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cursingtoji · 5 months

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ᥫ᭡ 𝐬𝐨... 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰?

— where satoru comforts you after breaking up with toji

gojo being lowkey yandere, fem reader, toji is the ex, mentions of baby trapping, reader is older, gojo calls her senpai (almost as a mock), classroom smut, fingering, gojo has to wear a condom and he hates it, he’s also a bit pathetic and in love, reader is a bit of bitch. 4k (this was supposed to be drabble idk what happened)

“i know what you’re thinking” gojo’s voice breaks the silence in the classroom where you were supposed to be grading papers but instead has been looking through the window for god knows how long now.

the sudden appearing happens after gojo catches your lost gaze on the field some of his students were training at. he saw your profile looking down at your desk, then after a few minutes you looked through the window until your eyes set on gojo’s protégée and the son of the man that broke your heart.

“but if you keep doing that megumi will get creeped out by you” gojo simply manifested in your classroom as soon as he realized you would stay in trance not even noticing your fellow teacher staring back at you from below.

“whatever, he never liked me anyways” you brush off, then remember what he said before, “and what the hell makes you think you know what i’m thinking?”

“ah, you forgot? i have an eye or six for this sorta thing” he points to his blindfold.

“you saying you can read minds now, you freak?” your relationship with satoru always had that dynamic. toji usually got very annoyed whenever he was in the same room as the two of you, he tried to pull you away or make an excuse for you two to go back to his place. deep down you knew he felt some type of way whenever you and satoru banter like that.

“please you’re so transparent i wonder how megumi haven’t seen it yet, i'm concerned that he might need glasses…”

“just say what you wanna say, satoru.”

gojo, on the other hand, didn’t need an instinct to see how jealous and possessive toji could be when he was around. all that gojo needed to say was one word to trigger the old man.

“every time you see megumi you think about him, don’t you?” he takes a step in your direction while you sink in your chair looking away, “senpai.”

gojo never showed respect for anyone, he was scolded several times by yaga because of it, utahime tried to hit him whenever she could, demanding formal treatment since she was his upperclassmen. but you, for whatever reason he decided, was the only one he used that honorific with.

“he’s his kid, of course i’ll—“

“ever since i heard about your breakup you’ve been acting like everything is fine, except for when you see megumi, then you frown,” gojo extends his index and taps the space between your eyebrows “and your cursed energy increases” he then sits on your desk looking down at you, “don’t tell me megumi had anything to do with why toji—“

“of course not” you stop him, although megumi was never fond of you, you know he’s a good kid and wouldn’t try to get in the way of your relationship with his father. as far as you know, he’s not particularly close to his old man either. actually, anything related to toji — bets, races, you — is automatically disregarded by him.

“then you gotta stop looking at him like he did something, or before you realize your energy towards him will become hostile and i can’t let that happen” gojo’s tone became more severe, it’s one of those rare times where he drops the playful persona in order to get serious. truthfully, megumi did nothing, but you can't unsee toji when you look at him, especially after seeing what your ex-boyfriend used to look like in the old days when he showed you some photos. it never occurred to you before, since you barely saw megumi anyways, you're not his sensei and in your free time you were with toji so there wasn't much time to get to know megumi since they don’t live together since the boy was five. you suppose gojo is right, pushing your hurt feelings away only makes them come out stronger when you see anything that reminds you of toji.

“that’s not gonna happen, i have my energy under control” you cross your arms, feeling exposed under gojo’s gaze even through the mask.

he stays quiet for a second, then his annoying tone is back.

“what did you even see in him anyways? he’s definitely not a good guy.”

“that’s rude, toji is—“

“did you think you could change him or something?”

“i— no, why—“

“from what megumi said he was cheap as fuck so it was definitely not the money” he rubs his chin.

“gojo, i swear—“

“was it the sex?”

you widen your eyes and close your mouth, not having a simple answer for that.

“jackpot” satoru whispers.

“fuck off, satoru” you raise from your seat but he raises too, blocking your way and trapping you against the black board and his body.

“you stayed with that guy for years just for the sex?” he has a mocking tone that makes your blood boil.

“no! and that’s none of your goddamn business.”

“and you’ve broken up, what? two months ago? you’ve been all this time without sex?” you raise your hand ready to slap his face or punch his nose but he sees your movements faster and catches your wrist, “don’t be like that senpai, your energy is getting hostile again” he takes all the time in the world lowering his blindfold and letting his hair fall down while staring at you with those freaking blue eyes, “although, on second thought i think that might be mmm… sexual frustration? it’s a color i never seen in you before” he grabs your wrist firmly.

“you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“oh but i do, senpai. i’m just wondering how you haven’t downloaded a dating app or tried to rub one off yet” gojo knows exactly which buttons to press to make you wanna stab him, or worst, make you wanna fuck him.

gojo gets closer to your face, so close you can smell his aftershave, and just the realization that it’s a different scent from the one you were so used to makes your heart ache and your clit throb.

“or did you?” he’s fast, gojo catches your phone on top of the table putting it right in front of your face to unlock then moving away from you to check it, “definitely no dating apps” you yell his name and try to snatch your phone back but he puts infinity on and you can’t reach him, “browser history?”

“satoru, you have no right, gimme that” your face is hot with shame.

“nothing either, well i suppose your camera roll…”

“no!”

“aha” he deactivates the invisible shield and right when you think you can retrieve your phone he turns you around, holding your arms behind your back and pressing your back against his chest, “is that what you use to get off?” he puts the phone in front of you, it’s opened in the gallery, more specifically in a part filled with lewd videos and photos.

“not bad, you could make some cash outta this” gojo puts his chin on your shoulder, playing a video which clearly was filmed by toji, his dick is getting in and out of you from behind, he gets a close look with the phone, his glistening dick shining under the flashlight while your pussy stretches to accommodate him. you press your legs together remembering the feeling, you’re not even struggling to get out of gojo’s hold by the time the video ends.

“you don’t need to get off by yourself, you know?” he smells your hair and kisses your ear, “it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“that was forever ago” you reply, at the time you thought satoru was going to use that against you, just wait for an opportunity to drop that bomb on toji’s lap and proudly say he fucked his girlfriend before, but whatever image you had of him back then was proved wrong since no one knows about your little escape with gojo till this very day.

“and wasn’t it good? huh?” he presses, sucking the spot on your neck that has you throwing your head back.

“yeah, it was” you confess, too sensible from the light touches to rethink your answers.

“see? i can make you feel good so you don’t become a little monster” he trails his hand on your thigh, pushing your skirt up until he finds your underwear, playing with the hem to tease you then pressing a finger on your clit.

“so charitable of you” you mumble sarcastically.

“i would gladly do this favor to you” he replies in the same tone, “even though you still own me.”

“for what?!” you close your legs around his hand turning your head around to look him in the face, not even considering a world where satoru did you any favors.

“for raising your boyfriend’s son? you really think you would’ve had a sex life with an eight year old summoning pets around the house?” he raises an eyebrow.

“don’t pretend like you did that out of the goodness in your heart, if megumi didn’t have the ten shadows you wouldn’t have bat an eye if toji sold him to the zenin’s or whomever.”

“you sound just like him” gojo’s eyes get darker, now he has your clit slowly rolling between his thumb and index over your underwear.

“besides— hng i came in the picture years after you took megumi… so don’t blame me” you wiggle your ass on his crotch.

“a ‘thank you my favourite kohai’ wouldn’t hurt” you sincerely laugh at that, never thinking of satoru as your underclassmen since that fucking minx is everyone’s exception on their cursed technique due to how powerful he is, so him being below you somehow was never a posibility, at least not strength wide.

satoru pushes your underwear to the side, rubbing the wetness all over your pussy and teasing your entrance.

“five years” you murmur as he inserts a finger then pulls it back to join his middle one too and go back in.

“hm?” satoru gets quieter, after talking so much and having so many things to say you’re surprised he stayed silent for a whole minute.

“last time you fucked me, it was five years ago” you get comfortable on his hold, his leg is between yours, serving as support for you to lean on while he scissors you.

“that long huh…” he sounds… sad? no, maybe nostalgic.

“crazy, right? so much has—“ you sigh when he curls his fingers, “changed.”

satoru take a long sniff of your hair, keeping a pleasing rhythm with his hand, it feels like giving someone a massage. he could go crazy and have you stripped out of your uniform a while ago, fucked you on your desk and left after marking your body and giving your ass a mean slap.

he could still do that, but whatever feeling bloomed in his chest has him enjoying this moment with you in his hold, stroking your insides and smelling your shampoo while discreetly rocking his hips on your behind for some relief.

he almost feels sleepy, the relaxed state has his mind going other places. he thinks of a world where he can tease you under your uniform every other day, you would tell him the school is no such a place for that then the day ends and you go home with him, holding hands, and finally when you arrive home he gets to finish what he started. then, he cooks whatever quick meal he can find the ingredients for since he knows you don't like to cook, afterwards you fall asleep on his lap on the couch as he strokes your hair, your belly is full, your heart is warm, you feel loved and he feels—

“toru~” he comes out of the trance he fell at when you call for him, he thinks for a second you were calling his name cause you felt he was off, but in reality you were calling him cause you are getting close, “right there” your breathy moans makes gojo smile and kiss your temple.

“where? here?” he pretends to not know, when the truth is he never actually forgot after your first time together, “right here, senpai?”

“y-yeah” you throw your head back, shutting your eyes to give in to the orgasm. gojo looks down at your pretty face, he feels the urge to kiss you right now, but he wants you to ask for it first. your walls clench around his fingers, he strokes that spot sweetly, like he's caressing a pet.

which is an ironic comparison since he’s the one that would gladly accept being your pet.

when you open your eyes gojo is staring at you silently through half lid eyes, it is truly a shame that he keeps those hidden for so long.

“desk, now” you demand needly.

“yes ma'am” gojo picks you up easily, moving the papers on top of the table to the floor.

you immediately go for his belt, choosing not to comment on the wet spot on his pants.

you feel a pressure on your chin as he guides your head up to look at him.

“ask me” he pleads.

“for what?”

“for a kiss” you smile, looking at his lips and how inviting they look. you ponder if you should tease him for it, since he's been teasing you with words a lot today, but then you chose to comply, despite going through your phone without our permission and claiming your frustration comes from lack of dick, he's actually being good to you.

“gimme a kiss” you raise your chin higher, he gazes at your lips and eyes, looking for something other than lust, yet he gives in, sealing your lips with his trying to keep his mind away from thinking of the man that had your lips previous to him. and how dumb that motherfucker is to let you go.

gojo's lips are soft, he starts gently which feels foreign to you, but it doesn't take long before his hand presses your lower back, pulling you closer until his cock hits your clothed cunt. the warmth he feels is enough to relish the passion in him, he kisses you harder, tongue intruding your mouth like he's trying to devour you.

the wet kiss also awakens your urge for him, you pull his cock from his underwear in the tiny space between his and your crotch, the second it's out it's already against your folds, the leaking tip hot against your skin.

“nuh-uh you better have a rubber” you push your knee onto gojo’s pelvis when he starts to rub himself on you to spread your wetness on his shaft.

“did you make toji wear one too?” he raises a questionable eyebrow at you, willing to bet all his heritage on the answer.

“he had to earn that privilege” you reach for gojo’s wallet, not failing to notice the black cards and considerable amount of cash, “i don’t know what you do after 6 so…” you take the packs, ripping it open yourself and rolling on him. with a face and body like his you doubt gojo spends most nights by himself.

“unbelievable…”

“satoru” you warn stroking him slowly, “can i get another kiss?” you bat your lashes. gojo comes closer, his nose even touches yours, then you feel his hands on your waist, turning you around till your elbows and chest are against the table and your skirt is being flipped over, underwear pushed down.

“you have to earn it, senpai” he spits the words against your ear as he pushes his dick into you. until a few moments ago, satoru was composed, happy to accept whatever crumbles you chose to give him. you managed to trigger him by saying toji still had something he couldn't have.

he's still gonna go through this — that's how whipped he is for you — though now he’ll be less gentle.

his cockhead hits your spot, nothing accidental of course, satoru knows your spots like the back of his hand. you whine and arch your back, satoru pouts realizing he won't get to suck some hickeys on the skin of your back and shoulder, not now at least, but the night is young.

“c'mon satoru, don't be like that” you look over your shoulder, licking your lips at the sight of him sweaty, flushed and frowny.

the sound of his name in your voice makes him want to cum on the spot, he dips his head on your neck sighing, not stopping thrusting your behind. he wanted to feel you so badly, why the fuck did you make him wear a condom? he's clean, of course he is, he's gojo satoru for heaven's sake! even viruses are afraid of him.

or was it something else you feared?

“hey… you on the pill?” he lifts his head slightly, his voice still muffled by the material of your dress.

“you’re not fucking me raw, satoru.”

“just wondering… you said you didnt wear a condom with him, so what kept you from getting knocked up?” he wiggles his hand between you and the surface of your table till hes palming your belly.

“you keep bringing toji up a lot, obsessed much?” you tease him, avoiding the answer, gojo pinches your clit.

“please, he wishes. now tell me. iud? implant? injections?” you push him away turning around then pulling him back.

“okay, you clearly had sex ed classes, now shut up and fuck me right” gojo takes your leg and places on his shoulder, you bite your fist to contain your moan, the new position makes easier for him to nudge your clit with his pelvis.

“i could be fucking you better, you know how?” he bites the skin of your leg, not harshly but enough to make you yelp, he smiles, giving a particular hard thrust that makes your eyes roll.

“condom stay on, satoru, i can’t risk getting preg—“ you slap your mouth. satoru stops.

“you’re not… on anything?”

“listen you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?” you cover your face, “i had a pregnancy scare a few years ago so… gosh why am i even telling you this…”

“go on” gojo massages your thigh.

“toji got a vasectomy. birth control wasn’t working for me anymore and it was only a matter of time before— well it doesn't matter. you can see why you have to use it right?” you place your elbows on the table, sitting up enough to see the look on his face, it’s not what your expected to see.

satoru looks like a child that just found out where his parents keep all the sweets. he’s grinning, dick throbbing.

“yeah, i see now” he bends, holding your neck and kissing you, he makes the kiss feel like a ‘thank you for trusting me’ but if this was a cartoon his shadow would have horns and a pointy tail.

all he can think now is exactly how to make you his, he can sweet talk you into allowing him to hit it raw, promising to pull it out, then… whoopsie.

the new discovery gives him a different kind of stamina.

“don’t worry, your secret is safe with me” he kisses your cheek after leaving you breathless.

he plunges in and out, a rhythm that has you seeing stars. gojo craves you so much, he’s quite bothered by all the clothes and the need to keep it down, otherwise he would have torn your dress apart and have you screaming by now.

“fuck— keep doing that” you run your nails on his undercut, gojo mewls and take your other leg, pushing it further to go deeper. he sees the white ring around his cock, getting high on the sigh of it combined with your pussy illuminated by the natural light coming from the window behind him.

he wonders if toji ever fucked you in a classroom like this, then he shakes his head, not allowing the image to form in his mind, instead he focus on you, and how your pretty face contorts as your orgasm approaches once again.

“so fucking pretty” he whispers quietly.

you attempt to lower your legs. feeling it’s gonna be too much.

“nuh-uh keep them here” he pushes back, “so tight” he closes his eyes.

you’re a moaning mess at this point, almost forgetting where you are.

“that’s right, let it go baby” your legs shake as your orgasm hits you, satoru can see the shape of your cursed energy peaking then getting softer.

he fucks you a little more, trying not to think about the condom trapping his dream of knocking you up.

god, you would look so fucking gorgeous carrying his baby, all round up for him to showcase around. he would do anything for you, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

if only…

“fuck“ he fucks his load — into the condom unfortunately.

after the initial high goes away he starts to hear his students asking where he went and why he’s taking so long, “wait here, i’ll take you home.”

“you don’t have to” you smile, poking his cheek.

“oh i do, i’m not done with you” he takes your hand from his nape and gives it a kiss before pulling out and throwing that despicable rubber into the bin, making a mental note to empty that bin outside where the evidence of what happened between two teachers is not so easily discoverable.

you sit up adjusting your dress and looking around, “did you see my…”

“nope” gojo leaves the classroom pushing the material of your panties further into his pocket.

gojo had the weekend of his dreams, he convinced you to stay in his place that night and the next one too, he rubbed your sore legs after you came so much you were spasming then made you breakfast, it almost made him believe of a happy ending for the two of you.

a dream that was shattered when, a few days later you returned from a mission and stood by the entrance of the school kissing… toji.

gojo watches the scene from above, a frown on his face.

“yeah i was surprised too” he almost forgot that megumi was with him, “thought she finally created some sense” he confesses.

gojo doesn’t say anything, he watches silently as you tiptoe to kiss toji, the fucker doesn’t even hold you right, he keeps his hand in his pockets and lets you with all the effort.

“meet you in the classroom in five” gojo disappears from megumi’s sight.

on your way to report your mission to yaga you see satoru leaning against a tree. you say his name in a surprised manner, not having prepared what to tell him beforehand.

“listen, i— hm… i thought you should know that toji and i are back, so—”

“did you tell him?” his arms are crossed.

“about… us? of course not.”

“why? don’t you think he should know?” you hear the challenge in his tone.

“no, and you’re not gonna say a word to him either” you step closer to him, trying to look intimidating which can be difficult due to the height difference, “may i remind you that between the three of us there’s a teen boy who would not appreciate the drama.”

“look at you, using fushiguro as an scapegoat” he smiles at the look of anger forming on your features, “it’s fine, i’m just a bit surprised at how quick you were to go back to him, that’s all.”

“let’s be real, satoru. it’s not like you were going to take me on a date or anything” gojo pulls you by your wrist, your body hits his, the sudden proximity has your eyes widening, anyone could see you and take the wrong conclusion. i mean, it wouldn’t be wrong but you didn’t want any conclusions to be taken for that matter.

“this is not going to be the last time and i don’t give a damn if you’re dating him or married or widowed.”

“satoru!” you shout his name in a whisper, immediately rejecting the idea of becoming a widow.

“you can tell toji or not, i don’t mind fighting him” he pushes himself out of the tree and past you. megumi is grown now, of course he still needs a lot of coaching regarding his skills, but emotionally speaking, he’s been a grown up since he was six.

before going to his classroom as promised, he teleports himself to yours, picking up the bouquet he left at your desk then teleporting to the fountain across the campus where he rips the paper that holds the flowers together and lets it all fall into the water.

satoru watches it for a moment, hurt but still decided to go through with his plan.

he wonders what would you tell toji if you got pregnant, maybe you could convince him the child is his, a miracle. then when the kid comes out with white hair and blue eyes you’ll have no choice other than be with him, the father of your child, the man who truly loves you. gojo satoru.

#there’s no part 2 leave me alone #divider by @cafekitsune #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji x reader

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aestrayla · 4 months

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cherries or peaches? ft. obey me! brothers

summary: do they prefer ass or boobs? ft. obey me! brothers x f!reader

cw: highly suggestive, mdni, fluff??, pet names (darling, sweetheart), fondling, groping, MY HUMOUR..

word count: 1.5k

a/n: sorry for some of them being so short, it was actually kind of challenging trying to elaborate on the ideas rather than just plainly stating them out as they are, but i hope u still enjoy them just as much as i enjoyed writing them ^^ also, don't mind my shitty humour in the last two + i haven’t written for most of these characters before so they might sound off idk??

at first, it was hard to tell whether lucifer preferred ass or boobs.

he would always reply to you with a, "i prefer them both, equally," or a, "why should i choose when i can like them both?"

it drove you crazy because you clearly asked him to choose either one or the other. he was always dodging the question and at some point, you even got the brothers in on this, some bets were made too.

"it's obvious he likes ass more, have you seen the way he looks at y/n when they're wearing that skirt he bought for them?"

"nah he totally like boobs more, he can't keep his eyes off ‘em whenever they're wearin' a tight shirt!"

soon you started to take these signs into account, wearing much more revealing things to try and catch a reaction out of him, but to your demise, he never seemed to crack.

after weeks of bet-making and skin-revealing lucifer had finally had enough. the two of you were both lying in bed, facing one another while his arms were wrapped around your waist.

"y/n," he whispered.

"mhm?" you hummed in response.

"isn't it obvious i like these better?"

he pulled himself closer to you as his face buried against your chest. oh you thought. he had always found comfort sleeping against you like this, his head stuffed between your boobs while his arms wrapped around you tightly, that it became natural and you had almost forgot he did it.

"shit— you should've told me earlier! now we've all lost our bets to mammon!" you whined.

you could hear his muffled chuckles vibrate against your body as you wrapped your arms around his head, squeezing him closer.

mammon is 100% an ass-loving guy, no questions asked.

with mammon, no matter what you're doing, what you're wearing, where you are, or who you're with, he just loves touching you all the damn time.

whether you're walking through the halls of RAD to your next class or taking a stroll through the devildom while window shopping, he won't hesitate to sneak his hands up your skirt to feel your plump ass.

"mammon stop, we're in public!" you glare as you swat his hands away.

"’m sorry can't help it, just gotta have my hands all over ya!"

oh well, maybe next time he’d be lucky enough to sneak his hands further down your skirt and— who knows, you might just find yourself begging him for more.

and if it's just the two of you in your own company, you'll always find that his hands like to slip past the waistband of your panties just to lay onto your cheeks, rubbing and squeezing at the plump flesh. always smiling in delight as you squirm under his carnal touch.

as much as you like to complain, he always swears that "it's just comfortable!" or "my hands were just cold!"

there is no doubt in my mind that leviathan wouldn't be on team cherries.

he always lets you sit on his lap whenever he's grinding a video game or on an anime-watching marathon. a recent occurrence you've taken note of is that, almost as if it's a reflex, he'll always end up having a hand or two resting on your boobs, casually squeezing at it as if he owns the thing.

"you must be real comfortable there, levi." you teased, motioning to where his hand laid.

"huh— OH! um, I-I'M SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" he shot his hands up in defense. "it's just really soft… and warm... I'm sorry y/n." his face was bright red.

"it's fine, i was just teasing you, silly!"

there was also a time where you scolded levi for owning one of those mouse pads where ruri-chan’s the characters boobs would be squishy.

in desperate need to make it up to you, he custom ordered a version with you on it, only because he swears out of all his waifus, you're his absolute favourite.

it was a rainy night, and in the comfort of the library beside a crackling fireplace, you were messing around on your d.d.d while satan was next to you, reading what you assumed to be a mystery book.

"hey satan?" you put your d.d.d down for a moment, turning to look at him.

"hm?" he hummed, while keeping his eyes glued to the page.

"do you prefer ass or boobs?"

he pauses to look up at you and closes his book, placing it beside him, all while sighing.

"what does it look like i prefer?" he deadpans.

you break his eye contact as you look down to see his left hand buried under your sweater, which was fondling with your boob this entire time.

"so... boobs?"

he replies while picking his book up again, "yes darling, don't ask such foolish questions."

asmo loves boobs. your boobs to be specific.

don't blame him, your boobs are just so pretty and he loves pretty things.

the way they sit when you're wearing a low-cut garment, or the way they shine when you're having a bubble bath together. he loves it all.

as you know, asmo loves pampering you and surprises you with random gifts whenever he finds something that he'd love to see you in.

one night as he's doing your hair after a bath, he suddenly remembers something and stands to walk to his closet.

"the other day when i was shopping at majolish, i found this super pretty bra i thought you'd look just gorgeous in!" he approaches you with a box wrapped neatly with a ribbon.

as you open the box, you set your eyes on a beautiful red laced bra.

"are you sure i'd look good in this?"

"you look perfect in everything sweetheart, you know i’d never lie about that."

he's always buying you pretty things to wear, and trust me when i say, this definitely isn’t the first bra he's ever gotten you.

beel could not care less about choosing between your ass or boobs. they're both squishy and feel nice in his hands so it didn't really matter to him. well, not until today.

getting up from the edge of the bed and turning your heel to face him, you asked, "did you know a new cafe opened up in the devildom recently?"

"really? what food do they sell there?" he asked, his eyes looked as if there were stars in them.

"well apparently their cakes are a specialty, they're pretty popular for it."

"cake?" he drooled, "i love cake! hey we should go to the cafe right now, i'm starving." he sat up from the edge of the bed, drooling like a puppy dog.

little did he know, you decided to be a little jokester today.

"oh you're starving right now? then here," you turn around, bending over.

"what are you doing y/n?"

you turn your head back to look at his confused expression, "you said you were starving right? the cake's right here," you pointed to your ass.

he stares at you for a moment. then at your ass. then back at you again.

"so there's no cafe, is there?" he wipes his drool away with the back of his hand.

"nope. but there sure is cake," you smile cheekily while shuffling closer.

he sighs while grabbing ahold of your thighs, dragging you just inches away from his lips, "you're lucky i like this kind of cake too."

as long as he can sleep on them, belphie will like them no matter what. so when it comes to choosing between your ass or boobs, it can be a hard decision just to choose one.

belphie's "sleepability" criteria is: soft, warm and comfortable; and your boobs and ass were equal competition.

he sighs, "if i have to choose one over the other, i'd rather sleep on your ass all day" his reasoning being because your ass has more of an "even surface" compared to your boobs.

if you're ever just lounging around the house of lamentation, on your stomach specifically, within seconds you'll feel belphie's arms wrap around your legs while he lays his head onto you.

its crazy how instantly he falls asleep on you. he'd stay like that forever if you didn't have to get up to pee or because your legs fall numb.

"c'mon belphie, i needa pee so bad!" you squirm.

"mmmphh," he grumbles, half-asleep, while hugging onto your legs even tighter.

"hurry up or i'll fart on your face!" you threaten him jokingly.

"OKAY, OKAY!" he shoots up from his position and is scrambling to the edge of the bed. you laugh in response because it works every time.

"and i was having a good dream too!" he scowled, while rubbing his left eye from sleep.

lmk if u guys want a part two ft. the datables!

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 5 months

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Could I request a smut with Bellamy Blake? Like him and the reader are trying to get a quickie in before everyone comes back and he tries to make the reader cum one more time? :) if u can ofc!

close call | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season three — you and bellamy take advantage of a moment alone in the rover on a scouting expedition. time is against you when bellamy makes one final request before everyone returns.

pairing: bellamy blake x reader

warnings: smut, almost caught, penetration (p in v), oral (fem receiving), quickie, multiple orgasms, cowgirl, idk whether part of this is considered dub-con or not but I’ll still add it just in case

notes: the ending is sort of abrupt but anyways—

word count: 1.8k

The rover was bouncing so vigorously; it was a wonder the axles hadn’t broken under pressure.

“Oh my—fuck! Oh my god!”

It had started off innocent. Two people had to stay behind to guard the rover as a group scouted the forest terrain for new foraging and hunting grounds for Arkadia. Bellamy had offered to stay behind along with you. At first, you both obeyed the instructions to watch over the rover. But, damn, he looked so goodin his tan t-shirt and black cargo pants, you just couldn’t restrain yourself.

First came the flirting, then the wandering hands, and then suddenly you were inside the rover, on the floor in the back, with Bellamy inside you.

Your breasts recoiled up and down, cleavage exposed from the low neckline of your tight tank top as you bounced on Bellamy’s lap, his cock sliding up into you with each drop of your hips. His face was buried between your breasts, sucking harsh kisses into your skin. Fuck, you should have told him to stop; people would see the marks.

But you couldn’t. Especially when he lowered to your sensitive peaked nipple and bit it softly through the material of your shirt.

“Ah, fuck!” you rasped, skin prickling with goosebumps.

Fingers tangled in his dark wavy locks, you guided him back up to your level, frantically catching his lips in a wanton kiss. Your tongues moved together with a hunger of their own, strings of saliva keeping you attached whenever you parted for a sliver of breath.

You sank down fully onto his pelvis and engulfed his entire pulsating length before grinding your hips back and forth at an almost Olympic-level speed, feeling his cock repeatedly curve into your throbbing walls. Something between a whine and a groan of the words “fucking christ” was mumbled against your lips by Bellamy.

His hands held you down by the hips as he began snapping his own hips upward, skin-on-skin sounding as his pelvis slapped against your ass. You grappled onto his broad shoulders as your head fell back with a filthy high-pitched moan which, thankfully, was confined to the rover’s interior.

“So fucking good, princess,” Bellamy breathlessly praised between mind-devastating thrusts. “So.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Good.”

His fingers dug harshly into your skin, blunt nails surely creating red crescent indentations in your soft skin. You would wear them like a trophy. He forced your hips down and trapped your body on his cock as his head fell back against the mesh panel wall, soft tip spurting thick white come deep inside your belly. His scrunched brows twitched with release; lips were parted as his shallow breaths gave way to deep sex-drunken moans.

The warm white liquid filled you up, leaking prettily down Bellamy’s thick penetrating length. You were so full of his seed and ever-hard cock that all your body could do in response was orgasm, the heat spreading from your belly and pervading your entire nervous system.

All control was lost. You trembled from head to toe, essentially vibrating on his cock which was still prodding against your cervix. Strangled gasps fell from your lips, your forehead falling against Bellamy’s who had finally managed to regain his composure and was hypnotically watching you work through your own high.

Finally, the both of you reached a state of tranquillity, holding each other closely, panting and inhaling one another’s intoxicating breaths. It was a good thing too—that you finished so quickly.

“The other’s will be back soon,” Bellamy whispered, finishing your thoughts.

You nodded. He pulled your hips forward again and you both made some quiet noise of pleasure, eyes glued on one another and simmering with atmospheric desire. For about ten seconds, you stayed like this—motionless, panting, staring.

And then Bellamy was flipping you over onto the car floor.

He hovered above you, brown eyes pooling with sin, dark strands of hair partially obscuring his vision. You simply looked up at him, wide-eyed and speechless, and obviously, he found your shock amusing, evident from the subtle smirk on his lips.

“Want you to come again before they get back.” He leaned down to leave a hot kiss on your neck, lips tickling your skin as he murmured, “Think you can do that for me?”

You blinked, dumbfounded. “What?”

And then he was lowering himself down to your hips and hooking his arms around your thighs. His question wasn’t really demanding an answer—this notion was crystal clear as he abruptly buried his face between your legs and began eating you out like there was no guarantee tomorrow would come.

“Bell!” you cried with a gasped squeak, your back arching off the floor and eyes squeezing shut from overstimulation. “Wait, please, it’s—it’s too mu—” You cut yourself off with a sharp moan and encased his head with your thighs as his lips suctioned around your clit. “Shit! Don’t stop!”

The plea in your voice was useless. Of course he wasn’t going to stop. Not until your thighs were nearly crushing his skull as your taste coated his tongue, dribbled down his chin, and dripped from your pussy in a pretty, perfect glistening mess.

You rose to your elbows, hand reaching down to delve your fingers between his soft wavy locks, alternating between pushing him deeper into your pussy and tugging his hair to coax a groan from his lips which vibrated against your already throbbing clit.

The sounds you made could barely be considered moans, but rather stuttering cries—cries for more, cries to encourage him to keep doing that heavenly thing he was doing with his tongue.

“Right there,” you gasped.

He nodded, humming in compliance. Anything for you; anything to get you to come undone from his manipulation. His biceps flexed as he dragged you closer, hands splayed across your tensed stomach, rubbing and massaging the soft skin.

Tongue wide and flat, he licked an agonisingly slow stripe from hole to clit, beginning to flick his tongue side-to-side once he reached your swollen sensitive nub. God, he had your heart pounding and it felt so exhilarating. The pulsing had dropped into your stomach, each rapid beat building the tension that was tightening your gut.

Your hips rolled mindlessly against his tongue, using him like your own personal sex toy. His eyes were closed, literally drinkingin the fact that he was lapping between your thighs. He enjoyed giving pleasure just as much as you did receiving which made the moment so much more hotter.

Over the sound of your whining and panting, you could hear the distant conversations of people returning. Returning to the rover that Bellamy was currently eating you out in. Fuck.

“Bell.”

“Mm.”

He just kept going. Part of you wanted to ignore the approaching group and continue letting him bring you to your peak, but the other part recognised the embarrassment of potentially being caught in such an… indecent position.

“Bellamy,”you gritted.

The authority in your tone managed to tear him away from your pussy (and made his cock twitch with a drop of come).

He looked up at you through messy strands of hair. “Come for me one more time, princess,” he urged, voice low and husky. “Then I’ll stop.”

His hand kneaded the side of your waist, gaze on yours as he awaited your response. His mouth and chin sheened with your slick—a pretty, perfect glistening mess. How could you deny him when he looked like that? When he was begging to worship your body and set your nerves alight?

The flames licking at your insides began to suffocate, orgasm receding slowly into non-existence. It was all you could do to nod your head. “Make me come.” Your voice was heavy with desperation. “Please.”

Within seconds, he obliged, large veiny hands curling around the base of your thighs and diving back in. If you thought he was quick before, you were in a whole other ballpark when his mouth returned to your clit. Your fluttering eyes rolled back as his head swiftly shook from side to side, the tip of his tongue pressing hard against your sensitive nub.

An orgasm was rocketing inside you, so fast approaching that you felt entirely unprepared for its arrival. The voices outside in the forest were getting closer and so were you. So close you felt like you could reach out and touch the powerful feeling inside your gut. Technically, you could.

Your hands fisted in Bellamy’s hair, fumbling for any sort of tether to the ground because you were certain if you let go, you would shoot off into oblivion. He repeatedly sucked on your clit, swirled tight circles, devoured you like this was his last meal on death row, and then repeated the process.

“Good girl,” Bellamy mumbled into your pussy. “Almost there.”

Eyes squeezed shut, you writhed beneath his hold, hips jerking against your mouth. Your nipples ached with hardness. Your eyes overflowed with hot tears, streaming down the sides of your face. Your whines had turned to borderline screams, begging him “Don’t stop!” and a mixture of senseless profanities.

Your quivering thighs—with the last of their strength—threatened to crush his head as you squeezed around him, finally feeling the white flames inside you burst into a devastating explosion.

“Fuck!”

***********

Side-by-side, you and Bellamy stood outside the rover, fully dressed and watching as the scouting group returned from their minor expedition. Bellamy’s hand, which was resting on your hip, wandered to your ass and softly kneaded it in his palm, causing your body to tense in fear of being seen.

He leaned down far enough for you to catch his quiet words. “Don’t worry, princess,” he said. “I’m the only one who knows what you just did on the floor of that rover.”

Your jaw clenched, eyes remaining on the approaching group. “I’m the only one who knows you begged to make me come on the floor of that rover.”

His response was a quiet chuckle, his hand moving to your back to rub it affectionately. Just before the others reached hearing distance, he added, “And I’d gladly do it again.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, forming a timid smile on your lips.

Raven was the first person you made eye contact with. She subtly gestured to your pants, wearing a semi-proud grin as she nodded in approval. A horrid blush flooded your cheeks and you looked down to see your flier was completely undone. Well… shit.

“Anything happen while we were gone?” Monty asked, carrying a variety of flora samples.

You side-eyed Bellamy, witnessing the slightest smirk quirk on his lips.

He was quick to respond, sounding casual enough to avoid suspicion. “Nothing too interesting.”

You nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, his arm was discretely supporting your weight as your legs were still violently trembling.

#wife of all dilfs ✍️#bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x you #bellamy blake x y/n #bellamy blake smut #bellamy blake fluff #bellamy blake x clarke griffin #bellarke #the 100 #bob morley #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamyblake

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fabulouslygaybean · 2 years

Text

god. im scared

#realizing that i lost all of my teen years to trauma and bullshit like that. and that it forced me to be an adult way sooner than i -#- should have needed to be.#im turning 17 in a whopping 13 days and just. im terrified. like genuinely scared.#my family is having a lot of financial issues rn and im probably gonna have to pick up another job to help my mom make ends meet #and i think she wants me out of the house by the time i turn 18 so i gotta hurry.#idk how the fuck im gonna find a job where i can make enough money to help my mom while also letting me save up for an apartment while -#- also helping me cover all of my own costs BEFORE i turn 18. so food and medical stuff and clothes and such. while also having enough -#- time and energy to balance my final two years of high school AND somehow have a social life on top of that #i dont know how the hell im gonna pull it off. i dont feel like an adult but i have to be one already so i just gotta figure it out i guess #ive already lost the rest of my teen years. i shouldn't be sad about losing the last few. i don't have time to mourn.#my mom keeps saying that i need to stop stressing out bc its my birthday but like. the problem is my birthday.#sigh. i should be happy this month. im turning 17! im going to riot fest! i like most of my teachers this year! i have a bit of freedom!#but i don't feel happy. im just violently reminded that time has passed way too quickly and that im running out of time for everything.#im also violently reminded that i very much do not feel like an adult. even though it's only a little over a year till im 18.#i still watch cartoons and buy stuffed animals and have sleepovers with friends where we gossip about school and make pony bead bracelets #i cover my notebooks with stickers and laugh at immature jokes and have glow in the dark stickers on my bedroom ceiling #just. idk. i keep trying to catch up for lost time but i just have to keep rushing foward faster than i can handle. its weird.#sorry to post disappointing shit. im just tired and my body hurts and im stressed and scared and sad. nothing's going right.#in better news. after i get a job to pay for it i can apparently get a birth control prescription without parental consent in my state #i might finally be able to escape from my debilitating monthly pain! ill be able to function!!#im also gonna be getting myself a lowkey ugly rottmnt birthday cake from a grocery store because its my birthday and i can do what i want #so im still stressed and scared but ill have a day with friends where we can play games and do stupid shit and act like teenagers i guess #it'll be nice :')

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marvel-redemption-omega · 2 months

Text

Adam x Bratty!fem!reader

Reader is afab/female, explicitly used

Established relationship; you're Adam's wife

Summary: Y/n has started popping off to everyone lately, but mostly to Lute and Adam, which has caused a few scenes. Sera warned them to get their act together before she has to intervene. Adam thinks he knows just the thing to reel Y/n back in.

Minors DO NOT INTERACT! 18+ ONLY

Explicit content under the cut!

Warnings: Adam, lots of cursing, brief Dom!Lute, mentions of guitarspear if you squint, vague mentions of Lute x reader if you squint, Dom!Adam, Brat!reader, soft!Adam, BDSM/bondage, wing kink, thigh riding, edging, orgasm denial, slight praise kink?, you get used, idk what else you want me to say, there's some fluff in the midst; Adam fucks you senselessly into submission for being a brat, idk if there's more warnings. It's over 10k, I've lost track now.

Word count: 10,792

Make Me

(Not my gif, pulled from Google. If it's yours please lmk and I'll edit to credit!)

“The fuck you looking at, Saint Peter? Do I need to get Adam? Move,” you growl, shoving past the poor angel as you head towards the training grounds for the exterminators. Saint Peter looks after you, rubbing his wing where your own clipped his, sending a worried look after you before flying off to who knows where.

You slam open the doors, spreading your wings and launching yourself at the first exorcist you see. She is coming up to greet you, hand out for a handshake, when you grab it and fly up. Ignoring the startled scream from her, you try to keep steady as you twist, somersaulting a couple of times, and sling her towards a group of other exorcists headed right for you. They try to stop the one you sent flying at them, their wings tangling. You watch as they all plummet, hitting the ground with a harsh thud.

“Y/n!” Lute's voice has you turning to face your lieutenant. You smirk and bow your head slightly, wings twitching just the slightest as you hover and land before her.

“Lieutenant,” you grin, walking around her, wings partially folding behind you as you circle her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your attention?” Sarcasm drips from your words. You rest your hands on your hips and watch as she turns with you, her eyes never leaving you.

“This isn't your normal behavior. What's gotten into you? Have you forgotten that we're all a team? We work together as one, and when you break that uniformity, it creates chaos,” Lute glares, voice cold as she approaches, her own wings stretching out. You know you're her subordinate, but you can't help taking the bait she's dropping. Her wings fully spread and you take the opportunity to taunt her.

“What's the matter? Don't like the fact I'm more brazen? I thought you said I needed to be more like you,” you snip, fully extending your wings as a show of defiance to her dominant display. Her eyes narrow and you both move quickly, flying towards each other. However, in your senseless agitation, you forget that Lute is your superior, in both ability and technicality. She easily gets the upper hand and wrestles you onto the ground, pinning your wings to your sides and you to the ground.

“You seem to be forgetting your place,” Lute warns, her tone sharp and hinting at something else you don't quite catch. The group of angels you sent in a heap arrive, all talking over one another to try and tell Lute what happened. She silences them with a look, not moving from atop her perch on you. “Hush! I saw what she did. Don't worry, Adam and I will be dealing with her,” she dismisses the group with a wave of her hand. Only once they're gone does she let you up, one hand gripping the base of one of your wings tightly, forcing you to back up to the side of the building as she extends her wings, making herself look bigger. You bite your tongue at the feel of her hand in your feathers, walking back until she has you pinned, your own wings shrinking and folding as best they can with a hand in the way.

“What now? You've got me alone? Why don't you just beat me and be done?” You snap, glaring at her boots. She steps into your space, forcing you to look at her. You press yourself back to the wall, irritation written on your face.

“You've got some nerve! You're lucky that you're one of the best I've trained. And you're even more lucky that Adam has a soft spot for you, otherwise I'd leave you broken on this fucking ground,” the lieutenant growls, twisting the hand she's got on your wing ever so slightly. Something crossed between a yelp and a moan escapes you as she pushes against you. “Since you think you can just barrel over anyone, you're going to be waking up extra early with me to do drills. We start tomorrow.” With that, she releases the hold on your wing, keeping hers flared behind her, before taking off. You hear her call for the ones training today. With a mocking snort, you take flight and leave the training grounds, deciding to be anywhere else but near Lute.

“Stupid Lute yelling at me. I didn't do anything. Why's she gotta take her anger out on me,” you grumble, landing back on the promenade. You know that's a lie, you're being a brat, but it's not your fault, you reason. You fold your wings, tucking them under your arms as a habit you adopted from Adam. “Fucking tell me I've gotta do early morning shit. Fuck her, she's not the boss of me,” you continue to rant to yourself, completely missing the golden winged angel. His eyes widen as he watches you storm by, none the wiser to his presence. He glowers before white wings cover his face, momentarily confusing him and turning him around.

“Whoa! Sera! I thought we agreed you wouldn't fucking sneak up on me again!” Adam says, looking up at the seraphim. She crosses her arms as she meets his eye.

“Adam, get your subordinate back in line. She is being rude to the other angels and if this behavior of hers continues, I will be forced to intervene. Saint Peter is not the first to have a complaint with Y/n and her behavior,” Sera warns, watching as Adam turns to watch you. Sure enough, you're shoving others aside, using your wings to try and create more space around you as you walk.

“Yeah yeah! I'll go get her! No need to jump down my throat, that's my job!” Adam dismisses Sera, crouching lightly as he spreads his wings. Sera grabs his wrist, stopping him.

“I'm serious, Adam. Reign Y/n back in or I will have to pull her from the extermination team and move her elsewhere. And if she doesn't calm down there, well, let's not let it get that far,” Sera releases him, turning to greet Emily who is flying up with two ice cream cones. Adam, unfortunately, loses sight of you in the time Sera is talking to him. He groans and heads to find Lute.

Lute is sparring with five exorcists at once, pointing out their flaws as she takes each one down. Adam, not particularly keen on getting a sprained wing again, waits out of the way until she notices him and dismisses them to work without her.

“Sir?” his lieutenant questions, wings folding behind her as she walks up to him.

“Have you seen Y/n? Sera's bitching ‘bout her. Something ‘bout she's being mean or some fucking shit. I wasn't really paying attention,” he admits, shrugging as they walk back out the training facility. Lute smirks at his typical behavior.

“Yeah. She came here earlier and assaulted some of the others. Sera is right though. Y/n was deliberately being disobedient,” she reluctantly agrees with the seraphim about you. To be fair, normally you'd go straight to Lute for a good, challenging spar, so to go after some of the younger and less experienced exorcists was a dick move on your part. Adam sighs and groans, glancing down at his lieutenant.

“Hey, Lute~”

“No.”

“What the hell, you don't even know what I was gonna fucking ask!”

“I know you. I don't need to know what you were going to ask.” Adam just stares at her for a moment, his mask switching to a deadpan expression. It quickly switches back to his usual, cocky smirk.

“Oh yeah? If you're so smart, what was it along the lines of then, Dangertits?”

“You were thinking of having me deal with Y/n instead of you, Sir.”

“Don't say it with such confidence. Bitch,” he throws in the last word as an afterthought, realizing she pegged him pretty well. She stopped and turned to face him, brow raised in question.

“So am I wrong?”

“Shut up. No. Let's just fucking go,” he grumbles, spreading his wings and flapping twice to get into the air. Lute smirks and follows silently. She might be his subordinate, but they both know she's right more often than not.

They finally find you at the local barbecue pit, in the reserved section. Reserved for him, Lute, and you. Lute looks up at Adam, wings folding behind her as she waits for his orders. “C'mon, Dangertits,” he mutters, making his way to you. You don't bother looking up when you're sandwiched between two bodies. The familiar touching of wings against yours immediately tells you it's Adam and Lute. You flip them off and continue eating your plate of ribs.

“Umm excuse the fuck outta you, Sugartits. You have some damn nerve acting like you're so fucking high and mighty all of a sudden. The fuck's got your panties in a twist?” Adam reaches over you and takes a rib, expertly dodging the fork you try to stab him with. Lute remains quiet, eyeing you as you glare at Adam, dropping the fork.

“None of your fucking business. And get your own damn plate of ribs, asshole,” you bite out, wings shifting in annoyance. Adam grins and reaches for another rib, holding your gaze while he does so.

“Fucking make me,” he retorts, grabbing the rib you start to reach for. Your eyes narrow, wings fluffing up fully behind you.

“You fucking absolute prick. What the hell is wrong with you?! I said to leave me the fuck alone. I was eating alone just fine until you two showed up,” you yell, drawing unwanted attention and eyes towards the three of you. You let your wings lift you from between your superiors, glaring down at them. “Stop fucking following me!” You leave the duo with your half eaten plate as well as the bill, hands clenched at your sides as you fly out the doors.

Emily finds you on a cloud, well away from everyone. She flies into your vision, giving you a warm smile. You can't help but return it. No matter how mad you were, Emily always seemed to make you want to smile and try to be happy for her sake. She was like a little sister to you after all. You gesture to another cloud beside the one you're on, letting your wings fluff out in contentment. Emily accepts your silent invitation. Heaven's sun warms your wings as you sit in peaceful silence with the young seraphim. It doesn't last long though. You feel Emily's eyes on you and you know she has something she wants to say.

“Everyone's worried about you, you know. Sera's worried that you're going to fall. Adam and Lute….they're worried something is wrong. Something like you don't want to be here, in Heaven, anymore. Saint Peter also said to let you know he wants to see you when you get the chance,” the seraphim rambles, one of her hands finding yours. You allow her to link your fingers, listening to her. Yeah, you have been a little shit lately, you know that. There was only one person who could help and he was still as clueless as ever. Adam. Well, that's not true. Lute could most definitely help too, you just preferred if it were Adam.

“I promise I'm fine, Em. You can tell Sera that I'll be okay. I'm just….going through something,” you grin, swinging your joined hands. “But, for you, I'll try and not cause any more trouble.” You mean every word. You don't want to give Sera a reason to cast you out. You actually like it here in Heaven. Hell, you even like your misogynistic, egotistical, dumbass husband. Why, you don't know, but there's just something about him that draws you in and keeps you coming back for more. He'd definitely say it was because he's the Original Dick.

“Eee! I know she'll be happy to hear that! I'm gonna go tell her you're okay! Okay? Bye!” Emily lurches forward to give you a hug before racing off to find her older sister. You let out a chuckle at the young seraphim's antics. For someone at least a millennia old, she still had a childish air about her. It was refreshing, a nice change of pace from her older sister, Sera.

Your peaceful mood doesn't last too long. You remember Lute telling you that you have to be up early for extra training due to your outburst earlier. Honestly, you know you can't blame anyone but yourself, but that doesn't mean that you like it. With a defeated sigh, you make your way back to your house.

You slam the door to your home, grumbling and cursing Lute and several other angels. In your anger, you completely miss two angels in your kitchen. Adam and Lute watch you pace in your living room, wings fluttering about. They have a silent conversation before Adam's smiling and Lute is trying her best not to, shaking her head. Finally, the light from your kitchen catches your eye.

“What the hell? I can't go out without running into you and now I can't even be in my own fucking place?!” You groan, feathers floating around you as your wings puff up in your annoyance. Adam smirks, lacing his fingers and folding his hands, resting his chin on them as he watches you.

“Babes, this is our house, not just yours,” he corrects you without hesitation, watching as you shake your feathers and fold your wings. Lute watches you both, only here to act as the middleman if needed to separate a fight. You turn your back to them and head back to the couch, falling face first onto it.

“Fuck off. I'm so sick of seeing your ugly mug,” you snarl, head turned to the side so they can hear you. Adam turns to Lute, nodding to the door. She gives him a look, but he shoos her as he gets up, making his way to you.

“Adam, I don't think-”

“Lute, just go. I can fucking handle this. I think I know just the fucking thing to correct her attitude,” a grin appears on Adam's mask, a ripple running through his wings as he pushes his chair back. You fluff your wings, letting them sprawl, one hanging off the back of the couch and the other dangling on the floor. Lute doesn't offer any further complaints, just opens the door and gives him a look before shutting it behind her.

“Go away, Adam,” you huff, feeling his presence hovering over you. You crack an eye open to see his face inches from your own, mask discarded somewhere. You yelp in surprise at the proximity, your wings flapping frantically to help you pull back and away from him. His grin widens as he slowly stalks towards you, his golden wings unfurling and shaking out behind him.

“You've been rather busy the last couple weeks huh? Been fucking with me and Lute and raising hell up here. Care to enlighten me as to why?” His gold eyes narrow as you search for a way around Adam or out of reach of him and his wings. You know he will use his wings to pull you close if you get too close.

“N-no. I haven't,” you lie poorly, slowly crawling backwards on the couch, and off the far side over the arm. You both stare at each other as your feet land on the cool hardwood flooring. A subtle flutter of his wings has you turning and darting down the hall, wings helping as you try to keep out of Adam's reach, hoping to get to the bedroom before he reaches you.

“You're such a shit liar,” he snorts at you, catching up to you quickly. You don't stop to see how close he is, you don't need to. You can feel his feathers brush against yours just before they fully envelope you.

“Adam!” You squeak out as his arms wrap you in a tight hug, face burying in the crook of your neck. Trying to steel your resolve and not break from such a small interaction, you use your wings to push against his, earning a chuckle from him.

“S'matter, Babe~? Need something?” His sharp teeth nip at your neck and it takes all of your willpower to not cave and moan at the sensation. The feel of his chin stubble combined with his teeth make your knees weak. Thankfully you have wings that help keep you balanced.

“Not from you,” you manage to scoff, still trying to get out of his grip, though your attempts are more feeble with each bite to your shoulders. In the small power scuffle, Adam has managed to walk you to your bedroom, nudging the door open fully with his wing.

“Mm, don't fucking be like that. I came all the way here from work just to help you,” he growls in your ear, voice dropping as he talks. You pause in your escape attempts, a chill running up your spine and through your wings. Adam doesn't miss the shaking of your feathers at his words, gold eyes glinting in the setting light filtering in through the window. He quickly takes advantage of your lack of fight, easily hefting you into his arms bridal style, letting your wings free of his hold. You blink up at him, arms instinctively going around his neck.

“Bullshit. Your head is too far up your own ass to care about me,” you sneer at him, grabbing his collar and pulling it tight so it comes close to choking him. He grins and leans his face closer to you, nuzzling his forehead against yours.

“I'm gonna make you eat your fucking words, Babe,” he mutters. He tosses you onto the bed after breaking your hold on his collar. His wings stay spread, displaying his dominance to and over you.

You turn to him, on your knees, and spread your own wings in defiance. You grin smugly at him, crossing your arms as he makes no moves to change your mind. When he does move, you don't see him. He turns you around faster than you expect. It's easy to pin you, and when he moves to grab something from under the bed, he keeps you down with his wings. You struggle under him until you feel cold metal on your wings. A gasp escapes you as Adam moves to secure your wings so they stay flared out, the metal frame locking as he puts the spines of your wings into each arm. You try to pull away, only for the metal brace to force them to stay.

“A-Adam!” You whine, realizing what kind of hole you dug for yourself. He ignores you, making sure your wings are secure before rolling you onto your back.

“You want to show disrespect to your superiors? Don't worry, I'm going to remind you of your place,” he chuckles, moving to grab something from the nightstand.

You whimper. You know you're fucked. You pushed your luck, especially with Adam, and went overboard with your bratty attitude. But fuck if this isn't what you wanted. Adam had been ignoring you after all. He was always ‘too busy’ with work. Maybe you were jealous of the time he spent with Lute, not like you should be, you knew their relationship, but it did bug you sometimes. Especially when you're his wife. You're aware and more than ok with the swing style relationship you both share with Lute. It was something you accepted readily when you met her after a date with Adam. There was hardly ever one without the other, no matter which way you looked at it.

“You're going to be begging me to stop before I'm through with you. I'm going to make sure you don't forget where you belong for a long time,” Adam's voice brings you back to the present. You look up at him, not daring to move from where he rolled you. He's sitting beside you, hand on one of your knees, hiding something in his other hand. You prop yourself up on your elbows, meeting his gaze.

“Big talk coming from someone who's locked up my wings. What's the matter, Dickmaster? Can't put me in my place with my wings in the way?” You taunt, though there's no real bite to your words anymore. You know you're at his mercy now, but you still can't help yourself since he hasn't touched you aside from the love bites he gave you on the way to the bedroom. You watch as his hand freezes the small thumb circling on your knee. His head tilts and he pulls out a massage wand, twirling it a couple of times.

“Sounds like you need more than just this. On my knee, now!” He orders, setting the massager on the floor for now. You raise a brow at him and bat your lashes at him.

“Make. Me.”

A feral noise escapes your husband. You're dragged into his lap and stripped of your boots and pants with a snap of his fingers. His robe is also discarded from his snap, leaving him in dark jeans and a band tee shirt. Your wings try to move, but the bar keeps them locked in place. The most you're able to do is shift the feathers slightly.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The sting from Adam's hand connecting with your ass pulls a startled yelp from you. Your body shivers and goosebumps appear on your arms and legs. You try to kick and get out of his lap, but his hold on you tightens.

“Want to try that again, Bitch?”

“Y-yes… Make me, Dickmaster.”

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

You try to stifle your moan by biting your fist, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet. You hear him tsk and see his shadow shaking his head at you.

“Nu-uh, that's not a good little bitch. What do we say?” He teases, grabbing your free hand and clicking something around it. You recognize the feel of the metal cuffs, even if it's been a few months since they've been used. He grabs the hand you're biting, and you willingly let him pull it above your head. He holds your hand there, your other being held in place by the chain connecting the cuffs.

“Fuck.”

“Getting warmer,” he chuckles, shifting so you're sitting on his lap. “You're going to ride my thigh until you tell me, but if you cum before I say so, I'll make sure you don't get to cum for the rest of the night. Understand, Bitch?” Your heartbeat feels like it's in your ears as you nod your head, wiggling your free hand to grab his shoulder. He lets you readjust yourself, the hand holding the empty cuff taps your free hand. “Gimme.” You immediately move your hand to his, letting him fix the cuff and click it around your wrist. He moves your hands so your arms are locked around his neck, hands resting on his shoulders with the lengthy chain. His own hands roam your body, pausing at your chest to grope your breasts through your top, one continuing south to rest on your hip after he gropes your ass. “Move,” he commands.

You tense slightly before realizing what he means. You lean forward, burying your face in his neck as you begin slowly grinding on his thigh. Still feeling a bit bratty, not having your fire extinguished just yet, you gently nip at Adam's neck before biting down hard at the junction between his collarbone and neck.

“Fuck!”

You smile as best you can with your teeth clamped against his neck, sucking on the skin until you're sure it's bruising. You feel Adam's wings curl around you, radiating warmth. Your wings block his from fully enveloping you, but you feel the warmth in your wings where they touch his own. Feeling proud about your mission to mark your husband, you let go of his neck with a loud pop. Adam's hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he forces you to move faster on his thigh.

“You have some damn nerve being such a brat, yanno that?” He doesn't give you time to answer. He's sucking and biting a trail of hickeys along both sides of your neck, to hell with what anyone says. Once satisfied with the number he's left on you, he lets your hips go, hands trailing up your back to your wings. Your breath hitches as his hands curl tightly into the small feathers closest to your back. “Gonna have to show you where you belong. Make you understand just what happens to a brat who doesn't behave.”

“Sounds fun,” you breathe, leaning your head on your arm to look up at him, grin on your face as your halo shifts to right itself. He tilts his head down at you, gold eyes alight with something you can't quite pinpoint.

“Always gotta have the last damn word, don't cha?” He grunts, grabbing the chain connecting the cuffs and yanking it over the back of his head, holding it above him to pull you close. He drops the chain as his hand moves to grip the back of your neck, tangling in the hair there. You open your mouth to say something else smart, but he quickly covers your mouth with his own, silencing you before you can get anything out. You try to refuse when he licks your lips in an attempt to get you to open your mouth to him. He growls and tugs the hand in your hair, earning a moan from you and giving him access. He massages your wings as you kiss, only pulling away when you gently tap his shoulder, your signal you need air.

You can't process anything. From Adam's hand in your feathers, you riding his thigh, and that kiss? You feel a bit tipsy. Wanting to keep riding the high that is Adam, you lean back in for another kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair. Sensing your keen interest, he obliges you as you pull him down for another sloppy kiss, teeth clacking and tongues dancing.

“Adam, please… Don't want to ride your thigh,” you manage to squeak out, head resting on his shoulders, hands gripping his hair tightly as you grind down on his thigh.

“What's that? You don't want to?” He repeats, letting his hand untangle from your hair and trail up and down your back. He grins, and you swear his face matches his mask. “Too bad. Brats don't get what they want,” he answers, gripping your hip to keep you moving. He rocks his leg, shifting it with you so it hits just right, causing you to squirm. You whine and try to pull away with no fire in your heart, stopped by his grip, wings, and the handcuff chain. You can feel how excited he is, but you know he'd hold off just to prove a point. With another whine, you push your forehead into his collarbone. He doesn't want me to cum but wants me to ride his thigh? Fine, I'll at least follow one rule, you think, gripping his shoulders to pick up your pace on his thigh. If he wants you to ride his thigh, fine, you can do that, but you're doing it on your terms, not his. “Whoa. Ok, Sugartits, now we're talking,” Adam murmurs above you. You try to ignore him, ignore the feel of his hands on you. You don't care about him right now. He's been so mean to you! He's been too busy for you. Fuck him! You're gonna use him. Yes, you love him, but fuck him, literally and figuratively.

So focused on your own pleasure, you don't hear Adam calling for you. You're shaking your head, ears filled with the sound of your own panting. You feel the way Adam moves his leg under you, the way your wings tug against the warming metal brace, the warmth of Adam and his wings, the way you're moving in and out of sync with Adam's leg, it makes your brain fuzzy. A whine is pulled from your lips as you feel that familiar spring coiling tightly in your stomach. When did it coil like that? Surely you're not already about to come undone? Your fingers dig into his shoulders and you bite on his shoulder as your body shakes slightly uncontrollably as you reach your orgasm. You feel a rumble from Adam's chest, his hands tightening harshly on your hips as he works you through your bliss, slowing you down as your body settles from the aftershocks of your release.

“Still disobedient, I see,” you hear his voice and give a faint nod as you release his neck. You smirk at the mark before leaning back to meet his eye, eyes half lidded in ecstasy.

“Fuck you,” you manage to grumble, using the chain against the back of his neck to pull him closer. He chuckles, denying you the kiss you desperately want, he holds you still on his lap, wings unfurling from around you both and folding to his sides. The cool air sends a shiver up your spine, the chill creeping over your bare lower half. You glare then pout at him as he laughs at your expression, hands running over your legs to bring some heat back.

“I told you already, brats don't get what they want,” he reiterates, bringing one hand down hard on your rear end, making you jump. He smiles mischievously and snaps, eyeing your now nude body on display for him, your wings still held firm in their restraint, giving him a complete view of you. You whine and rock against his leg, your first orgasm barely scratching the surface of your need. “Ah ah ah,” he chides, lifting you just enough to prevent you from achieving the friction you just tried to make. He holds you like it's effortless, and honestly, for him it probably is. Man's like eight feet tall, if not more. You whimper, leaning your forehead into his neck at the loss of all contact except where he's holding your thighs. Your hands pull together and you realize Adam is pulling the chain over his head so you aren't locking him in place.

“On your hands and knees.” You're deposited on the bed, the remaining warmth leaving you as Adam shuffles off the bed and waits for you, gold eyes glowing in the dark. You shift your weight, grumbling, until you're on your hands and knees as ordered. “You know better. Arch your back.”

The sound of buzzing piques your interest enough to listen, turning your head so your left ear is pressed to the soft sheets on the mattress. You feel your feathers ripple and a few smaller ones fall as they poof up against your will. Heat creeps up your face and you quickly bury it against the sheets with a groan. Adam's chuckle is faint, but you hear it as he shuffles around behind you. The bed dips under his weight, forcing you to shift and recover your position for any sliver of hope that he won't keep his word of denying you more orgasms.

“Aww s'matter, Babes? Embarrassed your wings are giving away how aroused you really are? Afraid I'm going to do exactly as I said?” His voice drops lower as he leans over you. You feel his scruff on the back of your neck, his breath hot as he places a few sloppy kisses there. You can't help the moan that slips, and he doesn't miss that you ball your hands into the sheets either. He shifts again and you yelp, the vibration setting not what you were expecting as he holds the massage wand to your inner thigh.

“Fuck,” you bite the sheets to try and mute yourself, still not wanting to give Adam the satisfaction of hearing your voice. He tuts, moving the massage wand closer where you want it.

“Hold this,” he mutters. He smacks your hand away and gives you a knowing look. “Not with your hands.” You roll your head to the side, pulling your shoulders closer as you shift to bring your arms back under you.

“You can't be serious, Adam!” You whine, glancing over your shoulder where he's patiently waiting for you to take the wand. His grin never wavers as you lock eyes, gold piercing through you. “Fuck, Adam, please!” You attempt to bargain, hands clawing at the bed when he shakes his head no. Your resolve is slowly breaking at his slow torture. You'd prefer his break-neck pace instead at this point. When he doesn't budge, you curse him out, eyes never leaving his own as you move your thighs together to hold the wand where he wants you to.

“Good girl,” he praises as he moves from the bed, humming to himself. You try to watch him to the best of your ability, but lose sight of him when he moves to your shared closet. You can hear him pushing clothes aside until he lets out an excited ‘aha’. You can only imagine what he found, considering that's where you kept the more sinful sex toys and equipment. The familiar feeling of leather being wrapped about your ankle startles you from your momentary bliss of the wand. You hum as you feel Adam's fingers easily pulling the restraint tight. He slips a finger between your ankle and the leather. “Too tight?” The question makes you shake your head. “Can't hear you, Angel,” he teases, looking over the curve of your ass, down your lovely arched back.

“No, not too tight,” you bite out, legs slightly numb from the high intensity of the toy he demanded you hold. You jump and let out a small yelp as his hand makes contact with your rear. You quickly squeeze your thighs back together to keep the massager from falling, knowing that would earn you more discipline. Without another word, he's moving to get the second leather brace around your other ankle. Now knowing what he's doing, you quickly answer when he asks if the second is too tight. Once you agree that you're ok and the leather is really not too tight, he nudges your knees apart, clicking a small metal rod onto both ankle braces. The wand lands on the bed with a soft thump.

“On your knees,” he orders. He grabs the wand and turns it off for the moment, setting it on the side of the bed. You push up onto your forearms before using them to propel yourself fully upright to your knees. A soft gasp escapes you as Adam wraps his hand around the front of your throat. You never felt him crawl onto the bed behind you, but you feel his warm chest and stomach pressing against your back, feel his breath against your neck. You try to swallow and calm yourself of the anticipation. He trails kisses from behind your ear down to your shoulders, his hand staying firmly around your neck, holding you against him. The cold clasp of metal doesn't startle you this time, but it does send a warmth spreading through your chest and to your core like wildfire. You feel Adam loop the leather band through the clasp, pulling the collar to rest snug against your throat. He checks once, twice, three times with his finger that the collar isn't choking you before turning you in his arms, maneuvering you so you can see him.

“Safeword?”

“Oh, uhh…kumquat!” You snicker as his grin falters at your words before returning as he throws his head back, howling with laughter. He nods, wiping a nonexistent tear away from his eye.

“Perfect. If I cross a line, you say cumquat, and I'll stop, understand?” You giggle a bit at his words, but nod along so he knows you understand. He fingers the d-ring on the collar before using it to pull you close to him. “I couldn't hear you, Pet, what was that?”

“Yessir!” You squeak, a bit baffled by the new nickname. He licks his lips, nodding and muttering something you don't quite catch. He doesn't give you an opportunity to ask what he plans to do before he kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue into your mouth. Not like you're complaining. You try to move with him, but he has you stuck with your collar, his fingers still tangled in the ring on the front. You groan against him as he presses his lips harshly to your own. He nips at your bottom lip as he pulls away, panting slightly. You notice his hair is tousled more than usual.

While you're busy staring, you don't notice him undoing your handcuffs. He rubs the indents on your wrists before bringing them to his lips, leaving small kisses. Your heartbeat quickens slightly at the sight, loving Adam's sweet tendencies, you don't even know if he's aware of them. He drops your hands and meets your gaze, his eyes narrowing at you. You shy away slightly and drop your eyes to anywhere but his face, choosing the bed by his knee to be particularly interesting as heat floods your face.

“C'mere. Lay on your back and hang your head over the edge of the bed here. You're going to be a good little bitch and suck Daddy's cock,” he croons to you, one hand cradling your cheek. Your eyes widen a bit at his bold claim, but you nod along, nipping at his hand when he pulls it away. He quirks a brow but you just shrug and do as he told you, doing your best with both your legs and wings restrained. Once situated as comfortably as you can, you tip your head back to look at the shadow looming over you. He's got the wand in his hand again and you hum, hands reaching for Adam's clothed length. He's still in his shirt and jeans, so you tug at the belt loops, looking up at him expectantly. He rolls his eyes playfully and snaps, leaving himself bare to you. You, maybe a bit too eagerly, reach out for him, grabbing the back of his thighs and tugging him towards you. You hear his laughter, but you try to tune him out, desperate to start on him in hopes that he'd return the favor with his hands or the magic wand he has.

“Can I touch you?” You ask as he stands above you. The low glow from his wings and halo give you a small glimpse of his expression, a hesitant pause as he thinks over his words.

“Yes, I'll allow you to touch me. But, if you take your hands off me, there'll be consequences,” he grants you permission. You hum with a small smile, one hand going to the back of one of his thighs while the other grips his length. You give him a couple of strokes before opening your mouth and gently tugging his thigh to urge him forward. He doesn't need you to tell him twice, and moves so his shins hit the bed while you move to make sure you can take as much of his cock as possible.

The angle is a bit awkward for you, but you make the best of your situation as you feel Adam move and hear curses ring out. You hollow your cheeks, allowing him to fit farther down your throat as he pumps his hips. You hum, swirling your tongue around him, the metal barbell on your tongue adding a cooling sensation to Adam's heat. He groans at the feeling of it, dropping above you so he's leaning on his elbows on either side of you. You reach up to mess with his feathers, your other hand moving to fondle his balls. He curses and moans as you bob your head in sync with his movements. You let your hand fall from his sack, moving it to join in his wings. You bring your knees up and dig your heels into the bed, shifting yourself closer to the edge. Your gag reflex reacts at the sudden change, your throat constricting around Adam's cock, but you force yourself to choke through it, keeping yourself from gagging again.

“Ahh-fuck!” He curses, hips stuttering before he pushes himself up, pulling out of your mouth. “Up, on your front.” You whine as you're forced to let his wings go, but quickly do as he says, mimicking your first position with your back arched. He fists your hair, pulling you back to him. You lick your lips as he watches you take him back into your mouth. He grunts at the feel of your tongue running over him before he sets a brutish pace, hand so tightly wound in your hair you feel the subtle oncoming of a headache. You reach up and rest a hand on his hip for stability, the other going back to the base of his wings. You relax your throat and jaw as best you can, tears pricking your eyes and drool dripping down your face.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight when you feel a gentle vibration at your core. Adam has the wand pressed to you on a low setting, his other hand firmly locked in your hair. He runs the toy along your folds, resting it on your clit before circling it a few times. You moan around him when you feel him up the setting, circling the toy again. You try to lean back into it, but a tug on your hair makes you stop and turn your gaze up to look at Adam. He's got his head tipped back, mouth slightly open as he pistons his hips, roughly slamming his cock down your throat. You whine as you feel the wand turn off, before hearing it hit the floor. Adam's nowhere near close, but the way you're whining around him does make his dick twitch. You lurch forward, choking slightly, as he inserts a finger into you. You try to rock back into his hand in time with his hips, earning a hum of approval from your husband. He slips in a second finger, twisting and curling them as you rock between his hand and his own rhythm. The coil from earlier winds faster now, having already had one orgasm spurs on a second more quickly. As you start to move out of sync with him, hellbent on chasing your own release again, he withdraws his hand from you. He smirks at your pathetic whine against him, sticking his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them, never letting pausing or slowing in fucking your face.

“Fuck. Taste so good, Sugartits,” he praises, watching you squirm under his gaze. You narrow your eyes at him, tugging on his feathers. His body jerks and he groans as his hips falter in their pace, before stopping. You feel his release hit the back of your throat and you swallow, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, pulling off of him with a grin.

“Mm, right back at ya, Dickmaster,” you antagonize, sitting up on your knees to get closer to him. He growls, his smile twisting into a sneer.

“You just don't fucking learn, do you, Brat?” He yanks you to your feet by your hair, preening at the yelp he pulls from you. “That's ok. We have all fucking night and you're going to be fucking wrecked by the time I'm done with you.” You instinctively let go of his wing and hip as he pulls you into his chest, eyes holding you in place. You give him a lopsided grin as you pull your hands up to his chest, pressing your fingers into his skin.

“Of course not. It's gonna take more than a little bit to make up for ignoring me all month,” you snip back at him. He lets go of your hair and grips your cheeks between his fingers, squeezing lightly. You just smile as he holds your face close to his, his other snaking between you two to stroke his already half hard cock.

“Hmm. I'll have you in tears in a matter of minutes,” he finally replies, releasing your cheeks, and pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. You pout slightly but quickly try to hide it from him. You might have gotten lucky for back talking so far, but you knew you were going to eventually run out of luck if you hadn't already. Adam snaps, pointing to the bed. “On your back, now.” You scrunch your nose at his odd request, unable to read his expression. It takes some maneuvering as your ankles are still in the spreader bar and your wings are still in their own spreader arms, that Adam notices how difficult of a time you're having. He taps your hip, motioning for you to stop. You do so, watching him intently as he removes the bar holding your legs apart. He steps back once he's got it undone, allowing you to move freely. You murmur a soft thank you to him, a hand on his shoulder as you lower yourself onto your back much easier now. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed once you're settled, making you lift your head at him. He doesn't acknowledge you, simply replaces the bar and uses it to lift your legs over his head as he kneels at the foot of the bed.

Your face flushes as you realize Adam is about to eat you out, a rarity from him for sure. He flashes you a grin before kissing up your legs to your thighs. He nips and kisses your inner thigh before biting harshly. You let out a small whine, reacting to the pain by trying to yank your leg back. Of course the bar and Adam stop you from getting anywhere, and your leg twitches while you whimper, balling the sheet into your fists at your sides. Your muscle shakes, pain and ecstasy flooding you, quickly turning you into a panting mess. Adam presses a kiss to the bruise he's left, moving to your other thigh to leave a matching mark there. Your toes curl as his teeth sink into your flesh, a long whine pulled from you as your muscle tenses before relaxing under Adam's tongue.

“Adam, please! Don't tease,” you cry, reaching down to bury your fingers in his messy hair. He hums as he nips at your thigh, sucking another, smaller hickey.

“Don't tell me what to do,” he rumbles, breath tickling your leg. You can't help the small laugh that finds its way out as he hovers over your mound, staring at you intently. How can he be so calm right now, you think.

You lift your head, breath hitching as you watch as your husband slowly licks straight up your folds, never breaking eye contact. You feel your face heat up, and you drop your head back onto the bed, tugging gently on his hair. He lets out a chuckle, nuzzling your thighs before pulling you closer, arms wrapped under your thighs and on your back. He laps at you slowly, humming in contentment as you squirm under him, trying to grind down on his face. He dips his tongue inside, finally, and you arch your back, chancing a glance down at him again. His eyes are closed as he draws random patterns with his tongue. After a few minutes, he pulls back, sucking your clit into his mouth. You suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he hums against you, the vibrations sending a shiver up your spine.

He wiggles one hand out from under you, snapping his fingers. The spreader bar, keeping your legs apart, disappears, and you feel his wings gently move your legs out to rest over his shoulders. You stretch one leg out, hooking the other around his neck. He presses a kiss to one of your hickeys, looking up at you. He covers your clit again, sucking harshly as he slips a finger in you, moving it slowly. A gasp leaves you, feeling your stomach tighten at the sudden intrusion. He wastes no time in adding a second finger, pumping and twisting them at just the right angle to make you squeak out his name. He slows his ministrations as he feels your pussy clench around his fingers. He picks up speed again before slowing down, repeating the cycle each time you squeeze his fingers.

“Adam, please, I'm so close,” you pant, hands loose in his hair. You gently stroke through the messy brown strands, eyes shut tight as you try to hold onto the edge of bliss.

His eyes glint with mirth and mischief. He pulls away fully, smiling softly at your cry of protest. “I know I said earlier that if you came before I told you, you wouldn't get to the rest of the night…but now, I'm thinking that was a bit harsh.” There's something in the way he says it that makes you not believe him. You don't know why, and you quirk your brow up at him in silent question, moving your stretched leg to cross the other so you lock Adam in place. He definitely just edged you, you've been on the receiving end of that trick one too many times, but something is different. He's up to something. “So, how about I let you cum,” he starts and you nod quickly, squirming to try and grind on him. He laughs and holds your hips down with practiced ease. His wings lightly trail on either side of your face, down your neck, to your hips softly. “You want to cum for me, Babe?” He asks, dipping his head to lick you teasingly. You don't answer, your brain fuzzy at what he's just offered you. When he nips at your stomach do you snap your eyes to his, nodding in response. “Can't hear you, Sweets.”

“Fuck me… God, yes! Adam, please, please, let me cum,” you beg, using your legs to pull your husband closer to where you want him. His eyes narrow, tongue delving back into your folds. He swirls his tongue, constantly changing his rhythm, licking, nipping, sucking, and lapping at you fervently. You squeeze your thighs, pulling Adam closer as a result. “Adam, please, please, please!” You beg, tears threatening to spill as you feel your stomach contract as you're brought closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night.

“That's right, Sugartits. Cum for me. Cum on Dickmaster's tongue,” Adam praises, watching you as he turns his focus back to sucking on your clit, slipping two fingers in and curling them. With a shout of his name, you feel a wave of bliss wash over you. Adam hums as he works you through your release, your legs squeezing his head with the aftershocks. Your gaze snaps down to his, eyes wide in realization. He's not had a change of heart, he's just twisting what he said before. You feel your stomach drop as he pulls back a little, giving your slightly over-stimulated clit a break. His tongue darts out, licking his chin. His smug grin tells you he's about to say something smart, like usual. “Damn, Babe, if I'd known all it would take to rile you up and make you this wet for me is to ignore you, I'd have done it sooner.” You want to hate him and his stupidly perfect face, but dammit if he isn't your idiot. You try to glare at him, but your heartbeat and panting leaves little room for anything other than flustered to show.

“Fuck you, Adam,” you manage to grumble, leaning your head back into the sheets, massaging his scalp. Honestly, you don't know which is the worse of two evils; being edged all night or being over-stimulated to the point of tears.

“In a bit, Babes,” he replies, scissoring his fingers in an attempt to bring you back to the edge. “Be a good girl and keep cuming for me.” He snaps with his free hand, watching as a sash ties your wrists together with a bow knot. You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head at his silly antics.

You've lost count how many orgasms Adam has pulled from you now. All you know is if he keeps the wand on you, you're not going to last much longer. You tug at the satin sashes holding your wrists together above your head, whining as you feel another orgasm wash over you. Your nose burns as the threat of tears forms behind your closed eyelids. “Adam,” your voice is hoarse as you call out to your husband, eyes opening to find him hovering above you, wand nowhere in sight. As a matter of fact, you don't even hear it anymore.

“Shh,” Adam cooes to you, pulling one of the loose ends of the sash, untying the bow and releasing your wrists from their binds. “Think you can do something for me? I know you've already done so much, been such a good girl,” he praises, pressing light kisses along your jaw. You whimper, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. You feel him shift above you, his wings curling around you both as he fists his cock. “Think you can take one more orgasm, Sweets?” He murmurs against your neck, rubbing the head of himself against your folds. You whine, tilting your head to give him more access.

“I-I don't know. ‘M sore,” you whisper back, letting one hand rest on his shoulder. Instinctively you intertwine your fingers with his as he moves his free hand to your own.

“Come on, just one more, Pretty Girl? One more for me?” He urges, gently squeezing your hand. When you squeeze his hand in reply, he quickly sinks down until your hips meet. You shift your hips, nearly purring with the stretch of him.

“Fuck, feel so full, so good, Dickmaster,” you return the praise, turning your head to look at your husband. His face flushes lightly and he glances away, a quiet ‘shut up’ coming from him. You smile at his reaction, moving your hand from his shoulder to his cheek, cradling it gently. He turns his head to press a soft kiss to your wrist, nuzzling your hand. “I love you, Adam, but for fuck's sake, please fucking move,” you groan, bucking your hips up into him. He chuckles at your renewed enthusiasm and pushes your intertwined hands into the mattress as he shifts his weight so he's evenly over you.

He obliges your demand, slowly pulling out before sinking fully back into you, finding a slow, methodical rhythm. You sigh in contentment as you roll your hips in time to meet his, a shudder running down your spine as he fills you over and over again. It's such a drastic change from the intensity of the last couple of hours. Adam's shift from Dominant to soft-Dominant is so fast that you swear you should have whiplash. His wings brush against your shoulders, your wings, your sides, and they're so warm! You shiver in pleasure under Adam, throwing yourself off rhythm. You feel his chest rumble with laughter as you try to match his pace again, eyes closed, brows knit in focus. You gasp when he angles just right, hitting deeper in you. You grip his hand tightly, moving the other to his shoulder again in an attempt to pull him closer.

“Shh. There's my good girl. Do you feel good? Like when I hit right there,” he emphasizes his words with a particular hard thrust, hitting your g-spot. You yelp, bucking against him as a result. “Yeah? There?” He slips his wings under you, leaning back and pulling you with him as he sits up. He takes care not to shift too much, keeping himself buried in you as he adjusts you in his lap. He gently pulls his hand out of your grasp, moving to hold your hips as he helps support you, helping rock you back and forth on him. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck while you bounce on him. You feel his hands under your thighs, lightly cupping your ass as he helps hold your weight when your legs start to give out. “Can my baby girl give me one more? Think you got one more for me?” He whispers into your hair, leaning his head against yours, bucking up into you as you still, leg muscles too abused to continue your movements. You nod against him, panting as you try to focus on the feeling of him; his smell, his warmth, his familiarity, it all invades your senses and fills you with peace.

Adam holds you steady in his lap as he starts to quicken his pace, losing his rhythm from before. He slips one hand between you both, thumb quickly finding your clit again. You shudder and cry at how sensitive you are, shaking your head against his neck, babbling nonsense. He mumbles soft reassurances in your ear, pulling you down as he thrusts up.

“C'mon, Sugar, cum for Dickmaster. Cum on the Original Dick,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers digging into your skin. You whimper as Adam hits your g-spot as he talks, giving you that final push over the edge. You cling to him, legs shaking as your body tries to calm while he's still pistoning into you. You feel his other hand move back to under you, helping support you. You dig your hands into the base of his wings, gently tugging and nipping at his ear. He lets out a strangled gasp as his pace falters, getting sloppy. “Gonna fill you up, Babe. Gonna fill you so fucking full,” he growls, biting down on a bruise from earlier, eliciting a mixed cry of pain and pleasure from you. You clench around him as he pulls you down hard, hips stuttering as he groans.

It's quiet, save for the panting coming from you both as you slowly come down from your highs. Adam rubs your hips, kissing the bruises on your neck as you slump on him, hand gently brushing his feathers from where you were gripping them. His wings unfurl from around you, taking their warmth, and causing goosebumps to once again overtake your skin.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips as he lays you down, pulling out with a grunt of dismay. You chuckle softly, eyes closing when he lays your head on your pillow. You feel him messing with the collar, can hear the clasp as he undoes it, but you can't be bothered to make a move to assist him. You hear him laugh as he pulls the clasp end, the leather warming your neck as it pulls across your bare skin. You feel the bed dip as he shifts down towards the foot, repeating the motions for both ankle braces that once held the spreader bar.

When he looks back at you, he notices the gentle rise and fall of your chest, signaling you're asleep. He sighs, heading to the bathroom to clean himself and get you a warm washcloth. He steps into the bathroom and grabs the gold washcloth, turning on the tap, waiting for it to warm up. Once he's satisfied with the temperature, he lets the cloth fully soak before wringing it out and returning to you after shutting off the tap. He tries to ask you if you'd be ok with him gently cleaning you. When you don't answer, he snorts out a laugh and gently nudges your legs apart, trying to be as gentle as possible. He tosses the rag into the hamper against the wall, climbing into bed beside you. He tugs you close, slightly surprised when you roll onto his chest. He hums and cradles your head, pressing a kiss to your crown and snapping a blanket over you both.

“Goodnight, sleep well, my Angel,” he says, wings spreading wide and curling them around you.

___________________________________________

(Oh, did you think it was done? Oh no, Sweetheart, there's more. 😘)

The sound of knocking rouses you from your slumber. You groan and nuzzle into the warmth below you, trying to ignore the sound, hoping if you don't answer, whoever it is will go away. The door opening has your eyes snapping open. You move to push yourself up, but two arms wrap around you, keeping you in place. You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. With your back to the door and being trapped under Adam's arms, you won't be able to fight back. A familiar shadow pushes open the cracked door, letting out a sigh at the sight of you. Lute pinches the bridge of her nose as she steps over to the bed, prying Adam's arms off you. She glances at you without a word, eyes trailing from your neck to your back. She crawls onto the bed, fingers quickly unlocking the brace holding your wings.

A gasp escapes you, eyes squeezing shut as you are finally able to move your wings. They're stiff as can be and they kind of hurt from being forced straight for the night. Lute sighs, holding out a hand for you. You take it hesitantly, but curiosity gets the better of you. You trust her, even if you're at your most vulnerable, and nude, in front of your lieutenant. She pulls you off the bed, towards the bathroom where she quickly starts a bath, getting the water set to the perfect temperature.

“Get in,” she orders quietly, sitting on the side of the tub. You blink, tilting your head as you obey her without question, the fire of the last month extinguished with last night's much needed treatment.

“Join me?” you ask, stepping over the side and sitting in the water with her help, wings folding close to your sides. She stares at you before nodding subtly. You watch as she strips and sets her clothes on the counter, grabbing two towels, resting them on the side of the tub.

“Turn around, I'll help you preen,” she offers, stepping into the large tub, sitting behind you. You turn your back to her, head slumping forward as she deftly runs her fingers through your feathers, straightening those that are crooked or twisted. You shudder as her hands work your feathers, and you can't help the whimper that you let out as she continues preening your wings for you. If she heard you, she doesn't say, so you don't mention it, trying to focus on anything else besides the feeling of your feathers being messed with. You grip the side of the tub when you feel her hands massaging the spines of your wings. The warmth from the water and the massage help make them feel a bit better.

“Thank you.” You know you don't have to say it, but you also know it's appreciated. “And, I'm sorry. For being a brat and for taking out my frustration on the other exorcists,” you start to ramble, eyes blurry as tears threatening to fall. Lute spins you around, gently cradling your chin in her hand, forcing you to look her in the eye.

“You're good now? Not going to be trying to harm our exorcists?” When you nod in agreement, she gives you a small smile, a rare gesture she keeps reserved for those close to her. “Good. Once you're done here, meet me at the compound,” she continues, stepping out and wrapping one of the towels around herself. You deadpan.

“You mean I still gotta meet you for those morning trainings?” You whine, eyes following your superior. She sends you a wink, leaning over the side of the tub so she's at eye level.

“Absolutely. Just because you got off the hook easily with Adam, doesn't mean I'm not going to punish you too,” she chides playfully, pressing a swift peck to your lips as she slips her clothes back on. “I'll see you at the compound in twenty minutes.”

She's gone before you can protest. You drop your hands into the water, groaning as you realize just how much of a mess you've made with being a brat.

Fuck! I still have to go apologize to Saint Peter too, you sink into the water, not looking forward to your day.

Taglist: @miss-menhera @fizzy-fuzz @atttwoood

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undeadcannibal · 11 months

Note

Yo can i request 141 + könig’s reaction to u telling them that u have a secret then u moan in their ear 😉

Summary: How Task Force 141 and König would react to you moaning in their ear after asking if you could tell them a secret.

Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, and König.

Warnings: suggestive situations, I think? Idk.

A/N: Thank you for the request! This one was more fun and lighthearted for me. c: ( Gif credit: xxx )

Ghost―

Ghost and you had been keeping in touch together over comms since you both got separated from the rest of the Task Force. The last call you’d received from them had been choppy and indecipherable.

Needless to say, the two of you had been trying to keep one another calm throughout the situation, going back and forth with random quips and jokes.

After you had a particularly close call with an enemy, you couldn’t help but try to ease your nerves by running your mouth.

“Ghost?”

“Copy, I’m listenin’.” He replied.

Unable to help yourself, you blurted out, “Can I tell you secret, Lieutenant?”

He hesitated for a moment before replying, “You can. Can’t guarantee I’ll listen.”

If he could see you right now, he’d probably regret giving you ever giving you permission as you suddenly hid yourself away. Making sure nobody else could see or hear you as you brought the mic closer to your mouth and moaned salaciously into it.

. . .

He’d been quiet so long you thought you’d lost contact with him as well for a moment before you heard a deep sigh ringing out through your ear piece.

“Fucking brat.”

Although he didn’t admit it aloud, he definitely planned on getting revenge later on. He’d make you moan so loudly and often your voice would be too hoarse to use the following days.

Soap―

The two of you had been in the mess hall together, having arrived late due to running behind on some training exercise together.

You’d been leisurely picking at your food when the idea had struck you. Making you grin to yourself momentarily before glancing up at Soap. He was currently munching away at his own meal when you’d softly coughed, gaining his attention as bright eyes looked over your way.

Johnny jutted his head up in a silent gesture of questioning you.

Tilting your head with a smile, you said, “Would you mind if I told you a secret?”

Narrowing his blue eyes at you, he’d hesitate - slowly chewing on his food and swallowing - before finally nodding his head. Still remaining silent as he waited, curious as to what you had to say.

Beckoning him forth with with two fingers, you’d meet him halfway, leaning over the table top just close enough for the tip of your nose to brush the against his ear. Purposely ignoring the sight of him shivering after you did so.

Parting your mouth as if you were ready to say something, the only noise that would leave you is a lewd moan only he could hear. Making Johnny groan and roll his eyes before he leaned back down to sit again.

“That was pretty bad, even by my standards.” He joked, grinning at you before he shook his head.

Even if he thought your tactic could use some work, it was clear it had the desired affect on him. His cheeks were already beginning to flush with a soft blush, causing you to smile.

“Pretty boy~” You teased, earning a piece of food being flung towards your face as the two of you shared a laugh.

Gaz―

The two of you had been on the phone catching up since he was back on deployment. Whenever he had the free time, he always made sure to call you, and you always made sure to answer, no matter what time it was or what you were doing.

This time, he’d mentioned he was hanging out with the rest of the guys in the MWR center while waiting for their next set of orders. Meaning the two of you were free to chat for longer than usual.

After you two had caught up with one another - mostly him asking about small details of what you’d been up to in his absence - you’d grown a little restless during the call. Missing his presence more than usual. So, your mind may have drifted to something a little silly and pointless to do, even if Kyle might not understand what it was about.

“Hey, hon?”

“Yeah, babe?”

You hesitated for a moment before smirking to yourself.

“Would you mind if I told you a secret?”

“Um,” Gaz laughed on the other end of the line before he’d answer. “Sure. What’s troublin’ ya?”

With him having taken the bait, you grinned and raised your phone closer to your mouth so you could moan directly into it. The sound you made resembling that of a cam girl as your exaggerated it purposefully. It was a shame you couldn’t see his reaction.

Unbeknownst to you, Kyle’s cheeks began to burn as he rushed to silence the phone call, praying the men around him hadn’t heard you.

Pressing his cell painfully close to his ear, he’d growl for a moment before speaking. “When I get back home, you’re so dead.” He threatened with a grin.

As you began to laugh, you could hear a loud Scottish accent calling out to Gaz.

“Aye, look. Gaz is blushin’ up a storm thanks to his bird singin’ for ‘im.”

“Oi Soap, how about you fuck off, yeah? Talk to you later, love.”

Price―

At first, he doesn’t react to your question until he notices you’re still standing there, seemingly serious about the inquiry.

Settling his documents on the desk top, John would silently gesture for you to continue with a wave of his hand.

He certainly didn’t expect for you to waltz around the desk to stand right at his side, smiling as if the action was a normal occurrence between the two of you.

“Mind if I tell you a secret, Captain?”

“Yes?” John would raise his eyebrow in question.

Nibbling at your bottom lip with your teeth, you would lean in close till you were right beside his ear. Ignoring the scent of his aftershave solely so you could maintain the upper hand you had here.

After a brief, soft laugh you’d release a shameless moan, delighting in the expression he had on his face when you leaned back. Smug grin on your face before you burst into a laugh.

“Keep playing around and I’ll have no choice but to bend you over my knee and teach you a lesson.”

König―

When you ask him if you can tell him a secret, he’s a little apprehensive but doesn’t see the harm and leans down towards to let you speak softly to him.

Despite his status, he does his best to see the best in every - IMO - and doesn’t take your sudden devious grin too seriously.

He should have known better.

As quick as the grin had curled your lips it’s gone, replaced by a coy expression as you lean in and up on your tip-toes till your as close to his ear as you can with the height difference between you two.

Hesitating, you let the moment play out as if you were mulling over your words until you’re reaching up and wrapping your hands around the edges of his mask, holding on tightly as you moan wantonly directly into his ear.

The poor man pulls back from you as if he’d been burned, silently thanking himself for hating showing his face so you can’t see the flush of color spreading across his cheeks.

Clearing his throat with a cough, he’d straighten his posture and fix you with a hard stare, pointing at you and then behind you.

“In my office. Now.”

#simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john price x reader #gaz x reader #konig x reader #task force 141 x reader #call of duty x reader #cod headcanons #headcanons #requests #opened mail #my writing

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margowritesthings · 9 months

Text

A Job Well Done

pairing: Arthur Morgan x reader (f) word count: 4944 words warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexually explicit, oral (f giving), rough oral, a little choking, a touch of voyeurism, explicit language, it's pretty much a blowjob fic authors note: idk what to say... this started as a little drabble because me and my fiancé love having a little smoke together at night and.... well, here we are I guess?? i hope you enjoy you lovely lot, and if you've asked to be tagged and you're not please let me know!! I have a new system for keeping track of my taglist and I may have lost some requests in the transfer

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i *if i've missed you please let me know!!!*

You pull Arthur’s jacket tighter around your shoulders, settling into the old wooden chair while it creaks beneath you. Thanks to being in the middle of the Lemoyne swamps, it isn’t too cold despite the moon hanging so high in the sky above you, the jacket is more for comfort. From where you sit, you can see near the whole camp, watching lanterns flicker off incrementally as each member of your makeshift family retires for the night. A few of the boys stay up, drinking by the fire, their voices muffled and distant in the thick air.

It’s been a week to the day since you last saw Arthur, before he left to track a rather sizable bounty down and attempt to cushion out the camp funds, and God do you miss him. The days feel so much longer, nights so lonely you’ve considered saddling up and finding the bastard yourself just to bring him home sooner. Comfort can be found, though, in the ways Arthur’s presence has bled so deeply into your life that his physical being doesn’t even need to be here.

His smell lingers on the jacket he left (the one he wore every day before he had to leave just so you could wear it when you missed him), that perfect mix of tobacco and whiskey and something so ineffably Arthur that you soak up every time you wrap it around your frame.

He’s there in the routines you've built your lives around, intertwined as they are, the ones you can’t shake even if he’s not beside you. The cup of coffee in a morning, his so much better tasting than yours but you try anyway. The first morning after he left, you made two, ending up giving the extra to a very grateful Abigail to save face.

There’s a nightly routine, too. The one where you get ready for bed, then climb through the window to meet him on your balcony. He’s always there waiting with a cigarette hanging from his lips, patting his lap ready for you to crawl on. He’ll drag a match across his boot, (or sometimes the bottom of yours, if you’re still wearing them) lighting up the smoke before handing it to you. You’ll pass it between each other, catching up on your days, limbs entangled just how they should be as you watch Shady Belle fall asleep around you.

Without him, those routines bring you comfort, grasping onto the remnants of your cowboy until his safe return. That’s why you’re sitting in this spot, pulling a cigar out of the little tin stash box Arthur left behind. Normally it’s just a cigarette, you could never survive a cigar a night and have the throat to tell the tale, but there’s something inexplicably Arthur about this brand of smokes, something you’re seeking tonight.

You pluck a match from the tin, striking it against the table beside you, never having gotten the knack of igniting the thing on your boot as effortlessly as Arthur does, and light the cigar between your lips. The all-familiar woody essence dances across your tongue, your tired muscles relaxing from the first few tokes.

It’s just you, the moon and the crickets as you sit on the balcony, Arthur’s smoke between your lips. You wonder what he’s doing. He should be sleeping, but knowing him he’s probably up planning, or doing exactly what you are right now. You pray he’s safe, hasn’t been gotten by the law or worse, gotten himself killed. You can’t let yourself even think about that, the very idea bringing a tremble to your limbs. To combat the sudden spike in anxiety, the next time you bring the cigar to your lips you drag in just that bit more smoke, letting it soak down your spine. Not nearly as experienced in smoking as Arthur, you cough a little, but you recover much quicker than you used to.

Memories of that first time, of Arthur offering you the little brown stick and you nervously nodding, bring a little smile to your face. Oh, how you spluttered, Arthur giving you his drink on instinct, only realising that the whiskey burn would do the opposite of help once it was too late. You’d have been in your right mind to be embarrassed as hell, but by the way he chuckled as he rubbed circles around your back told you that he found it nothing but adorable.

You sit there for a few minutes, basking in the precious peace so seldom found nowadays and taking a drag every now and then, the smoke riding a sigh from your lips. Your eyes slip closed, trying to shut off as many senses as you can to really connect with that smell and taste, imagining him emerging from your bedroom window to be here with you.

He’s much less graceful than you are, often catching some part of his person on the windowsill when he climbs out onto the balcony. So many nights spent patching up little holes in his pant legs, right where that out sticking nail used to be in the frame before he ‘bested it in combat’ (i.e. pulled it out with a hunting knife and threw it ceremoniously in the lake).

Manifestation is a powerful tool, you’ve always believed that, but you still nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a large hand grasp your shoulder just as you imagined, Arthur’s gruff, hushed whisper tickling the words “hey, sweetheart” into the skin of your neck. It takes you a second to catch your breath, heart racing from the shock before everything registers and reality sets in.

“Arthur?”

He’s here.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

You fly out of your seat, the rickety old thing nearly splintering under the force, launching yourself into his open arms to burrow yourself into him. Every part of him consumes your senses and you drink it all in like an addict. The smell, the real thing, much more of that Arthur essence than the whiskey or cigars, probably because he forewent breaks in his journey for those little pleasures to get back to you sooner.

He seems to be taking you in as much as you are him, inhaling long through his nose and sighing it out contentedly, feeling whole again after so long without you in his arms.

“I missed ya’, beautiful.” He says softly into your hair, holding you tight against him, his knuckles brushing up and down the small of your back through layers of clothes you’ve stolen from him.

“I missed you so much…” You mumble into his shirt, hardly able to breathe through the wall of hard chest muscle you’re pressed against, caring even less.

It’s only then do you remember the cigar, forgotten and abandoned, smoking away on the table propped up on a jar lid turned makeshift ashtray. Most of the boys don’t bother with one, and neither did Arthur, until a fateful night a few months before you started dating when you first handed him the jar and told him you read something about birds and rabbits eating the butts of cigarettes. He kept the little piece of junk right next to his bedside, waiting for you to find it after that first night together.

Arthur spots your momentary pull of attention, pulling his chest away to raise a brow down at you with a little chuckle rumbling his chest.

“Having a fancy smoke of a night, are we?”

A cheeky little smirk- Arthur’s favourite, actually- tugs at the corner of your lips, waiting patiently for him to kiss it away.

“The smell reminds me of you…” you play coy, earring yourself that kiss when Arthur lifts you up to his height, kissing you softly, letting his world and yours fall back into place together.

“Well I’m here now, angel. Wanna sit? Could do with a nice cigar with my girl to celebrate a job well done.”

You’re eager to nod, heart fluttering at the prospect of getting to sit with him and hear all about his trip. He untangles from you to sit down first, patting his lap for you to crawl into. You fit perfectly together (you should do, you were made for eachother), head resting on his shoulder, legs splayed over his thighs with your arm draped over his shoulder. The cigar has gone out, so Arthur strikes a match so expertly on his spurs before shaking it out and placing his hand on the small of your back for support. You lean into him, watching him take puffs of the cigar and feeling the tiniest bit of tension leave his joints. He looks so natural with a smoke between his teeth, commanding an air of power with each movement he makes. Smoking doesn’t suit just everyone, you think, but God, does it suit him.

“We’re celebrating? You got the bastard, then?”

“Sure did,” he says, smoke spilling from his lips with each syllable. Arthur looks you over again, drinking in the dearly missed view, before kissing you on the forehead and flipping the cigar between his fingers to offer it up, “Eventually found him up in Fort Brennand, but he weren’t alone. Nearly lost a damn eye, but luckily only Woffard had to be brought in alive, so I dropped the other bastards and ran.”

You hang on his every word, your hero. You know he’s downplaying the fight, the danger of it all, but he does it so that you don’t worry every time he’s gone. It never works, and you always do, but you love him for trying.

“Oh, Arthur, I’m so glad you’re alright…” You coo, pressing a hand to his cheek, feeling the weeks worth of stubble scratching against your palm. He nuzzles into your touch, not unlike a cat, and your find yourself keeping your hand there to mindlessly play with his hair, tipping his hat off to put on your own head. He chuckles, reaching to adjust it on you.

“Course I am, couldn’t leave you here all alone with this buncha’ fools, could I? Besides, someones gotta bring home the bacon around here, and you know Marston’s too trigger happy to bring a bounty in alive.”

“So you got the full price?” Your eyes gleam, the proudest smile on your features as Arthur nods and shifts both your weights for a moment to pull out a stack of bills and smack them on the table dramatically.

“You’re damn straight I did, baby.”

Of course he did. Arthur never fails, and God knows how much the camp needs this right now, freedoms diminishing by the day as Dutch makes more enemies and plans jobs that just seem to keep going wrong. But you don’t want to think about that right now. Right now, there is only you and Arthur, and the promise of a whole night spent with him uninterrupted. You hand him the cigar back, along with a stolen kiss, and he takes another mesmerising drag. The way he holds it, every so often tipping the ash into the first gift you ever gave him, it does things to you that you just can’t explain. It’s just a cigar, and yet you’re pressing your thighs together tight to futilely subdue the tightness coiling between them.

“I’m so proud of you… I always am.” Unkempt locks of hair are twisted between your fingers, your face so close to Arthur’s you can pepper his cheek, temple and lips, whenever not occupied, with little kisses, Arthur’s hat sometimes tipping up against his forehead on your head. The two of you are always like this after a few days apart, unable to get enough of each other or keep your hands off one another. You shift your weight to access him better, catching his bottom lip between your teeth to press a long, tender kiss there. He hums under you, hand splaying under your jacket to grasp at your shirt. It’s seconds before you feel it, that hardening that nudges up against your thigh, prodding and reminding you just how much Arthur has missed you.

You pull away from the kiss, just enough to raise a teasing brow at how sensitive your cowboy is to your touch. He shrugs, unashamed, with that cheeky grin and those glistening eyes directed right at you.

“What? I missed ya…” His words are accompanied with a pinch of your ass, which makes you writhe on top of his stiffness, the friction dragging a low growl from deep within his chest.

“I can see that, cowboy… I missed you too. I missed you more.” You emphasise, nipping at his lip again and splaying your fingers across his chest. He rises to your touch, and you feel him stiffen more so under you. It takes a second of manoeuvring, but you’re soon straddling him, hovering above him like the angel he sees you to be. From this angle, with the moon behind you, you’re glowing.

“You absolutely did not, you little siren…” He growls again, pulling at the flesh of your ass so that you’re grinding against him, the friction of denim against denim igniting you both and burning so wonderfully.

“Oh, yeah? I can prove it.” There’s a little cock of your head, a raise of one teasing brow as you start to slide off him. He looks confused, disappointed, even, until your knees rest on the planks of wood on the balcony floor and he instinctively spreads his legs to give you the space between them. Your fingers splay across his thick thighs, and they tense under your touch, as does Arthur’s jaw. He’s starved after a week without you, clearly trying to reign in a control he’s struggling to possess. There’s no wonder, having his girl knelt before him like this.

“You wanna take this to the bedroom?” He growls out, abandoning the still smoking cigar in the jar lid. You look up at him, peeking out from under the rim of his hat.

“No.” You reach for the cigar, taking a few drags yourself before flipping it in your fingers just like he did and placing it between his teeth, “Finish your smoke.”

A distant laugh captures Arthur’s attention for a second, reminding you both just how close you are to the other gang members. You’re somewhat hidden by the railing, but if they looked in your direction, Arthur is fully visible from the chest up. A simple bob of your head- and you’re planning on plenty- would bring you into view.

The look Arthur gives you when he quickly diverts his attention back from Marston and the others is downright feral, especially when your hands reach for his belt buckle. Nimble fingers make quick word of the obstruction, and you’re soon pulling Arthur’s thick, long length out from his jeans. He groans at your very touch, involuntarily bucking his hips up into your hand.

You laugh, the sound a tempting little giggle as you tell him “Patience, cowboy…”

He almost snarls in response, clearly having been goddamn patient enough over the last week where all he could do is fuck himself with your name on his lips and the thought of you knelt just like this between his legs at the forefront of his mind, always.

Just as you lean in, when your soft lips trace over his rosy, swollen head, he pulls you back by plucking his hat from atop your head and throwing it to the side. He rests the cigar between the fingers of his free hand to free his mouth to speak to you.

“Need to see you while I fuck that pretty little moutha’ yours, angel…”

His words soak through you (and soak you through), and you just can’t wait a second longer, needy to have his cock deep down your throat, desperate for the burning of your lungs and the stinging in your eyes when he loses that control he so often vehemently clings to.

Unable to wait a second longer, you run your tongue from base to tip, feeling every vein pulsing under your muscle and eliciting a deep groan from Arthur. When you finally take him in your mouth, his hand reaches to cup your cheek, following you down as you take as much of him as you can.

“Fuck.” He groans, fingers reaching to tangle in your hair, scratching at your scalp. He’s probably louder than he should be, your eyes flickering to the general direction of the others as a warning, but they soon snap back to your cowboy, an intense eye contact burning at your skin as the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat. Arthur never takes his eyes off you, guiding you up and down his length and bringing the smoke to his lips. The tip of the cigar flares a deep, fiery orange, and smoke billows from his mouth with each laboured breath you coax from him. The way he’s sitting, fingers of one hand pulling at your hair, controlling your movements, and the other limply holding the smoke, he exudes a power many seek to master but never quite get. It makes your heart swell and your cunt throb for him, knowing on your knees before him is the only place you ever want to be, knowing only you inhabit it.

You can taste Arthur, his salty essence leaking from the pure ecstasy you’re providing and spit pools in your throat, mixing with it and dribbling down your chin. Arthur catches it with his thumb, guiding you off his cock to push the digit into your mouth and let you suckle from it. You do, hungrily, adjusting on your knees to better take Arthur deep down your throat and-

“Arthur! That you?”

Marston.

For eyes widen at each other, Arthur instinctively pushing you a little lower by your shoulder to keep you out of sight. John hasn’t seen you, and you’d like to keep it that way, being in the incriminating position you are between Arthur’s legs.

You spot the irritated sigh, the twitch of Arthur’s jaw as he plasters a fake friendliness onto his features and peers over the balcony to see his brother standing on the clearing below.

“Sure is. Whatchu’ want?”

Straight to the point.

“We didn’t hear you get back. How long’ve you been here?”

All that tension you’ve worked so hard to dissipate comes back to Arthur’s form with a crashing force. You can almost hear his plea for just one second a’ goddamn peace, merely by the way he sighs before answering.

“Not long, thought I’d try and sneak past you fools and get some shut eye.”

Subtle, cowboy.

Ever oblivious, or simply not caring, John continues, “How’d it go, then? You got the bastard?”

He has you pressed against his thigh to hide you from sight, cock standing to attention right beside your face. It’s too tempting, especially with a none the wiser Marston stood right below. When your tongue darts out, hovering above Arthur’s twitching, aching cock, his eyes flick down to you, warning residing deep in his eyes. You take it as less of a warning, more a challenge.

You wouldn’t.

Oh, but I would.

And you do. You lift up, just enough to fit the head of his throbbing cock past your lips and slide the whole length in. It bumps the back of your throat, but upon hearing Arthur’s strangled, poorly hidden groan, you can’t seem to stop yourself.

“Y-uh… Yeah, I got ‘em…”

It’s impressive, how he can just about hold a conversation despite his cock being so far down your throat his balls rest on your chin.

You can’t see John, but you can only imagine how his head must tilt and his brows must pull together at the strange response from Arthur.

“You alright, brother?”

He won’t be.

You blink up at Arthur, feigning an innocent, near angelic expression as you inhale through your nose and push him even further into you. You hum, low and quiet, letting the vibrations pass through him. Arthur whimpers, instantly knocking any and all sounds you’ve ever heard from top spot and replacing them as your favourite in the whole world.

“I-I’m fine. Just tired.” He tries to hint again, to no avail. His fingers are digging into your shoulder with a bruising force, that control slipping bit by bit with every passing second, every little movement. Tears prick at your eyes, that burning in your lungs you’ve been reaching for finally igniting. You’re stuffed with him, feeling so full that it’s hard to breathe. When you go to release him, to be able to gasp for precious air, you realise you can’t, Arthur’s huge hand holding you right in place with his palm flush against the back of your neck. Revenge.

“Where’s the Mrs?”

A raise of a brow. You’re not married, but everything is so naturally right between you and Arthur that the gang just seem to have defaulted to that. It makes you beam, wanting nothing more than to be this man’s wife, the kind of wife that makes him cum down your throat while he has a menial conversation.

“S-She’s- fuck…” When he grips harder at you, you gag around his length, tears now streaming down your cheeks and mixing with your spittle and the little bits of precum that leak out from Arthur. “She’s in bed. I-I better go check on her, a-actually.” He whimpers again, fingers now gripping into your hair to keep you in place. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, struggling to breathe, overflowing and, God, so wet for him.

John sounds unconvinced. You’d giggle, if you could.

“Alright… Well, g’night, brother.”

Arthur barely manages a grunt, and you can feel his thighs tensing and twitching from the sheer effort of not bucking his hips up into you and giving the pair of you away. He stills, most likely waiting for Marston to fuck off already, before he rips you away from him and pulls you to your feet, gripping your aching jaw with force enough force to keep it open.

“You goddamn siren.” He isn’t mad. He’s trying to be, but you know Arthur far too well, and he’s burning with a fire far hotter than mere anger. Need.

The mischievous glint in your eye is all you can offer for response, what with his iron grip on your face, but you do manage to slip your tongue out and lick the pad of his thumb, tasting the mixture of fluids still lingering.

It’s all getting too much, knowing what you just did and who you did it around, hearing Arthur unable to string a sentence together because of you. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, so desperate for a release that you’re pathetically writhing in Arthur’s hold. He notices, forced anger on his features replaced with a cockiness that only comes from knowing he’s regaining the power in the situation.

Your cheeks tingle when he releases you, sitting back in the seat and leaning back, one elbow resting on the arm of the old wooden chair and picking the cigar back up. God, you could ride him in that chair till morning, if you thought the wood wouldn’t splinter under the force.

“You gonna finish what you started, my little siren?” He asks, taking an especially long toke from the smoke while he waits for you to drop to your knees before him. Your cunt throbs, screaming out for his attention, but it would seem your antics have earned you punishment.

Your knees hit the wood with a force, though an involuntary whimper escapes you, hips grinding pathetically against nothing. Arthur notices, smirking like a goddamn cheshire cat at his little wanton whore.

“Patience, angel.” Your own words echo back to you like a slap in the face. You definitely deserve this.

The grip you had on the power in this game you’re playing with Arthur officially disappears when his hand snakes around the back of your neck, grasping at your hair and winding it around his wrist like a leash. You have to tilt your head so the tugging at your scalp is a mere burn rather than a sharp pain, but that’s just where he wants you.

“Now, little siren, I’m gonna teach ya’ some manners, and you’re gonna finish what you started, alright? And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll think about getting that sweet little cunt of yours off…”

It’s all it takes, the promise of Arthur’s fingers deep inside you while he sucks on your clit just how you like it, lapping up your juices like a man starved, and the defiance in your eyes dissipates. Arthur bends you to his whim, messy, sloppy putty in his hands as he drags you onto his weeping cock. You’re all but drooling for him, leaking out of the corners of your mouth when he slips into you. Your scalp tingles with the pull, especially when Arthur involuntarily tightens his grip with a hiss of his breath. His tip bumps the back of your throat, but he doesn’t stop even when you’ve fit all of him in that you can.

“Fuck, good girl, just like that baby girl…” he groans, and when you open your eyes to look up to him, he is watching you with a gaze so intense you feel like it could tear you apart. The tension burns between you, coiling so tight the chirp of a nearby cricket could snap it.

There’s an unspoken question in your eyes when you start to nearly choke on his length of when you’ll be released, but his eyes darken, “Come on, baby, you can take more, can’t you?”

He seems to register your fear, but it phases him little. It seems more a challenge, really, coaxing him into rocking his hips into you, pushing you even further onto his cock until you feel it start to breach past your throat in a way you didn’t even know possible. You splutter, wriggling and writhing as you try your hardest to breathe through your nose.

“Shh… good girl,” he coos, a ravenous look taking over your usually so lovable cowboy. You’ve pushed him, and God do you live for it. “Not much further… wanna see you take all of my cock, alright? You gonna do that for me, angel?”

You can’t nod, but it isn’t much of a question, not much choice available with your limited movements and the way Arthur has completely commandeered your body. You’re irrevocably his, body and soul.

It doesn’t feel possible to fit more of him in, your throat burning for relief that won’t come until Arthur is satisfied, but when he bucks his hips into you, you feel his base press against your nose. He groans hard, the noise initially from the sensation of having your throat wrapped around his cock, but when he sees the sight of you, tear stained and gagging on him, the moan is pulled out into a noise of pure ecstasy.

“Good girl… my good fuckin’ girl.”

His thumb rubs lovingly over your wet cheek, a sensation you cling to as the corners of your vision get fuzzy. Fuck, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you’re so desperate to feel Arthur’s spend trickling down your throat, feel him lose control and moan just for you that you’d honestly be willing to die for it.

Your expression, complete with lust-fogged, watery eyes, and beautifully flushed skin, teases the last of Arthur’s restraint like a razor thin blade against that final thread. When it finally snaps, you’re allowed one gasp for air, before he’s thrusting back into you hard. You can feel him stiffen, even more so than before, as his hips splutter into your mouth and he starts to tumble over the precipice into that realm of pleasure that only the two of you share.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna-” But he interrupts himself with a visceral, primal groan, the vibration of it shattering the both of you. You take advantage of his practically inebriated state to regain some of your own anatomy, managing to swirl your tongue around his pulsing head inside your mouth. The hot, salty spend blooms across your tongue at that, Arthur guiding you by the cheek to bob up and down on his cock while he paints your throat white. His moans are a melody you’ll never tire of, animalistic and vulnerable all the same.

It feels like it never stops, Arthur’s spend filling your mouth up and leaking out from the corners of your lip. You can hardly stay still, writhing your needy cunt against your own heel, desperate for a reward you’re earning when you look him in the eye and swallow it all down. Pride blooms across Arthur’s features, saturated with a love that warms you from the inside out. His thumb caresses your face softly, wiping the tear tracks as you finally release his cock from your mouth and he guides you to your feet, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then nose, then lips.

“My good girl…” He coos, barely above a whisper as you breathe each other in, both as breathless as the other. Your throat aches, your jaw burning, but you’d do it a thousand times over to experience what you just did all over again.

“Now…” He splits the sentence with another kiss, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Get on inside, sweetheart, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redeption 2 #red dead 2

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miguelhugger2099 · 3 months

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OMG HIIIII I HAVE A REQUESTTTTT

I LOVE UR STORIES

So imagine Fem reader just going through her closet throwing out old things along with miguel and she finds an old shoebox of hers opens it and its her retired vibrator and pink dildo that she hasn’t used since she started dating Miguel and she’s looking at him awkwardly since she said that she totally threw them away so miguel gets back at her by taking the toys and making her use them

ANYWHO BYYEE THANKKZZZ

Pretty in Pink

me when you appear in my inbox, throw a smut prompt in my face and dip: ∑(; °Д°) i genuinely had fun with this request i made him speak more spanish than usual idk why lol but as always, if you don't like it, i'd be more than happy to make another one <3

Miguel x Reader, Smut, Word Count: 2,777

You stare up into your messy closet; old clothes, old photos and yearbooks and maybe some plastic shopping bags you forgot about were all scattered inside. Hands on your hips, you blink at the cluttered mess while Miguel is behind you and crosses his arms with an unamused look. “You really let it get this bad?” He asks, looking down at you. Miguel had called to say he wanted to see you but you told him it was cleaning day for you and you decided to deep clean. He assured you he still wanted to come over and even help you but when he arrived he wasn’t expecting to see how even the smallest places needed organizing. Life got in the way, you told him. You shrug and let out a deep sigh. “Just help me.” You grunt with a roll of your eyes and go on your tiptoes to reach the top shelf in your closet. There was a big heavy box filled with god-knows-what and you huffed as you slammed it down on your bed. Miguel takes a peek through it while your hands empty out the contents. A two year old angel halloween costume, childhood belongings for sentimental value and a local shopping bag that held your graduation gown. “How do you even still have these?” Miguel scoffs a laugh while he digs through with you, picking up a stack of old movie tickets you used to collect. You snatch the wad of crumbled tickets back with a pout on your face. “They have sentimental value.” Miguel chuckles and teasingly pinches the tip of your nose. “I know but stop being a hoarder. C’mon. Pick what you wanna keep and pick what you don’t. I’ll get a trash bag for the stuff you don’t want.” Miguel then steps out of the room, leaving you alone to set up two piles. You huffed out a big sigh and got to work. Carefully, you picked things one by one to decide if you really needed it.

Some old shirts that didn't fit you were tossed in the don't want pile and the cute headband you thought you lost was placed in the keep pile. Any other things like some old bags or trinkets you grew out of were placed in a different pile on the floor for trash. When the top shelf was fairly cleaned out, Miguel came back with two large black trash bags and began helping you stuff the things away for donation, trash or something along those lines. You then sat on your knees to start on the floor area of the closet, picking out shoes that were too small now and tossing them to Miguel. You reached for a small shoe box in the corner and opened it up to see if any shoes inside were still usable. You didn’t expect to see a matching set of your old baby pink vibrator and hot pink dildo catching dust inside. You gagged on your own spit in surprise, feeling the color drain from your face. You were sure you threw it out. You didn’t need them anymore, not since your first time with Miguel just a little over a year and a half ago. “What’s that?” You hear Miguel peek over you, curious since you stopped handing him things. You slam the shoebox shut. “Nothing!” But he had already seen it. “It’s nothing–haha.” You strained, standing up to open the trash bag Miguel brought to throw it in there but he stops your wrist. With his other hand he takes the box and you screech, trying to take it back. He lifts it open and inside are the familiar toys he’d seen before.

He remembered assuring you that you didn’t need them anymore–not with him around. So he made you promise something to him that day. He made you promise to throw it away after you both had sex; that while you had him, no flimsy toy could ever satisfy you like he could. You kept most of that promise. You really hadn’t picked them up since, you just forgot to actually throw them out. “I thought I told you to trash these.” He glared down at you. You pause reaching for the box, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as you try to excuse yourself. “I-I did—I was!” You stutter and feel yourself get smaller and panic when he cocks an eyebrow up. “I haven’t used them!” “At all?” “At all.” You grip around his forearm, hoping he wouldn’t be pissed you broke your promise. He glances back down into the box, the sight of it pissing him off. “Sit.” And so you sat on your bed, looking up at Miguel. Miguel picks up the small baby pink bullet vibrator in his hand. He turns it around to find the button and playfully clicks through the different settings. The buzz of the bullet makes your face burn, slightly angry and embarrassed how he’s just fucking around. “Okay, I get it! I’m sorry–just throw it out.” You groan and reach for it again but he snaps his head to glare down at you and you freeze. His eyes narrowed. “How’d you like it?” He asks, turning to face you, your eyes meeting his stomach before you look up.

“Huh?” You ask. He presses through the settings again as if guessing. “Did you like it slow?” He clicks to the first vibration. “Or maybe fast?” He hums as he clicks to the fifth vibration. He guesses you like it faster. You’re stumped. You weren’t sure where he was going with this. You don’t think he’s angry but he’s quiet–there’s something about him that’s changing the shift in your conversation. You cross your legs together when you hear the small buzz increasing. “Fast,” You mutter. “Start at one or two then to three or four.” You look away from him playing with your old toys, your heart speeding up at the sight of the two things that gave you pleasure these past few years. Miguel tosses the box on the bed. You yelp when Miguel pushes you down onto the bed, his knee already forcing your legs apart. You gape up at him, open mouthed in shock when the look on his face is more sinister, head full of ideas of what he’s planning to do. It makes you gulp nervously. “How ‘bout I try them out? You let me know if they’re just as good as me, yeah?”

“Huh?” You squeak out and before you know it, Miguel crashes his lips onto yours. Your eyes flutter close and your hands find purchase in his hair, a dance the two of you knew like the back of your hand. His tongue easily slips through to the inside of your mouth, entangling itself with your own tongue. You moan and roll your eyes back, kissing his back with equal fervor. You buck your hips up to grind yourself on his knee, you can already feel yourself getting wet. He helps alleviate that pressure by rubbing his knee to your aching pussy and you sigh in relief. His left hand holds your waist then moves up your body to cup a tit in his hand that makes you moan his name between kisses. Miguel then slides that hand under your shirt, lifting it up to show your bra. His kisses don't relent up, instead pushing your bra up to reveal your breasts to him and freeing them from confinement. He massages your breast in one hand and ghosts his thumb over your nipple, feeling it harden from the soft touch. Miguel moves his hand to tug your pants down and you lift your hips up to help him rip them off. He clicks the button of the vibrator and ever so gently presses it against your clothed cunt, the small wet patch making it easier to feel through the fabric. You jolt from the buzz, gasping and holding onto Miguel’s wrist. He rips your hand off and collects both of them to pin them above your head. Just one hand from him is enough to render you helpless. He then pushes your panties aside to slip the vibrator right on your clit. You choked on a gasp and tried to pry your hands away from him but he wouldn’t lend up. Your hips squirmed around to try and get away from the sudden stimulation. “I bet you missed this feeling, huh? Is it better than my cock?” He hums against your neck. You shake your head, your face burning up with desire. “N-no…” You whined, nothing was as good as Miguel but he tsks under his breath.

“No? But look at you making a mess on it already. I barely even started.” He whispers, leaning up to bite your earlobe and you moan. His voice had gotten deeper, more husky–just how you liked it. He rubs it gently, applying pressure a few times to find the spot that hits your nerves. You moaned his name when he found the exact point and he began circling around your swollen nub. His action made you jump from pleasure, the shock of it hitting your chest and down to your pussy. “Un poco de vibración y ya estás mojadita en mi mano.” He murmurs, clicking the bullet to a faster pace. You writhe and struggle between deciding to close or open your legs. Miguel struggles to keep the small bullet in his hand, the toy being incredibly tiny compared to his large fingers especially when it was wet from your cunt. Growing frustrated, Miguel pulls the vibrator off your clit making you whimper. He lugs your nimble body up and he moves to lay back against the headboard laying you to rest against his chest. You can feel his strained cock behind you but you barely have time to properly register it before he places your familiar hot pink dildo in front of you. “Muestrame cómo lo usaste antes.” He brushes his lips behind your ear. He helps you hold onto the base of it and you weakly look up at him with a lustful and dazed hum. “Miggy…” You whimper.

“Hazlo.” He growls as he places the silicon tip at your weeping entrance. He rubs the girth of it between your folds to lube it up, especially at its tip. He then lets go of your hand to move up to your breast and starts fondling the round flesh in his palm, using his fingers to roll and flick the nub. It sparks pleasure to your stomach and you bite your lip. You take a firm grip around the dildo and slide it inside your folds, your pussy sucking up the toy into its walls slowly. You moan and lean your head on Miguel’s shoulder. He leans down to nibble on your neck, his canines catching your flesh in between them as he suckles gently while playing with your perky tits. Miguel’s left hand holds the baby pink vibrator and he sets it at its lowest setting before placing it over your clit again. You gasp and arch your back off of Miguel’s chest, bucking your hips to meet the vibrator which makes you also shove the dildo further inside your cunt. “Hnngh! Mig–uel!” You mewled, closing your eyes as you submit to ecstasy. Miguel chuckles, kissing your jaw. “Que te pasa? I’m barely doing a thing. That’s all you, mami.” He rubs the toy around your swollen clit while you pump the dildo in and out of you. Your hips thrust in time with your hand with the vibrator slipping and even smearing your juices from around your labia. Miguel turns up the speed of the buzzing and you let out a high-pitched moan. “No–no, please–” You squeal. “Wait–wait…” You pleaded and grabbed his wrist but Miguel didn't budge. “I thought you liked it fast.” He teased.

“‘s..’s too much…” You mutter, slowing down the dildo into soft long strokes, fucking it up into yourself to hit that sweet spot Miguel always hits. Even with a toy, you’re thinking of him. Miguel pulls on your hardened nipple and you cry out, clenching on the dildo. “Too much?” He scoffs. “You’ve taken a lot more, nena. C’mon, make it faster just how you like it, yeah?” He mutters, moving your hand off the silicon to replace it with his. With your hand now free, you reach up and behind you to grab onto Miguel’s locks. Miguel then pumps the dildo deeper inside you causing you to scream and pull on his hair, bucking your hips against the toy. “Miggy, Miggy–!” You whined, looking down at the sight of his hands using the pretty pink set of adult toys filling and playing with your wet pussy. “Oh, fuck…” You groan, thrusting yourself wildly onto the silicon. “More…” He smirks. “There she is.” He groans and clicks the vibrator to a higher setting, the buzz becoming louder as it surrounds your sensitive clit and folds, the dildo pounding into your cunt at a fast yet hard pace. It was like Miguel was fucking you with his cock himself. “Is it better than me, mami? Did you miss stuffing these inside you?” He murmurs against your ear as he continues to thrust it inside you, slipping the vibrator in circles and pressing it against your puffy entrance.

You shake your head while sweat beads down your forehead. “No…” You whined. Miguel doesn’t believe you. “No? Should I stop?” He slowed his hand down and was about to turn off the buzzing bullet when you squealed and grabbed his wrist tightly to stop him. “Don’t stop.” You pleaded, panting since you finally got the chance to regulate your breathing. Miguel tuts in disapproval. “It’s only good when you do it…” You murmured and his smirk grew back on his lips. “Oh yeah?” He kisses your cheek, slowly starting up his pace again, staring at the way your slick glistens against the hot pink color. You relax on his back again, stuttering your hips as they thrust up. “Mhm..” You moan and gasp when he pounds the toy into you, its soft balls slapping against you. In the middle of fucking you with your own toy, Miguel’s hand gets drenched with the overwhelming amount of juices that you leaked out of your wet pussy. He resists the urge to rip the dildo out from you and dive between your legs for a taste. He settles for licking his chapped lips instead and fucks it into you faster. Your body begins sweating profusely, squirming about as you try to reach your high as fast as you could. Miguel presses the vibrator at a faster pace and you screech, your nails digging into his skin. Your face scrunches up in pleasure and your breathing becomes uneven, panting heavy breaths as your mind gets clouded with the goal of cumming.

“Already close, mama? Go ahead.” He urged you further to your release. He watched as he hands made quick work to fuck and please you, bewitched with how perky your nipples got and how your body bounced and grinded on some plastic dick. “Miguel, harder…” You whined, spreading your legs further apart. With a kiss to your neck, he thrusts the dildo into you and clicks the vibrator to its highest setting, shocking your nerves and getting the breath knocked out of you as it makes you see stars. You screech out a high pitched moan, stilling and shaking your legs while your pussy clamps on the toy and drenches it in your cum. Miguel slips it out with a wet shlick and sets the vibrator to a lower setting to ease out your orgasm. With now one hand free, he wraps his arm around you and cups your left breast, giving it a small squeeze before pushing your bra back down over them. He kisses along your neck and jaw, murmuring praises to you. “Así es, hiciste bien…” He whispers as you slowly come out from the haze. You pant softly and twitch when the vibrator buzzes on your now sensitive clit. Miguel turns it off quickly and sets it to the side with the dildo and rubs your inner thighs comfortingly. You hum and lean back against him, catching your breath as your cheeks slowly stop burning as well. “Do you still wanna keep them?” He kisses along your neck, feeling your blood pump through your veins. You gaze over at the box and to the abandoned toys to the side. “Maybe the vibrator. The dildo wasn’t big enough.”

A/N: how r we feeling ? ┗(･ω･;)┛

#nonie requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut

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fadingdaggerr · 29 days

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Hi!! I was wondering if you could write a fluff Melissa x reader, where R is a new teacher and shes got this sick motorcycle and everybody thinks she's super cool and badass, and Mel's absolutely head over heels and gets all nervous when R is around, and when R eventually realizes it she starts doing things on purpose to get Mel all flustered.

With like A LOT of fluff.

You can maybe make it little spicy too, or not.

Idk you do whatever you prefer.

know i’m alive

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! 18+ minors, dni | 5.8k

includes: the dating but not really sort of trope, but of ooc!melissa i’m sorry, partially unedited again im sorry

warnings: sexual innuendo, alcohol consumption (brief), making out/kissing, smut (fingering, oral, mel receiving), body worship?, aftercare

note: the bike referenced is a harley-davidson 1992 daytona, one of my personal fav models. i grew up in a biker family so this was cathartic. also the temperatures referenced in fahrenheit are roughly the 10-20°c range, hope that’s helpful :)

It’s become a sort of routine: get to work, drop your things off, get coffee, make Melissa blush, teach, do prep, watch Melissa try to hide a smile, go home, repeat. You can’t help yourself, getting the woman, who will always be the toughest in any room she’s in, riled up with fluttering lashes. Shocked faces from across the room didn’t help with the ego you were steadily growing with each interaction.

The first day you were at Abbott, she pointedly ignored you, despite constantly having an eye on you. What you once thought was suspicion over a new person near the kids, though sort of true, was more of a curiosity. A new third grade teacher walked into her school, wearing an oversized denim jacket and old Chucks, how was she supposed to feel? Her harsh glares and eagle eyes softened, and you started to see a more bashful side of the woman. It was only until Ava had the balls to say that Melissa’s behavior was very not Melissa, that you noticed that only you could evoke this side of her.

Since day one, the redhead has had an interest in you, not that she would ever verbalize it. Breathlessness has become a common feeling every time you come in with the sleeves of your sweater rolled up and rings adorning your fingers, making her focus shift and half the time she doesn’t hear a word you say, just following the gold bands that catch the light as you speak animatedly. Melissa longs for the day you got close enough and she could pull you in by the necklace you wear, the same that dangles in a taunt when you lean into her space. In the brief moments you’re alone, there’s a sense of calm that comes over both of you. The need to keep up a bravado drops, and you can indulge yourself in her presence. She’s lost count of how many times you casually dropped a gorgeous or beautiful instead of using her name, and how she has to fight turning when you say either in casual conversation, not just to her. All you know is that her wide, surprised eyes are all the motivation you need to keep it up.

—☽—

It’s bitter cold as you walk into Abbott, finding yourself nearly running to the main entrance before your eyes begin to water from the nipping winds. Reprieve comes in the form of the front lobby, leaning against it to catch your breath and shrug off your jacket to let the warmer air rid you of goosebumps. With your belongings dropped off in your classroom, it’s easy to start moving towards the lounge, knowing you saw a silver car that belonged to a certain redhead.

The voice of Jim Gardener is all there is when you enter, Barbara having, no doubt, told them to shut their mouths while her ‘second favorite man’ was speaking, Gerald also ranking number one in his wife’s heart. Grabbing your personal mug from the shelf, you pour a cup of unfortunate coffee as you watch Melissa through your periphery. She used to sit in one of the chairs, no room for someone to place themselves next to her. However, once you started, you noticed she moved to the couch, where no one but you was brave enough to sit.

Walking slowly to your spot, you gently sip the coffee that threatens to spill over the sides before setting it on the table. Lowering yourself, you sit purposefully closer to Melissa than a typical coworker would. Not one shuffle away or look of discomfort comes of it, it almost makes you grin. As the weather comes on, and Jim is no longer on screen, voices start to fill the room. You throw your arm back to the back of the couch as leverage to push yourself forward, leaning into Melissa’s space as the two-week broadcast appears on screen.

Her attention on you is not missed, neither is Barbara’s, who you already know is giving Melissa a look of bewilderment. The dusty pink that paints her cheeks with every interaction between you has quickly become your favorite color. It’s a struggle and a half to keep your eyes on the screen, but the temperatures being in the fifties and sixties starting tomorrow made you so excited that it didn’t even matter. Instantly, your mind is whirling with plans for the second the final bell rings and you can run out the door.

When the news goes to commercial, you sit back, keeping your arm behind Melissa’s shoulders. The warmth radiating off of her has your mind begging for you to shift your arm just a touch closer, to wrap your arm around her, but so far playing it safe has been working in gaining her trust. She can’t help it, green eyes falling onto you as she tries to decipher your move, hoping to catch something in your eyes that tells her what this was between you. All she gets is a little smirk that is half-hidden by a sip of coffee from an orange mug.

Melissa catches on quickly to your happier mood, finding the joy you exuded, that seemingly came from nowhere, to be adorable. She can’t even believe that word dared to enter her vocabulary. Your typical flirty remarks don’t make an appearance, just a serene smile on your face and a wink to Melissa when you catch her eyes scanning over your face.

As the last kids get into their dad’s truck, you find yourself practically skipping back to your room to quickly gather your things. With the speed in which you move and the utter state of focus you are in, you don’t notice Melissa’s little smile as she sees you move with obvious excitement as you leave the building. She decidedly ignores the little thought that you may be all giddy to see someone else, and maybe she will continue to ignore it with a glass of Merlot.

Marty at the front desk of M&J’s Storage Company gives you a tightlipped smile and a curt nod as you drive past, having gotten used to you stopping by periodically over the winter. Pulling up in front of unit seventy makes your heart race, the second most beautiful thing in the world sat behind that navy metal door. The old lock takes a few tugs to loosen its hold, finally allowing you to release the latch and lift the door.

“Well, hello again,” you mumble as you pull back the cover, eyes scanning over metal. It hadn’t been long since your last little maintenance visit, meaning all you had to do was drive home and get her shined up.

After stopping at the gas station on the way home to fill the tank, you finally park and nearly eat pavement as you jump out of the car. It takes extra effort without the help you usually get from your brother to lower the bike off the trailer, but you manage, though it leaves your arms shaking while you remove the cover again.

Polish turns the piping from grey to silver, the dust off the body goes back to its original tan, and the blue on the design is restored to its proper glory. Despite checking once a month or so, you cross your fingers as you start the engine, hoping that all your hardwork will pay off and nothing will go wrong. The engine does a chg-chg-chg before it turns over and the motorcycle comes to life.

“Yes!” you exclaim, jumping in the air slightly with sheer amount of excitement running through your veins. You let the bike run for a little bit as you take photos to send to your brothers as proof you could, in fact, get it off the trailer without them.

All you can think about for the next couple hours before bed is the feeling of your riding jacket and the wind blowing against it.

—☽—

The sky is still dark when you open your eyes the next morning, impatience waking before you before your alarm. Once you’ve gained your bearings, you get up and are getting ready as fast as you possibly can. It’s impossible to sit still, you’re almost dancing in place as you brush your teeth and can’t stop yourself from skipping to the closet by the front door. Shoved in the back, next to your sandals, was a pair of black, leather, steel toe boots. After saving every penny your senior year of college, you bought them as a graduation gift for yourself, and you’ll wear them until you can feel the ground through the soles.

Once you had to turn around due to forgetting it from sheer enthusiasm, you borderline ran down the stairs to your garage space. With the garage door open, the warm air creeping in from the outside is invigorating, and the lack of wind for the first time in two weeks gives you hope that your face won’t freeze off on the ride to Abbott. The biggest pain is getting your backpack to sit comfortably over your slightly bulky riding jacket, covered in patches from states and towns you’d visited over the years.

The second the bike begins to move, it feels like all of your problems have disappeared behind you. The low rumbling and revving drives others crazy, but it feels like the calming presence around you. If only the cops around weren’t such sticklers, or you’d have left your helmet off for the fifteen minutes drive. The wind on your face is better than caffeine, but your eyes water so badly, you can’t have anyone thinking you were sobbing on your way to work. That’s a Monday activity, not Thursday.

From the speed in which you got ready to get on your bike, you’re the second person in, Janine always being first. You refrain from sitting by the TV once you’re in the lounge, just leaning against the counter and sipping your coffee until the object of your affection arrives. Gregory and Jacob come in together, talking about the next round of plants for the garden. When Barbara comes in, you can see that she’s holding in laughter, a fast-talking Melissa behind her.

“How are you not freaking out, Barb? That bike is beautiful, and it’s at Abbott, Abbott, of all places,” she almost yells, her hands waving around with disbelief in her friend’s relative disinterest.

“It’s a bicycle, Melissa.”

“Motorcycle, it’s a motorcycle. It doesn’t have a basket and ribbons, unlike yours,” Melissa mumbles that last part, but Barbara stills catches it and gives a gentle smack to her friend’s arm, despite laughing herself. You can’t lie, knowing that Melissa is fascinated by the bike, you want to speak up about it now, but instead, you stay quiet.

The spot next to her by the TV stays vacant, practically having an RSVP with your name on it. When you plop next to her, she peeks at you from the corner of her eye, and she does it a few times again during the commute report. You catch her the fifth time, raising your brows in question to not gain the others’ attention, but she just gives you a shake of the head. She turns back to the TV, but you’re persistent, propping your arm behind you like you’d done yesterday, and poking her shoulder.

Her head whips away from you, and seeing that it was your hand over her shoulder, she turns back to you with a playful scowl.

“What?” she asks with a softer tone than you had expected.

You lean in just a touch to keep your words between the two of you, “you were staring. Was just making sure you’re okay.”

God, you could survive solely off the way her eyes shine, how wide they open at your earnest. Neither of you realize the time between your words and the answer that has yet to come, just looking at each other as a tiny smile plays on your lips. It takes the internal will of ten thousand men to not jump at her emerald eyes dropping briefly to your lips.

“Right… Sure you’re not just flirting? Like a little kid annoying their crush?” she jokes, partially to save her from embarrassment, partially to hide the racing of her heart from your attention.

“Could be. But at least I’m not the one avoiding the question,” you joke back, and when she doesn’t answer again, you push, “nothing to say about that, beautiful?” Her eyes go to her lap as she shakes her head, another poor attempt to hide the clear effect you have on her. For now, you’ll just ignore the feeling of her leaning slightly closer to you and try to still your rapid heartbeat.

—☽—

In a desperate attempt to see who owns this magnificent bike, Melissa stays in the parking lot, loitering by fiddling with her purse to not raise suspicion. She immediately ignores Gregory and Mr. Morton, knowing they’re too stiff to ever consider getting on a motorcycle, let alone this one. As she sits there on her phone, after fifteen minutes of waiting, a familiar hum starts up and the bike is moving out of the lot.

That jacket. Patches cover nearly all visible space, even a little Eagles one next to a custom Abbott patch. Even with the helmet obscuring your face, without the jacket, she’d know you anywhere. Immediately, she starts to move, putting her car in drive as she pulls out of the lot the same way you did, conveniently the same direction she needed to go.

With a stroke of luck, she pulls into a lane next to you at a busy red light, rolling down her passenger side window, “aye! Why did you say shit about you having the bike?”

You push up your visor, yelling over the motor and traffic, “air of mystery!”

“Bullshit!”

“Guessing you want a ride, huh, gorgeous?” You can’t even contain your grin as you watch her eyes widen, flicking to the red light that has still yet to turn. Little do you know her mind is screaming and your cocky little smile isn’t helping one bit.

She swallows the lump in her throat, “follow me to my place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say as you flip your visor back down, glad to be able to cover your face as you smile so hard you narrowly avoid missing the light turning green. It doesn’t take long to fall into line behind Melissa, cutting into a tiny space that earns you a deserved honk from the old man behind you.

It’s less than twenty minutes before Melissa’s blinker directs you into her driveway. You walk it slowly next to her car, keeping the engine running as you take off your helmet. Melissa gets out of her car, abandoning her purse in the seat next to her, and stands nervously by the hood as she plays with her sleeves. Suddenly the thought of being one the motorcycle, pressed against your back, sounds so good she’s afraid she’ll ruin it somehow.

Your voice cuts off her brain’s nervous rambling, “I’ve only got the one helmet with me. So, you’ll wear that, and we’ll stick to the side streets.”

“No highway,” she grumbles as she steps closer.

Your nose scrunches as you laugh at her pout, “no highway and nothing over forty, cross my heart.” Holding out your pinky, she begrudgingly takes it while ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. “You’re gonna wanna tie your hair back, low bun, braid, something like that.”

“Ponytail?” she asks, pretending she doesn’t care that your pinkies are still wrapped around one another.

“Nope, it’ll just tangle. And we can’t have anything happening to that beautiful hair,” you subconsciously pull her hand closer and draw her in. Her finger tightens around yours in return. When her neighbor pulls into their driveway, their car door shutting loudly disrupts the quiet between you two, making you both pull away.

Instead of speaking of it, you both fiddle to get ready for a ride around the block or down to the corner store. Melissa faces away from you to tie her hair into a tight low bun, she takes deep breaths to calm herself from the sheer proximity to you. Behind her, you fiddle with the clasps of the helmet to fit her better.

When she turns to face you again, you motion for her to get closer and her eyes almost bulge out her head. Melissa slowly approaches you as her fingers tangle around themselves. You lift the helmet in silent question, and she nods. Carefully, trying to touch her as little as possible, you help get the helmet on without pulling her hair.

You open the visor before you adjust the chin strap, “feel good? Secure?”

“It’s comfier than I thought,” her voice comes out slightly muffled by the guard in front of her lips. Melissa prays you can’t hear her fast breaths, completely overwhelmed by your scent surrounding her.

“Good,” you smile, “I’ll back her up onto the street, then you can hop on.”

Once you’ve got the kickstand down so it’s as stable as possible for her to get on, you offer a hand as support. Melissa slowly places her hand in yours, the squeeze she receives tells her trust me, I won’t let you get hurt. Using the footrest, she gets herself over the seat to straddle it behind you. Manicured hands flex open and close behind your back as she becomes unsure of where to put them.

“There’s handles, slightly behind you, that you can hold onto,” speaking loudly over the motor. You turn over your shoulder to meet your eyes with hers, “or, if you wanna, you can hold onto me. Whatever’s your preference.”

To save face, she rolls her eyes, “just want my hands on you, don’t you now?”

“Can’t call you a liar for that one,” you say with a smug grin, turning back to lean the bike upright and put up the kickstand. The second you start to move, Melissa’s arms go tightly around your waist, white knuckling your jacket.

Feeling her holding you was only so pleasant until you realized it was mostly from fear. Before taking off slowly, you pat her hand where it rests on your abdomen. It only grips tighter in return. Taking your foot off the ground and beginning to move, feeling more careful in every move you make as to not make Melissa more nervous than she was. It was surprising really, that Melissa Schemmenti of all people was nervous on a motorcycle.

Her grip starts to loosen after the third or fourth turn, but her arms don’t move. Melissa almost rests her head against your back, but decides against it in a sudden judgment. When the moment comes where she feels comfortable, she releases one arm from her hold on you to push the visor back up to have an unobstructed view of the Philly streets and your reflection in the mirrors.

When you finally slow down, it’s six blocks over at her favorite corner store, they’ve got the best hoagie options. She uses your shoulders and the hand you placed out for her to get down from the bike, legs numb from the vibrations of the bike and motor against her thighs. You’re quick to get off, helping her get the helmet off and fixing the little strands of hair that stick up from static. Neither of you mention Melissa’s rosy cheeks or your lingering caress along her bangs.

The small shop leaves little room to roam about, and you stay closely pressed to Melissa’s back as you maneuver to the counter to order food to bring back to her house. With the warmth radiating off of you, she now understands how you felt the whole ride. She knows how you feel about her, it’s a mirror of the ache in her chest for you, and feeling you against her has her heart pounding in time with yours.

From around her waist, comes your arm, offering the cashier a twenty dollar bill. Your other hand rests against Melissa’s hip, holding your wallet open for the change. This has to be some sort of revenge for holding you, she thinks to herself.

As you slowly pull into her driveway, there’s an air of unsureness around the two of you. Stepping off the bike again, you fiddle with your fingers, not wanting to invite yourself into her home. Melissa tugs at the ends of her sleeves as she plans her next words.

“Do you wanna come in, have a beer with those hoagies?” Melissa offers with a hopeful tone.

You smile as you grab the helmet from you, clipping over the little strap on the seat. She takes the hint and walks towards the door with you closely behind her. Inside, without the jacket and boots on, Melissa thinks you look soft. Everything about you is so careful with her, even when you wear worn leather with chains, this dressed down version matches the treatment she always receives.

Sitting across from her at the island, you answer all her questions about how you got the bike, how you maintain it, how you learned all the tricks to keep it running.

“Seriously, that thing’s how old and still going that strong?” she asks through a mouthful of capicola.

“It’s thirty now, it’s a 1992. Harleys are just built to last longer than the actual biker at this point, especially the older models,” you take a swig of beer, “the Daytona was too good to pass up. I got it so cheap and the guy barely had miles on it.”

Melissa perks up, “how much?”

“Thirty-five hundred. Stupid cheap, he could’ve easily gotten ten.”

She smirks, “and you just let him trick himself out of the money?”

“Duh,” you say. There’s a beat of silence before you both start to laugh, leaning into one another over the table.

—☽—

The sun set some time between finishing the hoagies and the third episode of The Real Housewives she roped you into watching. She claimed it was only fair considering she willingly got on the motorcycle. What had started with you two on different cushions quickly became you being pressed against each other, your arm taking residence behind her, but never touching her as you always kept it.

In a strange moment of bravado, Melissa leans against the back cushion and your arm dips into the slope, falling gently around your shoulders. You purse your lips in an attempt to keep a straight face, adjusting your arm to have your hand rest on her shoulder. It doesn’t take long before your fingers begin to draw nonsensical patterns over her shirt. Time passes, episodes go on, and Melissa’s weight starts to fall more into you. Every passing second you become more aware that you don’t want to leave this position as long as you live.

The screen turns black, Are you still watching? appears across it, behind the words, a reflection of the two of you. Your gaze dips down, immediately meeting Melissa’s looking up at you. Green eyes flick to your lips, and for the first time, you know for a fact that you are not imagining it. Her tongue pokes out to wet her lips, capturing your attention. Eyes meet and it’s so quick, neither of you can tell who starts it.

Melissa’s lips taste like light beer and strawberry chapstick, and her tongue is dominating and soft. Her hands grip tightly at the base of your neck, keeping you close to her like you would disappear if your lips left hers. Your hands take residence on her waist, like they had hours ago, and the warmth of her skin under her shirt is screaming your name, begging to be touched.

Tongues clash against one another, sticky lips clumsy as air becomes a necessity. Barely taking your lips off her skin, you trail downwards to her jaw, placing wet kisses along it. The hands on her waist push up and make their way beneath her shirt, gently squeezing her warm, supple body. The feeling of your soft hands holding her makes Melissa groan, tugging you back to her wanting lips.

All she’s wanted since the moment she met you, to hold you, kiss you, touch you, it’s all happening and she can barely find it in her to stop. She never wants it to. With your teeth tugging at her bottom lip, a borderline moan escapes her, and she feels you smile against her mouth and it’s all she can think about. Melissa is completely putty in your hands.

Without breaking the distance between you, you pull away from her lips slowly. Heaving breaths escape both of you, lips swollen and pupils dilated from lust. Melissa’s hand traces from the back of your neck to the chain of your necklace dangling in front of her, looping it around her finger to pull you in closer. Your lips graze over hers, but her words fill the space before they can touch.

“What if I asked you to take me upstairs?”

Your thumb brushes over her ribs, “then I would.”

The door handle almost puts a hole in the wall with the way Melissa shoves it open behind her as you walk her backwards towards her room. Her hands drop from your face to the hem of her shirt, beginning to pull it up before your hands take over. As you step away to throw her shirt off to the side, your eyes drop and a soft look comes over your features.

Stepping into her space again, your fingers trace over her skin, “you’re so beautiful.” It’s barely above a whisper, she barely hears it, barely even sure you’re aware you’ve said it.

Melissa’s only response is to kiss you again, pulling you towards her bed until she topples onto it, taking you with her. Your thighs straddle her as you tug off your own shirt, bending down to continue ravishing her. You kiss down from her lips, to her jaw, to the dip at the base of her neck, then trace your tongue back up. Cold hands grab yours, pulling them down to the button of her jeans.

“Are you sure?” you ask from above her, free hand pushing baby hairs from her blushing face. She only nods, not trusting her words. You shake your head lightly, a little smile on your lips, “I’m gonna need a real answer, lovely.”

Lovely, that’s a new one. She feels her face warm under your gaze, arousal pooling. With the strength she can muster, she utters, “please.”

Without a moment to spare, your lips are on hers again, hand at her waist moving to unbutton her pants. As you help push them down, your hand passes her panties, the dark patch of wetness calling to you. It only invigorates you as you let go of her lips, kissing down to her chest. Arching forward, she makes space for your wandering hands to slip behind and unclasp her bra.

A breathless mumble of God leaves your lips, before soft kisses are pressed to her sternum, skim over to her breast. You kiss her skin with a reverence she’s never felt, teeth graze over her hardened nipple before your lips wrap around it, tongue swirling. The unattended breast begs for attention that is quickly given by your hand, rolling the bud between your fingers.

The warm hand at her waist grips down to her thigh, pushing her legs open to make space for you to lie. Your mouth and hand switch, equal, worship-like attention given to each breast. Melissa’s quiet, hidden moans become louder, hips shifting for pressure against yours. Taking the hint, your lips travel lower, licking over her abdomen and gently biting when she tugs at your hair.

One hand wraps around her thigh, the other keeps her in place as a weight against her stomach. Pressing wet kisses to her thigh, you look at her for permission to continue. The image of you between her legs, lips on her wet thighs, eyes shining with want, all she can manage is bucking her hips towards you, a whine escaping her lips.

One last kiss is placed against plush skin, Melissa’s hand tangles with yours, interlocking fingers feeling like they belong there. Your warm, wet tongue glides over her slit, up and down in slow figure-eights, her little gasps only egging you on. Flattening your tongue, you press harder against her, tasting her more fully, groaning against her in satifaction. It makes sense why Eve would so easily give everything for a mere taste of the forbidden fruit. Sweet and warm, divine heaven on your lips.

Melissa hips buck into your face, begging for more and you are more than willing to give. You lick up to her clit, the pearl demanding attention from you. Small, circular motions with your tongue make Melissa groan, slapping a hand over her mouth as she gets closer and closer to her peak.

You lift away from clit, much to her dismay, “don’t do that.” The hand on her stomach moves to pull her hand away from her mouth, “I want to hear you… please.”

Her hand drops to the sheets beside her, and your mouth is back on her. Sucking harder against her, your hand slides down her abdomen and positions in front of her blooming lips. Your middle finger presses into her slick walls, forcing a moan from both of you. With a few gentle pushes and pulls, you slowly ease in your ring finger, making her clench tightly.

Red nails dig into your hair, tugging as Melissa writhes above you. Husky moans and whines fill the room, pleas of faster and yes, yes are burned into your mind, a melody you won’t dare forget.

You pull off of her clit to take a breath and speak, “can you take more, baby?”

“Please,” she says through pants. The hand in your hair tug you up to her lips, “please.” Her desperate grasp is not willing to let you go, claw-like nails digging into your back.

Lips dancing as you shift your hand to put your thumb to her clit, lining your forefinger to her pussy. Melissa’s jaw drops as the third finger stretches her more, the moan that rips through her is felt by your lips on her neck. You keep a steady rhythm of circling her clit and pumping your fingers into her. Her moans turn to pitched whines, walls hugging your fingers, she was so close. You kiss down her neck, sucking little marks that will fade by morning, taking your time on her breasts and lower stomach. Reaching her clit again, suck it into your mouth as you speed your fingers’ pace.

Frantic hips begin to still, a whine leaving her plump lips as she cums around your fingers. Your attention leaves her clit to travel down her lips as you slowly pump your fingers, removing one by one as she comes down. Shaking thighs relax against the bed as you clean her with your tongue, nectar of the goddess being all the reward you need. She pulls lightly at your hand on her thigh, begging for your lips on hers.

Pressing a final kiss to her pearl, then thigh, you capture her lips in a slow kiss, soft and full of the love that had been hiding under every interaction since you’d first met. When you pull away, you bring your fingers to her lips to give her a proper taste of herself. Accepting the offer, her tongue swirls around the digits. You internally scold yourself for being jealous of your own hand, even the string of saliva that connects her heavenly mouth to your fingers.

You shift to cup her cheek, admiring her droopy eyes and blushing cheeks, the sheen of sweat over her forehead. Her own hand mirrors your movement, pulling you down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“You are so- too good at that,” she mumbles against your cheek, feeling the vibration of your laugh.

You press a kiss to her cheek before flopping next to her, “you, you taste too good.”

Her hand comes to cover her face, but you’re quick to catch it, bringing it closer to kiss the back. Melissa chuckles as you nibble on the knuckle of her pinkie, but she frowns as you roll off the bed. Emerald eyes follow you to the ensuite bathroom, and back as you go back between her legs with a warm washcloth. The featherlike touch and soft kisses to her skin only further the blush on her cheeks.

After discarding the rag and tugging off your jeans, you lay down next to her on your side, eyes scanning over her face. Her head turns to you, enjoying the quiet between you, even more so when your pointer finger traces her features and takes special attention to her lips. Lipstick smudged around her chin, surely on your face as well, and messy eyeliner, she’s never been quite so beautiful.

The gentle ministrations and loving attention make Melissa’s eyes grow heavy, sleep grasping at her despite the fight to stay in your presence. Feeling her relaxing into you, you shift to lay on your back, arm out inviting her into your embrace. Lazily rolling into you, her face tucks into your neck, hand searching for yours.

You tangle your fingers together and whisper into the air, “I think it goes without saying, but I’m stupid in love with you. Everything about you. Just thought you should know.”

“Good thing,” she says through a yawn as she shifts more into you, “because I’m stupid in love with you, too.”

You press a kiss into her hair, “go to sleep, pretty girl. I’ll be here in the morning, if you want.”

“Of course I want,” it’s barely audible, but you can tell she means it.

The scent of sex, sweat, and eucalyptus body wash radiates from her, underneath it all is a smell that’s so uniquely Melissa that you can feel yourself sinking into the mattress. It feels easy, being with her, it makes sense. You find yourself staring at the ceiling, you recount every time you should have spoken up about your feelings. Surely there could have been a time, but none seem to come to mind. It only makes sense that this is how it was supposed to happen. In her bed, on this day, with the taste of lager on her tongue, you were meant to find your way together.

title from beauty school by deftones

one day i’ll write a shorter fic like i planned in my head

feedback appreciated as always <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtq #lesbian

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s1ater · 1 year

Text

the only thing that matters.

pairings. finnick odair x fem!reader

about. finnick is the only one to have ever gotten past your quiet and stoic shell, but neither of you think it’s for the good.

warnings. eh idk

ricky rocks. the hunger games series is honest to god one of the best to ever touch screens.

johanna hated watching you and finnick. it killed her.

since day one, johanna, like all of the others were closely fixated on you and every move you made. you were alluring solely due to the fact that you were silent and completely detached from the destruction of your reality. there was a large admiration for you and whether it was due to your great skill in combat or ability to keep an unwavering face when under the worse of pressure, no one could choose. you were a mystery.

johanna couldn’t figure you out; not for the life of her, and it was absolutely frustrating. especially when her greatest competition did.

of course. of fucking course it was finnick. she wasn’t surprised the more she thought about it—finnick could get anybody to talk. so of course it had to be him who would unravel you like a ball of yarn.

he was prying, and had no problem with being a pest if that meant he got what he wanted—and he always got what he wanted.

it was astounding to say the least.

“they’re sickening aren’t they?” katniss almost jumped at johanna’s jarring words that interrupted the silence.

it took her a moment to realize that the girl was talking about you and finnick and johanna had caught her staring.

“i don’t know… i think it’s interesting,” katniss bit the inside of her cheek as she watched finnick smile genuinely while watching you speak. the two of you were the only thing keeping the group from not seeming depressive. “they seem like polar opposites and yet this is the first time i have ever seen her smile… and it’s because of him.”

once you had gotten out of the blood rain with johanna, crossing paths with katniss and finnick and the rest of their group—you had begun to clean yourself off in the water before finnick had dunked you with reunition. there was no reason, and katniss had thought you would kill him once you came back up, but there you had been; gut laughing, trying to catch your breath while also attempting to return the favor.

johanna chuckles, “he’s a fucking dickhead for that,” she tsks, shaking her head, still watching the two of you, “but i guess it’s sweet in some fucked up way. both found each other amidst of all… this.”

she hated watching the two of you, because it reminded her of something she couldn’t have, something she lost, and something the two of you could so fastly lose as well with any wrong step.

“this is where we finally die, isn’t it?” your eyes watch the calm waves as they slowly wash up further onto the shore, just enough to kiss your feet.

your words make finnick narrow his brows, almost frowning real hard as he looks over to you. you feel distant, out of body and too far for him to reach and yet you were more than close. he feels uneasy at the tone of your voice, like you were almost ready to give up.

“far from it…” he slightly tips his head to look at your face, but he sees nothing, receives nothing despite his hope that you’d be in touch and full of emotion like all other times the two of you have been together. “hey, why?”

his hand holds your shoulder, almost reaching for your face, but you meet his eyes before he could further do so. the concern melted into his face made you inhale sharply, feeling slightly bad for causing the borderline stress in his eyes, “finn, i didn’t mean it… like that.”

“you ready to give up on me?” his eyebrows raise, trying to curve his lips in a accustomed smirk, but you can still see the worry.

“not yet,” you shook your head, almost scoffing as you look back out to the sun sinking into the trees, “just thinking.”

“think more logically, y/n,” he settles more comfortably and over the panic, using his index finger to lightly you tap on the side of your cheekbone. “if i die, who’s going to be your friend? keep you alive?”

you rolled your eyes, mumbling, “we both know i’m more than capable keeping myself alive.”

“we do,” it wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “but outside of the games, what’re you going to do with yourself?”

you shook your head at his silly scenarios, now looking to him with something he didn’t like, “we just try to die together then.”

“she’s the only thing he cares about,” johanna stares harder than katniss was, watching the way his hand clasps the back of your neck while pulling you closer to him. “truly.”

“this is unlike you. since when is death a concern to you?”

“since i met you,” you purse your lips, almost in shame that an obvious dent was made in your principles when you met finnick. “you make me feel so helpless.”

he chuckles, shaking his head at the words coming from your mouth that some could find offense in, “oh, i know you love me.” but it was finnick, and he knew your meaning behind them and he knew exactly how you felt.

before, you were both considered some of the capitols top killers with nothing to lose. but now, everything seemed to not be in your favor the moment you met each other. you had everything to lose now and you both knew it.

“we’ll be the death of each other, y/n.”

navigation.

@transias @cc13723things @thehuntress09 @afidiofobia @savedbythegraceofsoutherncharm @demigirl-with-problems @nyx3028 @missaryasstuff @hizziestial @ritz-hell-hotel @kayalect @mystic-writings @stitch-flo @ancientimes @s0urw00lf @straightzoinked @i44nishi @falcvns @alexxavicry @grxcisxhy-wp @lupinsluvbot

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #finnick odair imagine #finnick #finnick odair head cannon #finnick odair x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick x annie #hunger games finnick #the hunger games imagine #hunger games imagine #katniss and peeta #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #finnick odair #sam claflin

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scudslut · 18 days

Text

18+, mdni

s4!daryl x fem!reader

a/n: this is such a random drabbleish thing, idk. i just have so many feelings about s4 daryl and how angsty but all consuming it would be to be with him at that point, like my fucking god i’ll explode.

sex is all it was — initially.

he didn’t even remember how it started if he was honest; one day finding himself thrusting all his burdens and frustrations into your supple, welcoming body.

it was an escape for the both of you, nothing more. somewhere to get lost for the lingering moments between life and death. leaving as soon as it was done and hardly speaking otherwise, if at all.

he wasn’t blind though. he knew it was more for you… something deeper than just an outlet for anger. solemn eyes tracking him around the prison searching for any sign of reciprocity. And he wasn’t void either. he felt the strings each time you were under him, or against him, whispering his name like a bedtime prayer to bind you two.

but there was a wall within him. one he built so tall and long ago he didn’t even remember the workings of. but any wall has its cracks and weakened points, and he found you knew them all somehow. had them mapped and jotted in your memory, poking them till they crumbled so he worked overtime fortifying. leaving you in the shadows for weeks at a time, with nothing but a glance towards you at most.

he couldn’t care — couldn’t let himself. there was too much on the line for not only him, but you. He didn’t want him for you, that wasn’t how it should be, but it seemed that the harder he pushed you away, the greater the fall was. finding you and slamming you against the nearest counter to be consumed by you. pent up so badly it honestly felt like he’d black out within the passion, the only thing keeping him lucid being the chants you sang softly. the eyes you gave him as he unloaded everything into you.

the longer it went on the worse it got, finding himself noticing the smaller details about you. the way sweat would build across the high points of your cheeks, glowing radiantly and flushed as he thrust slower. the way your hair would fall so perfectly around your shoulders and catch the light seeping in through the windows. and most of all, the way your voice lured him closer like the works of a siren, tone so soft and sultry as you praised him, his hands began to sweat.

he would turn you around, hoping the distant position would keep you unattached, or more so, him unattached. only to later begin tracing his eyes across your profile, over your jaw and neck while you gasped with closed eyes, eyelashes thick and wet from pleasured tears.

he was fucked, and he knew it. ran from it for so long he forgot what direction he was going and somehow circled back. and you were there as always, understanding him so fluently it was useless to hide. giving yourself to him so completely and vulnerably he had no choice but to give up.

he’d whimper as the new feelings washed over him, letting you soothe and pleasure him however you wanted, finally feeling the overwhelming understanding that all you wanted to do was take his pain and absorb it yourself. feel it for him so he could see he wasn’t alone. you’d keep him, and he’d keep you.

you wouldn’t push him. emotional exhaustion was prevalent in you both and finally a night was spent together, close but distant, open arms but lingering remnants of closed-off barricades. it wasn’t simple for him, or you for that matter. it was a new map being drawn and completely new territory he’d never dipped a toe in before.

and the next time it wasn’t uncontrollable passion against any counters. it was shaky fingers unbuttoning his vest while he tried to control his breathing. eyes darting all over your body, unsure but starving and trying to trust. slow and deliberate hands would take him in, all of him, gentle and curious, learning him in a way no one had before. a way he’d never let anyone one.

he never felt like he had been lost until he was with you. you saw him. accepted him without even batting an eye like it was the most natural and obvious thing to do. years he had shut every ounce of sympathy and companionship away, scarred from all the bad he had seen people do, it was jarring to realize there were people who simply loved to love, that you loved him just because he was him. and he knew now he wouldn’t go back. he wouldn’t shut you out anymore because he loved you just the same.

he would always circle back to you.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Dirty Work 40

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Feel very off today IDK.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Please, please,” you puff, reaching between your legs, “please, I can’t–”

Your words are wobbly and loose, your legs too. As you touch Loki’s chin, you feel the slickness smeared across it. He only nuzzles further into you as your thighs twitch around him. You choke and beg through your shallow breaths.

He hums into you, reaching around to snatch your hand, pulling your arm behind your back. You whimper, wavering on your feet. Before you can lose your balance, he takes your other hand, guiding it alongside your other, locking both against your lower back.

He moans as he drinks you up. You put your feet flat and shake as another wave crashes down on you, the water slakes over you, the humid air adding to the sweat beading over your skin. You cum again and again and again. Each time, he grows more devoted to his task, twining your nerves together until you’re wrought.

Your leg buckles and gives. He releases your hands, once more grabbing you by the hips and holds you up. He eases you down slowly as you shake weakly. Lower and lower, he keeps your ass in the air as you drop down on your hands and knees. You’re senseless and lost in the ravages of pleasure.

When you come again, all your strength drains from you. You can’t take anymore. He lets you go as you collapse onto the porcelain and groan. He drags his hands down your legs as you roll onto your side and heave. He snickers and traces up your arm.

“You’ve been very good, pet,” he growls and stands, stepping over you as he pushes the door open.

He leaves you there, the door open as the shower continues to pour down on you. You catch your breath but can’t move, not right away. You’re so very tired. Worn out by more than his unprecedented attention but by everything. The day seeps back into your mind and coils your muscles tight.

You get one knee under you, then the other. You climb to your feet and shut the faucet off. You emerge and stumble, reaching for a towel from the rack. You wrap yourself in the fluffy cotton and look at the open door. You hobble towards it, finding Loki… Mr. Laufeyson in your bed. He stretches out, his arms bent behind his head, as his nakedness is concealed only by the blanket folded at his waist.

You turn off the bathroom light and cross to the bed. You flinch as you sit, swollen and oversensitive. You dry yourself off stiffly and stare at the wall. The glow slowly fades and you’re left dull and worn. That’s all this will ever be. You have your use and when he doesn’t need you, you are just there.

You stand and drape the towel over the wooden arm of the sofa. You look around, searching. You pad along to the closet and fold the door back. There’s your stuff. You fish out a night gown and return to the bed. You wonder why he’s still there.

“I’ll stay,” he reaches to rub the silk between his fingers, “in case… my brother thinks to attempt another coup.”

“Oh, thanks,” you utter, refusing to look at him. “Would you like the light off?”

He takes a breath, “ah, I should’ve brought a book. You always do enjoy it when I read to you.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “the light?”

“Off, is fine,” he replies evenly.

You flip off the lamp and lower yourself down. You keep your back to him, hand clinging to the edge of the mattress as you fight to keep your breath steady. You just want to cry. You feel so heavy but flat. As if you’ve been run over.

“Pet…” he says gently. You don’t answer as you stay as you are, right at the very edge, making yourself as small as possible. “Suppose you are tired…” he mulls quietly, “yes, you should rest.” He flutters his fingers against your waist, “as should I.”

He shifts behind you and brings himself closer, looping his arm around your stomach. He urges you back, putting you flush to him as you grasp slips from the mattress. He nuzzles your crown and his hot breath fans across your scalp. He sighs and embraces you tighter.

“I’m certain I did little to lessen your fatigue,” he snickers, “though I don’t think you will complain. Surely, you didn't sound unhappy at all.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you agree.

You feel him tense and he puffs a longer breath into your hair. He slackens his hold on you but doesn’t draw away. He hums, “sweet dreams, pet.”

✨

You sway between bouts of dull sleep that makes your head ache and hollow restlessness that has you squirming against the body behind you. Mr. Laufeyson sleeps undisturbed by your fidgeting, much to your relief. That last thing you need is him waking up unhappy.

When at last he wakes, he does not free you. He pushes you onto your back and covers your mouth with his. He kisses you until you can’t breathe and when he pulls away, he gazes down at you. You just look back at him emptily. He frames your chin and tries again. This time, your cheeks dimple as you attempt a smile.

He recoils and sits up, putting his back to you. You think he’s displeased but you can’t tell. He can seem so when he’s thinking. What could he be agitated by anyway? You’ve only let him do what he wants.

He’s silent as he rises and dresses. You do the same, picking a plum skirt and a white blouse. You sit to pull on your stockings and catch Mr. Laufeyson watching you. His eyes crawl up from your leg to your face. He quickly turns away.

“I have some calls to make,” he takes his phone from the side table and brusquely marches to the doors.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you confirm.

He stops, his hand on the door handle and his head tilts. He seems about to say something before he rips the door back. He swallows loudly before he finds his voice, “my mother should have breakfast ready, you may join her.”

He leaves and the door closes a bit too harsh for your comfort. What now? What have you done? And what calls does he need to make? Perhaps he got one. Maybe she… No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t matter.

You go to check your reflection and tidy up. You peer around the room. You can’t stay in here. It just reminds you of last night and all your confusing thoughts. Not just thoughts, feelings.

You let yourself out and look up and down the hall. You go downstairs and wade through the quiet morning lull. Gertrude is in the kitchen chopping fruit with a large knife. You don’t know what to do, you think you’re too early.

A figure startles you as its shadow darkens over your shoulder. You shuffle aside and turn to face Odin as he enters, an empty cup in his hand. Gertrude comes forward to take it from him with a “good morning, sir.”

“Ah, there she is,” he greets you, “have you had a coffee? Tea?”

You shake your head, “no, but I…” You don’t want one. You don’t want anything but to be alone. You turn our head to look out the window at the rustling leaves brushing against the pane.

“I always found the morning air did me more good than caffeine,” Odin says, “would you like to see the gardens?”

“Sir, I–”

“Please, enough of that,” he waves away the formality, “you would do me a favour. It isn’t often I have someone to walk with me.”

You look at him and bite your lip, “of course.”

“Wonderful,” he proclaims and waves you ahead of him. You go around to the back entry way and stop by the door. You look at the mat then around. You don’t have any shoes.

“Ah, these will do,” he bends and pulls out a pair of plaid gray slippers, “a bit big but we can go slow.”

He turns them towards you and stands, waiting for you to step into them. He has a pair of leather shoes already on his feet. You thank him quietly as you slide your feet in. He opens the door for you, again letting you take the lead.

He points you across the veranda and offers his hand for you to descend the steps onto the stone path. You take each stair carefully, not wanting to lose the overly big slippers. As you get to the bottom, he rescinds his hand and offers an arm instead. You hook yours through his and let him guide you.

You quickly lose yourself in the scenery and your worries. The green leaves, the creeping vines, the fluttering petals. It’s all so beautiful. You don’t belong there.

You lower your head, as if just looking upon it all is a crime. You should be at home with your father. A pang jabs deep between your ribs as you think of him. You haven’t even called. You’ve barely given him a single thought. You must be as selfish as he always accused you.

You keep your feet moving in tandem with Odin’s but pay little attention to your path. He slows and stops you as a trickling plucks in the air. You peek up and see a large plinth with water flowing down the sides. A wonderful fountain in the midst of a square basin dug into the earth.

“I come here to think. Or not to,” he explains, gesturing you towards a carved wooden bench. You sidle along and sit and he lowers himself with you, his arm still entwined with yours. “I can see you are in need of both.”

You shake your head and focus on the flowing water. Your cheeks pinch and your lips tauten across your teeth. You can’t cry. Not in front of him.

“You are homesick?” He asks gently as he pats your arm with his free hand.

You nod.

“It is only human. I remember…” he leans against you, “when I was young, if ever I truly was, and I went away from home for school. I was so very excited. My whole life I’d been sheltered, eh. My mother had me close all the time. I went to a private school with walls that shut out the world. And after the years of what felt like a prison, I couldn’t wait to be away, to be free.

“And my first day alone, sitting in my dorm, so proud of the Hendrix poster on my wall, I broke down. I bawled for hours. I couldn’t stop. I’d never ever cried like that. But I went down to the RA and asked to use the phone. I called my mother and…” he snaps his fingers, “in an instant, no tears. And even when she hung up, I was alright, because I knew I could always call her back.”

You sniff, your eyes stinging. He doesn’t know you can’t call your father. You don’t want him to know that.

“You went to college?” You ask.

“Mm, yes, wasted a bit too much time there,” he sighs, “but you won’t fool me, girl. Who do you miss so much?”

You shrug and hang your head. You don’t even know if you really miss your father. You know he doesn’t miss you. All you know is he’s sick and you’re hear, sitting in this splendour, buying new dresses, and eating fine cheeses.

“My father…” you croak.

“Ah fathers, they are… complicated.”

You nod and gulp tightly. You lift your head and peek over at him, “he hates me.”

The words strangle you once they’re out. There it is. The truth. There’s no taking it back.

It only took you thirty years to figure it out. You never had anything to compare it too but seeing Frigga dote on her children, just her asking you how you are, sparked the revelation. Then there was the other side, the dejection, the constant reminders that you are only good for what you can give, not what you are. That’s the only way your father ever treated you.

“I’m certain he doesn’t,” Odin coos gently.

“No, he does,” your lip downturns and tugs on your cheeks, “I always knew it but I wanted so desperately for him to love me that I… I told myself… that he did or that he could.”

You tear your arm free and stand. You hide your face as you try to smother the sudden eruption of sobs. What is wrong with you? You sweep away, facing the foliage at the other end of the fountain and heave, shoulders shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimper. “I shouldn’t–”

“Do not apologise. I won’t accept it,” he insists as he rises and hovers close to you, “you’ve nothing to be sorry for. How you feel is not an offence.”

“I don’t want to go home,” you turn to him, “I want to disappear.”

His eyes sparkle and his features soften, “dear…”

“No, I do. I don’t want to be here or anywhere. I don’t belong. Not here, not there, not on this planet.”

“Oh my,” he puts his hands gently on your shoulders and angles you towards him, “you feel that way, but feelings are not always true.”

“It’s true. I’m… I’m just a maid. I’m not… I’m not…”

“You are exactly where you should be,” he says, “you are here with me.” He pulls you against him, trapping you in his arms. He brings a hand to the back of your head and cradles it, pressing your cheek to his shoulder. He rocks you gently, “you are safe and you are wanted.” He pets your hair as he holds you, “you are worthy.”

You bring your arms around, clinging to him, clinging to safety. You bury your face in the soft fabric of his shirt and weep. You weep until you're dizzy and raw and spent. And when you’re drained, you don’t let go. You can’t.

You just want to stay here with the birds and the insects and the rippling fountain. You want to hide away in this menagerie and never come out. Yet you know you must. Not right now, not just yet. But eventually, you have to tuck it all away again and face the world.

For now, you’ll just let him hold you.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #marvel #avengers #mcu #thor

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ship-graveyard · 1 month

Text

Traveling with P1Harmony 💕

🛫 - Air Travel Edition - 🛬

☁️ - fluff | 🌙 - gn!reader | 💞 - all members

note: occasional references to travel anxiety

———————————————————————

Keeho:

♡ - always makes it to the airport perfectly on time (no getting bored or stressing because he’s timed everything perfectly)

♡ - incredible at navigating crowds and fighting to keep your place in lines for security, boarding, and deplaning

♡ - idk how but the airline always loses his luggage

♡ - you need a break from the airport chaos? dw his arms are your safe haven and he’s got a hug already queued up for you

♡ - will take the middle seat for you if you’ve been assigned it BUT he will whine about it later (good news: you can just kiss his pout off his lips and he’ll forgive you)

♡ - want help lifting your luggage into an overhead bin? luckily your big strong boyfriend is here to help! (he will accidentally smack someone in the face with it when taking it back down but shhh he’s trying)

♡ - bothers you 24/7 on the plane, but he means well… he just can’t help it bc he wants to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible (ooh what are you watching?? are you hungry? thirsty?? he could definitely steal water from someone in first class, would that help?)

♡ - wants you to sleep on his shoulder SO bad. he’ll be slowly leaning into your space if you start to nod off until you get the hint

———————————————————————

Theo:

♡ - lets you completely melt into him if you want to sleep while waiting for boarding (just results in the sleepiest pile of limbs bc he’s probably out immediately too)

♡ - overpacks… why does he have 14 hats when he only ever wears one? why did he pack a toaster in his carry-on?? the world will never know

♡ - has 7 different beverages with him at all times

♡ - more likely to distract you and redirect your energy than directly comfort you if you get travel anxiety, but it still helps significantly just knowing he’s aware of it and by your side if you need anything at all

♡ - he’s going to fight you for claim of the armrest and not in a cute way

♡ - will smack you if you turn the overhead light on (if you really want to read/draw or do anything else that you need to see clearly, he MIGHT let you turn the light on if you ask nicely and/or sweet talk him)

♡ - spends half the flight judging the people who brought their children on the plane

♡ - will get hopelessly invested in whatever you’re doing/watching but pretends not to be whenever you catch him leaning over to see better

———————————————————————

Jiung:

♡ - brings an extra sweatshirt/jacket for you bc he knows you’ll forget your own, get cold, or need the comfort

♡ - takes care of everything that might be stressful for you. you’re nervous? dw he’s got your printed boarding passes ready and your luggage handled. you just need to show up and hold his hand

♡ - does a mental analysis of the best quality airport cuisine compared to affordability bc you deserve to be well-fed and pampered but he’s also really practical

♡ - surprise kisses as positive reinforcement when you remember to hydrate

♡ - zonks out on the plane. he’s been busy taking care of you, let the poor guy drool on your shoulder a bit

♡ - type of person to watch the flight tracker the entire way there

♡ - if you accidentally intrude on his foot space be prepared for the most intense high-stakes game of footsie you’ve ever been involved in (he’ll win but end up just pulling your legs onto his lap bc he feels a bit guilty and he loves you too much)

———————————————————————

Intak:

♡ - loses his boarding pass immediately (you better have backups)

♡ - will get lost in the airport if you let him out of your sight

♡ - lets you buy anything you want with his card (he just wants to trail along and hang off your arm and spend time with you)… puppyboy IM SORRY who said that

♡ - leans his entire weight on you when waiting to board bc he’s tired and he loves you and you’re right there

♡ - underpacks. it’s always “babe can i borrow your toothbrush? i forgot mine😔” and “one pair of pants is probably enough for the whole week, right?”

♡ - you’ll have to be the responsible one tbh but he’s always right there if you need anything and he’d step up in an instant if you asked him to. it’s only bc he feels so comfortable with you that he lets himself relax so much and truly be himself, so he’s eternally grateful that you look out for him when he needs it

♡ - asks to be involved in whatever you choose to do on the plane bc he wants to spend that time with you

♡ - if you have trouble speaking up, he’d happily do it for you. need accommodations?need to ask someone to move so you can go to the bathroom? he’s got you

———————————————————————

Soul:

♡ - gets pulled over at security for something really bizarre (a cool rock he found that makes it look like he’s smuggling drugs, a jar of loose coins of various types, the creepiest figurine imaginable that he decided was cute, etc, etc)

♡ - might need your help with translating some things depending on where you’re flying out of/to (he could probably figure it all out on his own, but he likes being able to rely on you so he doesn’t have to channel all of his energy into making himself understood)

♡ - traveling exhausts him tbh but hugs and spontaneous kisses help him recharge!

♡ - equally likely to distract you from nerves by starting fun conversations or reaching out and reassuring you with physical affection

♡ - hoards the little snacks they give out on the airplane and offers them to you as surprise gifts later

♡ - watches everyone else’s screen on the plane instead of his own lol (he’s invested in the movie two rows up leave him be)

♡ - wants to try to learn a few phrases of the local language on the plane if you’re traveling somewhere with a native language he doesn’t speak

♡ - if you fall asleep on the plane expect to have random braids in your hair when you wake up (it’s not his fault that he wanted something to do with his hands and in his defense he finds you absolutely adorable with them. esp finds it endearing if you leave them in bc that’s his handiwork you’re showcasing)

———————————————————————

Jongseob:

♡ - might share some of your travel anxiety, but instead of making him distant it just makes him more invested in getting you both there safely and being conscious of your needs. you can be certain that he’s done his research, and you’ll always be safe and taken care of when he’s by your side

♡ - the most difficult part of flying with him is getting him to wake up early tbh. he’ll be slumped against you in a half-successful back hug while you scan the departures board for your gate bc he’s still half asleep

♡ - effortlessly cool and fashionable even with messy hair and comfortable clothes

♡ - soft kisses to your temple and warm hands brushing against yours when he wants to get your attention

♡ - wants to switch off picking songs to listen to on the plane (or listen to a combined playlist of each of your interests) with shared earbuds bc he thinks it’s an important way to share your interests and emotions with each other

♡ - before you even ask he’s handing you a Nintendo switch controller and encouraging you to play something with him (dw he finds you adorable no matter if you’re terrible at it or if you kick his ass when it comes to gaming)

♡ - prefers pushing the armrest up so you can lean into each other and just be close (he isn’t super cuddly/touchy in public, but he enjoys the casual proximity. and sometimes the urge to dote on you is too strong to be contained)

♡ - not really the type of person to speak up and ask the flight crew if he needs something, but the second you need something he’s on his feet and advocating for you

#p1h #p1harmony #p1harmony fluff #p1harmony x reader #piwon x reader #p1h imagines #traveling with piwon #yoon keeho x reader #choi taeyang x reader #choi jiung x reader #hwang intak x reader #haku shota x reader #kim jongseob x reader #p1ece #feel free to lmk if there are grammatical errors lol this has been sitting in my drafts for so long #♡#☁️#🌙#💞

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bergandysam · 1 year

Text

BTS Fic Recs pt 2

purely because i am trying to keep track of what i have read and want to read in the future lol.

‼️18+ minors DNI, if you choose to anyways, PLEASE be careful. try to heed our warnings, we have them for a reason‼️

teachers pet 8 JK

reflection RM to read

on the borderline JM to read

aim for the heart JK to read

lost and found JM to read

yet to come JK to read

in motion 09 JK

a fine line 12 RM

raise the barre 09 JM im not ready for 3 chapters of angst

last for life 03 JM

flip and reverse it 02 JH

mostly smut ngl :-)

also lots of one shots

recommend:

[not in any particular order] [if any users would like me to remove their post from this list please let me know and i will do so immediately!]

YOONGI:

twirl for me @gimmethatagustd

dilf!au, angst, smut, series (ongoing),

surround me @yoonivy 10k

BFF2l, FLUFF, smut, one shot

swing life away @aphrodijin 5.2k

husband!yoongi, smut, fluff, angst(?), one shot

a boy like you @cinnaminsvga 11.5k

coworkers2l, f2l, FLUFF GALORE, shy awkward yoongi i love him so much, bread cheeks :,), one shot

fxck christmas @haliiimede 23.4k XMAS

old friends2l, yoongi is such a sweetie, fluff, the tiniest angst (idk MC is a lil grinch for understandable reasons), smut, one shot

the singularity theory (AO3) @/dovechim 30.1k

s2l, fluff, smut, yoongi is such a little shit but hes so cute i love him so much

countermelody @bonvoyagenoona 100k

prod!yoongi, CHARACTER 👏 DEVELOPMENT 👏, yoongs so cute, fluff, angst(?), smut, series

aquiver @floralseokjin 86k

idol!yoongi, fluff, ANGST, smut, honestly yoongi was such a sweetie but things turned in the blink of an EYE - idk how it happened so fast but i loved it, series

this christmas @suga-kookiemonster 30.1k XMAS

ex!yoongi, ANGSTTT, smut, i would love to say a happy ending. yoongi and Y/N lack communication🥲, one shot

sunrises and liquor @aamalaaa

barman!yoongi, fluff, angst, smut, nearly everyone is gay, yoongi so hot, yoongi so cute, yknow, the usual, series

SEOKJIN:

raspberry truffles @gukyi 5k

bff2l, FLUFF, jin’s the sweetest dork, fake!dating but not in a making someone jealous way, one shot

dick n go @winetae 12.8k

hook up!jin, crack, smut, one shot,

christmas warfare @gimmethatagustd 14.5k XMAS

exes2l, FLUFF, smut, one shot, jin is honestly the cutest thing ever. one shot

catch of the century @joheunsaram MULTI

30 different fics by 30 different authors to celebrate jin’s 30th birthday. smut, angst, fluff, everything you could ever need. pls show these authors some love!!

knocked @sailoryooons

gamer!jin, roommates2l, fluff, smut, jin is so cute as always

NAMJOON:

the dimple theory @e-cm 18k

university!au, fluff, smut, angst, 2 parts,

all night @luaspersona

s2l, BBF, honestly just pure filthy smut. lil fluff, one shot 12k… 12k all smut. so fkn good 👨‍🍳💋

Hooked @joopiterjoon (AO3, also on tumblr) 103k

s2l, honestly idiots2l, fluff, ANGST, smut, series (completed),

you wanna beat the fuck out of MC in the best and worst ways possible. 2 endings btw.

real magic @here2bbtstrash 16.7k XMAS

s2l, WAHH SOFT JOON, fluff, smut, joon is so awkward like always i love him, one shot

the stand in @yoonia

pregnant!reader, fluff, smut, lil angst, joon best boy, kind of a series- can be read as a one shot

all i need is me @yoonkimint

idol!joon, SMAU, fluff, angst, a lil fast paced but cute asf, i love this joon but he a lil bitch, series

not another holiday romance @kpopfanfictrash 32.2k XMAS

small town hallmark!au, FLUFF, i love historian namjoon so much, angst, smut (at the end)

JUNGKOOK:

across a crowded room @monimonimoon 10.7k

idol!au, angst(?), fluff, smut, one shot

streams and sheets @astralmono 10k

streamer!au, angst :(, smut, one shot

lights out @hobisonlyhope 9k

tutor!au, smut, angst?????, one shot

out of time @97erstan

ex!jk, smut, ANGST (infidelity), mini series, ongoing

risque @mercurygguk

older!jk, smut, fluff, angst, series ongoing,

long way home @sparklingchim

dilf!jk, f2l, angst, fluff, series ongoing

thirteen rounds @monimonimoon 13.2k

boxer!jk, HONESTLY PURE SMUT. LIKE SMUT WITH A LIL PLOT

not my fault @taegularities 12.6k

uni!au, fluff, smut, SIGGGHHHH nerdy jk 🤭🤭

HOSEOK:

started with a spark now we’re on fire @the-boy-meets-evil 6.5k

f2l, smut, fluff, one shot,

blue side @hamsterclaw 7.7k

f2l, smut, angst, lil fluff

sonic rain @jungblue 25k

dancer!au, smut, angst, fluff?, honestly hobi is whipped, one shot

upbeat @/fizzydrink698 (AO3) 12.6k

IDIOTS2l, bff2l, fluff, like the tiniest of angsts, they’re both kinda dumb

keynote @missgeniality 18.5k

s2l, i’ll be straight up. it’s DIRRTY ASS SMUT- that’s all. LOL.

part 2 touchless 8k

perfect dream girl @bonvoyagenoona 35k XMAS

f2l, the cutest hobi fic to ever exist, FLUFF so fluffy, tiny tiny angst, a lil smut, the tannies just want hobi to be happy 😭😭

for the first time (what’s past is past) @candlewaxandp0lar0ids 15.7k

neighbour!hobi, i love them. i love them. i love them. such a cute fic. fluff fluff fluff, a lil smut, tiniest of tiniest angsts.

TAEHYUNG:

love and rivalry @kooktrash 17.3k

e2l, idiots2l, smut. (no angst they’re just idiots) one shot

much better @yoonivy 18k

tatted!tae, tae is a twin, fluff, smut, angst(??), idk i love this tae a lot he’s a lil cutie

part 2

fan service @bangtanintotheroom 30k

camboy!tae. imma be real. it’s 30k words of smut. that’s it. that’s the whole thing.

sweetbitter @rosedtae 16.9k

ceo!tae, e2l, smut, fluff???? angst??? idk i’m bad at tagging.

crazy for you @oddinary4bts 46.8k

idol!tae, bffs brother au, mostly smut ngl, but cute fluffy tae and yeontan, but ofc there’s angst too. one shot

sugar plum wishes @army-author 12.7k XMAS

fairy!tae, fluff, angst(?????????), hes a lil cutie. oneshot

farmer boy i love you @strawberrynamjoon 35k

farmer!tae, FLUFF, honestly i love this tae so much hes such a lil shit, oneshot

JIMIN:

heart wide open @jjiimin

bff2l, soulmate!au, angst, fluff, one shot

let’s get quizzical @taleasnewastime 28.6k

f2l, fuckboy(?)!jimin, small bit of smut towards the beginning, fluff, angst, you want to beat up MC, one shot

dr park with his smiley faces @1uvtae 8.8k

dr!jimin, s2f2l, angst(?), fluff, one shot

oh what a world (AO3) @/cutechim 141.4k

idol!au, s2l, angst, fluff, smut, series, WAAHHH i loved this so much so cute for no reason

starlight starbright @readyplayerhobi 17.5k

dad!jimin, s2l, fluff, smut, one shot, jimin and his daughter are so CUUUTTTEEE bro. his tattoo 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

believe it @writtenwhalien 28.5k

sort of high school! au, s2f2e2l, fluff, angst, smut, jimin just wants to protect reader :,)

the boyfriend concept @kpopfanfictrash 22k

pornstar!jimin, fluff, angst, smut, honestly the cutest ending ever

shake shack @kth1 14.4k

acquaintances2l, chim is adorable as always, fluff, smut

like i said at the end of my last fic rec post, if any of you have recommendations for me, please send them through!! my inbox is OPEN and i am always looking for more things to read!

1K notes · View notes

laiiaaa · 8 months

Text

A NICE NIGHT — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen happens to meet a stranger at the party Claire takes him to. A brief conversation is shared during a cigarette break.

length 2k

contents literally just nonsense, not infidelity but sorta toying with the idea idk????, inside Carm’s mind (he’s a nervous wreck), reader is a food journalist bc i just think the pairing is cute, Claire slander lowkey…look i just want Carmen to meet some random person organically and bond without feeling pressured to like them :/ very self indulgent :/ baby bear :/

Carmen’s not sure why he agreed to come here: a party with people he doesn’t know and doesn’t particularly care to, too much drinking, too much conversation, too much noise.

He’s trying not to hate it completely, he really is, but there’s that nagging in the back of his mind that just screams unwanted. And maybe a little regretful, or undeserving, or unsure of himself. He wants to like it here. He wants to tolerate it for Claire. Maybe. Maybe just a few more minutes. Maybe a few with a cigarette.

He’s lucky to find the backyard more or less empty, save for red solo cups and beer bottles thrown askew—and a girl standing against the railing, back to the house to face a dark canvas. At least this is better than the mess inside.

Playing it safe, he leans against the railing on the opposite side of the steps, figures it sends a message. We don’t have to talk. Or, more accurately, I don’t really want to. He feels that familiar itch crawling down to his fingertips and pulls out his pack, pops out a cigarette and props it between his lips. He pats down his pockets. And again. He pats down his jacket. And again.

Fuck…

“Do you need a light?”

His head turns in her direction. Did I say that out loud? She’s looking at him, expectant. He must have. “Yeah, I, uh, it must’ve slipped from my pocket or somethin’.” He can’t tell whether he’s more on edge in a crowded room or in a conversation alone.

She walks over to him in a few steps, clad in a black leather jacket that catches his eye. Her cheekbones glow in the pale yellow haze seeping outside from within the house, and her lips are glossy and a little tinted like she’s just eaten cherries. Not that he’s paying any of this any mind; she’s only offered him a glimmer of her flame. She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a bright blue BIC lighter, like one of hundreds he’s lost or forgotten about over the years.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and she nods in response, turning back to the yard just a foot away this time, taking a drag. A metallic flick gives him his fill and his nerves subside only slightly. He fiddles with the lighter for a moment, watching her almost, before extending his arm. “Here.”

She peeks over her shoulders, shakes her head lightly, and looks back. “Nah, you keep it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

He pockets it and inhales. “Thanks.”

She hums and it quirks up into a smile. “You, uh…” Another pull and plume of tobacco. “You do this typa thing often?” Carmen pauses, and she must take it as confusion. “Y’know, like…” The hand holding the cigarette makes a few circles as she turns her body towards him. “Parties. Kickbacks?” An eyeroll, a shrug of the shoulders he thinks is playful. “I dunno what the fuck this even is.”

“No,” he chuckles, and he thinks it comes a little easier than usual. A little lighter. “I-I don’t.”

“Yeah.” She sighs and smiles back at him, looks him in the eye for a blip of time. “Me neither.” Backing up, she moves down onto the first step and sits. She offers her name nonchalantly, adds by the way to the end of the introduction while shooting a look up at him.

“Carmen,” he offers. He clears his throat and steps closer. Am I supposed to sit with her? He chooses to stay standing.

She scoots to the side until she meets the railing, turns her hips to prop her legs along the step below, crossed at the ankle. Leather boots hit an inch or two below her knees. “You can sit here if you want.” Her head pivots toward the house to eye the furniture—two dingy lawn chairs and a collapsible table—and she takes another hit off her cigarette. “Not much place else.”

He nods, smiles because he thinks it’s the right move, and tries to sit down coolly. A few beats pass and he doesn’t know what to do in the silence. “Do you know anybody here?” he asks, lending a glance before looking down at his feet.

“Not really. A friend dragged me here to get me away from work. She’s busy actually talking to people.”

He smiles to himself, a gentle one hidden behind the collar of his jacket that makes his chest warm. I know the feeling. “I dunno anyone either. I, uh…” Fingers run through his hair to the nape of his neck. “A friend dragged me here, too.” A friend… The syllable feels heavy rolling off the tongue. Is that the right word for it?

“Really.” She smiles and exhales. “How come?”

“Uh…” He lets out an airy laugh, mouth tightening into a half-smile as he looks at her while still messing with the back of his hair. “To get me away from work, I think.”

A quiet giggle makes him think he could be doing something right for once—like maybe the whole social thing doesn’t have to be so hard, and he doesn’t have to be the funniest person in the room, and he doesn’t have to try and carry the weight of a conversation. Maybe he can just be.

“What do you do for work?”

Here we go again… He lets the question simmer for a beat. It’s an uncomfortable one: he doesn’t make money, the prestige is anything but, part of him shrivels up when he has to see the reaction. Another inhale before he ashes his cigarette. “I’m a chef,” he says, though it’s quiet. Ashamed.

“Oh, really?”

His heart drops. Maybe he thought better of a situation than he should’ve. “Heh, yeah, it’s not—it’s not, uh…” It’s not that special. Half of what I do is fuckin’ pointless. No, I don’t make a lot of money. Thanks for fuckin’ asking.

“No, no, I think it’s cool.” She tilts her head to the side, another soft thump of laughter to break the tension. She doesn’t seem to mind too much. “I’m a, uh…” She looks to her hands, snubs out the last of her cigarette that’s burnt down to the filter. “I’m a food journalist, so—or, whatever you’d call it—just a writer now, maybe? I don’t even know at this point…”

There’s an exhalation that has Carmen thinking that for once someone feels like he does—a quick-beating heart, jittery hands, an embarrassment unique to someone whose passion is a shame to a respectable world.

“What I’m saying is, I’m not judging.”

His brows lift, a subtle nod—half relief, half surprise. “You’re not.”

“Correct.”

A comfortable silence. A few more plumes of tobacco escape his mouth before he realizes he can’t remember the last time he smoked more than half a cigarette. He likes a quick fix, just a taste of it to make the nerves go down before getting back to work; he doesn’t take it slow, enjoy the pull, indulge in the company of someone else. He doesn’t usually have someone else.

He looks at her again, and for a blip of time he thinks she’s gorgeous, her head gently turned to the side, a barely-there smile adding warmth to the space between them. Part of him is thankful she hasn’t gone back inside, and he doesn’t bother wondering whether she’s staying because she wants to enjoy a crisp night in a bit of quiet, or if her friend isn’t all that much of a friend, or anything else. He’s here with Claire, anyway. He’ll be back with her any moment now, and he’s not sure whether he wants that moment to come. He likes it out here, in the dim light, away from the bustle, stumbling through a conversation with someone who isn’t running miles ahead. It’s not buried under a past that’s grueling to dig up.

So he goes out on a bit of a limb and asks, “What do you write about?”

She looks at him then, mouth open only slightly like she didn’t think he’d ask. “The food industry, mostly. Ethics, culture, history, that typa stuff.” A pause before she adds, with a bit of a tanginess to it, “Not recipes, or cookbooks, or anything like that. Might not be your style.”

“Not my style?” A crinkle forms between his brow, his lips curl up at the corners, gaze shoots down to his feet again.

“What, you’re reading Gastronomica in your free time, Chef?”

He strangles out a breath that’s somewhere between a laugh and a cough, making her smile. “Gastronomica?”

He tries not to think about it too much. Even in his professional prime he wouldn’t fuck with journalists; they were too prying, too nosy, asked the wrong questions about the wrong things. Who cares where his love of cooking came from? Is it a good dish, or is it not?

This is different though. He’s not entirely sure why. Just that it is.

She offers a shrug, and a dismissive smile to follow that slowly wanes. “Doesn’t mean much in the real world, though.”

Self-deprecating. “I get that…” Too well. “It’s the same, bein’ a chef, y’know? It’s, uh, not a lotta money.”

She hums. “Not at all. I still like it, obviously, but—y’know, my parents would’ve been a lot happier had I…” A beat of laughter, sardonic and a little self-loathing. “I dunno, become a fuckin’...a fuckin’ doctor, or somethin’.”

He smiles to himself. A doctor…Claire’s gonna be a doctor. Respectable, easy to confess about. Not a lotta shame there.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t be complaining like that to you; I don’t even know you.”

“No, no I get it. I know what you mean.” He nods and watches his hands before looking back. “The, uh, the judgment. I get that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But, uh, it…it’s nice,” he admits, looking her in the eye, “It’s nice to meet someone who’s in that—that world, y’know?”

She hums and smiles in a way that makes his chest flutter. In a way that makes him think he’s understood. In a way that makes him painfully confused as to how he even broached the topic with someone who’s little less than a stranger.

The back door opens, and light spills onto the porch. Heads turn to inspect.

“Carm?”

Claire.

He freezes before sparking up a smile. “Hey,” he answers. It’s been too long since ashing his cigarette; he flicks it to the ground, standing up and turning to face his…friend.

She takes a few steps yet stays tethered to the door. Music booms from inside and just the thought makes Carmen’s head throb. Her gaze flickers from him, to the girl sat on the steps, and back. “You made a friend?” Her grin feels mocking, almost accusatory.

“N-No—” he shakes his head, turns to look at the girl standing up— “Just, uh…”

“Just lent him a light,” she fills in. He watches her dust off her skirt, adjust her slouched over jacket, check her phone for a second before she looks back up at him. She smiles at him and looks at Claire with the same expression. “I’m headed out, though, so…” Her face softens when she looks at him again, and he wants to think it’s for a reason. “Have a nice night.”

His mouth goes dry before he remembers his manners. “Yeah, uh, you too.”

“Thanks.” Her boots make a satisfying click as she descends, her hand an axis around which she pivots the railing to leave through the gate. He wonders where she’s going, whether she drove here herself separate from her friend, if she’s going to wait for an Uber to pick her up. If she'll ever visit The Bear once it's open.

“So,” Claire starts, grabbing for his attention again. “Ready to go?”

He nods, mumbles a hushed Yeah, and heads toward the door. She bares her teeth in a smile as she looks him in the eye and hovers an open hand near his. He follows her back inside where the music consumes his thoughts and the bass rattles through his shoes.

After letting the air hang between their hands for a moment, he tucks them away into his pockets, thumbing away at his new lighter.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear season 2

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