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sunni’s graphics dump !! [ 5/? ] // matching discord headers for me and the hantual @hanjesungs
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Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update
AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.
The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.
Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.
You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.
Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.
Go me!
This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.
Not complainin', just sayin'.
Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt.
And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.
Not complainin' just sayin'.
This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back.
But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!
Then my computer crawled toward the grave.
My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.
There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.
At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.
Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.
That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.
Welcome to my gigabyte hell.
The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.
All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.
But I was not daunted! Nosirree!
I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!
And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.
At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.
I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.
Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.
That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.
Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.
I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.
Then there was news.
I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news.
It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.
Then I got the official bad news.
Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.
Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work.
I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.
"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.
So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.
Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.
Eff this guy.
Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.
I didn't even know there was such a thing.
There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.
I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.
What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.
Hi Ho.
Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.
I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work.
Just cut it out and get me back to work.
And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.
Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.
The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way.
Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.
I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry.
To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.
I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.
I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.
I have never been more grateful in my life.
Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.
Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.
Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.
Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.
But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.
Then I finally got my surgery.
Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.
My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."
Which was super not fun news.
Eff this guy.
The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.
The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.
By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.
I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.
But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.
All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.
After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.
Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.
Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.
But at least my main hospital is super swank.
The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.
So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.
Nearly tore off my damn nostril.
Eff this guy.
Anyway, it was a bad year.
Here's what went right.
I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings, enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.
Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.
No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.
So, yay.
My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.
I got to ring the bell.
I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.
I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.
After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.
Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.
I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.
It's a miracle.
Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.
The new computer works great.
The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.
I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.
I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.
More time for real life.
While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.
OK. Rough year.
Not complainin', just sayin'.
Back to work on The Book.
And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks.
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Virgin
Summary: Reader is a virgin. Daryl might as well be.
Alexandria // pre-Negan era ; established but unlabeled relationship
Super mild corruption kink vibes (if you squint) on both sides. Reader is a nervous wreck, Daryl is kinda clueless but charming, skilled, and smooth as ever.
This is long and I'm not sorry about it.
18+ MDNI || Warnings: slight age gap, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p-in-v, generally embarrassingly graphic and descriptive smut, drinking (not drunk sex), loss of virginity, profanity
Your hands shook as you filled two glasses with whiskey. Daryl would be over any minute. You had this date planned all week. Daryl was typically pretty busy with his bike or recruiting with Aaron, but he always made time for you when he could. Neither of you ever put a label to it -- boyfriend, girlfriend, partners, lovers -- it was all the same and those words never uttered from either of your lips. It just was what it was, and it made you both happy, whatever that meant. You did, however, often wonder what you really were to him. You liked to think he'd always choose you, but how could you know? You never would, not until it came down to an issue where you were a choice over something else.
You replayed your conversation with Rosita in your head all day, pacing nervously in your shared home with Rosita and Tara as you tried to rationalize how you would move forward with this newfound information.
"So, spill! How is it with Daryl?" Rosita asked curiously, drawing out Daryl's name with a sultry, mocking tone.
"Oh, things are good! He's coming over tonight, actually." You smiled softly to yourself.
"No, dummy!" She giggled, slapping your arm playfully. "I mean in bed! Is he rough? Tender? Does he have any weird fetishes? Is he a boob guy or an ass guy? I peg him for an ass guy but I could be wrong."
"Uh -- What?" You were stunned? In bed? You really never thought about that.
"Come on, don't be greedy! Share the details!" Rosita practically begged.
"Details.. Right. Well, there aren't any, really." You said slowly.
"What?" She gasped. "Don't tell me he's the vanilla missionary type."
"Vanilla what? No, I just mean we haven't really.."
"You haven't had sex?!" She gawked at you. "(Y/N), stop right now."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Men have needs, (Y/N). And so do we! It's the end of the world!" She shook your shoulders. "You gotta get your rocks off!"
Rocks off? What did that even mean? You weren't really that much younger than him. You were twenty when the dead began to roam the earth. But, you were a virgin then, and you were still one now. You never liked anyone enough to get so vulnerable with them. You heard the rumors at school when girls would give it up 'too easily,' or when the guys at your jobs would be snickering about a girl they slept with. What her boobs were like, how she sounded, all the flaws they found with her body. You just thought it would be so foolish to put yourself out there like that, to be one of those girls they were talking about. How could you ever trust someone enough to see and feel every part of you after all of that?
It wasn't that you didn't get turned on. You did, as much as anyone else. You just took care of yourself. Plus, it wasn't like the apocalypse provided many opportunities for your first time.. Or did it? Had you been missing signals? Passing by your chances to get naked with someone? Did he even want that? How would you approach it?
A knock at the door yanked you out of your thoughts. Oh god, was he there already? Was it time to get your rocks off?
"Hey!" You grinned anxiously at Daryl as you swung the door open. He noticed your nerves right away. He raised an eyebrow.
"Hey." He greeted. "Y'alright?"
"Huh? Oh! Yeah." You waved him off.
"Well, uh, can I come in?" He asked. You realized you were standing there, blocking his entry, which you never did. You always threw the door open and walked away, allowing him to enter on his own accord and make himself comfortable. You internally facepalmed.
"Oh, duh." You chuckled as you stepped aside and shut the door behind him. "I poured us some drinks."
"Cool." He nodded, stepping over to the table where two equally filled glasses stood waiting. He grabbed one and took a sip.
You glanced him over. Clean clothes, no sweaty smell; he bathed for you. His eyes scanned you just as quick. He was a little surprised at your dress. It wasn't extravagant, just a floral sundress that fit you in all the right places,but you never wore dresses unless Rosita and Tara forced you for an event. You were more of a jeans and a tee kind of gal.
"Pretty dress." He complimented.
"Thanks." You blushed, smoothing your hands over it.
"Rosita make ya wear that for me?" He wondered as he took another sip.
"Oh! No. I just-- Uh.." You stuttered. God, why were you so nervous? He had to know something was up. You never struggled to talk to him. He was you dearest companion.
"Just wanted to look pretty for me." He concluded with a smirk. Your face felt like it was melting right off the bone.
You chuckled nervously and grabbed your own glass, taking a gulp, hoping to calm your nerves.
"Sure you're alright?" He asked again.
"Mm-hm!" You hummed with an eager nod. "I'm fine!"
He shook his head and swirled the liquid around in his glass.
"You, uh.. Find us a movie for tonight?"
"A movie..? Oh! Right! Yes." You hurried over to the coffee table where a copy of School of Rock sat idly. "Do you like Jack Black?"
"Mm-mm." He shrugged. "Think I've seen his stuff before."
"Oh! He's funny. My brother used to watch all of his movies. Did you know he had a band?" You rambled.
"Nah." He shook his head. "Didn't know."
"It started with a T I think. I can't remember what they were called." You went on as you bent over to set the disc in the tray and get the movie ready. When you turned around you nearly dropped your glass. He was standing right behind you. "Oh.." You breathed. "You scared me."
She studied your every feature, trying to figure you out. You were never a mystery to him. He liked that. You never seemed to be keeping anything from him, never had an ulterior motive. You were always a raw person. He never had to try and decipher you like he felt he had to with most girls he liked in the past.
"Why you actin' weird?" He asked in a low husk.
"Weird?" You squeaked. "I'm not--"
"Ya are." He argued. "Real weird. And you never wear dresses."
"I do wear dresses sometimes--"
"Only when someone makes ya.You don't ever gotta dress up for me. Ya know that."
"W-- I know, I just.."
"Then why?" He catechized you mercilessly. Your knees felt weak under the weight of this burden of nerves and unsureness.
"I just..." You were at a loss. How could you play this off? You decided to try your best with whatever your brain could muster for an excuse. You straightened up and crossed your arms. "I just thought it'd be nice to look good for you, Daryl Dixon. Is that a problem?"
He smirked a little, finding amusement in your sad excuse for confidence. He shook his head. "Nah, no problem at all."
"Good. Now, excuse me so I can get out movie started."
----
About a half hour into the movie and you were still imploding. Was it time to make the move? How could you do that when you couldn't even bare to look at him? Hell, you two had never even kissed. You just... Watched movies, sat close enough to be touching, snuck off on forest strolls, you know, normal things. Or was that not normal? Were you supposed to have initiated something more by now?
He had been sneaking little glances at you the whole time, registering your faint expressions of worry. What was on your mind that had you so riled up? Had he done something? He doubted it. So what was it?
His arm that was outstretched on the back of the couch behind you twitched a little. He moved to play with your hair but you stood up abruptly. "I gotta go to the bathroom. Be right back."
You sped off to the upstairs bathroom and looked in the mirror. Your internal battles were written all over your face. He had to know something was up. Actually, you knew he did, because he asked you what was wrong like three times before the movie began. Shit, what now?
You took a breath and splashed some cold water over your face in efforts to ground yourself, patting it dry with a hand towel. Okay, (Y/N). It's time. Get over your fears and just make the move. As soon as you figure out what the move is, anyways.
Maybe you could just kiss him and he'd initiate the rest. That's how it works in the movies sometimes, right? Right. Exactly. You got this. Just go down there, and kiss him. No questions asked.
So, you marched down the stairs, strode to the couch, and froze, staring down at him with wide eyes as he sat there with a questioning gaze. Shit, what were you doing again?
"Everything alright?" He finally broke the silence that was somehow louder than the audio from the movie.
"What?" You asked, stunned, forgetting you had just stomped all the way down stairs and right over to him and then froze, blocking his view of the movie. "Oh, uh--"
He stood up just then, piercing blue eyes beaming into you.
"Y'gon' tell me what the hell's got your panties all in a wad or what?" He asked impatiently. "You're freakin' me out."
"I am?" You mumbled. "I just.."
Oh, screw it. You're backed into a corner, now. You only have one option. As quick as you could, you tippy-toed up and pecked him on the lips. You face turned red immediately. A small, amused smile crept up at the corners of his lips.
"All that just to kiss me?" He chuckled. "Didn't have to dress up for that."
"What? Uh -- Oh. Well, I.." You stumbled and tripped over your thoughts. It wasn't just to kiss him, and his reaction was not what you anticipated. Where was the movie moment? The fireworks and explosions? Wasn't he supposed to grab you by the cheeks and kiss you passionately and carry you to bed? What the hell?
"Ya what? Were ya that nervous? Thought I'd bite or somethin'?" He joked.
Bite? Is that a sex thing?
It was all too much. You were in way over your head. You had no idea how this was supposed to work. You felt nauseous, your face was numb, and suddenly you felt it rising from your gut to your throat. Was it vomit? Yes, but not the material kind.
` "Rosita said we should have sex!"You blurted, eyes wide like saucers as you slapped your hand over your mouth to keep anything else from escaping.
Word vomit.
Daryl was stunned completely. It took him a minute to process what you had said. He blinked.
"Rosita said what?" He shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. "Don't listen to that. Don't gotta do that just 'cause she said. We can do that when ya want to, not when someone tells ya."
He turned around and took his empty glass back to the kitchen, shaking his head and trying not to laugh. It was admittedly adorable that the thought of going to bed with him would mess you up so bad all night.
You were still frozen solid with your hand over your mouth as he grabbed the bottle of whisky. You dropped your hand to your side and looked around for your glass. You picked it up off the coffee table and gulped down the last half of it. Just as he was starting to pour is second serving, you spoke up.
"I do want to."
He paused, peering up at you through his eyelashes without actually moving his head up to show you his face. He set the bottle down and thought for a moment.
"Uh, sex -- I mean." You clarified. Again, he tried not to laugh. There was no need for clarification. His deductive reasoning was very much adequate to handle such a statement.
He shook his head and poured his glass before he walked back over to you.
"Do ya now?" He asked quietly, eyeing you intensely as he took a swig. You swallowed a lump in your throat. Why did you feel so dry all of a sudden? He seemed to read your mind as he offered you a sip from his glass, which you gladly took.
"I do." You said unsteadily, failing to feign confidence.
"Ya sure?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" You raised a brow, crossing your arms. He took the glass out of your hand and set it on the coffee table.
"Ya been drinkin'."
"I'm not drunk."
"But it wasn't your idea to begin with." He pointed out. "Le'me ask ya.. If Rosita never said nothin', would ya even be considerin' this right now?"
You didn't respond. He had a point.
"Exactly." He confirmed, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "We don't gotta rush into nothin' like that."
"I've thought about it." You blurted. Blurting was quickly becoming a habit of yours, you were learning. You gulped.
"Have ya now?" He smirked. He knew that already. Of course you did, just like he had plenty of times. You were both adults with desires. He wasn't blind to that.
"Uh-huh." You nodded slowly. "Every time I--"
Your hand slapped over your mouth again. What were you doing? Were you really about to admit that you fantasized about him every time you touched yourself?
"Every time ya what?" He raised his eyebrows tauntingly. "Played with yourself? That's okay." He shrugged. "Everybody does that and if they say they don't, they're lyin'. What're you supposed to think about? Ya supposed to count the cracks in the ceilin' or somethin?"
While he enjoyed the way you squirmed under the pressure of this conversation, he still wanted to make light of it. He joked to make it easier for you.
"Do you think about it?" You asked quietly. His face lit up a little. It was much more amusing when the spotlight was on you.
"I mean," he shrugged. "What else would I think about?"
You blushed. He thinks about you when he touches himself too?
"I dunno.." You shrugged sheepishly. "I just..." You realized how foolish and childlike you must have looked to him right there. You straightened up and held your head high. "Well, I want to."
"I don't think ya mean that."
"I do." You insisted.
He looked you over. He definitely wasn't opposed to the idea, but he was nervous. He had no idea what kind of experience a pretty girl like you would have over his drunken one nighters and failed attempts at relationships in the past. You never told him you were a virgin. After all, it never came up.
"Okay." He nodded. "Wha'd'ya wanna do, then?"
You faltered. What?
"What?"
"Wha'd'ya wanna do?" He asked again.
"Uh..." You glanced around the room. What did he mean? How many ways were there to... What? "I wanna... have.. sex?" You said, more as a question than a definitive.
"Uh-huh. But there's lots o' ways to have sex."
He plopped back down on the couch, glancing at the movie credits rolling behind you. He had a feeling you'd back out when you realized that you were in over your head.
"Um, I want to..." You waded through the marshy wetland of thoughts and memories inside your head, trying to recall every piece of erotic information you had ever known. What was it Rosita had said? "Vanilla missionary?"
He stifled a laugh. "Oh yeah? That's all?"
Well, shit, man. What the hell else did he want from you?"
"And..." You trailed off.
"Y'ain't ready for all that yet." He spoke up for you.
"I am too!"
"No, y'ain't." He shook his head, still clearly amused.
"I am! I just.... I need you to teach me." You said.
"Teach ya what?"
"I'm... I'm a virgin." You said just above a whisper. Wow, that was embarrassing to say out loud. He nearly choked. He was not expecting that. At least it meant you wouldn't have high expectations that he couldn't meet or something.
"Really?"
"Yeah." You nodded. "But, I'm an adult and I know what I want. So, show me." You demanded.
----
After a long battle to get him there, you finally had him in your room. Both of you just standing there awkwardly in the dim light of a small lamp beside your bed.
"So." You began.
"Mm." He hummed, stepping closer to you, running a finger over your shoulder to brush the hair off of it.
"Do you... Wanna kiss me?" You asked. A small smile just barely spread on his lips. Of course he did. He just hoped he could make it as tender and special as you deserved.
He leaned in slowly and brushed his lips against yours, hovering there for a moment before he connected with them fully. Slow, sweet rhythm was what he aimed for. He wasn't sure how he was doing, but when he went to pull back and you followed him like a magnet, he figured he was doing okay.
He kissed you a little longer, hands resting gently on your sides to keep you steady as you swooned for him. If he hadn't been so sure he had to be the lead in this whole scenario, he would have melted into a puddle. Your lips were so soft, and you were just so damn sweet. He loved how eager you were for him. He just couldn't imagine taking advantage of you, which was why he made you walk in a straight line before he brought you up to your room. Just in case you had more to drink than he thought.
When he pulled away for real this time, you were desperate for more.
"Why'd you stop?" You pouted under your breath. He let out a soft chuckle.
"All in time, darlin'." He said as he guided you back to the bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress and you sat down.
"Now what?" You asked. He considered your question.
"Lay down." He instructed softly. You did.
He crawled over you. Your heart began to pound. Was this it?
He leaned down into your neck and started planting small kisses along the length of it. You gasped quietly. It tickled in the best way. Your hands naturally gravitated to his chest, resting them against him. He trailed his lips down to your collarbone as his finger slid the spaghetti strap of your dress down over your shoulder to keep it out of the way. His kisses lined over your collarbone and all over your chest, at least the upper half. You laid your hands on his shoulders.
He hadn't even touched you anywhere significant but your panties were absolutely soaked. Your eyelids fluttered a little. Why did this feel so good already?
He went to tug your dress down to expose your breasts but he paused. He looked up at you. "This okay?" He whispered as his finger hooked the dress. You nodded. He slid it down and took a moment to admire the sight beneath him. You were braless. Your nipples hardened with the cold air. Goosebumps peppered over your supple flesh.
He leaned down and went back to kissing softly around the mounds of breast, one hand gripping gently as he wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked. You gasped audibly at the sensation, reminding him that he was doing things right. Your hips twitched as the sensitive nerves shot tingles all the way down to your your pussy. Your walls twitched.
He worked his way to the other nipple, earning the same reaction. He bravely nibbled ever so gently on the second one, pulling the tiniest whine right out of your throat. He smirked a little. So reactive, you were. He almost felt guilty, like he was taking some kind of innocence away from you. Something you could never get back, not that you'd want to.
His hands slid up your outer thighs. He looked at you again for permission. You nodded. He slid the dress up over your hips and started kissing and nibbling your inner thighs. You twitched and exhaled at the more sensitive spots, and when he got as close as he could to your panties without actually touching them, he pulled back and looked up at you. You were flushed and eager, and it was killing him inside. He smirked again and placed a quick little kiss over your panties, right where he guessed your clit would be. You gasped and jerked at the sudden pressure. He hooked his finger under the waistline of your jeans, again, glancing up at you for permission. You didn't nod this time.
"Please.." You whispered.
He was on top of the world. Hell, he owned the universe. You were begging him for something he had dreamt of giving you.
He slid your panties down your thighs and over your feet, tossing them to the side somewhere. He stared down at your glistening slit. You were already dripping.
He traced a single finger over the front of your pelvis, feeling the smooth, freshly shaved skin beneath his callous.
"Ya didn't have to shave for me." He whispered. You blushed.
"I just--"
"Shh. It's okay." He cooed, gently running that same finger down your slit with painful gentleness. Your mouth gaped immediately, eyebrows pressed together. You had touched yourself plenty, but it felt so different when he did it. So new. "All this for me?" He teased, holding up his finger coated in your wetness. You blushed again. He raised his finger to his mouth and sucked it clean. You watched, helplessly infatuated with the dreamy sight below. Dreamy. Were you dreaming?
He lowered his face down, kissing softly over your lips before he finally swiped his tongue through your slit. You jerked and gasped, as you did for the next few seconds as he started to acclimate you to the sensation of his tongue.
"Relax." She whispered. You gasped again when his tongue glided flatly over your cunt, but you let out a shaky exhale and did as he said. You relaxed. When he felt you melt down into the bed, that was when he really got to work, flicking his tongue over and around your clit until he found a rhythm that you responded to. Your breaths and inhales slowly blended into a pattern of moans and tiny whines. He had you now, exactly how he needed you. Comfortable in bliss.
He slowed his pace then sped it up a few times, memorizing every reaction your body had to offer. When he stopped licking and started sucking on your clit, he slid a single finger inside you. If you were a virgin he was gonna have to loosen you up and get you ready. He wasn't one to gloat, but he was probably thicker than most, so he knew you'd need as much help as you could get.
You let out a moan as his digit slid inside you. That paired with the ache in your clit as he sucked at it was giving you visions of stars.
He got back to licking in little circles over your clit, slow at first, but then he sped up. He slipped another finger in, massaging your insides as your legs began to shake around his shoulders.
"Oh god." You breathed. You felt a buzz in your lower half, a warm feeling building in your lower abdomen. You were getting close, and he could tell. He wanted to make you wait. He wanted you to be as eager for his cock as you were for his mouth. However, he wasn't entirely sure he'd last that long. You were so tight around his fingers, convulsing and pulsating, and he hadn't felt the inside of a woman in a long time.
So, he took you all the way. He kept his pace with his tongue and fingers as he built you up, brick by brick, until you crumbled. It didn't take long at all. You shuddered and let out a loud moan, hips rocking against his face as you trembled and whined and rode out your orgasm.
It was more than you could have ever anticipated. Your fingers were nothing compared to what he had just done to you. You didn't think you'd ever recover.
He slowed down, just barely gliding his tongue over your clit and twitching his fingers inside you to ensure you rode out the full length of your high, only pulling away and slipping out when he was sure you were overstimulated enough.
Your chest was rising and dropping as you stared down at him and his wet mess of a chin. Your lids were heavy. He climbed back up to your face and planted a kiss on your forehead before he stood up off the bed and began to strip.
Oh, right, the sex part. You had forgotten entirely. Your eyes fixated on the bulge under his boxers. They grew wide when he slid those off, too, and the sight of his bare cock hit you. It was long and thick, and you had no idea how you were going to take all that. He didn't expect you to, though. He'd try of course, but he'd be carefully monitoring for any signs of pain.
When he climbed back on top of you, you stared up at him nervously. He leaned down and left little kisses along your jaw before finally resting his lips on yours. You ran your fingers through his hair as you kissed him back.
"Ya still want this?" He mumbled against you.
"Yes." You whispered.
He took your approval and looked down and guided his tip to your entrance. You bit your lip with anticipation when you felt the hard pressure of his head against you. He looked at you. You nodded. With that final gesture, he pushed the tip in. Your face contorted. He watched you as he pushed in a little more, and a little more, stopping when you whimpered.
"Y'alright?"
"Uh-huh." You squeaked.
"Y'sure?"
"Yeah. Keep going. I want you to." You insisted. Well, if you insisted.
He pushed in further, achingly slow until he bottomed out. When the base of his shaft connected with your pelvis, your eyes widened. You let out a deep moan. Your own fingers could neve stretch you that way, could never reach that far inside you. It was an entirely new feeling. You couldn't tell how you liked it just yet.
When you didn't protest, he pulled out and pumped back in, slowly at first, soft strokes, until your body relaxed and you were visibly acclimated.
When he was confident you could take it, that was when he sped up, fucking you harder and faster by the minute. Your body tensed up around him. He could feel your walls clench and pulsate around his cock. He was starting to think you might cum again.
He leaned into your ear.
"Can ya cum again for me?"
Your eyes glazed over, lids falling lazily over the majority of your vision. Between your moans and whimpering you managed to choke out the words; "I-- I think so.."
"Mm." He growled lowly. You gripped his arms tightly, tuning out every thought as you pictured his cock pumping in and out of you, hitting that sensitive spot inside you that you had no idea existed until that moment. A familiar warmth washed over you. Tension in your stomach built and built, until finally.
"Yes!" You gasped, as if answering his question again.
"C'mon, girl.." He panted. He was also terrifyingly close, teetering on the edge. He only held back in hopes he'd squeeze another orgasm out of you first.
A high pitched whine escaped you as your body buzzed, shivers crawling over you as you came. If your sounds weren't enough, he could feel the pulsation around his cock and he knew he was almost in the clear. He clenched his jaw, trying as hard as he could to hold it back while he fucked you through your climax. Eventually he just couldn't take it anymore.
He pulled out as fast as he could, groaning as he stroked and milked hot cum out onto your stomach. You were breathless and sex drunk as you laid limp on the bed, watching him. When he caught his breath, he leaned down and grabbed your panties. He used them to wipe you clean of your own juices and his, before doing the same for himself.
"Ya gon' make it?" He teased you in your incapacitated state.
"Yep." You said lazily. "'Cause I'm gonna need more."
He chuckled. "I need time to--"
"I meant tomorrow. And the next day, and the next day."
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Tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck
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How about a 1016 miles x fem reader where his mom catches them kissing in his room 😭😭 I feel Rio would not play
Caught Red Handed
Characters: 1610!Miles Morales x Black!Fem!Reader
Genre: Fluff & slight Angst
Summary: (Requested) Thanks beautiful ♥️
Warnings: awkwardness, snooping parents, Rio’s rage
A/N: Omg Rio would never play like that. I think it took a lot of convincing for you and Miles to be in the same room. Welp that's gone now. Also for my own peace of mind, Miles and Reader is 16+
You loved kissing Miles. You loved leaving a trail of kisses on his jaw, traveling down to his neck, and traveling further down into the depths of his collarbone.
You were doing it right now. Both of you laying on his bed with you draped over his body and his hands on your thighs for stability. You heard a chuckle under his breath and you paused to look at him.
“That made you tickle,” it was more of a statement, an observation really, than a question. He didn’t answer, just avoided your eyes. You took your finger and lightly trailed leaving goosebumps in it’a wakes, leaving him a laughing mess.
“You're such a tease,” he grumbles and kisses your lips.
The both of you were so entrapped in your own world that you didn’t hear Miles’ door opening, and you most definitely didn’t notice Rio standing at the doorway with lunch in her hands.
“What are you two doing?!” You hear a yell. It sounded too much like Ms. Morales for your liking.
Both of you froze with fear and slowly turned around to see a fuming Ms. Morales. She was gripping the tray for dear life and fierce glare on her face.
You practically jump off Miles, white hot embarrassment fills every part of your body. You avoid her line of sight as you brace yourself for the inevitable verbal lashing. You don’t even dare to look at Miles, not even a secret glance in his general direction.
“So this is why y’all wanna keep the door closed all the time huh?” She questions and laughs in a mocking tone.
“Mom-“
“Don’t,” she cuts him off harshly. She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. She opens them and they land in the space between you and Miles. “Have you two..?”
“No, we haven't,” Miles answers quickly, and somehow your embarrassment grew deeper.
She gives out a sigh and pinches her nose, “Okay, okay that's good because I will not become a grandmother right now, do you both understand?”
Both of you nod in unison. There was something more terrifying about her calm rage. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in anxiety.
She clears her throat, “Since neither of you clearly paid enough attention during sex-ed in school, I will re-teach you.”
“Huh? Mami please no. You really don’t have to,” Miles protested while you sink further into despair.
She ignores Miles and grabs a chair to sit in, “Okay so when..”
This was going to be a long night but it could definitely have been worse.
“Oh and you both are severely grounded for at least a month,” she adds before she continues on.
It was one of the worst 30 minutes of your life. Ms. Morales went really in depth on every subject related to sex education. The diseases you could catch, different methods of practicing safe sex, and the consequences of failing to do so. She painted horrifyingly graphic demonstrations too.
By the end of it, all you wanted to do was go home and erase this idea from your memory forever.
And at the end, she said, “Now maybe a month from now, after some reflection I can trust you two to be in the same room with the door open. But not right now. Do you need a ride home?” She turned to you, her gaze and voice softer than it was a moment ago
You quickly shake your head no and grab your things. As much as a car ride home would beat the 2 trains and a bus commute you had, your already cringing at the thought of how awkward and tense the car ride would be.
“No, no it’s fine Ms. Morales, I can get home on my own,” you tell her and with a quick goodbye to both of them, you were out the door.
Halfway through your train ride home and the Renaissance album you get a text from Miles. You were surprised he still has his phone.
“I’m sooo sorry for that. Shoulda locked the door next time. I'll make it up to you, promise 🙏🏿”
“I'll hold it to you Morales”
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back at you
(peter parker x reader)
summary: the five times peter stood you up and the one time you did it back.
contents: angst, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending.
. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
i. empire state building
"hi love!" peter waves at you before sitting down on the bench with his arms around you. "i miss you."
"hi pete," you say back, planting a small kiss on his nose.
"are you free tonight?"
"if i purposely forget about my stoichiometry homework then i am," you grin.
he laughs at your joke, "i want to take you on a date on top of the empire state building. we haven't been on a real date lately and i've been a really terrible boyfriend for that reason so i want to fix things up. so- er what do you say?"
"sure, i'll be there," you answered.
"no, i'll pick you up at six and swing you up there," he insists.
"i've never been swinging in a thin sticky line before. i don't know how to feel about this offer," you make a face.
"come on it'll be fun i promise! just hold on to me and i will make sure you're safe."
"alright," you smile at him under the may spring weather.
when evening came, you were picking out outfits to wear to the date. you don't want it to be too much, because you'll be swinging high up in the air. you picked a comfortable outfit, ready to wait for peter to arrive at your door.
but he didn't come.
fifteen minutes have passed and still- no calls or messages.
you began to worry, thinking he's in a spider-man trouble but you believe in him to know that he will escape any inconveniences because he's smart and agile.
an hour has passed. no calls or texts.
you felt disappointed. you were really looking forward into this because peter's life has been replaced with spider-man lately and you've been replaced by new york city.
thirty minutes later, peter called you, saying he was sorry for not making it.
"hey lovely, i'm sorry. i really am. please forgive me, there's a robbery on the subway and it took me quite sometime to beat them all up," he says breathlessly with the sound of the wind.
"oh yeah that's fine," you say, trying to hide your disappointment but he hears right through it. "are you okay?" you ask him.
even with your disappointment, you still asked him how he is after the fight.
"i'm quite alright. i can pick you up right now and we can head to the empire state building right now."
"pete, i have to finish my stoichiometry homework."
"i will do it for you."
"have you finished it?"
"no," he admits, a beat of silence filling the line.
"well, i will see you tomorrow then. good night."
"good night, i love you, sweets!"
"love you too," you say before ending the call.
ii. ice cream
you met peter two days later, his state more jagged somehow. new bruises and scars on his face. you notice how he now wears long sleeves instead of the normal graphic t-shirt he wore with a science joke screen printed on them.
"hi pete," you reach for him, taking his hand in yours.
peter smiles a lopsided smile.
"i haven't seen you since our supposedly date day," you say, "are you all right?"
"i'm sorry about that," he replies, scratching his nose which made the dried scar torn open. "ugh-"
you pull out a napkin from your bag, folding it before pressing it against his bleeding skin. "who did this to you."
"no one, i just fell while swinging," peter says, kissing your hand that rests in front of his lips.
"this is not a bruise, it looks like someone did this to you," you say.
"let's forget about this okay?" he takes both your hands. "an ice cream date tomorrow?"
"sure," you reply.
"hey you didn't sound too pleased with that," peter remarks.
"i'm just worried pete, what if being spider-man makes you dead?" you say.
"stop, i'm not going anywhere," he assures you as he squeezes your knuckles. "tomorrow at three?"
"three in the morning or evening," you ask jokingly.
"at dawn, sweetheart," peter plays along. "i'll be there tomorrow. meet me at the ice cream shop okay?"
"i will," you agree. "let's go home, it's getting late."
"i'll walk you home," peter insists, throwing his arms around your shoulders.
as the two of you walked home, peter's spidey tingles were tingling. he ignores it at first but then sirens came so he looks at you sadly. you nod, urging him to help the police.
"i'm sorry love, please text me when you get home. i love you," he yells as he disappears behind an alleyway.
"bye, i love you too," you whisper, starting to walk back home.
the next day came and you are now sitting on a booth inside the ice cream shop. the time is now three o'clock sharp and you are waiting for your boyfriend to walk through the door. your eyes are glued to the street outside, wishing every person passing by is peter parker.
three thirty, and still no peter. the waitress asks you for your order but you decline it, saying that you're supposed to be meeting someone.
three fourty five, still no peter. you wonder how pathetic you look sitting here in the warm dim light alone surrounded by sweet couples.
you start to worry about him, then you start to question yourself on why you're here alone. peter was supposed to be here forty five minutes ago. he was supposed to be here sipping milkshake and inhaling mint leaves to make you laugh.
you fumble with your fingers, heart tripping and falling with no safety net.
the waitress you talked to earlier came with a tray of strawberry ice cream with a sympathetic look on her face. "here, for free. if you were a cartoon character, there'll be a cumulonimbus cloud hovering over your head," she says, pushing the tray to you.
"oh thanks," you say tiredly, "you don't have to y'know, think i'll be leaving soon anyways."
"it's fine. my manager wouldn't be happy to see someone sitting here without ordering any of our menus," she declares.
"but you said it's for free?," you say.
"she wouldn't know. it's a gift for me to you because clearly your 'someone' is supposed to be here but they aren't. hope this makes it up."
"thank you, dorothy," you read off of her name tag.
four fifteen, still no sign of peter but the tv above the counter was showing a scene of spider-man fighting a criminal on top of a roof high up.
you sigh, eyes shooting bullets at the tv screen.
you pack your belongings before heading back to your home. once again, peter stood you up.
"oh my god," you screamed when you heard a crash behind you. you reluctantly turned around, only to see peter on the ground with his hair messy and unruly. "are you fine?"
peter stands up, shaking the dusts off of him. "love i'm sorry! i'm sorry! i'm-"
"peter, it's fine," you put on a smile, even though your intonation screams disappointment.
"it's not, just because you're smiling doesn't mean i didn't mess up," he says apologetically.
"you have your duties. i can't force you to throw it away like how you do your chores."
"don't make jokes now," peter sighs, "are you still up for it? i'll buy you every menu in there."
"i'm tired. i've been sitting inside there for over an hour i just want to go home," you admit.
"at least let me walk you home," peter insists once more.
"okay.." you start to walk away down the block.
"i'm sorry, honey. please forgive me! how about we move this to tomorrow?" he asks.
"i don't think you'll like it there," you say.
"hmm? why's that."
"because i think i fell for the waitress that was there," you try to joke around to make him feel less guilty. he already has so much on his shoulders and you don't want to be one of his baggages too.
"who? i'm not letting a stranger take you away from me," peter makes a salty face.
"secret," you giggle. peter takes your face between his hands before planting sloppy kisses around your face.
now it's like everything is perfect. peter kissing you under the sparkling lights of new york's buildings on the sidewalk.
iii. star wars marathon
"ah y/n hi sweetheart!" aunt may opens the door to greet you. "peter told me you were coming over for movies"
"hi aunt may, is he here?" you ask her as you take off your jacket and put it on the rack.
"i thought he was coming with you?"
"oh yeah! i was supposed to meet him at the skatepark but he told me to go here first," you cover up for him. peter hasn't told may about spider-man yet and you want to keep him out of trouble.
"oh alright, have you eaten dinner?" may asks.
"i'll wait for peter first, aunt may, thank you."
"you can wait upstairs, peter wouldn't mind," aunt may offers.
"i know," you smile at her before coming up the stair to his room.
you opened his bedroom door, taking in the surroundings. his room is extremely messy. like a wrecked ship. you climb up his bed, making yourself comfortable on his bedsheets.
it has been hours since you arrived and peter still wasn't here. he was taking so long to the point where you feel asleep in his bed.
you felt sick in your stomach. all you ever hope for is peter's safety out there.
you woke up when a crash was heard from his fire escape. your body jolt up, your full attention is now on his fire escape.
"oh y/n! i forgot about our movie date!" peter say once he saw your face. "i'm so sorry, please believe me. i was looking forward to it but i i got carried away! oh s-"
"pete, come here," you say sternly.
peter freezes, looking at you like a deer in headlights. he is ready for your scolding as he walks over to you but his thoughts were quickly pushed away when you rub his arms tenderly.
"what happened, darling?"
"nothing too bad," he lets out a breathy laugh. "you should see the other guy."
"no i don't want to see whoever did this to you," you say in disbelief. "stay here, i'll help you with these," you point to his new scars.
"i have super healing, it's fine, love," he assures. "just come here please. let's watch star wars together."
"um i think it's getting too late," you say much to peter's disappointment.
"what do you mean? it's only eight thirty, we can watch one movie!" he starts to replace his suit into his pajamas, ready to watch with you.
"i have to get home, my mom needs me to... uh wash her dishes," you tell him. it's not that you didn't want to watch with him. you're too moody and upset to be around him for now.
he has been absent for dates three times in a row and you feel like you were fighting alone.
you left peter alone in the bed. you can practically feel his melancholia floating through the air.
"hey aunt may, i'll be going now," you bid goodbye to her.
"oh goodbye sweetie," she says. "make sure you get home safe alright? peter should walk you home!"
"that won't be needed, i'm fine aunt may."
"all right," may smiles warmly at you despite the cold air of the night.
when you arrived home, peter has sent you twenty five messages in a row. each of them being
'i'm sorry'
'please answer me, love'
'get back to me when you're home safely."
'pls get home safe'
'i love you'
and those messages over and over again.
iv. science laboratory
since that day, peter calls you over and over agin wishing you'd pick up. and you did.
you answered his call only for him to say that he was sorry and he's going to plan a date again.
you were tired of him asking you for dates and ended up being alone. you rejected his offer, saying that you have some family stuff so you won't be able to make it.
and peter knows
he knows that you're upset he has been leaving you alone on dates.
so the only time left for him with you is for the lab homework. you two are lab partners and you had suggested to do it in your house.
firstly because you don't want to walk home alone in the dark, and secondly, you don't want to lie to aunt may again. knowing that one way or another, peter will probably get home late.
you sat on your sofa, waiting for him to knock on the door. you place out the text books on the tables, set out glasses of water, take out some snacks from your fridge. and peter is not even here.
waiting for him has got you tired so you decided to do the work done yourself.
you already got most of the answers required then peter shows up; drenched in sweat and blood at your window.
you heard the tapping from below and immediately sprint upstairs, knowing it is peter.
"hey, uh i'm sorry," he winces as he steps inside your bedroom.
"hey pete, it's fine," you say, trying to assure him. "come in, let me fix you up."
peter nods, letting you take care of him. "you sound tired," he points. "are you alright, love?"
"that question should be asked to you!" you reply. "okay, here, just sit in my bed, it's fine."
peter does as you say, "sorry about this," he waves his fingers at himself with a bitter laugh. "and also our lab work. sorry."
"it's fine," you say again as you wipe the blood off his face gently. "i've done the work, most of it. you can finish the rest."
"what?" peter asks wide eye. "i- i was supposed to do that with you!"
"pete, calm down. i will let you finish the rest here. you look terrible."
"huh," he breathes. "nothing too bad."
"are you sure you could still do the lab homework?" you say, worried.
"yes love i am capable," he puts on a convincing grin.
"okay..."
peter starts to do the work while you rub his back soothingly. "if you're tired, that's fine. take a nap in my room."
"no i'm not," peter scrunches his nose, eyes squeezing shut.
"okay..." you continue.
v. chocolate cups
that night, peter has asked you to go on a date. and you didn't have the heart to reject him in such state.
the way he smiles when you said yes can melt every butter in the world.
he planned to go to the new chocolate themed place. from the advertisements, it shows to be an ideal date place for a romantic relationship.
you waited there, on the front. waiting for him. you actually has hope this time of peter showing up.
the place was cute and warm. displaying an unreal scenery. you saw couples walking in and you smile at them discreetly. they looked incredibly happy and in love. you can't wait for peter to get here so you can have the same happiness as they do.
you stand there, in the middle of the porch. he is already thirty minutes late. you see pity looks sent to you by people around. but still had hope.
but as each second passes, your faith in him was fading. you didn't know if new york really hates you or it's just a coincidence that whenever you and peter were supposed to be on a date, the city will have something coming up.
you decide that your waiting was too long so you come home. it was humiliating to say the least. the way other people looks so happy while you were feeling crestfallen.
those pity looks didn't make anything better either.
although you understand peter, being spider-man is hard. you have to constantly push your personal life aside to save the whole city from dangers.
a part of you wishes he didn't push you aside like his other things.
vi. the one time
days after, when you are calmed down from that upsetting and humiliating day, peter told you about this dinner place that he was looking forward to trying.
he knows you love culinary and this was perfect for the both of you.
you agree to going there with him, making a promise to be there.
he promised whatever happens in the city, he's sure it's nothing the police can't control.
the day came and you we're fighting your own mind about going or not.
you believe in peter. he's your boyfriend. he does not break promises. but there's always something coming up in evenings like these.
there's always something avoiding you two to be together.
so with the conclusion, you stayed at home.
peter on the other hand was worrying on the table he rsvp-ed. not only you haven't arrived yet but also you weren't answering his calls.
the worst possible scenarios come to his head. clouding up his thought in a fog of bad dreams.
he does think that he deserves this. having the humiliating feeling of when your significant other didn't show up on a date, in a room full of tenths of people with their pitiful eyes.
he couldn't wait no more so he goes straight to your home, hoping that you were there.
it was raining heavily, his neat shirt that you had given was soaked. his hair is dirty with mud and dirt.
and you are. you were reading a book in the dim lit bedroom. he knocks on your window hastily, hoping that you can hear him outside in the rain.
"peter?" you spoke. making your way to your window, the sight that flashes before you was unexpected.
you didn't think peter would actually show up so saving your energy by staying at home and get 'sorry' messages were expected. but not this.
"peter what are you doing?"
"did you forgot?" peter asks sadly, shivering from the cold rain.
"about our dinner?"
"...yes."
"i just thought you wouldn't show up. and i don't want to be in a situation like our previous date plans," you admit, feeling guilty.
"we made a promise, didn't we?"
"yes, pete. i'm sorry. i'm just so tired of standing alone in a room. i'm not going to let that happen to me anymore. i thought something was going to come up because that's what happens in our date. every one of them."
"but we promised. you didn't trust me enough to keep my promise?" peter asks, heartbroken by the thought.
"no! that's not what i'm implying. you always put new york's happiness above mine and i just- i don't know. doesn't seem fair. new york has its own police, government, and what not but you are my boyfriend. my best friend. i miss being with you. like actually being with you."
"love, i didn't realise how much i've been pushing you aside for this city. and you're right. i am your boyfriend and i'm supposed to make you happy- not neglected. i'm sorry."
"yeah,"
"yeah, and from now on i will balance peter parker and spider-man. just call me if you need me, and i'll show you just how much i care about you. more than anything."
"even new york?"
"yes!" peter exclaims. "i guess we're even."
"no, you stood me up five times. and i only did it once!" you joke.
"well that's true," peter says bitterly.
"pete, i'm only joking. i'm happy you're here," you say.
"you told me you missed me. and i do too. so why don't we spend time together. like, right now?" peter suggests.
"yes we can."
"movies?"
"star wars marathon?"
"i'll get the snacks."
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it wasn't me [t.rodman x reader]
prompt: trinity refuses admit to stealing your clothes
author notes: the word for this mini fic is "steal" obviously. i swear this is the most trinity coded fic i have written for her. i'm knocking out a request for more trin fics and helping myself write more, killing two birds with one stone. hope y'all like it 💞
trinity has a problem. actually the right word would be an addiction. she can't stop herself from stealing your clothes. the mix of your perfume and body wash you use rubs off on your clothes, making her heart all happy so can you really blame her? it was a cute habit except for when you needed to actually wear your clothes and half of your closet was gone. still you never stop her, so trinity happily indulges in her you-based addiction.
the only downside of this is the fact trinity does not like admitting it. even if everyone obviously knows it. this isn't even due to a pride thing, the american player just doesn't like to admit it. in her mind technically your clothes are her clothes so is it really stealing?
"baby! have you seen my mickey mouse pajama pants? it's going to be a little chilly and i wanna wear them," you shout out as you look through the closet in your bedroom. trinity comes into the room when she responds, "nope. haven't seen it, babes." she leans against the door frame, watching you look through your closet.
unlike you, trinity was already dressed. it was around ten am and practice started at twelve pm, so you forced her to get up eight to get ready. she groaned the entire time and demanded kisses after she did every part of her routine. you happily obligated every time.
"ugh.." you let out a groan. just deciding to give up on your idea of being extra comfy in your pajama pants and instead grabbing some black sweatpants. at least it matches your white graphic tee and the grey jacket you planned to wear out. you turn, dropping the sweatpants on your bed before coming over to trinity. "are you sure you haven't seen them?" you mumble into her chest after hugging her. trinity straightens up to hug you back properly. swaying a bit as she rests her face against the top of her head.
"nope. i don't even remember you having a pair of mickey mouse pajama pants. maybe you just made that up"
"wow, am i being gaslight right now?" you joke making her laugh loudly. the hug goes on for a long moment before you pull away. "gotta slip on these pants so we can go. i want to stop by that brunch place you like to get breakfast," you move away from the door and go to stand next to your bed.
"what? the spirit cafeteria breakfast food isn't good enough for you anymore?" trinity leans back against the doorframe. a badly hidden smirk on her lips as she watches you near your bed.
"don't you know? when someone gets famous they have higher standards. it comes with the fame," you put on a fake sad tone when saying the last sentence. trinity snorts, rolling her eyes. "oh god, where has my humble girlfriend gone?" she says.
"she's dead," you shrug before glancing at the clock sitting on one of your nightstands, "alright. get out so i can change."
"i can't watch my own girlfriend?"
"sorry, no. that choice expired after the last time we didn't go anywhere," you give her a fake pout before making a shoing gesture. the american player lets out a long groan before moving away from your room. going off into the kitchen to eat up half of your snacks.
it doesn't take long for you to get fully ready. having to also do your hair and find your training kit which somehow ended up in the guest bedroom. trinity and you leave out of the house at 10:40. with you carrying both of y'all bags since trinity claimed her arms hurt. you throw the bags into the back seat before getting into the driver's seat. trinity was already in the passenger seat before you put the bags away. you get ready to drive off, but is stopped by trinity saying, "wait!"
"what?" you look over at her, a confused expression on your face. the american player just smiles, "i have to go grab something. i forgot."
you just shrug when she gets out of the car. five minutes after going into the house, trinity comes back out. the shock on your face can't even be described as you watch trinity walk out of the house in your mickey mouse pajama pants. the one that she specifically said she didn't even knew you had.
trinity gets into the car just like before. snapping in her seat belt before looking over at you, "alright. let's go! i'm still starvinggg."
you give her a blank stare. thinking that would be enough for her to realize the current irony going on, but nope, trinity just looks away from you. focusing on connecting her playlist to the aux. "you know ashley texted me yesterday and she's actually getting along well in north carolina. i never thought i would hear her say that, weird," trinity's face scrunches up in slight disgust before shrugging.
"baby.."
"what?"
"why do you have on my pajama pants? i was looking for those!" you say as you pull out of the driveway. the american player side eyes you before looking out of the window instead of directly at you.
"i don't know what you're talking about," after saying this trinity tries to change the subject, but you aren't letting up. you keep reminding her of the earlier conversation you two had, but trinity denies that it even happens.
you drop the topic at brunch. enjoying the moments of eating nicely made bacon and pancakes while trinity gossips her head off. you try to bring it back up when y'all get back in the car to drive to practice, but trinity still doesn't let up so you drop it.
practice goes by smoothly with trinity annoying you every five minutes. you two go back to your place afterwards and slow down for the rest of the day. it's around ten pm when you bring the topic back up; and it wasn't even your fault.
trinity is in the shower while you're scrolling on twitter. mostly seeing fan tweets and bad jokes when a post about trinity catches your eye. on the tweet is the photo the washington spirit posted on instagram of trin's pre-practice outfit. she's waving in the photo while walking, with you trailing closely behind her. the tweet says the way the pants don't even reach trin's ankles. we all know who pants those are 😭
you immediately send that to trinity's phone. ready to start up the conversation once again after your thoughts were affirmed by some stranger on twitter; thank you to that fan.
© thinkingaboutjaedyn
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you did this one drabble about remus seeing readers scars for the first time almost a year ago and i was wondering if you could so the same or similar with sirius seeing readers love your work so much
ty babe!
cw past self harm implied (no graphic details)
Sirius has really nice hair. Like, really nice. It's fine but he has a lot of it, a dark brown that looks glossy in the sun. Soft between your fingers. Sirius tilts his head to the side to allow you a better angle.
You're hip to hip at the bottom of the decking in his garden. It overlooks the end of their garden where Remus plants his flowerbeds and James' failing (but looked after) greenhouse soaks up the sun. Sirius isn't as outdoorsy as the other two, but he likes to tan, so you've agreed to come and bask in the heat with him for an hour.
"Do you think I should water his flowers? He's been sleeping all day," Sirius says.
"I'm not sure about that one, my love," you say softly. "Doesn't he do it every other day?"
Sirius takes your hand and holds it in his lap. "Yeah, but it's very hot out, I'm not sure the flowers are used to this, they've been growing slowly in the British summer, which is to say, they haven't been growing…" He transfers your hand from his right to his left, turning your arm in the sun.
You've had them for so long that you genuinely forget that they're there. If you'd remembered, maybe you could have warned him.
"Sweetheart, what are these?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over the lightened lines of your scars. They aren't glaringly obvious but the sun has made them easier to see, as does his pushing up your skin. "Lovely…"
You're not sure what to say. It's embarrassing, it isn't. They're ugly and they're not. "They're really old," you settle on.
He looks up from your arm. Sirius often seems like he knows everything in that smug but subtle way, grey eyes unbothered, almost impassive; seeing him now with a frown that borders on scared is unsettling.
"How old were you?" he asks.
"Don't worry about it. I forget that I have them, most of the time. I wish you hadn't seen them, I know it's awkward."
"I don't think awkward is the word I'd choose." Sirius wraps an arm behind your back, his skin warm to the touch, the mild smell of his aftershave tickling your nose as he pulls you close. "Well, you know every bit of you is my favourite–"
"Sirius," you chide fondly.
"–no matter what happened before. Do I– uh, do I have to worry? Because I'll worry, I don't mind worrying," he says, forcing your shoulder into his chest.
It feels nice, if bittersweet, to have someone care about it after it's already been done. "You don't have to worry," you promise.
"I'm sorry–"
"Please don't, Sirius. It was just something I did, it was hard," you say, your heart like a twist in your chest, "you know how it feels, right? You're just trapped, and I didn't know how to deal with it." You say it in a rush, the shame of your admission mixed with a desperate want to be seen.
Sirius understands what it's like to feel trapped. "I get it." You turn your face toward his shoulder as a cloud moves and the sun burns your eyes. Sirius ducks down with you, his voice a murmur, "I know things are new between us, but this doesn't change anything? Okay? Just makes me wish I'd met you sooner."
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Harmonious
Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: You may think you're a pawn in Bucky's life, but you are his queen.
Word Count: Over 1.7k
Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, implied vaginal sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)
A/N: Nix gifted me with this beautiful edit and I decided to make it a prequel to Husband and Wife. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner by the amazing @sgt-seabass and divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
You weren't sure how you found yourself in Bucky's study, which would also be yours in time. The day passed by in a blur as you tried to remember when exactly you went into the warm, spacious room and shut the door. You weren’t sure why you chose that spot in particular to hide. As if you could escape from your fiance long enough to get peace.
Maybe some sick part of you wanted him to seek you out, which he did. Even if you tried to run, he’d hunt you down. He'd always find you. He’d win.
"Your move, Printsessa."
Bucky's voice beckoned you back to present as you realized he started the game. You stared at the chessboard, like it would provide answers to the questions about the future you didn't dare ask, before you lifted your gaze to the man you would soon marry. He chose to slick his hair back tonight, which drew your attention to his sharp blue eyes and well-groomed beard. The tuxedo, tailored to perfection, emphasized how large and imposing the member of the Bratva is.
Knowing personally how large Bucky is everywhere had your thighs rubbing together before you could stop yourself. Your traitorous body outweighed your heavy heart. One day they would be in harmony.
What’s so wrong with loving him? Why shouldn't I let him consume me?
You tore your gaze away to look at the chessboard again. He opened with the King's Gambit. Fitting since he lived like royalty. A ruler of everything he touched.
Including you.
So would you allow yourself to be his queen? To be by his side through everything? The ring on your finger may say you'd be his, but he wouldn't own you. Not yet.
In time.
Bucky would see to it.
"Do you remember what happened the last time I beat you at chess?" he asked as you slowly moved a piece.
"You put this ring on my finger," you told him, holding up your left hand.
And he spent the night ruining you with his mouth and cock.
"You almost beat me. It isn't often someone keeps me on my toes," he said, smirking when you wrinkled your nose. "It was a beautiful night. I won’t forget it."
You didn't need the reminder, but you refused to tell him that. How could you deny the beauty of it when he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you? Could you argue when he whispered how much he needed you by his side? The man had the world in the palm of his hand, but he needed you.
Why?
You hadn't done anything special to get his attention, but you had it all without asking. Even when you tried to close yourself off to him, he wiggled his way in. How did he do that?
"Am I just a game to you?" you asked suddenly as he made his next move.
"We're playing a game, but you are not a game to me."
"Why do I feel like a pawn then?"
Bucky appeared unphased, but you knew better. This was a man who would destroy anyone who looked at you the wrong way if you asked. To suggest that he was using you for anything was an insult.
"You're not a pawn in anything," he said fiercely, keeping his eyes on you as he brought his drink to his mouth and downed it in one gulp. "You're my queen, Solnyshko."
You ignored the flutter in your heart when he set the glass down and reached across the table with his metal hand to touch yours.
"And who said you're my king?" you whispered.
"You did when you said 'yes'," he told you, pulling his hand away so you could take your turn.
"I haven't said 'yes' yet," you retorted, knocking one of his pieces away with more force than necessary.
He snorted as he watched the pawn hit the carpet. "You're mine, Printsessa. Or did you forget?"
Your pussy clenched in interest at the thought of him reminding you, but your mind refused to let you give in.
At least, not right away.
"Like you'd ever let me forget," you said, pointing a finger at him. "It's your ring on my finger and your last name I'm taking. What are you taking of mine, besides my body?"
Bucky's eyes darkened a shade as he sat back in his leather chair. Goading him into a fight wouldn't do you any good, but he liked that you pushed. He craved both a worthy opponent and a partner in his life. You were the one he chose to let in.
But the man had many doors to open and you only had so many keys in your grasp.
"It's your heart I want," he said more to himself than you, but you caught the longing in his voice as he looked away.
You paused for a moment, his admission nearly bringing tears to your eyes. "I wouldn't have agreed to marry you if you didn't have it."
Despite the fact that he could bend the world to his will, he would never force you to be with him. There was still so much you didn't know about him though, like his past. You knew just enough to acknowledge that his family wouldn't be there. Not with his parents in the family cemetery.
Did he not trust you with his secrets or did not he not trust himself?
He didn't smile when he looked back at you, but his shoulders sagged in relief. "And I'm yours as much as you're mine."
Fighting him was a losing game. He defeated you the moment he decided he wanted you. What was it you were arguing about to begin with?
Bucky Barnes is a dangerous man, yes, but he would never pose a threat to you.
You would always be in his care.
"Beat me and we can move the wedding up a week," you proposed as you resumed the game.
Bucky considered it with a grunt. The sound brought a smile to your face. No one else would dare tease him about his reactions to anything.
"Two weeks,” he suggested, licking his lips. “And we leave right for the honeymoon after the ceremony so I can fulfill my duty to you as your husband."
"We're having a reception," you stated, wrinkling your nose again to hide your growing arousal. "But we can move it up two weeks if you win."
"When I win," he corrected you with the utmost confidence.
"Just play," you grumbled as he chuckled.
Neither of you spoke for almost an hour as you concentrated on the game, but you stole glances at each other between moves. Why did he have to look so handsome in his tuxedo? Did he wear it just to have you lust after him? A taste of what your wedding day would bring?
He probably had the bowtie in his pocket to use around your wrists later.
"Checkmate."
You sighed, but nodded when he grinned triumphantly. He beat you fair and square. You should have seen that coming.
"Good game," you said, putting your hand out for his in a mock handshake. "You get to marry me two weeks sooner."
"It's a good thing I already prepared for that," he smirked as you raised an eyebrow, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss it instead of shaking it. "Oh, I moved the date up this morning."
"You what?"
"I moved the wedding up," he said as you yanked your hand back. "Are you that surprised? I want you to be my wife sooner rather than later."
"Jackson. Buchanan. Barnes."
The cocky look on his face had you seeing red, but part of you also felt flattered that he couldn't wait to make you his wife.
I can't let him know how gone I am for him, fiance or not.
"Get on the table and I'll say I'm sorry."
It was your turn to smirk. "No."
The dangerous glint in his eyes as they raked over your body made your core throb.
"I can either apologize with my tongue or with my cock," he offered in a low voice. Possessiveness knew no bounds when it came to him. "Either way, you will get on that table and spread your legs so I can worship you."
Suppressing a shudder, you reached under your dress and slowly removed your wet panties. You surprised yourself by making it through the entire game. "Make me," you said, tossing the fabric into his lap.
If he wanted you so badly, he could work a little for it.
His hand shot out, the chess pieces scattering across the floor along with the board. You didn't flinch. Having the attention of one of the most powerful men in the world would make a lesser person crumble. But you weren't easy to break.
You are his equal.
"Is this a taste of what our honeymoon will be like?" you asked as he got to his feet.
"Not just our honeymoon. he rest of our lives," he said, moving around the table to tower over you. "There is no me without you, Solnyshko."
You didn't stop him as he gripped your arms and pulled you to your feet. You allowed him to devour your mouth with his before he put you on the table, careful not to hurt you. Those very hands of his destroyed his enemies, but he only brought you pleasure. He would give you a home. A future.
All you had to do was let him in.
"Show me why I'm making the right choice by marrying you," you challenged him as he shoved your dress up around your hips.
Bucky sank to his knees, digging his fingers into your flesh as he spread your legs. The man who bowed to no one else dropped down to service you. That was the kind of hold you had over him.
In your heart where you tried not to acknowledge it, he had the same hold over you.
"If the mess you make on my beard won't be enough to show you, I'll make sure to do it with my cock."
He laced his fingers with yours, anchoring you to him as he got started. Your king would take his queen tonight and many nights after. He would prove that you brought harmony to each other. And you wouldn't do a damn thing from this day forward to stop him.
I love them. Can't wait to share more of their journey. Love and thanks! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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THE SHOWER | s.kerr
summary: caitlin, alannah and mackenzie have taken it upon themselves to plan yours and sam's baby shower.. what could go wrong?! [1.9k words]
pairing: fem!reader x sam kerr (sweet nora universe)
notes: trying to cheer myself up after sam doing her acl, I hope it cheers you all up too. I missed nora lots and lots.
august 2019, 3 months pregnant
IF THERE WERE THREE PEOPLE THAT you would never trust to plan literally anything, it would be Alanna, Mackenzie and Caitlin. The three of them together are like a taking time bomb that just cannot wait to go off. They are loud, messy, chaotic and almost always in disarray.
So when Sam came to you in the third month of your pregnancy and say that the three of them wanted to be the ones to plan your baby shower, you could've fainted then and there.
Sure, Sam had known the three of them for a long time. They were all really close friends of both you and Sam. Sam had been playing with Caitlin since she was 15, she was in your wedding for god's sake- it wasn't a far fetched idea to have them want to do something so big for you both. But with the three of them together, you weren't really sure how successful your baby shower would be.
You and Sam were completely shut out of the planning side of things. They told you nothing, and you mean literally nothing. Alanna had made the invites before even asking (or telling) Sam if they could plan the shower, claiming that she had an untapped passion for graphic design or something like that. All the information on there was all you got.
The shower was going to be held at your home in Perth during Matildas camp for the World Cup. That way all of Sam's teammates could be there and so could your families. A few of Sam's teammates from Chicago would fly out, Mackenzie ensuring their arrivals. By the time the shower came around you had been shunned away to Sam's parents house to get ready for your day.
Alanna had taken the liberty of finding you a dress, knowing exactly the kind of clothes that you would feel comfortable but confident in at 3 months pregnant. You slipped on your outfit and were subtly impressed with what Alanna had chosen for you.
"Wow, hello you" You couldn't help yourself but to let a smile fall upon your lips as Sam wolf-whistled at you as she came into her old bedroom. You were stood in front of the mirror, fixing up your hair before you left for the baby shower. Sam was dressed in a beige button up shirt with a pattern on it paired with some white linen shorts that you loved her in. She looked so gorgeous.
"Do you like it?" You asked, giving her a little spin.
"You look incredibly beautiful" She nodded softly as she grabbed hold of your hips and pulled you in closer. She placed a quick kiss on your lips before pulling away and hovering over them again. "Like stunning" She whispered, before kissing you again.
"I love you" You leant your forehead against hers, not wanting this moment to pass from you both.
"I love you more" She smiled.
"Are you two ready to head off?" Rox called up the stairs. You were driving in with Rox and Maddie, who were both waiting for you two downstairs.
"Yep! Give us like five minutes" Sam called back. You chuckled and leant into her embrace, leaning against her as she held you tight.
"Are you excited?" Sam said quietly, trying her best to saviour your time together before you went into a sea of people for the late morning.
"I'm more so nervous to see what they've done to our house" You closed your eyes and imagined the chaos that could only be caused by Cait, Alanna and Mackenzie.
"It's just a brunch babe" Sam kissed your forehead, already knowing what you were thinking. "Worst thing could be that they haven't put coasters out on the table" She admitted.
"It's really nice timber, Sam" You defended yourself and your over-protectiveness of your breakfast bar. Sam had it custom made for you when you said that you had always wanted one. It really was your first child in a way.
"Don't worry, I already warned Cait about the timber" Sam droned, rolling her eyes at you. "She's said she'll protect it with her life".
"She better" You raised your eyebrows.
"I doubt she would mess with Mrs Kerr" Sam smacked your bum lightly before leading you out from her childhood room and into the car.
"Oh I love it when you call me that"
You couldn't stop the butterflies in your belly from fluttering around, although you weren't sure if you baby was just moving around more than usual. The house looked amazing when you pulled up at the front. The garden had been decked out in balloons, a sign next to the front door that said 'Y/N & SAM'S BABY SHOWER' in a beautiful handwritten font.
You held your hands over your mouth in shock as you got out of the car with Sam's help. "Oh my god it looks so good," You could've sworn that there were tears welling up in your eyes.
Before you could even take it in fully, Alanna, Mackenzie and Caitlin opened the front door and cheered for your arrival.
"It looks so good!" You exclaimed, bringing all of them in for a bone-crushing hug. You were beyond impressed and far past grateful.
"We clean up nice" Macca chuckled, hugging you tightly.
"Do you wanna like have some faith in us?" Alanna laughed, rolling her eyes at you.
"I was nervous" You admitted, shrugging awkwardly.
"She was so nervous" Sam reiterated.
"Trust the process, Y/N" Caitlin said before leading both you and Sam inside.
The house looked amazing. There were fresh flowers throughout the entry way with more decorations strung up. You spied a few games set up on various tables before entering the back garden. You had to have had over thirty girls waiting for you and Sam in the back garden. Your close friends were there, as well as lots of Sam's teammates, members of your family sprinkled throughout.
You squealed as you spied some of your older friends who you hadn't had the chance to see in a while. Sam smiled as she watched you catch up with your mates, looking radiant.
"It looks just amazing guys," Sam brought the three of her friends in for a hug. "Thank you so so much" She smiled.
"We need to start charging for events I reckon" Macca chuckled.
"Oh yeah, definitely" Cait nodded in agreeance.
"So what do you need from me?" Sam asked, ready to go into mum-mode and help out her girls for the morning.
"Nothing" Cait shrugged. "Can you relax skip? It's your baby shower. Go sit with your wife and chill. Brunch will be out soon"
"How did you manage to order so much food for so early" Sam asked, the curiosity eating inside at her.
"We're making it" Caitlin said.
"Wait, what?"
You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous that Caitlin might burn down your kitchen. There seemed to be lots of raised voices coming from inside your home, majority coming from Lani telling the girls that they had been cooking the bacon for too long. A few of Sam's teammates offered their help. Emily headed in and started to bring out what was hot (and not burnt) with Steph running inside to save the day- her mimosa in hand.
Everyone was determined to not let you inside and look at the carnage you were convinced was happening in your kitchen. Instead, Sam just held your hand and distracted you by talking with your friends and family.
Soon enough, brunch was served and you were pleasantly surprised. Macca ended up coming out late to eat, still with an apron on, claiming she was just tidying up a little. You knew there was probably more than a little bit of tidying to do, and you were okay with that.
Since being pregnant, you found yourself needing more control over situations, but right now in this moment you were grateful that you and Sam had such beautiful friends who were willing to, not only put on such events for you both, but to make sure you were relaxed and enjoying yourself as they did.
After brunch the games began. Caitlin had the idea of a blindfolded nappy change race. You never thought you would see Hayley Raso facing off against Lydia Williams in who could change a baby doll's nappy the fastest. Lydia smoked her for the record.
Alanna had hidden baby photos of you and Sam around the garden for guests to find. To say you were shocked to have a picture of two-year-old sam sitting in your esky was an understatement.
Mackenzie wanted everyone to decorate a one-suit for your bub. You had Clare Polkinghorne claiming hers was the best as she drew a little tillies kit with her number on the back on hers. Sam tried her best to draw little hearts all around hers, but ended up with some red splotches more so than hearts- you loved it.
The shower went on for a while, way longer than you would have anticipated. It was an absolute hit and you were so grateful to have had to thrown for you.
As the night was winding down you found Cait, Macca and Lani cleaning up the kitchen together so you and Sam wouldn't have to.
"Hey," You said as the girls all turned around to face you. "Thank you so much for today. You have no idea how much it means to me that you guys did all of this"
"Stop it!" Macca exclaimed, reaching out to put a hand on your growing bump. "This is our niece of nephew we're talking about! Of course we wanted to do this" She gave you an extra squeeze before grabbing her dishes again to wash.
"I'm just so so happy" You looked at them all.
"So you had a good time?" Alanna asked, bringing you in for another hug.
"Such a good time" You smiled as you leant against her shoulder. You were so grateful.
"Good we're glad," She smiled at you once you pulled away, "Now get out of the kitchen so you don't combust watching Mackenzie attempt to wash dishes" She nodded over at Mackenzie who was trying her best to scrap at a pan that had definitely seen better days.
You offered them all another thank you before heading out into the garden again. You could here Mackenzie start to bicker with Alanna as you left.
"I'm actually really good at washing dishes" She defended herself.
"Not sure if that's really a brag there Macca" Lani shot back.
It became late in the afternoon before everyone had really started to head off. You and Sam were left sat in the back garden together, watching Macca, Caitlin and Lani as they picked up the last few things around the house.
"They're so good to us" You smiled, leaning your head against Sam's shoulder.
"They're good chicks" Sam nodded, never having felt so content that she did in that moment.
"Can't believe in six months we'll have a baby" You marvelled.
"Can't believe in six months our baby is going to have more than three aunties" She scoffed.
"That's on you there skip" You raised your eyebrows at her as a smirk grew on her lips.
"What can I say?" She shrugged, "I've got good teammates".
"The best teammates"
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"I can hear you!"
PAIRING | Tony Stark x Avenger!Fem!Reader
WORD COUNT | 2.8K
SUMMARY | After a rather intimate moment in the kitchen with Tony, you go to your room to take the edge off for yourself. When he happens to walk by and hear you moan out his name, he can't help himself as he walks in, wanting to give you the pleasure you're so desperately craving from him.
RATING | Explicit (E)
WARNINGS/TAGS | Age gap, mutual pining, friends to lovers, use of nickname (Cupcake)
SMUT | Voyeurism, masturbation, use of vibrator, nipple play, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cream pie, aftercare
A/N | This one-shot is based on a request I received from a lovely Anon! From the moment I saw this request, the gears in my head started turning, and they haven't stopped ever since. This is proofread by the lovely @ccbsrmsf1; I could not have written this without your help and support 🩷
EVENTS
Masterlist | @mcukinkbingo | Position: missionary
Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: @ccbsrmsf1
Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist
You're practically floating around the communal kitchen while baking, one of your favorite pastime activities. You tend to make the sweetest treats imaginable when you're not away for missions, hanging out with friends, or buried with your nose in a book. One person, in particular, has greatly liked you and your expert baking skills.
Since you joined the Avengers almost five years ago, Tony hasn't been able to keep his gaze off you because you radiate natural happiness and calm. On the battlefield, you always manage to keep a level head no matter how difficult it gets, which he admires. During those years, he has also developed a massive crush on you, which he has managed to keep under wraps all this time. Little does he know, you feel the same about him, too.
"Are you excited to see Tony again?" Natasha asks as you put the cookies in the oven. You made a batch specifically for him after he texted you about how rough his last mission was. The butterflies in your stomach go wild at the mention of his name, though you pretend nothing's going on, just like you have done all this time.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Nat," you said while rolling your eyes, though you know exactly what she's talking about. You've been crushing on Tony for a long time, too, and it seemed to be visible to everyone except you and him.
"Sure you do," she says before standing up straight, letting you know they're back before going to her room to give the two of you some privacy. Tony walks into the kitchen with a look of defeat on his face, and your heart sinks at the sight—you've rarely seen him like this before.
"Hi, Cupcake," he says to you as he sits down on a chair by the kitchen island, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's really struggling, and you know he needs your company right now.
"Shall I make you a cup of tea? I have cookies in the oven that are almost done as well," you tell him, and he hums appreciatively. Before he met you, he would immediately grab something stronger, but something inside him flipped the moment you took care of him after a challenging mission. So now, he prefers to drink some tea and enjoy your baked goods while in your company because simply being around you lifts his mood.
The tea is quickly made, and you walk around the kitchen island to sit next to him as you put his mug in front of him.
"Thank you," he whispers before he places his head on your shoulder and lets out a deep sigh. His eyes are closed as his hands wrap around the warm ceramic of the mug, and he can immediately feel himself calming down. Your familiar scent and warmth radiate comfort to Tony, and the two of you stay like that until the cookies are done, and you have to get them out of the oven.
"Would you like to try one? I made your favorites after hearing about the mission," you said shyly, and Tony immediately perked up. Knowing you made these specifically for him made his heart beat faster, and the sparkle in his dark brown eyes returned.
"How could I say no to your delicious baked goods, Cupcake? They're my favorites after a long mission," he says, and you nod. You put two of them on a plate before sitting down again and letting them cool while you sip your tea.
"Are you ready to talk about it?" you ask him, but he shakes his head. Tony usually talked about his missions with you as a 'debriefing,' but he wants to live in your comfortable bubble right now.
"Okay," you say softly before sipping your tea again, and Tony does the same with his. He groans softly as the warm liquid slowly makes its way down his throat, soothing him from the inside out. When he puts his mug down, you break off a bit of a cookie before holding it to his lips. It's a seemingly innocent gesture, but how he looks at you with a fire in his eyes lets you know it is anything but.
Your eyes flick from his plump, pink lips to his dark, chocolate-brown eyes, and you must suppress the whimper that wants to move out of your chest. The way your heart beats faster as you lift the baked good to his mouth doesn't go unnoticed by you, but from the look on his face, you know he's feeling the same, too.
His lips parted slightly before he took a bite of the sweet cookie, the taste exploding on his tongue in the best way possible. A soft moan escapes his lips, and you clench your thighs together at the sound, wishing it was you who was coaxing them out instead of the sweet cookie in his mouth. He keeps his eyes closed as he enjoys the taste, though before he can open them, you excuse yourself, quickly making your way to your room after what just happened.
Tony is confused as he wonders what he did wrong, but he ultimately decides to leave it be for now, as he doesn't have the emotional bandwidth to go after you. He makes a mental note to check up on you later, though he won't know what hit him once he does.
A few hours have passed since you shared that intimate moment with Tony, and you're still horrified by how you left him there. At first, you paced through your room while debating whether or not to go back, and when you finally decided to do so, he was gone, and you were too late.
Now you were thinking about the whole ordeal again, and more specifically about the soft moan, Tony let out when he tasted your cookie and the arousal he made you feel by doing that. A flame roars up in your belly at the thought alone, so you decide to help yourself using your trusty vibrator like you have done countless times before.
The lilac-colored silicone toy lands on your bed with a soft thud before you remove your clothes, leaving you in only your underwear. You quickly slip under the covers before getting comfortable, your vibrator in your hand as you tease yourself a little bit first.
The toy comes to life with a soft hum, and you place it over your panties for some light teasing over your clit. Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth as you move it up and down, your hips rutting up. The friction of the vibrations combined with your arousal has you on the edge of release sooner than you thought, so you stop yourself before it's too late.
This time you guide the toy under your panties, sliding it through your soaked folds before turning it on, making you gasp at the feeling of it against your sensitive clit. You moan softly as you rub it over the sensitive bundle of nerves, all the while memories of Tony go through your mind.
When you slide the toy into your pussy, you moan Tony's name loudly as you turn up the setting on it, giving you more and more pleasure while you take your time with it. Your free hand is rolling and tugging on your nipples under your bra, only adding to your pleasure.
The moment you gasped out Tony's name, he happened to walk over to your room to talk about what happened, but he came to a halt right the moment you moaned his name. At first, he wasn't sure he heard you correctly, but the moans became louder, and he could clearly hear you say his name.
Tony can feel himself chub up in his pants, and he's thankful he decided not to put on any underwear after his shower; it would only have been in the way of him and his pleasure. He listens for just a moment longer until he's almost at the point of cumming untouched, which is when he knocks on the door, and you shriek at the sudden sound.
"Uh—oh, one moment!" you say as you quickly put your vibrator into your drawer, not caring about the clean-up for now. All you know is that whoever is on the other side of the door probably heard you, and you're scared to find out who it is.
"Come in," you say after gathering yourself back together for a moment, but all that goes out the window when you see it's Tony, who is on the other side of the door. All color drains from your face at the realization. He definitely heard you moan his name, and now he knows you've been fantasizing about him.
"T-Tony, hi..." you say as your voice trails off, and your gaze lowers. Your line of sight is immediately drawn to the tent he's pitching in his pants. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight before quickly looking away as you know you shouldn't be staring at him and his cock - which has invaded your mind for way too long now.
"I came here to talk, but I think I might want to do something else instead. Hearing you moan my name like that got me so fucking hard for you, Cupcake, and I think I know the best way to relieve myself of the tension," he says confidently as he walks over to you, and all you can do is nod.
"Let me show you how a real cock can make you cum, and I will ensure you it'll be much better than the shitty excuse of a toy you just fucked yourself on," he continues, stripping himself of every last bit of clothing while walking over to you. He kneels on the bed before crawling over to you, caging you in between his arms before lowering himself until he's only a few inches away from your face.
"If you want me to stop, tell me now, Cupcake. I won't be able to once I've tasted you," he whispers, but you shake your head. You don't want him to stop; you want him to make you fall apart on his cock like he promised, as well as so much more.
"I need you, Tony, please," you tell him, and within less than a second, his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss, all the air punched out of your lungs at the movement. Your hand laces into his hair while your other one glides down his back until you've reached his ass, squeezing it in a bold moment. The moan leaving Tony's lips has you ruining your panties even further as a gush of arousal soaks them.
"I've been waiting so long for this, Cupcake; I need you so bad," Tony says, and you nod as he strips the comforter away from you, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties before him. The fabric of both is pulled off your body in an instant, leaving you bare to him.
"Look at you, Cupcake, you're an absolute sight for sore eyes," Tony tells you as his fingers glide over your body, softly tugging on your nipples before sliding through your folds and gathering the slick there. He puts his fingers in his mouth as he hums appreciatively, and your eyes flutter shut at the sight before you.
"Look at me, Cupcake; I need you to look at me when I slide into you for the first time. I need to commit every second of it to memory because I know it'll be a sight I'll never be able to forget,'' he whispers, and you do as he asks. His hand wraps around his long, veiny monster he calls a cock before pumping a few times and lining up with your entrance.
"Take a deep breath for me, Cupcake," he tells you, and when you do, he slides in with a single thrust, and your back arches into him as you moan his name loudly. The smirk on his face is unmistakable as he allows you to adjust to his size, but he doesn't get a chance to say anything before you do.
"Fuck, I love you so much," you tell him as your fingers squeeze his biceps to ground yourself as you adjust to his size. You've never been with anyone of Tony's size, and even though it's a pleasurable burn, you want him to stay still for a bit longer.
Tony looks down at you with wide eyes after your love confession.
"I love you too, Cupcake. God, I've been dying to tell you that," he says with a breathy laugh, and you pull him down for a kiss as he starts to set a slow pace, his hips rolling against your pelvis in a leisurely rhythm. He cannot even begin to tell you how long he's been waiting to tell you that, but now that he has, he can't stop telling you.
"You're so beautiful, loving, and funny, and I love you so fucking much," he says, and you nod as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer.
"I love you too, Tony, so much," and with those words, he sets a fast pace that has you screaming his name within no time at all. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your combined moans make for a beautiful chorus that Tony can't get enough of as he's nearing the end of his ropes.
"Fuck, 'm close! Where do you want me, Cupcake?" he asks you, but you already know the answer.
"Inside me, Tony, I'm on birth control," you say, and he lets out a sigh of relief at your words. Even though you know it isn't the safest option, you don't want to let him go. You want him to cum inside you and mark you as his because you are exactly that. His.
"Yeah? Does my girl want my cum in her sweet, tight pussy?" he asks, and you nod as you slide your hand between your bodies, your fingers playing with your clit until you're trembling and clenching around Tony's cock, milking him for all he's worth.
His pace falters quickly after your orgasm, and with a loud grunt, he shoots every last drop of his cum in your pussy until he's spent. As he falls to the side, he pulls you with him to have you close as you're both enjoying the post-sex haze.
When you both come down from your high, you take a shower together where there are more kisses shared, as well as some less innocent touches, but you're both sensitive from the sex, so you both keep it to a minimum. When you're both finished and dry, you head to the kitchen to prepare some more tea.
"I'm a lucky man with you, Cupcake," Tony tells you as he stands behind you. You're wearing nothing more than his shirt and a pair of panties, while Tony is only clad in his jeans. He places some soft kisses on your neck, his facial hair making you giggle as he does.
You don't notice the rest of the Avengers slowly coming into the kitchen, too, and they're all sharing looks as they see the two of you all cozy by the counter.
"Finally! It took you guys long enough!" Natasha says, and that's when you both look at all the Avengers. Tony keeps you close to him as a blush spreads over both of your faces, making her laugh loudly. You give Tony a look of 'What is she talking about?' but he shrugs before placing a kiss against your temple.
"Guys, come on. The sexual tension has been dripping off you both ever since you first met; it's a miracle it took this long. However, as long as you let me be the maid of honor during your wedding, I will support your relationship with all my heart," Natasha tells you, making everyone laugh.
"Deal!" you say as you melt into Tony's hold. After that, congratulations were exchanged, and everyone quickly accepted your relationship. From that moment on, you and Tony were inseparable, and you are nothing if not a woman of your word, so the moment Tony proposed to you, you asked Nat to be your maid of honor, which she happily accepted.
Life with Tony is nothing short of amazing, and you're secretly thanking yourself every day for moaning his name that day because it brought you the best thing that has ever happened to you. It shows that sometimes the best things can bloom from the most embarrassing moments, but you wouldn't change this one for the world.
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Lessons (modern!HOTD)
Second installment of Teacher's Pet
pairing: professor!Aemond x student!Reader
summary: After your rendezvous with your former professor, you haven't heard from him. Desperate times lead to desperate measures.
word count: 4.2k
rating: Explicit (detailed warning under the cut)
Warnings: mature themes, power imbalance, pussy slapping, face-fucking, slight degradation, edging, begging, oral f-receiving, fingering, anal fingering, p in v, creampie, cock warming
note: felt silly and wrote a long-awaited part 2!! hope you enjoy it loves!!
dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics
It’d been a few weeks since your office encounter with Aemond Targaryen. You don’t know what you were expecting, a text, a phone call? It wasn’t like you had exchanged numbers after accidentally flirting with him at the bar.
No. He made it clear that he was in a position of power, and that what happened between you should be a one-time thing.
Should be.
The phrase you’d been pondering since he fucked you silly. He could have easily told you it wouldn’t happen again, giving you a definitive answer.
But he didn’t.
So you held onto that hope as you made your way through the last leg of your semester. You’d seen him around campus a few times, spared some pleasantries that left your stomach fluttering, and your cheeks flushed. But nothing more than that. Still, it was enough to keep you hopeful. You just needed to find the right opportunity again.
Well, maybe after your final for Social and Cultural Perspectives on Witchcraft and Sorcery. Dr. Rivers was one of your favorite professors, and this elective was clearly where her passions lay. But her weekly quizzes preparing you for your final were about to kill you.
You sighed, making your way to the lecture hall, removing your AirPods. You nearly trip when you see Aemond standing next to your professor outside of your classroom. You force a smile on your face and continue.
“Dr. Rivers,” you greet your professor and glance at Aemond who stands at the front of the door, handing out papers, “Professor Targaryen.”
Professor Alys Rivers smiles kindly at you, as Aemond hands you a packet. He says nothing, just nods to acknowledge you. It sends a jab of pain slicing through you, the ease at which he ignores you.
“Professor Targaryen has kindly agreed to proctor this quiz while I attend an important meeting,” Dr. Rivers tells you, placing a manicured hand on his forearm. You glance at her expression, the sly smile she gives him.
“Fuck me eyes, girl, don’t forget what they look like ever again,” is what Sara had said to you when you’d call her spilling all the details about your dirty rendezvous in Aemond’s office.
Dr. Rivers was definitely giving Professor Targaryen that look. You found yourself pulling your shoulders back as you took the paper from him, his fingers barely brushing against yours. Dr. Rivers is a beautiful, older woman; tall with flowing dark hair that matches her eyes. She always looks her best when teaching, red bottom Louboutins making her appear even more graceful.
She’s wearing a form-fitting forest green dress today accentuating her curves. She’s got that perfect Marilyn Monroe hourglass shape; Aliandrawould be foaming at the mouth and calling her mommy if she saw her. I mean, you’re practically on your knees as well, but the feelings of jealousy suppress your adoration for her.
You move your gaze to Aemond. He briefly meets your gaze, before smiling politely, lifting his hand to usher you into the classroom. You flick an eyebrow up at his dismissive behavior. Aemond’s face remains neutral, and Dr. Rivers glances at you, as though you’ve been standing there too long.
“You’ll do fine, Ms. Y/L/N,” she encourages, assuming you’re nervous about the quiz.
You force a smile back at her, adjusting your bag before heading inside the classroom, brushing by Aemond. You move to your seat and drop your bag, reaching for a pen. So he’s ignoring you now? How typical of a man who finally gets some pussy.
The door slams shut as Aemond walks down the aisle; you can’t help but admire the suave way he saunters between the desks toward the desk at the front. You’re barely listening as he instructs what to do when you’ve finished the quiz, eyes trained on the curve of his lips, the definition of his jaw. The veins on the back of his hand as he writes on the whiteboard.
Fuck.
You wish he didn’t fuck so well, didn’t dress so well, wasn’t so smooth, and easy to talk to. You shake your head before beginning your quiz. Aemond Targaryen was not going to distract you anymore today.
Fucking liar.
You wish you dressed up and wore a sexy little skirt like you did that day in his office. You glance up from your desk. Aemond is mindlessly flipping through papers, tongue darting out to wet his forefinger as he turns a page. His attention is focused on the task at hand. Annoyance creeps up your spine at his indifference.
Had you known he would be here you would’ve taken more time picking an outfit. You had pulled your hair out of your face, utilizing a claw clip, and had settled on a spacious, baggy sweatshirt. At least you wore shorts so you could show some leg, but that’s doing little good right now. You nervously chew the back of your pen, cracking your neck as you attempt to focus on the questions in front of you.
Your eyes flicker back to him. He doesn’t spare you a fucking glance.
Your annoyance quickly turns to irritation, liquid fire burning through you at his indifference. You can feel your face heating up, becoming almost uncomfortably hot when an idea strikes. You place your pen on the desk. You grab the edge of your sweatshirt, pulling it slowly over your head, revealing the skimpy tank top you have on underneath. You didn’t wear a bra with it, you hadn’t planned on removing your sweatshirt at all.
The cool air flowing from the vents causes goosebumps to appear on your arms and you fight the urge to shiver. You let the sweatshirt drop with a thump on top of your backpack. Aemond glances up at the noise, eyes trained on your discarded sweatshirt, not looking at you. He lets his gaze rest there a moment before returning it to his papers.
You lean back in your seat, nipples hardening in the cool air, straining through the thin material of your top. Oscar Tully sits beside you at a neighboring desk, propped on his elbow leaning his face against his hand. His eyes widen as you reach for your claw clip, shaking your hair loose. Oscar’s jaw slacks slightly as you cross your legs, raising your arms over your head in an exaggerated stretch.
You glance at him, noticing the auburn-haired guy staring at you, awarding him a small smile. At least someone’s paying attention. Oscar gives you a lazy smile, eyes falling to shamelessly look at your chest. You run a hand over your hair, twirling some around your finger while reaching for your pen once more. You can’t help yourself and let your eyes glance at Aemond.
He’s looking at you now.
Violet and blue eyes stare back at you as you place the back of the pen in between your lips, gently nibbling on the tip. You tilt your head to the side, before leaning forward, making sure to rest your chest on your forearm, letting the top of your cleavage spill, before returning to your quiz.
Oscar Tully’s mouth has fallen open in a wide grin as he appreciates the sight in front of him; his eyes trained on your chest that rises and falls with each breath. You answer the next question before glancing at Oscar again. He’s handsome, in a frat boy way. You recall hearing he once signed up for this class because he’s into crystal girls. You give him a sultry smile, running a finger down the side of your neck, over your collarbone and the top of your breast. Oscar raises an eyebrow at you and you stifle a giggle.
“Ahem,” Aemond’s voice flows from the front of the classroom.
To make a point, you don’t look at him, letting your gaze fall from Oscar back to your quiz. You finish early, grabbing your things and bringing them to the front of the classroom, depositing the quiz in front of Aemond. He doesn’t say anything, just glances up at you as you turn away, heading for the door. And yes, make sure you swing your hips as you do so. Maybe that will get his attention.
“You did not,” Aliandra Martell snickers as you tell her about your shenanigans from earlier that day.
You were happily seated in your shared apartment, splitting a copious amount of Chinese takeaway with Aliandra as you recounted the tale. You’d been friends with Aliandra since freshman year and had to fill her in on your scandalous hookup with Professor Targaryen.
“And look,” you tell her, showing her your phone, “Oscar Tully has been messaging me all afternoon.”
Aliandra inspects the messages before clicking on his profile. You grab a crab rangoon, biting into it as she squeals with delight.
“He wants to meet up!” she says, handing you back your phone.
Still chewing, you read the message Oscar just sent.
“Drinks,” you say nodding, “Yeah, I could do drinks.”
Aliandra can see through you easily, and she frowns at your lackluster reaction.
“Girl, he’s cute!” she encourages, “And it’s just drinks, you don’t have to suck him off of anything.”
“Ali!” you scold, but she merely shrugs.
“Look, all I’m saying is you’re hot, you’re funny, and you’re all-around awesome. If Professor Orgasm can’t see it, then find someone who will,” she finishes, reaching for the spring rolls.
“Professor Orgasm?” you ask, “Not your best work in the nickname department.”
“I’ll work on it,” she assures, “But, how many times was it again?”
A shiver rolls through you at the memory, all the way down your body and straight to your clit.
“Like four times?” you recall, cheeks blazing red.
Aliandra’s eyes are wide.
“Damn. I think I’d be dick-whipped too then,” she tells you.
“I’m not dick-whipped,” you tell her.
“Then prove it,” she challenges, eyeing your phone.
Though your stomach flips and flops, you respond to Oscar’s messages, telling him you’d meet him at the Silk Street Tavern in an hour. Plenty of time to get dolled up.
You go for something simple and sexy; a little black dress to do the trick. You fix your makeup and hair just the way you like it and settle on your best heels for the occasion. You look good. And Aliandra is totally right, you’re hot and deserve the attention.
You tell Aliandra goodbye; she’s wrapped up in blankets on the couch preparing for a much-needed night in, as you leave the apartment.
As you make your way out of the apartment and down the front steps you notice a familiar sleek black car parked outside. You slow your steps, as Aemond exits the car walking around to the passenger side. He’s still wearing his button-down, but a dark jacket has been paired over it, matching his slacks. You release a small, breathy laugh as he watches you.
“Are you following me?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.
“Thought you might want to go for a drive,” Aemond tells you, leaning against his car.
You fold your arms across your chest, jutting your hip out at him. Your heart beats erratically in your chest as you force yourself to stare back at him.
“I have a date.”
He opens the passenger side of his Mercedes before walking to the driver’s side.
“Get in the car,” he instructs, not turning around.
His tone suggests he will not ask again. You glance at your phone, greeted by an excited message from Oscar that makes you wince. You look up at Aemond, who waits with the driver-side door open.
Sorry Oscar.
The drive to Aemond’s apartment took little to no time at all, he flies down the streets like a man possessed, going well over the speed limit. His right arm lays lazily on your lap, fingers curled into the meat of your thigh as though he’s worried you’ll leap from the vehicle.
He lives further into the city, pulling in front of a tall skyscraper, a doorman standing in front. Aemond throws the car in park, holding out his key.
“Fiftieth floor. Number 531,” he tells you, voice a low growl, “Go inside and wait for me.”
You look at the key he holds out to you, then back at his face.
“What should-”
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he cuts you off, “You’re a smart girl. Figure it out.”
You swallow the lump forming in your throat, take the key, and exit the car. Aemond speeds around the corner, presumably parking his car. You walk toward the building on shaky legs, not meeting the doorman’s eyes as he holds the door open for you.
You walk through the lobby and towards the elevators, heart in your throat. You barely register the time it takes you to get upstairs, finding his door. Nervous anticipation curls in your belly as you walk into his apartment.
It’s as you expected; clean, and modest, with sleek black furniture and stainless steel appliances in the large kitchen. A black marble counter that matches the modern fireplace in the living room. It’s dangerous, yet inviting, much like Aemond himself. You take a few steps inside when you hear a loud hiss.
Glancing down the hallway you spot an old large tabby cat, with its tail completely poofed out in anger, ears flattened against its head.
“Don’t mind Vhagar,” Aemond tells you, appearing from behind and shutting the door, “She’s an old grump.”
“I like cats,” you tell him softly, and Vhagar hisses again, showing all her pointy teeth.
Aemond hums, moving to stand directly behind you. He brings a hand to your arm, letting his fingertips trail a path up toward your shoulder. Your breath catches in your throat.
“You live here?” you ask, wetting your lips.
Aemond hums in confirmation. His long fingers play with the thin strap of your dress, slipping underneath. You can feel his breath on the side of your neck, and smell his cologne. It's dizzying having him this close to you. He brings his free hand to rest against your waist as he presses a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut at the sweet gesture.
“That’s the only kindness you’ll get from me tonight,” he murmurs against your neck.
Goosebumps break out across your skin and your eyes snap open in confusion. You turn your head slightly to look at him, feeling his grip on your waist tightens. There’s a dangerous glint in his violet eye, as his lip tugs upward into a small, satisfied smirk.
“You think you can behave like that, and be rewarded?” he asks, before tutting softly, “We could have had a lovely night together, a little continuation of our last encounter.”
Aemond spins you to face him, bringing his hands to cup your cheeks. Eyes wide you stare at him, lips parted in shock.
“But someone is a bit greedy, isn’t she?” he asks.
You don’t answer, feeling as though your heart may burst from the confines of your ribs.
“I asked you a question,” he tells you, “It’s rude not to answer.”
You swallow, lower lip beginning to tremble.
“Yes,” you answer quietly, “Yes I was greedy.”
“Hmm, and what do you think happens to greedy little girls?” he asks, letting his thumbs stroke your cheeks.
Holy shit. Is this really happening? You can feel yourself growing wetter with every word he speaks, the ache between your thighs becoming almost unbearable. You shift on your feet, lashes fluttering against your cheek as you avert your eyes from his.
“They need to be taught a lesson,” you answer him, beginning to chew on your lower lip.
“And I’m a good teacher, aren’t I?” he asks, bringing his thumb to your lip, releasing it from between your teeth.
You raise your eyes to meet his once more.
“Yes professor,” you tell him, face set in a pout.
Aemond squeezes your chin before releasing you, dropping his hands to his belt.
“On your knees,” he instructs while unbuttoning his pants.
You sink to your knees in front of him, reaching up to assist him with his undressing. Aemond swats your hands away. You frown but wait for him as he removes his hard cock from his trousers. Your mouth waters at the sight of him; long and thick, slightly curved, and just as pale as the rest of him with a tuft of silver curls around the base. He strokes himself a few times, enjoying the sight of you on your knees before him.
Aemond brings his hand to the back of your head, fisting it in your hair and tugging harshly. Your head snaps back and Aemond taps the head of his cock against your bottom lip.
“You want to act like a little slut, I’ll treat you like one,” he says, shifting his hips, “Open up.”
You widen your mouth as he eases his cock in, trying to remind yourself to breathe through your nose as you gag around his length. Your eyes water as he rocks his hips, thrusting himself down your throat.
“Fuck that's good,” he says, the grip on your head unrelenting with each roll of his hips.
Saliva pools in your mouth, dribbling out the corners and down your chin.
“Look at you making a mess,” Aemond comments and you hum around him.
You try to move your head, but it's hard with how tight his grip is. He’s completely controlling the pace, relentlessly fucking your mouth for his pleasure. You bring your hand up to cup his heavy balls, rolling them in your palm and squeezing gently.
You’re rewarded with a throaty moan, as Aemond’s jaw slacks with pleasure. You look up at him through tear-soaked lashes, admiring his expression hazed with pleasure. His eye is on you, watching his cock slide in and out between your lips, watching as your throat constricts every time he thrusts in.
“There’s my good girl,” he murmurs, cock twitching in your throat.
You choke around him as you feel his release; warm and salty down the back of your throat. He pulls out suddenly, leaving a string of cum and saliva dangling from your lips and his cock.
“So pretty like this,” Aemond comments, doing nothing but admire the sight of your swollen lips.
He helps you to a standing position, before lifting you up and seating you on the counter. Aemond’s hands disappear under your dress, looping around your panties and dragging them down your legs. He leaves your heels on as he discards them, pushing your dress up to your waist.
You lean back against the counter on your elbows, breathing ragged as he spreads your legs.
“You think that silly little boy could satisfy this pussy?” Aemond asks, pinching your inner thigh when you don’t respond, “Answer me.”
“No,” you breathe.
“No, what?”
You bite your lip, earning a sharp slap to your throbbing center.
“No sir,” you tell him, barely a squeak.
Aemond hums at your words letting his long fingers part your soaked folds. He tilts his head to the side, admiring your glistening sex before delivering another harsh slap. You can’t help but cry out, abdominal muscles contracting together painfully.
“No sir,” he mimics, shaking his head, “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Aemond sinks two of his long fingers into your tight, wet heat curling them upwards toward your sweet spot. Fire pools in your belly, every curl of his fingers bringing you closer and closer toward the precipice of your orgasm.
“Please,” you beg, “Please sir, please-”
“Already?” he mocks, “That didn’t take long at all, you can do better than that.”
Aemond removes his fingers, the sudden emptiness causing tears to form in your eyes. You whimper pathetically, feeling him spread your juices lower, toward your puckered hole.
“Have you been touched here?” he asks, swirling his forefinger over the ridges of your asshole.
You nod slightly. You’d explored anal fingering before with other partners, and by yourself.
“Yes,” you tell him, “Yes sir please.”
Aemond presses his lubricated finger gently into your tight hole, easing into you slowly and with care. No matter what he said earlier, he’s being gentle, making sure you can take what he gives you. Your belly tightens as he leans forward, pressing his mouth against your soaked cunt, as your ass completely takes his finger.
“G-gods,” you stutter as his tongue flicks against your sensitive clit, “Oh my gods.”
The words come out as barely a squeak as Aemond dips his tongue into your dripping center, finger fucking your ass in tandem with his tongue. It’s so fucking good, your hands bury themselves in his hair, nails digging into his scalp hard enough to draw blood.
Aemond moans against you as he continues his movements.
“Please sir, please I need to come,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs to slow his movements.
You cry out in desperation, begging him not to stop though he continues to do so, easing his finger from your ass and peppering your soaked mound with feather-light kisses. You flinch at each kiss he presses against you, far too overstimulated.
“I knooow,” he murmurs, condescendingly, before rising from between your legs and heading toward the kitchen.
You hear the water of the sink and turn your head, watching as he washes his hands. Aemond turns to look at you.
“Have you learned your lesson?” he asks, shutting off the water and drying his hands.
You frantically nod, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.
“Please,” you beg, voice cracking with desperation, “Please sir, please!”
Aemond tilts his head to the side and appears convinced by your broken cry, the way you tremble on his countertop. He walks over to you, moving some hair from your face before lifting you into his arms, and cradling you against his chest. You nuzzle into him desperately as he walks down the hallway and into his bedroom.
He deposits you on the soft silk bed sheets, discarding his pants, and unbuttoning his shirt. You rise from the bed, hurriedly removing your dress with shaky limbs. Aemond sinks to his knees before you, undoing the straps of the heel on your right foot, then your left. He places kisses up the side of your calf as he makes his way back to a standing position, finally letting his mouth meet yours.
You’d missed kissing him, moaning into his mouth as his tongue slips past your lips. His thumbs tease the hardened peaks of your nipples, before tugging on them, sending more wetness pooling between your legs. His arms then wrap around you, pulling you onto the bed with him.
Aemond lays on his back, motioning for you to straddle him. Eagerly you climb onto him, legs on either side of his slim waist. The head of his cock nudges your slick folds and you lift your hips before sinking down on top of him. You throw your head back, crying out at the delicious stretch as he bottoms out in your warm pussy. Fuck his cock is perfect, it's not fair truly.
You roll your hips, nails digging into his pectorals as you begin to ride him, chasing the high he denied you so far. Aemond’s hands rest comfortably on your hips, his eye never leaving your face. He soon grows tired of your languid pace, placing his feet against the mattress and thrusting upwards, meeting you as you slap back down onto his thick cock.
Wet slapping noises fill the room along with steady whimpers and moans you are unable to silence.
“Please,” you beg, desperately grinding your clit against him, “Please professor I need to cum, please let me cum, make me cum-”
You continue to babble as you ride him, warm pleasure leaking into your limbs, but never quite enough to let you reach your peak.
“You’re going to behave now, aren’t you?” Aemond taunts, laughing slightly as you nod, eyes squeezed tightly shut, “Let me take care of you, baby.”
You open your eyes as Aemond flips you onto your back, his cock never leaving you. He slings your leg over his shoulder and pounds into you desperately. The fire in your belly ignites, abs tightening, toes curling from pleasure.
“Cum all over my cock pretty girl,” Aemond tells you, snapping his hips furiously against you.
The coil inside you snaps and your pussy tightens around him, constricting him as your orgasm shatters through you. Aemond fucks you through it, prolonging your pleasure until he finds his release inside of you. He doesn’t pull out, simply lays beside you, with his cock inside your warmth.
“I think I’m going to keep you,” he murmurs, lips ghosting across your cheek, “Keep you right here, would you like that?”
“Yes,” you breathe, drunk with pleasure and wanting nothing more than to stay right in the position you’re in.
Aemond hums, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder.
“What kind of breakfast do you enjoy?” he asks, after a moment of comfortable silence.
“You’re letting me stay the night?” you ask.
Aemond’s arms tighten around you.
“I said I’d like to keep you,” he tells you, chuckling.
You snuggle closer to him, keeping a leg wrapped around him so he can stay inside you as long as possible.
A meow comes from the doorway, causing you to lift your head. Vhagar watches you, less defensive than before. Perhaps she’s warming up to you as well.
note: as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are GREATLY appreciated (but never expected) though you will receive an internet kiss on the forehead from me if you do so, okay love you bye!!
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Girl of Your Dreams || Pt.2
New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!
Summary: Daryl was not in the mood for your pestering so he taught you a (very cruel) lesson.
18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, edging kink/punishment, oral (fem receiving), generally graphic smut
Poor Sophia hadn't been found in time. The Farm fell to the freaks, and unfortunately you lost a few of the tribe in the process. You were relieved, however, when Rick said he had killed Shane. He was getting out of hand, and you were glad for the imminent threat of forced sex to be wiped away. Of course Daryl would protect you, and you weren't even sure he'd have to considering your own affinity for violence, but Daryl couldn't always be there and your guard would fall sooner or later.
All things considered, it was going great. The only threat since you all had taken the prison was the Governor and he hadn't been seen in so long that he was nothing but a mere afterthought.
On this particular day, you and Daryl were sent out on a run for some basic hygiene necessities, which were in high demand since Rick had taken in the remaining Woodbury residents some time back. You, as per usual, were pestering your favorite redneck with unrivaled fury.
Ever since the safety of the prison had relived some of the stress of staying alive, the relationship between the two of you had become rather evident to those around you. Frankly, they all just kind of assumed it was a thing, but to you and Daryl, it was platonic at best.
"I'm just saying," you shrugged. "Wouldn't kill ya to shower every day. We got them working, if you haven't noticed."
"I noticed, asshole." He grumbled. "I helped build the irrigation system, if you recall."
You smirked at his particularly edgy attitude that day. Everything you said got under his skin to such an extent that his usual playful smirk hadn't made a single appearance.
"Don't shoot the messenger, man. Not my fault you smell like a biohazard."
"Shut up and cover me." He snapped as he scoped around the outside of the small shop. You rolled your eyes with a sigh, readying your gun and scanning the street for any lurking threats. When he found his way back to you, he told you it was all clear, so the two of you made your way to the entrance. Daryl tapped the glass loudly, waiting for the inevitable greedy rotten bastards to make themselves known. Only two came to the window, clawing and snarling at the glass, desperate for just a taste of your warm flesh. He opened the door and drove his knife into one, while you quickly did the same to the second. Once the two of you had silently cleared any stragglers from the premises, you each got to work, searching the aisles and taking anything that was on the list and a few extra things that just seemed useful.
When the two of you met back up, it was behind the register, near an unassuming metal door. Behind it was nothing but some empty cardboard boxes and a set of stairs.
"An attic?" You guessed.
"Or storage, maybe." He shrugged. "Only one way to find out."
You crept silently up the steps behind him. No matter how much of an absolute nuisance you were -- and believe him, you were definitely a nuisance -- he'd never let you go first into uncharted territory, and he'd never leave you behind. You were his unofficial sidekick, and the closest thing to a best friend he'd ever had in the world, before and after the rise of the dead.
The top of the steps only presented another door, so you both followed the same process of carefully opening it and searching for any threats. To your pleasure, the small loft was empty of the undead or the living. It was some kind of living quarters. It had all the basic amenities; a sink and a fridge, a stove, a couch, a bed, miscellaneous furniture. It was quite dusty, though.
"Guess somebody was stayin' up here." He observed.
"Probably the owner or something." You agreed, walking around and taking in all the little details.
"C'mon, ain't nothin' we need here." He sighed, turning to exit the small loft.
"Aht-aht! Don't be so fast." You spoke up. He turned to you, impatience radiating from his very core. "Now, this," you said, lifting a floral blouse that was meant for a granny. "This would look so good on you."
He didn't respond. To say he was less than amused was an understatement. With his lack of a reply, you felt compelled to keep it going.
"I think this would look perfect under that vest of yours. It really suits your aesthetic, ya know? Here, try it on." You threw it at him. He swatted it down with unnecessary force.
"Quit your shit and let's go. Ain't got time for this."
"I mean, we literally have nothing but time." You argued. "Like, nothing but time." You emphasized.
"Well, I don't wanna hear it today." He snapped.
"What's got your panties all wadded up?" You mumbled.
"What?!" He asked viciously. You were taken aback a little. You knew you got under his thick skin a lot but he usually was quick to strike back. It was all fun, after all. You guessed you weren't really on your A-Game that day, to be fair. Your insults were mundane at best.
"What?" He repeated, or maybe growled, as he stomped over to you, looming over you like a dark cloud.
"I--"
He cut you off by gripping your jaw harshly with one hand.
"I warned ya, didn't I?" He hissed. You were too stunned to respond. "I told ya time and time again, keep tryin' me and see what happens. Is this what you want? Its it?!"
He was fuming, but you, being the sick little freak you were, couldn't help but notice how wet you were getting at the sudden display of dominance.
His breath was hot and fast as it cascaded over your face. His chest heaved up and down. His eyes danced back and forth between yours as he decided exactly what he wanted to do to you.
"I--"
"Shut up." He ordered, letting go of your face and dropping his crossbow on the coffee table. He kept making slow steps toward you and instinctively you stepped backwards until the side of a bed hit the back of your knees and you fell onto the mattress. "Is this what you want?" He asked again, suddenly a bit softer. He searched your face for some kind of response, for any sign of consent.
"Uh.." You breathed, not really sure if you were interpreting the situation correctly. "Is what what I.."
Your eyes trailed down to his pants, following the slow movement of his hands as they unbuckled his belt and pulled it off of his waist.
"Oh." You said, raising your eyebrows. Well, yeah, actually. This is exactly what I want, you thought. You looked back up at his face as he waited for your approval for whatever it was he was about to do.
"Ain't got all day." He urged.
His expression was chillingly fierce, but somehow there was still a tenderness in the way he looked at you.
You cleared your throat, failing to mask your nerves with confidence.
"Finally ready to fuck the girl of your dreams?" You asked. Your voice betrayed you, so shaky and unsure. He chewed at the inside of his lip, smirking a little. You always made him squirm inside with your cruel ways of flirting, but now it was hit turn, and god was it easy.
With no remaining patience for your antics, he gave you a firm shove backward, landing your back on the mattress. Determined to maintain some semblance of dignity, you propped yourself up on your elbows instead of laying down submissively. He immediately went for your jeans, not bothering to unbutton them as he yanked them downward. Though it was a hot day, the air on your bare skin made you shiver. He worked your pants completely off your feet and threw them to the side before he leaned over you, supporting his weight with his defined arms.
His face moved toward you and you closed your eyes, awaiting the much anticipated kiss. That, however, was not what he had in mind. His mouth landed in the crook of your neck, biting, nibbling, and sucking at the sensitive skin. You sucked in a small gasp of air and jumped a little at the unexpected sensation. He trailed his nibbling down to your collarbone before he decided to pull your shirt off, then your bra, carrying those sweet bites over to your nipples. You squirmed a little at the pinching of his teeth. You didn't remember being that sensitive, but then again, you hadn't slept with anyone in ages.
He brought his mouth up to your ear.
"I'm gon' make you beg." He whispered, before dropping his knees down to the floor and tugging your panties down your thighs, tossing them away somewhere. He spread your thighs open wide, holding them up so that they didn't fall completely flat on the bed. Your heart fluttered in your chest. Was this really happening right now?
That question was answered quite clearly when his smooth wet tongue glided between your lips, torturously slow and painstakingly gentle. Your hips jolted slightly at his touch. He continued the same motion, sliding his tongue slowly up and down the entirety of your pussy, eliciting a breathy whine from your lips each time. Once he was sure you'd warmed up to his tongue, he focused more on your clit, finding a steady rhythm, pausing only to add some suction to the mix. You shuddered and moaned as you settled onto his mouth, fully surrendering to his skill.
"Fuck.." You gasped, rocking your hips a little as he worked you up. As soon as your breaths sped up and your body communicated the oncoming orgasm, he pulled away. You whined, snapping your head down as he smirked up at you.
"Not yet." He shrugged, waiting a few seconds before he went back in, starting the whole process over. The whole process. The slow taunting was particularly hard to take this time, after him edging you so close and pulling away. You were relieved when he picked the pace up once more, flicking and circling over your clit, suckling every now and then. Your head fell back down to the mattress, closing your eyes and finding your comfort once more as you got excited for him to finish you. You were already so sensitive that this time it took no time at all to get you there, but alas, he pulled back, refusing to let you find that sweet release you craved.
"Huh?" You whined, looking back down at him.
"Not yet." He said again.
And, again, he started the process over again, teasing you, working you up, and pulling away. You let out a frustrated cry as the tension built up in your chest.
"Why?" You begged.
"Told ya. I'm gonna make ya beg." He grinned, lowering his face back down yet again. You prepared yourself for another round of torturous edging, but this time was even more malicious. See, instead of repeating the process, he just barely grazed his tongue over every inch of you, everywhere except your clit. All around it, even grazing it a few times, but never fully giving it the attention it craved. By now you were throbbing on the inside, flinching at every instance of contact between his tongue and your pussy.
It went on for ages, constantly teasing the possibility he'd get back to flicking his tongue over your clit, but it didn't happen, at least not for a while. You were certain by this point that you were so sensitive it would only take a few seconds to get you there if he'd only pay attention to the right spot.
After a while he did find his way back into the rhythm of licking and sucking at it, but he'd only do it for a few seconds at a time. Still, not taking you all the way, only taunting you with the fact that he could, if he wanted to.
The frustration was so big it began to spill out of you, a single tear spinning down your cheek.
"Fuck, Daryl, please." You begged. "I'm begging, okay? Just -- please.."
You had finally surrendered.
He ignored you completely. You throbbed inside and out, aching for it to be over. The dance around your clit resumed, never actually crossing over it, bringing all kinds of unholy whines and pleas from your lips. You couldn't take it anymore, but you couldn't bare to tear yourself away, endlessly taunted with the possibility he'd let you cum.
But he never did. He didn't even take his pants off. Once you were trembling uncontrollably, begging, inconsolable, he just.. stopped. He stood up, looped his belt back through his jeans, and buckled it.
He calmly stepped over to your panties and tossed them to you.
"W-What?" You gaped. "No!" You whined. He didn't even spare you a glance as he found your jeans and walked them over to you, setting them beside your bare bottom half.
"Daryl, what the fuck?" You shrilled, gawking at him.
"Said I'd make ya beg, never said I'd make ya cum." He shrugged. Then, he walked away and shut the door.
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Ghost x City Girl Reader
You and Ghost going off to have a quick smoke turns into something else entirely, after pushing one too many of his buttons tonight.
NSFW 18+ EXPLICIT Shameless Smut, Porn with little Plot, Graphic Description, Teasing, Fliritng, Light Build-Up, Dom Ghost, Brat Reader, Rough Sex, Car Sex, Oral (both), Choking, Spanking, Hair-Pulling, Doggy, Creampie, Reader smokes, Reader is also mean, but so is Ghost in this, but there's chemistry, I hope, you're just getting manhandled, but who doesn't like that ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ"
Word Count: 3.1k
Part One | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
Not Required!
Masterlist
Here's the final part to this two parter! It can definitely be read as a one-shot if preferred. Part One is just more build-up for the smut if you prefer it. But yeah, now for the moment we were all waiting for. I hope you enjoy~
Ghost scrounged about the inside of his car, moving over spare jackets and bags, popping open the glove box, until he's found the cigarettes he'd stowed away.
He had parked his car a considerable distance from the club, having found some secluded lot that looked more like a tucked away alleyway than anything else.
Your only complaint had honestly been the walk itself, having spent the past hour or so drinking and dancing in heels. Of course, he wouldn't have cared whether or not you came along. He would have his smoke either way.
The night air is brisk this late into it; the only people on the streets now were those still looking to bar hop. With how far the club was, it was safe to say you would not be disturbed.
Ghost extends a large arm towards you, offering you a smoke.
You take it from him, placing it between your lips and leaning forward so that he could light it for you. Once lit, you lean back against his car, inhaling the nicotine and letting the headrush run through you as you exhaled. Finally, you thought.
"Took you long enough to find 'em," you say. "God damn."
Ghost groans, "Shut up."
Ghost reaches for the bottom of his mask and hooks his finger beneath it, before bringing the fabric up to the bridge of his nose, revealing the lower half of his face -- strong, scarred, and with a light stubble. His slightly tattered lips clasp over his cigarette, as he cups his large hands over his mouth to light it.
While you've never seen him fully unmasked before, there have been times you've caught half of him like this, which hadn't been nearly enough to paint the whole picture, as he knew. You imagined he looked pretty decent under there, given what you have seen. Or you liked to imagine.
The complete and utter tension you see leave him once he's finally able to take his drag is nearly cartoonish. His shoulders slack and he blows the smoke up towards the stars, and let's the city ambience take its place, before you've gone ahead and laughed to yourself.
The silence fell quickly and heavy between you two as the time drew on. Ghost felt content enough just finishing his one and then heading back to join the others. He also had been pretty content with the possibility of seeing what were to happen here, if he were to give you a chance to be around him like this.
He could tell the silences made you uncomfortable. You kept making jokes, some at his expense, some not. You asked him questions, though sparingly, regarding topics and things you haven't had the chance to ask prior. Ghost's replies were short and unmotivated, but he would answer you.
Before long, had his cigarette not gotten lower, he may have lost track of time out here with you. If he hadn't already known you, he may have actually found you a pleasant woman to be around tonight.
Yet even alongside your more magnetic traits, that bratty side of you never quite went away.
At some point you thought it would be entertaining to start blowing your smoke at him every time you took a drag. You'd do so deliberately, making sure your eyes were locked, before bringing your lips to a low pucker and blowing. You'd smile when Ghost would glare afterwards, as if to tell him nonverbally that even now, you didn't give a fuck what he thought.
"Blow that somewhere else," he tells you once.
You cock your head to the side mockingly, already prepared to do the exact opposite of what he was asking. "Or what?"
He doesn't respond.
You laugh to yourself now, debating on whether it would he worth to push his buttons right now. To you, there was always time to.
"What if I like blowing it there?" You ask playfully, and then, you blow more smoke at him.
Ghost turned his head, letting the cloud bubble roll over him as he took another drag himself. He knew that sooner or later something was gonna start, whether it had been from you or him. Usually it was you though.
"Here you go playing the bitch again," he comments. "Suppose old habits die hard."
"You still won't do shit, Manchester." You take another drag from your cigarette and blow it at the lieutenant, watching the white smoke veil around his mask and break apart like a thin sheet. Beneath the white, his dark eyes leer at you with magnitude.
"If you blow that smoke in my face one more time," he warns you. "I'll show you what I'll do about it."
You chuckle, and immediately take another drag, feeling his eyes watch you finish off the end of your cigarette in a single inhale. You always love when men try and tell you what you can and can't do, as if you'll actually listen to them. Helps you weed out the men who are really about it.
And you were seconds away from learning just how "about it" Ghost was.
You turn your head to him slyly, a bratty smile perking on your lips, and then, you pucker up your lips and blow, watching the smoke bubble over him and the course of your night change forever.
Ghost pushes himself off from leaning on his car, before flicking his cigarette to the side and taking two large steps in your direction. Before you knew it, this hulking, shadowy mass of man was standing right in front of you, ticked off, and still very much riled up about earlier.
He takes the cigarette from your hand and flicks it to the side, making you scoff.
"I wasn't finished with that yet." You move to shove him, only Ghost's large hands have already taken hold of both your wrists.
He takes your arms and brings them above your head, until you've felt the cold steel of the car against your bare arms, Ghost pinning your arms with a single hand to your wrist.
For the first time in years, you address him by a name other than 'Manchester', as you instead gasp out, "Ghost?" somewhere within the exchange. Hearing it damn near brings chills down his spine, knowing now what upper hand he's now gotten over you.
"You just don't know when to quit, do you," he says, his voice so low and gravelly you almost forget yourself. "Always pushin' limits you'd best leave alone." Ghost tells you commandingly, "Listen the first time."
Now, being a Task Force member yourself, you were in better shape than the average woman. Some regular Joe ever grabs you like this and they'd be down on the ground in less than 10 seconds. Ghost was not some regular Joe. His one hand alone could hold both your wrist comfortably. He squeezes tightly when you struggle and pull.
If Ghost wanted to, he could kill you right here, and you both knew that.
So you stop trying to resist him, your expression growing coy. This is a power play, a game of dominance now. You've been playing for years, and you've had the lead. You weren't about to give him that now.
You lick your lips, smiling as you see his eyes dip down to take a quick look. You then lean your head forward somewhat, looking up at the lieutenant daringly, as you see the fire burning in his rageful eyes.
"Make me."
In a flash, Ghost uses his other hand to open the car door behind you, before practically throwing you onto the backseat. His car was rather spacious, all things considered, having just enough wiggle room to move around without having to awkwardly crane yourself. Or it was like that for you at least.
The second Ghost enters the vehicle after you, the space couldn't feel any smaller. You hear the car door click shut behind you and the interior lights shut. Shut off from the outside world. Away from the club, parked somewhere far off a ways in the dead of night. The only reality that existed before you now was whatever ideas Ghost had buzzing in his twisted mind.
Ghost hovers over you on the backseat, his arms boxing you in as he just takes his time to really look at you.
"If you wanna act like a slag, then I'll treat you like the slag you are."
Ghost starts to unbuckle his jeans, and immediately you know where this is going. You bite your lip with anticipation, having spent years wondering what he was slinging. Seeing that excited glint in your eyes only makes him harder, ready to give you what you've always fantasized about, deep down.
He unsheathes himself from his jeans, your eyes pausing on the sheer largeness of his cock. He could barely fit it in his hand, it was so big, its girth already looking a slight size too big for you. You almost make an awestruck comment.
"On your knees," he beckons. "Now."
As brats do, you ignore his order, continuing to sit back and await a pleasurable punishment. And punish he does.
Ghost gives you about three seconds before he's reached over and taken a handful of your hair, pulling you up from the seat and roughly forcing you onto your knees in front of him.
"Now," Ghost uses your hair to crane your neck back, that way so you could look at him. Your doe-like eyes flutter with lustful yearning, merely waiting to taste him, your lips already wet from licking them. He could just lean down and kiss you, your mouth never looked so inviting. It brings a short pause, before he could deny you no longer. "How 'bout you put that bratty little mouth of yours to some good use, princess."
Before you can make a remark, Ghost takes your opening mouth and brings himself to your lips, before pretruding inside. Your warm lips wrap around him, your hands resting on the sides of his thighs to have a better grip, as you go to town.
He barely had to guide you to start, your head bobbing back and forth as you sucked his cock like a popsicle, letting your tongue blanket around him each time he's let out a gruff moan of appraisal and driven himself deeper into your mouth.
Your eyes looked up at him, watching him cock his head back pleasurably when you've gagged, your saliva coating his cock with sweet lubricant. His grip on your hair tightens, his hips thrusting deeper until he's felt the back of your throat, taking the oxygen from you at each thrust.
His pumping grew more relentless, as did his tight grip on your hair. Your light gags and delicate fingers digging into his sides did little to slow his movements, merely serenading this animal-like lust you've brought out of him. And you didn't want him to stop, either. This aggression excites you. There hadn't been a man able to meet such highs as this.
Ghost could go all night like this, having you choking on his cock after driving him to his wits end for so long. He's dreamed of nights like this. Of finally shutting you up. And those dreams didn't stop here.
Ghost pulls you away from him, throwing you onto your back. You gasp out, still trying to catch your breath. "Finished so soon?" You tease.
"I'm just gettin' started."
He pries your legs open, pushing your dress up and revealing the black little thong you had on underneath your fishnet stocking. His fingers, which dig roughly into your thigh, only make the arousal you felt in your core erupt more.
"Is it my turn?" You ask cutely.
"Not sure you deserve it," he teases.
You pout now. "Wasn't that just the best head you had a second ago-"
Ghost interrupts you by smacking your ass roughly, the sheer force making your thigh ripple and the sound bounce within the entire vehicle, as the sting of his touch lingers. You moan lightly.
"Say please," he tells you.
"Or what?"
Ghost answers your childish question with another smack to your ass. You see the rules now. Laughing to yourself, you cross your arms and smile at the lieutenant. It's been a long time since you've had a good spanking.
His hand has made a print on both your ass cheeks by the time you've caved, feeling as the moans you released and the tears that pooled in your eyes fuel each smack he brought down. The more stubborn you were now, the more he intended to make up for it later.
He smacks your ass another time, your skin a new shade of dark pink. A moan leaves your lips and you finally whimper out, "...Please."
In a flash the man takes your fishnet stockings and tears them open, until its discarded remnants have fallen to the floor, soon joined by your panties. Your cunt is bare open to him, already dripping onto his seats like a fresh beverage.
Ghost dives down to your pussy as though he'd been starved of it his whole life, letting his mouth engulf your clit. You feel his tongue massage over the sensitive bud, his hot breath complimenting his sucking and flicking that was at such a fast pace it'd grown overwhelming.
The moans you cry out you can't even help, your body wanting to wiggle and writhe to the stimulation. However, Ghost keeps you pinned down, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly that it could leave bruises.
His tongue work is savage and relentless and perfect, his tongue dipping down from your clit and to your core, where he laps up every bit that cries out of you.
"Ghost," you pant out. "I'm gonna-"
He pulls himself away, leaving your cunt throbbing for relief. Your eyes look up to him, nearly in tears that he's stopped. Now that his mask was up, however, you see the cocky smile painted on his lips.
"Beg."
Deep in your stubborn heart, you wanted to not beg. Make him work for it like you've been making him work since you met him. But frankly, your cunt hurt, you needed him bad.
"I need you," you beg. "I want you so fucking bad right now."
"Say my name."
Now you knew he was on a power trip. And damn right he was, because he always knew he'd have you at his mercy like this if this were to happen. He couldn't wait for this.
His name's not Manchester. He figures it's about time you knew that.
You swallow your pride, and say quietly, "Simon."
"I want to hear you say it when I fuck you."
"Then fuck me already, Simon."
With little warning, Ghost takes hold of you and flips you around onto your stomach. Instinctively, you get on your knees and prop your ass up in the low doggy position, looking around for what immediate things you could hold on to as you listened to Ghost bring down his pants.
You feel him bring his cock to you, the heat of your pussy bouncing off your skin and making the man's member tremble with precum. He lets it rub against you, letting your juices make a mess over his tip and your knees shake, waiting.
"Ugh," you whine. "Give it to me already-"
Ghost shoots himself roughly into you, the base of his cock slapping hard against your pussy and immediately hitting your sweet spot. The sheer length and girth of it on its way in is so large and prominent you've felt the sensation of it travel from the pit of your gut to your lungs. It's immediately followed by another hard thrust, as they start to come in quick succession soon after.
Ghost pounds you silly, his cock forcibly stretching the walls of your cunt until he's shaped himself inside you, the smacking of his base to your pussy beating in the car like a drum. To keep your back arched he's grabbed your hair again, keeping your head cocked back so that his other hand can stay wrapped around your throat, squeezing each time he's felt your pussy tighten over him.
You were drooling he fucked you so hard, tears running down your face and moans feeling like gurgle chaos spilling out your mouth each time he squeezed another orgasm out of you. You had Ghost just as riled too.
The man pumped into you as though he had just been enlightened, low growls and heavy breaths spilling from his lips like you've never heard before. When his hands weren't busy choking you or smacking your ass, they were exploring you, massaging your breast and gripping your sides to pound even harder, as if he could go any deeper, his chest pressing into your back just wanting to stay in you.
The moans all but hiccup out of you now, your tongue laced with his name as you cry it out for him to hear, each time you've felt him pulsate back inside you.
"That's it, love," he all but whispers into your ear, teeth searing faintly into the soft cartilage. "You can take it."
Ghost grits his teeth now, holding in shaky grunts as you feel his cock throb in you. You knew what was coming at this point, no pun intended.
You moan, "Give me everything you've got, Simon."
The blend of emotions between the arousal he felt below and the sweetness of your tone erupt the man past his point. You feel his body shake on top of you, the veins of his cock throbbing, as he pumped your pussy full of himself, watching it drip from you after he's pulled out.
You both sit in his car, hot and out of breath, now unsure of the time or what you planned on doing after. As you watch Ghost clean himself up and bring his mask back down, not having said a word to you since that brief escapade, you sit in his backseat thinking.
He pulls out another cigarette and seats himself beside you with a heavy sigh, before passing you a smoke for yourself. After that performance, you both could use one. You lean over and let him light the end, before taking a long-needed drag and blowing it out the window. You watch him do the same.
"Hey Manchester," you say. You see Ghost roll his eyes and sigh at the nickname, however, it's not as cold as it once was before. "Maybe I shoulda been callin' you Big Ben instead, yeah?"
Ghost groans, "Please, don't."
Thank you for reading, I really hope you enjoy! I honestly really do enjoying posting and interacting with all of you. I've always been so awkward (still am), but this has really been fun. So, Thank you for engaging with my stuff, it really means a lot.
ヾ(*´ ∇ `) Part Three
Taglist (thought you might be interested ʅ(́ ◡◝)ʃ): @cabreezer0117 @13thprogenitor @deadbranch
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hi welcome to mcytblr confessions
this blog was made in 2021 and is run by several people. we only have a couple of hard rules: don't send us graphic nsfw or highly suggestive asks, don't send us serious drama (opinions are fine, we don't want to hear "anyone see _'s racist tweets" or whatever), and just generally use common sense.
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Little Sister
"My Little Cocoa Bean" Series
Summary: The Wonka family gets a little bigger. This time, Ben/Bean picks the new baby's nickname.
C/W: Late period, morning sickness, pregnancy, labor (nothing graphic)
☆☆☆☆☆
You knew it was going to be a long day when you woke up exhausted. You were usually up and out of bed before Willy and Ben on the weekends in order to savor a few moments of alone time. Today, though, you kept dozing back off even after you felt Willy stir and get up.
Since you were typically the first to wake, Willy decided to take the opportunity to surprise you with breakfast. The clanging of plates and pans eventually brought you to the kitchen, though one whiff of scrambled eggs sent you running for the washroom. It hadn't even registered with Willy that you were even in the kitchen until he caught sight of the flurry of your robe out of the corner of his eye.
Willy winced as he heard you wretching. He made up a plate for Ben and set him down at the table to eat. "Stay here and eat your breakfast, Bean, while I go check on Mamma." He fetched a glass of water and ruffled the boy's hair as he walked past.
You were slumped in front of the toilet, whimpering with every dry heave of your empty stomach. Willy knelt down and handed you the glass of water, which you accepted gratefully with shaky hands.
"Are you alright?"
"I'll be okay," you croaked and hiccupped, leaning over the toilet as you felt more saliva pool in your mouth. Willy pulled stray hairs back from your face and drew soothing circles up and down your back.
He was silent for a few more moments before asking, "Do you think you could be pregnant? We haven't exactly been careful since our chat on the beach," he smirked with a playful gleam in his eye. "You couldn't stand the smell of eggs when you were pregnant with Bean, either."
Leaning back and wiping your mouth with a towel, you paused as you made eye contact with him. It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibility. "I'll see if the midwife can check me over tomorrow."
☆☆☆☆☆
Sure enough, you were carrying Baby Wonka #2. He or she would make their debut in about 6-7 months. You had been so busy with Ben and going back to work part time that you hadn't even noticed your period was late by a number of weeks.
Willy, of course, was over the moon. Ben didn't quite understand but picked up on his parents' excitement. Noodle brought over some books for you to read to him about becoming a big brother, and you bought him a baby doll to practice gentle holding.
Months went by and your belly grew. Ben loved to "hug" the baby and feel them kick and move around. It was quite common for both your boys to spend the evening flanking you on the sofa with their hands on your belly as you read to them.
In the days leading up to the little one's arrival, you were overcome with the urge to clean and organize. Recognizing the same behavior that led up to Ben's arrival, Willy made arrangements to stay home from the shop and factory. You were grateful because while you wanted to make the most of these last moments with Ben as your only baby, it was becoming increasingly difficult for you to get into the floor with him to play.
However, when the big day finally arrived, it was annoying to have Willy around for early labor. At the slightest sign of discomfort, he would drop everything to hover and ask what you need. You appreciated the sentiment and knew it came from a place of love and adoration, but after two hours...
"Willy, I'm fine!" you snapped and shocked yourself with your own response. He froze and looked at you with wide eyes.
"I'm sorry, I...I just want to help. I'm just not sure how at the moment," he replied softly.
"I know. I'm sorry, my love. I didn't mean to be short with you. It's just...these pains are not regular yet, so we are in for hours more of this. Why don't you take Ben to the park for a little bit so you can both burn off some energy and I can rest."
You could tell that Willy was conflicted, but he relented and got Ben ready for the outing. You kissed them both on their way out the door and then awkwardly lowered yourself to the sofa for a nap. Their failed attempts at being quiet alerted you to their return.
"Alright, Bean, we need to stay quiet because Mamma is still asleep," you heard Willy whisper.
"Bedtime? I don't wanna go to bed," the boy whined.
"No, no, it's not bedtime. She is just tired and needed a nap."
"It takes a lot of energy to grow a baby," whispered a third voice that you recognized as Noodle's. They must have swung by the library on their outing.
"Is baby here yet?"
"No, not yet. But soon, very soon." You could hear the smile in Willy's voice.
"Not soon enough," you said as three sets of eyes turned to look at you standing in the doorway.
After you greeted Noodle and Ben with hugs, Willy came up to you and cradled your cheek with one hand and your belly with the other. "Has it been long enough now to ask how you are feeling?" he asked playfully.
You leaned into his touch. "The nap did me some good. I am feeling less grouchy if that is what you are asking," you teased.
Willy scoffed sarcastically. "Darling, I would never in my wildest dreams call you grouchy." He booped the tip of your nose then whirled around to head to the kitchen, plucking Ben up from the floor along the way. "Come on Bean, let's get lunch started."
You and Noodle remained in the study and settled on the sofa. She eyed you for a moment as you winced and repositioned yourself before saying, "I'm feeling some deja vu. Seems like just yesterday that we were in this same room playing cards and waiting for Benny's debut. Willy asked if I could come keep him preoccupied while...well, you know."
"Thank you, Noodle. I really appreciate it. It'll make things easier knowing he's in good hands. Ben loves his time with you."
"I'm glad to be of some help. And to be among the first to meet my new niece or nephew," she grinned as she laid a hand on your belly. Her smile fell when she felt your abdomen become rigid under her palm. "Does it hurt?"
"They are starting to pack more of a punch," you admitted. "But we still probably have a while to go." The two of you chatted a while longer between your contractions before Willy walked in, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
"Hope you're hungry! Food is ready." Noodle stood and both of them helped you off the sofa. You took a couple of steps and stopped suddenly, gripping Willy's arm tightly as a more intense contraction in your lower back took you by surprise.
"Nnnngh," you groaned through gnashed teeth. Willy took your other arm in his to support more of your weight. You leaned your forehead against his chest as you breathed through the pain.
Noodle looked at Willy knowingly. "About 5 minutes since the last one, but it was nowhere near that intense."
"I'm going to call the midwife," he stated. You nodded against his chest. He transferred your hands one by one to the back of the sofa for support so he could go make the call.
Noodle rubbed a hand up and down your back. "I'll go make a plate for Benny." All you could do is nod and shoot her a grateful glance before another wave of pain washed over your body.
Well, this is progressing much faster than last time, you thought.
You felt a large set of hands press into your lower back in just the right spot to ease some of the pain. "She'll be on her way shortly," Willy supplied.
"You should go eat, too, while you have a chance."
"I'm fine. I'm not hungry right now anyway."
"Anxious?" you asked.
"A bit. As much as I love our babies, I don't enjoy seeing the pain you have to endure to bring them earthside."
"I'm beginning to question why I agreed to do this again," you laughed. "But it's worth it."
He helped you to the bedroom, though you had no desire to lay down even after the midwife arrived. You were restless and paced the room, only stopping to lean against the bed or Willy during contractions. After an hour or so, he was supporting your weight in a hug-like stance, your arms around his neck, and head on his chest when you were overcome by the urge to push. Willy looked over at the midwife for reassurance. This labor was different from Ben's in almost every way.
As if reading his thoughts, she said, "It's alright. She can stay standing if she's more comfortable as long as you have a good hold of her."
Willy adjusted his grip under your arms, kissed your hair, and whispered, "I've got you, [y/n]. I've got you. Lean on me as much as you need. You're doing so well. Not long now. You can do this." Reinvigorated by his words, you delivered a squalling newborn less than 10 minutes later.
"It's a girl!" declared the midwife.
You looked up at Willy to see him crying and smiling. "A girl, [y/n]. Just like you hoped for."
With the last of your strength and Willy's support, you made your way over to the bed to rest. The midwife cleaned the little one up and brought her to you. Willy sat on the edge of the bed next to you to look over your shoulder at your tiny daughter and press kisses to your head.
"She looks like you," he said in awe. "Absolutely beautiful. What should we name her?"
"I was thinking Charlotte."
"I love it. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl."
"Can you take her to meet Ben while we finish up here? I'm sure he heard the commotion and is eager for an update," you said as you gently transferred the baby into Willy's arms. He took a moment to simply hold and stare at his baby girl before exiting.
"She already has him wrapped around her little finger," the midwife noted cheerfully.
"Indeed," you replied with a smile before laying back against the pillow and closing your eyes.
☆☆☆☆☆
Willy walked into the study with a blanketed bundle in his arms. Ben approached him excitedly with Noodle not far behind. Willy knelt down so the boy could see.
"Bean, meet your baby sister, Charlotte."
Ben peered over Willy's arms at the squirming, pink girl. "Char...Charlie?" He twisted his mouth and furrowed his brow, trying to say it.
Willy chuckled. "Well, I suppose we could call her Charlie for short."
Ben nodded eagerly. "Hi, Charlie. I'm your big brudder. I waited a looooong time to meet you. Mamma said you can't play like I play for a while, but I wait longer."
Willy looked up at Noodle with watery eyes. Her hand was in front of her mouth to stop herself from cooing at the sweet scene. She knelt down beside Ben to give him a hug and get a closer look at her new niece. "You are going to be a great big brother, Benny."
☆☆☆☆☆
More "My Little Cocoa Bean" series shorts are available on my masterlist.
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