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risuola · 5 months

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I — NOT YET — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN, who is a mob boss

When a guy in the club tries to assault you, you ask a random stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend. Little that you know that out of all people, you chose a mob boss.

cw: smut, mafia mob!au, briefly mentioned assault and tiny bit of violence, Sukuna (yeah, I consider him a warning), reader discretion is advised — 2,7k words

a/n: mada... mada mada~ the very second I heard this menace toying with Panda, Kusakabe and the rest in Shibuya, not allowing them to move unless he say so - my head went straight to the idea of him playing the same game in bed.

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Sukuna never had to get used to being interrupted. Never. Anytime it happened in the past, all he had to do was to glance at the person and it usually got the message across. His gaze has enough power in it to quickly inform the intruder why invading his personal space or cutting him half-sentence is a damn bad idea. One look from him usually was enough to make anyone reconsider if they really want some problems. Sukuna had his eyes trained to be sharp and cold, his body strong and intimidating and his aura dangerous. He spent years building his reputation, earning a position in his world that now guaranteed him calm. Now everyone and their mothers know that he’s not the one to cross paths with. He’s a VIP, he’s allowed everywhere and he has no qualms about killing someone. Ryomen Sukuna is a brand, he’s a threat, he’s untouchable, invincible. No one in the right mind would ever try to start anything with him at this point. That’s why, when he tried to relax in one of many clubs that he owns in Tokyo, he couldn’t believe someone had the guts to push onto him at the bar.

“Hey, sorry, can you please pretend to be my boyfriend for a second?”, he heard near his ear and following the sound and the soft tug on his elbow, he turned his head towards you. Lucky girl, he thought while quickly assessing the view. You were too god damn pretty to be killed, looking at him with those pleading eyes that glistened in the harsh artificial lights. You were visibly scared of something, or someone, and oddly enough it wasn’t him who brought you to the verge of tears.

“Your boyfriend, huh?”, he mused, allowing his eyes to trail down your figure. The dress you had on left little to imagination and yet he wished to tear it off to see more of you. It hugged the shapes of your body perfectly and the silky fabric betrayed the lack of bra underneath. You were attractive, but clearly not smart enough to think twice before approaching a stranger.

“Please, I beg you, this guy—“, you tried to explain, squeezing your perfectly manicured fingers around his veiny forearm, but your sentence was cut in half when a man grabbed you by the waist, pulling you away just a little and harshly pressing your back against the bar. Sukuna watched as you winced when your spine hit the edge of the wooden countertop, he watched for a moment how you tried to push the guy away. With no effect, you weren’t strong enough to stand against him, you were trapped between the unwanted body and the furniture behind you, fighting the hungry hands that were groping your figure.

“Naoya, get off of me—” you tried, pushing his face away from where he was trying to suck a spot onto your neck.

“Oh, shut up woman, I know you want it,” the blonde-ish idiot grinned, twisting your arm enough to make a space for himself. He wasn’t bothered in the least with the fact he was trying to get between your legs in the very center of a club. Sukuna’s club.

Ryomen zeroed the whisky in his glass and got up from the chair. Usually, he would ignore situations like this. Other people’s problems were none of his business and he had enough his own things to take care of, to bother himself with anything else, but you. You were a problem he was willing to explore.

“Zenin, huh?”, he asked, connecting the name he heard falling from your lips with the wannabe gangster he heard about many times before. There was a certain reputation tied to Naoya’s name, mostly regarding his treatment of women but as long as he wasn’t touching his women, Sukuna couldn’t care less about this trash of a man. You definitely were not his woman. Yet.

“The fuck you want, I’m busy,” Zenin groaned, pulling his nasty mouth away from your shoulder for just a moment, only to shot a glare to the club owner.

“I can tell that you’re busy,” Ryomen grabbed one of Naoya’s wrists. It wasn’t looking like a hard grip, but the face of the blonde betrayed the sharp, bone-breaking pain he felt.

You felt some kind of relief when the stranger you just met stepped between you and your unwanted date. The large body of him towered above you completely, he was bigger than you thought when you approached his sitting form, but you couldn’t think about it for too long when he dealt with Naoya so easily. Once the blonde was gone, he turned to you.

Your heart skipped few beats once you took the image in. The man was huge, way taller than you and built like a greek god. The sharp outlines of his muscled torso beautifully showed through the dark graphite dress shirt. Looking up, you could finally see his face clearly. His features were attractive, dangerous with the black tattooed lines around them. He could easily be a gangster or something.

“T-thank you,” you spoke finally, snapping out from the initial impression of him. He was a red flag, you knew that. If not for the circumstance, you’d probably be the first to run away from him. He was hot. An absolute smokeshow, but he was certainly bad news.

“Was he your date?”, he asked, pulling a chair that he was sitting on previously and twisting it to position, before his large hands landed on your hips. There was no effort whatsoever when he lifted you and sat you down on the seat. He opted to stand next to you.

“No… I came here with a friend, but she left earlier. I was just about to leave as well, but this guy stopped me,” you sighed. “He wouldn’t let me go, I was afraid that he’ll just walk after me to my home. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture in itself was soft, but you shivered underneath his touch nonetheless. You couldn’t quite tell what made him so… scary. Was it his overwhelming frame? Or maybe the calm, distant demeanor? He had authority, he was expecting submission and when he was looking at you, you felt like a prey of him. Strangely, you were quite fine with that. You had no wish of doing anything with Naoya, but this man… he was different, he was interesting, he made you cross your legs just to feel any kind of pressure between your thighs. “Your name?”

“Y/n,” you replied.

“Y/n. Nice,” he gave it a soft nod and ordered two drinks. “Ryomen is my name. Sukuna Ryomen. Memorize it.”

“Sure…”

At this moment, you had no guts to ask why was it important to imprint the name he told you into your brain, but it all became clear just barely two hours later. You couldn’t exactly recall the moment Sukuna led you out of the club and into his car. There was something so enticing about his entire aura that made you lose your ability to think. He made you break every rule you ever had for yourself – to not talk with strangers, not go with them anywhere. Before that night you were doing exceptionally good in avoiding danger, you somehow slipped through your life up until that point without any major problems, but once you faced the problem, it was a big one.

The talk was good, it flowed easily and the menacing aura that Ryomen had all around him kept you interested. You had no idea that you’re attracted to bad boys, and maybe you were not exactly into school hooligans. Turned out, you’re aroused by the much worse kind – the kind that keeps a gun behind his belt, drinks pure whisky and makes people run away just by shooting them a glance. Yeah, that seems to be the kind of men you are into, because if there was any common sense left in you, you’d be out the door and running towards the safety of your dormitory. If there was any self-preservation instinct in you, you’d be probably anywhere else, rather than in here.

In the most luxurious house you’ve ever seen, not to mention been inside of; somewhere in the outskirts of Tokyo where you were not even sure how you can get back to your home from there. If you were just a little smarter, you’d for sure be in your own bed right now and not on the dark leather couch, with your silky dress scrunched up around your waist and your underwear torn to pieces and laying on the floor. If you had more braincells, maybe you wouldn’t be bouncing on that stranger’s dick right now, gripping onto his muscular shoulders as one of his large hands kept your hip in a dead grip, leading your moves up and down his girthy length and the other one tightly squeezed around the back of your neck, from where he was keeping his head close so he could kiss you so hungrily it took your breath away. But that’s just where you were. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

He felt so goddamn good, filling your tight hole to the very brim, stretching you to the point of delirium and he wasn’t even fully in yet. His moves were aggressive and yet sensual; he made you feel small even if it was you who was on top of him. You had no control, he made it clear with the way he was holding you and every time you tried to dominate him in any way, he quickly showed you your place back. Maybe later, he’ll let you have your way with him, but now, he was in charge.

“Think you can take all of me?” He asked against the delicate skin of your neck, now painted in red and purple marks he nibbed onto it. You could feel him grinning at the way you squeezed your little hands on his clothed biceps. He got you all exposed and yet he only allowed you to free his dick; his shirt was still buttoned up, his pants were still on his legs. There was a certain dominance shown in the way he got you all naked on top of his suit.

“N-no,” you breathed out, “too big.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.” Sukuna doesn’t exactly accept no as an answer and he for sure gave you enough time to accommodate to his size. “You’ll take it and thank me for it, yeah?”

“Yes,” was all you could mumble, before both of his large hands landed on your hips. The iron grip, you were sure, was going to bruise you but now, it felt grounding in a way.

“Good girl,” he praised, his purr vibrated against your skin as he sucked yet another mark along your collarbone. It distracted you for a moment before he pushed your pelvis even lower, fully bottoming into you. Your clit made a contact with his lower belly, the harsh brush of his skin against the swollen bud making you moan louder than you were meaning to. You felt like all of your organs were moved out of the way just to make more space for his dick and Sukuna couldn’t be more satisfied by the way you took him in. “See? As if you were made to take this cock.”

Something incoherent left your mouth, a tear stained your cheek and the man was happy to lick it away, tasting the saltiness before he bucked his hips up, keeping yours in place. He took full control, thrusting into you with all the power he had in his muscular body and you held onto his shoulders with your little hands. The filthy, wet sounds were filling the interiors, bouncing off the walls and mixing with all of the whines and whimpers that were leaving your lips. Some grunts added to the melody, but you barely heard any of it, too consumed by the exploding pleasure between your legs.

Sukuna’s name was leaving your mouth like a prayer, you felt so close, you felt like falling and you had no intention to stop. The man grinned, licking a long stroke along your throat, his tongue curling upwards as it reached the tip of your chin. The taste of your skin felt intoxicating to him, he wanted to devour you whole, to keep all for himself.

“You wanna cum, huh?” His voice was taunting. “You’re clenching around me so fucking hard, you’re gonna milk me as well.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you near damn begged, chasing the bliss that you could almost taste on your tongue right now. It filled all of your body cells, rushed through your veins in ecstatic waves of lust.

“Not yet,” he ordered and it felt almost painful to force yourself back from the state of climax. You could tell he was playing with you, toying with his dominance, reminding you that it’s him who pulls the strings in here. And yet, he was still rutting into you, his movements completely different to what he was saying, he was fucking you like he wanted you to cum in that very moment. “Still not yet,” he teased, feeling your little fingers digging onto his shoulders, your manicured nails nearly making holes in his shirt as your eyes fell shut.

“Oh god, Ryomen, please,” you whined. Your thighs were shaking, your spine arching and the incredible tension below your stomach threatened to burst any second now.

“Now,” he ordered and just like that, all inside of you snapped. You came all over his dick, and you came hard. It felt like nothing you’ve ever experienced, like you were suddenly shot into another dimension and if not for the way he sped up his movements, you’d probably just get lost in the lustful feeling. Ryomen came just few moments after you, wrapping his arms around your waist and painting your walls white. You felt him throbbing, spasming inside of you, the hot seed gushed out of you as he was pumping it in, staining your thighs and the bottom of his black shirt. Then he pushed you down, fully onto his cock, plugging the way out for his cum.

You found his lips, swallowing his quickened breath as you kissed him with desire and he gave in, quickly dominating the kiss. You were tired, the muscles in your legs were burning from the intense exercise, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling of still wanting more. He made you hungry, he made you unsatiated and you were sure, you won’t be able to recognize yourself after you’re done with him. You were never such a greedy lover but frankly, you never had a chance to feel that good with anyone. The boys you’ve been with had no skills and if not for the orgasms you gave yourself with your fingers, no one else ever brought you over the edge like Sukuna.

“Can you undress?” You asked him, your lips brushing against his as you mouthed the question and he chased your kiss with his head, grabbing your lower lip between his teeth. There was a certain expression painted all over his dangerously handsome features, the menacing aura amplified as he took his sweet time before replying.

“I can undress,” he began, yet there was a but hanging in the air. He had conditions and you were open to hear them. “I’ll give you two options, little kitten. Wanna hear ‘em?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t undress. You can pull yourself together and I can drive you back to your home now. But I can also take the suit off, carry you to my bed. Then you’ll stay with me till morning, but don’t have any hopes for a calm sleep, no. The night will be as filthy as it can get. You’ll be sore tomorrow, most likely exhausted.”

You blinked hearing the options. It was clear as day, stop there or continue? You knew the answer already, your body decided for you even before he came up with an offer.

“Will you drive me home as well if I pick the second option?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s get you naked.”

» PART TWO

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tootiecakes234 · 4 months

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Katsuki dating obliviously hot reader:

Characters aged up

Kinda smutty

Katsuki doesn’t even really see people in a hot or non hot way but then…. in walks you. The person that has him a blubbering, babbling mess. He thinks it’s insane, how fucking amazing you look all the time and it’s hard to control himself around you.

You’re at a party and you were dancing on him. In the middle of you pretty much dry humping him, Mina pulls you away from him and toward her. The thing is before he can hide it, she looks down at his groin and BAM

“Dude I can see your hard on through your pants.” And all your other friends turn around and start trying to see.

The blonde’s face now has a deep blush but he speak in an even tone. “Yea well yall would be too if someone as hot as Y/N was dancing on you. Too bad you losers get no play.”

He then rips you back outta Mina’s arms and spins you around so your back is to his front yet again. He has his dick placed snuggly against your clothes between your cheeks.

You guys are going out on a date and you’re bloated asf and nothing looks right. You’ve changed outfits like 4 times now and Kats in starvin.

He comes barging in the room and your in long sleeve shirt with a thigh length skirt and some cute shoes. You’re in the mirror adjusting and leaning towards a hell no when you hear him whisper under his breath, “damn”

“Do I look bad? I feel gross. Maybe we can get takeout and just stay here.”

“Gross? You gotta be fucking kiddin me. We are going to go out and I’m gonna be trying my damndest not to beat the shit out of the sea of guys that are gonna be eye fucking you and you’re calling yourself gross. Grab your damn purse and let’s go y/n.”

Well then. Guess you cant argue with that.

You’re at the gym together and you were both doing your own things. You’re on the treadmill when some guy comes up on the one next to you and starts talking.

It seems harmless enough so you engage him for a while until you get a text alert on your phone. When you check Kit Kat is on the screen so you open the message.

Kit Kat: come here.

That’s random so you look up to find where he is in the gym and discover hes near the weights. When you lock eyes with him, you see murder in his eyes.

Aww fuck. He’s pissed. You know your man is territorial, but damn.

You excuse yourself from the conversation you were only half heartedly invested in and walk over to him.

“Look it wasn’t-“ but your words are cut off from his lips pressing against yours and you feel his hand graze over your ass.

You’re glad the gym is half empty cuz damn.

“That idiots been looking at my ass in these tights since you walked in. I’m gonna have to put a fucking taken sticker on your forehead.”, he growled low next to your ear.

“Instead of all that, you can just put a ring on my finger.” You say smugly.

He chuckles at you, “yea that’s probably a better option.”

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roosterforme · 6 months

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Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time.

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh.

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret.

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him.

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated.

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up.

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message.

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way.

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface.

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number.

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip.

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice.

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later.

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush.

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be.

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten.

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin.

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning.

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone.

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her.

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him.

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open.

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself.

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on.

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

--------------------------

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face.

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache.

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar.

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit.

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest.

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck.

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

-------------------------

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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rowarn · 8 months

Text

hear me out....

afab!reader, no prns, simon is smitten <3, cunnilingus, wet&messy, creampie !!!

; in which simon cucks some poor guy for flirting with u <3

going out with simon to a bar one night. simon thought u looked so precious dressed up just for him. he's got that "wear what you want, i can fight" mentality as he should.

some random guy slides up to your table with a cheesy smile and a bravery that surprised even simon. he was sitting right there and the guy didn't bat an eye. that was unusual — simon was a big guy with an intimidating stare to go along with it.

and you - a little too polite and sweet to tell the guy flat out to fuck off, gives simon an apologetic little look.

and fuck, simon thinks, you're so precious. you really melt his heart.

the guy makes some corny joke about a threesome, condescension dripping from his voice as he really thinks you would choose him over simon. the bloke really believed you would go home with him.

simon finally interjects from where he has been nursing his whiskey and just watching — making very sure the guy didn't cross any lines beyond making a fool of himself in front of you.

"sure why not?" he says, concealing a grin when the guy turns to gawk at him, asking if he was serious.

and that's how you wind up in a hotel — simon would never allow some random asshole into your shared home.

the second you all stepped in, simon pulled up a chair and directed the guy to sit while simon "got you ready". the guy was thrilled, it tickled simon something fierce.

and you, still so sweet for him, cling onto and pepper kisses on simon's face the second he's within your reach. he adores it. adores you.

simon gives the poor idiot a show, pinning your knees to your chest and letting him marvel at how fucking pretty you are; pussy shiny with a sheen of your arousal. he bets the guy thinks it's all for him but no. you only get so wet and needy for simon.

simon eats you out like a champ — urged even more than usual by new eyes watching. simon has a point to prove.

you're whining and moaning, twitching in the cute way you do when simon rolls his tongue over the hardened bud of your clit and fuck, he's drooling. literally. it mixes with your juices and makes you even wetter and messier and he loves it.

he makes you cum on his tongue alone. hard. you gasp and sob, legs sweetly kicking out as he feels you throb on his tongue. usually he adds some fingers into the mix to prep you but not today. he wants you to feel the full stretch of him this time.

he thinks he hears the guy make some comment about how lovely you are and how he can't wait to have a turn with you.

'in your dreams maybe' simon thinks bitterly. he can't believe the guy thinks he can compare to him. simon knows for a fact the dude wouldn't even be able to make you cum — simons taken the time to learn your body, learn what you like and what you need before you even say it. simon has devoted himself to you and no one could ever compete with that.

simon turns you over and manhandles you into position on your knees, gently pressing down on your back so you lean down onto your chest. you're still trembling and twitching occasionally from the orgasm he can still taste on his tongue. he thinks it's adorable.

the guy pipes up, complaining and asking when he's gonna get a turn because his cocks so hard it hurts.

simon decided it's as good a time as any to break the news to him — you're not gettin' a turn mate. just enjoy the show, yeah?

the guy starts whining and complaining as simon slowly and carefully sinks into you. you're so wet and tight around him that he feels the breath punch out of his lungs.

his hand is careful as it wraps around the back of your neck, using the grip as leverage as he begins to rock into you. you're still getting used to being full of him — he hadn't prepped you properly so he knows it stings a bit.

you still sweetly coo and whimper as he moves slowly and carefully. before long you're grinding back against him, a silent request for more. and he's more than happy to provide.

soon enough he's fucking you like you deserve. you're crying out into the bed and creaming real nice around the base of him. you have the blankets wrapped tight in your firsts and you're so loud about how good he's making you feel.

simon chances a glance at the idiot in the room and see how intensely he's staring at you, mouth slightly agape and eyes lidded.

simon nearly puffs up in pride — you're his and he's fucking you so well for his audience.

he picks up the pace, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your tender clit is intoxicating. your body trembles and twitches at the onslaught of stimulation. you cry out his name, praise him for making you feel so good.

simons grip changes to the front of your neck, carefully urging you up onto your knees with your back to his chest. he feels you clench around him when you're reminded of how fucking big he is compared to you — broad shoulders and huge hands that dwarf your own. he's built and firm against you, sturdy and safe.

in this new position, he can freely grope your bouncing tits as he resumes fucking you. he make sure to angle his hips to hit that sweet little spot inside you that makes your back bow against him and your eyes roll back in your head.

"look at me, love," he orders when you close your eyes.

when you do as he tells you, your eyes are teary and dazed — a testament to how well he's fucking you. how well he always fucks you.

you desperately reach for one of his hands, dragging it down your body to the apex of your thighs. simon wastes no time in pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit. your thighs twitch the second he starts circling the little bud, his fingers getting wet with your juices.

he can't resist craning his neck down to press his lips against yours. simon isn't big on kissing — he finds it to be almost too intimate. it's different from sex. it makes him feel a little too vulnerable for comfort. but in that moment he craves it. he needs to kiss you.

you give no warning when you cum. your nails bite into his arm but he barely feels it over the right vice grip your cunt has around his cock. you tremble and whine into his mouth, unwilling to break the kiss he had bestowed upon you.

you drench his cock, creaming and soaking him in your cum. it drops down his balls and your thighs and drives him to his own end.

"where do you want it?" he asks, although he knows the answer.

he just want s your guest to hear you say it. he wants him to hear how you beg to be filled with cum, how you whine to be stuffed nice and full.

"i-inside!" you gasp so sweetly for him that it melts his cold heart, "please, simon. want it inside!"

simon's head drops to your shoulder, burying his face in your neck as he gives you a few more mind-numbing thrusts into your still twitching pussy before he groans through gritted teeth and spills into you just like you wanted.

he pulls out quicker than he usually does just to watch his load drip out and soil your thighs that were covered in your own cum.

simon catches you when you slump, carefully lowering you onto the bed while you catch your breath.

the guy is still sitting there. they meet gazes and simon jerks his head to the side, indicating towards the door.

the guy huffs and stalks away, blue balled and unsatisfied but clearly he enjoyed the show if the bulge in his jeans was any indication.

simon can only hope he got his message across. <3

#simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley

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xbellaxcarolinax · 9 months

Text

Futile Devices

Miguel O'Hara x civilian f!reader

Summary: The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

Word Count: 8.2k (A behemoth of a fic, I'm so sorry guys)

Warnings: FWB, language, angst, reader is totally in love with Miguel, Miguel being a bit of an ass, probably a tad toxic? SMUT, p in v (no protection), cum play, low-key breeding kink? Like super low-key. Oral (f receiving). Miguel climbing through windows. Idk why I'm obsessed with that thought lmfao I make him climb through windows every chance I get. Idiots in love. Probably a rushed ending, sorry!

Thanks to @whatthefishh for beta-reading. Partly inspired by this.

Also, this is mega ultra cliche, we all know they're gonna end up together, so just enjoy the ride! It's not the destination, it's the journey 😌 Hope you guys enjoy, and if you do, pls let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!

MDNI pls.

...

It was always a mission getting to Miguel's office.

Headquarters wasn't built to accommodate civilians, the winding pathways and corridors a danger if one wasn't too careful.

You had to be extra careful.

You hurried toward Miguel's office, heels clicking against clean tiled floors as you dodged a fuck ton of spider people and the inescapable attention of one annoying Peter Parker.

"Come on," Peter Parker number two hundred tried his luck again, "just one date. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go."

"No." You rolled your eyes, swatting him with the manilla folder in your hands like you would a fly.

“Look, all I’m saying is you should give me a shot. I’m funny.”

“So is every other Peter Parker I’ve encountered.”

“I’m different.”

“I doubt it.”

He deflated, keeping up with your quick steps. “Who doesn’t like funny guys?”

“Me.”

“Sure,” he stretched the word out, unconvinced, "so if not funny guys then what? The ones with sticks up their asses, like Miguel?" He snorted with a shake of his head. You knew it was a sort of rhetorical question but you couldn’t help swallowing thickly, your hands gripping the folder a little too tightly.

Yeah. Something like that.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when Peter Parker two hundred raised his brows at your silence. So maybe he did want an answer.

"Nah, there's no way. I'll try again tomorrow." He smiled, shooting a web out in some random direction and swinging off toward the floor above.

Fuck. That was close.

You breathed a sigh of relief, loosening your fingers over the folder before quickly hurrying toward your destination.

You pressed your watch against the sensor outside of Miguel's office, waiting for the metal door to slide open. It didn't. You tried again. Still nothing. Again. It wouldn't budge.

"Ugh, come on, Miguel!" You banged the door with a tiny fist as if that would make a difference, "open up!"

Lyla appeared suddenly, her sprite-like form circling your head once before she faced you.

"You probably shouldn't go in there," she warned, "he's in a…mood."

"He’s always in a mood," your hands were on your hips now, the manilla folder crinkling further in your hand, "I need to report a couple of grievances—"

"Mmmmmm, I'm sure that's the last thing he wants to hear right now, Miss HR." God you hated when they called you that. You rolled your eyes, swatting her away with the folder which did nothing, of course, and pressed your watch against the sensor.

"That's not gonna work, honey."

"So let me in."

"Promise to be nice?"

"To who?" You snorted, "You or Miguel?"

"Me," Lyla grinned, adjusting her heart-shaped glasses, "forget Miguel."

You sighed, cracking a smile, "Lyla, would you please let me into Miguel's office?" The Ai made a noise of approval, comically saluting you before granting you access.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." She sang, disappearing from your sight.

You sighed. Miguel's shifting moods were nothing new to you—not anymore. Back when you both worked at Alchemax, he was passive and less quick to anger. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

Life progresses. People change.

“Mig?” You called out, peering up toward his solitary platform. You could hear the soft hisses of machinery, the yellow glow of Miguel’s holo screens illuminating the area above like a radiant star.

He didn’t answer.

“Miguel,” you tried again, “we have some things to discuss.” You slapped the manilla folder against your hand as if he’d recognize the sound of formal complaints filed within the last week.

The platform began to descend after a moment, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his figure came into view. His shoulders were stiff, his body rigid as he swiped through the yellow screens.

“I told Lyla not to let anyone in.” His voice was cold, frigid even. He didn’t bother to face you, his eyes pinned to his screens as he leaned forward, the muscles of his back flexing through his suit.

You couldn’t see what he was looking at but you could hear it: the soft giggles of a little girl, the cheers of a soccer game, the chuckles of a man now broken. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the sounds of Miguel’s past. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

“I-uh, got some reports to share with you.” You felt foolish. Lyla was right. HR complaints were the last thing on Miguel’s mind.

“Reports of the anomaly on Earth 9811?” Your brows pinched in irritation. He knew those weren’t the reports you had. You were fucking HR, not on active duty, let alone a spider person.

"No, you'd have to ask Jess or Gwen about that, but you need to listen—"

“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted. You saw his hands form fists at his sides, the same hands that’d fisted your sheets in the throes of pleasure just days ago.

You shook your head. It was not the time for that kind of thought.

You carefully opened the crinkled folder, pulling out the paperwork you’d printed from your antique printer to read aloud from it.

“Peter Parker of Earth 5431-02 has formally filed a complaint,” you began, your eyes scanning the black text before releasing an exasperated sigh, “he’s saying you threw a chair at him?” Miguel grunted, the holo screens shutting off at his (Lyla’s) command.

“He’s an idiot.” Miguel snapped, finally turning to face you, his sharp features shadowed by the lack of light. He regarded you carefully, red eyes tracing your figure. You’ve grown used to the way his eyes lingered over you, especially when you were under him, his body pressed against yours, but sometimes you couldn’t help but squirm under his more severe gaze.

“Well, yeah,” you reluctantly agreed with a tilt of your head, “but a chair, Miguel?”

“It’s not like it hurt him...badly.”

“That's not the point."

“The point is that I got my point across.” Miguel snorted.

"It's the principle. You don't go around throwing fucking chairs at the people who work for you!"

"Mhm."

"You're their boss! What kind of behavior is that?"

"Uh-huh."

You were about ready to strangle him but knew your fingers couldn’t even go around his throat properly. You’ve tried before, under very different circumstances. You settled for pinching the bridge of your nose, as he often did, taking a breath to calm yourself before you completely lost your shit. "Listen to me."

"I'm listening, HR."

"Ugh, look," you pointed a finger up toward him, your brows knitted in obvious irritation, "annoying or not, he's still a member of the Spider Society, therefore, he has every right—”

“—to file a grievance under any circumstance as a result of an injustice, discrimination, or harmful behavior, and is to be given the respect to which every spider person is due as a valued member of the society. I know.” Miguel finished the legal jargon for you, hopping off the platform with an ease that’d always surprised you.

He stepped into your space, his large body casting a long shadow over you as he snatched the crinkled paperwork from your hands.

“I’ll speak with him.” He grunted. You pursed your lips, watching as his eyes scanned over the page.

"Make it right, Mig. Apologize. Formally. Or informally. It doesn’t matter— there’s nothing normal about this place anyway.” You placed your hands on your hips as you leaned forward, aware of how he was suddenly gazing down at you. “Just be nice, okay? Compensate him with, I dunno, a minor mission. He always wants to get involved, so let him.”

Miguel rolled his eyes, heaving a great sigh while running his hand through his hair. “Fine.”

“And no more throwing chairs to make a point.”

“Uh-huh, fine, anything else?” God, you wanted to smack him. You opted for snatching back the paperwork from his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles over your skirt-clad thighs before searching for the proper page.

“Yeah," you brought a finger down on the page, "the spiders are getting bored of the cafeteria food.” That was enough for Miguel's face to pinch in displeasure.

“What’s wrong with empanadas and churros?” He scoffed, waving his hand to dismiss the complaint, “And that stupid blue burger with my face on it?” He paused, eyes squinting for a moment, “You know what? That can go. Get rid of it.”

“Fine. Do I have permission to organize a survey?”

“For food?”

“Yes, for food. They want options.”

“Aye, por Dios,” Miguel grunted, waving his hand again, “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.” You organized the documents back into the manila folder before handing it over to him.

“You know you could just send this electronically, right?” He looked down at the folder, his eyes tracing your neat cursive in black ink.

“I’m old-fashioned.” You shrugged, turning on your heels. You heard him snort out a laugh, a tiny thing that made you smile. He has a nice laugh.

“One more thing,” Miguel called out, demandingly. You looked over your shoulder at him as he regarded you with heavy eyes.

“What is it?”

He boarded the platform once again, the machinery coming to life and slowly elevating him back to his preferred height. He tossed the folder somewhere over the desk, to be forgotten. It was the least of his worries at that moment.

You watched Miguel ascend above you like some kind of heavenly being, the yellow light of the holo screens illuminating his tan skin till he glowed molten gold. You waited on him with bated breath, his response sinking straight to your core.

“Keep your window unlocked tonight.”

…

He loves it when you ride him.

His large hands were glued to your hips as you bounced on him expertly, your cunt soaking him in your sticky juices.

Most nights began this way—with Miguel's cock buried deep in your pussy after a long day of enduring his insufferable attitude. You'd fuck the stress out of him—fuck the astronomical weight of the multiverse off his shoulders if only for a few short hours.

"Been thinking about this all day." He groaned under you, throwing his head back over your pillow when he felt your walls grip his length viciously, fighting to keep him in.

"Yeah?" You gasped, your hands firmly planted on his bare chest as you made work of your hips, rotating them in delicious circles—the way he liked—your thighs spread wide to accommodate his massive size. "W-wasn't enough to curb that a-attitude though, huh?"

Even amid the utmost pleasure—of Miguel's length hitting a spot that had you trembling—you found the strength to taunt him, your hazy eyes catching a glimpse of the twitch in his brow. That meant trouble.

Within seconds Miguel had you on your back, his imposing body trapping you against your mattress. His cock slipped out for a moment but he had no problem finding his way back into your slippery channel, snapping his hips strategically to reach as deep as he could.

You cried out, your hands scrambling to find purchase over his shoulders, your pretty manicured nails digging into his perfectly golden skin.

"F-fuck! Miguel!"

"Wanna say that again?" He growled, his face hovering mere centimeters from yours, "Go ahead, say it again." You did nothing but whimper as he pounded into you mercilessly, his cock stretching you open.

"That's what I thought." Miguel chuckled smugly, delighting in your little chokes and stutters, egging him to keep pounding you relentlessly. You tried speaking—tried to articulate your words to him, but you couldn't, too cock drunk to focus on anything else but his gorgeous face twisted up in pleasure and his thick cock kissing the secret place within you.

He had you coming soon after, stars exploding behind your lids as you trembled in his arms. Your cunt squeezed him just right and he came, panting in your ear as he filled you to the brim.

His spend stained your sheets when he pulled out, and as always, he watched it dribble out from your swollen cunt with lidded eyes. He wasted no time in taking his fingers and stuffing the mess back in.

“Keep me in there.” He muttered, swiping through your puffy folds one final time before he ripped himself from you. You immediately soured, keeping your gaze on him as he quickly cleaned himself off with a cloth you left for him on your nightstand.

You admired his figure: the ripple of his muscles as he moved, the broadness of his shoulders, the glow of his skin in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

Miguel was gorgeous. You’ve always thought so.

His suit glitched before coming to life, covering his sculpted body in the usual blue and red you've come to know.

“Did…you want to eat before you go?” Dinner was on the stove, cold but still good. You sat up against your headboard, more of his spend leaking out as you fiddled with your fingers over the soiled sheets.

Miguel shook his head, sighing as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I have to go.” He said, stepping forward, grabbing your hand, and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles. It was the only form of affection he’d allowed himself to give you. He’d never kissed you before. Probably never will. It wasn't part of the deal.

Your heart sunk, your skin searing where his lips had lingered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Most nights ended this way—with your aching cunt full of his seed and your eyes wet with unshed tears as you watched him leave through your window, disappearing into the night.

…

A few days later, Peter B. Parker landed in your office. Quite literally.

He plopped down on the seat in front of yours from seemingly nowhere, a messily packed diaper bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He had his daughter snuggly pressed against his chest in her carrier, her chubby arms and legs flailing over his pink robe.

You yelped, dropping the pen in your hand, clutching your chest in freight.

“Jesus! Where the hell did you just come from?!”

“Up there.” Peter pointed up. You followed his line of vision, noting the door to the air vent busted open, barely hanging from its hinges. “Sorry about the vent.” He offered sheepishly, taking a large bite of a slice of pizza he'd pulled from a greased-up brown paper bag.

"You could've just taken the elevator!"

"Takes too long to get to the basement.” He said between a mouthful of pizza, “Why'd Miguel give you an office down here anyway?"

"I'm scared of heights." You reminded him, watching Mayday struggle to release herself from her carrier prison. Peter snorted out a laugh, dropping the diaper bag on the floor while simultaneously taking another bite of his pizza.

“Doesn’t make sense to work in a place like this.”

“It was the deal I made when Miguel asked me to work for him. Chew with your mouth closed.”

“Have you tried the cafeteria pizza?" He asked suddenly, ignoring your demand and speaking with another mouth full of the greasy treat, "It's the new thing. Everyone's going crazy."

You smiled smugly. "I know. You’re welcome."

“Ah, I should've known Miss HR was behind this!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname, rummaging through your drawer before tossing him a few napkins.

“What can I do for you, Peter?”

Mayday whined, crawling out of the carrier and over her father’s thighs. She hopped on your desk, scattering some of your paperwork. You quickly caught her before she tumbled off the edge, cooing at her before placing her in your lap. You squeezed her in your arms and she let out a scream of delight before squirming, reaching out in wonder at the different knick-knacks on your desk.

“Right, almost forgot." Peter took the last bite of his pizza, wiping his face and fingers with the napkins you provided before his face morphed into something serious. "Is this guy bothering you?” He pulled out a yellow holo pad, one presumably given to him by Miguel, revealing a video of you and Peter Parker two hundred from the other day.

You blinked, your eyes tracing the moving image carefully.

”Oh. Not really,” you finally said, ripping your gaze away from the screen, “Nothing I can't handle. Why?”

“Miguel asked me to investigate the situation discreetly.”

"Asked?"

"Well, demanded, you know Miguel," Peter shrugged, reaching down into the diaper bag and procuring a lollipop when Mayday began to whine, “he’s concerned. I figured it’d be easier to just ask you about it.”

You frowned, grasping the sweet when he handed it over to you, pulling off the wrapper and placing it in Mayday's chubby hand, “That’s hardly discreet.”

“I didn’t wanna follow the guy around!”

“He's making you do that?”

“‘Of course he is. Doesn't like the guy. He barely tolerates me!”

You snorted. “Why does Miguel even care?”

"You know him better than any of us do. If anyone would know, it’s you."

Well, that was true.

You knew Miguel before he created the Spider Society, before he was ever Spider-Man. You knew him before his addiction to Rapture, before he experienced fatherhood, before he lost Gabriella.

Back when, to the world, he was just some guy in a white lab coat.

But he was never just some guy to you.

You’ve loved Miguel for years. You’d loved him in your early days at Alchemax, when he was fresh out of college and eager to begin his shaky career, back when you were hanging on to the corporation by a measly thread of an unpaid internship. You were a pair, stuck to each other like glue.

A few years later, when you both decided to take it a step further and mess around, well, that only ignited your feelings further. Miguel was an attentive lover. He knew your needs and fulfilled them, taking you to the heights of pleasure before humbling you just as smoothly with his strict rules about your agreement.

He didn’t have time to cater to someone's feelings—didn’t have time for a romantic relationship when he had too much on his plate. But his sexual appetite demanded attention—and why not with someone he’s called a friend for years?

You were just a friend. And that’s all you’d ever be.

It was just sex. That's all it'd ever be.

“You okay?” Peter ripped you away from your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered with a sigh, gently resting your chin over Mayday’s soft curls. “Is Miguel worried?”

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend, of course he’s worried about you. Those were his words, not mine.” Peter shrugged, putting his holo pad away, “so is there a cause for concern?” The thought alone almost made you smile. Almost. Instead, you scoffed, shaking your head.

“I’m usually the one that handles these situations, you know.”

“And who’s supposed to help you?”

“I don’t need help.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced. “Miguel doesn't seem to think so. You sure?”

“Very.”

“Alright, I did my part!” He clapped his hands as if he’d successfully completed a mission, “Time to go, Mayday!” He stood, grabbing the babbling baby from you and placing her back in the carrier.

"She's precious." You said, gently pinching Mayday's drool-covered cheek as she teethed over her lollipop.

"Takes after her dad." Peter grinned, snatching up the diaper bag, "Listen, if you ever need any help—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get outta here, Parker." You shooed him away, quickly organizing your wrinkled paperwork together. You could still feel his eyes on you as you kept your hands busy, and when you finally looked at him he had a silly smile on his face.

"What?"

“You guys are idiots." He was still grinning.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he said, pressing a kiss to Mayday's red curls, "Just do me a favor. Don't mention any of this to Miguel, alright?"

You crossed your arms, leaning back against your swivel chair. "Sure."

...

"So you think I need help?"

Miguel's hands immediately stilled on your hips as you stirred the boiling pasta over your electric stove.

You didn't hear him come in, but you had a feeling he’d show up. It had been a couple of days since he’d fucked you, and there were many stressful days between then and now.

So you’d left your window unlocked just in case.

"What are you talking about?" He muttered, his fingers lightly dancing on your waist before pulling away completely.

"Nothing." You huffed to yourself, cutting off the heat and getting on your toes to reach for the pasta strainer on the shelf above. After a second of watching you struggle, Miguel put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, reaching forward to grab it for you.

"Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” He finally said, observing you strain the pasta over the sink, the steam from the hot water engulfing you both in what felt like a thick cloud of tension. You peered over your shoulder at him, your eyes raking over his solid form.

“You know, Peter Parker two hundred?” You asked, witnessing his face contort from passive to extreme annoyance.

He sucked his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against your counter, looking so out of place in your tiny kitchen, his broad shoulders almost the entire width of your cupboard. “I told Peter to be discreet.”

“He said you’re worried about your only friend.” You continued to tease him, emphasizing the word as you lifted the lid to a pot where a homemade Pomodoro sauce was bubbling.

“I said that?” Miguel muttered, feigning innocence, watching you take a spoon and scoop some of the red sauce for a quick taste. You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing the way your tongue licked off the remnants of sauce.

You hummed in approval before scooping up some more and turning to offer Miguel a taste. You lifted the spoon toward him, and after a moment of contemplation, he hunched forward with arms crossed over his toned chest, mouth opening slightly to allow you to press the spoon past his lips.

His eyes fluttered as he savored the rich taste, humming his own tune of approval.

"Is it good?"

“Mhm.”

You beamed, eyeing how he licked his lips like a satisfied cat, his fangs protruding slightly when he ran his tongue over them. The same fangs you’ve felt over your delicate skin from time to time.

Miguel was a biter. You didn’t mind.

Miguel grunted, using his thumb to wipe off a bit of sauce that lingered near the corner of your lips. You inhaled a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering from the heat of his touch.

"What else did he say?" He murmured, looming over you, his hand now gently cradling the back of your neck, thumb caressing your skin.

"T-that you're worried about me?" You breathed. Miguel pulled you closer suddenly, the faintest noise of surprise escaping you. His suit always felt strange under your fingers, the digitized fabric almost slippery, like fine silk. It was ridiculous how perfect you felt wrapped up in his arms. You sometimes wished he'd show up in civilian clothes. You missed his lazy outfits when he'd throw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him in anything other than his suit (and his naked form, of course). It meant he was always on the clock, devoting all his precious time to the multiverse.

It meant that whenever he was alone with you, he considered it work.

And yet, the suit made you feel secure and safe—like nothing in the world could harm you. And there was truth to that, though the only thing harming you these days was Miguel himself. But that was your fault too.

The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

You gazed at his full lips. You desperately wanted to taste them, to know how soft and warm they would feel molded against yours. If you were brave enough you might have stolen a taste, might have felt those sharp canines for yourself on your tongue.

Miguel’s thick fingers trailed into your hair, gripping the roots with just a hint of pressure, his lidded eyes taking in every part of your face: your brows, your eyes, the bridge of your nose, and your supple lips—wet and swollen from biting them so damn much.

"Maybe just a little," he finally answered, his shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. You could feel his length press against your hip, hot and throbbing, demanding attention.

It filled you with pride knowing your proximity was enough to get him excited. It shouldn't though. It was only arousal. Basic primal instincts.

You shouldn’t be feeling pride for any of this. You had to remind yourself of that.

You closed your eyes, willing your heartbeat to slow down just a bit. Could you really be this love-sick? So hung up on a man who was emotionally unavailable? If you hadn’t fallen before, then you knew you were plummeting now, so far gone that you’d let Miguel do anything to you.

So when he whisked you away to your bedroom, dinner long forgotten, you didn’t put up a fight.

He fucked you from behind.

It was a tight stretch, your wet cunt fighting him as he tried pressing his swollen tip in with little luck.

"Gotta let me in," he grunted, spreading your cheeks wide to gaze down at your twitching holes, "you're too tight. Let me in."

"I'm trying," you panted, tears in your eyes as you buried your face into the sheets, "i-it's been a while."

"It's okay," his large hands caressed the globes of your ass in comfort, "it's my fault. Haven't been fucking you enough, hm? S'my fault." Miguel rubbed his cock through your soaked folds a few times, the obscene noises of your sopping cunt causing him to grunt.

"Goddamn, so fuckin' wet." He muttered before lining himself up and carefully pushing in again. You cried out, fisting the sheets when he successfully got the tip in. He groaned, the guttural sound masking your tiny mewls as he pushed on, your wet cunt coating him entirely in your sticky essence, easing his entry just a bit.

"Fuck, Miguel, it h-hurts." You whined, the stretch of him both painful and pleasurable as he bullied his way in, his girthy cock plunging through your fluttering walls.

"Shh, I know." He rarely cooed as he did now, reassuring you with gentle noises and tender touches as he eased into you, balls deep in your core, “Look how good you’re doing for me. S’good.” A fresh wave of arousal dripped from you at his praise, your fluttering cunt allowing him to push and pull as he pleased.

He began a steady rhythm, holding your hips tightly to work you over his length, muttering to himself all the while as he watched how your creamy juices clung to his cock and covered his skin.

The pain quickly subsided into blinding pleasure. Miguel had you mewling into your mattress, your eyes rolling and drool slipping past your lips, your back impossibly arched, and your swollen cunt wetter than it’s ever been. The slapslapslap of his hips against your ass was loud in the quiet of your bedroom, your moans even louder when he skillfully hit something inside you that made you see stars every single time.

You loved the feel of him, loved the stretch of his cock, loved how your cunt would ache for days after as if to remember him.

“Coño,” Miguel growled, keeping a large hand on your lower back to keep you steady in your arched position, “you sound so pretty when I fuck you.” He suddenly gripped your hair, pulling you up as he curved over you, continuing to spill filth into your ears.

It was too much.

“M-Miguel, I’m g-gonna—”

“Cum for me.”

That was it. The dam burst within you, your eyes rolling back as you cried out, cunt spasming and gushing all over him.

“That’s it,” he muttered, sloppily thrusting into your tightening core, “good girl.”

“Miguel,” you continued to whine, grinding against him, “Fuuuck, I love you.”

You didn’t even realize what you said until it was too late, so wrapped up in the bliss of it all that your mouth worked faster than your brain could think.

You froze when you felt him still above you. He released your hair, bringing his hand back to your hips before gripping them viciously, chasing his own release. He rammed into you faster, slamming his hips against your ass one final time before letting out a guttural groan deep from within the confines of his chest. You could only imagine how he looked: tan skin glistening, chocolate hair plastered against his brow and head tossed back in pleasure.

Miguel said nothing as he gently removed his cock from your aching sex, letting his seed dribble out from you and soak into the sheets.

As soon as you turned around he was already in his suit, pushing a few buttons on his watch before he brought his wine-colored eyes to you.

"I have to go."

“Mig?” You whispered his name softly, your naked body burning with embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry I—”

"I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was the same thing he always said, but it hurt twice as much. It was as if he were on autopilot, disconnected from what just happened.

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach as you watched Miguel leave through your window with a speed he usually reserved for missions.

His spend caked your thighs. There was so much of it coming out of you, more so than usual, his cum ruining your sheets enough that you’d need to change them before bed.

You sniffled, eyes watering, tears threatening to fall. He didn’t even kiss your hand goodbye.

You ripped yourself away from the soiled sheets, stomping over to your window as his cum leaked down your inner thighs before slamming it closed, locking it for good.

...

“You made this?” Miles exclaimed with a mouth full of spaghetti, clumsily twirling another forkful over his paper plate. You were handing out some of the spiders' leftover Pomodoro pasta from the previous night. You’d lost your appetite. It’d be a shame if you let it all go to waste.

“Yeah, eat up, there’s enough for everyone.” You scooped out more pasta from a Tupperware and onto a paper plate for Gwen. The younger girl’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed the plate, immediately slurping up a bite.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, lips covered in red sauce, “why are you working at the Spider Society when you could be a chef?”

“It’s because Miguel begged her to work here,” Miles quipped, a lone spaghetti hanging from his mouth.

“And who told you that?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Uhh,” his eyes flew over to Peter B., who was waiting patiently for his own plate of pasta to be served. You turned and narrowed your eyes at Peter, who chuckled nervously.

“Listen,” he began, hands thrown up in surrender, “the kid got curious, okay? He was convincing, I mean, look at those eyes.” You huffed, snatching Peter’s plate and loading it up with pasta.

“You guys are annoying,” you muttered with no bite, shifting your gaze toward Hobie, who sat quietly with his legs thrown up on the table, “Hobie, fuck the government and all that, but you need to get your dirty boots off the table if you want some food.”

Hobie sighed dramatically, letting his boots drop to the ground.

“Fine, boss lady.”

Satisfied, you handed him a plate.

“So, let’s talk about you being a chef?” Gwen tried again, scrapping the remaining bits off her plate.

“It’s just pasta,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, “anyone can make a Pomodoro.”

“My dad can’t.”

“…why?”

“He’s Irish.”

“And a bloody cop,” Hobie interjected, twirling his pasta with a plastic fork, “hate those.”

“Here we go,” Gwen huffed, the beginnings of an argument forming. You chose to ignore them, letting Gwen, Miles, and Hobie bicker between themselves.

You squirmed in your seat, crossing your legs to cure the throbbing within. You could still feel Miguel, the stretch of his cock, and the inevitable ache that lingered afterward. You were still full of him, your cunt wet even hours later, plaguing you with the thought of never feeling him again.

You drummed your fingers over the messy table littered with paper plates and napkins, your body hunched forward, lost in thought.

“So…” Peter began, adjusting the collar of his pink robe, “you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to force it outta you?” You whipped your head to look at him, brows furrowed as you regarded him.

“What makes you think something’s going on?” You whispered, hoping the cafeteria was loud enough so the rest of the table wouldn’t hear.

“Something’s going on or you wouldn’t be whispering,” Peter whispered back, his blue eyes pinned to yours as he searched for answers.

“It’s nothing.” You answered quickly, continuing to squirm in your seat, fighting to ignore your achy cunt.

“Did you guys finally smooch?” You froze, your hands gripping the edge of the table with a force that made your knuckles go white.

“Peter, what the fuck are you talking about?” You hissed, watching him happily eat his Pomodoro.

“You think I don’t know?” He challenged, “It might not be obvious to everyone else but I know what’s going on.” He winked at you, dabbing a napkin messily over his mouth.

Your heart was pounding, ready to beat out your chest, but you schooled your features as best you could. You swallowed thickly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to make yourself smaller.

“Okay, fine, you know. What of it?”

“Miguel’s being mopey.”

“Mopey?” You snorted, shaking your head, “He’s always mopey, isn’t he?”

“This is a different kind of mopey,” Peter raised a brow, “it’s actually kind of… frightening.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s got nothing to do with us, for once. Usually one of us pisses him off enough to throw things but he’s on a mission. Said he needed to clear his head. So what happened?” You sighed, shoulders sagging.

“I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to last night.”

“What?”

“We made a deal,” you explained in a whisper, “no feelings, just…you know,” you wiggled your fingers, hoping it would be enough of an explanation. Peter nodded, urging you to continue, “Well, I messed up.”

“How?”

“ItoldhimIlovehim.” You blurted out, your hands flying over your mouth. Peter blinked with a subtle tilt of his head, before a grin stretched over his lips. You groaned, now covering your eyes, “W-what is that, why are you smiling? Stop it.”

“I mean, one of you had to say it first.”

“Peter, you’re killing me here.” He rolled his eyes, inching close enough till your knees brushed against his.

“You don’t think the big guy feels the same way?”

“No!” You squeaked incredulously, “There’s no way. You should’ve seen him yesterday. He could barely look at me!”

“You caught him off guard.”

“I know that, but he still could’ve said something. Anything.”

“He’s a guy. Guys are stupid.” You groaned, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned to look at the other spiders. You knew they’d been listening given the way they all turned away immediately.

“Someone is stupid,” you muttered to Peter, feeling dejected, “and it’s definitely not him.”

...

You took a deep breath before placing your watch over the sensor.

The door to Miguel’s office didn’t budge, not to your surprise. Lyla must have blocked the systems again.

What were you even doing there?

You hadn’t seen Miguel in about a week. That was ample time to inform you he wanted nothing to do with you. You couldn't blame him but still, it was…unprofessional. He was your boss at the end of the day.

Maybe you shouldn’t have started fucking the head of the Spider Society. Your weak heart wouldn’t be in shambles if you didn’t.

It was a stupid move, you knew, telling someone you love them in the throes of passion when they clearly weren’t on the same page, unprovoked or not. He probably hates you. He must.

You’d given yourself enough time to think it through and given yourself so many pep talks before deciding a professional relationship with Miguel was for the best. No more friends with benefits.

No more keeping your window unlocked.

You took a breath and tried again. No luck.

Did he fire you? That couldn’t be right. You were still in the system and able to enter HQ with your keycard just fine.

“You’re always catching him at a bad time,” Lyla sighed beside you, whipping out her tiny little holographic phone, “he didn’t even want to take a photo! Unbelievable!” The small image on her screen revealed a snarling Miguel, clearly unamused by the bunny filter plastered over his face. It was cute, even if he looked a bit terrifying baring his fangs.

Lyla shifted to face you, hands on her little hips as she looked you up and down.

“You look niiice,” she quickly snapped a photo of you, “no cute filter needed.”

“Uhh, thanks?”

“Now it’s your turn to say something nice to me.” The Ai grinned when you rolled your eyes.

“You look…extra yellow today, Lyla.”

“Thank you! I’m in default mode.”

“Okay, so I’ll just come back later then?” You rushed to leave but Lyla stopped you, zapping in front of you suddenly.

“Nah, I’ll let you in.” You could hear the door to Miguel’s office opening, “Fix him.”

“What? How am I supposed to do that?”

Lyla shrugged, “I dunno, I just know you’re the only one that can.” She waved farewell, disappearing in a glimmer of gold.

You groaned, dropping your head in your hands for a moment to collect your thoughts. Your palms began to sweat—they always did when you were nervous—so you quickly wiped them over your black pencil skirt before facing the office entryway.

It was dark as usual, the only light illuminating the area was Miguel’s bright yellow screens. They hung above him as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His head turned lazily to regard you.

“I heard you’ve been mopey.” You began, cracking a smile when he snorted. He shook his head, watching you slowly approach him like one would a wounded animal. He didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation.

“What do you need?”

“To talk to you.” You said, finding the courage to step into his space, leaning back against his desk and blocking one of the yellow screens.

“About?”

“Us.” Miguel hummed, running a hand through his messy hair. He sat up in his chair but said nothing else, allowing you the space to speak freely.

“I-I wanted to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable,” you began to fumble with your fingers, unable to keep eye contact with him for very long, “I know that what I said was…crossing the line—”

“Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly, the question forcing your eyes away from your fingernails and toward his chiseled face. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy but swimming with curiosity.

“W-well, I mean, it was a moment of—”

“Did you mean it?” He repeated, his tone stern as he awaited a proper answer from you. You bit your lip, slowly nodding your head.

“Yeah. I did. Still do.”

The silence that stretched wasn’t very long but it felt like an eternity. Miguel only stared at you, his jaw tight as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his toned thighs.

You wished you could read his thoughts, take a peek at what ran through his mind. He was always so good at hiding his emotions, never showing an ounce of what he felt. That wasn’t always the case but after Gabriella, he didn’t show much of anything.

“I think it’s best we don’t see each other anymore,” you finally concluded, crossing your arms, “we should stop.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean stop?” He was towering over you in a matter of seconds, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. Your heart was pounding, your hands flying to grip the edge of his desk.

“Mig, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Yes, we can.” He caged you in his arms, bringing his face just a few inches away from yours. He never had much of a problem with eye contact, but you did. You chose to look at his collarbones and the large swoop of his shoulders. It was intimidating and arousing all at once and you weren’t getting anywhere with this speech, were you?

“We can’t. Not when we’re not on the same page.”

“Who says we’re not?” You felt his fingers graze the side of your face, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. You turned away, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the familiar prick of tears behind your lids.

“Stop playing with me.” You said, pushing him away with little luck. Miguel shifted slightly at your touch, watching you rub at your eyes.

“I’m not.”

“Then why have you not said anything for a week?” You hissed, the frustration threatening to boil over, “You’ve left me agonizing over this for a week, Miguel!” You wiped furiously at your cheeks, catching a few stray tears. “I’m such an idiot.”

Miguel grabbed your wrists in his hands, yanking them away from your face. His concerned eyes met your wet ones, a frown tugging at his lips.

“Stop.” He demanded, taking your flushed face in his hands and wiping the wet streaks away with his thumbs. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You glared, cheeks puffed and swollen from the pressure of fighting away tears.

“Fine,” you snapped, ignoring the way he stroked your cheeks, “you’re the fucking idiot.”

“I am,” Miguel agreed with a sigh, refusing to release you, “I didn’t know what to say. Thought you might have been lying—don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I know, beba.” The endearment startled you for a moment, your glossy eyes peering up at him as a rush of excitement settled in your stomach. He’d never used endearing words with you before. It had you stumped for a second before you remembered yourself, your brows furrowing in irritation

“Why would you think I was lying? Mig, I’ve loved you for years, you buffoon!” Miguel loomed closer with every word before he kissed you, silencing you effectively. Your eyes fluttered, your lips unresponsive at first until he coaxed you into a gentle rhythm.

Kissing Miguel was so much softer than you imagined.

You thought he’d be all tongue and teeth, desperate to devour his victim. His kisses were syrupy and deliberate, steady and reassuring. He was taking his time learning the shape of your lips, the plumpness, how perfect they felt molded against his.

“I’m sorry, beba,” he said between kisses, letting you snake your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “perdoname. I’m an idiot.” You hummed in agreement, continuing to assault his lips sweetly. You couldn’t stop kissing him if you wanted to, sneaking your tongue past the seam of his lips to taste more of him.

He growled, tightening his hold on you, allowing you to taste at your leisure. He tasted fresh, like the spearmint gum he always had on hand.

“Perdoname,” he repeated, wanting so desperately for you to forgive his transgressions, slotting himself between your legs.

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” you teased, feeling the familiar ache of arousal blooming in your core, “show me how sorry you are.” Another growl ripped from him, animalistic and provoked. He wasted no time, pushing you down so that your back was flat against his desk and your legs were wrapped around his hips.

He pressed a button beside you and suddenly, the platform began to elevate.

“Mig,” you sat up in a panic, but Miguel only pushed you back down, lifting your skirt up till it pooled over your waist, “w-why are we moving up?”

“Privacy,” he grunted, spreading your legs, running his thumb over the soaked patch of your panties. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on something over the desk, your heart hammering in your chest as the ceiling seemed to loom closer.

“Y-you know I’m scared of heights!” You squealed when the platform came to a jutting halt, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even want to think about how high up you were.

“It’s okay,” Miguel purred, gently rubbing your clit through the fabric, “you’re safe, you’re with me, beba, no tengas miedo.”

“M-Mig, please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at that point, you just needed something, and whatever that was, he gave to you. You felt him push aside your panties, and you finally spared him a glance, almost choking at the sight of him mesmerized by the sweetness between your legs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, slipping a finger through your folds, “you dripping all over my desk.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, easily ripping your panties apart before getting on his knees, “smell s’good.” He muttered, licking a stripe up with his fat tongue, scooping whatever mess you made. He moaned at the taste before completely diving in, eyes closed and large hands keeping your trembling thighs spread for him.

As always, you were a whimpering mess for him, mewling with every precise stroke of his tongue. It was the first time he’d done something like this, and god, it was nothing you could have ever dreamed of.

He moaned into your cunt, the gentle vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. You trembled and whined with every loud slurp of his mouth over your clit, his tongue swiping over your precious bud before working his way down to dip inside your hole.

“Fuck, Miguel,” your hands flew to his hair, your fingers weaving through the thick strands to keep his head in place. He skillfully nipped and licked the surface, lifting his face away slightly to spit into your cunt, watching it run through your puffy folds with lidded eyes before devouring you again.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he groaned, sucking your clit between his lips.

You threw your head back, letting out the prettiest moans for him. You forgot about everything, about where you were and how high up you were from the ground. You couldn’t care less as long as Miguel continued to eat from you like a madman.

You could feel the tension in your abdomen, the clear sign that you were close. Miguel continued to drink from you, slurping obscenely at the fresh arousal that dripped into his mouth.

“Close?” He asked, giving you kitten licks, his hands squeezing your thighs encouragingly.

“God y-yes, so close.” You could feel him smiling against your folds before starting up a vicious rhythm again with his eyes closed.

With a loud cry, you came into his waiting mouth, your back arching and body withering over the table from the overstimulation. Miguel licked and sucked every inch of you, determined to catch every drop of your orgasm.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, releasing your grip from his hair and draping an arm over your eyes. Miguel stood, removing your arm and leaning over your fatigued body. He looked down at you with intense red eyes, his mouth and chin completely covered in your slick. You bit your lip when a smile curved at the edges of his lips before he swooped down to kiss you.

You moaned, completely aroused all over again from your own musky taste on his lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, allowing you a proper taste.

“Perdoname.” He begged again over your lips before gently brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You giggled, pushing him away slightly so that you could sit up on your elbows.

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, “you’re gonna have to try again.” Miguel shook his head, tapping a button on his watch, and allowing his suit to vanish. You gasped at his sudden nakedness, your eyes glued to his throbbing erection. Miguel grinned, fangs bared, tapping his cock over your sensitive cunt.

You closed your eyes as he immediately pushed in, moaning as he worked himself into your tight channel.

In your euphoric state, you barely registered him grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles, whispering over your skin. Your ears picked up a few words, some naughty and some sweet, but your heart fluttered and your chest tightened when you caught the last two words before he began pounding into you.

“Te amo.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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lucyswinter · 4 months

Note

earlyseasons!spencer having a crush on fem!reader headcannons?

.-‘*•_spencer reid crush hcs .•*-.’💗’-.•*

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none :)

♡ ♡ ♡

-you guys were both hired onto the bau around the same time, so you went through training together and were well aquatinted by the time you were officially colleagues

-he always thought you were really pretty, but didn’t really develop a crush until he saw you in action at work, and was immediately stricken with you after your first case. the way you could command a room and take charge…he thought it was very atttactive

-he looooves talking with you! he isn’t super easily flustered or anything, he just takes any chance he can get to start a conversation.

-to add on, he always comes up with random little facts for you each day. “hey, y/n! i love your ladybug earrings. oh, did you know that a ladybug can eat up to 75 aphids a day? cool right!?”

-always remembers little things about you. you could call it his love language, but that’s really just who he is. within the first few days of meeting you, he already knew your coffee order by heart, and brought it to you nearly every morning

-even though he doesn’t really get flustered easily, he does get a bit…okay a lot blushy at any small touches. like you brush past him on the way to a meeting? his cheeks are red immediately

-he likes to daydream sometimes, and he often spaces out and stares at you without realizing. you’ve caught him looking a few times, but never said anything

-his favorite part about you was your smile. he loved seeing it after he made a corny joke or shared a lame fact. he liked being able to make you happy.

-he thought he was fairly discreet about it, but everyone else at the office thought his crush was painfully obvious

-it didn’t take him long to realise he wanted to ask you out. it took him a while before he was able to build up the confidence, but one day, after one two many cups of coffee (one cup), he stopped you in an empty corner of the office and just went for it

-“look I- this is probably really random and it’s a bit crazy that I’m doing this, but I just- whew okay…I like you. A lot. You’re like… really pretty and really smart and I would like it very much if I could take you out or get coffee or…” you roll your eyes at his caffeine fueled rant and interrupt him by pressing your lips to his

-“sooo…you like me too?” “yes, you idiot! now kiss me again!”

♡ ♡ ♡

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x you #criminal minds #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid headcannos #criminal minds fanfiction #lucywrites<3

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hanniejji · 2 years

Text

date me, please. oh, we're already dating?

[ kaedehara kazuha x s/o ]

summary: drunk and utterly wasted is kaedehara kazuha. but he's also drunk in love. it's a good thing you are too.

notes: was typing the phoenix fic but i have to get this out of the way so I DON'T KEEP GETTING DISTRACTED GOD DAMN IT KAZUHA | m.list

words: 928 | warnings: alcohol ofc

you're about to punch venti into a pulp.

by the time your group had left the tavern, it was already dark and most of the city folk were already tucked inside their home, with the exception of a few knights and drunkards outside who greeted you a good night… and a concerned look at the boy hanging over your shoulders.

"i want… a ukulele!" he gushed, giggling uncontrollably, "did you see,"—he cuts himself with a giggle—"that one bard with a small… a veeeery small! oh it was a tiny little thing! with strings!"

"yes, i saw love. i was there with you."

the walk to the inn was quiet, only his occasional rambles of traveling, the things the wind tells him, and the random giggles that he does.

archons, he's adorable.

it didn't take long before you reached the inn, lugging kazuha over your shoulder across the stairs and to your room. the man simply fell into the bed like a sack of potatoes, plopping on the soft sheets with his whole weight. yet his face sports a dreamy smile—his eyes are still closed and he resumes his faint whispers of his dreams.

"you better be glad i love you enough to deal with this."

with slacking limbs and weary drowsy eyes from exhaustion—not to mention it's been a long day of traveling for the two of you, with the addition of xinyan—you quickly went around the room to clean up, taking a damp towel and a glass of water with you to the bedside table, taking a seat besides a giggling mess of a kazuha.

"love, are you asleep?"

he muttered something in response, eyes still shut and a loopy smile.

despite the extra weight on your way to the inn, you can't deny that the sight of kazuha being vulnerable and loose—albeit with the influence of alcohol—does not make you feel a little at ease. he doesn't make it look obvious, but kazuha had always been on the guard for something. perhaps it had been a natural thing for him to be cautious and careful even from his younger days, but it certainly makes you happy to see him having his moments to let his guard down, even for a while.

you just hope it won't always be from the influence of alcohol, he can barely handle a few drinks.

you press the damp towel on his forehead, wiping down around his face. your other hand thread through his hair, combing and taking it out from its usual ponytail.

at your concentration and inner state of mind, you failed to notice how his half-lidded and woozy eyes opened to stare at you. sluggish, but desperate to touch you in some way, he wraps his hand weakly around your wrist.

"love?" you glance down at him quizzically.

"am i your 'love'?"

"huh?"

he squinted his eyes right back at you, lips tilted to a pout.

"you called someone 'love'. am i not your 'love'? do you call someone else your 'love'?"

you couldn't stop yourself from huffing, amused. however, this only made him frown, an uncharacteristic whine coming from him and his hand that was holding your wrist flails in a mini tantrum.

"whyyy? why, why, why? why not meeee? are we not lovers?"

"kazu—"

"noooo," he whines, taking your hand to place sloppy kisses on your knuckles, "you can't call me by that name! date me right now! call me love! i love yooou, it's not fair!"

you just hoped that no one would complain about the loud laughing fit you made at this time of the night, but can they really blame you? here he is, drunk and being the most adorable idiot there is. who are you to not find this endearing?

"love—" you grin at the satisfied happy hum he made at the pet name, "—we're already dating."

his smile fell to a shock look, gasping audibly and his eyes lighting up, putting the moon and the lamp beside you to shame.

he looks very much awake—and breathtakingly handsome—despite being wasted.

"w-we are?"

ah, he looks as ecstatic as he did when you first reciprocate his feelings.

"yes, we are, love."

as if to accentuate your words, you litter kisses all over his face, grinning at the chimes of delighted giggles and slight upward tilt of his head. his face is practically asking for more kisses. flustered and pink in the cheeks, yet his drunken state seems to diminish his sense of bashfulness.

"i love you," he sang.

"i love you too, love."

he looks so content right now. his rosy cheeks lifted into a precious smile that only tempts you to kiss them—which you did, as you should—and the happy little giggles that he makes. you place another kiss on his nose.

"get some rest, love. we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

he doesn't resist this time—probably because he got his dose of affection from you—easing into a curled position on the bed, your hand is still in his. the smile on his face softens, eyes shutting and his voice more sluggish.

"can you say it again?"

"which one, hm?

"say… say you love me again."

almost immediately, you leaned close to his ear, kissing just above his ear.

"i love you, kazuha."

"aga… again?" he drowsily asked once more, slipping into a peaceful sleep.

"i love you, kaedehara kazuha."

and i'd repeat it however many times you want me to.

"i love you too~"

maybe you won't beat venti into a pulp. for now, at least.

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hyunjilicious · 10 months

Text

[bf!felix x reader]

Summary: a chill evening on the couch turns into you and Felix exploring a new kink because tiktok is never a good influence. (SMUT-ish) 2.3k Warnings: SPIT KINK (tons of it, it's the main thing, so if you're not into that, don't read this), mentions of oral (m receiving) and other minor things like hair pulling or like Felix sucking your fingers. There's no actual smut in this, just two idiots who take turns spitting in each others mouths, I'm sorry, I have no shame. 18+ PLS!!!

A soft grunt escaped your lips as you shifted around in place for what was probably the 5th time in the last 3 minutes. Your back was sore and you could barely feel your left foot, as it was already 6pm and all you did throughout the day was lay with Felix on the couch, talking and watching movies. Right now however, the room was silent as you both scrolled on your phones, the only forms of interaction between the two of you being the obscene number of kisses Felix would plant on your forehead every other minute, the way he played with the sleeve of your shirt, that one time you bit his chest just because you could and obviously, the tiktoks you decided to show one another.

Your feed had been fairly entertaining yet nothing out of the ordinary, until one specific video earned a reaction from you, in the form of a disgusted gagging sound.

Felix didn't bother to speak up or ask what it was that you just watched, instead he just removed one of your earbuds and put it in his own ear as you angled the phone so that he could also see the video.

"I don't get it" he looked at you.

"It's gross"

"Is it?" he softly asked, looking at you as if he was too shy to tell you he took it as a personal offense.

"Yes? Of course? Who in their right mind asks someone else to spit in their mouth?"

He didn't answer and silence settled again. Due to the way you were completely pressed into his side, you couldn't see his face, so as one too many seconds passed where he failed to answer, you couldn't help but push yourself up onto your elbows to face him. "Felix?"

"You wouldn't ask me to do it?"

"No!?" you responded, offended.

"Not even if you knew I was into it and wanted to do it with you?"

His question made you stop. This wasn't hypothetical anymore. Now it wasn't just a random thing from the internet that you were chatting about; now it was about Felix, and something he personally wanted to do. With you. You swallowed thickly, the way your view on the topic shifted completely in under one minute making you question your morals.

"I- I don't-" you mumbled, eyes cast somewhere over his shoulder, at the bookcase behind him. "It's not the same thing"

"How come?" he sweetly asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. If you didn't know any better, you'd have thought he played you. But he was just honest with you and you were just that in love with him.

"Lix, don't do this to me!" you whined and pushed yourself up into a sitting position.

He followed you. "Do what? Baby, I'm not trying to-"

"No, you're not trying to anything, but now I kinda wanna try it and it's gross. Are you happy?" you dramatically exclaimed, making him giggle.

"Happy with what? Princess, what did I do?"

"You looked at me with those eyes and now I want you to-" you pointed to your phone, "do that to me"

That made him grin, "You want me to spit in your mouth, baby?"

Fuck, you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. And the worst part of it all was the way your core reacted, making your thighs involuntarily rub against one another. "...maybe"

"I can do that if you want to" he softly said and placed a hand on your cheek as he leaned in to peck your lips. "I'd love to do it, actually. But only if you're sure"

"I am sure" he hurriedly answered, voice shaky and not at all as confident as you had hoped. It made him smile, it had been quite a while since he'd seen you this flustered and he had absolutely no idea how badly he missed it.

"It's ok" he reassured you and closed the distance between the two of you with a gentle kiss. His plush lips enveloped yours and your heart rate slowed down on the spot, you melted in his arms - your safe place; your anxieties dissipating by the second. Lips still locked, Felix helped you crawl into his lap, his hands remaining on your hips as the kiss consumed itself in the most intoxicating way possible.

When you pulled away, you had to take a deep breath to calm your dizzy mind, and when you looked back at him - at his lazy and hungry, yet warm and understanding eyes, the words just flew out of your mouth. "Felix, please?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Ok then" Felix smiled.

He straightened his back and grabbed your chin, pecked your lips one more time and then gently tilted your head back. "Open your mouth for me, sweetheart"

With your heart again beating out of your chest, you followed his command - opened your mouth wide and fixed your stare on his.

"That's right, doll. Stay like that for me for a second, baby. So beautiful"

All you could do was blink and bring your hands up to the sides of his neck for support - mental support, because with your knees on either side of his lap, there was physically no way for you to alleviate the growing pain between your legs.

"Push your tongue out for me" he instructed further, and nodded in approval when you did as told. "So good for me, my pretty baby."

The anticipation was killing you, and you nearly moaned out loud when Felix titled your head back even further - so that he was now fully towering above you.

For a split second, your stare traveled down to his lips and the instant you saw them part, you looked back up into his eyes.

"Are you ready, sweetheart?"

You nodded, eagerly this time, your head bopping against his hand - gesture which made him smile. But he fought against it, repressed the grin, and closed the distance between your bodies before shamelessly spitting directly onto your awaiting tongue.

Shivers ran through your whole body and you remained there for a second, frozen, until he used his thumb on your chin to slowly close your mouth. "You can swallow for me, baby"

And the second you did, another wave of shame washed over your body, making the pressure between your legs even more intolerable than before. You then licked your lips and shook yourself, your head instantly dropping, your stare fixed between your bodies.

"Hey, hey, don't do that-" Felix cooed, and gently got you to face him again, "Please don't hide from me, angel, ok?"

"Ok" you mumbled and pushed yourself closer to him. Even though you were already basically pressed flush against him, Felix still wrapped his arms around your waist to help you settle closer.

"How was it? Did you like it?"

"Yes" you cringed. "I did"

"Good, my baby" he pecked your lips ever so softly, "You were so good for me. I liked it too, a lot"

Despite your interaction with him being the cause of your embarrassment, his mere presence was also the only thing that could ease your mood. So, as a shy giggle left your lips, you hid your face into his shoulder. "Weird…"

"What's on your mind, hm?" Felix questioned, "I can hear the wheels turning"

"Um…" you laughed but failed to give him an answer. He, however, didn't need one. He knew already.

"Y/n?"

"Yes?" you looked up and met his warm glance.

"Yes, baby. You can do it, too. Isn't that what you wanted to ask?"

"Was it that obvious?" you chuckled, resuming your position in front of him. "Am I really that easy to read?"

"Not all the time, just sometimes. What else could've gotten you like this? You were never this shy around me"

"I'm sorry"

"Stop it, don't apologize. I think it's cute, I love seeing you like this. But I want you to be comfortable, ok?"

"Talk me through it?" you shyly asked, pushing your hair back as you got into position. This made Felix throw his head back as his eyes fluttered shut. He was riled up already - this whole situation didn't only affect you, but he kept his calm and remained composed for the sole purpose of offering you safety and confidence, but there was only so much he could take.

His cock was shamelessly stretching the fabric of his sweatpants, pressing directly against your heated core. It was less than ideal for him.

Fighting against himself, Felix grabbed your hips and pushed you up, so that now you were the one towering above him. His head was leaning back against the couch, droopy eyes studying your every feature.

"Ok, baby, ready?" he patted your ass.

You nodded.

"Come on, then. I'll do whatever you tell me" he tried to encourage you, but the way you blinked let him know very clearly you had no idea what he meant. So he continued, "Tell me to open my mouth. Tell me how you want me. Show me. You can do anything you want with me, love. I'm yours to do as you please"

"Ok, but like-"

"Y/n, it's me. There's no need to be this nervous"

"But what if I'm awkward?"

"Baby-" he took a deep breath, "Half the blood in my body is in my dick right now. You couldn't be awkward if you tried. And even if you could, I probably wouldn't even be able to tell. You know I'm wrapped around your finger, princess"

"Ok, ok" you giggled and got into position. "I can do this"

"Yes" Felix smiled proudly, "Of course you can"

You took a deep breath to gather yourself and then looked at him, "Lixie?"

"Yes, baby"

"Keep your eyes on mine, baby, ok? At all times"

He obediently nodded and licked his lips while squeezing your body closer. Everything inside of you burned as you placed your palms on his cheeks and your thumbs on his chin. He watched you closely, carefully awaiting instructions and showing absolutely no intention of stepping out of your word.

"Can you open your mouth for me, Lix? Just a little bit. A tiny bit"

He faintly nodded and parted his lips - not as much as you wished, but you worked with it, placing your pointer and middle finger on his bottom lip. "Will you suck for me?"

This time he didn't bother to nod. He had been waiting for this and wasn't about to waste any more time. One of the hands that he had until now been resting on your ass circled around your wrist, pushing your fingers deeper into his mouth. He sucked eagerly, his plump lips close to your knuckles as he watched you - pupils dilated and his face all red - he wasn't holding back.

"So good, just like that" you whispered, caressing his bottom lip with your thumb. And for that, he only went harder, hollowed his cheeks and brushed his tongue along the pads of your fingers, sending shivers in waves up and down your spine.

Seeing him like this awoke something inside of you, and the moment he bucked his hips up into you, you knew it was time to stop. Without warning, you retracted your hand which earned you a soft, pained whimper the moment he was left with his mouth open and empty.

"More" he cried.

But you didn't listen. Instead, you brought your fingers to your lips and licked them, closing your eyes to emphasize the pleasure it gave you. "You taste so good, Felix"

"Angel, please"

"I don't know what you want" you teased, "Tell me"

Your roles might have reversed, but unlike you, he never shied away from letting you know just how needy he was. "I need you to spit in my mouth for me, my love. Please, baby, I need it"

"You need it?"

"Yes" he whined in desperation. "Spit in my mouth like you spit on my cock before you blow me. I need to taste you, baby, please"

"Anything for you" you smiled and wrapped your fingers around the roots of his soft, blonde hair. When you yanked his head back, a moan escaped his lips but it didn't make him falter, he had no shame, he didn't care how pathetic it might look. He just craved you and thrived on the fact that you could so easily tell just how desperate he was. He loved being weak for you.

With his head held in position, you leaned down to give him a soft, little kiss, and with your lips still pressed against his, you whispered, "Open"

He obeyed your command, while still remembering the first one. No matter how hard he was able to feel his pulse inside his balls, he kept his eyes trained on yours as you did exactly what he asked - spit in his mouth like you spit on his cock.

"Fuck" he threw his head back as he swallowed, but his bliss was painfully interrupted when you unknowingly lowered yourself back onto his lap. "Shit, baby!" Felix hissed, "careful"

"Oh my god, sorry!" you hurried to move to the side and plop down on the couch, only to see him pull at the cotton of his sweatpants, or underwear, in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the pressure the material was causing him.

"So I did ok?" you questioned, blinking at him as you awaited his response.

But he could only scoff. "Ok!?" Felix laughed, "Ok!? Baby, you made me suck on your fingers"

"You didn't want to?"

"Angel, you blew my mind. Fuck, I need a shower-" he breathed, getting ready to stand up before you stopped him.

"What? I can do it"

"No, I'm all gross" he wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead, "But you can join me"

"I don't want to join you in the shower, Felix. I want to suck your cock here. Now"

"Jesus Christ, baby, you'll be the death of me"

#lee felix #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix smut #felix smut #felix imagines #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #lee felix imagines #skz smut #stray kids smut

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theemporium · 8 months

Note

I don't know who has started this poly fever but thank you for feeding us, can I have a Lando x long hair! reader x Max and the reader ask for help to braid her hair and the boys fight to be the one

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“I’m better at it.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re fucking delusional—

“I’m delusional? You are—”

You stood in the doorway clad just in a towel, watching the scene playing out in front of you with a sprinkle of amusement. Neither of them had realised you were in the room, both far too immersed in their silly little argument they had probably been having long before you walked in.

“Mine are so much neater than yours,” Lando scoffed.

“You’re having a laugh,” Max grumbled as he shook his head.

“Are you both done yet?” You questioned, pressing your lips together to hold back your grin when both their heads snapped around to look at you. “God, you’re like puppies.”

“Babe, tell him I’m right,” Lando said as he took a few steps toward you, a determined look on his face. “Tell this idiot that my braids are better than his."

You frowned a little in confusion. “What?”

“Schatz, ignore his stupid puppy dog eyes,” Max quickly spoke up, stepping to stand beside Lando now. “I’m better, and we both know it.”

You let out a short burst of laughter, shaking your head. “Is this really what you’re arguing about? Who braids my hair better?”

“Yes,” they both replied without a moment of hesitance.

It was very early on in your relationship with the boys that they learnt how to braid your hair. It had been a night quite like this one, a simple night in with the three of you where you could just enjoy some company together. You had jumped into the shower before bed, a random urge to curl your hair but not in the mood to go through the effort to do as much.

Both boys sat on the edge of the bed, watching you like they were stuck in some trance as you braid your hair to sleep in it overnight. The next day, they wanted to learn. And being the racers they were, they had made it a competition. And ever since then, both boys had a bit of an obsession with helping you out whenever you did braid your hair.

And now it seemed like they made another competition out of it.

“You both braid my hair beautifully,” you started but were quickly cut off.

“Don’t do that bullshit,” Max shook his head. “You know one of us is better. Tell us.”

You sighed. “It’s just going to upset you.”

“We can take it,” Lando said as he puffed his chest out. “Tell us, babe.”

You glanced between them, your arms crossed over your chest. “You’re sure?”

They both nodded.

“Like, one hundred percent?”

They nodded again.

“Fine then,” you said with a heavy sigh. “You’re both shit.”

Before they could say anything, you pushed past them both—patting them on the chest as you passed—before making your way to the vanity table that was set in both of your shared bedroom, leaving them both standing there with their mouths agape.

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fairyhaos · 11 months

Text

✰ seventeen as boyfriends: wonwoo edition

event taglist (send ask to be added): @rubywonu @cinnamoroxie @belladaises @wheeboo @minhui896 @slytherinshua @kokoiinuts @jun-of-love @dandycharmer @sweet-like-caramel @hannyoontify @doesthismeannothingtoyou @fashionminghao

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

genre: fluff, headcanon, mini scenario

word count: 533 (it was SO HARD to get this into the 500s)

warnings: mingyu's called an ass in passing

notes: wonwoo edn. for the 500 event

with wonwoo, it's all about those small, quiet moments together.

sitting on the couch and dozing on his shoulder while he's reading, laying sprawled on his bed as he sits at his computer making eye contact and smiling while seungkwan sits opposite you and talks your heads off

it's the small moments of attentiveness, of loving you a little more than others, of him crying with laughter bc of mingyu then smiling at you so sweetly and only for you.

he’s not screaming it from the mountains, but he’s loving you privately, softly, genuinely.

randomly taps you on the shoulder and presses his lips to yours, shrugging and just smiling when you ask him what that was for

gets you gifts completely out of the blue, just because he wanted to treat you

when you tease him, going all “oooh you must like me a lot huh?” he just grins and kisses you, saying yes of course and he’s always liked you a lot, wasn’t it obvious? <3

“Jeez… some of these are, like, two days away from their best-before date,” you say, holding the cans up so he can see. “Shouldn’t these be on sale or something? There’s no way I’d pay full price for this.”

You’re walking down the aisles in the store, shopping with Wonwoo, peering at the shelves as if you’re suspicious of them. Wonwoo pushes the shopping cart behind you, chuckling. He takes them from you and puts them back, nudging you with the cart to move along. “Good thing we don’t need any canned mushy peas then,” he says, and you scrunch your nose.

“Ugh, too true. Why anyone would buy canned mushy peas is beyond me.” You carry on walking. “Have we finished shopping yet?”

“Mingyu wants me to get him shampoo again, so we need to buy that,” Wonwoo says, and you roll your eyes in fake exasperation.

“Mingyu needs to buy his own stuff,” you say, but you’re already holding onto the cart and pulling Wonwoo towards the aisle where the shampoo is. “Tell his lazy ass that this is the last time we’re doing this for him.”

Wonwoo laughs, letting you drag him and the cart. “I’ll tell him you said that exactly.”

You grin back. “Good.”

As you browse the shelves, contemplating between the price options for Mingyu (you’re leaning towards the cheap ones) Wonwoo calls out to you, leaning against the handle of the cart.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever thought about us growing old together?”

It’s a random question, but you don’t even look up. “Of course. We’re definitely growing old together, Wonwoo, you’re stuck with me for eternity. You’re not wriggling out of this now.”

That makes him smile a little, struck by the natural way you’d said it. “Oh, am I not?”

“Nope.” You pick one bottle, and point it in Wonwoo’s direction. “You, Jeon Wonwoo, are going to be loved by me forever. Whether you like it or not.”

You grin, putting the bottle in the cart, and then drag him to the checkout. He’s smiling at you, so fondly, and he knows he looks like an idiot.

But, well. He would like that. A lot.

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writingpastmybedtime · 2 months

Text

Happy Accident

Pairing: mob!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Bucky and his daughter decide to paint together, but what happens when the little one retells her dream to her dad a little bit too enthusiastically?

Word Count: 690, I know it's short, but I really wanna start writing more about mob!Bucky and his family.

Warnings: None.

Request: Yes.

It had been raining heavily throughout the day, which ruined Bucky’s and his daughter’s plans to go to an amusement park that had just opened up in town. He sighed, looking at his little girl, who was currently slightly snoring, and started thinking of other fun things to do. He suddenly looked towards his daughter’s desk, when a great idea came to him.

Taking out the different coloured paints and a few pieces of paper, he sat on the floor, placing everything neatly next to him.

“Daddy?”

Bucky glanced at his baby girl, who had just woken up from her slumber.

“Hey there, little one,” he said, walking towards her and picking the little one up. “How’d you sleep?”

She hugged Bucky and yawned, obviously still in the middle of waking up. Bucky chuckled and placed her on the floor, next to the paints and brushes.

His little girl meant everything to him. She was his pride and joy, and he had hired more than enough security in and out of the house the moment he first laid eyes on her.

The little one smiled up at him and like always Bucky was mesmerised by how someone could look so perfect.

Well besides his wife, who the little one looked like more with each day that passed. He smiled at the thought. Thankful that the world, even though cruel at times, had blessed him with a loving headstrong wife and an adorable daughter, who he could spoil till the end of time.

“Oh, are you going to paint with me?” The little girl squealed, as Bucky nodded.

She automatically turned more zealous, pushing a brush into the blue paint, and drawing a random line on the paper.

“You know, Daddy,” she began, whilst adding more haphazard objects to the painting, her brushstrokes becoming more erratic by the second, “I had a really funny dream.” Bucky watched his little child in awe, listening attentively to her story, and at the same time doodling an obnoxiously fat cat on a separate paper.

“You were battling a big dragon, who was trying to steal Mummy.” She continued her story, taking hold of the small container for the blue colour.

“You had this big sword and then you pushed it into the dragon's stomach-” She suddenly jumped up in enthusiasm, making the blue paint in the container fall straight onto Bucky.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” The little girl said, trying to hold back her laughter, but failing. Bucky was speechless, looking at his hands and clothes, which were all blue due to the incident.

“You two look like you’re having fun,” Y/N spoke, looking at the mess in front of her. If only Bucky’s employees could see their mob boss right now, covered in blue paint from head to toe and looking completely helpless. Y/N tilted her head and smiled at the sight of her dear husband.

‘Mummy,’ the little child squealed and ran up to her mum. “I accidentally spilled the blue paint on Daddy, but I didn’t mean to, I swear.” Y/N laughed, looking at Bucky, who was still trying to comprehend what had happened, albeit with an amused expression appearing on his face. Y/N lowered herself to come face to face with her daughter and kissed her on the cheek.

“Go to the kitchen, sweetie, I brought ice cream,” Y/N instructed the little one, who smiled widely and ran off towards the promised dessert. Y/N took another glance at Bucky, who was now laughing uncontrollably, looking at himself through the mirror on the wall.

“I look like a smurf,” he smiled, looking at Y/N, who just shook her head at him.

“And to think I married an idiot,” she said to the man who was now walking up to her.

“You could be a smurf too, you know.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, but before she could understand what he had meant, Bucky had already pressed his lips on hers, pulling her as close as he could.

Just to make sure, she’d be stained with the blue paint as thoroughly as possible.

#bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes fic #mob!bucky x reader #bucky x reader

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raitonsfw · 4 months

Text

𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚛𝚒 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 | 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚘𝚔𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚢𝚞𝚞

synopsis: You thanked the deities above you that you had noticed the rope that hung from Tomioka’s sleeves, eyeing you with compulsion. You knew it was only for missions, like if he had to tie someone up if they weren’t cooperating, but your mind went elsewhere and who could blame you? That’s why he’s laid out like this now, the shibari technique threaded down his chest, against his thighs... he was the perfect art form waiting to be painted with watercolors.

warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, hashira!reader, shibari (or bondage), grinding (against one of the rope knots), teasing, dirty talk, slight dom!reader, slight sub!giyuu, begging, rope markings, gagging with rope, a quick mention about edging, p in v intercourse, riding, creampie, giyuu and reader are a couple, naive giyuu who just doesnt know how to socialize, shinobu outs the reader’s crush, alludes to giyuu being able to tear rope likes its fucking paper, (no idea how to put this as a warning but cbt?? reader presses her knee to giyuu’s cock a little too hard, but he’s a slut for it), pet names (princess, baby), use of honorifics in the beginning part.

a/n: so you guys can thank the inosuke scene and a random person on reddit for this. Like you know what, why does giyuu carry rope on him, idk but here’s food for thought. wc: 1.3k. m.list

divider credit: @benkeibear

It wrapped around him with intricate lines and tight knots adorning the middle of his chest. You were proud of your art, of your boy, laying against the sheets with nothing but the best shibari work entwined against him. You made sure you secured the knots, even double checking them, there was no way he would be able to get out of the soft embrace of the ropes.

Days prior, you found out he carried rope with him on his missions and you were more than intrigued, for all the wrong (right) reasons of course. You knew he was quiet and well kept, nothing out of the ordinary ever really piqued your interest to bother him on dangerous missions until you saw the rope hanging from one of his haori sleeves. You swore at first you saw a thread loose, but upon further inspection you realized.

“Tomioka-kun, you carry rope on you?” You asked, an innocence veiling your voice.

“And you don’t?” He didn’t snap at you, it was more of a question answering yours as he kept his hand still on the hilt of his katana.

You stepped over a rock, humming to yourself whilst following him down the forest path. “I don’t believe I would ever have to tie someone up.”

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered as he stuffed the rope back into his haori sleeve, the rest of it flowing with him as he sensed danger at the edge of the trees. “Stay close to me, princess.”

You genuinely loved Tomioka, though you knew he didn’t pick up on it during the first few months he knew you. He seemed oblivious to a lot of social norms and tended to isolate him away from the Hashira group when everyone trained together. But you tried to stay as close as possible, offering him traditional gifts and food every chance you got. He took it with an aloof thanks, still so seemingly confused about why you cared so much about him.

Until Kocho told him flat out at one of the meetings in front of everyone. You covered your face within your haori as the other Hashira muttered little sayings amongst each other. And there was Tomioka, blushing like an idiot and trying to apologize for being so naive. He stumbled over every word and chased after you as you ran towards the bridge that cascaded the water.

“Y/N-san!” He caught up to you, his breath wavering as he slipped his fingers around your wrist. “I apologize for Kocho, she’s quite crude, isn’t she?”

“I’m used to it.” You wiped the tears from your eyes as you looked over to him and you swore you saw his heart break in two.

“So am I.”

And here you were a few months later, learning shibari techniques as Giyuu laid out his entire body to you. He was naked from the waist up, the rope denting his skin and his boxers bunched against them except for the sleek waistband that crowded against his waist.

“I can tear these easily, baby.” Giyuu said, looking at you with a straight face. You frowned at your partner, smacking him on his bare thigh and he jerked it away with a silent chuckle. His hair came to lay against his back, out of the ponytail he normally wore and you tangled your fingers in it for a moment, reveling in the way he gasped as you suddenly pulled it.

“Well, don’t. I tried really hard to make you look pretty underneath me.” You pouted, leaning over his face. He yearned for your kiss, but he knew he wasn’t going to get your soft lips on his anytime soon. Not when your hands held extra rope that was pushed into the crook of his mouth, his teeth baring down onto it. He groaned around it and you tutted at him sharply.

“Stay still or I won’t ride you.” You said plainly, kissing at the flesh of his thigh as you looped a part of the rope around it. Your fingers then ghosted over the swell of his cock and he breathed out a light sigh, relief about flooding through him; but they moved past to pull another knot against his thigh.

“Please, it’s enough...” He said slowly, trying to enunciate properly but failing as a tiny groan escaped him from you pinching his inner thigh. “I want you on top of me.”

“What’d you say, couldn’t hear you properly?” You finished the knot and sat against it, grinding onto the knot on his thigh with a purposeful smirk. You let out a moan as the knot knocked directly against your clit as you rolled your hips onto it. “C’mon baby, use your words.”

Giyuu watched you with wide eyes and he threw his head back against the pillows as your knee pushed up against his cock, pleasure shooting up his spine. He panted out around the rope as you continued, pressing your shin into him harshly. His eyes squeezed shut and he trembled, wishing to so desperately touch you and get you to sit on him already but his hands had been bound by his back.

“Oh you’re really enjoying yourself, aren't you?” You cooed, trailing your finger down the knots on his chest; some had been adorned within a heart while others were a typical knot. You smiled at the redness that laid beneath it, digging into his skin and you knew they’d leave marks only you could see afterwards. He practically writhed against you know, so fucking desperate, you knew once you sank down on his cock he wasn’t going to last very long. You’ve been edging him for hours prior whilst you tied the knots after all.

You pulled down his boxers, letting his cock spring out onto the flat of his tummy and you noticed how much precum had leaked out of him during your teasing and rope knots. You kinda felt bad for him and you crawled over him, pulling your lace aside to take him into your entrance. “Fuck, I’m sorry Giyuu.”

“Please, please, fuck me already.” He pleaded around the rope, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth and you sank down in earnest. A long moan was drawn out from him and he thrusted up into your tight heat, nearly knocking you off of him. You steadied yourself on his chest, looking at him as he twitched inside you. His blue eyes were half-lidded, lust clouding them over and you rolled against him slowly so as to not overwhelm him too much.

He bucked up in time with your hips and you clenched around him each time, hurtling towards your own orgasm as you picked up the pace. Whimpers and pleads slurred from his mouth the best he could and you were so grateful that the boy underneath you had been kind to your advances, once Kocho told him.

You were absolutely in love with him.

You felt his hips falter underneath you and you watched as Giyuu arched into his orgasm with a loud whine, his mouth open and the rope falling from it. You followed right after, bouncing on his cock at a fast pace as he whimpered at the oversensitivity. A few moments later, you moved off of him and his cum dripped out of you, down your leg and you cursed quietly.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He apologized, his hair disheveled and there was a shine to his skin, as if he had been sweating. “I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s okay.” You smiled at him, moving to start untying the ropes that littered his body. “I think we’re done for tonight, okay?”

You kissed him gently and Giyuu nodded into it, love intertwining your tongue with his. Yeah, thank God for Kocho Shinobu. And thank God for the rope that fell from his haori, threaded with dirty thoughts.

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

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winkwonkwankwenk · 4 months

Note

Hello! If you're still accepting requests, I'd like to ask for one where Gojo or Toji (your choice) have a bad fight with their partner but they make up in the end (make it very very very angsty please with fluff or spice at the end🥺) thank you😙

Always accepting requests hehe. I'm in a Gojo mood rn, so let's torment our glorious blue-eyed king!!

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: Gojo x Fem!Reader

SFW/NSFW

“God, you’re so fucking dramatic.” You throw your purse down, kicking off your shoes.

“Are you serious? You were just grinding on another guy!” He grabs your wrist, yanking you back. “Don’t walk away from me!”

“What’s the point in staying if you’re just going to accuse me of cheating every five minutes?!” You squirm in his grip, glaring up at him.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t think you were cheating if you were home.”

He’s ridiculous. Ever since the two of you moved in together he had been controlling. He’d get upset if you wore anything tight, anything revealing. He’d throw a fit when you didn’t do your half of the chores and then stomp away. God forbid you leave without telling him, he’d have a meltdown and blow up your phone. If you didn’t answer then he’d assume you were out clubbing and sleeping around.

“Maybe I don’t want to be home with you!” You jerk your arm out of his hand and storm into your bedroom, slamming the door. You throw handfuls of clothes into your suitcase, hot tears streaming down your face to your chin.

“Y/N-” He doesn’t knock, why should he? It’s his room too. “-What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“No, no, you aren’t going anywhere.” Gojo tries to pull the suitcase away but you yank it back, so he grabs a random shirt only for you to grab it too. “Let go, you’re staying!”

“Not with you!” You don’t even care about the shirt anymore, you let go and watch him stumble back. “I’m leaving!”

“To go where? Your other boyfriend’s house?” He follows you as you rush to put on your shoes at the front door, “Answer me! How many are there? Are they better than me-”

“You know what, maybe they are.” Your chest presses against his when you stand, your hands balled into tight fists. “Maybe I should find another boyfriend since you’re so insistent I have a secret one.”

“Don’t you dare even joke about that-”

“I’m not joking, Satoru.” You turn your back on him, the front door creaking open. “I’m done.”

SLAM!

His guilt hits him like a brick, stomach churning as he chews on his own words. Why did he say all of that? Idiot, he’s so fucking stupid. He scrambles to open the door, running down the hall of your apartment complex. He looks around every corner, eyes wide and full of worry. Your perfume lingers in the air, it’s sweet but his mouth is sour. A shaky sob leaves his lips when he realizes you’ve left.

You’re gone.

He tries calling you but it goes straight to voice-mail. He calls some of your friends but none of them tell you where you are, all of them advising him to leave you alone. He’s fucked up bad, the worst he ever has. He knew you had never and would never cheat on him but the thought alone made him anxious. You’re his, only his. If only other guys understood that. He knows he went too far but when he saw you dancing with that guy at the club, watching the guy eye you so hungrily- it made his blood boil.

He waits for you to come home, but you don’t. Two days pass and he hasn’t heard from you. Normally, the two of you text each other I love you at least once, even when you’re mad at each other. He’s sent it, spammed it along with novels begging for you to come home but no response. He started sleeping on the couch just in case you walked in, but you didn’t so he started staying awake in case you called.

You didn’t.

The apartment is too empty, too quiet without you. He’s left alone with his screaming thoughts, each one a sharp stab into his heart. Why haven’t you come home? Are things really over between the two of you? They can’t be. He can’t lose you, he loves you. Gojo loves you more than the summer, more than the bright sun in the sky that kisses his pale skin when he’s outside. He can’t eat, not when you aren’t across from him and laughing about a meme or message. He can’t sleep without hearing your soft snores beside him, holding you in his arms and using your shoulder as a pillow.

One night, he was so down he went to the nearest bar and got so drunk he couldn’t walk. He was a weeping mess, snot leaking from his runny nose as he wailed like a toddler. The staff used one of their phones to call you, and you answered since the number didn’t show up as Gojo’s. Part of you wanted to hang up and pretend you had never been called but you couldn’t. What if he got hurt trying to go home by himself? Why did he even drink that much knowing he was a lightweight? Letting out a weary sigh, you tell your friend that you have to go pick up Gojo. You had been staying at her place to clear your head. She rolls her eyes when you make excuses for him, mumbling about how the two of you should just make up in bed already. Your face warms at the thought but you brush it off, you’re still mad at him.

You didn’t stay mad long.

How could you when he stumbled over to you as fast as he could the moment you got out of your car. He buries his face into your chest, strong arms wrapping around you and refusing to let go. He’s crushing you in his embrace but you lean into it further, hiding your face in his soft hair. You gently rub his back in an attempt to calm him down but he only cries harder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry~” He says in between sharp sobs, “Home. Home please.”

“Alright, breathe, okay?-”

“I can’t without you!” His hands curl into fists in your shirt, “Don’t go! Stay!”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You cup his face, staring into those beautiful blue eyes. “Let’s get you home.”

He clings to you the entire drive back to your apartment, insistent on holding at least one of your hands. He coats it in wet kisses, holding your hand against his face as if he’s freezing. You force your face to stay stoic, forcing yourself to remember all the things he said. He’s a jealous man, a possessive man, a man who showers you in affection every chance he has and spends every dollar he makes tending to you. He would always wake you up with a kiss even if the two of you had fought, something you missed while you were away.

“Satoru, I’m still mad at you.” You struggle to hold his gaze when he gives you those sad puppy eyes. “But…I’ll stay home. Tonight.”

“Only tonight?” His bottom lip quivers, his sniffles loud. “Stay forever.”

“So dramatic.” You sigh as you help him out of the car and into your apartment, grunting as his build weighs you down.

Your eyes widen when you see your apartment in disarray, gifts decorating every surface except the couch, which has pillows and a blanket you swore you threw away months ago. You try sitting him down but he hugs your legs, burying his face into your thighs. You don’t bother pushing his head away, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss his touch.

“You need to lay down.”

“Don’t wanna.” He mumbles, nuzzling your hand when you reach down to pry his face away. “You’ll leave.”

“You said really shitty things-”

“I know, ‘m sorry.” He’s crying again and making that face, the one he knows makes you crumble. “I can’t help it, ‘m scared…”

“Scared of what?” You stumble down on the couch, leaving him kneeled in front of you.

“Someone taking you away.” He lays his head on your lap and whines when you play with his hair, “You’re so pretty…and guys don’t leave you alone…someone’s going to take you away and ‘m gonna be alone again.”

This is what he’s afraid of- being by himself? You sigh, rubbing the nape of his neck. He’s always been a clingy boyfriend and while it annoyed you at times, times like these made you adore it. Here he was, sweet slurred words slipping from his lips as he held onto you tightly. He was an open book, every insecurity laid bare in front of you as he rambled. He’d probably be mortified when he was sober over what he said- if he even remembered.

“Smell good,” He mumbles. He buries his nose between your thighs, “Want taste.”

“Satoru…” You shiver as he bashfully looks up at you, “You’re drunk. You should lay down until you feel better.”

“But I wanna make you feel better.” His tongue traces circles on your inner thighs, eliciting quiet gasps from you. “Y/N, please~”

“F-Fine- fuck~!” You yelp as he tugs your core closer by your hips, his face squished between your legs. “Gentle~!”

“Gentle…” He repeats as he pulls your shorts down, pushing your panties aside. God your scent- he’s already dizzy from the alcohol but now he can’t even think straight.

He slides his tongue in, sucking and slurping between your lower lips. Good, so good, your taste coats his tongue as he pushes it deeper. Your walls are smooth, soft around his fingers as he presses two of them in. You squeeze the couch cushions but he moves your hands to his hair, looking up at you as he devours your sweet cunt. His cock twitches in his dampened pants as he sinks his face into your pussy, nose surrounded by your wet folds as he eagerly licks. You moan, gently tugging his hair and grinding against his mouth when he groans. He moves his tongue from your hole to your clit, teasing your sensitive bud until it twitches between his lips when he pulls it into his mouth. His fingers haven’t stopped swirling inside of you, stroking that sweet spot.

“This is where you’re weak right?” He rasps, letting go of your aching clit long enough to speak before sucking it back between his lips. You cry out when he pushes his tongue between his fingers, the partnership sending you over the edge.

“Satoru~!”

Is he even drunk anymore? He can’t be- not when he’s stroking that spot knowing it’s making you shake and squirm. You try to push his head back but he’s got you pinned down by your thighs, eyes rolled back as he swallows every drop of your juices. This is bad- but it feels so good. What were you even mad at him about again? His tongue leaves your stretched hole, lazily lapping up your juices as you catch your breath. He whimpers as his cock begs for attention, slowly crawling on top of you. His kisses are sloppy, a mix of tongue and teeth as you breathlessly groan into his mouth. Gojo fumbles with his pants until his cock is freed, oozing precum as he nudges your legs apart.

“Y/N…I wanna put it in…Y/N~” He begs, hands intertwining with yours. “Please? Feel good, I wanna make you feel good…”

“Just the tip…” You manage to whisper. The condoms are tucked away in a drawer in your bedroom and both of you are too hot and bothered to go grab them.

“Mhm~” He starts with just the tip, but both of you know it isn’t going to stop there.

Once he starts, he doesn’t stop. His hips rock against yours faster than you can recover from. He’s balls deep in your pussy, stretching and spreading your walls around his girth. He’s panting, gasping, but refusing to stop. Your nails dig into his bag, dragging down it and leaving deep scratches but he doesn’t care. Good- you feel so fucking good wrapped around him and whining under him.

“Nngh- love you, I love you~” He thrusts deeper, faster, hitting your sweet spot mercilessly as you wither beneath him. “Mine, stay mine, don’t leave again~”

“Satoru~! Satoru~!” Is all you can say, all you can moan. You can feel him filling your stomach with his precum, your mouth full of his spit as you makeout.

“Fuck- ‘m gonna cum.” He’s much more talkative now during sex than when he’s sober. “L-Let’s get married~ Y/N, marry me~”

“Satoru~” You purr, back arching as you orgasm for the fifth time.

His thrusts stutter as you clench around him, squeezing his cock like a suction-cup. He can’t hold back, not when you’re doing this to him. He pins your thighs back, exposing your pretty pussy and watching your juices pour out of you. You try to hide it with your hands but he won’t let you, slamming his waist into yours and making you scream and hold onto his shoulders. His eyes are hazy but staring straight into yours as he pounds into you, sweat slipping down his muscles that flex with every movement. He forces himself to pull out, denying his own orgasm.

“W-Why’d you stop?” You look up at him when a tear hits your cheek, “Satoru?”

“D-Don’t deserve to cum…” His tears fall onto you like rain, “I made you mad…I’m a bad boyfriend…”

“No, baby, you’re amazing.” You coo, cupping his face. You force yourself to sit up, kissing his cheek as your hand wraps around his cock. “You can cum, okay?”

“O-Okay-oh~” He moans into your chest as you hold his head down, smothering him with your breasts. “Mmh~”

You stroke him slowly, then speed up. Gojo’s waist arches into your hand as his cock twitches, his breaths ragged. He looks up at you- he tries to, but his eyes keep rolling back as you tease his tip with your thumb. Too much, that’s his weak spot and you know it. Your thumb presses down and he shouts a strangled moan, a mix of gibberish and gasps echoing in your ear. His cock jolts in your hand and shoots thick ropes of cum, decorating your hand with white strings. He slumps against you, mind buzzing as he struggles to stay awake.

“Y/N…don’t go…”

He drifts off, and when he wakes up, he’s in your arms.

Right where he belongs.

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#Wink writes 💗#gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x y/n #gojo x you

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 9 months

Note

best friend! rafe? smut or fluff doesn’t really matter

and i’m never coming down

pairing(s): best friend!rafe cameron x best friend!fem!reader

warnings: pet names, two idiots in love

summary: things between you and your best friend start to change.

authors note: thank you for the request! i hope you enjoy :)

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“which one?” you asked your best friend who was currently laying on your bed on his phone.

he looked between the two tops, squinting as if he was really thinking about this one. “the left one.”

“are you sure? you don’t think its too much?” you asked curiously. all you were doing was going out to eat with him, topper, kelce and their girlfriends.

he looked at it and then you. “no, i think you’ll look perfect in it.”

you turned quickly to put the other shirt back into the closet, but, also to hide the blush painting your cheeks.

“so what time are we leaving?” you questioned, turning back around and laying out the jeans you’d be wearing later.

he took his eyes off of you for just a second to check his phone. “whenever you’re ready.”

“rafe,” you looked to him. “i don’t want them waiting on me.”

he waved it off. “they don’t care. you don’t take long to get ready anyway. you know kelce’s girl takes like 4 hours anyway. they’re always late.”

you sighed and sat down onto the bed beside him, looking up at the butterflies stuck to your wall.

“what’s wrong?” he asked softly.

you looked at him and shook your head. “nothing.”

he glared at you. “c’mon, don’t give me that. i know when somethings up.”

he looked so pretty like this. his hair slightly messy and his quarter zip sweater framing his body perfectly while he tucked his lower half under your sherpa blanket.

“seriously, rafe, it’s nothing,” you said with a slight smile.

“next time you wanna gawk at me, maybe close your mouth or you’ll drool,” he joked.

you shoved his shoulder and chuckled. “i wasn’t gawking and i know for a fact my mouth was closed. don’t get too ahead of yourself, cameron.”

“you know, it’s okay to gawk,” he said.

your brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

his blue eyes were boring into you. “i do it too.”

“to yourself?” you joked, stifling a giggle. “we all knew that, rafe.”

he rolled his eyes at you and flicked your forehead. “no, idiot. at you.” you raised an eyebrow at him. “don’t give me that look.”

“i’m not giving you any look,” you replied with a light laugh.

his eyes traced over your face before locking back onto yours. “why do you do that?”

“do what?” you asked curiously.

he huffed out a breath. “you change the subject whenever i say something like that, or you talk down on yourself all the time as if you’re not the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, let alone know.”

“rafe,” you began.

he cut you off. “you don’t get it, sweetheart. you’re literally the most perfect person ever. i don’t even know why you’re friends with me or what i did to even deserve you.”

your eyes searched his expression. you knew when he was joking. you knew damn well. and right now, all you were finding was sincerity.

his hand reached up and tucked a loose strand on hair behind your ear. “can i kiss you?”

you didn’t trust that some random string of syllables would come out if you opened your mouth, so you opted for a nod.

and it was all you’d ever wanted.

his lips pressed to yours, softer than you could’ve ever imagined. he was so gentle with you almost as if he were afraid you’d break.

the hand that was once moving your hair was now cradling your jaw, pulling you closer to him.

it felt like a dream come true. that was until you had to pull away to breathe.

“you’ve got no idea how long i’ve waited for that,” rafe said with a big, toothy smile.

#gracie writes rafe cameron 🌺#gracies asks and requests 💌#rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #obx

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neo404 · 13 days

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im so obsessed w sub!nick and enemies to lovers rn pls work your magic 🙏

Stupid and Idiot.

Summary: Nick decides to bother you at a party so you decide to shut him up :3

Tw: reader drinks a bit, NSFW. Degradation? Oral sex, eating out, belt used as collar. (idk, I went kinda crazy).

The music is loud on my hears, people dancing around me as I walk to the kitchen to get another drink. The kitchen was surprisingly empty, most people were dancing on the living room or making out on random bedrooms. I open the fridge and take out a bottle with vodka and some orange juice, when I turn around and place them on the kitchen counter, I see Nick standing on the door frame smiling at me, I roll my eyes, that guy can’t leave me alone.

‘’Great, the idiot is here. Do you like me that much you came running here just to see me?’’ I say while starting to make my drink.

‘’Don’t be so full of yourself, in your dreams I come running to you.’’ He walks slowly towards me.

‘’In my dreams you don’t exist.’’ I take a sip of the drink and it burns my throat; I pour a bit more vodka on it.

‘’Sure, I bet you dream about me every night.’’

‘’Yeah, you are the creepy guy of my nightmares, the one that never leaves me the fuck alone so I punch in the face.’’ I smile at him. ‘’How about that? would you like to make my nightmares true?’’ this time he is the one he rolls his eyes at me; I finish the glass in one go to get out of the kitchen as fast as I can.

‘’You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.’’ Nick laughs and starts walking outside of the kitchen but I grab him by the shirt and push him into the wall, his chest and face against the tiles, my chest against his back.

‘’You would like that, won’t you? You filthy bitch. You just love railing me up.’’ A soft moan is muffled by his lips, I can feel him shaking against me and I smile against his ear. ‘’That’s why you are so fucking annoying? You just wanted to get fucked?’’

‘’S-Shut up.’’ He moans out, his hips backing up to meet mine, drawing tiny circles against my bulge.

‘’God, you are so pathetic.’’ I bite his neck playfully. ‘’Laundry room. Now.’’ I turn around walking to the door close to the fridge, I feel Nicks hands on my lower back, pushing me inside the room. I hear the door closing and locking behind me. I turn around and lean into the washing machine, crossing my arms over my chest and spreading my legs a bit. Nick is locking at the door and taking deep breaths. ‘’What? Not so brave now. Is the idiot to shy to talk?’’

‘’I’m not an idiot, you stupid fuck.’’ He turns around, his cheeks are red and he is clearly hard. I smile and tilt my head. ‘’Stop smiling! God, you are so fucking stupid.’’ He takes a step; he is standing right in front of me. ‘’I hate you, you are entitled, egocentric, arrogant and narcissistic.’’ I raise an eyebrow.

‘’You done, sweety?’’ Nick doesn’t say anything, he just looks away from me and crosses his arms. ‘’I’ll take that as a yes, then.’’ I grab him by the hips, turn him around and press him against the washing machine. His hands grab my shoulders, his eyes are wide and I feel him punch my shoulder not too hard. ‘’I don’t like brats. I prefer them more submissive and willing, but I think it will be fun to convert you, don’t you think so?’’ I whisper against his ear, my voice lower on purpose. My hands slowly pushing his shit up a bit.

‘’See, egocentric as fuck.’’ He murmurs and I laugh. I press my lips against his, my knee pressing against his bulge, his hands wrapping around my neck and playing with my hair. One of my hands slide down his shirt and up to his chest, a soft pant escaping his lips, my fingers playing with his nipple, his hips rolling and humping against mine. ‘’Fuck you.’’ He moans when I squeeze his nipple.

‘’I will, darling. Don’t worry.’’ I undo his belt, taking it out and putting it around his neck.

‘’W-what are you doing?’’ he grabs my hands softly.

‘’Don’t tell me nobody has done this to you?’’ he doesn’t answer. ‘’Oh, I’m sorry baby. they haven’t been fucking you good enough. You will love this; I just know it.’’ I buckle the belt around his neck, with enough room for m to fit three fingers between the leather and his skin. ‘’See, now I can move you around however I want to.’’

‘’Entitled idiot.’’ He mumbles and pulls me into a kiss, it’s sloppy and rough. He bites my lips and I bite back, our hips rubbing against each other. One of my hands slides down his pants, rubbing at his clothed cock.

‘’Want me to fuck you? Tell me, tell me how bad you want it.’’ I growl and he shakes his head.

‘’No, fuck off.’’ I smile and squeeze him before backing off. My back touches the wall and I pull the belt making him trip against me.

‘’On your knees.’’ I push him down and he kneels in front of me. ‘’Go on, if you suck me good enough, I might consider fucking you.’’ He frowns at me but undoes my pants and takes out my dick, his mouth opens and takes all of it, his head moving up and down rapidly. ‘’Fuck, you are such a whore.’’ My hand pulls on the belt a bit making him gag, his saliva running down his chin, muffled moans dying on his throat. ‘’God, you love this, don’t you? Bratty bitch.’’ His tongue moves around my length with experience, his blue eyes looking up at me in the dark room, I let out a pant and grab him by the hair, his hands move up from the floor to my thighs, form my thighs to my stomach, massaging up and down. I start moving his head up and down, feeling myself getting closer I pull his head away and his tongue hangs out. ‘’Not yet, get up.’’ He whines but gets up. ‘’Turn around.’’ He turns around and I push him against the washing machine, his back against my chest, both of my arms caging him in. ‘’See? Not so hard to be obedient.’’

I push him gently into the cold metal, bending him, his back arching. I pull down his jeans and boxers, his bare skin touching the cold metal, he lets out whimpers and soft moans, his whole-body shivering. ‘’Fuck me already.’’ He demands.

‘’Baby, you had it in your mouth, you know it won’t be that easy.’’ I massage his hips softly, taking in the sight. I kneel down, kissing softly at his thighs, I feel him squirming, I bite here and there leaving red marks all over him. I kiss his entrance and leave tiny licks all over it, he moans loudly when I finally push my tongue in, his hips sticking out and moving against my face while I eat him out, his moans get louder and louder, I leave one last kiss on his cheek before standing up again.

‘’Wha-Why did you stop?’’ he whines and I roll my eyes, so needy.

‘’Shut up, suck my fingers if you wanna be fucked.’’ I shove two of my fingers on his mouth and he doesn’t complain, his tongue starts moving around them, getting them wet really was, after a few more lips I pull them out. My hand travels down to his already wet hole, the two of my fingers slide in easily, I pump them in and out as fast as I can, his back arching, loud whines and moans leave his mouth pleading for more. His hands grabbing my shirt and pulling at it, I grab his arms and hold them behind his back with my other hand.

‘’Faster! Please.’’ I laugh, curling my fingers a bit hitting the right spot, a breathy moan scape his lips. ‘’Fuck! Right there, please, more.’’ His legs are trembling and his hips are buckling back at my hand.

‘’You gonna cum?’’ he moans in response. ‘’Yeah? Ask nicely.’’

‘’Please, I’m close, please, please!’’

I lean in so my mouth is against his ear. ‘’Good fucking boy.’’ He lets out a loud moan, his hips trembling more, I stick my fingers out and spank his ass. ‘’God, I didn’t even touch your dick. So filthy.’’ His ass is wiggling, backing up against me. I stand up, letting go of his arms. ‘’Want more, sweety?’’ he moans softly. ‘’Words whore. Words.’’

‘’Yes, yes. Please, want you inside.’’ He rubs himself against my hard dick, moaning softly. I spank him again.

‘’Don’t move then.’’ He stops moving, I grab my cock and pump it softly, pre cum falling into his hole, I slap my dick against his ass and slide it. ‘’That’s it. Good slut, arch your back, come on.’’ He raises his hips a bit, his back arching prettily. I reach out and grab the belt, my hips moving slowly against his, I roll my hips and trust slowly, his whimpers loud and his body sensitive.

‘’More! faster, please, please.’’ I tug the belt a bit, moving my hips faster and deeper, knocking the wind off his lungs, he is panting and drooling all over. The washing machine smashing rhythmically against the wall.

‘’That’s it babyboy, moan as loud as you want, no one will hear you.’’ I grunt, his hips moving on circles, buckling against mine, practically fucking himself on my dick. Our moans are loud, his legs shaky, the room is filled with the wet noises and the slams of our bodies, the music entering from the cracks of the door. I feel him twitching around me. ‘’Not yet, hold it in for me. Hold it.’’ He whines and I slap his ass. ‘’Good boy.’’ I move my hips a bit slower, but deeper. ‘’Were do you want it, baby?’’

‘’Inside, want it inside. Please, I need it.’’

‘’Good whore.’’ I lean in, my face against his ear, grunting and whispering at his ear. ‘’Cum for me, cum again.’’

‘’Fuck, fuck, fuck!’’ Nicks face goes down against the cold metal, his legs trembling. He is whinnying because my hips haven’t stopped moving. My grip at his hips tightens and with a few trusts more I feel myself go inside of him, as I slowly pull out, I can see white drops come out of both of us.

‘’Shit.’’ I chuckle. ‘’God, all I had to do to shut you up was this. You should have told me sooner.’’

‘’Fuck off.’’ He pants, holding himself up with his elbows.

‘’You okay there, brat? Want me to clean you up?’’ I coo near his ear, my hands rubbing his lover back and hips. ‘’Just so you know, good boys get to be cleaned up by my tongue.’’ I kiss his cheek and I feel the warmth of his blushed skin against my lips.

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I almost died 5 times while writing this.

#sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo smut

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