#off-shoulder straight neckline | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 1 year

Text

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part five | chapter list

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue sleepy kisses, baby kisses, cheesecake and cherry ice pops, and dinner with uncle wayne. [8k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a girl dad (<3), tw for mentions of not having much money, new established relationship! idiots in love!! and junie being the sweetest baby ever

𓆩❤︎𓆪

You don't think you've ever seen Eddie asleep before. You rack your brain for a memory, even the suggestion of one, and come up blank. Maybe I dreamt it, you think to yourself, hesitating with your hand held aloft above his peaceful face.

He looks like a dream.

What he'd said last night — before the kiss, and after — echoes. You can feel his hands on your face if you close your eyes, the heat of each gentle palm, the scratch of a silver ring. He's missing his jewellery now, because he takes it off before bed. You can't believe you hadn't known that. All these details. His lashes kissing the delicate skin of his under eye, the way his lips thin in sleep from being pressed together. You reach toward him with a shy hand and brush a bundle of curls from his cheek, exposing the ridge of his cheekbone, begging to be kissed.

You'd been tired, so tired, and then he'd come back, and he'd crashed hard. You understand it. It'd been the most exciting moment of your life, and on top of that, he'd taken care of Junie for most of the day beforehand.

You've slept sparingly. The sun leeches in through the window one small ray at a time. Junie makes a small sound behind you, stirring in her toddler bed. You nibble your lip guiltily, wanting one more minute, just one, to look at Eddie uninterrupted.

You turn around and your reluctance melts, Junie a picture of a good long sleep. Her hair is a mess, her lips still pouting, and her eyes are partly open. She sees you're awake too and smiles, and the guilt of wishing she'd sleep in intensifies. She climbs down from her bed and rushes up to yours.

"Hey, baby," you say softly, holding out your arm.

She grabs the sheets and you help her up, folding her into your chest with a contented sigh.

She's tired, and she lets you move her around with little protest. Which isn't to say she's despondent: her hands latch onto your t-shirt, and her tiny chin rises as she stares you straight in the eye.

"How did you sleep, bubby?" you whisper-coo, hand spread over the breadth of her shoulders, the other crushed under your own weight. "My hand's going numb."

You pull you arm out and hold her face. "That's better. Good sleep? Do you feel happy?"

"Good," she says. "Feel good?"

You huff out a delighted sound and drop your nose to hers. "I feel super good, Junie baby. I'm so happy, because you're happy, and you're so smart."

She smiles more.

"Can you say that, baby? Say, 'I'm so smart."

Junie wiggles against your torso, hands at the neckline of your sleep shirt. "Smart," she says.

"Yeah! Yes. 'I'm so smart.'"

"I'm so 'mart."

"Yay!" you cheer again, your inflection celebratory even though you're still speaking in hushed tones. You don't want to wake Eddie, but maybe you do — is this the kind of thing he's interested in being a part of? "You're so smart. So so smart, and pretty and kind and soft."

You stroke her cheek with the back of your index finger, hoping to tickle her into giggles. "So soft," you murmur, "my lovely soft girl. You know why you're so soft? It's 'cause you're such a good girl, and you let me wipe your cheeks after dinner even though you hate it." You're speaking quietly enough that some of the words sound worn, syllables lost.

Junie doesn't need to hear them to know they're dripping in love. She rests her cheek against your upper arm, chub against chub, and you sink down with her, closing her in for a cuddle.

Your fingertips brush over the nape of her neck.

"Love you," you say, kissing her head absentmindedly.

"Love you," she says back.

She'd been a slow-learner, and she's still behind the majority of her age group, but none of it matters. Hearing her say anything at all is a gift. Hearing her says she loves you?

You laugh. There's nowhere else for all the happy to go.

Your hopes of sleeping again are dashed when she sits up and sees the lump of a body behind you. If she's confused she doesn't show it, hands pressed to your tender side as she climbs over you and onto Eddie's stomach.

He doesn't rouse at first. He sighs, his arm lifting where it's trapped under the sheets, your faded cornflower blue quilt that he'd praised unnecessarily. It's pretty, he'd said, back flat to your mattress as you'd imagined him a hundred times before.

You're pretty, you'd said. He'd opened his arms to draw you in for another hug. They'd felt endless all night.

Junie gets to his chest and her face fills with recognition.

"Eddie," she says happily.

He hums but still doesn't wake. Junie pulls down the blankets, and he raises his arm. Eyes closed, he wraps it around her, pulling her to his chest with a contented sound. She giggles, tiny baby giggles, and starts to play with his hair.

“June,” he mumbles.

“Eddie,” you say, apprehensive, forcing a lightness, “we have company.”

“I can feel that,” he says.

To your — your pleasure, your elation, he turns onto his back and his free hand finds you. His fingers curl around yours and he holds them, thumb pressed to the knuckle of your index finger.

His eyes open slowly, his lashes parting, his face dipped down to take Junie in.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he repeats with a laugh. “Aw, Junie, your hair! I’ve never seen you before mommy gets you dressed. Uncle Wayne would say you look like me when I wake up, when I was a kid he,” —Eddie talks through a yawn, smoothing the baby hairs out of Junie’s eyes— “used to say I looked like Linus from the Peanuts strip.”

“That’s so mean,” you say. You're relieved. You should've known Eddie wouldn't care. He loves her.

"You know who you look like?" he asks her.

She shakes her head. His face lights up.

"Animal! Grown up Animal, not the baby."

Your stomach rumbles. Eddie looks at you with concern, though that concern is a mild, soft thing. He sees you properly for the first time since he woke up, Junie held to his chest, hair as messy as hers, as yours probably is, his t-shirt neckline rolled from wear, and he visibly melts.

"D'you wanna go out for breakfast?" you ask.

He shakes his head. "Come here."

"What?"

"Just come here. Lie down."

You ease off of your elbow and slide toward him. You rest your head very carefully beside his, and are immediately delighted when he kisses your cheek.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, pulling his arm out of hiding to steer the side of your face to his. Your noses smush together, eyes closing on instinct. "Hey, how are you?"

"How are you?" you ask back. He sounds super tired.

"Y'always do that. You can't just answer me? You're–" He kisses you, then, softly but with a sluggish imprecision. "Impossible."

"I'm impossible?"

"You're impossible," he promises.

You try not to squish Junie as you wrap your arm around her and bring a hand to his cheek. The tiniest rebirth of stubble scratches your fingertips as they rove up his cheek to the smoothest plane under his eye. You turn your finger until the nail is flat to his skin, stroking a fascinated back and forth.

"I can't believe you're real."

Can't believe you're real, and you chose me, and you're here now letting my baby pull at the sweat curls tight at your neck.

"Do I look bad?" he asks.

You roll your head back enough to see his smile. It makes your heart skip in the best way, how handsome he is, and you have to dive in again to kiss the line between his lips and his cheek. He's really warm. Before him, you'd forgotten how this could feel, the heat that another person can give you and how protected it leaves you.

"You look really nice," you say, your finger rubbing up and down his cheek. A teardrop to his chin that falls and climb over and over.

"Eddie," Junie says, weaselling under your arm.

"What, baby?" he asks.

She tucks herself up under his chin and lifts her head. It's awkward, but babies are like that. Always wanting to be where they aren't.

"Junie?" he asks.

She looks up, dishevelled hair especially fierce.

"You said my name, remember? Did you have something to ask me?"

She giggles at his tone but doesn't answer. Your stomach makes some more aggressive sounds and Eddie shoots up like bamboo, baby held to his chest and hand behind your head.

"Mom's dying."

"Eddie."

"Mom's super duper hungry," he says, stroking your forehead apologetically. "Now move, mom, so we may enter your kitchen and make super duper breakfast."

"Oh, no, let me change her first," you say. "Poor girl, I slept through the entire night."

He passes her over to you and you stand so he can slide out of bed. His smile grows. "Hair fairy got you both," he says.

You glare. "You are not exempt."

"Can I use the bathroom?"

"Don't ask! Since when do you ask?"

"Do you want to go first?"

His caring is sweet but unnecessary. "No. Please go, and spend like ten minutes in there? I promise we'll be much prettier when you get back."

"You're beautiful now," he says, though he obeys your ask and treks out of the bedroom with a wanton groan and a stretch that shows a lot of back. It's more than likely on purpose.

"I'm with my baby!" you yell, laughing.

"Don't know what you mean."

You strip Junie down to her smalls, change her diaper, and rub a nice lotion all over. She loves the skin to skin and stays still until you offer her today's options, two dresses, one blue and one a lighter green. She chooses the green, so you put green butterfly clips in her hair to match, and white socks with lace in black shoes. She looks awesome.

"Girls?" Eddie shouts. "Can I come out now?"

"I was kidding," you murmur to yourself, laughing.

You comb your fingers through your hair and meet him in the bathroom doorway with Junie's hand held in your own, glancing at each other through the gap.

"I wasn't serious."

"Sweetheart," he says, bending at the waist like he's been punched, "look at you. Juniper the Beautiful, holy sugar."

She only smiles.

"I can take her, yeah? I'll make breakfast. Do you want to get dressed?" he asks you, concern again softening the lines of his face.

"Sorry," you say.

"For what?"

He takes your face into his hand, cupping your cheek. You meld into it like you're one and the same, two pieces of the same puzzle clicked back into place. Junie’s hand in yours makes three.

"Alright, Junie, breakfast," he says, pulling apart and away with a humorous brevity, stealing her little hand from yours.

They walk together down the hallway, hands swinging.

"We'll go get breakfast!" you call. That's why you'd put her shoes on.

"I can make it," Eddie says, voice carrying in the quiet. He shoots a smug look over his shoulder. "I can make it, seriously. Just have a minute for yourself, why don't you?"

You wonder if that's code words for you look like shit right now, but you firmly believe Eddie wouldn't tell you that even if you did. You wash up in the bathroom and then get changed into a new-old skirt that you sometimes wear to work though you're not supposed to and a nice shirt that doesn't go. You take it all off and try again. And again.

You pull on a pair of tight sweatpants and the band t-shirt he'd bought you all those weeks ago. For a moment you stand there, face in your hands, and then a big hand presses to your shoulder blade and scares you into flinching.

"Oh, shit," you say.

Eddie laughs a storm and gets his hand under your armpit. That's worse, and you squirm, but he doesn't budge, pulling you toward him for a tight-boned hug.

"You're taking for ages," he says, parroting one of Junie’s newer phrases.

"Well." You shove your face into the top of his shoulder. "I think I'm nervous. Do I look stupid? Nothing fits me."

He hears your embarrassment and your panic and hoists you backward, hands curled around the tops of your arms as he gets a good look.

"You look pretty, and like you need something to eat." He presses his lips together, a funny picture of nervousness to mirror your own. "I know we should probably talk about it, but I don't really know how to do that. Just. Are you still– You don't regret it?"

It sounds clunky in his mouth.

"I don't regret any of it," you say sincerely.

"Good," he says, recovering quickly from this show of vulnerability with a good heaping of bravado, "'cause I was really hoping to get to do this again."

His hands climb your shoulders, settle neatly in the curves of your neck. He holds your face. You wait for him to kiss you.

"What? I brushed my teeth."

He presses his lips to yours all wonky with laughter. It's fleeting, not nearly as long as you want it to be, but Junie shouts something from the kitchen and draws both of your attention.

"It wasn't about you brushing your teeth," he says, back of his hand rubbing yours as he overtakes.

Junie stands in the kitchen with a spatula, a whisk, and the rolling pin, an array of items from the bottom drawer she's in the middle of relocating.

"Sorry I left her, I just wanted to make sure you weren't, like, trying to think of ways to let me down easy. I put the TV on. Not that you can't let me down easy," he says, bending to face Junie.

You shake your head as he starts to help her take things out of the drawer. You don't keep anything sharp in it for this exact reason, Junie's enthusiastic upheaval.

He catches your look. "I'll put them back! Promise."

"It's fine, you know she does it all day anyways."

And really, he should know you won't mind because whenever he's here he helps. Cleans, cooks, soothes her small tantrums and her bigger distresses, like when you won't let her eat laundry powder with the tiny shovel that comes in the box.

He's even started playing the bad guy sometimes. It sounds crazy, but having someone who's willing to say no for you is a sharp relief. To get to be the comforter rather than the nag, and to share a smile over Junie’s distraught head.

"This is positive reinforcement."

"I know both of those words, and yet," Eddie says, closing the now emptied drawer with his foot.

"You helping her take stuff out teaches her that those things should be taken out." You pull open the fridge. "But it doesn't really matter, I'm just saying. Do you want orange or apple juice? June?"

You hold out the carton of apple juice and the gallon of orange. The orange juice is awful, a concentrate with too much sugar, and it's delicious, so Junie picks that one without hesitating. You give her half juice half water in a sippy cup.

"Is mine watered down too?" Eddie asks, accepting the glass you press into his hand.

"I even mixed in some pedialyte. You're welcome."

He nods with more genuineness. "Thank you. Now sit down! I'm making breakfast. I'm gonna make it. What do you want?"

You look at him, fresh but still sleep rumpled, and you think about how hungry you are, and you really like him so much and you get why he wants to do this, but.

"Listen, let's go out. Let's get waffles and syrup and strawberries and nobody will have to do the dishes."

He buckles way too fast. It feels like a big compliment, how quickly you can erode his resistance.

"Alright. Fine, but not because I couldn't have made all of those things."

"Of course not."

"You look crazy pretty when you ask for things, you know? All this time I've been begging you to ask for things and now I'm a little worried. D'you always smile like that? I could be in trouble."

You boo at him and he smiles all the way to the car. He's still smiling as he drops his hand onto your thigh, pulls out of the driveway, and starts down the street leading out of the trailer park. It takes you a minute, but eventually you realise you can touch him back, laying your hand on top of his experimentally.

"Do I look stupid?" he asks.

He's stolen one of your hoodies to hide his slept on shirt. His jeans look messed up from sleeping in, but they're baggy.

"You don't… You could start leaving clothes at my house, you know? If you wanted to– stay again." You swallow a nervous giggle. "I mean."

"Of course I want to stay again. I'd love to. I love being with you."

He squeezes your thigh. If it weren't for his pinking ears, you'd assume him unaffected.

"Okay. Good. You can stay the night whenever you like, handsome, 'cause I love being with you too."

You wonder and worry if your declaration is too close to an I love you he doesn't want. You do love him, have loved him for a while, but you have no clue what you even are. Last night, you'd said best friend. He's more than that, he has to be.

You're in sync, or he can read your mind. He says, "We'll talk about it. After you get some breakfast in you. Your stomach's so loud they just put a weather warning on the radio."

"They did not."

—

Wayne puts a beer down in front of his nephew and doesn't pull any punches.

"If you get that poor girl pregnant, I will disown you. Not her, mind you. Just you."

Eddie thinks this is a very weird thing to say, but he also knows that Wayne is mostly kidding.

"I'm not going to get her pregnant."

Satisfied, Wayne sits down next to Eddie on the couch, the two of them tired from a long day at work, the TV on quietly in the background. It's the same thing they do everyday, or everyday before Eddie met you and your baby.

"I get to meet her, or we just gonna meet at the wedding?"

"Funny," Eddie says. "You can meet her whenever you want to. I kind of didn't think you'd be interested."

Wayne sighs, scrubs his jaw.

"Son, I want to meet her. Her and the baby. I didn't know if it was gonna work, but…" He smiles at Eddie. Eddie thinks that it's a mix of pride and love, and it has a lump forming in his throat near instantly. "I should've known, huh?"

Eddie makes himself scoff.

"Yeah, you should've."

"Only thing you ever half-assed was high school."

"You had to get that one in there."

Quick wit and nipping comments aside, Eddie knows Wayne truly does want to meet you and Junie, and that he should've a long time ago. It had been a cop out to say he didn't think Wayne wanted to meet you, because he knew his uncle had been curious and — he's family. Wayne is Eddie's family, and you and June have become the same.

When he brings it up to you, he does it carefully. With flowers.

You open the door and throw your arms around him, smashing the flowers unapologetically. He chuckles into your neck, pulls you tight to his chest. You smell like the diner.

"How come you never used to do this before?" he asks.

"You never did either."

You take his face into your hands and kiss him, before your usual shyness takes over and you pull away. He's having none of it, grabbing your wrist before you can escape to offer your flowers.

"Here. You'll have to give me one back for Junie, though."

You give him the biggest flower of the bunch, a huge pink carnation with perfect petals and a thick stalk. Your fingertips brush his as you do, and his eyes are drawn to them, your hands, the bump and bone of your knuckles. You still have a scratch from work down the length of your pinky, and they're scrubbed raw as usual from cleaning. He worries you're a little compulsive about cleaning, but he supposes you'd had to have been, all by yourself. He resolves to treat them kindly at the next possible opening.

"Thank you."

You don't blink at his bag from Bradley's. You try not to look at it; Eddie won't accept a thank you and you're trying to let him give you things, as per the arrangement.

As in, you, with Junie in your lap and fresh cream on your cheek, had agreed to be his girlfriend three days ago in the booth of a diner that wasn't Benny's. He hadn't been as brave as he could've been. It felt unreal to him to be with you, to have kissed you more times than he could remember, and to have you smiling back.

"Listen, I know you said we're best friends, and we are, you're my best friend, but I– we're more. I want to be your boyfriend." He rolled the word around so you'd know how strange he though it was. "But if you've… changed your mind–"

You'd reached across the table, pads of your fingers stroking the back of his wrist. "Why would I change my mind?"

"You realise, if we're together, you have to let me take care of you all the time?" he'd asked, full of nervous energy and really, really pleased. Proud to have you.

"I think I can deal with it."

He'd rubbed the toe of his shoe against your ankle and finally told you about the cream on your face.

"Junie?" he says now, eyes searching for your lovely daughter.

"She's in the bedroom."

"What for?"

You squeeze your hand through the crook of his arm, press your cheek to the top of his shoulder, and laugh. "She's making Eddie's bed, apparently. I tried to explain that you won't be sleeping here all the time but I might have made it worse."

Did you make it worse, or had your toddler misunderstood? He hates how even in the small things you'll blame yourself. This feels like a completely blameless situation, and, if anything, it's his fault, he's the one who stayed the night, and then another night, and another. He'd gone home between those days, had even gone to work, and really didn't mean to spend the night each time. It's addictive to get to sleep with you so close by. Getting to kiss you with your arm slung over his chest, your tired eyes staring up at him lovingly — he's a good person but he's weak, too.

He knows it's a little improper to stay this close so soon. If he thought for a second you weren't okay with it he'd be out the door.

"Eddie?" you ask.

"What?"

"You're staring straight through me," you say, sounding both amused and concerned. "What are you thinking about?"

"You, mostly. You and June. You know, Wayne wants to meet you."

You shake the bouquet at him, brows furrowed accusingly. "Is this a bribe?"

"'Course not… Are they working?"

"I don't need flowers. I want to meet him too. It's weird we haven't met before. You keeping us apart?"

"I absolutely am. I was a gross kid, I don't need him to tell you all of that now I actually got you."

Eddie draws away from you reluctantly to put his bag on the table, as well as June's flower. He pulls out the dinner he's brought for tonight and his most important purchase, a vase big enough for your flowers. It's simple clear glass with dainty enamel flowers around the circumference.

"For you, my sweetheart, a vase for the flowers. You want me to cut the stems?"

You beam at him, a shining smile that makes his chest feel fizzy, a can of soda on a rollercoaster as the sound of thumping comes from the bedroom, small footsteps racing to the door.

"Think she heard you," you say. You smile, take the vase, and kiss his cheek in a silent thank you.

Sure enough, Junie appears down the hall and Eddie's barely taken three steps when she's laughing and pawing at his legs, having raced all the way.

"Eddie," she cheers, arms up in the universal sign for 'grab me before I start screaming'.

He's more than happy to get his hands under her arms and pull her to his chest, your mini me breathing hard as she settles. Her hand presses into his collarbone, her lips puckered up for a kiss. He doesn't usually kiss her, doesn't really know where the line is, but denying her feels cruel. He kisses her cheek and feels her lips press to his cheek at the same time.

"Thank you," he coos, "thank you for the kiss, baby, I'm happy to see you too."

"See you," she says, patting his neck.

"How do I look? Handsome?"

She tangles her fingers in his hair.

"So, Uncle Wayne, does he like me?"

Eddie leans against the countertop you're facing so he can see your face. "He's never met you."

"Duh, but does he like me?"

"Probably. He has a bunch of reasons to like you and none not to like you."

"Doesn't hate me for stealing his baby boy?"

Eddie wonders if he's going red. "No, god, he'd thank you for it. Man hasn't had a quiet night in a decade and a half." You laugh softly, fingers weaving through flowers to arrange their leaves and stalks, and he catches a flash of uncertainty as it twists your mouth. "Seriously, he'll like you. I know everybody says it 'bout everyone, but Wayne's a good man."

"I know he's a good man, just…" You frame the flowers with your hands and step back. You smile at him to unsuccessfully hide an insecurity he can spot a mile away. "I'm not the girl people would pick for their son, you know?"

He raises his eyebrows, feels bad and drops them. Eddie lives in a trailer park, and has done for most of his life, it's not like the people around here are prudent about love and partners: Eddie's obviously not the first guy to ever date somebody who already has a kid. He doesn't wanna brush it under the rug, though. Your worrying worries him.

"I think you're exactly who he'd pick." He smiles at you in warning. You asked for this, sweetheart, buckle in. "Gorgeous girl with a perfect body," —you snort— "'n' a heart of gold." He pats between Junie's shoulders where she's oh so quiet in his arms, an affectionate slump over his heart. "And her pretty baby, too. I'd choose you for my kid. You know, if I was old. And I had one."

You wrap Junie up with one hand, the other placed sweetly over his shoulder. Your thumb strokes into his skin. "Thanks, Shakespeare," you say, letting your head dip down until your lips are flat to his shirt.

He drops his head into yours.

"Do you think he should come over for dinner?" you ask quietly.

"What, today?"

"It's gonna make me nervous thinking about it otherwise. What did you bring? Or maybe I can get pizza?"

He encourages your head back, palm to the side of your head. He strokes down until his hand covers your ear and curls around the curve of your neck. Insanely, he thinks it is a privilege to get to see you upset and to get to try and fix it.

"I can ask him, and he's not fussy. You're sure you want to do this today? I could host, you know, or we could go out."

You shake your head, looking grim. Dread clear in your eyes, you say, "I'll obsess over it. Can you call him before I lose my nerve, please? Do you think that would be alright?"

You ask like he genuinely might say no. He hasn't had the power to say no to you for months.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I can call 'im."

You offer to take Junie and it's funny because she doesn't need to be held right now and yet neither of you want to put her down. She's relaxed and Eddie doesn't see why she should have to be anywhere else but in his arms, hiking her up his chest in one arm to use the phone. He slots the receiver between his shoulder and his head and types in Wayne's number without having to look. He's typed it hundreds of times, at friend's houses, at the school nurse when his Mom's didn't work anymore, at the Hideout. Just to say, I'll be home late, but don't worry.

He extends the invitation with a teasing tone. "You wanna come around for dinner? Old lady's asking."

"You can't call her your old lady, son, not yet. That's a privilege you gotta earn."

Eddie laughs down the line. "What's wrong with old lady? I'm keeping it respectful, classy, aren't I? She's making burgers."

"You better be helping her."

"How can I help her? I'm on the phone to you."

"What time am I expected?"

"Let me ask." He pulls June back up where she's slipping, mouth lifted from the phone to grab your attention. "What time are you thinking, sweetheart?"

"It can be done whenever he wants it," you say, elbow deep in ground beef.

"Give us an hour, okay? Don't fill up on shit."

"Yeah, boy, I won't. Better leave me alone to wash up, or I can come in my overalls–"

"Alright, Wayne." He hopes it sounds like 'love you'. "See you in an hour. Don't forget."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm that old," Wayne says, followed by the sound of the phone on the hook.

Eddie passes it to Junie where she'd been dying to have a turn. He can't let her play too long, guilty already watching you chopping and dicing and washing. He sets her up on your couch with her army of teddies and a peach juice box from Bradley's. He'd picked them up thinking they were weird, and that he'd wanted Junie to try them if she hadn't before. She seems pleased with it, back and legs straight across the pillow, head bent in a way that would give a grown up a sore neck for the foreseeable future, socked feet wiggling along to the music playing on her show.

He returns to find you washing your hands. Eddie wants to kiss your neck but doesn't have a clue in the world if he's allowed to do that now or ever, so he folds his arms over yours like a hug.

"Can I get some of that?"

You squirt dish soap into his palm. He's expecting grumbling and complaining at his weird position, but you say nothing, only laugh. You wash his hands for him, thumb rubbing down the small hills of his fingers until he has to wash off the suds, squishing you to the countertop edge with a feigned apology.

You squeal with laughter. "Get off," you plead.

"I'm so tired, suddenly, I don't know what it is."

"Eddie," you moan, well and truly sandwiched under his weight.

He pecks your neck and stands properly in search of a hand towel to dry off your dripping hands. He towels his, passes it to you, and uses his dry hands to cradle your face. He thinks you look beautiful but admittedly very tired, and lowers his voice to an adoring murmur.

"You can go sit down, if you want to."

"Oh, no, there's too much to do," you say, and though you're denying him, your face lists heavily into one of his hands. You close your eyes for a moment before looking up at him through your lashes. "I can do it."

"I know you can do it, I just don't want you to have to."

He pulls you closer, his elbows pushed into your shoulders.

"I'm really good at making burgers. S'like, my signature dish. That's why I got stuff for burgers, 'cause I wanted to cook tonight."

You still don't budge.

"Go on," he murmurs, "go get your cuddles."

Junie, upon realising Eddie would be sleeping in your bed, has taken to climbing on top of him and insisting she get to stay in the big bed. She's hogging him, and it's clear you're not unaffected. Not jealous, not bitter, but missing your baby.

You're in mild withdrawals, and it makes sense. After all, she gets her extreme need for affection from you.

"You're sure?" you ask, frowning softly.

"Yes," he says, laughing and pushing you away gently, "trust me, sweetheart, I can make dinner. You gotta take my flower for June, though." He picks it up off of the counter and twirls it under your chin. "I forgot all about it, you distracted me."

You take the flower but hesitate in front of him.

"Kiss?" you ask, eyebrows popped up.

He bends backward, hand coming up to cover his mouth. "You have it bad, huh?"

"Forget I asked," you faux-threaten, spinning on your heel to leave.

Eddie follows, spins you right back around with a hushed, "Where do you think you're going?" and kisses you, hand sliding up your cheek.

One kiss turns to two, your lips parting slightly under the pressure. He grins and goes in for a third.

—

You don't sit down for long. You steal a Junebug cuddle, in which she insists on sharing her juice box with you and kisses you upwards of twenty times. You giggle giddily, the petals of the flower you've tucked behind her ear almost blinding you with each one. They're drooly and gross and lovely to begin with, less wet when you leave to find something for her to wear.

The dress she wears now is dirty from daycare, and the applesauce, crackers, and peanut butter you'd given her earlier stain the neck. You pick out a simple matching set of not-quite pyjamas. You want Wayne to know you dress her well, but you'd feel bad if she had to suffer any longer in clothes with buttons and zips.

Once she's changed, she's somehow even happier than she was. Now she's settled into daycare and your routine, she's over the moon all the time. She's finally settled in, and you have Eddie to thank for a good chunk of it. He's a great part of her routine, another person who wants to love and dote on her. While you know you'd been doing a great job by yourself, any extra love at all is welcome. You could love him for how he loves her and nothing else, only there's a thousand other things about him to love.

Like his singing. You can hear him humming, then riffing, spatula scratching the frying pan as he rocks out to a song you can't hear. You're playing with Junie's toes, as strange as it sounds, wiggling and tickling the sole of her feet.

"Mommy?" she says breezily.

"What?" you ask, leaning to her eye level, fluffy bed socks in hand.

"Special treats for dinner?"

You can't believe the improvements in her speech, though it's natural, and it would've happened eventually. And it blows your mind because you'd known she was in there, she's a great listener and she's so patient for a toddler, but knowing she's having these thoughts and then having her voicing them now is something else completely. It's amazing.

You tuck the sock under her pant leg and beam at her. "Yeah, baby, we're having special treats after dinner. Eddie's making burgers with the cheese," you hum, offering your open hand for her to hold. "And… his Uncle Wayne is coming by for dinner. So we're gonna meet him and say hi to him and be super nice, okay?"

"Okay. What's for treats?"

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Eddie. Should we go ask him?"

She nods enthusiastically and slides off of the sofa, gand in yours. She walks with a wobbly confidence into the kitchen, where the smell of searing hamburgers and black pepper is cloying.

Eddie turns with the spatula, slouched with one elbow on the counter. He perks up when he sees Junie in her fresh clothes.

"Hey, bub, look at you!"

"She has something to ask you."

Eddie crouches down. "Anything. What do you want to ask me, Junie?"

"What's for," —her voice is small, high-pitched and clumsy but sweet— "... have for…"

"Dessert," you whisper. "For treats."

"What's for treats?" she asks, smiling.

You sigh with pride and Eddie mirrors your expression. "Well," he says, reaching out to readjust the flower peaking in front of her hair, "I brought two things, cherry ice pops and cheesecake."

"Oh," Junie says, "my gosh."

You leave them in their love bubble and change into your nice (bleach stained, agonisingly bleach stained) jeans, rather than meet Wayne in your waitressing skirt and blouse. Eddie wolf whistles as soon as you emerge, Junie now happily perched on his hip as he moves the burgers onto a plate to wait in the oven. Junie turns and drops the slice of cheese she was holding, startled at the noise.

"Is this awful?" you ask, pointing to the thin line of bleach across your thigh.

"'This' is killer," Eddie says.

"No, but can you see the bleach?"

"Not really. If you need new jeans, we can go get some."

The I can't afford it begs to be said, though you know exactly what he'll say in response.

"Not right now," he amends. "They look fine, okay? He won't notice. I had my first tattoo for three weeks before he saw it."

You lean over the sink to open the window and let some clean air in. Eddie goes back to the plate, and Junie drops another slice of cheese.

The knock at the door startles you. You're unprepared, terrified, and you haven't wiped down the dinner table yet. Eddie sees your panic and shakes his head at you.

"It's fine. You want me to answer?"

"We should both answer," you say, with a confidence you are not feeling.

You hold your hands out for Junie. She's a safety blanket.

Please like me, you think, letting Eddie pull you to the door.

—

You have nice shoulders. Eddie feels like he's had this thought before. Often, he looks at you, and he finds something new to catch onto and to obsess about. This hasn't changed in the few days you've been together. It's gotten worse.

He can see the top of Junie's head against your shoulder but not her sleeping face. You sway her from side to side and he can see you arms shaking with the effort it takes to have been holding her for this long, your quiet humming now a whisper of sounds. The gentle thudding of your hand against the bottom of her spine stops, and you turn to look at him, a question in your eyes.

He nods. Looking good.

You ease her down into her toddler bed and spend some time pulling the blankets over her legs, tucking her small army of teddies in beside her.

Finger to your lips, you and Eddie creep out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen. There's nothing to clean. His Uncle Wayne is a stickler who couldn't not help clean up.

Wayne had definitely liked you. You're still glowing with it. It had been a great time, not nearly as awkward as you'd feared, and Eddie's feeling pretty content right now. You waste no time collapsing on the couch. A sippy cup under your hip, cushions in disarray at your head. Eddie grabs the half of the cheesecake that's left and two spoons and sits right next to you, thigh to thigh, no need for friendly space anymore. He forces the spoon into your hand, slides the cheesecake onto your thigh, and moves the sippy cup out of the way.

"My arms are too tired," you mumble, dropping back into the cushions. Junie had piled them all up behind Wayne's head. She was extra, extra nice.

"Want me to feed you? I can baby bird you."

"Ew. That image never gets any less disgusting, Eddie."

It's been Eddie all day. What's a guy gotta do to get a 'handsome'? A 'baby'?

He laughs around a spoonful of cheesecake and twists his foot behind your calf, linking your legs. You've managed to finally get cable, and an episode of Jeopardy plays on mute across the room. There are toys everywhere, the kind of mess that you'll spend three hours putting right, sorting and spritzing and wiping with Junie behind you pulling things back out.

Eddie's already got the clothes here to stay, and Wayne had said, "See you tomorrow," when he left, but Eddie asks anyway.

"Can I stay over?"

You sit up to drop your face heavily into his shoulder.

"Please, handsome. Don't want you to go home."

There's the pet name he'd been searching for. A warmth climbs all over, a twinge in his stomach. He heaps cheesecake onto your spoon and presses the handle into your fingers. You eat it slowly, tip of your tongue making an unexpected appearance when a crumb sticks to your lip.

You make a sound that should probably be illegal and drop the spoon into the cheesecake casing, freeing your arm to wrap it around his chest. You nuzzle your nose into his skin, sniffing.

He laughs from happiness and nothing else, making good work of the cheesecake while you doze. He's not an animal, leaving some for you and June if you want more tomorrow, but he isn't temperate, either. He's thinking this might be the perfect life, you and your baby, Uncle Wayne laughing at your kitchen table, Junie in the high chair beside him trying to make a babbling conversation. She'd managed a couple of proper words and an impressive sentence, much better at answering than asking but trying either way.

"You're a ringer for your mom, kid, you look like twins," he'd said softly.

"Ring-ring," she'd said happily, excited to have understood. She'd offered her hand to him, pinky and thumb stuck out.

Wayne, grinning, had answered the phone.

"June loved Wayne," Eddie says conversationally.

"Junie loves everybody," you say through a yawn, hand soothing up and down his side greedily. "Not like she loves me and you, but she does. She keeps hugging all the other babies at daycare and they don't know how to stop her."

"What? You've never told me that."

"I didn't know 'till this morning." Your fingers find and breach the hem of his shirt, pads tracing to the small of his back.

"God, you're cuddly tonight. Here, let me–" He moves the cheesecake. "Come here."

You groan, "No, this is fine."

"Sit on my lap, loser."

"I'm heavy."

True or not, Eddie wants you in his lap, and he's selfish, pulling at you like a kid not getting his way. You end up flopping over his lap to stop him, curled into an uncomfortable but darling position. He gets his hand behind your ear and turns your face, wanting to see your eyes and your nose and your lips.

Your eyes are bright in the lighting.

"Wayne liked you," he says, stroking down the shell of your ear with his thumb.

"I can see why you're so kind," you say.

You smile at each other.

"I don't know what I did."

Eddie leans down, tilts his head to line up with yours, his eyes flicking between the lightness softening your gaze or the curve of your top lip, calling him in like a siren. "What did you do?" he murmurs.

"To get so lucky," you say. "I don't know. I must have been a saint, in a past life."

"A past life," he repeats.

Your eyes find his and narrow. He knows where you're looking, that little dot of dark hiding beneath his eyelashes. You move over his lap carefully, hands behind his neck to anchor yourself. Your thighs against his thighs, ankles locking him in, your hands always so gentle where they play in his hair.

He thinks there's a kind of melancholy to moments like this. He panics, in his way, in his head, because there are no guarantees. This perfect night with a perfect girl could be it. There are many bad things that could happen, unspeakable, and he gets this trip in his chest like a fuse shorting out.

He should slow down and tell you what he feels. How you're his and he's the lucky one, goddamn, he's never had luck like this in his life.

He smooths his thumb across your lips and stops at the corner, momentarily ashamed of his big, clumsy hand, and permanently in awe of your softness, your goodness, how it lines every feature on your brilliant face.

You lean in for a kiss.

Your lips are parted, and he thinks you might've read his mind, the hunger and the fear he'd felt, the heart-pounding reverence, that split second of wanting to say something he shouldn't yet. It feels like you read his mind; your lips kiss and kiss and your hands tremble minutely behind his head. The heat of your tongue shocks him like the first drag, has his hand bawling in the fabric of your shirt, a low sigh smothered by your attention.

Your nose touches his. In the days since his confession you've endured a frankly overzealous amount of his kissing. He's had you in bed, in the kitchen, just outside the front door. Some heavy handed, some sweeter than sugar, none ever for anything but kisses. Your ardency surprises and excites him — his pulse is a freight train, pounding in his veins as you yield. Your head tips back slow, your gasping breaths a golden sound he endeavours to keep forever.

When you lay back, it's quietly, hand at his front and encouraging you to lay with him. He props himself up on his side, one hand feeling for your upper arm, wishing you'd worn something with shorter sleeves so he could feel your skin. The other covers the column of your throat. He can feel your too-fast breathing in his palm, your shallow gasps.

Your eyes close again as he ducks in. He rubs a line with the tip of his nose next to yours, the heat emanating off of your skin thickening the air. Or, that's what it feels like.

"Kiss me," you say under your breath. This close, you might as well have shouted it.

He kisses you until not one of you can breathe properly, and a little after that, too. His thumb ghosts under the curve of your breast and he can feel the tightness of the question between you, a string pulled taut by your hand and his.

"Sweetheart," he says, trying to pour all of his affection and something deeper into the word, "do you want to…"

"What?" you ask.

He lifts his head off of yours and waits. You open your eyes in confusion, though that confusion quickly turns when you hear what he's hearing.

Movement. Little feet.

He pulls his weight off of you and helps you up, brushing down your hair, your hot cheeks. You move away from his hand without malice, and when he turns he's not at all surprised to see baby Junie in her pyjamas, the ear of a teddy clasped in a small fist.

You press your arm to his.

"Sorry," you whisper.

He turns to you, blinks three times quick. "Baby, it doesn't matter." It's unfortunate, but not as unfortunate as your mortified expression. He holds his hand out to Junie where she's meandering toward you, exhausted steps unsafe but determined.

She reaches his knees, and Eddie helps her up to sit between you both, his arm behind her head.

You stroke her hair. The look you give him is pensive and loving at once. You lift your chin, and he presses a saccharine, chaste kiss against your kiss bitten lips.

Junie falls asleep again near immediately. Eddie finds your hand in the mess of limbs and gives it a good squeeze.

"Bed?" he asks.

You slouch down. "In a minute?"

He slouches down with you, letting his temple drop against yours over Junie's sleeping figure.

"Whatever you want."

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! im so happy they’re together this is my fave part of every fic, aimless adoration <3 im not sure what to write for part sis so I’d love to hear what you want to see there, thanks so much

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #fem!reader #mom!reader #eddie munson x mom!reader

4K notes · View notes

super-clearlysaltybouquet · 3 months

Text

The One With the Blouse (1/2)

Part 1/2

Wolfstar x reader Sirius Black x reader Remus Lupin x reader Sirius Black x Remus Lupin Sirius Black x reader x Remus Lupin

Established couple (throuple)

Summary: Reader cares about how people see her, tensions boil over when the group get ready for a Gryffindor party

Warnings:

Angst (argument)

Hurt (and minimal comfort…)

Lots of insecurity, feeling disposable in a relationship

my first fic ever so please be kind…will potentially write a part 2 if people like this one (feedback is welcomed)

word count: 1.8k

Sirius looks so pretty in his white blouse. The silk brings out his dark hair perfectly, and the fabrics warm undertones complimented his pale skin. “Is all the fuss really necessary?” Sirius asked, bothering with the bow neckline of the blouse.

“You want to look good, don’t you?” You respond stiffly, tying, and re-tying the bow, unsatisfied with how it sits around his neck.

“You forgot to Iron it.”, you say, Tying, untying, re-tying. Completely zeroed in.

“Does it really matter?” Sirius responds, completely exasperated.

Remus watches on from the armchair by his bed. It’s standard routine at this point. Before every common room party, Remus is ready by dinner - always a plain top and trousers, today a white T-shirt with blue jeans. “Very James Dean”, Sirius had said. He's been sitting there entirely patient on the same armchair for the past two hours, reading only half attentively as you and Sirius get ready.

“Sweetheart, the bow is fine”, Remus advises gently. He’s not in a rush, but he can tell that as much as you usually enjoy it, today the up-doing process is stressing you out.

“No..no, not yet”, you respond absentmindedly, still fixated on Sirius’s blouse.

Tying, untying, re-tying the bow. Sirius huffs out a humourless laugh and takes a quick step back turning completely away from you. Your hands are still held up, frozen where his neck would be. Your eyebrows furrow, and Remus looks up from his book.

“It’s the same every bloody time!”, Sirius suddenly cries out, you’re completely taken aback.

“Sirius”, Remus warns.

“Godric, Forgive me! I didn’t iron my fucking blouse!”, he feigns, “You’re suffocated me” he finishes, coldly, glaring daggers straight through you. He’s still so beautiful, with his ebony hair hanging long and dark over his face, but the pit in your stomach is somehow darker.

Remus is stood to his full height now, book abandoned. “You’re out of line”, his anger still somehow contained. And Sirius has the gall to let out a laugh. The party in the common room seems to have started. You can hear music and laughing below the bluestone floors. You try and divert your focus to that lively sound and take it off the painful bob in your throat.

“I’m out of line? You’re kidding Moony”, Sirius laughs. his lack of sincerity is incredibly unnerving. “The bitch is vapid”, and your heart nearly stops, you can feel the sick climbing up your throat. Remus is seething, but you’re not sure he knows exactly what to say anyway.

“What?”, is all you can muster hopelessly.

Sirius takes a step towards you, and you all seem to move at once. You take one step back at the same time Remus steps between you and the shorter boy.

“Cut it out Sirius”, Remus warns, towering above the both of you with his height, and his domineering demeanour. But Sirius is undeterred.

“You. are. entirely. vapid”, he repeats, now looking over at you past Remus’s shoulder. “you’re just like my mother” he whispers to himself, like some sort of secret revelation, and you just want it all to end. “Completely superficial, shallow, and entirely vapid” he seethes, before turning back away from you again, taking in a slow deep breath. You think you can hear his heart beating nearly just as quick as yours.

Sirius’s accusation sits inside you. You can’t deny that you do like nice things. Your jewellery was all made custom, you shopped at the best boutiques on Diagon Alley, and you kept up appearances.

Your parents have always been devastatingly high-achieving. You were no stranger to the odd charity gala, or pureblood ball. So, for you that meant endless expectations to live up to. Making sure clothes were ironed, hair was done right and shoes were all polished was just second nature. You pay attention to these things because you have to. Your label as a “washed-up-witch” in Witch Weekly’s coverage of the Macmillan ball in 72 serves as a reminder. Filtered through pre-teen public humiliation, these things stick. As deflated as you felt regarding Sirius’s outburst, you could feel an equal anger bubbling just below the surface.

“You did not just compare me to your draconian fanatic of a mother”, is the first thing that leaves your lips. Your eyes are wide, and that anger is bubbling over. Yet, your voice is so level that you think you just might have the upper hand. You can tell that Sirius was expecting you to respond with equal fervour, he wanted a fight, and your composure has caught him off guard. You think for a second, maybe he didn’t even mean to hurt you.

Remus would back you up if you needed him to, but he knows you really don’t need him to. You’d like to say your piece, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze in support.

“Just because you can afford to reject tradition and expectation doesn’t mean we all have that luxury” you seethe.

Sirius has always had the reputation of a Black Sheep, but it made him shine nevertheless. Every act of rebellion on his part was praised and admired by your peers. But as a woman in the 70s, and the only child in a pureblood family - you were often subject to incomparable scrutiny.

“Maybe I’m too much sometimes” your voice breaks, and the tears have started to flow of their own accord now. Rushing like silent broken faucets, or shower heads. Sirius’s eyes flash with regret. You look up at the ceiling to blink them back, and Remus gives your hand another squeeze, silently shaking his head and biting his tongue. He’s glaring at Sirius with a healthy mixture of disappointment, and something akin to fury.

“I can’t help but care about how I look”, you whisper to no one in particular, “This is usually fun, getting dressed up together”, and Sirius looks completely in despair. That almost cocky, goading aura that surrounded him has been evaporated by your undeniable heartbreak. He’s fidgeting with the hem of the blouse now, and his fingers move hesitantly up to his neckline, where your hands sat only moments ago. He’s palming at the skin there, as it slowly turns pink from the pressure.

“I’m only fussy because I care, Sirius”, you say wavering, lip quivering as your crying takes both your eyes, and your voice. He can’t look you in the eye.

The subtext isn’t missed by either of the boys, you care because you love them. You enjoy dressing them up because you want them to look good and enjoy themselves. To protect them from any anxiety associated with landing on a worst dressed list, even informally among the Gryffindor party-goers three flood below.

You look down at your disco boots, perfect stockings and shift dress. It all feels so silly now, wearing the outfit you picked out three days in advance. You want to crawl out of your skin, and you really don’t feel like dancing. Sirius is still palming at his collarbones, staring with dazed and shallow eyes at his feet and the floor below them. You can’t see his face properly behind his hair, but you know him well enough to think he might be crying too. “I hope you’re proud of yourself Black” Remus chimes in, and you wince at the use of that last name. Remus’s hand rubs small circles around the back of your neck, you can't help but want his hot skin off you.

“I-I didn’t-”, Sirius starts, but you walk from the room with Remus quick at your heels before he can finish.

The stairway down to the common room is empty, with the party building up below. It’s just you and Remus standing still on the stairs. “You know he didn’t mean that”, Remus says kindly, more for your sake than Sirius’s. He’s brushing the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, and gently pushing the hair back from around your face. “He gets like this when he’s stressed, it’s not your fault”, he reassures, kissing the top of your head.

“I stressed him, I should have just let him be”, you whisper, and Remus is silent. This is the first big fight you've had as a couple. You’re a slightly more recent addition to their pairing. Quips and little disagreements have never been an issue. Even when you were all just friends these things were always resolved in a matter of minutes - or a few hours at most, but this is the first time a spat has ended in tears.

You wonder if this was a mistake. You hope to Godric that Remus isn’t thinking it too. “I think I’ll go to bed”, you say finally, and you can feel him frown.

“But you were so excited for tonight” he says sadly, more of an acknowledgment, you know he doesn’t mean to change your mind. You’re all hardly in the mood for a party.

“Maybe you and Sirius can still have some fun”, and you hope it doesn’t come across as bitter, but Remus’s solemn expression suggests otherwise, he lets it go.

“I’ll talk to him”, Remus assures, as he molds his body around yours in a much-needed embrace. Having him so close stirs a vulnerability within you, and you’re sure that if you could see his face, you wouldn't have the courage to open your mouth.

“Maybe we were wrong”, you whisper into his chest, scared.

Remus is burning 20 degrees hotter.

“What makes you say that?”, he responds measured, but the unease in his voice is palpable. He’s pulled back to look at your face now, and you fidget under his gaze. You give him a look to say without words, ‘are you kidding?’.

“But you know we love you”, Remus says desperately, more of a question than a statement, gripping the sides of your head firmly, so as to say, ‘please believe me’. You just shake your head between his hands. “You heard him, didn’t you?”, you start, “Completely superficial, shallow, and entirely vapid” you quote, and Remus cringes.

“I’ll talk to him”, he repeats.

“No, no its okay, I’m going to bed”, you say, almost completely defeated by the tidal wave of self-doubt flooding through you.

“Dove-”

“How about you talk to him, and you two can decide what we do from here”, Remus looks heartbroken at the implication.

“Surely you don’t think we don’t want to see you anymore?”, There seems to be something sparkly welling in his eyes too, Godric, what a horrible evening.

You’re so in your head you hardly register Remus’s question. When he goes to pull you close again you take a small step back, your fingers still interlinked. The moonlight shines in through the stained glass, and the sparkle of salt in Remus’s eyes begins to fall. You can hear Diana Ross’s smooth voice echoing off the stone from downstairs, tonight could have gone so differently. You can’t help but feel you’ve caused all this. Whatever animosity Sirius seems to have been harbouring towards you, you’re sure it lives inside Remus too, even if you can’t see it yet. You turn around before you have the chance to look back.

“I’m going to bed”.

#wolfstar x reader #sirius black x reader #remus x sirius #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x remus lupin #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar

568 notes · View notes

thedevilspearl · 1 year

Text

awkward moments during sex — younger bros

a/n: a continuation of funny and awkward moments that happen during sex with the brothers, but this time with the younger brothers (older brothers here).

tags: 2.5k words. female reader x satan (edging, orgasm control), asmodeus (no warnings), beelzebub (manhandling, breeding kink, mating press, minor injury) + belphegor (mild somnophillia). minors do not interact!

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍

your fingers slip nimbly through his blonde hair, gliding through the strands as if they’re made of the finest of silks. satan leaves an entourage of nips and bruises along your neckline, each of them planted with more desperation than the last.

his hips roll against yours; not fast enough, and not slow enough. and yet, he seems to find the perfect combination of pace and rhythm which drives you crazy.

it keeps you in limbo, with hope on one side and despair on the other. a purgatory of sorts.

he loves to torment you like this; his teething grin tells you that. and with his head buried in the nook of your shoulder, he peeps up only to appreciate the overwrought look on your face. your brows furrow in such a way that he doesn’t know if you’re about to cry, or if you’re about to cum.

you suppose that’s why he loves it so much — satan has always been fond of a good mystery, always wanting to discover what comes next in earnest. he’s enthusiastic to say the least.

his rutting hips grow a little more fervent, earning a most dulcet moan from your lips. he captures it in his own, swallowing it whole and locking it away deep in the ravenous hollows of his body. you fill him up in ways he never expected, and he can’t get enough of you.

“satan,” you whimper, evoking a sadistic smirk on his face. ��please…”

“please what, my dear?”

the endearment in his voice alone is enough to make your guts feel like they’re being rearranged — though, his cock is doing a perfectly fine job of that already.

“i wanna cum!”

every one of your senses tosses you back and forth over a very thin line. one second, you’re free to fall into a sea of bliss, ready to be washed away by the intensity of the orgasms he brings upon your body. and the next, you’re tied up in the confines of satan’s control. he decides when you finish, not the other way around.

the nerves in your body are working overtime, analysing each second and anticipating whether or not he will give you what you so desperately desire. your brain is moments away from turning numb from the overload of feelings, both physical and emotional.

so much that the creaks of satan’s old, wooden bed go unregistered.

he thrusts harder, faster with the promise that he’ll soon be done with you, and you can finally succumb to the ecstasy you’ve been reaching for.

“satan!” you squeal, locking your trembling legs around his hips. “i’m close!”

“me too, baby,” he grunts with each rut and grabs your cheeks, making sure of the eye contact between you. “we’re almost there.”

he makes a point of driving his cock to the hilt of your pussy, and his strength passes straight through your body into the foundations of his bed. all it takes is one more thrust to break apart the timbers of the worn out wood.

the mattress beneath you softens your land as the bed collapses, but the impact from satan’s body falling on top off you knocks the air out of your lungs. his limbs dig into you and you groan.

“shit,” he mutters, and his hands fly to your face, inspecting your pained expression. “are you okay?”

“not really,” satan rises with you, arms delicately holding your frame until you’re sat upright on the wreck of what was once his bed. “are you?”

“yes,” he chuckles, leaning his head against you before planting a kiss on your cheek. “because the sex was literally bed–breaking. and no, because lucifer is going to have a lot to say about this.”

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒

asmo has tonnes of attention and he loves to give it away freely, just as much as he loves to receive it. you’re special, though. he makes a point of that every time your insecurities begin niggle away at you.

whenever he feels you drawing away, he’ll pull you closer than ever before, never letting you out of his sight. with all the fame and love, most people tend to forget how lonely a person can become. and that’s why he chose you.

you took that loneliness from deep inside and destroyed it in the palm of your hand. you filled all the void parts of his body and soul with your existence alone; no one thinks about the demons a demon can have, and all it took was one smile from you to scare them all away.

you helped him in more ways than one, so he never wants you to feel alone or inferior — you’ll always be his number one despite his fans and fame and ego.

he must say, though, he is quite proud of how far you’ve come. asmo had immediately picked up on those small traits of yours, the ones that signal you spiralling into the pool of your greatest fears. the nervous fidgeting whenever he spoke to other demons at school, the daylight dazing out when you find yourself lost in thoughts, and the sudden silence when he’s livestreaming to his fans, like right now.

asmo was fully prepared to pepper you with praises and kisses as soon as he finished — he’s more than willing to give you attention. but the fact is, you stole it already, along with his breath.

he freezes for a second before licking his lips and glancing back and forth between your teasing and his screen. he mumbles and stutters whilst trying to hide his growing erection from his fans. meanwhile, you sway your hips seductively behind the camera, slipping the silk gown from your shoulders to reveal your naked body.

“today was really fun, my darlings,” he waves and blows a kiss to the screen immediately. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

he taps his screen rapidly before jumping on you, grabbing your ass and lifting you. your lips intertwine in seconds and he drops you onto the mattress with out breaking contact.

“someone’s feeling bold,” he teases between kisses. “i like it.”

“mmh, i figured i should be more forward with my needs,” you say with a daring smile. “i think it seems to be working, don’t you?”

“oh, it’s working,” asmo expertly removes his clothing, and occupies himself in the meantime by kissing up and down your body, burning patterns into your skin until he meets your lips again.

“asmo… hurry.” you whine and he heeds your words, aligning himself with your soaked entrance.

“i love you, my darling,” he feeds you one last kiss before pushing in, and the two of you groan in unison. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, asmo.”

you gasp loudly as his cock stretches your walls, and your clench around his length as if he was made perfectly for you to take. you’re seconds away from screaming his name when—

knock, knock, knock.

you freeze and the knocking is followed by lucifer’s commanding voice.

“asmodeus, you might want to end your livestream before continuing with your… activities.”

“what?!”

scrambling, you gather the blanket against your chest, tucking your legs underneath to hide your nude body. this can’t be happening…

“oh, my,” asmo tuts. “it looks like i pressed the wrong button.”

he makes his way back to his ddd set up on his desk, dragging a blanket to cover himself from the hips down. you expect him to turn it off immediately, but instead he starts reading the flying comments that you’re too embarrassed to even think about.

“hhm, everyone seems to be enjoying it,” he looks to you with a seductively intriguing glint in his eyes. “what do you say, honey? why don’t we give them a show?”

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁

“oh my goodness, beel!”

juices flow from your pussy and his mouth finally parts with it after bringing you to your umpteenth orgasm. your mind is foggy from the highs and beel rises, hands roaming your body and placing you exactly how he sees fit.

the back of your knees rest against his arms and his hands sneak under your body, locking you in place. he has you folded in half, literally. his feet are planted flat in the mattress and his immense weight pushes you down further.

you haven’t fucked in this position before, but you have a feeling beel is going to destroy your needy cunt. you take a liking to this inner beast controlling him right now; he must be so hungry…

his lips are coated with your essence, the one that works like a spell, entrancing him in such a state that he can only think about how much he needs you.

this is going to be good.

the tip of his enormous cock prods at your entrance and eagerly pushes in. hissing from his girth stretching you out, you wonder if it’s possible that you’ll ever get used to beel splitting you open on his cock.

“ngh,” you groan gutturally, unable to form a decipherable sentence. “s–so big!”

“i’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he growls and pushes in deeper. “gonna fill you with my cum.”

he slams into you, and an unbridled yelp escapes you before he raises his hips, only to slam them back down again. each of his thrusts rattle the entire bedframe and you’re afraid the brother next door might storm in with noise complaints.

a cacophony of sinful sounds fill the room — beel’s animalistic growls, your wanton moans, the obscenely lewd noises coming from your bodies, and of course, the shaking of everything around you.

he’s fucking you so hard it might cause an earthquake.

the mattress bounces along with both of your bodies, fucking like animals in heat. his cock drags in and out of your pussy and you’re losing count of all the orgasms he’s forcing you to endure. you’re extremely sensitive from him eating you out for hours and you don’t know how long it will take for beel to feel some sort of satiation.

being both starved and gluttonous is a dangerous combination, and this version of beel is a prime example of that. he pushes your thighs down further, allowing himself to explore deeper and you feel another orgasm creeping on you.

and it’s only a matter of time before beel finishes too, and he’s going to fill you to the brim with his cum before using it to fuck you some more, pushing his seed deep inside you. you can’t wait for the day he finally breeds you.

“fuck, beel!” you screech, not caring how ridiculously desperate you sound. “come on, stuff me full with your cum! want you to knock me up!”

“gonna fill you up,” he grunts with every thrust. “i’ll fill you with my—”

“aah, i’m so tired… wait, what’s going on here?”

before you can look in the direction of the door, beel literally flips you over and flings your body to the side, unknowingly using his full strength which causes you to collide into the wall.

“what the fuck?!” you yelps, tears brimming your eyes from the impact.

did he just throw you across the room?

but you have no time to yell at him because belphegor is standing in the doorway with his eyes locked onto your naked body. your hands fly to hide your private parts, but you are stark naked and daring not to move.

meanwhile, beel sits nonchalantly on his bed, covering his crotch with the sheets. “nothing. nothing is going on.”

belphie doesn’t seem convinced, which doesn’t come as a surprise and he slowly backs out, closing the door behind him.

not a second after he leaves, you throw the dirtiest, most disgusted look of betrayal at beel. “every man for himself, huh?”

“i’m so sorry, mc,” he glooms. “i panicked.”

“panicked? you threw me across the room!”

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑

“belphie,” you whisper, shaking the shoulders of his sleeping form. “belphie, wake up.”

a grumble sounds from his limp frame, and you roll your eyes, shaking him harder.

“belphie, please wake up,” and with a sigh, you add, “i’m horny.”

again, nothing.

chewing on your lips in thought, your hands mindlessly graze over your body — your breasts, squeezing them with a gasp; your hips, grabbing them exactly where belphie loves; and your thighs, digging into your flesh with desperation.

you don’t realise your pitiful actions, nor the broken moan that escapes you until belphie rolls onto his other side, his back now facing you.

a pout forms on your lips and you grab him again, shaking him with all your might. but your frustration passes right through his sleeping form.

“belphegor, wake up right now! i need you!”

“keep it down…”

giving up, you flop onto the mattress beside him, unable to remove your eyes from his peaceful face. as unsatisfactory as his response is, your body still needs to be put at ease. and you can’t do that without some form of relief.

before you know it, your fingers slip below the line of your underwear and a shaky breath escapes you. you make work of yourself, thrusting your fingers in and out while imagining belphie’s cock driving hard into your pussy.

what you would give for him to open his eyes and plant his fingertips into the softness of your hips, holding you in place beneath his sweating body as he slams into you, his cock making its mark all along your walls.

“fuck…” you whimper, with a hint of his name among your quiet moans as you cum.

belphie has yet to move an inch, completely ignorant to you and your orgasm. so much for quality time. with your eyelids drooping, you allow yourself to sink into the sheets and pillows, carefully snuggling into belphie’s body as to not wake him.

an hour passes, or maybe two, possibly more and belphegor finally stirs. he yawns with little energy and rolls onto his back, but his arm stays wrapped around you, tucking you into his chest. all it takes is one look for that swirling sensation in his stomach to come alive.

he looks down at his crotch and sees that the problem goes further than so–called butterflies; his hardened cock stretches the material of his pants. morning wood has never been so persistent since you came along.

every remnant of sleep is gone in an instant and he’s on top of you, lips pressed against your neck and hands sneaking up your shirt, squeezing your hips on their way to your tits.

“hah…” small gasps and moans escape him as his hips jut against you. “what are you doing to me?”

he hates that innocent look on your face, so oblivious to the effect you have on him and to what he is doing to you. but that innocence is also what turns him on. god, he could just devour you whole like the sick demon he is and you wouldn’t know a thing because you’re far to busy dreaming something sweet.

it’s almost like he can smell it, the dream. or, a more logical explanation would be the sweetness between your legs. your glistening slit has him drooling when he pulls your panties away and he soon makes work of freeing his aching cock from his own clothes.

“mc,” he whispers against you with a kiss. “wake up, i’m horny.”

your eyes open slightly, and as soon as you register his hot, naked body above you, you roll over to the side with a huff.

“not now, belphie. i’m tired.”

well, he supposes this is what he deserves. it’s a taste of his own medicine, after all.

3K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

in a hotchy mood you say? 🤨

i like it when we make that old man flustered 😌

wouldn’t it be fun if we ran into the team hanging out at a bar & they all are eyeing us like 😏 hold up she’s cute and hotch is trying to keep his cool.

When Aaron returns to the slightly sticky, loose-screwed bar table that his team is stationed at, Emily is tugging down the neckline of her shirt and tucking her elbows beneath her chest.

"There," She puffs, pulling at individual strands of hair so that they frame her face, "Does that look okay?"

"You look hot," JJ admits, sipping the drink she takes from Hotch with a nod of appreciation, "Only way she'll say no is if she's totally and completely straight."

"That's what I'm counting on," Derek props his elbows up on the table, forearms flexed.

"God, let's hope not," Emily cringes in anticipation of rejection, "Oh- she's coming this way!"

Aaron typically has no interest in his coworkers' escapades. Well, he'll admit, it's fun to gossip with Penelope over them later, but she's in on this one, too, shiny eyes glued to whoever the team has their eyes on.

He finally decides to follow Penelope's starstruck eyeline, and- oh, fuck, that's his girlfriend. You're staring straight back at him, but Emily's wishful thinking has made her think your eyes are on her, and Aaron can hear her breathe out a low sigh.

You send him a flirty little wave, and Emily nearly hits her head on the table.

"God, god! I can't," She laughs, still holding what she thinks is eye contact with you, "I don't think I can do this, I mean, I can never come back from this if it doesn't go well!"

"I'll step in," Derek assures her, sending you a wink that Aaron is sure just makes you laugh inside, "Don't worry, Emily. Some women aren't for the faint of heart."

"And they're not for the dumb of ass, either." Penelope sets a comforting hand on Derek's muscled shoulder, "Stay out of this one, Hotshot."

Aaron doesn't really know what to do. He's not usually lost like this, but half of his team is eye-fucking his girlfriend from across a bar like animals, and he doesn't know how to tell them he's seen you naked. Multiple times.

You break the eye contact when your friend taps your shoulder to tell you something, and Aaron does too. He sends subtle glances your way afterwards, but so does the rest of the team, and he isn't noticed. It seems like you're preoccupied for a while, because no new comments are made, but everyone can see Spencer combing his fingers through his hair every ten seconds.

He's sipping casually at his drink, about to speak to Rossi, when he feels a hand slide beneath the fabric of his suit jacket that he hasn't had time to take off yet, and hook around his waist. His first instinct is to tense, to reach for his side, even, but then a familiar scent washes over him and calms his nerves before they're burning for long.

"Hi," You croon, pressing yourself to his side, "I'm Y/N. You must be Aaron's team?"

There's tense silence so thick around the table that a bullet would pierce it, broken only by Rossi's snort into his glass.

"Yes," Aaron fills in, hand flying to your waist and hooking around it proudly, "Emily," He gestures with his free hand, "Derek, Spencer, Penelope, JJ, and Dave."

"Hi," You wave sweetly, albeit awkwardly, much like you're a kid new to a classroom, "It's nice to finally meet you all."

"You're, uh," Penelope stammers, blinking slowly, "You and Hotch- you're...?"

"We've been seeing each other, yes." Aaron nods once, then turns to you, "Honey, do you want me to get you your usual over here? You can join us for a round if your friends are busy."

When you peer back over at them, they're sucking each others' faces.

"Yeah, they're busy." You scoff, leaning into Aaron's shoulder, "That would be nice. Thanks, Aaron."

"Mhm," He ushers you into his chair, and he'll admit to drawing sick satisfaction from smoothing his hands up your shoulders and planting a firm kiss to your cheek before he leaves. He's even more smug when you lean into it with a warm-cheeked smile.

"Get to know each other," He prompts his team members, already stepping away, "And Derek, you can roll your sleeves down."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 6 months

Text

Don't Say I Didn't Warn You | Joel Miller

The Checklist - Overstimulation

Chapter Summary | Another day, another thing to tick off your list. This time, Joel issues a challenge, which of of you will break first? Him, or you at the mercy of his hands and mouth?

Chapter Warnings | Again and as usual, this is porn without much plot, oral sex (f), fingering, sex toys, squirting, unprotected PiV sex, overstimulation (clearly), crying after sex, dirty talking, pet names (baby), aftercare, no outbreak au, no use of y/n.

Word Count | 4.1K

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Authors Note | We are officially halfway through the checklist - this one was a bit of a challenge, but I hope you love it as much as I do. If you do enjoy this, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that whilst this is part of a wider series, this can be read as a standalone if you wish.

Beautiful divider by @saradika

I no longer have a taglist, to keep up to date with my work, please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

“How many times d’ya think I could make you come before you couldn’t take it anymore?”

The question makes you splutter out your morning coffee, coughing a little to clear your throat.

“Joel, it's nine in the morning, can you let me at least drink some caffeine first?”

He’s laughing, in that deep way, straight from his chest that makes your heart swell, leaning up against his kitchen counter with his own coffee mug moving to his lips.

“Just curious, is all.” He smiles, head tilting to the little cork board on the kitchen wall, where he’s pinned the checklist.

“How many times do you think you can make me come before you get bored and want to fuck me?” You counter with a shrug.

He raises an eyebrow as he sips loudly from him mug, “You’ll be beggin’ me to stop before I break, baby, and you know it.”

He’s not wrong. You know what you’re like, even if you like to think you can talk a big game. Joel has never been anything other than focused on your pleasure, and normally, he can give you two or three, with some breaks in between, before you’re trying to crawl away from him, so you know he’s right.

“Guess we’ll just have to find out then, won’t we?”

It’s late and you’re perched in bed, book resting on your knees, when Joel comes in from the bathroom. He pulls his t-shirt over his head, his back to you so you can admire the way his back muscles ripple as he moves. You turn your eyes back to the pages in front of you before he can catch you watching him. He lets out a little groan when he gets into bed, shuffling a little under the sheets to get himself comfortable.

You’re turning the page when you feel his wide palm slip over your abdomen over the sheer fabric of the nightdress you’re wearing, his body turning to rest on his side. He leans up, pressing his lips just behind your ear, his thumb running softly over the fabric, hitching the material a little further up your thighs as he goes.

“Can I help you?” You murmur, thumb folding the corner of your page so you can shut the book and put it on your nightstand.

“You wear this on purpose?” He asks, hand moving from your tummy to play with the thin spaghetti straps resting on your shoulder, “You know this little thing drives me wild.”

In all honesty, it had been the first thing you’d pulled from your drawer after your shower, but he didn’t need to know that, “Maybe I did.” You speak softly, moving your head to look at him, his own eyes fixated on his hand moving from the strap, down the neckline, fingers tracing softly over your skin.

Joel’s mouth moves softly from your ear, pressing feather-light kisses across the skin of your jaw and across the expanse of your throat, “I think we should challenge you tonight, baby.”

His hand moves down the front of your nightdress, cupping one of your tits in his palm as he thumbs over your nipple through the material. The soft and gentle movements of his hand makes your breath catch in your throat and an ache settle between your thighs. You can feel him pressing his hips into your side, already half-hard in his boxers, the scruff on his face scratching deliciously over the soft skin of your jaw.

“I’m going to make you come so many times you won’t even know your own name, baby.”

His promise makes you gasp, spoken right into the shell of your ear, as he trails his hand down, further down your body, until his hand is resting on the inside of your thigh, gently prising your legs open under the sheets. Joel shuffles down under the sheets a little, leant up on one elbow, casual as anything, when he looks up at you, fingers moving slowly across the skin of your thighs until they dip under the hem of your nightdress.

Joel is cupping your sex in his palm, your body sinking further down into the bed, his body pressed flushed to your side as he quickly brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking his middle finger into his mouth to wet it, before he’s putting his hand back between your thighs, that slick finger now moving slowly over your clit.

His touch is so light that you can barely feel it, but it’s there, slow, languid circles moving over you. You know now that you’re in this for the long haul, Joel’s patience is going to win out time and time again tonight. He presses his finger just a touch harder to your clit as he continues his circles, your hips bucking up into his hand at the added pressure, a whine falling from your mouth as his own moves back to your ear.

“I want you to keep count,” He breathes out, goosebumps rising across your skin, “Whenever you come, you keep count, okay?”

“I s-still think y-you’re going to b-break first.”

Your voice comes out choked and pathetic as his finger slips from your clit to your entrance to gather the slick he’s caused, dragging it back up to use to circle your clit once more.

“I think you’re wrong, baby,” He coos into your ear, hot breath skittering across your skin, “Look how close you are already.”

It’s infuriating because he’s right. You’ve spent the whole day working yourself up about the conversation this morning, dreaming of all the different ways he’s going to take you apart to prove his point. His finger is speeding up between your legs, adding more pressure as you arch your back up off the bed, pushing yourself further into his hand. Joel’s lips are pressing against your ear, the skin behind it, wherever he can put it as your body starts to shake under his touch.

Thighs trembling, pleasure blooming across your lower abdomen as the coil starts to tighten. It pulls tighter and tighter until it’s teetering on the edge of snapping.

“Please don’t stop,” You whine, “Right there, Joel, oh my god, right there, please.”

It snaps all at once, washing over every inch of your body as your hands grip onto his arm, fingernails digging into his skin, his name dropping from your mouth every few seconds whilst that perfect hand of his works you through the shaking of your body as you start to come down.

You’re vaguely aware of him pulling his hand from between your thighs and the duvet being torn from your body as he moves to settle himself between your thighs, giving you barely any time to register what’s happening before he tongue is licking, warm and wet, up the length of your pussy.

He uses his thumbs to spread you open to him, baring your glistening cunt to his mouth, tip of his tongue flicking gently against your clit. You’ve barely recovered from the first orgasm, his mouth working just like he knows you like it. He sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it, before letting it go with a lewd smack. It’s already a little too much for you. You can already feel the tightening of the coil again. It’s always easier for you to come the second time, but it never happens this quickly.

Joel pulls off you just enough to speak, “Come on, baby, come on.” He coaxes, tongue working flat across your clit, the sound of him literally slurping at your pussy the only thing you can focus on.

This one falls over you slowly, gradually, legs shaking around his shoulders, arching into him, fingers curling into his hair to hold him where he is as that feeling blooms and prickles across your skin.

“Fucking hell, Joel.” You manage to breathe out, chest heaving.

“How many?” He asks, mouth still so close to your cunt.

“T-two.”

“Too much?” He’s smirking when you look down at him between your legs.

“Not a chance, Miller.”

“Good girl.”

And then not only his mouth back over your clit, sucking it into his mouth, but two of his fingers are slipping inside you at the same time. As you cry out, you realise how empty you’d felt before, walls of your cunt clenching around nothing as he brought you to the edge and over it. You’re whining, trying to scrabble away a little, but Joel’s free hand comes to splay across your lower tummy, pressing you down into the mattress, keeping you still as his fingers curl up into you, pressing against that spot inside you as he suckles your clit into his mouth, letting it pop from between his lips, worshipping it with his tongue, before sucking it right back into his mouth again.

The clue is in the name, but it’s all so overwhelming, overstimulating. The stretch of his shoulders widening your legs, the way his mouth is just on the right side of pleasure, the short clip of pain that comes with being worked too much not yet there, and when you tip your head forward, look down over the expanse of his back, you can see his hips moving, it’s subtle, but it’s there, Joel, rutting himself into the mattress as he works you toward the edge again.

“Joel,” You whimper out, fingers still tangled in his hair, “Please, please don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He wouldn’t dare. Not when you’re so close, not when he knows it, that telltale clenching of you around his fingers, your head thrown back, mouth open, panting as you start to move your hips, meeting the upwards movements of his fingers.

You’re gritting your teeth, pulling hard on his hair as your entire body convulses the third time. You’re jerking in a way you’re not used to, just like you aren’t used to being made to come this many times in quick succession. It’s overwhelming, you can’t even bring yourself to moan, your mouth just dropped open wide, silently crying out into the air of the room as Joel finally drags his fingers and mouth from your cunt.

You bring an arm up, covering your face, sucking in heavy breaths as you feel his body moving, thinking smugly to yourself that you might have won this time, that he’s so desperate to bury himself inside you that he’s going to give up and do just that. You can feel him settle over your body, only for a moment, the bulge in his underwear brushing against your sensitive cunt. You haven’t won though because there’s the telltale sound of your bedside table opening. You drag your arm from over your eyes, watching as he reaches in, dragging out the small wand you keep in there.

He’s grinning at you, pushing himself to rest on his knees, bringing the vibrator to rest against your pussy, soaking wet and aching, but he doesn’t switch it on, mercifully.

“Are you going to give up yet?” He asks, eyebrow arched.

It would be so easy to say yes, to yield to him, to finally feel him heavy and throbbing inside you, but there’s the element of pride to it that you have to think about. Forgetting about the fire you feel settling across every inch of skin, the way there is sweat pooling across every inch of your body, and the way that even the gentle press of the silicon against the swollen folds of your pussy is proving a little difficult.

“N-no?” It comes out as a question more than anything, so you clear your throat, trying again, “No.”

He lets out a snort of breath from his nose, like he knows he’s pushing you, right to your limits and you both know it, but you’ve always been stubborn. It’s one of the reasons he loves you so much. But he’s not going to stop, not until you’re begging for it. So he presses the button, thankfully on the lowest setting, but it still causes you to jolt, to cry out in surprise as the vibrating pulses through you, centred right on your clit that is screaming at you for a break, screaming at you to stop, for him to stop.

“T-too much.”

“What’s that, baby?” He asks, smirk across his lips as he presses the button again, shifting it up a setting.

“Ohmygod,” You squeal, body thrashing about on the bed, but as usual, Joel has a hand pressed on your lower tummy, keeping you in place, “Don’t stop.”

You can’t believe it’s coming out of your mouth, but you’re teetering just on the right side of pleasure mixed with pain. Your hips are chasing the soft vibrations pulsing over your clit, revelling in the weight of Joel’s palm pressing onto your lower tummy. Your teeth are digging so hard into your bottom lip that you can taste blood, but you can feel it, that hot furl of pleasure, and you’re chasing it, running towards it, but finding it always just out of reach, no matter how much you hold your breath, pinch your eyes shut and focus on finding it.

“Faster.”

“What’s that?” Joel teases, leaning forward, his body over yours, lips pressed to your damp forehand, “Say it louder for me.”

“Faster!” You shriek, “God damn it Joel, faster.”

His fingers presses the button once more, speeding up the pulsing against your pussy, and it’s all over. You’re entire body shakes in anticipation, the actual collapse into pleasure following just behind. You can feel your cunt clenching around nothing, fluttering desperately, almost making you open your mouth to beg him to fuck you, but all that comes out when you do open your mouth is a pathetic whine, a murmur of his name over and over again, until the vibrator is pulled from your body, turned off and discarded to the side.

Joel collapses his body over yours, pressing his weight into you as he drags your arms up over your head, his fingers entwined with yours as he kisses across your face, kissing away the tears that are falling from the corners of your eyes, softly pressing his lips to the tip of your nose until he reaches your mouth, pressing his mouth to yours, once, twice, three times.

You can feel him moving his hips into your own, his cock hard and heavy behind the material of his underwear as it brushing against your swollen folds, catch ever-so-slightly on your clit as he moves. It makes you gasp against his mouth, makes you shift your hips against him.

“I know you want it baby,” He whispers against your mouth, “You want my cock, don’t you?”

His voice sounds just as desperate as the whines and whimpers coming from your mouth, his hips pressing against you, cock dragging against the wet of your pussy, finding just an ounce of friction as he presses his mouth to yours again.

“I know you want it,” He teases, “All you gotta do is say the words baby, say the words and I’ll give it to you.”

Now you’re at a crossroads. You could stand your ground, tell him to carry on, dare him to take it as far as his patience will let him, but you know you’ll be here all night if that’s the case, you’ve never met someone with the patience of Joel Miller before. Given half the chance he’d spend all night between your thighs, using his mouth or fingers to bring you over the edge until your bones were jelly and you didn’t know whether it was pleasure or pain you could feel. Or, you could tell him to do it, beg him to fuck you, get what you really want, what you always want, which is him buried impossibly deep inside you, filling you up with his cum, whispering into your ear what a good girl you are for him, and lose this self-imposed contest you’ve given yourself to outlast him.

Judging by the way that you feel like you might scream if the bulge of his cock brushes against you again, you opt to swallow your pride.

“Please,” You beg, “Please Joel, I want you inside me.”

“Good girl.”

He’s pulling back from you, pushing his boxers down just enough to free his cock, before the entire weight of him is pressing against you and he’s buried inside your cunt to the hilt. The tip of his cock is pressed so deep inside you, but he’s still, his hands squeezing your own where he’s gone back to entwining your fingers together above your head.

God, he’s so overwhelming like this. Every sense is just Joel, you can smell him, his body is under your touch, you can hear him panting into your ear as he starts sliding himself in and out of you, you can taste his mouth when he opens it against yours. Everything right now is Joel and pleasure & pain all mixed into one.

“You okay?” He asks, nose nuzzling against your ear, his thrusts shallow, so he’s slowly punching that spot deep inside you.

You squeeze his hands, in your own, leaning the side of your head into his face, so unbearably hot underneath him, but so unbearably needy too. You need more, you need him to fuck you properly.

“More,” You mumble, lifting your hips into his as he pushes back into you, “Please baby, harder.”

“You think you can take it?” He asks quietly into your ear.

“Don’t care, just want you.”

Joel’s hands let go of yours, pushing himself onto his palms, resting either side of your head. He pulls his cock all the way out of you, tip of his cock resting just inside you, then he snaps his hips back into yours, the force shifting your body up the bed a little, a cry pulled from your throat as he does the same, over and over again. Your eyes rolling back into your skull, fingers gripping at his sides, slipping round to rest against his ass, pulling him into you even more.

When you look at his face, he looks just a wrecked as you feel, sweat pooling in the dips of his collarbones, falling from the ends of the curls at the back of his neck. He hooks the backs of your knees around his arms, pushes you forward, pressing you even further into the mattress as he really pounds into you, cock stretching you so perfectly, as your name falls from his lips like a string of hail Mary’s.

“One more,” He pants out above you, “Put your hand on yourself and give yourself one more.”

“I can’t,” You cry out, feeling completely boneless and at his mercy, unable to move unless he’s manipulating your limbs, “Can’t Joel.”

“Yeah you can, baby,” He speaks, “Can feel you, gettin’ all tight around me, you can give me one more,” Then he leans forward, as much as he can with your legs hooked around his arms, pressing his mouth to the skin of your skin, “Just for me baby, one more, just for me.”

Your arm is heavy when you let it fall between the two of you. You run a gentle finger over your clit, so impossibly swollen and spent under your touch, the slick he’s pulled from you making it easier to move, but you still don’t think you can, you still think it’s too much.

“Keep goin’ baby,” Joel praises, “Just like that.”

You can feel your walls around him, sucking him in as deep as he can possibly get on each thrust of his hips, fluttering, clenching around him when your finger swipes across your clit, “Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, look at you.”

And he is doing just that, when you meet his eyes, those dark brown orbs, reminiscent of coffee and chocolate, he’s looking right into yours, right into your depths, admiring the way your sweat slicked hair sticks to your forehead, the way your eyes are glassed over, the way your body has folded so perfectly at his hand as you let him take what he wants. He’s looking at you like you’re the only woman in the world. That, mixed with the praise, and the way he’s hitting you just right with his cock as you falling over the edge, screaming his name into the room as you feel yourself gush all over his cock, all over the sheets underneath you.

“Yeah baby, fuck yeah,” His voice is deep, desperate, “Look at what you did,” He drops one of your legs, puts his hand on the back of your head and tilts your neck so you’re watching as his cock spear itself into your cunt, covered in wetness, “Made such a perfect mess for me, didn’t you?”

You can’t talk, you can’t think, you can do nothing but lie there as his hips start to falter, until he’s letting go of your other leg, dragging his cock from your tight heat, furiously fisting himself until he comes across the skin of your tummy, cursing, groaning your name until every single drop of him is mixed with every drop of you.

He collapses onto the bed next to you, led on his back trying to catch your breath, in much the same way as you are, until you start crying. It starts with a wobble of your lip which you try and bite away, then, they fall from your waterline, followed by choked sobs that you can’t keep under control.

“Woah, hey, hey,” Joel is on you in seconds, pressing his warm body to your side, hand on the cheek furthest from him, pulling your face to his, thumb rubbing the tears away as they fall, “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, trying to calm yourself down, but now his kindness is making it worse.

“Baby, you gotta talk to me,” He urges, “Was I too rough?” You shake your head, “Was it too much?” To that you nod, because it was, too much all at once.

He drags your body further into yours, pulling you into a hug, rocking you back and forth, “Why didn’t you tell me?” He whispers, lips kissing your cheek, “You know to use your word if its too much.”

You take another deep breath and mumble against his skin, realising he can’t hear you, “I’m just overwhelmed,” You explain, “Was fine at the time, but I’m overwhelmed now.”

The cool air of the room is prickling goosebumps against your skin, causing you to shiver, “Will you be okay here for a minute?” He asks, lips pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You nod, curling into a ball as he pads from the room, coming back moments later with a wet cloth. He turns you onto your back, uses the cloth to clean the his cum from your skin, then gently brings it down between your legs, letting it rest against your swollen pussy, the warmth soothing you a little as he cleans between your legs too.

You lie there as he puts the used cloth in the wash basket, pulling back the sheets on his side of the bed, dragging you gently over to his side, tucking you in as he rounds the bed, gets in on your side. It takes you a while to realise it’s so he’s led in the wet patch you made.

Joel runs those warm hands up and down your skin, warming you up, helping to dissipate the goosebumps, soft, open-mouth kisses pressed to every part of your skin that he can reach as he soothes you. Your eyes are heavy, you’re tired, warm, and completely spent, but most importantly, as he moves to press his front to your back, his arm over your waist, dragging you as close as you can be, you’re safe.

And the next morning, when you wake, take the pencil to written words of overstimulation on the checklist, you think perhaps that one isn’t quite for you, and that’s completely fine.

657 notes · View notes

shotmrmiller · 4 months

Text

Sensual Domination

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

TW: dommy attitude, unprotected p in v, explicit smut, 18+ mdni

WC: 1.8k

You lightly knocked on Kyle’s door, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He opens it, and before you even get to greet him, he holds his hand out in a stopping gesture. “Wait a moment.” Shutting the door behind him, he stands straight, head and shoulders above you, quietly appraising.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet the woman who’s got Johnny and Simon wrapped around her finger,” his eyes slowly travel from your toes up, lingering on your lips. “You’re as lovely as Johnny said you were.” Oh?

With a mischievous smile, you ask, “Only Johnny? Does Simon’s opinion differ?” and Kyle chuckles.

“No, love. Simon is tight-lipped when it comes to you, the possessive bastard. But enough of that,” his tone turns professional, countenance beguiling, “From the moment you step into my flat until we close the scene, you are to address me as sir, understand?”

You feel a thrill of anticipation at his command. “Yes, sir.” The smile he gives you in response is absolutely mesmerizing.

“Good girl,” he purrs.

Fucking hell.

You find yourself on Kyle’s soft, plush carpet in only a silken, short robe waiting for him to address you as he walks around your kneeled form. “Tell me what’s your safeword, love.” It appears that he catches on to your embarrassment, as he carries on with the conversation.

“Recognize that I will not continue until we establish the safety processes within the scene. So let’s try again, shall we?” Stopping his orbiting, he stands directly in front of you— his large, warm hand petting your hair. “Safe word?”

A rosy hue spreads across your face as you whisper, “Pelican, sir.”

“Good. Y’know,” and he bends at the waist to cup your face, “I love it when your cheeks turn that color. Do you want to know why?” He waits for you to nod before answering, “Because I imagine what color your other cheeks would turn under my hand.”

Kyle straightens and reaches out a hand to help you up, his gaze fixed upon you, taking in every detail. “How lucky am I, to have such a beautiful woman offering herself to me.” His hands cradle your face, thumbs caressing your jaw. The way he slowly leans in as your eyes slide shut, molding his lips to yours feels almost cliche, but you love it. Your hands grasp at his arms, and let out a mewl when his tongue comes in contact with yours, swirling against yours. He’s consuming you, sweeping you away. His lips were soft, in contrast to the stubble of his chin. Pulling away, he leaves you breathless as he starts peppering a trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth down to the column of your throat, suckling a love bite on your delicate skin. “Open your eyes,” he murmurs against your neck, “and look at what you do to me.”

Slowly, you open your eyes, tilt your head down, and notice the prominent tent in his trousers. Your heart slams into your ribcage in anxious delight, anticipation dancing in your veins. “How does it feel to know you have my full and undivided attention?” and with that, he begins to lead you towards the bedroom. He gestures for you to perch on the edge of his lofty mattress, gently guiding your hands to rest on your lap.

“I want you to picture this robe,” his fingertips skim on the neckline of the garment, “as your self-doubt, your fear.” Taking a step back, he fixates on you. “I want you to feel, that as you take it off, you are letting go of the fear that stands in the way of your pleasure.” With unsteady movements and shallow breaths, you undo the knot at your waist and begin to slip the fabric off of your shoulders when he covers your hands in his, a comforting touch.

“I need you to take a deep breath for me. In,” a pause, “out. Good girl. You’re safe here. I’m here to help you feel more. To breathe is to feel, and to limit breathing is to limit feeling. So take one more deep breath for me, baby, because I want you to feel everything.”

You take a moment to steady your breathing, allowing serenity to settle over you. He releases your hands, and you continue to strip until the robe is crumpled around your naked hips on the bed. Kyle’s eyes gleam as he takes you in, head tipping to the side, mouth curling into a soft smile. “You are so beautiful without your fear.”

He approaches you and kneels, his face eye level with your cunt, slit glistening with your desire. His warm breath fanned over your lips, sending liquid fire through your veins, causing you to move your hips in a silent plea. “Look at me,” he commands and you meet his gaze, “If you close your eyes, I stop.” And he dove head first.

Every tortuous swipe of his tongue tested your willpower. He flicks your clit with a pointed tip, broad strokes teasing your entrance, deliciously thick fingers pushing and curling at your gummy, squishy walls. His mouth and chin are slippery with his saliva and your arousal, your thighs shake at your impending climax, and your throat is dry from the stream of broken whimpers that have escaped your lips. The unexpected twinge from his tongue catching your bud, pressing it against the edge of his teeth is what tosses you over your peak. Your vision is blurry, muddling Kyle’s features as your walls convulse around his fingers. He must be pleased with you and your obedience because he smiles against your cunt as he helps you ride out your climax to the point of overstimulation.

With one last kiss directly on your sensitive clit, he pulls away and licks at sweet nectar around his lips. “Good fucking girl.” Kyle instructs you to get on the bed as he sheds his clothes. Crawling to you, he situates himself in between your spread thighs, pressing his thick girth against your puffy, soaked lips. “You with me, love?” Bobbing your head, a mewl slips out of your mouth when the flared head of his cock pushes into your snug, clenching channel. “Take a breath because now your only job is to feel.” He sinks inch by demanding inch, your muscles fluttering as they struggle to accommodate him. Through gritted teeth, he hisses, “Relax, sweetheart. Let me in,” he gives a couple of sampling thrusts and kisses you hungrily, swallowing your moans when he hits the right spot a few times. Hooking your right leg on the crook of his elbow, he whispers against your lips, “Surrender.”

Your vision goes white at the pace he sets, firm and solid. Air is knocked out of your lungs with every thrust, your nails dig into his arms when he grinds down on your clit and he groans, “There are those claws.” He is unrelenting in his chase for your orgasm, clever fingers circling your swollen bud, and continues to shower you with praise. “You look so pretty taking me,” he coos.

Kyle grunts at the feel of your walls tightening around him and ups the tempo— the sound of skin slapping resounds in the room, along with the obscene squelch of your pussy as he fills you to the brim, and then some. “Let go, princess, I got you,” and the drag of his sizable length as he pants in your ear sends you tumbling over the edge. Your legs tense, and toes curl as your crest crashes into you, wave after wave of almost agonizing bliss. He growls at how tight your gooey walls squeeze him, like a silken fist, but continues to fuck you through your orgasm. Once he feels the rhythmic pulsing abate, Kyle snarls and pulls out, letting out pained gasps.

“You almost had me there, love. On your knees.” He assists, of course, because you’ve been reduced to a puddle of flesh. “If you need me to stop, use your safe word. And just in case you go nonverbal,” he deposits his watch in your dainty hand, “you drop that, and that’s my cue to stop. Understand?” You sluggishly nod and then feel the heel of his palm meet the base of your skull, squeeze firmly, and grip slowly at the hairs closest to your scalp. “I’m taking full control, sweetheart. Brace yourself.”

The words barely slipped past his lips before setting a brutal pace, arse rippling with the sheer force of his thrusts. He’s yanking your head back with the firm grip on your hair, arching your spine at an angle that has him going deeper, and you think you feel him in your lungs, your throat.

“Take it for me, love, I know you can.” The tip is ruthlessly pushing against the entrance of your womb, but the grip holding his watch is steady. He moans, and you feel his cock swelling to what feels to be an impossible size and gives you six more back-breaking thrusts, then stills, cock twitching and coating your insides with his essence.

He lets go of your hair and leans his weight on his hands by your shoulders as he catches his breath, and you can feel the drops of sweat dripping from him onto your overheated skin. Kyle gently pulls out, taking great care to not hurt you. He nudges you to turn around, and kisses your neck, adding another lovebite. “You did so good for me, love. How do you feel?”

“I— uh,” you can’t form words, much less a sentence since your brain’s been turned to mush.

Kyle chuckles, “That good, huh?” He rests his forehead on yours, breaths mingling. “Let me show you off, yeah? And then after I can draw you a bath, scented candles and all.”

“Er, okay,” a gentle exhale, “alright.”

Price’s phone vibrates in his pocket, and he excuses himself from his client. His chest rumbles with a low laugh as he looks at his screen. It’s a photo of Kyle holding you by the neck in front of a mirror, your back to his front. Your skin is glistening with sweat, cheeks pink, and neck peppered with tiny bruises.

She said she should be the one getting paid, at this point.

Oh? Shameless little minx.

Tell her I want to see her in two weeks, I’ll send as much as she wants. It’s high time I met Simon’s girl.

Pocketing his cell, he clenches his hands into a fist once, then twice, in an attempt to calm his exhilaration. He can’t wait to sink his teeth into you next.

A/N: kyle is king. period.

taglist: @rookiesbookies @waves-against-a-cliff

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle garrick #cod smut #kyle gaz smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader smut #kyle gaz garrick smut

430 notes · View notes

mvltisstuff · 4 months

Text

santa baby - e.b **

summary: christmas eve shenanigans by the tree

evan buckley x reader

smut!!

things sped up very quickly after athena’s christmas eve party. eventually, the candles burnt out and denny, along with other children, had to be tucked into bed before santa came tumbling on their roofs.

the innocence of the night was wearing off as buck stared at y/n in her tight red dress with the straight neckline. her arms were perfectly strung by her sides with the champagne glass in her hand. her rounded breasts were contoured by the golden lighting in athena’s room, and buck wanted to slap himself.

he hated feeling so turned on in the middle of a celebration for the holidays, but he couldn’t help but feel himself pushing against the fabric of his pants. the tingling sense in his stomach only grew when he saw y/n push her hair behind her shoulder, showing her sexy collarbones on which her long, gold necklace dangled over.

eddie’s sly comments were just faint sounds in bucks ear, teasing him for practically eye-fucking his girl from across the room. so, they were the next to leave.

buck had to stop himself from dragging her over the gearshift of his jeep and pulling her onto his lap. he wanted to feel the way her dress bunched up on her waist and then slowly peel it off her body as she begging for more.

“buck, slow down,” y/n asked, a slight chuckle in her voice looking at bucks white knuckles on the wheel. “it’s all fun and games until you get a ticket.”

“just wait til you see what im gonna do to you when we’re home. you’re gonna want me going faster.”

“oh.” y/n mumbled, shuffling in her seat, feeling the warmth in her lower stomach grow. she honestly thought buck was having a normal night, but she also knew what she was doing when she pulled that dress out of her closet. she slid her control center up on her phone, quickly turning on do not disturb for the night ahead of her.

he pulled frantically into the parking garage, running to her side of the door and grabbing her hand to pull her in.

“jesus, buck slow down!” she laughed. “you’re gonna rip my arm out of the socket.” she shut the door behind her quietly, noticing how late it was and not wanting to disturb anyone.

the moment she spun around, his hands were back on her sides, floating down her back and pushing his fingers into her ass. his lips were onto hers like a magnet, his soft kiss leaving stars in her mind. she could only faintly smell the whiskey on his lips, the one he sipped at while his dick was begging to be touched by her. he allowed her to fall into him, her hands touching the sides of his face and the back of his neck. he moved his legs quickly, pulling them into the living room. he sat her on the couch before sneakily scurrying away.

“what-“ she didn’t even have time to ask before he came back downstairs, his arms flooding with every pillow in the house. he slammed them onto the floor, right in front of the tree. “you do know we have a couch, right?”

“what’s the fun in that? c’mon,” he leans into her ear, his arms wrapping around her hips. “don’t lie and say you’ve never wanted me to fuck you under this tree?”

her mouth went slightly agape, shocked at his eagerness to please and the fantasies speeding through his head. “show me you’re not all talk then.”

he scooped her up, bending his knees to the ground and laying her on the pillows. he unstrapped her heels, throwing them across the room as she lay back against the cool, silky pillows. one of the straps of her dress was already sinking down her shoulder, practically begging buck to kiss all over her already. y/n propped herself up on her elbows, tugging at his shirt as he kissed her aggressively.

she felt his thick arms under the shirt, getting wetter just thinking about his muscles on top of her. buck placed his hands over y/n’s, leading them to the bottom of his shirt where she pulled it up, revealing his sexy figure and where his confidence rose. she just undid a few of the buttons on his pants before he couldn’t handle the wait. he stripped down completely, leaving his naked body to her view only.

it felt unfair for just him to be completely on display, and he only wanted to see her beautiful body in front of him. he started inching the dress up, leaning his body down to her thighs. he planted sweet kisses on her inner thighs, sucking and nipping at the skin. he eventually got to the point where the dress was on the floor, discarded somewhere with their other garments.

his large hands ran over her body, cupping her boobs and squeezing them lightly, in the most teasing way. he always knew how to get her where he wanted her, and he knew she was ready for him now. “shit.”

he placed a hand on her lower back, leaning her up to unhook her bra with one hand. he tossed it behind his head, earning a gentle giggle from y/n. he looked back rapidly, staring at her hardened nipples and bending down to connect his mouth.

his fingers were pinching and circling her left while his tongue worked on the right, getting the perfect amount of stimulation to get y/n all worked up. he loved to see the blush on her face, seeing her get all flustered and horny from his kisses. he sucked all around the skin on her tits, leaving small marks over her.

once he saw that she was fully content, he pecked a bit on her stomach, moving back to her inner thighs, just getting closer to her center. his fingers wrapped around the edge of her thong, pulling it down to fully reveal her wet pussy, the one that belonged to him.

“you’re actually the hottest person i’ve ever seen,” he said, connecting his eyes with her own as she smiled down at him. “just wanna taste you.”

his hands were placed on her knees, spreading her legs as far as they would go and settling himself in between. his fingers ran up her smoothly, the way they always do but make her feel ecstatic. he got his first moan as he circled his wet fingers around her clit, letting his fingers warm her up before his mouth was on her.

he licked and kissed at her lips as if they were just like her face, guiding the almost whimsical noises to leave her mouth. his arm was hooked under her thigh, his hand just by the top of her pubic bone. he lifted her up slightly to connect his lips to her clit, starting to suck again.

y/n’s hands reached down, lightly tugging at bucks growing hair in between her legs. she adored the way his hands were resting on her body as he ate her out and how lovingly he did it. he hit every spot that she needed to get off as she grinded on his tongue as it circled around her pussy.

as he kept licking at her favorite places, she came with a firework that left stars in her eyes and her chest heavy. her lungs filled with air, trying to catch up to the pleasurable feeling in her groin.

“buck!” y/n moans out. “god, buck i’m gonna cum.”

“cum for me, baby.” his deep voice vibrates against her cunt, instantly sparking up her entire body and leaving shocks throughout it. she clenched around nothing but the feeling of bucks mouth working her through her orgasm, her wetness being already around by his tongue.

when he finally released his hold on her legs and removed his mouth from her sensitive clit, buck pushed himself up onto his knees.

he connected his lips with hers once again, y/n now able to taste her sweet pussy on his lips. the way he treated her taste like an expensive wine just made it even better as he pushed his lips harder against hers. his tongue forced itself into her mouth, rocking against her own in a perfect rhythm. he used her mouth like he was starving, and he couldn’t help himself. the mix of her juices and her chapstick was the ultimate turn on, just making his dick grow harder.

“god, i wanna fuck you so bad.” buck groans, dragging his lips down her neck and sucking harshly on the skin.

“please fuck me already. i wanna feel you inside of me.” y/n begged, and buck could hear it in her voice how badly she wanted him.

y/n reached down, stroking bucks dick and pumping it a few times before leading it down to her pussy.

he ran his dick through her folds, collecting the mix of juices from her pussy and his own spit. the noises that she made as he grinded himself against here were heavenly, sounds that could turn him on faster than anything. the feeling of bucks body on top of her was unreal, almost like a dream. she reached up to grip his muscles as his hands moves down her waist.

he finally slid himself into her vagina, allowing himself to feel her tightness around his dick. he moaned out loudly, as if it were the first time he was ever in her. “holy shit, baby.” buck reached up through the pillows, taking y/n’s hands off her face. “don’t cover that pretty face.”

“you feel so fucking good.”

buck intwined his fingers with hers, bending her arms and pulling her hands up to the side of her head. he, in the most romantic way possible, rubbed her hands with his thumbs as he fucked her at the perfect place, hitting the amazing spots in her to make her moan out in pleasure.

he thrusted in her so hard, making her back arch off the pillows and making it difficult for her lungs to fill with air. the familiar sense started to creep up on her again, the bubble inside her threatening to burst.

“im so close, y/n, god,” buck groans out, not breaking the speed or rhythm of his thrusts. the only noises in the room were the wet sound of buck inside her and their practically synchronized moans of pleasure.

“you’re gonna make me cum, buck.”

“cum with me, baby, i got you.” buck continued to force himself into her, just the way she loves. he saw the way her face scrunched up and how her mouth dropped open with her blushed cheeks. the look in her eyes signaled how close she was, knowing they’d come together soon.

both of their legs shook as he came inside of her, spilling into her tight pussy. his thrusts slowed down, seeing his cum cover his dick and make a mess of her cunt. he leaned forward, shamelessly moaning into y/n’s ear as they both rode out their orgasms, using the other to their advantage.

“you’re so beautiful.” buck looks to the side, his nose lightly touching the side of y/n’s face before she tilts it.

“says you,” y/n winks, moaning again as buck pushes his fingers inside of her, attempting to clean the mess of juices and cum that they left. he pulls his hand up, letting y/n suck them and taste themselves mixed together.

buck rolls fully on his back, dragging y/n on top of him as she straddles him. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, honey,” buck replies, kissing her lips again. “merry christmas, sexy.”

y/n laughs, gazing down at him and his goofy grin. “merry christmas, buck.”

“wait til you see what i got us for christmas.”

509 notes · View notes

pyro-chaos · 6 months

Text

Mike Schmidt x Reader

Pt: 4 The Dream

Summary: Mike’s got a wet dream…

Tropes: Smuuuut. Kinda fluff if you look for it.

And they were roommates….

Word count: 1274

Part 4 of This Series

Every motion is a push and pull. A reaction to every action.

You match every kiss on your neck with a caress of his waist.

Mike’s discarded shirt lays on the bedroom floor, he’s left grinding his dick on your pelvis in his nice jeans.

You’re in that little black dress you wore in the gardens. The one that clings to you in a way that makes Mike tempted to touch you in broad daylight.

God, you’re making him go crazy. You’re making his dick go crazy.

Mike can’t control himself.

“Take it off.” Fuck, he sounds pathetic even to himself, “Please - Fuck - Take it off, please.”

You…don’t.

Instead you reach for his belt buckle and plant your lips on that little patch of skin below the curve of his jaw.

The warm wetness of your tongue on his neck makes his brow furrow and his tongue loll.

He wants that feeling to scar itself on his nerves. He wants to remember this when the sun returns.

Mike tilts his head to the side. The clink of his belt buckle coming loose makes his head start to feel a little light, so he grabs a palmful of your ass and guides you to the edge of the bed.

You lean back, and Mike chases your eyes until he’s hovering above you.

You… look good, laying under him. The way your lungs move gives Mike a nice view of your tits.

The anticipation of your touch feels like a shot of euphoria in itself. It’s like electricity shooting straight to the tip of his cock.

The aching throb makes him want to beg. It makes him want to plead and negotiate until you finally give him anything.

God, he’ll take anything you give him. Anything you want.

Eventually, you get his pants open enough for your palm to slide his cock out through the opening of his boxers.

Your hands are so… so soft, and warm and he’s hurting and leaking.

You swipe your thumb over that sensitive little slit at the tip.

He thrusts into your hand so hard that the tip of his dick hits your thigh.

The sensation makes his elbows buckle.

The new weight makes your dress ride up and -

You don’t have any panties on.

Mike’s head jerks down.

You don’t - you’re bare and - oh fuck you’re bare and you’re so hot.

He’s moving like he’s not conscious of himself when he brings his fingers to your slit.

Your hands fly to his biceps, Mike doesn’t know why you’re gripping him so tight, but he likes it. He likes the way your touch sets his whole body on fire.

He slides his fingers through your pussy one more time. This time, his middle finger prods at the center of your core.

The little mewl coming from your lips just encourages him.

He presses down a bit, not enough to give you any satisfaction, but enough to feel the throbbing resistance give in a little.

Your wetness excites him. The way your legs lay open makes him want to dive in and devour you.

He’s sure to slide his finger up your clit when he removes his hand from where he wants to feel you the most.

The way your legs jerk apart makes his tongue tingle.

Mike doesn’t waste any time. He slides his hand down to the bend of your knee and lifts your thigh over his hip.

You understand what he’s trying to do, and Mike can’t stop the breathless moan from escaping when you guide his dick to that pretty, warm, wet, velvety area between your legs.

One thrust and he slams balls deep inside you.

The choked sob that comes from the base of your throat mixes with his strangled groan.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I know it hurts - oh f - fuh - fuck - please.”

Fuck - and the way you’re dragging your hands from his biceps, to his waist, and back to his shoulders.

He can feel you everywhere.

Mike goes a bit dumb, he’s groping any skin he can find. He’s pretty sure he hears a rip from your dress when he pulls down the neckline to get a fistful of your tits, but your cute little whimpers drown it out too much for him to be sure.

He nuzzles his nose into that little curve where your collar bone meets your neck. He's trying, he’s really trying not to move, but the way your pussy’s just gripping and tightening. Fuck it’s so fucking hard.

When you start to writhe beneath him Mike starts to feel that simmering burst of pleasure creep closer.

“M - Move”

Fuck the way you say it. You make it sound like a demand, and who is Mike to deny you?

Mike rutts further inside you. He wants to touch that sweet spot that makes you gasp.

He wants to feel close to you.

He wants you to swallow him whole.

He must take too long trying to find his joints because you flip him over and press your lips to his.

Your tongue tastes like something Mike can’t name, but he’s chasing the sensation when you pull away.

His hips twitch.

You lean into his upward bucks.

God, the way you’re squeezing.

Mike grabs your hips. He needs to grab something or - or…

The little gasp that flies out of your mouth makes Mike sit up and hook his arms around your waist.

He can’t let you move. He’s too close. He’s not ready to finish yet.

You run your hands through Mike’s hair, and then you tug.

His dick jumps inside you.

He bites your neck.

You make a little pained noise, but the pleasure of Mike’s teeth makes you tilt your head back.

Mike wants to leave himself imprinted on you. He wants to see the bruises when you walk out of the shower or lounge on the loveseat.

You sway your hips on Mike’s lap, an experimental swish from side to side, and the gravelly sound that bubbles out of his throat makes you feral.

The sway of your hips becomes a roll. You’re pushing him closer to an ending he’s not ready for, but he doesn’t want to tell you to slow down.

So, he closes his eyes and slides his hand down your body.

He’s gentle at first; his touch only a little more than a caress. The lightness is almost overwhelming. His hand starts from your ribs, at that little section of tenderness below your breasts. Then, Mike drags his palm lower and then he goes lower.

His middle finger reaches the sensitive little nub above where your bodies connect, and his caress becomes more than a caress.

Mike’s touch is more like an attempt to break into you. The roughness of his fingers circling your clit, paired with how he’s hooked his elbow around your waist, is blissful in a way that makes that growing ache between your thighs blaze into a pleasure that’s almost painful.

His fingers tease your bud like he knows what he’s doing.

Your pussy bears down in response.

He makes a choked little moan before pressing his forehead to your shoulder, his tongue lapping at whatever skin he can reach.

You wrap your arms around his neck. Your nails are digging into his shoulder blades. The pain mixes with the throbbing knot that’s about to burst.

He’s so close, he’s so… he’s close. Just a little more.

BEEEEP

That fucking alarm.

Mike rips himself out of bed and presses the snooze button with a bit more force than he usually does.

God, he can’t fucking escape his desire for you.

A/N: LOL what do you think??

I kinda wanna explore a FWB kind of relationship but I also kinda love slow burns

Anyway, I hope you like! I had fun with this one haha

#fnaf movie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #fnaf #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's

459 notes · View notes

gogmstuff · 2 years

Photo

1846 Cécile Mendelssohn Bartholdy by Eduard Magnus (Staatsbibliothek Preußischer Kulturbesitz - Berlin, Germany). From Google search; cropped frame & removed spots & flaws w Pshop & fit to screen 958X1400 @96 507kj.

#1846 fashion #early Victorian fashion #Romantic era fashion #Cécile Mendelssohn Bartholdy #Eduard Magnus #straight hair #bun #side curl coiffure #Y part #chemise #off shoulder scoop neckline #pleated bertha #Vdécolletage #long close sleeves #brooch #pardessus

465 notes · View notes

beansprean · 8 months

Text

Except they all look good, damn.

(ID in alt and under cut, ref under cut)

ID: 1. Colin, Nandor, Laszlo, and Guillermo standing in a line against a wall with patterned wallpaper, wearing drag. Colin has on a drab 70s businesswoman look, with a plaid knee length skirt, beige blazer with shoulder pads, a cream silk blouse with a neck bow, a single string of pearls, a flat cap with a feather, cat eye glasses, subtle makeup, and a shoulder length brown feathered wig. He is holding a brown leather clutch in one hand and standing up straight, staring. Nandor has on a sleeveless brick-colored turtleneck with a heart shaped cutout at the chest, a thick brown belt, leather miniskirt, dark gray stockings helps up with garters, two gold bracelets, and gold hoop earrings. His hair is down, curled into big waves, and he has dark dramatic eye makeup on with dark red lipstick. He is grinning seductively at the viewer, hands clasped in front of him demurely with his butt angled out. He didn't bother shaving his legs or chest for this, as a treat. Laszlo is dressed in a pale pink silk nightie with a bit of ruffle at the neckline making up both thin shoulder straps. He has a long string of pearls and glittery dangly earrings, his hair is swept back from his forehead, and he is wearing soft dusky pink eyeshadow with baby pink lipstick. He smiles at the viewer like they're his good lady wife come to ravish him, strap falling off one shoulder, that hand gliding up his opposite arm demurely as his free hand clutches the material of his nightie to pull it up his angled thigh. Guillermo stands with arms crossed, looking self conscious, wearing a green v neck sweater over a collared shirt and pleated miniskirt. He is wearing his normal glasses and pantyhose but no visible jewelry, and has on a dark wig with shoulder length curls and bangs. His makeup is not overly heavy but well done: a shimmering brown over his eyes and a dusky reddish-pink on his lips, expertly lined to bring out their shape. Overlaid on the image, each man's face is circled in red. Text pointing to Colin and Laszlo reads "doing it for the bit (world's dullest drag show and secksy roleplay, respectively)". Text pointing to Nandor reads "doing it for the bit but looks good doing it (discovering things about himself)". Text pointing to Guillermo reads "that is a woman. (guy who's good at everything)"

2. Original version of this image; a photo from the 80s of the band Queen wearing similar drag, with text overlaid pointing to john deacon and bryan may saying "doing it for the bit", pointing to freddie mercury and saying "doing it for the bit but looks good doing it", and pointing to roger taylor and saying "that is a woman" /end ID

#wwdits #colin robinson #nandor the relentless #laszlo cravensworth #guillermo de la cruz #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described #tumblr if you transmisogynistically flag this as mature im stealing shit from your house

828 notes · View notes

twola · 7 months

Text

To Name A Vista

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

It's beautiful - this hidden place he's brought you - but you'd have to admit, nature is not the only view you're admiring.

When you awaken, blinking yourself back into the world of the living, it's only a moment before you arch your back against your bedroom that your body becomes your own again.

You yawn, stretching your arms above your head and your legs out straight, the small of your back bowing upward. As you settle back down on the rumbled bedroll, you run a hand down your face, brushing your hopelessly tangled hair from your cheeks.

As you stare up at the pitch of the tent, the morning light filters through the canvas as your hand settles over your stomach. A smile crosses your face.

Your cunt aches sweetly, a dull pain you're happy to feel within the cradle of your hips. A blanket lays discarded, twisted around one of your legs. Otherwise, your skin is bared completely within the tent, gooseflesh prickling as a soft morning breeze pushes through the hanging flap of the tent.

You roll over, yawning again, frowning slightly as you feel the stickiness of dried sweat on your back and something else entirely between your thighs.

Sitting up, you roll your shoulder backward to shake out the sleep from your body. Discarded clothing litters the ground, trousers and shirts, gun belts, and a chemise bunched up in the corner of the tent. A pair of men’s boots knocked over.

Your fingers grasp for the tent’s flap, drawing it open slightly to let the early morning sunlight in, birdsong becoming louder as you squint against the brightness.

It’s certainly picturesque, here along the banks of the Dakota River, tucked away from roads and trails, the gentle waters flowing south to collect in Flat Iron.

You grope for the discarded blanket on the other side of the bedroll and wrap it around your shoulders as crawl out of the tent to stand. Stepping past the campfire that’s been re-lit in the morning, you notice a pot of coffee heating up in that old beat-up percolator.

You’re drawn by some unseen string to the riverbank. Your bare feet slide slowly over weathered river stones to where your toes touch the water’s edge. Pulling the blanket around you closer, you smile as the birds chirp loudly overhead.

Arthur stands several feet out in the water, gently lapping at his thighs as he scrubs at his shoulder idly, staring off into the distance, Mount Shann looming large miles away.

Nude as the day he was born, you are transfixed, gazing unabashedly at your lover’s body. The lines at his neck and elbows where sun-kissed skin meets what’s usually hidden beneath his clothing. Scars, marks, a smattering of dark, wiry hair. That slash on his shoulder from a coach robbery in Colorado. The circular mark on his bicep when he was shot in Arizona. New, pink-red lines scratched into his skin on either side of his spine. No, those weren’t battle wounds, those were love marks - carved into his skin by your blunt nails as he thrust himself inside your body, over and over and over again last night.

A smile creeps over your face as you note a faint pink imprint of your hand on one of his ass cheeks.

He rolls his shoulder, still unaware of your gaze on him. Blading his body sideways, he leans over, cups river water between his hands, and brings it up to his neckline, splashing it to cover his chest, idly scrubbing at wet skin.

You cannot help but stare at his large cock hanging prettily between his legs. Even with how many times the two of you climbed into each other last night, heat flares in your belly as you feel wetness gathering in your cunt. You rub your thighs together absentmindedly as you trace the paths of the rivulets of water down his chest, down the muscles of his abdomen, as it weaves through the dark curls of his pubic hair and drips off of his cock.

You’re smitten, there isn’t any denying it.

This was all fairly new between you - and maybe it’s still those early days of a relationship where you can’t keep your hands off of each other. At some point when the gang was traveling from the west, the simmering tension between the two of you boiled over, and after a night around the campfire and a tad too much whiskey, you awoke in Arthur’s bedroll, thoroughly satiated and adorned with sloppy bite marks and suckled bruises across your décolletage.

That, of course, quickly devolved into sneaking into tents at night, groping behind wagons, and the occasional dalliance in the woods outside of camp.

When things had finally calmed down from the Blackwater mess, he grabbed you without much preamble, led you to the horses, swung you up on the rump of his new mare, and headed out of Horseshoe Overlook, muttering something about needing a break.

Not that last night was much of a break… the night was spent holed away in that little tent, between gasps and moans and cries of each other’s names for hours.

Arthur finally turns around completely and sees you, your hair spilling messily over the blanket you’ve wrapped around yourself. A grin slides across his face as he begins to wade toward you, unabashed in his nakedness.

“Get some sleep there, darlin’?”

You snort lightly as he steps closer to you, his arms reaching toward your shoulders, engulfing them in his large hands and rubbing them affectionately.

“You know me, need plenty of beauty rest.” You roll your eyes with a laugh.

Arthur snorts in return, bemused, “Y’dont need a lick of that to be a beauty.”

Oh, this man…

You give a smile as you let the blanket fall from your body and collect at your feet. You can hear him suck in a breath for a moment, then Arthur’s hands immediately dart to your bared breasts, his palms engulfing them as he squeezes gently. Your hands trail down his abdomen, fingers brushing the wet hair from just below his navel until it spreads out over his pelvis.

He smirks, “That getcha goin’?”

You grasp his cock, solid and warm even when he wasn’t aroused, and squeeze as gently as he holds your breasts, “So gentlemanly,” You stress the honorific by swiping your thumb over the head of his cock, and he shivers in response, blood rushing to his groin as he is coaxed to rigidity in your hand.

With an affectionate squeeze of his right hand to your breast, he quickly moves southward, reaching between your thighs as you begin to stroke him.

You step up on your toes and he leans down to press your lips together, opening your mouth immediately to him as a comforting rumble emits outward from his chest.

Your tongue presses up against his as his fingers slide between the seam of your body, collecting your dewy sheen as he rubs back and forth between that little nub of pleasure and the rim of your aching cunt.

Speaking of which, you jerk backward slightly when his pointer finger slips inside to the first knuckle. He pulls back immediately, hand landing on your hip. He blinks, a concerned look on his face.

“Y’hurtin?” Arthur whispers, patting your hip gently.

“Just a little sore.” You smile up at him and press your lips to his again quickly, “Been a while since we did that. And you ain’t exactly small neither.”

Arthur blushes, and you’re overcome with a fondness for him - for this, he blushes, considering every damn position he had you in last night.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t ever want to hurt you.” Your outlaw says forlornly, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek as a frown snakes across his face.

“Stop, stop it. You didn’t hurt me. Y’did nothin’ but please me last night,'' You shake your head with a smile, “Now let me please you.”

He cannot suppress a groan as you slowly let yourself down to your knees, the blanket saving you from being directly on the sandy soil.

“Oh honey - y’don’t -”

“You’re all clean and I’m still dirty. Let me.” You whisper in a sultry voice as you stroke his cock languidly. He swallows audibly as his hand moves to cup your jaw.

“Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me, my girl.” His thumb traces the apple of your cheek as you smile, turning your head to kiss his palm.

You move from his palm to the edge of his hip, where the hard-earned lines of muscle collect in a v-shape, tapering from his waist. Slowly, nearly painfully slowly, your lips trail across his body, from the crest of his bone to underneath his navel, where dark, wiry hair starts to curl.

Arthur cannot help but to gently rock forward against you, and you place your chin just below his navel, smiling up at him in complete adoration. He returns that smile as he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ears.

You grasp the base of his hefty cock with one hand and turn your head back to him, drawing the red tip of him to your mouth and kissing it gently before letting your tongue dart out against it. He hisses in pleasure as his fingers thread through your tangled locks to grasp your head. You take that action as permission to take him into the wet cavern of your mouth, inch by inch, tongue pressing against him.

Arthur groans aloud and throws his head back, slightly bowing his body toward you. You suck gently on the head of his cock before pressing forward to take more of him in, beginning to bob back and forth, taking him more and more with each movement. Your hand balances on his thigh, thick and corded with muscle.

He looks back down at you, breathing heavily, while you tip your head up slightly and make eye contact with him. Slowly, near aggravatingly slowly, you take him into your mouth, deeper, deeper, until you can’t look at him anymore, and your nose presses against his pubic bone. You choke slightly as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, leaking precum

“Jesus fuck,” He curses, unable to stop himself from rocking forward slightly, and you moan around him, pulling your head backward to begin bobbing again.

You’re able to wrench the most beautiful sounds from him: pleads and groans and heavy, needy breaths as you suckle on him, the pain in your knees an afterthought as you continue to pleasure your lover.

“F- fuck-” he gasps, breathless and red-faced looking down at you, “I’m gonna -ngh- where…-?”

Your mouth releases from around his cock with a wet pop , a trail of saliva connecting you to him for a moment before it snaps.

He groans, panting.

“Wherever you want.” You purr.

Arthur whines, actually whines, this outlaw, this hardened criminal, this man hewn from the rough life he lives. His hand flies to his cock and starts pumping, obscene noises loud in your ear as his fingers slide over the wetness your mouth left.

“Lemme… lemme spend on them pretty little tits o’ y-yours.” Arthur gasps out, his hips rocking in time with the hand stroking his cock.

You smile, brushing your hair back over your shoulders and leaning forward as he begins to grunt, his free hand moving from your head to cup at his full, heavy balls as he strokes his cock faster and harder.

A groan spills loudly from his throat as his knees shake slightly, and warm spend splatters across your chest, slowly rolling down the curve of your breasts and between them.

Arthur pants, and with one last slow stroke, the pulsing of his cock ceases, a final lazy drip from the head of his member falls to the ground between them.

He stares at you as he staggers back half a step, trying to catch his breath. “Jesus Christ,” He breathes, a dopey, satisfied grin crossing his features.

Milky spend slowly trails down your chest, and he cannot help but stare. With a gentle shake of his head, he regains both his balance and wits, stepping back toward you and offering his hand to help pull you up.

“C’mon, my lady, let’s get you clean.” You’ve stood up for only a moment before he swings his arms down on either side of you and lifts you beneath your knees and back. You giggle softly as he pretends to exude an air of chivalry, wading slowly back into the river water carrying you like a princess - albeit a ‘noble’ lady with his spend splattered all over your chest.

The morning birdsong blooms along with the sunshine, near perfection in this small wooded area where the two of you are hidden away from the world.

Until your screeching voice cuts across the valley, that is.

“Jesus Christ, Arthur! The water’s cold as shit!”

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #twolafic

422 notes · View notes

atinylittlepain · 1 year

Note

SAWEEET BABY JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH! THE DBF!JOEL WEILURHWLEIRHWEIRWE! That was incredible! Could we have oneshot of the lead up to them fucking in Joel's truck? 👀👀👀👀😍😍😍😍😍

hahahahahah wooh! i'm glad you asked - here is the ooey gooey middle of the Ride It oreo cookie, enjoy :)

Let's Take a Ride

No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

warnings | 18+ smutty language, dbf!Joel, age gap

.............................

“Aren’t you cold, honey?” Truthfully, she is, barefoot in the gravel of the highway shoulder, her heels tossed into the backseat a while ago, in nothing but the short dress she had gone out in. But Joel’s gaze is warming her up just fine.

“I’m ok, Joel. Thank you for coming to get me.” He sighs, stepping closer to inspect the flat on her back tire, letting out a low whistle as he kneels down to take a closer look.

“More than a flat tire. The whole rim is busted. Just how fast were you going?” She flushes hard under his pointed look. So maybe she had been speeding when she accidentally hit a curb. But mistakes happen, right?

“Um, I don’t know?” He huffs, getting up from his kneeling position with a groan and wiping his hands off on his jeans. He cocks his head at her, crossing his broad arms over his chest. She swallows hard at the flex of his biceps.

“You been drinking tonight, honey?” When all she offers him in response is an anxious smile, he clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

“I’m not drunk. I had a drink with some friends. It’s not like that’s a crime. I am of age, y’know.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.” Her brow furrows at his sighed out words. What’s that supposed to mean?

“Are you telling me you got all dressed up like that just for some friends, honey?” That question shocks her silent, and he chuckles at her slack expression, stepping closer until she can feel the heat radiating off him. He lets a single finger skate along the neckline of her dress before hooking it under one of the straps, tugging her in until she’s pressing her palms against his solid chest to stop herself from stumbling.

“Tell me this, honey. Why’d you call me, of all people, to come help you?” She can smell lingering whiskey on his breath. He’s been around her dad’s house enough times for her to know he likes a nightcap, a little hit of warmth to end the day. That mixed with the scent of him - cedar and sweat, and smoke from the cigarette habit he swears he’s trying to break - is sending her mind into a haze, and she’s finding it hard to answer his question.

“Because, um– because you– um–” He chuckles again, cutting off her mumbling with a wicked crook of a grin on his face.

“It’s alright, honey. You can just say it, huh? I know what you want.” Is this really happening?

“You– you do?” He nods, bringing his other hand to tilt her chin up, keeping her gaze on his.

“You think I haven’t noticed? Can practically feel you burning a hole through my back with the way you look at me, honey. What a sweet little thing like you wants with an old man like me is beyond me.” The finger he kept hooked in the strap of her dress is running the arc of it, back and forth, back and forth, the graze of his skin against hers making her shiver.

“You’re not that old.” That makes him laugh, his eyes crinkling up and his smile broadening at her.

“Don’t think I’m too old for you?” Albeit hesitantly, she shakes her head no.

“Think you can handle me, honey? Bet I ride a little different than them college boys of yours.” Her stomach twists at the implication of his words, and she thinks she’d melt on the spot if he wasn’t still firmly holding her chin in place.

“I can handle it.” She tries to sound as confident as possible, but her voice still ends up coming out a bit meek, almost a whine. Joel just grins, dipping his head down to nose along her cheek, his lips finding the shell of her ear. The low drawl of his words goes straight through her, pooling heat in her core.

“We’ll see about that, honey. Why don’t you be a dear and open that car door for me. We’re gonna take a little ride together.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller blurb #joel miller au

1K notes · View notes

the-californicationist · 1 month

Text

Riptide

Price/FReader for @glitterypirateduck's Oh, Captain! challenge 🩷

Challenge #2 (First time being intimate) and #91 (Snuggling under the stars)

TW: female reader, come play, a bit of casual exhibitionism

After a long mission, you’re slowly making your way back to England, hitching rides with local extraction teams to avoid Russian detection. Somewhere in the Mediterranean, you and the 141 make camp on an island beach and discover an old bottle of rum. Once the sun sets, the rum goes straight to your head, and you and your captain get tangled up in a hammock.

The captain was dressed in his boonie hat, a pair of running shorts, and nothing else, swaying back and forth gently in an old rope hammock. The sunset glowed ruby red, just like the tip of his cigar, and the heat of the day slowly surrendered to a cool, island night.

You’d never seen a pure purple sky before, and you watched it fade until the stars came out, twinkling on the horizon line just above the crashing waves. Your toes were being lapped at by the bright white foam, and every time the tide came toward you, it licked at your skin deeper and deeper, threatening to pull you into its riptide, taking you along with it, claiming you for the sea.

Gaz, Soap, and Ghost were chatting by the fire, nursing one of the bottles of rum they’d discovered amongst the old shipping crates. You’d been skeptical at first, but when Price took a big long swig right in front of you, proving it wasn’t poison, you followed him into the drink. The two of you had made half a bottle disappear before he grew oddly quiet, giving you a strange look and retreating to his hammock bed.

You peered over at him again. A steady flow of blue, milky smoke floated up from his full lips, tangling itself in his beard before blowing away with the night wind. You wanted to taste it. You wanted to feel that fire of his on your tongue. You wanted to be burnt by it, to smolder into glowing embers and ash right along with him.

You looked over your shoulder to make sure the men were distracted before changing out of your wet sports bra. You were wearing a white button down over your black bra and panties, every bit as utilitarian as you had been trained to be, but the damp fabric was making you cold. And perhaps, if he chose to take a look, now that your breasts were unbound, a certain captain might be able to peer into the gaping neckline to see your nipples. You wanted him to see them.

Trying to be very casual about it, you marched over to the roaring bonfire where the boys were sitting and hung your bra with the other drying clothes. You were all in some state of undress, but as you approached, their boisterous conversation lulled, and they watched you fidget once more with your top, choosing to unbutton it just one button further.

“Tsk… You got it bad, sergeant,” Gaz whispered, nodding over to Price, judging you shamelessly.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “So?”

“Both of you,” Ghost shook his head, taking another swig from the bottle.

Before you could ask what he meant, Soap slung his arm around your shoulder and whispered in your ear,

“Just watch.”

Then, he let out a loud wolf-whistle and stood up with you, spinning you around the fire. The other boys laughed, understanding his game.

“Bonnie lass! You’ve got moves, hen, I’ll give you that.”

“Aye, she does. Been hitting the gym, haven’t you, babes. Quads are lookin’ tight,” Gaz commented loudly.

You realized they were trying to goad the captain, making him jealous. Sure enough, he was staring right at you, his bright eyes shining in the orange blaze of the fire, even though he was too far to do anything about it. He took another drag from his cigar, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you.

Ghost shook his head again and muttered under his breath,

“Gonna wake the dragon if you’re not careful, you muppets.”

You smiled, taking the bottle of rum from his hands and tipping it back, letting the sweet liquor flow down your throat. You wiped your lips with the back of your hand and returned it to Ghost, making your way over to the hammock.

Price watched your approach the whole time, and maybe you added a little extra sway to your hips as you tread through the sand, and maybe… maybe you let the wind billow under your button down, making the gap wider, showing more and more of your breasts until it was almost indecent.

“Got room for one more?”

He watched you from his swinging bed, making you wait for his response, puffing his smoke toward your bare belly where your shirt was knotted up. Then, in that deep voice of his, he nodded and said,

“Aye, if you’re willing to be the little spoon, Sergeant.”

“Sure,” you shrugged, sitting on the edge of the ropes carefully, putting your weight in the middle and lowering yourself until you were laying with your back against his hairy chest, feeling the stickiness of his skin, coated in salt and sand and sweat. Your feet tangled together. He did not move to untangle them, so neither did you.

He was quiet behind you, but you could feel his breathing. Every now and then, creamy bands of smoke would tumble across your cheek. You followed it with your nose, looking back at him, scooting down a bit so you could see his face.

“Can I try?” You eyed the cigar.

“You know how?” He asked gently.

You shook your head. It was a lie. You knew how to smoke cigars; who didn’t? But, you wanted him to feel like he was showing you something for the first time. More than that, you wanted to see how he would teach you. The butterflies in your belly railed against your nerves, fluttering like mad to see him make you into his student.

He handed you the stick, giving you his commands,

“Pull it into your mouth, but not your throat. Keep it on your tongue. Taste it. When you’ve had enough, let it all out.”

You stared into his bright blue eyes as you followed his instructions. You sucked in the smoke, feeling the heat and tasting the sweetness of the tobacco. You let it linger on your tongue, and then you blew it out, letting it coat his chin and flow around his neck like a smoky collar.

“Mm,” he murmured, disapproving, “Too fast, love. Like this.”

He took the cigar and put it to his lips, taking in a huge puff. Then, to your surprise, he leaned over you, putting his mouth in front of yours close enough to kiss you, but he didn’t. He let the smoke fall out of his mouth and into yours, watching it pool into your lips and beyond your teeth. It filled your senses, making you reel from its intensity. Price had a gleam in his eye, and you knew he was trying his best to get under your skin.

You smiled back. Two could play at this game.

After the smoke cleared, he pulled back, leaning away from you but still looking at your face, waiting for your reaction.

“It got cold quick, didn’t it?” You let out a little shiver.

“Sure did,” he nodded, smirking, “Maybe if you had more clothes on, you’d be warm.”

“Do you want me to put more clothes on?” Your voice dripped with lust, your desire for him wholly unmistakable.

When he looked down at you now, his pupils were blown wide, inky black, taking all of you in, memorizing you like there’d be a test. His gaze fondled you, making you feel like he was peeling you apart even though he hadn’t laid a single finger on you yet. His eyes traced down your neck and into your top, stopping to stare with wonder at your bare tits in the open fold of the shirt.

With the cigar still balanced between his fingers, he used his thumb to delicately lift the fabric away from your neck, peering inside like a newly opened gift, his eyes wide with excitement. You wanted his fingers to touch you, but he played with the buttonline of the shirt instead, making it gap more and more until your breasts were almost fully exposed to the cool night air.

You made a show of glancing over to the boys by the fire, whispering to him,

“They’re gonna see us.”

“Aye,” he said matter-of-factly, moving to untie the bow of the tail of your shirt, trying to peel it off of you like you were a ripe fruit.

Suddenly, he took a final drag of the cigar and tossed it forward into the sand. It smoldered there, half-buried. Your body prepared for him to squeeze your tits, to pinch your nipples cruelly, to satisfy his obvious hunger… but, it never happened. Instead, he lay his hand on your belly, using his fingertips to pet you, lazily caressing you in small circles.

It was making you squirm. You wanted him to go further. He seemed so hungry for your body and yet here he was, holding himself back. You rolled your ass into his crotch, hunting for the hard prod of his cock. You felt it, and he let out a gravelly sigh. Success.

Yet, it didn’t change his tempo. He kept caressing you, petting your ribs, never quite reaching the swell of your breast, but stopping short over and over.

You reached back and put your hand on his furry belly, full of rum and relaxed from his odd position in the hammock. Beneath your hand, his skin shuddered, feeling every movement that you made and responding to it eagerly. Inch by inch, you made your way to the elastic band of his trunks, reaching inside, searching for his hard rod.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Sergeant,” he whispered. His voice was soft and deep, almost too low to hear.

You needed him, and you were about to show him exactly how much. When you found his cock, you pulled it out of his trunks and shoved down your panties with your fingers, fumbling around with the fabric, trying your best to stay quiet. You rocked your hips back, allowing his head to slide between your legs and press up against your wet folds. Without his help, you couldn’t fit him inside of you, but you rocked against him anyway, smearing your stickiness all over his shaft.

Back and forth you rubbed him, working yourself up into a fever. Still, he did not help you. He didn’t even move to fondle you. His hand never plucked at your nipples, and he did not explore your swollen lips hidden behind your panties, the same lips his drooling dick was rutting through.

The elastic of your panties trapped him inside with you, keeping him close. Otherwise, he just went on with his sensual touching, brushing your hair from your face, running a finger along the curve of your rib cage.

“So wet. All for me, soldier?” He hissed into your ear.

“Yes, sir,” you panted.

“Shh. Slow down. Breathe with me.”

You were tucked in closer to his chest, and you matched his inhales and exhales, your own body rising and falling with him as the hammock swayed you back and forth. You watched the boys laughing and joking. If they had noticed you, they were giving you your privacy.

“That’s it. We’ve got all the bloody time in the world. What’s your rush?”

You looked back at him, pushing your nose against his scruffy jaw,

“Want you to touch me, Captain… please.”

“How do you want me to touch you, soldier?” He moved his hand beneath your shirt collar for the first time and you held your breath, “With my hands?” Before you could answer, his mouth closed over your earlobe, suckling at it, lightly kissing your neck, “Or with my mouth?”

“Yes, sir…” You let out a small mewl, trembling under his touch.

He chuckled darkly,

“Greedy little girl…”

When he finally ran his palm over your pert nipples, you jerked from the pleasure. It shocked you, and you felt yourself melt between your legs. His calloused hand was all you could think about. When he used his thumb and forefinger to lightly pull at your peaks, you had to stop yourself from moaning aloud. Instinctively, your body bucked into him, painting his cock with layer after layer of your slick joy.

You watched as he snaked his hand out of your shirt and licked his fingertips. Then, he returned them to your breast, slipping his spit over your sensitive flesh, heightening your sensations.

He shifted his weight and your shoulder fell back, twisting your torso until your breasts were freed from your shirt. You were fully on display, the light of the fire dancing across your skin. If the boys looked over at you, they’d see everything. They could watch how their sunkissed captain was craning his neck, knocking his hat back to lick and suck gently on your nipple, playfully plucking at the other one absentmindedly.

You had to bite your cheek so you couldn’t scream, but Price saw the panicked look in your eyes. He paused, reminding you,

“C’mon, love. Breathe for me. Relax. You’re alright.”

The only problem was when you did finally relax, you felt the bright, crackling sense that you were about to come.

“I can’t,” you hissed through your teeth, “You’re going to make me come. I’m gonna come. I’m… I can’t…”

“You can,” he suckled your breast deeper into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks, “Deep breath in, let it all out. Let it come. That’s it. Good girl.”

You knew he had felt you come. You didn’t even have a chance to hide it. You were bucking against him hard enough to make wet little noises from your grinding. Your panties were wet. You’d come so hard it had felt like you had a bruise deep inside of your belly, and your legs shivered, quaking from his barely-there touch.

“Beautiful…” He commented, returning to his delicate sucking, “So eager.”

You were beyond consciousness. Everything was gleaming and glittering in your vision, and you could feel the flush of blood moving up your chest and onto your cheeks, hot and full of sexual energy.

“You want me to touch you?” He asked quietly, hard as a stone but seemingly unbothered by your ecstasy.

You nodded, whispering your desperate yeses to him.

“In front of my men?” There was a darkness in his voice that felt like a hand gripping you around your throat.

Shame and erotic desire warred in your belly. You nodded anyway, too cock-starved to care. You’d never wanted anyone so badly in your whole life.

Price’s hand moved lower, flat against your skin, and his pinky finger dipped into the waistband of your underwear. His hand cupped your mons, finding his cockhead nuzzled beneath your clit, nudging the tight bundle. He used his hand not to touch you, but to instead hold his dick and draw little circles in your flesh with it, moving it against you rhythmically. The soft head swiped below your clit over and over, enough to tease and not nearly enough to soothe.

“Soaked, love. So wet that I can smell you. So sweet.”

You turned your head to look at him. You wanted to see his face, wanted to see desire painted there, and it was. His eyes were watching you like a wolf, witnessing you fall limp like easy, pliant prey.

“When you come,” he smiled, knowing you were getting close again, “I want you to look at me. Don’t look away. Show it to me.”

“Yes, sir…”

You struggled to hold his gaze. Your body was doing everything it could to fight you, to force you to close your eyes in the face of your pleasure. As you felt yourself approach that glaring point of no return, you locked eyes with him, pleading with him, begging him for help he couldn’t give you.

“Captain!” You gasped breathlessly.

“Don’t… don’t look away,” he growled from his throat with a half-moan that revealed his desire.

You were bursting from the inside out, and it felt like you had caught fire. Your skin was hot, and you broke out in a sweat, the salty sheen making your sunburnt skin glow.

“Good,” Price purred, “So good, love. So pretty.”

You rested your forehead against his neck. He hadn’t even put his cock in you, and you felt like you’d been through hell — or heaven. One or the other. Maybe both. You were dizzy.

You felt his heart slamming into his chest, and you could smell the tobacco lingering on his breath. He was still pushing his cock against you, and your body continued to make loud, sticky come for him, enough to drip and smear onto your thighs.

You looked out at the dying bonfire. The boys were quiet now, laying around, aiming for bed. As the fire lost its height, Price became emboldened.

He fisted his cock more vigorously, jerking himself against you, his huge hand bulging inside of the fabric of your panties.

“So fuckin’ messy, love. So wet for me. Gorgeous,” Price snarled, talking into your neck in a hoarse whisper. You could tell he was approaching his own charged bliss.

You kissed his neck, sucking on his skin, enjoying each and every sigh. Your body was begging for him, contracting over and over, wishing for something to squeeze. As if he could read your mind, Price sank a thick finger into your pussy as he jerked himself off onto your folds, finding some sort of punishing pattern, ripping another round of joy from you.

He moved his mouth over yours, letting it hang slack, sharing your breath and resting his forehead against yours. His eyes were watching yours, showing you his orgasm just as you had been made to show him yours. He was right. It was beautiful. You could see the sparking desire in his eyes, built up with a sort of intensity that was almost frightening. Price cried out under his breath, right into your open lips, his face full of serene relief.

Then, you felt something warm and slick coating his hand and your lips. You realized he was coming on your folds, painting your soft skin with his white, thick cream. It was everywhere; you were so sensitive, you could feel it. It dripped onto your swollen clit, and you could feel it slide down into your stretched hole where his fingers were making you tremble. Your panties were soaked through, and you realized he was using his hand to pull out more and more of your juices, letting them run down your legs and into the cleft of your ass.

He stilled himself, breathing heavy, still gazing into your face, his eyes full of longing. Then, he pulled his cock away, letting the wet tip loll against your ass cheek. His fingers slid out of you, one by one, ever so gentle, and he used them to rub his orgasm into your flesh like lotion, mixing you together in a lurid ritual. Carefully, he removed his hand from your panties entirely, replaced the elastic where it belonged, and began to massage your pussy through the fabric, making sure his sticky come was there to stay.

“That was…” Price sighed.

“So fucking good, Captain,” you smiled, petting his cheek, letting the sway of the hammock rock you as you came down from your high.

You looked down at your legs, gleaming in the low firelight,

“I better go wash off.”

“Don’t you dare,” Price snarled, hugging you closer to him, trapping you with his heavy arms. He grinned slyly down at you, taking an obvious glance down at your panties, teasing you, “You’re gonna keep me right here, love,” he shoved his huge hand between your legs, resting his palm over your clit, “At least until they start their snoring. Then…” You felt him teasing your pulsing hole through the wet fabric, “I’ll give you some more. Let you keep it nice and warm inside this time.”

If you liked this story, please consider reblogging! ✌️🩷

#call of duty fanfic #captain john price #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #call of duty #oh captain my captain #captain johnathan price #captain john price x female reader #john price x female reader #ocaptainchallenge #gpdrecs #captain price mw2 #cod fandom #captain john price x reader #cod fanfic

340 notes · View notes

seireiteihellbutterfly · 2 months

Text

Bridal Shop ft Nanami Kento

Rating: 18+, MDNI Warnings: Sex, vaginal and clitoral fingering, oral Featuring: Nanami Kento x female reader Word Count: 2590 Summary: A final dress fitting leads to something else when the bridal shop owner takes over your appointment A/N: All images are from pinterest and are linked at the bottom of the post for credit. Inspiration for the wedding dress was this.

Nanami masterlist

You skipped merrily into the bridal shop, ready for the final fitting. The wedding was only 2 weeks away. A healthy pink glow was visible on your face. Most would say it’s because your wedding day is approaching. Your best friend would tease you that it’s because of the bridal shop owner.

The sweet old woman who had assisted you during your first fitting spots you immediately and waves you over to her. She grasps your hands with wrinkled knotted hands and smiles brightly at you. “Not too long now…You must be very excited!”

“Indeed I am!” You chirp back excitedly. “Will it be a while or…?”

“Not at all! We’re ready for you now. On straight through to the back. Fitting room 2.”

You thank the woman and waltz back into the stall. Not too shortly after the tailor comes in, exchanging warm greetings with you, asking you how wedding planning was going, as she carefully helps you fit into the dress, gently buttoning up the pearl fastenings on the back as she fusses with the skirt, whirling it out around you. Your breath catches as you look at yourself in the mirror.

The dress had been fitted perfectly, the waistline pure perfection to the last millimeter. With the tulle and illusion sleeves, it was like right out of a dream. You feel yourself tear up as you see yourself in the mirror. It was so pretty, beyond your imagination. Ever prepared, the tailor quickly offers you a tissue and a gentle smile.

“I’ll let you have a moment. Let it all soak in. Let me know when you’re ready to have it taken off.” The tailor exits quietly through the door. You spin around, admiring yourself from all angles. You’re so happy you listened to your fiance when he had insisted on going with this one.

A fairy tale dress for a princess, he had said. Your smile widens as you do one last twirl. You hear the handle of the fitting room rattle, and turn to tell the tailor you’re ready to change, then freeze when you see who’s standing in the doorway.

Sharp brown eyes look at you with such intensity that you blush. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

His mouth curves into a soft smile as he takes in the sight of you in your wedding dress. The owner of the bridal shop was quite a striking man, with his physique, styled blonde hair, and impressive height.

“I wasn’t aware that you visited brides during their fittings.” Your mouth had gone dry. He looked so immaculate in tailored pants and a waistcoat, shirt fitting beautifully to his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing corded, well toned forearms.

He chuckles at your comment, then steps in, locking the door behind him. Your heart skips a beat and you almost miss his next words over the rush of blood in your ears.

“Never. But this dress…I have a special affinity for it.”

He stands right behind you, admiring you in the mirror. His eyes rove over the small details of the dress, the little plunge of the neckline, almost modest, between your breasts, the cups of the dress pushing them up flatteringly.

Nanami Kento was a heartthrob in this locality. Who wouldn’t notice the handsome bridal shop owner? Women were known to wander into the shop to catch a glimpse at him, pretending to be window shopping. Many a bride had blushed as he walked with them through the shop, pulling gowns and asking questions about their dress preferences, giggling as he politely asked to see their rings.

“Yes…I think this last fitting was much needed. Look at how flattering it looks on your body now.” His large hands softly rest on your waist as you feel rushes of heat run through you. You try your best to not look at the mirror, lest he see how flustered you were getting. His cologne was filling your senses, a deep musky scent that added a forbidden allure.

“I was right in thinking this lace would look flattering on you.” One of his hands moves towards your front, his long fingers gently tracing the line of fabric near your collarbone, sending skitters of electricity through you. Your heart thumps in your chest as you try to keep your composure.

“Ah…thank you.” You manage to say. “You do have a good eye for what looks best.” You can hear how your voice has taken on a breathy quality and try to focus. You had plans after this, meeting with your bridesmaids for dinner.

Nanami smiles at your praise, then says, so close to your ear, “Why aren’t you wearing any jewelry today? Apart from your ring I mean.”

His breath makes you tingle with need, making you tongue tied, words stumbling over each other. “I-ah-ahem. Should I be wearing…jewelry?”

“You should. Most brides wear a necklace after a fitting to make sure it doesn’t clash with the neckline.” His fingers creep up from your collarbone to the hollow at the base of your throat and your breath catches.

“And earrings,” he adds, his other hand abandoning your waist to gently massage your bare earlobe. You feel uncomfortable heat starting to gather between your thighs and resist the urge to lean back against his muscular frame. Your eyes close as he continues to fondle the soft piece of flesh then almost jump out of your skin as his hot breath tickles your other ear.

“Earrings help you figure out if you've chosen the right veil or not.” His lips were practically touching the shell and a strangled gasp leaves your lips.

“You really are the ideal representation of a blushing bride,” Nanami murmurs softly. His hands start to play with your hair, and you swallow, trying to gather the vestiges of your rapidly fading sensibility.

“Have you decided if you’re wearing your hair up or down?” His fingers swirl the locks of hair flowing down your shoulders, making a loose bun with them at the nape of your neck. It takes you a moment to process his question, the movements of fingers feeling deliciously seductive.

“Up.” You didn’t trust yourself to say another word.

He nods, leaning forward to look over your shoulder into the mirror. “I think that’s a good choice. Plays well with your features.” His fingers skim over your cheek which looked positively rosy now.

“Were you done with your fitting?”

You give yourself a little shake mentally. “Yes.” You wished he would stop stroking you so tenderly. You were starting to have thoughts quite opposite to the image of a demure bride.

“I actually need to call back the tailor to help me with this-”

“No need.” He cuts you off smoothly, leaving no room for objection. “I assume she’s busy. And it’s a small task. I can help you.”

With patience, Nanami starts undoing the small pearl buttons. You stand, embarrassment rising, but unable to resist. He was so charming, eyes focused on his task, while you stole glances at him in the mirror, the sharp, chiseled features of his face, the lovely hue of brown his eyes were. You shiver as air hits your bare skin, his fingers going lower and lower, finally reaching the last few buttons near your waist. He spreads apart the fabric, hands caressing your back. His eyes meet yours in the mirror.

“Look at me,” he whispers, waiting until your eyes met his before sliding the dress off your shoulders, carefully holding the skirt to avoid wrinkling it, revealing the adorable pink lace bra you had worn in hopes of surprising your fiance later. He grips the bodice carefully and moves away from you.

“Step out.” Nanami’s voice isn’t demanding; it was a request. Feeling like your legs had turned to jello, you lift one leg, then the other, stepping out of the dress before he grabs a hanger to put it away. You can feel your sex throb from need and squeeze your legs together, acutely aware that the matching pink panties must have a stain now from your dripping core.

Once he’s secured the dress, his attention falls back to you. His eyes stop at your thighs. “No garter to go with the dress?”

You glance up at him shyly. “Are garters part of the dress fitting?”

“They should be,” he murmurs before closing the gap between you, his lips covering yours. The tension that had been building inside you snaps and you respond hungrily, body pressing unashamedly against his, feeling the hard muscles under his clothes.

“You do look good in pink,” he says in a husky voice as you both break apart, only for him to start placing wet kisses on your neck, his hands expertly snapping open the catch of your bra with the same ease as he did with the buttons on your wedding dress. His large hands cup your breasts, massaging them, before his thumbs rest on the centers of your hardened nipples, moving them in circles, the friction making you feel weak at the knees. Your mouth finds his again, tongues brushing against each other, his fingers softly tweaking and pulling the hardened peaks. Your moans are muffled, lost in the greed of his kiss.

He pulls back before guiding you over to the chair that sits in the corner of the fitting room, helping you comfortably straddle him, softly suckling on one of your nipples while his hands roam down your back, squeezing your waist, holding you tight as you whimper and moan. His hands eventually slide down to your ass, gripping the fat covetously, before slipping below the scanty lace that covered your pussy.

“Why do brides always abstain from sex a few weeks before the wedding?” Nanami muses as he presses dexterous fingers between your wet folds, making you gasp.

“I-it’s not-” You choke out, unable to form coherent words.

“Look at this.” There’s a raspy quality to Nanami’s voice as he pulls out his fingers for your inspection, covered with your arousal. “Hardly did anything and you’re already making a mess. Honestly, why do you brides do this to yourselves?”

He licks his fingers clean before gripping you under your thighs, momentarily lifting you up, before standing and seating you on the chair instead. Your legs spread apart wantonly, thoughts of decency thrown out the window. Nanami hooks his index around the fabric covering your crotch, pulling it to the side, spreading apart your glistening labia with his other hand. The tangy scent of need hits his nose and he licks a line up from your entrance to your clit, before laying his tongue over the swollen bud, licking sensually.

You’re trying your best to muffle your noises and failing spectacularly, moans getting louder and needier as he tenderly alternates between sucking and licking your clit, the variations driving out all reasoning, leaving only primal thoughts in your head. Unashamedly, you grind against his mouth, desperate for a release. You sob with delight as he inserts a finger, followed by a second, stretching you out, making you feel deliciously full. You had been abstaining and didn’t realize how much you had missed it. His fingers curl up into that small patch inside you, matching his movements to the pace of his tongue on your clit. Your hands move involuntarily, pulling at his hair, back arching against the chair as he pushes you over the edge.

A loud, lewd sound leaves your lips as the orgasm takes over, feeling your pussy spasm pleasurably, clit pulsating, wave after wave racking your system. He doesn’t spare a second, quickly unzipping his trousers and adjusting you before slipping his cock into your wetness.

You were unprepared for the sudden intrusion, making you gasp in shock as you adjust to his thickness, pussy still fluttering from your climax. Your legs wrap around his waist as he moves closer, almost folding you in half and he starts to thrust into you.

“Fuck…so tight…looks like abstinence…made your pussy forget…how to take cock…” he says between breaths, his movements so sinfully slow, ensuring you feel every inch of him, taking note of every small spasm your body makes around him.

You whine at his slow thrusts, needing more. “Kento…”

“Did you need something my dear?” You want to shake him for his ability to sound so polite, like you were having tea together instead of him being buried in your cunt.

“I need more…please…” You can’t keep the urgency out of your voice. His eyes darken at your request.

“Desperate to cum on my cock are you?” he teases, pulling back until he’s almost about to pull out the tip before slamming back into you, making you moan noisily. His hips snap into you, placing his fingers into your mouth, the unspoken command clear in his eyes; wet them.

You suck his fingers, moistening them with your saliva before he removes them, using the lubrication to rub circles onto your clit. The sensation combined with the force of him fucking into you makes your eyes roll back into your head. You were so close, and judging by his grunts and movements getting sloppier, so was he.

“Such a sweet bride…you’ll be an even sweeter mother someday…” He pants as he maintains a rhythm, close to his own climax. You feel the familiar feeling of heat and tension building in your belly, coiling like a spring waiting to be set free. Soon enough, a second climax rips through you, stealing the breath from your lungs, your mouth open in a silent scream as it grips you. With a grunt, Nanami’s hips snap forward aggressively and you feel his cock spasm, little twitches inside your pussy as he empties himself into you.

Sated, both of you pant, trying to catch your breath. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a small pack of tissues, using one to clean up and catch his cum as he slips out of you. He gently runs another one down your slit, cleaning you up as best as he can.

“Not just good for an emotional bride,” he jokes as he wads up the used tissues.

Your muscles ache in protest as he lowers your legs to the floor. He smiles at your state, exhausted, fucked out in the sweetest way possible. Nanami fusses with your hair, trying to bring it back to a state of decency before handing you your bra.

“You’d better hurry up and get dressed. Dinner with the bridesmaids at 7, yeah?”

OUTSIDE THE FITTING ROOM:

The tailor who had been assisting you was relatively new and she was now waiting in the back break room along with the elderly woman who had greeted you earlier. She clicks her tongue impatiently.

“I saw Mr. Nanami go into the fitting room she was in…should I be concerned?” she asks the older woman.

The wizened lady giggles at her. The tailor frowns. “What? Am I missing something?”

“That’s his fiancee that came in for a fitting. I say let’s give them a few more minutes. I’m sure he’s already helped her put away the gown.” She laughs heartily at the dumbstruck look on the tailor’s face.

“Wha-but-” the tailor splutters. “Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride in the wedding dress before the wedding?”

“Considering he’s the one that designed it, I think an exception can be made. Now hush and get back out front. There’s other customers that need attending to.”

wedding themed divider by: @/ fairytopea Image 1Image 2Image 3

Support banner by @/cafe kitsune

205 notes · View notes