#this is why there are three volumes of this shit
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𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛
Pairing: Exotic Dancer!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader (no mention of gender or ethnicity)
Summary: Hi, you've reached [your name]. I can't come to the phone right now, please leave a message after the beep!
w/c: 3.7k
warnings: cheating (on reader), lots of cursing, smoking, heavy drinking, weed smoking, body image issues (I'm sorry), this is a smutty fic (but there’s no smut), dry humping. Please let me know if I missed anything <3
a/n: This is the first fic I've posted in years lmao, I'm a bit rusty, but omfg I enjoyed writing this so much, it's very self-indulgent hehe I hope you love it just as much as I do.
this is not beta'd, any and all mistakes are my own.
Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged🥺
7:51 PM
“Baby please, You know I’m an idiot…she means nothing” Jake whined through the phone.
As of 5 hours ago, he became your ex but kept on calling you, each call pleading for your forgiveness and saying the same stupid excuse “I felt you pulling away, what was I supp-”
Before you could interrupt him yourself, your best friend and roommate took your phone “Listen closely you little shit, if you don’t stop calling I’ll personally chop off your balls, fry’em up and feed them to your mother in a fucking salad… it’s Wanda by the way” she huffs as she hands you back the phone, “Colorful” you grimace.
Shoving you inside the car, with you and Wanda on the back, Bruce behind the wheel and Tony as co-pilot, “Why do you even answer his calls?” Tony asks while Wanda lights up a Marlboro, and gives you a drag “Because I want to tell him to go fuck himself… I- I just can’t seem to find the right words”, “That seems right” Wanda quips and you roll your eyes, “Don’t worry you’ll find the words when the time’s right” Bruce adds, “Dr. Banner is right, tonight is all about getting shit-faced” Tony adds.
You all clap and turn up the volume to the perfect song “I don’t wanna hear, I don’t wanna know” Wanda sings, the wind on her face, while Bruce shouts “WE LOVE YOU MADONNA”.
They were right, fuck Jack, tonight you wanted to let go, you weren’t one for parties or clubbing but you couldn’t stay at home feeling sorry for yourself, partying with your friends seemed like the perfect distraction “LET’S FUCKING GO” you shouted at the top of your lungs.
9:05 PM
“The Hush-Hush Hideaway?” you laughed as you finished your first beer after two cherry vodka shots, sounds like a place where 50 year olds would come to have an affair, “Alright, alright before you keep on talking trash, there is more eye to meet” Tony argues, to that Wanda snorts “are you seriously drunk right now? after three piña coladas?”, Bruce laughs “they’re stronger than they look” Tony defends himself as he stands up, signaling you all to head to the dance floor.
You honestly loved the place, the lighting was incredible, the atmosphere was hot pink with hints of dark red and deep purple, the ceiling was decorated with hundreds of disco balls shining down on you, the bar had tables so crystalline and so red, it looked like solidified blood, each one surrounded by the comfiest leather couches. There was also the dance floor which you were dancing on now, it had the perfect stage for dancers or any kind of show, the whole place had the perfect mix of chic and urban.
10:39 PM
“This round’s on me” Tony shouts over the loud music as he hands you what would probably be your 5th drink, stumbling around as you danced to a song that suddenly became your favorite, as you downed the liquid gold you took Tony’s hand and started giving him a lap dance of some sorts which made everyone laugh along with you.
And then everything went pitch black, for 5 seconds the music was over, lights were out, for a moment you thought you passed out but then a huge white light shone straight into the middle of the stage, “Girls Gays and Theys!” a deep voice over the microphone started, “is this a gay bar?” Bruce genuinely chimed in, making you giggle.
“Tonight we encourage you to let that wild side of yours out! Please give a warm welcome to The White Wolf” the voice cheered with excitement and the crowd roared and cheered back, “he must be really good looking” you sassed, and in that moment, red ropes descended.
Not a second later a man dressed in a kevlar suit swirled down as if swimming in the red fabric, wrapping himself in a cocoon in the air so the next second he rolled down to the stage, the top of his leathery suit gone, leaving his gorgeous toned abdomen exposed making the crowd go wild. The lights enhanced his beautiful body. “D-does he have glitter on?!” Tony shouted in awe, everyone absolutely going crazy over this tall, brown-haired, thick oh so fucking thick specimen.
On the other hand, you were finding breathing a difficult task, especially because his eyes were trained on yours, maybe it was the several drinks in your system or the empowering song that heightened everything, but his stare was intense, the ice blue of his eyes chilled your spine and for a moment you thought he was going to stop the show, come down and rip your clothes off… yeah you definitely felt tipsy now.
This man knew the power he held, not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, he had autonomy of every nerve and every muscle on his body, your heart and pussy were practically pulsing as you watched him dance. The magic was broken when you felt your phone ring in your pocket, taking it out, you saw it was Jake calling AGAIN, you knew your friends would tell you not to pick up, but part of you wanted to hear him out and scream at him, you didn’t know which one you were going to do.
Leaving the dance floor and heading to the bathrooms where you hoped it’d be quieter, you swipe to the green bubble “Please please forgive me” is the first thing the man says, making you sigh in frustration “S-top stop saying you’re sorry” but it’s like talking to a wall, you’re not even sure he heard you because he just keeps on whining.
??:??
You don’t know how much time you spent listening to him in the bathroom but eventually, you give up and hang up on him, splashing some fresh water in your neck you exit the room and bump into a rock-hard wall, but then unexpectedly the wall starts talking and you think maybe it’s not a wall.
“it was rude to bail” a grave voice rumbles in your ear through all of the noise, looking up you see it’s the white wolf, making you almost choke on air, but you were quick enough to react and raise an eyebrow in response “sorry?”.
Without even noticing, the man had cornered you into a wall “Don’t apologize, you can make it up to me” he said with a wild smile, “oh he’s good” you thought, then he looked at you as if he read your mind, “you look like someone in desperate need to have some fun… let me give you a hand” he whispered, his confidence made you forget he was a stranger, and oddly enough it felt like you knew him perfectly, the thought of spending your night with him made you shudder.
Taking out what looked like a big fat blunt from one of his pockets, he dragged the little bundle of joy from your exposed thighs, up your arms, slowly passing through your neck, and finally grazing your soft lips, his eyes never once leaving yours, he leaned in and the smell of cedarwood with a touch of french vanilla made your eyes roll.
Man, you’re really not keeping your cool, but he’s too beautiful for you to care, you might as well pucker your lips, but then he backs away, taking your hand and leading you to the backdoor between the kitchens. The sound of music and people dancing start to disappear until it’s muffled, “are we allowed in here?” you laugh as he lights up the joint and takes a big gulp, your heart pounds with excitement, this is exactly what you needed.
Your inner demons whispered that he really wasn’t interested in you, he looked like he was sculptured by frigging Michelangelo, he’d never want to be with someone as big as you, plus you felt sweaty from dancing most of the night, but honestly, it was more about the nerves you felt around him, but just as easy as the negative thoughts came, he batted them away with a single kiss to your cheek, near enough to the corner of your lips “lost you there for a sec” he teased.
As he handed you the joint, you took it with hesitance, “I usually don’t take marihuana from strangers, you got a name or does everyone call you the white wolf?” you teased, carefully eyeing him, realizing that he was still shirtless unconsciously making you bite your lip.
A lazy smile spread on his face “Waddaya mean you don’t know me? Pfft I’m your latest conquest”, it threw you off but he looked so sincere it made the butterflies in your stomach dance, “I’m Bucky” he laughed, he was so at ease with that pretty smile you couldn’t do anything but swoon.
Taking a drag of the blunt you breathe out the smoke through your nose as you offer him your name in return, not wasting a second he repeats it, slowly, maybe he was high but it seemed as though he enjoyed the sound of your name on his tongue, he savored it, your legs pressed against each other and you had to take another drag so not to seem desperate as you were for him.
He might be a stranger but deep down you felt unbelievable attraction, in less than 10 minutes of knowing him he made you feel powerful, and free, like maybe in a past life or somethin’ he was your soulmate… Pfft, you wanted to crack up at your own thoughts, somehow Bucky knew and started laughing, slowly leaning into you and crashing his lips with yours, it was sloppy but fuck you’d never been kissed like that, it was passionate, you felt wanted, right then and there you were ready and willing to let him swoop you off your feet.
12:59 AM
Bucky was showing you his best moves, his calloused hands gripped and groped your body as you both swayed your hips against each other perfectly in sync.
He was so smooth, the fogginess of the joint rumbled through your body, each touch, every one of his strokes felt like a wave, you were floating in a sea of music and his scent, nothing was wrong with the world, nothing could harm you because he was right behind you, worshipping you, telling you how he loved the feel of every roll and every curve, you couldn’t help but smile and he couldn’t help but kiss that beautiful smile.
Not long after your friends found you and you introduced them to the dancer who blew their minds, some of his friends joined you, and not long after you were the life of the party, shots and blunts came pouring, and just like you wanted you became one with bucky, you didn’t know where you began or where he ended, pain and misery were a strange and unknown concept tonight.
1:55 AM
Wanda had to drag you away from Bucky to chat with you a bit, she couldn’t hide that grin even if she tried “Dude I don’t even recognize you right now” you laugh with her knowing very well what she means, squeezing her wrist you stop the urge to squeal, “I don’t know how this happened but fuck he’s just so pretty I wanna cry” you both giggle, understanding the Rachel Green reference.
Turning to see Bucky you caught him already watching you, it looked like he was chatting with his friends but he wouldn’t look away from you, you realized he was waiting for you, and honestly you were eager to return to his embrace and intoxicating scent “Fuck Jack, you have men waiting in line” Wanda practically shouts as she pushes you back to the dance floor.
2:12 AM
After a while your social battery was low and you needed a break, so now you leaned against the wall in the back alley of the bar, a cigarette lit, resting on your fingertips as you recalled the events that brought you here tonight.
You didn’t blame Wanda for reminding you of Jake and what he did, after all, she was just hyping you, but now your mind was plagued, you memorized with detail how you found them, as some sort of self-punishment, why? you didn’t know, after years of therapy, you were still trying to unlearn self-deprecating thoughts that your family and society shoved in your face.
Jake cheating on you with a leggy blonde who was quite literally a Victoria's Secret model was a kick to your stomach, it made you realize that maybe every bad thought you had about yourself was true, and that was terrifying…
Realizing that the cigarette burned itself out, you stepped on it, but before you could come back inside Bucky opened the door and grinned “There you are, was worried I spooked ya”, to that you chuckled, somehow the laws of social battery didn’t apply to the handsome trapeze dancer “Never”.
Stepping outside and standing next to you, he takes your hand and starts playing with your fingers “What’s got my sweet doll so down?”, you expected the pet name to make you cringe but instead swooned. Lighting another cigarette you take a drag and blow it on his face, and he just bites the smoke, making you giggle, after a beat of silence you show him your heart.
“About… 11 hours ago, my boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, cheated on me” you sigh, trying with all your might not to shed a single fucking tear, Jake didn’t deserve them, “Gimme his address” he deadpans, a look so deadly in his eyes, that spark was almost snuffed, but just as quickly his attitude changed, “I’ll kill 'im with my bare hands, I’LL FUCKING KILL ’IM” he shouts with foux determination, making wild animal noises that are making you laugh so hard you can’t breathe “you’re not funny” you say out of breath.
His thumb cleans away a single runaway tear, his touch is so gentle at first you’re not even sure he’s holding you, he’s so close you feel his breath on your cheek and his nose caressing your skin oh so lightly, “you’re dreaming”, you think incredulously.
In a second his touch becomes rough as he grips your face with both his hands, holding you still so you can’t look anywhere but his eyes, “he’s a fucking moron” he spits out, almost insulted, “and I don’t mean a jerk or plain stupid, I mean he’s missing some fucking brain cells to let go of someone so insanely beautiful as you”.
Your heart’s pounding in your ears, you’re about to explain but he cuts you off “And I don’t even need to know him, to be sure of what I’m telling you right now” he scoffs, “Hell, I don’t even have to know you to be sure, in the very short time I’ve known you, you’ve been everything” bucky almost can’t believe he’s saying this to you, suddenly the tension is palpable and neither of you can breathe…
“You’re driving me insane” is the last thing he says before pushing you against the wall, with a grunt he grips your waist and your lips crash with his, in a fight for dominance your tongues swirl, it’s as if Jake or any other man never existed, washed away by the ocean that is Bucky.
You loved how vocal he was being, he moaned into the kiss as you practically humped him, he bit your swollen lips as a warning to slow down but it only turned you on more. You could feel your hardened nipples rub against his chest, and it drove both of you nuts, with all his strength he pulled away, leaving you dizzy and pulling him for more, he’s never wanted anyone the way he wants you but he would never have sex with someone so drunk, even if that person begged as nicely as you were right now.
He laughs as you start leaving hot open kisses throughout his neck and jaw purring like a cat, “Bucky please” you mewled, asking him for more, his hand flew to grasp your hair in a tight grip, nibbling on your skin as he reached your ear “We aren’t doing anything except kissing the fuck out of each other doll” he whispered.
You made for a grab to his groin but he was able to take your hand and hold it above your head “I want you nice and sober when I get you to cream on my cock”, he groans as you make a final attempt to lure him in, but you know he’s right, so you huff in defeat, a pout on display to make your feelings known, “baby doll what’s wrong? you look flushed” he teases as you gasp in faux offense.
3:45 AM
The bar kicked everyone out but you still had some party left in you and apparently, so did Bucky because he’s already got you piggyback riding him to his car, you said goodbye to your friends assuring them you trusted Bucky, his place was less than 10 minutes away and you’d send them your location.
Once you got to the car Bucky stopped in his tracks, “we’re drunk and high as hell” he stated, and like a bucket of iced water you realized he was right “Accurate statement” you snort, carefully dropping you on the ground he swiftly turned to face you “so we should… perhaps, maybe take a cab” he goofs around as he steals small kisses form you “or we can walk? your place’s near right?” you reply, everyone was already gone to ask for a ride but he liked the idea of having some alone time with you, so, he picked you up and placed you on his back “To the Batcave!” he runs as you hold onto him as tight as you could.
4:05 AM
You peacefully walked on the side of the street as cars passed by, one thing that you loved about walking at night was the lack of noise, the night wasn’t completely quiet, you could still hear the cars in the distance, people coming in and out of bars or whatever, the breeze was the perfect temperature and the city lights of New York were shone beautifully.
Hand in hand you walked with your latest conquest as he so eloquently put it, conversation flowing, “I got cheated on once, it fucking sucks” You both laughed at the obvious statement “I thought we were going steady and she got bored” he shrugged, “it was a while ago, but it definitely messed with my head” he whispered as he squeezed your hand, it brought him comfort and you as well.
“You know what’s fucking hilarious though? I was planning on breaking up with him…ok don’t judge me” you laughed, “but I just stayed with him because it was easier to stay in a mediocre relationship than actually fight for my happiness…plus he had a hot tub” you felt stupid for saying it, but he didn’t judge you, his face remained the same, attentive.
Bucky took your hand and kissed each one of your knuckles “I got a really nice bathtub” he murmured into your skin with a smirk, your heart fluttered to what he implied so you jumped and kissed his cheek, holding onto his arm for dear life, content with how the day turned out.
4:38 AM
After smoking yet another joint together you were now straddling your dancer’s lap on his bathtub “It really is a nice bathtub” You grinned between kisses and he laughed, his hands roaming your soft skin under your clothes, you were heaven on earth he kept thinking, he was about to kiss you again but was interrupted by your phone ringing, which made both of you sigh in frustration.
You knew who it was, Jake had been calling over and over for the last 20 minutes and Bucky had enough of the bastard, “Answer him” he ordered, to which you raised an eyebrow “I- can’t I- seriously?” you say almost shocked “You know what you wanna say to him, so say it” he encouraged with a soft smile.
Without thinking twice you pick up, “Finally! what took you so long to pick up?” Jake barks, you have the phone on speaker so Bucky could listen, and he already hated how the jerk talked to you, making him grip your waist with possessiveness.
“What do you want?” you ask almost uninterested, “Baby please forgive me” he cries as if you could ever believe anything he said to you, “I’m so so fucking sorry, what else do you want me to say?!”, to that you let out an unamused laugh “just stop fucking saying you’re sorry, time to put on your big boy pants and take responsibility” you snark, which oddly, turns on bucky beyond belief.
Like a magnet, his lips start leaving love bites on your neck, making you gulp, “Babe let’s be honest, in a month you’ll be begging me to get back together, we both know you need someone to take care of you, you can’t be alone, you need me” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and then you really were done with his bullshit.
“Listen closely you fucktard, stop saying you’re sorry, stop begging me to forgive you, you were a waste of my time and the only reason I didn’t break up with you sooner was because it was convenient for me to stay with your sorry ass” you bark.
You could keep going but now Bucky was humming against your pulse, finding it incredibly hot how you stood up for yourself, he peppered you with hot open kisses that made your mind even fuzzier than the weed, “And I can take care of myself ass” you hiss in delight, it was meant to be an insult but Bucky was making you feel so good…
“Fucking drop that call”, bucky growled into your neck loud enough to be heard over the phone, then sunk his teeth into your soft skin, making you moan, unintentionally into the phone, before dropping it and gripping Bucky’s hair for support as you rubbed against the bulge on his pants “Fuck I can’t wait to make you mine” he moaned, dreaming of all the possibilities, of everything he wanted to do with and to you.
Despite the chills you felt down your spine, despite feeling exactly the same way, you laugh, “Honey… do you think it’s gonna be that easy?” you coo, drunk in power, you devour his perfect pink lips.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#exoticdancer!bucky#stripper!bucky#sebastian stan#carrot's harvest#Spotify
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Things Sanders Sides Characters Absolutely Have Said
Remus, with a headache: Advil me up, daddy.
Logan: I will short out the language centre of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.
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Logan: Janus, this morning, I called you abhorrent and reprehensible, and I’d like to withdraw that statement-
Janus: Aww, thanks-
Logan: But I can't. Those are the 2 words that best describe you.
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Roman: Enough! How dare you mock me in such a manner!?
Janus: Well. How would you like me to mock you? I take requests.
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Logan: How long do you think it'll take?
Virgil: I don’t know, three or four.
Logan: Three or four what? Days? Weeks? Months?
Virgil: Yeah, maybe five.
Logan: Five what?!
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Virgil: So are you gonna explain how the hell you crashed my car?
Logan: Well we were driving and there was a deer in the road, so I said "Patton, deer!"
Virgil: ...And what did Patton do?
Logan: ...He said "Yes, Honey?"
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Roman: There's no way he cares about any of us.
Thomas: Remus would throw himself in front of a moving car for us!
Roman: Remus would throw himself in front of a moving car for fun.
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Patton: Where the devil is Janus?
Virgil: Well, it is raining outside... Maybe he melted?
Roman: Shall I look outside for a pointy hat?
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Patton: That's it, you're grounded! Roman, no adventures for you! Logan, no debating for you! Janus, no stealing for you! And Virgil... oh my god, is there anything that you love?
Virgil: Revenge.
Patton: No vengeance for you.
Virgil: I was going to say "I'll get you for this," but I guess that's off the table.
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#why are they actually so incorrect quotable#this is why there are three volumes of this shit#i love it#i can see it in my mind#remus sanders#roman sanders#virgil sanders#sanders sides#sanders sides incorrect quotes#patton sanders#logan sanders#janus sanders#thomas sanders#ts incorrect quotes#mine#my incorrect quotes#intrulogical#logicality#in the same sense that anxceit had their crumbs in the last incorrect quotes#ts all
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for two weeks every four months i become math’s biggest hater, and for the rest of the time im just an average hater (very sad and frustrated)
#officially done half of my finals...just the other half left#and included in that half is...the dreaded calculus ii final exam god im so scared#my eyes are burning my wrist hurts my back aches from sitting in a chair for hours staring at three different screens doing practice#probelms that stopped making sense about. 2 hours ago#i hate differential equations so much why do we need to know these things. like. when will i ever need to know how to integrate by parts#when in life will i ever need to know whether a series converges absolutely conditionally or diverges#when am i ever going to need to understand volumes of revolutions w the stupid washers and shells and GRAAH#im going to be petty tongiht bc i know that this math cant even be considered hard bc its literally just fundamental courses#but im going to let myself be sad bc once i get out the sad and frustrated and mad i can go back to deriving power series of things#and everyone learns and processes things at different rates and its ok if i need to take twice as long to understand a theorem and proof#then a classmate who can understand it just by reading the course notes once. yeah#i actually feel pathetic rn. cant believe a first year math course has me this worked up. just need to get my shit together next study term#and stop complaining over every little thing#actually last little thing i love the ratio test it has done nothing wrong ever i love it so much (i hate the integral test)#limit comparison you are on thin fucking ice. ast you are just behind the ratio test#willows rambling branch
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Books Read in 2023:
I Want to be a Wall Vol. 2 by Honami Shirono (2023)
The Villainess is a Marionette (Season 1) by Han Yi Min & Manggle (2021)
Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 1 by Ryoko Kui (2017)
Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 2 by Ryoko Kui (2017)
Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End Vol. 1 by Kanehito Yamada & Tsukasa Abe (2020)
Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End Vol. 2 by Kanehito Yamada & Tsukasa Abe (2020)
The Apothecary Diaries Vol. 1 by Natsu Hyūga, Itsuki Nanao & Nekokurage (2017)
The Apothecary Diaries Vol. 2 by Natsu Hyūga, Itsuki Nanao & Nekokurage (2018)
The Apothecary Diaries Vol. 3 by Natsu Hyūga, Itsuki Nanao & Nekokurage (2018)
[ID: Covers of the above books. End ID.]
#gigi.txt#i want to be a wall 2 was good continuation! i liked the further exploration of them#its just a nice manga and i love the relationship between the main two. good friends#villainess is a marionette is quite fun i started reading it bc i saw the novel had an official#eng translation#i just really enjoy the mindless villainess isekais lmao#loving loving loving dungeon meshi#i understand why everyone goes nuts over it lmao#frieren is so good and sad and just#god the first chapter had me bawling already#i love her and i love the quiet reflection and the passage of time and yet#i also love it when they get to murder shit. duality of man.#i just started apothecary diaries yesterday and have already read three volumes so ig that speaks for its quality#maomao is captivating as an mc she is insanely talented and i love jinshi the other main#10/10 and all the characters are very interesting and fun#2023media
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A couple of video essays about Fear & Hunger finally convinced me to do something that years of hype and praise have not managed to make me do - I'm going to read Berserk.
#i think i was mainly holding off on reading it bc 'brutal and depressing' was not the type of story i gravitated to as a teen#as a result mentally categorising berserk as not for me even as my tolerance for dark and gritty stories increased as an adult#it wasn't until getting into (videos about) fear & hunger and hearing people comparing the game to berserk#that i had the thought 'oh shit i might actually really enjoy berserk'#personal#did i like a normal person buy the first volume or at least read the manga online first to see if i'd like it?#no i decided to spend a disgusting amount of money on vol 1 of the deluxe edition instead#(which the way the uk bookstores are pricing it is more expensive than just buying the three volumes compiled in it individually)#why?#1. because i'm stupid#2. because it's very pretty and i like owning beautiful things/art#if only i also liked being fiscally responsible 🤢
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its time for my neighbors to die irl btw
#i may have to actually call the cops bc of the loud music at night and i really dont want to#but. ongoing problem since 2019 nothing works.. theyve already been warned by the landlord twice and dont give a shit..#like guys i am TRYING to not call the cops on you and have been trying for three years.#why are you so specifically intent on playing absolute shit music at top volume until 3am.#currently in bed with both my earbuds in and my noise cancelling headphones on top and i still hear it#if they randomly decide just tonight to stop at the legal time thatd be great but ik theyre not gonna and i have shit to do tomorrow..
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the thing about being a Certified Horse Girl is that i don't know if this is really painful or i'm being dramatic lmfao
#a bit of both#the fact that i can't actually get on a horse speaks volumes i think#if you're using a bucket to get on breakers you're in trouble#anyway in other news can you tell no one has talked to me all day#i n t e r a c t i o n i need it#what else do i have to say on this#oh this reminds me of the time i somersaulted off a horse and landed flat on my back#and i rode three horses after that right#and i got off the last one and suddenly my vision was blacking out and i was like about to pass out my boss was like#'you just went really pale really fast' and i'm like 'yeah i'm about to pass out and there's a weird pain in my side?'#anyway this was at 9am five hours of riding no breakfast and i left the hospital at 8pm and no one gave me a meal that whole time#and my organs were just like bruised. extremely unhappy at being thrown in the air. but like damn if we're gonna not eat for like 16 hours#you could at least actually be ruptured you know what i mean#this is horse girl life anyway#oh yeah and i sprained my ankle innnnn june or some shit#took me three weeks to realise it was sprained and not#i don't even have an excuse i just ignored the pain until someone was like 'why are you still limping' anywa#rode on a sprained ankle for five weeks because there is no one who can replace me#horse girl tingz#i could go on#OH hahahahahaha i jumped a metre and my dog ran under my horse's legs when we landed and he like piledrivered me into the ground right#i tried to land on my feet cause the ground at home is like concrete. failed. landed on my knees. realised immediately walking across the#paddock to catch him that my legs were uhhhh not going to be great#got back on. jumped this fairly high jump again which sounds like madness but hear me out if i didn't make it over after that i was gonna b#scared of it later#anyway yes my legs were fucked i could not twist or anything just limpin around and i started having headaches#and eventually i went to a physio and she was like 'yeah i have no idea how you didn't dislocate at least one hip and your whole body is#completely out of whack' hahaha oh so that's what the headaches are who knew#the more i talk the more stories i think of anyway#my legs hurt
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Hii first of all i love your work, i have a request can you do a smut with chris and matt, like a threesome
PURE ECSTASY (part two)
read part one here
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bf!dom!matt, pervert!dom!chris x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve been feeling guilty for what you did, but you don’t have the balls to tell matt. one night, he shows up at your house… and he’s not alone.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PURE FILTH, THREESOME, swearing, oral (female and male receiving), A LOT of degrading, some praising, p in v, cuck matt lol, spanking, daddy kink, sex tape, unprotected sex (nope!), hair gripping, ROUGH
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,080
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: chris and matt are cocky asf in this and they’re a little mean🫣
honorable note: happy birthday @whatrulookingat11 🤭
arguing bounces off the walls in the living room, the three boys bickering back and forth with each other. well, it’s mostly chris and matt.
there’s a high chance they don’t even know what the argument is about anymore because this has been going on for minutes.
“you’re so infuriating.” matt says sternly to chris, who’s scrolling on his phone with no care in the world.
“then don’t piss me off and i won’t be,” he replies, not bothering to look at his brother.
“you guys give me such a fucking headache.” nick butts it, getting up from the couch. “i’m going to go to my room and edit. don’t murder each other while i’m gone.”
he walks out, matt still ranting as chris blocks his voice out.
he opens his hidden album, tapping on the video of you and him. he smirks, cutting his brother off. “want to see something cool?”
matt’s words are cut off, and he stares blankly at chris. “what?”
“come look at this.”
he’s hesitant, but slowly lowers himself down next to his brother. chris sighs, turning his hand away from his face so he can show matt. he makes sure the volume is high, but not so high that nick can hear.
matt’s face turns to disgust, because why the fuck could chris be possibly showing him a sex tape. “why the fuck are you showing me this?”
chris smiles menacingly. “you’ll see.”
the video portrays chris’s point of view railing into you, your moans and squeals coming out of the phone speaker. then, the camera moves to a face. your face.
you’re completely wanton, his hand gripped tightly on the top of your head. “say hi to matt, ma.”
“mm— h-hi, matt,”
matt rips the phone out of chris’ hand, taking a closer look at if what he’s seeing isn’t a hallucination. chris loves the thrill of seeing matt’s face change from confusion to shock in a matter of milliseconds.
“this pussy’s fucking incredible. thanks for letting me use her, man.”
there’s no way he can watch the whole thing, so he throws the phone onto chris’s lap.
matt’s weirdly calm, emotionless even. “what… the hell did you do?”
“i fucked your bitch.”
he wasn’t kidding when he said that if matt pisses him off he’ll show him the video. chris always keeps his word.
placing your now empty bowl from dinner down, there’s a knock at your door. you look at the time, and it’s pretty late on a weekday.
you get up anyway, walking over to the front door and seeing none other than matt and chris standing there. “hey?” you question, feeling intimidated.
“can we come in?” matt asks, as chris just casually walks inside and makes himself at home.
matt shrugs, closing the door. you walk back to the living room, chris scanning his surroundings while matt takes a seat in the sofa chair.
he extends an arm, indicating for you to come sit on his lap.
“so, uh… what’s up?” you ask nervously, sitting down on him. chris walks in front of you guys, glancing up at matt.
“did you fuck chris?” he asks, getting straight to the point. your eyes widen.
shit.
“n-no.” you stammer. “why do you ask? that’s crazy.”
his hand travels down your body, lightly squeezing your breast before putting his hand down your pajama shorts. he pinches your clit, making you yelp.
“i’m going to ask you again.” he says, just as chris starts to get on his knees. “did. you. fuck. chris?”
“no!” you protest, chris slowly pulling down your shorts and panties.
“we got ourselves a liar,” he smirks.
“i-i didn’t—“ you get distracted once he starts to kiss your inner thighs.
he chuckles, his breath hitting your folds. “she’s wet already.”
matt starts to rub at your clit and you pout. “you’re going to make this way worse for yourself, baby. just admit it.” he tuts. “or maybe i need to show you instead.”
“i think you should.” chris sighs.
taking his phone out of his pocket, he opens his messages with chris and presses on the video. he dangles the phone in your face. “ringing any bells? this was you a week ago.”
when matt says that, the man between your legs flattens his tongue on your pussy before licking strands.
you whine, turning your head before a hand grips your jaw. “look at it. look at how much of a slut you are.”
“i-i’m sorry.” you apologize, tears brimming your eyes. “i’m sorry, matt.”
he takes the hand on your jaw and brings it back to your clit, rubbing on it hard as chris inserts his muscle into your hole. “you don’t seem that sorry, since my brother is tongue-fucking you and you seem to be enjoying it.”
you moan once chris digs deeper, squirming on your boyfriend’s lap. “if you’re gonna act like a slut you’re going to be treated like one.”
you squeeze your eyes tight as matt rubs circles and chris eats you out like a madman. the video still plays, and you’re starting to replay that night in your head.
“daddy! g-gonna cum, daddy.” the speakers of the phone boom.
the mixture of chris’ filthy words he said to you last week and your sounds make you even more aroused, your legs shaking and squeezing his head.
“gonna cum nice and deep in ya, so you’ll be walking around for days with a swollen belly full of it. this is exactly how sluts like you should be treated. isn’t that right?”
“ngh— y-yes, daddy. cum in m-me, please.”
a string of moans falls from your lips before you cum all over chris’ face. he removes himself, giving you time to breathe.
he starts unbuckling his belt. it’s a little difficult being that he’s still on the floor, but now he’s sitting.
matt removes his hand, putting his phone away as well. chris grabs your arms and yanks you to the floor so you’re straddling him. “what-what are you—” you’re cut off by the stretch of him, pulling you down on his dick.
you look around with glassy eyes, matt now unbuckling his belt right by your head. “you already fucked him once. i’m sure you can do it again.”
chris thrusts from below you, your eyes immediately rolling back and moaning so desperately. the phone comes out once again and he leans back pressing record at how you look on top of him.
“f-fuck. chris—” his hand makes contact with your ass.
“try again.”
“d-daddy…”
“sorry, what did you say? i don’t think he heard you.” he smirks, looking at matt who’s rolling his eyes. “say it, ma. what do you call me?”
he spanks you again, and you cry out from the pain. “daddy!”
“that’s right, and who makes you feel this way?”
what a douchebag matt thinks, springing his dick from his pants and wrapping his hand around it. he’s looking at how pathetic you look, your mewls of pleasure turning him on. he pumps his hand, moaning lowly.
your sounds get drastically higher once your g-spot is hit, but he smacks your asscheek again. “i will spank you until your ass is numb if you keep ignoring me.” again… and again. “who makes you feel this way?”
you grip onto his biceps, scratching at them. “y-you, daddy. only you— shit!” you drag on, starting to bounce to the rhythm of his thrusts. you’re so fucking close.
matt whimpers from next to you, biting the collar of his shirt as he grabs your jaw to forcefully look at him. the way his hand is pumping and the muffle of his moans are wanting to send you over the edge.
chris moves his phone to the side to get a better view, trying hard not to get matt’s face in frame. to him, it’ll ruin the moment if he sees his brother in the sex tape. this is only for you and him.
“o-open.” matt stutters, his shirt falling from his teeth. you open your mouth, and his cum lands on your tongue. “swallow… good girl.”
he continues, “did you see that, chris? the slut listens to whatever a man says. do you just let random men fuck you? ‘cause it seems that way.”
tears leak from your eyes, shaking your head with a whine. “i’m gonna cum.” you whisper, matt’s grip on your jaw firmer.
“do it. cum on my brother’s cock like the whore you are.”
whimpering, you quiver and spread your fluid down his base. chris moves his phone to where you’re conjoined, your orgasm slowly dripping around him.
chris moans, his thrust becoming sloppy. “don’t you dare cum inside her.” matt warns.
“wouldn’t be the first time.” he thrusts up faster to get to his orgasm, the most shit-eating grin on his face. “or the second.”
matt snarls, but chris sighs. “fine.”
he lifts you off of him, shooting his release onto your stomach.
matt lifts you to bend you over the chair. you rut your hips back, not even noticing you did it until he hums of approval from behind you. “i think she’s needy for more.”
chris smirks. “i think so, too.”
you wince once he starts to push into you, adjusting to his size rather than chris’. he starts slow but gradually gets faster. your arousal drips from your pussy, and moans escape from your open mouth.
“fu-uck, baby. please don’t s-stop.” you whimper.
your moans turn to yelps the deeper he goes, your walls closing tight around him. in the middle of your moaning mess, a cock fills your mouth.
chris’ hand grips your hair, him now thrusting into your mouth at the same fast speed matt’s doing. “you’re getting too loud, ma. don’t want the neighbors to hear.”
matt’s hands grip onto your hips, grunting each time you clench. the vibration from your moans flows through chris’ body, making sure to capture what you look like taking two dicks at once on his phone.
“sweet thing just wants to be used.” he fake pouts. “am i right?”
he’s being a cocky mother fucker, being that he knows you can’t respond. you try to respond, but it’s only a gag and gulp.
they know your response anyway, which is: yes.
“i’d say that’s a yes.” matt says.
drool hangs from your chin, the noises of you sucking chris’ dick getting more intense. “she’s close.” matt points out. “squeezing me like she’s going to break me in half.”
“i think we’re overstimulating her.” chris grins, taking a piece of your hair and tucking it behind your ear.
each time matt thrusts into you, you choke on chris. you’ve never done something like this, but it feels so good. you cross your eyes, cumming down matt’s shaft.
it makes a mess on his and your thighs, the sound of wet skin on wet skin rubs you the right way.
“just a little more, baby. taking me so well.” matt praises, and you hum at the compliment.
chris tenses in your mouth, pushing your head further down to deepthroat him. “shit.” he curses under his breath. you gag, feeling his cum go down your throat.
some of it spills from the sides of your mouth and he pulls out. your spit mixed with his orgasm dangles on your face. you inhale sharply and cough, but it turns into a soft moan since matt is still fucking into you.
oh, and chris made sure to capture all of that, too.
he lets go of your head, saving the video, and casually picks up his clothes off the floor. your cheek falls to the arm of the couch, the way matt feels making your mind fuzzy.
he groans, leaning so his head rests on your shoulder as he peppers kisses on the bare skin. “i fucking love you.” he says through gritted teeth, pounding himself into you harder.
you whimper. “i love mm— you too.”
he exhales before painting your walls white, making sure you take it all. you sigh in relief and he pulls out, making sure to clean you up.
you roll over, smiling wide because of the pure ecstasy you just felt yet again. “are you kidding?” matt asks, looking in the direction of the kitchen. you squint your eyes at the figure.
chris is there, fridge open as his finger taps on his chin. “do you have anything good to eat? i’m always hungry after sex.”
𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
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Whole Lotta Love | Rooster x Reader
Summary: You and Bradley were just friends, and perhaps that was why you trusted him so much. It wasn't his fault that you were secretly harboring a crush a mile wide. When your noisy neighbor becomes too much and you decide you need to move, Bradley helps you brainstorm a solution. But when you set your plans into action, you're surprised to find that he seems almost jealous.
Warnings: Adult language, angst, fluff, drinking, mentions of masturbation
Length: 8600 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @mak-32
"I need to move."
Bradley looked up at your annoyed expression as you dropped your lunch tray a little violently onto the cafeteria table across from him with a clatter. The top piece of bread slid off your sandwich as you sat down with a pout.
"Like to a new apartment?" he asked, reaching over to straighten out your silverware and napkin. "Didn't we just help you move a few months ago, Sparrow?"
For some reason that set you off as your clenched fist bumped the edge of the tray, messing everything up again. "Yes, to a new apartment, Rooster! And yes, I just moved six months ago, but I can't take another day of this shit."
"What's wrong?" Jake asked where he was inhaling his food right next to you like he had a vendetta against it.
You sighed, and the sound was so soft and sweet compared to your frustrated expression, Bradley almost laughed. "The guy who lives above me is an aspiring wedding DJ. Do you have any idea what that means for my sleep schedule?"
"Oh shit," Javy groaned from your other side. "Are you getting Cupid Shuffle all night long?"
"Coyote," you whined, "he makes his own remixes! At four in the morning! When I asked him to stop, he said he was perfecting his artform, but that he'd turn the volume down a smidge. Meanwhile, I moved into my current apartment, because my old neighbors were hosting woodworking retreats in their living room!"
Now Bradley really was laughing. "You need a break? You can come sleep over at my place tonight."
You were finally smiling now as you said, "Thanks Rooster, but I've seen the wrong side of your couch before. I had a long, long night in your living room after the holiday party."
"So don't get drunk first this time," he replied easily, remembering that night vividly. You let him carry you into his house from his Bronco while you whispered the lyrics to Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin really slowly to him. It was funny and somehow a little hot at the same time. He liked it a little too much. "Or you can just sleep in my bed."
Your eyes went a little wide. "With you?"
"Of course not," he replied quickly, hoping he wasn't blushing. "We're just friends. I could take the couch for one night so you can have a break. If you want."
You and he really were just friends. You were friends with all the guys. They all loved you and your humor, and you were a hell of a good WSO. Bradley didn't even fly with a backseater, but he always liked getting paired with you and Omaha. You had an ease about you, and it even translated to the way you took a massive bite out of your sandwich after you said, "Maybe I'll just sneak in and break DJ Insomnia's turntables."
Then you smiled at Bradley while you chewed your food, and Javy and Jake started to make up a song about DJ Insomnia. You laughed when they tried to rhyme 'slumber' with 'nightmare', but you were still looking at Bradley as if he was in on some inside joke with you. Your eyes twinkled when he nudged your leg with his boot underneath the table.
"Hey, I'll be more than happy to help you move again, Sparrow, but I think you ought to at least consider having me over around three in the morning with my keyboard. I'll bring these two idiots with me as well, and we can all sing at the top of our lungs until your neighbor moves out."
You tipped your head back and laughed. "Oh, Rooster. You're the sweetest, but he'd probably actually enjoy that."
Now Bradley was definitely blushing as he looked down at his lunch, and he wasn't really sure why.
------------------------
You gathered your things together for the night as soon as you heard your neighbor playing the Electric Slide. If he was already starting at seven o'clock, you needed to get out now. You shoved clean underwear and some random clothing into your backpack before you stopped in the bathroom and grabbed the essentials. Bradley's couch had never sounded better to you in your life, but if he felt like offering up his bed, then even better. Hell, you'd curl up in there with him at this point. What difference did it make? It wasn't like anything physical was ever going to happen.
He was one of the boys, and you loved them all. It wasn't Bradley's fault that his sun kissed skin and wavy hair were kind of your thing. If they were attached to another man, you'd probably have made a move, but he was your friend. Sure, you'd thought about it before, when you were alone in bed and it was very, very late. He was attractive and hilarious, and you were only human. But some things were sacred.
"Yeah, like peace and quiet," you growled as you stomped down your hallway. You grabbed your keys and headed out, zipping along to Bradley's house in record time. You were obsessed with his place which was complete with flower boxes underneath the front windows and a pink front door that he never seemed to get around to repainting even though he mentioned it all the time.
You hauled yourself up to his porch with your half zipped backpack and bad attitude and pounded on his door. You had a spare key somewhere in the bottom of your purse, but you didn't feel like digging for it. When he didn't answer, you pounded again, a little harder this time.
"Yeah?" he asked, his tone gruff as the door flew open. "Sparrow," he muttered, his voice much softer with your call sign attached to it. "Hey."
But you didn't register too much besides the fact that he was standing there in nothing but a pair of snug boxer briefs with damp hair and skin that smelled delicious just inches away from you. "Hi," you said, sounding as mesmerized as you felt. Golden tan. Sparse chest hair. Perfectly groomed mustache. You wanted to lick him. Where on earth did that urge come from? You never thought about dragging your tongue along his chest and neck and all the way up to his lips. Except that you had... very, very late at night.
Fuck.
It wouldn't be worth messing things up. You forced your gaze up to his brown eyes. "I'm here for our sleepover," you said with as much normalcy as you could muster, but the response you got was Bradley's cheeks turning pink as he leaned away from the doorway so you could step inside. Then you came to a stop and looked at him again. He smelled really good. Like maybe he was wearing cologne. "Oh. Were you heading out? Do you have a date?"
His cheeks grew redder. "Um, no. Not at all. Of course not."
His answer sent a little wave of relief through your body. "Good." You winced at your response as you continued to his couch and set your bag down. "I mean, do you want to order a pizza or something?"
He ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Just let me get dressed. I'll be right back out."
--------------------------
You actually came over. With your backpack full of your stuff. Bradley wasn't expecting you to take him up on his offer, and now he was doubly flustered; he actually did plan a last minute date, and he just jerked off in the shower while thinking about you.
"Oh fuck," he groaned as he pulled on a pair of jeans. He didn't start off thinking about you. It just kind of happened. At first, he was thinking about a faceless girl sitting on his lap with her hand in his underwear, and then suddenly she did have a face. Your face. And then she had your voice. And then he pictured the two of you on his actual couch. And it was definitely you giving him a handjob in his shower fantasy, and he came all over the tile wall like it was your face. He was lucky you didn't let yourself in with your spare key in time to hear him moaning your name.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked his reflection in the bedroom mirror. He looked wild. Slightly deranged. His pupils were huge, and his cheeks were hot pink. How the hell was he supposed to eat pizza with you while he was thinking about you on his lap?
But the fact that he wanted nothing more than to eat pizza and drink beers with you solidified the fact that he needed to cancel his date with Erin. He was so stupid for doing this. She was a viable option for someone to date. You were not. But he was apparently going to torture himself anyway as he texted her Hey, sorry this is last minute, but I need to reschedule.
He didn't wait for a response as he made his way back to his living room where you had already cracked open a can of beer from the refrigerator and made yourself at home on the couch. You were wearing what you always wore when you didn't have on a flight suit, just yoga pants and a baggy tee shirt. It shouldn't have been cute, but it was.
You smiled up at him as you nudged the unopened can of beer on the coffee table with your blue painted toenail. "I got you one."
He poked your foot with his finger and picked up the beer as he said, "Yeah, it's the least you could do since you helped yourself to my fridge."
When he dropped down onto the couch next to you, his weight on the cushions had you colliding into him. "Sorry," you murmured, your hand coming to rest on his abs as you pushed yourself back into place like it was nothing. Meanwhile, he broke out in a nervous sweat. "What do you want to watch?"
"Doesn't matter," he replied, handing you the remote. Then he grinned and said, "Or we could skip the TV, and I could get my keyboard out and play Cupid Shuffle for you. Maybe try my hand at a remix." You tipped your head back and pretended to cry before you started laughing. "What's the matter? I'm sure I'll sound better than your neighbor. Give it a chance, Sparrow," he teased.
You turned to face him on the couch, still laughing with your beer can resting against his bicep. "First of all, no. Please. No. Absolutely not. Second, has anyone ever told you how adorable it is that you have a keyboard that you actually play?"
"I tell myself that all the time," he replied, trying hard not to smile as you laughed. "I say, 'Bradley, you're adorable. I think it's so cool that you want to relive your piano lessons from middle school. Maybe you should get braces again, too.'"
You were cackling now as you gasped, "Stop it."
He sipped his beer and shook his head. "Of course nobody has ever said my keyboard is adorable. It's the nerdiest thing a guy in his thirties could possibly own, and only like five people in total know about it."
With tears in your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so happy I'm one of those five people."
"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself," he muttered with a smile as he took the remote back and turned on the Padres game. You were still giggling softly as you settled in next to him again. "You want pizza?" he asked.
"I've never said no to pizza," you replied easily, your thigh rubbing gently against his.
"My treat."
"You always say it's your treat. I'll get it this time."
"Nah, you've got to save up your money so you can move out of your apartment, remember?" he asked as he placed the order on his phone.
"How could I forget?" you moaned. "Your house is so nice, I wish I could evict you and move in here."
He set his phone aside and kicked his feet up onto his coffee table. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "That would be a pretty rude thing to do to the guy who always buys your pizza."
Your side eye was impeccable as you said, "It's not like you'd be destitute. I'd let you live with DJ Insomnia. Now I just need a way to make money fast."
Bradley shook his head as the baseball game went to a commercial. "There's no such thing, Sparrow. Nothing legal anyway, and Uncle Sam pays your salary."
You were tapping your beer can with your finger and biting your lip gently, and Bradley's mind drifted back to his shower fantasy. You hummed softly, and he could practically feel the weight of your body settling onto his lap. That's what he wanted. You and he could finish this discussion with you straddling his thighs and his tongue in your mouth.
He should have gone out with Erin. He should have just admitted that he had a date and told you that you could hang out here while he was gone, because now he was getting his hopes up as your leg bumped his again. He knew he was blushing when he looked at you, so he turned back to the TV just in time for the beginning of a Hooters commercial.
"Wow," you mused with a little snicker as you gestured toward the parade of tits with your beer can. "That really got your attention."
Bradley rolled his eyes. "No, it didn't."
"Seriously? That's a lot of boobs, Rooster. You think we should contact the ad agency and tell them they should feature a few more?"
He turned and looked at you, and you started cracking up again. "I think it was actually just the right amount of boobs," he said, trying really hard not to look at your chest.
You forced your face into a neutral expression. "Do you like to go to Hooters?"
Bradley groaned and tried to stand up but you reached for his arm and tugged him closer to you instead. "Why do you think it's fun to pick on me?"
"I'm not really sure, but it's great," you replied. "Didn't all the guys go to Hooters for Jake's birthday?"
"Yeah," he replied with a laugh. "Jake got completely fucking wasted and proposed to our waitress. Then he tried to write his number on a napkin for her, but it looked like hieroglyphics. He even tried to follow her into the kitchen at one point, and Javy had to go get him. At least he left her a two hundred dollar tip for being so annoying."
You gaped at him and set your empty beer can on the coffee table. "Two hundred bucks? Oh my god, do you realize how fast I could buy my own place with guys like Jake around if I worked at Hooters?"
Bradley sat up a little straighter and watched as your eyes lit up while you watched the end of the commercial before the Padres game came on again. "You wouldn't want guys... fussing over you like that, would you?"
You kind of shrugged and said, "I can handle myself."
"That's not what I meant. I just-" He cut himself off. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell you he was already jealous just thinking about it? He definitely couldn't admit that. So instead he said, "Your boobs are too good for Hooters. You should keep them in your flight suit."
Now you were looking down at your body and running your hands up your belly to your chest, and Bradley was entranced as he watched you squeeze yourself through your tee shirt like it didn't even matter if he was there or not. You must have trusted him implicitly as you looked at him with sad eyes and said, "You're probably right. Guys know best about this kind of thing, and flight suits are a catch-all for making everyone's body look identical. Maybe it's better to just keep blending in."
He felt like a jerk, because that's not what he meant at all. He wanted to tell you that you were beautiful and that you'd probably make enough money in two weeks to buy the house of your dreams in those orange booty shorts and the tiny tops, but he couldn't. He wanted to kiss that little pout from your lips, but he wouldn't. Instead he said, "Let's keep brainstorming?"
"Yeah, thanks," you whispered, letting your lips brush against his cheek, and Bradley jumped about a mile into the air when there was a knock at the front door.
-------------------------
You and Bradley had given up on the Padres game. Now you were turned so you were facing each other with pizza and paper plates and more cans of beer. "Okay, you hear how quiet your house is? You hear how nobody is annoying the shit out of you right now? No turntables or amplifiers anywhere?"
"Yeah," he said with a laugh. His cheeks had been perpetually pink all night, and it was really distracting. You had to keep reminding yourself that he thought you'd look better in your shapeless flight suit than in a Hooters uniform, and it kind of broke your heart every single time. But that's what you needed.
You forced a smile as you said, "I want this kind of peace in my life. So give me your best brainstorming ideas for how I can make some more money. Go."
"What about cage fighting?" he asked before he took an enormous bite of pizza.
"Cage fighting?" you balked. "Maybe you don't think much of my face, but I happen to like it the way it is!"
His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. "I do like your face, Sparrow. I was just joking."
He still looked concerned as you waved him off and asked, "What if I started bartending again? Like I did in college?"
Bradley shrugged. "You'll get just as many guys creeping on you at a bar."
You nibbled on your pizza crust and thought about your options. "What if it's the right kind of bar though? One with bouncers and security guards and everything, and oh my god! I've got it!"
"What?"
You watched him fold another slice of pizza in half and devour it as you said, "The Beauty Bar."
He froze with his mouth full and started shaking his head. "No," he said as soon as he swallowed. "That's like Hooters, but the girls dance. On the bar."
"Exactly," you told him, letting your hand rest on his knee. "Bigger tips and buffer security guards. Just think about it, Rooster. I could play one of the characters and have my own unique outfit. It's mostly just bartending, but the breaks for dancing would be so fun."
He looked a little constipated, and you almost laughed when he asked, "What kind of outfit?"
You tried to remember the girls from the only time you'd been there. "I think there was a cowgirl and a schoolgirl? Or like a dirty librarian?"
Bradley leaned a little closer to you and said, "Maybe you should reconsider the cage fighting. I could get you like a hockey mask to wear?" He ran his fingertip gently down the side of your face. "You know, to keep you safe?"
"I wouldn't last one round," you told him with a grin. "Besides, The Beauty Bar is mostly filled with bachelorette parties and girls having a fun night out. I think I'll call them or stop by tomorrow and see what they say."
Bradley dropped his hand from your face and muttered, "I'll keep brainstorming. You feel like watching a movie?"
"Sure," you told him as you stretched. "You pick since you paid for the pizza."
A few seconds later, your favorite movie was queued up on the TV, and you tried to get him to look at you, but he was actively avoiding doing so as he tried not to smile. You were halfway on his lap with your hands on his cheeks when he finally met your eyes. "Thanks, Bradley. For the pizza and for the movie and the sleepover and everything."
"You're welcome," he whispered softly. You thought about how good it would feel to kiss him, but you ended up laying on a pillow that was propped against his thigh instead. Less than halfway into the movie, you were sound asleep.
----------------------
Bradley didn't want to move. You were sound asleep with your cheek pressed to his thigh, and a tiny little spot of drool darkened the fabric of his jeans next to your lips. You had pushed the pillow to the floor, and you had reached for his hand while you dozed.
He'd had a full blown crush on you for a while now. It was useless to try to deny it. But you had him in the friend zone along with Javy and Jake and all the rest of the guys, and he was sure that if he tried to level up, you'd smash him right back down where he belonged.
You were so cute, finally getting the sleep you deserved. Clearly you trusted him, which made him feel important, but he wanted to be important to you in every way.
When he tried to slide off the couch, you snuggled against him harder. When he tried to wake you up, you moaned and snoozed on. He got himself awkwardly into position to pick you up, and he hoisted you into his arms. Your hand rested on his chest, and your lips met his neck as you mumbled, "I'm sleepy."
"I know you are, Honey." The pet name just slipped out, but you didn't complain as he stood there in his living room trying to stave off an erection as you snuggled against him. "I'm taking you to my bed. You'll be more comfortable."
"M'kay."
Then he was treated to your half asleep rendition of Whole Lotta Love where most of the lyrics were wrong and it was pretty much completely off key. But you were singing it right next to his ear, and once again, he liked it more than he should. When he set you down on his bed, you immediately burrowed under the blankets like you slept in his room all the time, and he watched you curl up on your side.
Your eyes were closed as you whispered, "Aren't you getting in?"
He wanted to. He knew the feel of your body well enough to know that he'd love snuggling with you all night. But this friendship meant something to him. "Nah, I'll be out on the couch if you need me."
You didn't respond verbally, but you did nod, and Bradley kissed your temple. Then he grabbed a blanket from his closet and left you alone. His thoughts were a complete mess as he stepped out of his jeans and tossed them on the coffee table. He stretched out on his couch as much as he could, but then he thought about you wearing a Hooters uniform.
"Don't do it," he warned himself, but it was too fucking late. The little orange shorts and the tiny white shirts had been nice on the other girls, sure. But on you'd, they would be lethal for him.
The idea of you dressed as a cowgirl doing a little dance routine on a sticky bartop wasn't much better. Guys would be throwing tip money at you and begging you to make their drinks. They would all want to chat you up and try to touch you. Bradley would go through the roof if one of them did. But if this is what you wanted to do and it was going to help you reach your goal, then he was going to have to be supportive, even if it killed him.
After barely sleeping most of the night, Bradley was finally dozing when you walked out into the living room the next morning. His blanket ended up on the floor at some point, but you came right over to him where he was overflowing from the couch in just his undershirt and boxer briefs.
"You could have slept in your bed, too," you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. "You're too big for the couch."
He noted that you were wearing your backpack as he melted into your touch. "Are you leaving? I thought we could grab breakfast."
Now you were smiling. "I'm gonna run. I'm planning to stop at The Beauty Bar later and see if they're hiring any new bartenders. Thanks for everything."
With that, you kissed his forehead, and Bradley's eyes closed as soon as you went prancing out his front door into the sunlight. "I'll keep brainstorming," he groaned.
----------------------------
Your interview at the bar consisted of making three drinks and picking out a 'uniform' to wear. Some of the clothing was so tiny, it made the Hooters girls look modest by comparison. But they assured you that you'd love working there, so you accepted the position and took your new clothing home.
The first time you put on the black leather skirt that zipped all the way up the front along with the cropped shirt, you took it back off immediately. Could you mix cocktails in the outfit? Sure. Could you dance on the top of the bar for three minutes straight three times per night? Maybe not. But then you remembered that they told you some girls made up to five hundred bucks per shift. And then DJ Insomnia started on a remix of the Macarena right above you.
So you put the outfit back on again and decided that yes, you could do this. And maybe it would help to get a guy's perspective on the way you looked and your dance moves. You wanted to ask Bradley, but you didn't think you could handle the way he'd laugh about this. But there was something about the way he'd been concerned about you when you slept over at his place on Friday night. You almost felt protected. Cared for. God, you were already jealous of the woman he would eventually fall for, because she would be on the receiving end of all of his warm attention. And she'd get to live in that house with him. And he'd actually sleep in his bed with her, unlike the couch when you were there.
You rolled your eyes in the mirror and added some makeup to your face. This was so unlike you, falling for one of your friends. But you were tired of trying to fight it. And you still trusted his opinions. So you called him.
"Sparrow," he crooned when he answered your call.
"Rooster," you replied in your most matter of fact tone. "I was wondering if you could stop by for a few minutes and help me with something?"
"Right now?" he asked immediately.
You bit your lip before swiping some lipstick on while you said, "Whenever you have a chance."
"I'll be there soon."
He didn't let you down. He never did. Twenty minutes later, there were three taps on your apartment door, and then he was letting himself inside with the spare key you gave him months ago.
"Sparrow, it's me," he called out over the remix of Footloose. "Jesus. You weren't kidding. Your neighbor plays music like this all the time?"
"Yes," you shouted from your bedroom. "Constantly."
"I'm going to go up and have a little chat with him."
You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup as you said, "Don't bother. I've tried so many times. All he's done is lower the volume the slightest bit."
Bradley's sarcastic laugh from your living room made you smile. "I'm sure I can get him to do whatever I say."
That was undoubtedly the truth. You also didn't want him to get arrested. When you ran out to see him, you had forgotten what you were wearing as you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him.
Bradley's eyes were wide, and as soon as his hands settled on your bare waist, he pulled them right off again. "Holy shit. What the fuck is this?"
"Oh," you gasped, taking a nervous step away from him. "It's kind of my uniform. For my new bartending gig?" His cheeks were pink, his lips were parted, and he was gaping at you as he dragged his gaze up and down your body. "Is it bad?"
"Holy shit," he repeated. And then he said it one more time before he met your eyes. "Do you think it's bad?"
You winced and groaned. "I wasn't sure. But you're a guy. If you think it's awful, then I certainly don't want to wear it to my second job." He let out a strangled sound, and you started to turn back to your bedroom. "I'll stick to my flight suits."
You felt his fingers lace with yours before you heard his strained voice. "It's not bad, Sparrow. It's really fucking hot." You turned and looked at him, annoyed that you were feeling so vulnerable. He swallowed hard before he added, "You always look good."
He tugged you a little closer to him, and a smile found your lips. "I think I get it. It's hard to be objective when you're friends with someone. You'd probably like the outfit better on someone else."
Somehow his eyes went wider. "I really don't think that's it at all, actually," he whispered. Then DJ Insomnia started playing a remix that actually sounded good for once, and you tugged Bradley toward your couch with your linked fingers.
"Here, watch me dance real quick, and then we can just hang out."
"Okay," he grunted, taking a seat.
"Just pretend I'm someone else," you told him as you ran one hand down your side until your palm settled on your hip. You started to turn in a slow circle as you moved your hips to the music that made its way to your living room.
"I don't really want to do that."
You looked back at Bradley over your shoulder and caught him staring at your butt. "You don't?"
He shook his head slowly as you turned to face him, still dancing. "Hell no," he whispered, watching your face now. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth, and his dark gaze looked almost greedy, but he sat there and watched you dance, barely moving a muscle until you stopped along with the music.
"Well? What do you think?" you asked, holding your hands out to your sides.
He cleared his throat. "I think it's a good thing you don't have a boyfriend, because he'd already be jealous as fuck."
------------------------
You looked exhausted every single day now. Bradley started to bring you extra coffee from his own kitchen to try to combat your near constant yawning and fatigue each morning. You weren't just battling through sleepless nights at your apartment with DJ Insomnia, you were also working all day as a WSO and frequently working late into the night at the bar.
"I'm a little worried about you," he murmured one morning as you sipped the coffee he made. "You're working too hard, Sparrow." He didn't want to put voice to the way he felt about your bartending shifts. He made it a point not to stop by and see you there even though you'd asked him to. But he desperately wished you would quit. Every time he thought about you in your little costume with your red, pouty lips, he got more jealous inside. He could just imagine dozens, maybe hundreds of pairs of eyes on you, and he didn't like the way he wanted to be the only one treated to that sight.
"I'm fine," you replied softly. "I've already made thousands in tip money, and it's only been two weeks." You tried to smile up at him, but it didn't quite meet your eyes. "I mean, it's not the best scenario, because sometimes the patrons get a little rowdy. But it's not the worst thing. I'll just keep it up for a few months or until I get deployed."
Bradley grunted. "Explain to me exactly how rowdy they get."
Now you were sipping your coffee and staring at the patches on his flight suit instead of looking at his face. "Well, nobody is supposed to touch us. But sometimes guys do try it. Especially when we're dancing. The bouncers are great and all, but they can only get over there so quickly."
Bradley leaned down until you were looking him in the eye. He knew he was no better than some random asshole at the bar. He was probably worse since he thought about you dancing for him every time he took a shower. But he couldn't stand how apprehensive you looked when you talked about that place. You never looked like that when you were alone with him.
"I think you should quit," he told you blandly.
"It's not that bad," you replied. "Maybe I'm not doing a good job of explaining it. Come visit one night, and I'll buy you a drink."
"Sparrow, literally the last thing I want to do is witness every drunk asshole at the bar trying to look up your skirt."
You scoffed. "I wear little booty shorts underneath it!"
He closed his eyes and grunted, "I could have lived without that visual." It would just add to his shower time fodder.
"Oh! You should come on Friday night," you said, patting him on the chest. "I'll invite all the guys! There are drink specials. Hey, Javy!"
You wandered away, and soon Bradley's fate was sealed. Javy, Jake, Mickey, Reuben and Bob were all planning on going to The Beauty Bar for happy hour, and he was expected to be there, too. It wasn't like it was your fault he was falling for you, so he was just going to have to go and be supportive. He'd make sure all the guys left you massive tips, too.
You were still exhausted on Friday morning, and Bradley didn't like the way you were yawning as you loaded into your jet. You were quieter now at work than you usually were, and he was tempted to tell you to start sleeping at his place to try to cut out some of your stress. Having you close by sounded good to him as well.
Maybe he'd hang out at your bar all night and take you home with him. He could carry you to his bed before retiring to the couch and pretending he was also in his bed. Maybe you would even serenade him with the song. You'd get a good night's sleep and then this never ending friendship loop would start all over again.
If he could think of a way to break the loop and turn it into a straight line that led to a relationship with you, he'd take it. That was probably the type of brainstorming he should be working on at this point since you were already working at the bar now. He was still trying to think of a way to tell you how he really felt without destroying the friendship as he drove his Bronco across the city to the extremely popular Beauty Bar.
"You're kidding," he muttered. There was a line to get inside, and he told you he'd be here by eight o'clock when the dancing started.
"Holy shit," Jake said as he and Javy headed up the sidewalk and got in line with him. "I guess there's no shortage of guys who want to look at Sparrow."
Javy nodded in agreement. "I mean, I don't really want to look at Sparrow, but I'll gladly take all the other girls."
That was literally the exact opposite of Bradley's thinking. He couldn't give a shit who else was working, his eyes would find you and stay there all night. Whether you were serving drinks, chatting with patrons or dancing, he'd be focused on nothing but you.
The guys all got their driver's licenses out, and the bouncer muttered, "Don't want any trouble from the three of you," as he checked them.
Shit, what the hell kind of place was this if you got warned at the door on your way in? But when he walked inside and saw how crowded it was along with the two random girls doing a line dance along the bar, he could kind of understand. It was mostly packed with guys, and Reuben, Mickey and Bob were waving them over. Bradley moved slowly through the crowd, and then he found you in your cute little outfit handing someone a beer, and his heart stopped.
Your smile looked like it was pasted on, but once you saw Bradley, your whole face lit up. You waved to him as you bounced up and down behind the bar, clearly excited that he was here. He started throwing his elbows and shoulders around to get to you, passing all of the other guys in the process.
"Rooster!" you called out over the music when he got closer. The two girls danced across the bar between you and him, but his focus didn't waver at all as he matched your smile. "Do you want a drink?"
He shrugged and said, "I kind of just wanted to see you."
"Oh," you replied, looking pleased enough that Bradley decided to push the boundary just a little bit.
"I don't really like it here, actually. If at any time you feel like quitting your job, I'll take you right to my place and let you sleep in peace and quiet again."
You poured a beer and handed it to him. "You don't like the girls?" you asked, glancing at the boots as they went by again.
"Not those ones."
You looked him dead in the eye and asked, "Which ones then?"
His fingers flexed on his pint of beer as someone tried to jostle him out of the way to get closer, but he didn't look away from you as he said, "Come on, Sparrow." His voice was a little rough, and now you looked confused. He would do it. He'd ruin everything just so you knew. But he didn't want you to feel bad for him.
Then someone called your first name, and you and he both turned to see an older woman holding up both hands. "I'm on in ten," you told him, reaching out to touch his fingers where they rested on the bar. "Let me take a few more drink orders before I have to dance."
"Right," he said. It was better that you didn't know. You were trying to make some money here, and he was already messing it up by talking to you for too long. "I'll catch you later."
He wandered off in the direction of the rest of the guys. "Yo, that blonde is so hot, and she made my drink perfectly," Mickey was saying as he drank something that looked fruity and sweet.
"I'm an equal opportunity aviator tonight," Jake drawled. "I see a girl in a little outfit, she gets my phone number."
"You're delusional is what you are," Bradley told him as he sipped his beer. "All of you better leave Sparrow a massive tip. Seriously. I'm not kidding."
He listened to the guys chat as he turned back toward the bar to check on you. It was almost time for you to dance, and his stomach was churning with anticipation and anxiety. He'd been dying to see you move like that again, but he could do without the memory of everyone else knowing how you looked when you shook your hips.
Then you broke away from some guy who looked like a real tool who was reaching for you across the bar. You backed up and bumped into the mini fridge behind you and winced, and Bradley took a few steps in your direction. He memorized what that guy was wearing and what he looked like, just in case.
But now it was time for you to dance, so at least you were able to step away from him. One of the cowgirls was helping you up onto the bar, and the crowd started cheering. The opening notes to Whole Lotta Love started playing, and Bradley's arms prickled with goosebumps as you ran your hand down to your waist and shook your hips from side to side. You were moving just like you had in your living room, but all he could think about were the times you sang this song to him. He wanted all of it to be just for him. He wanted to touch you the way you were touching yourself. He wanted to taste the sweat that glistened on your neck.
His jealousy flared, burning bright inside of him as he watched everyone crowd the bar as you strutted along with a smile on your face. And once again your smile brightened when you found him, and then you mouthed the lyrics, 'Way down inside, honey you need it. I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you my love.' You mouthed the words to him.
Bradley grunted. His body felt like it was pulled taut like a rubber band, about to snap. You stopped at the end of the bar and did a little twirl as the crowd sang along to the song, but you kept your eyes on him. Your lips perfectly formed every word, and he'd never forget this feeling for the rest of his life.
Then you turned away from him, and he instantly missed the way you were subtly giving him your attention. He moved forward a little bit through the crowd, wanting to get closer to you. When you spun around again, he saw you looking for him, and your smile wavered.
"Sparrow!" he called out, and when you found him again, you laughed. And he laughed, too. But this must have been the breaking point in the evening, because Bradley got hit in the shoulder as a fight broke out to his right. Everyone got shoved forward, and a random glass of beer hit the bar. You tried to jump out of the way as your feet got soaked, and then your boss started yelling at you to keep dancing. Now when you looked at Bradley, you were no longer smiling.
He called your first name this time as you tried to step over the wet part of the bar and continue to the other end. Bradley saw him before you did. That asshole guy was back, and he smiled as he looked up your skirt. Bradley fleetingly remembered you told him you wore shorts under your skirt, and he really hoped you had them on tonight. But that wasn't the end of it, because now he was reaching out for your foot.
"What the fuck?" Bradley shouted, handing his glass to a stranger as he tried to get to you. With that asshole's hand firmly wrapped around your ankle, you started to waver. You were nine feet up in the air, surrounded by glass bottles, and he knew he was closer to you than any of the bouncers.
"Stop it!" you shouted above the music as you tried to pull yourself free, but that guy was unrelenting. You took one more awkward step before your body turned sideways. You were about to fall off the bar. Bradley fought his way forward as you tried to correct yourself, but it was too late, now it looked like you were going to land on your wrist on the bar, and probably break a bone.
Bradley lunged just in time, and thankfully you saw him. You trusted him, and right now he could see that fact in your eyes. You let yourself fall forward into the crowd. Into his open arms.
"Oh my god, Bradley!" you gasped as your arms wound around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to him. You were shaking.
"I've got you," he promised as the song played on. He wanted to throw that guy up against the wall, but he was too content holding you to him as you buried your face against his neck. Letting go of you wasn't really an option. He wrapped one big hand around your thigh while the other squeezed your waist. "I have you, Sparrow."
Jake and Javy were there now, and Bradley nodded to the guy who grabbed you. He'd let them take care of it, because now your lips were brushing his ear. "That was terrifying," you whispered, and someone finally changed the song while another dancer climbed onto the bar.
Bradley made the decision to carry you outside into the cool night, walking slowly down the block where it was quieter as you caught your breath. "Are you okay now?" he asked softly.
You nodded against him, and when he adjusted you in his arms, you quickly whispered, "Please don't put me down yet."
"I won't," he promised before pressing his lips to your collarbone. You whimpered, and he couldn't help it. He said, "I don't ever want to put you down. And for the record, I don't want you to dance here anymore either. I never wanted you to."
You lifted your head away from him, and Bradley practically melted as your fingers tugged through the hair at the back of his head. Your lips were pouty, and your eyes were trusting as you asked, "You never wanted me to?"
"Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
He knew he had to say it and risk ruining everything, because pretending like this friendship with you was enough was actually hurting him now. He looked at your pretty face as he said, "Because I'm in love with you. And I'm selfish and jealous, and I don't want a bunch of other guys watching you dance around in this little outfit. Dancing around to my song."
"Bradley." You leaned closer, and you didn't stop until your lips were on his. This was better than he thought it could be, already so comfortable around you. Already addicted to your voice and the way you felt in his arms. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you kissed him, parting his lips with yours until you were tasting him. When you pulled away with a little moan, you whispered his name again while you ran your thumb along his mustache.
"Why did you dance to that song?" he demanded gently.
You pressed another kiss to his mouth before you said, "It made it less scary to get up on the bar when I was listening to a song that reminds me of you."
"Why?" he demanded again.
Then you very easily and simply said, "Because I'm in love with you, too."
"Honey," he sighed against your lips, smiling this time as you slowly unwrapped your legs and slid down the front of his body. Once you were standing on your own, Bradley let his hands fall to your hips, and you wiggled yourself snug against his body.
You felt just like his shower fantasies and all of his other fantasies, if he was being honest with himself. He thought about you all the time. You nibbled on his lips and dragged your fingers through his hair until he was frankly afraid he was going to get hard in his jeans right here on the sidewalk. He pried his lips from yours, making you pout, and he chuckled as he said, "Sparrow, you're killing me."
Your pout grew more pronounced as you said, "I want you to call me Honey again."
His smile must look ridiculous now as he said, "Honey."
"That's better," you said as your lips curled into a grin. "Let's get out of here."
"Do you think you should go back inside first?" he asked, hoping you'd just ditch the whole thing with him, but you nodded in response.
"Yeah, good idea. I'll go quit in person," you said, taking his hand in yours.
He stood his ground in response, and you weren't able to move him, but one tug on your hand and you were headed right back to his arms. "Excellent. As soon as you do that, we can talk about how we aren't friends anymore."
"We're not?" you asked, and as soon as that pout started returning, Bradley leaned down and kissed you.
"Hell no," he whispered against your lips. "You're gonna be my girlfriend. And I'll be your boyfriend. And I'm going to take you back to my house. And this time when I carry you to bed, I'm going to stay there with you all night. If that's cool."
"It's so cool," you promised him, and this time when you tugged on his hand, he followed you back up the sidewalk. "It's almost as cool as a man in his thirties who has a keyboard."
----------------------------
You were honestly impressed by the way the other guys weren't phased at all. Maybe it was obvious that you and Bradley belonged together, but none of them found it surprising that you were suddenly a couple. It really wasn't sudden at all in your mind though. There was a slow build of trust and appreciation over time that turned physical as soon as Bradley admitted he was in love with you. And four months later, none of it had let up. In fact, you couldn't get enough, and neither could he.
"That's it?" he asked, pointing to the single box left in your trunk.
"That's it," you told him as you picked it up. And then he picked you up and carried you toward his house while you laughed. You passed the planter boxes full of flowers and went through the pink door.
"Then it's official. You live here now. Welcome home, Honey."
"Oh please," you replied as he set you down. "I've been unofficially living here for months."
"All thanks to DJ Insomnia," he whispered, leaning down and placing an absolutely filthy kiss on your lips.
You moaned. "I owe him so much."
Bradley shrugged and said, "I think we would have eventually arrived at the same conclusion regardless."
"What conclusion would that be?"
"That you're in love with me."
You wanted to deny it, but you couldn't. "Help me unpack the rest of my clothes and shoes so we can explore another one of your shower fantasies."
Bradley moaned and said, "Absolutely. I'll meet you in the bedroom. I just need to get something first."
That's how you ended up putting your clothes on hangers while Bradley resurfaced a few minutes later with his keyboard. Instead of helping you in any way, he sat on the bed and started playing Whole Lotta Love.
"I asked you to help me," you told him with a laugh as you tossed a pair of your shorts at him while he played. "You're worse than DJ Insomnia."
"Just for that, you get a remix too."
---------------------------
I'm not exactly sure how "Sneak Peek: Bradley's Version" ended up happening, but I hope you enjoyed it. I might like it even better than the Jake fic! Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster x you#rooster x reader#rooster imagine#rooster fanfiction#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#whole lotta love
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Pairing: Notsovirgin!Bucky x f!reader
Summary: While having fun with your boyfriend, an accident occurs, leading to another first for Bucky
Warnings: Wrong hole, Bucky cums so much, squirting, Bucky is a sweet boy, unprotected p in v, anal, anal fingering, dirty talk, small mention of prostate cancer (Like one line), Bucky is an innocent baby, anal to vaginal fingering (DON’T DO THAT), Bucky calls reader a whore once, but it’s sexy, overstimulation?, daddy kink (I can’t help myself), Bucky is becoming a dom??, no crying during sex (I know, shocker)
Word Count: 3.2k
A/N: Part of the Virgin!Bucky series. It can be read as a stand alone as well. But you shouldn't read it alone because it's filthy! And it's worth it to see Bucky becoming more and more a lover of Sex! Beta read and idea from the incredible @buckys-wintersoldier Blame her for the filth you are about to read. She’s the one who put this idea in my head. I can’t be held responsible for the feelings you experience. However, any and all mistakes are my own. But you wrote that!!!! A lot of filthy ideas which dropped my jaw and let my pasta almost fall out of my mouth!
You and Bucky have been fucking like rabbits ever since the day he lost his virginity to you. He was addicted to the feel of your tight cunt wrapped around his cock, never lasting more than a few minutes, but able to keep going thanks to the serum coursing through his body. He wonders if he will ever be able to last longer. You say you don’t mind that he can’t control how fast he cums, but it doesn’t make him feel any better that he can’t.
Even with that thought nagging at him all the time, the moment he enters you his mind goes blank, only able to think about how wet and tight you are. Never experiencing anything like it before. Almost every night you have to change the sheets, the sheer volume of his cum too much for your body to handle; however, that doesn’t stop you from fucking him every damn day, waking him up with blowjobs when he has morning wood, or the way you beg for him to cum in you just one more time.
Bucky understands now. He understands why people go so crazy over sex. The pleasure you give him makes him weak in the knees, not a single thought in his head, only the urge to fill you up over and over again.
That’s how he ends up in bed, railing you. Legs thrown over his shoulders taking his brutal assault. He’s gotten more confident each time he fucks you. He may not last long, but he makes up for it with how many times he can cum and keep going. The both of you writhing in pleasure, him drawing seven orgasms from you already, eating your pussy for over an hour.
He wasn’t too far behind, cumming inside of you three times and once down your throat. The sounds of your fucking is louder than ever, your squirt mixed with his excessive loads making you wetter than ever. “Fuck, doll, this pussy is so fucking wet, filled up with my cum. So fucking dirty, letting me use you like this, fucking you like a damn toy. God, my cock is so fucking sensitive, gonna blow again. Yeah, you want that? I bet you do, you dirty whore.”
One thing that Bucky has found out he really loves is dirty talk and degradation. He loves when you do it to him just as much as doing it to you. It makes his cock somehow even harder. Each push of his hips is met with a harsh slap of his thighs meeting your ass and the vulgar sound of the excessive wetness of your pussy.
“Shit, doll, gonna cum. Gonna cum so goddamn much, make this pussy overflow. Shitshitshit, fuck, m’cumming.” His balls pull up, forcing so much cum out of his cock that he swears he’s about to pass out. His eyes roll to the back of his head when he feels you squirt all over him, another wave of cum bursting from him. The force of your orgasm pushes his cock out, but Bucky was brainless now, having cum so much he was losing control of his body.
His hips never stopped moving, almost not noticing that he wasn’t in your pussy anymore, too lost in his own pleasure, cum still flowing from him. He tried to put his cock back in, needing to keep you full of his cum, but the amount of cum and wetness made a slippery mess. At the next thrust of his hips, his cock slides down, not entering your welcoming pussy, rather trying, and failing to enter your ass.
Your hole tight and unwilling to stretch on such short notice takes your breath away. The pain is instant, shooting from your hole all the way up your spine. “FUCK!” You push Bucky off of you with so much force he almost falls off the bed. Curling on your side, you try to gasp for air, the pain knocking the wind out of you.
Bucky is knocked out of his stupor, cock immediately softening when he sees how much pain you’re in. “Doll, what happened? Are you okay?” Ice drenches his spine. He barely started having sex and he’s already hurt you. Everything was fine seconds ago and now you’re curled up in the fetal position gasping for air.
“I’m okay, Bucky, I’m okay.” It comes out breathy but you try to compose yourself for your boyfriend’s sake, needing to comfort him, letting him know he didn’t do anything wrong. You roll over looking at Bucky who looks like a kicked puppy.
“What did I do?” His voice is thick with unshed tears. You’re the last person he ever wants to hurt. You motion for him to come closer to you. At first he hesitates, not wanting to accidentally hurt you again, but you insist so he follows.
“You tried to go in the wrong hole, sweetheart. That one doesn’t open up as easy.” He whines. Bucky can’t deny that the thought of his cock in your ass hadn’t crossed his mind more than once. But he couldn’t ever find the confidence to ask you. Of course he knows that you would never judge him, but he didn’t know that he wasn’t the only one who was interested.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, doll.” You cut off the rest of his apology, not wanting to hear him talk badly about himself.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. A lot of people do that, they just have to prep for it.” That gains Bucky’s attention. Other people want to do the same thing as him?
“I-well-they do?” Bucky can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He was terrible at having any conversations about what he wants to do in the bedroom, too afraid to ask.
“Yes, they do. If you want we can try it too. We just need to have some prep beforehand, so you’ll fit inside of me and it won’t hurt.”
“It hurts you?” There was no way that Bucky would do anything if it would hurt you. He gets off on your pleasure just as much as his own. Why would anyone want to do something that hurts their partner?
“Not when I’m prepared. You have to work that hole open because it’s not usually meant for that kind of stuff. It’s supposed to feel good for the both of us.” That makes his cock twitch. The feeling of your pussy is so different from the feel of your mouth. They both drive him crazy, but the thought of what your ass would feel like has his cock rock hard in a matter of seconds.
“Can we, uh, can we do that?” His cheeks were on fire, never having been so embarrassed to ask for something in his life. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, not wanting you to see his face. The sound of your giggle makes him curl further into you, feeling the vibrations through his chest.
“Of course we can, sweetheart. I’ll show you what to do, talk you through it.” It soothes Bucky, knowing that you’re there to guide him. To show him how to please you. He has no clue what he would do without you.
“Have you done this before?” Bucky knows he has no right to be jealous of any of your exes when he is the one who gets to be with you, but the image of someone else taking that hole annoys him.
“Only by myself, but I’ll show you how to start.” Gently, you push Bucky off of you, making him sit up on the bed. He stares down at you with so much love you almost just beckon him back to you, wanting to keep him in your arms forever. Nonetheless, you spread your legs, showing him your swollen, cum filled cunt.
You see Bucky’s cock bop with a pulse of arousal at the sight. “Oh, I almost forgot.” Bucky watches as you flip over, ass up in the air causing him to moan. You glance back at him with a smirk, but continue on your mission. Opening the drawer to your bedside table, you pull out a bottle of lube, tossing it to Bucky who easily catches it.
“What is this? What’s lube?” You move back into your original position, drawing Bucky’s attention away from the bottle.
“Well, you gotta get in there somehow. It makes everything slicker, less painful. Open the bottle, sweetheart and put it on one of your fingers. Then I want you to circle my hole with it.”
Bucky whispers a quiet, “oh fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” underneath his breath before popping the cap to the bottle open and putting a generous amount on his finger before bringing it to your rim, circling it just like you said.
“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart. Always listen so well to me.” Bucky’s hips jerk involuntarily at your praise, wanting more.
“Can I put one in now, please?” Oh, your baby was desperate. You look right into his eyes and nod, letting him know he can. “Shit, you’re so tight.” You only gasp, the feeling of his finger inside of you is so much different than your own. He slowly pumps his finger in and out, curling it to find your spot. His brows pull together in concentration, not being able to find it. He has to put his ego aside and ask for help, he knows it. “Doll, can you show me where it is?”
“There’s no g-spot in my ass, sweets.” This stops his finger, his head immediately falling, not wanting to look into your eyes. He knows men have a prostate, it was a whole deal back in the day with men getting cancer. So why didn’t you have one?
“But, what about your prostate?” The poor thing. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He doesn’t know any better and he just wants to make you feel good. The last thing you want to do is make him feel bad for something he didn’t know.
“Oh, sweets, women don’t have them, only men do.” This was a very awkward conversation to have when Bucky’s finger is still in your ass, just sitting there unmoving. Bucky bites his bottom lip, avoiding eye contact with you. Why can’t he do anything right? First he tries to spear you with his cock in your ass and now he is trying to find a damn prostate that you don’t even have.
“M’sorry, doll. I didn’t know, I just thought everyone had one.” Bucky feels the blood slowly leaving his cock from the mortification. You felt your face heat up too, the pressure of his finger a constant reminder that he was inside of you.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, just move your finger like you would your cock. All you have to do is be gentle and you’ll get the hang of it.” When he finally looks up at you he has the sweetest pout on his lips. Keeping eye contact with him, you trail your hand down your body, meeting his hand where it resides inside of you. Wrapping your hand around his, you guide his movement, slowly trusting his hand until he starts to move it on his own.
“It feels so tight. How am I going to fit in there?” Just the thought of his cock in the hole that is struggling to accommodate one finger has the blood rushing right back into his dick.
You let out a small moan, enjoying the feeling of Bucky’s finger, much better than your own. “You can add another finger, sweets, just be gentle.” Bucky’s breath hitches, cock desperate to be inside you, but he knows he has to wait. He brings his middle finger to your hole, rubbing it the way he did the first; his first finger still inside you. After a few seconds he gingerly pushes his second finger in, extremely aware of the stretch around his digits.
“Oh fuck, want to feel you around my cock so bad.” Bucky knows that as soon as he puts his cock in you he’s going to cum. It took so long for him to not cum immediately when he’s in your pussy. Even so, he still can’t last more than a few minutes. It’s still a shock to him that he didn’t bust as soon as you took him in your mouth for the first time.
Bucky keeps up the pace with his fingers, ignoring the ache in his cock. When you tell him to add another he eagerly does so, wanting to stretch you out as fast as possible while keeping you comfortable. You see his hips jerking, trying to find relief from the pressure building up in his balls.
“Spread your fingers for me, sweets, stretch me out for your fat cock.” The whine that leaves Bucky’s lips has your cunt throbbing and your ass clenching around his fingers. He does what you say, like he always does, and the moan that leaves the both of you is salacious. “You like that, huh? You like the thought of your fat cock in my ass, sweets?” Bucky can only groan, frantically nodding his head, his dick somehow getting harder.
“Please tell me you’re ready. Need my cock in you so bad, doll.” He looks like he could cum just from the sight of his fingers in your hole. You take pity on him, not being able to stand the thought of him not being inside you any longer.
“Yeah, sweets, just need more lube.” As quickly as he can while still being tender, he removes his fingers and desperately searches for the bottle, squirting more than enough on his cock. Skooching closer to you, he spreads your legs, lifting you up so he can stare at your stretched hole. He places your legs on top of his thighs, looking at you for confirmation before grabbing his cock and lining it up with your entrance.
Slowly pushing in, he can feel the resistance of your ass, yet it was still so welcoming. Bucky’s eyes roll back, his metal hand wrapping around the base of his cock, trying to stave off his orgasm. “Doll, I can’t, fuck, it feels too good, I- oh fuck, m’cumming.” Bucky only had the tip of his cock in your ass. He was vaguely aware that he shouldn’t push the rest of his cock into you so the hand holding the base of his cock moves up his length, jerking his cock to help ride his orgasm out.
“Fuck, sweets, I can feel you filling up my ass. You’re going to make me leak all over the bed.” This only makes Bucky whine more, hips jerking slightly, still trying to stop himself from slamming the rest of his cock inside, but the feeling of his cum shooting in your ass it too hot so you move your hips, trying to take more of his cock, while he’s still cumming inside of you.
“Ohhhh fuuuucck, that’s so good, so fucking good, want to stay inside you forever, keep this tight ass wrapped around my cock all the damn time.” More cum shot out of his cock with renewed vigor. Bucky thought he was about to pass out, fighting off the feeling because there was no way he could miss a second of being inside you.
His head was thrown back, not able to control his head. You felt your pussy throb, slick leaking down to where his cock rests in your hole, clit pulsing, hard and begging to be touched. You couldn’t help yourself, rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his cock that was still hard but not shooting his load anymore. “You’re so fucking big, sweets, stretching me out so much, never felt anything like it before.” It wasn’t a lie, it never felt like this with any of your toys, the fact that Bucky’s load was supersized doing nothing to quell your arousal.
“Bet I could feel myself if I stuck my fingers in your pussy. Massage my cock through your walls. Bet you would like that, wouldn’t you? Yeah, I think you would.” Bucky had no room to talk about how needy you were when he busted as soon as his tip was inside of you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when you’re already cock drunk just from the few shallow thrusts of your hips.
All you could do was moan and nod your head, wanting to feel him everywhere. Bucky had to use his flesh fingers, needing to feel his cock through your pussy. Without preamble, he pushes two fingers into your pussy, immediately curling them to feel his cock through your thin walls. “Fuck, doll, you’re so fucking perfect, taking my cock so well.”
He couldn’t hold out any longer, pulling his hips back just to slam them back in, the sound of your leaking slick mixed with all the lube around your ass made a sinful sound. Just that one thrust knocks the wind out of the both of you, only to catch your breath to wantonly moan. “How does it feel, doll? How does my fat cock feel up your tight ass?” The slapping noises only got louder with each thrust, each harder than the last.
“So good, daddy, so fucking good!” Bucky’s hips stutter, cock aching to cum, but he can’t, not yet.
Your moans mixed so sweetly with Bucky’s whines and groans. His fingers rubbing his dick every time he pushes back in. “You’re gonna make me cum again. Need to feel you milk my cock. Need you to milk daddy’s cock for him.” You shake your head, not able to process the pleasure he’s giving you, having already had seven orgasms. “Yes, you can, doll. I need it, need it so fucking bad.”
With his fingers still thrusting in your pussy, his metal hand comes down to rub your clit. Your hips jerk, trying to get away from the cool metal but you have nowhere to run. He fucks you even harder, urging the cum from his balls. You don’t even feel the coil tighten in your belly, overwhelming pleasure sneaking up on you.
You can’t even scream, eyes rolling back, somehow mustering up the strength to push his hand away from your clit. With your ass clenching so hard around his dick, he can’t hold out any longer, cumming in your ass. He feels the wetness of your squirt push his fingers out, wetting his stomach and making his thrusts just that much easier.
His orgasm is just as silent, knocking the words right out of him. He can’t even breath, veins in his forehead bulging, face turning red. This one doesn’t last as long, his balls being drained from all the cum he’s shot out in the past hour. Right before Bucky passes out, he sucks in huge gulps of air, trying to come back down to earth. You both lay there, eyes dazed, looking at nothing, covered in cum, lube, and squirt. Neither of you care, you couldn’t even if you tried. You’re the first to speak, voice hoarse from all the screaming you’ve done.
“We’re going to do that again.”
Bucky can only get out one word, “yeah.”
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes smut#bucky x you#bucky imagine#bucky smut#sebastian stan x reader#virgin!bucky barnes#virgin!bucky#virginbucky x reader
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𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗽𝘂𝘁𝗲 (𝗛𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗮 𝗛𝗶𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶 𝗫 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿)
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w/c - 2.6k
content - MDNI! 18 +, fem!reader, porn with plot, asking a man in a suit to not take it off when he fucks you, not proofread because it's so late rn, hope I'll get to it tomorrow
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When Higuruma Hiromi finished climbing up the stairs, moving slowly and sighing until he finally reached his apartment, the walls around the floor were already rhythmically humming.
"Fucking hell," It took every single ounce of strength in his body to turn away from his own door and turn to knock on the neighbors'.
Goddamn it, not him again, you think as you unlock the door, wincing at the passing thought of ever finding the grumpy, tired man waiting outside of your apartment in any way attractive.
"Yes?" You utter, cross-armed with a fake smile glazing your lips.
He stares into the space behind you for a moment before meeting your eyes, "I'm sorry to bother you," you should be sorry for bothering me, "I know we've had this discussion before," about a million goddamn times, "but if you wouldn't mind," before I go insane, "turning down the music?"
"Listen," you drawl, mimicking his calm tone through gritted teeth, "we talked this through already. It's still early, and it's not against the law to listen to music at a reasonable volume in my own apartment."
Higuruma's eye twitched at the words, still trying to retain a neutral expression. The law? You're bringing up the law?
Now, Higuruma Hiromi didn't consider himself a proud man, but the next words to come out of his mouth made his self-respect plummet, "I'm sorry, it's just that ever since my wife died, I've been having trouble sleeping."
You blink slowly, your arms dropping to the sides of your body, "O-oh," you babbled, "I'm so sorry, I didn't - I - " the heat rises to your cheeks, "I'm so sorry, uh, I didn't catch your name - "
"Higuruma Hiromi," he adds.
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Hiromi; I'll turn it down."
That evening, Hiromi sinks on the sofa like he's carried by angel's wings, relishing in the serene, tranquil, long-awaited silence. But something itches at the back of his mind; he spent too many days in court to know that a lie will always come back to bite.
-
"Shit," you hiss as your groceries hitting the building's floor, apples rolling on the tiles beneath you. "Stupid apples," you grumble as you stoop down, desperately trying to stuff them into your overflowing bag.
"Do you need help?" A voice behind you asks.
"It's fine," you breathe, catching another rolling apple in your hand, "I'm just here, uh, cussing at the fruit."
"I can see that," and Hiromi crouches down to help you, the fabric of his suit rustling as his pale fingers help you pick up the things off the floor.
You unlock your door, pushing it in with your shoulder, and your neighbor follows suit into your apartment.
"Where do I - " Hiromi stands at the entrance, his arms packed with your shopping.
"Oh - uh, " you walk to the kitchen counter, "right here is fine," you fix your gaze on the man unloading your shopping, a strand of hair falling on his forehead as he does. "Thank you."
After he finished, his eyes turn to find yours, and you're not quite sure why you're staring or at what, with your gaze rolling from his suit to his dark eyes, but you manage to conclude that, strangely enough, it's not unnatural to see him standing in your kitchen.
A long moment of silence graces the room before he finally utters, "It's nothing."
You thank him three more times while he exits your apartment, and he brushes off each one. It's only after he leaves that you notice the rapid pace of your heart, and you walk to the mirror to look at your face, standing before it for a moment, wondering how long it has been since you've turned this deep shade of crimson.
-
Oh god, you're so nice.
"I've brought them up for you, I hope you don't mind," you smile at your neighbor, bent over in your too-tight lounge shorts to put a stack of letters near his door, "they just seemed to be piling up."
"You really didn't have to," He mutters, crouching to meet you at the bottom of his door, gathering the letters in his hands.
But you just kept the smile on your face, so soft and considerate the pangs of guilt overturned his stomach. "Oh, and - uh," is my face growing red? "I - I baked some cookies, I mean," you falter, "I mean, I baked too many cookies. Would you like some?"
Maybe he is attractive, your neighbor, with his soft and tired dark eyes; or maybe it's the depth of sorrow you thought resided in them that made the need to help him grow.
It would be rude to decline, wouldn't it? "S-sure," he says - But it's immoral to agree, and the thought fades at the scent of fresh baked goods from your apartment already filling the hallway.
You don't mean to be rude when you walk through his door, setting a small plate of glazed lemon cookies on his old coffee table, your gaze darting to the pile of records on the shelf in the corner, "So, you do like music," you chuckle, eyes fluttering over the names on the covers.
"I do," he admits, the soft lemon cookie melting on his tongue, "But if Sinatra came here and sang while I'm trying to sleep, I don't think I'd like him that much anymore."
You catch his gaze, and your lips twitch for a moment before you burst into laughter. God, he stares at you, thinking you're an almost ethereal sight as you browse his records, perched on his old leather couch, laughing at something he said, with your smile scrunching the corners of your eyes so gracefully he thinks he just might -
"Love?" you ask.
"Yes?"
And you laugh again, "No - I meant, Love." You point at the record sitting on the top of the shelf, "Didn't take you for one to listen to them."
He coughs, a red blush dusting his pale cheeks, "It's a good album."
"It is, I don't think I've ever heard it on vinyl," you say, the palms of your hands grazing your thighs as you lift yourself up from the sofa, "Well, I think I better be off - "
"Would you like to?" He asks.
"Sure."
As you sit there, listening to the soft flamenco-style guitar flowing from the record player, it takes everything from Hiromi to calm the urge to touch you or at least hold your hand, fuck, he'd settle for a brush of your fingers against his own.
Tackling these urges, blatantly ignoring the music, his mind replays the same old words he'd read countless times, a thing he usually does when he's trying to take his mind off something; - One sultry evening early in July a young man emerged from the small furnished lodging he occupied in a large five-storied house on Pereoulok S - , and turned slowly, with an air of indecision, towards the K - bridge.*
*a/n: the opening line of Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky
-
The faint smile you give him as you meet him at the entrance to the building makes the blood rush to his ears.
"Good evening," you say, and Hiromi thinks it really is much better now.
"Good evening," he answers, pointing at the exit, "I'm out to the convenience, do you need anything?"
You shake your head, "Thank you," you say before continuing the path up the stairs.
It's a frantic knock on the door that startles you once you're out of the shower, and you rush to open it, towel still wrapped around your damp hair.
"Yes?" Your gaze meets a young, short-haired woman, a stack of papers barely fitting in the grip of her hands.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she apologizes, "I must have gotten the doors mixed up, does Higuruma Hiromi live on this floor?"
You nod, pointing a finger to the door next to yours, "But I just saw him leaving."
"Oh, crap -," the woman mutters, "I'm terribly sorry to ask this, but these are for the trial tomorrow," she lifts the papers up a bit, "would you mind if I leave them with you?"
"Trial?" You inquire, already holding your hands out to take the papers.
"Yes, a boy arrested on suspicion of murder and robbery," she sighs, "he won't let it go."
You hold the stack of papers, "Hiromi's a lawyer?"
The woman chuckles, "Oh, ah - yes."
"He works so hard," you think aloud, "even after what happened to his wife."
The woman's brows furrow, "Wife? Oh god, no, Mr. Higuruma's not married."
You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing at her words, "Sorry - uhm, has he ever been married?"
She shakes her head, "Well, I'll just leave these with you; I'll call him so he'll pick them up once he returns," she parts with a curt bow.
-
Loud. Insufferably, overwhelmingly, dreadfully, loud. The music crashes onto the walls, making them buzz so furiously you would have missed the knock on the door if only you weren't already waiting for it.
"Yes?" you scoff at the puzzled lawyer standing at your doorstep.
Hiromi's eyebrows knit together, the music reverberating through the staircase as he asked, "It's a bit loud, don't you think?"
You step away for a moment to find the stack of papers, returning to the doorstep to shove it in his arms, "Why? Will it piss off your imaginary wife?"
Oh, he thinks, and the door slams in his face.
He goes into his apartment and places the papers on the coffee table. He sits down to read them, only to find his eyes skimming over the letters, not quite making any sense of what he's reading with the music playing through the wall and his conscience raging in his mind.
Another knock on the door, and you open it with a huff, "Forgot something?"
Hiromi stands with his arms dangling by the sides of his body, a soft look in his eyes as he mutters, "I'm sorry."
He's just a neighbor, right? A nice one, at that, with a handsome face and kind eyes. Why am I so angry? Why's the music blaring with the intent of ruining his evening? Why's he standing so close -
It's an eternity in your mind, but only a few seconds pass while you think, unconsciously staring directly at his lips. He catches that, of course, he wouldn't get anywhere in court if he wasn't mindful of nuance.
The first thing you feel is his hand grasping at the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly close to him. Next, the soft brush of his lips against yours as he breathes, "Is this alright?"
You don't answer; instead, you grasp at his arms through the fabric of his suit, capturing his lips as a fog settles in your mind, a soft hum running from your mouth to his.
His arms wander on your body while you relish in the softness of his lips; they skim across your lower back to come down and hold a firm grip on your ass when his tongue finally darts into your mouth. "Fuck," he pants, pushing you up against the wall, and you only momentarily remember you should probably close the damn door.
"Hm?" he puzzles when you break away from the kiss, watching you gesture towards the door, "I guess you can be considerate towards your neighbors," and he pushes the door, his tongue returning to your mouth before he even hears the closing thud.
It doesn't take long for him to slide his hand from your ass into your pants, long fingers gliding on your lower stomach, dragging the fabric of your underwear to the side as he rubs circles over your clit. "Don't be so quiet," he hums against your lips when he sees you biting back your moans, "Trust me, no one can hear you through this noise."
"Fuck, Hiro - " you gasp at the feeling of his fingers entering your cunt, one look at his glazed-over eyes and you try to desperately press your lips to his again, but he finds the crook of your neck instead, sucking on the skin there, leaving small bruises while his fingers glide in and out of your soaked cunt.
Each graze of his teeth against your neck makes you clench against his fingers, and he feels himself growing unbearably hard at the feeling, the slight friction of his cock rutting against the fabric of his trousers barely enough to give him some relief.
"Shit, sucking my fingers in like that - " he murmurs against your neck, the pads of his fingers caressing the spot that made you whimper, "You close?" And you feel the knot in your stomach come undone at his words, wetness gushing over his fingers as your body quivers.
You let out a choked gasp when he picks you up from the floor, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Your clothes are discarded by the time you reach the couch, and you're trapped under him, back pressed against the sofa while the fabric of his suit rubs against your naked body.
The jacket of his suit falls to the floor, and his hand reaches to undo his tie, "N-no," you breathe, "Leave it on," you say as your hand works on the zipper of his trousers, pulling them down together with his underwear just low enough for his cock to spring out.
"Dirty," he chuckles against your lips, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. You moan at the feeling, pushing your hips down to take in the tip, "I always liked lawyers," you push a hand up to grip his hair, tugging at the soft strands.
"Did you now?" His muscles tighten as he pushes his cock further into you, rolling his hips to finally bottom out inside you.
"Mhmm," you moan into his mouth, feeling your pussy push against his thrusts, drunk on the soft smell of his cologne lingering in the air.
"Hiro - " you can barely breathe out his name with the feeling of his cock working you open, your hand leaving his hair to grip at his tie dangling from his neck, holding it tightly in your fist.
"God," he groans, chasing his climax with deeper thrusts, "you really do like lawyers," he huffs as your pussy clenches against him, the heat spreading under his skin.
He pulls out, and you whimper at the absence of his cock as he flips you, your head pressed flat against the couch, your ass perked up against his hips. His thrusts feel unbelievably deeper from that angle, his hand reaching to grip mercilessly at your hair to pull your head up.
"Ah - Fuck -," you babble, "Hiro - I - ," your reach a hand to rub your clit, his thrusts a perfect pace to the coiling tension in your stomach, and he anchors his hand on the fat of your ass, fingers digging deeper as he bites back his moans, coming closer to his own release.
"I - Ah -, " and you don't even finish your moan as your back arches, heat coursing through your body as you come, feeling as if you'd collapse if not for his hand holding you up by your hair. His hips stutter, a silent 'fuck' escaping his lips as you feel his seed painting your walls, his thrusts finally slowing down.
He pulls out, releasing the grip on your hair, and you turn a flushed gaze towards him, a dazed smile glazing your lips. He adjusts himself back in his trousers, his eyes falling on the speakers on your table, still ruthlessly blasting music.
"Is this the..?" He motions towards the speakers, and you nod.
He gets up, his hand twisting the volume knob until the white mark on it touches zero. The room grows silent.
Finally, he thinks.
#higuruma hiromi x reader#higuruma smut#higuruma x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk higuruma#jjk hiromi#jujutsu kaisen higuruma#jjk x reader smut#jjk smut#jjk x y/n#higuruma x you#hiromi x reader#hiromi x y/n#hiromi x you#jjk hiromi x reader#higuruma hiromi smut#higuruma hiromi x you#higuruma hiromi x y/n#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x y/n
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Close Encounters of the Spiderkind
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Single Mother!Reader
Summary: When reader refuses to go on a mission, Miguel decides to pay a home visit to figure out why
Warnings: SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR ATSV! fluff, slight hurt/comfort and angst if you squint hard enough, Miguel is a softie around kids, it’s giving slow burn/platonic vibes, not fluent in Spanish so feel free to correct my wording/punctuation
A/N: This is kind of my way of dipping my toes back into the world of fanfiction writing, if ya’ll end up liking it I was planning on making it a little series of sorts. Not necessarily a multipart story, rather just little moments following the same general characters. I took the liberty of assigning a gender and name to the reader’s daughter since that sounded like it’d be easier in terms of writing, the rest is still like any Y/N story. Reader is also a spider person, but I’m not married to the idea for future oneshots? Drabbles? I don’t know what you kids call them nowadays...
MASTERLIST | TAGLIST
It had only been a couple months since you had joined Spider-Society and, while you were still trying to find your footing, things were going a lot better than expected. There was a comradery with being around other people with the same abilities, who had experienced the same losses, victories and all that came with wearing the mask. You had found some good friends among the other Spiders, particularly with Peter B and Jess, as there was a common ground there that you had yet to share with them; something that the three of you had in common.
That commonality was currently asleep in the other room, your daughter Vada. For once, it had been a day where the radios were quiet. No calls from HQ to go on missions, no worrying chatter on the police radios, so you had taken the day to spend time with your daughter. The three year old was going through a phase where she was having nightmares almost every night, so the day was spent at home relaxing. From watching movies, to cooking meals together, Vada had been your little shadow all day and you had enjoyed every second of it.
While your toddler had tuckered herself out, you were restless, curled up on the couch watching TV at a low enough volume that only you could hear, thanks to your heightened senses. It may have been almost midnight, but that was still considered an early night for you. Used to the regime of patrolling until early in the morning and crawling into bed to get a few hours asleep before Vada came in to ask for her breakfast. Just as you were starting to feel the pull of sleep on your eyelids, letting the quiet calm sink into your bones, the moment was then yanked from you.
When the beeping started the first time, you had acted on instinct to silence the noise. Your hand practically slapped the Gizmo on your wrist, the same Gizmo given to you by Miguel when you had joined his Spider-Society.
Ugh, Miguel.
It was a damn shame that such a pretty face was wasted on a sourpuss like him. While being the leader of an elite group of Spider-People sounded like no easy task, there were times the man definitely took it too seriously. Sure, he had a great work ethic and was a respectable leader, but that all came with the downside that you couldn’t stand being around him for more than five minutes. You two hadn’t gotten off on the right foot and it seemed like he wouldn’t let you live that down. Ever the stern, cold-hearted leader, barking orders and chewing your ass out if something went wrong. He hardly ever smiled and when he did it was condescending, almost smug as he questioned just how intelligent you actually were. A waste of a pretty face indeed.
That pretty face came to mind when you looked down at your Gizmo, which was beeping once more, finally processing that it was Miguel who was trying to contact you. Shit.
“Hello?” your voice is quiet, wary as you answer him finally; trying to keep quiet for the toddler sleeping in the other room. Also because of the worry that you’ve pissed him off once again.
“Why aren’t you answering?” his voice cuts through the silence, monotone and firm. “An anomaly was detected on Earth-616, go take care of it. Ben Reilly and Peter Parker from Earth-13122 are already en route.”
“I....can’t,” you cringe as the word leaves your mouth. The pregnant pause that follows feels like an eternity.
“What do you mean you ‘can’t’?” He spits the word back at you, like you offended him with just the one syllable. More silence follows, Miguel waiting for your answer and you not knowing what to say. “...Is something wrong?”
“I have to go,” you end the call, not even registering the concern that had slid its way into his tone. With a heavy sigh, you lay your head against the back of the couch, regretting how you handled the situation, but thankful it was dealt with. That is until the familiar sound of a portal opening and closing disturbs your precious quiet once more.
It makes you almost jump out of your skin, physically lurching off the couch, the warm hues from the light of the portal filling your living room and disappearing as quickly as they came. In their place is Miguel, clad in his spidersuit from head to toe. A wave of emotions goes through you, the look of shock, confusion and anger crossing your face in less than a second. He doesn’t seem to have noticed you yet, glancing around the space and disengaging his mask when he doesn’t register any immediate threats.
“What are you doing here!?” it takes all you have not to shout the words at him, instead resorting to a sort of hiss to keep your voice down. Miguel doesn’t seem to take the hint.
“This is why you couldn’t come? Because you’re too busy lounging around and watching trash TV?” he isn’t shouting per se, rather his tone makes him sound louder. That and the quiet of your apartment probably amplified his voice even more. “I know the weight of keeping the multiverse intact might go over your head, but the least you could do is be there for your teammates. I don’t allow slackers in my-”
“Shh!” you’re moving towards him without even realizing, motherly instinct telling you to silence the noise that dared try to wake your daughter. Your hand reaches to cover his loud mouth and Miguel takes a step back to avoid your touch, the frustration reflecting in his eyes turning into red, hot anger.
“Did you just ‘shh’ me!?” he sounds as if he’s in disbelief, his voice now actually rising in volume. You stumble over your words, trying to apologize and explain yourself all at once. Now it’s his turn to step towards you, his imposing frame towering over you and you can’t help but shrink back, “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you don’t get your ass in your suit, I’ll-”
“Mama?” Vada’s little voice cuts through the air, both Miguel and you freezing. When you turn to look at your daughter, who’s standing in the doorway to her bedroom, it feels like everything around you fades away. The static of the TV, Miguel, everything until all you can focus on is Vada. She’s clearly distressed, as you come to kneel in front of her you can see the tears in her big round eyes, the redness around them and on her nose, the slight tremble in her bottom lip. You know what’s wrong before she even has to explain.
“Sweet girl, another one?” you ask calmly, a hand going to stroke her hair. Vada nods, confirming your suspicion that she had been roused by yet another nightmare. The creak of the floorboards alerts you of Miguel taking a step closer and you’re suddenly very much aware of his presence once again. However, your eyes don’t leave Vada’s crying face. “Let’s get you back into bed,” you try to coax her into heading back the way she came, your toddler only resisting and shaking her head firmly.
“I want Mama’s bed,” she demands, sounding groggy as the sleep she had just risen from had yet to fully leave her. Vada doesn’t even let you respond before her tiny arms wrap around your neck, face pressing into the junction of your neck and shoulder, “Want you,” she mutters against you, the exhaustion and distress in her voice making your heart ache for her.
“Vada,” you sigh heavily, exhausted as well. Exhausted from the heavy workload of being Spider-Woman not just for your universe, but other universes as well. Exhausted from the fact your child couldn’t get a wink of sleep and seeing her frustrated made you frustrated as well. You cave, scooping your daughter up in your arms and standing. Her body molds to yours, relaxing against your frame like it had done so many times before. As you rub her back and kiss her temple, you’re forced to turn and deal with the elephant in the room. Or rather the spider.
You expect Miguel to look annoyed, as usual, but he isn’t. In fact, the anger he was prepared to unleash on you moments ago seems to have vanished, replaced with a look of curiosity, intrigue and dare you say....awe? He’s looking at Vada, who’s about to pass out in your arms, with a softened expression, the sight of the small girl seeming to tug the corners of his mouth up just slightly.
Huh.
Miguel seems to catch himself staring, shaking his head to clear the fog and meeting your gaze once more. “I...didn’t know,” is all he can say, not as confident in the way he stands.
“No one knows,” you reply in a much harsher tone than you intended. After a deep breath, you adjust how you speak, “I’ve only been on the team for a couple months. It’s not that I don’t trust the other spiders...I just want to be careful, yah know?” Miguel nods along with what you say and you can’t help but keep talking to fill the now awkward silence, “Usually I have someone to watch her, but it’s been so long since I’ve had a day to just give her all my attention- I promise, it won’t happen again. I know that I should answer if you call-”
“Cállate,” Miguel cuts you off and you’re almost grateful he’s saved you from rambling. There’s another moment of silence before he sighs, “You don’t have to explain yourself, really. If I had known,” he waves a hand to indicate to your daughter, “this was the reason you were ignoring my calls, I wouldn’t have been so hard on you. Your daughter comes first, I get it.”
His words hit harder than they should. Every Spider-Person had heard the story. How Miguel was willing to put his own duties aside to live in a universe where he had a daughter of his own. Replacing the him of that universe, who had died tragically, to live the life he had always wanted; only to have that universe crumble around him. Literally. It explained his cold demeanor, you’d probably be a bitch too if your daughter died in your arms, but that coldness you had become accustomed to seemed to melt away the longer he took in the sight of you holding your daughter.
“You said her name’s Vada?” he asks, stepping a little closer. Normally, you would probably keep your distance from him, maternal instincts in overdrive with an imposing figure like Miguel so close to Vada, but you stay in place. Not bothered by his presence for once. He’s looking at you, expecting an answer, and you nod your head. He hums, “How old?”
“Three,” you answer and he hums again. “...Is everything okay? Regarding the mission?”
“Huh? Oh,” he clears his throat, adjusting his stance and taking a small step back. When had he gotten so close to you? “I think those two should be fine on their own. Earth-13122′s Spider-Man knows what he’s doing and-”
“You know, you can just call him Lego Spider-Man. Everyone calls him Lego Spider-Man.”
“That’s not his correct title.”
“Uh-huh,” you smile, holding back a laugh at how serious Miguel seemed to be about the subject. “...Well, I think it’s time we go to bed.”
“Right, right,” Miguel moves like he’s about to walk out the front door, seeming to forget that he had come via portal and catching himself as his hand grasps the handle. Has he always been this socially awkward? He turns to look at you again, “Should I just...?”
“Yes, please open your noisy portal outside.”
“Claro que sí,” he nods in understanding, opening the door. Just as he’s about to leave, he pauses again, turning to look back at you, “Even if you’re busy, you should still answer when I call. I was worried about you.”
“Worried about me?” you repeat, a bit of teasing in your voice.
“Worried as in the normal amount of worried.”
“Sure, sure, O’Hara.”
“I’m leaving now,” he huffs, turning to leave again. Yet he can’t help but stop one more time, “Goodnight.”
He finally leaves, door shutting with a soft click. You go to the door to lock it, carrying Vada into your room for bed. It seems that she had managed to fall back asleep despite your little interaction with Miguel. As you lay down and pull the comforter over the two of you, Vada snuggling impossibly close to you once more, you lie there thinking about what had just transpired.
Maybe his pretty face wasn’t a waste.
Tags:
@l0sert0wn @deputy-videogamer @arctic4life @sasaleleselfships @autismsupermusicalassassin @snert-bees @qundadedingle11 @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @fangirlreice7 @mouse-teagreat @andr3wgarfieldsupremacist @yellieeeee @thesrtuggleisveryreal @escherichiacolli @sweeteaacorner @marvelouslovely-barnes @meeom @candlewitch-cryptic @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @melovetitties @ilovemycat6808 @vegas-writing-den @pippethealien @shibble @mommyhange1 @chiikasevennn @pokhouu @jenniferdixon05207 @m0sscr3ates @momos-peaches @insanelycrazyanddelusional @miggyoharaswife @justtnat @imliquidesmooth @thedevillovesflowers @mvc2019 @starrynightnight @risinglightmoon @charming4u @whitetearx @blueparadisecollection16s @idontknowwhatimgoinghere @ziyahshinez
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara headcannons#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara#across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099#close encounters of the spiderkind#miguel o'hara x single mother!reader
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private show
summary: you miss harry’s concert but half of it isn’t your fault.
warnings: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, swearing, kissing, teasing, unprotected shower sex, dirty talk, fingering...
word count: 3,938
a/n: i literally wrote this about four years ago, but it’s all been edited and freshened up a little for you guys! i hope you’re staying safe and if there’s any writings in particular you’d like to see, send me a message! anyway, enjoy this smutty piece:)
//
The car broke down. You weren’t sure how it happened, or why, but the engine wouldn’t start and your dad suspected the battery died.
You’re in London with Harry for a few days, Harry performing and you visiting your family in a small town a few hours out of central London. You’d come by late afternoon yesterday and now you’re stuck.
You’re meant to be going back to London in time for Harry’s show, but with no car and none of your family having one to lend, you’re shit out of luck. You didn’t have the money or time to get the battery recharged or get a new one, and in all honesty, you didn’t know what you needed to do for it anyway.
So, with your little suitcase and your purse, you got yourself a train ticket straight to London. You missed the first train, the bus getting you to the station three minutes late. So you had no choice but to wait in the warmth of the sun for seven minutes until the next one came.
You only stayed on that one for three stops, staring at your phone screen when the rail app told you that you’d need to get off. And you did, sat down for twenty minutes while you waited for the next one that took you straight to Greenwich.
By then it was already 7 pm and you knew you’d most likely miss his entire show at this rate. And then the train showed up and you hopped on it, squeezing between the standing people and you shoved your earphones in, playing an old playlist Harry had made you.
And that’s when you get the text.
iMessage from H💞
Hey. You close, I’m on in an hour x
You sigh and rub your forehead, flicking back to the app on your phone and groaning when you realise you’ll be twenty minutes on that train and then need to get another Bank one for six minutes, then a thirty-minute walk, and then the underground.
iMessage to H💞
Just left for the Greenwich line. Car broke and I don't have time or money on me to get it sorted. Taking the train and it’s insane how many connections you have to make. I don’t know what time I’m gonna be there. Does security know I’m coming in backstage? Xx
You lock your phone with a sigh and turn up the volume of the music, closing your eyes for a moment and trying to calm your nerves and anxieties.
Soon enough, you’re getting off at Greenwich and onto the Bank train. Only when you go past Heron Quay do you realise that you’ve missed your stop and, essentially, gotten yourself lost.
Your panic only grows when Harry stops answering your calls and texts and then you realise it was 8:31 and he’s already on stage, performing, without you supporting him on the side stage.
You try to call Jeffrey, but of course, no answer. Matt, no answer. Mitch, no answer. Jasmine, his opener, no answer. It’ll be useless to call your parents, neither of them know the train lines and can’t come and pick you up anyway because they don’t drive.
You struggle to ask people where to go, most people pushing past you in their own hurry to get to their destinations, and you’re shocked to not see any rail workers anywhere on the platforms to offer assistance.
So, you do what you do best. You panic. You slump down on one of the cold, metal benches with your suitcase by your side and purse in your lap. Tears are quick to prickle at your eyes and the air grows colder, bitter.
If you had just got off at your stop, you would’ve been with the others by now, watching your man perform on stage and become one with the crowd. But, here you are, cold, alone, and lost.
Your little denim jacket is doing nothing to conserve heat and your legs bounce as you try to warm yourself up. Your achingly cold fingers struggle to type up a route you could take and before long, thirty minutes have passed and it’s 9 pm.
And then, the worst possible thing happens. Your phone dies.
You panic even harder now, your chest constricting and you struggle to catch a breath. It isn’t until you see an older man slowly walk the yellow safety lines of the station in a high-vis train rail jacket that you calm just a little.
You shoot up from your seat, hands clammy and shaking as you pull your suitcase with you. “Excuse me!” You call out to the older man, the station much quieter now.
He turns to you with raised brows and a friendly smile, and you’re more than relieved that you’ll be getting some help.
“I’m not from around here and I missed my stop and ended up here.” You explain as calmly as you can, taking deep breaths and swallowing back the lump in your throat.
“Okay. Where are you heading?” The older man asks, sliding his silver-rimmed glasses up the smooth slope of his nose.
“I’m trying to get to the O2 Arena.” Your heart’s stammering in your chest and you explain how your phone had died and you have no way of contacting anyone or getting routes.
The man, Barry, assures you it will be fine. He writes down the trains and stops you need to make and where to go from there, then offers you his battery pack to charge your phone for a few minutes.
You check it when you get on the next train, a message from Jasmine on your screen and the time’s now nearing 9:34 pm.
iMessage from Jasmine X
Hey!! Where are you?? Everything okay? Call me!!
You sigh and quickly begin typing, trying to explain what happened and that you’re on your way, but before you can ever send the text, your phone freezes and cuts off dead.
You take another deep breath, trying to keep calm, and shove your phone into your pocket. Your ears focus on the voice through the speaker, listening closely for your stop and staring at the piece of paper in your hand so you know when to get off.
By the time you reach the O2, it’s 10 pm and you're certain the show’s over. You sprint to the doors, unsure where you’re even meant to go. You don’t have a ticket and Harry has your backstage pass.
“Can I help you, miss?”
The security guards eye you cautiously, somewhat alarmed by your frantic state. To them, you look just like every other fangirl they’ve ever met.
“I’m meant to be meeting Harry’s team backstage. Do you know how I get there?”
You’re breathless, body somewhat numb from the sudden drop in temperature and pure anxiety you’ve suffered over the past two hours.
The man squints at you. “Do you have a pass?” Great.
You sigh. “No, his manager, Jeffrey, has my pass. I’m Harry’s girlfriend. Look, you can go and ask on your walkie talkie. I have ID, but I don’t have my pass.” You try to explain.
He shakes his head, tries to hide the amusement on his face. “Nice try, kid. Go home.” He turns his back, wandering away but you shake your head and follow after him.
“No, I’m being serious! Jeffrey has my backstage pass. My phone is dead so I can’t contact them! Please, just radio it through. I promise you! My name is Y/N Y/L/N, please. He’ll tell you!” You beg, tears pooling in your eyes in panic.
This can’t be happening, how has it even come to this? You’ve been through the works already, and now, you look like nothing more than a desperate fangirl.
“Listen, miss. If you don’t leave right now, we will escort you out ourselves or call the police. It’s your choice.” He all but growls his words, an effort to scare you off.
Your shoulders slump and tears spill from your eyes, anxiety consuming you. “This isn’t happening,” you whisper to yourself, breathing unevenly and your knees buckle slightly.
You can’t even go back to the hotel as you don’t know where you’re all staying, seeing as you stayed with your parents last night. You’re done for.
You’re about to turn away, search for someone with a charger maybe, when a ruckus of cheering and talking catches your ears and the doors to the arena open. Hundreds of people flood out of the doors, eager to get themselves home and you wonder how you’re going to get to Harry.
“Oh my God! It’s Y/N!” Is all it takes for everyone to spot you and scream, hurtling toward you and calling your name.
You grab the security guard's arm and frantically beg for his attention. “Now do you believe me!? Please!” You cry out, but he continues to look at you sceptically as the other security members calm down the fans.
You try to talk to the fans, to have them prove that you were Harry’s girlfriend. And even though they agree and show security pictures and proof, they refuse to let you back because you don’t have a pass.
“Here, use my phone to call someone!” An older woman from behind security offers you her phone, her daughter (you presume) staring up at you with big doe eyes.
You smile and take the mobile, punching in Harry’s number that you’ve had memorised for moments like this. You ignore the security guard that continues to ask you to leave and when the ringing stops and a ruckus on the other end is heard, you let out a sigh of relief.
“Hello?” Harry answers, sceptical from the other end.
“Harry! Oh thank God, it’s Y/N.” You sigh out in relief, the fans screaming when they hear you on the phone with him.
“Babe, what the fuck is going on? I’ve been trying to call you! Where are you?” His words are laced together in panic and you can hear him shushing his team.
You sigh. “I’ll explain later but I’m with your fans outside the doors and security won’t let me through to you because Jeffrey still has my pass.” You explain, pinching the bridge of your nose.
Harry tells you to sit tight and that he’ll fix it, tells you he loves you and ends the call. You sigh in relief and quickly delete the number from the call log, handing the phone back to the woman and thanking her profusely.
You feel awful, really. It’s bad enough that you missed Harry’s show, but now you’re holding up all of his fans from going home because security is keeping them away from you and not letting you through the doors.
You speak to a few of his fans while you wait, asking how they found the show and answering some of their questions about Harry when another scream is heard and Jeffrey wanders out toward you with a security guard.
“Y/N!” He calls out, speaking with the other security for a second before showing them your pass and explaining you are who you said you are.
You say goodbye to the fans, dragging your suitcase over to Jeffrey and he pulls you in for a hug, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. You thank him and wave goodbye, following him through a hallway and you disappear.
“What the hell happened?” Jeffrey asks in concern, brows furrowed and you sigh while explaining about your car, the trains, and your phone. Jeffrey listens closely and throws his arm over your shoulder as you walk, pulling your suitcase along.
Security leads you through another corridor and another, opening doors and scanning his ID on certain parts to gain access. A few minutes of walking and a burst of soft laughter can be heard, your heart skipping a beat.
Jeffrey's hand rests against your back as he leads you through a room and another curtain, and there Harry stands; pacing back and forth and biting at his nails. The sound of the door opening catches his attention and he spins around to you.
“Honey...” he whispers, pacing toward you and scooping you into his arms. You sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, crying softly into his shoulder. Harry cradles the back of your head, gently cooing you and whispering reassuring words into your ear.
“You’re okay, baby.” He whispers, kissing your temple and you pull away sniffling, wiping your eyes and taking a deep breath. Harry cups your clammy cheeks in his hands and leans down a little. You lift onto your tiptoes and kiss his lips softly, not even a little bothered by the taste of sweat on his lips.
You sigh into the kiss, eyes fluttering closed and a cheeky wolf whistle from behind him catches your attention. You pull away and peer over his shoulder, blushing at the sight of his entire team grinning at you both and Lloyd facing his camera at you.
//
You’re curled into Harry’s side as you wander down the hall to find his room. His arm is around your shoulder, yours behind his waist as he pulls your little suitcase along.
His skin is still sticky with sweat and his clothes stained with a salty scent, but somehow, he still smells like vanilla and his stupid cologne. “I can’t believe you had to do all that,” he murmurs out after having listened to your travels of the day.
You hum back and yawn, pulling away from his side when he reaches into his pocket for his key-card. You both stand outside the room before he unlocks the door and he drags you in behind him.
You flop straight onto the bed, the sheets still a mess and Harry’s suitcase sprawled out over it. He sighs and kicks off his boots, wiggling his toes and standing between your legs.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he says softly, head tilted as he watches you sit back up and take his hand in yours. “You wanna join?” he wiggles his brows playfully and you let out a tired laugh, nodding your head nonetheless.
“You go ahead, I’m gonna put my phone on charge and clear the bed.” You tell him, earning a little nod and a forehead kiss before he’s taking off to the bathroom, turning on the water.
You stand from the bed with a sigh and plug Harry’s charger into your phone while kicking your own shoes off. Your feet were no doubt blistered and you knew it’d be a pain to walk for the next few days.
Looking back at the bed, you sigh. Harry had always been messy when it came to getting ready for events. But you weren’t sure why, considering he had a stylist so Harry never had to find something to wear for his shows.
Nevertheless, you shake your head and begin to refold his clothing, setting it neatly in his suitcase. You brush the creases out of the sheets and fluff up the pillows before making your way to your bag to pull out your toiletries and one of Harry’s shirts you’ll sleep in.
You take them with you to the bathroom, soft melodies slipping past Harry’s lips as he washes the night away. You smile to yourself, the mirror and windows fogged by the heat of the shower that you’re eager to climb into.
You strip from your outfit and open the shower door, Harry turning to look at you with a little mohawk he’d styled with the shampoo. You snort out a laugh and shake your head, standing in front of him so the water falls down on you.
“Well, hello there,” Harry grins cheekily, eyeing your breasts as your nipples pearl. You blush and lean your head back, soothing the water through your hair but Harry can’t keep his eyes off your chest, not when it’s right there.
“Stop staring.” Your eyes are closed as you massage the shampoo into your scalp, but you already know he’s drooling at the sight of you. He always did have a thing for your chest, even if you argued they’re not your best asset.
Harry whines and nibbles on his plump bottom lip. “But, baby, they’re like begging me to love on them.” He argues, paw-like hands holding your waist as his thumbs gently caress the bottom of your breasts.
You snort out another laugh at his reasoning and wash the shampoo away, slathering on some conditioner and turning you both around so he’s now under the water. You guide him to sit on the little seat beneath the shower and adjust the head so the water can reach him.
Harry’s face is now completely level with your chest as you wash the shampoo from his hair. He whines at you with a little pout and you gently massage his scalp with your fingertips.
“I know this usually makes me really sleepy, but with your tits in my face, it's really fucking turning me on.” He rasps out, voice low and suggestive and you have to fight back a little whine of your own.
“You’re such a boy.” You breathe, slathering his luscious locks in your conditioner and leaning down just enough to kiss his swollen lips.
It was only intended to be a peck, but Harry wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you between his legs, lifting your thighs so you straddle his lap.
Your fingers slide through his curls, breathing heavily and you moan softly against his lips. His hands smooth over the curves of your ass, kneading the flesh with little force and you pull away to catch your breath.
“I’m proud of you.” You whisper against his lips, your core bumping the head of his cock and he strains out a laugh.
“You’re proud of me? Babe, you got lost on your own, almost got kicked out of the arena, and you didn’t have a panic attack once. Shit, I’m the proud one here.” Harry argues with a little smile.
You purse your lips to hide your smile and kiss his lips softly again. He kisses you back for a moment before pulling away and squeezing your ass.
“But seriously, I’ve had a raging boner ever since you sent me that naughty pic last night, and I am dying to get lost in that puss-” You cut him off with a heated kiss, sucking his tongue into your mouth as your own massaged it.
Harry groans and lifts you both, your legs around his waist as his heavy cock bumps your ass. Your back presses against the shower wall, Harry’s lips chasing the water that drips down your neck.
You tug on his hair, eager to feel him inside you and you know he’ll be giving you what you both want in a matter of seconds. He holds you up with one arm and uses his free hand to grip his cock, pumping himself before he swirls his tip around your entrance.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” Harry whines out, teasing himself against you and you huff, tugging on his hair and sucking his bottom lip into your mouth.
“I feel better once you’re in me,” you remind him, a taunting smirk on your lips, but it’s quick to fade when Harry thrusts his hips into yours, his thick cock stretching you out and you shriek in pleasure.
“Shit, H.” You moan, head thrown back as he slides in and out of you at a delicious pace. The running water is long forgotten, the sound of skin slapping and your arousal squelching being the only sounds you can focus on.
Harry pants in your ear, small grunts sounding through the bathroom as you whine and moan for him. He grabs your ass and spreads your cheeks, knuckles white as he grips you harder.
“So good, baby.” He moans into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe and your eyes roll back.
You can feel him deep in your stomach, feel him throb between your walls and you’re certain you’re about to explode any second. You grip his shoulders, circling your hips on his dick the best you can.
Harry rests his forehead against yours, his eyes focusing on the way his glistening cock slips in and out of your swollen pussy with such ease. “Such a good girl for me.” Harry praises, your pussy clenching around his cock and he chokes out a moan.
“Only for you. O-only good for y-you,” he grins against your lips and picks up his pace, hitting your G-spot with every soul-shattering thrust.
Harry feels you begin to spasm, can feel your body losing its strength and he cups your face with his hands, forcing you to look at him -- your noses bumping while he does so.
“Look at me, baby. Wanna watch you as you cum all over my cock.” He gently coaxes, pinching your nipple with his other hand and your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets.
“I’m gonna cum,” you cry out, eyes wide and jaw slack. Harry watches you with hooded eyes, jade clouded with lust and with one final thrust, he pushes you over the edge, watching the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and body falls limp.
The choked cry of his name is all it takes for him to paint your walls with his pleasure, a rugged groan slipping past his lips as he cries out your name, collapsing slightly into you and trapping you completely against the wall.
“Holy shit,” you breathe out, head falling back against the tiles on the wall and Harry gently eases out of you, slowly kissing every inch of your face before his lips meet yours in a tender encounter.
“I love you so much,” he breathes against your lips, easing your legs back to the ground and keeping his arms around your waist.
“I love you, too. And hey, I might’ve missed your main show but fuck me, this private show was just as good.” You joke, an angelic laugh sounding through Harry’s throat as he kisses you again.
His arms ease to rest on your ass, soothing over the tender skin he had been gripping. “Let me clean you up,” he mumbles, giving your bum a little tap before he pulls you back under the water.
Harry washes both of you, peppering your skin with gentle kisses before you’re both completely clean and drying off, brushing your teeth side by side. Harry throws on a pair of sweats while you steal a pair of his boxers and his shirt.
Sliding into bed, he curles up behind you, spooning your back and kissing your shoulder. “I’m sorry about missing your show and being so stupid that I got on the wrong trains and stuff.” You huff out.
Harry shakes his head and kisses your shoulder again. “Don’t be. None of it is your fault. Jeffrey should’ve given you that backstage pass yesterday. I’m sorry you had to go through all that on your own, but I’m so fucking proud of you, honey.”
You smile to yourself and hold his hand close to your chest, wiggling back so you’re snug against his chest. “I’m so happy I fell in love with you,” you whisper into the darkness, eyes fluttering closed.
Harry smiles into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest as he kisses the crook of your neck. “I’m happy I fell in love with you, too.”
//
if you enjoyed it, please give it a reblog! your feedback and comments are appreciated more than you’ll ever know — i’d love to hear what you thought <;3
#harry styles#harry styles imagine#imagine harry styles#harry styles x you#harry styles smut#harry styles x reader#harry styles fic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst
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thinking about Crowley and Aziraphale driving around, doing whatever, before everything went to shit in the end. Crowley's driving the Bentley, obviously, and the two of them have fallen into a comfortable silence that they're both used to after 6000 years together, especially the past few, since the stopped Apocalypse.
Crowley is driving like a maniac as per usual, blasting Queen and whatever else happens to have been in his car for less than two weeks. He glances sideways from beneath his glasses, a stolen glance that he allows himself towards his the angel, and he sees -
Aziraphale has fallen asleep.
Crowley is surprised. He hadn't even known that the angel did sleep. and then he remembers that night in his flat after the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, when, before they had made their plan to stop their own respective sides from getting to them (thanks, Agnes Nutter) they had passed out, spectacularly drunk, on Crowley's couch that had become soft just for the occasion, and the demon had awoken to the angel snoring, leaning over his leg. So, yes. Aziraphale slept.
Crowley contemplates this for about three seconds before letting out an extremely exaggerated, dramatic sigh and slowing down the car, stopping his inane swerving and speeding and dropping to just below the speed limit. And then some. And then some more.
He miracles any and all possible bumps in the road to be smoothed over, and muffles the outside noise through suddenly-tinted windows. He flicks the radio down, Freddie Mercury barely audible over Crowley's bated breaths and Aziraphale's small, huffing snores.
The Bentley recognizes the significance of its owner's actions, and it too works to quiet its own engine, smoothing out its drive and warming its insides to be the perfect temperature for a fussy angel.
Crowley glances at Aziraphale once more, and settles back into his driver's seat, fully prepared and ready to loop around, driving slowly with barely any music, if it means that his the overworked angel can have a well-deserved rest.
When Aziraphale wakes up later, he cracks open an eye to see Crowley, driving slowly and purposefully, mouthing the words to some barely-audible song of his (probably be-bop, Aziraphale thinks disapprovingly), his sunglasses having been placed in some compartment. His gorgeous yellow eyes are barely visible in the dim light of the car through the windows, even though it's still day out. Almost as if someone has miracled the windows to be purposefully dark, as to not disturb someone. A sleeping someone, perhaps. Perhaps that is the same reason why the Bentley is driving slow enough for it to be of a concern, and why the usually-deafening music is at an all-time low volume.
Aziraphale watches for a long moment - an extended stolen glance, of sorts - and then lets out an exaggerated yawn and stretches, blinking slowly, smiling at Crowley, who, at the sight of him, reddens, and immediately clocks up from going 30 miles per hour to 95, the music abruptly becoming blaring again, Queen's Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy.
"Sleep well, angel?" He asks, slamming his sunglasses back over his nose, and Aziraphale smiles, rolling his eyes. Silly demon.
"It was quite undisturbed, yes." And then, more cheekily: "Thank you, my dear."
"Dunno what you're thankin' me for," says Crowley gruffly, and Aziraphale merely smiles wider before leaning back in his leather seat, watching the demon's gaze flicker over to him ever so often from behind his sunglasses - as if to check that his counterpart is still awake, and to check that he has no need to be as kind as he just was.
(might write an actual fic of this lmk if that’s something y’all would want to read!)
#tristen has thoughts#good omens#good omens fic#good omens fanfic#good omens fanfiction#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable idiots#ineffable husbands fanfic#ineffable husbands#fanfic#fanfiction#aziraphale x crowley#crowley x aziraphale
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imma hit you with a twofer: extra smooth by aaliyah with geto...and gimme more by brittany spears with kishibe
Extra Smooth
Pairing: Suguru Geto x f!reader
Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~3.0k
cw: next-door neighbor Geto who is kind of an asshole, shy reader, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), cunnilingus, sex without a condom, sex toy use
Summary: Your next-door neighbor is loud, inconsiderate, and unfortunately, very hot. No matter how many times you bang on his door with another new noise complaint, he’ll continue to repeat his offenses nearly every weekend. You’re too timid to submit a formal complaint to the landlord, so you shrug it off, hoping that one day, he’ll suddenly become nice. That day comes sooner than you think, when he unexpectedly makes a visit to your apartment, discovering the real reason you need your peace and quiet.
Author’s Note: @demonwoman Mephisto! I LOVE this song and Aaliyah, honestly this was so perfect for Geto. Thank you for requesting a two-fer for the y2k karaoke party! I’ll post the Kishibe one soon. Had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciating, thank you for reading! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.
part 1 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series
Even with your headphones in, music on high, you can still hear the loud bass reverberating through the shared wall of your apartment. You remove one of the buds in your ear to press it to the plaster, listening carefully to your neighbor having another party next door. Rolling your eyes, you save the document on your screen before shutting your laptop closed, quickly putting on a pair of mismatched sweatpants and sweater. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to go over to Suguru Geto’s apartment to ask him to lower the volume. You did it last weekend, and the one before that, even twice last month. It isn’t fun for you to be that person, but the intense bass that rattles your bedroom walls really is distracting. You thought that after the first two times you complained, he would be more conscious of it. Nope, still noisy and obnoxious as ever. The problem is you’re too chicken shit to make a formal complaint to your landlord. Of course he isn’t taking it seriously, not from his timid, home-body neighbor next door. Why should he when it’s only you that it’s bothering?
You slide into your fuzzy slippers and make your way out into the hallway, closing the door shut behind you. A few steps and you’re in front of Geto’s, knocking three times. You can hear people chatting and laughing from inside, not responding. You wait another couple of seconds before forcefully pounding on the door with your fist, finally getting a reaction. The chatter hushes and soon, he reveals himself, answering the door with a tight grin on his face, clearly annoyed. “What can I do for you, neighbor?” he grits through his teeth, still maintaining a forced smile.
You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly insecure in his presence. There’s no denying it; he’s an attractive man, tall and lean beneath tight-fitting clothes. Long, black hair drapes down his back, a portion of it wrapped in a loose bun, loose strands falling before his handsome face. And sure, maybe sometimes he crosses your mind while you’re in your bedroom, playing with the toys you have currently hidden away in your nightstand. But that’s as far as it goes: fantasy. In reality, your next-door neighbor is an asshole.
“Could you please lower the volume of your music? It’s really loud.” You decide not to bring up the other incidents from the past, not wanting to aggravate the situation any further.
He grins at you, disingenuous, definitely irritated, but trying not to show it. “Sure. I can do that. Anything else?”
You shake your head, muttering a quiet, “Thanks.” You glance at the people inside, who stare at you, snickering to each other.
“Nice slippers, by the way,” he taunts, before slamming the door shut. There’s an uproar of laughter from inside, and you retreat back into your home, irked by his attitude. It’s not that hard to be considerate of others, right? So why is he making this so much more difficult than it needs to, making you feel like the asshole? You shake it off, trying not to let it bother you. He actually does lower the volume, so you’re satisfied, despite the unnecessary insults you hear from the other side. God she’s so lame. She’s home alone on a Friday night, what do you expect?
With another roll of your eyes, you open your laptop, resuming where you left off. Your fingers type away at the keys fluidly, your concentration regained, hating yourself a little bit for what you’re about to type, especially after what just happened:
Yeah, you want this cock, don’t you?
Been hungry for it this entire time, huh?
[clothing rustling]
Well, go ahead. Come get it. Use me like you’ve always wanted to.
[spits into hand, starts stroking his cock]
I’ll be a good neighbor to you from now on. The very best.
~~~
You finish the script past midnight, falling asleep before you get a chance to proofread and edit it. There’s no title yet, though you have a vague idea of what you want it to be. Saturdays, you’re usually out with friends throughout the day, so you decide to finish the rest of it once you’re back home from dinner tonight. Before you leave, you type a quick title at the top of the page: [M4F] Your Hot Asshole Neighbor Finally Decides to Be Nice to You.
This isn’t the first script you’ve written. Last month, you tried your hand at it and it got picked by one of your favorite nsfw voice actors. The thrill of hearing their deep voice moaning the words you wrote motivated you enough to work on another. The commission payment is an added bonus. With your full-time job occupying your week, weekends are the only free time you have to write, especially Friday nights. That’s why you need your concentration; and that’s why Geto’s loud music bothers you so much. You can’t completely hate him, though. After all, he’s the inspiration behind this latest piece, though you will never admit that to him. Ever. In fact, this entire gig you’re doing is a secret only for you to harbor. Not even your closest friends are aware that you’re doing this as a hobby.
The document sits temporarily forgotten on your laptop while you galivant with your besties throughout the day. After a delicious dinner together, they drop you off to your apartment, where pour yourself a glass of white wine to sip on in your pajamas while you edit your naughty script at the dining table.
You’ve read it twice through, starting from the top for a third review when there’s a knock on your door. You check your phone, searching for a text from a friend who might be stopping by, but you see none. Confused, you tip toe in your fuzzy slippers to look through the peephole, surprised to see Geto standing on the other side.
You open the door, greeting him hesitantly. “Um, hi.”
He nods, hands in his pockets, giving you a quick scan before speaking. “Hey. I, uh, locked myself out. The landlord isn’t going to be back until an hour or so and I’m too cheap to call a locksmith right now. Is it cool if I just hang out in here while I wait?”
You consider this carefully, still in disbelief that this happening. You can’t just kick him to the curb and refuse, especially when it’ll only be for a short while. Deciding to let bygones be bygones, you agree to help him, opening the door wider to let him through.
“Thank you,” he mutters, stepping inside. “Do you want me to take my shoes off?”
“Yes. I think I have some slippers for you. I’ll be right back.” You rush to your bedroom, searching for a pair of slides that he can use in the meantime. It takes a while to find them, buried under a pile of junk in your closet. Before you head out to meet him, you quickly put a bra on, acutely aware that he might have caught sight of your nipples peeking through the thin layer of your shirt. It doesn’t matter, though; he doesn’t think of you in like that anyways. You’re just his lame, lonely neighbor next door, right?
You return, looking towards the couch, expecting to see him sitting there. To your horror, you catch him at the dining table, seated where you previously were before he arrived, staring at your laptop screen.
“Hey!” You hustle towards him, slamming it shut with enough force to rattle the table.
He glances at you, cheeks red, an odd expression on his face. “What was that?” he asks, pointing to the computer.
You snatch it away, storing it in one of the kitchen drawers, desperate to hide it as if the damage hasn’t already been done. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
He stands up, lips parted, trying to find the words to say. “That was…I’m pretty sure it said…Is that about me?”
Your skin is sweltering now, beyond freaked out and unsure how to fix this mess. Is it better to lie and try to chalk it up as one big joke? Or should you be honest and hope he’s understanding about it? Either way, there’s no turning the clock back. He’s already read something, and it’s not going to be leaving his mind anytime soon.
You decide to tell him the truth, as best as you can explain it. “Okay, I know it’s weird, but I write these types of scripts for voice actors to perform. It’s just a little part-time hobby I have, and I even get paid for it. Sure, it’s a little risqué, but it’s nothing illegal, okay?” He continues to stare at you, expression relaxing just the slightest bit.
“Also, it’s not about you. Maybe it’s a little bit inspired by you, but it’s definitely not about you. Not exactly,” you add, uncertainty laced in your voice. This is even more mortifying than you expected it to be. Is it too late to break the lease on your rent and move across town?
It’s quiet for what seems like forever. He doesn’t respond, contemplating your explanation silently to himself. Eventually, he takes a couple steps towards you, reaching behind to slide the drawer open, pulling your laptop out. You’re frozen, stunned by his close proximity, anticipating his next move. Finally, he says, “I want to read the rest of it.”
“What?”
He smirks, tension easing from his shoulders as he sits down, taking a swig from your wine glass. “I want to finish it. It was getting good before you stopped me.” He opens your laptop screen, the document appearing exactly where he left off.
You bury your face in your hands, taking the seat beside him, groaning. “I can’t believe this is happening right now.” You refill your glass almost to the brim with wine, taking a large gulp of it before passing it to him.
“Did you really think you could keep something like this a secret? This is pretty wild,” he chuckles, tipping it into his mouth, at the same spot where you did.
“I didn’t think you’d be the first person to find out, though.” You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for whatever is about to unravel from this.
“Fair enough.” He scans the words, reading each one meticulously. “So are these lines supposed to be, like, what the voice actor says? It’s just them talking?”
“Yup.”
He giggles, blushing. “Okay, so, we’re pretending that I’m the asshole neighbor. Got it. Are you sure this isn’t about me?”
“It’s inspired by you. Inspired,” you reiterate, swallowing a large gulp of alcohol.
He bites his lip, hiding his smile. “Okay. Um, so it says here in the bracket that there’s knocking.”
“That’s the cue for sound effects.”
“Got it. So,” Geto knocks thrice on the surface of the dining table, reading, “What can I do for you, neighbor? Oh, you want me to turn the volume down? Is it too loud for you again? This is totally about me!”
You can’t help but laugh, shrugging. “Maybe it’s a little bit about you.”
He hides his smile behind his hand, swearing under his breath. “Shit, okay.” He clears his throat before continuing. “I’m sorry for being so noisy these past few weeks. Do you think you could ever forgive me? Do people really get off on lines like this?”
“Just keep reading it!” you yell at him, playfully kicking him beneath the table.
“Okay, okay! Ahem. I think I know exactly what I can do to make it up to you. I know you like me, even though I’m such an asshole. Think you can forgive me for just one night?”
You clench your thighs together, concealing the arousal growing between your legs. You’ve always thought he had a sexy voice but paired with the script and knowing what’s about to come, it’s hard to control your desires.
His voice is hushed now, low and sultry. “Yeah? That’s what I thought. You want this cock, don’t you?” Geto swallows thickly, pausing to catch his breath. “Been hungry for it this entire time, huh?” There’s a blush in his cheeks again. He shifts in his seat, hands down at his lap. “Well, go ahead. Come get it. Use me like you’ve always wanted to. Whoa, okay, this is…this is getting a little crazy now,” he chuckles nervously, avoiding your gaze.
Unable to resist your curiosity, you glimpse at his crotch, an obvious bulge protruding from his sweatpants, stunned that he’s hard right now. Without thinking, you scoot closer to him, placing your hand on his knee. He meets your gaze, eyes wide, lips parted.
“If you want to, we can stop,” you whisper, fingers trailing his inner thigh delicately. You can’t deny it any longer. You want him. You’ve always wanted him. And if he didn’t feel the same, he would have already been gone by now, too weirded out by your strange hobby to stick around. Yet, here he is, playing along with it, playing along with you.
You wait for his answer, resting your hand dangerously near his erection strained in his pants. “I don’t want to stop,” he says, spreading his legs wider for you. “l want to be a good neighbor to you from now on. The very best.”
~~~
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he pants, stripping his clothes off hastily as you watch him, already naked on your bed. When he’s finished, he hovers over you, relishing the sight of you beneath him.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a passionate kiss, tongues swirling around each other’s sloppily. “You’re sure you want to keep going?” you ask between smooches.
He laughs, sucking on your bottom lip. “I’m not stopping this for anything. Are you sure you want to keep going?”
You nod at him, guiding his hands to your breasts. “Absolutely.”
He pinches your nipples until they’re perky and you’re whining in ecstasy, rutting your hips against him, desperate for friction. He slides down, leaving a trail of kisses along your body until he’s at your arousal, tongue lapping at your clit. You squeeze his head between your thighs, his mouth pressed firmly to your cunt, slurping at your juices. “Fuck, Geto. Feels so good.”
“Suguru,” he muffles, lips latched to your swelling bud. “Call me Suguru.”
You run your fingers through his hair as he eats you out, tugging at the strands when you reach your first orgasm, gushing all over his face. He licks you slowly as you come down from your high, flicking the tip of his tongue on your sensitive bud. He reaches down to stroke his cock, stiff in his fist and leaking with precum. “Fuck, you taste amazing. So fucking pretty when I eat out this sloppy cunt. Can I fuck you now, sweetheart? I want to make you come around my cock.”
You roll over in bed, spreading your ass cheeks for him. “Yeah, fuck me, Suguru. Fuck this wet cunt.”
He wipes the sweat beading on his forehead, jerking his cock feverishly in his other hand. “Fuck, I knew you were a slut, I just knew it,” he huffs, slapping his dick on your ass, rubbing it slowly between the soft flesh of your cheeks. He guides himself inside you, stretching you out little by little until you swallow him up completely. He starts thrusting, his motions extra smooth from your previous orgasm. “All those nights, I listened to you touch yourself with those vibrators. I’d stroke my cock with you, come whenever you did. Your little whimpers are so fucking sexy, especially when you try to hide them. You have no idea what you do to me.”
You’re too fucked out to process his confession, throwing your ass in tandem with his thrusts. His grip is tight on your waist, fucking you like you’ve never been fucked before. Suddenly, he pulls out, pussy fluttering around nothing, eager to be stuffed gain. You whine, craning your neck to glare at him while he gives you a naughty smirk, reaching for your nightstand. “Are they in here? Your toys?” He searches it blindly, retrieving one of your favorites, clicking the button to activate it, buzzing in his hold. “Use it while you use me.”
You obey his request without question, holding the vibrator against your sensitive clit as he pushes himself back inside you, pounding away at your cunt. You climax twice more around him, completely spent now, brain like mush, letting the toy fall off the bed, slippery with your cum. He laughs at your docile expression, pulling out to bury his face back into your pussy, licking off all the cum smeared over you, determined to make you come again. When you do, he crawls up the bed, a satisfied smile on his face, straddling you while he pumps his cock in his fist. After a couple strokes, he shoots onto your tits, covering them in his pearly cum, moaning your name.
He helps you clean it off, grabbing several tissues from the nightstand, wiping your chest dry. You scoot closer to the wall to make room for him, snuggling beside you with his mouth grazing your forehead, giving you a smooch.
Thinking logically again, you recall his confession from earlier. “Can you really hear me through these walls?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. But only if I’m listening really carefully.”
“And did you really…?”
“Yeah. I did,” he admits, blushing. “Sorry. I guess I’m kind of a pervert.”
You giggle, nuzzling into his chest. “Well, what does that make me then? Who’s the one who wrote filthy scenarios about you?”
“I thought you said it was only inspired by me?” he teases, cuddling you closer.
“It was totally about you, okay? I just never thought it’d actually happen.”
He massages your back lovingly. “Aren’t you glad it did?”
You peer up to smile at him. “Yeah. I am.”
~~~
The following weekend, there’s another noise complaint. This time, however, it’s you receiving it from your neighbor on the other side, complaining about how loud you and Geto are while having sex.
#geto suguru#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#suguru geto smut#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto x you#geto smut#geto x reader#geto x you#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#y2k karaoke party#milestone event
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Practice On Me — Part Three — Azriel x Reader
Summary: It’s not an Illyrian party without at least one person starting a fight. Azriel is a jealous little shit. Y/N wants to put the smile right back on his face.
(I really don’t want to ruin this chapter for u but I finished writing it and all I could hear was Camilla Cabello in my head singing “I’llll be hooome for chwismois” — you’ll see why)
Word count: 6.2k
Warnings: Some fiiiilthy language. 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni 🌶️
It’s not that you and the others are trying to take advantage of Rhysand’s mother’s absence. But having an empty property at your disposal definitely comes in handy.
Particularly on nights like these, two weeks later, when the cottage is packed full with more people than it can reasonably host. There’s drinking and conversation and faces you don’t even recognise, and someone has brought Elpys Vine, a herb grown by someone’s sketchy great uncle on the continent that’s supposed to make you hallucinate.
Judging by the empty chair that a male opposite you keeps winking at, you think it’s probably having the desired effect.
The spot next to you dips down as Azriel takes a seat at your side. He hands you a drink, and so naturally, his arm drapes around your shoulders. It’s comforting — and also a relief, to know that things are still normal after what happened on this very couch two weeks earlier. Not a slither of awkwardness.
But your eyes have most definitely been snagging on every unfamiliar female around you and wondering if one of them could be the target of Azriel’s affections. If Kaeda is here tonight, he hasn’t said so.
Part of you wants to ask, and part of you…doesn’t. For whatever reason.
“This is definitely already way out of hand.” Az comments, cocking an eyebrow as he takes in the volume of people packed into the small space. “I thought it was supposed to be a small gathering.”
“That’s what Cassian told me, too.” You say, and then curiosity gets the better of you. You try to make it seem casual as you study the various females dotted throughout the room. “Is Kaeda here?”
Azriel’s eyes find yours, and he gives a small shake of his head. “No.”
“You didn’t invite her?”
“I didn’t invite anyone. That was Cassian’s job.”
You heave a very dramatic sigh indeed. Sometimes, Azriel is his own worst enemy.
Not that you’ve minded helping him so far — not at all. But surely there must come a point where he directs all he’s learnt at the intended person.
“I will make my move.” He tells you. “I’m just…not quite there yet. Still working on it.”
Fair enough, you suppose. Before you can say anything else, Cassian is suddenly slumping haphazardly into the space at your other side. One of Azriel’s shadows snakes out and clasps your drink before it can slosh down your front.
“Time for a game.” Cassian calls to the room, and you want to groan. Games with Cassian usually ensure chaos. “Let’s play Knife Point.”
There are enough enthusiastic responses that you know your reluctance will be wildly outnumbered. Knife Point is a game that’s used as a ruse to kiss as many people as you like — something you delighted in at fifteen, when kissing was still new to you, but you don’t feel quite the same excitement five years later. It’s pretty simple: a knife is placed in the centre of the table, and the players gather round. One-by-one, everyone takes their turns spinning the knife, and whoever the point settles on when it stops is who the spinner must kiss.
Basic, really. But Cassian loves kissing people.
You and Azriel share a look — one that says he’s no more excited for this than you are. And then you both crack a grin and settle into your seats, because you’ll always go along with Cassian’s shenanigans, even if you complain about them first.
“It seems only fair that the future high lord starts us off,” Cassian says, and slams a dagger down on the coffee table with unguarded enthusiasm. He grins at Rhys, who’s sat in an adjacent armchair with a curvy redhead on his lap. “Rhysand, darling — would you do the honours?”
Rhys flutters thick, dark lashes and gently removes the female from his thigh. “It would be my pleasure.”
The room watches closely as he spins the knife in a sleek way that has a few gazes heating. It spins fast, and then slows, slows, before landing on a female to his right whose name you don’t know. He angles himself towards her, and the smile he gives her most definitely has her falling head-over-heels in love, and the heated kiss he lands on her mouth most definitely has her falling head-over-heels in lust. She looks genuinely heartbroken when it comes to an end.
But then it’s her turn, and she’s kissing Jonan, an ex-fling of yours, and then Jonan is kissing Cassian, and then Cass is spinning the dagger and it’s pointing at you.
Your friend bellows a comical shriek of delight and jumps up so enthusiastically that this time, Az’s shadows can’t stop your drink from spilling. Cass is utterly oblivious as he turns to you with a wicked grin, holding his arms out.
“Come here, sweetpea.” He uses the nickname he’s called you for as long as you can remember. “Come make all my heated dreams come true.”
You snort, handing Az what remains of your drink and pushing to your feet. You intend to deliver a quick peck to Cassian’s lips, but so typically, he clasps your face with enough force to lift you from the floor, and his mouth lands heavily on yours.
Immediately, a chorus of jeers and laughs ring out around the circle. Cassian’s huge hand cups your jaw, and he kisses you like you’ve seen him kiss countless males and females before. It doesn’t matter that you’re his friend, an old comfort blanket — he gives you the exact same energy he gives them. He doesn’t do things by halves.
And the kiss certainly isn’t bad, if not a little strange. You can think of far worse people to be doing this with right now.
It goes on a little longer than necessary, and when you feel it deepen, feel Cassian’s tongue probing yours, you break away. Make a dramatic show of grimacing and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
“Damn.” Jonan snorts. “You didn’t kiss me like that, Cass.”
Cass smirks. “You’re not half as pretty, nor half as arousing.”
They squabble, and the game continues, and you slump back down by Azriel’s side, already tuning out the noise. You turn to retrieve your drink, only to find Az draining the rest of it.
“Hey.” You knock your arm against his. “I was going to finish that.”
He stares forward, not even looking at you as he quietly replies, “I figured you were too busy.”
Your face creases into a frown as you take in the stiff, rigid set of his body. He’s damn near hunched in that corner of the couch, and it can’t be comfortable with how his wings are a little squished, but it seems almost as if…as if he’s trying to put some space between you.
You try not to think too much about it as you return your attention to the game once more. The knife continues spinning and people continue kissing, and only once does the blade point in Azriel’s direction, to which he tersely announces he was never playing to begin with.
It’s that which makes you realise the reason behind his mood going south. He’s only just started exploring the art of kissing with you, only just started becoming comfortable with it. The last thing he’ll want to do is make a whole song and dance about it and kiss a near stranger in front of a group of people.
Combine that with his natural aversion to huge gatherings, and it makes sense, now, why he’s clutching your empty cup so tightly, and the muscle in his jaw keeps moving.
When everyone else is distracted, you place a hand on his arm.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?” You suggest. “Get some fresh air.”
But he barely looks at you. Just keeps staring forward. He shoots a quick, hard look in Cassian’s direction and rips it away just as fast.
“I’m fine here.” He says. “You knock yourself out.”
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You know Azriel well enough to know when his social tolerance is at an all-time-low, and being at a party is the worst possible thing for him.
He goes more and more into himself, his brooding, and he seems to emanate an invisible signal that warns people to stay far, far away. Not even the drunken, giggling females approach him. The Shadowsinger is in a dangerous mood, and it won’t take much to set him off.
He doesn’t seem all that interested in talking to you, either, given that all your attempts have been met with quiet, one-worded responses. And so, figuring he’ll come to you when he feels like it, you wander off to get yourself another drink, and you sink into the throes of the party.
At some point, you feel a warm touch on your forearm, and you turn to find Jonan there. He’s a damn nice male — for an Illyrian. A little cocky, maybe, but kind. Not the sexist brute that so many of them turn out to be. You and he had been two eighteen-year-olds, excited about exploring each other’s bodies and sex in general. Realistically, it was never going to go anywhere, but you ended things in good spirits, and you’ve very casually fallen into each other’s beds on a few occasions since.
Judging by the way his dark eyes drink you in, you’re sure he’s hoping that tonight will end in the same manner.
“I haven’t seen you in a while.” You say as you pull back from the hug he gives you.
His eyes seem to glimmer with flirtation. “Perhaps you haven’t been looking hard enough.”
You snort. “Or perhaps you don’t train close enough for us to run into each other all that often.”
That’s definitely it. The Illyrian males are sorted into different training groups based on a whole host of different things. Unsurprisingly, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel are in the most skilled group. Jonan is in a different one.
And it’s Jonan’s group, you know, that has just got back from a harsh training exercise that takes them away for weeks at a time. Which is the most likely cause of you having not seen him in passing.
Azriel’s group will be the next to go on one last training exercise before everyone breaks for the winter solstice. They’ll be setting off any day now, as soon as they’re called forth by their general. A few weeks without your three closest friends is a thought you don’t want to linger on.
“How was the training exercise?” You ask, genuinely interested. There will always be a part of you that wishes that was you, out there, putting your skills to use.
But you’re female. And females stay behind.
“Fucking brutal.” Jonan answers. “The weather is bad this year, so we were out there a week longer than we were supposed to be. My sleep pattern is still fucked.”
“Sounds like you need to relax.”
“Oh, I do.” His eyes trail down your body. “Perhaps you can help me with that.”
You open your mouth, not entirely sure what you mean to reply. All you know is that you’re not jumping at the offer of easy, mindless sex like you have done in the past.
But before you can respond, Jonan is stumbling forward, into you. Thanks to a huge, muscled body knocking into him.
He whips around to face Azriel, spilled drink forgotten in his hand. You didn’t even see Az‘s approach.
“Watch it, Shadowsinger.” Jonan narrows his eyes at him. “You almost knocked Y/N over.”
Azriel stops and eyes Jonan with clear dismissal. A rare, antagonising expression sits on his flawless features. “Are you talking to me?”
“Do you see any other shadowy fucks around here?”
One side of Azriel’s lips twitch up in satisfaction. So rarely does he waste his time looking for a fight, but he’s looking for one now — and has found one.
“What I see,” he says, and steps closer to Jonan, towering over him considerably, “is an irritating little cunt who’s in my way. Move.”
But Jonan doesn’t move. Like a typical Illyrian, he salivates at the prospect of a punch-up. He looks a little pathetic as he tries to square up against Az.
“Now, now, Azriel,” he sneers. “That’s no way to talk about Y/N, is it?”
And the mention of your name in Jonan’s mouth is all it takes for Azriel to launch himself at him. There’s not nearly enough room for this, and as he grabs Jonan by the front of his tunic and slams him against the wall, all sorts of surrounding objects go flying.
At once, everyone is turning to watch the confrontation. And so fucking typically, of all the people in the room, neither Rhysand nor Cassian are anywhere to be found.
Which means you’re dealing with this alone. Because nobody else will care to break this up.
You curse quietly and jump in just as Jonan goes to land a hit on Azriel’s jaw. He falters as you throw yourself between them as best as you can at the angle. It’s not great, but you manage to wedge an arm between them.
“Hey. Enough.” You snap, and it feels like all the times you’ve reprimanded the camp younglings. “Cut this out right now.”
Jonan scowls. And actually says, “He started it.”
It makes you never want to have sex with him again. Never have you been drier between your thighs.
“I don’t give a shit. It stops now.” You stare between them seriously, and then you’re firmly grasping Azriel’s arm. “Az, we’re leaving. Now.”
There’s a moment’s hesitation, like Azriel really, really does not want to give up the fight. But then he’s letting go of Jonan’s shirt, more or less dropping him to the floor.
“Fine by me.” Az fucking smirks at the male. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
You don’t spare Jonan a single further look as Azriel grabs your hand and pulls you through the thralls of people, all disappointed at a fight not coming to fruition. But their attention is quickly stolen by something else, and you don’t look back as you and Az step out into the cold.
Az begins to walk as though the past minute never even happened. You’re quick to catch up to him and grab hold of his forearm.
“Hey.” Your breath clouds in front of your face in the cold night air. “What was that?”
Azriel shrugs. “It was nothing. He is nothing.”
“You—”
“It’s fucking freezing, Y/N. Can we just go?”
You stare back at him. The urge to pry more, demand an explanation, is a strong one. But it is freezing, and in this frame of mind, you’re not certain he’ll tell you anything, anyway. He’s in a strange mood — probably in anticipation of the upcoming training exercise. Perhaps unwisely, you decide to drop it.
“Go where?” You concede. The biting cold makes the decision to do so much easier.
“Dormitories. You can stay with me tonight.”
Dormitories is a very generous term for the limited accommodation that is offered to each training legion. Most of it sits unused, due to the majority of Illyrians preferring the harsh, toughening dwellings of tents and crumbling old houses in all extreme weathers. But a certain amount of small, draughty rooms are available, and Az tends to make use of his when the cottage begins to feel too crowded, and he needs a break from living on top of Rhys and Cass.
There’s no hammering droves of snow tonight, and you’ve patched up your boots enough to hopefully last you a little longer. A broad expanse of stars glimmers above you, making it a rather pleasant night for a stroll — or it would be, if not for the unavoidable presence of Azriel’s bad mood.
Your attempts at conversation are met with non-committal responses, and by the time you’re kicking through the peeling wooden door to the accommodation, you’re fucking exasperated.
Azriel can be very, very insufferable when he thinks himself into a foul mood.
You could go home, back to your father’s house — you certainly consider it as you follow Az into his cramped dwellings, but…you don’t know. You wouldn’t like to leave him like this. To walk away without seeing him crack a little smile. In nine years of friendship, you’ve never done so before. So you shut and lock the door behind you, and resign yourself to a very silent, very tense night.
You press your back against the door, watching as Azriel perches on the edge of the bed and removes his shoes. Through the walls, you hear the distinct sound of skin slapping against skin, and the building moans of a female close to climax. This miserable building is more often used as a place for a quick fuck than it is to actually sleep in.
But Az doesn’t seem to notice as he shrugs out of his clothing, quickly slipping on a pair of low-slung cotton sleeping trousers, and sprawls out across the mattress, wings fanning around him.
You’re not sure why you don’t move, at first. Or maybe you are.
Your gaze snags on the toned muscles of Azriel’s torso, and the smattering of dark hair that maps a line from beneath his bellybutton to what sits under his trousers. You’ve seen it countless times before, and yet you can’t stop staring.
Particularly when he stretches his arms above his head, and then drags a hand down his stomach. To him, it’s a subconscious act, but to you—
You can’t stop yourself zeroing in on his hand. The very hand that touched you and bathed you in a pleasure so stunning, so splintering, that you hadn’t dared to try and replicate it yourself since. Such inexperienced fingers had coaxed such expert sensations—
“Are you coming to bed?” Azriel’s voice drags you from your thoughts.
“…Right.” You clear your throat. “Yeah.”
“There’s a shirt for you in the armoire.”
You shuck off your clothes, digging out the tunic you often borrow from Az to sleep in. He barely spares you a glance, his eyes glued to the ceiling. You can’t help heaving a sigh as you pad over and slip beneath the blanket. The faelights wink out, and for a while, you both lie there in silence. It’s you who eventually breaks it.
“Are you going to tell me what that fight with Jonan was about?”
Az slings an arm above his head. “You were there. I’d hardly call it a fight.”
“No, I’d call it an overreaction.”
“Jonan’s an arrogant bastard and everyone knows it.”
He brooks no room for argument. And he’s not exactly wrong, either. You know Jonan gets himself into more brawls than the average person. But Az wasn’t exactly justified tonight.
But before you can think of a response, he says, quietly, “Sorry — if I ruined your night.”
You pause. And then roll onto your side, staring at his outline through the darkness. “You didn’t. I didn’t want to go to the party, anyway.”
There’s a tiny, soft snort. “Me neither.” He agrees. “But going along with Cassian’s ideas is the story of our lives.”
“That it is.”
Az says no more, does no more. And you…you hate it. Because it’s not simply that he’s sleepy and dozing off beside you. He’s just as awake as you are. And his mood is still heavy and tense.
You can’t stand it.
It’s perhaps against your better judgement that you inch closer to him, your mind already made up about how you might lift his spirits. It’s dangerous, because your arrangement has simply been about helping him, and he’s always been the instigator, knowing what he needs and when he needs it. Which he most certainly isn’t doing now.
But you would be helping him…in a way. And you can’t lie and say that it hasn’t bothered you, over the past two weeks, that you didn’t get to return the pleasure he gave you.
It would still be a learning experience. That’s what you tell yourself as you press against his side and drape your arm over his stomach.
Az pauses, but this isn’t unusual for the pair of you. You’ve cuddled like this plenty of times over the years — with your other friends, too. And so there’s no hesitation as he slides an arm beneath you and tugs you closer, his wing tucking you in.
You rest your head on his chest, and you murmur, “I don’t want you to go on the training exercise.”
You really, really don’t.
You always miss your friends when they’re sent away, but it seems…heavier, somehow, this time. Like there’s more between you to miss.
That…that is not a good thought to have.
You banish it from your mind rather than dwelling on it.
Az’s hand presses against your back. “I’ll be home in time for Solstice.”
You hear the unspoken promise in that statement; the one Azriel knows you need to hear. Because this isn’t just about simply missing his company.
Solstice is…hard for you, to say the least. Being holed up with your father, him drinking from the crack of dawn until he collapses in a chair by the fire. His unpredictable, volatile moods and tendency to pick at you over every tiny thing. It’s the time of year you rely on your friends the most, and you spend the entire day waiting for your father to pass out so you can sneak away and forget him for a while.
Azriel’s bare skin is so pleasantly warm, lulling you back to the present. You shelve your worries for the time being, press your cheek against his pectoral, and breathe in his frost-and-cedar scent. His wing drapes over you, cocooning the two of you in your own little world.
And there’s no better place than inside that world to ease some of Azriel’s tension. Bring the smile back to his lips.
“…Az?” You whisper, slowly gliding a hand over his stomach.
His body tenses beneath you. There’s a pause before he answers, “Yes?”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing…” He clears his throat. “Nothing much. What are you thinking about?”
The question is an opening for you to stop this right here. You could return a similar, half-assed response, remove your hand from his stomach and go to sleep. Like any sensible, reasonable friend would do.
Or you could be honest.
You could tell Azriel that your close proximity has you thinking all about the magic of his fingers, the sensations he wrought from you. You could admit that it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve thought about it since it happened — not at all. You could tell him that you’re still a little stunned, because besides yourself, nobody has ever made you come that hard.
You could tell him how badly you want — need — to return the favour.
And never one to back down from a situation, however daunting, you do exactly that.
“I’m thinking…” you murmur, and your finger begins to just slightly trace lines over his stomach. Your touch is so light, and yet you feel his body react beneath you. “I’m thinking that there’s more I’d like to teach you about touching.”
A little breath escapes him. “Oh?”
“Mhm.” That finger of yours gets a little bolder, making bigger sweeps over his skin and dancing close to his waistband. “But this time, I want to touch you. You made me feel so good, Azriel. I want to make you feel good as well.”
“You…you don’t have to do that.”
Gods, you know you don’t. You know this situation has never been about him expecting anything from you. Just a friend helping a friend out. No big deal.
But who says you can’t both get something out of it?
“I know I don’t have to.” You answer him. Your hand stops its movements, and you stare up at him, your eyes accustomed enough to the dark to make out certain features. “And I won’t, if you don’t want me to. Do you want me to?”
A tiny, tiny little pause.
And then Azriel rasps, “Yes.”
It’s a guttural, gasping sound, and it’s so delicious that you want to swallow it.
You don’t hesitate in moving your hand up to his face. You angle it towards you. Slant your lips over his.
And you smile. There’s a mulled wine that Azriel far prefers drinking over the piss-poor ale that most males around here favour, and it’s not the first time you’ve tasted it on him. It’s pleasing to explore — the spices and berries and damp heat of his mouth a combination that coaxes you to slide your tongue between his lips.
Az seems pretty well comfortable with his kissing technique, now. He leans into it, not at all tentative, his tongue meeting the strokes of yours. And then he suddenly breaks away.
“I like—this.” He pants heavily, breath fanning your face. “I like doing this.”
The words make something glow inside you, because that is precisely what you want. This isn’t just about teaching him the technicalities of physical touch. It’s about liberating him from the barriers he’s built in his mind, and showing him how much he can enjoy it.
And your friend deserves that.
You plan to really show him.
You slide your hand over his hip and haul him closer, eliminating the tiny little gap that existed between your bodies. An act that makes him suck in a breath.
“If I do anything at all that you don’t like, you need to tell me, Az.” You stare at him. “Okay?”
He nods.
“I need your words. Swear it.”
“Gods, Y/N, I swear it.”
He kisses you this time.
He really does like doing that.
The kiss is hot and hungry, loitering on the precipice of being frenzied. Azriel’s hand slides to the back of your neck, his fingers kneading the skin there. A dim faelight blinks back to life, bathing the two of you in enough warm light to see each other. His tongue pushes past the seam of your lips.
But you don’t give him the chance to stroke at your mouth. There are a million other places you can think of kissing; a million other places you’re just as desperate to get your mouth on.
Your lips glide along Azriel’s jaw with the lightness of a breeze. He goes still, appearing to wait with bated breath to see what you’ll do next, and how it will feel. He’s never been kissed here before.
Nor at his neck. You kiss the skin gently, at first, and smile to yourself at the little breath that hitches in Az’s throat. Something told you he’d be amenable to neck kisses.
Indeed, he is, as you attach your lips to the column of his throat and suck.
It’s a soft ungh, this time, that escapes him. A noise of both surprise and delight. Perhaps he never before considered the sensitivity of the neck, how enjoyable it might be to be kissed there. It’s one of many things you want to be the one to teach him.
You suck and lave at the area until his stomach is caving beneath your hand, and then you’re moving on, dragging your mouth over his collarbone. Down to his pectoral.
His skin is hot but its taste is cold — cold, like his scent. Frost and snow, icy starlight, the whipping winds and thrill of flying. Gods, it’s all delicious, and you close your mouth over his nipple, desperate to taste more.
Azriel starts, his back arching just a little. Your eyes flit up to his as your tongue teases the peaked flesh.
“This okay?” You check, allowing your teeth to graze just a little.
“Yes.” Az breathes. “I never considered that that might feel good for—for a male, too.”
You smile, repeating the action, fastening your lips totally around the nipple and giving a gentle suck. It earns you another quiet sound in response.
But you don’t want quiet. You want to make your friend feel so good that he can’t keep a lid on those sounds. The muscles of his stomach are quivering under your palm, and you decide it’s unfair to make him wait any longer.
So as your tongue circles his nipple, you slip your fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers.
You’re careful, even though you know the sharp intake of breath is a positive one. Nobody’s hands but his own have ever ventured here. You want him to be aware of every touch, every feeling.
Your fingers skate over the dusting of fine, coarse hair. And lower. And then your hand is on his cock.
The mere weight of your touch drags a breathless little noise from Azriel’s throat. And you pause.
Azriel is big, even by Illyrian standards.
From touch alone, you can feel its length, its thickness. You’re not entirely sure you can fit him in your hand, let alone anywhere else.
But gods are you willing to try.
You take your time exploring every detail, starting at the smooth, swollen head — already leaking a droplet of moisture —and circling its rim with your finger. Azriel’s hips jerk, and you smile, removing your mouth from his nipple to kiss further down,
“Still doing okay?” You ask, coasting your lips over his ribs. The pads of your fingers stroke over the head of his cock slowly, casually.
But there is absolutely nothing casual about Az’s voice as he grounds out, “I’m doing great.”
“Want me to keep going—”
“Please.” The word escapes his mouth before you can even finish the sentence. “Please.”
You smile, and you scoot lower down his body, giving yourself the perfect angle to explore the muscles of his abdomen with your mouth, your tongue.
It allows you to feel the exact moment you glide your palm down the length of Azriel’s cock, following the long, jagged vein.
Gods, it feels like it goes on forever.
The skin is velvety, smoothing over every vein, every bump and ridge. You explore it all, as much for your enjoyment as for his. You can’t imagine what it must be like to feel it sliding in and out of you, hitting a spot so deep inside you that you’d have to bite the mattress—
A thought you should not be having. It isn’t going that far.
And there’s a twinge of disappointment at that fact. But now isn’t the time for disappointment.
You trace the length of Azriel’s cock all the way down to his balls, and he’s trembling beneath you. You tug at his trousers, whisper, “Can I pull these down?”
It might be silly to ask, given that your hand is already well beneath the fabric. But you want him to have a choice in everything.
So when he gives a firm nod and lifts his hips for you, you tug the cotton trousers down, peeling them easily from his hips.
Azriel’s cock springs up. And it…it might just be the most perfect cock you’ve ever seen.
You damn near moan at the sight of it.
But before the sound can escape you, you smother it by pressing your lips to Azriel’s stomach. You kiss the skin, lap at it, graze your teeth over it. And your hand returns to his hardened length.
Finally — fucking finally — you wrap your hand around him.
Azriel makes a gasping sound at your touch, his hips canting up into your hand. He’s so responsive to your touch that you have to clench your thighs together to ignore your own arousal. This is about him. Entirely about him.
It’s about him as you slowly begin to pump his shaft, peppering kisses down and down until you’re at his hip. It’s about him as you squeeze gently and hear the hitching of his breath.
“So responsive,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hip.
“Is that—gods—” He hisses between his teeth as you pump a little faster, “—is that a good thing?”
“Very good, Az. I want to know that you’re enjoying it.”
“I am. Fuck, Y/N, I am.”
“Good.” Another kiss lands on his skin. “You’re doing so good for me.”
The praise drags another noise from the depths of his throat — the loudest he’s made so far. You don’t know whether he’s simply gaining in confidence, or whether he’s losing control. Maybe both. Hopefully both.
And you think you might lose control, too. Watch with rapt fascination as the head of his cock leaks, and it’s swelling, thickening in your hand, and you know he’s not going to last much longer.
You really want to taste him before he falls off the edge.
“Holy gods,” Azriel pants, his teeth biting into his lower lip. “Y/N, I don’t think I’m gonna last.”
“Don’t fight it.” You lick your lips. “Can I put my mouth on you?”
The question makes him fucking groan, and he chokes out an affirmative response, his cock rutting into your hand. You know he’s close, and you want him to finish. Preferably on your tongue.
And when you slide your mouth onto his cock, you know that’s going to happen.
You hollow your cheeks, sucking him into your mouth as much as you can.
Azriel shouts, his head falling back, eyes screwed shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
You suck on him, tongue tracing the length of the vein that’s beginning to throb. He doesn’t seem to be aware of the way he slides his hands into your hair, his hips rolling.
“Y/N,” he pants, your name languid and slurred on his tongue, “m’sofuckingclose.”
You pull your mouth off of him long enough to say, “Look at me. Watch me while you come.”
And then you’re sucking him again, your hand wrapped around the base of his length. You pump and lick him and bob your head in time to Az’s hips canting against you, and you think the sounds he’s making may just be the most beautiful ones you’ve ever heard.
And he watches you so closely, his brow furrowed, his lips parted, his chest heaving. Your gaze collides with his, and you’re hollowing your cheeks and giving a particularly harsh suck.
“Oh, gods, Y/N, fuck!”
Azriel spills into your mouth, shot after shot coating your tongue. You take it all, swallowing greedily, savouring the saltiness and the hint of something else that is just Azriel. It seems endless, and so do his groans, his constant string of curses, the jerking of his hips and the trembles wracking through his entire body.
You damn well suck him dry. Not a drop is spared.
As you finally pull him out of your mouth, wipe your lips with the back of your hand and glimpse his shaking, sated form, you know you’re committing the sight to memory. For when this is all over.
He’s…he’s a vision. Head still tipped back. Stomach and chest still heavily rising and falling. Pleasure still pinching his face. His hands are fisted tightly in the bedsheets.
You leave him to come down from his high. He’s still panting a little when his head lolls forward, and his eyes meet yours.
“That was—” His voice cracks a little. “God’s, Y/N, I don’t have words.”
“It’s okay.” You press a gentle kiss to his stomach, tucking his sensitive length back into his trousers. “Words aren’t necessary. You did so well.”
His arms are suddenly around you, tugging you up and against him, your body slanted slightly over his. All the earlier tension from the night is gone, and it’s just you and him, your love and friendship, your unbreakable bond.
Az holds you tightly, burying into your hair. And you think that this was maybe more than just…you returning a favour. You think this might have been a soul-shifting moment for him. Something that released him from the invisible bindings that have held him back for so long.
And it saddens you a little to think that that might be the end of it. That you’ve done all you can do.
But still, you’re honoured to have helped him this far. To have guided him through it.
“Thank you.” He whispers, dropping a kiss onto the top of your head. He’s still trembling, and he tucks himself in tight as if he’s worried he might break. “Just…thank you.”
You don’t quite know what to say. It feels a little…final, and you don’t like that.
So you simply nestle into his side, and you repeat your earlier truth, your voice a whisper. “I don’t want you to go on the training exercise.”
Because you know you’ll miss him more than you ever have before. It’s going to be far harder this time.
What, exactly, that means…you can’t bear to think of it right now.
And there’s no need to as Az holds you tightly, kisses your head again.
“I’ll be there with you on Solstice.” He says. “I promise.”
azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden
#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#azriel acotar#azriel x you#azriel fic#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fandom#acotar x reader#acotar writing#acotar fanfic#acotar headcanon#acotar smut#acotar series#azriel fanfiction#azriel shadowsinger x reader#azriel spymaster#azriel fanfic#reader insert#Cassian#Rhysand#Illyrians
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