#lil warm up yay
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#toilet bound hanako kun#tbhk#jshk#jibaku shounen hanako kun#jibaku shonen hanako kun#my art#lil warm up yay#Whenever I have a really precize Mitsu's illustration idea in my head it's this expression and lighting welp#mitsuba sousuke#I like him a lot#he is just too famous in the fandom so I don't scream more about him#tbhk fanart#jshk fanart
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quick oc doodles ^_^ !! gosh finally drawing these two again .... still cant decide on milo's hair. and evelynn's side hair bits keep getting longer every time i draw her . soon there's gonna be more of those than there is of her!
#salmon scribbles#original characters#non fandom original characters#non fandom#my ocs#ehm !!!!!#theyre only a very very small part of my oc world ahahehfhehjf#did warm ups before these#they seem to be helping a lil#yay#sorry for no substantial content for a bitttt#ehfjehr#i know oc art isnt a huge banger to post but i like my ocs! ok!
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Hii I really like the poly vees x bunny reader and was wondering what their dynamic would be with all 4 of them in bed 👀
Like since reader cuddles up to Velvette a lot, Velvette's the one being all coercive and soothing getting her ready for the boys, maybe getting a taste of Bunny when she's all tired out after the boys are done with her,,
pairing: velvette + fem!bunny!reader
content warnings: smut, somnophilia, oral (f! receiving), mentions of vox and val fucking u, not proofread
notes: YAY VELVETTE SMUT! :3
velvette knows how bad the boys wreck you, but she loves to pick the pieces up.
going into your room, looking at you pretty figure all spent from hours of fucking, all she wants to do is just ruin you a little bit more.
so once she gets in your room, she'd pulling the sheets from your already nearly naked body, not clothed except for one sock and a pair of pink panties that she had made especially for you.
she loves it when you've already been fucked dumb for her, running her slender hands down your tummy to the bands of your panties, slipping her fingers under them and sliding them off, seeing that they were stained with the cum from your latest session with the boys.
In the gloomy lighting of the room, she places a kiss against you glistening cunt before tugging you by your hips closer to her at the edge of the bed, mouth and tongue teasing your slit, resuming sticky kisses against your warm cunt.
as she starts suckling on your clit, you stir awake, ears twitching ever so slightly, as your breathing becoming erratic as you let out high-pitched whimpers as velvette keeps on your clit, mouth covered in your slick.
"v-velvette?" you let out in a whine, making her chuckle as she continues going at your cunt, "m' here bun," she mumbles in her accent as her hands wrap around your thighs, holding you down and holding them apart as you squirm underneath her touches.
still all sleepy, your tousled head lolls about on your sheets as velvette invades your pussy with her tongue and nose bumps against your clit, paired with her fingers that are knuckle-deep in you and pumping vivaciously.
"I know, feels so good, doesn't it bun," she says, almost mocking you as you clench around her fingers irratically, so close to cumming as she finishes you off with a lick at your clit.
that's all it takes to have you cumming, fluids seeping from your pussy as they soak into the sheets and slip into velvette's mouth, her tongue slipping into and across your hole, practically drinking what you've given her.
"even in you're sleep, you're my good lil bun"
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel velvette#velvette#velvette x reader#velvette smut
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Here and Now (Husband!Ghost x Wife!Reader)
Pairing: Husband!Ghost x Wife!Reader (Papa!Ghost AU)
Category: Fluff and Smut (18+)
Warnings: Tooth Rotting Fluff, Swearing, Slight Roleplay, Implications/Mentions of BDSM, Oral Sex (F!Receiving), P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampie
Word Count: 5k+
Summary: Simon surprises you on Mother’s Day. 😊
Author’s Note: Happy Mother's Day! 🌸 Lily is almost three in this fic while Tommy is ten months old. (BF/N) = “Best Friend’s Name”. I hope you all enjoy!
“HAPPY MAMA’S DAY!”
Lily’s small, sweet voice drew you out of your sleep. You fluttered your eyes open, smiling at the sight before you. Lily was carrying a plate of scones to your bedside, Simon trailing behind her with Tommy in his arms. You yawned and stretched, your legs shifting beneath the covers. You beamed as Lily tried to balance the plate in her small hands.
“Is this for me?” you smiled. She nodded and raised the plate above her head, the scones nearly sliding off. You placed a hand over your heart before you took the plate from her.
“I helped Dada make them!” she chirped. You set the plate on your lap before taking a bite. The dough was still warm and fluffy, the buttery goodness melting over your tongue. You hummed as you chewed it. Tommy gurgled in Simon’s arm as he reached his chubby hands for you.
“That was so good!” you sang. Lily squealed and clapped her hands. Simon stepped forward and laid a kiss on your lips. Tommy softly cried out for you, his hands still reaching out.
“Aw, Tommy,” you cooed. Simon bounced your son in his arms before resting him next to you. His rosy cheek squished against your arm as he tried to balance himself. You smiled and brushed the tuft of brown hair on his head. He gurgled as you helped him sit up, staring at you with his papa’s dark eyes.
“Happy Mother’s Day, sweetheart,” Simon beamed. You grinned and pecked his lips again. Lily began to reach for your scones. Simon chuckled, giving her a raised brow.
“You hungry too, Lil?” he asked. She flicked her hand away, hiding it behind her back while her eyes grew wide.
“Uh-huh,” she nodded. Your husband grinned before scooping her up into his arms.
“Let’s go downstairs and get some breakfast, yeah?” he hummed. She raised her hands.
“Yay!” she cheered. You giggled. Tommy latched his mouth onto your arm, slobbering over your skin. Simon looked over to you.
“Want me to take him, too?” he asked. You looked down at the babe, his eyes sparkling as he gazed up at you in wonder. You shook your head, keeping your hand on Tommy’s back.
“Actually, I was thinking all of us could have breakfast in bed?” you suggested. Lily gasped.
“Bed! Bed!” she squealed loudly. Simon laughed.
“Well, you heard her. Let’s get our grub, Lil,” he chuckled as he rubbed noses with your daughter’s. She giggled as he carried her out.
“Bye, Mama! Be back soon!” she called, waving her hand as Simon went down the hall. You waved back before turning to your breakfast. You let your back rest against the headboard as you slowly chewed on your sweet-savory food. Your eyes flicked over to a card resting on your nightstand. Curious, you slid the card between your hands.
(Y/N)
You heard your husband’s lumbering footsteps grow louder as he walked in through the door. Lily jumped up into your bed, picking up Tommy and setting him in her lap.
“Do you want me to open this now?” you asked Simon. He shrugged before giving Lily her plate. She happily began to eat her scones, doing a little dance as she chewed.
“It’s up to you,” he said, taking his seat on the other side of the bed. You looked back down and tore open the envelope. Lily watched you curiously, Tommy drooled over his chin as he played with your blanket. You smiled at the dandelions that were pressed inside of the card. Lily’s eyes lit up as you took them out.
“I picked them, Mama!” she exclaimed. You smiled and brought them up to your nose, smelling the squished golden flowers.
“They’re very pretty! Thank you Lily,” you beamed. Your daughter smiled before squeezing you with her small arms. You kissed the top of her head, squeezing her back. Tommy huffed, annoyed with being squished by his big sister.
“Sorry, bubba,” Lily said before kissing Tommy’s cheek. He cooed softly, as Lily pulled him into her arms. You grinned and went back to the card, reading the message:
Dear (Y/N),
Happy Mother’s Day! You are such a brave, kind, and incredible woman. I’m so thankful to have you as my beautiful wife and the amazing mother of our children (who get their good looks from you, by the way).
You rolled your eyes at Simon. He chuckled, knowing exactly which sentence you just read.
I love you so much. I can’t wait to see the new memories we’ll make in the years to come.
Love,
Simon
P.S. Make sure you dress up for tonight. I have a surprise for you.
You raised your brows.
“A surprise?” you asked, tilting your head. Simon nodded, taking a bite of his scone. “Do I at least get a hint?” you giggled. He shook his head and swallowed.
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he drawled.
***
“Thanks again for watching the kids, (BF/N)!” you called from the front door. Your best friend smiled as they sat at the table painting pictures with Lily. Tommy gurgled in his high chair, banging on it with his tiny fist.
“No problem. Have a good time you two!” they replied. You grinned before a sudden thud drew your attention down the hall. Simon was wearing his skull balaclava, the tattered, grim mask a sharp contrast to the crisp suit he wore. His phone suddenly fell on the floor as his eyes raked over you.
“Like what you see?” you purred, striking a pose. He dipped down and grabbed his phone, his eyes still on you all the while. His pupils were blown as he quickly came closer, his shadow overcasting you.
“You look gorgeous, darling,” he breathed, taking your hand and pressing it to where his lips would be. You chuckled and caressed his cheek.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Casanova,” you winked.
“Love you, Mama! Love you, Dada!” Lily yelled from the kitchen, waving her paintbrush in the air. You smiled and waved back.
“I love you too, baby!” you grinned.
“Love you, sweetpea. Be good for (BF/N), okay?” he asked. She nodded.
“Okay, Dada!” she chirped. Lily danced in her chair as she went back to her painting. Your husband turned back to you.
“Ready to go, Mrs. Riley?” Simon hummed while hooking his arm around your own. You smiled and pecked his cheek.
“Whenever you are, Mr. Riley,” you smiled. He waved to your friend before stepping through the door, walking you to the car. You smiled as he opened your door for you.
“Why thank you kind sir,” you replied with an exaggerated tone. You gasped as his hand slipped to your backside as you slid inside. “A little handsy, are we?” you mused. Simon simply shrugged.
“Not my fault you have such a cute arse,” he stated. You rolled your eyes as he closed the door.
Your heart fluttered with excitement on the drive over. It’s felt like forever since you’ve had a date that wasn’t just dinner at your table or a movie night in the living room. Your eyes trailed down to Simon’s free hand resting in his lap. You smiled as you slid your hand into his, your wedding ring reflecting off of the lights as he turned onto the motorway.
“Seriously, where are you taking me?” you asked. His eyes remained trained on the road as he squeezed your hand.
“Afraid that’s classified,” he droned. You sighed. Your shoulders raised as an idea popped into your head.
“What would happen if the information got leaked, hm?” you inquired, your index finger poking out to trace circles on his thigh. Simon’s fingers clenched on the steering wheel as his foot pressed slightly harder on the gas pedal.
“You’d be charged with insubordination,” he replied with a crack in his composure. His Adam's Apple bobbed in his throat as you continued to motion your digit across his dark slacks. You leaned over, your seatbelt tugging on you as you pressed your lips close to his ear.
“And what would be the necessary disciplinary actions, Lieutenant?” you whispered. You could see his resolve begin to crumble as you unlatched your hand from his grip, tracing your fingers over the top of his belt. You knew calling him by his rank or call sign was a quick way to get him riled up. Your husband cleared his throat.
“I can think of a few ways to deal with a disobedient soldier like yourself,” Simon responded, a dark shadow reflecting in his eyes. Your throat hitched as he trailed his fingers up your arm, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “One, I could have you bound and gagged,” he rumbled, his hand sliding down to your hand, tracing over your wrist. You bit your lip, your legs squeezing tightly together. His hand came and rested on top of your thigh, his fingers splayed across the bottom hem of your dress. “Two, I could search you…if there’s probable cause,” Simon murmured. His gravelly voice sent shivers down your spine as his fingers bunched up your dress. You shifted in your seat, face flush with a dark merlot as he exposed your upper thigh.
“A-And three?” you swallowed, eyes blown with lust. Your mouth went agape as the pads of his fingers brushed the inside of your plush thigh. His dark eyes glanced over at your desperate expression before flicking back to the road.
“Corporal punishment,” Simon grunted as he roughly squeezed your thigh. Your teeth captured your bottom lip, tightly encasing it at the pressure that grew between your legs. The pads of his fingers dug in deeply as he emitted a smooth groan. You moaned quietly, your core beginning to feel wetter the longer he touched you. Your eyes were lidded and mouth watering as he released his grip. You sighed as he rubbed the red marks before slipping his hand back to the wheel. His expression remained a mystery behind his menacing mask as he continued driving. Your chest heaved, his marks still sending a dull pain that melted into a pleasure that leaked into your heat. You wiggled your hips, leaving your dress still hiked up as you eyed him.
“Almost there,” Simon stated as he made a right turn. He peered over at you again, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking down to the beginning of a tent in his slacks.
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me...Ghost?” you drawled, your hand cupping the inside of his thigh. You heard his jaw click, his fingers drumming across the steering wheel as he made another turn.
"(Y/N)..." Simon warned, his eyes locked onto you briefly. You gave his a coquettish smirk, hand hovering above his clothed cock. You yelped as he came to a sudden stop. Your brows furrowed as he chuckled, proceeding forward on the road.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Can't just blow through a stop sign," he shrugged. You pouted, then wiggled your hips ever so slightly.
"I'll show you what I can blow through," you muttered.
"What was that?" he mused, You opened your mouth, only to gasp when something caught your attention. Twinkling lights brightened your vision as you drove closer to a rather elegant looking hotel. A valet waved and came around while Simon put the car into park. You hid a laugh when the man’s friendly expression quickly became hesitant when your husband stepped out of the car.
“G-Good evening, sir,” the valet squeaked. Simon nodded with a grunt. He slid the keys into the valet’s hand before he grabbed a bag from the backseat. He walked around and opened the door for you. His eyes were dark yet warm as he watched you slip out of the car. Your heels clicked on the pavement as Simon helped you up. You looked up in disbelief at the intricate detail of the building. A large, crystal chandelier hung in the foyer as you two made your way inside, your arm wrapped around Simon’s. He chuckled at your bewildered expression.
“Happy Mother’s Day, love,” he said before pressing his masked lips to your temple. The receptionist, a brunette woman, smiled widely as the both of you approached.
“Good evening! Welcome to the Tour de Marbre!” she chirped, unphased by Simon’s appearance. You were still gaping at the decorations, watching as lobby boys and guests passed by.
“Evening. Reservation for Riley,” your husband stated matter-of-factly. She nodded before turning to her computer. She looked back up, her bright, blue eyes lit up when she saw you.
“That dress is absolutely lovely,” she complimented as she typed away. You grinned bashfully, shifting where you stood.
“Thank you,” you replied, your heels echoing along the polished marble floors. You looked up at Simon, wishing you could rip off his mask and kissing him deeply right then and there. His brown eyes met with yours as he squeezed your arm.
“You didn’t have to do this…this place looks so expensive,” you whispered worriedly. Simon tilted his head before leaning down to your ear.
“For you, my dear, it’s worth it,” your husband murmured back. Your heart nearly burst, warmth flooding into every corner of your chest. Just as you opened your mouth, the receptionist made a triumphant sound.
“All set!” the receptionist beamed as she slid two room keys to him. “You’ll be staying in Suite 808,” she hummed.
“Thank you,” Simon said. She nodded.
“Enjoy your stay!” she sang. You smiled, almost telling her the same thing before quickly sealing your lips. Both of you were quiet as you made your way up the elevator. The small enclosure smelled crisp as the doors closed gently. You immediately jumped up, not caring about any passerby who could walk in as you tackled him. He puffed out a quiet laugh as you kissed the sides of his mask repeatedly. “I take it you like your surprise?” he asked. Your grin was so wide, you thought the corners of your lips would have reached your ears.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” you breathed out. Simon smiled, holding you close as the elevator dinged.
“Of course, love. Anything for my lady,” he grinned. Your eyes scanned the hallway that was adorned with beautiful, dim lighting as you made your way to your room. Simon’s footsteps were nearly thunderous compared to yours as you moved through the labyrinth of rooms.
“Here we are,” he smiled. He tapped his card on the lock and the door clicked. You went to step inside, yet he kept a hand out. You knitted your brows.
“Hold on,” Simon said. You cocked your head as he slipped inside. He came back out, the bag removed from his shoulder. You released a small laugh when he showed you a silky cloth in his hand.
“Were you not kidding about the punishments you mentioned earlier?” you teased. Simon chuckled, though you didn’t miss the pink that filled his cheeks. He spun his finger in a circle. You sighed as you turned around, making sure to jut your hip out. You could practically feel him shake his head as he wrapped the fabric around you.
“You’re a little minx,” he muttered. You smirked, rubbing your ass against his crotch ever so slightly just to prove his point. Simon’s large hand gripped your waist. “Careful, love. Someone could see us,” he warned with a low growl. You tilted your head back, lips curled into a smirk. A low rumbling noise rose from his throat. “Such a naughty wife I’ve got on my hands. Maybe I should combine those punishments,” he rumbled while leading you inside, his hand sliding down to cup your ass.
Your heartbeat pounded percussively with each step you took. The scent of vanilla and rosewater immediately floods your senses, drawing you into a state of relaxation. Your body lurched forward slightly when Simon suddenly stops you.
"Let’s take our shoes off real quick,” he said. You nodded, hearing his dress shoes thud against the floor before he helped you out of your heels. You sighed when the cool air hit them, stretching your toes out.
“Alright. Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart,” he softly commanded. You nodded, biting your lip as he undid the knot. After the fabric fell, he stepped back. “Okay, you can open them now,” Simon said. You blinked a few times, your eyes adjusting to the shift of lighting. You nearly fell back into the wall. Before you was a plush bed sparingly covered in rose petals. Candles were lit on the nightstands, their soft glow the only light pouring across the merlot-colored room. You slowly turned to your husband, mouth agape. His mask was off now, resting on the dresser. He smiled with his hands tucked in his pockets.
“How…when?” was all you could mutter. He shrugged.
“I might’ve had a little help,” Simon said as he squished two of his fingers together. You crossed your arms.
“Johnny helped you, didn’t he?” you asked. His shoulders tensed.
“Maybe,” he replied curtly. You laughed before wrapping your arms around him.
“I love it. Thank you, babe,” you smiled. He grinned down at you, tilting his head so he could capture your lips in a deep kiss. You sighed and closed your eyes, soaking in his warm presence before his own arms circled around your form. Your heart raced as Simon pulled back, his eyes beaming as they raked up and down your body.
“What?” you giggled. His hands snaked down and grabbed at your ass. You squeaked as they moved beneath your thighs. Simon grunted as he carried you over to the bed, laying you down on the end. Your legs were draped over the rose-scented comforter as he hungrily kissed up the side of your face. You sighed blissfully when he took the shell of your ear in between his teeth.
“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” Simon breathed. You shivered, a wave of arousal shooting down your spine and straight into your empty cunt. You bit your lip as he hovered above you, his eyes staring deeply into yours.
“Si,” you cooed. He smiled before kissing down your jaw and suckling where it met with your neck. Your legs spread on their own as you arched your back.
“Such a sweet wife, you are,” he muttered, his hands wandering from your shoulders to gently rub over your breasts. You squirmed beneath him and yelped when he flipped you over, exposing your back to him. You felt Simon’s strong thighs cage around your waist as he sighed, his fingers gripping the zipper. You swallowed and turned your head to the side, watching him with enlarged pupils. Simon purred as he slowly undid your zipper. He leaned over, lips dancing over the shell of your ear.
“Let me take care of you tonight, love,” your husband hushed. You wiggled beneath him as he finished with your zipper.
“Please,” you begged softly, body burning like a raging fire. You heard him make a noise of approval as he spread your loose dress around your shoulders. Your mind was in a haze, thoughts scattered as he peeled your dress down. He shifted above you and tossed it aside. His chest rose and fell as he stared at your nearly naked form, how your bra and panties perfectly hugged all of your curves. Simon looked at you like you were the most delicious, succulent dessert: and all for him to indulge.
“Everything about you drives me wild,” Simon purred, his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra. You shifted your thighs together as heat rose to your cheeks. He groaned when he flung the bra elsewhere, his fingers dipping down and tracing over the curve of your spine. You shook, the feather-light touch making your pussy start to flood with arousal.
“Every curve,” his teeth nipped down your spine, making you shiver. “Every scar,” his hands splayed over your hips, rubbing the flesh in circles. You gasped as he pulled your panties down, a wet string of arousal clinging between your folds and the fabric. He groaned, his lips coming even further down, kissing over the globes of your ass before stopping just above your cunt. “Every stretch mark…everything makes me want to fuck you right into this mattress,” his hot breath fanned over your lower lips.
“Simon, please,” you gasped out. Your husband grunted before he grabbed your waist and slowly turned you back around. Your heart nearly ruptured in your chest when he eagerly spread your legs farther apart, mouth nipping at the stretch marks that adorned the inside of your thighs. He eyed you, silently asking for approval. You nodded, thrusting your hips towards his parted lips. "Please, baby-I want to feel you so badly," you whined. He growled before licking his lips, his hands splayed on the inside of your legs.
"Finally, been wanting to get a taste of your perfect pussy," he rumbled. You shuddered as he leaned down, pressing light kisses over your clit. You squealed as his lips puckered around your nub, applying just the right amount of pressure for your core to ignite.
"Oh God," you choked. A wave of bliss rolled over you just like how you rolled your hips on his broad chin. He smacked his lips before slipping his tongue out, gently sliding it across your puffy folds. You moaned when he licked a long, languid stripe up your gushing slit, tapping your clit once he reached the top. The tip of his wet muscle repeatedly flicked at your swollen nub, making your thighs clench.
“Simon, baby-feels so good,” you keened while arching your back. Simon groaned as your slick gushed into his mouth, his tongue swirling around your engorged nub. You moaned and rocked your hips at a faster pace, your wetness smearing across his chin. His eyes fluttered closed, his face mirroring that of a man devouring the most savory cuisine. You cried his name when he nibbled on your clit, capturing it between his teeth.
"You taste so sweet, doll,” Simon rumbled before diving back in. He pressed a full, open mouth kiss over your cunt, moaning as the full, heady taste of you spilled onto his tongue. You mewled, your breasts jiggling with each uneven breath you took. He shook his head side to side. You could feel heat begin to bubble up in your lower belly when his fingers came down and spread open your labia. His eyes glowed at the sight of your dripping, puckering hole. Your entire body shook as his tongue lashed at your aching pussy. Your hands came down and clung at his locks, bunching them in between your fingers.
He kept your lower lips spread open with his thick fingers as he painted an array of wet, sloppy ‘I-LOVE-YOU’S’ over your soaked cunt. You felt your eyes roll into the back of your head when he audibly slurped some of your arousal into his parched mouth.
“Si,” you cooed, your body shivering as you careened closer and closer to the precipice of your orgasm. He hummed into your pussy before spreading your entrance open with his wet muscle. You cried and shook around him as he thrusted his tongue in and out of your walls, hungrily lapping at your juices. “‘M gonna cum!” you slurred, arms now squeezing the sides of his head. Simon only sped up at your words, his tongue lashing into your shivering cunny. The whole room spun as you felt your walls constrict around his tongue before your hips snapped up.
“SIMON!” you wailed, legs shaking as you came into his mouth. He greedily ate your nectar, drawing out all you had to offer him while you rode out your high on his face. His nose bumped into your clit, sending waves of overstimulation crashing over you as you cooed and babbled, mind completely drunk with ecstasy. You whimpered when your love pulled his face back. Your eyes widened at the sight of his lower face completely drenched in your juices.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how messy I was-” you blushed. You moaned when he took the slick off with his fingers and dipped them into his mouth. He hummed as he slipped them out slowly.
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. What you call a mess, I call dessert,” he sighed before licking his lips. Lava coursed through your veins and spilled into your dripping cunt. You watched he slid off the bed, quickly stripping himself of his crisp outfit. You bit your lip as he unbuckled his belt, his pants and boxers falling to the floor not long after. Your eyes raked over his sculpted body, landing on his cock raised to the dimly lit ceiling. Simon gave you a wry grin as crawled over top of you. He leaned his face down.
“Gonna go slow this time. That alright?” Simon asked as he crawled back on top of you. You nodded your head. His hand came up to grip your chin, his fingers and thumb squeezing your cheeks. “Use your words, hun,” he said.
“Y-Yes,” you mewled, your hands coming up to grip his scarred upper back. Your husband groaned as he kissed you deeply, setting his length down over your folds. It was burning. Simon nodded, locking his lips with yours he grinded his hips into yours. You gasped, fingers clenching deeper into his shoulders with each delicate stroke of his dick. You whined when he slowed to a stop, only to feel your mouth swell with drool as he guided the tip of his throbbing cock to your weeping entrance.
"You ready, baby?" he asked. You shifted your hips upwards, his cock threatening to slip past your tight hole.
"Fuck me...please," you begged. His dark eyes lit up with a hungry gaze.
"Yes ma'am," he chuckled. He sucked in a sharp breath as he pushed himself inside of you. Your fingers curved into his back as his bulbous tip pressed into your walls, spreading your cunt wide open. “Fuck-you feel so good, baby,” Simon groaned as he reached farther into your heat. Both of you gasped as he bottomed out, his full balls lightly tapping against your ass.
“Simon,” you keened below him, gripping onto his back for dear life. His lips immediately found yours, his kiss only igniting the heat that spread across your body.
“What’s wrong, lovie?” he asked with furrowed brows. You shook your head, lips curved into a smile.
“Y-You just feel so good-filling me up,” you gasped as you felt his cock throb against your cervix. Simon groaned before stealing a heated kiss from you.
“Fucking hell,” he grunted when he parted from you. You playfully took his bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on it gently. A deep rumble erupted from his throat as he began to pull his cock out. You felt your skin tingle from head to toe as he rocked his hips into you at a slow, tender pace. The vanilla and rose-scented room began to mix with the smell of sex as Simon raised your legs slightly, spreading them further with his leviathan grip. “So perfect, so good to me,” he growled as he began to pump into your pussy more deeply.
His cock stroked your gummy walls so deliciously, hitting the right spots every time. You keened and threw your head back as he pounded up into your g-spot, euphoria bursting from your core. Your sex squelched lewdly with every single hearty thrust, your slick from earlier gushing from where his cock was pistoning into you.
“Love you, Si. Love you so much,” you keened. Simon’s eyes snapped open, his pace relentless as he dove down to hungrily kiss your lips. You felt him fall towards you, spreading your legs farther up, causing him to sink even further into your clenching walls.
“I love you too, sweetheart. Love you-” his words were cut off when your walls spasmed around him, hugging his cock in a vice. Simon continued to pump his cock into you, helping you ride out your second orgasm. “That’s it, that’s my girl,” he cooed as you writhed below him, jaw slack as your body trembled with a warm ecstasy. You felt so heavy and light at the same time as your high began to fizzle out. The sound of your wet sex being relentlessly fucked would’ve made you blush had you not been swimming in a pool of bliss.
“Gonna cum soon, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” your husband asked, his head kissing your cervix with every snap of his hips. You moaned, his words seeming distant in your euphoria-clouded mind.
“I-Inside,” you slurred, your face painted with a deep crimson. He nodded before going into overdrive, pistoning his hips into you with a feral hunger. Simon growled when his whole body tensed, cock twitching inside your plush walls as he released rope after rope of his thick cum. He thrusted into you a few more times before slowly pulling out, his cock softening. He dramatically collapsed next to you, his lips quickly finding your cheek as he enveloped you in a bear hug. Both of you remained quiet, the only sounds in the room being both of you gasping for air.
“That was, that was incredible,” you smiled. Simon mirrored your expression, his eyes twinkling as he rocked you in his arms.
“Maybe we should do this every once in a while,” Simon said. You turned to face him.
“Have sex?” you teased. He chuckled and shook his head.
“You know I can’t resist you for that long, love,” he mused before pinching your asscheek. You scoffed and slapped him playfully. “No, I mean getting a hotel room and having the night to ourselves,” he stated. You hummed.
“That sounds lovely,” you sighed. He smiled, pressing soft kisses to your temple. “But…” you began. You were pleased when you emitted a gasp from him, guiding him to rest on his back before you straddled his hips. His brows shot up when you rubbed your soaked folds over his flaccid cock, a concoction of your slick and his cum smearing across his length. “Why don’t we focus on the here and now?” you asked coquettishly with a slow roll of your hips. His hands wandered up to your hips, his cock throbbing beneath your lewd ministrations.
“I like the way you think, Mrs. Riley,” Simon murmured with a wry grin.
____
Thank you for reading! ❤️
#papa ghost#ghost call of duty#ghost mw2#ghost call of duty modern warfare 2#smut#fluff#ghost smut#ghost fluff#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#ghost simon riley#wife reader#cod x female reader#female reader#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty#simon riley smut#simon riley fluff#cod fluff#cod smut#cod mwii#cod x reader#cod#simon riley x reader fluff#simon riley x reader smut#simon riley x you fluff#simon riley x you smut
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The idler wheel is wiser than the driver of the screw.
Quick summary: After one too many drinks, you find yourself unable to think of anything but a certain smart-mouth detective who is in desperate need of a release.
Word count: 11K (I'm sorry)
Warnings: This is basically just SMUTT with a lil feelings (if you squint) sprinkled in there; kind of angsty at points (mentions of canon-typical death and violence (hellooo they're homicide detectives); gets a bit existential at points, watch out; pretentious.
A/N: YAY! I had this obsession with True Detective S1 all throughout October (watched it at my nan's house lmao), so enjoy the lovechild of that. This is just for fun, so, please, nobody be angry at me if they don't agree with Rust's characterisation, or any of the weird philosophical chat, lalallalal, OKAY ENJOY!!
***
The night air is sluggish and humid with the remnants of a warm summer’s rain, pressing down thickly, close, clogging, simmering just below the surface.
A few times, I’ve interviewed people who live in these sorts of places: motel-types, the “in-between”, where folks stay when they’ve either got no money, no choice or nobody. Other residents include passers-by who’re looking to save money on accommodation, skipping on the fancier places. Not that Louisiana really has any “fancier places”. Places without the paint peeling off walls like dead skin, I guess. A bed and breakfast in the nicer suburbia, with a view overlooking a subpar daydream of a ghost town centre.
I’ve leaned up against the crooked, metal railing, felt the influence of my weight almost sending it and myself crashing down onto the faded parking lot beneath. I’ve leaned up there—after knocking—and waited, waited for a grey face to peer through a crack in the cracked door. I’ve smiled and remarked about how the beat-up, brass numbers up there are hanging by a thread. Sometimes, people are real stingy – they slink out and close the door behind them, or they remain in that little slit, just an eye visible, or they plain shut it in my face. Most let me in right away, maybe a little intimidated by the shiny badge clipped up in my jacket – I’ve sat across from ‘em, felt that mud in the room’s air seep into my pores, inviting me under its still swamp.
Seems like the sort of place for him.
Too many a fuckin’ time, Marty’s come grumbling and muttering into the office kitchen, rolling his eyes, scoffing, huffing, the whole lot. And when I ask him why the strop?—“Ancient fuckin’ philosopher fuckin’ Rust Cohle on it again. Birthday’s comin’ up: get me earplugs and a generous bit o’ duct tape for my dear partner over there, would you?”
Or somethin’ along those lines.
For all his apparent talk about us silly, little “biological puppets”, this seems like Rust’s sort of place. Temporary existence, temporary living. Purgatory?
Whatever.
If you ask me, Rust Cohle’s head is so far up his own ass that it’s no wonder his outlook on life is so dark.
If I was more sober, maybe I’d be thinking about it—about him—less—but this night out has had me so drunk I was maybe even hallucinating at some point. Rust?—sure, he’s been in the back of my mind for some part of the last few months – I have to see him most days I go to work, don’t I? – but, sometime in the space between my third and fourth shot of straight vodka, he was suddenly at the very front of it. I’d seen a guy who smoked like him: cigarette pinched between his thumb and forefinger, a simple, deep drag. I’d thought it was him, but then I realised his face was shrouded in the smoke that he’d exhaled, and I recalled that Rust never seems to do that. Never seems to exhale. All the tar and shit stays in.
With a twist of my keys, the engine rumbles off into more-or-less silence. Fuck, it’s a bad idea, yes, just being here. If he likes to keep his distance, well—he’s entitled to that choice.
I glance over my shoulder, out the window, out at the complex which is all yellow and shining, illuminated by buzzing halogen light bars and, of course, the occasional bug zapper. It’s clean enough. The lines of this parking space were white enough. Apartment 11A, said Marty. Second floor.
“Are you drunk?” he’d asked – Marty, not Rust.
I’d replied, “No,” pressing closer to the phone box in attempts to remove myself from the swarm and bustle of the ladies’ bathroom. And it was an honest reply. Sort of. Despite his scepticism, by that time, I’d long stopped drinking, and all that remained from it was a sort of numb tingle in my fingertips—as far as I was concerned.
I don’t think I’d be in this parking lot, stepping out of my car, if I wasn’t still a little bit gone.
Marty’s sigh had crackled through the receiver. “Don’t bring any o’ tha’ party-this-party-that attitude to ‘im, alright? He’ll hate it.” I’d told him okay, my stomach spiking up with excitement. “Fact is, I don’t think you should go at all. ‘f you do, should be a work matter. This a work matter, detective?”
I’d lied, said yes, perhaps with a slur to my voice.
He clicked his tongue. “Okay, buck, whatever you say.” Then, he’d hung up.
There was something disapproving in the manner of the conversation. I got the feeling that he was talking to me in the same voice he used to lecture his daughters. The only reason I’d called him was to get something from him, sure, so that I could basically get something from Rust, his partner. I could see how that sort of thing might’ve upset someone. Not that Marty Hart should have any right to judge, not when he’s coming into work in the same clothes as the day before, stinking of sweat and God knows what. The unsaid agreement of everyone in the office is to turn a blind eye. I’ve met his wife. Someone should cut off his damn dick.
Quiet, now. Hell, who am I to talk? Marty’s fun to chat with, makes a slow day at the office a little brighter. ‘Course, there’s rarely a slow day at the office.
And I’m at the top of the stairs, now. And I knock—one, two, three—on the pilling, forest-green door. Dulled down 11A. Blinds are determinedly shut, slats flat. For a second, I think maybe I’ll be waking him.
Then I remember Rust doesn’t sleep.
A grey face appears as the door swings just a little ways open, grave and sunken-tired. His expression isn’t so pissed-off as it is just his usual expression.
“Rusty,” I say to him with a small nod, words scraping out dryly.
He doesn’t respond right away – ‘stead, he leans his body out partway, eyes absent like he’s searching for some hooligan criminal in the night.
“Marty told you my address?” he asks lowly. It’s more a statement than anything, but I amuse him with a nod anyways. There’s a cigarette flaring up between his fingers. His hand twitches a little like he’s wanting to take a drag, but his eyes are fixed on my shoes, now, like he’s still coming to terms with the fact I’m a foreign body in his domain.
My toes curl up tight in my shoes – there’s that prick of anticipation again. Ice-cold, you could easily mistake it as dread.
Rust doesn’t exactly subject me to an imploring look—not really his style—but he bows his head down just slightly – that’s sign enough for me. He wants to know why I’m here, and he no doubt wants to know the quickest way to be rid of me.
I sigh. I ask him.
My body trembles, and he notices it, records it, stores it away for later reference, for some other time he’ll find that it and me will contribute to his purpose.
Rust has a face of stone. I get to know it well as I search for a sign there that might let me know what lies beneath. But, of course, a statue is solid through and through. Sharp angles and smooth planes carved hollow. If he’s cold to the touch, I’d like to reach out and be sure. Is he cold where a man ought to be warm? Christ, it makes my pulse jump just to think about it.
There is no greater purpose or cruel intention underlying my words, as far as I’m concerned. Rust, however, lingers there, with his arm up on the door, barricading the entrance, while he peels back and flits over every layer of possible meaning, his attention fixed absently on my left ear.
He then looks at me—briefly—in the eyes, with a sort of paralysing intensity. Even the tingling in my fingers ceases to be.
It takes a moment, pregnant with the chorus of cicadas, crickets and other night-creatures, before he steps back neatly to allow me in.
The door clicks softly behind me as I enter into a room that’s bare as bare can be.
Rust grunts, coming up around me and into the kitchen area. “Want anything?” he mumbles around his cigarette, other hand shoved in his pocket. He’s still half-dressed in his work clothes, his tie strewn on the counter, his blazer slumped over a rickety picnic chair perched up in front of a wall of crime scenes and dead bodies. My eyes linger there—how can they not?
“A beer,” I tell him, still looking at those photographs, then at the stacks upon stacks of books. Philosophy, ethics, religion. Names I’d expect only those with PhDs to know.
“Don’t think you’ve had ‘nuff to drink already?”
I shoot him a look. “I think I can handle it, Rust.” He straightens up, raises his brow. I snort, reasoning, “I’ll only have one.”
“One,” he agrees, opening up the fridge and having a rummage around.
White walls and all of them empty, like some sort of psych ward. Half-sure Rust actually did do some time in that type of care, though, so—shouldn’t make any quips about that. I don’t want him thinking I think he’s crazy – he gets enough of that, I’m sure.
Back at my place, though, I’ve got posters or drawings or paintings up around every corner. My niece’s drawing of a mermaid sits on my dresser, and photographs of my family are displayed in the hallway. One up by the TV, I painted myself when I was in high school. About two years after I graduated, they asked if I wanted my portfolio back, and I’d obviously said yes. And I love my stuff! Some ‘cause it’s pretty, others because of memories and whatnot. Guess some people don’t have that creative trait, or they lose it. Or maybe they detest the sentiments, those strings that have been, are and will be attached to things. When my cousin broke up with her boyfriend, she cut her hair and burned his clothes. “I just want to forget him,” she’d snarled. I’d sputtered a laugh into my tea.
Rust plants a Corona down on the counter, already cracked open.
There’s no mirror in here either – I can’t check whether I look as desperate as I feel. When I focus back on him, Rust is taking a swig from his own beer, turning to glance at the crucifix pinned above the messy mattress on the floor. Huh. Didn’t peg him as a Christian.
His honey-blond hair doesn’t look cold to the touch, that’s for sure ‘n’ certain. Wonder if he just wakes up like that or what. Once, Marty had been teasing him at work, even cracking a smile out of the old guy. “Ain’t them just the prettiest curls y’ever seen, buck?” he’d remarked, nudging into me, cooing at him. Silently, in my head, even then, I’d agreed: prettiest curls I’d ever seen. Rust hadn’t looked up to chart my reaction, but, if he had, he’d maybe have seen my fidgeting fingers or hitch of breath. Or maybe he felt it, heard it.
“Sorry to barge in on you like this,” I offer pathetically through a nervous smile.
He blinks, takes another swig, leaning over the counter that separates us. “No, y’aint.”
Jesus, I have to turn my head and shut my eyes for a second. I don’t particularly believe in God, but I ask Him to please give me the strength to resist my urges and act like a normal damn person for at least a few more minutes. And then I apologise for only praying out of convenience. In the face of temptation. This is why people shouldn’t drink – still, doesn’t stop me from downing a good part of my beer.
I turn to the wall and try to turn myself off a little bit. It’s not hard – Rust still has Dora Lange (rest her soul) pinned up on his wall, naked, blue, stiff. I don’t want to know why, so I don’t ask him.
His eyes are adamant on the side of my head. Funny how he never seems to look at me at the same time I’m looking at him. Pisses me off a lot of the time – not just him, but in general. A lot of people share this same fear of not being heard, not being listened to and not being cared about. Men in particular, I’ve noticed, have a tendency to raise their voice over others’, to yell or shout or hit things or push ‘n’ shove. Marty’s that way – a lot of men at the precinct are, too. Women who are raised to be the listeners sometimes act out in the same way, frustrated at all the things they have to care about that men don’t, burdened with manners and politeness. I used to hate having to listen, to wait for the man who interrupted me to finish speaking. Rust always lets people finish their point, for better and for worse. Pisses me off in a different type of way. I can feel his judgement seeping out of him, so potent that’s it’s tangible, lapping at my feet.
He doesn’t push and shove – he’s a listener, too. Of course, he has that male privilege where his silence has a gravity, a magnetic pull, where mine is simply as is. At least he pays attention. Sure, on the surface, it might look like he doesn’t care at all, hunched over a case file at his desk, back turned to me and the rest of the lot, but proximity has its power – assigned workspaces put with his personality, and he knows what’s like and unlike me better than my sister. He’s reading into my refusal to talk, to face him – unlike me.
“So, you’ve given this some thought, then,” Rust says matter-of-factly, and my tummy bubbles up.
I snicker nervously, heart racing. God, I’d expected surprise, disbelief, outright refusal, maybe even a little disgust, but, when I manage to turn around and look at his face again, it just seems to me like a calmness. Stoicism found in the affirmation, maybe, of his expectations. It’s like I’m walking right into one of those little theories of his: a proved hypothesis.
I take another sip from my beer, feeling too shy for my liking. “Well, yeah,” I drawl, slumping over the kitchen counter and propping my chin up to look right back at him in a surge of liquid confidence. “I always think ‘fore I do anything that’s anything, Rust.”
Almost immediately, he retreats, standing up straight and resting the small of his back against the lip of the sink behind him. He hums, glances away. “We both know that’s a lie,” he combats, hands tucked into his pockets, chin tilted up, eyes down. A mouthful of beer numbs the sting of rejection. “What you mean is you think you can justify all your decisions. You think you can justify why you knocked on my door and said what you said—” he elaborates quietly, eliciting a snort from me, “—but, at the end o’ the day, all your decisions boil down to what you feel is right, not what is right.”
“‘n' you think you ‘n’ you alone know what’s right?”
Slate-grey eyes flit up and down my face, like I’m a specimen on a slide.
“I think that the girl who’s stumbled up on a fella’s door asking him to fuck her is less inclined to know, without bias, what’s right, yes.”
I swallow thickly, sucking the remaining flavour of beer off of my tongue before going in for another swig.
Christ.
Not a single bat of his eyes. Not a quiver of his mouth, not a twitch to his nose, not a morsel of natural, human hesitation. Does he have to be so crass? I did the courtesy of making it palatable, at least to my own ears, with a euphemism. But when have I ever known Rust Cohle to water anything down? No drink I’ve ever consumed will match his body’s preference of alcohol content. He’s nursing his beer close to his chest, but who knows what poisons lay dormant in these cabinets?
“Rusty,” I say lowly, maybe asking for a break – I close my eyes for just a second, part because I couldn’t bear it if I caught some sort of disapproval on his face, and part because it’s just past two o’clock in the morning.
Late nights have consumed my life recently, what with that sicko rapist connected to a Christian fertility cult. Children of God – “go forth and multiply”. His confession had turned my blood cold. Johansson had offered to sit in the box instead, but I did it anyway. I went home and cried over it, then came into work the next day to talk to some press and then receive my new assignment.
He hums, taking a drag from his cigarette, swallowing the smoke down. Rust knows how it is. To be honest, I’m probably the one who doesn’t know the half of it. One night at the office, he’d casually confessed to his insomnia, like he was just commenting on the state of the weather ‘n’ nothin’ else. So, I guess I won’t pretend to get it.
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. “Are you into that whole abstinence thing?”
The weak light above flickers gently as he pauses, turns the question over in his mind. Anyone else would’ve surely laughed.
“I believe that man is susceptible to desire, yes—but he can resist it and its consequences should his willpower be stronger than the false promises posed by that temptation.
I snort again, because, now, I really am tipsy, and I can’t hold in my attitude any longer. It’s not that I think he’s lost it or whatever. It’s just—he’s so—objectively—absurd. Well—“objectively”. He’s got points, but those points lose all meaning in the spiralling darkness of overthought and deep contemplation wherein he’ll explain that everything really means nothing—and he’ll be right about that, sure, but also unintentionally prove a point about himself. I’d ask him what it means when, in a world where everything means nothing, a child will give their friend a flower found on the way to school, but I feel like his answer would be too morbid for my liking. Does that make me an unreliable source? The fact that I want to live?
He's absurd. He’s also a little bit awry in the head. Don’t know what he’s lost or what he’s lookin’ for, but it’s not a good look on him. He’s honest, yes – that’s a good trait. But honesty without kindness is cruelty. And he is kind – underneath, he’s kind, and I know that because of how hard he works to weed out evil people in this world, most times at his own risk. That’s kindness, albeit unconventional, whether he realises it or not.
The kindness almost cancels out his arrogance.
“So, what?” I challenge under the guise of a teasing grin. “You can go mouthin’ off for hours on end about how up themselves religious people and all’at are, but you can’t draw the similarities between their philosophy and your philosophy? How does that work, Rust?”
While I was working that Children of God nightmare of a case, he just couldn’t seem to restrain himself – every bullshit word that left him revealed to me his hubris. Now, I’m not angry, and he’s not stupid – we’re not arguing. In fact, he seems intrigued, lean body shifted toward me. He sets his beer down on the counter, crosses his arms over his chest after securing his cigarette between his lips, and lowers his head as if to listen to me better.
I sigh, continue. “D’you know what I think? I think you oversimplify humanity. You’re a great detective—‘nd I guess you know it—and, within the confines of your job, it serves you well, makes you good in the box. But your assumptions are too general. People are who they are, sure, but they also decide to be those people. By their environment and those who surround ‘em, people make the decisions that define ‘em. A lot of the time, their circumstances ain’t fair. People born into badness are trapped by the badness—either physically, or up in their heads—and they have a tough time escapin’ it.”
Rust inhales the smoke again, the only evidence of it happening being the soft whisp that curls away from his nose. I wonder to myself how his lungs are still standing.
“‘s that how you explain that—homicide case you’re workin’ on?” Three-year-old boy died of neglect, his siblings found locked in cabinets, one in a dog cage, by their mother and stepfather. Rust’s eyes flash silver. “Killer had a tough time?”
Asshole.
I narrow my eyes dangerously. “Don’t be mean, Rusty,” I scold, and he blinks in concession. “I think evil exists. I think it’s complicated. I think you summarise things that ought not to be summarised.”
He’s silent for a heartbeat. Then, his hand comes up to pinch away his cigarette, and he waves it in a small flourish, explaining, “When I say “people”, I mean society. Human culture.”
“Last I checked, Rust, you don’t know everybody on the planet. You don’t know their “culture”, or experiences.” That seems to shut him up. My eyes wander to his broad shoulders, trail along the meat of his arms beneath the cheap, polyester shirt that hugs close to the muscle, and they linger there like the quiet that settles between us.
He nods slowly, once. “Our decisions define us?”
I bob my head, unabashedly staring at the elegant column of his throat, his neck, and the stretch of tan skin that is settled beneath the white undershirt revealed by the first one, two, three buttons which have recently been undone.
He’s quieter when he asks me, “Well, how does this decision define you, then?” There’s nothing malicious about the way he says it, or even lustful – just a calm curiosity.
“Ain’t it obvious?” I grin again, laugh a little, blush hotly. “I’m horny!” I hide my face in my shoulder, trying to compose the hiccups of laughter in my stomach. “I’m sorry,” I snicker, wiping my palm over my brow, my eyes. “This probably isn’t very attractive to you.”
“You’re a very pretty girl,” he replies. He mutters my name solemnly, like we’re in a formal meeting or something.
I glance up, check whether he’ll offer me eye contact again, but he doesn’t – he’s staring at the wall, lost.
I scoff. “You’re a very pretty guy, Rust.”
God willing, none of the boys at the precinct will ever find out about this. If Marty lets it slip that I even asked for Rust’s address, then I’ll never hear the end of it. Worse, everyone’ll think I’m dead-gone over him. Guess I don’t really fit the standards expected of women around here: “wife”, or “whore”. Or “dead”. It’s hard enough to be taken seriously going about pretending I’m not interested in sex at all. Once sex comes into the equation, I’ll be reduced to that and nothing else.
Anxious, I start flicking up under my fingernails. Is Rust already starting to think those things, too? I’m a great detective, but that’s the only capacity in which he’s really known me.
I wring the neck of my bottle. “I should explain—”
He holds his hand up, stating, “I don’t need you to. Do you feel the need to?”
Curious, wary, I watch his face, a blank slate. Still waters run deep. My eyes drift down, to where his hands are together in front of him, one relaxed beside him the other curled around his wrist with two fingers resting on the pulse.
“No,” I reply.
“You thought it over,” he says, eyes tilting up at the ceiling, aloof, bored, maybe. His words are sort of monotone, like he’s reciting a passage from a book that he’s just recently read: “You chose me because you know me. You haven’t been sleeping well. You’re stressed, you’re scared, you’re frustrated.” He blinks. “You’re attracted to me due to some—unfortunate trigger beyond your control in the reptilian part of your brain.” Brief as the flicker of a candle in a still room, he looks over me, brow raised slightly as if daring me to tell him that he’s wrong. He pauses again, takes a short puff. “It makes you think I can take care o’ your needs.”
Look at the state of him: sallow and wilting on the inside. Reducing me down to a sentence or two, and being right about it.
“Well, can you?” I ask weakly, feeling small. He looks over me, blinks blankly. “How do you take care of your needs?” No reply. “You do have needs, don’t you?” I remark, tapping the rim of my bottle to my warm temple. “Programming ‘n’ whatnot.”
He tilts his head away in dismissal.
I smile, more to myself than to him. “Beat off in the shower, is it?”
For a second, Rust is still. My eyes grow heavy, admiring the strong profile of his nose. He then nods helplessly, like there’s no point in trying to lie.
I hum, a soft, self-satisfied smirk edging its way onto my face. “Must feel like a sin,” I snicker.
He squints slightly, like he disagrees with my logic, but does not interrupt to protest.
“I remember takin’ baths as a teenager and double-checkin’, triple-checkin’ I locked the door,” I confess. “Couldn’t take my time. ‘S that how it is for you, Rust?” I probe, tilting my head to the side, losing his eyes as quickly as I catch them. “You ever let yourself enjoy it? Let yourself want it—?”
“I don’t want it,” he snaps quietly.
“But your programmin’ says you do, right?” I point out, scrambling to hold onto the flaw in his argument. I search his face, my own bright, eager.
He quirks up a miraculous smile, and I myself burst into a wide grin. Still smiling—though, you’d have to admit, it’s such a strange sight, sort of gratifying, almost patronising—he shifts his weight between his feet, scratches at his nose with his pinkie, sniffs, takes a long drag of his dying cigarette. I know he must feel disjointed, though he doesn’t show it: he’s misstepped, and I’ve caught him. And how often does Rust Cohle misstep? I should’ve checked the news for a blue moon tonight.
Interested, now, is he? Breathing quietly, rolling his jaw – he’s entertaining the competition I have goin’ up in my head. From the looks of the gentle smirk on his face, he’s enjoying it, too.
“No,” he corrects with a dry husk to his voice. “No, I know what I want, and, when I think those things are necessary or useful, I know how to get them.”
In this type of context, I’d like to see him try. Though, he is an undeniably attractive man. Thick, solid all the way through, like a rich wood. But he’s got these brittle eyes: fraying.
He continues: “Most of the time, though, what we want is born out of dangerous feelings, like rage or lust. Ruminating on the consequences of those potential actions seems to me the more sensible thing to do than to just leave it and find out.” I sniff. “Desire is inescapable for most, including the sexual kind. I feel it—“ he eyes how I wriggle beneath my skin, “—you feel it. But it can be resisted. You’re lettin’ it dictate what you do ‘n’ say. If I do to you what you want me to, have you thought about how it might affect things down the line? Tomorrow, next week, next month—?”
“Yes,” I hiss, a little too emotionally, such that a gleam of satisfaction crosses his grey eyes at the strain and stretch of my voice. Christ. Desperate much?
I take several seconds to think before allowing myself to speak again, all while staring at him straight on and refusing to look away: I’d just die if I let him catch me out. “Well, how can you be sure of the fallout? How do you know the good won’t outweigh the bad? Not “you” specifically, but, also, yeah, “you” specifically. I can think about something morally ambiguous, and I can evaluate the potential consequences, and, just as you are satisfied to observe, I will decide to follow through with this somethin’ and deal with what I gotta deal.”
He sighs. “Because decisions define a person?”
I tuck my hair tight behind my ears. “Yes.”
And he hums – that beautiful noise resonates in my stomach before sinking down there, low, its weight a comfort. “I agree with you in that respect,” he admits.
A laugh erupts out of me like the sputter of an engine. Luckily, I’m easy to laughter – it’s like me, as is my genuine grin. “Rust Cohle’s agreein’ with me on somethin’?—Call the police!”
“We are the police,” he replies smartly, watching me snort and smile and grow flushed in the face. I feel very grateful to that beer – at least my giddiness can be blamed on the effects of alcohol and save me from embarrassment.
As I simmer down, he looks away, adds, “I agree to an extent. People all think that they’re one-of-a-kind. That they make these—amazing decisions. They speak and do and walk and play and work and fuck and eventually die – all of ‘em.”
“You’re part of the people,” I argue.
He hums, nodding in acceptance. “Yes.”
“If a person acts due to their instinct, whether it’s succumbing to it or fighting against it, then isn’t man simply his programming?” He lowers his head. “You can be aware of it, and you can be a part of it, too. Who are you to deny yourself the good parts?”
He fiddles with his cigarette, svelte fingers nimble and acute. I cross my legs, flex my hips; he notices.
“Because of the consequences,” he replies, a soft whisper.
I thought that everything meant fuck-all?
For someone who sees no meaning in life, he sure seems to spend a lot of time contemplating it. Here, I thought I’d have hot hands sliding all over me, gripping, spreading, pushing, but instead find myself defence in an unprecedented debate.
Rust is breathing slower, deeper, almost unable, now, to look me in the eyes, even look at me in general, whereas, before, it had been a choice, whether that choice be conscious or unconscious. His cigarette burns weakly in his fingers, forgotten. The muscle in his jaw flexes, his expression hollow.
My body buzzes with want, leaves me scrambling for breath like I’ve just run a race. I want. I want, I want, I want. The rough pads of his fingertips, the surest and most confident I’ll have ever known. Sharp tongue, quick and precise. Something about how he smells. All my compliments to pheromones – even in the heavy musk of the bar, I’d smelled him, ashy, warm, alive, and now it’s wreathing all around. Or maybe that’s just me – it’s like when you try to take someone’s pulse with your thumb, and all you’re feeling is your own heartbeat.
I want – my breath trembles with it.
“Rust,” I say softly. He shakes his head a little, looking away still, vulnerable like a wild animal. I sigh, gnawing at my lip. “I really want it. I—I’ve—it’s not just a rash decision,” I explain. “I’ve wanted it for a while, now.”
He shudders – I notice. “Since when?”
I huff out a sheepish laugh, fix my eyes on my restless hands. “You won’t remember it—”
“I will.”
His voice sounds clogged. It sobers me right up.
“A year back,” I tell him. “You were working at the office—late, in the dark. You called me, and I asked you why, and you said—it was because you were tired and thinkin’.” I glance up to check if he’s maybe looking, but he’s not – he’s turned his head even further away. The soft, gentle curls of his hair tempt me.
Blindly reaching for the bottle, securing it almost immediately, he finishes the rest of his beer, then sets it back down.
“I—” he begins, scratching his nose, “—I was—tired.” He pauses to re-thicken his voice. “And—thinking—”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, but the both of us know what he said that night: Of you. Thinking of you—of me .
My stomach flips, leaving me almost nauseous, just like it did when I first heard those words. At first, I thought I’d misheard, that I was so tired my mind was playing tricks on me. Then, I thought he was being cruel, or maybe he was drunk. Those two instances weren’t—aren’t—unlike him, but he never, ever calls to be mean or to be stupid. He’d been quiet and warm through the phone after that, a presence so thick I could’ve sworn he had his arms around me right then. I hadn’t slept well for a time, then, of course, and that made it all the more vivid. His voice had made me shiver all the way through as he told me he had to get back to work.
When I saw him the next morning, I couldn’t look at him. It was the first time I couldn’t, not wouldn’t. It was also the first time I felt him paying attention to me.
I shift, ask the question I’d wondered since that call: “Why?”
A pause.
Then: “You brought me coffee that morning,” he explains softly, speaking to the wall opposite. “I was—looking at the mug on my desk – it was yours. Green one you like to use.” He sniffs. “And…” He teeters on the precipice of that word but does not finish the thought.
Hmm. That’s something to think about. Rust Cohle thinking about me and not picking apart why and why he shouldn’t be. It had been a mindless enough gesture – it’s not unheard of me to be makin’ coffee for other people in the office, not because I have to but because I like to. For the people I can stand, that is: Johansson always, and him for me; Cathleen; Marty, when I’m not pissed off at him; and Rust, from time to time. Everybody knows that green mug is mine, though – nobody touches it, not even the boss. Rust reads far too much into things. Most of the time, he’s dead-on. I should’ve known from the moment I placed that coffee on his desk, from the sharpening of his eyes (that did not spare me a glance) that lingered on my lingering hand on his table, that he knew. Figured out something I hadn’t even quite figured out myself. Not until later that night.
I wonder if he’s ever thought of me when fucking his own hand. I wonder if he thinks about me sometimes, when he can’t sleep, in between horror stories and brutal blows and uncovering the secret truths of the universe. I do, sometimes.
When I push myself back to my feet, stand up, Rust’s attention springs back, and he watches me, looks at me.
Quietly, I relish in the satisfaction of his stare, crossing on light feet to toss my empty beer bottle in the bin. He steps aside to let me open the cupboard under the sink, his hand curled in a loose fist by his side. I’m not trying to tease him – I grant him the space he so clearly needs, retreating about five paces back, leaning slightly myself against the counter.
I could say anything right now, no matter how insane, and he’d treat it with total and utter respect. I could reveal to him the reaction my body has to seeing his fingers fiddle like that with his cigarette, and he’d manage to identify the cogs and wheels in what, when you step back, actually turns out to be a hidden machine. Christ, I could probably remove all of my clothes, stand naked in front of him, and he’d look on as one would look on at a piece of evidence at work. Going over the details, once, twice, scribbling it all down in that big, leather ledger.
Here’s what I think: he needs it. For all his talk about how unoriginal, how predictable mammals are at the end of things, he probably knows that himself. The tension in his jaw, the perpetual tightness of breath. That clipped way of talking he has, wound so tight around himself, like a compressed spring fighting its natural urge to let go.
I could make him let go. Maybe. I wish he’d let me try. It’s nothing possessive, really: wanting to be the one to unravel his tightly coiled body. Just—the release of seeing him be. No thinking in particular – just being.
He is still, however, uncommonly mute, avoiding my eyes.
I sigh. I ask him tentatively, “You think I ought’a be ashamed o’ myself?” biting down on the fleshy inside of my cheek.
“No,” he contradicts.
“But—you think I should be findin’ my fun elsewhere, with—some other guy?”
He sort of pins his hands behind his back, pressing his weight against them there at the edge of the sink. He looks a lot taller from this angle. “I think there’s a lotta fellas stumblin’ over themselves to be with a girl like you.”
“Maybe,” I scoff, “but my reptilian brain don’t want none of ‘em.“ I blush warmly when I glance up and he’s there watching me, though there’s no bashfulness at all on his side of it.
I expect him to maybe dart his eyes away again, like he does, and then walk me to the door, maybe even to the car if I haven’t offended him too badly, and then call it a night. I could stuff it in; I can compartmentalise. Monday would carry on as it always does, except now without the wondering and the yearning and the delusion. Did he have to be so good-looking? His cheap, wrinkled shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows—like they are now—and those lean forearms braced up on the table, caging in the neatly set-out notes scrawled up in his ledger, like they have mind to escape. And he’s—beautiful. He’s tall. Out-of-place sort of tall, where he has this bend to his neck, sometimes, as to not draw attention to himself. Other times, though, he stands to full height, regal, elegant, authoritative, like when he comes out o’ the box.
He sees into people. He feels it all so deeply.
And he’s looking at me, seeing into me, deeply. His eyes are brittle like china pieced back together with store-bought glue. The low light casts long shadows down his neck and harsh face.
“Come here to me, Rust,” I say to him, beckoning him over with a tilt of my head. To my surprise, he does. He does immediately, peeling himself off the counter, eyes drifting somewhere just behind me as if disinterested.
He stubs his cigarette out on an old plate, abandons it there officially, before stepping slowly towards me, feet never dragging, dodging my searching eyes like the plague.
Hmm. Maybe I made a good argument “for” to his “against”. Or maybe he was never “against” to begin with. I’ll watch him carefully tomorrow and see if there was anything I missed.
I reach up and touch his face gently. I used to do this with my husband before he passed, and he’d close his eyes and whisper my name and lean into the touch, tender, loving – my fingers shake slightly with the memory. Rust Cohle does none of that, because he is nothing like my husband. He’s perfectly rigid against my fingertips; his stare flits briefly up right into my soul, his mouth pressed in a hard line. Everything about him is so sharp. The ridge of his cheekbones, the defiant slant of his nose. The lean muscle of his arms and shoulders, slightly sinewy just beneath the skin.
But when I brush my thumbs up along his eyebrows, easing the sharp line between them, he sighs and closes his eyes, neck bowing down, still as stiff as before, just—different. A small gap, an opening, to that locked room of his upstairs.
“Rust,” I whisper, nose brushing his. He hums again, lowly, eyes shut. “What do you think of us havin’ sex?”
“Sex,“ he replies softly, “is the illusion of connection constituted by the release of a mess of happy hormones, simply by touching all the right places—and nothin’ more.”
I hum and watch the look on his face grow brittle as our breaths mingle closely. God, he’s so near to me that my head swings in a bout of lightheadedness, heady, vision centring in on him and only him, such that I wouldn’t know if this place was burning down all around, even if the flames started eating us alive.
“I think you’re full o’ shit, Rusty. Know how I know that?”
He sighs shakily. “How?” It’s like the word is dragged right from the pit of his chest, barely a breath to show for the effort of it.
“I can feel you against my leg.”
He swallows thickly, but he does not blush, and he does not open his eyes. And, contrary to what he might seem, Rust is not cold like stone. When my fingers grow more confident, when they trace and drag lightly along the line of his cheeks, he is warm there. His pulse, when I find it, exists and is hot and slightly erratic, a fact that leaves my mouth dry and open. I can feel the inflexion of his throat as he swallows again, the shift of the skin and the rhythm of his heartbeat, the gentle influence of his breathing.
I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. So, I ask him, “Can I kiss you?” ever so gently.
Softer still, he replies, “Yes,” with that slight Southern whistle of his, barely moving.
Give me strength. Give me strength.
That look on his face is filling me with a delicious, vibrating power. As I stretch my neck up to brush a kiss against the corner of his mouth, my eyes are open and watching him, charting him: Rust breathes strongly out of his nose, eyes still determinedly shut, like he’s absent and meditating. He is not tough as stone – parts of him are soft. He barely returns the kiss, but, as far as my brain processes, his lips are soft. Hesitant, maybe.
Then, these soft lips part, and he is sucking in a hot, shuddering breath, capturing me in a deep kiss, as if to breathe all of me in, a strong hand threading through my hair. It hurts a little at first – a small noise escapes my throat at the slight shoots of pain tugging at the roots – but Rust doesn’t seem to notice. Not at first. No, he’s still breathing me in. His lips are dry, rough, a push and tug, a twist, and he’s kissing like a punch, knocking the breath right out of my lungs. Whatever oxygen I manage to hold onto is sucked out of me promptly.
I whine, my body going all slack and tired as he smooths the hair out of my face, palms dragging clean back across my cheeks. Those hands cradle the back of my head, making it impossible to keep my eyes open.
Content, I sigh, eyes succumbing to the sensation and falling shut. The last thing I see is his own eyes slipping open to look at my face.
Boy, he’s a good kisser. Must be that lizard brain he has such a distaste for.
My fingers blindly reach and fumble at his belt, hooking into the waist, pulling him flush against me. Rust must forget what he’s doing for a moment, and he pauses where he is, in limbo, eyes far away. When I begin to unthread his belt from its quietly clinking buckle, he goes stiff again, blinks rapidly before perceiving me.
Holy shit, he’s gorgeous.
His hands hover over my shoulders, not quite committed to the contact.
He’s seeing me—really seeing me—as I unzip his trousers and spit crudely into my palm and curl around the length of him, warm, tight. I begin to understand the gentle throb and strain he feels, a delightful thrill running rapid all through my insides. He feels deliciously alive.
But then he turns his head away, neck straining up, breath choked back in his throat. His hands come away, raised, it looks like, as if trying to seem non-confrontational, trying to come away unscathed from a bad situation.
My stomach burns with desire. “Let yourself like it, Rust,” I mumble against his cheek. “Are you here with me?”
I can feel him swallow.
“Yes,” he responds. I guide his face to me, stroking his cock confidently once, twice, as encouragement, maybe. Temptation. Whatever you want to call it. My mouth waters, my head goes airy, when I feel his sex twitch in my embrace.
“Kiss me again, then.”
And he does. Brows furrowed as if in pain, he does, with the tip of his nose dragging and pressing into my cheek. He kisses me sweetly once, then again, and then pants down hotly into my mouth, hovering there before sliding his tongue deep inside, close, smooth.
I let myself love it. I let myself let go with every kiss he blesses me with, growing looser and easier and lighter each second.
The weight of him in my hand inspires a beautiful urge to have him lay down and let me feel every part of his body. Even though his hips stutter, he doesn’t buck up into my fist, doesn’t whine, doesn’t moan, doesn’t curse. Not yet. He just breathes and breathes, and kisses me and kisses me, like it’s all he was set on Earth to do. All he’s allowing himself to do.
Desperate, perhaps, my thighs are pressed against his, feeling unnaturally weak and warm. The throb between my legs coincides with my heart rushing in my ears, a steady ache, impatient. Part of me wants to drag this out as long as possible, because what if this never happens again?—and another part wants to push him inside me already, have him fill me up, fuck me stupid.
This thought stuffs me up to the brim, like cotton punched down into a pillowcase. I whine shallowly and try to slot his thigh between my own.
A switch in his brain must flick on.
It’s like he’s inside my head, like he’s in on my desperation, like he can see and feel every sinful image and thought circulating my alighted brain. He knows it all so well, such that he uses his hips to press us firmly against the counter, spreads my legs with the nudge of his foot between mine, and immediately pushes the rough pads of his fingers right where I need it, through the fabric of my skirt, letting me grind myself against him, hips and all. He circles there generously. I can feel my need dripping from me. He can too, no doubt.
I sigh, he breathes. I gasp, he breathes. My eyes flutter open and shut, but he looks on, eyes half-lidded but stare immovable.
He then lifts his knee to place against my cunt.
“That feels good, don’t it?” he says gently, rocking me over his knee up and down, back and forth, fingers digging into the soft skin of my hips.
My legs widen. When I gasp out weakly, he raises his brow and scans my face, like he had predicted the shaky, wordless nod that I offer to him too late in return.
“Did you want it like this, girl?” His voice is low, intimate, a hit of something just shy of addictive. “Or did you want somethin’ else, too?”
He kisses the hollow of my neck.
His other hand grips at my ass, up my skirt, kneading the flesh there, manipulating it, and his fingers ghost my slit, spreading me around his knee. He fucks up into my hand. I slide my fingers through his hair, which is soft and warm like butter.
Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupid, pretty curls. I’ve proved my point: regardless of whatever act he may try to put on afterwards, we’ll both know that Rust isn’t as numb as he wants to be, that I made him feel good, that I made him want me, and that he’s hot-blooded and thrumming with life. I can feel how alive he is . I hope he thinks of this again some time, whether by himself or surrounded by people. I hope it drives him a bit mad, remembering this.
A hot, sharp breath fans out across my cheek, his mouth slotting back over mine, open, daring me.
I rut against his knee, my fingers teasing the wet head of his cock. I look down between us, at my hand on him, with half a mind to drop onto my knees and make him cum down my throat.
Rust lets out a grunt and swallows hard again.
Then, he gently grabs my wrist and pulls my hand out of his pants, leaving me dazed and confused. With nimble fingers, he unzips my skirt, pushing it over my hips and dragging his hands over my bare skin. He asks me, “You want the bed?”
I step out of the pool of fabric around my feet, slide my shoes off. “‘s not a bed.”
I slide my fingers beneath his sweaty, white undershirt, feeling the taut muscle there, feeling the steady breaths that contradict his racing pulse. He holds my eyes, dipping slightly when I dip, tilting when I tilt. “Seems like one to me.”
How unlike him.
A smile spreads over my face, and his pupils blow wide, dark, imploring. “You wait ‘n’ see what happens when the dust-mites turn up.”
His eyes on me alone are enough to leave me breathless, chest caving in on itself. Of course, when he kisses me softly, it only makes things worse – his long fingers curl around the base of my throat, watching me watching him, and his other hand slides up under the hem of my blouse, palm spread over my bellybutton.
I sigh, try not to squirm.
“You want the bed?” he repeats, heavy, rough. I bite back a needy whine that sits at the back of my mouth. His fingertips press down slightly into my pulse, tightening my breathing.
I nod. “Yeah.��
Think of all the times I’ve sulked over his lack of eye contact with me. Was I annoying? Uninteresting? That, obviously, was an immature way of looking at things, definitely not improved by my distinct femininity undergoing some kind of unspoken disapproval by most I met on the job. This is the most present he has ever been in a moment with me around.
As he pulls himself away, steps back, his eyes are darting over my face, less like he’s judging me and more like he’s trying to find and memorise every detail. I do that, sometimes: if I pay well enough attention, it feels like I’m re-living the moment when remembering.
His hands slot sensibly into his pockets as if his cock isn’t blushing and poking out of his fly right now, belt undone, hanging low about his narrow hips.
Legs don’t fail me now. I slink out of the glowing kitchen and carry on to where the mattress lies in a dim, blue corner, the strange crucifix watching over, a long shadow cast over the empty wall upon which it hangs. He follows shortly behind me, his warmth radiating out onto my back.
I pause and look out onto the darkness revealed behind the half-open slats of the floor-to-ceiling blinds that shield the room from the window to the outside world.
Rust’s presence is intoxicating behind me. He smells like cigarette smoke, still, enticing. I’m trying to quit, but he makes it damn hard. His nose is just shy of my hair, his body so close to enveloping me into him – the prospect of it makes me shiver in delight. I must hallucinate his fingertips along my spine.
I unbutton my blouse with slow fingers, then slide it off and undo my bra.
His breathing is level and grounding by my ear as he comes close, sliding his strong, wide hand up my stomach, along my ribs, and cups under my soft breast. He rubs over my nipple in gentle circles before squeezing over me warmly. He then comes around to pinch the creamy tissue gentle between his fingers and thumb, closing his hot mouth over, drawing along his feverish tongue. I sigh, stroke his hair, let him press soft pecks and kisses to the curve of the soft flesh and to my sternum.
My fingers, cupped around the nape of his neck, dip under the collar, cool. This touch, for some reason, causes him to make some sort of breathless, pathetic noise against me. His eyes are half-shut.
“Anything else philosophical y’wanna get out before we fuck?” I quip smartly (though, not feeling so smart altogether), hand placed innocently on his hip.
He lifts his head, removes his hands from my body – he looks so tragically beautiful in this light. “You want me inside you?” he asks genuinely, seemingly aloof to the fact I’m naked in front of him, open and wanton and pressing my thighs together, his eyes never drifting from mine.
“What do you want, Rust?” I whisper.
He seems to really think about it – he’s always thinking. Briefly, his eyes flit down to my mouth. Then, he looks away, scratches at his forehead.
After a moment longer, he swallows thickly and tips his head down over to the bed, tells me, “Lie down on the mattress,” in a gentle, decisive tone. He’s so soft-spoken – it makes my toes curl.
I do as told, transfixed by the dark shadow in his eyes, and sink down to sit and then recline back on his coarse mattress, coarse bedsheets, with my weight on my forearms and chin tilted up towards him. He watches me, tucking his thick cock back into his underwear.
Still fully dressed in his work attire, he takes a step forward, looming over me, powerful, assertive. Saliva pools in my mouth—again—as I play with the thought of him sitting heavy on my tongue with his stomach tight, shaking, hands in my hair, fucking down my throat. I would let him. Hell, I’d probably let him do anything he wanted to me at this point.
Does he know that? Maybe. I don’t know.
As he reaches his hand out too smooth the hair out of my face, I try to figure it out, but I can’t – he seems too wrapped up in his own desire to be thinking anything at the moment. I feel a flicker of satisfaction jump up in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe that’s something else.
“Lie back, girl,” he tells me.
My cunt flexes.
I thump onto my back, breathless. “Take off your shirt, Rust.”
Without replying, he sinks down to his knees in front of me, my thighs. Instinctively, I prop myself up and watch him unbutton that wrinkled shirt all the way down, shrug it over his broad shoulders. I could fuck myself silly just over the thought of those shoulders, I remark inwardly. He tugs the wifebeater over his head, lean muscles catching the low light, strong, study, solid, and tosses the thing to the side thoughtlessly. My hands reach out to touch him, to feel him and know him. When my fingers press into his skin, glide up his neck and down over his chest, he sighs deeply. He then carefully removes my hands, urging me to sprawl down under him.
“Said lie back, didn’t I?”
Rust doesn’t say another word before placing his large hands on my knees and easing them apart, lowering himself to press pecks and slow, open-mouthed kisses to my thighs, closer, closer, stroking my sensitive skin gently. I almost flinch at his every touch, like it burns. His face is awful serious, like he’s concentrating. I wriggle in anticipation, eager.
“Rust,” I whisper purposelessly. He looks up, hums, searches my face for anything the matter.
I watch on desperately, on the brink of feral distress. A sob clogs my throat as he kisses my fluttering stomach, ducking his head down and curling his forearms, his hands, around my thighs. The dark stamp of his bone-bird tattoo curls over his arm. I realise he is waiting for my attention to return to him, his eyes patient but glazed over with something cardinal. Hungry.
“Can—?”
“Yes.”
He hums. And then he breathes hotly over my underwear before pressing his nose right there into the damp fabric, inhaling my scent there. I whimper at the pressure he applies with the strong bridge of his nose, at the wetness of his open mouth against me. He breathes heavily into me, groaning slightly beneath it all – I can’t tell past the thrumming of my heart in my ears.
“Rust,” I whisper again, my shoulder straining with the task of keeping me up and looking down at the sight of his sweet head buried between my glistening thighs.
“Lie back.”
He kisses me through my underwear, dutifully kneading the flesh of my hips, my inner thighs.
I thump back against the mattress, helpless, keening into his touch as this grey man roughly tugs my underwear down, down, all the way down, until they’re clean off my body, long gone, and then returns his nose to the cleft of my pussy, unseaming me with his tongue, opening me up, breathing me in. It’s enough to draw a shallow, hoarse cry from me. He doesn’t say anything, and I can’t say anything, biting down on my white knuckles.
Rust licks warm over my clit, sucking gently on the bud of nerves (then not so gently), before sliding down, down through my very centre.
Whining breathily, the twist in my stomach tightens and spasms as he presses my hips and thighs right down against the mattress, slow, strong, giving me time to notice it, realise it, give into it, deny the natural instinct to curl my limbs tight all over his face, his neck, his mouth.
Holy fuck. Rust Cohle has his face buried between my legs right now. I have Rust Cohle’s tongue pushing deep into my cunt – he sighs softly, a sound with its own powerful gravity a black hole to envelop me in, and grinds his hips against the edge of the mattress for a split second, just once. My mind pulses with the thought of making him cum. I wonder if he feels the same hunger.
Then, he’s sinking his long, elegant fingers into me, one, then two, and just the knowledge that those fingers belong to him makes my thighs quiver and shake, makes me sigh again. Thick, confident, they curl inside, slow like an experiment, right up to the knuckle. When he taps up against me, when I squeal and crimp up into his hold, he returns himself to mouth dutifully over my clit. My hand threads itself into his hair, holding him steady – I offer a breathless moan when his grip across my hips loosen, an invitation to begin rolling myself up over his pretty face. He pulls his fingers out of me, wet and hot, and encourages my thighs upon his beautiful shoulders, clinging onto them urgently. He shudders a little, I think, when I lock them firmly around his head and grind myself shamelessly against his mouth, his nose. He moves his jaw, his face, in tandem.
I cum after a while like that, because how can I not? The searing buzz reaches a roiling static.
I go loose, moaning softly, melted down flat, and stroke fuzzy fingers through Rust’s pretty hair as he sucks my clit still, as he inhales again and sighs again, reduced to something primitive and needy.
Thick, my heartbeat throbs and echoes like a drum in my skull, threatening. I feel so full that I could mistake the beat of pleasure for nausea pressing in my throat. It was silly to think that this could all be satisfied just from one time. My eyes closed, Rust’s light touch over my abdomen, up to my throat, is acute and heightened, like a million tiny, individual sparks. His fingers fumble over my jaw, then press lightly over my pulse.
He retreats just as I’m playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, coming to stand to full height above me, unthreading his belt from his trousers with quiet, precise hands. I press my shaking thighs together, watching him breathe strongly through his nose, trying to remain somewhat respectable in the presence of the darkening look in his eyes that is locked down on my body.
He pauses, wipes some shine from his nose. Before he can continue with whatever, I find myself sitting up on my knees, grabbing his hips hard enough to bruise all pretty and purple, shoving the trousers down to his knees, and palming him through his boxers.
We don’t have to say anything. He just watches me passively, pushing my hair back again, behind my ears, my shoulders, rolling my earlobe softly between his fingertips.
I remove his underwear, take him into my mouth, thick and long and wanting; he sighs, holds my head with two steady hands.
When was the last time someone helped him like this? I honestly couldn’t have told you, even given a loose theory, prior to this moment: Rust is simultaneously the hottest and most non-sexual being I’ve ever come across in my life. He just happens to be beautiful; he just happens to inspire these sort of feelings choking up inside me. No overarching intention that he’ll ever admit to, no vanity, no preening. So strict to himself, so tight, like a piston, something that fights and pushes and hurts.
So, as I hold him firmly and suck at the head of his blushing cock, kissing him, I watch his face, savour the tart taste of him, and press my thighs together: he’s becoming warmer, looser.
Still, as much as I want him, I know he’s wanted me. However vague he tells it, he’s wanted me. Good Lord, he looks even more stressed now, somehow, than when we had just been talkin’. Hands gently cradling my skull, he tilts his head away, watches the cross on the wall, as he succumbs to it, maybe, and begins to gently, languidly fuck my face. I tuck a hand between my thighs, and I love him, my other with the fingers digging into his hip, his ass. If I’m lucky, maybe it’ll leave some sort of mark, just to remind him I was here, so that, when he’s being all indifferent again, with his eyes lowered to the floor as he shares a report with me at my prim, little desk, we’ll both know that we were once in this room together, here like this.
Rust breathes and breathes, almost mechanically, and slides his cock further into my mouth. The weight of him in there drives me half-insane. If I could consume him, envelop him, and we could be one and the same, I’d readily allow it. When he sinks deeper still down my throat, I sigh around him, rub myself the way I like.
His eyes are determinedly shut, like some part of him refuses to be here.
Before I can make him cum, he shakes his head and tugs my hair back a little bit, mumbling for me to stop and sit away.
For all his mouthiness just a half hour ago, would you look at him now?—Rust Cohle, plundered by the human sensation of speechlessness. I’ve never seen him out of his element before. When he comes down and cages me with his body, hot skin flush against hot skin, I don’t mean that in a bad sense. Shit, he’s far from it. But there’s nothing to say. Nothing of note, nothing to pick apart, no deeper meaning, no theory. Just an itch that has to be scratched. He wants, he is, and it’s heaven to see.
In the dark, he sinks in to me as he is, eliciting from me a soft moan that curls over the shell of his ear. I have to bite down on his shoulder when comes the push, the stretch, the sink, the comfort of him inside. I curl my legs around his waist and grab at his ass, willing him deeper still. He shudders silently over me, thick ripples of pleasure rolling through his lean body.
I curse, but I’m sure it barely registers with him.
His head lifts and his eyes clamp shut as he braces an arm against the wall, lifting one of my legs up over his hip and fucking into me deeper, slipping out and in, and again, and again. I know what I’d see if I took a look down, saw his cock pumping into me, but I can hardly do anything but buck my hips up to meet his effort, my stomach stuttering with that building pressure, hands gripping desperately around his neck and shoulders.
Though, I’m not even sure it is effort that’s driving him.
I mumble into his shoulder, dumb, focussing on the feel and press of him in my belly. I doubt he’s really aware of anything more than the sensation of it, evident from the small grunt that passes his lips as he fucks deep in me. His stomach presses heavier down onto mine, crushing a delicious pressure there, teasing out a long, breathy whimper. He snakes an arm around my hips, pushes his free hand to the back of my knee, tilting my legs back a little more, and then pulls me wider. Tight, he moves me how he wants me, my flesh dipping and carving, fucking himself raw with me, with my hot cunt. His mouth moves over mine, not kissing me, not speaking, just there, present, hot, panting. He doesn’t open his eyes, so I close mine, and I breathe.
Rust stutters and cums and spills over into me with a grunt. He pants sharply, harshly, rhythmically into my mouth, tense again, and then he collapses over my body, and he lays there. I lay there too, burning on the far inside.
I think he only really remembers I’m there when I shift under him.
His eyelashes brush against my cheek. “Sorry,” he murmurs, but the sound of his voice scrapes directly against my brain with the shock of a flesh-wound.
I assume he’s referring to the thick cum that I can feel leaking out of me now. He shifts his hips, adjusting himself in the grip of my cunt. My fingers wrap around his arms, squeeze as I feel him easing out.
“It’s okay,” I reply.
He glances down between us and guides himself out with a lewd noise, swallowing hard. I shiver.
Quiet, sedated, he shrugs his trousers, his underwear, off of his ankles, slipping the bedsheet over both our naked selves. His hand spreads and flattens warm over my abdomen, feeling the gentle swell and sink of the breaths I take and release.
#true detective#rust cohle#marty hart#rust cohle x reader#rust cohle x reader smut#okay cool this is a bit niche hope you liked it#this show made me question my life's purpose#the first season at least#thanks matthew mcconaughey#anybody else here like Fiona apple or what
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Could you do headcannons where they shower/bath together but it's fluff??
Fluffy? Bathing fluffy? With THEM? Goodluck, but it sounds fun enough to write🥰 you didnt mension what slashers should I put in so imma go with who I think would fit in this headcanons
They/them, mostly sfs, Request open
Bathing with slashers headcanons
Vincent Sinclair
Will get flustered 100% but he won't even think about doing anything sexual
He will be soo anxious he will ask about everything! 'Is it okay if he touches s/o hair, can he massage them??? Can he go near them'
If s/o washes his hair or massages him he will probably fall asleep
Tbh s/o needs to gain a lot of trust if he even lets them enter bathroom when he is without mask. So don't even stare at his face for too long he will get insecure
Billy Lenz
Surprised hes in bath with somone and its fluffy? Me too
But imagine
This guy will forgor about all his nasty thoughts as soon as he sees bubbles in bath, or bath bombs or any kind of water decoration
He will check is water tastes difrenlty after bath bomb
Will ask nicley for second and third bathbomb
Will splash them and declare bath war
Litteraly hes going to lay on top of them and relax
Also if they wash his hair he will hiss
Spooked of loud shower noises
Brahms Heelshire
Oh a bath? With them? Oh my how splendid
Wanna remind yall that Brahms is british
Hes gonna be all nice 🥰 if s/o promises him reward afterwards of course
He gonna look like wet dog, and he will stare into their soul
He will literally toss them into bathtub tbh. Why he has to be only one feeling like cat in puddle
Will splash playfully. And look where he shouldn't look at
This devil loves laying in chilly water😔
Also it sounds weird but pls help him shave he never did that and he looks bab
Asa Emory
Goodluck this guy bathes in water that hot theres steam around bathtub
Maybe he's just burning his skin on purpose?? Incase there was anybugs on him?? Or maybe he just likes feeling of his homeland, hell
He falls asleep in there, no matter if s/o is there or nah
But he will cuddle, ah wet cuddles yay. Tbh its rare for him to cuddle so ig he just needs hot atmosphere (litteraly)
Some bugs only mate in hot weathers anyway
Will take good care of them. Wash their hair, take out all creams and gels they use in their normal skin routine.
Jason Voorhees
You either have to have huge bathtub or lay on him for whole proces
He gonna be so nervous, he doesnt want them to get spooked by his face
Hes also terrified of water so s/o has to give him a lot of support and understanding so he can warm up to the idea of being in huge box filled with water
Will do lil splashy to cope
Water will be soso dirty afterwards, this guy was soso dirty he almost shines now
#slasher x reader#slasher headcanons#billy lenz#billy lenz x reader#brahms heelsire#brahms x reader#jason vorhees headcanon#jason vorhees imagine#jason voorhees#jason vorhees x reader#friday 13th#vincent sinclair x reader#vincent x reader#vincent sinclair#house of wax#asa emory#asa emory x reader#the collector x reader
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Hey can you do a legoshi x male lion reader dating hcs? Bug boy means everything to me fr 🤞
A/N: RaAAAHHHHH I LOVE LEGOSHI HE IS MY FAVORITE BOY, he is so silly!!!!! Im absolutely happy to do this request!!! Tysm!!!! Happy reading~!
Legoshi x Male! Lion reader dating hcs!
○ at First glance, Legoshi didnt like you, because well, youre a lion and he has had some terrible experiences regarding lion business
○ he was weary, especially with how you easily toward him despite being in the same year of school as him. Let alone, he didnt like it when you were near the more vulnerable students, he was afraid for their saftey. He knew what those teeth and claws could do.
○ though, when you were nice, especially towards the herbivores. Legoshi let off some of his worry, deciding to cut you some slack. After all, you were still a student after all. How could you have done anything bad, you weren't one of the lions who hurt him, or Haru. Maybe you werent actually a threat
○ though, when you ended up joining the drama class, he was shocked. That a big predator wanting to join acting stunned him, so did everyone! But, you managed to get along with everyone great! And the students started to warm up to you very quickly
○ and in time, you managed to actually talk to Legoshi, after him avoiding you for so long, you finally managed to crack out some conversation from him. You told him you understand his weariness, but reminded him that he couldnt always just judge a predator by his looks or past, shoving practically all his doubts up his ass
○ you manage to get Legoshi to talk to you more often! Yay!
○ he was, of course, his shy lil wolf self but you were destined to crack that shy shell and get him to talk to you more
○ which led you to getting help from Jack, who happily helped you out
○ now, you knew the secret, so, one day you brought Legoshi a free egg sandwich for breakfast and seeing how happy he got brightened your day for sure
○ so, you bringing him an egg sandwich got common, it was one of the ways you actually managed to get Legoshi to warm up to you and to actually talk to you! Win win!
○ eventually, you guys would day greetings in the halls, or after classes you meet up and talk to eachother! Legoshi obviously still afraid to share certain things, but you left it be, decided not to pry tell he was ready to tell you
○ legoshi was.. conflicted. You were a deadly preditor, that many animals feared, but you were so nice, so gentle.. unlike the other lions he had met before.
○ you kinda reminded him abit of himself, a gentle predator who wanted nothing more than to be validated and seen as sonething more than a carnivore, yet, you were alot bolder than he was
○ he started enjoying hanging out with you, even just looking forward to it, getting excited when you even gave him your number so you guys could keep in contact!
○ he started to go down a crisis, realizing how much he started liking the time with you, and how his mind would recall back to a moment where you two were touching, whether it be you patting his shoulder to comfoft him, or your swaying tail accidentally brushing past him, amd it made his tail start wagging furiously
○ jack noticed You and Legoshi hanging out alot more, and he absolutely teased the big wolfy about it
○ definitely went to Louis for advice, he was so embarrassed about it, but the deer caved in and helped him, it was kinda pathetic to see Legoshi so lost, almost worst than with Haru
○ Louis tried to persuade Legoshi to make the first move, but Legoshi, our lovely boio, was to nervous
○ so, you took matters in your own hands and invited him out to the city after school to go eat somewhere
○ Legoshi was extreamly nervous after this, especially during because he kept looking at you the whole time.
○ sweet mans wanted to hold your hand but was to anxious
○ You took his hand in his and he nearly choked on his food
○ after that, yall start dating, yippe!!!!!!
○ wolf man is absolutely smitten by you, hardly able to keeo his eyes off of you, especially during drama, which he gets yelled at for
○ Jack and the fog squad are his hype mans! Definitely hyping him up when you two of little dates like- "thats our wolf boy look at him go<333333"
○ Legoshi is to nervous to take initiative or to be the first to make any moves, so youre mainly the one who does them, like holding his habd or kissing his head?????
○ Flustered baby
○ he definitely asks you once and awhile to touch your main fur, which you happily oblige and he just melts at the softness
○ sometimes, Legoshi definitely needs Validation, he hardly gets any:((
○ So youre his supplier, making sure he knows that you care about him and love him and that he isnt a monster
○ soon, when he is comfortable, he will start coming to you if he has problems or just needs comfort
○ LET HIM TALK ABOUT BUGS P L E A S E
○ he will talk about bugs forever and you attempt to listen but youre to focused on how cute he is when he is excited (your ass is not listening!!!!)
○ i feel like if you pet him he would absolutely melt, like he starts shaking his leg like a dog and ITS ADORABLE
○ he is so touch starved, it took him forever to open up to it, but when he does he is clingy, only in private though, he would be to embarrassed if it was public
○ you two are the carnivore couple
○ what??? You think people dont notice how excited legoshi gets when you enter a room???? And the way you smile at him and come and sit by him?????
○ its so obvious hun
○ i like to imagine some people are just happy to see Legoshi in an actual healthy relationship, regardless if its with a big lion guy, hey atleast hes happy!!!
○ you need to take care of him, this poor man forgets that he has to take care of himself, so sometimes you have to force him to rest, drink water, or to eat
○ you lecture him while your probably petting him so he aint listening
○ he wants to get stronger for you to impress you and show you he is strong too!! Even though your basically the man of the relationship he still tries
○ Let him impress you, he gets so happy when you praise him like cmon
○ would throw himself into danger just to keep you safe, though you would do the same but ur like 'baby please dont'
○ definitely lets you brush his fur, and if you let him, would love to brush out your main
○ love. Him. Validate. Him.
○ he has been through alot, he needs so much love i swear
○ good thing he has you:)
#beastars#beastars x reader#legoshi x reader#legoshi#legoshi beastars#x reader#reader insert#male reader#x reader headcanons#headcanons#legoshi best boi#god let me pet him PLEASE
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Reindeer
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and you and Javi spent the night preparing for your girls to have the most magical Christmas morning
Word Count: 5.2K
Paring: Dad!Javi x Wife!Reader (No use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)
Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, oral (f recieving), creampie, praise kink, talk about not using birth control, kind of getting caught (??? Thank Santa's Reindeer I guess), terrible Christmas puns, sweet, sickening Christmas fluff, Javi spoiling the crap out of his little girls because he loves them more than life, idk you guys, this story is just a warm lil Christmas hug 😭
A/N: IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!! Christmas is my favorite holiday, and I have been so excited to write about our adorable lil Peña family and their holiday endeavors 🥹 These two would do anything to give their girls the most magical Christmases ever and my heart is exploding into a million pieces 😭💕🎄
Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist
“Mommy, is Santa coming now?”
“No, baby. Not until tomorrow.”
“...Is tomorrow now?” Your 4 year old Harper questioned, plopping herself down on the couch next to Javi, snuggling herself in between her dad and older sisters as you tucked the girls in with a big, fluffy blanket before finding your spot next to your husband.
“No Harper, Santa comes at night. When we go to bed. Remember?” Elliot sassed, letting out a huff of frustration at how many times her younger sister had asked about the long awaited arrival of Christmas morning.
“Elliot! If you’re not nice to Harper, Santa may not come!” Your oldest Lucy gasped, trying to police her younger sisters’ behavior within an inch of her life to ensure that she would wake up with presents under the tree tomorrow.
Elliot’s face went white in fear, immediately reaching over to her younger sister and pulling her in for a long hug. “Sorry, Harper. Santa will be here tomorrow morning… I hope.”
“I don’t think you girls need to worry, I’m sure Santa knows you’ve been pretty darn good all year long.” Javi grinned, leaning over on the couch to wrap the girls up in his broad grasp, making them giggle and squeal as he tickled and peppered them with playful kisses. “Okay, Pollitas (little chickens) what do you say you guys start the movie and Mommy and I go make hot chocolate?” Reaching over to give your thigh a little squeeze, Javi shot you a little wink, tilting over to press a soft kiss into your hair.
“Yay! Hot Chocolate!” The girls screeched in unison, waving their little arms in the air in excitement as they snuggled closer together on the couch. “Thank you!”
“De Nada (you’re welcome).” Javi beamed, letting out a little grunt as he pressed his hands into his knees, rising up off the couch, giving each of the girls one more kiss before making his way to the kitchen.
“Alright cuties, which movie, Rudolph or Frosty?” You smiled, making your way over to the TV to hold up their VHS options.
“Rudolph! Rudolph!” The three chanted, wiggling in excitement in their spots as you pressed the tape into the VCR and hit play on the remote, following Javi’s suit as you gave each of your daughters a quick kiss before making your way into the kitchen where you found Javi with a handful of Christmas mugs and an extra large can of whipped cream.
“Javi…” You sighed, letting out a little laugh as he set down the five mugs on the counter followed by the whipped cream, “I think we probably should go easy on the whipped cream tonight, you already know how hard it is to get them to bed on Christmas Eve, and a sugar high isn’t gonna help.”
“What makes you think I’d give ‘em too much whipped cream?” He smirked, shrugging his shoulders at you as he pulled the box of hot chocolate out of the cabinet, setting it next to everything else before snaking his hand around your waist, pulling you in closer to peck a quick kiss on your lips, staring down at you with his sweet brown eyes.
“Because,” You huffed playfully, pressing up on your tiptoes to give him another peck back between your words, “you spoil these girls rotten. They’ve got you wrapped around their fingers, Jav, each and every one of them.”
“Can you blame me?” He beamed, gesturing towards your daughters all snuggled together, giggling and singing along to the movie. The two of you couldn’t help but admire your beautiful girls, letting out a content sigh as you rested your head on his shoulder, taking a moment to soak in how truly lucky you were- because truth be told, you couldn’t blame Javi one bit.
“No, I can’t. God, they are cute, aren’t they?”
“Cute just like their Momma.” Javi grinned, sneaking his hand just a little further down your waist to grab a handful of your ass, making you let out a little squeal before giving him a playful smack in the chest.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You smirked, making your way over to the fridge to grab your milk, completing your hot chocolate ensemble. “I honestly should be having coffee right now considering how late we’re gonna be up, setting up presents and putting things together.”
“C’mon, we’re pros at this by now.” Javi teased, now getting to work on warming up the hot chocolate ingredients.
“Oh yeah? Tell that to Santa who insisted on getting the girls a brand new hockey net that still needs to be assembled, even after all of their gifts had already been bought.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at Javi as you began pouring the hot chocolate into the girls mugs, sprinkling mini marshmallows on the tops of their cups.
“They’ve been extra good…” Javi pouted, shooting you a guilty look as you handed him over mugs to be topped off with whipped cream.
“Well, I sure hope Santa didn’t lose the instructions to put it together because Mrs. Claus will not be assembling the net at 2 am.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be done before then. Gotta make sure Santa has plenty of time to give you his North Pole before Christmas morning.” Javi chuckled, biting down on his lip to contain his laughter as you gave him another nudge, snickering along with him.
“You are such a dork.”
“What? You’ve been a good girl this year too, you don’t want Santa to stuff your chimney?”
That one made you almost drop the two mugs you had in your hands, letting out an audible snort as you set them down on the counter, burying your face in your hands to try and hold in your laughter.
“You are fucking ridiculous, you know that? Finish up these hot chocolates, you dummy, your daughters are waiting for you.” You smirked, picking back up your mugs as you began to make your way out of the kitchen.
“Like you’re waiting for my balls of holly later?” Javi quietly called out behind you, making you whip your head around to give him the biggest stank face you could muster, unimpressed. “What? That’s a good one.” Javi insisted, still laughing at his own joke.
“Ridiculous, I swear.”
It wasn’t long after your hot chocolates were finished that the girls had passed out on the couch, cuddled in a pile between you and Javi and buried under the blanket that had been spread across the 5 of you. You probably should have woken the girls up to get them off to bed, but you and Javi couldn’t help but relish in the moment of your family snuggled together in the soft glow of your Christmas tree lights, your hearts feeling fuller than any present under your tree could make you.
After the two of you finally agreed you had soaked in enough snuggles, you gently woke up Lucy as Javi slung Elliot and Harper over his shoulders to carry them off to bed, unable to stop yourself from admiring how broad he looked with your two girls and their matching pajamas and sleepy hair hoisted on either side of him.
You helped Lucy and Elliot get settled into their rooms, promising to make your way back to say goodnight after tucking in Harper, still sound asleep in Javi’s arms as he laid her down into bed, gently tucking her into her covers, brushing her tangled curls away from her face and pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead. Elliot was next, now half awake after being dropped off in her room, stumbling her way into her own bed, grumbling a half awake “Goodnight Mommy and Daddy” as she snuck into her sheets, nestled between the mountain of stuffed animals piled between her mattress and bedroom wall. You and Javi couldn’t help but chuckle at how quickly your little rock was back to being sound asleep as soon as she hit the bed, already inheriting her dad’s obnoxiously loud snoring at the ripe age of 6. Lucy was the last stop on your bedtime train, seeing as she was the most awake and coherent as she had at least been able to walk herself to bed after you and Javi had woken her up.
By the time you and Javi had gotten to her room, she had already settled into bed, pulling her comforter up to her face as she snuggled up with her worn and well loved stuffed penguin, her little face lighting up as the two of you made your way though the door.
“Hi cutie pie.” You cooed, sitting on the edge of her bed, gently stroking her hair as Javi settled down onto the mattress next to you. “You ready for Christmas tomorrow?”
Lucy nodded, a slight look of concern now spreading across her face as her big brown eyes stared back up at you. “Mom… Santa’s gonna come tonight, right? He won’t be mad at Elliot or Harper because sometimes they aren’t always good… Well okay, I guess I’m not always good either, but-”
“Amoricta (Little love),” Javi cooed, reaching over to reassuringly rub her back, cutting her off mid sentence, “You and your sisters are the best daughters that we could ask for. I know for a fact that Santa knows that. And I also know that he knows what a good older sister you are to Elliot and Harper. Don’t worry, Monita (Little Monkey), I’m sure Santa will come.”
“Okay Dad. Te amo (I love you). I love you too, Mommy.” Lucy grinned, snuggling deeper into her sheets with a content sigh, slowly beginning to close her eyes and drift off to sleep.
“We love you too, Lucy.”
“Te amamos mucho, linda (we love you so much, cutie).”
As you and Javi each gave Lucy one last kiss goodnight, pressing gentle kisses in her messy hair, you gently closed the door behind you, the soft click of the last bedroom door knob signaling your success at getting the girls to bed before the real work of Christmas Eve began. You turned around, holding out your hand to give Javi a quiet high-five to celebrate the easiness of your bedtime routine before snaking your hands around Javi’s waist, caging your chest with his as you looked up at him.
“I think that was the quickest we’ve ever gotten them to bed on Christmas Eve.”
“I don’t even think the whipped cream even had anything to do with it.” Javi teased, shaking you playful in his grasp.
“Pendejo (Jerk). C’mon, let’s go get these cuties some presents, Santa.”
After your 8th Christmas with kids, you and Javi had gotten present set up and placement down to a science. After several trips up and down the stairs to the basement, all of the gifts for the girls had been set under the tree as Javi got to work on setting up his inevitable last minute gift that seemed to make its way out of Santa’s Workshop every year, even when all of your agreed upon gifts had already been purchased.
Javi sat cross legged on the floor, directions and hockey net parts spread out in front of him as he grumbled to himself trying to connect two of the pieces together, letting out a frustrated sigh while you set out the plate of cookies the girls had decorated for Santa, laughing at your husband’s current fight with his late gift.
“How’s it goin’, Jav? Need me to call in the elves to ask for help?” You snickered, plopping yourself down next to him, grabbing a few pieces to help with assembling.
“Shut up. I think I’m almost done, I just have to put the net part on. Is everything else set up?”
“Mmmmhmmm. Including the reindeer carrots that are your turn to eat this year.”
“Fuck me…” Javi sighed, shooting you a menacing look, “Do I have to? You know I-”
“Oh believe me, I know how much you hate the carrots.” You giggled, mischievously raising an eyebrow at him, handing over a few of the pieces you had put together to connect to the existing frame of the hockey net. “I did it the past 2 years in a row. You are such a baby, you know that? Your turn for carrots this year, Peña. I made sure they were the biggest ones I could find. You know how hungry those reindeer are.”
Before Javi could respond, he was grabbing you around your side, tickling your stomach as payback as you laughed and squirmed in his grasp, flailing your arms as the two of you rolled over on the ground. Javi pulled you to lay on top of his chest as he rested his back against the floor, wrapping his arms around the small of your back, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck. You tried your best to keep your squeals semi-silent to prevent waking up the girls as his mustache brushed against your skin, the smile spread across his lips pressing over your body.
“Don’t think- don’t think your adorable antics are getting you out of carrot duty.” You snickered, cupping your hands around his cheeks, pausing his assault of kisses as his sweet brown eyes stared up at you.
“Me? Trying to get out of eating those terrible ass vegetables? Never. What would make you think that, Hermosa?” Javi smirked, his voice oozing with sarcasm as he shook his head at you, caging you tighter against his chest as his hands slid down the small of your back, now grabbing handfuls of your ass, making you let out a little squeal.
“Javi! You are so bad!” You playfully scolded, trying to pry off the tight grip his palms had on your backside to free yourself. “Presents and carrots first, you know the rules.” Smirking down at him, Javi let out a reluctant sigh, finally releasing you as he sat back up, picking up one of the remaining pieces of the hockey net left to assemble, shaking his head in a sarcastic disappointment at his failed attempt to at least prolong the inevitable.
“You don’t wanna let Santa stuff your stocking early this year, huh?” Javi teased, giving you a little shrug as he chuckled to himself at the terrible Christmas puns he had in stock tonight.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Javi…” You sighed, burying your hand in your face in embarrassment at your husband’s terrible joke, giving him a little shove as you stood up, making your way back to the kitchen to set up the rest of the cookies and carrots before the two of you headed off to bed. “You keep making those terrible puns and I’m gonna make you wrap your present before you give it to me.” You joked, eying the half hard bulge still in Javi’s sweatpants and gesturing your head towards your bedroom where your unopened box of condoms sat untouched in Javi’s nightstand- You had never started taking your birth control again after having Harper, and while you and Javi had agreed that 3 girls was the perfect number of kids, you also hadn’t necessarily been proactively preventing yourself from having a 4th. Javi had bought the box in an effort of good faith a few months ago, but hadn’t seen an ounce of action, despite all of the action that had happened without them.
“Fine, fine, I’ll be good, don’t put me on the naughty list yet. Like you’d want my present wrapped anyways…” Javi smirked, snapping together two of the last pieces of the hockey net before pressing his hands to his knees, letting out a grunt as he stood, and pushing the net by the rest of the already arranged presents.
“I swear, I’m sending you back to the North Pole.”
With your living room perfectly arranged for Christmas Morning, you and Javi made your way back to your bedroom, stopping to do a quick peek in on each of the girls as you traveled down the hallway. All 3 lay sound asleep in their beds, quietly snoring away, you and Javi making your way to your bedroom with a quiet high five for Christmas Eve accomplishments- presents assembled, girls asleep, the palpable excitement of the holiday hanging in the air.
“Bets on what time they’re up tomorrow?” You laughed, looking over at Javi, standing in the doorway brushing his teeth as you stripped out of your clothes and into your pajamas. Javi let out a playful huff before stepping back into the bathroom to spit out the rest of his toothpaste, setting his toothbrush next to yours before taking off his shirt and sweatpants and tossing them into the hamper with your freshly shed clothes.
“If it’s anything past 5:30, I’ll be happy.” He chuckled, climbing into bed with you, sneaking his way under the covers and wrapping his arms around your waist, making you giggle as he tugged you closer, pressing ticklish kisses over your neck and face as you playfully swatted at him. “If my girls are happy, I’m happy.”
“I’m sure the girls will be more than happy. Considering how much their Daddy spoils them rotten.” You teased, reaching up to cup Javi’s face, your thumb gently stroking the scratchy stubble of his cheek.
“What? Santa only comes once a year, right? I’d give ‘em everything if I could. They deserve it. Just like their Momma deserves everything too.” Javi gently rasped against the skin of your neck, softly sucking at your pulse point, forcing a breathy moan to escape from your mouth. “God I still don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, Hermosa. If you’re the only present for the rest of my life, I’ll die a fucking happy man.”
Letting his hands snake down your sides, Javi’s fingertips toyed with the hem of your shirt and pajama bottoms, his fingers sliding towards your heat as your lips met his with a gentle and tender passion. You ran your fingers through the dark curls of his hair as he flipped you onto your back, now pressing languid kisses down your stomach as he carefully tugged your pajama bottoms off your hips, tossing them to the floor. Letting your knees fall open, Javi’s soft kisses met the inside of your thighs, a smile spreading across his lips as you revealed the slick that had been pooling between your legs.
“And this…” Javi smirked, letting his kisses feather closer and closer to your core, leaving your hips to instinctively start to buck towards his face as you waited for his tongue to relieve the dull ache of your already throbbing clit, “This is the best fucking present I could ever ask for.”
Before you could even roll your eyes at Javi’s cheesy remark, a long, broad swipe of his tongue traveled through your folds, the sensation already enough to have you trying your best to stifle your moans to keep from waking the girls just down the hall from you. Javi took his time, letting his tongue work around your clit in a mix of flat, even strokes and circling swirls, his arm draped across your hips to hold you in place while his other free hand reached up to grab yours, your fingers intertwining, palms pressed together.
You bit down on your lip as his nose bumped against your throbbing bundle of nerves, letting his tongue plunge in and out of your cunt, the familiar tingle at the base of your spine beginning to build as your bottom half squirmed against the sheets, Javi’s firm grasp keeping you in place.
Javi had spent years memorizing every tick and twitch that made you writhe under his touch, learning each moan and movement that brought you closer to your end- so it should have been no surprise to you that Javi could sense you were close, yet the sudden switch of his mouth latching around your clit, sweetly sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves, had the coil in your belly on the verge of snapping.
“Javi… Oh, fuck- baby, I’m close, don’t stop, please don’t stop, oh my god.” You whimpered, trying your best to keep your voice hushed, but despite how hard you tried, you could help but let a muffled moan escape from your lips as you squeezed down even harder on Javi’s hand to try and keep from being any louder than you already were. It wasn’t long before you felt your legs begin to tremble, and heat bloom in your core, your orgasm ripping through your body, leaving you panting and breathless as Javi pulled back from between your legs, a boyish grin spread across his shiny face, now covered in your arousal.
You could feel your chest rising and falling, your breathing heavy and labored as Javi crawled his way back up the bed, reaching down to help tug his boxers off his legs, revealing his cock, already painfully hard and dripping with precum as you thumbed at his tip, slowly wrapping your fingers around his length, stroking him as a low groan rumbled in his chest.
As he slotted himself between your legs, you guided his tip towards your entrance, collecting the slick dripping through your folds before caging his chest against yours, pressing into you inch by inch, the sweet stretch of his fullness making you whimper as he bottomed out against your cervix. His lips met yours, his mouth catching your whines as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you, like he was savoring every moment buried deep in the warmth and wetness inside you.
“Shhhhh, gotta be quiet for me baby.” He rasped against your skin, nipping at your ear, almost as if he was trying to remind himself as much as he was reminding you, a deep grunt rustling in the back of his throat. You nodded, your eyes meeting the brown pools of his, filled with an equal mix of love and longing as a tender smile lined his lips, whispering a soft “I love you” to one another before your lips were slotted together once again, your tongues swiping in the parted spaces between your mouths, your kisses slow and solicitous as you became more and more tangled in your sheets.
Each thrust of Javi’s hips felt deeper and fuller than the last, the lewd noises of your wetness and muted moans coating the walls of your bedroom only intensified as Javi wrapped his broad hands around the backs of your thighs, pressing your legs to your chest, and making you clench tighter around the sweet sting of his stretch.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, Hermosa. My beautiful fucking wife.” Javi mewled through gritted teeth, snaking his hand between your bodies to rub your clit, still swollen and puffy from your first orgasm. You let out a sharp gasp, so sensitive and worked up, already feeling yourself climbing towards your own high once again as the pads of his fingers circled your mound, and dick punched against your g-spot.
You could feel your cunt beginning to clench tighter around his cock, fighting with everything in you to keep from screaming out his name, fisting at your bedsheets and clamping your eyes shut, trying to hold out for any ounce of composure you had left. “Fuck, Javi, fuck- I feel like I’m gonna cum again, fuck- oh fuck.” You whined, eyes still closed, head tilted back against the pillow.
Suddenly, you felt Javi’s free hand slide under jaw, wrapping his fingers around your cheeks, gently forcing your head back down, making you open your eyes to see the wrecked look also beginning to spread its way across his face. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Just need to see that pretty face for me when you cum. Let go baby, I’ve got you.”
With only a few more thrusts and circles of your clit, you could feel the tingle at the base of your spine beginning to spread through every inch of your body, pleasure rushing through your veins as your orgasm crashed over you. Javi’s hand covered your mouth in just enough time to mute the ragged moans escaping your lips, the feeling of you clamping down around his cock as you came almost enough to take him out right along with you, fighting with everything in him to let you finish riding out your own high before he followed suit.
“Fuck, fuck- I’m not gonna last much longer, Osita. Oh shit- Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Javi grunted, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster with each snap of his hips, the hand covering your mouth now gripping the meat of your thighs, fingertips digging into your skin.
“Inside, please, fuck- I’m not ovulating, please, I need to feel you in me.” You whimpered, your brain barely functioning as you tried to form a coherent sentence, still reeling from your orgasm.
That was all Javi needed to send him over the edge, barely making it halfway through his last thrust before spilling deep inside you, his cock throbbing as warm spend covered your walls, milking himself of every last drop before letting his body slump into yours, your chests rising and falling in sync.
You both lay there for a moment, breathless and blissed out as you tried to compose yourselves, Javi letting out a soft hiss as he pulled out, resting his head against your chest as you ran your fingers through the damp curls of his hair, a satisfied smirk spreading across your face as you quietly giggled to yourself.
“What’s so funny?” Javi asked, perking his head up to look at you, his brow scrunched in confusion.
“Your sleigh feelin’ a little lighter? Because I think I did a pretty good job of helping Santa to empty his sack.” You couldn’t help but snort as Javi let out the most exasperated sigh before joining in your laughter, burying his face in his hand before looking back up at you.
“And I'm the ridiculous one....”
“MOMMY, DADDY! WAKE UP, WAKE UP, IT’S CHRISTMAS!”
If your daughters' high pitched shrieks and squeals weren’t enough to have you wide awake at the ripe hours of 5:46 A.M., their tiny bodies flopping onto the bed, squishing you and Javi under your covers most definitely was.
“Mhmmmmm, Merry Christmas, cuties.” You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, trying to wake yourself up quick enough to keep up with your girls’ boundless energy, giving Javi a stark nudge with your elbow to help wake him up from his log-like slumber. “Jav, wake up, baby.”
“Daddy! It’s Christmas, you gotta wake up!” Elliot insisted, now jumping on top of her dad, making him let out a loud grunt as her body landed on top of his.
“Yup, yup, I’m up, I’m up.” Javi grumbled, rubbing his hand over his face, trying to wake himself up enough to face the wrath of his energetic daughters. “Merry Christmas, Pollitas.” He smiled, reaching out grab the girls and pull them on top of his chest, making all of them giggle and squeal in delight as the 5 of you snuggled together in your bed.
“Can we see if Santa came? Please, please, pleaseeeeee?” Lucy begged, her sisters nodding in agreement, bouncing up and down on the bed with excitement as you and Javi inched yourself more and more awake.
“Yup, let’s g-”
“LET’S GO!” The girls screeched, already scampering off the bed and out the door as you and Javi pushed yourselves up off the mattress, groggily following behind your daughters with heavy footsteps trying to wake yourselves up from your lack of sleep the night before.
“Do you think Santa brought us coffee?” Javi mumbled, running his hand through his curls, ruffling the ends of his hair as you curled tighter against the oversized sweatshirt draped over your body, letting out a little half yawn, half laugh.
As the 5 of you finally made it down the stairs, you could hear the girls squealing and pattering around the kitchen, gleefully pointing to the table, where a now practically cleared plate for Santa and his Reindeer sat. “Mommy, look! Santa ate all the cookies!” Harper giggled, grabbing you and Javi by the hand and dragging you across the room to see the lack of sugary treats that had been left behind.
“And the reindeer too! I told you they love the carrots! They must have been really excited because last night, in the middle of the night, I could have sworn I heard the reindeer making happy noises for their treats too! Mom and Dad, I think they must have landed on the roof by your room, because that’s where I heard the noises coming from!” Lucy informed her sisters, leaving you and Javi’s faces both ghost white at the realization you two were 100% the reindeer that your daughter had heard last night.
“Oh wow, Lucy, that’s uh- Yeah, they really must love those carrots.” Javi barely choked out, the both of you grimacing at each other in horror, guilty looks plastered across your faces.
“Let’s go see what’s under the tree!” Elliot squealed, dashing towards the living room, completely oblivious to her dad’s comment, too focused on the gifts sitting under the tree for her and her sisters to care about any reindeer her sister may or may not have heard. Once again, your trio was off, sprinting to the living room, leaving you and Javi practically speechless as you wearily trailed behind them.
“I’ve always worried about them catching us, but never once did I think about the fact they’d mistake us for reindeer.” You quietly snickered, giving Javi a playful nudge, trying to laugh to keep from dying of embarrassment. “Santa’s definitely putting us on the naughty list next year.”
“Mommy! Daddy! Come here! Look what Santa brought us!”
“He got us a new hockey net!”
“Oh my god this is the best Christmas ever!”
“I think Santa will understand.” Javi smiled, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest as you watched your girls scamper in joy around your living room, the soft glow of your Christmas tree lighting up their beaming smiles as they began the hunt for their presents. Because the truth was, in that moment, nothing else in the world mattered. Not reindeer noises, lack of sleep, or late nights setting up last minute presents- The only thing that mattered in that moment was the pure love and happiness radiating from every inch of your living room. At the end of the day, you couldn't care how many presents sat under your tree because the best gift you could ever ask for stood right beside you and in front of you, and that was enough to make you feel like the luckiest person on earth. You weren’t sure you’d ever understand what you had done to deserve the world’s most perfect present- Your beautiful family and the life you had built together with them.
“I love you so much, Javi. Merry Christmas.”
“I love you more, Osita. Merry Christmas, mi amor.”
Taglist
@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#javier pena imagine#javier pena fic#javier pena narcos#madeline's mail#javi pena#javi peña x reader#javier pena#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena fluff#javier pena smut#javier pena x f!reader#javier pena x female reader#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier peña#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña smut#javier peña x f!reader#javier peña x female reader#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#narcos fanfiction#pedro pascal narcos#pedro pascal character#pedrohub#javier peña narcos#joel miller
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Soup Delivery!
A tiny Moon runs over with a bowl of warm soup and happily offers it to you. Would you accept it?
Hello! Sending a lil' Moon to send a bowl of warm soup. Hope you're having a good day and remember to hydrate/eat if you haven't yet!
Oh- also! Since it's Mermay, what's some of your favourite mer-related things/au's?
Awww yay!
When it comes to mermay there are so many mer AUs I enjoy! I’ve filled a page full of sea creatures and there are still so many more to love:
(Mer designs by:
@starswimmingart @crystalmagpie447 @ayyy-imma-ninja @maudiemoods @oobbbear @bloo-the-dragon @sinnabee @reaurelynios @xitsensunmoon @local-diavolo-anon @moonliched @bibsies @crow-n-tell @cipher-the-sidhe @castercassette @bamsara @jack-o-phantom @zus-a-fungi ✨)
Close up versions under the cut (sorry for bad cropping)
#fnaf#sundrop#moondrop#eclipse#mermay#mer sun#mer moon#so many fish#so many amazing mer designs#imagine if there was just a sea full of these#fun fact my pen nib broke halfway through drawing these
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“Can I?”
Felix x Plus Size Reader
Summary: You and Felix’s friendship takes a surprising turn one night when he decides to show
you how beautiful he thinks you are.
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: 18+ mdni, reader and Lix are a lil tipsy, mentions of body insecurities, Lix is
obsessed with readers chest and stomach, groping, nipple play, titty fucking, not proofread
A/N: I don’t even remember when I wrote this exactly, but it’s been in my drafts too long, so
here. This is my first attempt at smut, so I’m sorry if it’s eh(lmk if I should try a part 2?)
Masterlist
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
“Alright Lixie, come on, bedtime.” You said, carefully shuffling your friend down the hall to your
room.
The two of you had been out to dinner with some friends, Felix having a few more drinks than
usual and quickly gaining a rosy tint to his face, asking you if he could stay at your place rather
than risk going home on his own, which you’d agreed to without a second thought.
It was
something that had become more than a regular occurrence for the both of you over the course
of your friendship, crashing at each other places when you were too tired or otherwise inhibited.
Once in your room, you released your hold on him, letting him flop down onto the bed with a
giggle.
“Your bed’s always so comfy.” He said, snuggling down happily into the blankets.
“I’m glad you think so.” You grinned, finding his behavior endearing. Felix always had this bright
and happy energy, but when he drank it seemed to go into overdrive, any walls and
self-consciousness he held coming down.
“G’night lix.” You whispered, smoothing his hair before turning to leave, planning to sleep on the
sofa instead, but he quickly sat back up, grabbing for your hands but missed, catching the hem
of your shirt instead.
“Noo, stay with me, please?” He whined, looking up at you with sad eyes.
“Lix, you need to sleep.” You said.
“I’d sleep better with you here.” He pouted, making you bite your lip, trying to hide a grin. It
wasn’t like it was the first time you’d shared each other's space like this, Lix was such a
naturally affectionate person, it was easy for you to fall into the same behavior, finding immense
comfort in his touch. He was so cute when he got like this, clingy, needy. “Please?”
You debated for a second, before relenting. “Fine.”
“Yay!” He beamed before sliding over, making room for you in the slightly too small bed. You
may have cuddled together plenty of times before, but you couldn’t help the feelings of
self-consciousness that lingered as you settled next to him, folding your arms across your
stomach out of habit in an attempt to hide yourself. An action that apparently did not go
unnoticed by him.
“Why do you always do that?” He asked, watching you with curious eyes.
“Do what?”
“Hide your stomach.” He pouted.
“Because it’s not nice to look at.” You said plainly, wanting to end the conversation quickly.
“That’s not true!” He exclaimed, sitting up again to look at you. “I like it! It’s so cute and soft, I
love how it feels when we hug.”
He reached for your hands, but hesitated, glancing up at you for permission before touching
you.
You nodded, curiosity overriding your insecurity.
He gently pulled your hands away before replacing them with his own, gently trailing along your
sides and caressing the dips and rises of your tummy.
“See? It’s so soft and warm, it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty.” He said almost to himself, making
your heart do a tiny sumersault.
“Can I lay on it?” He asked, looking up at you
Your immediate reflex was to say no, but the way he was looking at you with such adoration and
the warmth of his touch made you relent again. “Okay.”
He carefully shifted around until he could rest on his side, looking up at you, letting out a deep
sigh as his eyes fell close, nuzzling his cheek against the plushness of your belly.
“Comfy?” You asked, slightly amused by the look of utter contentment on his face.
“Mhm.” He smiled up at you dreamily, making you chuckle. “Are you?”
“Yeah, I am.” You admitted. It felt really nice having him close like this, feeling his breath fan
across your abdomen as you fell into a comfortable silence, his hand coming up to gently trace
patterns across your ribcage, his fingers trailing dangerously close to the underside of your
chest.
“I bet you tits are soft.” He said, more so thinking out loud than trying to initiate anything, but it
made your breath hitch either way.
“You wanna find out?” You asked, surprising yourself with how even your voice sounded despite
your nerves.
He looked up at you, eyes wide with surprise. “Can I?”
This was a critical moment for your relationship, you were both hyper aware, teetering on the
line between friends and something else, one that you’d been toeing for far too long, and that
you couldn’t exactly come back from if crossed.
Not breaking eye contact, you nodded.
His hands ghosted up the sides of your breasts slowly, cupping one in each hand gently before
kneading them experimentally, making you let out a small sigh, eyes falling shut.
“Does that feel good?” He asked, slightly breathless.
“Mhm, your hands are warm.” You hummed, pressing up into his touch.
“You’re not wearing a bra.” He noted, adjusting himself to better access your chest so that he
was laying partially on top of you.
"I don't like wearing them to sleep. They're uncomfy." You sighed.
He continued toying with your breasts for a minute, eliciting the occasional pleased sound from
you, when suddenly you let out a small giggle.
“What’s so funny?” He asked, smirking up at you.
“You kinda remind me of a cat, the way they knead things with their paws.” You jumped as he
suddenly pinched one of your nipples, making you let out a yelp.
“Mean kitty.” You glared at him as he chuckled.
“I’m sorry, can I kiss it better?” He asked, voice dropping slightly, making your stomach do a little
flip.
Biting your lip, you nodded.
He slowly trailed your shirt up, pausing at the top of your ribcage and glancing up at you once
more for confirmation before he finally freed your chest.
“Shit.” He breathed, almost unconsciously as his gaze trailed over the expanse of exposed skin,
leaning in to place a gentle kiss on breast and then the other, making you squirm slightly
beneath him. He was trying to pace himself and move slowly, but quickly lost out to his own
desire, growing more intense as he trailed wet, open mouth kisses everywhere across your
chest before sucking your nipple into his mouth, making you arch into him involuntarily.
“Lix,” You whined, your own hands having found their way into his hair and earning a low groan
from him as you tugged on the blonde strands.
“So fucking pretty,” He purred, lips dragging up your neck before trailing back down to your
chest. ”Wanted to tell you so many times how gorgeous I think you are.”
“Why didn’t you?” You managed to ask.
“I have no fucking clue.” He laughed, his breath against you damp skin making you shiver.
You were well aware of the growing bulge in his pants that was pressed against your thigh as he drooled
over your chest, making the heat between your legs throb with need.
“Fuck, I wanna-” He caught himself, worried that his request might be go going too far too
quickly.
“You wanna fuck them?” You asked, practically able to read his mind.
He looked up at you, mouth hanging open as he breathed unsteadily. “Can I? Please?”
You nodded.
He quickly scrambled to rid himself of his bottoms, nearly falling off the bed in his haste, cock
springing free and causing your thighs to clench at the sight.
He carefully positioned himself over you, straddling your waist and staring down as if you were
the most divine being he’d ever seen. “Are you sure about this?” He asked.
“I’m sure, Lixie.” You nodded again, pressing your tits together for him before letting a trail of
saliva drip down onto them from your mouth.
“Holy shit.” He mumbled as he watched you in disbelief, before letting his length slip between
your breasts, letting out a low, shaking groan as your warmth enveloped him.
He started out slow, thrusting experimentally, reveling in the feel of your skin against his, but his
pace quickly began to increase as he started to get lost in pleasure, chasing his release.
“Wanna fuck you. Wanted to fuck you for so long.” He panted, gripping the headboard above
you for support.
You angled your head down, letting your tongue loll down to lick his tip each time it peaked out
from between your tits.
“Fuck, Y/n.” He whimpered, his face screwed up in pleasure as he loomed over you. You could
swear you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your entire life.
Felix, falling to pieces, because
of you.
“‘M gonna cum.” He warned, strokes getting sloppy.
“Cum for me, Lix, wanna feel it.” You whined, pressing your tits together more, tightening them
around him.
“Shit, don’t, fuck, I’m-!” He rambled before cumming with a broken, drawn out moan, pulling
back to paint your chest and stomach with streaks of white.
“F-fuck.” He stammered, shaking as he slid sideways off you, watching with hooded eyes as you
gathered some of his release on your fingers and brought it to your lips for a taste.
“You’re
gonna be the death of me.” He said unsteadily.
“You’re welcome.” You teased, sitting up and cleaning up his mess with your ruined shirt, before he was pressing
you back against the mattress.
“Now, it’s your turn.”
#felix fluff#felix smut#skz smut#felix x reader#felix x y/n#felix x plus size reader#stray kids x plus size reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x reader#skz x plus size reader#stray kids smut#skz felix smut#felix scenarios#felix drabbles#lonelystczennie
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Beauty of the Mundane
Set in the Biting the Hand that Feeds AU
just a lil drabble I thought about while drawing this attack for @xitsensunmoon !!!
in which you literally do nothing, and Moon has a bit of a crisis
It was a normal day, all things considered.
You took a late night shift today, and besides the normal trials and tribulations of being a doctor in this city, there wasn't anything really to complain about. No Karens, no lifethreatening emergencies, and you even got a thank you card from a boy you helped through your donations And even though your eyebags were noticable and your body tenser than a taut bowstring, you took your wins when you could. You open your door and even cook dinner that night (yay!) while chatting up a storm with your vampiric roommates who are secretly as overjoyed as you that you had a good day. After a shower and a clean change of clothes, you all but flop into Moon's arms with a one round trip to dreamland.
The routine started as a teasing remark one cold night, Moon recalls, the heater was busted and the poor human was shivering like a leaf. So, as a suggestion ( with no ulterior motives of course), he offered his lap as a solution. He does have a wonderfully warm fluffy coat, you know. He was met by flimsy excuses paired with embarrassed expressions the first few times, but he knew you couldn't resist him in the end. Soon, it became a part of everyday life with your lunar-themed friend: he gets your blood, gets to be by your side while you rest, and teases you all the times in between. Rinse and repeat for basically the foreseeable future.
Moon looks down at your resting features now as his reminscing is interrupted by gentle snores. You looked so peaceful, the day's stress washed away entirely as you lay in the glow of moonlight. A certain feeling begins to creep up in the vampire's mind as he sits with you, he can't quite put a name to it. It was nice though. Being depended on, he thinks. Your relationship with the brothers were a little (a lot) parasitic in nature. It was nice to be able to give something back that wasn't the excuse of "entertainment" or "better food".
The feeling sort of stews for a few minutes in Moon's mind....
...Until, like a panther after stalking its prey, the feeling is suddenly realized and had you not been currently in Moon's lap, he would have jolted with a concerning violence. His usual smug smirk now reduced to a stunned expression and eyelights completely dark.
He likes this. This meaning the quiet moments with you. Not just the playfulness and drinking of your blood -- both great things do not get him wrong -- but the everyday moments. The domesticity. And as he spirals, he realizes something else. Nothing about the individual parts of your with him relationship really have anything in common. Not the blood, not the quick witted conversations, and most certainly not these late nights. Nothing....except you. Maybe, just maybe...that means he likes you more than he thought.
As he looks down at you again, it feels more special this time. As if time has stopped just for Moon to drink in all of your features, to try and figure you out as you slumber. And that's the kicker, he thinks. You did nothing but sleep and yet you managed to get a rise out of him. He quietly chuckles. You really are something.
He thinks back to the first time you met. And then all the memories that happened in between then and now, good and bad. He looks back down at you.
Yeah, you really are something.
#GUYS AM I DOING THIS RIGHT???? I'VE ONLY EVER USED TUMBLR FOR LURKING I'M SURE YOU CAN TELL#bhtf moon drop#bhtf yn#bhtf au fanwriting#bhtf au fanart#biting the hand that feeds au#vampire au#bhtf au#my art#vampire moondrop#hey if somehow you see this and haven't already checked out this au go do it I need more fan content :3333#i really hope i captured his personality im out here doin my best
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i have finally arrived 🤭🤭
OKAY I’LL GIVE U A FEW SCENARIOS I GOT IN MIND AND YOU’RE FREE TO EXPAND ON WHICHEVER ONE YOU WANT TO (idm gender neutral reader but was hoping for male :D )
REVERSE COMFORT: m!reader comforting poor lyney after the most recent 4.1 archon quest. (SPOILERS: after freminet has been moved the the medical area)
so lyney is really worried for his brother (it takes place before he’s fully up) and we’re jus hugging him and reassuring him that he’ll be okay bc we’re husband material like that 💪🏻
˚₊‧꒰ა💉໒꒱ ‧₊
FLUFF: i was thinking maybe the m!reader is a popular fontainian singer/popstar/dancer or anything that gains him popularity, and hence builds up a mass fanclub of ladiessss (if yk where i’m goin w this🤭)
so maybe we could get some jealous lyney up in here and m!reader feels bad for him so after the performance he takes lyney up on stage and gives a smooch on the cheek 😭
˚₊‧꒰ა💉໒꒱ ‧₊
ANGST (with comfort bc my heart cannot physically take angst with no comfort): OKAY KINDA INSPIRED BY SOMEONE ELSES IDEA BUT KINDA DIFFERENT!
m!reader got those richly rich strict ass parents who don’t approve of him dating someone as low as a magician (he’s also a guy but i’m taking this down a different root) and they aren’t abusive but they are pretty neglectful and strict on him.
reader finally had enough of their bs tho and him and lyney (with lynette & freminet ofc) run away to snezhnaya and have the reader work for the house of the hearth w them.
AND (bc i never shut up) then a few years pass when lyney finally takes over for the knave they waltz back into fontaine together with m!reader being his 2nd in command (once again, alongside freminet and lynette bc wherever he goes they go)
˚₊‧꒰ა💉໒꒱ ‧₊
PERSONAL FAVOURITE (i think abt this idea a LOT)
FOUND FAMILY /W COMFORT (heavily with freminet bc i love him sm HSNFEMCJEM)
basically m!reader went for a lil dive to get lyney some new flowers for his magic show later and he runs into freminet crying under the water
and ofc big brother instincts kick in 💪🏻 and we take him above shore and coddle him like how lyney would to freminet
AND THEN WE TAKE HIM HOME AND WE MEET UP W LYNEY AND HES JUS LIKE “OMG IF THIS MAN DOESNT PUT A RING ON MY FINGER RN IMMA LOOSE MY SHIT” because he adores the way m!reader looks out for his siblings the way he would.
(I HAVE ANOTHER VERSION OF THIS RQ WITH LYNETTE IF YOU EVER WANNA HEAR IT BTW)
˚₊‧꒰ა💉໒꒱ ‧₊
SPICY 😏😏😏:
i actually don’t have anything to much for this category but some simple spicy hc’s with a sub!lyney would be great (let’s be real this man isn’t dominating anyone). (he also has a breeding kink GOODBYE)
Found Family (Freminet ver.)
Characters: Freminet & Lyney x M!Reader
Summary: After bringing his younger brother home, Lyney thinks he’s found his husband for life
Warnings: Slight angst to comfort, Freminet crying, Lyney being hopelessly in love and shyyyy
Word count: 767
A/n: Okay first of all I’m so sorry for disappearing for like a year and a half… I totally lost motivation and finished university in the meantime and now I’m looking for a job but no one is hiring me so yay? TYSM FOR THIS REQUEST LY LOTS🤩 I might write some of the other ones too? Might make a poll for which one to do next cuz I’m undecided… Anyways THIS ONE GOES OUT TO THE MALE READER COMMUNITY!!! I fell in love with Lyney and still (I think?) have yet to come across a Lyney x male reader fic😫 So here is my contribution! I ALSO HAVE REQUESTS OPEN SO FEEL FREE TO REQUEST LYNEY X M!READER STUFF PLS AND TYYYYY
It was a warm afternoon as you got your scuba gear on, preparing to dive in the depths of Fontaine on a mission to look for flowers for your beloved boyfriend, Lyney’s, magic show tonight. You latched in your helmet and dove below the surface, sighing in satisfaction at the cool water enveloping your body after having been sweating all day. The fish danced around you happily and the rays flapped their wings gracefully on their way to find places to float around.
You reached the seabed, swimming around and beginning to collect the flowers that your boyfriend had requested. You stop after a few seconds to listen to a sound you could not initially identify. Listening closely, you follow the sounds of what seem to be sniffles over a ridge of sand. Peeking over the edge, you see a little blue form with a diving helmet on, balled up with his head in the pit of his elbow.
“Freminet?” You swam up to the form, recognizing Lyney’s younger brother, a sad expression on the screen of your diving helmet. You begin to rub circles into his back as he sniffles, embarrassed to have been found crying alone. “What happened?” You offer him a warm smile, encouraging him to confide in you.
“*Sniff* I- I made a fool of myself in the Court of Fontaine today… I- *sniff* I fell and dropped a whole basket of peaches…” Taking pity on him, you ask him if he wants a hug, then you pull him into your arms and rub comforting circles on his back.
“Wanna go back up? I’ll walk you home.” The boy nods and you swim back up with him in your arms.
Arriving on the beach, you take off his diving helmet and reveal his red, puffy eyes. You internally coo at how cute he looks but remember that he is in a vulnerable state and mentioning what he looks like would likely not be appropriate at the moment. So, after cupping a comforting hand on his cheek, you take his hand and walk him home.
Arriving at the triplets’ door (I know they aren’t all related, but for simplicity’s sake…), you knock and wait for the light pads from inside to reach you. The door swings open to reveal Lyney in his pajamas with a surprised expression.
“Y-Y/n! And Freminet!” He blushes slightly at having noticed you before his own younger brother and at having been seen in pajamas by someone he has been trying to impress. You gently push Freminet in front of you, handing him over to Lyney who hugs him shortly, ruffles his hair, then passes him on to Lynette who takes his hand, nods at you thankfully, then takes him into the home. Lyney steps out onto the porch and closes the door behind him.
“Uh… Thanks for taking my brother home. He can disappear better than myself, sometimes…” He rubs the back of his neck, a little embarrassed at the situation. You had only declared each other officially boyfriends about a month prior, so the whole relationship thing was a new concept to the ‘suave’ Lyney the public knew. It pleasantly surprised you to discover that he was actually very easy to fluster, making for a very cute boyfriend to tease occasionally.
“Yeah, no problem. I found him on the seabed crying while I was looking for your flowers, so I comforted him and brought him here. Oh, here you go by the way.” You hand him the flowers he needed for his show while smiling warmly at him. The tips of his ears immediately reddened, both at his immediate thoughts of marriage and at what the offer of flowers looked like. He knew this was not a love confession or anything of the sort, but the current situation could have fooled an outside observer.
He stepped forward and threw his arms around you, sandwiching the flowers between the two of you. He buried his face in your neck in an attempt to hide his face exploding with heat.
“… I love you…” That was all he managed to say after a few moments. You laughed, placing a kiss on the top of his head.
“I love you too, but… Watch the flowers.” He pulled himself away from you immediately, realizing he was damaging his precious show flowers.
“AH! Sorry! Uhm… Did you wanna come inside for a bit?” He looked into your eyes with a shy smile on his face, his cheeks and ears still red from before.
“I’d love to.” You said, your eyes locked on his.
Aur my gawdddd this was my first fic in a loooong time I’m so sorry if it was ass… THIS WAS CUTE AND I LOVE FREMINET TOO, PLS LEMME HEAR THE LYNETTE VERSION OF THIS😎
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x male reader#genshin impact x male reader#lyney x reader#lyney x male reader#lyney x y/n
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hii, I'm sorry to bother 🫶🏻
could I send a lil request for young!Snape's birthday? 🥺 for 9th January?<3
Here’s something short, but I hope you enjoy!
Snape x friend reader
Warnings: none
Word count: 400+
For Severus, birthdays were just like any other day. Everybody has one. Mathematically speaking, he probably shares this day with at least ten million other people in the world. So what exactly is so special about it? Wouldn't it make more sense to celebrate his actual accomplishments?
So naturally, he planned to start his day as he normally would: wake up grumpily, reach for the cup of water on his bedside table, brush his teeth, get dressed, and skip breakfast to have a moment of peace and silence before his classes began.
However, his routine was interrupted when his fingers came in contact with something soft and...creamy? With his eyes still closed, he smelt the mysterious substance before licking it, smacking his lips as he tried to figure out what exactly that sweet aroma was.
When he opened his eyes and looked to his side, he was met with a cake, a small one. He reached for the card sitting next to it and opened it, carefully reading it before indulging more.
Severus,
Happy birthday! I know you don't like to make a fuss about these things, but as your friend, I am obligated to...at least a little bit. So, here's a chocolate cupcake: dark on the outside but sweet on the inside, just like you (yes, I can see you rolling your eyes). Topped with buttercream frosting, of course.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy your day. Take it easy.
- Y/N
P.S. You're a cutie.
"I'm not a 'cutie'..." he thought to himself. But the corners of his crumb-covered lips rising up wasn't exactly helping his case.
Since his routine was already disrupted at step two, he thought he'd go to breakfast this time to thank you.
"Y/N!" he called out as he saw you making your way to the Great Hall.
"Happy birthday, Sev!" you exclaimed. "Did you receive my gift?"
"Yes," he drawled, pausing for a moment to make sure no one was around before pulling you into a warm embrace.
Though it was unexpected, you returned the hug, cherishing the moment.
"Thank you for the cupcake. It was a...cute gesture," he continued.
"Yay, I'm happy you liked it! I know it was small, so if you'd like to do anything else, we can do it after classes end! Or even skip!"
He gave you a nod, but truthfully, there was nothing more he could have asked for.
Of course, now he must think of ways to make yours just as special.
#snape#pro snape#snape love#snape fluff#snape fanfiction#snape fic#snape x reader#snape x y/n#snape x you#snape fandom#snapedom#severus snape#pro severus snape#severus snape x reader#severus snape x you#severus snape x y/n
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Good Girl (pt. 1)
pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader
word count: 752
warnings: suggestive, the explicit stuff will come in part 2!, death of a snake, shameless praise kink
a/n: ummmm yeah this is totally because of this video and I'm not even sorry. Ive been in a bit of a block so I thought just a lil drabble about Arthur would help!! Its gotten away from me a bit lol it's turning into a full blown thing but I'm out of my block yay!! as always thank you all for the lovely support and kind words on my work, it means the world <3
tagging: @musicallisto (i can't find the rest of my taglist!! i'm so sorry- please do drop me a message if you'd like to be added)
You spot the predator moments before Arthur does and seconds before his horse, but it is just too late. The snake hisses, Belle rears, and you’re forced to grip onto Arthur’s waist with enough force to surely bruise him. All the air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the grass and you brace yourself for the weight of Arthur landing on top of you. You wince, but the second wave of impact never arrives, Arthur somehow managing to divert his fall to right beside you.
“Goddamn!” He curses, quickly rolling over in a panic to check you over, his large, calloused hands holding your cheeks as his eyes roamed over your features. “You alright?”
You just about manage to nod through his firm, concern-fuelled grip as the pain in your back begins to subside, “I’m fine. It was just a shock.”
As soon as he knows you’re okay, Arthur turns his attention to Belle, the stunning white mare he loves most in the world (second only to you, of course). She is spooked, bucking and squealing as the serpent on the floor slides ever closer. Arthur is quick to throw the knife down, expertly hitting the poor thing in the head. A shudder runs down your spine as you watch the life leave its body, managing to identify it by the shape of its head as a highly venomous viper. Close call.
The impact of your fall is still ringing in your ears, so you watch from the ground as Arthur holds his gloved hands up, slowly approaching the steed. His voice is low and gruff as he speaks to her, bravely stepping forwards, never faltering in his steady pace. “Easy girl, you’re alright…”
Belle begins to calm, allowing Arthur close enough to reach out and pat her gently on the neck. She softly neighs, almost nuzzling Arthur protectively. It’s a sight to behold, enough to warm your heart wonderfully.
“Good girl.”
…oh.
The beating of your heart, originally from the sweetness of the moment, quickens and travels down, past your belly and manifests into being able to feel your pulse between your legs.
Oh god.
You feel downright wanton, practically panting as you watch Arthur’s tanned hands gently caressing Belle’s neck and only seem to be able to picture them all over you while he whispers sweet praises. Is it weird to feel jealous of a damn horse? It feels so wrong and you’re almost certain your cheeks have become flourished with the deepest crimson but by God do you want to hear him say that to you. You always did love how kind Arthur was to animals, but what you’d just witnessed seemed to have unlocked some carnal need you certainly hadn’t expected to realise when you woke up this morning.
“You sure you’re alright, darlin’? You ain’t hurt?” Arthur’s brows are pulled together when you drag your gaze from his fingers to his face. His features are saturated with worry and you can’t blame him when you realise you’re still sitting in the dusty mud, mouth agape and eyes wider than plates. You don’t even know how much time has passed, but considering how sedate Belle is, it must have been a while.
A hand is extended towards you and you take it, letting Arthur pull you to your feet as you nod, “I’m good. Really. Just… flustered.” You reply honestly, though Arthur seems to think nothing of it as his hands grip your hips, helping you onto the saddle. Not that you need the help, but he’s ever the gentleman and you’re pretty sure he likes the excuse to hold you, even if just for a moment.
There isn’t a verbal agreement that you’re switching places, but when you feel Arthur’s hard chest against your back and his arms snake around your waist, you instinctively shuffle into him and grab onto the reins.
“Shouldn’t be too long before we’re home now, I'll keep watch for any more snakes.” His breath tickles your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and not at all helping extinguish your growing arousal. You nod, nuzzling into him for just long enough for him to pick up on the silent request for a quick kiss on the cheek. It’s not nearly enough, but it’ll have to do for now. You kick your foot against Belle’s side and she sets off into a canter almost instantly, now seemingly feeling herself again.
“Atta girl.”
Damn, it’s going to be a long ride.
part 2
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan x y/n#arthur morgan rdr#arthur morgan rdr2#arthur morgan imagine#arthur morgan drabble#rdr#rdr2#red dead redepmtion 2#arthur morgan fanfiction#arthur morgan fluff#MargoFiore
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Day one — König
Helping him to relax
Kinktober day 1: Pegging | Macro/Micro — Fem!Reader
NSFW, MDNI
Enjoy a lil sub König!!!! And first post finally added on Tumblr, yay! -Hunter
He couldn’t wait to be over with this.
To finally get back to his room.
To get back to you.
Opening the door, König let out a sigh of relief, seeing you were already there.
Dressed in civilian attire, the tight leggings clinging to your form and the sports bra hugging your curves, you were completely unaware of his presence as you laid in his bed, doodling in a random journal.
His eyes roamed over your figure, taking in every detail, and his cock began to stiffen in his cargo pants. Finally, you noticed him and sat up, meeting his gaze with a tender smile.
"Long day, baby?" you asked. He groaned in response, closing the door behind him.
He tossed his shoes in a corner of the room, quickly followed by his gear, hands grabbing at his mask to drop it carelessly on his desk.
Within a few seconds, he was sitting on the bed beside you, face hidden in the crook of your neck.
He inhaled deeply, your scent enveloping him, intoxicating his senses.
It always amazed you, how someone as massive as König could be so gentle and affectionate with you. His walls came crashing down whenever you were around, a privilege only you got to witness.
"Do you need help to relax?" you innocently asked, your voice laced with a warmth that stirred something deeper within him.
König’s lips grazed against your skin as he responded with a breathless "Yes." You felt a surge of power as you dropped your hand onto his thigh, your touch teasingly trailing upwards.
A playful smile danced on your lips as your fingers hovered just above the bulge, his length twitching, silently pleading for your hands.
"Does my sweet boy want me to touch him?" you teased, fingertips barely grazing the fabric.
"Please, Schatz, I need you," he mumbled against your neck, his voice filled with anticipation.
You let out a light giggle, kissing his forehead before cupping his face with your hands, pulling him in for his lips to meet yours. The kiss was delicate yet hungry, a mix of desire and passion.
You lead his back against the mattress, your lips still on his in a kiss only growing more and more desperate.
Your lips only broke apart to allow you to take his shirt off.
You peppered kisses down his neck, to his collarbone, leaving a trail of lovebites behind you.
Your tongue glided down his chest, delicately circling around his nipple, teasing the sensitive bud, your wet tongue making König whimper.
A sweet sound that you craved to hear.
You licked a path down his abs, dropping soft kisses on his happy trail before unbuckling his belt, and tossing away his pants and boxer, freeing his massive length.
"So hard for me, baby, and I haven't even touched you yet" you teased, placing a playful peck on his inner thigh. The desire between you intensified as you firmly held both of his thighs, pushing them further apart.
"Be a good boy, König. Spread your legs for me" you commanded, and without hesitation, he obliged. The sight of him, tall, powerful, and above all, your superior officer, bending to your will, ignited a warm fire within you, fueling your own arousal.
You giggled at his obedience, sitting back between his parted legs. Your fingers traced his length, before slowly making their way to his hole. You put your thumb on his rim, and you felt him clenching, desperate to feel you inside.
He was already short of breath, and you know that if you truly wanted it, you could make him beg for you right now.
But not today. Today, you just want to please him, to make him feel as good as he deserves to.
A sigh escaped your lips and you could feel the wetness between your legs increasing with each of his pleas. With a caress, you removed your thumb and spat on his hole.
The lewd sound filled the air as your saliva rolled along his sensitive entrance.
You pass your fingers on your cunt, gathering your juices to use them as a makeshift lube.
And then, slowly, inch by inch, you inserted your middle finger inside him, relishing in the tightness that enveloped you.
"So goddamn tight," the praise fell from your lips, acknowledging the sensation. You allow him time to adjust to the feeling before gradually pumping your finger in and out of him.
His growing desperation was evident in the way his back arched, seeking more pleasure. Sensing his need, you added a second digit, fingering him with increased intensity.
Raspy moans and little German curses escaped his lips.
You glanced at his face, his eyes were closed, his mouth slightly agape, he was beautiful.
"More, Liebling, I need more," he muttered between moans and whimpers. You chuckled, slowly taking your fingers away from his stretched hole.
You jumped to your feet, snatching the harness and lube in a single movement. You worked quickly and expertly as you secured the straps around your thighs. With every passing second his legs trembled harder, opening up like a desperate invitation and you knelt back between them.
You could see precum leaking from his red tip, droplets dripping on his toned stomach. You carefully coated his hole in lube, the gentle touch making him clench once more, and you smirked at him. Your hand wrapped around his thick shaft, and as you stroked him, you aligned the tip of your silicone cock with his entrance.
Your hips thrust forward as you entered him, tearing a pleasured groan from him. König shut his eyes tightly and let out a deep sigh.
He clutched the bed sheets tightly as your hands moved up and down his shaft, your fingers curling around his head and smearing the precum along his length.
You bent down, pressing your lips hard against his as you slid further inside him. You could feel his abs tensing with the pleasure you were giving him. After a couple of seconds, all of the plasticky cock sit inside of his ass. You felt your cunt clench at the sight, your panties soaked in your own slickness.
"Eyes on me. I want you to look at me when I fuck you" you demanded, your voice firm yet still caring.
He obeyed, looking at you through heavy lids, and his gaze met yours. His pupils dilated, his eyes nearly black, circled with the icy blue that you loved so much.
You slowly shifted your hips backward, sliding out of him. Then back inside. His groans grew louder and more desperate.
"Scheiße, you feel so..." his words faded in a deep moan as you jolted your hips, the toy hitting his prostate.
You moved faster, pumping inside of him, your movement more raw and, in response, his hand held your waist, guiding your thrusts.
"Such a good boy, taking me so well," you cooed, your own hands on his hips for leverage.
"Touch yourself for me, pretty boy, give your cock the attention it deserves," you ordered in a whisper. His hand automatically grabbed his shaft and began to stroke. With each thrust of you inside of his used hole, his leg trembled more and more. But his eyes never left yours, following your previous command.
With each thrust, you could feel him closer and closer to his release. You increased your speed, encouraging him to reach his peak. A deep groan of pleasure escaped from his lips as he came, spilling his load all over his stomach.
His hand fell to his sides, his body trembling from the pleasure.
You slowed down your thrusts, allowing him to ride the wave of pleasure.
You gradually withdrew from him with an obscene sound.
You tossed aside the strap-on before leaning down to drag out your tongue on his body, cleaning him off and letting the taste of his salty cum invade your mouth.
When you deemed him clean enough, you snuggled up to him, resting your head against his shoulder.
König leaned in close to you, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss, tasting himself on your lips.
"Ich liebe dich", he whispered against your lips.
You giggled and shook your head.
"I don't speak German" you answered.
#cod mw2#smut#call of duty#fanfic#konig modern warfare#konig x reader#konig#konig smut#konig x you#writing#i am going insane
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So as the house gets warmed up to go let me give a few updates I found out!
Voting Present LOWERS the number necessary to win, so it SHOULD be 219 with the full house but because Spartz votes Present it's 218
ARGUABLY if more Republicans vote Present but the 20 stick to their guns, the Democrats COULD win with 212 but Republicans don't want that
Buck who left for a non emergency medical procedure yesterday may not be back
We're starting up with only 275 reps present cause it's more than half but YIKES. Though I would assume more are showing up
a Californian Republican just got up to nominate McCarthy just to see how fast he loses. He's saying it's NOT ABOUT McCARTHY. FRIENDO YEAH IT IS. Lolll he's talking about serving the country with "Pure and Selfless intent~" and like idfk if any human can do taht.
ughghg the Republicans also keep bringing up fentinol overdoses and immigration and how it's going UnChEcKeD while we vote.
oh interesting, he thanked the national police (happily everyone got up and clapped for them) to pretend like Republicans care AT ALL about them.
... Sir why we talking about China, I don't think this is gonna move anybody you wanna move???
Jesus, he's trying to scare ppl into voting together cause the world is in DANGERRRR but like, THESE ARE THE PPL THAT REFUSED TO WEAR A MASK CAUSE IT MADE THEM UNCOMFY while people DIED. So loll ur talking for nothing sir. Hahahaha he's like, I agree w you shits but I WOrk w OtHeRsss and that's how you gotta WoRk!!! lolll
Oh here we go, telling the Dems they're on the EDGE of a VERY IMPORTANT VICTORY. Loll sure you lil dipshit. OH OH RUDE he just said, looking to the Dems I realize i haven't met many of you cause you're not here, voting by proxy. WOW, rumbles in the crowd and then the Clerk had to bang the gavel and be like HEY, UR SUPPOSED TO DIRECT COMMENTS TO THE BENCH.
Ur useless dude, this is too long of a speech. And stupidly blaming all of it on the Dems
South Carolina Rep is up for the Democrats
Awww he thanked the Clerk who's been running this circus and all the Dems rose and the Clerk smiled and mouthed thank you.
He's talking about learning lessons and working to be a better govt but flowery-er. Ah okay he's bringing up Jan 6. Resiliency. USA was made for liberty, justice, and freedom. Pointing out that it's the first time in over 100 years that they can't figure out who to vote for. The goodness of the american people is at stake??? Jeffries is a good dude i guess lol.
Oh lord almighty Gaetz is up and saying HE TAKES EXCEPTION TO THE CALIFORNIA REPS STATEMENTSSS. LOLL oh shit and he's saying that McCarthy is only speaker if he GETS THE VOTES and he DON'T HAVE THE VOTES. And he's saying it's vanity making McCarthy keep going. LOLL AND I THINK THE DEMS CLAPPED FOR THAT. hahaha ppl are yelling at him and order had to be called. HAHAH Gaetz just called him LaBron James but that would mean that McCarthy was a WINNER AT SOME POINT.
Oh dude don't fucking bring up PURITY you lily white fuck. Damn he's just calling out his own party. He's saying their intentions when trying to negotiate w him weren't PUUUREEE. Again humans, nothings gonna be pure my dude.
Mr SQUINTS IS BACK!!!
Bottom line, they don't trust McCarthy, saying it's for the ppl
WOAH WAIT HE JUST NOMINATED JIM JORDAN AGAIN, NO
Boebert is up to nominate Hern. She keeps pointing out that he was unanimously voted as chairman for something and that he's gonna be united. Blahblahblah inflation, republican talking points. Oh yay quickly ended
OH SHIT AND WE'RE VOTING ROUND 12!!!
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