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laiiaaa · 7 months

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in need of more dad!carmy cause oml

him walkin in on the girls doing something they're not supposed to be doin :0 but ofc he can't manage to stay upset at them for long

He’s got the biggest soft spot in the world for his girls and he really can’t help it, especially when they’re young. They’re always up to something, usually because Rory’s a little shit (she takes after you) and Jack’s just trying to copy after her big sister.

You’re fast asleep one night when he’s wide awake. Just nerves, kinks in the road with The Bear, thoughts of Mikey’s birthday approaching, anxiety bubbling up that he doesn’t want to worry you with. So he heads downstairs to sit outside and clear his head with some fresh air—

Only to find Rory and Jack in the living room, on the floor, your sneaky bag of candy—the one reserved for you, that you pick at once the girls are off to bed and you’re cozied up on the couch with Carmen, chatting about your days between sweets—dispersed on the floor.

They don’t even notice his presence till he speaks up:

“What’s goin’ on here?”

They both look up, entirely spooked at their dad standing feet away.

“You two should be in bed.”

“But Dad,” Rory whines, “We don’t even have school tomorrow.” She puts on that pout she knows will have him cooing at her, and Jack follows right behind. “We were just looking, I promise.”

“Just lookin’, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“You know that’s your mother’s, right? That’s her candy you’re stealin’?”

Jack frowns, puts her big brown doe eyes to work. “Mommy lets us have some all the time.”

“Don’t lie t’me, Jacqueline.” One hand of his rests at his hip, the other swiping at his mouth as he fidgets. “You lyin’ t’me?”

He looks back and forth between his girls—his babies, really, because even though they’ve grown out of diapers and go to school on the weekdays, he still can’t fathom them as anything but his baby girls. So small, and so adorable, with tiny pouts and tiny hands and tiny giggles. They’re just so sweet.

“Not lyin’, Daddy.”

“She’s not,” Rory agrees. “Promise.”

He must be going soft. If Richie knew, he’d never hear the end of it, what with his heart going to mush at his girls, how he sees you in them both, how just a simple and meek little promise has his irritation going smooth and his lungs letting out a sigh before he cleans them up and carries them to bed—after they get one more piece of candy, of course, because who is he to deny them a little joy?

Carmen tells you the short of it by morning, limbs tangled together.

“You’re too easy on ‘em,” you giggle, “Such a softie. And they know it.”

“I’m not, y’know, soft, I’m just—”

“Bear, you let them get away with everything—”

“No I don’t—”

“If you say so,” you tease, letting the matter settle with your lips pressed sweetly against his, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you just a little closer. “It’s gonna come back ‘n bite you, though.”

“I’ll be alright, baby.” Another gentle trail of kisses, along your jaw, down to your neck, fading away at your collarbone. He’d kiss you all day if you’d let him.

“Hm.” Your nails scratch gently along his back, and you press your fingertips into the tender muscles of his back as he buries himself into your neck. “Are you making waffles today?”

A muffled groan escapes him, and he peeks up at you. “Thought you said you were doin’ breakfast today?”

You pout, and it looks awfully familiar to him. “Next weekend?”

“Next weekend, huh?”

“Promise.”

And oh, how the irony dawns on him, and oh, how little he cares. But why would he? How could he say no to you, or the girls you’ve brought into his life, when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him—when you love him like you do?

With a brief stretch and a deepened kiss with your hands in his hair, he lifts himself out of bed as you trail close behind, your touch a comfort unlike anything else. And when you shimmy into your seat at the counter, laughing with him over your cup of coffee, watching sweetly as he prepares breakfast before the girls scurry into the kitchen, he knows:

He wouldn’t change a thing.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #jeremy allen white #dad!carm #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy x reader #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto imagine

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 9 months

Text

bite the bullet

masterlist

melissa schemmenti x reader

18+: fluff, tiniest bit of angst/insecure mel, smut; fingering, oral, thigh riding, choking, vague dom/sub, unspecified age gap

wc: 2.5k

Not even Melissa’s favourite pasta sauce could ease the sourness in her veins; her fork stabbed into her leftovers harder than she realised, an abrasive action only taken note of by Barbara beside her. The woman daren’t say anything, not whilst fiery eyes stared your way with her jaw clenching tightly at each bite of her lunch.

She couldn’t bring herself to look away despite the way her skin felt hot with jealousy; she wasn’t the least bit surprised though. It’d be more surprising if the new substitute teacher hadn’t noticed all your charms, all of the things she adored.

But you weren’t hers, she doubts you ever would be. And she made peace with that; she's older than you, and you only see her as a friend, but now, with this infringement on her unclaimed territory, it’s all become too real. You really are just free for anybody to set their sights on and she abhors it.

“Damn, you’re lookin’ at the sub like I look at Janine,” Ava spoke as she walked through the door to the breakroom, instantly following the redhead’s gaze. “I’m talking about that time you wouldn’t come with me to the daddy-daughter-day at the zoo. Lotta single dads for widowed Ava,” she finished with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not lookin’ at nobody,” she muttered in return, peeling her eyes away from the hand that had landed on your arm in favour of aimlessly scrolling through her phone.

“Melissa,” Barbara sighed. “This has got to stop. The poor boy’s gonna have a heart attack with the way you’ve been looking at him. It’s clear there are some feelings - we all see it - but dealing with them through resentment is not going to solve them.”

You weren’t aware of the conversation happening on the other side of the room, instead, your attention was on the man in front of you. It had been pleasant to have a fresh face in the school and though the company didn’t compare to the table you usually shared with Barbara and Melissa, he seemed likable enough and you didn’t want him to feel out of place.

You didn’t think much of it when his touch lingered on your arm, nor when he shifted nearer to you on the sofa as you spoke. It barely crossed your mind. It never did. How could it when your affections lay elsewhere? Albeit somewhere unattainable. The amount of people who approach you in bars on nights out with Ava, the drunken kisses you might share with strangers, doesn’t matter when you only wish they were somebody else.

Though you have been thinking that perhaps it’s best to move on.

The conversation had turned to hushed whispers and steadfast denials from Melissa. Of course, Janine and Jacob had joined the gossiping table and so the four of them adamantly tried to reassure Melissa of her insecurities. She’s not ‘too old’, it’s not ‘too late to start something with anybody’, and someone like you is not too good for ‘someone like her’.

Though she never directly spoke the words, it was clear to them all that she held a place for you in her heart and there seemed to be a flicker of hope when her lips pulled into a soft smile against her will at just the sound of your laugh.

But then, of course, something had to spoil it. The quiet of the room made it all too easy to hear when the question was posed, an invitation to dinner from that substitute teacher who, quite frankly, was now disliked by everybody on Melissa’s behalf. There seemed to be a chorus of hitched breaths at the waiting of your response but she couldn’t bear to hear it, instead choosing to head directly to her classroom without looking back.

Safe to say, the rest of her day was filled with a tension she’d not experienced before. A mix of anger and jealousy, shame and complete sadness. She hadn’t realised how much she longed for you, she supposes it had never come into question. She’d never had to see you with anybody else to let the weight of reality sit on her shoulders - she’d rather enjoyed living in this ignorant bliss.

She made sure to avoid you on her way out to her car, making a pitstop for a bottle of her favourite wine on her way home. Though something didn’t feel right in the back of her mind. She let herself drive on autopilot, deep in thought for what could have been hours, giving in to the potentially reckless voice nagging at her.

She couldn’t let herself overthink the steering of the wheel, the clicking of her indicators turning right and the silencing of the hum of her engine when she parked her car outside of your house. She knew she wouldn’t go through with it if she didn’t just walk up to your front door and knock. But even when she was looking into your eyes she almost dared to turn back around.

“Mel? What are you- are you okay?” you spoke, shocked to see her on your doorstep with her hands in her jacket pockets and her eyes looking nervously into yours. You had never seen her nervous before.

“I’m fine,” she nodded. “Actually no. I’m not,” she sighed.

“Well, why don’t you come in and we can talk?”

“No,” she answered quickly, adamantly, with a shake of her head. “I gotta just come out with it and say it and be ready to run if it all goes to shit,” she explained, almost folding right there and then at the huff of a laugh you let out. “Don’t go out with him.”

She mentally kicked herself at the words that came out of her mouth; the rehearsed speech was completely erased from her brain and all she could remember was the way she wanted to punch his smug little face. She wanted you to know how she felt and instead, she’d let the envy win.

“Who?”

“That fuckin’ guy. Steve or John or something,” she huffed. “I’m not good at all this mushy love crap, I’m good at being jealous and being mad and wanting what is rightfully mine. And listen, maybe I’m outta line here - and if I am you’ve gotta tell me - but, I can’t stop thinking about you. Ever.”

“And that was fine but then seeing him looking at you the way I do, and hearing him ask you out, it just rubbed me the wrong way. And now all I can feel is this itch that I can’t scratch ‘cause I dunno what it is. I’ve never felt like this and I have no clue what to do about it. But what I do know is that if you go out with him, it’ll make me feel like I’m dying.”

“Wow, for someone who doesn’t do mushy crap, you’re pretty dramatic,” you smiled.

“I shoulda known you’d say something like that,” she laughed. “After I poured my soul out to you.”

“It’s one of the things you love about me though, right?”

“Sure. I guess,” she shrugged with a nervous scuff of her boot along the ground. “So what-”

You couldn’t put her through more of that dramatic confession, seeing the apprehension all over her face, you had to kiss her. Finally. It felt as good as you’d hoped, the slick of her lipstick against you and the remnants of a cup of coffee on her tongue.

“So this is a kiss of reciprocation?” she murmured against you, allowing you to pull her over the threshold of your doorway and kicking it shut behind her.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “And it’s also permission for you to let me know just how jealous you are.”

–

Her kiss began softly, like the portrayal of her feelings she’s kept harboured and hidden for so long were finally being set free against your lips. She quickly lead you backwards, pushing you flush against the wall with an eagerness that sent a shiver through your spine.

Melissa trailed kisses across your jaw and your neck, grazing her teeth along the skin with the heat of her breath setting your skin on fire. You’d never seen her blush, your eyes softened at the sight.

“Nuh-uh,” she muttered with a smirk. “You’re not gettin’ all puppy-eyed at me right now.”

“And why’s that?” you asked, sneaking your hands beneath her jacket to rest on her waist, watching how her eyes darkened, hardly able to tear them from your lips she so wanted to kiss again.

“‘Cause I’m still mad at you. That’s why.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you frowned, unable to keep the sigh you let out silent when her hold on you tightened.

“I bet you got me jealous on purpose, huh? Flirtin’ with Pete just to get my attention,” you couldn’t help but laugh at the way she grimaced as she said his name - despite it not being his name. Though you couldn’t say she was totally wrong; whether you thought this was a possibility or not, at the back of your mind it had occurred to you that perhaps she would see. That maybe if she saw others find you desirable, she would too. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she laughed, soon pushing you onto the sofa to climb atop of you, ridding herself of her jacket and you of your shirt.

Her eyes took you in hungrily, stroking musing hands along the bare skin she could see. She was hesitant at first, to let you undo the buttons of her blouse, but the way you looked up at her with all the sincerity and desperation she too felt made her feel safe. She’d never imagined somebody could look at her the way you did, surveying her exposed body as though it was a treasure you’d been seeking, making goosebumps litter her back with the hands you lay there.

Melissa was ravenous. Ready to show you that jealousy. In a kiss that left you gasping for breath while quick lips sucked against your collarbone with soothing licks against harsh teeth marks; in the hand she cupped your neck with, thumb pushing onto your throat just to hear the hitch in your breathing.

Each action made your stomach flip. The way she subconsciously made use of the leg you’d slotted between hers, grinding onto your thigh with small grunts of pleasure at the back of her throat. Everything was so hastened and desperate, clinging to one another as though one of you would disappear if you let go, lips swelling and breathing sounding in the room with the heated kisses.

You unclasped her bra, discarding it in favour of palming at her breasts, rolling pert nipples between your thumb and finger much to her pleasure. You couldn’t have imagined a more sublime sound than the way she rasped your name when your touch was replaced with your lips, sucking the pillowed flesh, flicking your tongue against her while her touch wandered.

“Can I touch you, sweet girl?” she breathed, inching her hand lower with her words uttered against your lips. And at the sight of your nod she dipped below the waistband of your underwear, groaning at the wetness she found beneath her fingertips. “Fuck, you’re so wet. This all for me?”

“Yes, Melissa,” you nodded, rolling your eyes slightly in amusement as if it could be for anyone else.

“Gotta work on that attitude,” she tutted with a look that made you shrink in the best way possible, nails no doubt leaving impressions with how she gripped your neck. She knew you liked it, feeling your soaked cunt clench around the fingers she pushed into you, watching your eyes screw closed at the thumb she pushed over your clit.

Her digits curled into you with a perfect precision, hitting every spot to hear moans tumble from your lips, encouraging them to be put to good use latched around her nipples. She felt each moan against her and it only egged her on, determined to feel you fall apart.

Melissa could hear how soaked you were with each thrust into your sopping pussy, and she could see it in the head you threw back onto the cushions, murmurs of her name sounding into the room; your hands grabbed at her, clawing at the soft skin of her back with pink lines decorating the creamy white.

“C’mon, princess,” she muttered. “I’ve wanted to see you cum for so long.”

Just the sound of her rasped voice pushed you over the edge, arching your body into hers as the feelings washed over you and your heart pounded from the pleasure. You returned her kiss as best you could through your breaths, leaning into the hand she pressed against your heated cheek.

Her desire had only multiplied, pushing her clothed pussy over your thigh, guided by the hands you held her hips with; silently pleading to rid her of her trousers with a tug to her belt loops. It was only then that she broke the kiss, baring her entire body to your view, taking her place on her back with you between her legs.

Her cunt glistened with the slick arousal brought on by the past few minutes. You created pathways with your kisses, leaving marks of your presence behind between her breasts, sinking your teeth into the softness of her belly and inner thighs.

“Don’t fucking tease,” Melissa uttered through gritted teeth, pushing your head to where she needed it most, lifting up into your mouth when you latched your lips around her aching clit, licking through her folds with her taste on your tongue.

Her thighs threatened to clamp around your head so you pried them apart with the pillowy flesh beneath your palms, lapping at her cunt while she moaned above you, one hand in your hair and the other toying with her sensitive nipples. To know that the glorious sound at the back of her throat was from your tongue dipping into her made you that much more eager to please, feeling her clench around you.

“God, honey,” she moaned. “You’re so good. So close,” she panted out, pulling your head away to dig her fingertips into your jaw, biting her lip at the sight of her arousal on your chin. “I want you to look at me,”

It was just as pleasurable for you as it was for her, her eyes fixed on you from beneath you, hips moving in time with the fingers you buried into her cunt with the heel of your palm brushing over her clit.

Feeling her warmth around your digits was an even hotter feeling of intimacy than you could have thought, fucking her with your hand to watch her mouth fall open with a grunt. With just a few more pumps of your fingers, she came with a sigh, keeping her eyes focused on yours dominantly before pulling you back into a heated kiss, humming at the remnants of herself on your tongue.

“Bet you’re glad you said all that mushy crap now, huh?” you smiled teasingly against her.

“Oh, shush,” she laughed, cupping your face with her thumb musingly swiping over your bottom lip. “Now take me to your bedroom, ‘cause I’m not done with you.”

#melissa schemmenti x fem!reader #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abott elementary

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madaqueue · 21 days

Text

Dripping in Gold | Chapter 1

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, angst, light smut. alcohol mention, masturbation (f). 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.6k

a/n: IT'S HERE AHHHH hope y'all like this one :)

series masterlist | next chapter

God, I need to get a job.

The afternoon sun filters in through the blinds as you scroll through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the reality of your future. You graduated college months ago and still have no idea what you want to do or how to do it. Application after application, shitty interview after shitty interview, and you’re still no further into the career that’s supposed to be the rest of your life.

Sighing, you prop yourself up on your elbows in bed to take in the space around you - clothes were strewn across the floor of your studio apartment, dirty dishes piled in the sink, empty takeout containers from restaurants you certainly couldn’t afford to be eating at. It was all just too much.

Eh, I’ll get around to it, you think, laying back into the pillows and returning to your phone. You navigate to check your bank account, just to see the damage that months of unemployment have done.

“Balance: $68.06”

Shit. That’s not even enough to make rent this month, and even if you did have a job lined up you’ve already asked your landlord for one extension on your payments and he did not seem very open to the prospect of doing it again.

Trying to shut out the thought of possibly losing your apartment, you move over to Instagram to quiet the dread building inside of you. Scrolling through posts of your friends on yachts, traveling the country, eating expensive dinners with expensive-looking people, you only feel like more of a failure.

How are they able to do it? I mean, sure, they at least have jobs, but none of them pay well enough to do this, right?

You hover over one of your friend’s pictures, trying to recognize the incredibly well-dressed, albeit much older, man she’s seated across from. As you zoom in, it suddenly clicks - her new jewelry, the expensive bottle of champagne, fresh nails, styled hair - and you remember your conversation with her the last time you saw each other.

You were both out at a bar and she kept buying rounds of shots for you and all your friends.

“Dude, not to be a total dick, but how are you able to afford all this?” you shout over the music blasting through the speakers.

“Oh m’god, you aren’t gonna believe it” she slurs slightly, “there’s this app where rich guys pay you to just go on dates with ‘em, I jus’ gotta keep lookin’ pretty and they pay me so much.”

“Don’t you have to, like, fuck them though?” you ask, curiously raising an eyebrow.

“Only if y’wanna! You’re not really supposed to, but they pay you a lot more!” she grins.

At the time you pushed the conversation to the back of your mind and promptly forgot about it after a few more drinks, but now the realization crashes over you.

No, there’s no way. You try to shake the idea out of your mind - were you seriously considering getting a sugar daddy before getting a job?

She did make it sound pretty easy though…and I mean, it’s just dates, right?

You hesitantly pull out your laptop to search for the website she had mentioned. There’s no harm in just checking it out, you try to rationalize. Before you know it, you’ve set up a profile and have picked out a few pictures of yourself that make you look particularly hot - you out at a bar, you on the beach, you with your friends.

After you finalize your profile, the screen suddenly fills with pictures of, frankly, less-than-attractive older men. You roll your eyes and scoff at your own stupidity for even considering this idea, starting to shut your laptop before something catches your eye in the corner of the screen.

Bright white hair and piercing blue eyes look back at you through the computer. Holy shit, he’s hot, you think as you move your mouse to click on his profile.

Bio: “My name’s Gojo, but you can call me yours 🥰 23, casual only”

Okay, so he’s hot, rich, and practically the same age as you? You feel like you’ve struck gold. Besides, he only wants something casual, which is all you’re interested in anyways since you still need to focus on finding a job eventually, but this could at least help you financially bridge the gap between then and now.

Swiping up, you decide to just send him a message and hope for the best; after all, the worst he can say is no.

You: Gojo, I need you to be fr with me - does that pickup line in your bio ever actually work?

Sighing, you move to close your computer as you wait for him to respond, but a message pops up almost instantly.

Gojo: Why don’t you find out tonight over dinner - 7:30 work for you?

A smile starts to form on your lips - this was almost too easy. The two of you briefly confirm the details of your first date before you finally shut your laptop and start getting ready.

–

Standing outside of the restaurant, you’re suddenly hit with a wave of nervousness as the reality of what you’re about to do sets in.

There’s no way this is a good idea - maybe I should just go home. No, no, I’ve made it this far, and I really do need the money.

You inhale a shaky breath as you try to steady yourself before reaching for the door and walking inside. The restaurant is beautiful, the scent of fresh bread and herbs hitting your nose as soon as your feet step onto the dark wood of the floor. The deep red walls make the space feel cozy, intimately lit with candles and a chandelier hanging overhead. You glance down at the burgundy dress and black heels you decided on since they were the nicest clothes you owned, yet you still feel slightly underdressed.

Glancing around the restaurant, the white-haired man is nowhere to be found. “Hi, um, I’m here to meet someone,” you hesitantly explain to the person at the host stand.

“Ah yes, you must be with Mr. Gojo. Right this way,” he gestures for you to follow him. He leads you through the restaurant to the far back corner, unveiling a small room that was initially hidden behind a curtain.

As you adjust to the dim lighting, you glance around the new space in front of you: a single table with roses placed in the middle, and on one side sits perhaps the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He smiles at you as those bright blue eyes meet yours before they slowly move down and up your body, taking you all in.

“Well, aren’t you a treat,” he grins before getting up to pull out the empty chair for you.

When he stands up you allow your gaze to cover him as your eyes shift up to his white locks then down across his black suit, adorned with a dark red tie that somehow perfectly matches your dress.

“You aren’t half-bad yourself,” you respond as you move across the small space to sit down.

“Careful now, don’t flatter me too much or it’ll go to my head,” he smirks as he returns to his seat across from you. He places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his palm, staring at you.

Trying to break the silence, you murmur, “This place is nice.”

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes never leaving your face.

“So, um, what do you do?” you continue, desperately trying to loosen the pressure you feel from his gaze.

“Do you care?” he taunts, tilting his head to the side with that same smirk on his face.

“W-well, I-” you stammer.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m not offended. You’re here because I’m paying you, and I’m here because I wanted to sit across from a beautiful woman. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that,” he smiles.

The combination of the pet name and him calling you beautiful suddenly makes your cheeks flush and you look down at the table, trying to hide your reddening face.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your chin as Gojo gently tilts your head back up. “Eyes up here, princess,” he purrs. “After all, what’s the point of this little date if I can’t even look at you?”

Something about his touch, his voice, his words has your heart fluttering in your chest. You’ve never been nervous like this over a guy before, and you’ve barely just met him.

You swallow, trying to keep your eyes on his but it almost feels like he’s seeing into you, somehow able to view the depths of your soul. You feel naked in front of him, like he’s looking at your very essence.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally breaks the eye contact with a chuckle. “Sorry, I know I can come off a little intense sometimes. You’re just so gorgeous it feels like I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t try to take it all in.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you finally tear your gaze away from him, softly laughing at the compliment.

The rest of the date goes smoothly - he orders the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu and tells you to get whatever you want, since it’s obviously his treat. The conversation flows easily between the two of you, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying your time with him. When it comes time to leave, he thanks you for spending the night with him and gives you his phone number in case you ever want to go out again. As you part ways to walk towards your car, you get a notification from your bank.

Holy. Shit.

Your eyes widen at the screen. Gojo sent you $2,000.

You almost feel dizzy, not having had this much money at once in nearly months. Now you can pay rent and buy groceries and do all the other stuff you were too broke to do. Sitting in your car, you let out a squeal of excitement.

Unfortunately, your joy gets cut short as you go to turn your car on, the key turning repeatedly in the ignition as it stalls out.

Of course, you think, the one time I don’t put gas in this goddamn thing. To your credit, you really couldn’t afford it, and it had lasted longer on empty before. You had also neglected the oil change, and the tire rotation, and the other maintenance the mechanic kept emailing you was overdue, but how were you supposed to pay for all that anyways? Not knowing what to do, you pull out your phone to call someone to help you. As you unlock it, you’re met with Gojo’s contact information he just put in.

I mean, he would definitely help me. And I know he can afford gas. Sighing, you call him.

He answers almost immediately. “Miss me already?”

You want to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you really do need his help. “My piece of shit car won’t turn on, and I figured you’re probably still close to the restaurant, could you help?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a minute.” Even after just one date, it’s like you can practically hear his smile through the phone.

As promised, he arrives a few minutes later. He drives up in a sleek, black Porsche that has windows so tinted you wouldn’t be able to see inside if he hadn’t rolled his window down. Of course he drives a nice car, you think to yourself.

“Your savior has arrived,” he smirks, leaning his head out the window at you where you stand against your car. Opening the passenger side door reveals the interior of the vehicle, which is just as nice as the outside, with black leather seats and an all-black console. “You know, this is usually the part where you say thank you.” He turns to face you as the scent of his cologne hits you, something woody and crisp.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you settle into the comfortable seat. “You can just take me home.”

“On it,” he responds with a salute.

The drive is quiet as you spiral into your thoughts. How am I supposed to get a job now if I can’t even drive to an interview? How am I even supposed to get groceries? Can I just leave my car at the restaurant? Where else would I even take it? How am I supposed to afford this? Fuck.

Gojo clears his throat next to you, pulling you out of your mind. “You alright over there, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, sorry,” you stutter, “just stressed.”

He glances over at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Well, what if I could help you be a little less stressed?”

“Oh yeah, and how would you do that exactly?” Looking down, you suddenly notice his hand on your thigh, his thumb moving in slow circles along your skin. The gentle sensation makes you feel flustered as heat begins to pool between your legs.

Am I seriously about to fuck this guy I just met?

Before you can say anything else, Gojo continues. “How about you use my car while I get yours sorted out for you, hm?” A look of surprise flashes across your face at his kindness and lack of sexual proposition. “What, not the offer you were expecting?” he smirks.

“Gojo, I-” you start.

“Look, princess, I want to do this. Let me help you, please?” he pleads.

“Fine,” you relent, “but I owe you one, seriously.”

“Don’t worry about it. But, if you really insist, I’m sure we can figure out a way for you to repay me at some point.” You tilt your head to look at him as his eyes meet yours, a glint of mischief in his blue irises.

After a few more minutes of him flirting with you, his hand never leaving your thigh, Gojo finally pulls up to your apartment building. Stepping out of the car, he hands you the keys and reminds you not to worry, that he’ll take care of everything. You thank him again as you walk inside - he insists you don’t wait outside while he waits for his ride home - and he sends you off with a wave.

Walking into your apartment, your thoughts swirl in your mind as you replay the events that just transpired. How did you manage to find this rich, handsome, courteous man? More importantly, what’s the catch? If he’s truly as good as he seems, why was he on that website in the first place?

Sighing, you flop onto your bed and peel off your dress, tossing it into the accumulating pile of clothes on the floor. Your skin feels warm where he touched you, a part of you wishing he had inched higher. Before you realize you’re doing it, your hands traverse down your body between your legs, gently pulling your panties to the side.

As you rub over your clit, you picture how his soft fingertips would feel against you, how good those long fingers would feel inside you, beckoning you towards your release. Your other hand traces up your chest, gently cupping your breast as you toy with your firm nipple. His name escapes your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer, eyes shut as you picture him. “Gojo,” you can’t stop yourself from moaning into the empty room as your orgasm hits you, legs shaking, the thought of him the only thing on your mind.

Your breathing slows as you come down from your high, heart still pounding in your chest.

Well, that settles it, you think as you sit up. I guess I am going to fuck him.

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vixensajntz · 7 months

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(this is for my pookie dookie @br4tphobia)

dom abby x black fem reader.gym sex.semi public sex.reader gets nervous.abby wears a muscle tee.riding fingers.fingering.clit play.grinding.doing it on a bench.humiliation kink.dirty talk.daddy kink.abby calls reader a bitch.degrading kink.reader has a phat booty.abby wears a muscle tee.abby nd reader are stangers to lovers.all infront the big gym mirror.daycryphilia.

WHAT A SLUT.

you decided to go to the gym to work on your glutes…cause who doesnt love a good lookin ass…nd that progress of going to the gym every couple of days has reall paid off.Now you have been eyeing this fine ass woman there that has been your gym crush ever since youve been going there…little did you know shes been eyeing you too.You both have made eye contact a lot today and it was a pretty late night in the gym and it was a small but spacious gym.Abby has been eyeing even without u knowing since youve walked in tonight…maybe it was because of that tight fitting gym set that made your ass look just right…maybe it was your matching braid that went with the color of your outfit that got her…or maybe it was your new fresh nail set.Who knows what it was but all she knows is that she wants to get up on you in this empty gym…and luckly you feel the same way abt that too…the way abby is looking in her sage green muscle tee that shows off her black sports bra thru the big cuts of her tee really has got you in a chokehold…making you start to unfocus from your workout,rubbing your thighs together trying to get some sort of friction on your poor clit.Abbys detailed muscled arms moving with such grace as she does her reps…sweat dripping down her arms…seeing those veiny forarms flex as she moves the bars…the bracelet filled wrists…the ring filled fingers…she does all of that while staring right at you...you start getting nervous with intense stare.All you can think about is what those hands and arms could do to you in such a place like this…little did you know your night at the gym would come out in a perfect ending.

now your leggings are pulled off one leg with your panties still having one side on thats pulled down to your mid thigh,your top pulled up showing your pretty perky titties,your nails are gripping into her shoulders while youre straddling on her muscular thigh riding her thick fingers.All you can think about is how did you even get here? but you could careless rn with the way shes treating you.You both are placed in a small gym room only used for classes but it has a perfect bench thats placed right infront of the mirror…being a perfect place for abby to see you.Your whining over and over again…this is all to much…the way shes talking down to you…the way her arms flex beautifully while gripping your right ass cheek while she has her other hand occupied in your creamy wet pussy.’What if someone walked in on us seeing you be such a slutty bitch on my fingers hm?’she said with her deep voice giving your ass a stinging slap…making you whimper…’you would like that shit wouldnt you?’ after she said those words your pussy clenched at the thought…you tuck your head into her neck that has the perfect musky scent…muffling your moans…you start to lightly kiss up her neck…she lightly sighs at the action.Bringing your head back up to kiss her but she rejects ‘you think girls that act like this deserve a simple kiss? thats not how it works baby.i want you to beg for it’ she said with a chuckle…tears start forming in your eyes as you whine…’p-please pleaseee’ dragging out your words barley being able to get anything out with the pleasure thats building within you.’one more time baby and say my name.’ she says…’please daddy,i wanna kiss you so badddd’ you said bitting your plump gloss smudge lips…she leans in kisses your lips lightly building it more into a makeout session with your letting out your pleasure harmonies in her mouth…her pearly clit pulses at this…she could almost cum on the spot but she holds herself back…reaching your hand down to her almost soaked black basketball shorts to rub her pussy,after seeing her slowly start to grind up to get some sort of friction on her clit…she groans lowly at this action…she slowly starts to grind herself in your hand…and just cant seem to stop…your pretty tattooed flower hand rubbing up and down,doing light circles with your three fingers is really starting to get to her…her fingers speeding up inside of your pussy…her fingers grounding that spongey spot inside…you moan loudly at this action…your free hand pulling her french braid to get her to look at you with that haze in both of yalls eyes…shes panting and wincing at your strong pull…your tounge licks at her tounge…swirling them around eachother…you lightly start to suck on hers while bobbing your head…your humming at her sweet taste…she tastes just like candy…you thought to yourself.You both getting off to eachother in such a dirty way…neither of you can stop…both of your climaxes on the tip of your tounges…she spreads your right ass cheek apart to get deeper in your pussy…’look at yourself in that mirror baby’ she pants…you turn yourself to the mirror…seeing that wet spot on her shorts…your face turns into a pout…you seeing your tear stained face…’look at that pretty dirty ass bitch in that mirror’ she said grinning at you…the way shes degrading you rn…is getting even closer to the edge…’youre gonna make m-me fuckin c-cumm’ you said with a sigh…abby is getting to her end too…your hand is starting to rub back and forth on her pearly pretty clit…you starting to grind yourself on her fingers with your clit lightly getting stimulated by her thigh…’were gonna cum at the same time,okay my love?’she said grinding her fingers into you deeper…she feels your hand starting to speed up on her clit rubbing figure 8 motions,trying to get both of you off at the same time…your clit bumps more and more till that knot snaps…’rightthere imcummminnnn’ you said with a loud pornographic moan…’s-shit i am too baby fuckkk mee’ abby said with her hips stuttering into your hand with a loud groan…both riding your high state of euphoria out with one another.

‘can i maybe get your number?’abby asks while watching you pull up your pants over your thick ass after seeing your white thong getting sucked up by your ass cheeks…shes trying not to get turned on again.

you look at her ‘hmmm sure’you said with a pretty pearly smile on your face knowing you just teased her.

©yeagerzprettyblnt 2023$!dont steal,plagiarize my shit,steal themes,or repost my works anywhere else without asking.if you do you will have conquences.

#♡livvy liv works♡#abby anderson fan fiction #abby anderson tlou2 #abbyanderson #abby anderson fic #abby smut #abby the last of us #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby x fem!reader #abby x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fanfic

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curvykittyyssmutfics · 6 months

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A random au where bucky is a car mechanic who is fixing his single sexy next neighbor, reader's car. She was wearing slightly revealing clothes to want to get banged by bucky. Luckily it work!!!

The Piper: paid

A/N: Soooooooo fucking sorry about the time in between my last post my wonderful people. Doing my absolute best to make lemonade outta the lemons life keeps whippin at the back of my damn head. Anyway, next story will also be a request as I have so many to get done. Probs won't be doing any thing else till I get those done. Anyway.. On to the fic! Enjoy!

"Dammit!"

Bucky's frustrated outburst, along with something metal clattering against his garage floor is audible as I walk up his long, wide, driveway. Listening to him grumble aggressively about "a piece of shit black lil mercedes" makes me chuckle heartily to my self. Expletives about the damage I staged seems to be most common, along with a couple grunts from an unknown task clearly exerting his strength.

The way his breath puffs out entices the introverted slut in me to visualize him underneath me in immense bliss while I ride his dick to my satisfaction, those heavy huffing pants spilling from his lips. Hopefully today's the day I make my dreams come true.

Looking left to right, I notice there's not a soul outside at the moment. That just means step one of my plan is already in action. The dainty diamond rolex on my wrist confirms it's 5pm. Right on time to get fucked and filled with Bucky's nut till it leaks in my panties. Mmmm... Can't wait to rub em all over my pussy later; his milky cream acting as lube while I make myself cum so fuckin hard. I'm lickin my full heart shaped lips in anticipation while plottin on this poor unsuspectin man.

Passing by his new deep blue jaguar, I run a finger along its pristine paint job as I spot Bucky on a creeper underneath my Mercedes. He takes that moment to run a hand through his fresh cut dark locks while wishing it absolute death. It's impossible not to feel a smidge of guilt at the purposeful trouble Bucky's going through at the moment but if everything goes my way, I fully intend to make it up to him by the end of the evening. Shit, hopefully multiple times this evening. It's outta my power not to smile wide at the way my soakin wet pussy flutters at the thought.

Leaning against his ride with palms flat on the hood, I eye fuck my prize thoroughly. Daddy looks so fucking good in his fitted navy blue tee and snug black jeans on his back, his muscled thighs spread wide. The bottom of his shirt lifts a bit to reveal a peek of his firm, incredibly toned tummy as his hips jut upwards. Dark brown boots spread apart wide when he repositions himself, and the fat ass bulge in between his legs grabs my attention real quick.

I'm so fuckin horny just from starin at Bucky, that I gotta squeeze my thighs together for just even a hint of pressure on my pulsating center. My shorts are past drenched where they rest sticky against me. The arousal drippin out plasters my brown thick thighs as my needy little cunt clenches rapidly around nothing. My nipples are so fuckin hard from lightly rubbing against the extremely transparent fit I chose just for him.

"Hey Buck, whats the progress on my baby?" I finally grab his attention as I drum my glossy short jet black nails on the hood of his car.

The wheels on the creeper squeak as he rolls from underneath the source of his current troubles and stands. His eyes focus on the black grime on his hands and he heads to the small sink in the corner of his garage as he responds.

"Woman, I don't know how you manage to damage something on this vehicle every week but it's gotta stop. I'm startin think you just like to come see me."

"Well why not? You're a sight for sore eyes, good lookin."

He dries his hands while laughing at my brazeness and, as always, not taking my corny flirtation serious.

"Boy, you laughin like I won't fuck the daylights outta you right fuckin now."

That flippant response however has him spinnin on his heels to face me. Bucky's vibrant blue eyes grow to orbs and he's rendered speechless as he thoroughly takes in my damn near non existent ensemble. This man is staring at the swell of my perky titties so intently that I know step 2 of my plan is gonna be a piece of cake and I really hope its not my imagination when noticing a twitch from the protrusion in his black jeans.

Dropping the cloth in his hands to the garage floor, he takes long strides till he's standing outside in front of me. His pretty pink lips part and close multiple times as he struggles to speak as he gazes at my nipple covers. Wonder what Daddy's next moves gonna be..

Bucky doesn't say anything at first; but the way he lustfully takes me in gives me goose bumps. His big hands reach around me to grip under my ass and hoist me up against his body. I don't hesitate to wrap my arms and legs around him as he walks us to his parked car, layin me across the warm hood.

"Damn sweetheart, where you plan on goin lookin like this?" Bucky asks, eyes still darting around my body as he presses his clothed hard dick between my legs. The pressure of him against my pussy feels heavy, has my clit thumpin wildly and I'm grindin back without a thought.

"I have a date tonight." I respond breathlessly and that makes his light crystal cerulean eyes snap to mine.

"That right? What're you doin underneath me then, woman? Huh? A little pregame?" He teases, leaning in so close that our lips almost touch.

I shake my head at his questioning as my cheeks heat up from his words. Still, its difficult to feel true embarrasment as his hands glide slowly over my frame, leaving a trail of warmth that makes me press into his palms. Bucky's touch and proximity stuns me a bit, makes my brain fuzzy and pussy clench for him ferally. The small sexy smirk playin at the corner of his lips turns me on just as much as him dry humping me in broad daylight ontop his brand new ride.

"Huh y/n? Is that it? Did you come to me first cause you wanna cum for me first?" He chuckles at me.

Leaning down, his soft lips pecks light kisses from the cheek to my ear. His fingertips skim under my tight bottoms, so dangerously close to my clit as he nips and sucks at my skin. I'm moaning and nodding my assent as I tug him to press against me firmly by the loops of his jeans.

"Fuuuuck.. Lemme feel you then pretty girl."

Bucky's fingers finally dragging across my throbbing button lightly, makin me damn near seize underneath him. I do nothing to mask the loud gasp of his name as the pleasure from just one swipe has me squeezin my eyes shut and grabbin at the top of his jeans in a death grip.

"Damn, my girl is soooo sensitive."

His low groan at my ear makes my soaked pussy flutter quicker and I can feel myself becoming desperate from his teasing touches. The sensation of one hands roaming up my body to gently squeeze over my left tit as the other sweeps across my pussy has me choking on my breaths with a heaving chest. Bucky lifts his head to watch me as he slowly traces circles around my clit, never fully pressing down on it the way I crave.

"Pleeease Buck, pleeeeease." I beg for him to give me more as my incessant yanking on his bottoms pops open the silver button and zipper.

A surprising thanks to the foregoing of underwear is definitely due because I'm then gifted with fattest dick I've ever seen. He's so. Fucking. Perfect. Almost pretty if it werent how girthy his shaft is, the angry flushed head of his dick drooling an abundant stream of precum. I easily notice the weight of him prevents it from slapping upwards; the thick tip of his cock points at my slippery slit. I don't stop pulling at him, humping the tip of his dick while I continue to plead for him to give me what I want most.

"Okay, honey, okay. I'll give you what you want. But lemme take you inside- haaaah, ooooh fuuuuck.."

Our moans mingle togther as one of my harsh tugs forces a few inches of his dick inside my awaiting core. Bucky eyes are wide as saucers as he stares where we connect with an open mouth. His breathing is harsh and loud; strong chest rising and falling rapidly as he quickly grabs my hands from his jeans. I immediately grieve as his touch leaves my tit and clit but my pussy involuntarily clutches at the head of his dick as he pins my wrist to the hood of his car.

"Jesus, woman. Mmmm.. Dammit, aaaaahhh fu- you couldn't wait till I got you inside?"

"Noooo, James. Want you, NEED you noooow. Please Jaaames, pleeease!" I don't notice the volume of my voice rising as I start to lose my fuckin mind.

Bucky's gaze is piercing but frantic, darting from the small puddle forming underneath me on the hood of his car to the way I'm hangin off the end of his dick. But I think it's the way I whine his first name that breaks his resolve. He briefly halts pinnin me down to put my legs over his shoulders. He's then scooping my wrists together in one hand and covering my mouth with the other.

"Fine, pretty girl, don't say I didn't warn your bad ass. Tried to give us some privacy. Now you gonna take this dick no matter what."

The first pump of his cock has him slidin in halfway, the river spilling from me aiding his stroke in. Still, his fat ass shaft splits my delicate walls apart swiftly, the intense pressure has my glossy y/e/c eyes and lined lips opening wide. I squeal loudly gainst his palm, not expecting Bucky to already be sitting in my guts even though he wasn't all the way in yet. WTF..

"Fuuck, sobigBuck, you're HUGE." I whimper, peering up at him with vacant eyes. He leers down at me with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, but my girls gonna have to get used to it huh?" He asks, starting fuck up into my gushy slit.

I don't mean to yank at his hold on my wrists but his next 2 thrust are so fuckin deep. My resistance doesn't free me, though it pulls him off balance and he slides in to the hilt. The tension in my tummy deepens as I feel his cock diggin into my pussy in places no man's ever reached. If it weren't for the hand cupping my mouth, I'm sure the scream I let out would be deafening. Bucky moans out praises as I squeeze my eyes shut tight and try my best to breathe through my nose.

"You're doing so damn-ohshit- weeeeell honey, takin me sooooo good. Mmmmmm.. Chokin the fuckin life out my dick y/n. Not s-sure how long I can last in this hot, tight ass, little pussy, sweetheart. Fuuuuuuck.. Keep being a good girl for me, try to keep quiet okay?"

I can feel Bucky's stare on me even through my close lids, so I nod my compliance. In reality, I pray to god that i dont scream out 'Daddy' for the whole neighborhood to hear while he's dickin me down.

He takes his hands from my wrists and mouth, sliding them down for a quick grab of my plump brown breasts, then to grip at my waist. The pull of his dick slowly slidin out then swiftly plunging back inside has me panting loudly with furrowed brows. I have to cover my own mouth this time, both hands pressed against my lips as he repeats the motion of his hips over and over until he's fucking me in a unhurried but deeply precise rhythm.

"Ohmygod James! Sogood-you'resogood! Don't stop, pleeeease d-don'tstop!" My muffled cries are crazed as he finally stuffs me with dick.

"I won't, honey, won't stop till you cream all over me. Wouldn't dreeeeam of it, baby. Can't stop till you cum on my cock. Fuuuuuck you feel like heaven baby, pussy got me ready to nut an we jus started. Haaah oooh God, sooo good, need you to cum first, y/n."

I'm already covered in perspiration as the breeze races across my nut brown skin and cools me down. Its about the only thing I notice, sounds of the passing cars and chirping birds drowned out by the loud rushing in my ears as Bucky thoroughly fucks the shit outta me. The pleasure swirling in my tummy is so fucking taut, and I know when I cum it's gonna be fucking spectacular.

His unrushed pace begins to speed up, the impact of him pumpin into me rocks his car back and forth as his grunts become more frequent. My knees tremble near his ears from the onslaught, from hearing how good Daddy feels because of me.

He looks just as delicious as he sounds, his body so fuckin tense as I witness how he loses himself in my pussy. Normally his light blue eyes are what stun me, but the dark pupils so damn dilated captivate me into a trance. I stare back helplessly as he gives me the best dick I ever had.

The hands holding my waist clutch snugly, usin his leverage to help fuck me a bit faster. His dick twitches against my walls heavily as Bucky groans out his pleasure, grunts out how he can't take the creamy ring getting thicker around the base of his dick.

"Can I-mmmmohfuckohfuckhoney-can I kiss you sweetheart?"

The sugary sweet question is sudden and takes me aback, is almost funny considering how severely deep he's seated inside of me. I might've even laughed if I wasn't keening from the amazing dick I was currently receiving. Too overwhelmed to answer, I release my mouth and clasp my fingers behind his neck, pulling his face to mine.

Bucky presses a quick kiss to my mouth with soft pink lips. Then another. And one more, the third one deepening with passion. It doesnt matter that he slows the pace of his hips to a crawl again; he continues to grind and dig so deep that his cock curves and hits a firm but gummy spot inside my cunt. It's too damn difficult after that to keep in sync of his lips as he drags his spasming dick across my g spot with too much fuckin accuracy. My sobs against his mouth doesn't stop Bucky's assault on my body. I know what time it is when his hand leaves my waist to press a firm quick circle directly on my clit.

"Mmmmm, pussy f-feels too fuckin 'mazin y/n, sooooclosebaby. I'm gonna buss babygirl, gonna fill that pretty lil kitty to the brim. Need you to cum too, honey. Pleeease." Bucky pleas with me in between messy damp kisses.

I'm way too near my end for full sentences, but from the way I mewl 'James' repeatedly, he seems to get the point. His grinding comes to an abrupt halt before he pulls his dick all the way out and vigorously stabs back in over and over, smashing my g spot and flicking my clit ferociously.

"Bu- haaaah! Aaaahh fuuuu- James! Ohgo- mmmm.. Uhn, uhn, uhn, JAMES!"

My orgasm is almost incomprehensible at first, the pressure in my gut exploding, spiraling outta control and I squirt fiercely against his torso. Warm lips engulf my mouth, sucking and nipping, probably to hush the animalistic noises coming from me as I quiver and shake underneathe him. Its like an avalanche of sensation, so intense I have to grip and claw at his shoulders to ground myself.

"Ahhhh, fuck y/n! Can't take feelin you gush my dick like this. Gonna give this pussy just what she needs honey, fucking cummin sweetheart! Ahhhh shiiiit! Sogood, sogood! Fuuuuuck!" Bucky huffs and puffs his pleasure against my swollen lips.

His fist slams down against his hood, ceasing his rubbing on my pulsating clit as he spurts deep inside my trembling cunt. I can't help but to soak in his grunts of love and praises to me.

Baring his weight on me to keep me in place, he splashes another lava hot jet of cum against the walls of my pussy and it feels too fucking good to feel James Buchanan Barnes fill me up with savagely massive load of cum. I watch him quake as he erupts 2 more explosive sprays inside before pulling out, shooting the last of his cum on my cocoa brown slit.

"You planned this.." Bucky accuses, not wasting any time to catche his breath. His eyes planted where he smears his thick cream allover my pussy as he waits patiently for my response. Daddy doesn't stop till my pussy's covered in his cum. Only then does slip my legs from his shoulders, my snug bottoms back in place and his still very hard dick back into his jeans.

Tired eyes meet my heavy-lidded gaze but I take a few deep breaths to steady myself before I answer. My pussy is already sore but fluttering for more as I bask underneath Bucky's muscular frame.

"I did. Came up with a mastermind plan." I say proudly, my own smirk comin out to tease him.

"Oh really? And how many steps did this 'mastermind plan' have?" He asks with a raised brow, as he zips and buttons his pants

"Just 4." I answer shortly, knees comin up to squeeze at his hips and rub my hands down his abs to the loops of his jeans.

"Which were?"

"Well step 1, purposefully fuck up my car so-"

Bucky cuts me off mid sentence, leaning down so the tip of his nose almost touches mine. His hands grip each of my thighs firmly as quickly yanks me flush against his body and speaks in a low growl.

"I knew it woman! I've been wasting my fuckin time workin on your goddamn car for weeks and- You know what? Talk is cheap; time to pay the piper, honey."

#bucky x reader #black reader #daddy k!nk #black fanfiction #all readers #smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x black!reader #poc reader #creamp!e #public exposure #public fun #dirty talk #dom bucky barnes

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chrispevanss · 2 years

Text

Lovely Little Bunny

A/N: The first thing I’ve written in over a year and we’re going straight in, kiddos. Inspired by many a slutty conversation with my lovely bffs and moots @nsfwsebbie and @tellmealovestory i love you both bunches!

Pairing: Silver Fox!Lawyer!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ only, Oral (m & f rec), P in V, unprotected sex, Daddy Kink, Sexting, age gap, pet name (Bunny). I think that’s everything.

Moodboard by me: I don’t own any of the pictures.

Please do not copy, translate, rewrite, or repost my work on any other platforms!

It started out innocent enough. Chris had been your father’s lawyer for years, helping the wealthy influential Mob Boss get out of trouble with the law without so much as a scratch to his reputation. The two of you had always exchanged flirty glances, you wore skirts that were just a little too short, and he would leave the top buttons of his shirt open, giving you a peek of the tattoos and light smattering of chest hair that crossed his skin.

Until one sunny summer afternoon he slipped you the number to his personal cell phone. It was wrong, you were just fresh out of college and he had been in practice longer than you’d been alive. But something about the glisten of that silver hair, always styled just so, the matching silver beard, and those sparkling blue eyes made it impossible to say no. Which is how you found yourself buried under your covers, hiding the light of your phone screen, as the two of you exchanged filthy texts into the wee hours of the morning.

C.E.: Wear that little blue dress tomorrow. The puffy one, love when it rides up and I see those sweet little panties. Makes me wanna bend you over the desk, hear you make all those pretty sounds for me. Bet you’d like that. Me using you, making sure everyone in the office knows who you belong to.

You smirk and rub your thighs together to stave off your growing arousal. He’s never gone beyond filthy texts and the occasional picture or video, but you’d be a liar if you said it wasn’t something you craved everytime he walked into the house smelling of expensive cologne and bad decisions.

Bunny: Hmm I don’t know if I feel like wearing a dress tomorrow. Pop doesn’t like the boys lookin at me when we come to your office

You quickly press send before you can change your mind. Biting your lip as the typing bubble appears almost instantly.

C.E.: Maybe I won’t let you cum then. Thought about getting us a hotel room this weekend in the city but if you wanna be a bad girl…

You let out a soft whimper at his words. Before you can reply a video is appearing on the screen. A darkened room, his hard cock the only thing illuminated by the flash. You grab your headphones and quickly stuff them in your ears before pressing play. His heavy breathing is the first sound you hear, followed by the lewd sounds of his spit slick cock.

“Fuck bunny, look what you do to me. Wish your mouth was on this cock right now,” Chris growls. You hear him spit in his hand before going back to stroke his cock even harder. The video cuts off right as he lets out a loud groan, white ropes of his spend landing on his tummy and happy trail.

C.E.: Well Bunny, I better get to bed. You should too. I’ll see you at the office bright and early with your dad. xo

You can’t sleep, tossing and turning, thinking about the filth that Chris sent you. Eventually you end up watching the video again while shoving your hand between your thighs, you bring yourself to that ethereal high.

Brushing the skirt of your dress you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You take the file your father sent you with and walk into the lush law office.

“Well good morning!” Hannah chirps from the front desk and you give a small wave.

“Just here to see Mr. Evans. Dad sent some files with me.” You hold up the thick envelope and she nods.

“He’s waiting for you,” She gestures to the open door and you thank her.

“Close the door.” Chris commands smoothly. You smile, face heating up as you close the large door with a click. “Lock it,” He approaches you from behind, large hands resting on your upper arms, he’s inhaling the scent of your shampoo with a deep breath.

“I told your dad not to come. Told him I had a meeting this morning. Couldn’t stand not touching you any longer,” He confesses in a low grumble. You shiver, letting out a soft moan.

He smells of coffee and his cologne, your head is already spinning with filthy thoughts. You turn around in his grasp, cupping his silver stubbled cheek. He smiles down at you, brushing your hair back from your face he’s leaning down and taking your lips in a kiss. Your toes curl in your shoes as you kiss him back eagerly. The thick file in your hand drops to the floor, your arms encircling his neck.

“You want this here? Now?” He rasps, pulling back and looking down at you with lust blown eyes. You nod, pushing him back toward his desk. He’s leaning against the edge and you’re kissing him again, more insistently.

His hands slip down your body to cup your ass. He’s bunching your dress at your hips, long fingers playing with the elastic of your simple panties. Before you can start undressing him he’s picking you up, flipping you around and laying you on the desk.

“Such a pretty little thing, gonna make you cum so hard you cry.” Chris promises, licking his lips he’s pulling off your panties, tucking them in his back pocket. He’s parting your legs, spitting on your folds. Using his thick fingers he’s spreading your juices and his spit. You whine softly, hips bucking.

“Aww baby, you’re so desperate. Don’t worry, daddy’s gonna take good care of you,” Chris coos, kissing your forehead he’s moving down to kneel between your legs.

“Such a pretty cunt, can’t believe I didn’t get you alone sooner,” He purrs, tongue flattening against your center he’s licking slowly.

“Oh god, Chris!” You gasp, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. He stills his motions.

“What the fuck did you call me?” He sneers, slapping your pussy lightly making you jump. Your eyes widen and you let out a little whimper.

“Daddy! Daddy! I’m so sorry!” You plead, hips bucking up, desperate for his touch.

“That’s what I thought,” He chuckles, slipping his ring and middle fingers inside you he’s curling them upwards. Stars are exploding behind your eyes and you let out a loud moan.

“Oh fuck! Daddy!”

Chris is pumping his fingers in and out of you, tongue flicking over your clit slowly.

“Never had such a sweet pussy,” Chris groans, lewdly sucking your clit. His fingers curl up and you let out a breathy whine.

You feel your orgasm building with every pass of his tongue and you know it won’t take long to push you over the edge. Just as you start to clench, breathing coming heavy and short, he stops.

You bolt upright on the desk with a scowl. Chris is lewdly sucking your juices from his fingers, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Taste so sweet. Already addicted to this cunt,” He growls, standing up, towering over you. Your walls flutter around nothing and you whimper softly.

“You want me to fuck you? Want me to ruin you for any other man? Huh? Wanna be mine?” His lips turn up in a smirk when you nod eagerly, maybe too eagerly. He’s unbuttoning his dress shirt, the dark ink of his tattoos being exposed with every button. You reach a hand up and stroke the intricate lines. He hisses when you drag a nail down the center of his chest.

“Mmm sure you can keep up old man?” You wink with a soft giggle. He’s on you in an instant, pressing you into the hard mahogany of the desk.

“Oh I think it’s you that needs to worry about keeping up,” He growls. He’s making quick work of his slacks, hard cock slapping against his lower stomach. You gasp softly, hand wrapping gently around his length. You’re stroking slowly, admiring the way his face contorts as you wipe your thumb across the tip of his cock.

“Stop. Stop. Stop.” He’s panting, pushing your hand away. “Gotta be inside you when I cum, pretty girl,” He explains with one of those blinding smiles.

You scoot back a little on the desk. He’s climbing over the top of you, caging you in with his thick arms.

“Gonna ruin you now, sweetheart.” His Boston accent is thick and you shiver in delight.

“Wanted this for so long,” You confess, legs wrapping around his waist you’re pulling him closer.

“How long honey? Hmm? Be honest..” He goads, smirking at you. You’re squirming under his gaze but he’s holding you still. “Come on bunny. Be honest..”

“S-Since that first summer I came home from college,” You confess, biting down on your bottom lip.

“Well I better fuck you real good, cause you’ve been such a patient little girl, waiting for me,” He chuckles, pinching your cheek. You giggle softly, face heating up.

His gaze drops to your core, he’s lining up his cock and sinking in. He bottoms out with a loud grunt and your eyes flutter, you’re in heaven. The stretch is bordering on painful as he begins thrusting slowly. But it soon gives way to pleasure. He’s bending your knees, planting your feet on the desk so he can drive even deeper into you.

“Oh god! Oh fuck! It’s in my tummy!” You’re whimpering, eyes slammed shut.

Chris’ hand snakes between your writhing bodies, his thick fingers strumming your clit expertly. He’s leaning down, teeth dragging along the side of your neck as he picks up his thrusts. The lewd sounds of his balls clapping against your ass, and your pathetic whines create the perfect symphony to your tryst.

“So fucking tight,” Chris growls, fingers digging so deep into your skin you know you’ll be wearing his prints for days. Your walls are fluttering around his cock, your hands are grabbing at his shoulders, the material of his shirt slipping underneath your sweat soaked palms.

“Who owns this cunt huh? You gonna let those stupid college boys in here again?” He’s growling. You shake your head, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“No! No daddy! It’s yours!” You’re sobbing. You feel that blissful end slowly approaching, your hands are clenching themselves into fists.

“Look at me, look at me when you cum. I wanna see how good I make you feel,” He’s pinching your cheeks together, forcing you to look in his eyes. The once baby blue orbs are dark and wild with lust.

Your open palm slams on the desk as your orgasm comes crashing into you. Your walls are clenching around his cock, nails digging into his clothed biceps.

“That’s it baby girl, oh fuck, gonna cum okay? Gonna fill you up,” Chris is panting next to your ear. You’re nodding, words dying on the tip of your tongue as the pleasure overwhelms you.

It only takes a handful of thrusts before he’s spilling inside you. Filling your tummy, he’s kissing you deeply, tongue sliding with yours.

“On your knees,” He growls in your ear, sliding out and tugging you onto the floor. You look up at him, confused.

“What? Why?” Your hands are resting on his thighs, lashes fluttering innocently. Chris is sliding the tip of his cock along your lips, smearing your combined release.

“Be a good girl and clean up your mess.”

Tagging: @dontshootmespence @tellmealovestory @nsfwsebbie @sagechanoafterdark

#chris evans #Silver Fox!Chris Evans #Lawyer!Chris Evans #Chris Evans Smut #chris evans fanfic #Chris Evans x Reader #Chris Evans x You #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans one shot

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evansbby · 7 months

Note

imagine mob! steve being so terribly mean to reader

let's say he's just dreadfully awful after a long day of work and she comes into his office where Sam and bucky are, (they're having a meeting or something), and she brought fresh chocochip cookies for her sugar daddy stevie. wearin her lacey nightgown and lookin all babydoll

our stevie gets upset. real upset. like he's stressed and she comes in all cutesie and fuckin hot. he just yells at her to leave. but being the dumb baby she is, she insists he'll feel better once she sits on his lap and feeds him cookies and warm milk.

stevie gets angrier and smacks the tray of cookies and milk right out her little hands. grabs her by her arms and screams at her to leave. reader starts crying but steve only sees red and slaps her out of pure anger

obviously she's scared after and tries her best to stay away from Steve. he feels gulity and blah blah blah

the most important this is that I need him railing her and begging for her forgiveness.

"daddy's so sorry bunny, shh don't worry princess, daddyll kiss it better"

"don't cry babydoll, your stevie is right here. won't hurt you no more princess. only kissies for my pretty baby's pussy"

sorry if that was too long. I got carried away. I LOVE ANGST WITH SMUT.

hard fuckin angst where reader gets hurt by character and just uuuuugghhh. I need the feels

😨😨😨

I’m ngl, the moment he yelled at me in front of his friends… DIVORCE

But slapping me in front of his friends? In an angry non sexual non daddy way???? DIVORCE AND RESTRAINING ORDER IDC HOW HOT HE IS 😭😭😭

I like when the guy is mean in the angsty sense like he says something mean about reader to Bucky and Sam but then reader overheard and Steve feels guilty and he’s like no baby I didn’t mean it 😭😭😭 bUT SLAPPING HER BC SHE OFFERED HIM COOKIES??? DIVORCE. IMMEDIATE DIVORCE 😭😭😭

#imagine wearing your cute lacy nightgown for your daddy and baking him cookies and you get slapped….#IMMEDIATE DIVORCE I WILL FIND A NEW DADDY #😭😭😭😭😭#sorry if this isn’t the response you wanted but I gotta be honest 😭#lostinamazi

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slashingdisneypasta · 1 year

Text

Horror Villains and: What They Would Put in the Hat

(The 7 Minutes in Heaven hat)

This was pretty much inspired by This post by @your-mxnd-is-mxne ! ^^

Warnings: Cursing and gore (As in limbs being put in the hat)

Animal the Cannibal: A potato peeler. BE CAREFUL.

Baby Firefly: A cute scrunchie. Put it in your hair!! She thinks you'll look so cute ^^ If you don't have hair/its too short, you can put it in hers! ^^ (So basically you win everything)

Billy Loomis: A folded up poster for the local cinema's horror night. They're playing Psycho, The Birds and then Psycho 2 Back-To-Back.

Bo Sinclair: Little plyers. he never leaves home without them, so you better give them back! Play nice and he may use them on you *cough*

Bubba Sawyer: A pig femur... its not clean...

Candyman: A little leather bound journal with his poetry in it. If he likes you, maybe he'll read you some!!

Captain Spaulding: A pamphlet for his shop! He'd just fucken love to show you around.

Carrie White: A pencil. She wasn't sure and she didn't have a whole lot on her! she hopes that's okay ^^

Chop Top Sawyer: His sunnies! Not his wig, that's special. But you got his glasses! He even wants to see you put them on.

Chucky Lee Ray: He put his whole damn shoe in there. I mean, he's a doll. Why not? // If he's in his human form, though, maybe... a... condom...

BONUS for @your-mxnd-is-mxne because its their idea in the first place ^^ Daddy Hall- *cough* I mean Doc Halloran!: Bullet casing. Its, oddly enough, the only thing that was in his pockets?? 😅 After all he is only here to hunt Leslie- see if you can distract him, though.

Dr Suave: A pack of tooth floss from his pocket. He's a dentist, what do you expect from him?

Drayton Sawyer: The keys to the chilly van (Its all he had on him). He's gonna want them back.

Freddy Krueger: A scrap oh his sweater and it turns to dirty brown dust as soon as you see what it is.

Granny Boone: Buckman's initialed handkerchief.

Harper Alexander: A twig that's been widdled a whole bunch. It may snap in your hand- don't you worry, he don't mind ^^

Inkubus: Ripped piece of paper with a backwards K scribbled into it. You get ink stains on your fingers.

Jack Dante: An action figure! Probably He-Man or something. You can play with it for now but you're gonna give it back when he goes home.

Jason Voorhees: A chunk of moss. Its squishy and fresh.

Jedidiah Sawyer: A tie! He's a well dressed man and always brings an extra XD

Jennifer Check: Cherry Coke Chapstick! You know she's that super cool person who had all the branded soda flavours. And she may even apply some to you~

Jerry Dandridge: His scarf. And its cold- why don't you wear it for a while?~ He's very charming. And this is the man you're gonna get stuck in a closet alone with for nearly 10 minutes! Goodluck-

Leslie Vernon: His mask. He's gotta spread the word!! Make sure people know who he is! This felt like a marketing opportunity.

Lester Sinclair: That grizzly lookin' knife of his. Listen to him chat about it and he'll love you forever.

Luda Mae Hewitt: Wooden spoon. Her logic? If she goes in there with someone iffy she can beat them with it.

Max Grief: Cassette tape out of his car. He wasnt sure what to really put in, so, *shrug*

Mayor Buckman: Boone's initialed handkerchief (Yeahhhh, they're cute like that XD).

Mental Manny: Straw twisted and bent into the shape of some satanic symbol. You feel uncomfortable holding it. But oh, he wants you to have it now~~ A gift.

Michael Myers: Someone's ear.

Mickey Altieri: A snack. Like a cookie from a vending machine or a pack of 2 minute noodles. You can have it, no worries.

Midnight Man: The page with the names on it. ... wanna play a game?

Miss Quinn: Her hand mirror. Come on now, sweetheart!!~ We'll make you look pretty.

Monty Hewitt: A screwdriver. You got anything he can fix up rela quick? He doesn't mind, if it means he can get away from Hoyt for a bit.

Otis B. Driftwood: You don't wanna know. I'm not telling you. Put it down.

Pamela Voorhees: Her drivers licence. She was looking in her wallet and thought it was logical- plus she sure as hell wasn't putting in her polaroid of Jason.

Patrick Bateman: His card, of course. Its so damn crisp- you get a paper cut.

Pennywise: A horn! Honk honk!

Rocco the Clown: Some poor bastard's kneecap. Yes. A kneecap. And I still won't tell you what Otis put in the hat.

Roman Bridger: A very fancy pen. The kind thats like 50 dollars for one. It's for signing contracts but he likes to show off that he has it.

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt Jr: 'His' sheriff's badge! He wants you to comment on it, too- call him Sheriff Hoyt- stroke his ego. That's all he wants.

Stu Macher: A lollipop! You can have it, he's already sucking one. You two can have matching blue tongues!

Stuart Lloyd: Someone forced him to chuck in the USB that his little movie is on- he's terribly anxious about it and hope that you'll just give it right back and don't play it. Its not done...

DBD! The Clown: A little travel bottle with a suspicious liquid inside. He suggests that you drink it... I suggest you do not. Unless, you know, you're into it-

DBD! The Deathslinger: A wrench. He's a handy man and never leaves the house without his handy wrench!

The Djinn: ... the jewel...

DBD! The Huntress: A bunny ear from a bunny doll. She can do it herself but if you sew it back onto her dolly then you have a friend for life.

The Man (Hush): A switchblade. He's gonna want it back but (; you can keep it while you're in the closet with him if it makes you feel safer.

Taxidermist: Some kind taxidermists tool. Maybe a fleshing cone or a necker knife.

Thomas Hewitt: A pretty rock. 🪨

Vincent Sinclair: A notepad so he can talk to you if you don't know sign language ^^

Winslow Foxworth Coltrane: A crushed can of coke. He doesn't carry shit around with him and he sure as fuck is not handing over his knife.

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doodlerdoodle · 9 months

Text

#Repost @formartists

• • • • • •

The one and only @simonpegg by @lorenzoagiusofficial for the new Mission Impossible 7!

#formartists #simonpegg #MI7 #paramount #newmovie #classic #vibe #iconic #photoshoot #vibes #photography #instagood #makemoreart #uniqueart #instaart #uniqueartist #creative #artofinstagram #portrait

#simon pegg #photoshoot #2023 #lorenzo agius #lookin fresh daddy #i have the same pied de poule coat btw

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margowritesthings · 2 years

Text

Ghosts and Smoke

*i wrote this with this song in mind, so please feel free to listen for extra vibes!*

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 2791

warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE END OF RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2, angst, death, smoking, suggested post-sex scene

a/n: y'all i am GONE. it killed me. the end of red dead killed me and all i've done since is cry and write this damn angst. i'm sorry, but i'm also not. hope you enjoy!! also, thank you for all the love on my latest piece! im so glad youre as into this silly cowboy man as much as i am rn.

It was so quiet. You were used to the quiet lately, going it alone, but not here. Not Shady Belle, which was always full of laughter and fire and swearing and gunshots. The leaves rustled and your broken heart beat every so often but other than that, there was nothing. No laughter, no fire, nothing. You’d hitched your horse about a mile away, careful to keep her hidden well, so you were well and truly alone here.

You looked up at the house, still somehow standing tall amongst the ghosts and smoke and tried your best to take a deep breath. It was about 30 paces away from you, past the campfire, your old tent and the fountain. A twig snapped under your boot as you took the first step, fingernails digging little moons into the palm of your hand. You could do this. Just past the campfire and you’d be halfway there.

═══════☆═══════

“What’re you always lookin’ at when I do this, huh?�� Arthur asked, meeting your eye and wearing that amused smirk that suited him so well, sending your heart fluttering each and every time.

That awful feeling people only get when they realise the other knows you’ve been watching them churned your stomach for a second. Honestly, you hadn’t even realised you were staring.

“Nothin’. I just… my daddy used to smoke those things. He always tried to teach me to roll them for him and I never could. You seem so good at it.”

Sat around the fire with some of the camp, Arthur had been rolling some tobacco into a cigarette. You always found yourself watching him, finding the way his fingers expertly knew what they were doing somewhat hypnotising. And then there was that moment his tongue darted out from his teeth to lick the paper, which was… a sight to behold, to say the least.

“I’ve got years of experience… I can teach ya sometime, if you’d like.”

The opportunity to spend more time with Arthur dangled in front of you, shining like a medal. You reached out and grabbed it, nodding at him eagerly, “I’ll warn ya, my daddy tried real hard. I’m a difficult student.”

Arthur’s head tilted, a cocky grin dominating his features beautifully before he pulled the masterfully rolled cigarette to his lips and licked down the length of the paper. You tried to remain composed while the air was stolen by an outlaw straight from your lungs.

“I guess I’ll just have t’work you real hard then, won’t I?”

═══════☆═══════

The camp always smelled like smoke, so the fresh air felt wrong as you stepped past the plot that was formerly the fire you’d spent so many nights beside. The logs and stumps repurposed into chairs still sat around the burnt blackened circle, waiting for people who would never again be together.

You kept walking, jaw clenched so hard your teeth ached. Your old tent caught your eye, at least what was left of it, singed and ripped canvas still hanging pathetically, tangled in a branch. In and amongst the ruins of your former home, your eye is caught by a piece of metal catching the dappled sunlight above. Kneeling down briefly, you pushed damp soil and leaves out of the way to reveal a metal cup trodden into the ground. For a silly little cup, it hurt far too much.

═══════☆═══════

“God damn it!” You swore, watching the tobacco scatter across your legs. Arthur chuckled, low and throaty, leaning against the tree your tent was hung around and taking a long, leisurely sip of coffee out of his cup. Gathering the tiny leaves back together on your skirts, you scowled at Arthur before starting to load the paper back up again.

“You gotta loosen up. Your fingers are too stiff.” He advised, watching his student intently. Easier said than done, really, hunched over a lantern in a tent, but you didn’t want to sound like you were making excuses.

“Right, yeah... Got it.” You mumbled, your tongue poking out between your teeth, a sure sign of absolute concentration. It was all in vain, though, as the paper crumpled at a funny angle and sent tobacco flying once more onto your person.

“Shit!” You hissed, flexing out your hands in a futile attempt to

“Alright, easy now…” he cooed, earning another glare when you realised you recognised the phrase and tone of voice from when a snake spooked Arthur’s horse.

“I give up. This is hopeless.” You tried to reach up to hand him the paper to roll his own damn cigarette and he stepped forwards towards you. Expecting him to take it, you were surprised when he instead handed you his mug and sat down right up next to you. You hadn’t been this close since he first rode you into camp and you felt so small flushed against his broad shoulders like this.

“Hold that, warm your hands up and I’ll show you again.” You obeyed your orders, doing just as Arthur said as he rubbed his own hands together, occasionally blowing into them. Without another word, he covered your hands, sandwiching them in between calloused palms and heated metal. The unexpected contact knocks you pretty hard, but you somehow manage to find the composure to mutter a thank you and hope you weren’t blushing too hard.

You looked up to Arthur, only to find he was already looking at you. When your eyes met properly, it felt as though someone had just lit a fire right beside you. The air felt… heavier? No, lighter. Both? You didn’t know and couldn’t quite seem to figure it out, feeling the fuzziness of 4 whiskies that you hadn’t actually drank.

All from the touch of a hand?

The moment was weighted now, and you both knew it. The quiet between you twisted and grew and almost became palpable, but you physically couldn’t talk, not knowing if any actual words would leave or lips or some incoherent murmurings.

“Here. Let me show you.” Arthur took his hands away and the lack of contact had you almost… pouting? You didn’t have time to examine why you were so disappointed, though, as Arthur sat behind you, his chest right up against your back. His legs pressed against the outside of you and you were worried that he was close enough to hear your heart, beating right out of your chest. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Y’have t’make sure you get it nice and tight, so the bottom doesn’t fall out…” His arms wrapped around yours and his hands cupped yours again. The contrast was stark, his tanned, hardened skin making your hands look even tinier. You couldn’t breathe, wedged between the smell of dried tobacco and coffee on one side and smoked tobacco and Arthur on the other. Your fingers so naturally followed what he was doing, and before you could even register it, you had a perfectly rolled cigarette in your hands.

“Oh shit! I did it!” You twisted slightly, only to see the excited grin on Arthur’s face as he watched you squeal proudly. He took the roll from you, placing it right between your teeth and pulling out a match. A questioning brow raised as he lit a match, suspending it in front of the cigarette until you nodded your permission and he lit it. You coughed. He laughed, chest still pressed firmly against your back.

“I’m real proud of you. Now y’gotta learn to smoke the damn things.”

═══════☆═══════

You left your first tent for the last time, vowing to never look back. Wet leaves clung to your boots, dragging across the floor past the crumbling fountain and some other tents being reclaimed by nature, muddy and covered in ivy. The final path up to the house was so familiar after so many hours watching it, waiting for your beloved to return from a job, wringing your hands with worry. The porch creaked as you stepped on it, the site of so many tear-filled reunions. The door was no longer on its hinges and fell with a bang at your touch, echoing out into the forest and sending the wildlife running.

You were home. For the last time.

═══════☆═══════

“I’ve got a surprise for you-uuu.” you sang out, hands held behind your back as Arthur stepped the threshold into the abandoned manor. He looked tired, but still managed a sleepy smile as you reached up to kiss him on the cheek. He caught the kiss, snaking a hand around your waist and pulling you closer for a more tender moment. You hadn’t seen each other in 3 days, Arthur off near Strawberry following a lead, so being back encased in his arms felt like home had come back to you.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, gentle smile tugging on his lip, “A surprise? For me? Y’shouldn’t have, darlin’.” The humbleness that appeared whenever you tried to do something nice for Arthur reared its adorable head and you shook your head, one hand still pinned to your back, clutching your gift.

“Close your eyes!”

“Alright, alright…” Arthur chuckled, holding his hands up in a mock surrender as he closed his eyes. You waved at him a few times, just to be sure, before pulling a single, wonky cigarette out from behind you and tapping Arhur on the chest.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. Nonetheless, his face lit up with pride as he realised what exactly it was that he was looking at.

“You did it?”“I did it!”

“Yes!” He was so excited for you, more so than you’d ever seen him and your heart swelled. This big, scary cowboy, pulling you into a hug and spinning you around because you finally managed to roll something smokeable.

“I’m so proud of you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and never told you that it fell apart before he had the chance to light the damn thing.

═══════☆═══════

The stairs groaned under your weight miserably, each step feeling more and more likely to collapse. It always was the loudest staircase you’d ever heard, impossibly difficult to sneak around on when trying not to let a whole camp know that you and Arthur were both going upstairs. Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you knew if you started now you’d never make it upstairs. You couldn’t break, because there was nobody left to put you back together.

Every step required a more laboured breath, splinters half-heartedly brushing your fingertips as you traced them over the rotting bannister. You were alone, but the ghosts ran up and down around you, laughing and teasing and smiling and kissing and loving and taunting just how alone you really were.

A few more strides and you were there. His door was closed and for some reason that made it all that harder to breach the barrier and enter Arthur’s room. A shaky hand reached for the handle, twisting agonisingly slowly and pushing through.

Arthur always, always stole the breath from you, but it was always in the best way. Not like this, not how winded you felt seeing the empty, abandoned room. It was never exactly a palace, Arthur being the first to admit to that, but whenever you used to be there it had this… energy woven into the air. You realized, standing there in that moment, that it wasn’t the place at all. The place was… just that. A place, dying where it stood, rotting and filled with ghosts. The air was clean, but it couldn’t fill your lungs. You needed the fire, built by your soulmate, keeping you warm every night. You needed the cigarette smoke he breathed, tickling your lungs and coating his lip. But it was gone, stamped out and extinguished by God’s great plan. It hurt so much that you laughed, just once, harsh and loud, before your back fell into the wall of Arthur’s bedroom and you slid downwards, your legs finally giving in. Your lungs burned for the cry that just wouldn’t come as you pulled your languid legs towards your chest.

You hugged your legs close for a second, before the exhaustion reached your arms and they dropped to your sides. One hand hit the damp wooden floorboard, where the other hit something much colder, the ring on your finger clanging against it loudly. The sudden break of agonising silence shocked you for a second, instinct and past trauma screaming at you that you were in a shootout, but you managed to calm down quickly as soon as you figured out the cause of such a volume.

The floor fell out from under you. Not physically, though you wouldn’t have been surprised, but everything around you seemed to fall when you laid your eyes on the little metal box beside you, rust embellishing the corners and hinges.

Arthur’s tin.

═══════☆═══════

You felt the rise and fall of Arthur’s bare chest, your head resting on it as you tried to gain control of your own breath. The blood was still rushing in your ears as you came back down from the intense high what you’d just experienced with Arthur gave you. Limbs jelly, vision fuzzy, you pressed a lazy kiss to his skin. The fingers mindlessly running through your hair stopped, Arthur in a momentary contemplation that resulted in him reaching over and grabbing a cigarette from the table beside his bed.

“Pass the matches over will ya’, sweetheart? They’re in with my tobacco.”

You nodded, rolling over to your other side to reach over to your side of the bed, where Arthur’s stash tin sat. While Arthur waited, cigarette hanging limply from the side of his lip, you opened the tin and froze. There was the usual hit of the strong scent of tobacco, the little box of matches, and papers, but those were to be expected. What you didn’t expect to see was a charcoal sketch stuffed in there, staring back at you. It was a remarkable likeness, though you were sure you’d never looked as beautiful as how Arthur had drawn you, laughing in a way that lit up your whole face. The emotion was all too much, sitting in your throat and filling your eyes with wet tears.

“Y’alright? Are they in there?” A concerned voice asked, forcing you to swallow the overwhelming happiness for a moment or two, nodding, handing Arthur the matches and closing the tin. You nuzzled back into his chest, swirling a finger around the little hairs that trailed down his abs.

“I love you, you know that?”“I know. I love you too.”

═══════☆═══════

The tin was so cold in your hands, that cold that you could feel it through your shirt as you held it close to your chest, so hard it was though you were willing more into existence than was there anymore, as if Arthur himself was in there. One last deep breath to find the courage and the tin popped open. The smell of tobacco hit your nostrils and infiltrated your lungs and it hurt. The scent was so undeniably Arthur that it felt so wrong that he wasn’t there with it. He was gone, you knew that, but there was some hope in you that you’d find him hiding in the smoke, just like he always was.

Clumps of leaves were a little damp in your fingers, attacked by the elements, but you managed to gather enough dry bits and pull out one of the papers. It was cold, but your hands didn’t seem to notice. You had to do this, there was nothing else left. No leads, no job, no Arthur. Just you, alone in an empty room in a lonely house.

Your nimble fingers worked slowly, savouring the ritual of sprinkling in the grind, rolling it up and sealing it, just as he taught you.

That’s it. You got it, sweetheart.

Take your time.

You pictured him, arms closing you in as he guided the paper over with you.

Just one step at a time.

Soon enough, there was a cigarette wedged between your fingers.

See? Look at you.

The first few matches were duds, ruined by the water, but eventually you got one lit. You remembered Arthur, cupping his hands over the match as he lit to protect the flame from the weather. You did the same, not trusting the hole where a window once stood proud.

The tip lit and you breathed in. You coughed. You cried.

The last cigarette of Arthur Morgan.

You got this, darlin’.

You inhaled smoke. You exhaled ghosts, swirling and wisping around you, caressing your cheek just like he did.

I’m so proud of you.

#arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan red dead #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan angst #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redepmtion 2 #arthur morgan fanfic #Arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #MargoFiore

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punemy-spotted · 2 years

Text

A Worthy Grave - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Everybody Dies Alone

Pairing: Federal Agent!Ari Levinson x Witch!Reader

Warnings: THIS IS A HORROR FIC, True Crime Elements, Police Procedural Elements, Possibly a little Twin Peaks, Violence, Murder, Death, Flayed Bodies, Ghosts, Ghouls, Violence Against Women, Violence Against Random Hikers, The Woods are Dangerous, Serial Killers, Choking, Gutting, Witchcraft, Blood, Appalachian Gothic Horror, Eventual Smut, Plot with Porn

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Chapter Summary: Any place with enough history in it is gonna have ghosts. And sometimes they call your name.

O Mother It is that fear that moves both heart and tongue To draw tight curtains so that we might let the darker hours pass unseen. We hear you call in the deepest night. We hear you call to us in voices that belong to our dead and gone And we know better, but we follow you into The darkened woods all the same.

— Old Gods of Appalachia Episode 31: Season 3 Prologue

Notes: I’M BACK, BITCHES. This fic is a sort of direct sequel to Glory, Amen, so keep that in mind as you read it, except I decided to include MORE CE babes into this fic and may also include other CE babes in the future. This is gonna be more Twin Peaks inspired than anything else, and I hope you enjoy it! I crave feedback, so tell me what you think!

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

Any place with enough history in it is gonna have ghosts, and these mountains in particular — being the oldest mountains in the world — have the type of ghosts that predate the very humanity the spine of this land is afflicted with. The type of ghosts that — if you’re good and careful, if you find the right gaps ‘tween then and now t’slip between, say the right words to invite ‘em into your space — might just come pay you a visit.

Other times, you don’t gotta say shit.

These woods’ll keep you safe, if you keep ‘em safe, your momma would warn you with all the gravity of a stormcloud, wrist-deep in the rich black earth of her garden, digging out root vegetables and other sorts of magic from that treasure trove of life she’d spent more years cultivating than you’d actually been alive, This mountain will sustain you proper, if you sustain it.

These woods are deep and dark an’ full of the type of demons even your daddy’s Bible would have been scared to name, but you are the blood of both an’ your momma feared no man, woman, or haint in these or any mountains.

Which is why, when the specter shows up on your front porch, screamin’ for blood an’ justice, all you do is give her a name and offer her a plate of cornbread she’d never actually be able to eat.

Stops the screaming though.

Trouble with small towns — especially small towns in mountains like yours — is that sometimes, people go missing. People take walks out in the woods, fall into some mineshaft the State forgot to tag or get got by some apex predator lookin’ to prove just how wild God’s own country really is. People get lost, people just plain die. Nine times outta ten, nobody finds the body but the beasts an’ eventually nobody looks, all chalkin’ the loss up to some mountain sacrifice.

Blood for blood, what you make, I will take.

You’re no stranger to death — Hell, Cocke County coroner, you might almost call it your life’s work — but some parts of the job you could do without.

Parts which occasionally — and currently — include a sobbing woman sittin’ translucent an’ bloody in your kitchen.

You call her Janey, on account of the Jane Doe #117 title stamped on the manila folder sittin’ in your office, the one with the photos of a body that probably once belonged to the unsettled soul you’d invited inside and offered a sacrifice of fresh-baked bread. It ain’t her real name, but that’s what the boys over at Park Services are still trynna find out.

Ain’t nothin’ I can do about your body, honey, you tell her, sitting across from the glum-faced woman and trying to decipher the words she means to say between the static that just can’t stop pouring from that hollowed-out mouth.

Your daddy tried teachin’ you the language of the other side, all deep snarls an’ buzzin’ shadows, but sometimes it’s the words that manage to spill out that tell the truth, those last vestiges of humanity bubbling bloody an’ baleful from a tongueless mouth before death takes its last due.

You know her secrets.

You know she wore heels more than hiking shoes. You know she’s not from these mountains, not anywhere near these small towns. You scraped the dirt from under her fingernails and know she fought to survive with everything she had and you know, gut-sinkin’ and stomach churning, that she was not the first body her killer left behind.

You know you could write her name out on your paperwork and give her family some peace, tell ‘em she didn’t run away, tell ‘em she loved ‘em more than anything in the world.

You know you could tell her boyfriend she wasn’t cheating on him, that the man who picked her up and left her here for the beasts to find was someone she thought she could trust. You could tell her momma she was comin’ home from a good job, that she stopped drinkin’ four months ago, that therapy was goin’ well and she was gettin’ better. You could give her daddy a body to bury long before its time, an’ if this were the Holler you grew up in, you know that would be that.

But it ain’t, so nothin’s ever over, and now you’ve gotta figure out how to prove this shit.

You pour yourself a fourth cup of coffee, watching your cornbread offering slowly begin to mold, decay following death as it must always do. You gotta give me something to go off of for the Feds, honey.

You get static in return.

Well. That and the shrill ring of your landline, that old rotary thing you bought from a thrift shop on the other side of the state, kept connected just in case the towers don’t reach you through the early morning mist.

There’s only one goddamn asshole who’d call you on it at six in the goddamn morning.

You ever sleep, Levinson?

Could ask you the same thing, Doc, how long you been up?

Clockwork. The same conversation you’ve had every morning since Ari Levinson transferred from some national park you didn’t give a damn about up north, his drawl about as much a part of your morning routine as coffee and keeping Goatrude out of your vegetable garden.

You want something, Levinson, or you just callin’ to ask about my sleepin’ habits?

What, can’t check in on you, Doc? You can almost hear the casual smugness in his voice, imagining the way he might speak around the cigarette he’s probably smoking at too-early-in-the-morning, I got an update on Jane Doe. You need to get out here.

The grind of gravel tells you just how much choice you have in the matter, your houseguest disappearing the moment she realizes you are not about to be alone for much longer, Jesus, Levinson, you gotta give a lady some warning, you slam down the receiver with a satisfying sound, grabbing the thoroughly-molded cornbread and throwing the plate wholesale into the bin and dumping the rest of your coffee pot into a thermos, listening for the sound of his engine roaring to a stop as you rush through the rest of your morning.

You grab your bag as you leave, stalking your way down the gravel walk and flashing Ari Levinson — parked halfway up the driveway and mercifully blocked further by Goatrude doin’ her best guard dog impression — a hard glare in response to his lazy grin, One day I’m gonna have you arrested for trespassin’, you threaten as you get into the too-fancy-for-a-city-slicker truck he drives.

He doesn’t say a word as you get in, just turns the key in the ignition and with a wink and backs away from Goatrude threatening to headbutt his front bumper.

It takes about fifteen minutes to get to the scene, where your crew and work truck are already waiting, jumpsuit and booties prepared for you to pull on before you’re allowed past that yellow tape and allowed to face the scene before you.

And just what the Hell m’I supposed to do here?

Well, Doc, I’m pretty sure you’d say the next step’s the autopsy, Agent Ari Levinson, Park Services Investigation Division — or whatever the hell that formal title is that he handed off to the poor rookie trying to keep curious hikers away from the yellow tape — saunters up behind you, his cigarette put out so as not to contaminate the crime scene, taking it in with you.

Helluva scene too, with its most pertinent part — for you, right now — currently including a body layin’ pretty as a picture on a flat slab of rock, eyes closed and lips blue, naked as the day it was born.

Which all would’ve been fine, save for the lungs, kidneys, liver and contents of a final meal neatly poured from a stomach into a tupperware container and placed around the meatsack-that-had-once-been-a-human-being like an offering to some great and terrible mortician God.

If you got all the answers, Agent Obvious, you wanna explain to me just how the hell I’m supposed to autopsy a body that’s already been done?

Oh, we got a whole lot better than that. You contemplate turning him into a crime scene with your own gloved hands as he turns, gesturing towards the far side of the slab, just past the edge of a cluster of trees, where two of your staff stand with two large black dogs seated patiently in wait.

Surrounding a lump hidden by a big white sheet.

You can guess what’s underneath that sheet even before they remove it, like every shitty horror film you’ve seen. A chunk of meat vaguely shaped like a human, wearing none of its features, nothing identifiable ‘cept raw. meat.

We’ve been callin’ it Jekyll and Hyde all morning, Ari Levinson tells you, Deputy coroner’s fifty yards back dry heaving, so we—

Y’all brought in the big guns. Don’t tell me — that’s the same body.

Got it in one.

You close your eyes for a moment and take several breaths before looking at the scene once again, trying not to curse yourself or your momma for the way your day’s turned.

You got any more bad news for me, or am I allowed to start gettin’ in there and doing my job?

You try to ignore the way Ari Levinson’s gaze holds yours… and the way Jane Doe #117 shows up from over his shoulder, her hollow-mouthed scream silenced the moment the Agent starts to speak again, We got an ID on last week’s vic.

The thing about names is how much power they hold. Your daddy took his name, stole it off the corpse of a man too broken with hunger to protest. Your momma abandoned hers, becoming more of a title than a name, markin’ herself as matriarch an’ Queen of the verdant kingdom she clawed out from the hands of the ungrateful and the undeserving. Both of ‘em agonized over yours, planting seeds of bloom and prosperity in every theoretical letter before they finally settled on somethin’ proper.

Only for you to change it the moment you were old enough to move outta the family home, disappear to the big city an’ make a name for yourself, choosin’ to hide any connection you had to that Holler you called home, not outta shame but outta knowing.

And now it’s back. Starin’ at you from the ID card of a once-unidentified murder victim who’d spent your morning destroying a plate of your favorite cornbread recipe while her physical form remained in stasis in your morgue.

Rogers.

Bein’ the daughter of the town pastor and the town witch came easy for you, just like it did all your sisters. But outside the boundaries of the Holler where everybody knew to respect Ma an’ Pastor Rogers, you knew your family’s ghosts would be all too happy to eat you right up.

Ari Levinson brings you a cup of coffee as you step outside the cold storage of your morgue, looking a bit like you’d seen a ghost and like you’d suddenly regressed to being afraid of them. Alright, Doc?

Stupid questions ought to deserve stupid answers, but you have the good sense to nod your head and busy your mouth with scalding itself on fresh-brewed water somebody whispered about coffee to. Somebody contact her next of kin? You haven’t gotten used to saying her real name, your real name, so instead you just gesture vaguely at the morgue behind you, hoping the agent will have enough sense to use context clues and get to the point.

Thankfully, he does. Family’s coming down tomorrow. Folks live in North Dakota — got no idea how their girl ended up down here. Dad kept askin’.

You tell ‘em we got no idea?

You really think my bedside manner’s that bad, Doc?

Stupid questions ought to deserve stupid answers.

You continue to have the good sense to not respond, leaving Ari Levinson looking slightly more than insulted as you pretend to have heard your office phone ringing and walk right back into the icebox.

That night, the spirit formerly known as Jane Doe #117 comes with a friend. John Doe #43 is… less pleasant lookin’ than the girl whose ID he had hidden inside his flayed jaw, eyeless face staring at you from your kitchen window and tapping on the glass to be let in.

You don’t. Victims of violence like that come with haints attached to ‘em and you’re not about to invite that into your home. The offering of cornbread is left on your back porch instead, with a light left on so he wouldn’t get lost on his way to a meal that didn’t consist of Cliff bars and spinach tortellini. It doesn’t stop his knocking though, insistin’ that your presence alone is enough reason to get in here. That the door is only a few steps away.

As if you’ll risk getting hurt by this ghost who probably won’t even remember attacking you.

Maybe he’s the one that attacked her, maybe he never even saw her, maybe he just wants the same comfort she must’ve craved during her final minutes on this Earth, or maybe he’s just a figment of your imagination as you ruminate on why the idea of a dead girl sharin’ your old last name — not an uncommon last name either, owned by more than a hundred thousand people in the country alone — bothers you so goddamn much.

Whatever the case, you won’t open the door for him, not now. Not ever. You just keep your charms on you when you step outside and feed the goat before lockin’ up the house and going upstairs to go to bed, biddin’ them both goodnight and, We’ll do our best.

The knock on your front door comes not long after midnight, loud enough it echoes all the way to your bedroom, persistent and steady as a drum.

And when you don’t respond at first, it keeps right on banging on the damn thing until you’re convinced you’ll soon see a fist makin’ a dent through that thin wood as the sound becomes a steady pounding.

Doc! Doc, it’s Ari, you gotta let me in.

You’ve heard of haints makin’ mimics of voices, memories, an’ hell, even whole faces of both the living and the dead, so you know better than to fling that door wide open and let him in to see you in your nightclothes before he’s ever even bought you a damn dinner, but that tone of voice he bears chills you to the bone somehow.

Doc, I know you’re in there, you gotta—

Prove it’s you.

What?

You heard me. Tell me somethin’ only Ari Levinson would know I know about him.

Oh c’mon, Doc. I don’t fuckin’ know. Do you even know my birthday?

Okay, so he’s got a point. You don’t admit that.

Fine, fine. What’s the hurry, couldn’t this have waited ‘til tomorrow?

Ari Levinson looks half-wild as you let him in, glancing outside briefly to see the flayed figure of your most recent unwanted visitor still seated mutely on the porch, cornbread rotted to dust and Goatrude holding him at bay. The Agent either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, eyes fixed on you instead, You got a gun?

Got a gu— the hell sorta shit are you up to, Levinson?!

His lips curl back from his teeth in a sort of grimace before he turns, glancing out your front windows and then back at you, You know you have a skinless corpse on your porch?

Oh, so he noticed.

I’ve been trynna ignore it. That’s besides the point, the fuck are you doing out here and why do I need a gun?!

Personal protection, why else? There’s two dead bodies less than ten miles out from your property, Doc, or did you not notice?

The point. You need him to get to the point, and you might actually kill him if he doesn’t, arms crossed over your chest and trying not to let your scowl get too deep. Please don’t tell me you came all the way over to my house just to tell me to use protection.

No, it’s cuz I figured out how to measure distances, he retorts, before… drawing himself up to his full height and letting his jaw set properly, Fine. You gotta promise not to say I’m crazy first though.

Not crazy, says the crazy motherfucker bangin’ on my front door at one in the goddamn morning. You take in the seriousness of his glare for a moment, processing how many times you’ve actually seen him be serious before, Fine. Fine, I got a skinless guy on my porch anyway. Nothin’s gonna beat that.

Famous last words, you know, as you head to your kitchen to start up coffee. There’s no sleep to be had for you tonight.

So you’re tellin’ me you’re the one who found this morning’s corpse?

You watch him, stirring about three tablespoons worth of honey into your coffee in a vain attempt to use the added sugar in your caffeine to stay awake, watch the way his eyes glance askance like he could hide the gears turning in his head, coming up with an excuse for his confession that doesn’t sound as insane as he feels.

You got no idea, you almost tell him, but it’s almost funnier to watch him sweat.

I was investigating a hunch on… the girl, he’s as used to calling her Jane Doe as you are, the name slipping from his mind.

You don’t tell him you appreciate it it.

A hunch. What, you got an informant I don’t know about?

He looks sheepish, which is new for a man you didn’t know had any concept of shame, I told you not to call me crazy, Doc.

So you did. Fine. Just go over this again for me — you went out lookin’ for clues on the Jane Doe cuz you just… thought you missed somethin’, four miles away from where they found her body?

I said I went to the crime scene, Doc. And then I walked for four miles… on a hunch.

You’re going to need more coffee.

Well. Gotta hand it to you, Levinson, you weren’t wrong on that one.

See? Told you. Found the body, but knew I wasn’t gonna be able to justify why the fuck I was out at the ass-crack of dawn, four miles away from the scene and following a hunch so…

So you just got lucky with the hikers comin’ up the way?

He nods, dragging his tongue along the inside of his cheek while he chews over what to say next, looking both thoughtful and displeased, Figured I’d be investigating the scene anyway, any bootprints I had could be explained later.

You have to hand it to him, he did think it out. You sit back, listening to him continue, go on about calling you to the scene — helps to call your partner out, you suppose — and then going back to both scenes to figure out the connection between the dead girl and the skinless meatsack.

Figured that if it worked once, it’d work for Flayed Doe over there, so I just… walked. Followed the hunch, and ended up here—

The Flayed fucker’s been here since sundown — it happens.

You eye him, watching the way he doesn’t react to your casual explanation of why there’s a skinless corpse on your front porch, measuring his words, letting coffee scald your tongue and pretending it doesn’t bother you none as you consider how much you should believe him.

Or how much of his own grave you should let him dig.

You’re pretty calm about the dead guy, Ari’s voice is halfway to an accusation, watching you right back as he processes, measures you up, weighs the way you glance past his shoulder to the thing still knocking at your window and the girl still hiding from the agent in your kitchen.

You don’t answer, not right away, grabbing the biscuit jar and half-slamming it down on the table between the two of you instead, figuring you’ll both need something to fill your bellies on top of the coffee while you so something close to talkin’ about… this place, an’ whatever the hell it’s doin’.

You’re not the only one telling lies, Levinson.

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x fem!reader #ari levinson #ari levinson imagine #chris evans fic #chris evans imagine #chris evans #marvel fanfic #writing #in which tessa finally writes something #chris evans characters

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beckwritesfiction · 2 years

Note

Can you do something with a virgin!reader x rhett abbott from outer range? Maybe they went to high school together and she's the preacher's daughter. He could assume she's not as innocent as she was back then, but he finds out that's not the case after they go on a date and he's ready to take her home? Bonus points if she's been saving herself for marriage but she can't stop herself once she's all worked up with him in his truck?

I hope this covered all the bases! Thanks for the request and I really hope you like it. My asks are open if anyone wants to request anything else.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: 18+ only! Minor, please do not interact with this post.

Warnings: mentions of religion, semi-public sex, drinking, protected PIV, oral (female receiving), loss of virginity,

a/n: This is the first in-detail smut I've written since like 2014 so please go easy on me.

There wasn’t much that surprised you in town anymore. You’d been there your entire life. Every day felt the same, and you liked the routine you fell into. You didn’t expect that Sunday to be any different than the last. The first unusual thing was Rhett Abbott showing up with his mother to church. He looked a little roughed up. His hair could’ve probably been combed, and he wasn’t wearing anything that resembled church shoes, but you greeted him like you greeted everyone else. It had been so long since you went to church that he looked surprised when you were by the steps, a few paces away from your father. He was deep in conversation with someone who had recently moved to town, so he wasn’t paying that much attention to you.

“Rhett,” he greeted him. “It’s nice to see you here.”

He wouldn’t ever say he forgot about you, but it wasn’t like you’d spoken much since graduation. The biggest thing he remembered about you was that you never seemed to have time for anyone. Any boy that tried anything would leave disappointed. Some tried hard to be the one that got the preacher’s daughter to give it up for them, but every single one failed. Unlike then, your neckline was a little less modest. Even though there was a jean jacket over your dress, it was a little low cut.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, unsure of what else to ask. He wasn’t asking what he really wanted to, after all. He wanted to know what you’d gotten up to, and why he never saw you in town. Your hands were bare, except for the light yellow nail polish on her nails. No ring. He wanted so badly to know if that meant you were still a virgin. There was no way, especially not since you were nearing your mid-twenties. Everyone had sex by then.

Your smile was ever-present, it seemed, but it brightened a little at his question. “Pretty good. Keepin’ busy here, especially with the market we’re settin’ up.”

“Market?” he asked.

“For the local farmers. Since the old outpost buildin’ burned down we haven’t had a farmer’s market. Daddy wanted me to take some initiative here, and I thought that sounded like somethin’ the town would love. Who wouldn’t want some fresh watermelon on a hot day like this?”

“I’ll let my mom know when I find her. She’d be the one lookin’ for somethin’ like that.”

“I made some pies to sell, if you’re interested. Not everyone who comes’s gotta be there for the produce. Think Missus Murry’s makin’ her famous bundt cakes, too.”

You were either just really friendly, or you wanted to keep talking to him. Anyone who thought they’d get to greet you just moved on to your mother.

“You said it’s right after this?” he asked.

“Oh, no. It’s at three.”

At three, he was there with his mother, and he tried to talk himself down from saying something to you when they eventually worked their way through the mazes of tables, tents, and tailgates to get you. You sat with your older brother and his wife, who were spreading God’s word to anyone that would listen, waiting for someone to come and talk to you.

Your conversations about pie were short-lived. Rhett even cut you off, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “Are you doin’ anything later?”

You were taken aback, but you were honest. “No, I’m not.”

“Would you wanna get dinner? We could catch up? Six years is a long time to go without talkin’.”

Your smile was different than it had been all day as he looked around, as if you didn’t want anybody to hear. “You wanna go out with me?”

He wasn’t sure if he would go that far. That’s why he clarified. “Pretty girl like you? Of course. Don’t think one date would hurt you, would it?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” You’d heard the comments your mother made; how confused she was about how a kid that used to be so sweet could stray so far from the Lord. You didn’t understand what she meant, but your mother elaborated, disgusted as she explained the town gossip. Anyone who went out with that many girls wasn’t looking for someone to spend the rest of his life with, or to serve God with. Especially not with how much and how often he was hanging around at the bars in town. You didn’t like to judge people, so you didn’t assume the date would be anything other than a date. And it was. At first.

You only had two drinks, stretching them out over the two hours that you sat at the booth in the corner of the bar. Drinking wasn’t something you normally did because your family didn’t. He noticed this, and slowed down on ordering more for himself. The conversation was casual, and he let you talk as much as you wanted; which you did a lot, feeling like you needed to seem more interesting if you wanted the date to go well. He didn’t have as detailed answers to your questions as you did to his, but you didn’t mind. He had never been someone to say much.

“You know that’s what my daddy did, before he found God?”

“Bull ridin’?” Rhett asked, knowing that had to be the only reason she’d pivot to that after coaxing out every detail of his so far underwhelming career.

You nodded. “He hit his head so hard on one of the railin’; knocked him right out. Said he saw this light and, when he woke up, someone said ‘Jesus Christ,’ like they were relieved. He took that as a sign. Retired after that circuit, started goin’ to church. That’s how he met my mama. It all goes back to hittin’ his head If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t’ve found God, met my mama, or had me and my brothers.”

“Then he would’ve just been stuck being a professional bull rider, and that’d just be sad, wouldn’t it?” Rhett asked, mostly as a joke. But he knew that was how some people saw him.

You laughed, shaking your head gently. “What’s sad about what you do? I think you’re brave. I’d never last long doin’ what you do. Besides, it’s better when he tells it. You should have dinner with us one night. He’ll tell you all kinds of stories.”

There were so many other things he’d rather do than talk about God with your family, but he didn’t want to make you feel bad. He deflected with a joke. “Are you tellin’ me you wanna take me home to your family?”

Your face flushed, especially when he leaned across the table the way he did. “I like talkin’ to you. Why wouldn’t I? Comin’ out with you without you meetin’ my daddy’s not a great start, but he’s forgvin’.”

When the topic of church and the Lord wasn’t on the table, he felt like the conversation flowed easily. And the way you flirted with him, innocent as it was, made him want to leave sooner rather than later. When he offered to take you home, you agreed, knowing you shouldn’t stay out too late. It was already ten o’clock.

There were so many things he did that made you feel like you needed to go outside and get some fresh air. If your head wasn’t spinning, your eyes felt heavy, or you felt a little hot. It wasn’t a heat you could put your finger on. It was more internal, spreading through you evenly, flowing like your blood did.

He opened the door for you, taking your hand before you stepped up into his truck. It was when he got in himself that he hesitated before starting the car. He wanted to talk, and you thought it was time to tell him how much fun you had.

“Thanks for askin’ me out. I haven’t been on a date in a while. Especially not one like this, it was fun. I like talkin’ to you a lot.”

He brushed his hand against your cheek before moving it to your hair, feeling you tense. At first he thought you didn’t want to kiss him, but then you did, and quite eagerly. The sleeve of your dress fell down as you leaned in, moving as close as you could get to him on the bench seat. He only kissed you harder, matching your energy until he reached for your arm, pushing you down against the seat until you felt the fabric on your exposed shoulders. He kept kissing you, even jerking you down by your hips so your head wasn’t hitting the door. The movement of your body made him gasp, and you liked it.

Just like you liked the way he kissed your neck, moving down your body slowly until he got to your chest. He pulled both your sleeve and your bra strap down, kissing the parts of you that weren’t exposed before that. There was no denying that you liked it, even if you wanted to. He could tell by the way you sighed.

His hand against your leg only made you feel even more like you could combust. Every place he touched you where he hadn’t before felt like such a rush. When he lifted the hem of your skirt, you tried hard to relax. Just because he was doing that didn’t mean you were going to go all the way. You were lying to yourself, and you knew it, but kissing him felt so good that you couldn’t stop. You weren’t there for that reason, mostly because of a promise you made to save yourself for marriage when you were younger, but the idea of figuring out the appeal of Rhett Abbott.

Then his hand brushed against the fabric between your legs, and you panicked a little. Even as this happened, you accepted that whatever he was going to do, you wanted it. “Will it hurt?” you asked suddenly, grabbing his wrist and stopping him.

“What?” he asked, frowning gently at your question. Then he realized something. You looked so dazed so often, so desperate for affection because you weren’t used to it. “You’ve never…done anything before at all?”

You shook your head, your chest rising and falling with anticipation. Your grip on his wrist tightened out of fear that he would move away from you and not consider going through with it after all.

“It’s fine, I just don’t wanna do it here.” That made you release his hand. You fixed the top of your dress, not realizing how exposed you were until then.

The wooded area he took you to was one you’d never been to before. You thought maybe it was where someone would take you if they wanted to kill you without anyone hearing your screams. But if he was going to kill you, he wouldn’t have put a blanket in the bed of his truck that he kept beneath his seat.

When he helped you in, getting in after you, he wasted no time kissing you again. It went on for what felt like ever, but you liked every second of it; feeling him move his hands from one spot to another until eventually it was back between your legs again. Before he could do what he planned, you decided you were too impatient.

“I want you to make love to me,” you sighed. The way he wrapped your legs around his waist when he started kissing you again made it harder for you to wait. You wanted to know what it was like, and his hips pressing against yours made you feel weak.

“I’ll do somethin’, but I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Even if it’s just once.”

“Makin’ love and havin’ sex are very different things.”

You shifted a little beneath him. You didn’t like that word. “Makin’ love sounds sweeter, doesn’t it? Sex sounds so…degrading, doesn’t it?”

“You don’t think there’s a worse word for that?”

“Like?” you asked. He could see in your eyes you really had no idea what could be wrose than the term sex.

“I wanted to say I’ll fuck you, not make love, but I didn’t. Thought you’d like me sayin’ sex over that; you bein’ so proper and all.” You would’ve felt insecure at this, but he brushed his hand against your cheek, and looked at you affectionately as he said it. You thought about this for a second, finding the word jarring, but liking how it sounded when he said it. “But whatever you call it, I’ll do it with you. And I’ll be gentle until you don’t want me to be anymore.”

“I’d rather you be gentle,” you said, not sure what would prompt someone to want anything but that.

After reaching into his pocket to get a condom, he noticed how closely you watched what he was doing. The way your hair spread out beneath you, and how you stopped fixing your dress. You let it ride up around your waist, and didn’t fix the sleeve or your bra strap that had either been pushed down by him, or fallen down.

He went to undo his belt, then looked down at you. “Go ahead.” You did, tentative at first. When your hands were shaking too badly to undo his jeans, he took over. “Lay back down.” He kissed you once again while he put the condom on, kissing down to your neck before he aligned himself. It was slow, like he promised, and uncomfortable at first. But the way he went back to your neck relaxed you.

Not long after, you understood what he meant, why he offered to be gentle until you didn't want him to be anymore. What he was doing felt good, but now you wanted more. You didn’t know how to ask for what you wanted, or even what it would be like after you did. Then, after feeling his fingers threaten to dig into your hips even harder, the word came back to you. Fuck. You just knew you liked how it sounded, and that felt like enough.

“Fuck me,” you breathed, not being able to say it fast enough. The last thing you thought he would do was stop. His breathing was heavy, his expression only hinting at him being pleased with your word choice.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck me,” you repeated.

“Don’t you have any manners?”

“Please fuck me,” you replied with ease, having no issue amending your initial request. You were so desperate to know what it would entail, and for him to move once again, that you were sure you’d say anything it took. When he pulled out of you, you nearly whined. This was the opposite of what you wanted, and he could see it written on your face.

“Get up and turn over.”

There was a moment of hesitation before you managed to ask, “Why?”

“Trust me. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. Get on your hands and knees. I’ll walk you through it.”

You were tense when you listened to him, suddenly insecure about the width of your hips and the size of your ass. When he put a hand on your hip, you winced a little. It made him get closer to you again, but his other hand rested against your shoulder. “Relax. I’ll go slow again until you tell me you want more.”

“Until I want you to fuck me?” you repeated, wanting him to say the word again.

He smiled, moving his hand from your shoulder down to your lower back. “‘Til you want me to fuck you, yes.” Then he pushed down on your back, urging you against the bed of his truck. It was hard against your knees, even with the blanket there. “Turn your face to the side, put your arms out in front of you, like you’re stretchin’”

You did, liking how your back felt when you did it. You arched it a little, not realizing it was exactly what he wanted. He had himself in his hand again, wanting to rush because of how hard he was, but resisting because of the promise he made you. “You ready?”

“Go slow,” you reminded him. He did, not being subtle about how good it felt to be inside you again. You were even surprised at how different it was than the first time. It just felt good, even right away. Your sounds of satisfaction mixed with his, only made your heart race faster. His promise was that it would feel good for you, but it sounded like he liked it just as much.

“Fuck,” he sighed as he repositoned his hands against your hips, moving again when you leaned back a little, clearly wanting more. The very word made you weak, especially when he said it.

“Fuck me.” It was even more desperate.

“You forget your manners again?”

“Please.”

He didn’t stop like he did before, even though he usually would’ve. You were so tight, and he couldn’t stop himself. The fact that he was still only moving so slow was already killing him. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me.” It sounded more like a cry now, your back arching harder like that was going to do anything. That made it even better for him when he finally picked up the pace. His vision even felt blurred, feeling how your body reacted, and how hot you felt around him. He only got more caught up in the feeling as the moments passed, with each thrust taking your breath away. Your hand gripped the blanket beneath you, your knuckles white. “Harder.” A few moments passed, and you added. “Harder, please.” His hips finally moved faster, and your cries only made it harder for him to give you what you wanted. If he continued the way he was, it would be over. He slowed, not telling you why, and trying to catch his breath.

You looked back at him, propping yourself up on your forearm. “What’s wrong?”

“Sit up,” he said, and you did. He pulled your dress down, and unclasped your bra. He didn’t have to tell you to take your arms out of the sleeves. He was inside of you again the moment you laid down, feeling he had a better chance of lasting longer. This wasn’t the case at all. You were so vocal, he couldn’t stop himself like he did before. His fingers dug into your hips, making you moan. That was enough to make him come hard, his thrusts getting sloppier with every passing second. He hadn’t been vocal until then, and you know that whatever he felt was all-consuming.

When he was beside you, breathless, you rolled over onto your side, running your hand down his arm. You didn’t want it to end.

“Is that why people are so tempted?” you asked, eyes fixed on him. He’d completely forgotten about your inexperience, and he knew you wanted more from him, even if you didn’t fully know what that was.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never even touched yourself?” You averted your eyes, embarrassed. “Look at me.” You did. “I’m not makin’ fun of you, I just can’t believe it. You’re so innocent, so…”

“Clueless.”

“Maybe, but you don’t have to stay that way.” He was moving between your legs again, running his hands against your legs until he was pushing them apart. “Lay back.”

“We’re doing it again?”

He couldn't help but smile. “Trust me. If you liked me fucking you, you’ll like this.” There it was again. It made you weak enough, inadvertently relaxing you and overshadowing your doubt. He began working his tongue between your legs, spreading them farther apart the less tense you got. He thought you were so tense all the time not just because you were nervous, but because you weren't getting laid.

The natural way your hand went to his head, and how your fingers were in his hair made him consider doing this with you again. Among other reasons, but that sealed the deal. That, and you were already so close and he’d spent so little time on you. He helped you as he held your hips down, knowing you were about to experience something you never had before.

The moans and gasps, as hot as they were, he had already grown used to. It was the sudden way you said his name that told him you were fighting it. He reached one hand up, caressing your side. You knew it meant he wanted you to relax and, when you did, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. The tensions that had gathered inside you loosed, and a feeling like nothing you’d ever felt before washed over you. You were gasping when you realized you’d forgotten to breathe. Rhett was still between your legs, and stayed there until he thought you were finally done.

When he was behind you again, fixing your dress from where it was gathered around your waist, holding it against your stomach as he wrapped his arm around you. He moved your hair from where it fell in your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“You forget how to speak?” he asked, his tone playful and quiet against your ear.

You nodded, pulling your dress up above your chest again, but not putting your arms through the sleeves. It took a few more moments of catching your breath before you could find the right words to say. Your entire body was buzzing, and alive in a way it had never been before. “Thank you,” was all you could think to say.

“I’ve never had someone thank me before,” he mused.

The embarrassment was the only thing that gave you the strength to roll over so you were facing him again. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. This kinda thing clouds your mind. That’s why people have no self control, and they sin left and right.”

A hand found her face, and it was then that she realized how hot she was. “Don’t remind me. I can’t believe I just did that.”

“But you don’t regret it?”

“No. I didn’t even know that’s what that would be like. That’s probably why they don’t really tell you what it is.” He offered a small smile, and you continued. “I should really get home.”

“You really had no idea?” he asked.

“Daddy doesn’t even know how Jesus would feel about the internet. We really only use it for things like recipes and directions, if we have to use it at all.”

Rhett pondered this, not because he was trying to guess how Jesus would feel about the internet, but because he was beginning to feel like he’d just corrupted your mind. But he decided to wait and see if you came to him again, or if you thought you could go on living your life the way you did before you knew what sex was like. He didn’t think you could.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x female reader #outer range fic #outer range fanfiction #outer range fanfic #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott #requests open

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harlowsbby · 2 years

Text

Only 4 Me

Liked by urbanwyatt, druski2funny, taylorrooks, mariahthescientist and 138,176 others.

yourinstagramname I’m trynna make you mines

urbanwyatt already did that ma 😮‍💨👨🏼‍🦯

yourinstagramname @urbanwyatt 🙈🙈

taylorrooks it’s the everything for me 🤍

druski2funny shit might have to steal your girl man

lilnasx @druski2funny like she’d want a burnt hotdog

Liked by yourinstagramname, jackharlow, druski2funny, lilnasx and 238,167 others.

urbanwyatt fresh as hell might steal ya girl

yourinstagramname say what now? you’re very much MINE wyatt. 😒😒

jackharlow the coldest 😮‍💨

druski2funny man give jack his glasses back

lilnasx @druski2funny those are very much Urban’s glasses. You just mad you can’t afford it #itsgivingbroke

druski2funny @lilnasx man you just be everywhere

Liked by urbanwyatt, lilnasx, latto777, mariahthescientist and 567,249 others.

yourinstagramname @urbanwyatt hope you ready for tonight baby daddy 🥴🥴

urbanwyatt always ready 👨🏼‍🦯

latto777 I know that’s right boo 😌

lilnasx gonna pray for jack honestly

druski2funny @lilnasx but when I say something like this it’s a issue??

yourinstagramname @druski2funny because nobody wants you around 😗

Liked by yourinstagramname, jackharlow, shloob_, druski2funny and 267,000 others.

urbanwyatt random shit

yourinstagramname my two babies in the first picture though 😫😫

jackharlow Kentucky legends

shloob_ gang gang gang

druski2funny where tf was my invite?

lilnasx @druski2funny in the trash just like your career 🤷🏽‍♂️

Liked by urbanwyatt, yourinstagramname and 560 others.

urbanwyattupdates mom & dad stay lookin the fresh 😮‍💨💸

urbanwyatt my evil twin fr@yourinstagramname

yourinstagramname @urbanwyatt you know it babe 😌🖤

everythingyourname god so in love with them both 🖤

liked by urbanwyatt, jackharlow, latto777, taylorrooks and 345,000 others.

yourinstagramname no pants type summer

urbanwyatt DAMN.

jackharlow I’m looking respectfully 👀

latto777 😫😫😫😫😫

druski2funny damn is right

lilnasx @druski2funny not even gonna disagree with you on this one

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #urban #jack harlow imagine #urban wyatt concept #urban wyatt blurb

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morvantmortuary · 11 months

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okay so my buddy @somethingthatsaysbubbles has been nice enough to tag me in six sentence sundays twice now and I keep! forgetting!! so this is me doing two to make up for it lmao

both under the cut so I don’t crowd dashes bc lmao of course I wasn’t just going to post six sentences, are you kidding me?

and bc of some very slight nsft in the last one

no-pressure tagging some friends in the meantime! @rosemaremembrance @maximoffwxnda @bigtiddythanos @illegalcerebral @lightinthedarkuniverse/ @jmathesonandsiblings @pondering-and-wondering @lorna-d-m @scuttle-buttle @eldritchcircus @somethingthatsaysbubbles @ebiemidnightlibrarian @norabrice1701 and anyone else feeling up to it!

I. conversations at the cemetery line -

Leon chuckled. “Well, who else is there, champ? Your brother,” he said quietly. “We all heard he’s a scrapper, when he needs to be. But it’s been a while, and his daddy ain’t around to beg anyone to go easy on him anymore.”

“First of all, Hex is my cousin, and second of all, he can hold his own just fine,” Maxi snapped, his eyes red as a fresh wound.

“Sure, sure. But can the Belle of the Ball?” Leon asked, tilting his head with a smile showing too-long teeth. “Word is she’s up giving pretty boy a run for his money still. That would mean she’s fair game, too.”

“Ask your employers,” Maxi said flatly. “She ruined their whole party, you were there.”

“You Lifers, you really let being born into this make you think you know shit about shit.” Leon closed the distance between them so they were eye to eye, what little gray there was seeming to drain from his irises and pupil to leave only a ghastly white. “Did you really think you all could get out of this unscathed, boy?” His voice changed drastically, like gravel had scraped his vocal chords. “Show them up in their own house and go home to laugh about it?”

“Who’s laughin’?” Maxi said, his voice lowering to near a growl of his own.

“You’re gonna get yourselves killed, kid. Did you really think They’ll stop at just you? You think they won’t come for that little friend of yours once they chew through your family line? That they won’t come for everyone who ever laid eyes on you, and everyone you ever called a friend? They make ghost towns. I’ve seen ‘em do it.”

II. an indecent proposal --

Silence stretched like skin over an abscess, tight and uncomfortable. Maxi and Rora met each other’s eyes, before he and Hector seemed to have a long, oddly tense shared stare. Finally, when something between them was wordlessly settled, they both looked back to Rora.

Rora paused, her glass halfway to her mouth again. “…What. Why’re y’all lookin’ at me.” She looked between the two of them, irritated now. “Why am I the one makin’ the call?”

“It was your suggestion,” Maxi drawled, with not a small bit of snark. “Figured it’s only fair.”

“Plus you’re the one who knew what moon we needed,” Hex added. “And all that stuff.”

“Because it’s common sense, if you thought about it for even a half a second,” Rora sighed, putting her glass down to pinch the bridge of her nose. “And if either of you ever bothered to study—“

“I didn’t!” Hector said, throwing his hands in the air. “I didn’t, we both know I didn’t, why do you keep talking to me like I’m suddenly gonna wake up and want to memorize all the esoteric bullshit our dads never made me learn!”

“Because if you want the title at all, and don’t want to be an embarrassment to the entire lineage,” Rora turned to Hector, sounding like she was revving up on an ongoing argument. “You need to know your shit outside just ‘Ghost go poof’.”

“You know what, puta,” Hector turned, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You always wanna talk shit about the Veil, but you’re just mad you could never—“

“Oh puh-lease, Hector, tell me what I don’t know about the goddamn Veil, since I’m the one that’s actually been there—“

“Jesus Christ, not this again,” Maxi sighed, rubbing his temples. “Y’all, leave it alone, c’mon.“

“Butt out, Maxi, you abdicated.” Rora glared at her brother.

“Yeah, no one asked,” Hector agreed over Rora’s shoulder.

Maxi’s hands fell to the kitchen table, eyes dark. “That don’t mean I can’t fuse both y’all’s lips closed right now—“

You weren’t sure if it was the tequila that made you knock twice on the table, or made you ask, loudly: “Are you guys fucking me tonight or what?”

and now I’m just gonna leave these here :3 thanks for thinking of me, linds!

#six sentence sunday #morvant mortuary #monsterkisser fics #nice people #tagged in #wip snippet #maxi morvant #hex morvant-casares #rora morvant #slasher ocs #southern slasher ocs #necromancer ocs

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