#I’ve always had a fixation with those | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forcemeanakin · 7 months

Text

Hot with brains

•WARNINGS: SMUT. Fingering (f receiving), oral fixation, dirty talk, praise kink and also degrading kink, corruption kink kinda??? Edging. Public space. The OC has a kink that attracts her to smart guys.

Pairing: ROTS!Anakin Skywalker x Female!reader.

Summary: Anakin falls for the librarian at the Jedi Temple, however, he soon realizes his adorable smile and golden curls won’t cut it with this one. No, she likes something different: brains.

Word count: 4.7K.

A/N: Pretty self-indulgent piece. I've been obsessed with Anakin's engineering brain ever since I got into Star Wars and this idea had be floating around for a whileeeee. Hope you all enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it!

————————————————————————

You liked smart guys.

It wasn’t a kink per sé. You just couldn’t see yourself hooking up with someone with no brains, let alone establishing a committed relationship with them. You were swoon by guys with deep thoughts and admirable speech skills. The type of man that would go for a whisky instead of a beer, or use real shoes instead of plain sneakers.

You being a snob might have to do with your upbringing, after all you were the daughter of two scholars and professors of one of the most prestigious universities of Coruscant. You were raised to be logical and love intellectual conversations. You wouldn’t- No. You couldn’t see yourself enjoying a space with someone with a low IQ.

That was the reasoning behind taking the internship in the Jedi Temple’s library as part of your college voluntary program. You had to volunteer a certain amount of hours in order to graduate from your Journalism degree with honors.

You thought that even though this wasn’t exactly the area in which you were specializing, you would soak up some of the ancient knowledge of the Order, even make some great connections for the future. And so far it has been just that: A great experience. You got to read some really cool books and in the hours where no one would come, you got to finish some school work. The Jedi who would visit the library were nice and kind, always polite with a big smile. You even grew really fond of a young Togruta padawan that would spend her breaks in between training devouring books.

It was calm and quiet.

Until the storm broke through the door.

“Is this the one you’re looking for?” You yelled to Ahsoka as you climbed down the stairs with the title she asked for.

“Yes! Thank you, y/n!” She gave you a hug and ran to her table to start reading about the swamps in Dagobah.

You returned to your desk and kept registering the book’s codes into the control sheet when a loud sound made you look to the door, the one that was violently being thrown to open room for a tall, curly-haired man with dark robes.

You would recognize those robes anywhere. In reality, anyone from any point of the galaxy would recognize them.

Anakin Skywalker.

One of the few exceptions of Jedi men who didn’t live up to the sophisticated standard of the Order’s image. And definitely someone you would prefer to stay away from. For some reason he was the favorite warrior of the people; the citizens would line up in front of the Temple to scream “Hero with no fear” to that pretentious douchebag.

He was fine.

As what most people would call courageous, you would say careless. To others he was passionate, to you he was irrational. Not to mention how idiotic and unsubordinated he was; always talking back and doing things his way, ignoring what the guidelines said.

You didn’t like him. You didn’t like him at all. For that you were thankful that he never set foot into your sacred place. Until that doomed day.

“C’mon, Snips.” He shouted, approaching the desk where she sat. “We need to go. Council just called.”

“Can I have five more minutes? I’ve barely read anything about where we are going!” Ahsoka whined.

“You don’t need to read anything, we will find out anything that’s necessary there.” He huffed, finding his apprentice’s actions ridiculous.

You quietly sighed and rolled my eyes. Of course.

“Fine… but y/n really took her time fetching it for me.” She exhaled annoyed and closed the book.

Your eyes remained glued to your task at hand, not willing to look up and be involved in some type of pending argument.

“Who’s y/n?” Anakin scoffed rather loudly.

“Y/n! The volunteer?” Anakin frowned at the short explanation and shook his head in a negative motion. “You know, y/n! C’mon Skyguy, follow me.”

No, please no, you whispered to your insides.

“Hey, y/n!” You heard Ahsoka’s little footsteps running to where you were.

“What can I do for you, Soka?” You answered, still pretending that you were too busy to move your head from its position.

“Skyguy hasn’t met you. Here, Anakin, y/n. She helps us out here in the library.”

“Ahsoka, we’re not supposed to be having social meetings, we need to go-” You finally gazed up and in that moment, Anakin and you made eye contact for the first time; it was intense. It felt like something clicked for him. “You must be Y/n.” Anakin shook his head lightly, hinting a little smirk as leaned over your table with fixed eyes.

Hell, no.

“Yes, I am. How may I help you?” You were bitter, totally unbothered by his chiseled cheekbones, or his gorgeous hair, or his plumped lips. Not even the scar had any effect whatsoever. He was an ass and that was automatically a turn off for you.

“I’m sorry I haven’t met you. You must be new.” He explained with dreamy eyes, subtly checking you out. You cursed the moment you decided to come in today with a blouse who had a bit of a cleavage. “I’m Anakin. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Actually, I’ve been here for almost two months now.” You suppressed the soul-eating need to roll your eyes.

“Oh, really? Sorry, I don’t come here much.” He leaned over even more, trying to keep eye contact even when you sat down.

“Obviously.” You whispered on the low.

“Excuse me?” Anakin frowned, interrupting his beam to pout with confusion.

“Nothing.” You smiled widely with a fake grin.

“Okay…” His frown deepened before a smirk broke out his lips. “Maybe I will make it a habit and visit more often.” He shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side, deciphering the effects of his statement on you.

“You should.” You looked at him and gave him a side-smile, making his eyes sparkle. “Books are good for you.” You returned to check the order of nabooian books on your computer.

“Yeah, books are cool but there are other things I would much rather check out.” He smirked shamelessly at you, the back-handed comment flying way over his head.

You felt like gagging. Not the good kind.

Before you could come up with a clever response and shut him down for good, Ahsoka spoke from behind him.

“Ugh, gross! Let’s go!” The kid dragged him out by his clothes and before he disappeared through the glass door, he winked at you.

That was the first time you have seen him. First of many, many more.

Since the day your paths crossed, he took every fleeting moment to come and “read”, when in reality it was just him eating, or drawing or doing anything but opening a book. Taking advantage of your breaks, or whenever you returned to your seat after doing rounds, he would come over and make conversation. About his battles, his accomplishments, his close-calls to death… or about random facts he collected from his missions and travels; Anything that would maybe impress you.

And when he wasn’t doing that? He would drown you in compliments, to see if in fact, you soften up to him. Anakin was already aware of your no-so-secret disgust towards him the day he caught one of your eye rolls.

Did he care? No.

He was persistent: admiring your hair, loving the way you had styled it in a little bun (even though it was because the heat was eating you alive). He would ask about the tasks you were performing, sucking at pretending to be interested in hearing about organizing books in alphabetical order.

And it would have maybe worked; his good looks combined to his natural charisma were enough to make any mortal melt at his sight. You almost combust when you saw him carrying some wood boards into the library, the primal part of you rejoicing at the sight of his strong muscles stretching. The man was eye candy, whether you like it or not.

But, boy, were you tough.

Anakin Skywalker was not your cup of tea to say the least. You wouldn’t collaborate in his attempts to get to know you. You were so uninterested in finding out more about him when you had already scanned him. Just a way-too-handsome-for-his-own-good guy who was lucky enough to be born as the Chosen One, because otherwise, he would have never made it in the Order. He was determined, you would give him that.

His approaches were never creepy or invasive enough to make you uncomfortable, only to drive you wild. Even when he was the worst part of your day, you had to keep the polite but distant charade going on, in order to protect your job. Your disgust towards him, instead of hurting him, amused him. He liked challenges and you were freaking Mission Impossible. Although he also saw the flaws in you: a pretentious prick girl who had probably achieved everything in her life thanks to nepotism. But he could see past that.

Because, boy, were you hot.

And he was sure you liked it nasty.

Underneath your goodie-two-shoes clothes hid the true you: he knew you loved being treated like a filthy slut.

“Hello, y/n!” Ahsoka squealed in an excited voice. You two have grown to adore each other.

“Hey, Soka!” You responded happily, finishing to put some encyclopedias on a shelf. When you turned around, you saw she wasn’t alone. “Oh… good afternoon, Anakin.”

“Nice to see you too, y/n.” Anakin huffed in a sarcastic voice before strolling to where you were, Ahsoka following close behind. “Is that a new shirt? It suits you.”

“No, it’s the same white button up shirt that I’ve always used.” You smiled and turned around to roll your eyes in peace. He was too busy devouring your bosom behind the fabric to ever notice the barrier between his eyes and your skin.

“Y/n, do you think you could grab me a book about loreeks? I’m doing a little presentation about them for my science class.” Ahsoka asked you with a sweet voice.

“Oh sure… just let me look oveeeer…” You walked, stretching the words as you searched in the countless sections. “...here. It must be on one of these shelves.” You announced when you entered the exotic animals aisle.

Digitating the code on your scanner you found out it was in one of the tallest shelves, only reachable with a ladder. Right when you were about to move it, Anakin came in.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. I’ll get it.” And he used the Force to bring the book down. “Here you go Snips, study hard.” He nudged her head, annoying her.

“Yeah, I guess… but it’s Friday. Can I read after I hang out with the other padawans? Barris and Meelo are going skating!” She gave her best puppy eyes, to which Anakin agreed, after giving it little to no thought.

“You didn’t have to give her the book, I could have done it.” You waited for Ahsoka to leave before dropping the bomb.

“Easy there, kitten. I was just helping out.” He furrowed his eyebrows. As if the unnecessary nickname wasn’t enough to drive you mad. Looking down, he saw the rest of your outfit and lingered his eyes more than necessary in your short, black skirt. “On second thought, I might have let you do it.” He smirked confidently.

“Just stay out of my way, okay?” You growled, walking away from him to your desk, not without bumping your shoulder with his on your way out.

“What the hell is your problem?” He asked with an incredulous face.

You were done. The build-up from the past month was beginning to choke down your sense of decency. Not to mention that your day was already going terrible before he appeared: the droid that would always help you out was broken, significantly delaying your work day. Also, it was laundry day and you had to use your uncomfortable lingerie.

“You know what, Skywalker?” You turned around with raised eyebrows. “You’re my problem.” He opened his eyes in bewilderment. “I don’t like you. I don’t appreciate you coming in, all macho-” You made a mocking manner. “-acting like a goddamn superhero, only after cleaning up the mess you created in the first place.” You crossed your arms in your chest.

“I’m a general, kitten, and I can assure you the war it’s not my fault.” He scoffed, he used the nickname again, knowing it would press your buttons.

“And how many times have you messed it up bigger than it was?” You squinted your eyes, only to see him run out of words. “That’s what I thought.” You came back to digitating codes. “It’s like you don’t think. You are just a machine run by adrenaline and praise.” You finally rolled your eyes in front of him without shame. You tried to run down the reports that C7, your assistant droid would do, only to fail and almost delete everything in your computer. “And I can assure you I have bigger problems than dealing with you!”

“Okay, back down-”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You yelled, getting desperate and throwing a tantrum at the device. You had enough for the day. You could leave, given that no one would come over this late, but your sense of responsibility prevented you from going home before finishing your work load. “I fucking hate this system!”

“Let me see-”

“Don’t! Just don’t, okay?” You swatted his hand away. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Could you stop being so stuck-up and let me help you?” He raised his voice, stepping up close to tower you. His eyes were on fire and you could sense that your previous comments did get to him, but for some reason outside of your understanding, he was still willing to help.

“Fine.” You chewed the words in your mouth, stepping down as you glared at him, giving him space to analyze the situation.

Instead of leaning down the computer, he went directly to C7, who lingered weakly on the side of your desk. He picked him up and put it on the table, moving him around his hands to examine the droid. He hummed after a couple of minutes, putting the mechanical body at eye level. “I see.”

“See what? What is it?” You pressed, trying to pick a glance from over his shoulder.

“I’m going to need my tools.” He murmured, dropping the droid back again.

“Wh-”

“I’ll be right back.” He exclaimed, before heading to the door in a rush.

“Wait! What?” You shouted, the shadow of his body the only thing visible.

You stayed alone for about fifteen minutes. You even got to thinking that he was pulling a prank on you, after yelling at him. But you stayed there, because well… what else would you do? You were beginning to fall asleep as you played with paper clips, when you heard the door being opened again.

“Finally! I thought you had left!” You sighed in relief, pushing your body off your desk.

“I was getting my tools, I told you.” He frowned, lifting the heavy, dark red box to the white marble. “Now let’s bring this one back to life.” He smiled, before busting the carcass open.

It took Anakin less than what you waited for him to get C7 up and running again. He flipped panels, snapped cables and pressed buttons, at an order that seemed random to you, until C7’s mechanical eyes opened again.

“Oh my God!” You laughed in disbelief. “He’s functioning again!”

Anakin smiled down at the table, as he finished up adjusting some screws. C7 sat up, analyzing his surroundings before getting up and going straight back to work.

“I-I-” You were speechless. How did he do that? So fast? “I can’t believe you just did that.” You mumbled, still looking at C7 like it was a ghost. “Thank you, Anakin.” You turned around with apologizing eyes, twitching an embarrassed smile.

“No problem. His transmitter was disconnected from the main system. I had to fix his-” The next couple of things that he mentioned sounded like pure gibberish to you, but he was very firm, so it must be true. Right? Sensing your bafflement, he spilled facts slower and quieter until he stopped talking, finalizing with a dry smile. “Yeah, it was nothing.”

He was starting to pack everything in his toolbox again and you had a pending need to say something. However, you didn’t know if you should kick off with a real apology or-

“How did you know all that?” So a pop quiz it was. In your defense, you were genuinely curious about the abilities he had just demonstrated. Mindblown, to be more specific.

“About what?” He furrowed his brows, closing the box but leaving on the table.

“About the transmitter, and the restraining bolt, and- and-” You were running out of technical terms.

“Mechanics are second nature to me at this point.” He shrugged his shoulders, picking up the box. “I know everything about the topic, so, it was an easy fix. I’d have rearranged his central system if I had the missing part, but it’s very specific. What I did will do for now, though.”

He was about to leave when he noticed the way you were leaning on the table, head on top of your fist to pay close attention to him. You were murmuring almost unhearable “uh-huh”s, totally lost in his words.

“Sooo, you know mechanics.” You were such a hypocrite, you couldn’t stand the man fifteen minutes ago and now you were drooling over the sight of him explaining complicated shit to you. Snob. “You often fix things?” You tried to investigate, see if the throbbing happening between your legs was worth pursuing.

“Sometimes… I often go to the hangar and repair the damaged ships or flip them.” He grinned without teeth. “The techs often ask for me. They say I have an eye for these things. Been working on droids since I was a kid, so.” Anakin wasn’t trying to brag, but his ample knowledge in mechanics was something that he prided himself on.

“That seems like a lot of work.” You continued the small talk, slowly losing yourself over this spontaneous crush.

“It can get tricky.” He dismissed, beginning to notice the glint on your eyes. He recognized the way your irises had darkened: He got those fuck-me eyes wherever he went. “Still haven’t found something I can’t fix.”

But it was involuntary. The fact that he was an expert on a matter as hard as mechanics scratched a part of your brain; It flipped a switch inside of you. Anakin was a different man under your eyes now. He was smart, hella smart.

“Gosh, that’s so impressive.” You giggled like the girls that would flirt at him. Pathetic. But you quickly regained control, not before sucking up some courage and getting closer to him, posing more seductively this time. “That brain of yours sure hides lots of secrets.”

He hadn’t quite figured out why the change of heart, so it took him a moment to replay your evening together. It lasted a bit more than he liked to admit, but it hit him. Of course. An arrogant smile cracked his face. Of course you would be attracted to someone who was a master of something you consider relevant. After all, you liked to consider yourself an “intellectual”. Just to test his theory, he consciously started to brag about something else… something that would have your panties in a bunch if his hypothesis was correct.

“Wanna know another one?” He cocked an eyebrow, resting his elbow on the table to stand inches away from your face.

Your face shined with a slight pink blush, but it was the way you bit your lip that drove him crazy. That and your enthusiastic nod. “Yeah.”

“There’s a reason behind why I’m the best pilot of the fleet. And it’s not just because of my background as a pod racer or the Force.” He whispered, snickering at how soft your eyes had grown. “It’s actually because… I use physics.”

“Physics?” You almost moaned.

“Yeah, physics.” He repeated, moistening his lips, a thing your eyes followed. “Self-taught, just like with mechanics.”

That ripped a subtle whimper out of you. Well, not subtle to him.

“You-you understand math?” If it wasn’t because you were visibly squeezing your thighs at the newly acquired information, he would be completely offended that you thought he was dumb as fuck.

“Love em.” He muttered, his intense stare glued to you, as his fingers put a string of hair behind your ear.

Like thunder, you were rushing to capture his lips and show him just how hot you thought he was now. Anakin freezed at first, taking aback by your sudden demonstration of affection, but when he understood that you were willingly -and enthusiastically- giving yourself to him, he wasted no time to embrace you back.

Wet kisses splashed everywhere; it was fucking mess. You hung onto his shoulders while he groped all of your body, starting with your sweet hips, fondling your ass like it was his personal stress ball and finally landing on your waist. You pressed against him shamelessly, but in reality, how much shame could you still have when the man’s tongue was down your throat? The only thing you knew with certainty was that the sucking sounds and moans you both dropped were intensifying the already sex-filled atmosphere.

“Anakin.” You tried to sound normal, but your voice was failing just like your knees were. “W-why haven’t you gone to a proper school? Maybe get a degree?”

Was that seriously so important to you? The opinion of others? Anakin questioned in his own head.

Anakin was the kind of person that wasn’t susceptible to the opinion of others, especially regarding his own image. He was sure of the shit he knew and didn’t need anyone validating that for him. No expensive universities, no uptight professors; Obi-Wan was more than enough. Nonetheless, he had found a shortcut to get inside your pants and God as his witness, he was gonna use it.

“Y/n.” He snickered right in your face, drinking in the power. “I don’t care about any of that. I'm a certified engineer, that’s how I got to build this myself.” Removing the leather, he revealed his mechanical limb to you, wiggling his fingers.

It was fancier than you ever thought a mechanical hand could be. Black with touches of gold; it was elegant and sophisticated, way more advanced than any technology you had ever seen in the orthopedics research field. And you knew it well, your mom was an orthopedic surgeon.

It was no surprise to him that after spilling that last fact you were now shamelessly grinding on his half-hard. The fact that he was an engineering mastermind was such an aphrodisiac. And as much as he wanted to have another taste of your full, pink lips, the ones he often imagined enveloped around his dick while you scolded him, Anakin wasn’t willing to make the first move.

You were going to have to beg for it.

“Anakin?” Your hands flattened on his pecs, back arching when he cupped your cheek with the cool durasteel prosthetic, kneading against it with soft eyes. He must have noticed how captivated you were by his invention.

“Yeah, baby?” He continued the soft ministrations up and down your cheek, redirecting your gaze to his face whenever your eyes would deviate to his artificial limb.

“You- Uhm, you built it from scratch?” You gulped when his thumb inched closer to your mouth, rubbing your bottom lip and pulling it open.

Little obedient you put no resistance, and instead, stuck out your wet tongue to happily receive his digit into your warmness. But this time it was his index, the one you were bobbing your head into, eye contact not faltering even when you were practically giving oral to his hand. Anakin smiled pleased at your enthusiasm for pleasuring him and added another finger for you to lubricate.

“From scratch.” He nodded, lustful irises boring into you. “Designed it too.”

You moaned around him, feeling content with being sandwiched between his firm torso and your desk, and with your mouth being fucked by his fingers. Saliva smeared all over your chin, you whined pitifully when your lips were no longer stuffed. On the contrary of leaving you all hot and bothered, Anakin lowered those same fingers to your leaky cunt, pushing your underwear aside for easy access.

He groaned when he first inserted a finger, your gasping a sign for him to slow down. “Baby, you’re tight.” He seemed to love that about you.

After adjusting to the size of his strong index finger, Anakin breached in with his middle one, repeating the process of you getting used to the coldness and girth all over.

“A-Anakin.” You closed your eyes, involuntarily standing on your tippy toes.

“That’s right, you’re doing so well. Taking my fingers like a true champ.” He bit down a condescending smile. “Atta girl.”

The initial discomfort was just a milestone you had to overcome to succumb to the pleasure that it was being fucked by Anakin Skywalker’s metal hand. His frigid thumb came to roll over your bundle of nerves, helping you relax into him and enjoy the sensation of fully riding his hand.

“That’s it. Fuck my hand just like that, kitten.” He chuckled, finding a spot on your neck to latch on, leave a little souvenir of your encounter, and hide his pitiful laugh.

Kisses were peppered along your exposed throat, your clavicle and jaw, his long eyelashes tickling you and making you clench around his metal hand tighter. Whilst you worried about not whining too loud for anyone to enter the library, Anakin was pumping his fingers at such an unholy pace to complicate your task.

“Shhh, baby. You need to be quiet. Wouldn’t like for anyone to come in. You could lose your job.” He mocked with a side smile and you had to gripped his bicep to keep your balance. “Could you imagine? Getting caught having sex at work? With a Jedi?”

You could perceive that the trespassing of the pseudo-celibacy Jedi code was turning him to no end, the mischievous glimmer in his eyes getting stronger when he said the last sentence.

“W-We’re not having sex.” You corrected him, like it mattered. Like having him knuckles deep into you was somehow less frowned-upon than to have actual coitus.

That made him laugh and you wiggled underneath him, fighting to not let your tears fall.

“You just wait.” His lips ghosted over yours, his breath fanning over your heated face. The increase of the movements of his hand was a sign that he had noticed the contractions around his digits, fully aware that you were close. “Ready to come, baby? Gonna gush all over me?”

You nodded, biting your swollen lip, losing the battle against your tear duct. Anakin used his other thumb, the one that was not torturing your clit, to liberate your abused lip. His mouth lowered to capture yours in a hot kiss, this tongue sliding on your inside until it hit your throat. So deep into you that you would never forget his taste; so deep you will never be able to deny him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You whimpered against his smile when you reached your peak, dissolving into this meaningless mass between his arms. “Anakin…” You rode out your climax, still rocking your hips to prolong the pleasure.

Anakin waited until you regained some composure to help you fix your clothes, putting back your underwear as he found it and lowering your skirt. His actions had you frowning: Weren’t you two gonna fuck? You were already mentally prepared to welcome his enormous cock in your tiny canal.

He grinned at your puppy eyes and adorable pout, your flustered state funnier than it should be. It was almost enough to break him. But someone had to give you a lesson.

“At the end of the day, I’m just a soldier, Y/n. An incompetent one, according to you.”

Before you could protest that, he was tilting his head in an accusatory manner. Like saying: Don’t even try it. And before leaving with his head high, he spat:

“My apologies if that’s not fancy enough for you, ma’am.”

2K notes · View notes

stararch4ngelqueen · 15 days

Text

A Spoonful of Honey

Jason Todd/pregnant fem!reader (cause why not, I started reading the adventures comic so silly Jason is just on my mind as much as big beefy himbo acting like a baby over taking medicine. Chat I’ve been through it these past months, so this isn’t proofread)

Time Written - 11:05 p.m

The morning was cold, dreadfully cold, with a humid fog blanketing the dreary skies, blurring the atmosphere in a quiet haze. The temperature reached forty degrees at the highest around the late evening, giving those who had no business being outside a perfect excuse to remain indoors.

You basked in this opportunity to bring out your gold handle, cream colored dutch oven. Soft cardigan sleeves pushed up to your elbows to cut vegetables for a hearty dinner.

Slow, rugged feet trudged into the kitchen in the midst of you sautéing a rainbow assortment of veggies in butter and oil, dressed in his ‘plain ol’ civilian clothing’, a muted gray hoodie pulled over his head.

A sort throat was how it started; signifying the side effects to his nightly routine. Vigorous exercise could only help so much to fight off the chill, but with temperatures dropping incredibly low, sweat could nearly freeze on skin shortly after it’s been secreted.

The cold nearly nipped a permanent flush to his chiseled cheeks, kissing a sprinkle of color on his nose. He looked as exhausted as he did the previous night, when he first arrived home with a short cough and occasional clear of his throat.

Jason was sick, in the beginning stages of a cold. He’s not even bothering to hide it, yet continued to insist it wasn’t as bad as he led it on to become.

“You’re makin’ soup?” he asked. A comforting, light pressure of broad muscle against your back. Warm hands roaming from their soft placement along your hip dips roam forward, rustling along the fabric of your plush sweater, palms finally settling snug over your stomach.

“Mhm.” You nod, settling one of your hands over his interlaced fingers. “Chicken. With potato, and a ton of vegetables you like.”

“Mmm,” he hums, lightly sniffing the delectable curls of seasoned steam from your spice additions. “Smells incredible, ma.”

“Thank you. Good for the cold,” you comment, feeling satisfied at your seasoned sauté of protein and vegetables. You glance over your shoulder, smiling a little at his calm, droopy expression. “And colds.”

“Wow. Funny.” He murmurs per your amusement, taking over in reaching for the box of broth you set aside.

“You looked a little under the weather. Just wanted to help you feel a little better.” You reply after nodding in thanks for his aid, snapping open the seal to the box.

“You’re always taking care of me.” He exhales, his head tilting to kiss you on the cheek. He sounds grateful for the consideration, but he’s not very surprised by it.

You always had a tendency to spoil him. It’s just been your nature since the minute he first knew you.

“How’s the little one doing?” he asks, thumbs brushing light ovals over the soft mound of your protruding bump. Barely the size of an overripe grapefruit, or an underripe honeydew.

“Fine. No complaints,” you continue while pouring in the chicken broth. “Though, I’m sure the baby’s convinced that papa is doing a terrible job not resting up.”

Of course, he says nothing of it to confirm or deny. As if there was anything to deny, you could hear it in his slightly nasally tone. His fingers continue their gently ministrations, his eyes seemingly fixated on your actions, or unfocused as his mind trails off to space.

“Jay.”

“Hm?” His head slightly perks, leaving you to instantly assume the latter.

“It’s only been four months. You won’t feel much at four months.”

Maybe it’s faint arrogance to the doctor’s words. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he thinks that he can feel their baby shifting and wriggling around inside. He never thought of it before until it occurred to him one day, entering his mind at first as a silly thought before turning into a strong fixation.

“What, are you expecting it to come out and give you a high five?”

“Shut up.” He grunts, earning you a smirk.

“Couch,” you instruct, your gentle squeeze of your hand on his forearm combatting your firm tone. “Dinner’s almost done. Go relax.”

“Alright.” He’s quick to agree, yet his actions say otherwise. For a man who’s known by others to sulk, in your doting presence he reverts to a state a comfortable serenity, regardless of this mild illness weighing heavy on his tired bones. Regardless of your ever so heartwarming instruction, he retaliates with gentle backlash, consisting of third grade retorts and heavy groans. All in good fun, merely poking at your funny bones to catch a glimpse of a smile.

He moves his hand in little circles against your belly, waiting for his baby to respond. While he doesn’t feel any kicks just yet, he’s excited just thinking about all the times they have to come.

As much as you loved every ounce of physical touch, the slightest pet peeve of him not doing as you requested for his own good irked your mind. “Jason. You gotta move.”

“Can’t,” he mutters, “I’m fine right where I am.”

“You can play with the baby after you eat, Jason,” you insist. “You gotta eat, take some medicine, and rest. You can’t take medicine until you’ve eaten first.”

“I bet you the baby’s hungry, too.” Such sweet words from his mouth nearly had you melting on the spot. Already a doting father in waiting, how could you not feel your heart flutter?

“Jason,” you insist once more, your spoon resting on the rim of the cooking pot.

“Don’t wanna,” he replies, sounding both annoyed and amused by such insistence. His warm body never separated from yours for a mere five to seven minutes after that, your palm reaching up and back to catch his cheek, meeting the warm skin of his flushed face.

“You ever notice that you get grouchy during a cold—“

“I’m not grouchy right now though—”

“—the baby wouldn’t want their papa to be grouchy.”

“And you’re being a little mean.”

“Me? Mean?” You sounds surprised, though you’re smiling wide the entire conversation.

“Yes, you.”

“I could never.”

He doesn’t look at you though, his voice sounding playful once more. “You’re being super mean, trying to make me eat and take medicine and everything. The audacity, ma.”

You scoff as you closes the pot, turning your full bodied attention to Jason.

You smile, adoring your sick beloved, the father of your unborn baby gazing down at you with exhausted, lovestruck teal eyes. He always looked so cute, especially sick with a cold. Especially with the mentality of thinking he can do what he wants at this moment, thinking he’s said all the right words to coerce you.

“Good. That’s called love, now gooo.”

He sighs, and he’s really not looking forward to it. The idea of eating just doesn’t sound appealing right now anymore, nor does taking the medicine. Either way, the coziness of his woman wrapped in pearl colored cashmere with a cozy smile finally allured him towards the promising comfort of the living room couch, a temporary respite.

Inevitably, He left you to finish, granting the kitchen vocal silence for the next twenty minutes, apart from the soft drum of heavenly soup coming to a boil. Only when you come to find him did you see him flopped on the couch, an arm draped over his eyes to block all means of light.

You beckon him with a bowl of warm soup settling on the coffee table, alongside the eventual promise of lemon balm tea with a spoonful of crystallized honey.

“I don’t even feel that sick,” he grunts as he sits up, his voice starting to get a little hoarse from him talking (and complaining). Let the big guy say what he wants, you knew him better than even he admitted to allow.

“Then you’ll have no problem drinking my horrible concoction,” your gentle sarcasm would never be heard as unfavorable in his ears.

Jason takes a sip of his soup, slightly wincing from the heat on his sore throat, but he doesn’t seem as pleased with it as he’d originally thought. It tastes good, everything you’ve ever concocted for meals brought comfort, but as of now. he’s not really as hungry as he anticipated.

“What is this? Chicken, right?” He’s just making small talk now, wanting the conversation to last. “It’s really good, really, ma. Just not as hungry as I thought.”

You nod, not really happy about the outcome. But again, he’s sick. You can’t blame him.

“Take a few more sips, at least. Just so the medicine dosent make your stomach hurt.”

Jason looks away when you mentions the medicine, but he nods all the same. He eats what he can from his bowl, his shoulders slumping as exhaustion decides to increase weight down on his bones, forcing him into an even drowsier state.

All he does is partially lean against you after setting his bowl back on the table, keeping his eyes closed to ease the faint throbbing pressure building at the top of his head.

“I don’t even like cold medicine… I can’t sleep when I’m drowsy.” He mutters to himself, seeming to babble to no one but himself on not being so ill.

Your hand reach up to settle along his back, easing the tension with your fingers massaging his neck, confusion conflicting your mind at first.

“What you just said made no sense,” you giggle a bit, watching him lazily shake his head with a mild scoff.

He presses his head against the curve of your shoulder, his voice growing soft like a cat’s rumble. One of his arms settles lazily around your back. his body feeling practically limp.

By now, his response came in a series of short, muffled hums. He’s not complaining, really, but he is being extremely clingy. He just wants to be wrapped up in your arms, succumbing to an incredibly long sleep in your embrace, as if he can’t support his own weight. (He really can, but chooses not to.)

“On the bright side, the medicine says it tastes like honey.” You gently suggest, putting optimism where it may have lacked.

“Can’t you take it for me?” He lightly whines, his voice rumbling with a drowsy rasp. At this point, it’s not even because of the cold. Jason’s just too exhausted to think straight.

“I don’t know if pregnant women can take this kind of cold medicine,” you whisper to him, holding his shoulder after combing through his hair.

“Pretty please?” He whispers, his body feeling a little warmer from your presence. As comforting as it may have been to him now, a few minutes longer would’ve resorted in an uncomfortable ache in his neck from this poor posture.

“C’mon baby, just one little cup of medicine and you can sleep as much as you want. I’ll even yell at Bruce or Dick if they even try to call.”

Jason gives a light chuckle, his nose brushing along your jaw before planting a minor kiss along your neck.

“Fine, guess I’ll stop giving mama a hard time about it. It’ll be your job in about five months.” He speaks in second tense towards the bump in between you, followed by an eye roll on your end.

Watching you measure out the golden, syrupy mixture of potentially foul tasting medicine left him in a weak bind. He’d graciously drink horrid syrups consisting of fear toxin and joker venom if it meant you’d spoon-feed him an antidote. Such blind devotion was rare to come by throughout his life, comfort was your name in a foreign language.

He’s blessed with your smile once he had gotten the medicine down, rewarded with a kiss on the tip of his nose and a cup of promised tea, ambrosia to combat the foul taste. Goddamn medicine bottles with their stupid, deceiving lies.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so needy.” His slurred mumbling surprised you the most as you adjusted the blankets between the two of you.

A light tongue click leaves you, shaking your head in denial from such an unnecessary apology. “Don’t be, you silly man.”

Whether from some conflicting guilt, or illness inducing dysphoria on his mind, or shame, you gently deny and accept his apology with another kiss.

The effect of the medication is quickly kicks into place after ten minutes in bed, starting to drift off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Nothing but calm silence steals his consciousness for a few hours, warm bodies sheltered by the chilly winds batting against fogged glass throughout the long hours of the night. Despite the occasional faint echoes of neighbors next door and above, serene silence envelopes the minds of exhausted bodies.

You were snuggled up beside him with one of many pillows invading the space. Your cardigan sprawled neglected on the floor, cast aside due to the overwhelming seer of body heat.

He sighs softly, still tired, but his eyes glance over to the time on the nightstand clock.

He’s been asleep for hours, the time being … A little after eleven.

“Damn.” He whispers, drawing your closer to his body in a close hold. You feel so good like this, so safe. Spending all this time with him, doting on him, caring for him would mean the fifty percent chance you’d be afflicted next once he got better. Jason didn’t mind one bit, as much as he knew he should’ve been the one spending all his free time being attentive to your needs.

Either of you would look back on this and laugh of it, considering it practice for the baby.

For now, in the short time period of limbo between doctors appointments, checklists on supplies, criminal justice, and other impending challenges of becoming parents, everything was quiet. Calm, perfect even.

“Shh, the baby’s sleeping,” you softly retaliate, your hand cradling over his on the bump. You nudge just a little closer to the warmth radiating off him, seeking comfort with the furnace you call your beloved.

“What time is it?”

“Sleeping time,” he retorts, still sounding a little drowsy, his words coming out slow and somewhat slurred. His nose felt more stuffy than before, his head aching with a pressure that grew the longer he remained awake.

Once more, calloused fingers rustle against the fabric of his shirt on your body, potentially to be stretched during the later months to come. Here’s to hoping, he’s been secretly dying to see it.

“I love you both,” he whispers along your forehead, speaking from his heart in the sanctuary of your shared vulnerability.

You smile, tilting your head up to plant a soft, exhausted kiss on his chin. “We love you too,” you whisper, fighting back sleep to express an intimate act of love.

He closes his eyes, ready to sleep again. He’s not tired yet, stuck between the purgatory of both conscious states, but he’s not going to be able to stay awake much longer. At this point, he’s already half in the land of dreams. He’s comfortable—and happy to be with you, and with his baby.

“Never wanna let go of you two,” he mumbles, faintly catching the fragrance of your shampooed hair, the faint spice of ambery musk clinging to your skin.

You can’t help but quietly coo, burying most of your face against the crook of Jason’s neck.

“Then, don’t.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd dc #gotham knights jason todd #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd gotham knights #jason todd drabble #jason todd x #my personal life went through a dead dove phase #this is my therapy #for free

428 notes · View notes

2-dsimp · 1 month

Text

A/n: hey yall this is my first ever yandere collab that I did with my dear mutual @yandere-dreams-but-not-really and I’ve never knew how much fun it’d be collabing with others until I did so with them ＜3

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

Yandere company Bros

The eldest brother

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆

→ CW: Yandere tendencies, unhealthy coping methods, obsessive/possessive behavior, Judas needs a hug, internal company conflict

Synopsis: 【You were a new intern for hire at the grand Acer international company ran by the Kinzen family. And you stood out amongst your colleagues by being capable, ambitious, and dedicated to the craft! All the qualities of a true corporate slave which may have attracted some unheeded attention from the future inheritors of said company itself. Ultimately you ended up getting sucked into an internal family succession battle between the youngest and the eldest brother…Let’s just hope you make it out in ONE PIECE.】

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

【Eldest brother! Judas was never the type to believe in love at first sight. Despite his father always ranting on about how he fell for his strict mother at first glance. He never truly understood what it meant to feel a romantic love for someone. Throughout his highscool and college years he’s never had a crush or been in a relationship for that matter.】

【But all his reservations went out the window when he saw you, a well put together newbie walking past the doors of the well established business owned by him and his family. Encompassing an essence that of a fresh summer breeze which completely disarmed him.】

【Truly he thought he worked himself to death and was blessed with the sight of an angel who came down to take him away from his mundane life. Of being in his mother, Isidore’s shadow as a prominent businesswoman. Known across the world for her cutthroat business conduct.】

【Eldest brother! Judas was at a loss for words as you stepped up to him with those bright attentive eyes. And offered to help take on the loaded stacks of papers he was lugging into his office with an altruistic smile. The fact that he knew you didn’t know who he was at that time and was this naturally sweet. As opposed to everyone else who usually try coming to his aide with ulterior motives】

【Made His motherfucking heart grip at the enclosure of his rib cage at how you just politely interjected yourself in his space to go ahead and take half of his work load off of him. while he was stunned stupid too flabbergasted to even utter a sentence.】

【This socially stunted stoic man was trying his best to keep his mind afloat as he’s never been affected by such intense emotions before in his 23 years of living. He didn’t know how to act as he tended to isolate himself from his peers. In turn for studying business till his nose bled and working himself up the corporate food chain.】

【Eldest brother! Judas resembled that of a black cat who was looking in pure awe of his new fixation which wasn’t work or studying. His pristine appearance was now unkept with hairs falling flat in his face from how caught off guard he was. Finding himself mindlessly trailing after the new bubbly intern in long strides.】

【When yall reached his office he struggled to find the words to thank you. But his haywire brain opted to abruptly encase your hand in his and bring it towards his bleeding heart. as he gave you what seemed to be a death stare inherited from his mother but in reality was an expression full of gratitude, obsession, and adoration.】

【Congratulations you’ve unknowingly seduced the eldest heir of the Kinzen family. And there’s no take backsies.】

【Eldest brother!Judas is the type to be more or less clingy with his darling. Always calling them to his office to ask for “help” on some assignments. which caused onlookers to give him surprised exchanges. Since the famed hermit workaholic never came out of his dumpster fire of an office to request help of any kind.】

【He just loves seeing you breathe in his general direction. It makes him impulsively grip at the sides of ball pen till it damn near snapped in two. From how His heart is was overflowing with so much pure and genuine infatuation for you.】

【The eldest Kinzen was a ticking time bomb since he always kept everything little thing bottled up inside and never had anyone to confide to unlike his youngest brother Dexter who was a social troglodyte.】

【So as time progresses Judas spends each and every waking moment fantasizing. About what it would be to show you all the admiration that he feels for you. To convey how you’ve turned his world upside down and to emphasize how utterly precious you’d be underneath him due to size difference ahem his management. Working alongside him as his lovely equal/assistant manager.】

【Only one strand of restraint was holding him back from pouncing on you as if he had no good sense. But it was waning with how his meddlesome brother Dexter kept interfering with y’all’s pleasant time together.】

【Eventhough he may have been born with a diamond spoon he was never the one to indulge in it. Not that he could since his mother Isidore was a hard fashioned woman with a strict traditional upbringing. She instilled in her sons that what you earn is what you keep and how there was nothing such as free handouts in the world.】

【And yet since he was the eldest, Isidore made sure to remind him how it was his responsibility to steer his brother in the right direction. Taking her words to heart he always made an effort to accommodate his brother to an extent.】

【In their childhood days whatever Dexter wanted something from Judas. The eldest willingly gave in to him since he could be fussy if he didn’t get what he wanted. But once he noticed the eyes Dexter made at you whilist making you laugh from his charm.】

【Something snapped inside Judas. He didn’t like the way Dexter was trying to put dibs on you in his subtle hand placement on your waist. He despised how happy you sounded from the half baked jokes of the Youngest. He hated how easy it was for Dexter to strike up a conversation with you and be in your general presence without need for work excuses.】

【Don’t look at his brother look at him sure he may not have the best social ques or a way with words but he’ll treat you right. Judas will take care of you as if you were a queen to the throne of his heart.】

“I’ll be good, I’ll be perfect just for you… All I want is for you to look at me, focus only on me, Please don’t look elsewhere with those eyes of yours. I just wanna be yours. So choose me, not him.”

【He’d seldom show you in the most intense ways possible, the depraved man he’s become. Falling weak to his needs to hug you, to kiss you, to embrace you, to show you all the love that he can possibly show you. Within his iron grasp since you’re the one thing that he’ll never give up to his youngest sibling no matter how much tries to tempt you away from him.】

469 notes · View notes

xenosaurus · 2 years

Text

there’s an autism test going around again, and those are always WILD to take as an adult who has actively worked to adapt to certain symptoms. My score has almost definitely “improved” by neurotypical standards because I put in an unholy amount of effort to get there. I didn’t “become normal”.

I was a deeply anxious child with no idea how to interact with other children and could rarely identify my OWN emotions, let alone how they looked on others. I got badly bullied because all of my social interactions were “off”, too forward or too quiet and too fixated on single topics.

As an adult, I work in training, where I often teach classes to large groups of strangers, and every year my performance reviews are full of comments about me being friendly and welcoming. I get along with most of my coworkers, even the ones I have nothing in common with.

I have not become less autistic. Nothing became instinctive or “just makes sense”. I didn’t “grow out of it”. I have 10+ years of therapy under my belt and understanding friends who were safety nets while I tried new things and let me ask “weird” questions about body language or social interactions. I learned body language the same way I learned math-- by reading instructions, by practicing, by cheating off someone sitting next to me if I had to.

And I only got through it at all because I find people interesting; if I’d been bored by them, I’d have been stuck, and no amount of intervention would have gotten past that stumbling block. I weaponized a special interest in personality development to get here.

I still struggle without accommodations my peers don’t need. I still can’t go to concerts or clubs or loud parties. I can still lose myself for hours in a special interest and forget to eat. I still miss euphemistic jokes if I haven’t heard them before. I still struggle with executive dysfunction and sensory problems, and if there’s a NEW social skill to learn, I’ve got to figure it out from the starting line.

Getting good at navigating around your disability doesn’t mean it went away.

#autism stuff #bullying mention

5K notes · View notes

shrenvents · 7 months

Text

My Bounty.

Warnings: Smut. Vaginal, unprotected sex, force play. Minors dni

Pairing: Clone Wars (single) Anakin Skywalker x Bounty Hunter reader

Summary: Anakin Skywalker goes above and beyond to make your life difficult, taking whatever he wants without explanation. So when reader confronts him, things don’t go exactly as planned.

Word count: 1.7k

…

The meddling nature of the Jedi was nothing compared to the nature of Anakin Skywalker. His darkness seeps its way into everything. His dark robe, gloves, boots, curls, eyes. He was the darkness enveloping me in a dizzying spiral of hate and desire. And he did it again. He stole my bounty just so he could give me that dark look.

His gaze observes the way my fists clench and how I chew my bottom lip. A wicked smirk dances on his face as clones praise and pat him on the back. He knew exactly what he was doing, watching me with an intensity, that had me shaking.

Finally, Anakin’s eyes move away from my figure, beckoned by his Master. He stalks towards Obi-Wan Kenobi and his mocking facade breaks instantly. I nearly scream at the sight. What was he hoping to achieve? Stealing my potential profits is certainly an interesting pastime, not one you would expect from “the chosen one.”

I huff out my frustration, deflating my tense shoulders. With his back now turned, I relax. Pivoting on my heel, I hurry away from the scene. On to the next hunt, before Skywalker gets the chance to take it from me.

Frankly, I have no clue how it started, his fixation with making me miserable. I almost feel paranoid, as if I’m making up the whole debacle. But from the way he looks at me, unspeaking, I know this truly is my reality. Anakin Skywalker hates me.

...

Now glaring at my reflection within the confines of my room, my restraint runs thin. I’m not gonna do it. I’m not gonna do it. I’m not gonna do it. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna confront him because that sort of thing always goes well.

I head out towards the Jedi temple where Skywalker is most likely training his Padawan. While marching over, I contemplate the arguments I will bring up when face-to-face with him. How I will look into those comet-like eyes and not get distracted by his plump lips.

Moral of the story, I’m going to put an end to this one-sided game we play.

Once my vision connects with his broad back, his name escapes me without hesitation, “Anakin.” Saying it takes me by surprise, seeing as though I’ve never said it before. But clearly, it shocks him more, as when he turns around, his eyes are vaguely wider than I’ve ever seen them. “Y/n,” he says back flatly, face becoming neutral. Now I’m really taken aback by the way my name rolls off his tongue. Quickly, I collect myself and remember my well-thought-out points.

“What are you doing?” And out the window they go.

Anakin quirks his head quizzically. His silent reply to my rather stupid question ticks me off further. I’m practically vibrating with rage. “That was my mark you stole today Skywalker, you realize that?”

As if he’s finally understood my inarticulate speech, his lips part dumbly in “awe.” There he goes pushing my buttons, silently watching me unravel. “You think I wouldn’t notice?“ My face flushes red as I elaborate. “All the crooks you’ve miraculously caught are always the bounty that I’m after.”

There's a beat of silence where he inspects the way my chest heaves in exasperation. Then he speaks. “About time you did.” He states matter-of-factly. My jaw drops. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ve been waiting for you to notice,” he remarks with a bored look.

“Notice what?” I spit out, scowling at him.

“Me,” he finishes plainly. Silence engulfs us again and I take note of how close we’ve become. “Why would you want that?” I question, utterly perplexed.

“What do you mean?” Anakin’s brows furrow.

“I mean you’ve never spoken to me before.”

“Neither have you.” He counters. My fists tremble.

“Why then? Why do you need me to notice you?” I demand.

“What other reason can there be?” He grumbles while giving me a once-over, and then something clicks. My face falls.

“Those looks you give me-”

“Say just how much I want you, more than words ever could.” He ends my sentence, his face remaining stoic. My heart hammers wildly. I suspect he’s now waiting for me to make a move, to say anything, maybe even reject him. Instead, I hastily circle my head around, surveilling for bystanders before frantically grasping at his robe and pushing him into a nearby room. His facade flatters once again and I see puzzlement consume his face.

After I awkwardly turn the door knob and take us into the empty room, I shove him away. Anakin staggers back, looking completely disoriented, almost regretful. “Y/n?” He trails off. My anger is radiating off my body, and I know he can feel it.

“You should’ve said something,” I assert, seething.

“I’m-“ Anakin is abruptly cut off by my lips smashing against his. With my arms reaching around his neck, I can feel his body freeze. After a short moment, I start to peel away, dejected by his stillness. But Anakin instantly chases after me, no longer shying away.

He gropes my waist, and one arm pulls around it, while the other slides up my spine to rest between my shoulder blades. A moan evades my throat and is met with a deep groan.

His palms carve out my figure and fist at my clothes. Whines rush out my mouth as his tongue mingles with mine. He vigorously makes work of me, and I have to pull away. Though his lips instinctively follow me, I’m out of reach, so he settles for my neck. Sucking fervently, one may fear the spots he’s making, but in this moment, truthfully, I couldn't care less.

“Ani,” I whimper, and he growls against my nape in response. “Fuck, I need you,” I whisper. I feel his movements lurch and he mumbles something, but I can't seem to hear it over my haggard breathing.

He tears himself away from my neck, still keeping my body pressed against his. He then shifts his gaze around the room. “There’s no furniture here, I’ll just have to fuck you standing.” An audible gasp flees my mouth as Anakin slings my body around his torso, legs straddling his hips. His hands clench around my thighs as he hoists me up, securing me in place.

Fortunately, the short gown I threw on this morning made it easy for Anakin's crotch to caress my core through his pants. I push down on him and he groans at our proximity. "I was wondering when you would snap," Anakin mutters into my ear as his grip tightens. I whimper. "Screw you."

"Be patient. You will." He soothes. Digging my front teeth into my bottom lip, I drop my forehead to his shoulder as our lower halves grind against one another.

The sounds of our moans crowd the room and I can't take it anymore. "Kriff patience, I'm done waiting, General," I command in the most sensual voice I can muster. Evidently, my attempt to provoke him works because one of his hands leaves my thigh and clutches my hair in a fist, tugging my head back so his lips can crash into mine again. His other hand shifts down to his slacks. His breath hitches when he releases his cock, and so does mine when it springs up to my clothed clit. "Oh maker," I just about scream, head falling back.

His hands make quick work moving my underwear aside, and his member brushes against my folds. I shudder and screw my eyelids shut. I feel Anakin's gaze fixate on me. "Look at me." Hearing his order, I immediately obey.

Eyes fluttering open, I look into his lust-filled ones. Getting flustered by their heat, I squirm. "Y/n." He hushes, breath blowing across my face. Glancing at his features briefly, I nod, communicating what we both desperately need.

We both hold our breaths as he brings me down on his length in a slow glide. His cock pierces my entrance, and I clamp down on my incoming yelp. He was big. I hear him distractedly repeat my name, face buried in my collar. My eyes look to the ceiling in prayer.

His movements dissipate midway, and I feel his stomach clench. "You take me so well." He mumbles almost to himself. All I can do is bob my head in response. In this short pause, the pain disperses and all I feel is him - pleasure, darkness. His arms snake around my waist while mine harden around his nape.

Suddenly, he plunges into me, filling me up completely. My cry echoes throughout the room and I instantly sink my teeth into the cartilage of his ear. The growl that leaves him is next to primal. His rhythmic pounding begins to pick up speed, and I can barely keep up with each stroke. "Kiss me," he stammers out. Reeling back, I lock eyes with him before diving my tongue into his mouth.

His hips snap into my own, over and over. His stomach clenches once more and he pants into my mouth, "I'm close." Though I feel incredible, I'm not quite close to my limit, and he senses it.

One of his palms unravels from my body, steadily hovering over my center. Thinking he's going to touch me, I arch my back away from his embrace to allow space for his digits to meet my slit. But, as I wait, an unexpected pressure attacks my core. I gasp away from his lips and I peer down, leaning my forehead on his.

His hand isn't physically touching me, yet I feel as though I'm close to climaxing. Bewildered, I shoot my eyes from his floating hand to his lewd expression. His grin is strangely smug as he watches me. Then it registers: he's using the force to make me cum. Completely stunned, I simply bore my eyes into him, mouth agape.

Our orgasms come at once and wash over us at his charge. He puffs out a loud sigh of relief and continues to hold me, pumping slower than before, til the action ceases.

"Maker," I huff, "Next time, just use your words, and I'm yours." A smile forms on his face. He sheepishly nods, "Next time."

1K notes · View notes

povlnfour · 6 months

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ OVERDRIVE (LN4)

pairing: lando norris x f!reader

summary: a practical stranger is determined to change your opinion on cars (and maybe make you fall in love in the process)

word count: 2k

content warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, brief make out, 110% irresponsible driving (don’t take ur eyes off the road kids)

“you’re right next to me, feel the heat, going overdrive” — conan gray, overdrive

cars were never something you understood.

your friends growing up had always had a weird fixation whenever they saw specific models racing down the streets where you lived, stopping to ogle and obsess as they used key words that were entirely lost on you. when you expressed your disinterest and lack of care over a model’s ‘horse power’, you were met with groans of disappointment and a quick change of subject.

perhaps that was why those particular friendships never lasted out of teenhood. they became stagnant over the years when you found new interests and connections that led you elsewhere.

somewhere in the back of your mind, despite time making those old acquaintances nothing more than a distant memory, you wondered what they’d say if they could see you now.

so it stood true that you never understood cars, but you certainly had an affinity for pretty men driving them. and lando norris definitely fit into that category.

sat in the passenger seat of a mclaren model you had entirely missed the name of, you gained a new outlook on what made such cars so good. granted it had nothing to do with the technicalities of the car, and more the way the wind whipped through your hair as lando guided the two of you through the streets of monaco. it was dark by now, but the city still shone bright with the lights from the buildings that towered over you — casinos and restaurants much like the ones you found the driver in to begin with.

you barely spared lando a glance, too afraid to lose focus on the road ahead of you. if you were to spend too long admiring the man you might never be able to look away. he had a certain transfixing aura around him you couldn’t quite explain from just the short time you had known him.

the city whizzed by as lando made green light after green light, turning onto less clustered roads where he could finally show the full potential of the car he was clearly so fond of.

“you look like you’re enjoying yourself no matter how much you’re pretending not to.” lando commented, and for the first time since accepting his offer of a drive home, you turned to face him. he was already looking at you, paying no attention to the roads despite the danger such an action possessed, and you couldn’t help the blush the attention brought to your cheeks. “let yourself have fun. stop trying to hate it so much.”

laughing, you shook your head, amazed at how a man who was nothing more than a stranger to you less than three hours ago already had such a good read on you. you’d have plenty to tell your friends who you had met at the casino in the morning it would seem.

“i’ve got a reputation to withhold here.” you admitted, enjoying the way he laughed as he looked back towards the road that grew quieter with every passing metre.

“not a car person?” lando observed.

“not at all.” you admitted, shaking your head fondly as you recalled those times you disappointed your friends. “i don’t think i’ve ever quite understood the fascination behind it.”

lando hummed, going quiet momentarily. he made an action similar to that of checking a watch, seeming to think over a grand idea. “you don’t have anywhere to be, right?”

it was already long gone two in the morning, he knew as well as you did the answer to that. “besides my bed, nope.” popping the ‘p’, you looked back towards the man driving.

“then let me show you what you’re missing.”

you underestimated to what extent his determination reached until his foot was on the pedal, and the slick car was rushing away from the city with nothing more than a light humming sound. your laughter mixed in with the whisp of the wind as suddenly you shot off into the night with a man who was barely more than a pretty stranger.

lando seemed to enjoy the sound, one hand slipping to the bottom of the wheel so he could rest on the door of his car whilst he eased his way through the roads. he navigated with such an ease you were sure he had done this route many a time before, slowing just enough when he reached cameras as to not be caught, but keeping the experience all the same.

“you’re insane!” you laughed as he skidded the car around a perfectly timed corner, knowing your mother would be crying in fear if she saw how reckless you were being.

“admit you’re enjoying yourself!” lando prompted, still finding time to look over at you once more throughout the journey.

grinning through your lies, you refuted “you’ll have to do more than that to impress me.”

“oh come on!” he whined, no malice or despair in his voice, but a glint in his eye that told he was more than prepared to take the challenge, “you’re a hard crowd to please.”

with that, he shifted the gear once more, finding a corner at which he unexpectedly spun back around on, bringing you back onto a straight towards the city that gave him plenty of opportunity to show off.

“you’re going to kill me!” you squealed, clinging on to the door for dear life as you giggled over the wind once more.

lando barely missed a beat before he shifted speeds once again, offering a playful “i’ll make sure they say you died enjoying yourself in the obituary.”

as you swung another corner, you let the motion pull you back towards the centre of the car, the electricity between the two of you becoming more prominent than ever. lando noticed it too, swapping the hand which held the wheel as his right one found its way to your left. you looked at the contact, unsure for just a moment, until he lifted your arms above your head, letting the recklessness wash over you until it shifted into exhilaration. you couldn’t help but lift your other arm to enjoy it, till you were practically shouting with adrenaline field joy into the night.

the fear of the speed was outweighed by the thrill, and you closed your eyes for a beat, enjoying the simple sensation of wind in your hair and lando’s hand in yours.

when you began to emerge into those more populated areas once more, the sight of red lights up ahead, lando spun once again, masterfully avoiding any disturbance with a practiced ease. the motion threw you further to the side, and this time, the squeal that left your mouth was entirely involuntary. you whipped your hands down from the air, this time choosing to find purchase on lando’s bicep as you steadied yourself.

lando chuckled lowly, making no quick decision to move away. instead, his hand that previously held yours found it’s way to rest on your thigh, holding you in place against the centre console and his shoulder. his comfort made you bolder, so even when you had steadied yourself, the grip you had on his arm only faltered enough to provide him momentarily relief, staying close to his side with your hands still linked now at his elbow.

“if you crash, i’ll kill you.” you joked, lando whipping his head around to face you with a smooth wink in your direction.

“you underestimate my skill, baby.”

the way your heart fluttered at the pet name made you briefly consider your own insanity. speeding down unpopulated streets with a stranger, with no care for what may happen. selfishly, you only wanted to bask in the feeling of his hand on the scarcely clothed skin of your thigh, and the look on his face whenever he met your eye.

you spared a glance towards his lips, pulled taut into a smile as he showed off for you. there was something about his confidence that only added to the compellement you felt towards him.

before you could readjust your attention, his eyes flickered back towards you, and the sharp decrease in speed told he had caught where you were looking. you may have pulled back in embarrassment had the grip he had on your thigh not tightened in response.

the temptation to apologise was quelled just as fast when he brought the car to a less extreme speed, able to spend longer fixating on you without the imminent threat of crashing if he lacked too much focus.

“i’m gonna need you to stop looking at me like that.” he practically growled. “otherwise i’ll do something stupid.”

you considered for a moment, debating just how reckless you would allow yourself to be tonight before the words left your lips involuntarily. “nothing’s stopping you.”

it was as though something shifted in the man, his hand finally leaving your thigh just long enough to bring the car to a halt in a convenient lay-by. and before you even had the chance to react to the standstill, he was pushing back over the centre console and connecting his lips with yours.

his hands found the back of your neck with a terrifyingly practiced ease. one your own gripped onto his forearm, your other finding it’s way between his curls and giving a sharp tug that had him gasping into your mouth. he recovered fast, using his tongue to swipe against your bottom lip in a request you couldn’t deny.

as lando deepened the kiss, he tugged you towards him, one hand slipping down to your waist and helping you across the console without ever having to disconnect your lips. you planted yourself firmly against his thighs, chests connecting as his tongue encircled yours. both his hands now crept towards your ass, squeezing firmly when they found their goal.

you almost automatically rolled your hips down as he gave a tug, eliciting a groan from his lips you so desperately wanted to hear again in a less public situation. he only held you tighter in response, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth in an attempt to gain some power back. you let him take it happily, bracing your hands against the headrest to gain some stability.

you were sure your lips were red and swollen by now, too enticed by the man below you who tasted vaguely of mint from the singular mojito you had seen him nurse all night.

the alcohol in your own system would be little match for the memories of lando’s hands on your skin. his fingers found their way up your waist and between the slits in your outfit so that they could dance along your skin with a wave of electricity.

lando tugged you closer, a feat you didn’t feel possible until your bodies were flush together, your knees taking the brunt of your weight to allow the closeness to remain. you let one finger slip from the headrest to trace the curve of his neck, enjoying the way his muscles tensed in anticipation at the contact. the sly smile it brought to your lips was enough to finally break your kiss, the two of you panting shallowly as your foreheads rested together.

lando took a moment, squeezing your waist as he closed his eyes to regain some of his own sanity.

“i should really get you home.” he muttered, voice void of any real haste “you make it quite hard to let you go.”

as he tilted his head to trail sweet kisses along the side of your jaw, you couldn’t quite help the offer that left your lips. something about the man below you had you believing that a rash decision would somehow be worth it.

“i never said you couldn’t come in.”

lando grinned in response, connecting your lips again as he turned the ignition back on in a clear acceptance of your invitation.

you’d have to clamber back into the passenger seat soon enough, but for one last second you allowed yourself to revel in the realisation that your night was about to get a lot more interesting.

so maybe you didn’t understand cars, but you’d certainly thank them for this outcome.

hello pals

soooo my first one shot ?! on this account at least. i used to write terrible 1d fanfic so this is a step up lmao. written based on overdrive by conan gray, 10/10 recommend

if you’re still here, thank you SO MUCH for reading. feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments/reblogs/asks, i always love reading what people have to say. i have not proof read this bc i hate my own writing so apologies if there are glaring mistakes.

i’ve also only been to monaco like three times but these quiet streets are entirely made up that place is manic (for someone who lives so close i do not go enough)

got some ideas in the brain, mostly around lando but also a few charles and oscar bits as they’re my boys so let’s see how this goes

but for now, big love! taglist can be found in my pinned post along with masterlist i’m slowing filling out🧡

- love, gigi xx

tags: @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @paolexsstuff @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @moonypixel @celestialpato @champagneproblems17

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ works #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #mclaren #lando norris au #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris scenario #lando norris one shot

744 notes · View notes

pray4byron · 2 months

Note

Hello! how is it going? I’m so happy to see your requests are back open and that you also write for Helluva Boss now, so I wanted to request something for that! One of my favorite works of yours are the Hazbin Hotel things of reader finding the characters crying and comforting them, so I was thinking I’d love to request the same thing but for Helluva Boss characters. Maybe Blitzø, Stolas, Fizz and Moxxie x gn reader (either platonic or romantic is fine) where reader find them crying and comforts them? ❤️

also sorry if I messed up my english, it’s not my first language :)

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳ø, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬, 𝐦𝐨𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐳𝐳 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: MY FIRST HELLUVA REQUEST LETS GOOO. my first few requests for helluva might be a bit ooc due to the fact that i’m much more of a hazbin girly lol. i literally almost started crying writing blitzø’s part so PLSPLSPLSPLS enjoy that one esp 😋 i think this is one of the longest things i’ve ever wrote tbh LOL but okay enough of my yapping, enjoy

warnings: possible angst(?), platonic!moxxie, profanity, mentions of sex in blitzø and fizzarolli’s part, use of yn in moxxie’s part, ooc writing in all 4 parts😭

proofread: yessir 😎

tags: helluva boss, stolas, fanfic, blitzø, moxxie, fizzarolli, hb, x reader

𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳ø

…always felt so trapped, despite the fact that maybe, just maybe, it was because of his own doing. and deep down, he knew that, whether he said it aloud or not.

he never thought the voices in his head could sound so real, he never thought his closest loved ones could seem so far, he never thought that his spirits could be so low, especially when those around him thought that they were so high.

when his daughter, his precious, his world, slammed her bedroom door in his face before screaming, “i fucking hate you!” against the clash of things being thrown from the other side of the door, he couldn’t stop his eyes from filling with tears.

blitzø didn’t know what in all of hell was up with him today, something mentally, that’s for sure.

he couldn’t help but feel a curl in his stomach watching millie and moxxie be all lovey throughout their shared shift, and not a good kind of ‘curl’, he couldn’t scroll through sinsta for three minutes without seeing a verosika-related post, either by her, or one of her sex deprived fans, and he had just gotten home from a meeting with stolas for their…monthly activities — and he couldn’t help but feeling like a shit boyfriend to the one he loved most, and fuck, even his loonie is mad at him now too??

the imp sluggishly moved across to the other side of his apartment and slumped onto the couch, his face being taken in by the warmth of the rough pillow, with his phone in his hands, he felt it vibrate.

if he got lucky, it might be an apology call from loona, as she was probably already out bitching with her friends at those stupid hound parties, thanks to vortex.

but no, it was a call, from you, normally he loved your late night conversations you both had with one another, but tonight? eh… it really wasn’t the time.

he stared at his screen for a moment, his eyes fixating on your contact info, the name displaying ‘babe’ with a red heart emoji, and the picture was a selfie you guys took together.

in the miniature version of the photo, it showed blitzø in a band t-shirt, sticking his tongue out with a ‘v’ to his lips, as you grinned at the camera, as you cuddled into his horns, it was the morning after your first time together, your bed head looked adorable, it could kill him.

he sighed softly, before pressing the ‘call’ button, putting the phone to his ear. “hey, babe!” you spoke from the other side, your voice slightly muffled from the quality of the mic in your phone.

that alone caused him to start sobbing all over again, ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck fuck.’ he thought to himself, but that wasn’t what mattered now. you just sounded so happy, when he felt so shit, that’s one of the many things he loved about you, you were so strong, always saw the light.

“hey hey, shhh, blitzø, what happened??” you cooed through the phone, your heart ached for him, you rolled over onto your side while you laid in bed, curling up to the blankets, as you would to your boyfriend, if he were there with you.

all you got as a response were whimpers from the other line, a few hiccups here and there. “i need words, love.” you said, softly.

blitzø sniffled, “bad day..” his voice cracked as he spoke, although he did so, so softly, well obviously you’d seen him upset before, but never like this.

“wanna talk about it?” you asked, more than hesitant to do so, you knew blitzø was by no means good with his feelings, and you were lucky you got this far with him, considering some failed attempts from the past of you trying to ease him into opening up, but you had to try, it just felt right.

on the other hand, blitzø was just as nervous as you were, if not more, he had been through it all before, and for him, it had never ended pretty, but he loved you more than anything, and he knew he had to do this.

“yeah..”

you listened to every word he said, for hours, 9pm turned to 11pm, 11pm turned to 2am, and 2am turned to kicking down his apartment door at 3:19am to cuddle him to sleep on the couch.

and as tired as she was, as well as annoyed, loona couldn’t stay mad at her father after seeing him snuggled up next to you on the couch asleep.

especially when she snapped a picture and posted it all over sinsta…

guess who’s mad now, bitch?

𝐟𝐢𝐳𝐳

…never felt like he had gotten home so exhausted before. he didn’t even have the energy to sling himself across the palace to get to his bed quicker

he wanted to see you, he wanted to be with you, he wanted to be against you and your nice warm body, with your beautiful smile…

after walking up a few flights of stairs, taking an elevator here and there, walking down a hallway that was way too long to be one to begin with, he reached your shared room. he was home.

“hi, baby!” you exclaimed, happy to see your partner at last, pausing your show that was displayed on the big screen T.V in your room, hoping out of bed to peck your boyfriend on his cheek. “i missed you!”

he managed a tired smile, “i missed you too, sweetie.” fizz paused for a moment, looking away from your gaze before asking, “can i hug you?”

fizz had a lazy, but goofy grin on his face, extending his arms out to you, doing grabby hands. you give a pouty smile, your partner was so cute you couldn’t deal with it, “of courseee, froggyyy.” you said, babying your tone, pulling him in by the waist.

“you don’t gotta ask, y’know, we’ve been together too long to do that.” you joke with a chuckle, fizz laughs along with you, softer than yours, but still, he sinks into your arms before replying, “mammon’s business, despite its stressors, has taught me the importance of consent, and not just when it comes to sex”

fizz chuckled, his tired but soft tone still remained, as he pulled away from you just slightly to peck your nose, “i’d never wanna hurt you, honey, it’s better to ask, then to be sorry, y’know?”

you blink momentarily, you were not expecting that response out of him, you recover quickly, however, smiling at him, “you are just the sweetest.” you say, pulling him in for another hug, placing a peck to his neck, snuggling your face in it as you do so.

before you can even get another word out, fizz starts crying, attempting to sniffle back the tears.

you pull away instantly, “froggy? are you okay?” scanning him for any signs of harm or discomfort.

your boyfriend nods, makeup dripping down his face, “y-yes…” his lips trembling softly as he spoke. “did something happen at work today?”

fizz shook his head, “not really” he sniffled again, “just missed you.”

“awww fizzie, cmon!” you take his hand, pulling him the bathroom,

“let’s take a nice, warm bath, and then we can do skincare and watch that one show you like, and then we can go to bed, does that sound nice?”

“that sounds really nice… thank you…”

𝐦𝐨𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐞

…was your good friend since your early childhood years, his father had a business connection with your parents, which led to you both being babysat together a lot.

both of you were grown adults now, he was married to your gal-pal from your high school days, and you were engaged to one of the kids from your friend group back when you were in college, well, before dropping out.

other than your separate significant others, you were eachothers ride-or-dies, your for-lifers. you both went to eachother for practically everything.

so when moxxie knocks on your door while your spouse is out with friends, asking for help, you don’t hesitate to let him in.

you sit him down asking him what was the matter, and he gets fidgety immediately, stuttering out an attempted response before the tears start flowing, he starts crying about how he got into an argument with millie, and how scared he was that this might ruin their marriage.

instantly, as it was second nature to you, you scoot closer to him the couch, rubbing his back as he sobbed, still venting to you about the argument and how much he misses millie.

“look, mox, here’s what ya gotta do. just call her, and tell her everything you’ve told me, i’ve known millie since we were just freshies, she’s bound to understand!”

“i guess so.. thanks, yn.”

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

...was distraught, and even that was an understatement. his beloved octavia was lost, in los angeles, in the human realm.

you, stolas, and blitzø searched around what felt like all of fucking earth to find her, while millie and moxxie were off doing eachother who knows what.

stolas sighed, running a hand through his now human hair, his breath beginning to get noticeably more shaky, with blitzø walking ahead of the two of you.

“hey.” you say, putting a hand on his arm, “it’s gonna be okay.”

“but what if it’s not though? what she’s not okay? what if she’s in danger? or worse, what if someone took her?” his voice trembled more and more at the thought.

“no.” you start, turning stolas around to face you. “she’ll be okay.” you say, putting a hand onto his chest, “she’s smarter than you may think, she’s seventeen now! she’ll know what to do.”

“but what if something happens? and i’m not there to protect her?” stolas says, his movements going to a halt, blitzø looked at the two of you, before mouthing that he’ll meet up with the both of you later.

before you know it, tears well up in his eyes, without even thinking, he pulls you into a tight hug. “i just need to know my girl is okay…”

“she’ll be okay, sweetie.” you say, pecking his cheek, you pull back slightly, lovingly looking into his eyes, “and so will you..”

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

288 notes · View notes

peachie-bumblebee · 10 months

Text

MIGUEL O’HARA NSFW ALPHABET

MINORS DNI

HELLOOOO

CW: GENERAL ADULT CONTENT. MENTIONS OF BDSM AND PAIN, UNDERWEAR THIEF

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

It really depends on whether or not you’re in a relationship. If he’s in love with you, then he’s gonna scoop you up and clean you off- maybe even take a bath with you if he’s letting himself be intimate like he used to be. He’ll praise you softly as you go to sleep, sure to forget his words by morning. If he’s not in love with you, then it’s less charming. Miguel WILL leave.

B = Body part (favorite of partners, favorite of theirs):

The curve of their neck and throat. He can’t help himself. Hipbones. He isn’t that egotistical when it comes to his own looks, but he knows his back looks good. Don’t press him on his ass though. He knows he has a great ass, but you’ll never hear him say that.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Like i’ve said- he gets embarrassingly leaky if he’s being dominated. He’ll even cum untouched if you really try.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

…Panty thief if he’s in love. He’ll tuck your underwear away after he tugs them down and touches himself with them pressed against his face. Literally if anyone ever brought it up he’d disintegrate on the spot and possibly start chasing them on all fours. (He’s a little touchy, if you haven’t noticed.)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

He had a kid. And if you’re gonna say “oh, that was another universe-” you can, but you cannot convince me that there is a universe where Miguel doesn’t fuck. He fucks. He knows just where to put his hands during doggy.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

He likes to have a grip on those hipbones, if he can. He’s gonna physically overpower 99% of people, so it’s gonna involve folding his partner in half and manhandling them most every time. He also loves to be on his knees with his hands behind his back, but that might be a little harder.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

He’s not a joker. Maybe, MAYBE, if he was married, he might make a small joke every once in a while. But I cannot picture him having silly sex.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

He’s naked under that suit, and I can’t imagine that would feel great on his body if there was too much hair. I’m not fully sure how any spider-person gets their hair on under the mask, but I DO know that he has the prettiest happy trail known to man. It’s not too much- still almost downy soft.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Like stated before, it can go both ways. I can’t see him doing a lot of soft kisses unless there was MAJOR long term feelings. Most romantic he gets most of the time is telling his partner how good they are or begging for then.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Eyes roll back into his head and he has his hand clamped over his mouth, sometimes biting on his rolled up shirt.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Bondage, switching, candle wax, temperature play, blindfolding, manhandling, biting.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

If his partner was a spider person I can see them fucking in some corner on a rooftop, his hips pistoling up into them as they grab forward on the wall.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

Lace, being teased, getting too annoyed at work- LMFAO. teasing and being teased riles him up big time.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

He’s not gonna use a flogger or a paddle on someone. I can’t see it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He has a BIG oral fixation (i’m biased) and loves anything going into his mouth. He also is particularly sensitive to having his balls sucked on.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

It’s rough nearly always. Your organs are thoroughly rearranged.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

Miguel is a BIG office quickie guy IF nothing is going on- but so so much of the time, something is always going on. Some of the time all he can squeeze in is a good over-the-desk 15 minutes before he’s back to managing all of the multiverse. The last thing he needs is Lyla popping up where she doesn’t belong.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

Things that are risky to normal people aren’t as risky to him. He can hear if people are coming from a long while away. He’s faced constant danger. Fucking you in an unused room on an unused floor of the spider society is not a risk to him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

Do I even need to say it? He can go for hours. He’s enhanced. However, he does last longer if he’s the one in charge; either way, he can go for a long while. His partner is gonna be sore and incoherent much faster than he’d be, regardless whether or not they’re super or not.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

Someone got him a flashlight once and told him it’d help him with the stick up his ass. He’s used it a couple times and pretends like he hasn’t. He wouldn’t own a dildo but isn’t opposed to getting pegged. If his partner wanted a sex toy used on them, he’d take a lot of joy in torturing them with it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

He’s an AWFUL tease. It’s constant. He also cannot bear being teased and will either beg or fuck his partner over the nearest table within a few comments.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

PRETTY MOANS!! It’s a damn shame he rarely ever lets you hear them. He’ll also curse, praise, and demean under his breath. He tries so hardly to stop from moaning when he cums; muffling himself with whatever he can. Usually a few clear ones slip through.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

Cries if you edge him. He gets pathetic.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

YALL ALREADY KNOW!! DORITO BACK!!! HUGE CHEEKS!!! He’s downright tasty i’m sorry y’all. I’d pray over him and spread him out like he’s christmas dinner.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

HE’S HORNY! He just can’t deal with it a lot of the time, which often makes him even more pent up. Lord have mercy on his partner’s body.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Depends if he has time or not. If not, he’ll keep on pushing on. On the rare occasion where he’s free of responsibilities, he’s snoring like drake within 20 minutes or less <33

hope you guys enjoyed!! inbox is always open, requests always wanted :)))

924 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

Blind Offer 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that's too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, additional characters to come

Note: Loooooook. I was gonna restrain myself but this all just got outta hand. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won't reveal which one right away because it'll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You keep your slippers just away from the edge of the puddle. The sheet of water extends almost completely across the kitchen. You hug yourself, still slightly groggy from your early and rude awakening. The washing you put in last night hadn’t finished and instead the sudsy mess had leaked out around the door.

There’s a sigh and a clank as your landlord pulls his arm out of the machine. Your sopping laundry is in a bucket by his feet. His shirt is visibly wet from his struggle to stem the steady flow dripping from the brim of the washer door. You worry you may have overloaded the compact stacking unit.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you say as you sway guiltily.

“Don’t be,” he puts his hands on his hips and blows out. A golden strand dangles down his forehead, “it’s not you. My own fault. I thought these things might hold out for a while…”

“Oh?”

“Not the first time I’ve had to fight the beast but it worked. I should be sorry, I should’ve just replaced it.”

“Well, uh, what are you gonna do now?” You look at the wet tile, the scent of laundry detergent thick in the air as the water creeps closer to your slippers.

“Uh, yeah, well, obviously you can’t stay here.”

“I can’t?” You raise your head, running your hand up the front of your robe and clutching the fluffy fabric.

“No, bylaws say you need to evacuate until I can get a new unit in here. And clean up. Leak like this can leave mildew and mold,” he combs his large hand over his head, “I feel bad enough, I couldn’t let you live in this.”

“Okay… um, I have to work in a couple hours–”

“Oh, geez. Well, er, maybe just pack up a few things and I can take you over to the new place? You can always come back to grab more if you need.”

“I guess…” you chew your lip. His blue eyes fixate on the gesture so you stop. “How far is it?”

“Not very, about twenty minutes east by car.”

“East?” You utter dully, “that’s a bit far. I work up near the metro area.”

“There’s some bus stops that way but I could give you a lift tod–” There’s a sudden gush and he looks back to the machine, a bubble of water flowing up over the brim. He shuts the door, stemming much of it. “You won’t even be able to cook in here,” he says, “look, bylaws say I have to relocate you. I have a property free which means I don’t have to splurge for a hotel. If you prefer somewhere closer, then it’s on you.”

You frown. He’s not the worst landlord you’ve had but he definitely talks like one. He’s only really worried about his liability. Yet, most others wouldn’t have even brought up that clause and left you to wallow in this puddle of dirty laundry water. You shrug, hopefully the other place isn’t too bad.

“Right, uh, I guess I’ll go get dressed,” you relent.

“Great,” he says with blatant exasperation, turning back to face the trembling washer, his voice deflating to a hoarse rasp, “goddamn.”

You hesitate as you stare at his back. The gray fabric of his jersey henley strains across his shoulder blades as the back of his forearms clench, veins pulsing out. He rolls his head on his neck and heaves out again.

You turn on your foot and slowly pad out of the kitchen. You hear his sole squeak subtly but refuse to glance back again. You can’t help but feel that it’s all your fault. You’re sure he’s too nice to say so. Or too distracted by the chaos you’ve caused.

🖤

The new apartment isn’t an apartment at all. It’s a walkup townhouse with a sleek black and white exterior. The neighbourhood is far out of your range but you won’t complain. You suspect Steve is already aware of the deferential.

“Wow, this place is really nice,” you say as he holds the door for you. You step inside and take in the space; a narrow staircase to the next floor, black frames around grayscale photography, and minimalist decor in the form of a standing geometric floor vase and a coat rack with bent arms.

You stop to take your shoes off on the mat as Steve squeezes in behind you and shuts the door. You trip away from him, surprised by the friction of his body against yours. You’ve always been overly aware of yourself and how much room you take up. Your size makes it hard to not feel crowded, still the close brush rattles you.

He swirls the keys around a finger and stills them in his fist. He looks around emphatically and waves a hand.

“Well, this is it. It’s my only vacant property at the moment, so, it’ll have to do. Fully furnished, at least.”

“It’s great,” you assure him as you step further in, your duffel hanging heavy from one arm, “wow, it’s…”

“A lot bigger than your place. Yeah. New development. Invested at ground floor. You’ll be the first tenant, at least for the time being.”

“Ah, right,” you go to the narrow bench of black acrylic and place your bag atop it. “I’ll try not to mess it up.”

“Didn’t mean it like that.”

“Uh, yeah, but obviously it’s above my paygrade,” you scoff, “I appreciate it and sorry again.”

“Don’t worry about it. Really. Dropping a couple hundred on a new washer woulda saved us both trouble. I only got one person to blame,” he holds out his hand, “you don’t need a tour, do ya?” He offers the keys and you step up to take them, “I’ll be back around noon to get you to work but I got running around to do.”

“Um, I should be able to figure it out–”

“Oh, wait,” he puts a finger up, “the door code. Just in case. Also, you’ll wanna override the security system when you get in.” He turns and points to the sleek black box mounted beside the door, “I got it on my phone but you’ll just need to pop it open and put in the number.” He slides out his phone, “I’ll just text it before I forget.”

“Right,” you nod as you clutch the keys tight, “got it. I think I can manage.”

“Anyway, you got my number, you need anything, you know how to reach me,” he checks his watch, “noon,” he repeats as he points at you, “I’ll be back.”

He spins and opens the door, swiftly stepping through before swinging it shut behind him. You’re left slightly stunned and don’t move right away. You cross the floor and twist the latch of the door, a cautious habit likely unnecessary in this neighbourhood.

You turn back to your new abode and let your eyes rove. Wow. All this just for you. You wonder how much one of these places go for. Your monthly pay probably wouldn’t even cover a single week.

You shuffle forward, uncertain, expecting for Steve to come back through and tell you it’s all a mistake.

You peer around at the immaculate decor. Each piece is perfectly set and carefully curated. The long leather sectional and the matching square backed armchairs before the artificial fireplace in the wall. A low coffee table on a rug patterned in black and white, a touch of red in the throw pillows and the curtains.

Then the kitchen, white, pure marble, and pale silver appliances. The tile is marked by subtle dove grey diamonds, and a table sits against the wall with two chairs. You go back into the hallway and down towards the front of the stairs. You peek up at the top as you pass the small half-bath embedded on the other side.

Upstairs, you find two bedrooms, a full bath, and what appears to be a study, along with several spacious closets. It’s truly a dream. Who knew a broken washer could get you a stay in heaven.

Well, you should get settled in. Enjoy it while it lasts.

🖤

As promised, Steve shows up just before noon. You have your uniform on but feel less than ready to go. The abrupt awakening, the displacement, and the typical dread of the overcrowded box store. Your job is less than glamorous and the townhouse underlines that even more as you bid it a reluctant goodbye.

Steve’s car is sleek and red and overpriced. You don’t know much about cars but you can just tell. The interior is squeaky and so clean you’re sure it must be right off the lot. That new car smell fills your nose and threatens to inspire a migraine.

You put your purse in your lap and buckle up as he turns down the volume on the stereo. You recognise the song, surprised by his taste. He didn’t seem the angsty type. As far from grungy as you can imagine.

“Smashing Pumpkins?” You comment.

“You don’t like them?”

“Don’t mind em,” you shrug, “just figured you were more into… I don’t know, just not them.”

“When I’m not unclogging toilets or changing smoke alarms, I actually do have fun,” he scoffs.

“Oh, I didn’t mean–”

“Kidding,” he assures you as he pulls away from the curb.

You watch the townhouses pass by as he slowly rolls down the street. It’s eerie. There are no other cars lined up in the spots parallel to the pavement. In fact, you don’t see anyone else around. Not through windows, not coming or going, no one so much as walking down the cul-de-sac. It is oddly isolated from the suburbs all around.

“Not like I have great music taste, I’m a disco junkie,” you try to laugh off the tension.

“Fun,” he muses dully.

You don’t respond. You’re on your phone checking Uber prices for the way back. Eek. You pull up the bus routes for the area; at least two transfers to get there. Shit.

“So…” Steve begins, “who you chatting with? Telling them about your tight-ass landlord or what?”

“Uh, no,” you put your phone down and black the screen, “I was just… tryna figure out how I’m getting home. Sorry. Did you say something?”

“Nothing important,” he assures, “what time are you done?”

“Nine, closing,” you explain, “it’s fine, there’s buses. I’ll just have to remember not to go to my usual stop.”

“I can come get you,” he offers.

“That’s… that’s fine. You don’t have to. You’ve already done enough–”

“Really, I don’t have much else going on. Besides the washer but my buddy’s taking care of that for me. I’ll be available.”

“If you don’t mind, but really, I’m gonna have to learn the route. Actually, when do you think I’ll be back at my apartment?”

“Couple of days at best. After we left, the water got into the motor of the dryer– to spare you the whole spiel, the dryer needs to be replaced too. And the floor might need to come up, water’s done a number on the laminate–”

“Oh,” you grimace, “I… that sounds bad.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed. Look, I know it’s probably not ideal for you to be all the way out here. I’ll keep you updated,” he speaks with one hand as his other remains on the wheel.

“Oh, no, I appreciate all your help. It’s just…” you cross your ankles and nervously wiggle your foot, “I’m just anxious.”

He hums and a thoughtful silence rises between you. He turns a corner and clears his throat, “about the apartment or work?”

“What?”

“What are you anxious about?” He asks.

“Oh, uh, yeah, uh, work, sure. Work always makes me anxious. Lots of angry customers and we’re headed into that season, you know?”

“Makes sense,” he nods, moving his hand low on the wheel as he sits back and steers lazily with the clogged flow of the city traffic.

“And the apartment,” you admit, “I’m not the best with change.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he agrees, “I’m a bit of stickler. I like order, you know? Everything has its place. Everyone has their role.”

You mull his words. It’s a strange way of putting it but you get it. You find your life erratic this time of year, when your schedule goes from predictable to hectic and fluid. Everyone wants to switch shifts and all the managers are trying to fill the schedule with as few bodies as possible.

“I mean…” he breaks the lull, “you know, I keep a pretty strict schedule with myself. Try to. You never know when you’ll get a call at 5am.”

You suck in air and look at him from the corner of your eye. His allusion isn’t subtle. The pit sinks further in your stomach. You don’t need one more person disappointed in you, not when you’re about to face Gwen the manager and her omnipotent clipboard.

“Yeah, uh,” you bend your arm and rub your neck, “sorry…”

“You apologise a lot,” he interrupts, “I’m not mad.”

“I know, I just feel bad,” you move your thumb to chew it.

He glances over at you before quickly refocusing on the road. He laughs, a hollow, gristly chuckle, “trust me, if I was mad, you would know.”

You blink. What? You’re not sure what he means. Is he joking? Maybe it’s that he’s such a nice guy that the change would be unmistakable or maybe he’s being sarcastic and you’re too stupid to pick up on it. Either way, you just want this car ride to be over.

“Right,” you eke out, “I’ll, erm, be sure to stay on your good side then.”

He slides his hand around the wheel to the top, squeezing until the leather squeaks. He shifts in his seat and exhales, “girl like you, I can’t imagine you being too much of a handful.”

His remark sticks in your ears. Again, you’re confounded by him. You can't read his tone as it's quickly washed away by the sudden blare of music as he cranks up the volume.

“This is a good one,” he calls over the music, “I’m sure you know it.”

Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage Someone will say, "What is lost can never be saved" Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage

Now I'm naked Nothing but an animal But can you fake it For just one more show?

The creaky tones of Billy Corgan’s lilt surrounds you as Steve bobs his head. The swirl of noise and the shadow of tension mingle and suffocate you. You’re starting to look forward to work.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #corrupt-a-wish #au #multifandom #captain america #avengers #marvel #mcu #more characters to be added #blind offer

467 notes · View notes

mirlvshft · 2 months

Text

shifting experience! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ — 2/26/23

this is the night i shifted. it was around 2am about to be 3am and i was veryyy tired, very sleepy. but regardless, i put on my earphones and started to listen to my guided meditation. i barely made it past the beginning fully conscious until i fell asleep and woke up again; i still had my earphones in and the meditation going. i didn’t open my eyes or anything. i switched positions then again, i knocked out. MIND YOU, i don’t know when this all happened. could’ve been in the span of a few minutes to a few hours— who knows.

alright, now this part is difficult to describe. i was on my back, no longer hearing the meditation and while my eyes were closed i was able to see? the ceiling was different and i remember being confused but not entirely fazed, i then ‘closed’ my eyes as i moved onto my side. i couldn’t see anything THEN i opened them again and bitchhhh lemme tell youu… (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

(my wr is a luxury penthouse, the middle pic is my bedroom ^^) i saw the whole left of the room (since i was on my side) i saw the panels of windows and the way the rain poured down the glass, the grey sky and clouds, the buildings too. the panel closest to the wall being slightly opened (as i want it to be), the nightstand right there with that lamp on top AND ON!! the way outside was the exact weather i wanted it to be, how dim and nice the whole room was. AMAZING GUYS!! IM TELLING YOUUU. although!! i didn’t freak out or anything, i barely realized and in those few moments i was there, i was like “oh. okay cool” LIKEEEE??? my surroundings felt so different, yet so familiar that it really wasn't different. my bed was different, the pillow and sheets— everything. i was just so comfortable that it didn’t faze me. the best i can explain how comfortable, how normal it all felt is when you’re lying in bed. SOOO comfy, so at peace, you’re not actively acknowledging your surroundings, right? you’re just so at ease, you’re not constantly thinking of the mattress or fixating on the way everything feels. you’re just there. to continue on, in these few moments of looking around a bit and acknowledging where i was, i snuggled into my pillow and blanket then knocked tf out and that was it. obv i ended up waking up here but absolutely amazing!! this is such a huge milestone in my journey and i’m so incredibly happy about it!! @sabs-shifts <3 i’m so excited to go back but for a good while this time!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

to quote a lovely friend of mine @evangelineshifts “I’ve shifted a few times albeit briefly and the way it feels so normal is so jarring like ??? Idk I think we all expect it to be the like mind churning, exploding life changing experience and then when it’s just like “you’re home :D” 🤨” — it literally isn’t at all grand and crazy LMAO, it felt like nothing and was so incredibly normal. but of course, as always, everyone's journey is different <3

#— mir’s reality: shifting diary! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧#shiftblr #shifting community #reality shifting #desired reality #shifting realities #shifting blog #reality shifter #shifting motivation #criminal minds shifter

177 notes · View notes

supernovafics · 1 year

Text

𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 5.9k words

summary: in which it’s been six months since a random night in a bar brought together two pairs of best friends, and two couples were formed. in those months that came and went, almost in a lovestruck blur, they entailed a countless amount of formal double dates, late night hangouts in someone’s apartment, and more moments in bars that led to lazy days in bed the next morning due to the hangovers. at times things felt way too good to be true. but, in a good way, a great way. you loved steve, and anyone with two eyes could easily see how much he was in love with you

warnings: explicit language, smut (mdni!), lots of fluff, a lil angst, soft!steve/steve being so adorably in love with reader

author’s note: read part one here! for once i’ve written something that is not drowning in angst! lmao i almost went in a completely different direction with this but i wanted to keep it lighthearted and fun and cute so anyway enjoy!<33

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was hard not to admire Steve while he was asleep in your bed.

He always looked so peaceful; head against the pillow that quickly became “his,” hair mildly disheveled and going every which way, and mouth pulled into a straight line that looked soft instead of hard and sweet instead of firm.

You wanted to kiss him. But, you couldn’t do so right then, so instead, you took another sip of your morning coffee and simply watched him as you leaned against your dresser.

“You’re staring,” He mumbled, one side of his mouth quirking upward in a small smile.

“Your eyes are closed right now, so I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” You responded, making your tone sound completely confused.

Steve opened his eyes then and you immediately pulled your eyes away from him and became fixated on a random spot on your wall. You took another sip of your coffee to mask your growing smile.

Steve’s smirk deepened as he maneuvered in the bed and sat up to lean against the headboard. The now lack of comforter covering his body revealed his chest that was bare, because you were wearing his shirt, and revealed the top of the navy plaid boxers he had on.

“I could feel your pretty little eyes on me, honey.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him because he knew exactly how affected you were by any term of endearment he’d use on you; they always made you slightly cringe while simultaneously folding into a giant ball of mush.

“I hope you know that I do in fact hate you anytime you do that.”

Steve ignored your statement, which was pretty much a blatant lie, and only smiled at you some more. “C’mere.”

You wanted to play with him a bit longer, pretend that he couldn’t make you fold so easily; even though he absolutely, completely always could and did. But at that point, you knew you couldn’t resist, and you honestly didn’t want to.

Placing your mug down on the dresser, the next few moments passed by in a knowing blur that felt like second nature to you because of how frequent the events would happen. You settled yourself in Steve’s lap, knees on either side of his waist. His hands snaked under your, his, shirt to find your hips and give the skin a light squeeze.

“You should still be sleeping right now,” You said, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. “You were up a lot later than me last night.”

His new job wasn’t that demanding, but because of how much Steve loved it, he made it much more intense than it actually was, and he was completely happy with that.

It had all happened about a month and a half ago. Marissa had convinced you all to go to her ten-year-old cousin’s middle school basketball game. It was almost a two-hour drive to where they lived in Indiana which was close to the border of Indiana and Illinois, and actually kind of close to where you and she had grown up in Illinois.

When the four of you walked into the slightly empty gym and saw that the team was losing pretty badly, you found out quickly from Marissa’s aunt that it was because their coach quit last second, so the kids were pretty much fending for themselves along with a parent acting as coach who had no athletic experience so he was just telling them to do whatever they wanted.

Robin was the one that jokingly mentioned that Steve had been the star of their high school’s basketball team and would probably be a great coach, and Marissa’s aunt perked up at hearing that and successfully convinced the other parents in the crowd to have him do it. He was initially reluctant because he didn’t think he’d be good, but there was nothing scarier than adamant parents who wanted to see their kids win, so, of course, he ultimately said yes.

In a way, it seemed almost perfect how easily Steve was able to fall into that role, and when the team won that night, for the second time out of the eleven games they’d played so far that season, the school offered him a permanent coaching position right then.

He was slightly hesitant and didn’t accept the job at first. Because he knew the pay wouldn’t be the best and the commute every day would be brutal. But, even as he told you those cons, you could already see how happy the idea of the job itself made him, and how second nature it seemed.

“It’s the random opportunity that has fallen into your lap.” You had told him that night in his bed, fingers running through his hair and a small smile on your face. “You have to take it.”

And he did.

And he loved it and put his whole heart into coaching those little middle schoolers; coming up with new plays and ideas for practice almost every night. You found it both adorable and endearing how seriously he took it.

“I’m okay,” He responded with a small shrug, and then he looked up at you as he smiled, leaning closer to you. “Besides, your staring problem makes it really hard to sleep.”

You almost playfully shoved him, but your eyes instead slipped shut when his lips found your neck. You were still able to respond somewhat coherently, though. “Hm, I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve mumbled something against your neck that you couldn’t make out but the soft hum of his lips against your skin made you want to combust. Before he left any marks on your neck, because he knew how much of a hassle it was for you to cover them, he moved up to trailing soft kisses along your jaw before finally reaching your mouth.

“Mm, coffee,” He whispered against your lips, tasting the slight remnants of what you had been drinking before he woke up and what was still sitting on your dresser.

You slowly started moving yourself against him and it made you smile how quickly a soft groan fell from his lips at your action. “There’s a fresh pot in the kitchen if you wanna get that right now instead of doing this.”

Steve groaned again at a particularly rough stir of your hips. “I think coffee can wait.”

“Great answer,” You said and kissed his nose.

His hands went to the hem of the t-shirt and you almost helped him pull it off of you, but a knock on your door halted your next movements.

“Hey, lovebirds, wake up if you’re still sleeping.” It was Marissa’s slightly muffled voice coming through the door. “Or if you’re fucking, please stop. Also, it’s barely nine in the morning so if you are fucking, you two are insane.”

You refrained from laughing at her statement as you softly swatted Steve’s hand away that was still trying to push your shirt upward.

“What’s going on?” You asked, voice loud enough so your best friend could hear you.

“Important family meeting.”

“Once again, something about you calling all of us a family feels slightly incestual,” You said as you began maneuvering yourself off of Steve.

“I know you hate it, but we are kind of a little family,” You heard her say. “In a completely nonrelated, ‘we’re two couples who are also all best friends’ kind of way.”

In a way, Marissa was right, and you could fully see that. Six months ago the four of you were two separate little pairs of friends and now there were two couples and four pretty close friends.

You all were a tight-knit group that was forged together by one random Friday night in a bar, and sometimes this strong interconnectedness worried you. Because if something happened to either you and Steve or Marissa and Robin, you had no idea what that would mean for the rest of the group.

Anytime you’d have those moments of worry, something would always tell you that in the end, it would be you to mess everything up. It was an irrational thought, a part of you knew that, but it still felt way too true because of how almost “wrong” it felt for things to be this good.

How deeply you’d found yourself loving Steve in such a short period of time still scared you as much as it made you feel so fucking happy.

“You okay?” Steve asked, pulling you out of your thoughts as he came up and wrapped his arms around you from behind.

You instinctively leaned into his touch and let your previous thoughts fade away as you always did. You never verbalized these fears to him, or even Marissa, a part of it felt unnecessary and you also didn’t want to fully acknowledge your worries because of how much more real they’d feel if you did say them aloud.

Your next words came out in a soft mumble. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking about stupid stuff.”

Steve didn’t question you any further and simply nodded at your response before sneaking a quick kiss on your cheek and then moving to slip his jeans on.

You pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it to him as he headed toward your bathroom, and then you went to put on a random wrinkled hoodie of yours. Before opening your door to head into the living room, you grabbed your cooling coffee off of your dresser and took a sip, glad that it was still mostly warm.

“Morning,” You smiled at Robin who was leaning against the kitchen counter and eating a buttered piece of toast. You began refilling your coffee with what was left in the pot because you knew Steve would want some when he emerged from the bathroom.

“Morning,” She smiled back at you and took another bite of her toast. “Where’s the dingus?”

“Bathroom,” You answered and she nodded at that. “Do you know what this ‘family meeting’ is about?”

Robin quickly shook her head. “Nope. Marissa’s keeping me in the dark too.”

“That’s because I want you all to be surprised,” Marrisa said, from where she was sat cross-legged on the couch, textbook open in her lap because she had a huge test in a couple of days and had been religiously studying for it for the past week. Her nearly perfect time management skills still always managed to amaze you.

Steve came out of your room moments later and you held out the mug for him. He smiled at you as he took it and pressed a quick kiss against your lips. “Thank you. Love you.”

You leaned into him and his free arm circled around your shoulders. “Love you too.”

He took a quick sip of the coffee and let out a small sigh of contentment. “Did I miss the meeting?”

“No, and now that you’re here, I can share the great news,” Marrisa said before getting up from the couch and joining you all in the kitchen, standing next to Robin. “Okay, so remember how we all have been talking about how we need to take a couple’s trip soon?”

You all nodded along to her words, and you almost said that it was really only her that had been talking about doing a couples trip for the past few weeks, but you refrained from doing so because she looked so happy with what she was about to say.

“My aunt has a really nice cabin right by a lake and she said we can use it for a weekend. Next weekend, to be specific. So clear your calendars.”

“Ooh,” Robin said as she wrapped an arm around Marissa, pressing a soft kiss against her cheek. “Sounds fun.”

“Yes, and only slightly like the beginning of a horror movie,” Steve joked with a small laugh. His words startled you a bit because that was exactly what you were about to say.

You smiled up at him. “I think we share the same brain.”

He grinned widely at that and pecked your lips. “Can I keep it for the rest of the day?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was actually very rare that you and Steve would have either apartment entirely to yourselves. Although it shouldn’t have been rare because the four of you could’ve easily come up with some sort of system to make sure that you and Steve, and Marissa and Robin were alone in one of your two shared places, but none of you really cared enough to do it.

But, on this night, it was just you and Steve in the apartment he had with Robin because she and Marissa were out seeing a movie that neither you nor Steve really wanted to see.

Things were quiet but the good kind, the comfortable kind. Steve was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch while also hunching over the coffee table as he brainstormed and wrote out some new plays that he wanted the kids to try out next week. And you were laying on the couch, a campaign that you had been working on for the past week in your hands as you stared at it for what felt like forever. Your boss had told you there was something wrong with it, but she didn’t tell you what that “wrong” thing was so you were left simply staring at the paper and having absolutely no idea what to change about it.

“Hey,” You said softly to grab Steve’s attention and when he turned his head to look up at you, you held up the paper in your hand for him to look at; maybe a fresh pair of eyes could tell you something that you couldn’t see. “What’s wrong with this?”

Steve stared at it for a few moments and then his eyebrows furrowed. “Is this a trick question? It looks really good to me.”

You let out a small sigh as you let your eyes focus on the paper again. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

Steve was about to say something else but before he could, the sound of the phone ringing in the kitchen stopped him and caught both of your attention.

He started moving to get up, but you stopped him and stood up instead. “I’ll get it. I need a break from looking at this.”

You headed over to the kitchen and picked the phone up off the hook, placing it at your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey– Wait, who is this? This is a girl’s voice, so you’re definitely not Steve. But, you’re not Robin, either.” It was clearly a guy’s voice on the other end, but it didn’t sound familiar to you.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Holy. Shit.” The sudden and pure excitement in his voice slightly startled you. “The Y/N?”

“Um, yeah, I guess?” You answered, pretty much answering his question with one of your own. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Dustin. Steve’s friend. Probably his best friend after Robin, even though I was technically here before Robin,” He said and it all kind of clicked into place for you from there because of how much you heard about him from Steve and Robin. “Anyway, it’s cool to finally meet you. Well, sorta meet you, I guess. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Your attention turned to Steve, who was back to being hunched over the coffee table, and a small smile took over your features. “All good things I hope.”

“Oh yeah, literally only good things. Steve’s obsessed with you.”

You let out a small laugh at that. “Oh, really? Do tell me more.”

Dustin didn’t waste a second to launch into a story. “He was rambling to me about you for a good two hours last week. He was just going on and on about how you guys went to some bar and were playing pool, and you were really good which he thought was so cool. And you were making fun of him for being bad, but still let him win a couple of games. He does absolutely suck at pool, I know that for certain.”

You remembered that night pretty vividly, mainly because it had happened barely a week ago but also because you’d never forget how bad Steve was at pool. You actually thought it was kind of cute. You also didn’t think it had been that obvious that you let him win a few times.

“He said he wouldn’t mind getting beat by you in pool for the rest of his life,” Dustin continued on. “He specifically even mentioned something about being old in wheelchairs. He’s so in love with you. You’re definitely his Suzie.”

“Suzie?” You questioned, and at that Steve finally pulled his attention away from what he was doing and looked at you.

“Who is it?” He asked you and you ignored him because your attention was solely trained on hearing Dustin’s answer.

“Suzie’s my girlfriend and she’s amazing and awesome and pretty much perfect,” The teen explained. “It’s awesome that Steve’s found you. From how he talks about you, you sound pretty perfect too.”

You smiled at his words.

It was then that you realized exactly how different things were with Steve. Because hearing about how much he loved you and how often he’d lovingly ramble about you didn’t scare you in the slightest. You knew that if this was any other relationship, any other guy, you’d want to immediately run in the other direction. But, you honestly didn’t want to run away and that realization made all of your previous worries and fears feel nonexistent.

Dustin started saying something else, but you couldn’t make it out before Steve took the phone from you.

“Henderson,” He said in an annoyed voice to the boy on the other end of the line and then looked at you. “What embarrassing stuff did he say to you?”

“Oh, nothing embarrassing at all,” You told him as you headed back to the couch, a sweet smile on your face. “Just how much you love me and my fantastic pool skills. Which actually aren’t that good, you’re just really bad. But, I still love you.”

He playfully flipped you off with a roll of his eyes and a small laugh as he continued talking to the teen on the other end.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was a soft kiss pressed against a certain sensitive part of your neck that pulled you from your sleep. Sleep that had been much needed after the first night at the lake house that ended at one in the morning after a heated game of charades against Marissa and Robin that happily resulted in you and Steve winning.

You groaned at the feeling and rolled on your side to try and lull yourself back to sleep, but Steve pressing more kisses to your neck and then your face fully woke you up.

“You told me to make sure you wake up early, remember?” He mumbled against your ear before pressing another kiss to the side of your head.

“Mhm,” You muttered as you turned on your side, letting your sleepy eyes meet his. “I sadly do remember saying that.”

“Come on, we have a sunrise to go watch,” Steve told you, a small smile on his face. As usual, his smile did something to you and made you smile back at him even though all you really wanted to do was go back to sleep. “Which was completely your idea, by the way.”

“Sometimes my ideas aren’t the best,” You responded but finally got up anyway.

Steve was already in a hoodie and sweatpants since it was unsurprisingly cold outside, and the same small smile was still on his face as he watched you pull on your own pair of old sweatpants and a random hoodie in a half-asleep daze. After you slipped on your shoes, he leaned down a bit in front of you and turned around so his back was toward you. “Hop on.”

“God, you’re the best,” You said as you wrapped yourself around him, arms circling his neck and legs circling his waist, and he lifted you up and led you out of your shared room.

You almost told him to go toward the room Marissa and Robin were sleeping in and force them to come watch the sunrise with you two, but you kind of just wanted to have this moment solely with Steve.

He let you down once he made it to the wooden bench that perfectly overlooked the lake and would let you both have a good view of the sunrise. It was still fairly dark outside, but you could see the beginning remnants of sunlight starting to take over the dark sky.

When the two of you sat down you immediately maneuvered yourself so that your head was in Steve’s lap, which made your legs dangle a bit off the edge of the bench.

“Back in Hawkins, there’s this place called Lover’s Lake. Being here slightly reminds me of that,” Steve said as his fingers started mindlessly playing with the drawstrings of your hoodie. “I should take you there soon.”

You playfully smiled up at him. “Ooh, I finally get to see your hometown? This relationship is getting quite serious.”

He let out a small laugh as his eyes met yours. “Yes, and I’m planning to go ring shopping next week, actually.”

“Make sure you take Marissa with you,” You said jokingly but attempting to make your voice sound as serious as possible. “She’ll know which one you should get for me.”

“Don’t worry, I already asked her to come.”

“Good,” You said, nodding at him. “Now back to this Lover’s Lake place. It sounds exactly like the kind of place where someone would take a date for a late night making out in a car kind of vibe.”

He was quiet for a bit until he mumbled, “No comment.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his sudden shyness and you grabbed his hand to intertwine it with yours and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. “You can talk about old girlfriends and dates or whatever, y’know. I’m not gonna get jealous or anything. The past is in the past. And I’ve heard plenty of stories from Robin, anyway.”

“Why would I wanna talk about past girlfriends when I can think about the future?”

“I don’t think I wanna hear about your future girlfriends,” You joked, a small smirk on your face.

He lightly poked your side, causing you to laugh loudly. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do,” You said with a shake of your head. Even though you actually knew exactly what he meant, you wanted to hear him say it.

“My future with you,” He responded, eyes meeting yours.

“Oh,” You said as if it all finally clicked into place for you. “Can I hear more about that future?”

Steve smiled at that, more than happy to talk about the thoughts that almost always circled his mind. Thoughts you already knew because conversations like these would usually happen in a post-sex, pillow talk haze where he would ramble and you would listen and almost always reciprocate, playing into the fantasies he was cooking up and adding your own.

It always felt easy to imagine something more with Steve, sometimes way too easy. Especially after the conversation with Dustin, you felt like you could fall even deeper into Steve and everything would be completely okay. More than okay, actually.

“Well, there’s our house, of course,” He started and your eyes slipped shut as you imagined the picture he was painting of your future together. “Which can’t be too big, like the house I grew up in. But, it does need to be big enough for all of our five or six kids since we’re both a little insane and think that having that many is a good idea.”

His hand was still intertwined with yours and you gave it a light squeeze. “We need to have enough for a basketball team so that you can coach them.”

“Makes sense,” Steve nodded, smiling at you. “Also, a big house means a big backyard for the dog too, which is great. She’ll have lots of room to play.”

Your eyes opened at that. “I thought we agreed on a cat?”

“I’m still heavily advocating for the dog.” “Okay, we can do both,” You told him. “I’m thinking a golden retriever and an orange tabby.”

He looked at you in a certain soft and sweet way that made you feel a little nervous and caused your stomach to swarm with butterflies.

“What?” You asked shyly, pulling your eyes from his and looking up at the orange hues that took over the sky.

“I just love how we can talk about this kind of stuff, even though it’s only been six months,” He said. “And probably from that first night we met, I’ve been thinking about us and you and this future with you that is technically far away but also feels so close. And if I said that to any other girl, they’d probably be running for the hills by now.”

The vulnerability of his words sat with you and when you looked at him again, you couldn’t help but smile at how sincerely happy he looked right then. Even though you were completely comfortable in the position you were in with your head in his lap, you let go of his hand and sat up so you could kiss him. It was your nonverbal way of letting him know that you wouldn’t run away, and he must’ve heard you loud and clear because he only kissed you harder and pulled you impossibly closer to him.

“Those girls would be idiots if they did that,” You told him when you pulled back from the kiss and the two of you were still only a breath away from each other. Your eyes were closed as you said your next words. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to entertain the thought of having six fucking kids with. And it’s scary as hell but the good kind. Because, yes it hasn't even been a year yet, but I already know that I want that house with you and that backyard and that dog and cat. Because I love you. Like, a lot. Like, so much so that I feel like I wouldn’t be able to function properly for at least five years straight if I ever ruined things with us. And I’m kinda rambling a lot right now, but whatever.”

Steve’s lips found yours again and the abruptness of the action caused you to softly gasp into his mouth. He pulled you sideways into his lap and both of his hands cupped your face in such a tender way that you felt as if you could melt into him right then and there. Your fingers started lazily circling the drawstrings of his hoodie.

“I think we’re definitely missing the sunrise,” You muttered against his lips but still didn’t fully pull away.

“It’ll happen again tomorrow,” Steve said simply and you completely agreed with that.

His hands traveled downward to snake themselves underneath your hoodie and you sighed in contentment at the feeling of his fingers against the bare skin of your hips and then your waist. You wanted more, you needed more, but you couldn’t allow that “more” to happen on a wooden bench.

“We should go inside,” You told him, words more so coming out in a soft plea, and Steve nodded almost immediately at your request. You took one last look at the way the sun was reflecting so prettily off of the lake before he led you inside the house.

With both of you fully clad in a hoodie and sweatpants, it felt as if there were a million layers separating you two from one another and you desperately needed that to change. Shoes came off first and were kicked somewhere by the door and then your hands grabbed at the ends of Steve’s hoodie, helping him pull it off and he did the same with yours. In between quick and chaste kisses, piece after piece of clothing item was littered on the floor of the living room and dining room until you made it to your shared room and you were only in your underwear and Steve was down to his boxers.

His arms circled around you from behind when he closed and locked the door behind you both, and he started walking you toward the unmade bed before he turned you around and softly pushed you down against it.

He leaned over you, lips ghosting over yours before pulling back a bit and you couldn’t take the teasing so you pulled him roughly against you, his body weight crushing you in the best way possible and his warmth enveloping you completely.

“I love you so much, baby,” He mumbled against your lips, and although that was something you knew, your heart still squeezed at hearing those words.

“I love you too,” You told him as you started kissing all over his stubbly jaw.

Your hips bucked upward at the feeling of his hardness pressed firmly between your thighs.

“I need you inside me. Please,” You told him as you moved your hips again and he groaned in your ear.

He could only nod at your words as he maneuvered off of you a bit, pulling your underwear down and tossing it somewhere in the room and then spreading you for him.

“So pretty,” He said, dragging a finger through your wetness, catching your clit for a brief moment before pulling away.

“Steve…” Your moan came out in a soft sigh and your eyes fell shut. “Please.”

“Anything for you, baby.” His lips pecked yours before he finally slipped out of his boxers.

When he finally entered you, filling you to the hilt in one slow motion, you both moaned in contentment. For a few moments, he stayed just like that, words getting lost in your hair as he said, “Just wanna feel you like this for a bit. You always take me so well, baby,” and you could only respond with a soft, barely coherent, “Mhm.”

You adored moments like these. The softness of it all, the slowness of it, how much love you could feel laced within every thrust when he started moving. Noses and lips brushed over each other haphazardly, panting breaths and moans not allowing your mouths to connect for more than a brief moment. Your eyes met his dark but loving gaze and you could feel your cunt flutter around his cock, which elicited a loud groan for him.

One of his hands firmly found your hip, holding tightly so he could push into you harder. Your back arched and you nearly screamed at the new feeling of him hitting so deep inside of you.

“Doing so well, baby,” Steve mumbled, lips finding your neck. He was still moving at his slow pace but hitting that perfect spot inside you with every harsh thrust. “Fuck. Taking everything I give you so fucking well.”

“Steve,” You breathed out, unable to say anything else.

He kissed you roughly, tongue darting in to taste you for a brief moment before speaking. “I can tell you’re close. I can feel you fucking, ah, squeezing my cock.”

You nodded profusely, a small whimper falling from your lips. “Mm, so close, yeah.”

“Touch your clit for me, baby.”

You didn’t hesitate to listen to him and let one of your hands snake between your bodies and begin circling the small bundle of nerves. You immediately started seeing stars.

He kissed you again, swallowing your loud moans. “Good girl.”

The soft praise made you clench around his cock again and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer as you continued the ministrations you were making on your clit.

“‘M gonna come,” You muttered, moving your hand faster to match Steve’s quickening thrusts, and you could feel the coil in your stomach tighten.

“Do it, baby. Come all over my cock. I wanna feel it,” He told you, pulling back a bit so he could watch as you did so. Eyes screwed shut and legs shaking as your back arched and you let out a particularly loud moan. Steve continued fucking you through your orgasm. “So fucking pretty.”

Through your fucked out whimpers and soft pants, you reached out to pull him close to you again, and your mouth began sucking on a particularly sensitive spot under his jaw that you knew would send him tumbling over the edge with you. Which it did right as your tongue grazed over the skin.

“Ah– ah, fuck,” Steve stuttered out as he came inside of you, and you moaned loudly at the feeling of his warm cum painting your walls.

He lay on top of you for a few moments, both of you too spent and too lost in your post-orgasm hazes to do much more but let your shallow breaths take up the silence. When his breathing steadied, he slowly pulled out of you and pressed a quick kiss to your neck before padding to the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom to grab a damp washcloth to clean the mess between your thighs.

He then got back in the bed, pulling the blanket over the two of you and circling his arm around your waist to bring you flush against him.

You could feel yourself slowly falling asleep in his arms, and you were close to simply letting it happen, knowing that you both could probably use another hour or two, but then you were reminded of something.

“We need to get our clothes from out there or we’ll never hear the end of it from Marissa and Robin.”

“Mm, in five minutes. I just wanna lay here with you for a bit longer,” He told you, voice slightly muffled because his face was buried in your neck.

“Okay,” You agreed since you felt way too comfortable to move anyway.

“You could never ruin things between us, by the way. You know that, right?”

You were slightly confused about where Steve’s words were coming from, but then you remembered that in the midst of your rambling outside on the bench, you had said that; that you had finally verbalized those worries that had plagued you but now felt so unimportant.

You nodded at his question. “I know.”

“Good,” He said as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Because you could hit me with your car and I’d still be so fucking in love with you.”

You softly laughed at that and shifted around so that you were facing him. “Am I allowed to test that out?”

“I’d rather not, but if that’s what it takes,” He answered, a smile on his face as one hand reached up to stroke your cheek.

“It’s okay, I believe you,” You said, turning your head a bit so that you could press a soft kiss to his palm.

You both simply stared at each other for a bit, letting a silent conversation play out where you told him through your smile how grateful you were for him because you’d never known anyone like him; someone genuinely sweet and kind and effortlessly funny and who could always, always match your energy just right. And Steve acknowledged your silent honesty and showed how amazed he was to have you in his life as well by slotting his lips against yours. You two lazily kissed one another until you fell asleep with your limbs tangled up and the discarded clothes out in the living room long forgotten.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things fic

970 notes · View notes

padawanlost · 1 month

Text

A love letter to Prequel fans...

On March 24, 2017 – 7 years ago – I created a blog called padawanlost. I did so after YEARS of feeling like the star wars fandom did not want me. As some of you may know, I fell in love with the Star Wars Prequels during my teen years, after a viewing of Attack of the Clones made me realize that those movies would mean more to me than a momentary fixation. At the same time, it was not easy being a prequel fan. Everywhere I looked it seemed the world was telling I was stupid for loving the prequels, for sympathizing with Anakin, for crying during Revenge of the Sith or for listening to Across the Star over and over again. So it was easier to stay away….

Until 7 years ago, after a couple of years on tumblr, I finally found some fans who seemed to share my love for the prequels and its characters. And they gave me courage to join the fun, start a conversation and finally build a space where I could say unapologetically say: I love the prequels, I’ve always loved the prequels and I’m done with the hate!

So, instead of going all self-congratulatory, I want to use this opportunity to say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you to all prequel fans. You are the best part of star wars. The bravest, the kindest, the most resilient fans I had the honor of knowing. I love sharing my passion for the prequels with you. Thank you for every like, for every question, for every interaction. It means the world to me.

For the majority of my life I’ve been a Prequel fan, and today I can honestly say the last 7 years have been the best of it. The most fun I ever had with star wars. It wasn’t the blog itself that made it fun, it was you guys! Your beautiful gifsets, edits, artwork, fanfics, metas and jokes are what keep me going even after over 20 years of fandom. And your brilliant, passionate defense of the Hayden, Jake and the prequels in general are what makes me proud of calling myself a prequel fan.

Thank you, for the last 07 years. Thank you, for loving and defending the prequels. Thank you, for being here even if we never directly interacted.

From the bottom of my heart: THANK YOU!

#thank you #padawanlost #7 years today #mine #I love letter to prequel fans

149 notes · View notes

masonmtxo · 1 month

Text

Have a random dad Mase drabble

Mason fiddled with the lapels of his suit as he approached the podium set up in the centre of the stage, shaking the hand of the older man who had given him an introduction. He has been nervous when he had initially been asked to make a quick speech earlier in the evening by one of the ladies who had helped run the event, but his mind instantly flickered to his newborn daughter in Manchester who he was away from the first time since her birth 2 weeks ago and he knew what he wanted to say.

He coughed slightly, glancing around the room until his eyes landed on his brother who gave him a supportive nod and grin. It would usually have been you sitting beside his vacant chair at these events, but for the first time since you had started dating, he was attending without you on his arm. Right now you were at home, probably laid across the sofa with your daughter on your chest, and in that moment a feeling of homesickness struck across his heart that make his stomach ache with the intensity. God knows how he would be able to deal with away matches or international camps now, it was hard enough just leaving you, but the thought of leaving his daughter for an extended period was impossible to fathom.

Adjusting the microphone, his mind stayed fixated on the little human that had given him a whole new meaning to life, and a much deeper appreciation for the charity that already meant so much to him. Mason took a deep breath and started, “first off, Id like to say a massive thank you to ‘Together for Short lives’ for asking me to be here tonight and to be their patron. It has been a huge honour to work with the amazing people who run this charity and to see first hand the incredible difference they make on so many children and young people’s lives,” he cleared his throat, eyes stinging slightly as he continues, “2 weeks ago, I became a parent for the first time and that has given me an even deeper appreciation for what this foundation does for families across the UK. I always understood the importance of supporting those who have been diagnosed with a life limiting condition as well as their families, but since becoming a dad and being able to experience that love for a child first hand, I feel proud more now than ever that I am able to play a small part in this work.”

He paused, taking another deep breath, “My baby girl is at home right now with my partner and this is the first time since she was born that I’ve had to leave her for more than a few hours and I honestly feel lost. I keep texting her mum for updates and I know she’s probably rolling her eyes at me for being so anxious about leaving her. So I cant even imagine what some families go through, often being apart from their loved ones due to treatments and hospital stays. Being able to provide families with the ability to spend time together, living life to the fullest and making the most of what they have makes this charity have an even closer place to my heart.”

He smiled softly, eyes falling upon some of the families who were being supported, “so thank you all for being here tonight and allowing me to join you. Enjoy!” he finished, stepping away from the podium with a charming smile.

Shaking a few hands of other attendees he recognised on his way back to the table, he reached for his phone the second he made it back to his chair. Quickly opening up his chat with you, smiling at the last message you had sent, letting him know Marley was finally down for the night after refusing to settle earlier in the evening, seemingly missing her daddy.

I love you both more than you will ever know. See you in the morning, tell Marley daddy misses her xxxx

#mason mount #mason mount fluff #dad mase

160 notes · View notes

ivymarquis · 10 months

Text

Blind Date

Me: “why the fuck is this fic taking so long to finish?”

The fic: *is the longest singular piece I’ve ever written for one chapter*

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 8.4k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Drinking (everyone is clear headed), run ins with a shitty ex, mentions of abuse from prior relationship, these two are incredibly down bad for each other, oral (m! and f!receiving), protected piv, squirting

There is a certain catharsis in lamenting your dating horror stories with men to a married lesbian who’s over a decade older than you. Kate is always willing to lend an ear, and you’re positive that she gets a kick out of your misadventures in the way so many married people did while listening to their single friends.

“I swear I’m this close to just giving up all together and embracing spinsterhood,” you grouse with a drink in your hand after the work day had concluded.

You like to think your standards aren’t unreasonable. Someone kind, with their head on straight. It felt like finding a man who respects you as a person is becoming too big an ask and you very simply would rather be alone than deal with the endless hoard of men who seem hell bent on destroying any confidence you have in yourself.

“What about the guy you went out with yesterday?” Kate inquires with her head tilted. Must be fun, listening to your ramblings with a devoted partner at home.

“Oh did I not tell you? He was engaged!”

Kate pulls a face like her drink soured on her, matching how you’d felt at the time.

“Even better- guess how I found out he’s engaged.”

“She showed up at the restaurant?” Kate hits the nail on the head on the first try.

“Bingo,” you raise your glass in a gesture of affirmation before finishing it off. “Somehow I ended up being the one getting yelled at in that situation. Un-friggin-believable.”

You don’t abuse your work privileges to creep on people you meet in your personal life, but public record could have spared you if he’d been married. Harder to find out about an engagement from a total stranger who was determined to not let you find out about it and didn’t have social media.

“There’s always the other side,” Kate teases.

“Women scare me too much, I get all nervous.” You could appreciate an attractive woman as much as the next gal but good God you just could not help yourself when it came to men. The subtle way their breathing would change before they made their move, that low timber growling in your ear. The sheer weight of one on top of you as he manhandled you into the bedding-

Dear Lord, you need to get laid. Maybe you’re fixating on it too much because you’ve had an over 2 year dry spell. That tends to happen after a baby though. Especially with a pain in the ass ex who thinks he can pick and choose when to be around (and becomes absolutely incensed each time you remind him he could be consistent or he could stay home).

Kate is thoughtful for a moment, clearly kicking around an idea she hasn’t fully committed to in one direction or another. You can see the moment she decides to proceed with the thought. “Depending on what exactly you’re looking for, I might know someone.”

—

And here you are on a Saturday night, nerves clawing at your belly like a rabid dog.

Most (well, all) of the men you’ve dated you met online. There’s almost additional butterflies beyond the first-meet jitters knowing that the date is set up by a mutual friend.

There’s more at stake, even if the stakes are relatively low pressure. If the guys you met online did something incredibly out of pocket you never had to see them again, and held no qualms divulging the events to friends. Your romantic life has been full of misadventures but has given you a handful of stories, and as strangers you never have to consider any possible fallout in telling those stories.

Your son is with your mother for the night, allowing you the opportunity to focus solely on yourself this evening. No concern about keeping an eye on him while getting ready, worrying about what possible trouble he’ll get into when your back is turned.

It is hard at times- striking that balance between wanting to be a good mom and also wanting to be acknowledged as a desirable woman who has needs. A lot of men are shitty about it. You’d grilled Kate for every detail of his reaction when being informed of your young son. You don’t need another ambush regarding your disinterest in making it work with your son’s father.

She’d soothed your nerves- he hadn’t batted an eye, was about as worried about your reaction to how often his job pulled him away as you were about him having a poor reaction to being a single mom. You both have responsibilities that have to be placed above a relationship, now go play nice and have fun.

You tell yourself you can have one drink while waiting at the bar of the restaurant you’d agreed to meet at.

White wine ends up being your pick- not quite so easy to suck down as a tasty cocktail full of liquor, but gives you something to occupy yourself with.

You’ve only had the drink a handful of minutes before hearing someone clear their throat slightly behind you, and then your name.

Kate has shown you a photo of what he looks like so you’re not caught off guard when you turn around.

He’s handsome. You expect that but it’s different seeing him opposed to just the photo. Kind eyes, a warm smile on his face as he takes you in.

At least you both seem pleased with the big reveal.

“I’ve got a table waiting for us if you’re ready, love.”

He holds out a hand to let you balance yourself as you dismount from the bar seating, allowing you to steady yourself in your heels.

His hand is warm on your waist as he guides you and you’re already smitten by the time the pair of you sit down.

You’re fifteen minutes into dinner when you decide that so long as he a) is willing and b) doesn’t say or do anything completely deranged, you are going to ride Captain John Price like a mechanical bull at a shitty dive bar at the end of the night.

Perhaps the bar is in hell but either way you have been utterly deprived the past few years and he is checking plenty of boxes for you.

“So you work with Kate?” Starting off on the easy footing- the common ground that leads you both here.

“I do. Not directly- I work more on the tech side. I’m an independent contractor, I basically built the entire system she runs off of.”

“Beauty and brains,” his praise warms you, an impressed expression on his face. “Would explain how we’ve never crossed paths if you were hiding in a backroom surrounded by monitors,” he teases.

“You’re actually not that far off the mark,” not that you hide persay, but keeping that contract keeps a roof over your head and food in your child’s mouth. That keeps you busy. The fewer people who know how to work your program, the harder you are to get rid of.

You may or may not have hidden a few kill switches. Job security you call it. Though it’s not exactly first date material to talk about how you’ve got a government agency in a mutual understanding- keep extending your contract, and the program continues to work.

Either way, you don’t have much contact with the soldiers. Maybe you have passed each other in the halls but probably not- you’re certain a face like that wouldn’t have escaped your notice, introduction via a mutual friend or no. But you decide to utilize that mutual friend to shift the conversation. He’s hedged around talking about his work- on his end, sees that as the thing that might be a deal breaker for you. Probably wants to delay that until you've at least gotten your entrees.

So you go from business to hobbies. And it’s probably not entirely fair, but you’re about to see what his sense of humor is.

“Kate mentioned you’re a big soccer fan?” You make sure your expression is wide and doe eyed as you ask the question.

His eyebrow twitches- caught, no doubt, between wanting to leave a good first impression and biting back it’s football over here, love.

You crack far quicker than you initially plan, the wide grin on your face as you let him off the hook he’s good naturedly trying not to bite.

“Beauty, brains, and a comedian, lucky me.”

“I’m sorry, I had to. In fact, it was in her terms for this,” you make a vague gesture with your hand.

“Trust Kate to wheel and deal just to get my blood pressure up,” he muses as he takes a sip from his drink.

The conversation rolls easily enough- an ebb and flow as one of you poses a question, the other answering before allowing the first to say their contribution to the subject and moving on.

He’s charming, attentive, and a good storyteller. The way he carries himself screams military without being overbearing. He’s relaxed back into his chair and something about the scene in front of you makes you want to climb into his lap like a domesticated house cat.

Being the field captain to a specialized task force it’s no shock that he’s in incredible shape and you find yourself slightly distracted on more than one occasion by his hands and forearms.

The food is wonderful though the company is better- you end up moving back to the bar for fresh drinks and to free up the table for the server.

You spend a good length of time just talking with him at the bar.

John’s attention is on you but it’s clear he’s proverbially chewing on something the further on you go.

“That is the look of someone with a question they’re not entirely positive they want an answer to,” you’ve got a habit of being a touch direct at times. Amazing how it streamlines a conversation though.

“Observant one, aren’t you?” He pauses, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s probably none of my business, but ah- is your son’s father in the picture at all?”

It was your turn to take a drink. This was always such a fun topic of conversation. Frankly the number of men who took your ex’s side when the whole custody arrangement gets brought up alarms you.

But he has a right to his son.

Fuck that.

Your child is not property and you do not give a singular shit about your ex’s feelings- especially if it comes at the expense of your son’s safety. But it saves you a substantial amount of time not wasting energy on someone who could not understand the reason for your decisions.

“The short answer to the question is no. I had already left him by the time I found out I was pregnant, and given I left because he’s a raging alcoholic- with the emphasis on the rage-,” what a nice, polite way to say he is an abusive asshole. Your gaze shifts down towards the bartop, missing the way John’s expression softens as he reads between the lines of what you say. They’re not pleasant memories, but you’re not a wounded bird anymore- you’ve tended to your clipped wings and grown new feathers. “I didn’t want him involved.”

“He ended up finding out from a mutual acquaintance, and while he claims he wants to be around, he hasn’t done much other than blow my phone up at midnight trying to throw his weight around every time he gets a new girlfriend. So I get to be the cold blooded harpy that he gets to cry about- which is fine by me. On paper he says he wants to be involved, but he’s made absolutely no effort to arrange plans or anything while sober. I haven’t seen him in over 2 years. I can’t trust him to be a safe parent, and since he’s not on any official records I get final say unless he wants to go to court over it.”

Your whole little house of cards hinges on the fact that your ex wants everyone to bend over backwards for him while doing nothing for anyone else. All it would take would be one subpoena for a paternity test and your hands would be tied. He is an incredibly functional alcoholic, so there isn’t a criminal record or anything you can do to prove he would be unfit. There’s no proof of the abuse he inflicted on you.

Which means, if push comes to shove, you would be forced to relinquish sole custody and hand your child over for unsupervised visitation.

But that requires effort on his part. And that effort is the only thing keeping your little house of cards afloat.

“Sorry that’s probably way more information than you wanted-“ good job. Everything was going great until you laid out your drama.

“No apology necessary; I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

And there’s no lecture about how you should give your ex a chance, that the opportunity to raise his son could make him change for the better. No dissertation on how you owe it to your son to do whatever it took to make things work with his father (that had been a weird way to end a date, and the only reason you hadn’t gotten up sooner and left was because it was such a bizarre conversation you’d half convinced yourself the whole thing had to be a bad dream).

You’re not a wounded bird and on the one hand it’s a good thing to get everything laid out on the table, but on the other you don’t want to sit and mope about your personal troubles. You’re actually enjoying John Price’s company, and don’t want to think about your problems.

And yes you are enjoying the time for what it is but part of you can’t help but also keep an eye out for… any opportunities for a transition.

As hot under the collar as you are, John’s gaze makes warmth coil in your gut in a way that has nothing to do with the wine- he’s being a gentleman.

It’s sweet. He’s being polite and respectful and showing sexual discipline while making it clear he’s interested.

And for all your bemoaning of prior dates with other men who aren’t captains of specialized task forces about how they were too pushy and too presumptuous and a nice dinner paired with drinks doesn’t entitle them to you dropping your panties—

Yet here you sit, hours into a conversation when you’d decided 15 minutes in you want to jump his bones. And you have to be patient otherwise you’re a total hypocrite.

You’re not entirely subtle. The pair of you are perched on barstools again, much closer than the table allowed you to be with the two of you angled towards each other.

Your dress looks good on you. A jewel toned blue that compliments your skin beautifully, the hemline stopping above your knees and loose enough to bounce tantalizingly when you hit your stride walking.

It’s not exactly an olive branch, but it is an offering of sorts when you carefully take the leg closest to John and cross it over the other. The hemline of your skirt slips up your thigh, exposing more of your leg. It stops just shy of exposing the top of your stockings and the clip to your garter. It does show just a hint of the darker border to your stockings, the lace peeking ever so slightly before transitioning to the sheer material that covers the rest of your legs.

You’re incredibly pleased with yourself when his eyes flick down for a split second and linger before snapping back to your face. Got you. He tries to hide behind being caught with a sheepish clearing of his throat. It’s adorable, really.

Your cheeks are starting to get sore from all the smiling and laughing that’s occurred over the past few hours. But he’s pleasant company so it’s a discomfort you’re happy to deal with.

You look past him for a split second- nothing in particular catching your attention but just taking in the scenery of the restaurant behind you. Your eyes are back on him in a moment only for your brain to process what it saw after a delay.

There’s no fucking way-

Yes. Yes there is. Your ex is mingling in the background, and you don’t even realize the smile on your face has fallen to a flat line like all the previous giddiness is draining out of you and pooling on the floor below.

It would not take a captain of an antiterrorism task force to see your sharp shift in disposition, so John notices immediately.

“Everything alright, love?”

Maybe he won’t see you. Maybe, if there is a God and he is merciful, your ex won’t look in your direction, won’t see you, and you can continue your cheerful plan of trying to seduce your date.

And whether there is not a God or he is just not merciful- either option remains with you having the same shit result. He turns his head and makes direct eye contact. God damn it.

You look back to John. You’d hoped you could move past talking about your ex for the evening. “Remember how I said I haven’t seen my ex in over 2 years?”

There’s a twinge of relief on his face- the look of a man grateful to not be the cause of your displeasure.

“Let me guess- he’s right behind me?”

“Not quite “right behind”, but yes. Hopefully he’ll just-“ a short huff off agitation leaves you as you cut yourself off.

So much for hoping he’d simply mind his business and stay with his group. He’s making his way towards the pair of you at the bar, and you can tell he’s had a good number of drinks in his system just looking at him.

You’d become extremely proficient at gauging how drunk your ex is at a glance. A skill you developed while still with him and one that doesn’t seem to have faded.

This is, you know without question, going to end up being absolutely humiliating for you. You just know it.

“I am going to go ahead and apologize now for whatever is going to come out of his mouth,” you inform John.

His hand finds your knee, giving a light, reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be alright, love.”

“Well what do we have here?” is the warning shot letting you know he’s not going to show any form of civility.

“Hello, Michael,” you greet cooly, mind spinning a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out how to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“You don’t have time to answer my texts but you’ve got time to go out. That’s good. Good to know you’ve got your priorities in order,” he starts.

“Answering your texts isn’t even remotely on my priority list, you know that.” You’re trying incredibly hard to keep yourself from being outright nasty but a whole lot of old wounds float up to the surface at the sight of your ex.

Maybe your new feathers aren’t as filled out as you’d initially thought. You feel raw and exposed and it’s difficult to think. You know what you should do, how you should handle it- and there’s still that one little part in your brain that is keeping tabs on John and his response to all of this.

“Your priority should be my son-“ he starts,

“-who is with his perfectly capable grandmother for the evening, thank you,” you finish for him, jaw set tightly. “Why are you here?”

The direct question is aggressive but you know the cycle with him too well to allow him to steer the conversation. He’ll run you in circle after circle until you’re so frazzled you can’t discern left from right.

“Can’t say hello and introduce myself to your new fella? Come on now, where’s your manners?”

Your eyes widen as Michael reaches a hand out- there is no way this asshole is about to grab you in public.

Quick as a snake, John runs interference and drapes his arm across the back of your chair, his fingers holding the shoulder furthest from him lightly.

The entire length of your back and shoulders are blocked by the SAS captain, forcing Michael’s hand back as there was no easy place for it to land that wouldn’t also be touching John.

Up until now, John has been quiet and assessing the situation. Not bowing up or trying to assert himself- letting you deal with your ex and navigate the situation for yourself.

The look on his face is downright unpleasant to put lightly. This is the man in charge of an elite task force, who barks orders at soldiers who drop everything at once because he told them to-

-and you don’t feel so exposed anymore. You find yourself sitting up a bit straighter only for John to gently stroke his knuckles against your shoulder in a soothing gesture. The gesture isn’t a miraculously grand one, but one that makes you realize you’re not alone in this situation even as disorienting as it is. And if you’re being honest with yourself, the upright posture and shifting of your thighs isn’t so much a stress response to your ex as you keying in on John’s response to the whole situation.

“John, Michael- Michael, John. There, now you’re introduced.” Go away now please.

Your ex is too drunk and too full of himself to see the writing on the wall, and continues to poke the bear. “Well, since she doesn’t seem to want to give a proper introduction-“ he sticks an arm out, and you can’t help but notice how the simple gesture causes him to need to correct his balance. Good lord it was barely dark out and he’s already-

Well. Not your problem. Not anymore, at any rate.

John is sitting to your left, his right arm the one that’s draped across the back of your chair. The pair of you flash a quick look to each other, John lifting his arm from your chair to take Michael’s hand and-

God.

Damn.

It.

The exchange is actually as hilarious as it is embarrassing (You can’t quite decide if it’s all the second hand cringe variety, or first hand because Look, John! Here’s the father of my child! I sure know how to pick a partner! Is still coiling in the depths of your stomach). You’d prefer if it simply never occurred at all.

You can see your ex’s forearm flexing as he shakes John’s hand. The microexpression that flicks across your date’s face confirms your suspicion- Michael is (for some reason) trying to use an overexaggerated grip to establish some sort of dominance in the situation.

The quick really? that reads on John’s face rapidly turns to a bemused and subtle if that’s how you want to play then, a barely noticeable shift in his own grip resulting in Michael wincing.

“Captain John Price,” his tone is easy, betraying none of the pissing contest your ex instigated and is failing miserably to get one over on John.

Your ex mumbles his full name, clearly realizing that whatever his brilliant little plan is a) isn’t so brilliant to begin with b) he might just be alert enough to acknowledge the fact that he clearly has no true plan. He came over with the intention of being an asshole and has been flying blind the entire time.

There’s one woman from the group your ex split off from who is watching the three of you keenly. If you were to guess, she is probably his new girlfriend.

You can’t help but wonder- does she know enough to know that this is routine behavior for him? That he throws himself headfirst into a situation he hasn’t planned out- isn’t sober enough to plan out? Situations that don’t need to occur just so he can throw his weight around? Too petty to give a genuine “Hello, how are you? It’s been a while. I want to talk to you about Sam when we’ve both got some free time?”

Everything is vindictive. Constantly worrying about not being undermined and being respected to the point he gets in his own way. Actively sabotages his own opportunities. In dire need of therapy to work through his issues because you know the alcohol is how he copes and you’d sympathized at first but the reasons became excuses and then he’d started blaming you and-

-John places his arm on the back of your chair again and you pull yourself out of your mental spiral.

“I think your date is waiting for you, Michael. Best not to keep the lady waiting.” John observes, his tone neutral despite being a clear dismissal.

“You’ll be hearing from me later. I want to see my son.” Michael’s ignoring John’s presence but taking the hint.

You don’t fling a final barb at him. The venom has been drained out of you and you just want the interaction over and done with. Let him have the last word. You just want him gone.

You merely cast a look over at the woman who is Michael’s date for the evening and hope she’s got better sense than you did- that she leaves before he sinks his claws in her too.

The weight that settled in your stomach upon first seeing him is finally lightening up on you. You know you’ll wake up tomorrow to a barrage of phone calls and text messages that you won’t answer. It’s probably not good you’re so desensitized to the idea that it barely registers as a problem. Merely one of life’s many inconveniences.

“You alright, love?” John’s voice helps you shake the last of the tendrils that cling to you.

“Yes. Sorry. Wasn’t expecting to run into him of all people tonight, is all.”

“Never fun being ambushed, is it?”

You take a bit of a risk- you know enough about his job but he’s steered the conversation away from it every time the topic would naturally shift that direction. You know how Kate’s work can go and you assume his is very similar. “Well you’d certainly know more about that than I would.”

It works. The two of you break out in grins, and you find yourself no longer worrying about Michael and your focus readily settling back on John where it belongs.

At some point- long after the single cube in John’s drink has melted, and the condensation of your wine glass has soaked the bev nap underneath it, and more importantly long enough that you don’t feel that you’re fleeing the restaurant- the suggestion is made to go back to John’s. “No more surprises, hm?”

You gladly follow him. You’d taken an Uber to get to the restaurant, anticipating drinking and hoping to go home with him, so you have no worries about your own car.

You can easily see him being the type to give you a quick, chaste kiss on the doorstep after safely dropping you at home. In another universe you’d appreciate the restraint, enjoy fleeting touches over the course of a few dates that get more intense each time before finally finding yourself in his bed.

In this universe however, you don’t have to wait. Don’t want to, either. You get to indulge your earlier impulse of crawling into his lap, knees spread wide on either side of his waist. Lowering your hips allows you to feel him and what exactly he’s packing between his own legs. Your hips cant in short motions and heat coils heavy in your gut.

From the feel of things he’s proportional and John is not a small man. There’s a brief flicker that runs through your mind that you might be in over your head with him. The pent up lust and desire stifles that flicker. You’re more than game to see what a night with him ends up being like.

His hands are warm against your skin- one cupping the back of your head and keeping you close as the pair of you make out, the other settles on your hip and keeps you steady as you grind down on him.

You are possessed with the desire to get his cock in your mouth.

It’s cute how his face follows yours as you pull away from him.

“Help me with my dress?” Your question is perfectly innocent as you turn your back to him, presenting the zipper that runs down the length of your back.

His pleased laugh warms you, a shiver of desire and anticipation running down your spine as his breath fans across the back of your neck.

You’ve got a surprise waiting for him underneath your dress, partially revealed as one of his hands holds the top of the dress steady while the other draws the zipper down.

You gave him the hint you were wearing stockings when you’d baited him back at the restaurant, letting the heavy fabric of the dress fall to a heap around you before kicking it off to one side.

Turning back to face him, John seems quite enraptured with his surprise.

The lingerie set is a matching shade as your jewel toned dress, the garter belt clipping to the sheer black thigh high stockings.

There’s always that split second hesitation when revealing yourself to someone- the anxiety of if they’ll be pleased with what’s presented to them.

John is the first person you’ve been with since you’ve had your child, and the slight anxiety quells quickly at the look on his face.

John looks like he wants to eat you alive. Any insecurity is knocked firmly aside by desire quickly ramping back up.

Placing one hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you lift a leg to take your shoe off, John is quick to stop you. “Leave them on for now, love.”

It’s a request but it’s not. Really that doesn’t surprise you- he is someone who is likely used to having his whims accommodated to. You find yourself having no urge to defy him, nodding in compliance. If John wants your heels to stay on, then they’ll stay.

He guides you between his legs, enough space between his knees for you to slot yourself in. With him sitting on the bed he’s shorter than you standing straight up in your heels. Bending down to give a quick, teasing kiss you let yourself drop to your own knees.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” you assure him with doe eyes and are rewarded with him settling into the bed as your hands go to work on his belt.

Unable to resist teasing him, you mouth at his bulge through the thick fabric of his pants. You’re rewarded with a soft cant of his hips, having his belt undone and working on the button and zip of his pants in record time.

Your earlier suspicions are correct. John is a big boy in more ways than one. You want him in your mouth- now.

While you’re occupying yourself with getting his pants off, John shucks his shirt and shoes.

He is, simply put, delicious to look at. From the broad muscling to the thick dark hair running from his chest down his abdomen. He doesn’t have the hard chiseled abs of a man who lives in the gym but the sturdy build that comes from having useful, functional muscle that’s put to work.

And that’s incredibly hot. He’s girthy as hell in your hand as you give a few strokes before putting your mouth on him.

You’re not entirely certain if deep throating him is going to be an option, but by God you’re going to try.

“Bloody hell, love.” John grunts while you bob your head up and down the length of him. You’re gauging just how much of him you can get in your mouth- where your threshold is before your gag reflex wants to kick in.

He’s petting you. Doubtless trying to fight the urge to fist your hair, his hips struggling to stay still on the bed.

You want him to. You feel feral, all the pent up sexual energy you’ve been storing for God-knows-how-long welling up all at once. You want this man carnally and your brain presently thinks having your hair held in place and your throat fucked is a fantastic idea.

John clearly has other plans, restraining himself and letting you work at your own pace. That low, deep breathing paired with his soft grunts and voiced encouragements stoke the flames of your arousal hotter.

Eventually you do need air, pulling off of him for a moment. Your hand works his shaft and teases the tip of him as you lean forward to run your tongue up and down the length of him, dropping a bit lower to lave at his heavy sac. He jolts which only encourages you to do it again.

You know your eyes are one of your better features- you’ve heard the compliment enough times both in and out of the bedroom, holding John’s gaze as you lick him back up the length of his shaft and circle the head once before having caught your breath enough to wrap your lips around him once more.

The second time around you’re able to get a bit more of him down your throat, but not all the way. What you can’t reach you stroke with one hand, the other resting on his thigh to help balance yourself as you work. You can feel the tension building in his thigh as he gets closer, pleased with yourself.

It’s a heady feeling. You don’t know exactly all the dirty details of his job but understand enough to know you’ve got a powerful man at your whim right now and that scratches a deep seated itch in you.

“Good girl,” his praise washes over you, warm and welcoming. “Just like that-“

You’re intent on sucking the soul out of him, all doe eyes and hollowed cheeks with those painted red lips. Eventually he gives into the urge to grab a fistful of your hair. He doesn’t do anything to interrupt the rhythm you’ve settled into, letting you move as you see fit.

He bites out your name and you feel the muscles in his leg drawn tight. “I’m getting close, love.”

It’s not quite a question. You give your not-answer by doubling down on him. You’re so close to having him in your mouth all the way to the base. You don’t want to back off. What you do want is for him to finish down your throat.

You get your wish. John’s fist tightens and you let out a grunt as his thrusting results in your nose pressed against his public bone.

The taste of him doesn’t really register as he spills inside your mouth, your focus on breathing through your nose and keeping your gag reflex down.

He’s petting your hair again, praises falling freely from him and soft apologizes. “Lost myself for a moment there, love. You alright?”

You keep your mouth hilted on him for a moment to prove a point- you’re fine, he didn’t push you past threshold- before finally releasing his softening cock.

He’s pulling you up to him after that, an open mouthed kiss that flusters you considering he just came in your mouth. “You’re just a treasure,” his voice purrs in your ear. “Only fair I return the favor, hm?”

He guides you to lay on the bed, knees hanging over the edge before he turns to settle between your legs.

He starts at your neck. You’re ticklish at one spot his lips, squirming in his hold with a giggle. “Sensitive, hm?”

You nod out a “mhm,” that breaks into a breathy moan as he works his way down your chest. Rather than removing your bra his hands work to pull your breasts free from the cups before paying particular attention to your nipples.

His hands are warm as they roam your ribcage, the heat of his body seeping through the lace of your outfit as his fingers trail across your skin and the delicate material.

“You’re so soft, love,” you don’t quite know how to respond to the compliment, mewling wordlessly in pleasure at the attention.

That seems to appease him as he kisses his way down your sternum and to your belly, the expanse of most of it covered by the fabric of the garter belt.

His eyes flick up to your own as his lips travel closer to the apex of your thighs. Where you’ve been lying patient and pliant in his grasp, the eye contact draws something tight in your core and you squirm again.

The next thing you feel is teeth as he nips you. “Be a good girl for me,” he tells you, soothing the soft throb of his bite with his tongue.

You force yourself to still as he moves lower, lower, lower- taking his time and having you thoroughly worked up before moving to the next patch of skin.

When he’s down far enough he slides one of your thighs over his shoulder, that arm looping under your arm and banding across your abdomen.

It’s his turn now to mouth at your clothed sex.

He pulls the gusset of your thong aside after a moment of teasing, his lips descending on you.

“Oh,” your hand immediately finds purchase in his hair, a pleased whimper escaping you at the feel of John’s tongue.

John feasts on you. There’s not much else that can be done to describe it. It’s lewd and wet as he laps at you, the flesh of his tongue doing little to soothe the burning ache inside you and only ramping it up.

Those eyes are wicked as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. The hand resting on your lower stomach is pressing ever so lightly, like John wants the pressure there but not too much yet and you’re once again struck with the idea you might be in over your head with him.

“John, please,” you beg. It feels good but you need more, lust clouding your brain as your hips rock against his face.

“You need to be patient, love. I’ll take care of you. Just relax, hm?”

It dawns on you that he’s probably running down the clock until his refractory period is up. That he doesn’t want to get you going too quick and then be stuck not quite ready to perform.

It’s an assumption, and you’re not 100% sure that you’re correct, but it’s a solid enough option that you move forward with that in mind.

The thought almost makes it easier to relax into the bed- the idea that John is going to pleasure you with his mouth until enough time has passed and he can get it up again. That he’s not just mindlessly toying with you with no end goal in mind.

It feels good you’re just stuck being greedy and wanting more stimulation despite knowing that won’t happen until John decides he’s ready to give you more.

You almost jump when the fingers you’ve been waiting for make their presence known. His mouth moves to focus on your clit, lips making a seal and sucking on it. You cry out, hips canting as his fingers gently rub at your labia.

He starts with one, gently sliding it in and out of you. Your back arches in satisfaction of having something to clench on and rub against. It’s more satisfying than just one of your own- that was for sure.

“That’s it love,” John praises you while easing a second one into you.

The second finger is what you were looking for, stimulation wise. John pets and strokes you, thumb gently working over your clit in soft circles before putting his mouth back on you.

He doesn’t just find your g-spot. John’s fingers are placed so they hone in on that spongy bit of tissue tucked inside you. He doesn’t let up on it, tongue working on your clit as you arch your back helplessly and moan.

That pressure is back on your abdomen, the hand not currently stroking you to nirvana pressing down on your belly.

You moan and buck against his hold. Your orgasm is creeping up on you and it’s like he’s determined to make you squirt.

“You keep that up and I’m gonna make a mess,” you warn him- not entirely certain how he’ll respond to the prospect of you squirting on his face.

John looks delighted and you realize that yes, you are in over your head with him.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he pulls back from you, “You promise, love? Don’t tease me.”

Oh dear God- Next thing you know he’s reaching over you to pull a pillow from the top of the bed, wedging it underneath your hips before returning to his place between your thighs.

You’re flustered at how eager he is to see you squirt. His mouth is back on you, sucking on your clit and making your legs shake as two fingers go right back to abusing your g-spot, his free hand pressing on your belly increasing the pressure that is mounting by the second.

There’s nothing else for you to do but grab a fistful of his hair and hang on. “Please- oh! J-John! Right there,” at your encouragement he locks in on the spot that’s got you arching your back and your thighs trembling.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me,” he’s moaning encourments against your skin and you feel like a bow drawn tight and ready to snap. You’re so, so close.

The sounds he draws out of you- both from your mouth and between your legs- are filthy and vulgar and you don’t care at all as he gets you teetering just on the edge.

You’re practically gasping for breath, eyes screwing shut as the hand not buried in John’s hair fists the sheets next to you. You babble his name, chants of John all your brain can muster.

All that pressure coiling in you snaps and gushes out, literally and metaphorically.

“Good girl, making such a mess for me,” John’s praise has you flushing hot while his fingers work you like he’s making sure he can wring out every single last drop.

He stops when you have nothing left to give him, a trembling mess shivering in his hold.

Your brain at some point made the windows shut down noise, needing a moment to settle as you process what John just did to you.

This is the hardest you’ve cum in ages, certainly better than the orgasms you’ve given yourself during your little dry spell.

You return to the land of the living with his lips on yours, tasting yourself as he soothingly strokes your side. “You back with me?” He asks, eliciting a nod from you.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” your tone is pleading. You still want to ride him but you’ve learned your lesson about practicing safe sex. Once was, in fact, all it took for things to go off the rail.

“I do,” he stands, moving to the nightstand and opening a drawer.

Now that your legs feel somewhat compliant you sit yourself back up.

No sooner than John’s got the condom on then you’re guiding him back down, having him lay on the edge of the bed.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, getting yourself situated so your heels don’t catch on his sheets, but you’re straddling him with the leg closest to the edge of the bed hanging over the side as the opposite leg folds underneath you. You hover over him while getting everything lined up. The position of your legs allows you to alternate which one is supporting the brunt of your weight, a factor that is going to be fairly important once you’ve hilted yourself on John.

Even with how pliant your body is it takes a moment for the head of him to breach you.

“Oh,” you let out a breath as you sink down on him. You’re not able to get all the way to the base of him on the first go, getting your weight underneath yourself and lifting almost completely off of him before dropping down again. You get a little further this time, a moan escaping you.

“That’s it, love. Nice and easy,” his voice coos in your ear, that low timber having you liable to melt.

He’s thick. Not in a way that’s insurmountable to manage, but you have absolutely no complaints with how he fills you and anticipate being pleasantly sore in the morning.

Two more slow bounces have you sinking low enough to hilt yourself on him, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of sitting fully on his lap.

One of his hands braces on your hip, the other his thumb circles your clit. You squirm at the stimuli, relishing in the feel of him before getting to work.

This is what you’ve been drooling over all night. Your reward is very well earned in your opinion. Moaning lowly as you bounce up and down, your movements are initially slow and languid but pick up speed as you get your bearings. John’s heavy exhales and grunts when you clench only serve to wind you tighter.

“You feel good, pretty girl? Hm? You like bouncing on my cock?”

You flush- a ridiculous notion given how you’re quite literally hilted on his dick-, face hot from the dirty talk.

The hand on your hip helps guide you to a pace that’s pleasurable for the both of you, eyes rolling as he thrusts his hips in a way that makes you see stars. “Yes! John- yes! Oh it feels so good,” your voice a low purr as he delivers on every fantasy you’ve had this evening.

The stretch of him in you feels absolutely incredible, knocking the air out of you on each bounce. It doesn’t take long until that knot begins to form again, growing steadily as you rise and fall in his lap. The press of his finger circling your clit draws staggered moans, bracing on him for support.

“Been thinking about this all night,” John grits out. “Wanted to flip you over the bar top and have my way with you right there on the dining room floor.”

You moan at the confession, feeling less like a rabid dog with no impulse control now you know you’re not alone in the intense desire that had struck once you’d laid eyes on him.

“Probably wouldn’t have- ah! st-stopped you,” you tell him. The grip on your hip tightens at that, another moan escaping you as you bounce on him.

Your eyes roll in pleasure, cunt practically fluttering from the way he keeps getting you to clench. The thickness of his girth doesn’t just let him keep hitting that spot in you with lift of your hips so much as the mushroom tipped head of his cock drags across it.

“Aren’t you just a fucking treasure,” he praises.

Your thighs are burning, eased by the position of your legs and John’s grip helping you but becoming more present with each wet clap of your sex against his lap. It almost helps you tip closer to another climax.

Your eyes squeeze shut, a staggered breath escaping you.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you and you comply immediately.

“John, please I’m so close,” your thighs are shaking again, threatening your already precarious balance.

“You need more, pretty girl?”

You shake your head. “No-no. Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

And bless him, he doesn’t do anything to fuck up your rhythm. The fingers circling your clit keep the same tempo and pressure perfectly, his free hand still helping guide you up and out of his lap before sitting you back down.

You know you’re about to come but are caught off guard by how sharp it is as you squirt for a second time.

The sight of you spurting across his abdomen nearly severs any control John has left. The next thing you know John’s abandoned your overstimulated clit in favor of rolling you onto your back, your heels clattering to the floor from the motion. Your legs go instinctively to clamp around his waist for security- only one of them does, the other stopped by wet fingers gripping your thigh by your knee as he spreads you open. His weight is held on the forearm bracing next to your head by the time you process the shift in position.

“You alright, pretty girl?”

You can’t quite get your words out but manage a nod. “Ye-yeah,” you eventually stagger out as he waits for a verbal confirmation.

With the comfort that you were fine, that gives John the assurance he needs to seek his own pleasure.

More than satisfied with your two climaxes, you lay limp and pliant in his grasp while he chases his own end.

The wet squelch of his cock splitting you open with each thrust was loud and obscene although you were too far gone in the blissed out pleasure to care. Your whole body feels delightfully tingly, your head swimming pleasantly.

You clench down on him a few times, more for his benefit than anything else. You’re spent but more than willing to help him across the finish line as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muttering praises that are punctured with short, sharp thrusts before he stiffens as his own climax hits.

The two of you have both broken into a light sheen of sweat by the end of things. After a moment to recuperate John stands with a “I’ll be right back.” (And you unabashedly enjoy the view of his ass while he retreats to the bathroom.)

True to his word he returns shortly, evidently having disposed of the condom with a towel in hand for you.

The pair of you get yourselves clean and sorted. Before you can decide how you want to ask, John seems to already know what the question is.

“You don’t need to leave, do you?”

Again it’s not entirely a question, but still gives you an out if you want to take it.

You don't want to take the out.

#john price x reader #captain john price #john price #x single mom reader #cod x reader #cod mwii #my writing #now I gotta name this bitch because I totally plan on a whole series and the other characters can’t be calling her love all the time lmao #i wrote and coded this whole thing on my phone because my laptop has once again quit on me

553 notes · View notes

filtharchives · 6 months

Text

guys im so embarrassed i wrote this but as a Freak™ i firmly believe there is not enough omegaverse in this fandom so i gotta write it myself

hopefully i’ve improved some since last time… 🫣

summary: cove x reader - your sudden heat triggers cove’s rut and no one is home to stop you

tags: NSFW, takes place in Step 3, fem/afab reader, omega!reader, alpha!cove, traditional stuff (being a provider for spouse) cause tbh i also can’t deny the housewife kink in me lol, normal omegaverse stuff like knots and slick etc., first time/virginity loss, mating press ♡, reader is pillow princess-ing, breeding kink (you tried to be safe but he got impatient sorry), only a little size difference/kink and belly bulge

it was a hot summer day–too hot for even the biggest beach bum to spend out on the sand–and you and cove were lazing around in your bedroom with the air conditioner as high as your moms would let you put it, which was just enough for you and cove to cuddle comfortably in your nest with the condition that he was shirtless and you were in the flimsiest tank top you could find. .

cove was beyond thankful to not have a shift at the tropical restaurant today. he told you he thinks he would have died if he had to wait tables while the restaurant was full of sweaty, heat-agitated tourists whose scents would overwhelm his nose which was pretty sensitive, even by alpha standards. his comment got a sympathetic nose exhale out of you, which in turn got a playful pout out of your boyfriend.

“don’t laugh. it’s not funny,” he scolds half-heartedly. “i really could’ve died in that situation. do you know how many sweaty, old alphas i’d have smelled? and they get so snippy when they’re sweaty and uncomfortable. if you knew what it was like working there, you wouldn’t be laughing right now.”

“yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes with a smirk, feeling a little smug as he squeezes your waist in his arms and nuzzles his face into your neck despite his little rant. “but they still give you the big tips, don’t they?”

“only cause they smell you on me,” cove argues. “they think that i’m an alpha working solely to provide for my omega mate, so of course they’d wanna ‘help out’.”

“then really, you should be thanking me right now, instead of lecturing,” you snicker, joking. “where’s my cut of the money?”

“your ‘cut’ is everything i buy you with those tips.” he nips at your collarbone pointedly. “those alphas are kinda right–i am providing for my little omega.”

my little omega. god, that sounds so delicious coming from his mouth, it almost makes you dizzy. and the idea of him taking care of you makes your inner omega purr with delight. you’re too busy fixating on cove’s words that you almost don’t notice cove perking up in surprise, his head lifting off your arm as he supports himself on his elbow.

“you…” he pauses, sniffing. “you smell different. just now.”

“mm?” you hum, looking at him with hazy eyes. you feel your body grow warmer and cove’s scent seems so tantalizing all of a sudden. cove seems to think the same about you, leaning back into your neck to sniff your scent glands, the arm he’s had over your waist moving back so he can grip your hip with his hand.

“smells sweeter…” he mumbles curiously, practically shoving his nose against your skin. his hand squeezes your hip before moving to your rear to pull you close to him again.

“cove-?!” you cut yourself off with a small squeak of surprise as he drags his tongue against your gland, your body shivering as his warm, wet muscle teases the sensitive skin. your hands press against cove’s bare chest as he rolls on top of you, caging you in his arms as his knees sit between your thighs.

“god,” he hisses against your neck, voice not as soft and playful as it was moments ago. “i’ve always wanted to smell this straight from the source. it’s not the same coming from your clothes.”

it’s only when he says that, that it clicks for you–your heat had arrived early. a few days early, in fact. and you feel silly, not recognizing it after several years of experience, but in your defense, the response from cove was far too distracting for you to put the pieces together on your own. but now that you know what changed in you, you also realize the change in cove was from his rut being triggered. by you. that thought warmed you up even more. cove calls your name.

“tell me to stop, and i’ll go home right now. i can ask my dad to deliver some of my clothes and we can call, just like we always do,” he says, eyes shyly avoiding yours and staring at your stomach instead. “but if you want me to stay… i-i’ll take care of you. i think- no, i know i’m ready. to take this step in our relationship. b-but only if you are! we can hold off on it if you want!”

he finally meets your eyes, looking a little frantic, as if worried he was too bold and would scare you off. still, you could see his arms shaking as he held himself over you, taking all the self control he had to not take you then and there. as much as you admired his restraint, your body ached for his.

“i want this,” you respond breathlessly, feeling almost winded by the anticipation and desire running through you. “i trust you, cove. i want you to knot me.”

cove turns bright red from his ears to his neck. he was hoping you’d say yes, but he didn’t expect such an explicit answer.

“oh! o-okay, let me just-” he nearly throws himself off the bed, running out of your room and you hear his heavy footsteps race down the stairs. before you can call out and ask questions after processing his sudden disappearance, you hear him running back up the stairs. he returns to your room and shuts the door with his foot, arms filled with water bottles and snacks. he gives you a sheepish smile as he sets them on the shelf under your window.

“for later, you know?” he says, fumbling nervously with the last water bottle before putting it down. “wouldn’t want you to get hungry or dehydrated.”

you’d make a witty quip if you were more lucid, but his preparation and concern for you makes you preen and only more needy for the rest of the care he has planned for you. smelling the slick pooling in your underwear, the cute look is wiped off cove’s face and replaced by an almost uncharacteristic, wolfish grin as he approaches you and your nest again. fuck, this heat is becoming unbearable–you want him now, you don’t even notice you’re whining until cove’s in front of you on the bed again, cupping your face and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“don’t worry, i’ll take care of you, just like i promised,” he coos softly, his hands parting from your face to remove your shorts. he licks his lips again when he sees the large wet spot on your panties that had seeped through your shorts.

“one more time: are you sure you want to do this now?” cove asks, looking into your eyes through his lashes. his breathing is heavy with the amount of self-discipline he’s exerting. his inner alpha is practically howling at him to get on with it and fuck you like an animal, but he loves you too much to give in when there’s still a chance you might back out. “i can’t promise i’ll control myself o-or be gentle past this point. but i’ll do my best to stop whenever you tell me! i-if you ever tell me-”

“please,” you all but beg, adoring his efforts but so over the waiting. “please just fuck me already, alpha. i hate waiting.”

your interruption and desperation draw a small chuckle of disbelief from cove, but it also settles his nerves. he gives you an apology kiss as he tugs off your underwear, practically drooling at the unfiltered scent of your slick.

“sorry for making you wait,” he murmurs as he pushes your thighs apart, backing up on his knees until he can comfortably lean down and kiss your clit.

you’re a sobbing mess as cove draws you closer to your third climax of the day, still only giving you his mouth and fingers. as much as you begged for his dick after the second orgasm, cove insisted he needed to make sure his knot wouldn’t hurt you, even if it meant straining against his pants uncomfortably while rutting against your nest. still, with how enthusiastically he was devouring your cunt, you can’t say he wasn’t enjoying himself as well.

the slurping and squelching that filled your bedroom were lewd, but that was nothing compared to your mixed moans and the stench of sex that was probably stuck on your sheets by now. cove always got off on your scent during his ruts, holding your gifted, used panties to his nose as he jerked off, but the smell coming straight from your glands mixed with the taste of your slick on his tongue–he felt like he could cum untouched from those alone, but he needed to hold out until he could stick his dick inside you, even if he couldn’t actually breed you yet. oh fuck, the idea of you filled with his pups had his eyes rolling to the back of his head, even if the logical part of him knew you were both too young for that yet. still, he couldn't deny the idea’s appeal.

“cove!” you gasp, one hand tugging his hair as the other gripped the pillow behind your head. “‘m gonna cum again-!”

you barely finish your sentence before you gush all over his face for the third time, and just like the previous two times, cove laps it all up eagerly, rubbing his nose against your overstimulated clit as his tongue parts your lips. you try to push him away but it’s only once he was satisfied with his cleanup that cove lets up to pull you into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. you moan into his mouth and whimper when he pulls away but you’re already too spent to chase his lips. he chuckles at your dazed state but is far from done.

he gets off the bed and finally relieved himself of his pants and boxer-briefs and you drool at the sight of his big dick and the much-desired knot at the base. he nearly trips as he simultaneously hurries to your drawers while removing his clothes and digs through your drawer to find the condoms (that you’d told him your moms bought for you regularly once you and cove started trading clothes during your synced mating cycles. it was funny and embarrassing at the time, but now you were grateful). he grabs a handful and rips open the first one as he rejoins you in your nest, also ripping the condom inside in the process. he tosses it aside and goes for the next condom, only for history to repeat. he blows through two more, growling as you whine impatiently, before muttering “fuck it” and tossing all the condoms onto the floor.

“i’ll buy you plan b later, okay?” cove assures you as he lines up his dick to your pussy with one hand, the other holding up one of your thighs. “just be good and take my knot, just like you wanted.”

you moan a cuss and throw your head back on your pillow as he slides in, your endless slick and his careful preparation making it easy and oh-so pleasurable. cove hisses as he stops just before his knot, his now-free hand moving to your other thigh. you’re about to complain about the lack of movement but cove already starts pushing in again, watching intently as your cunt swallows him up with relative ease. you mewl at the stretch that was much easier than you’d anticipated–you’ll have to thank him later for making it so easy on you despite your impatience.

cove stops again once buried to the hilt inside you, his eyes flick up to your face and, seeing you without any discomfort, grins.

“look at that, omega,” he murmurs, his hand pressing gently on the small bump in your belly that disappears and reappears with each slow thrust of his hips, making your breath stutter. “your needy little pussy all stuffed by my cock.”

playing nice doesn’t last long, however, as he quickly gets pussy-drunk and picks up the pace.

“f-fuck~” cove groans, tossing his head back in pleasure while his hands grip the backs of your knees, keeping you wide open. he leans his head forward again, looking at your half-lidded eyes and drooling, moaning mouth with dark eyes. he lets your legs fall to his sides, choosing instead to lean forward with his elbows at the sides of your head and his chest pressed against yours, practically putting all his weight on you as he fucks you hard and fast.

the wet slapping of his balls on your ass and the sounds that leave your mouths are loud and lewd and surely your sister or one of your moms will come home soon, but cove really couldn’t care less when it feels so good. he’d always dreamed of having you on his knot like this, ever since he first jerked off to your scent, but having it for real was better than he could have ever imagine. so tight and warm, and the fucked-out look on your face was even better.

“so cute like this,” he mutters, his face so close to yours and you try to focus your eyes on him but can barely keep them from rolling back. “you were made to take my knot. we fit so well together. fuck, i can’t imagine doing this with someone else. i should just claim you already.”

the prospect of being claimed by cove makes you keen. his face is shoved up against your neck again, inhaling your scent like it’s oxygen, and he really is tempted to bite you then and there.

“you’d like that, right? being bonded to me? oh f-fuck! oh, yeah, you do. tighten up so much at the idea…” instead of biting your neck, he moves his mouth to your shoulder and satiates that need. you cry out his name, both out of pleasure and disappointment. it feels so good to be bitten by him, if only it was where you want it most.

his sweet words are reduced into babbles as he loses himself in you and you could admit that you’ve lost yourself long into this heat. his tip kissing your cervix and his knot stretching your lower lips is all so delicious, it’s overwhelmed you to tears.

“c-cove,” you gasp, clawing at his back, toes curling as you get closer.

“mm-” cove grunts, picking up pace for the final stretch as he mutters thoughtlessly into your ear. “gonna fill you, omega… fill you with pups… all mine…”

normally, the thought of being pregnant would would terrify you, but with a heat-clouded mind, it’s all you want.

“please fill me,” you whimper. “cove- cove! wan’ your pups… please gimme pups, alpha…!”

“agh- fuck!” cove’s arms cradle your head to his chest as his knot swells, locking him inside you. “gonna fill you,” he repeats. “fill you w’ my pups… my omega… all mine…”

you cry out as cove’s hot seed fills you, clinging onto him with your arms and legs wrapping around his muscular body. he’s shaking and growling and still babbling as he cums, and his load feels heavy inside you, especially with his knot preventing any from leaking out. as he comes down from his high and feels fatigue wash over him, cove quiets down and at least finds the strength to lower himself onto you slowly, lying on you while his still-inflated knot keeps your bodies stuck together.

you sniffle as post-coital clarity slowly comes to you, and your lust is temporarily pushed aside by your affection for cove. you gently comb a hand through his hair as your eyelids feel heavy.

“we’ll be like this for a while,” cove chuckles, cheeks flushed pink. “go to sleep. i’ll clean everything up once my knot goes down and when you wake up, i’ll still be here. we’ll drink and eat, and then we can keep going as much as you want. i’ll be right here.”

his words of reassurance and the gentle rumble of his chest as he speaks is enough to lull you to sleep, as if you weren’t already totally spent. and yet, the idea of going for more rounds sparks your excitement once again, and you can’t help how your pussy briefly squeezes cove’s dick, making him gasp. you chuckle at his reaction as you finally nod off.

ahhhhhhhh omgggg !!!!!!! 🙈🙈🙈

#crying shitting throwing up #omegaverse #olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #cove x reader #i wrote this #smut #cove holden smut

253 notes · View notes