongue skims your lower lip, you sigh into his waiting mouth thankful for his strong grasp on you.

Nothing your mind could have imagined would have ever come close to the perfection that is Bradley Bradshaw’s mouth moving against yours. Nothing has ever felt so good, so right.

When he pulls away, you’re both over fighting back the smiles that feel like have been permanently fixed on your faces all evening.

“I’m don’t want to call it a night yet,” he tells you, as he brushes the hair back from your face. His smile turning playful, “What do you say, kid? Wanna go get some milkshakes?”

“Depends,” you reply cheekily, “Can I drink it in the Bronco?”

Wrapping both arms around his neck you draw him back in towards you again.

“Anything you want, sweet girl,” he promises against your lips.

The next night at the Hard Deck, you entered the bar with Bradley’s arm draped your shoulders.

His team whooping loudly when you pull him in for a kiss as he handed you a Blue Moon. They’d declared the drinks were on Bradley that night as they’d swarmed you both in celebration. Maverick pulls you aside to give you a warm hug, whispering “I knew you’d get here” in your ear before releasing you.

Now that you had let yourselves cross that line from friends to more, the pair of you are entirely too aware of the other. Never content to be too far away from the other. Your eyes like magnets, each seeking out the other to find them already looking back.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he has his hands on your waist. Nothing neighborly in the way his hands rub your shoulders. Nothing platonic in the way he rests one hand on the back of your neck, his thumb making teasing circles.

And there’s nothing friendly about the way you run your hands through his curls when he’s at the piano. Nothing neighborly in the way you slide your hand into his back pocket. Nothing platonic in the way you rest your hand on his chest, your finger tracing the line of his collarbone.

It has always been so easy with him, even as you explore in this new area of your relationship.

You’d been orbiting around each other all night, when Jake yelled out to heckle you both about indecent exposure, threatening to call his cop friend if Bradley didn’t “get his ass over to the pool table in the next thirty seconds.”

He’d peppered your face with kisses before you’d shooed him away, laughing when you realized he had swiped your beer and had taken it with him.

“So you and Bradshaw,” Natasha states as she settles down next to you.

That makes you smile.

“Yeah, me and Bradley.”

How could you have possibly thought you’d want anyone else other than him? You were a goner from the moment you’d turned and saw him standing there at the restaurant. Your golden boy.

You turn towards her, putting a hand on her arm, “I’m sorry that you didn’t get a fair shot at the bet. I really do appreciate the effort you all went through. I mean, Bradley would have had it in the bag anyways. But still–”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she waves a hand, cutting you off, “We had a team meeting and changed the rules of the bet anyways. I still won, so it’s all good.” Her smile was nothing less than mischievous.

“Wait, what?”

“We could all see from Rooster’s reaction during that disaster of a first date with all the dogs that he was completely hung up on you. We didn’t want to wait for him to figure it out, so we decided to adjust the terms a bit to help him out,” she laughs at your clearly baffled expression. “We reached out to the cringiest people we knew and set you up with them instead. And then took bets on how long it would take Rooster to get his head out of his ass and go get his girl.”

“Oh my god, seriously?” The revelation has you bursting out in laughter.

“Yep, well except for Bob. His date was a genuine accident, bless him. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even bother reaching out to anyone. I was betting on Rooster getting it together before I needed to step in,” she explains while wearing the most self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Of course Natasha Trace had bet on him. On you.

You couldn’t wait to tell Bradley how you had both been so absolutely played by his team.

You loved these people. You loved your life here in San Diego.

“I’d apologize for putting you through all that, but it looks like it worked out well in the end,” she says knowingly nodding her head towards him.

You’re fully watching him now as he bends over the pool table looking amused at something that Hangman says.

Bradley looks up catching your eye and shoots a wink in your direction, a grin taking over his whole face. You already know you’re wearing a matching one.

“I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

Thank you so much for all the love on this one! I’ve loved sharing this journey with you all! Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!

If you want to know what happens next for these two you can check out my masterlist!

Written as part of @roosterforme’s #Love Is In The Air TGM Fic Challenge!

Song Inspiration Sam Smith’s “Like I Can”.

Thank you Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) as always for being the ultimate hype girl!

Taglist:

@sehnsuchts-trunken @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @finelytaylored @phantomxoxo @viridianphtalo @chicomonks @artemissunn @hey-assbutt35 @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader @averyhotchner @caatheeriinee07 @rileyanntoinette @lublycho

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #rooster x you #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #love is in the air tgm #like i can tgm

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mellowswriting · 1 year

Note

I saw your request about fic ideas! I love your fics with javi p and his housewife kink so something with that!

a warm welcome

pairing || Javier Peña x f!Reader

word count || 3.5k

summary || After a two week long work trip, Javier is exhausted and desperate to come home to his wife. Luckily for him, you’re ready to welcome your husband home.

content || no use of y/n, SMUT, housewife kink, unprotected p in v, kind of rough sex, dom husband!Javier, domesticity kink (is that a thing? i’m making it a thing.), ‘grumpy asshole who’s only soft for one person’ trope, sweet and soft but a little possessive, Javi is pussy whipped lmao

a/n || the way this has been sitting in my inbox for a criminal amount of time... but I finally got inspired by the pure sex this man radiates

Javier Peña Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The moment Javier slipped that ring on your finger and made you his wife, he thought life couldn’t get any better. He always knew the two of you would strive to fulfill all those promises, vows of love and support, of a warm and happy life together. He anticipated a typical life - longed for it, actually. Mowing the lawn and going out on date nights. Holidays and sleeping in on the weekends. Arguing over what restaurant to order from and negotiating chores. All of the achingly mundane parts of married life came just as he expected, but it also came with so much more.

Javier never expected his life to have the air of a goddamn Thomas Kinkade painting.

Nearly two weeks have passed since he’s been home. The damn agency dragged him halfway across the country to speak at a conference and he couldn’t be more relieved to be trudging up his porch steps. He’s exhausted. All of the traveling and schmoozing he was forced to endure has left him tense and jetlagged, and all he wants is to collapse into bed and forget the whole thing.

All of that melts away the second he pushes open the front door and takes in the sight in front of him. The living room is lit up with the fire blazing away in the fireplace. Blankets and pillows are laid out in front of it in a makeshift bed, the coffee table shoved off to the side to make room. The robust scent of food lingers in the air, something slow-cooked and rich. And you. Oh, you. Leaning against the archway that leads into the kitchen, wearing that soft black robe and the brightest smile he’s ever seen.

“Welcome home.” You greet him.

Javier drops his bags right there in the entryway and closes the space between you in three long strides. This is all he needs. The honeyed sound of your voice, the sweet smell of your perfume, the softness of your cheek against his palm - every part of you sends relief washing down his spine. Javier kisses you like a man starved, as if the sustenance to feed his soul lies right between your lips. Fuck, he missed this. He missed you.

If the agency ever tries to send him off like that again, he just might have to quit.

Javier wraps his arms around you and holds you close, taking a moment to simply hold you there in his arms. A relieved sigh heaves from you both and for the first time in weeks, he feels whole again. You nuzzle closer until your chest brushes his and a low, pleased sound rumbles in the back of his throat. It’s obvious you aren’t wearing much beneath that robe. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I missed you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his hand rubbing up and down your back. Your body relaxes into his and something in his chest expands, preens at the safety you take in his embrace. “How was everything while I was gone?”

“Don’t worry, I kept all the fires burning like a good little wife.” You tease. It earns you a playful smack on your ass.

“Oh, I know you did. You’re always good for me.” Javi’s fingers catch your jaw and tilt your head up, and he smiles at the way you lean into the touch, into his praise. “But I want to know how it was, what you did while I was away. I want to know everything.”

You can’t help but go a little weak in the knees when he gets like this. The dominant air about him is intoxicating and every ounce of your being aches to soften into him, to place yourself into the capable hands of your Javi. He’s just so good. Such a good man, a good husband. He loves pampering you and supporting each of your endeavors, no matter how big or small they might be. The balance is soothing. The equal meeting of needs, soothing of souls. A complementary give and take that leaves you both fulfilled and cared for.

“Well, I finally tidied your office while you couldn’t hover about it. I reread In Praise of Folly for the hundredth time. I tried some new recipes… not all of them were good, but you’ll love the roast I made. It’s warming in the oven, by the way.” You tick down the list, humming contemplatively as you think back over the last two weeks. “Oh, I got a mani-pedi.”

“Oh, let me see them.” An appreciative hum falls from his lips at the dark polish coating your fingernails. His thumb brushes over them thoughtfully, a little smile on his face. Maybe it's weird, but he’s always loved this; providing for you, letting you use the money he earns to do nice little things for yourself. “Pretty. I like the color.”

“Thank you, honey.” You sing-song.

Javier kisses your knuckles. “Go on. I want to hear more.”

“Let’s see, what else… oh, and I got something for you, too.” A mischievous tone threads into your voice, one he knows all too well. Your teeth nip at your soft bottom lip as you flutter those eyelashes at him - and he knows he’s fucked in the best possible way. Your fingers trail down your sternum, teasing the robe open just enough to expose a hint of white fabric beneath it. White lacy fabric.

Oh, fuck.

You slowly untie the robe and let the black fabric slip down your shoulders, a stark contrast to the pure white lingerie you hid away beneath. The lacy chemise hugs the cinch of your waist and flares out slightly at your hips, accentuating the curves of your body that make his mind race. It’s new. You went out and bought something brand new and sexy just for the moment he came home to you, and it does something to him he can’t quite describe. The fabric is so thin and delicate, and he can see everything; the obvious lack of underwear, the imprint of your nipples, every inch of the gorgeous woman he missed so much. Your warmth radiates into his palm as his hand follows the line of your waste and settles on your hip.

“Oh, look at you…” Javier’s voice is threaded with wonder and he can feel you shiver beneath his touch. He squeezes your hip, careful not to tear the fragile fabric. “My pretty little wife, all wrapped up like a present for me.”

There’s no mistaking the undercurrent of desire that rumbles low in his voice, beneath the praise and appreciation. You lean into his touch, your shoulders subtly pushed back to give him the perfect view of your breasts. Something hungry and aching cleaves through his chest at the glimmer in your eyes. He knows what you want, what you need. He can read your body like the well-worn edges of a beloved novel. Reading familiar lines time and time again, only to feel that same surge of emotion: the love, the awe, the comfort.

No matter how many times he gets to hold you like this, see you like this - Javier can never get enough.

There is a fragile balancing act that hovers in the air between you in moments like these. You gaze up at him with that demure heat burning in your eyes, a hint of a coy smile tugging at your lips. He stalks after you slowly as you lure him into the makeshift bed of pillows and blankets layered out in front of the fireplace. The flames send heat licking up the bare skin exposed by the slow work of his fingers unbuttoning his shirt. You reach for him, your gaze roving over his chest with an obvious hunger, an appreciation that still has his breath catching in his throat after all this time. Your fingertips brush his stomach as you slowly undo his belt and unbutton his jeans.

It isn’t until you teasingly rub his cock through his briefs that the fragile balancing act finally tips and shatters. Javier surges forward and captures your lips in a rough, desperate kiss, his hands fumbling to strip away the last of his clothes. He drags you down onto the floor, drinks in the surprised giggle his manhandling brings out of you. The amusement doesn’t last long. Not when his teeth drag along that sensitive spot on your neck and his fingers find their way between your thighs.

Javier’s presence is all-consuming, evokes a pure reverence that sucks the very air from your lungs. He brings out something base in you, something that runs on pure animal instinct and lust - and he isn’t any better off. There’s a wild light in his eyes as he drinks in the sight of you beneath him, all wrapped in lace and eager for his touch. He rucks the chemise up and out of his way, and his self-control nearly snaps over how wet you already are. He has barely laid a finger on you, yet you glisten in the low light of the fireplace. So eager. So ready.

The muscle in his jaw jumps with the clenching of his teeth. Nearly two weeks without the feeling of your wetness on his fingers and the heat of your pussy fluttering around his fingers - never again. He swears he’s addicted to your body. He practically went through withdrawals without having your slick cunt to bury his face in. His fingers curl up into that sweet spot harshly and you gasp his name, your thighs closing around his wrist.

“No, open up for me.” Javier rasps, his voice rough and demanding. He’s too impatient, too strong; his other hand wrenches your thighs back open before you can even obey him. He plants his hand firmly on your inner thigh to keep you nice and spread out for him. “That’s it, let me feel you, honey. I missed this perfect fuckin’ cunt.”

The pad of his thumb rubs a light, teasing circle against your clit, and the harsh contrast from the rough thrust of his fingers makes you tremble. You whimper his name but Javier can’t draw his gaze away from your body, from the sight of his fingers sinking inside of you or the shift of your breasts with every harsh breath. He can’t stop himself from leaning over and kissing your sternum before trailing his lips over to tease your nipple through the thin fabric. His tongue is hot against your sensitive skin. Your spine curves, arching to chase his touch, and your fingers grasp the soft hair at the back of his head.

Curses and begs fall from your lips in a broken mess of sentences, each plea bleeding into the next as you beg him to just take you already. Those cries pry at his willpower, at the rationality that still holds his actions captive. The rampant desire that sings in his veins doesn’t distract him from his tenacity as a thorough lover. He wants you nice and ready for him, all warmed up and soaked from his talented fingers.

He shakes his head hesitantly. “I should… I should get you ready, sweetheart. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You huff a frustrated sound. Before he can tease you for being so desperate, your hand blindly feels around the mess of bedding until you produce a familiar clear bottle - the lube he usually keeps stashed inside his bedside table. He shakes his head with a disbelieving grin as he snags the bottle from your hand. Of course, you would be so prepared. He wasn’t the only one going crazy without his other half. You have been wanting after him just as much as he has - if not more.

Javier doesn’t bother wasting any more time. The shock of cold lube is quickly erased by the heated glide of his cock along your pussy and you moan his name. The sound sets his jaw on edge, sends sparks of possessive desire arcing up his spine. Those pretty brown eyes meet yours as his cock nudges your entrance and he can see his own desperation mirrored in your face. It’s all the fuel he needs to finally sink into your cunt in one fluid thrust.

He can make time for teasing later - once the basic need to take and fuck and claim has retracted its claws from his skin.

The harsh bite of your nails into his skin makes him hiss and thrust into you sharply, a pleasurable punishment that you take beautifully. Your thighs just tighten around his hips and rock into his thrusts, and Javier is reminded for the millionth time just how much he loves you. He doesn’t let up. Every thrust jolts through your entire body. The only thing that keeps you from sliding up in the blankets is the bruising grip of his hands on your hips. An even, steady rhythm that leaves your mind hazy and drunk on him. Javier watches, attention rapt as your lashes flutter and your hands twist the blankets in a vain attempt to steady yourself. You should know by now that he won’t give you the opportunity to gather yourself. No, he wants to see you in a fucked out daze. He watches the flash of surprise across your face at the grind of his cock against your g-spot. Even as you whimper and writhe and tighten around him, he can’t take his eyes off of you.

He just can’t get enough. He needs more.

His thumb finds your clit with practiced ease and you tighten around him so fiercely that he damn near spills inside of you right then and there. It’s been too long. His stamina is all shot to hell. Every quiver of your cunt, every tremble of your thighs, every wrecked sound you give him - he’s consumed by you. Left feral in the heaven of your body.

“Just like that… fuck, you feel so good…” The honeyed praise sweeps through him, has him slipping onto his forearm just to feel you closer. His forearms bear his weight as his face buries in the crook of your neck. The change in position is slight, but it sends your back arching up into him nonetheless. It’s all too much, too good - the kind of sex where you just can’t get close enough, can’t feel enough of your lover’s skin against your own. Rushed and messy and so full of love that it almost hurts. You hold him close as he fucks you senseless, one hand buried in his hair and the other anchored at the back of his neck. “Oh my god.”

Pride burns hot in his chest. He knows that sound, that tone. All high and whiny and begging so pretty. You’re close - he can feel it in the short, rapid pulses around his cock, the sweet beckon of your body asking so sweetly for just a little more to push you over that edge. You deserve it - his beautiful little housewife, keeping the fires burning at home, being his safe haven in this crazy, fucked up world. You have him wrapped around your finger and there isn’t a single place in the world he would rather be.

Every stroke of his thumb against your clit sends shockwaves through you, forces those rough, high-pitched sounds from your throat, and Javier loves it. He leans back just enough to get his eyes on you, his nose brushing yours as those bright eyes consume you. This is his favorite way to see you - expression twisted with pleasure, skin slick with sweat, unencumbered by self-consciousness. Just you and him and the filthy, slick sound of sex in the air.

“You’re close, aren’t you sweetheart?” Javier murmurs when he feels your fingers tighten in his hair, sees that familiar flash in your dazed eyes. His teeth nip your jaw teasingly - he just can’t help himself, even when you make a disgruntled little sound in response. He just rubs your clit faster and you melt for him all over again, your cunt tightening so harshly that he hisses your name out through grit teeth. “That’s it, that’s my girl. Fuckin’ come for me, come all over my cock.”

You do. You break for him with a strangled sound and Javier doesn’t stop. He couldn’t even if he wanted, even if you begged. He watches, awed at the sight of those tears finally spilling from your pretty eyes as you writhe and shudder beneath him. Your soft sounds of pleasure soothe those maddening instincts, the ones that first reared the moment he became your husband. It vibrates low through every atom of his being, rumbling in his chest in a pleased hum. He draws out your pleasure just to hear more of those lovely little sounds, all high and delicate. You blink up at him through dazed eyes and you smile, adoring and purely intoxicated.

Javier kisses you softly, drinks in the happy hum from your lips. A sweet lull in the neediness, a moment to take you in like this. Warm and happy and fucked out in his arms. Your lips are soft against the stubble on his cheek, a stark contrast to the teasing nip of your teeth against his jaw. Javier looks down at you, an eyebrow raised as he takes in the glint of mischief in your eyes. Neither of you needs to say it. He knows exactly what you want by the look on your face and the light smack you give his thigh.

And he’s more than happy to give it to you.

His spine straightens as he yanks you down by your thighs. Javier pins you with his hands on your hips and fucks you deeper, his cock hitting so deep that your lungs damn near collapse. Your eyes roll and that dark, possessive fire sparks in his chest. There’s nothing he loves more than taking you apart with soft, tender touches - but this… this is a close second. Holding you down, keeping you in place so you have no choice but to let him take, take, take.

“Fuck.” You whine, clawing at the blankets as the stimulation wrenches through you, overwhelms each of your senses until you’re left trembling. Every plunge sends you reeling, but you can’t help yourself - your hips lift to take him deeper, your knees dig into his ribs, your nails bite into the back of his neck. You take him beautifully - like you were made for him. Made to be his wife, to be fucked on the living room floor next to a blazing fireplace. Made to be his.

All his, forever.

A rough sound grits out through his clenched teeth as he comes deep, his moan breaking with the last of his last sharp thrusts. Your cunt pulses around him rhythmically, only serving to draw out his pleasure until he’s trembling above you. Javier lets you coax him to melt into you, his hips still fitted seamlessly with yours as he lets his full weight sink into you. Your arms wrap around his shoulders. You just hold him as his breathing slowly returns to normal, as his softening cock slowly slips out of you. It’s calm. Peaceful.

He has no idea how long has passed when he finally heaves himself off of you. It doesn’t take you long to tuck yourself into his side. Your body molds to fit his; your thigh hitched over his, your cheek resting on his shoulder, arm slung over his chest. Javier curls his arm around your side and traces the intricate patterns in the lace over your ribs, even as you squirm away from the ticklish touch.

“Javi, stop…” You whine, propping your chin up on his chest to give him those puppy dog eyes.

“No,” He sighs nonchalantly. It isn’t easy to resist that cute pout of yours. “Can’t keep my hands off you, baby. Missed you too much.”

That melts your resolve. Your gaze softens so much that he damn near chokes. He isn’t a bashful man by any means but the way you look at him as if he hung the moon and stars in your sky… he can’t help the pink tinge that blooms across his cheeks. You’ve softened him over the years. Kneaded at him until he became tender and pliant, and maybe a bit of a romantic. Javier brushes your hair out of your face and the back of his fingers caresses your cheek slowly.

“You hungry?” He murmurs. That urge to take care of you is never quite sated. Now that you’re well fucked, he plans on making sure you’re well-fed, too.

“Mm, I could eat.” You shrug.

“Stay here, I’ll bring you a plate.” Javier gives you a quick smack on your ass before dragging himself to his feet. He can feel your eyes on him as he stretches, all too aware of your appreciative gaze on his naked body. He calls out as he makes his way into the kitchen, “Then I’m having you for dessert.”

The sound of your laughter brings a smile to his face as he sets about making plates for the both of you. He couldn’t imagine a better life, something he would want more than this. Good food, a beautiful home, and most importantly - his amazing wife.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader smut #javier peña smut

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doomsdaybby · 2 months

Text

finally posting my contribution to @carolmunson’s cutest writing challenge!

please please please join in if you can!! there’s no pressure, and I had such a good time with this. it made me all giggly and soft, which is something I haven’t experienced to this level whilst writing for a little while 🫶🏻

the scene: a romantic night in at the trailer

props: a throw pillow, vanilla frosting, a small notebook

dialogue prompts can be found in the original guidelines post linked up top!

word count: 3.5k (huh?!!? this ended up a lot longer than I anticipated)

content/warnings: female physical descriptions and she/her pronouns used for reader character throughout, original series eddie (no au), friends to lovers, questioning relationship (unestablished, that weird in between), first date, fluff on fluff on fluff, a little angsty at the start but we lighten up, cringe-worthy flirting that makes my heart flutter, first kiss (🥹!!!!), slightly suggestive (no smut), swearing.

The cool evening breeze sweeps at the hem of your pinafore dress, a fitted denim ensemble that hugs the fat of your hips and thighs, sitting snugly at your waist, paired with a pretty floral long-sleeve.

The trailer park can be spooky at this time of night, especially with a little chill in the air - you have always gotten the creeps standing out here too long. You tuck the two VHS tapes you’d brought along under your arm, a six-pack of Miller Lite beers grasped faithfully in one hand, the other free fingers fidgeting with some loose cotton strands at the end of your sleeve.

Now that you were here for a date, you surely couldn’t just knock twice and waltz in like you own the place, like you usually do. Jesus, your collar is fucking tight. You fumble with your shirt, forefinger raking back and forth over the threads, the thin material somehow not granting you enough precious airflow.

You had never been so nervous around Eddie. Never had you really needed to think about your outfit or your hair or even your goddamn makeup.

But now. Now, it was different. After a slip of the tongue amidst a heated argument over something that you couldn’t even place clearly anymore. One that erupted because Eddie had failed another math test, or another subject similar along those lines. Not caring about his education enough to actually scrape his high school diploma from the bottom of the barrel, one that would soon be a vacant void if he didn’t pull his head out of his ass.

“Why do you even care?!” he had yelled at you, actually fucking yelled. Eddie hated the way you looked at him, eyes laced with disappointment and an anger you didn’t mean; the downturn of your brows and a deep crease at the very top of the bridge of your nose. A place that he had wanted to litter with gentle kisses more times than he could count.

It had shocked him too, the sudden raise of his voice, an air of malice coating the words. Though it wasn’t aimed at you, not really. Eddie just couldn’t bear the idea of you, somebody he cares so much about, being yet another person that viewed him as such a failure.

It had just tumbled out, an admittance of pathetic besotted pining that had built to mountainous heights over the years. A mentos in a cola bottle, the whistle of a kettle on the stove at boiling point, you just couldn’t help it.

“Because I like you!” you had called back twice as loud, though the ferocity was near triple of Eddie’s.

“Like, really fucking like you, Eds” you admitted quieter that time, only able to steal quick glances at his astounded expression - a jarred sort of picture painted on his face, chocolate eyes wide and jaw loose at the hinges.

“You… you do?”

So here you stood one week later, on a chilly mid-March Saturday night, on the front step of Eddie Munson’s trailer - a person who you held near and dear as a friend since middle school and, at arm's length, a kindling flame, always believing that your infatuation was completely one-sided.

Therefore once your romantic desires turned out to be reciprocated, your heart was in your throat and your head spun dizzy in a dream-like state.

Another flatten of the front of your dress, a press of your middle finger to the tacky gloss of your lips, and you were knocking on the front door. Folding your arms over yourself was a grand task to keep yourself busy for a moment - fingers strangled by the plastic casing surrounding the alcohol and tapes almost slipping from under their secure hiding spot.

You start to pick clumsily at the skin just above the nook of your elbow whilst you wait for said date to answer the door. Of course he didn’t keep you waiting long, though it was foreign for him to have to answer the door to you. Eddie appears in five seconds flat, hair perfectly mussed and the waft of his aftershave - the surprisingly good kind, pine and amber - erupts millions of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

You feel like a dumbass kid, one disgustingly love-struck and naive. A feeling you aren’t overly familiar with, not to this degree. Of course you had your school girl crushes, fawning over your too large poster of Rick Springfield you had pinned up on proud display at the back of your bedroom door.

But with Eddie? It was totally unmarked territory, when you step meekly into his living room, uncharacteristically bashful, it sets alight that same adrenaline rush as if you were diving headfirst into shark infested waters. This was real life, your real life. He wasn’t a chart-topping celebrity you had ripped pages out of magazines for, Eddie was someone you had known only on platonic terms for nearly ten years.

“You look nice. Like, uh, really nice” Eddie compliments as he shuts the door.

“Y’made an effort for little ol’ me?” his grin stretches wide, a real pretty wide, a sort of grin that has never-ending smile lines rippling across his pink cheeks. Eddie matches your bashfulness, a shared tensisity that envelopes the air between you like thick black smoke accompanying the climbing licks of a fire.

You snort, such flattering remarks like this from him in this context was weird, but it felt so fucking good.

“You clean up pretty well yourself” your smile matches his, and it was true. Eddie did make an effort when it mattered; decked out in neat black jeans that unusually had no holes in the knees, the same makeshift handcuff belt, a faded white Van Halen t-shirt, completed with a dark olive green flannel that was cuffed to the elbows as the cherry on top.

The man was looking delicious, the same ripened fruit that tempted Eve in the garden of Eden, but you try not to stare too hard.

“I brought a couple movies,” you say, setting the beers atop the kitchen counter. “We’ve got ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ or one that Harrington said was pretty good, ‘The Breakfast Club’”.

You hold them both up to Eddie, who is smirking, a boyish expression that makes your stomach do backflips.

“Those are two wildly different options,” he snickers for a moment, a small pause before continuing with a mischievous bite, “And Harrington, huh?”.

Your brow raises warily, sensing a playful game of verbal tennis stirring up between you, the atmosphere electric. “I mean yeah, he does work there, Eds”.

“Aaahhh,” Eddie strings with an epitome of understanding, one you’re not certain that you’re following. “Now I know why you were almost a half hour late. Y’been chatting it up with other guys.”

“Don’t be like that,” you scold him lightly, “That’s not even true! Plus, do you really think I'd be here on a date with you if I had the hots for pretty boy?”.

Eddie takes pride of place at the end of the couch closest to you, hair enveloping his face as he crosses the living room.

“Oh? So he's a pretty boy now too?”.

You’re propped up against the kitchen counter, hip to the wooden cabinet, elbow leaning on the counter top. “You are the easiest person to get a rise out of, you know,” there was that smile again, a fond roll of your eyes in hand with the blooming cherry red at the apples of your cheeks.

Plus you’re prettier anyways, by a long shot.

“Hm. Will need to have a talk with Stevie-boy about trying to steal my girl”. Eddie notices the beaming display of pearly whites that earns him, one as radiant and scorching as the July afternoon sun.

‘My girl’.

It lights you ablaze from the inside out, the pound of your heart a booming bass drum in your ears, one vicious and overwhelming, and you suddenly become aware of every single vein and delicate capillary rushing with red hot blood.

“So… movie?” you’re holding up the chunky VHS tapes in either hand, insinuating pointedly to the macabre horror you were both certainly more inclined to, a jiggle of the dull clunk of plastic on plastic.

“Your choice, babe.” Eddie stretches an arm across the back of the couch, one leg swung up onto the well-worn cushion folded into a triangular shape. The space he had left for you was near disastrously tempting, able to fit perfectly cozy beside him, head crooked into the juncture of his neck.

Babe wasn’t new, but tonight it strung velvety smooth across his vocal cords with a much rosier lilt. Of course Eddie notices the bite at the inside of your cheek, the tightening at the corner of your mouth whilst you turn away from him. God, you don’t think that you’ll ever get used to this sort of giddiness.

“You got popcorn?” a wiggle of your brows in his direction and he’s giggling, a noise you hadn’t quite heard, breezy and flippant, overly juvenile but it was endearing.

“Actually,” Eddie jumps up from his spot on the couch, the shabby fabric already indented with a shadowed figure, remaining perfectly vacant until the owner returned.

“I thought that we could make chocolate chip cookies. You like cookies, right?” He pulls the multitude of ingredients from the cupboards and fridge, a stockpile threatening to topple from his arms. You watch him fondly, head propped up on the heels of your palms.

“I wrote the recipe down in this notebook. Debbie a couple doors down wouldn’t let me borrow her cookbook, said I couldn’t be trusted. Not sure if they’ll turn out any good but, yeah,” Eddie peers at you doe-eyes as he scratches the back of his head, fluffy locks exaggerated. He had washed his hair, it was always a dramatic transformation when he did. You were special.

“You made all this effort for little ol’ me?” you perk up, eyes swimming crystalline, brimming with the kind of tenderness only you could omit. Eddie chuckles, flipping open the notebook to decipher his rushed scrawling decorating the lines in smudged black ink.

So you did bake cookies together, a welcome ease to the tautness that strung tight in the air. You could get used to this, pottering around the kitchen, knowing Eddie on this entirely new plane of existence. You bump hips and snicker like kindergarteners, swiping off stray puffs of flour that somehow managed to settle under his eyes, allowing your thumbs to linger there for some selfish moments too long.

“I ran out of like, the nice cups, is this okay?” Eddie hands you the now chiller beer on ice once your baked goods sat safe and sound on the oven rack, a rather ghastly looking E.T. printed onto the cool glass. The picture was chipped and scraped in parts, appearing crummy considering the movie was still fairly new, though you didn’t mind.

You survey the glass up at your nose, rotating your wrist clockwise and opposite, lips form a downturn when you realise that the poor friendly alien had been decapitated without the tender loving care it obviously needed.

“It’s perfect”, you exhale a brief laugh lightheartedly, patting the cushion beside you, and Eddie spared not a moment more before he dived onto the couch with a similarly shabby looking glass in hand, though this one was embellished with a flaking Lord of the Rings design.

Now you were lounging together, taking up that place beside Eddie you had peered at so ardently earlier in the night, his hair brushing your cheek and the trailer enveloped in a cushy blanket of navy, apart from the blaring flickering white of the television screen.

Your head rests against his collarbone, his own tilted downwards so that his jawline was cushioned by your crown. This kind of more intimate contact came with a natural ease that neither of you had expected. The longer the clock ticked by, spending time together like this went from the sensation of that first crisp splash into the deep end of the pool that froze you to the bone, slowly, to the comfortable warming lull of floating down the lazy river.

You could float down the lazy river hand in hand with Eddie for the rest of eternity.

You weren’t sure how long you both enjoyed each other's company, the closeness, the minor skin to skin contact - long enough to empty your first cups of beer. But the awful smell of something burning soon seeped in from the direction of your precious cookies in the oven.

Eddie’s head shoots up when yours does, two noses sniffing up at the air. Eddie darts for the kitchen, and low and behold, behind the dirtied glass of the door and swaddled in smoke, were some very cremated looking cookies.

“You didn’t set a timer?” you questioned him, following close to his heels as he allows the smoke to billow free. The kitchen area quickly enfolds with the smog, stinging your eyes and catching at the backs of your throats. It was only a matter of time before the noise of the movie was drowned out by the alarming smoke detector.

“You said you would!” Eddie asserts, dumping the blackened cookies into the trash bearing an extremely puppy-like look on his face as you’re fanning the detector with a dish towel.

He sets the now empty tray back on the counter, winces at the high pitched ringing whilst pressing his finger to close off one ear. With another few bats of the rag, the alarm finally shuts off, and Eddie stands hand on hip just staring at you.

You shrug your shoulders, a pitying purse of your lips when the boy's face falls, brows pinching ever so faintly. You could kiss away every sad face he ever pulled.

“You have any vanilla frosting?” you ask lightly, shuffling through the cabinets only to find a couple tins of canned soup and a box of half eaten cheeze-its. Eddie observes the ingredients you had packed neatly away next to the sink, unfortunately not enough remained to make another batch.

“I don’t know where you think you are but I can assure you that I don’t,” his voice is sterner than he intends, crossing his arms, pissed off at himself that he had messed up what he wanted to be a perfect first date.

“Sad,” you respond dryly through a suck of the teeth, tilting your head back and towards him, almost swinging from the handles of the cabinets. “I could eat that shit with a spoon”.

Eddie grimaces, “and you… like that?”.

You mirror his expression, glossy lips stretching into an open-mouthed half smirk, arms folded and shoulders slumped forwards, turning full bodied to step gradually into his personal space. You have to crane your neck up some to meet his eyes, ones as dark as a piping hot shot of espresso.

“Eddie, it’s okay,” you assure him when his spread fingers skate lightly along his clothed ribs, a self-soothing action you were well accustomed to, one that shatters your heart a little. “The grocery store might still be open, we can go get some ice cream”.

You run your own fingers along the tops of his arms, brushing beneath the cuff of his sleeves. Your touch was soft, delicate, fingertips glacial compared to the flush of his skin. Eddie Munson was on fire.

“Hey…” You press the palm of your hand to his cheek, stippled a carnation coloured pink due to the light buzz of alcohol, plus the fact that you were touching him so tenderly had his pulse point racing. It was an innate response, to reach up and press the plush of your lips to his cheek, barely an inch or two from the corner of his mouth.

“I’m having a really good time with you, okay?”.

“Okay…” Eddie murmurs back, a low melodious noise as one large fervent hand closes over the one you held to his face. You think that he is about to return the favour, maybe draw you into another one of many tight hugs you had shared before.

Except by the way Eddie tugs at your sleeve behind your elbow, his arms unraveling to welcome you chest to chest, you swallow over a dry throat in the moments it takes you to catch up.

Eddie’s lips are soft, you already suspected that by the pouts you were a victim to over the years, fleeting thoughts of what they would feel like pressed to yours.

His body invades yours, the kitchen surrounding you bleeding into a shadowy blur, bleeding hazes of the movie scenes bursting into crimson and neutral coloured supernovas. Your hands are buried in his shaggy brown locks before you could even register your movements, pinching at his roots at the nape of his neck.

It was desperate. It was downright addicting, the way he tasted. His lips tacky with your glassy strawberry flavoured gloss, smearing to the corners with every open mouthed part. It was a shot of heroine in your veins and the highest of highs Eddie could never dream of reaching, a hit like no other.

The ice wasn’t just broken, the entire frozen lake was smashed to smithereens beneath your feet. Though you cut it short before anything can get too hot and heavy despite the sting it spikes right at the center of your heart.

“For the record…” he interjects, a tiny whisp of a kiss pressed to the end of your nose, “I think you’re sweet enough. You don’t need any frosting” Eddie smirks when you part, tone less cloudy and more challenging, that lost puppy-dog expression replaced by a playful and troublemaking smugness.

Your lips seal together in a tight line, despite his atrocious attempt at some romantic banter, neither of you could keep it in for very long, and you both burst out in reams of laughter.

You push him away at the chest, though your hands certainly linger there, basking in the physical contact that you now craved more than ever. “Never say that to me again! Come on, loser. We have a movie to finish”.

Your attention no longer settles on the teens in peril before you, the guts and gore no longer piquing any iota of interest. Eddie’s hands were all over you, though not in a sinful sense. It was suggestive, sure.

The tap tap tap of his fingers at the inside of your thigh, an absentminded tick to distract Eddie’s racing mind. His nails skimming the tender ticklish flesh at the curve of your neck, catching the thrumming artery and the muted hitch of your breath, up behind the back of your ear and down to brush at your collarbone beneath your shirt.

You’re turned into him now, a casual position where you could both hide behind the throw pillow and giggle through a particular jumpscare.

“Stop making me nervous” you mutter, his grin lengthening twice as wide when he notices that you’re smiling too.

“I'm making you nervous?” he nuzzles his nose under your cheekbone, pressing further into you to trap you at the corner of the couch, one hand grasps at your shoulder whilst the other strokes small feathery circles just above your knee.

“Eddie!” you exclaim, sitting up and away a fraction from the warmth of his side, grabbing the throw pillow within your reach to swat at his chest.

“Baby”.

Your eyes light up, a startle shaking in your chest, releasing a whisper of a gasp you didn’t mean to. Eddie tilts his head to the side, closing the gap between you a little more, eyes heavy lidded and they twinkle with the reflection of the screen across the room.

His voice is low, muttering to you as if he’s sharing a secret. “I can call you that? baby?”.

“If- if you don’t stop that right now, Munson, we’re gonna have a problem”. Christ, he’s making you fucking tremble.

“Oof, and we’re back to last name basis,” Eddie feigns offense, palm to his sternum in a false wound of his ego. Though he’s impossibly close now, lips meer inches from meeting for a second time, and you can almost fucking taste him again.

“My girl seems to work pretty well on you,” his breath skims the bridge of your nose, cheap beer and spearmint.

“If you’re trying to make this go somewhere that you shouldn’t be…”

Eddie inhales a dramatic breath, clutching at his shirt. “How dare you suggest such a thing! I would never dream of taking advantage of such a sweet thing as yourself. I am a gentleman!” he proclaims, all gun but no smoking barrel.

“You’re talking out of your ass, Eds” you’re in stitches, a saccharine candy-coated chortle that knocks the wind from the space between your ribs, comedic horror plastered all over his face.

Then you’re pulling him in by the collar before he can utter another word.

now it’s time for me to read the whole freaking masterlist!!! 🫶🏻 let me know if you enjoyed!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #writing challenge #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic

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keijislove · 1 year

Text

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃: YES | NO

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮(𝒔): 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴...

(A/N): I AM ALIVE

I'm moving these from my other blog to this one so if you've read these before it isn't copied lmao!

🖤AIZAWA SHOTA🖤

It had been a long day at work with your hero agency being doused in mountains of paperwork, you pitying your employees and cursing the goddamn villains for wreaking havoc in the city to give you this pile of papers to read through and sign.

When you had finally finished up, it wasn’t too late and you figured you could visit your boyfriend at Heights Alliance for some time since you hadn’t seen him in a while.

When Aizawa’s doorbell had rung he’d irritatedly gotten up thinking it was one of his students coming to annoy him for some reason.

Upon opening it, however, his annoyance had immediately faded away at the sight of you as he sighed in relief.

“Hey,” you’d smiled softly and engulfed him in a hug as he’d tiredly chuckled into your hair.

“Busy day?” he murmured quietly.

“You have no idea,” you sighed, “I don’t have any energy left.”

“Well that’s too bad then,” his voice had taken a slightly darker, huskier tone. “I haven’t seen you all week – you might need some energy.”

“I always have enough left for you,” you playfully winked in his direction as he laughed slightly, the sound reverberating through his chest which you were cuddled into.

“Still a smartmouth as ever,” he mumbled before gently grabbing your chin with his slender fingers and connecting your lips as you sighed in tired relief at the contact.

Your fingers tangled into his messy, dark locks as he groaned against your lips when you tugged on them slightly.

“Waited for this all week,” he muttered before pushing you up against his wall and trailing a few kisses along your neck, ready to take you into his bedroom for a night to remember when –

“Oh – OH, HOLY –“

You both jumped apart in an instant, your cheeks flushing red as you caught sight of a wide-eyed Shinso standing in the doorway, a book in his hand and a look of disgust painted on his face.

“You didn’t close the door, did you,” you sighed.

“... no.” your boyfriend gritted his teeth hard, his eyes flashing , scarf handy to cover up his burning cheeks, “That still gives you no right to barge into my house, Shinso.”

“Oh, come on!” Shinso raised his hands defensively, “I needed to return the book you lent me and the door was open, so I didn’t think too much about it! I didn’t know I’d walk into you fucking –“

“Give me that,” Aizawa snapped, snatching the textbook irritably from the teen, “And get out of my sight unless you want detention.”

“Oh come on, Shota,” you murmured amusedly, “Don’t be so hard on the poor boy.”

“You better keep quiet about this,” Aizawa’s eyes flashed dangerously as he glared at his pupil.

“Don’t worry, sensei,” Shinso muttered, “I’m trying to forget it happened myself. Um – carry on,” he added as he closed the door awkwardly, walking out of the house.

You both waited with bated breath until the sounds of footsteps died away. You took one look at your boyfriend’s crimson face and burst into laughter as he groaned, throwing his head back.

“Don’t, please,” he grumbled as you poked his flaming cheek, “That kid literally just killed the mood.”

“Not quite,” you quipped and walked forward, catching him off guard as you pinned him against the wall as a role reversal.

“Let’s pick up where we left off, shall we?”

💙 SHIGARAKI TOMURA 💙

“Tomura,” you whined from the bed, your face propped up onto your upturned palms.

“Hm?” Shigaraki hummed in response from beside you.

“I need affection.”

“I’m literally cuddling you.”

“More affection.” You jutted your bottom lip out slightly as your boyfriend looked at you with a cocked eyebrow. You groaned slightly, knowing this dense fuck would never catch up to your hints, choosing instead to move over to him to straddle his waist slightly.

In all honesty, he knew exactly what you wanted but playing dumb and watching you take charge of the situation was far more entertaining.

Though he would never verbally admit it, Tomura found your more assertive side extremely hot and a major turn on as he watched you with a simple clueless expression as you slowly closed the distance between you two, pressing your lips to his in a needy kiss.

He was more than happy to reciprocate, instantly placing his hands on your thighs and slowly moving them up to your hips, squeezing slightly as a tiny noise erupted from your throat, making him smirk into the kiss.

“What is it you want?” he murmured quietly against your lips. You indignantly made a noise of aggression, making him chuckle.

“Words, love. Tell me what it is you want.”

“You,” you breathed heavily, “I want you, Tomura...”

You felt him smirk again, the little tease, as he huskily whispered into your ear, “Your wish is my command.”

Just as his hands, which had slipped under your shirt, were about to lift it off of your body, the door was thrown open, making you both jump.

“Shigaraki, do you – oh, damn.”

Your eyes, wide as saucers, moved from Shigaraki’s irritated face to the door where Dabi was standing with genuine surprise painted on his features.

“Whoa,” he let out a low whistle, “Where’ve you been hiding that side of ya all this time, Crusty?”

“Is it so life threateningly important that you felt the need to interrupt my quality time with my s/o?” Tomura asked, annoyed.

“Well I guess it could wait till you guys are done fucking,” Dabi smirked slightly, leaning against the door frame, “Pretend I’m not here, carry on.”

“Get out,” Shigaraki lowly growled, “Get out, you burnt nugget!”

He rose up from the bed and went to slam the door after Dabi who walked out laughing hysterically as you hid your red face in the blanket.

“Um...” you began awkwardly, “Do you want to... cuddle? We c –“

“Oh, no,” Tomura had turned around to face you with an expression you’d never seen on him before, his eyes heavily lidded with lust.

“You get back on that bed right this instant.”

🖤 DABI 🖤

“Someone’s feisty today,” Dabi commented jokingly as you grabbed his collar roughly, a maniacal glint in your eye.

“I’m seeing you for the first time in weeks because of that stupid mission of yours,” you said lowly, “I don’t care if we’re at a villain base, I’m having you all to myself at last.”

“I’m yours,” he drawled huskily as you furiously slammed your lips onto him, not planning on letting him go for quite some time now.

“Damn, what’s gotten into you today?” Dabi chuckled slightly as you took your jacket off, tugging at his shirt desperately as he swiftly moved it off of him in one quick motion before you latched yourself onto him once again.

“I’m,” you mumbled between kisses, “Showing – my – stupid boyfriend – just how much – I missed him.”

You were about to attach your lips to his neck when the door threw itself open and both of your heads turned to look.

Shigaraki was standing in the doorway, a blank look upon his face as he looked the both of you up and down in the rather compromising position, you straddling Dabi’s waist and his hands running up and down your sides.

“Did you need something?” you asked irritably.

“No,” Shigaraki responded simply yet coldly.

Dabi pulled back from you and tilted his head back, face forming slowly into a lazy smirk, “You’re more than welcome to join, Crusty.”

That had earned him getting the door slammed loudly as Shigaraki’s bored voice issued from outside, “Shut up, you horny little shits.”

“The nerve,” you furiously said as your boyfriend threw his head back, laughing, “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing, just the big fat blush on Crusty’s face he probably thought we couldn’t see,” Dabi smirked as an angry voice sounded from outside, “I WASN’T BLUSHING!”

“Perv, what are you till doing out there?” you yelled.

“If you want some free eighteen plus asmr, you can just come sit here and watch,” Dabi yelled coyly.

“SHUT UP YOU CHEAP PIECE OF BARBECUE, I’M LEAVING!”

🩸 TOGA HIMIKO 🩸

“Baby stop, that tickles,” Toga squealed as you nuzzled your face into her neck, making her giggle loudly as you slowly peppered her throat with kisses.

“I missed you,” you sighed slightly, moving up to reconnect your lips, cupping her cheeks slightly.

“I know baby, I missed you too but slow down,” Toga laughed against your lips.

“I’ve waited too long,” you mumbled and flipped her around, moving on top of her and pinning her to the bed as she smirked up at you.

“Is that so?” Her eyes sparkled and her stomach tingled with excitement as you pressed your bodies closer together, hungrily attacking her lips in a ravishing kiss before trailing your lips lightly along her jaw as adorable, tiny noises escaped her throat.

“Toga-chan, how do you say we – OH, WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!” both of you jumped apart to be faced with a frantic-looking Twice, who’s mask couldn’t even cover up the massive blush that was slowly spreading across his face.

“Did you not lock the door?” you groaned.

“... Oops?” Toga said, then sighed.

“You ruined the moment, Twice!” she whined at the masked man who began stuttering out apologies, slowly backing out of the room and thankfully closing the door behind him as he did so.

“Don’t these idiots know the term ‘privacy’,” Toga muttered and you smirked teasingly down at her.

“You were the one who left the door open, darling,” you teased, “Were you perhaps hoping someone would walk in?”

“What?” your girlfriend exclaimed, “I mean – whatever, but Twice? No thank you!”

“Regardless,” you reattached your lips to her jaw, “We have unfinished business to attend to.”

🦅 HAWKS 🦅

“Keigo,” you murmured, trailing your fingers along the collar of your boyfriend’s jacket, “Keigo!”

“Yes, love?” Keigo asked distractedly, not looking up from the report he was writing.

You sighed.

“All you’ve been doing lately is work,” you said sadly, “I mean, I know you’re busy with the internship and everything, but I need some alone time with you too! Time that doesn’t consist of you working and me watching.”

“I know, baby,” Keigo sighed, “But I really need to finish this report.”

You ‘tch’ed impatiently before moving off of the chair you were sitting on and plopping down onto your boyfriend’s lap, burying your face in his neck in a desperate search for warmth.

Keigo’s free hand moved to rub your back up and down comfortingly as you sighed in mild contentment.

Suddenly, feeling playful, an ‘interesting’ idea formed in your head as you smirked to yourself slightly, ‘innocently’ wrapping your arms around him, holding him tighter.

Slowly, your fingers inched closer and closer towards his vibrant wings, lightly touching a feather before twirling it discreetly between your fingers so as to not alert him.

You began stroking his wings as lightly as possible but immediately stopped when you felt a huff reverberate from his lips.

“You really think I can’t feel you doing that?”

“Well if my words aren’t enough to grab your attention what am I supposed to do?” you said furiously, “I thought I’d make you horny enough into showing me more affection than your work!”

“Damn, baby,” he smirked slightly, “You could’ve just said you were that desperate.”

“I am, okay?” you said, “I’m that desperate.”

“I noticed.” He moved his chair backward and away from the files he was working on, resting his hands on your lips before placing sloppy kisses on your neck, smirking slightly as you gasped when he ran his tongue over a particularly sensitive spot in your skin.

His hands escaped sneakily up your shirt, raising it slightly so he could freely run his hands over your gorgeous body that he’d been craving for so long now.

He was just about to move his hands to your squirming thighs when the door to his office opened.

“Hawks, sir, we have a new repo – oh. OH – OH, I’M SORRY –“ one of his interns had walked into the scene, turning red and instantly whipping around and practically sprinting out the room, slamming the door.

“No problem!” Keigo yelled after the poor guy as you looked incredulously at him.

“How are you so casual about this?” you hit his chest slightly, “You’re shameless!”

“It only proves I have an ethereal s/o,” he shrugged, “How is that something to be ashamed off?”

Your blush only darkened at his words as he chuckled slightly, placing his hands back onto your hips as he reattached his lips to your neck, making you forget all about the interruption.

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lovelyhan · 11 months

Note

For svt hard thoughts what about perv!seokmin panty sniffer 🫣 like I imagine him just stuffing his face under your skirt, nose pressed against your panties, just jerking off to your scent alone… imagine him just being SO desperate but you have work to do, at your laptop at home so he’s just under your desk…pressed against the sink while you do the dishes…until you give in and just let him devour your pussy bc he’s being so distracting….ok bye hope that’s ok 😅

20:32 — SEOKMIN

Anonymous said: Hi, maybe dokyeom and tongue fucking for the hard thoughts?

oh my god you're both diabolical.... the image these asks painted in my head 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 seokmin is def the type to be so pussy drunk he'd live between your thighs forever if he could. anyway, this ended up becoming a little Long bc.......i ended up needing perv dk more than i should 🫠

cw: pussy fixation 🥴

you love your boyfriend. he's the kind of guy your mother would be delighted to know her daughter is dating. someone who promises your father that he'd have you home by nine.

seokmin is the epitome of every green flag in a relationship and you'll never really get over how lucky you are to have someone like him in your life.

but there's a little something about your oh-so perfect boyfriend that both of your parents are better off not knowing about.

"seokmin."

you attempt to suppress a groan when you feel the gangly man nudging your legs apart beneath your desk—chuckling to himself as he hikes your skirt up your thighs.

"baby, if you really didn't want me snooping around like this, then you would've worn your lounge pants instead," he chuckles and while you considered giving him a lecture about how clothes are not an invitation to get felt up by your boyfriend, you can't make a convincing argument when that's exactly what you were hoping for.

there might've been an ulterior motive for your choice to forego lounge pants like seokmin said. you might've been pent up all fucking day, wanting nothing more than to have his mouth on you.

but thank god seokmin is a big enough pervert that you don't even have to feel embarrassed for being as needy as you are.

however, as much as you want him to just push your panties to the side and make you come on his tongue, you actually have work to do. you make that very clear to your perverted boyfriend as he presses his nose into the gusset of your underwear—breathing in the scent of budding arousal as he mutters something along the lines of, "fine, but i'm staying right here."

you should've told him to just wait for you in your bedroom while you get this report done. because right now, you're much too distracted by the way his face never strays too far from your clothed pussy.

one of his hands paw at your inner thighs as he greedily sucks in your scent through his nose. judging from the slick sound of something wet and sloppy coming beneath the desk, you're pretty damn sure that seokmin is jerking his leaking cock in his fist—pretending the tight grip of his fingers is your sweet cunt instead.

long story short, you got zero work done that evening—too fascinated with the sight of your needy boyfriend coming into his fist as he sniffed you through your goddamn panties.

it happens again when the weekend rolls around. you and seokmin just got home from a quick stroll at the market when you decided to wash the vegetables you purchased so you could prep them for lunch in half an hour.

you weren't even halfway in washing the carrots when you feel your boyfriend drift behind you—lithe fingers trailing up the hem of your short sundress as he gropes your ass a little too lovingly to be considered dirty.

"i couldn't stop staring at your legs the whole time we were out," seokmin whines into your ear, pressing fleeting kisses along your neck as his hands trail further into your center. "want you to smother my face with pussy so bad, baby. you didn't let me last time."

"that's because you worked me up too much," you complain but make no moves to reprimand him when he sinks to his knees—flipping the hem of your dress up as he nuzzles the cushion of your panty-clad ass. "you think i had the patience for you to go down on me when i could have you rail me with your cock instead?"

seokmin chuckles breathlessly, taking the waistband of your underwear between his teeth before dragging the fabric down your hips with the help of his hands. you waste no time stepping out of the offensive garment—arching your back so you could present your glistening slit to your perv of a boyfriend.

"as much as i love feeling you come around my cock, nothing compares to getting a taste of this sweet pussy," he sighs before smoothing his hands across your thighs to part your folds—making you shiver at the sensation of the cool kitchen air against your cunt. "you always taste so good for me, baby. if it was up to me, i'd eat this pretty cunt everyday."

"liar," you huff. "just last night you said you'd do anything to have your dick inside me for the rest of your life."

"well, i'd also do anything to have your pretty pussy on my mouth for the rest of my life," seokmin argues but before you can rebut, he licks a long stripe from your clit all the way to your leaking entrance—making any sort of argument turn to dust in your mouth as your hands grip the sink tightly.

"good?" your boyfriend asks, and you don't have to face him to know that he has a shit-eating grin on his face.

feeling the last dregs of your self-control finally slip away, you move to press your arms against the edge of the sink for more stability—pressing your head against your wrists as you feel your cunt pulsing with need.

"just get on with it."

"what was that?"

throwing him a dirty look over your shoulder, you say, "lee seokmin, if you don't make me come on your mouth in the next five minutes, i'm banning sex for a month."

now that catches his attention–making seokmin peek from under the skirt of your dress with a scowl. "not even oral?"

"yes. now get on with it 'cause the clock is—oh!"

of course your boyfriend's sex-crazed brain is quick to act at the threat of having his pussy eating privileges revoked. seokmin flattens his tongue against your cunt, making come hither motions with his fucking tongue in a way that drags against both your clit and puffy hole.

your legs tremble with each pass across your folds but seokmin doesn't have any plans on letting you take it easy. he pins your hips against the edge of the sink to keep you from squirming, sucking and slurping your juices before easing two fingers easily into your slick entrance. the intrusion makes you gasp, bucking your hips against his hand as he continues the merciless assault of his tongue.

"f-fuck," you whimper, walls squeezing around his digits as you focus on the feeling of his sinful tongue against you. "baby, feels so good, shit."

"yeah? turn around for me, sweet thing," he murmurs into your pussy and you bemoan the loss of his fingers when he slips them out of you. "hop on the counter and spread these pretty legs for me."

the vegetables are long forgotten as you do as you're told—half-lidded gaze trained on your boyfriend as he stares at your spit-slicked cunt like it's a national treasure.

"fuuuuuck," he sighs, pressing breathy kisses along your inner thighs as he adjusts his position on the floor. it must be uncomfortable as hell, squatting just to get his face leveled with your pussy, but seokmin is anything but a quitter. "can't believe this sweet cunt is all mine."

the next thing you know, he's diving back into you—the sharp curve of his nose pressed against your clit as he crams his tongue into your entrance. the added stimulus makes you moan in delight, finally realizing why seokmin wanted to eat you out like this instead as your fingers find their way into his hair.

"baby, your tongue's so fucking good to me," you mewl. "'m so close, kyeomie. need to come on your mouth..."

seokmin inhales sharply through his teeth—those usually sweet eyes of his clouded with lust when his gaze momentarily flickers up to you.

he's relentless with his ministrations—licking up each surge of arousal that leaks out of your hole before slurping it all with his tongue. seokmin eats pussy like it's a fucking art form and before you know it, you're creaming against his face, rolling your hips against his nose and lips as you ride out your high.

your boyfriend's mouth doesn't stray too far even as you lose yourself to the tides of release. he continues laving at your cunt as if it's the last day he'll ever get a taste and if the iron-tight grip he has on your hips doesn't leave bruises, you'll be really disappointed.

by the time your orgasm subsides, you're a boneless, twitching mess on top of the sink and seokmin fills your ears with an endless string of praises as he helps prop you up.

"my beautiful baby's always so good to me," he murmurs, kissing you softly and you try not to get turned on when you taste yourself on his lips. "you don't care how much of a perv i am, don't you? 'cause you're just as perverted yourself. letting me have this sweet pussy anytime i want. you're an angel, baby. the sweetest angel out there."

your breath comes in broken pants as you make starry eyes at the sweet, loving smile that seokmin cracks your way. how does someone who looks like this have the filthiest come out of his mouth?

then again, that's just one of the many things you love about lee seokmin.

#svthub #seventeen smut #dk smut #seokmin smut #seventeen fanfic #lovelyhan #📝 drabble #🍵 tea time #💌 anon

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jessmaybank · 1 year

Text

My best friends brother series; Part 1 - Bubbles & Trouble

Series masterlist

Outer banks masterlist

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x fem! Kook reader.

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: After you had been left heartbroken by a fellow kook, you decide to let loose at the Cameron house per Sarahs request. Little did you know, your best friends brother may be the only one there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, mentions of sex (smut in the next parts)

AN: In the words of Victoria Justice, my best friends brother is the one for me…

“Y/N please don’t cry! We both know he didn’t deserve you” Sarah protests through the phone, eager to help her best friend.

“I know, I know. But with her? Seriously? You have to be kidding” you cry, tears streaming down your rosy cheeks, painting your skin with your mascara.

After a year together, your now ex boyfriend Jake decided to cheat on you. Ironically, it was with the girl he always told you not to worry about. Turns out, when a man says “don’t be stupid, she means nothing to me. I love you Y/N” what they actually mean is “I’m ganna fuck this girl upstairs at a party whilst you and your friends are all downstairs looking for you”

Dick.

“Why don’t you come round tonight. My Brother is having some friends round for drinks in the hot tub and he said I can join, I’m sure he won’t mind if you come with” Sarah says.

You weigh out the pros and cons in your head, and decide that alcohol, your best friend and her brothers cute friends beats rotting away in your depression pit of a bedroom any day.

“Well, I do need a drink. I’ll be round later, love you Sarah” you say, a small smile creeping up on your face for what felt like the first time in days.

After a rocky patch In their relationship, Rafe and Sarah have actually been getting on relatively well recently. Although you don’t know much about Rafe considering you have been best friends with his sister since you were little, you did know he could be difficult at times. You always made conversation with him at his house or at parties to be polite, but nothing substantial ever came of it. His looks made up for his dry conversation, but you knew Sarah would kill you if you ever went near him.

A few hours passed and you pulled up to Tanny Hill in a blue bikini accompanied by some denim shorts. When you lazily knocked on the door, you were greeted with a topless Rafe. His defined muscles along with his tanned skin definitely made him a sight for sore eyes.

“Y/N hi, Sarah told me you were coming” he says, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker up and down your dainty figure somewhat subtly.

What takes prominence over that however, is the smile on his face which is half genuine and half full of pity. Great, Sarah has told him.

“Hey, yeah I hope that’s okay” you say.

He mutters a quick of course and ushers you into the kitchen. You agree almost immediately when he offers you a drink, which he takes notice of.

“She’s just getting changed upstairs. She’ll be down in a sec” Rafe says, when he observes you scanning the room for Sarah.

You smile and mutter a thank you as he puts a drink on the counter in front of you. As he’s about to leave to join his friends in the garden, you grab his arm.

He turns around with a confused but sincere look on his face, his blue orbs dazzling with intrigue.

“Uh look, I’m assuming Sarah told you about my breakup. I don’t want any pity okay, I just wanna get drunk and forget about it. So please, no more sympathy looks. I would actually prefer it if you were your moody self” you say.

Rafe chuckles, and you mirror his actions. His blue eyes burn into your own as he studies you. He’s always thought you were adorable as you always acted shy and innocent around him. Until now, however, he’s never realised how goddamn beautiful you were.

“Sure, I get it” he replies. Without thinking, Rafe brings his muscular arm up to your face, dragging your stray strands of hair from the front of your face behind your ear. The gesture was an attempt to comfort you without using words. Rafe was never very good at using his words, and he would much rather show someone how he felt than tell them.

Your body felt like it was set on fire as he touched you, the small action turning your brain into mush.

The two of you snapped back to reality as the sound of footsteps became louder and louder. Rafe cleared his throat as he pulled away from you, and you instantly grabbed your drink, the desire for alcohol increasing by the second as you looked everywhere but at him.

“Y/N!” Sarah shouts, pulling you in for a hug as she reaches you.

You return a hello as you embrace her petite frame. Your eyes accidentally catch Rafe’s as you hug Sarah. The smugness radiates off him as he sends you a wink, a smirk crawling on his tanned face before he walks out into the garden.

You realise his sympathy towards you was indeed short-lived as he’s back to his normal self. You mentally curse. Maybe pitiful looks we’re the better option after all.

The next hour or two consisted of you, Sarah, Topper, Kelce and Rafe crammed into their luxury hot tub. Everyone was pretty drunk by this point, which you blamed on Kelce for making everyone play drinking games. You even had to kiss Topper during a game of truth or dare which was extremely awkward for everyone involved.

Rafe had been sending you flirtatious looks all night, most of which you have returned with a glare. It’s like he’s trying to get you into trouble. The worst part about it though, was that it took a lot of self restraint not to play along and indulge in his suggestive actions.

“Okay, okay, last one I promise. Rafe truth or dare” Kelce says, before finishing the rest of his drink. You’ve lost count of how much you have drank tonight. It turns out drowning your sorrows is a pretty effective method for solving your problems.

“Dare” he says without hesitation, and you admire his braveness.

“I dare you… to kiss Y/N” he says with a smirk. Oh no.

“Gross!” Sarah yells, her body swaying to the music in the background. It was clear she was the drunkest out of all of us.

Your eyes widen as you realised what Kelce has just said, eyes practically popping out of your skull. Rafe swaps places with Topper to sit next to you, and as you turn you head to face him you notice his eyes turn dark with lust.

Before Rafe could make a move though, Sarah leans over the hot tub to throw up. You’ve never been happier to see someone throw up, and you mentally thank Sarah for never being able to handle her drink.

“I think that’s enough for you tonight” Topper laughs at the blonde chucking her guts up before him.

Sarah’s words are slurred as she tries to reply, and Kelce and topper carry her out of the tub and into the house, putting her into bed.

As the three leave, you can practically feel the tension rising between you and Rafe. You know you should just get out and call for a ride home, but part of you is burning to know what his full red lips would feel like against yours, or how good it would feel to have him inside of you.

You subside your dirty thoughts as you start to get out of the hot tub, but Rafe stops you by pulling you down onto his lap so your back is against his chest.

You don’t know wether to freeze up, or relax under his touch, a flutter of adrenaline pulsing through your veins as you sit on the lap of your best friends older brother.

“What are you doing” you breathe, the rise and fall of your chest an indication of your fast beating heart.

“I think you know what I’m doing” he whispers in a low and raspy tone in your ear. His hand runs up and down your thigh, and you can feel your arousal spilling out of you at his seductive words.

Rafe grabs your jaw and turns your face towards him. Once again his eyes are filled with lust and if you weren’t already sitting down, your knees probably would have buckled.

You don’t know weather it was the alcohol or weather you just wanted to do it, but you welcomed his kiss. The kiss was slow and his lips were soft, which was unexpected, but you loved it. His tongue teased your own as his hand ran down your neck and then into your hair. This kiss held more passion than anything you had experienced with your ex the whole year you were together.

When you felt Rafes fingers run over the place you wanted him the most, you snapped back into reality. He’s your best friends brother, what the hell are you doing.

“Fuck, we can’t do this” you say, pulling away from him.

Needing to get out of this situation, you spring up out of the hot tub, grab your towel and your belongings and rush inside, ignoring Rafes protests for you to stay. You texted Sarah that your leaving, saying that you’ll call her tomorrow and that you hope she’s alright.

Rafe sat there for a while, waiting for his erection to go away before he could find his friends. For some reason, although the had just been rejected, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning with you and him.

In honour of buzzcut Rafe being all over my tik tok feed today, it’s only right I came back with another fic! Im hoping this series has about 5 parts. Enjoy bitches!

#outer banks #obx #drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe outer banks #rafe x female!mc #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n

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ghost-proofbaby · 10 months

Note

SPARKS FLY💜✨ - STEVE HARRINGTON PLEASE

sparks fly (steve's version)

warnings: mentions of issues at home for steve, talk of fear in the future

wc: 2k+

a/n: i need steve harrington to just show up to my house and kiss me please please please

Steve Harrington was tired of pretending.

He was tired of pretending his parents weren’t goddamn strangers on their worst days and roommates on their best ones, he was tired of pretending that it didn’t affect him that everyone seemed to believe he had peaked in high school of all times, he was tired of pretending like he wanted the picket fence life set out for him by the adults that had groomed him into their own vision since his youth. But most of all, he was tired of pretending he wasn’t head over heels in love with you.

It was a fight with his parents that triggered it. Another rejection letter had come through from another college, and his dad had resorted to only kicking him while he was down. The one time he had the misfortune of both parents being home, and it was only being used for them to express all their disappointment in him. His father’s tasteless yelling, his mother’s crocodile tears, everything he tried to say back being ignored – he couldn’t fucking take it. He’d left the house with no destination in mind, just jumping into his driver’s seat and knowing he needed to get as far from that godforsaken house as he could.

Distance. He needed distance. And apparently, in his mind, the one place that could take him farther from a house that would never be a home was you.

His tires had squealed during several of the turns taken until he was flying down your street. It’s storming, a nasty and unforgiving rain coming down in sheets. He should really be driving more carefully, but he can’t. His head and heart alike are racing, and every single nerve ending is just screaming for you.

You, with kind and nonjudgmental eyes, who had always supported him. You, who had never paid much mind to all that he once was when he bore the title of King Steve. You, who had somehow captivated him and had been filling this hole within his chest, one shovel-full at a time. With your laughter, with soft bumps of your shoulder when his mind took him too far from you, with patient ears during every single one of his raging rants about his parents.

He wasn’t parking in your driveway this late at night to trouble you with another rant.

His knuckles turn ghostly white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. This is a bad idea. A terrible one, his worst one to date, but he can’t. He doesn’t have any choice in all the other pretending; he could never get through to his parents, to anyone who had these preconceived notions and expectations of him. Tonight had proven that much. But with you…. With you, a change was possible. He didn’t have to keep biting his tongue when it came to you. Every time he’d look at you when you two hung out during dusk and the golden hour painted your every feature the prettiest shades he’d ever been witness to, he didn’t have to choke back down that pathetic confession of adoration. Every time your hand brushed his while walking to the local diner, he didn’t have to pull it away rather than weave your fingers together. He didn’t have to keep denying himself all these simple pleasures – interrupting kisses he’d fantasized about and holding each other on stormy nights just like this one that he had only dreamt of.

But if he tells you, if he fucks it all up, he loses you. And Steve Harrington doesn’t know if he could handle that.

“Just do it,” he mumbles, trying to privately hype himself up, “Just get out of the car, just go knock on the front door, just-”

He’s nearly hyperventilating. There’s only two endings to his night. He either returns back to his house, crawls into bed and licks at the wounds left by your rejection, or he doesn’t. Either he kisses you, and you pull him in from the storm raging on or you don’t.

Two options. It’s only two options, two possible paths. The world doesn’t end, regardless of which one he’s forced to take tonight.

Were all of his longing glances not returned? Had he not caught you staring in his direction more times than he could count on one hand?

His fists drop from the wheel, landing on the door handle and throwing it open before he could freeze up again.

Had you not whispered to him how he was your best friend, your favorite person, even more times than he had caught you staring? Over phone lines, in private corners of busy parties, sitting on his bed and doing nothing more than enjoying each other’s presence while his parents were out of town.

The rain soaks him immediately. Down to the bone, he’s drenched, the unforgiving winds whipping around him only making him shiver. He can’t even feel the discomfort of his jeans turning to plaster as he takes the long strides up to your front door.

Had he imagined that time you’d kissed his cheek at the county fair? When he’d won you that obnoxiously large teddy bear, almost too big for you to carry and adorning the most ridiculous sailor’s outfit either of you had ever seen, and you’d so affectionately nicknamed it after Steve’s place of employment – Scoops the Bear, Captain of Flavor. And had you not called the sailor’s outfit cute the moment Steve made the comparison to his own uniform?

He knocks hard enough that his knuckles sting, and he doesn’t care. The sting doesn’t reach him, his mind only flashing over a reel of memories with you. All he can feel is that ghost of an ache that always haunts his cheeks when he’s around you, the way his chest feels just a little bit lighter and he feels a little more himself when in your presence. You bring out the best in him – you make him want to be a better man, all while never making him feel as if he isn’t good enough. All he ever feels around you is wanted.

Had your eyes not shined as you looked up at him, all the colorful carnival lights and stars reflected in them as Steve tried to (and failed) to hide his vibrant blush? Had you not smiled soft enough to send sparks flying through his chest, threatening to catch fire at any given moment?

He hadn’t imagined it all – he couldn’t have imagined it all. You’d looked at him like he was the only boy in the world. You’d looked at him as if you could have spent the rest of your night there, feet planted in the grass and a bear nicknamed after him being crushed in your arms. It had been as if you could have stood by his side for the rest of your days, the rest of the world continuing to move on and the two of you left there to decay hand in hand, and it would have been a life well wasted. For both of you.

“Steve?”

Your front door swings open, and there you are. Still looking adorable while dressed in your most comfortable pajamas for the night. Even beneath the confused and worried first glance, that look from the fair is still there. Your eyes still shine without the lights.

“What’s wron-”

You can’t finish your question – before either of you can process what’s happening, Steve’s lips are on yours. He’s overeager and nowhere near graceful with it, his nose nearly taking out your eye as he throws himself against you at full force. Everything from the night, the last few months, poured into that kiss. You nearly fall backwards from the force, and his hands are quick to catch onto your hips and tug you back into his orbit. But it only changes the trajectory of your stumble; both of you are suddenly outside your door, the rain now soaking you as well as Steve.

When he pulls back from the kiss, he can’t breathe. He did it. The taste of your lips are still burning his, and he can’t open his eyes to wager your reaction. He doesn’t think you kissed back, it wasn’t much of a kiss beyond him just needing his lips on yours right that second, but he’s not sure. He isn’t fucking sure. He can’t open his eyes – he can’t risk watching himself lose you in real time.

“Steve,” your palm is warm on his frigid cheek. He jumps at the sudden contact, eyes pinching shut harsher, “Please look at me.”

When you ask him in that soft voice, please with that gentle tone that wraps him up in such comfort, he can’t deny you.

He opens his eyes. He can’t read your face.

It’s surprised, surely. Mouth still slightly parted and drops of water running down your cheeks. Your lashes flutter as your eyes dart down to his lips, and he swears to every God that has ever existed that you are the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Something so precious, so warm, so home.

“What-” you start, but Steve is on a roll of interrupting you tonight.

This time, it’s his voice and not his lips as he sputters out, “Everything’s wrong. Every fucking thing is just wrong – my parents, my life, my decisions. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing with myself. I’m lost, I-I’m so goddamn lost. Because everything is… wrong and bad and… and just… it’s wrong. Except you,” he takes his first big breath since the ramble began, eyes stinging and he tells himself it’s just from the rain leaking into them, “You are the only right thing in my life right now. You’re… Fuck. I’m in love with you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, because I know I’m fucking it all up right now. I’m finally letting the one right thing in my life go wrong, because I just can’t do it anymore. I am so fucking in love with you, and I’m tired of pretending I’m no-”

Your turn to interrupt. You surge forward, wrap your hands around the back of his neck and kiss him even more forcefully than he had you. The taste of the rain and your toothpaste mingle as your body collides with him. He almost forgets to react, so caught up in the fire finally erupting so freely in his chest.

And then you bite at his bottom lip, and he feels that beautiful smile, and he finally remembers to do something. His hands find purchase on your lower back and he tries not to laugh in glee as he hungrily kisses you back, lips moving in tangent and perfect synchronicity.

“We’re gonna drown out here,” you laugh against his lips, finally breaking off and resting your forehead against his.

“No, we’re not,” he insists with a cheesy grin, “I used to be a swimmer, remember?”

Another kiss and more laughter, and Steve can’t even hear the thunder in the distance anymore. It becomes clear which path he will be taking tonight.

“Let’s go inside and dry off, yeah?” you offer, taking a step back out of the torrential downpour, “I’m getting cold.”

He’s still starstruck as he looks down at you, nodding dumbly, still all consumed by those embers. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

You take his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers with his just as he has yearned for. You pull shyly, continuing to walk backwards until you step back into the threshold of your house before stopping. The rain no longer pelts down on Steve’s shoulders, the ones infinitely lighter now as your grin is directed at him and he knows he’s home.

“Oh, and Steve?” you question, and he hums, eager to hear whatever it is you have to say. He’ll always want to listen to you. For the rest of tonight, for the rest of the week, for the rest of his life, “In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

He can’t help it – he pulls you in for another kiss, kicking the front door shut behind him. Steve supposes he should have seen that one coming. He’s never really had to pretend with you, anyways.

"kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain."

#speak now (ghost's version)#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #stranger things

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enbesbians · 5 months

Text

‘PHEROMONE FLOWER’

perverted! abby x dom bottom! reader

cw: abby is extremely perverted so beware, bed humping, panty sniffing, scent kink, face riding (r! receiving), asphyxiation if you squint, creep! abby, manipulative! reader, mentions of masturbating to the sound of you

MINORS DNI

summary: it started off as a harmless crush, admiring how cute you looked, thinking the clothes you wore looked compliments on your figure and adoring the way you smiled - it made her heart warm. it led onto wanting to be the guys you had interest in, then obsessing over the fact that you just smelt so goddamn good. she knew this was wrong but her body needed you.

a/n: i apologize if this was a bit too perverted... i had a quick thought of what abby would be into and i kind of had the idea that she'd have a major scent kink (from her love of smelling like pine...) this is heavily inspired by one of my favorite reddit audio creators, juilenbadlands!! i do hope that you find some type of enjoyment while reading... again, this is not proofread.

this is a repost and i copied it all from a screenshot so if it looks ‘weird’ (and you might see what i mean), i apologize.

abby picked on the littlest things. if anything was out of order, she'd loathe at it's misplacement. it could be the bathroom light being on after someone came out of it, or the droplets of a water falling from the faucet that hadn't been turned all the way off— the smallest of things would upset her and it would make her even more mad knowing that all that anger was unwarranted. she'd think she was just being overdramatic, grumbling at the fact that the fridge hadn't been closed all the way or if the front door wasn't locked. she didn't want to be that way, but she couldn't help herself. she was usually very calm and self put but this was the last straw.

the laundry had been mixed again. it's happened a few times before and with two other roommates, one being you, it was prone for something like this to happen. with your shirts being lodged in the bottom of her basket or maybe a few of your socks, or the other roommates scarfs that she'd oddly collect. each time it did happen, one piece of her own clothing would be missing— whether it be her own shirt or sock, the pair that once was, now rests at one. it was obvious that the stuff that was fondled within her fabric was not hers. she had nothing but muscle tees, big shirts and pants with hundreds of pockets on the sides of it's leg, not panties with yellow printed flowers.

its funny, the personality someone has just from their underwear. abby loved her boxer briefs, they were comfortable and soft. she'd fold them and have them neatly placed in her dresser just so she can pick one that felt right for the day. the first time she had owned a pair was when she used her birthday money, going down the maple road of her neighborhood to buy a six pack of men's underwear and blue raspberry flavored bubblegum. she felt elated- anything deemed as masculine in the form of clothes made life easier for her to walk in.

the thing is, abby has grown up with you both- the roommate and you. being a trio since ten has granted you some gifts within life that would forever be etched into her memory. it was euphoric, having someone like you both in her life as she'd go through the horrid times of puberty. it was like you were her safety blanket, a person she could hide behind if anything got too out of touch for her liking.

abby was a kind soul, people often called her gullible-the sight in her view painting sublime as she had been laced with innocence, believing that the sun would always shine and never fall. she didn't think that the person she is now would be the complete opposite, pessimistic, overindulgent, vulgar and with an enormous sex drive. something within her changed, her warped outlook on what seemed to be now in an uncertain zeal.

one thing that she didn't expect that would be the biggest downfall that gave her shame as well as pleasure is that she couldn't stop sniffing your panties.

she'd often watch you— see how you chatted and made yourself so pretty and composed for any guy you ended up having a crush on. the giggles you'd give when they gave you any type of attention like giving you a smile or asking for a pencil. it hadn't been until this one specific guy you had a crush on became the main topic in almost every conversation that made her realize that a crush was in the process. the way your friend group tried so hard to make you and him a thing, placing down chest pieces, aiding moves to make you and him as one. abby was in on it too, of course, but only at the sidelines.

she'd noticed how oblivious he was. when you tried to ask him out for lunch or get any time to just have some one on one conversation. he just didn't fucking get it. it annoyed her... she wondered why a guy like him wasn't noticing a girl like you and your advances. if she was able to swap bodies with the guy, she'd steal you in a heartbeat- just from the first advance, she'd take her chance and make you feel content and not feel like you had been chasing tirelessly for a guy that barely paid you much attention.

each time you tried, batting your eyelashes or swishing your hips while wearing a skirt you had bought with the money you had in your piggy bank, abby found herself admiring you as if she were him. she noticed that she liked the color of your eyes and how they sparkled when the sunlight hit it just right. or the way your thighs looked whenever you wore a dress. it was harmless of course, nothing shameful in finding a friend attractive. but it wasn't until the night of a friend gathering where she had come to her senses that she didn't just have an attraction towards you... she wanted you.

at the age of eighteen as you all hold onto plastic red cups off illegally bought beer, sitting in a circle around a campfire, abby sat beside you- with her dark flannel and ocean colored jeans- eyeing you as you tried so desperately to not let the wind make your skirt fly up. a little game of truth or dare was orchestrated by some guy- he was an asshole and only played it just to get a quick fuck from one of the girls. it started tame, if you could call it that, guys asking other guys to do stupid stuff like eat dirt or run around with their shirt off. then it slowly gone sexual like give said person a lap dance or suck another's tongue.

the question had been turned to you, giggling cutely as you've always done- the clear gloss on your lip with the shining rays of the sun gleaming against it. it had been asked to kiss the guy you found most attractive and it had been him. the one you had sought out for for the longest time. abby could feel jealousy arise in her, clenching on the cup, almost breaking the plastic with her fingernails as she watched you. it wasn't just a peck of the lips, you indulged him fully, taking his lips and sucking in the bottom of his lip like he had been the only source to your hunger.

abby wished that could've been her. her eyes hadn't left from where your lips had connected, feeling the familiar wet patch dampen her boxer briefs, seeing your hand slide so delicately beside his cheek. her attraction only deepened from that moment, realizing what your mouth could do and what you opted to be a kiss— which was really a heated makeout session.

through the years of all three of you being friends, the hunger that lies within abby festered into something much greater than she'd like to admit. she daydreamed about you— she remembered the way your lips moved when you spoke and when you kissed him. she remembered the little quirks you had that you hated and she loved. each waking second, she found a sensation in watching you be the woman you were. the silly little slumber parties that you'd all dress up and try on the shittiest makeup you could ever find in your mom's makeup pouch, and when it was time to sleep, how you flung yourself to lay on her.

it wasn't until the day after graduation when all three of you went to different colleges. she felt like she was able to breathe knowing that you wouldn't be around. abby dabbled in her sexuality, learning the pros and cons behind being inexperienced during sex and coming to terms that men just wasn't something she desired. she had been in numerous relationships, thinking that the thought of you and the image of you would finally pass and for those good five years of being away, she truly thought the obsession she had struggled with had finally led itself to rest.

but it didn't.

the three of you made a decision of living together once you all finished school— the feeling of dread obliterating your mind as all the reminiscent memories and emotions puddled back to her. she couldn't say no, she didn't want to live with her parents again, she wanted to be her own person and live with people she cared about.

the day of the move, she had seen you. the honeyed look of your eyes as you smiled so gleefully at the fact that you hadn't seen her in such a long time. she had gotten muscular, bigger than she had ever been, with arms bulging in the muscle top she had worn. you hugged her and she felt her whole body wither in arousal. she immediately remembered the obsessiveness she had once had and came to terms that it truly never left her.

the days of you living in the same abode had given her nothing but whiplash— you walking around in those pajama shorts as if you hadn't realized how good your ass looked in them and the way she stared so feverishly. surprisingly so, abby was quick with her glances and you still thought of her as the same shy, quiet and innocent girl who had hid behind you when needed be.

the first few times of mixed laundry was the worst and knowing that some of her favorite articles of clothing had been missing or even in you or your friends dressers by mistake was something she couldn't let go at the price of her anger.

and yet, the cloth of your underwear was now in her hands, her thumb running across the seems of the elastic lace, and flowers that ran all over. not only was it obvious that these pair of underwear wasn't hers, it was the scent that alluded her to smell them in the first place. they were clean of course, but you had this aroma that would sink into every one of your clothes. each hug you'd give abby, she'd sneak and inhale the sweetness your body gave off.

it was embarrassing, how she was so driven off the smell of you. she could remember the day you started to care more about your image, sitting beside her with your adoring smile. you'd put golden star stickers on the sides of your binder and draw hearts over your i's and j's. you'd scribble with your sparkle gel pens and drink from your insulated cup. she thought you were silly and overcompensated for something as simple as history notes, but she unconsciously found it cute, enjoying the randomly placed strawberry stickers she'd find on her worksheets.

in the first few days of her developing a crush, it had been one time where she had a quick whiff of your shampoo, something similar to ocean breeze and the perfume you were, sweet like sugar plums. each day, she made sure to give you hugs just for that reason, it was her excuse that she chose not to accept and let it build in her desire.

her mind swam with a million thoughts with most being shameful indulgences. she already liked the lotion, perfume and shampoo you had on, but what was your natural scent? was it just as good as how you already smelt? there was only one option and she knew it wasn't the right one.

turning to her left and then to her right, she made sure she was alone. her fingers twitched as she hesitantly lifted the cloth towards her face, burying her nose in it's crotch, eyes flickering shut and taking in the warmth that embedded itself in your panties. a long inhale and hallowing lungs, she could feel herself get dizzy from you. she felt a high she hadn't ever felt before. the erotic nature of your scent made her feel like this had been her first time getting turned on— and the shame of this action made it worse but strangely erotic.

she imagined the way they'd look on you, the elastic hugging your waist and how your clit would prettily poke from its cloth. she thought about how you'd get aroused, the light patch of wetness dampening it- and once you pulled them down, how your slick would connect from it's cloth to your slit.

another deep inhale. she took you into her, the entirety of her airway enveloped by you, blocking any other scent that filled the shared apartment. the feeling of arousal crept up and feathered down her back, wrapping around her clit as it began to swell.

"oh my god.." she breathed, moaning out not able to understand how someone could smell this good. "the smell." she wanted to touch herself, run her hands all over her body and let the enjoyment of this shameful bliss grant her growing pleasure.

she took one last inhale, the rush of her eagerness came crashing down as nothing in her mind that seemed logical began to flood through. removing it from her face, she looked at it, seeing the indentation of her nose within its fabric, already missing the feeling of it rubbing against her skin.

she stared, zoning out, realizing what she had just done. the obsession never went away, it only grew into something so psychotic and so perverted. how does one go from liking the spritz of your perfume to natural aroma of your panties?

‘you can't find out’ she mumbled to herself. there's no way she'd let you know that she had done something so vulgar, so impulsive as smell your panties. she stuffed it in her pocket, making sure it wouldn't fall out if it could even with how deep her pockets usually were. she continued to sort the laundry, thinking and regretting.

that was the start of it all. the need to feed off of your aroma was something she couldn't tame. whenever you were off at work and your other roommate had went off to run errands, she'd sneak into your room, finding a pair of your panties that she could lose herself in, drinking in each hitch of breath as she could feel herself falling into the abyss.

the scent of your pussy was like magic, like all those fantasies of her fucking you and how the air would smell gave her something she'd be able to touch and keep in the back of her mind. laying in her bed, legs spread as she vigorously rubbed her clit, panties pressed up against her nose, cumming over and over again until she felt like the scent had lost within her air waves. her fingers would prod into her cunt, the walls within clenching onto them, humping down and fucking herself onto them like it had been your own fingers.

there would be times where she'd hear you in your bedroom— fucking a man who had pounded you

deeply into the mattress. she tried to put in

headphones thinking it would be indecent if she heard

something as vulnerable as your moans, hearing you cry on how good it was feeling. she noticed that you didn't like it when your partners fucked you slow, you liked it when they used you like a slut, imagining how you'd bounce on them like a primal animal.

she couldn't take the tune of the song she tried so desperately to distract herself with, and so shelistened. the headboard of the bed banging against the wall as you wail in pleasure, asking them to keep fucking you and not to stop. she wanted to be him... she wanted to fuck you so badly.

and so she'd wait. through the shared shower you and your partner had after the sexual engagement, she went in your room.

"what the fuck am i doing...?" she whispered to herself. her mind and body not linking together in what was the most sane thing she could°ve done which was stay in her room. instead she laid in your bed, smelling the

scent of sex that had interlocked itself in your sheet, getting an even greater sense of what you smelled like when you were turned on.

you smelt so fucking good. she already felt her clit swell with excitement, her underwear soiling itself as her nose lodged itself in the sheets of your bed. she just laid their, inhaling it, letting it eat her away and satisfy her perverted torment.

her body slid off the bed, with one leg still draped on it as the other kneeled on the floor. her fingers clutching onto the sheets as she mindlessly moved her hips against the mattress. she could feel the friction run and strike her clit with the greed of what she wished she could have.

the movement of her hips quickened— staggered and inconsistent, rutting against the sex scented bed while she let her clit pleasure itself onto your bed. she could hear how wet she was, she could even hear the moans that once were bouncing of the walls of your bedroom, fucking herself to oblivion as she mindlessly humps to thought of you getting fucked deeply.

"fuck... god... why am i doing this?" she mouthed, eyes rolling back at the satisfaction this action was giving her. it was so dirty, so grotesque, so riveting, so embarrassing. i wanna fuck you... holy fuck i wanna fuck you... please... please let me fuck you you." she mumbled, feeling herself needing to cum desperately.

it wasn't until the sound of the shower had gone silent when she scurried out of your bedroom and tried to seem as if she had just been watching tv on the couch. it took awhile, but then she saw you walk in. you were glowing so brightly- ocean breeze now filling her airway again as you walk over towards the kitchen.

'god im such a pervert’ she sighed to herself, the familiar feeling of regret washing over her and hitting her like a truck.

it was as if she couldn't stop. at each inhale, she needed more. anything and everything that has your fragrance on it, she needed to indulge. there was a handful of times where she'd lodge your pillow in between her legs, riding it slowly, moaning your name gently, enjoying the idea that her own scent would be on your pillow— but she couldn't allow that. any time she rutted against your bed and pillow, she'd wash it. you hadn't found anything odd about it since abby was usually the one who washed everyone's things when it was wash day. so everything went according to plan as she continued to discreetly fall into her obsession.

she ended up keeping some pairs of your panties and hid them in her own clothes, hearing the confused comments of where they could've possibly went. you didn't know that the culprit had been your childhood friend, your roommate. abby anderson.

she tried to get a relationship again, or even a fling where she could possibly get something other than the aromatic taste of your ravenous essence. she'd fuck them good and hard— her frustration burning at the form of her hips as she relentlessly gave them what she would've given you. her strap deep inside them, with their legs curled over her shoulders, letting the angle of her pounds be in direct contact of their sweet spot.

even through the action of lust with another, she couldn't get you out. it was like she had been trapped. what kind of spell did you have on her? the angry eroticism that filled through every encounter she had made her sexual partners feel as if they received the best strap down of their lives. the way she'd bury her face in their pussy and ate them, devouring every hole and every slick their cunt leaked.

it still didn't fill that void.

when she'd heard you touching yourself beyond the wall, she do the same and somehow that gave her an even greater orgasm than she had with any other girl she tried to forget those thoughts with.

the way you sung and the buzz of your toy— she imagined it pressed up against your clit, the flesh of it rumbling so prettily as you tried to reach the ultimate bliss. her body would contort and shrivel in the immense thrum of delectation.

"cum with me." she'd moan to herself as she heard you through the connecting wall, "cum with me please...”

for the last time, she wanted to savor the piquant taste of what you had engraved in your panties. she needed to let this die out even if her mind, body and spirit wouldn't allow her to. she needed to take this one time and finally let go of her filthy salacious thoughts, her perverted dream. she knew she had no chance. after years and years of wanting to be something with you, wanting to run her lips against your skin and take you in with the urgency to devour your whole being.

thing is, she didn’t hear you come home. you were let off work early and you hummed at the fact that you’d be able to relax since you were off the next day. the simplicity of hearing your keys unlock the front door gave you the upmost joy knowing that you were allowed to be lazy in the warmth of your home.

you didn’t know anyone would be here. you didn’t know abby would be sitting in your bed, hands sliding into her underwear and rubbing her clit fast just to get off this one last time just as she promised herself.

odd sounds came from beyond your bedroom door, unsure of what it could be since abby and your other roommate supposedly— by your own self awareness— never came in. the door had opened, and to your surprise, you found her, captivated by her own dirty conviction, smelling your panties like some type of animal. all you did was stand there, watching how her wrist turned and her the imprint of her fingers collided with her boxer briefs while she had then stuff inside of her cunt.

it would be a lie if the confusion you felt was also intertwined with arousal. the beating of your heart paced faster than you ever thought it could. your childhood friend was sniffing your panties and you didn’t know what to do.

as her eyes slowly opened, she swore her life felt like it had ended. the grasp of the door handle was tight, and the glow of the sun that fell behind you was bright-the darkness of the room only showing a shame filled abby that had ripped her hand from her cunt.

"look!" she exclaimed, throwing the panties behind her,

"i…..im sorry. i know this looks weird but i promise it's not what it looks like... i just... i uh!" she couldn't think of one excuse that could take the spotlight off of her.

she couldn't tell what expression that drew on your face but no matter what it was, the embarrassment of what could've been avoided consumed her.

in all honest, even if you hadn't went out as strong as abby did, there was a lace of attraction you had for her. growing up, she always had this tall and strong stature about herself even though back the she lacked a lot more muscle than she did now. each year, abby grew and her body formed into the goddess build that she had today. the day you all reconnected, you saw the way her body had came to be. the way she looked bigger and stronger than any man you had been with, with an expression that looked as though she could lead an army, there was an enticed curiosity of what was underneath the layers of abby anderson.

you heard when she'd play with herself and you respected her enough to let her know that you hadn't noticed, no matter how quiet she tried to be but you definitely heard her when she would fuck women— her moans were hunger filled grunts and groans like she had been so angered by how good she was feeling that she had to relentlessly use her partners like sex toys.

as you did, you wanted to know what it felt like to get fucked that hard, you asked your partners to do the same, mirroring what you thought abby would do, hammering your cunt with their cock, feeling your insides flutter in a pleasure you didn't think existed before your knowledge of how abby used her own hips.

you didn't go as far as smelling her clothes, hump her bed or anything she probably had done that you didn't know, but yet and still, there was that slight curiosity.

"abby..?" you stood, frequently swallowing the drying spit you left on your tongue. "wha...what the fuck are you doing?" you added, taking one step in, feeling the heat of her body swell amongst your bedroom. you couldn't come to terms that you had self consciously found yourself growing wet at the image.

she sat in her normal man spreading pose, seeing her light briefs painted with a dark patch of her arousal that led to her clit. veins drawing up the sides of her arms and scattered on her big... enticing hands.

"nothing... i…" her lips ajar, frantically looking around as she looked at the inanimate objects that were placed randomly in your room. her shoulders dropped, her braid sliding over her shoulders as she gave up in trying to save face for her perverted intentions. “i was.. sniffing your..." she mumbled, it almost coming out inaudible.

biting on the skin of your lip, you felt the pain of your heart erupt as it pounded at your ribcage, your feet walking without much thought as you continued your stroll until you were met up with her up close- her worrisome eyes wavering thinking that you'd slap her or scream at her. and in some ways, she wanted that. she felt like she deserved to feel like the disgusting girl that she was and came to be. she welcomed it.

any form of engagement was enough to satisfy her even if it were to be nothing but pure anger coming from you. “if you need to hit me... do it... what i did was wrong... it's pathetic... im a pervert... i..”

"shut up." you spat, not knowing if you wanted to be angry or turned on. her lips pressed together almost immediately, her eyes at her legs, not wanting to face someone as beautiful as you and witness the betrayal in your expression.

you grabbed her face in your hand, her eyebrows waved in a solemn state. with your jaw clenching, you looked at her. oh how stupid her pretty face looked when ashamed. the bottom of her lip jutted out in a pout and her body rose as she hitched each breath she took.

the feeling of your fingers were electrifying, like she'd cum in an instant only from that simple touch and color in your eyes. she tried so hard to not let her eyes wonder but she couldn't help as they trailed down your body to look at the shape of your breast in your fitted shirt. noticing this, you yank her head up, making her look at you again— what a fucking pervert, you thought.

"you're disgusting." you told her, your tone turning into a taunt as you started to enjoy the fact that her submission- the girl that fucked women so roughly-was in the palm of your hands. "pathetic. perverted. nasty. that's what you are abby... just a filthy pervert."

she nodded her head, humming in acknowledgment, “i know...”

out of all the things abby thought of, she could never prepare herself for you pushing her back onto your bed, her back bouncing against the mattress. a quiet gasp exited from her lips as you sat yourself on her lap, holding her wrists and placing them above her hands.

"you're into me that much... you're in my bed, sniffing my underwear... so idiotic." you laughed.

"wait." she breathed, a glimmer of enjoyment coming from the dominance you placed between you both and how you pinned her down underneath you.

"shut your fucking mouth. im talking." and she nodded. what a good girl.

the corner of your lips tugged in a smirk, noticing the effect you have on her. no parter you've had went out their way to do something as belittling as smell her underwear. if only you knew the many things she has done with the thought of you, with all her wants and desires in the bundle of her aching clit, it'd be safe to say that it was hot that she was willing to do all that and try so desperately not to get caught.

"since you're here, sniffing my underwear like a rabid animal.." you led on, your face inches from her, voice now soaking in sultry warmth, "im gonna ride your fucking face and i want you to show me what you do when im not around"

after all these years, torturing herself, swallowing down the need to pursue you, it all was given to her in this moment. she thought she was hallucinating- that it was her guilt imagining the entire thing, thinking your body was nearly a haze and that you had still been at work. all she did was lie there, dumbfounded at the words you spoke, itching to know your next moment, the next breath of words you'd speak. anything you'd do, she accept in a heartbeat.

slipping out from your pants, your huddled your way to hover her face, your panties showing the wet spot that abby had made by her filth. with no warning, you planted yourself down, feeling the form of her lips and nose prod against your clothed pussy.

abby laid their limp, feeling as if she'd suffocate, not by you sitting on her face but the daze in which she couldn't grasp at the shock her body was going through. she admired the way you looked, so sexy in just your panties, the way your clit poked against it- it was just like she had envisioned- and how it felt as it placed itself on her face. she latched on with her lips, sucking through the fabric frenetically, humming pure delight at the scent she encapsulated. her tongue ran along your clothed slit, letting it bury in its floods, feeling the warmth heat her face.

rocking your hips back and forth, you could feel your heat rise up from within your body, hands still grasping onto her wrists. something about this was different— it was passionate, sharing a moment with a person you trusted throughout the years and now engaged, enabling her impulsivity. it felt good, it felt wrong, but your hips couldn’t stop.

“god you’re such a dirty girl abby…” falling in love with the way you held so much power over her. still this wasn’t enough as good as it felt, you wanted to know what her tongue could really do. momentarily, you rise, taking your panties off to see yourself dripping down from your entrance.

“oh my god…” she breathed, “oh my god… oh my god, oh my fucking god. yes…”

lowering yourself once again, her head lifted before you could even fully sit on her face, lips latching on and inhaling your pussy into her mouth. your eyes rolled back, your body trembling loosely. the way she moved her tongue was better than any man that had given you head— she wasn’t careful, she was direct. she knew the weak spots that could make a girl cum in an instant, using her entire face to stimulate you. moans filled abby’s ears, heightening in volume as your hips snapped, fucking her face, feeling the curve in her nose hit the base of your clit.

"your voice is turning me on so much" she whimpered, her mouth full of you.

her face was buried deeply into your cavern, her salvia adding to the mess your slick had already made. she slurped at the skin, your vulva fluttering in and out from her lips, leaving damp kisses at the bud of your clit. the sounds eliciting from her lips were absolutely disgusting and delicious, the tepidity soaring from both of your bodies-abby's underwear absolutely drenched and aching to be touched yet the high from devouring you fulfilled her to the max and she wanted so much more, she needed to bathe in it, feast on it. abby licked a sloppy thick stripe, letting her tongue reach any place the position would let her in. "god you smell so good... you taste... so fucking good." she breathed out heavily- her wet pink lips rotating around your clit, jaw jittering as she tried to study herself towards your orgasm.

you lost as her muscle swam against your slit, tongue plunging in your opening which made you sing a series of uncontrollable moans. your fingers curling into her golden blonde locks-loving the feeling. she wanted you to tug at it, show her how good she's making you feel by your actions, ride her face like she's perverted scum is. she could feel the tingle wash from down her scalp and spine, making her groan deeply against your cunt, feeling it almost itch her own throat. raising her hand over your thigh, she rests it above your clit, pressing the bottom of your stomach- letting them create small indentions in your skin- while placing her thumb down on it's bud, rolling its skin up as she sucked hungrily, flickering her tongue at its exposure.

you squirmed, seeing how pathetic she looked looked as she tried to get you there. her body humping into the nothingness of air, needing for some type of friction. "fuck... oh fuck." she whined.

your thighs clamped her head, feeling the pressure pound in a glorious headache. “you need two breathe?" you joked drunkly, the sound of the bed creaking from the nonstop movement. abby could care less about needing to breath, she wanted to bask in this as long as you'd let her.

as much as you wanted to hold it, you couldn't, your body was in too much of a rush to even control itself. it kept moving, rutting on her face as abby felt herself needing to breathe.

“im gonna cum.." you announced, looking down to her barely visible face, her eyes directed right at you while she watched every movement your face made. the contact made your high arrive faster than you comprehended, letting out a moan louder than you ever let out, your high shooting through every part of your body.

clenching your eyes tight, you held your breath, body jolting forward as your high took over, calming yourself down as it started to subside. "holy fuck.." you sighed, coming to your senses as you lifted your leg from her face, sitting beside her to see her face covered in your cum and slick. she looked content, breathing in as much air as she could, still smelling the scent fill her lungs.

"wow…" she whispered, not able to get over the fact that you just rode her face. she stared at the ceiling, thinking that she had seen the gates of heaven.

"and just for that.." you spoke trying to catch your breath, "you don't get to cum. get out of my room." you demanded, her body turning towards you, showing a puzzled look.

“but..”

"oh abby... you've been such a bad girl. why would i let you cum? if you be a good girl, maybe one day, id let you fuck me." you cooed, biting down on your lip as you watch a thousand expressions form into one on her face. "now get out."

getting up from your bed, she looked confused but pleased at the fact that she just has a face full of your pussy. running her tongue over her lips, she wanted to savor the mess you had left, her finger gliding against her chin to gather the dripping slick. with one last turn, she looked at you, a devious glow brightening your face.

now you understand what you meant to abby. you understood how you'd control this goddess of a woman. you needed time to think this through, debating whether you should let this be the first and last time or make her your pleasure doll. nonetheless, she left, and you laid on your back, still feeling the throbs of your vibrating clit.

"goddamn." you breathed, "she really knows how to eat pussy…”

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