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sushiwriterhere · 9 months

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in a heartbeat

summary: "Maybe he just didn’t need the fanfare, maybe he needed to ditch the plans and just hand the rock to you over Chinese takeout and let that be it." rating: explicit (no minors!) pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x f!reader word count: 3.9k warnings: very fluffy, PiV (unprotected), no use of y/n. notes: this is my first fic in a while and im fighting writers block something awful. this is not proofread :( pls lmk what you think <3! my other works are here part of the coming home to you universe

four days before.

“I’m gonna go out for drinks with the girls Saturday.”

“Uhhh, you can’t.”

Did he need to loop your coworkers into the proposal plan too? Phoenix having dragged it out of him so they could all help was bad enough. Bradley could feel his headache building behind his eyes. He tried to avert eye contact to make the conversation feel natural, instead focusing his gaze on the onion he was trying to caramelize.

“I can’t?”

Bradley’s never been controlling, never tried to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with, and certainly never with that particular tone in his voice. He heard the mail you were inspecting drop onto the granite countertop as you turned your full attention on him.

“Why?”

Fuck.

He could hear the way your eyes were narrowed from the uncharacteristically steady tone of your voice, the way one eyebrow was raised expectantly.

In the back of his mind, Bradley also saw the picnic blanket, candles, and bottle of your favorite wine stashed at Mav’s. There were the flowers he had to pick up and arrange on Friday while you were working, the homemade meal Javy promised him that he needed to grab on Saturday around midday.

“I made dinner reservations at this new place down by the beach, and the only time they had was Saturday evening.”

“And you forgot to tell me until now?”

Bradley didn’t forget. Not about these types of things. Ever since your first date, Bradley had been nothing but proactive. He planned dates, cooked meals, doted on you. Forgetting just wasn’t like him.

“Made the reservation this morning and you seemed busy.” He finally met your eyes and he watched as your gaze softened and you turned back to the stack of mail.

“Bradley Bradshaw you are a sap.”

And the moment passed.

You and Bradley had talked about marriage, you have. You’d talked about it enough for him to know what kind of ring you wanted, that you wanted a small, intimate ceremony, and that you’d lost more than enough sleep over whether to invite your parents. You’d talked enough to know Bradley would probably have the Dagger Squad as best men (people?) and that he’d let Phoenix be part of your bridal party if you wanted, that he wanted Mav right there next to him, and that there would be an empty chair for Goose and Carole. That was one thing.

Getting down on one knee and actually going over that line? That was another.

The rational part of his brain had always insisted that you would say yes, that you also knew from very early on, if not the beginning. The unhelpful part of his brain kept telling him the ring was the wrong size or that a seagull would swoop down and steal the shiny thing right from his fingertips before you could even say no.

three days before.

Bradley’s checked the ring at least six times since he, Javy, and the other guys came into the shop. The sound of the velvet clicking back against itself then sliding open again was starting to grate on his nerves, but he wanted to give Bradley the benefit of the doubt. He remembered what it was like, that lump in your throat, the way his brain tended to keep him up about every disagreement, every time he should’ve apologized instead of stewing on his anger.

Javy, instead, choose peace. He watched calmly as Bradley opened the box again, and brought a finger up to trace the gems before deciding against it.

Doesn’t want to smudge it.

There was clearly something on his mind, because the ring had been paid for months ago and the re-sizing and adjustments were included in the price. But there Bradley was, stuck to the shop floor, looking like he was trying to decide between getting sick right there and maybe saving it for the trees outside the shop’s doors.

“What’cha thinkin’ about there, Rooster?” Jake sidled up to Bradley’s side, voice a low murmur, as if trying not to startle the man.

Regardless, Bradley jumped slightly, jostling the open box and the sound of the box snapping shut echoed harshly around the showroom. Bradley looked like he might’ve decided on getting sick inside.

“Should I get a second one? What if she doesn’t like this one?”

Across the room, a sales associate perked up just slightly, clearly looking to score on another guy so nervous he looked like a ghost. Vultures.

“Bradley, my man, we’ve been over this a thousand times. Phoenix got her Pinterest, it’s all a certain style, and it’s definitely the perfect ring.”

Jake and Bradley had begun to get along, rather begrudgingly at first, then very amicably, after the mission and Jake saved Bradley’s life. Seeing him comfort Bradley was something else though, Javy acknowledged. It was kind of nice to have that tension dissipate from within their team.

“But what if I need another perfect one?”

“Are you gonna propose to her twice?” Bob had popped up on Bradley’s other side, silent as ever. “Usually there’s a second one for the wedding, but I’m here for a bit of a new tradition.”

At that, Bradley deflated a bit. The box in his hands clicked open, then shut again.

“No, no new tradition.” He murmured, before slipping the box into his pocket.

two days before.

Bradley knew Mav loved him, but he wasn’t sure how much he would after this whole ordeal. They must’ve run over the schedule at least a thousand times, forward and backward, even while flying over their comms. At this point, Bradley was sure he had the entire Dagger Squad reciting the plan in their sleep. He hoped he at least wasn’t, he didn’t need you to be clued into anything.

“Nothing has moved since the last time you were here. Go home, Bradley.” Mav’s voice carried through the house as Bradley unceremoniously burst through the door.

He’d started leaving work fifteen minutes early last week, just to double check that everything was in its place, that nothing had broken or spontaneously combusted. It was just enough time for him to stop at Mav’s place on the way home, do his round, and make it home around the same time as usual so as not to rouse suspicion.

“I’m just–”

“Just checking yeah, get outta my house Bradley and go be with your fiance.” Mav had rounded the corner into his back room, all bathed in sunlight and a picture-perfect reminder of why people loved living in California.

He was the picture of relaxed domesticity, dish towel over his shoulder, spatula in one hand that he was clearly thinking about hitting Bradley with as he paced the room and ticked things off on his fingers as he murmured to himself.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in my carpet, and I happen to really like that rug.” Bradley stopped walking but the way his fingers twitched at his sides clued Mav into the way he was clearly still running through the run of show in his mind.

“She’s not my fiance yet.”

“And she never will be if I murder you for breaking into my house and giving my wife a heart attack.”

“Penny’s not even home at this hour.”

Mav had never seen Bradley like this. He’d missed graduations and recitals and all the shit you don’t get to see as an estranged god-father, but he’d done enough wondering about what he was like in those moments to have come up with this scenario. Bradley truly was the perfect mix of Goose and Carole–all Goose’s easy romantic energy, ever creative, ever attentive, and just as much of Carole’s eye for detail and desire for things to go right.

“Bradley.”

Mav watched as the fight eased out of Bradley’s shoulders and his hands relaxed at his sides, “Right. Sorry.”

“Look son, you don’t have to be sorry for wanting this to go right. And you’ve only got a little of sorry to be about starting to drive me insane.” At that, Bradley cracked half a smile and Mav considered that a small success. “You like this at home?”

A sharp laugh echoed around the wood-paneled room, “Oh absolutely not. She’d know in a heartbeat.”

“Well, then you have your answer.” The gears were turning at a million miles an hour as Bradley tried to decipher what he meant. “She knows you in a heartbeat, which means she knows how she feels about you. And we both know what that means for Saturday.”

Bradley nodded, the picture of relaxation and ease all at once. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

one day before.

Bradley was starting to think the gash on his finger was some sort of awful omen, something terrible that had been awaiting to reveal itself until the last moment. He’d arranged flowers for you probably a million times at this point, had even done it blindfolded (only cheating a bit so he didn’t lose a finger) just to amuse you. Now, as he stared at the blood bubbing up from his middle left finger where he’d just stabbed himself with the scissors, the entire thing felt like some sort of cosmic joke.

He’d never doubted that he wanted to marry you, not even when you’d argued or insisted on shoving your ice cold fingers and toes up against him in the dead of night. Not once had he wavered since that initial thought in his brain, and he was even more sure when he went to open that fucking bank account that he’d been diligently adding a sizeable portion of his paycheck to. (What? He wanted to be sure he could afford exactly what you wanted, DeBeers advertising campaign be damned.)

Maybe he just didn’t need the fanfare, maybe he needed to ditch the plans and just hand the rock to you over Chinese takeout and let that be it.

The only thing keeping him going despite all his nerves, aside from his deep love for you, was the way you’d once leaned against him when the two of you were spending a week away in the mountains. Overlooking something that felt like it was right from a postcard, you’d told him exactly how all the little romantic things he did made you feel.

“Every time you buy me flowers, I get this little feeling in my chest, like something curling around my heart.” Bradley remembered keeping himself from making a joke, something about heart attacks, trying not to break the moment as the fog hung low over the trees.

“From the moment you picked me up for our first date and insisted on opening the car door, bringing me flowers, they all make me get that little squirmy feeling that no one’s ever given me before.” You had pressed yourself to his side but not met his eyes, as if your confession was too powerful, too heavy to make when looking at him, “And some of it’s because I’m a sap at heart and you somehow know what I want before I do, but some of it’s just because it’s you Bradley. Always has been, always will be.”

The words said next would keep him going in his darkest moments, kept him together on long deployments, kept him pushing through every moment of doubt in the planning process.

“So if you ever decide to propose to me, even if it’s just you asking me over coffee, just know I’ll get that feeling, just because it’s you.”

At that, you’d turned to face him, shifting so you could hook your chin over his shoulder where he turned his face to yours. He could see every lash, every spot on your face that he loved to press his lips to when you were too sleepy to protest. You’d graced him with a tiny smile, somehow just a bit melancholy, but all too loving.

Bradley shook his head, clearing the memory as he scrambled to keep his blood from spattering on the countertop. He was going to have to grit his teeth through the pain of using a liquid bandaid so the pictures weren’t ruined by a regular bandaid.

You’d compromised on drinks being Friday, so he had the evening to himself. All the time in the world for flowers, for a barbecue at Javy’s (home cooked meal to be picked up that night instead of Saturday morning), and for waiting up for you to text that you were ready to go home.

the day of.

Bradley thought he’d be blinded by panic, or doubt, now that he was counting down hours and minutes in place of days or weeks. Instead, all he felt was a sense of serenity, almost like he was floating through the motions.

The day started like every Saturday he’d had since you moved in and he’d been granted a relatively permanent station at Top Gun with Mav and the rest–you pressed up against him, your hair tickling some part of his bare skin, and the type of bone deep satisfaction with life that came with going to bed with a full belly and the love of his life at his side. He stared up at the ceiling fan as it made its lazy rotations and thought about how today was marking the difference between two parts of his life.

After today, there would always be a time before the proposal, and after.

The morning was lazy as you insisted you didn’t have a hangover but let Bradley cook you a plate full of turkey bacon, gently scrambled eggs, and a few hashbrowns. He knew you would be fine by afternoon, and after that excited to hang out at the beach before dinner.

He was sort of counting on it.

Apparently he’d underestimated your ability to bounce back because the way you draped yourself across his bare back was a little less than innocent as your hands smoothed over his shoulders and down his stomach. He slowed the way he was chewing the last of his hashbrown as you pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot under his ear.

“Good morning, Bradley,” You crooned lowly.

“Mornin’.”

His stomach jumped as you ran a nail over one of his nipples, and kissed at his shoulder. Tilting his head to the side to give you more room to work with, he took a slow drink of his water.

Maybe he wanted you to work for it just a little, what with how badly he’d been stressing these last few weeks.

And work for it you did. The light drag of your nails just barely there on his stomach and arms had him getting hard faster than he thought was humanly possible. But there was just something about the warmth of your chest at his back, the thinness of some shirt you’d stolen from him doing little to hide the swell of your breasts, that did it for him. Hell, it was really just that it was you that got him going.

“I missed you last night.” You whined, just a bit, as he finally turned around on the barstool and gathered you into his lap.

You could definitely feel the way he was hard against the soft give of your thighs, but somehow in that moment, all he wanted was you near. Sensing that somehow the moment had maybe passed, you curled in his lap and stretched your arms around his shoulders, apparently just content to be touching him.

“I missed you too.”

The way your lips met his was almost as natural as breathing, and then the moment wasn’t so innocent anymore. Your lips slotted against his as you kneaded at his arm muscles and part of Bradley was incredibly satisfied that you were enjoying just how much effort he put in at the gym. Sure, he had to be fit for his physical, but how hard he went on his biceps and shoulders was purely for your benefit.

When the two of you finally stumbled back into the bedroom, Bradley thought he might pass out from how hard he was. Everything about you was amplified somehow. Your skin was softer and the gentle scent of whatever perfume you’d worn last night filled his nose. The give of your hips and thighs was easier and all he wanted was to sink his teeth into you and never let go. You might even let him.

Sprawled underneath him you looked like a goddess, bathed in the rising morning sun, nipples gently peaked as your chest rose and fell.

“I love you.”

It was so tender in comparison to the way you sat up and worked a hand inside Bradley’s boxers to grab firmly at his cock. He groaned as you shoved at the little clothing the two of you were wearing and in a moment, your skin was a beautiful contrast to the crisp white of the sheets.

Bradley made to go down on you but you kept his face in your hands, “Been ready to go since I watched you scramble those eggs.”

He couldn’t hold back the way he barked out a laugh, that one was new. “The way the white and yolk were combined really do it for you?”

You smacked at his chest indignantly as he propped one of your thighs over the crook of his elbow, “Your back and arms look nice when you whisk, you asshole.”

You weren’t so huffy as he slid into you, gentle as ever. Bradley knew he wasn’t the biggest ever, but he also knew he wasn’t anything to scoff at either. He kissed away any discomfort he could see on your features til you rocked your hips up against his insistently.

“Give it to me like you mean it, babe,” Grinning all cheerfully, Bradley cursed under his breath as he felt you bear down on him.

After that, there was little to be said beyond whispers of I love you and the occasional swear word. Sometimes sex between the two of you was raunchy and heated, and other times it rounded out his Saturday mornings in a way that left him sated like nothing else. Sometimes he thought it might be better than flying.

You came first, digging your nails into his shoulders and breathing his name in repeat. The feeling of you squeezing around him did little to keep him from coming and besides, the way you scraped your nails down his chest and begged him to let go definitely did him in.

Clean up was quiet kisses and gentle shoves in the direction of the en-suite bathroom, Bradley making sure the water wasn’t too cold for you as you peed. (It was the little things.)

Fuck what Bradley had thought earlier about being serene, he thought he was going to crawl out of his skin. Holding your hand as the two of you made your way down the beachfront towards the space behind the Hard Deck, you were chattering on about some coworker’s baby shower and Bradley was focusing way too hard on not absolutely eating shit with the way the sand was shifting under his feet.

In the distance, he could see the candles and the picnic blanket like a homing beacon. He couldn’t see Mav or Javy or anyone else, but he knew they were all hiding somewhere, ready to burst from the shadows in excitement. Harvard was also brandishing a camera even though Bradley couldn’t see any hint that he was around–turns out he was a more-than-amatuer photographer and had volunteered to capture the moment.

“Bradley, what’s all this?” Your voice reached a winded sort of pitch as the two of you finally reached the set up.

It was perfect, and part of Bradley finally exhaled. The picnic blanket from your fourth date, the little tea candles doting the beach, and the bouquet of flowers resting at the corner of the blanket, right within Bradley’s reach.

Gently dropping your hand, Bradley picked up the flowers and pressed them into your hands. By now, you’d clearly caught on that something was happening because your eyes were wide and slightly teary, and there was a ghost of a wobble in your lower lip.

Tan suit be damned, Bradley dropped to one knee and pulled out the velvet box that had been burning a hole in his pocket since before the two of you had gone out to dinner. (The dinner reservation had actually been real, to his credit.)

“Oh my god,” you whispered, bringing a hand to your mouth in a way that betrayed the way your hands were shaking.

Bradley inhaled deeply, before popping open the lid of the box and letting his eyes flick down to where the ring was sitting, nestled right where it was supposed to be.

As if unable to stop yourself, you opened your mouth and blurted, “If you’re about to ask me what I think you are, the answer is yes. A thousand times yes.”

Blinking up at you, Bradley didn’t move a muscle as you kept going, “Oh my god wait you probably have a whole speech, I’m so sorry, I’ll shut up now.”

Distantly, Bradley heard a shutter clicking but neither of you broke eye contact as his face broke into a huge smile. He kept going according to his plan, the unspoken understanding passing between the two of you that you’d never live that down.

He said your first name like a prayer, before launching into the speech he’d rehearsed for months now, “I have loved you since I met you. I love every part of you–your laugh, the way you’re passionate about your work, the way you love everyone around you with such intensity. I love you when we argue, I love you when we’re together and apart. You consume my every waking thought, and grace me with your presence when I dream. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. I want to bicker about how we go through junk mail, the right way to parallel park, and what show we’re going to watch on Thursdays for however long you’ll let me. I want you by my side for the good, the bad, in sickness, and in health.” He said your name again, before asking the question he already knew the answer to, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh my god yes.”

Miraculously, Bradley slipped the ring on your finger without incident, then gathered you up into his arms and pressed your lips together. His cheeks were wet with your tears.

“I love you so much, Bradley Bradshaw, you are my everything,” You choked out when he set you down unable to stop yourself from sticking your hand out in front of you and crying harder when you saw the ring of your dreams adorning your hand.

“I can’t believe you said yes before I asked,” He breathed before pulling you into him to kiss you fiercely one more time.

“She said yes before I even opened my mouth,” Bradley chuckled as you giggled by his side, hands never leaving the new ring on your finger.

“That’s not nearly as bad as you were for the last three months,” Javy crowed, and the crowd was in uproar as Bradley attempted to defend himself.

Above all the noise and the lighthearted teasing, Bradley knew one thing–he was happy. And you had said yes.

----

tagging: @sebsxphia @roosterbruiser @bradshawburner @gretagerwigsmuse @sometimesanalice @joaquinwhorres @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @bradshawsbitch @seresinsweetie @notroosterbradshaw @kmc1989 @peachystenbrough @rhettabbotts @theharddeck @wkndwlff @waklman @blue-aconite @thedroneranger @bibitches-r-us @sunlightmurdock @laracrofted @jupitercomet - tagging ppl either by request or whom i feel like are luv <r bradley. pls lmk if you'd like to be added/removed

#top gun: maverick #no use of y/n #bradley bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #top gun: maverick fanfic #top gun: maverick fic #top gun maverick #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #coming home to you universe

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 4 months

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Hi there! I was wondering if I could request a scenario for Identity V? Specifically for Norton? I love the way you write for him!

Okay so, it’s safe to say that since Norton and Fools Gold are basically the same person, they feel the same way about things, including people. What if the reader (female or gender neutral) discovers Norton’s feelings toward them after having a match against Fools Gold and confronts him about it? Like rather than chair the reader, FG acts possessive toward them and teases them? Confrontation with Norton could end in fluff or NSFW, up to you!

Thank you!

Fool's Gold be normal challenge part 2 lol but im mad i lost my idea midway (curse u adhd!)

Rated Mature | Warning: relationship -in psychologist voice-

With how long you have been running your chest is starting to hurt, which does not help the limited places to run are getting smaller and smaller. Luckily, the map is Chinatown and there are plenty of places to hide. Not so lucky, as the hunter is well aware of those places. Not a rare map to be placed in but frequent as the Arms Factory or Sacred Heart Hospital.

With a dash upstairs and your legs give out, your chest burns but your heart does not stop racing as the hunter is still nearby.

You have been tunnel-hunted before by hunters, never for a reason-- Sometimes. However, you have never felt like a mouse in a game of cat and mouse, there is a teasing nature and you hate it. Fool’s Gold can be mean but he is no Ithaqua or Ripper, still for him to get seemingly off on you running away— His laugh loud— Worries you. The costume he has on does not help as he looks like a demon from the seven hells ready to claim your soul!

“Sparky, where are you~!” In a sing-song voice as he comes up the stairs. You go still, your dark costume is to your advantage as you hide behind a mannequin. The heavy footsteps have you holding your breath as you emerge from the stairway. His eyes looked around, his intimidating height towering above everything. He turns in your direction, golden stylized pickaxe but then lowers it as he hears a cipher pop.

“I will be back for you later.”

You have experienced fear but the rush of it never gets easier.

The hunter throws his weapon before using the magnetism to pull himself out of the opening in the store. You dash immediately out the other way refusing to just pray he forgets you.

He does not, he waits for you to be rebirthed by Embalmer's casket. You stumble out still hurt but alive, Fool's Gold leaning against a wall cleaning the caked-on blood on his hand, his pickaxe nowhere in sight.

“Sparky.”

“Only Norton calls me that.” Getting ready to book it.

“I am Norton.” Stepping forward, “Better than that brat.” You step to the side.

“No, you are some fucked ‘what if’.”

Fool's Gold stands at his full height, his one eye glowing almost brighter in this dark area, “Careful, sparky, I can let you escape through the dungeon if you behave.”

“I will hit you.” That makes him laugh, “I have one fuse left, we can go together.” Because you are not above being crazy.

“That I do not doubt,” Closer but you stand firm, “But you used all your tools. Too bad it didn't help that prison rat.” When you actually attempt to hit him, he is careful not to use his solid hand. His deformed hand holds you in place, the magnetism holding it together is used to keep you on the table as you try thrashing about. “You could've left him alone!”

“Yeah? Maybe you should've let me have you.” Standing over you, “Kiting me only pissed me off.” It is true the time he had you in his sights you made your business to be annoying. He scares you! Like right now. Being pinned down on a table with him between your legs. His solid hand traces your face.

“He didn't mark you.” Spoken when he yanks down your top to expose your neck and part of your chest. The marks on your skin are always from Norton, friends with benefits arrangement.

“What, you plan on doing it for him?” Playing fearless but you are fearful, this is the darker part of Norton. The demon everyone tries to hide made manifest, Norton hates it— Hates him.

“Why else do you think I have you here and not bleeding you out.” As if he would waste his time bleeding out anyone, maybe himself but that work he does not feel like bothering with. “Are you going to fight me?”

You weigh your options, “Mess around and find out, sport.”

His grin is wide, His teeth look sharp, and your inner masochist is excited.

He let you go via the dungeon, your legs hurt and you know your chest and neck must look like a mess. Easy to hide until you find Norton in your room waiting. He hates it when you have matches with his counterpart, especially the tunnel-hunting you most of the time.

“(Name).” Standing up the moment you entered, he put down the charm you made him on the bed where he was sitting.

“We should talk.”

Talking usually with Norton means he has to sit and listen and consider things, you only inform him so he has time to process and return to you. However, given the things Fool's Gold— Other Norton—was open about. Details are murky as he is not exactly like Norton, but the raw feelings are there, all laid bare because he refuses to standby and let his other self be an idiot.

The conversation is long, but no tears, and a few awkward silences but it ends with an understanding. Sex does not happen, Norton learning the ability to be grateful does not mean sex. Plus, the prospector is conflicted about how his other self thinks he has the right to touch you.

“I mean he is you?”

“I don't care! You're mine.”

“Oh, can you say that again for me, sport?”

#anon ask #idv #reader insert #identity v x reader #identity v x you #idv prospector #idv fool's gold #fool's gold x reader #fool's gold x you #norton campbell x you #norton campbell x reader #idv norton #idv x you #idv x reader

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yelenasdog · 1 year

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vibrant, saccharine, his ☼ (fwb!mat barzal x fwb!fem reader)

genre: filthy smut, fluff, angst with happy ending

summary: pretending is getting harder, for both of them. and after a hard roadie, mat’s not sure if he wants to pretend anymore.

words: 8.7k (WOAH)

warnings: cursing, excessive use of parentheses, friends with benefits arrangement, smut, unprotected piv, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, blood (reader bit lip too hard oops!), pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty boy), reader is described as having sisters and a dog, food mention, idiots to lovers, misunderstood situation, reader uses she/her pronouns, and i think that’s it.

a/n: when i started this, i originally was just writing a blurb and then it turned into a full ass fic with a plot?? and fwb??? idk man, im nervy to post this since ive never published for nhlers before but oh whale! and ty to @eminems-skittles for reading this for me and checking it over 🤍 love u

“You played so good, baby.” She breathed, welcoming him home with open arms.

“Not good enough, apparently.” He responded, letting her fingers card through his raven locks. Soft, freshly cut. She loved when he grew it out, but yet again it was him, so anything worked.

She sighed, letting her thumb fall to his cheekbone, knowing what he was referring to. It had been the last stop of the road trip, he’d had a hatty and despite making it to OT, it wasn’t enough in the shootout.

He’d had to wait an entire flight and car ride afterwards to see her, only giving her a brief text when he got off the ice (“We lost. Had a hatty. Fucking Toronto.”) (like she hadn’t stayed up to watch the game) and another when he landed.

And after so long of whatever the two of them had going on, she’d known better than to try to send him some long and winded attempt at a pick me up message. She settled for just responding “I’ll be here.” She didn’t need to say it though, he knew she’d be there.

She always was.

To anyone else it would’ve been sad, how she waited up for him, late nights spent lonely with just her and her dog, as he jetted around North America. In her mind, he was no doubt giving himself away to whatever random puck bunny threw herself his way.

Despite this, she was loyal, even though she had her suspicions about what he did when they were apart. And frankly, it wasn’t a part of the “deal” that they had to be exclusive, and it was none of her business. But truthfully, after so long, she couldn’t count on some washed up juniors player to give her even a fraction of the satisfaction he had.

So, she did this whole routine, whatever this was. She stayed up late watching his games, sitting on her couch in his sweatshirt he left. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but whenever she wore it, she liked to pretend.

Pretend that she was an obedient girlfriend wearing her loving boyfriends sweater. That as she sat curled up waiting on the corner of the beat up black sofa, 3 coffees in at approximately 1:37 am, she would be rewarded for her efforts come morning time.

That her and said loving boyfriend would lounge around together in bed (after he woke her up in the best way he knew how, showing her how grateful he was. Like I said, she loved when his hair was long enough to tug on, and even though she endlessly made fun of his patchy stubble, she couldn’t deny how delicious it felt burning between her thighs. Especially after they’d spent so long apart.) Then they’d go and grab late brunch, holding hands under the table as they sipped mimosas, which were Mat’s guilty pleasure only her and the waiter knew about, before heading home.

Maybe then they’d FaceTime his mom back in Coquitlam, an early riser with the 3 hour time difference. Mat had felt bad interrupting her morning routine, but she’d never pass up an opportunity to talk to her boy and the girl who she hoped was her future daughter in law.

After they got off the phone, she’d tell him how much she loved his mom, how her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. He’d tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, watching as she leaned into his touch.

“Missed you, Mat.” She’d say, closing her eyes.

“I missed you more.” He’d respond, his voice nearly a whisper. Her eyes would flutter open, and he’d recognize the look in them immediately. He felt his blood rush, and suddenly their proximity, which he’d never get used to, was very obvious.

“Oh yeah?” She asked. “I doubt that.”

He swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Her eyes hungrily swept over them, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and capture them with her own.

But patience is a virtue, she supposed.

“Want me to prove it, pretty boy?”

Words failed him, and all he could do was nod. He relaxed into the sofa, watching as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hands were on either thigh as he fought the urge to lay his tired head back onto the beat up pleather behind him. It had been too long, he thought. And he’d be damned if he was going to miss out on seeing her do what he’d only imagined in the shower, or over the phone for the past 16 days.

She reached her hands up from the muscle of his thigh up to his tummy, her cold hands shocking him as she reached under his sweatshirt- the same one she’d been wearing before.

Her hands drifted, down, down, down, to the waistband of those damn Lululemon shorts she’d got him for Christmas. He held his breath, watching as they danced around where he needed her most and then-

The doorknob turns, and she’s brought back to reality. Sleep had almost claimed her, iced coffee left abandoned on the coffee table, a ring of condensation already drying on the glass. She attempts to smooth out her hair, hoping that her brief almost-nap hadn’t left her too disheveled.

Not that he’d care.

She stood to greet him as he opened the door, hockey bag, and garment bag, and duffle bag, and backpack, and- God, did he really need all that- and suitcase, dropped unceremoniously as he entered the threshold. He kicked the huge bag to the side, and it landed right under where her keys and her leash for her old mutt, Warrior, hung from the wall.

Above the leash hung a picture of her and her sisters, with her running shoes on the floor beneath it for easy access. They were nearly squished by the gear, and if it had been anyone else’s shit crushing her 160 dollar sneakers, she’d be angry. But the sight of his bag near her shoes was so weirdly domestic, she could’ve cried.

She, yet again, was snapped out of her fantasy by the closing of the heavy door, watching as the man in front of her shuffled forward, immediately allowing himself to be held by her. His head fell to her shoulder, and rather than the usual clash of teeth and shoving to get to her room, (they never went to never his place after a roadie. He needed to be away from the constant reminders of it all for awhile, just to be surrounded by her) she simply dropped a chaste kiss to his temple, letting her arm drop from his hair to his broad shoulders, squeezing once, twice, three times, on either one.

He stood up, and she led him to her room, though he knew the way well enough. Her hand in his felt nice, comforting, even, and he wasn’t going to complain. In the beginning of the arrangement the two of them had, touches like that had been normal. But as time went on, the barely there brushes and gentle caresses stopped all together.

He wanted to say something, wanted to ask her what was wrong, if it was something he did. But when he was off the ice, Mathew Barzal was not a man who liked to push his luck. So he didn’t. He let the touches slip away, and took what he could get from her.

Which right now, was toeing off his shoes, and crawling onto the plush comforter of her bed. It smelled like that sparkly ”fairy dust” shit from Lush he saw sitting on her bathroom counter once, cotton candy and bubblegum infiltrating his senses. That, and her favorite floral perfume he was all too familiar with on her pillow. A combination of scents he usually would find too much, sickly-sweet. But it was her, and that alone made it the most soothing aroma he’d ever known.

Initially when he’d gotten off the ice, the adrenaline had been pumping, and his anger had been rampant. All he’d wanted was to get home to her, have his way with her. To have an outcome he could control.

He’d kept himself relatively calm in the locker room, not having any outbursts towards Ilya, or anyone for that matter. If any of the guys had noticed he was uncharacteristically quiet, they didn’t say anything.

That is, until the bus ride to the airport.

He had been typing out his text to her, (Hatty, lost in OT, Toronto, you know the one), when he had felt a pair of peering eyes. Sitting in the back of the bus, he’d thought he’d done well to avoid such glances, but apparently not.

“Y’know, you shouldn’t be sulking so much.” A certain French-Canadian spoke, the brunette man’s tired eyes lingering over Mat’s hunched over form.

If there was one thing he didn’t need right now, it was more pep talks from Tito. He’d had more than his fill in the locker room. And though he loved the guy, he didn’t need to be told again how he “did everything right” and had a ”killer game”.

Because he knows, and that’s partly why he’s so mad.

Partly. As the other part is the fact that he wants more than anything to come back to NY to her arms. He was exhausted at this point, and rather than having his way with her, he now just wanted to be welcomed home into those ridiculously cozy sheets. He wanted her to light up all those overpriced candles she loved so much from Bath and Bodyworks, and for Warrior to snuggle up by him, stinky dog breath be damned. He wanted her to turn on ”Miracle” in the back as white noise, and laugh as she repeated all the lines from memory. (He may be Canadian, but he can appreciate a heart warming story told by Kurt Russell when he sees one.)

More than anything, though, he wanted her. And not just for an hour or two before he inevitably dragged himself out of those silky sheets that felt heavenly on his back, leaving her sleeping beside him. She looked peaceful in those moments, and he often wondered what she dreamt of. If she was dreaming of him as he did of her.

Bottom line was, Mathew was the victim of a series of unfortunate events. And the man to his left could recognize that it wasn’t just the hockey that was bothering him. (Though, that whole situation did suck pretty bad, he’d admit.)

So when Anthony told him he shouldn’t be sulking, he flashed him a tight lipped smile and a nod, before looking out the window at the Toronto sunset. The oranges and pinks were stunning, and more than anything their vibrancy reminded him of her. The smile she’d give him in her post-orgasm glow, or of the orange blossom on the bottle of perfume on her vanity. Beauvillier’s gaze never faltered, though, recognizing the deep train of thought his close friend was experiencing.

The screen of his phone had begun to darken, the draft of his message just barely visible. Tito’s eyes quickly shifted from the screen and back up to Barzy, opening his mouth and pausing momentarily.

“Who’re you texting?”

Mat quickly turned off the device, the “click” sounding out in the quiet bus cabin, most of the Islanders players catching some shut eye or watching that new Game of Thrones spin off.

Personally, Mat didn’t get the appeal.

“Nobody, just… a friend I’m visiting tonight when we get back.”

Anthony’s eyebrows went up, making a face of understanding as he slowly nodded three times.

“A friend, huh?”

Mathew nods, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go. “Yup.” He adds softly for good measure, popping the p.

“You visiting a friend after a game like that, this late, hm?” Another pause. ”Must be an important friend.”

“Yeah.” His voice is soft again, compassion coming across his features and he thinks of her again.

“Well“, Anthony starts, popping in his earbuds and opening his phone to his Music app. “I’d say whatever’s going on with this friend seems worth talking to her about.”

Mat‘s head snaps up, and he scoffs, shaking his head.

“I didn’t say that it was a she-“

“You didn’t have to, buddy.” Tito winks in the most annoyingly-Tito way, and chuckles to himself. He then lays his head back onto the navy material behind him. Mat “hmph”s to himself, doing the same. He turns his phone back on again, going to the chat between the two of them. The still blinking cursor seems like it’s mocking him as he runs a hand over his face, hitting send.

If there’s gonna be any deep, emotional shit, it can wait until he’s not 2500 miles away.

7 hours later when he finally crashes through her front door, he swears the relief he feels mixed with the sense of dread it all might be over in an hour, gives him whiplash. But nonetheless, she welcomes him in, and she feels like home.

Warrior watches from the couch, his tail lazily wagging as he observes his owner greeting the man who occasionally slips him bacon from his Starbucks sandwich. His old man (old dog?) body doesn’t find the arrival of the hockey player worthy of leaving his nest on the sofa, as to him that’s all Mathew Barzal is. The bringer of bacon.

To Warrior’s owner, though, he was so much more.

The trek to the bedroom felt like it took an eternity, and as he laid on her bed, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a bad idea to push his luck for once. Risk ending it all to gain everything.

She laid down next to him, and he shifted, going from laying with his arms crossed under his head, to one next to her head, the other keeping him stable from his position on top of her.

Her hand crept up to push an unruly lock out of his eyes, and she leaned forward, and he met her halfway. They paused briefly, taking each other in after so long, before finally closing to distance.

He tasted warm, like cinnamon and something she couldn’t place, and she wondered if at the airport he’d gotten one of those pretzels she knew he liked so much. To compliment his psychopath reminiscent black coffee, of course.

His hand went from where it had been cradling her face down to rest on her hip. The soft touch elicited a whimper, and at that he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

She recognized that something was off, swimming around in that pretty little head of his. A small frown etched its way onto her face, and she lifted his chin up so he had no choice but to look at her.

“What’s wrong, Mat?”

He took in a shaky breath, looking over to his left, where the TV was on some random wallpaper, a sunset, he realizes. He scoffs, looking back at her.

“Can you just- can we- can I- fuck.” He mutters, slowly falling down so his body weight is nearly on top of her.

“Can you just… hold me?”

She swears she’s never heard him sound so broken.

“Yeah, baby, ’course. C’mere.” She replies softly, allowing him to fully rest on her. It was a miracle that he didn’t fully break down right there, at the feeling of her fingertips dancing over his skin, under his pushed up shirt. His nose was cold against her neck as he dragged it up against her to come to her cheek, pressing a kiss there. His eyes never opened, afraid that if they did, it would all just be another elaborate fantasy he’d created to pass the time.

“Is this a good idea?” Came her voice, cutting through the silence.

He sniffles. “What do you mean?”

“This. Us.” She says, not able to meet his gaze where he’s lifted his head.

“We’re going to get hurt. More than we already have.”

Oh. Oh, fuck this was happening right now. Mat sat up, feeling like a scared teenage boy. Damn you and the way you read people, Beauvillier. Maybe this would’ve been easier from 2500 miles away.

“We don’t have to.”

“What other option do we have?” She said, sounding defeated, like she already knows her answer and she doesn’t like it. “I-I can’t keep doing this no strings attached shit. Not when you do this. Not when you come here all beat up like some sad puppy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. And he was.

“Don’t be. I should’ve known this would happen.” Her voice was soft, her eyes distant.

“That what would happen?” He questioned. She looked at him like he had two heads.

“That you’d leave, Mat. That this whole pretending bullshit wouldn’t be enough for me.”

He leaned forward again, catching her off guard.

“I’m not leaving you. I’d never leave you.”

She looked away briefly, mentally cursing herself for being so emotional as tears began to well up in her eyes. He fell to her side, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Do you really want this?” She asked, the tears rolling down her face illuminated a hue of pink from the salt lamp on the bedside table. Mathew reached out a hand, dragging his thumb over the droplet. He hated that she was crying, but fuck, she sure looked pretty while doing it.

His answer came without thought, he’d done enough of that on his way over.

“Yes. I want you in every way, if you’ll have me.”

A small smile came onto the corners of her face, and she nodded, shortly at first, but more exaggerated as they started laughing, a small “yeah?” escaping from Mathew. She responded with the same, and he took that as his sign to reach forward, closing the distance between them.

And like all the times before, they fell into their routine, her hands going down to his hips, lifting the gray material of his shirt over his head. He returned the favor, the two of them moving in sync as she lifted her hips and he gently slid off her shorts. He ran his palms along her bare thighs and she shivered at the feeling, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Mathew.

“I missed you, y/n.” He admitted, running a hand through his, now, unruly hair.

Another vibrant smile came across her face, easing whatever nerves Mat had left over from his confession.

“I missed you more, Mathew.”

He shook his head, dipping down to leave sloppy kisses on her neck. Taken aback, she let a shaky breath escape. He pulled back, satisfied with the response he’d pulled from her.

“Not possible.”

In a moment of boldness (and a slight hope to allow a fantasy to come to life) she challenged him.

“Prove it, then.”

His eyes darkened, then, and he surged forward. Her remaining clothes, which was just his sweatshirt and a flimsy cami, were gone in an instant. She was left in just a pair of black undies, Mat nearly cumming on the spot at the sight, like he’s some horny teenager. His apparel soon joined the growing pile on the floor, as she made a remark about how it wasn’t fair he was still so covered.

She shamelessly raked over his naked form, save for the black boxers, with his firm muscles, sore from the roadie, prominent as ever. She might’ve been drooling, she wasn’t sure. He smirked, the effect he had on her not lost to him.

The two began to kiss again, and there was no other way to describe it other than that it just felt right.

Mathew wasted no time, allowing his hand to trail down and cup her clothed heat, his thumb passing over her clit and past her entrance with a feather light touch. She shivered, her hips lifting up to chase the brief sensation. He pulled her panties to the side, teasing her entrance with his middle finger.

It was immediately covered in her slick, as was the black fabric he’d moved aside. It made him groan just from the sensation alone, making her chuckle at his behavior. Her laugh soon was cut off as he sunk the finger in, giving her no time to adjust, not that she needed it with how ready she was for it, before adding another.

His palm just barely grazed her begging clit as he pumped in and out slowly. And as she continued to lift her hips trying to feel him deeper, push his hand closer to her clit, she fully expected him to push her down and put her in her place.

But this whole thing was about showing him how much he missed her, how much he appreciated her. To show her that he was staying. And him staying meant that he’d have plenty of chances in the future to be an insufferable tease, but right now wasn’t one of those times.

“Matty, please-“ it was more of a breathy whine, not intelligible to an untrained ear. But thankfully for her, that wasn’t Mat.

“You want more, baby?” He questioned, knowing the answer. She nodded, hair splayed around her like a halo on the pillow. She was still illuminated from the TV screen and the salt lamp, making her look like an angel of sorts, not of this world.

“Look at me then, sweetheart. Wanna see that I’m makin’ you feel good.”

Her eyes that met his were glazed over and doe like, and it melted Mat’s insides at just one look. He did his best to push down the mushy feeling that arose, before realizing he didn’t have to anymore. He could feel as sickeningly in love as he wanted, no consequences.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. So needy, fuckin’ perfect girl.” He remarked, adding in a third finger. She let out a borderline pornographic cry, and Mat picked up his pace. His gaze only faltered from her face, contorting in pleasure, back to where he was pumping in and out of her, unable to resist the urge to watch in amazement.

Though her legs were flailing, going from propped up to sliding down and spread, rustling the comforter, she somehow had enough mind to reach a hand down. She attempted to run tight circles around her clit, but not before her hand was pinned to her side by the center above her,

“No, baby. Lemme.”

His range of motion was wider and his thrusts harder as he curled his fingers to perfectly hit that spot inside her that made her see stars, fully trailing his hand over her sex. He repeated the action again, and again, and again- and fuck, she didn’t know how long she’d go on like this but she never wanted the feeling to stop.

He felt her tighten around him, and he picked up his pace, knowing she was almost there.

“Mat!” she managed to get out between strangled moans and panting breaths. He leaned down, kissing below her ear on the one spot he knew drives her crazy. She was halfway thinking, well, less than halfway with her state at the moment, that he would cruelly pull his hand away as she reached her peak. So she clamped her thighs together in an attempt to trap him, subconsciously more than not.

It didn’t stop him from grinding his palm against her like he had been, leaning down to capture her lips with his in a searing kiss.

Everything at once was just so much, the obscene sounds coming from both their mouths and her wet heat, the feeling of Mathew’s bare skin on top of her, the feeling of warmth radiating from his body, and oh my God, after so long it’s fucking finally happening-

He felt as her chest seized and she pulled away from the kiss, her head slamming back before falling to the side. She cried out, her orgasm hitting her like nothing had before.

He found her lips in the chaos beneath him, his hand parting her thighs as she went lax, lazily pumping in and out as she rode out her high. Her slick coated the inside of her thighs, and Mat pulled away momentarily and she whined, like the little brat she was allowing herself to be.

He only smirked, leaning down to kiss on her collarbone, letting his tongue sweep over the seemingly shimmering expanse of skin before him. He moved further down, savoring the taste of her, how it felt to be so close to her. No guards up, no shields, no screening involved.

She moved her ring clad hands to run fingers through his locks, that fucking smile coming across her face. He looked up from where his hands were holding either side of her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh just enough to not make it hurt, but to say “I’m here. I’m not leaving.” His chin rested above her bellybutton, and he felt suddenly seen, bashful almost. He continued his trail down in a half assed attempt to hide his face, her breath hitching when he made it to her mound.

Her breath barely returned to her as he skipped over where she thought he was headed, instead opting to take her right leg over his shoulder, moving down the expanse of it to her ankle. He brought his eyes to meet hers, and a tender hand ran up and down the distance of it. He kissed the inside of her ankle, making his way up to the skin where her thigh met her already aching sex.

He lightly nudged his nose against the area, before attaching his lips. He started sucking on the skin there, licking her clean. Satisfied, he moved to the other side, beginning his good work.

“Mat,” she broke her silence, her voice splintered and low, “don’t tease. Please.”

He raised his eyebrows, seemingly in jest.

“I think we’re a little far gone from teasing, eh?” He asked, and truthfully, one mind blowing orgasm later, they were.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever hotshot.”

“New nickname?” He questioned. “I like it.” He huffed, returning to his place between her legs. “But I fucking love this pussy, baby.”

And with that, he dove in. He immediately groaned at what he had found. (Which, obviously, caused her to tug at that perfect head of hair, eliciting another groan.)

If possible, she had become even wetter with the mix of his spit and her nectarine juices. It dripped down his chin, and he wanted to stay there forever. He’d found solace there, he thought. No Maple Leafs, no Tito, no hatty that meant jackshit in the end.

Just her and her consummate being. Vibrant, saccharine. His.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent drawing her closer and closer to the edge, but somewhere between repeated chants of praises and whatnot, he’d slipped.

“Fucking love this cunt, fucking love you-“

He hadn’t realized what he said, and if he had, he didn’t seem to care. But his words alone were enough to rip an unassuming orgasm from her. She didn’t allow herself long enough to think about if he meant to say it or not, or even to ride out the aftershocks rolling through her nerves. She grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him away from her glistening cunt and up to where she connected their lips.

A small sound of surprise, not reluctance, escaped from where they were joined. Her hands came to cradle either side of his face, and Mat thinks that he might’ve cried from the tender action. He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to ask. Hey, it’d been a long day.

“You mean it?”

He realized what he had said, then, eyes wide and somehow his face even more flushed than before. He considered lying, like when Tito had asked who he was texting and he’d said a friend.

But where would that leave him, he wondered?

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I did.” He added after a beat of silence.

And in those few moments nothing had seemed scarier.

Not when he was 18, getting skipped over by teams in the draft, and that voice in the back of his head had told him that, somehow, everyone had collectively decided to skip Mathew Barzal. Not when he was 19 playing in his first game for the Isles, having to follow up Auston Matthews first NHL game where he had four goals. Four. Fuck.

No, all that was topped by this. By the same fear he’d had earlier when he’d been on the bus, or when he’d arrived at her apartment.

But all of that fear was dissolved in a second after her laugh sounded out in the small bedroom, her eyes crinkling at the edges. She pulled him down towards her, and the sound of her laughter pulled a radiant smile from the hockey player that he felt like hadn’t seen the light of day in a long time.

She rolled over on top of his chest, leaning forward and throwing her arms around his neck. His chain was glinting, now, in the light she had previously been bathed in, and it caught her eye as it rested against his milky complexion.

“You looooove me.” She regarded in a sing-song voice, and Mat rolled his eyes despite the smile growing on his face. She leaned down, and Mathew’s grip on her bare hips tightened, all too aware of the wet spot left on his stomach from her leaking sex.

She mirrored his previous movements down his chiseled body, a regular Adonis in his own right. She left open mouthed kisses, the wet patches from them adding to the thin sheen that covered his body. She made her way down to his boxers, the obvious tent making her stifle a laugh. He caught it though, of course, and rolled his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Laugh it up, babe. Laugh at my misery.” He commented, to which she only shook her head.

“Patience is a virtue, Mathew.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Well, he had a point there.

So rather than talk, she decided she’d put her mouth to good use. She pulled down his boxers at a painstakingly slow rate, watching as his cock slapped up against his stomach. Her mouth watered at the sight, the tip red and weeping, begging to be attended to. He kicked off the boxers, paying no mind to how they slipped onto the floor, forgotten. She didn’t either, as she was sure he had to have some extra in one of his gazillion bags sitting in her entry way.

Her nails scratched down his stomach, angry red lines puffing up and decorating around the expanse of his skin. They were accompanied by freckles and marks and scars that she could have mapped together with her eyes closed. She knew Mathew like the back of her hand. And with that, came knowing how to make him come undone in her hands.

She started leaving small kisses at the base of his shaft, before swiping the bead of precum from his head down to the rest of him. She pumped her hand a few times, and Mathew let out a strangled moan. She thought he couldn’t get any louder, feeling bad for her neighbors at whatever hour in the night it was, but she was quickly proven wrong.

She licked a long stripe from the bottom to his tip, before taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. She bobbed her head a few times, jacking off whatever she couldn’t fit with her hands. She hollowed her cheeks, and the rise and fall of Mathew’s chest quickened. The sound he let out was animalistic, and it sent another wave of arousal through her body. She moaned involuntarily, and the feeling caused Mathew to buck his hips.

“You’re doing so good, baby. ‘M not gonna last with you going at me- shit- like that.”

He brought a large hand down to the side of her face, lightly stroking her cheek. It was a moment of wholesomeness that reminded them what they were now, what he had said.

Mat could tell she was tired, her pace decreasing. The look in her eyes never changed, though. And as he went to speak to tell her it was okay, and she didn’t have to (and because since it had been so long, he was scared he’d bust his load if she wasn’t careful), she pulled off.

A string of saliva followed, and the sight looked like a thumbnail of a shitty porno. Her eyes were droopy and glazed over, and Mat’s hypothesis was proven correct.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to finish. Let me take care of you.” He repeated his sentiment from earlier. She only shook her head, continuing to jack him off with her hand. Oh. He thought. That’s not what I was expecting.

“S’okay, Matty. Wanna make you feel good.”

She ran her thumb over his tip again, her glassy and swollen bottom lip hanging ajar as she concentrated. The moans he was letting slip free could only be described as pathetic, the 190 pound hockey player putty in her hands.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t, God, baby, shit! I-If you don’t stop.”

And then she pulled her hand off, and he let out a quick breath at the momentary relief, if that was even the right word. But it was short lived, and she managed to hoist herself up, dragging her folds along his cock, before stabilizing herself with hands on his chest. He slid inside of her, and the sounds they both let out echoed off her walls.

She started moving, and then it was “You’re fuckin’ amazing, you know that? So fuckin’ amazing. My girl, my perfect girl.” He rambled, the events of just that day alone scrambling his mind trying to keep up. Similarly to how she felt earlier, everything was just too much for the poor man. She felt like Heaven around him, and he watched in awe from below her as she moved, enamored by the woman he loves.

As she became more and more tired, her movement slowed, reduced to her grinding herself down on his cock. Mat was barely hanging on, trying to make it last as long as possible. He could tell she was close too, as she squeezed him like a vice, and put her energy into picking up her pace.

“Fuck, Matty. Feels s’good. Love you- shit! I love you so much, baby.” She told him, her eyes closed and her face screwed up as she chased her high. But something snapped in Mathew at her confession, and with a quick “fuck” under his breath, he flipped the two of them without ever leaving her.

He was relentless.

He slammed in and out, and at the sudden change in position and pace, she was blindsided. She thrashed around him, her hands everywhere at once. Her hair, his hair, grasping at his shoulders, scratching down his back. She settled for his biceps, as his hands were planted. One on the right side of her head, the other gripping her hip bone so hard, she was sure it’d bruise.

“It’s only ever been you, baby. I promise you.”

“Shit, Mat!” She cried, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She loosely draped her legs around his middle, allowing him to reach new depths within her. He was fucking her senseless, and they fucking loved it.

“It’ll only ever be you. I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, Y/n.” His hair hung in his eyes as he fought to keep them open. He shook it out of his eyes, wanting to see her as she came in all her glory.

“Love you, Mat. So much, baby. You have no idea.”

His pelvis snapped harder against her, just barely reaching up and grazing her clit in the most exquisite way. The rope in her stomach began to tighten for the third time that night, so close to breaking she could almost taste it.

Actually, she could taste it, she realized. She had been biting down so hard on her bottom lip she could taste the metallic tang on her tongue, and fuck, it was all the more delectable.

“Mat!” It was another exclamation, followed by more babbles. “‘S too much, Matty, can’t do it.” Her voice was small, and despite the nature of the statement, Mat felt his heart flutter.

He shook his head. “Yes, you can, baby. I know you’re tired, but you can do it, Y/n. You’ve got another one in you sweetheart, pull through for me. I’ve got you.”

And never one to disappoint, especially not her Mathew, she did.

She came, and she came hard. But it wasn’t dramatic the way you’d think it’d be, at least not outwardly. Her breathing stopped, her toes curled, and her nails dug into the skin on Barzy’s arms. It wasn’t accompanied by a loud scream, or a drawn out, high pitched moan. It was a breath of relief that left her when she came, her head falling to the side and her eyes closing. A quiet moan of Mat’s name, and she was clamping down on him.

The sweet way his name fell off her tongue, mixed with how she was so damn tight around him as she came, and he was done for. It triggered his own orgasm, and he felt the same feeling of peace wash over him that she had as he spilled into her. He fucked her through it, soft thrusts calming whatever aftershocks they both were experiencing. She had gone limp under him, her eyes opening as she gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

He stayed in her, lowering himself onto his side, then maneuvering them so she was laying on him. They were a cliché and they knew it, but they couldn’t seem to care. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, before it was broken by Mathew’s scratchy post-sex voice. Swoon.

“So,” he started. She raised a brow, wondering where he was going with this.

“You looooove me, too, then?” He mimicked her tone from earlier, and they broke out in a fit of laughter as she slapped his arm and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re alright.” She feigned annoyance, propping herself up on her right arm as she faced the man she loved. Mat scoffed, blowing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Just alright? You’re crazy, lady.”

“But you love me.”

Not a beat passed before “I do.”

She smiled softly, lifting up a hand to run a finger along his jaw. He caught it with his own, never breaking eye contact as he kissed her palm. Again, swoon.

“I know.” She responded, wanting to stay in that moment forever. But, she knew that if she stayed where she was too long, she’d more than likely fall asleep in record time. So, she pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, which he turned to catch before she could go, pulling her back for a “real” kiss at his protest.

A petulant child, that’s what he is.

She pressed one more to his lips for good measure, before pulling himself off of him. They both let out disgruntled sounds at the sudden losses, and it took all her energy to sit up on the edge of her bed. She felt a strong jaw on her shoulder, and she leaned into it.

“Where you goin’? Leaving me all alone isn’t very nice.” She could hear the frown in his voice, and even though she knew he was joking, it tugged on her heartstrings that little bit.

“Gotta pee.” She said, standing up and walking towards the connecting bathroom. “Sorry baby, no UTIs for me.”

The frown stayed cemented on his face.

“You should be grateful,” she threw over her shoulder, shutting the door. “No UTIs, more fucking, yeah?”

He chuckled at her bluntness, deciding to go and get her some water and maybe a snack. Shit, he didn’t know. What was he supposed to do? Usually when they fucked before, her or Mat would be out the door as soon as possible, still trying to ward off those pesky feelings. But now, he was allowed to feel said pesky feelings, and he’d be damned if he fucked it up.

So, snack. And water? Yeah, water, for sure. He was hungry and thirsty, why wouldn’t she be. He had no idea the way around her kitchen, nor how to, er, actually make anything, so this would be rough. But, first, a pit stop.

He would have walked butt-ass naked into her kitchen, really, but then he remembered Warrior was out there and he didn’t have a need to traumatize that dog any further than he already was.

(It was one time, okay? He didn’t know she had a dog, he’d been asleep on his bed by the TV when they’d gotten to her place. And at the time, Mat was too preoccupied to notice.)

He looked around on the floor for the offending clothing item, slightly grossed out when he did finally find them. It was only for a minute, tops, is what he told himself, as he pulled on the boxers from earlier in the night.

He tiptoed, for literally no apparent reason, through the dark apartment until he found the bag he was looking for. He grabbed what he needed from it, struggling with the zipper while trying to close it, before giving up. On his way back to her room, he gave Warrior a nod and smile, and he swore the mutt gave one back. Okay, actually, on second thought, he remembered the clock on her microwave saying it was 3:18 AM, so, maybe he didn’t.

It was late and he just had the best sex of his life with the woman he loves. Give him a break. So what if he’s delusional and thinks he can communicate with dogs? At least he’s pretty.

When he gets to her room, he pulls on the newer, clean, pair of boxers, setting the other pair he grabbed from his bag on the bed for her when she got out of the bathroom, along with an Islanders shirt that he’d secretly always wanted to see her in. Too soon? Maybe. But after so long yearning for everything domestic and wholesome and good that he was convinced he didn’t deserve with her, he was indulging a little bit. So sue him.

His next stop, snacks. And water, can’t forget the water.

The water was easy enough, he got lucky. He grabbed her “emotional support cup” as she’d called it before when she thought he wasn’t listening, and went over to the fridge. He got a few ice cubes and put them in, and then went over to her Brita. He stood there, pressing down on the little lever, watching the steady stream of water into the cup. It was almost laughable, how he stood there in the dead silence, concentrating so hard. He was determined not to somehow do something wrong, even though it was just pouring a cup of water. Cute.

He checked the pantry once the cup was full, with the lid safely screwed on top. The rustling about caught the attention of Warrior, who hopped down from where he’d been on the couch, moseying on over.

Mat, who still was slightly wary of Warrior, despite the fact the dog would cause him no harm, shook his head at the mutt.

“Sorry, buddy. I don’t have anything for you.”

He turned his head and gave him puppy dog eyes, pulling out all the stops. Mat sighed, looking back to the pantry. He saw a box of Milkbones, and looked back to Warrior, who was egging him on. (They’re telepathically connected, remember?)

He reached in the box, pulling one out, and tossing it down. Warrior gratefully accepted, taking his treat and waltzing off to his bed to chow down. Mat looked in the pantry, going to close the box, when he sees it, his saving grace.

White bread, hallelujah.

He can do toast. Mathew Barzal is a totally capable 25 year old man who can make toast. So, he takes the bag, going over to the toaster. And-

One look at all those fancy buttons, and he’s tapped out.

Okay, it’s okay, he can remember seeing a vending machine on his way into her apartment. Yeah, he remembers her telling him about having to sign off on some HOA form for it, even though she was just renting. Apparently, her landlord hadn’t signed, which made it her job. Whatever, that’s irrelevant.

He figured that there wouldn’t be anybody out in her hallway at 3:23 AM, so he grabbed his coat with his wallet, shrugging it on over his bare back. His slides were somewhere in his hockey bag and the last thing he wanted to do was stink up her whole place by opening that Pandora’s box. So, barefoot it is.

He does his best to sneak out the apartment, leaving the door ajar as he makes the short walk to the vending machine, grateful his search was over. He let out a long sigh as he stood, wondering what to get her.

For himself he decided on a bag of cool ranch Doritos, and a bag of those tiny cookies. For her, he racked every corner of his brain for potential options, before realizing how long he’s taking, and how long he’d been gone. So, not wanting to waste any more time, he elected for one of everything.

He punched in the numbers and paid, attempting to grab them from the machine. Trying to pick up the few that had fallen, he leaned down. His attention was called elsewhere by the ”click!” of a door a few units down. His head snapped to the source of the sound.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” He muttered under his breath upon what he saw.

A man probably not much older than himself, suitcase and backpack in tow, donned in, you guessed it, a New York Islanders hoodie a lá number 13.

The man had yet to notice the star player down the hall from him, and Mat was considering just making a run for Y/n’s place. But either way, he would have to go past the man, or the man would have to go past Mat to get to the elevator. Maybe he’d take the stairs? He hoped. Shit, who was he kidding, he’s not taking the stairs.

Starting his walk over, the unnamed Islanders fan lifted his head, stopping in his tracks. His jaw dropped, and if it wasn’t purely because of being in the presence of Mat Barzal, he had a hunch what it was.

Said hunch, was that it was due to the fact Mat Barzal was standing in front of him, in an apartment complex definitely not boujee enough for him to be living in, at 3:25 in the morning, naked, except for boxers and some fancy trench coat, holding several bags of snacks.

Mat would’ve laughed at the guys face, but he thought he wasn’t quite in the position to do so.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” And a stupid bro nod, was all Mathew could manage.

While he was facing that debacle, Y/n was having one of her own.

After she’d gone to the bathroom, she decided to try to do her nighttime routine, too. She put on her robe from where it had been hanging in her bathroom, beginning her little routine.

When she emerged 10 minutes later, Mat was nowhere to be seen.

His bags were still by the door, albeit one of them hastily thrown open. Was he leaving and had gotten some clothes and an Uber? Did he have last minute regrets? The door to her place was left open, and an overwhelming sadness began to take over her system. As the tears began to well up, she looked over to Warrior, only to notice him chewing on… a milkbone? How the hell did he get a milkbone?

She sniffled, wiping her sleeve under her nose. She sat down on her couch, looking at where her iced coffee from earlier was still sitting, ¾ of the way empty. The tears started to flow freely again after that, and she stood up, deciding that she should at least shut the door. She didn’t need to deal with a robbery, too.

As she stood and turned, she was met with a very discombobulated and very underdressed Mat trying to shove his way through the door.

“Have a good flight, man. Enjoy Miami!” Mat called over his shoulder to what sounded like her neighbor Gian, based off of the “Thanks bro, good luck this season!” she heard back.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to not bust out laughing at the sight in front of her. Hearing her snickering, he looked up gesturing to the bags in his arms.

“Hungry?” He asked, the smile on his face falling when he saw the red around her eyes. He dropped all the snacks on the couch to his right, making his way over to where she stood.

“Hey, hey, why’re you crying? What’s wrong sweetheart?” He questioned, and his sincerity made her smile widely.

“Nah, I’m all good, don’t worry about it. Just thought you’d left, that’s all…” A pause. “But I see now that you just had a case of munchies, apparently.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her towards his chest. His chin rested on her head, and she closed her eyes, inhaling his scent.

“No, baby. God, no, I’m not leaving. I just wanted to do this whole thing right, and I thought you might be hungry, and I tried to make toast- your toaster is really complex by the way,”

She pulled away from him as he rambled, her smile reaching her eyes.

“And I filled your water and set out clothes for you and I really did try, baby. I didn’t mean to fuck anything up, really.”

She giggled again, taking hold of the shoulders of his jacket, shrugging it off. She folded it over the back of a barstool, then turned back towards Mat.

“And Gian?”

“Oh yeah, he’s cool. Ran into him in the hallway and introduced myself. Going to visit some family in Miami.”

She raised an eyebrow, nodding her head in understanding. She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“So, am I gonna have to compete with him for your attention now whenever you come over?”

He reciprocated the action, one hand coming up to rest on her chin.

“I mean, he’s gonna be gone for two weeks, but after that…” he shrugged, trailing off. She hummed, and he smiled at her, leaning forward. He searched her eyes for any remaining upset, unable to find any, before he pressed his lips to hers. It was sweet and gentle, with not a hint of rush or fervor.

When they pulled apart, she was smiling again. Her hands found their way back to his neck.

“And baby, you’re amazing. You didn’t fuck up anything at all, I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She whispered, leaning in again to connect their lips. She let her tongue sweep over his bottom lip, biting down just barely before pulling away. She pushed down the sleeves of her robe just a bit, exposing her shoulders. Y/n took his hand, and started walking backwards, letting it slowly slip out of hers as she did.

“Come on, hotshot. Come to bed. Snacks will still be there in the morning.”

She smiled again briefly, before walking towards her room, the robe slipping down as she went. Mat stood watching her in total awe, glued in place, until he was knocked out of his trance.

“Hurry up! And lock the door, too, please!”

He had never obliged to anything quicker in his life.

(And as for the snacks, they were not still there in the morning, thanks to a certain mutt who managed to rip open all the packets on the couch. The next morning was spent at the vet, who had told them Warrior would be fine, just fat. The vet had only said this, though, after Mat had consoled a crying Y/n, who was under the impression he was going to be poisoned.

The rest of the day after that? Making up for lost time.)

FIN.

YO idk if that was good or not i kind of feel like i imagined writing the entire thing and it was a fever dream. but. anyway! if you liked it, be sure to reblog <3 thank u i love u! go eat some protein and drink some water.

xx, hj

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obwald · 9 months

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i have been developing and changing this oswald au for over a year and im finally (maybe) ready to post about it RAAHAHHH

This is the Animatronic Heart AU!

This AU explores the idea that Mad Doc tested animatronic parts on a toon on Oswald before he turned himself part animatronic. In general, Oswald is much more resentful and angry.

Below the break are some facts about the story/au

• Oswald had been much more of a shut in even before the thinner disaster, believing that he needed to keep working alongside mad doc to make improvements to wasteland. Mad Doc would leave the workshop while Oswald worked, so he relied on Doc to give him any news from outside. He rarely left their workshop and was unaware of the occurrence of the thinner disaster until it eventually hit the workshop

• he trusted mad doc with anything and everything, so when mad doc lied and said Wasteland was doing okay, oswald had no reason to doubt

• in Oswalds absence, ortensia took on the role of ruler of Wasteland. she was rightfully angry with oswald when he finally left the workshop to see the destruction that had occurred.

• she barely recognized Oswald, his outward appearance was the same but he was like a different person

• oswalds exposed animatronic parts used to be concealed by toon, but due to irreversible damage from the blot and thinner, some parts are now permanently showing.

• oswald can no longer fly. when mad doc was working on animatronic ears, he did not take into consideration the flying. the mechanical parts could not maneuver the same way. The gears in his ears were a later edition that were implemented to try and make an alternative way to fly, but ultimately never were finished. The gears currently serve no functional purpose.

• animatronic parts cannot be detached like toon parts.

• the animatronic parts also make him slower, but they do give him a stronger durability and can help conduct his electricity

• rumors spread around Wasteland about oswalds animatronic parts, and citizens began to theorize that he had done this to himself, and that he had built an animatronic heart in order to try and escape wasteland

• while he hated the rumors, he did like the idea of trying to make his own heart with what he knew from building animatronics, and began work on creating an animatronic heart

• because he was the first attempt, his animatronic parts are in terrible condition and he has to do constant maintenance on himself

• in this aus version of epic mickey 2, doc gets turned toon again in the end by the guardians, but Oswald remains with his animatronic parts, making him even more spiteful and angry towards the mad doctor.

• mad doc was able to manipulate Oswald in EM2 because of the relationship they once had, and doc painted it as if it was a mutual benefit partnership and that he would help him with his animatronic parts because he had been working on his own. all of this a ploy for trust and more experimentation

I feel like I have more to say but I can't think rn but yay okay that's it

#Animatronic Heart #Animatronic Heart AU #oswald the lucky rabbit #epic mickey #epic mickey 2 #oswald #mad doc #mad doctor #ortensia #ortensia whiskers #ortensia the cat #epic mickey au #oswald the lucky rabbit au #mickey mouse #oswald doodle corner

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conanssummerchild · 3 months

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do i think the community characters are ableist:

this is based off of things in-show and just my personal opinions feel free to disagree tho

pierce: do i even have to say it. yes.

elroy: nah elroy is chill as fuck i literally love him

abed: no, i feel like he would ask a lot of rlly blunt questions tho and some ppl might feel offended

britta: i love britta but she would push someone elses wheelchair in public and be like "look! im helping a DIFFERENTLY ABLED PERSON"

annie: i feel like she would be accidentally ableist (as opposed to pierce) but apologise profusely when someone tells her shes being ableist

shirley: uhh idk actually i dont think she would actually say anything ableist and she would say "ooh thats not nice :(" if someone else did but then she would pity disabled ppl

chang: bro idfk correct me if im wrong but i think chang is the only one in the show whos actually literally never said anything ableist, like hes so unhinged atp that he doesnt even know or care

duncan: um, no? idk, the only thing we really know about duncan is hes british and hot for britta (same) but i dont recall him ever being ableist (again, correct me if im wrong) so im gonna give him the benefit of the doubt

troy: season one troy? probably, he probably said some shit and made fun of some autistic kids lets be real, but my son has had so much character developement and he would never now, like abed tho i feel like he might ask a lot of questions that could maybe be a bit invasive

jeff: jeff is so interesting bcs i dont actually think hes like naturally ableist, he thinks hes better than disabled ppl but not bcs theyre disabled just bcs he thinks hes better than everyone. however he is aware of ppls disabilities and if they piss him off he will probably use them against them which is not cool, thumbs down

the dean: oof im not sure abt this one i feel like he would try to be inclusive but not really get there and end up using offensive terms and stuff without meaning to and he would be supportive on paper but ehen someone disabled actually was. dis abled. he would be like "omg disabled ppl 😨😨" (IM NOT OVER HIM CALLING ABED PSYCHO OK STFU)

frankie: hmmm heres the thing about frankie she says abed 'doesnt know any better' and she calls her sister mentally retarded but she helped abed rlly well in the flashbacks episode instead of. yk. slapping him in the face and saying "you try to get him to do anything normal without abusing him" (FUCK YOU JEFF) so im not sure, but i would go with no probably

idk if i missed anyone but i would love to hear anyone eles thoughts on this

oh my fucking god i forgot about buzz hickey, yes he hates autistic ppl real, his existence is a hate crime

#alex says shit #abed nadir #troy barnes #jeff winger #britta perry #ben chang #shirley bennett #annie edison #pierce hawthorne #dean craig pelton #elroy patashnik #ian duncan #frankie dart #nbc community #community #buzz hickey

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neet-elite · 1 month

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hello! here is the kylar post written by our beloved 🐾anon. im posting this with their permission! i hope you guys enjoy it just as much as i do <333!

warnings: stepbrother!kylar, pseudoincest, olderbrother!kylar, breeding, creampie

Imagine getting adopted into Kylar's family. The parents are a little absent and your new big brother is a total loser, but it really isn't all that bad at first. Sure, he's a bit cringey in how overexcited he is about having a younger sister, but maybe he's just always wanted a sibling? Surely that's the reason. The fact that he's drooling while he thinks you aren't looking is just a coincidence! It happens!

Then he starts getting clingy. At first it's just touching your hand while giving you something or brushing you with his shoulder while he sits on the couch with you. Then he's asking for hugs and insisting that you have to hold hands whenever you go out. Then he tries to guilt-trip you into giving him a smooch on the cheek. You cave almost immediately, because he looks like he's actually a second away from bursting into tears. Your big brother is a loser, and you slowly begin to accept it. He's kinda cute in how cringefail he is.

What's not cute is finding out what happens to your panties when they go missing. You think you keep misplacing them and don't worry too much about it. Then you find them back in the laundry bin, all crusty and some even sticky. Okay, that's weird. But you still give Kylar some benefit of the doubt and pretend that everything is fine. He's nice to you! He gives you ice-cream, he always lets you pick whenever you both wanna watch something, he gives you shoulder massages, and he does your chores for you. Kylar is a good brother!

That's what you keep telling yourself, even as he slowly starts getting more and more handsy, sometimes to the point where you aren't entirely sure if this still isn't considered groping. But it's fine, you can take some pervy behaviour! You're a good little sister, and Kylar keeps reminding you of that even as he's panting in your ear while hugging you and clinging to you like his life depends on it. You try not to think about what's pressing against your thigh.

It gets worse the longer it goes on, and somehow you find yourself regularly making out with your big brother because he just loves you so much :(( It's what all loving siblings do! You're doubtful, but he looks so elated every time you agree to sit on his lap or let him knead your tits that you don't have the heart to tell him no. It's so easy to make him happy, and you kind of feel good from it too, even though you don't really want to admit it. You also worry about your parents finding out and you both getting into trouble, but Kylar is strangely unbothered.

Actually, he grows downright brazen. He begins feeling you up while your parents are in the room, he doesn't even attempt to hide the leering gazes he sends your way, he even slaps your ass one day while the whole family is together! Your parents just laugh it off, and continue like nothing happened. You aren't sure if you should feel relieved or mortified. You realise it's the latter when Kylar begins rutting into your ass, rubbing his clothed cock against you and whimpering in your ear while your parents are literally three steps away and yet they say nothing. At first you think they are somehow not noticing their son's actions, but then they start laughing and playfully discussing how nice it would be to have grandkids. And your brother fucking moans into your ear, not even trying to hide how turned on he is by the idea of breeding you.

Everything goes to shit from there. Apparently, your parents realised that the only way Kylar will ever get laid is if he is allowed to fuck you, so they just... Let him. In fact, they seem almost into the idea, with your mother complimenting your figure and making comments on how it's perfect for motherhood. Your father offhandedly mentions that it'd be nice to build a crib yourselves, and that he should buy the materials for some woodworking. Kylar is relentless now that he's got your parents' blessing and not-so-implicit approval. Groping and making out turns into you waking up with his head between your thighs, eagerly lapping at your cunt and looking at you like an overeager puppy, begging you to let him do more. He might jerk off and cum all over your face while you sleep, but he holds off on slipping his dick inside you without your permission. He really, really wants to! And he tells you about it in detail while he suckles on your tits and bites your nipples as if that'll somehow make you lactate. Kylar holds off on just taking you like he's been wanting for so long, instead eating you out daily while he waits for your permission to finally fill your womb with his cum. He waits, because he's such a nice and caring lover. He's constantly all over you, and you can't even bring up the "we're family!" argument because your entire family is more than happy to let your big brother knock you up.

When you finally break and let Kylar fuck you, he all but cums right into his pants right on the spot once he hears your words. Your big brother immediately pounces on you, pawing at your clothes in an attempt to expose as much of your body as he can without bothering to actually undress you. He moves with the urgency of someone who's afraid that you will change your mind, so he's stuffing you full of his cock in record time. Thankfully, all these evenings spent with him fingering your cunt over and over again have prepared you. The fact that you are already wet enough for him to easily slide in is something you refuse to think about. Of course, your big brother immediately begins to fuck you like a dog in heat, drooling all over you while he literally cries from how happy he is to finally fuck you raw. And god, he's so loud. There's no way your parents can't hear his desperate whimpers and how he babbles on and on about making you a mommy and giving you lots and lots of babies, and about how good your pussy feels. He's cumming within a few minutes of sloppy thrusting, but simply keeps going while furiously rubbing your clit. He's more than happy to overstimulate himself to the point of sobbing if it means he'll get to stuff you with his seed a few more times, and hopefully knock you up on the very first time.

You come down to the kitchen to grab a glass of water after your big brother finally passes out from the exhaustion of fucking you and giving you creampies over and over again. Your hair is a mess, your neck and tits are covered in hickeys and bite marks and you've got his drool all over you. The worst of the mess is between your trembling legs, where cum keeps dripping out of your tender pussy, overstimulated and tired from being used so much. You walk into the kitchen while looking like that, and your parents are absolutely beaming. Your mother is talking about how they've been coming up with baby names lately and that you should definitely check the list she's written for you and Kylar to pick from. And your father, looking like he's announcing that he has won a lottery, hits you with the revelation of them going on a vacation in a few days. Apparently, it will take a while for them to come home. But they aren't worried about anything bad happening while they're gone for so long! After all, you'll be left in the care of your loving big brother!

You are fucked. So, so fucked. In every way possible. But hey! Kylar promised to take you shopping for baby clothes as an apology for the mess he made out of your neck! So really, it's all good. It's nice to have such a caring big brother and supportive parents, isn't it <3

#dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #kylar the loner smut #🐾anon #ohhhh my god #🐾anon my love.... this is so sexy ughhhhh #tysm for sharing <3 !!!!

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whitedemon-ladydeath · 6 months

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it's really frustrating to be held for something i said well over 5 years ago from someone that has me blocked in the first place to the point posts im making *now* are getting tone policed by a third party. granted, it was something out of line and ableist and thoughtless towards papa archeron and its absolutely fair to be mad about it!! I completely understand and I wouldn't be caught dead saying something like that now as I have done a lot of self educating and growing and reflecting

but what makes it so frustrating is I make a post about being frustrated about Feyre not painting Nesta, but still painting their father. I believe I said something about him being useless and believe it or not, he *was* useless and it had absolutely nothing to do with him being disabled. He was a useless parent long before then. He neglected and abandoned Nesta well before he was hurt or they lost their wealth and the moment they got it back he was miraculously healed up enough to go right back to ignoring his daughters and traversing the world

his character is so hollow and flat that there's very little for me, personally, to find sympathetic. *He* lost their wealth and their fortune and in doing so he lost money to debt collectors. it's absolutely horrific that Feyre was made to bare witness to that and beg for them to stop hurting him. I identify so much with Feyre in that regard. That still does not remove the fact it was his own actions that led to that in the first place. if he got beaten within an inch of his life for losing that much money who the hell was he WORKING with in the first place (we don't know bec SJM is a shitty writer)

He is directly responsible for their loss of wealth and I am not personally holding him responsible for the last of it being used to partially heal his leg. however he IS still responsible for the loss of it in the FIRST place. his disability is a result of poor financial decisions and ofc there is no excuse to be ableist towards him for it

quite frankly he's written so poorly that there's nothing I personally can latch onto to give him much benefit of the doubt. I'm still going to hold him more responsible for not trying to find SOME WAY to take care of his daughters. NESTA reached out to relatives, FEYRE stepped up to hunt for them and he... makes wood carvings that don't even sell

Nesta being more vilified for the cabin years compared to their father, who is directly responsible for the loss of their wealth, has made me heartless towards him

he was useless before they lost their wealth and he was useless well after. He was, quite frankly, a deadbeat father, who threw Nesta to the wolves (his wife and her mother), who favored Feyre and Elain over her time and time again and I'm sorry but me saying he's useless is exactly what he was

he's a useless parent who let his children be neglected and/or further abused by his wife. maybe if SJM wrote him better, with more nuance, actually building on the dynamics between his wife and himself, instead of saying he was afraid of NESTA, a fourteen year old girl, I might have a different opinion but right now he doesn't have a whole lot of sympathy from me considering my own history with my disabled, terminally ill mother doing her best and killing herself taking care of us while also in an abusive, violent marriage

SJM didn't write it well enough for me to offer any kind of grace bec quite frankly, I am also really, really sick of father figure characters getting off the hook while the female characters are burned at the stake for being flawed and/or unperfect caretakers, which, to be clear, Nesta WAS NOT in the first place

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #nesta archeron #sjm critical #anti sjm #papa archeron

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goatpaste · 10 months

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watching through p2 of jojos again and it never like, it never stop feeling weird to me how weirdly human araki wrote the pillar man. with so many traits and points make them feel like complex characters, heros of their own story, just weirdly feel sympathetic and human to the point of connection to them.

Like Josephs point in making on meeting santana that 'we can assume he's just bad, this is a fucked up situation to be in maybe so we should give him the benefit of the doubt'

whams WHOle character good god could i put a lot of talk into him

Esidisis behavior and way of acting

Kars enjoyment of animals and plants and for nature in general, a wish to walk in the sun and just kinda a dislike for human people. The way he violently mourns for his fallen family

but none of it matters because you know araki wanted them, even with flaws, to be the main villians. thats all it is. a greatest evil on earth to deal with even if they show human traits.

but it feels so weird, because when im like 'idk i dont think the pillar man did anything wrong, let them do what they want, like sorry joseph but im not rooting for your side' im kinda not kidding. like yes your supposes to assume the worst of the pillar men and their intentions and what they'll do to people if they can walk in the sun. but like, they barely did much when walking around people at night unless they deamed them a threat to themself or something they cared about.

idk i think this comes back around to my feelings that BT really should have been a lil bit longer and fleshed out. its such a shame because while i knoW araki was just wanting to get shit done and move onto his stand stuff, he introduced such a rich cast of characters who if given a bit more time i think could have made such a fucking wonderful and complex narrative... like to the point of the pillar man but to everyone else. Joseph got a strong character introduction only to just kinda get worse and stand still imo. i still like him but i think he could have done a lot more if the story was a bit more fleshed out. Him a caesar actually getting to develop some sort of actual relationship on screen that isnt the two of them fighting and sometimes caesar admires joseph's skills or whatever. JOSEPH AND LISA LISA TRAININGGG, i would have KILLEd to see joseph and lisa lisa do anYthing togeatherrrr... the subtle hints to be dropped of lisa lisa past and her connection to joseph..

idk what point im trying to make actually, im just thinking about how weirdly soft and kind we see the pillar men in moments at time and not just as pure evil being and it feels so weird to remember that were supposes to be rooting against them is all. i feel like we were should have had more insight into their group and lives and feelings and maybe even what they were up to while joseph trained. idk man idk, just kinda thinkin out loud

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paa-official · 6 days

Text

Hi midori, let's run through your points.

"why do you want to like me? you are an anti, i am a person you are against.. so like"

For someone who states they are almost a legal adult in a few years, you cannot comprehend the basic fact that I do not want to hate every radqueer, I do not want to be rude to every radqueer, sometime I will attempt this cool thing called not being a asshole and letting my entire opinion on a community cloud my view from the few good people who I wouldn't mind getting to know.

and maybe that's impossible for you, to look at a person and look past their political beliefs to actually try to see them and not who they stand by. and if that is the case, be more open minded, at least for the few good apples.

or maybe your worried you will run back to the radqueer community just like after you tried to leave it the first time for listening to us?

"i want to give rot [correcting the prn bc i dont use they/them at all] the benefit of the doubt" for what?? i dont need it?? im literally like a few years away from adulthood, i can make choices for myself........ and i chose this for myself because im happier here than i ever was with antis

"maybe your worried you will run back to the radqueer community just like after you left it the first time for listening to us?" i wonder why you left it the first time midori. maybe it's because you were unhappy with the community. I don't know the actual reason but I'm sure it was along the lines of that.

hope for what?? hope for me going back to being self-hating as an anti? hope for me to leave my happy relationship? hope for me to completely change myself to appeal to what you want me to be?

happy is a weird word to use here

"i do blame ciel" can you just.. idk.. let me be accountable for myself?

I will

consang supporting , whatever that is with rape, and doing horribly illegal things to your at the time boyfriends,

how about you hold yourself accountable for those things first. and then I will start blaming you and not your boyfriend.

ciel didnt make me who i am

yes queen lie to us!!!

he would not be in this community at all or even know what transids are if it werent for me..

take accountability for that too, take accountability for your boyfriend, because you brought him into this mess, take accountability for the fact you are inadvertently THE CAUSE FOR ALL OF THE DRAMA, or is that too much to handle. not something to brag about huh

i am a functioning human being with my own thoughts, and i can very much think for myself

never said you weren't

Take accountability

#lapis posting!#anti radqueer #anti #anti rq #anti radshit #antiradqueer #paa #you know who I got these screenshots from #all screenshots come from antiradqueerguy (obviously)

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userm3rc · 2 years

Note

Can I request a headcanon about how Dee from metal family acts like when he has a crush? I love your writing so much

this is so late im SO sorry good lord but

HC's with how Dee acts when he has a crush-

See i wanna give him the benefit of the doubt and say "He accepts it & plots what he's going to do!!"

I'm going to be honest, his first action is denial.

deny deny deny. he's just going to pretend its not there! ... mentally at least

but physically, is a whole other thing. He tenses up around you, blushes, stutters, looses train of thought .. etc.

see hes telling himself , "crush? nah. nah its js.. allergies." and physically here he goes . "so- uh. er. yeah!" and then walks away swiftly. is basically RUNNING.

mf folds so quickly 😭. give him a good 2-3 convos and then he finally accepts that its a crush

now that he's accepted it, it depends on who you are to him!

for example, if you're someone who he shares a class with, expect him to just "so... do you understand this?" in order to try and get to know you! whether it's you 'helping' (we all know he understands everything that's going on. overachiever here.) him, or him helping you!

But if you're someone he's already friends with, he'll just find easier ways to connect with you! que the, "have you heard ____ new song?" or maybe for the book lovers , " i saw (book you've already read) & it seems interesting, can you tell me what its about?" , and for the creative ones "oh i saw they opened up a ___ shop down the road, wanna check it out?" and the possibilities are endless!!

as time goes on, it depends on personal preference how you get together, 9/10 you'll get impatient and have to take charge because bros gonna keep 2nd guessing every other day. But if you dont mind waiting its a huge ego boost that you waited just for him :)

all in all, its an amusing process and eventually turns out the way you want it so !!

---

hey guys i'm back writing... lowkey.. the school year kicked my ass buttttt requests are open & i'll be knocking through them so 😩

anyways love you guys!! hope ur having an amazing day/night <3

#metal family headcanons #metal family x reader #dee x reader #dee headcanons #metal family dee

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booppooo · 1 year

Note

Whenever you open up requests again, I'd love to see a p2 of Never! Like, if reader tries to have sex with someone else and it's just not as satisfying and she complains to Ellie and then gets an encore performance ~

AN: I'm so sorry this took so long!!! Im in college so I be doing school stuff :( please forgive me

Warnings: you almost have smexy time with some dude ick, unestablished relationship, making out, scissoring (there's so much scissoring on my blog I'm so sorry), Ellie being horny and flirty, weed

Part 1

Ellie kept her promise when she said she wouldn't tell anyone.

Her lips were sealed, and she kept a calm and collected demeanor about the situation as a whole. You on the other hand - maybe not so much.

Sometimes, involuntarily, you'd get random flash backs to the fateful evening. The dark color of your pistol would remind you of her strap, the smell of your sweaty hands after a long day of patrol also sent you back in time. It would make you freeze and your skin burn hot, then your groin would grow warm as if Ellie's touch still lingered.

As if Ellie still lingered.

Every time you were near her your heart would nearly explode. Again, your face would become embarrassingly warm, the urge to lean over into her ear and whisper how much you missed her and wished to relive that night burned in your chest.

Yet, you held yourself together, knowing the interaction you two shared was nothing more than a favor. She was essentially setting you up for success. When you thought too deeply about it, you wondered how such a vulnerable and pivotal moment between two beings could be brushed off so easily?

That question eventually snowballed in your mind. When you weren't fighting for your life and protecting those back in Jackson, you were thinking about Ellie. You'd turn in early at night and try to trace the patterns on yourself that she once had, only to grow frustrated. It would be an understatement to say she had branded you. There seemed to be only one solution:

To find one of those meatheads she warned you about to rid her of you.

The next dance would be your hunting ground.

Several gin and tonic's in and you were teetering on the edge of total intoxication. No matter how hard you fought to stay coherent and cool, you slurred your words and stumbled. After each sentence you giggled, your limbs feeling as adventurous by always ending back up on the dance floor.

And admits this all, you kept your eyes peeled for someone who would end the constant battle in your brain. Luckily for you, you didn't have to dance very far.

A song ended and everyone clapped, only for another one to be birthed, and a man around your age in a button up and jeans tapped your shoulder. He held out his hand and politely asked you to dance, then flashed a charming smile that left you half-dizzy. How could you say no?

So, you gently rested your palm in his and let him adjust you both accordingly to slow dance to the song. Despite the distinct smell of whiskey lingering on him, he smelled musky and gruff, tickling a part of your nose you didn't know you enjoyed. His calloused hands contradicted his careful touch, soft grin contrasting wandering eyes. It wasn't long before one thing led to another and you were at his home.

Once you were in the door, shoes and coat left near the entrance, you'd been seated on his counter with his lips on yours. Again, whiskey was at the forefront. You noted how clumsy and rough he was. To give him the benefit of the doubt you blamed the drinking, because surely you were no angel.

Once he pressed his tongue past your lips things seemed to only get more awkward. Your teeth clinked together and his excessively slippery tongue coated your mouth and nearly choked you - as fast as it came it went. Now he was on your jaw and throat.

He was rushing. You felt behind and disoriented to say the least, but you didn't say no when his hand reached under your shirt to unclip your bra. In a haste you grabbed his excited arms for support, forgetting you were supposed to be enjoying this. Being drunk wasn't helping.

Next he wriggled between your thighs, and you felt his erection on your thigh. This is when you realized you felt nothing of the sort. The only dampness you recalled was sweat mostly caused from dancing and how stressed his ministrations made you.

He groped your breast, hard. It made you yelp and shove him away.

"Hey? What's wrong?" Red cheeks and glossy lips.

"I just...I'm sorry," you began to hastily clip your bra, "I can't, I don't feel good."

"Huh?"

Running for your boots and coat you mumbled, "I need to leave, I think I'm sick."

"What? C'mon don't blue ball me!"

No time to argue, you were out the door.

By some grace of god that guy hadn't crossed paths with you since that night. Needless to say you had been isolating more than usual, so that was also a factor to consider.

It wasn't as if you were doing it for attention, or wanting your friends to try and drag you out to some get together. You genuinely needed time to ponder what had occurred, how you felt about him and still Ellie.

In an attempt to figure it out, you journaled about it, scribbling down all your thoughts. It eased some of the tension, but not all of it. Not the physical aspect, at least.

Because now you felt his touch and Ellie's, both battling on your skin, leaving different types of heat in different places.

You hoped it would soon pass and time would heal everything. But when you woke up for patrol with Ellie one morning, you still felt the same sensations as the day before. Ellie noticed.

You had finished logging the two of you in and you both sat on a torn love seat to catch a breather. The closeness between you made your knee bounce.

Ellie pulled some items out of her bag that you didn't take notice of at first, "Hey uhm, everything alright?" She wondered.

Finally you looked over to her, and she had a tray on her lap, lithe fingers rolling a joint. You choked on the air caught in your throat.

She noticed the fearful red on your cheeks, "Oh" - she motioned to the joint - "you don't have to if you don't want to."

The only response you could create was a faint hum.

"Anyway, you've been kinda distant I guess. Is something going on?"

When her tongue peaked between her lips to lick the paper, a fire erupted in your core.

Nervously, you cleared your throat, "Just have a lot on my mind."

She eyed you from her peripherals, "....Wanna talk about it?"

Now the joint was between her lips, and she cupped her hand near the lighter as she lit the end. How could someone make this look so effortless and sexy?

"I mean..." you didn't even know where to begin.

"If you're not ready to talk that's cool too," she tossed her ankle over her knee and slouched into the cushions.

You knew you should talk about it. Even if you didn't mention how you thought about her day and night you could at least bring up him. It would be good to get it off your chest and lighten the load some.

"I uh, I met up with this guy at the dance. And we almost..." you nodded toward your pants, "but I couldn't do it. I feel bad. He was going too fast and all I could taste on him was whiskey. He just-"

"Wasn't me?"

You weren't sure if you heard her right.

"Huh?"

Her mossy-blood-shot eyes slowly scanned over to you and a faint grin snaked across her lips. She took another long, sensual drag of her joint, and let the smoke funnel out with her words:

"I think about that night a lot. It was fun. I've been tempted to ask if you wanted a round two, but you've been keeping to yourself."

Her words didn't feel real.

"I'm not sure if that's what you were getting at. Point is - if you ever want to dick around again, I'm game."

Then she returned to herself, watching the ceiling and smoking. The amount of self control she had baffled you. Maybe her feelings weren't as intense as yours, but nonetheless there was still enough there for her to want to do it again. That had to mean something, right?

You'd feel like a fool for saying no, because surely if you had another night with her then that feeling would shake. Or would it? What if it only got worse? Perhaps, there was only one way to find out.

"Yeah, sure." You answered.

She turned to you with raised brows, "Really?"

Confidently, you nodded.

And that confidence had you riding some sort of metaphorical high, because then you reached for the joint pinched between her index and thumb.

"What do I do?"

She scanned you, large pupils darting around your features as she calculated what to think or do or say.

"Ah-okay. So just hold it up to your lips like I was, and breathe in. Be gentle though, or else you'll cough. Yeah, like that."

The burn in your throat and lungs was extremely uncomfortable, and you still coughed. You knew your first time smoking wouldn't make you feel anything, but it only seemed fitting since Ellie was the one to pop your cherry.

She chuckled at your struggled breathing, took one last hit, and then put out the last of it on the tray set aside.

"I don't have my strap on me right now-"

"I don't care."

Again, her response was delayed, "Ya sure? Isn't that like the whole point?"

"Doesn't have to be. We can save it for next time."

She scoffed sarcastically, "Next time?"

You mocked her scoff, "Uh- yeah. If you wanted seconds you're most likely to want thirds, too."

The smirk on her lips made you think she was impressed.

"Alright, I like the sound of that."

A wide smile broke out, and you bit it back, watching as she smoothly inched toward you.

One of her palms fell to your thigh, the other feeling the curve of your jaw. Honey-like warmth filled your woman hood, your heart beating with excitement, fingers tingly with anticipation.

Ellie hovered inches away from your face, eyes glazed with lust and her high. A hungry spark quickly ignited in your stomach.

"C'mon pretty girl, don't leave me hangin'."

And you didn't.

The taste of her lips was everything you had been intensely craving for so long. Soft, sure, experienced, knowing. All your muscles were tense yet relaxed.

She wasn't close enough. You cupped her face and neck and urged her closer. Her smile was mixed into your sinful kiss, her nails were also digging into your thigh and made the fire within you brighter and hotter. Then your tongues clashed and collided, sending you deeper.

It relieved you how stimulated Ellie made you feel. You didn't want to waste another second with her, yet you wanted to soak this all up, and let yourself sufficiently scratch this itch she had left. Alas, you tugged at her shirt and helped her squirm out, then she pinned your shoulders to the cushions.

"Someone missed me." Ellie huffed, unbuttoning your jeans.

"You have no idea."

At this she smiled - completely full of it.

But her smile slowly faded once she reached your dampened panties, and she went into deep thought.

"Is something wrong?"

She squinted at you, then wondered, "Wanna scissor?"

Your soul drained from your face.

"We don't have to - just askin' if you wanna try."

"I mean..." you weren't entirely sure what 'scissoring' was, "have you done it before?"

Just like that fateful night, she was nonchalant, "Yeah. It's a lot of work, but worth it."

A lot of work? What could be more work that what she did with her strap?

You wanted to find out.

"Let's do it."

Sticky panties were ripped down your legs, then came her own bottoms - to match her you took off your shirt. Next, you watched curiously as she situated herself onto the furniture, positioning your legs and slotting herself between them.

"Oh....this is....different." You commented as she adjusted.

She looked at you with worry, "You still wanna do this?"

"Yes."

Her warm, large hand took your thigh and pressed it against her torso, your ankle dangling near her ear. She reached down and took your clothed boob in her palm, grinding her slick center along yours. Both of you sighed, and you squeaked when she pinched your nipple.

"Whatcha think?" Swollen and slick bottom lip pinched between her teeth lustfully.

A needy twinge accented your voice, "Don't stop!" Pathetically you tried to grind yourself up onto her.

"That's what I like to hear."

Again, her level of experience really showed. She knew how to swivel and dip her moving hips to glide against you in the most pleasurable way. Meanwhile, her tattooed hand wandered across your chest. Shoving your bra up your chest to watch your tits move with her ruts, toying with your borderline-painfully-hard nipples. Despite her doing most of the work you still felt a sheer layer of sweat perspire on your skin.

"Shit Ellie!" She had upped the anti.

Carefully trimmed nails leaving imprinted arches in your limb, but she wasn't without evidence either. The thigh folded by your hip was gripped and scratched and bruised from your desperate attempts to keep yourself steady and bring her that much closer.

"Fuck babe, I think I'm gonna cum-" Ellie panted.

Stuttering, strong hips jutted clumsily, barely stimulating the both of you, but just enough to tip you over the edge like a cat knocking a vase off the counter.

It had become a collaborative effort to milk your orgasms, most of it involuntary on account of your climax. Like bitches in heat you both moaned and whined and sucked air through your teeth while humping each other; every roll of the waist more exhausted than the last.

When you both came to a standstill, Ellie chuckled and tiredly closed her eyes, "Fuck...that was so hot."

Between gasps for air you laughed. This isn't exactly what you planned, but you had absolutely no complaints about the outcome.

"So..." you slowly sat up, "are we like fuck buddies now? Or are you just going to keep finding ways to pop my cherry?"

"Hmm," Ellie pursed her lips sarcastically, "I can be whatever you want me to be."

Giggling, you playfully shoved her from you and began to search for your clothes. The soreness in your legs and muscles in general already began to hit.

"Actually, fuck buddies could be fun."

You whipped your head around to find Ellie with her jeans unbuttoned and barely over her hips, baby hairs stuck to her forehead and taking a long sip of her water. Emerald eyes watching your every move with an everlasting desire.

"Whatever Williams."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Finally, you finished redressing and joined her on the loveseat to recoup, her eyes still watched you, "Quit being a little shit, we have to finish patrol."

She kissed her teeth, "Fuck patrol...I wanna know when I can finish you again."

Your jaw nearly slammed onto the floor.

"Oh my god Ellie!"

"Okay okay, I'm done. Let's get going."

With that, you both gathered your items and prepared to face the roaming infected that still plagued the outskirts of Jackson.

You should've expected Ellie to smack your ass on the way out the door.

#ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie x you

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thecameronchronicles · 1 year

Text

The Benefit of the Doubt

TW: Smut. Language. Spanking. Degrading Kink. Praise Kink. Daddy Kink.

SUMMARY: You convince Rafe not to punish you by offering something more rewarding for him.

WORD COUNT: 1700

REQUESTED:

steveharringtonswifey09 asked:

I just had a great idea When i Saw a Tiktok and im gonna script This is gonna happend okay so basicly reader is being idk like bratty or annoying or something and When rafe goes to get mad at her she just sits in his lap and starts kitten licking on his neck and giving it kisses and rafe is like “you Can’t ju-Woah wh-whatcha doing kitten…. St-stop no no no im ab-about to punish you do-dont do that…fu-fuck” and he does punish her after some time but first he lets her do her thing becuase obviously she just wanted attention like maybe she was just not doing anything he was saying out with friends and stuff but after she does that like 10 minutes later he Kinda comes back to what was happening becuse he Kinda just forgot and Then he punishes her and ofc its me so ofc ofc daddy kink and degration and praise kink and spanking also like he spansk her so the next Day When they go out to Meet friends again he makes her Wear a skirt and everyone Can see what happend the Day before

*HEY BABES! HARDLY HAVE MOTIVATION BUT WANTED TO WRITE THIS FOR YOU SO I EDITED IT TO GET IT OUT FOR YA, HOPE YOU STILL LIKE IT. XO*

The Benefit of The Doubt

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked with clenched teeth as you craned around him, an arm stationed around the back of his shoulders as you supplied your weight into his lap, a gentle series of kisses at his ear as you felt him clench beneath you.

“You don’t get to-” But in his attempts to be dominant, the way your lips felt at his skin had been enough to quiver his domineering spirit. His fingers were at your hip, immediately at a pull the skin beneath your dress as he was a glutton for you just as you were to torment him this pleasurable consideration of a reserved or even altered punishment.

“You know you messed up-”

“And I’m trying to make it right…daddy.” His jaw clenched at the name he required as a constant to the contrast of his name. “Please let me make it right for you.”

“No…You don’t get to just…you don’t-oh fuck…” But as you committed to this seduction, your body became magnetized to his. Lips to his ear that draped to his neck, a tongue teasing the hot skin beneath, and a second hand to his cock, endorsing him even harder than he was as his hand came to the back of your neck.

“My bad girl is trying to be good, aren’t you?”

“For you, daddy.” He was suddenly directing you to your knees.

“You REALLY want to show me you’re sorry…then you know I want you to cry for me, just like you always do…”

“Yes, daddy.” You were recovering from the force of his push while your fingers unlatched him from his confines. Cock at attention, you drooled over the tip as you were accustomed to before feeling a grip to your hair forcing you to face him.

“You close those eyes for anything more than a blink and I’m gonna bruise that sweet little voice I love telling me you wanna come for me. You don’t want that do you?”

“No…” His brow cocked as you intentionally ‘forgot’ what was expected out of you.

“No WHAT?”

“No daddy…”

“For that…you don’t get to use your hands.” You nodded and went to work over his shaft, beginning slowly at his tip before being forced to take him in total. Your reflex worsened by that of his thick head and crying tip as you were able to taste his approval despite his words berating you otherwise.

“Look at you. Such a little whore on your knees…so desperate to prove you’re sorry…” You nodded, “Crying over me and shit…But that’s not gonna be enough and you know it.” Your head continued to bob.

“Lucky for you…I love you enough to want you to learn a lesson and not just hurt you…and lucky for me, you know exactly how I want it.” He watched you acquiesce still, your eyes remaining targeted to his own as you took him closer and closer to an edge he would deny himself as he then pulled you away.

“You don’t deserve me yet…gotta earn it, sweetheart.” You nodded as he would take you over his lap in a straddle, the tease of his cock’s head would be felt against your panties as he would smirk.

“Desperate, aren't we my dirty little girl? Hmm? Want me inside that tight little pussy that only knows me so well? Even though you wanted everyone at the course today to see how I love you in lace?”

“I’m sorry-”

“You will be.” You were bent over his knee, a swat to your ass over your skirt having made him grin while you gasped to the feeling.

“I'll make it the perfect shade as always baby…but I’ll make it welt if I have to…You know I don’t mind.”

“Yes daddy.”

“So start counting.”

“One-” Swat!

“Two!” You belted, moaning as he contradicted the pain with pleasure as he set his finger between your folds, bending it to perfection, a second adding to this, as you were forced to rock over him.

“You are only getting this because you cried so pretty, took me so well. But you still have a punishment coming.”

“Mmmm…yes…please…” Your eyes rolled as he quickened his fingers.

“I can feel you clenching…you’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? You want it so bad, don’t you? So fucking desperate…so pathetic…”

“Yes daddy-”

“Show me…rock against my hand baby…come on…ride it…Earn it.” He teased you as you worked against him.

“DON’T. COME.” He ordered as you nodded, your teeth clenched to a point of nearly breaking as you nodded.

“Rafe-” You were removed and taken to the floor once again.

“My girlfriend gets to say my name, not a pathetic little whore who had her ass on display for the entire country club for the better part of the morning. YOU have to be taught a lesson like a dirty, depraved, slut.” He forced you on the arm of the couch, bending you to such a degree that you were reliant on the grip he held on your hair to keep you from falling to the floor.

“So now you’re gonna make me come. If I feel you so much as clench and you won’t get to at all!”

“Yes!” A sharp swat to your ass made you gasp.

“YOU WANT ME TO RUIN THIS PERFECT ASS, KEEP FORGETTING YOUR FUCKING PLACE!”

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

“There’s my good girl. Making me feel good…right?” You nodded.

“You, daddy. Only you.”

“Prove it. Make me come-” And you would, working back into him as he cursed your name from behind, hair pulled to show his remaining dominance, while his bucks were enough to contrast your pain for pleasure, all while climbing to that high.

“That’s a good girl. Such a good girl…come here…” He took you against him by a new hold to your neck until you were flush with his chest.

“Feel how deep I am inside of you baby? You keep acting like a good girl and you’ll get to feel me come there…otherwise…” His hand on your neck moved to your jaw, pulling it apart.

“You get it here…painting you…where you’ll wear it tomorrow along with my handprints on your ass…Because…”

“Because I need to learn my lesson…”

“Good girl. You wanna be good?”

“Yes, daddy.” You were taken back into that bend, forced to count out his remaining punishment as he’d edge you in the process. Laughing and degrading you from behind, before finally taking you to that promising release.

“Okay baby…you can come with daddy…but only WITH me. Not before or after-” You nodded.

“YES! DADDY! FUCK!”

“Yes, baby…that’s a good girl…good fucking girl for me…my good girl…MINE…” You nodded as he pulled you back to his chest by a hand on your breast, fondling and teasing your nipple as it strengthened the sensation of your orgasm before the fallen hand to your clit, rubbing in those motions he knew well would pull you over that edge completely.

“YES!” But as you found that high, he fucked you through it at his own ungodly pace. Overstimulation teasing a second orgasm he wouldn’t grant as he forced you to stand in front of him. Fingers were battering into you, edging you in repetition as your fingers ate into his shoulders. Each time you would come to that edge, he would withdraw and slap your ass, making you gasp and moan, all while you trembled with one leg in a straddle near his hip.

“God, look how desperate you are, soaking my leg, baby…KEEP. GOING.” He demanded as you nodded, unable to fight the pleasure as it battled from pain to ecstasy, a guaranteed crimson shade over your ass, before he would finally withdraw his fingers and draw them to his lips.

“Now we’re going to go BACK to that club in the morning and you’re gonna do exactly what you did today…Parading in that little skirt and bending over for everyone to see what happens when you act like a brat as Rafe’s girl…”

You let out a deep breath as you whimpered. “Your punishment is that you don’t get to come until I make sure everyone sees the repercussions of what you did to yourself.”

“Yes…daddy…”

He took hold of your jaw. “And don’t even think of doing it yourself…” He would set you on your back for a moment, aiding your need by a few sweeps of his tongue, before withdrawing, only worsening that delayed satisfaction.

“I’ll know now, won’t I, baby?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl…”

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor @belcalis9503

#rafecameron x reader #rafecameronfanfiction #rafecameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #obxsmut #obx fanfiction #outer banks

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