#feeling so behind on all my ideas but always too tired to draw as much as i want | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joshym · 1 month

Text

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness.

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive.

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client.

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work.

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs.

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless.

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice.

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands.

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work.

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being.

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once.

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura.

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now.

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight.

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk.

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck.

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over.

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric.

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging.

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going.

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door.

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago.

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.”

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently.

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath.

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head.

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette.

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body.

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade.

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet.

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence.

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips.

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body.

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression.

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you.

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck.

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known.

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice.

“It’s…incredible, Jake.”

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body.

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them.

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp.

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands.

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity.

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth.

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you.

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions.

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being.

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him.

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock.

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.”

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him.

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you.

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure.

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.”

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release.

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax.

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested.

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs.

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with.

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth.

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek.

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand.

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch.

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.”

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.”

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge

Masterlist

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfic #gvf fics #gvf smut #greta van smut #jake kiszka #greta van fleet

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toomuchracket · 6 days

Text

drunk in love (d word matty x reader smut)

d word smut hiatus over, everyone cheer! inspired by a fun anon i got, takes place immediately after this blurb from last year. enjoy <3

matty's skin is warm under your lips, the salt from the ocean you both swam in earlier still lingering faintly. it's a nice contrast to the sweetness of the champagne you're currently sharing, entwined on a blanket on a deserted malibu beach, watching the setting sun.

once you're done kissing all over your boyfriend's palm, you continue your trail up his middle and index fingers, cheekily taking them into your mouth with a wink. matty giggles, champagne escaping the corner of his lip and dripping down his lightly-stubbled chin; quick as a flash, you stop sucking his fingers in favour of catching the liquid on his face with your tongue, savouring the heady taste of it and him before attaching your lips to his own. your brain is already fuzzy from the bubbles in the drink, and matty's lips and tongue certainly don't help it - when he finally pulls away to breathe, slowly releasing your bottom lip from between his teeth and grinning, you're actually woozy.

he brushes a thumb over your cheek, glowing in the golden hour light. “hi, baby. i love you.”

“i love you,” you beam. the words still feel unfamiliar on your tongue, but getting to say them rather than think them makes you glow as much on the inside as matty is in the evening sunlight. “and i love telling you that i love you.”

“me too,” matty kisses your forehead, then your nose, then all over your face, drawing giggles from your throat; with a chuckle of his own, he pulls you into his chest for a cuddle. “fuck, i love you so much. my sweet girl.”

there's no doubt in your mind that he means it. in fact, there's nothing in your mind except thoughts of matty, how much you love him, and how you wish you could stay in this moment forever, bottle the feelings and the atmosphere and cork it like the champagne in your hand.

you think it might be twice as potent as the alcohol, though. but maybe that's just him.

still holding you, matty moves to lie on his back; he twirls your sun-dried hair around his fingers while you shuffle on top of him to get comfy, smiling warmly when you look up at him. he’s so beautiful that it breaks your heart, all happy-tired and messy-haired and soft worn-out band tee, but the total adoration for you in those pretty eyes is enough to mend it again.

with a kiss to his chest, right where his tattoo is, you sit up, stretching as you take a swig of the champagne set into a little well of sand beside you. matty sighs, moving his hands behind his head and continuing to look at you lovingly. “you're gorgeous, you know that, yeah?”

your cheeks burn as you shake your head. “you're drunk, baby.”

“well, maybe a little bit. but you're still gorgeous,” he runs his hands down your bare thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “i always think that. even when i'm asleep.”

“you dream about me?”

“yeah. a lot.”

“nightmares?”

“no, for fuck's sake,” matty huffs out a laugh, flicking you on the thigh while you giggle. “always good dreams, when you're involved.”

“that's cute, babe,” you trace a little heart on the strip of bare skin visible where matty's t-shirt rides up. “what about sexy ones?”

matty smirks, nodding slowly. “oh yeah,” you have no idea if he means to or not, but he slides his hands across the tops of your thighs, pads of his calloused fingers tracing patterns into the silky skin on the inside of your upper legs; it makes you shiver, in the most delicious way. “those dreams are my favourite.”

“really?” you beam, flirtily biting your lip. “what are we doing in them, my love?”

matty watches as you take another drink from the champagne bottle, his pupils dilating yet never breaking from your own. “well, sweetheart, a lot of the time… you're doing something quite like that.”

“oh?” you blink faux-innocently, flicking your tongue over the opening of the bottle. “like this… daddy?”

your boyfriend groans, shuffling beneath you to try and alleviate the obviously-growing hardness in his shorts. still, he doesn't break eye contact with you, even when you slide your lips as far down the glass neck of the bottle as you can. “jesus christ, princess,” he whines, watching you pull off the bottle and tip some more of its contents into your mouth. “c'mere. wanna kiss you.”

mouth still half-full of champagne, you lean down and let your lips be manipulated by matty's. he moans softly when the alcohol falls into his mouth, drawing satisfied noises from your own throat as he licks practically all traces of it from you - these noises only increase in volume and quantity when his hands slide down to grab at your bikini-clad ass, rocking you back and forth across the hardness below you. it's heavenly, actually, being like this with the man you love in a place like this, just the two of you and the day's last warmth of the sun and the soft crashing of the sea behind you. your head is cloudy, from both bottle and boyfriend, but the desire in your stomach is as sharp as it's ever been.

you need to get matty off. now.

pulling back from his lips just enough to talk, you take a deep breath. “daddy,” your voice is soft, eyes wide and adoring and trained right on matty's, just the way you know fucks him up to an insane degree. “please can i suck you off?”

“shit,” comes the shaky reply, your boyfriend's soft lips meeting your own once again before he talks. “right now, sweet girl? princess wants to make daddy feel good, right out on the beach like this?”

you nod, an involuntary rush of pleasure pooling in your bikini. “mhmm.”

“come on, princess, you can do better than that,” matty runs his thumb over your lips, pulling them apart. “be a good girl and use your words, yeah?”

“mkay,” you smile sweetly at him. “wanna make you feel so good, daddy,” you kiss down over his jaw and up his neck, savouring the little moans he can't hold back before you talk again - well, whisper directly in his ear. “wanna show you how much i love you.”

the noise matty makes in response to that is almost enough to make you cum. he gently guides your head so he can look at you properly, kissing you surprisingly sweetly given the circumstances. “love you, my perfect girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “go on, then, do whatever you want to me. m'all yours. always.”

you hum happily. “all mine.”

matty nods, forehead resting against your own, voice barely a whisper. “yours,” he gently taps your cheek. “let me get ready for you, darling, yeah?”

“alright,” with a final kiss to his nose, you climb off matty's lap, watching as he moves to sit back on his knees and then settling onto your stomach in front of him. this position was an accidental discovery, borne out of you being too eager to get your mouth on him to let him move to lie down, and it's now a mutual favourite; you can watch each other, it's quite comfy for both of you, and - most crucially - it's incredibly easy for matty to fuck your mouth if he wants to.

you hope he does, today. but you'll have to put some work in first for that to happen, so you gently tug down his shorts just enough to free his cock, enjoying the little whine from the man above you when you take it in your hand. eyes locking onto matty's, you let a line of spit drip from your lips onto the head of his dick, smiling at the way he breathes shakily when you slowly pump him. “will you hold my hair back for me, please?”

“of course,” matty does as you ask, swearing under his breath when you press a kiss to the tip as a thank you, wrapping your lips around and flicking your tongue over it just as you did with the champagne. “beautiful girl, so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth. use it on me, princess, that's my good girl.”

and who would you be to deny him?

you start slow, shallow, savouring the salt of him on your tongue; it cuts through the lingering sweetness of the champagne in the most delectable way, and soon enough you're speeding up your movements, inching further and further down your boyfriend's dick with every movement of your head. and even if you weren't completely obsessed with the way he tastes, the way he feels… the noises he's making, those gorgeous whimpers and groans and whines of your name, they would be enough to spur you on.

the noises turn to proper dirty talk after one particular movement; when he hits the back of your throat, you can't help but gag slightly, and the feeling of it seems to drive matty insane. “christ, princess, love it when you take all of me in that pretty mouth. so good for me, taking me so fucking well.”

you hum happily around him, pulling off quickly to breathe and beam at matty before ducking back down and taking him fully, again. squeezing your thumb in your fist with one hand, you use the other to flatten matty's hand on the back of your head; he understands immediately, gently pressing you down to keep your lips at the base of his cock and his length in your throat. you gag again, despite your thumb trick, but you don't make any attempt to move - you love being like this, mostly because you know matty loves it. he looks down at you, pretty eyes hazy with desire, smiling lazily as your teary gaze meets his own. “fucking hell, princess, look at you,” he coos. “pretty little - breathe, baby, that's it - pretty little slut for me, aren't you? sucking daddy's dick on the beach, where anyone could see, dirty girl. fucking love it,” his face softens, and he softly wipes the tears from your eyes with his free hand. “fucking love you.”

your heart glows, and you pull your mouth off your boyfriend, gasping for breath but still continuing to stroke him as you refill your airways. pressing a kiss to his hip tattoo, you grin up at him. “love you so much. and i need you to fuck my mouth almost equally as much, daddy. please?”

“god, you're so fucking cute. my needy girl,” matty laughs, massaging your scalp. “and to think you were quite innocent when i met you - had never had good sex, and now you're begging me to fuck your face in public. mental.”

you roll your eyes, cheeks burning - not so much out of shame for what you're doing, but more out of embarrassment for how clueless about sex you were when you met him. “yeah, yeah. but you fucking love it, don't you?”

“i do. i love everything you do,” matty boops your nose, smiling. “being in love with someone tends to make you feel like that, though.”

“yeah, it does, doesn't it?” you kiss the head of his dick again, smiling at the way he giggles. “and you know what i love you doing to me, yeah?”

“point taken, princess,” matty weaves his hands into your hair. “you know the drill - three taps if it gets too much, alright? and please remember to breathe, my love. no dick is worth dying for, even mine.”

you sigh. “you're an idiot. i can't believe i'm in love with you,” readjusting yourself on the blanket, you smile up at your boyfriend. “ready?”

“yeah. you?”

blinking coquettishly, you nod. “yes, daddy.”

“good girl.”

matty's eyes don't leave yours for a second as he slowly thrusts into your mouth. he's beautiful like this, you somehow manage to think despite your pleasure-addled brain, jaw slack and pouty lips parted and chest heaving, looking at you like he wants to eat you alive; that last bit changes when he’s fully down your throat, though, eyelids fluttering shut as he tentatively begins to fuck into you. “oh, baby,” he practically whimpers, hips speeding up a little - involuntarily, you think. regardless, you moan, and the vibrations egg him on even more. “i'm not going to last long, princess. you're too - jesus - too fucking good at this. made for it, yeah? made for me, for gagging on my dick like the slut only i know you are. talk to me, angel. tell me who you belong to.”

christ. you're fucking soaked.

you move to pull away so you can talk, but matty harshly pushes your head back down; another bolt of pleasure gushes into your bikini bottoms as he does. “i didn't tell you to stop doing that, princess,” he murmurs. “are you so cockdrunk that you can't multitask anymore? aww, baby.”

“no,” you whine, the sound barely inaudible with your mouth already so preoccupied. “m'sorry.”

“then i'll ask again,” a sharp tug on your hair makes you look up at your boyfriend - imminently close to orgasm, you recognise. “who do you belong to?”

you do your best to reply as clearly as possible. “i belong to you, daddy.”

matty smiles. “fuck yeah you do, princess,” his hips stutter, as do his moans, signalling what you already knew - he's about to cum. “and whose is daddy?”

fuck, you love him so much. “mine.”

and that's what does it for matty - with a groan of your name, he cums down your throat, holding your head in place until he's totally finished thrusting through the climax. you slide off him carefully, keeping your mouth open and the white liquid on your tongue to show him before you swallow; matty swears as you do, swigging more of the champagne before pulling you up to kiss him, letting the sweet and the salt mingle between the two of you as he wraps his arms around your waist. your head is spinning, a mixture of breathlessness and tiredness and drunkenness and matty, but you know you'll be alright in his arms. safest place in the world, you think.

he kisses your nose when he pulls back. “thank you, my darling. that was… yeah, that was incredible. you were incredible, perfect girl.”

shrugging, you snuggle into his chest. “i just like making you feel good, angel.”

“you're really fucking good at it,” matty giggles, sliding his hands under the hem of your t-shirt and kissing your temple. “will you let me return the favour, sweetheart?”

“can i cash it in a bit later tonight, baby?” you look up at him a bit shyly. “might sound, like, cliché or cringe or whatever, but i kind of just want to watch this sunset with you right now. if you want to, that is. we can do something else if you think it'll be boring.”

matty looks at you so tenderly you think you might cry, an eye-crinkling smile spreading across his face. “i don't think i could ever find anything boring if i was with you,” he kisses you, chastely, but the love is obvious in his lips. “come on, let's cuddle.”

and you do, until the stars appear in the inky-blue sky, and you and matty have drank all the ones stored in the bottle - which, incidentally, you make matty carry you back to the beach for, after you both decide to go indoors, tipsily saying “we can't litter, baby. what if a sea creature gets stuck in it?” and almost toppling the two of you when you reach to pick it up.

he puts you down quite reluctantly on the decking next to the kitchen door, grumbling while you put the empty bottle in the waste bucket. “hate not holding you.”

“awwwwww, baby. s'just for a second, though,” you - with some difficulty, admittedly - gently turn on the hose hanging on the side of the house. “okay - ooh, it's warm,” giggling, you hand the hose to your boyfriend. “right. get me wet, babe.”

matty smirks. “done that already, i reckon.”

“nooooooooo, not like that,” you sigh. “i mean get the sand off my legs. can't go in all messy. s'not our house.”

“could be,” matty says, absentmindedly waving the stream of water at your calves.

“hmm?”

“i could buy it. we could live here,” he smirks as another thought comes into his head. “you could just wear those sexy little bikinis all the time. i'd love that,” his smirk fades into a dazed smile as he daydreams. the hose almost slips from his grasp, and the stream of water goes up too high and soaks your t-shirt as he fumbles to catch it. “oh, fuck.”

you shriek, the water sobering you up. “matthew!”

“sorry, darli- actually, no i'm not,” the smirk returns as your boyfriend takes in the white t-shirt now clinging to you like a second skin. “i am not sorry at all, fucking hell.”

“god, you're such a boy. give me that,” you frown, turning the hose on matty and rinsing the sand from his legs in seconds. “there. easy peasy.”

“you're not going to get me all wet? you know i love it when you do that.”

despite your annoyance, you grin. “take me inside and i might.”

“no need to tell me twice, darling,” matty scoops you up, bridal-style, and carries you through the french doors into the kitchen. with a kiss to your nose, he sets you down on the counter beside the sink, leaving you to flick the cabinet lights on while he closes and locks - with a little bit of difficulty, given his tipsiness - the door, before returning to you for another sloppy kiss. he tastes like champagne, even sweeter than usual, and you're mildly upset by the loss of it when he pulls back and raises your arms for you. “need to get this wet top off you, sweetheart. can't have my love getting a cold, now, can i?”

you giggle, letting him pull the t-shirt over your head and drop it into the sink. “take yours off, too? not that you're as at risk as i am, obv. i just think you're fit.”

he laughs, obliging you. “i love you.”

“love you,” biting your lip, you lightly drag your nails down matty's chest, hooking them in the waistband of his shorts and looking up at him as seductively as you can. “would it be possible for me to cash in that favour from earlier, baby?”

“i like the sound of that,” matty kisses you deeply, hands finding their way home to your tits and squeezing gently. “wanna go down on you first, though, if you'll have me.”

“yeah,” you whisper into him. “how do you want me, daddy?”

he smiles against you. “i want to bend you over this fucking counter, princess. how's that sound?”

shit. your bikini’s practically soaked through. “sounds so fucking good. thank you.”

“my sweet, filthy girl,” matty coos, kissing you. he gently lifts you off the counter and sets you down on the floor, stepping back slightly. “alright, you know what to do.”

with a quick final kiss and a whispered “i love you”, which is eagerly reciprocated, you turn away from matty and bend over the counter. the surface is cold under your bare chest, and your entire body trembles slightly; matty groans quietly at that, a sure sign his eyes are glued to your ass. without warning, he brings his hand down on it sharply, eliciting a moan from your lips and a matching “fuck” from his. “god, princess,” he murmurs, rubbing the now-sore spot on your ass. “you're so fucking hot. gonna make you feel so good, baby, alright?”

“mhmm,” you whimper, wiggling your ass in total desperation. “please, please, daddy.”

“relax, my girl,” there's the sound of movement, and you whimper when you feel his breath on your core. “let daddy take care of you.”

you've barely whined out an agreement before matty's tongue is on your clit, flicking over the bundle of nerves before licking a flat stripe up your cunt. you gasp at the feeling, a gasp that quickly turns to a moan when you feel him dip his tongue into you, groaning at the taste he's often told you is his favourite thing in the world; you never really believe him, but the enthusiasm with which he's utterly devouring you right now hints that he might not actually be exaggerating. his hands are warm, firmly gripping your ass to keep you exactly where he wants you while he makes out - there's really no other word to describe it - with your cunt. you're not sure whether it's drunkenness or tiredness or something else, but matty's sloppier than usual with his mouth, his usual precise (deadly) tongue flicks replaced with messy licks and sucks and grazes with his teeth.

it's not like you'll complain, though; he's still making you feel good, drawing half-screamed whines out of you every two seconds, and you can feel how desperate he is for you to cum, all over his face. and isn't that just the hottest thing of all?

you find it so hot, actually, that you give your boyfriend what he wants in an almost embarrassingly short amount of time. after what seems to be an attempt by matty to bury his entire tongue inside you, your body begins to shake, nerves sending bursts of electric pleasure into the pit of your stomach and lifting your heels off the ground slightly; matty smacks your ass again, a warning for you to keep still so he can finish you off properly, and you whimper. “need to cum, daddy, please, please. so fucking close, so so fucking close. can i?”

matty doesn't answer, but his mouth continues its efforts - your grasp on reality isn't too great at the minute, but you're pretty sure he gets even wilder, even more enthusiastic, licking up past your cunt and frantically sucking your clit in his determination to get you off. and he fucking loves it; in the end, it's the vibrations from him moaning into you that actually tip you over the edge, kinetic energy coursing back through your nervous system as you cry out. “yeah, yeah, daddy, m'cumming. oh, fuck me fuck me fuck me, please, so good, so fucking good.”

amidst your babbling and the orgasm still ebbing from your body, you're vaguely aware of matty pulling away from you, one hand leaving your ass as he pulls himself to stand - that changes about a second later, though, when he slides into you without warning and just thrusts. you smile breathlessly, cheek smushed into the counter, sighing contentedly. “oh, thank you.”

“so sweet for me, princess,” matty laughs breathily, his tender tone at odds with the roughness he's fucking you with. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you whine at a particularly good thrust. “oh, fuck, daddy, please don't stop.”

“wouldn't dream of it, my love,” he presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. “you gonna be a good girl and cum for me again?”

“yes.” you aren't lying - already, your limbs are starting to tremble again.

“yes what?” matty fucks harder into you, hips slapping against your own. “who is it that's making you feel so good, princess?”

you gulp, eyes rolling back into your head from the overwhelming pleasure. “yes, daddy. s'you making me feel good, making me cum.”

the smile in your boyfriend's voice is audible. “that's my girl. c'mere, sweetheart,” matty pulls you up so your back is flush against his chest, still fucking you as he turns your head to look over your shoulder. “give daddy a kiss.”

you oblige eagerly, sloppily kissing him and letting his tongue explore your mouth. throughout it all, his hips don't let up, and the pressure in your stomach grows with every further movement. “m'close again,” you whimper into matty, moaning when you feel his hand slide down the front of your body to your clit. “so close.”

“yeah?” you boyfriend coos against your lips. “want me to make you cum, sweet girl?”

the pleasure is blinding, your vision literally blurring as you reach breaking point. “please, daddy.”

matty smiles, fingers frantic between your thighs. “go on then.”

his lips attach themselves to your neck as you tip your head back onto his shoulder, orgasm hitting you like a freight train for the second time in minutes. you wail a garbled mixture of your boyfriend's name and the nickname only you call him, throwing an arm back around his neck to keep him close while he fucks you as best he can through your climax, given that you're clenching so tightly around his dick.

once the aftershocks subside, you flop forward; matty stops you from clattering against the counter by wrapping an arm around your stomach and lowering you gently, hips faltering as he chases his own release. “shhh, baby, i know,” he murmurs, hand returning home to your hip and softly rubbing patterns into the skin. “so good, so perfect for daddy, princess. want me to fill you up?”

turning your face on the cold wood, you smile at him, completely fucked out - he doesn't look any better, you note, sweaty and tired and red and maybe the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. “mhmm,” you nod slowly. “love you.”

“i love you, so much - oh, fuck, sweetheart,” matty spills inside you with a groan, resting his forehead against your back as he slows to a stop. you can feel him smiling into you. “christ, i'm fucking knackered - well, actually,” pulling out of you with a hiss and a hushed “sorry, baby”, matty turns and lifts you to sit on the counter, angling your hips just so to avoid creating more of a mess. “reckon i'm awake enough to clean you up before bed, if you like.”

you card your fingers through his hair. “you really do so much for me. s'amazing.”

he shrugs. “what can i say? i love you.”

smiling, you pull him in for a hug. “i love you too. come on, let's go and clean up.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #matty healy fic #matty healy smut #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty x reader #matty healy x reader

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caitlinbueckers · 13 days

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ok Ik you said Pazzi fic in studio but will never get the idea of Paige calling azzi mamas out of my head so just felt like I needed to share an idea for a blurb or to include in anything you write PAIGE CALLINF AZZI MAMAS

anon ur a genius but i am simply a fool who took this prompt and then ran with it and turned it into a random oneshot soooooo i apologize for the minimal use of ‘mamas’ but hope u like it anyway and will implement that in all my writing deadass

pet names.

paige bueckers/azzi fudd.

2.8K.

kinda bullshit rambling but a lil more of a structure to follow???

minimal nsfw so 18+ as fuck

Wait guys let me know how u rly feel bcuz im not suuuper happy w this one

at first, it’s a subtle change.

it’s not like paige is ever actually serious enough for her words to be taken to heart or with any ounce of meaning behind it— she’s a fucking idiot, and azzi was more than well aware of her incessant antics, and the fact that she just played too much.

so, of course it surprises her, but she can’t say it really means anything, until it does.

it’s funny to azzi, really, when recently, all of a sudden, paige will get caught up in her usual tangents that she’s started letting these random, little pet names slip from her lips, mouth moving so fast, almost as if she barely meant it, could barely even call it out herself.

it happens usually when they’re tired— or, at least when azzi’s tired, and paige is excited. sweat clinging to the back of azzi’s neck, her curls drawing up and away from the edges of her hairline, skin flushed and hot to the touch when paige is suddenly breezing past her. she’s somehow still in a jog despite the rigorous drills they’d done, oblivious to the redness of her face or the plastered strands of blonde hair against her forehead. she’s at the tail end of a conversation with KK, still grinning like a fool about whatever they must’ve been chattering about, yelling out some type of phrase or joke that only those two could conjur up.

azzi’s right eyebrow is already lifted, somehow already suspicious and unimpressed of her intentions when paige is launching straight into a new conversation, cheeks still pink and teeth on display as she skips backwards to keep her eyes on azzi.

“i think me an’ KK are ‘finna go play 2K when we get back to the dorms— i told her ass she doesn’t stand like, a single chance when I’ve been on my grind, and she don’t believe me, like, baby, you know i’ve been on that shit,” she clicks her tongue, rolls her eyes before she’s smacking azzi’s arm, giving her a sneaky grin, one that signaled whatever she was offering was really gonna be a delight, (it never was), “you should come chill. you don’t gotta play if you don’t want, you can always be my lil’ cheerleader.”

it wasn’t like her high energy, rapid movement behavior was anything unusual, but that little, barely missable word was.

baby. it rolls off her tongue like it’s been waiting around the whole time, lingering beneath the surface, waiting for the moment to strike. she says it with an ease of comfort she can’t necessarily place, and azzi doesn’t necessarily hate it, but it’s there, nonetheless.

it momentarily stunts her, but azzi still finds herself smiling— not from any type of fluster or flush miraculously, but one that she usually gives paige when she’s amused by her, eyes wide and exaggerated as she huffs out a chuckle. “that sounds… boring, honestly.” but, she’s laughing at the gape on paige’s face anywa, “i need to shower, dude, i don’t wanna watch video games.” she scoffs, before she grins at her, only because she knows it’ll piss paige off.

and it does, so, of course the walk out to the parking lot is filled with a whole lot of, ‘oh my god, bro, you’re so lame.’ or, ‘like, azzi, you can have a turn ‘forreal, like just come over for like, deadass a second.’

ultimately, and unsurprisingly enough, paige ends up getting her way. though, she’ll swear it’s only because azzi takes her shower, does some homework and is in the middle of taking out her braids when the word hits her again, and again, and again.

babybabybaby.

she can’t really blame the way she rolls her eyes despite herself. her and paige had been close for fucking ever, so there wasn’t necessarily much between them that was off limits, but it still resonated within her as something azzi couldn’t just brush off. whether that was more damaging than pretending it never happened, she didn’t have a single clue.

all she did know, was that paige bueckers got her way entirely way too much. so much so, that azzi has to let out an audible groan reserved only for paige, before she texts that she’s on her way over.

and yeah, whatever, maybe it wouldn’t matter so much if it was just a one-off, or if maybe their friendship wasn’t so fucking complicated in the first place.

but then, it does matter, because it doesn’t stop happening.

when paige is frustrated at her homework, sitting plainly with her legs at full extension in the study room with aaliyah, ice, and azzi, it leaves her lips in a huff of exasperation, “azzi, babe, this shit really makes no sense, swear.” even if she’s saying it in the voice that clearly states she hasn’t attempted it for nearly long enough to proclaim she doesn’t get it, “az, can you please just come check it out.” azzi can’t tell what’s worse; the fact that paige had said it, or the fact that nobody had even looked surprised that she did.

or when they’d gotten dressed for media day, everyone milling about as they try not to wrinkle their uniforms or crease their concealer, it’s paige (and eventually nika and aaliyah) that whoops and hollers during azzi’s solo pictures, something like, “yeaaaah princess! nation’s best, babyyyyy! work that shit!” followed by a series of whistles that sounded so off pitch it makes azzi snort, rolling her eyes as she purposely avoids the gaze that paige so obviously wants to capture, teetering at the edges of azzi’s peripheral with a grin so wide it threatens to make her blush.

and, she swears she doesn’t, and instead turns back to the photographer with cheeks only a touch pinker than they were previously, “sorry— can we do that again?”

really, the only time she’d ever allowed herself to actually enjoy it, was on the last night at the hotel after a game. it couldn’t have been later than two or three in the morning, paige and azzi having spent the majority of it whispering beneath the covers, anything to not wake up the two other girls asleep in the other double bed.

it’s not too bad, having to share beds— except that, paige is a chronic cuddler and azzi would rather sleep on the shitty futon than be subjected to paige’s unrelenting weight against her back, or her arms slung lazily over her, but it was because of that precise position that azzi could even hear the words when she says it.

“mmmh-,“ she hums tiredly first, speaking mostly out of her ass, like paige always did when got too tired and let herself start rambling ��night, pretty girl.”

it’s soft, and sort of raspy— the way paige gets when she’s been screaming all night on the court, and azzi can really only tell by the amount of ibuprofen that she’d downed before bed being somewhat more than her usual, that she’s probably got a headache. it’s a voice she uses when she’s being sincere.

the quiet sentiment, however insignificant to anyone else, replays in her mind. almost like a secret. almost like the closer she keeps it to her chest, the harder it’ll be to lose it.

it makes her whole body warm all over.

her response comes a few beats later, when she’s sure paige has drifted, and nothing but her measured breath is puffing against azzi’s neck, heard only between the two of them.

“night, p.”

but then, suddenly, everything sort of changes. azzi doesn’t know when this part happened— maybe it’s between the time she kisses her at that bar, tipsy and too close, unaware of the camera that set the internet aflame, and now, where it was customary that paige did homework with her, or ate dinner with her or slept over all the time. perhaps, it’s one selective moment in the chaos between that had suddenly transformed paige’s subtle casualty of the pet names, to something more intimate. more for them, rather for anyone else.

or, maybe it was exactly where they knew they’d end up all along.

it’s after a night out, after neither of them had ever really questioned how this had became their routine. that now, it had become something unspoken, an inherent rule that was followed without it needing to be stated. that, when they got too fucked up with the team, and the ubers were being ordered, azzi and paige always went together, that the address would always end up being paige’s dorm, and that azzi would always be curling into purple sheets by the time she sobers up enough to sleep.

but, she’s not sober. she’s drunk, and her face is flushed hot, sticky with the bar atmosphere. “paige, you’re making me too hot.” azzi complains with an impatient lilt to her voice, lifting her right shoulder up to her neck as if to shrug paige off, but the girl is relentless, humming her denial as she slid a hand across azzi’s thigh, grasping it hard enough that her nails dug into the skin there.

“psh, you’re already hot, shut up.” the words are spoken clumsily, lips brushing against the bare skin of azzi’s shoulder with each word, while a sudden surge of annoyance and somehow gratitude courses through azzi for having worn a sleeveless top, “c’mere, mamas, ‘lemme lay on you.”

she’s being whiny, and it only makes azzi roll her eyes before her gaze flickers to the screen of the car, giving her another light elbow prod, only this time, a short, sneaking smile is crossing her face. “paige, ‘forreal, we’re about to be back anyway.”

this, somehow, only fuels her. “i’m wounded,” she complains, before she’s pressing a little smack of a kiss to azzi’s neck, “my girl’s so mean to me, shit.”

my girl.

what the fuck ever.

azzi should’ve demanded an explanation then, but she doesn’t.

in fact, there’s not an explanation waiting for them when they stumble into paige’s room, their hands in a tight grasp, pulling each other in so that they can both fall against the bed, and azzi really shouldn’t have been expecting one. it’s definitely not explained when they’re somehow under the blankets, and paige has an arm, long and lean, wrapped around azzi’s waist to end somewhere between her legs, fingers finding a rhythm that seems to pull the very air from azzi’s lungs.

it’s not what azzi was expecting to happen, and yet somehow they’d fallen into place like it something they’d done a million times. paige had undressed her, after azzi’s complaint of still feeling too hot, and paige— not even a singular bit sober— finds her hands along the bottom of azzi’s top, tugging it over her head before she tosses her an old basketball camp shirt that had been slung across her dresser.

“you gonna sleep in jeans?” is really what had started it, paige’s pointed tone making azzi’s face burn hot, but the smirk on her face never faltered. “you’re so annoying.”

because then, paige has her fingers hooking into azzi’s waistband, eliciting a string of giggles that escape because fuck, she’s ticklish and paige knows. “what? what am i doing?” the blonde is grinning too, snickering under her breath as azzi’s pants are yanked down her hips, kicked from her feet with minimal effort until azzi feels it. a featherlight kiss was placed to each of her scarred knees, the inside of her thigh, eyes flickering up to azzi’s hazy but steady gaze, “this okay?”

god, azzi hadn’t realized until just then how fucking okay it was.

it’s quiet, sensual even, the way that paige talks her through it— heel of her hand dragging endlessly against her swollen clit, fingers thick as they arched into her, teeth grazing the back of azzi’s shoulder with each word of encouragement.

“c’mon, mamas, jus’ like that.” had anyone known better, they’d think paige must’ve been getting off just to this, by the way her own voice hitched and caught, her own hard swallows that reverberated in azzi’s ear, each laced with little gasps as she plunged into her wetness.

but, azzi did know better— paige was absolutely getting off to it. her voice is all breath, crackling and barely audible, murmuring incoherent mumbles that make it almost incomprehensible to decipher, yet, azzi swears she can understand.

it’s in her ear, over and over, that heat and pressure between her legs building as her hips twitched involuntarily against her knuckles, feels the way they slide deeper within her and azzi lets out a noise that even she’s too embarrassed to recount. “fuck, i wanna hear that shit, need to hear you baby, please.”

it coaxes the orgasm straight from azzi’s core, thighs involuntarily squeezing around paige’s hands, to which the blonde is silent in muted awe. she watches with bleary eyes but bated breath, sitting up only a bit to really witness it. the way azzi’s face drew up, eyebrows furrowed and lips parting, the whimper edged breaths that huffed out of her, the tight clamping of her eyes shut.

“so fucking pretty,” each word is punctuated in a kiss, “so good.”

really, it should’ve been a lot worse for them the next morning. azzi can’t help the wave of a ground shaking realization she gets when she rolls over to inspect paige’s sleeping expression, lips slightly parted, her blonde hair mussed on the pillow behind her. there should’ve been some type of lingering awkwardness that hung above them, some type of trepidation or fear, maybe even regret.

it definitely wasn’t like they talked about it, but they’d also never quite gone this far. did they need to? probably, because azzi knew that the guilt would probably hit sooner or later.

in fact, azzi waits for it to hit, all the way until paige wakes up, and her eyes are a little puffy, watery blue and clear as she blinks up blearily at azzi like she’s the finest thing she’s ever laid eyes on (because she is), and whispers with a grin, “distracted by my beauty?”

she waits even until the next away game, when her legs are propped up over paige’s lap and her fingers are drumming absently against azzi’s thigh, humming something in her headphones with her eyes shut, looking like a complete idiot, before their eyes meet by chance when paige opens them, and suddenly, they’re both grinning.

she even waits for it to hit when the buzzer goes off after the fourth quarter of that game, an easy win, and confetti is thrown. it’s chaos really, with all the girls rushing through the tunnel to get back to the lockers. that is, until, paige pulls her aside for half a second, hidden away from the hungry eyes to press a solid, sweet kiss to her lips.

but it doesn’t end there. azzi waits for it during her injury, when enough nights in linoleum covered white floors with the constant smell of antiseptic start to pierce the inside of azzi’s brain, ruins her attitude enough that paige’s texts go unanswered. and yet, everytime azzi wakes up, the pain in her leg flared and angry, it’s paige that’s sat in the corner of the room, huddled under a shitty hospital blanket, waiting for her to wake up.

it went even as far as the loss against IOWA when the roles are reversed— after the excitement of final four had became real, after the grueling, rampant preparation, and then ultimately, a loss. it’s when azzi gets permission to stick around in paige’s hotel room until she gets back from the game, and the way that the blonde, finally in the safety of the four walls, found herself crumbling to azzi, becoming nothing but a shell of what everyone perceives her to be, everything paige wishes she fucking wasn’t.

it’s only then, that azzi finds herself returning the favor— arms wrapped tight around paige’s waist with a burning, sting in her own eyes that she can feel the moment she sighs against the crown of paige’s head. she can smell the sweat, the smell of a basketball court that had just gotten waxed, but really, azzi just smells paige, and that’s enough to give her the composure she needs to whisper against her head, “don’t be so hard on yourself, baby… you guys did so good.”

and they don’t talk about it, because they don’t need to. the same way they never had to ask the other when it came to the hospital or bus rides or homework dates or hotel rooms— it was unspoken, implied but never mentioned. the same way back when they’d met at USA camp, it was never a matter of conversation for their plays to work, it was all in the matter of a look, or a slight of hand.

and when the team starts asking, giving paige shit about how she’s missing video game nights with KK or azzi’s getting shit about caroline missing her study partner, everybody already knows. when paige tells nika, voice only a little timid as she gives her a condensed version of the last few months like it was a ground shaking news, head tilted to lean on the older girls shoulder, the brunette bursts into laughter. ‘finally, took you guys long enough.’

and really, it was a wonder they hadn’t been like this the whole time.

a wonder that it had taken this long in the first place.

#paige bueckers #pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #writing asf #anon asf

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rollingsins · 1 year

Text

falling all in you

summary: Vada makes a purchase for the two of you. 18+ smut.

pairing: vada cavell x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ smut, strap-on sex, slight breeding kink if you squint.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: for anon who requested top!vada. let me know your thoughts and what you want to see next!

When Vada had invited you over that afternoon to “study”, you’d expected it wouldn’t be long before you’d be under her like this. You’d been dating for a few months now, and often found it hard to keep your hands off each other. Especially on afternoons like this, when Vada had the entire house to herself.

This time, she’d reached for something under the bed, coy smile as she caught the look on your face. The rush of want that coursed through you had been stifled only by how long it was taking her to get the damn thing on.

“One sec. Hold on.” Vada says. Her face is knitted in concentration. She fiddles with the strap. “Technical difficulties.”

She lets out a frustrated sigh. “Damn. How do dudes do this every time?”

“They don’t.” You say, deadpan. “Remember?”

She has the good sense to look slightly sheepish.

“Right. Duh.” She twists her hips, trying to loosen the straps. It doesn’t work.

“Maybe I should wear it.” You suggest, a little impatient. Vada’s parents are out, but you’ve no idea when they’ll be back. The last thing you want them to come home to is Vada trying to figure out how to strap a plastic cock to her hips.

“No.” Vada says, a little quickly. You raise an eyebrow.

“I want to use it on you.” She says, biting her lip, “I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

You smile at that. Rub your hand over her forearm.

“Have you now?”

“Yes. So help me with this, will you?”

It’s kind of erotic, helping her tighten the straps around her hips. The toy is bright pink, not too big, not too small. You’d spoken about getting one a few times, it was something you’d both wanted to try. You hadn’t expected her to find one so fast.

“Where did you even get this from?” You ask, “Did you put it on your mom’s credit card?”

“I got it online, told my mom it was her Christmas present so she wouldn’t open it.” Vada says.

You raise an eyebrow ”That was- risky. What if Amelia had opened it?”

“Amelia knows better than to touch my stuff.” Vada says, blowing her hair out of her face, “There. I think I’ve got it.”

She moves her hips slightly, watches as the dildo jiggles. Loops it around in a circle. “I’ve always wanted to do the helicopter.”

“You’re making this remarkably unsexy.” You say, hide behind a laugh.

She raises an eyebrow, then lifts her shirt over her head. Your eyes fall straight to her breasts.

“How about now?” She asks, with a smirk. Playful, like she knows she has you. You let out a small sigh.

“Not fair. Jerk.” You whisper as she pulls you in.

You kiss for a while. You don’t ever get tired of kissing Vada. Her lips are addictive, they taste like Cola and strawberries, a blend of your respective lip glosses. You cup her cheeks with your hands, groaning slightly as she pulls you into her, and onto her lap. You’re already naked, she’d seen to that earlier. You feel the silicone of the dildo against your stomach, sending a white coil of arousal through your body.

“I bought some lube too.” She says breathlessly. You draw her hand down to you, whimpering as she cups you.

She’s smiling as she pulls back. “Though I guess we don’t need it.”

“Shut up.” You pull her back into you, cheeks reddening.

Her fingers find your clit, rubbing gently. You slip your tongue into her mouth. You feel her hands under you, trying to guide herself in. It’s a little awkward, the way you’re sitting. She isn’t used to it. In one swift movement she’s pushing inside you.

Your fingernails dig into her bare back as she slides in. You let out a low moan as she fills you up.

“Fuck.”

“Good?” Vada murmurs. Her nose brushes your cheek. The toy is cold, much colder than her fingers and so much girthier. It takes you a minute to get used to it. The stretch burns you, in the nicest way.

“Yes. Holy shit.”

Her hands fall to your hips, gripping you tight. You kiss her again, gently rock yourself down into her lap. The head hits you just right. You wrap your arms around her shoulders, trying to get as close to her as you can.

Her lips dip down to your neck.

It feels amazing. She feels amazing. Her bare skin against yours, her tongue against your collarbone. You thread your fingers in her hair, trying to hold her in place.

“Should we talk dirty?” Vada’s asking. Her voice is a little gravelly, low. She’s turned on, “It feels like we should be talking dirty.”

You bite your lip. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked, and it didn’t really surprise you. Vada loved to talk. To a fault. It was one of the things you loved most about her.

“Do you want to talk dirty?” You ask, unable to hold back a smile. You press your lips to hers.

“Yeah.” She furrows her eyebrows. Thinks a moment, “What do I say?”

You try not to laugh. Smooth over the crease between her eyebrows with your fingers, “Just tell me what you want to do to me.” You say, nuzzle your lips against her neck. You can feel her heart jumping, smooth the skin over with your tongue.

“I want-“ She thinks for a moment. “I want to fuck you.”

“Mm.” You murmur, ride her a little faster,” What else?”

“Um.” She thinks. “I want to fuck you hard.”

“I think we established that, baby.” You bite your lip. She isn’t good at this. It’s sweet. Endearing. You press your lips to her cheek as you tilt your hips down onto the dildo.

“I don’t know.” She whines, “This is hard. You try.”

You bite your lip, lean in a little closer, until your lips are brushing the shell of her ears. “I want you to throw me back onto the bed and fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Her mouth falls open. In less than a second you feel her hands grasp tight around your body as she lifts you up, back into the mattress. She falls atop you, and you groan as the strap-on sinks even deeper into you.

She kisses you feverishly. Her entire weight on you as she thrusts her hips into you.

“Oh my god, Vada.”

It feels even better than before. The way she jerks her hips, kissing you furiously. You’re completely encompassed by her. Her lips, her hair in your face, her hands on your thighs, holding you open so she can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“You look so fucking hot right now,” Vada says. Her eyes are dark, her lips wet with your saliva. She reaches down between your bodies to rub your clit.

The sensation almost sends you careening off the edge. She dips down, grazes her teeth over your neck. “I love fucking you like this.”

“Harder, baby.” You gasp, moaning out as she complies. Her hips jerk into yours, steady, never faltering. You can’t believe how good it feels. How natural this is for her. You bury your head in her neck, groaning out as she rockets into your g-spot.

“Like that?” She murmurs. You nod, rather violently.

“Yes, just like that.”

“I wish I could feel it.” She says, voice feverish, “I wish I could feel how tight you are. I wish I could fill you up with my cum.”

Your stomach coils pleasantly.

“Jesus, Vada.”

“Too much?”

She’s pulling back slightly, stilling her hips. Apprehension on her face.

You jerk your head, a little too quickly. Try and tug her back into you.

“No.” You say. Voice desperate, needy, “Keep going.”

Her hips rocket into you. Purposeful. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body.

She’s driving you to the edge.

“Are you close?” Her voice is tight, “I think I’m going to cum.”

The thought of her cumming from this alone sends a shiver down your spine. You clutch her close, press your lips to her neck.

“Fuck. Yes baby, cum. Cum inside me.” You say, voice desperate.

That does it. You feel her tighten against you, wildly jerking her hips as she cums hard. The change in pace sends you toppling over the edge with her, moaning into her ear as your orgasm ripples through you. She slumps on top of you, lays while she catches her breath.

Your heartbeat thrums pleasantly, you wrap your arms around her body, press a kiss to her head.

“That was so hot.” You mumble after a while, “How are you so good at that, already?”

She looks up at you with a wide grin.

“I’ve been doing hip thrusts in the gym.” She says, rather proud, “I told Nick it was for soccer.”

At that, you laugh.

“You’re so cute.” You mumble against her lips. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You could lay like this forever. Press a sleepy kiss to the top of her head. Then remember it’s four in the afternoon and her mom will be home to make dinner soon.

“We should shower.” You say, half-heartedly. “Put that thing away before your parents get home.”

Vada hums against you. Presses a kiss to your shoulder before she’s peeking up at you, mischievous smile on her lips.

“We could. Or… we could do it again?”

#vada cavell #vada cavell x reader #the fallout #vada cavell x you #vada cavell x femreader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #mine

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void-wolfie · 10 months

Text

you drew stars around my scars

summary: Jenna comforts you on a bad day.

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

tw: mentions of self harm, anxiety

words: 560

a/n: a bit short and not my best work, but i've always loved this idea and wanted to write something for it

You hated your appearance. Every time you looked in the mirror, it didn't feel like you were looking at yourself. Ironic for someone working in the acting business.

You thought you hid your insecurities well, burying yourself behind fake confidence and oversized hoodies. No one knew the pain you carried with you, that is, till you met Jenna.

Jenna saw through it all. She could look past the smiles and one-liners and see the tired mess you truly were. She could see the signs that no one else cared to. The constant long sleeves and baggy clothes, the dark circles under your eyes, the way you'd zone out in the middle of conversations or bite at your lip when met with a little too much scrutiny.

Jenna quickly became a source of comfort for you. She was always there, supporting you even when you refused to talk about what was bothering you.

It was the first day of the convention, where you and Jenna, along with a few others, were set to talk on panels and interviews about your upcoming project.

You'd forgotten your meds. You were a mess. Anxiety through the roof. All those self-deprecating thoughts you'd managed to subdue coming back at breakneck speed. How you'd survive the day was beyond you.

Jenna was watching you from the corner of her eye. Your knee was bouncing up and down rapidly, your bottom lip between your teeth as you chewed on it, twisting the pendant of your necklace between your fingers. You were a nervous wreck.

Jenna picked up the spare Sharpie sitting on the table, spinning it between her fingers as she thought of what to do, how she could help. There had to be something...

You were busy distracting yourself with your phone when an earbud came into view. You looked up to see Jenna holding out an airpod to you, the other already set in her ear. You took it, putting it in. She handed you her phone, already opened to Spotify, letting you pick the music.

You picked a song from her playlist, the soft sounds of a Taylor Swift song filling the silence.

"Can I draw on your arm?"

Your head shot up; voice caught in your throat as you tried to think of some answer.

"Sure..." The others weren't around, and you trusted Jenna with your secrets. Besides, you didn't have the heart to say no to her anyways.

You rolled up the sleeve of your jacket, setting your arm on the table. She flipped it over and your heart caught in your throat. You saw her hesitate at the sight of the faint white lines and fresh pink scars that littered your skin, clear evidence of your bad habit. But she didn't say anything. Instead, she uncapped the sharpie and got to work, drawing little stars between all the scars.

Jenna had known about the scars, about your little vice. But she'd never mentioned it and she'd never seen the scars up close before. It hurt her, to know you were hurting yourself. But she couldn't judge you for it, not when you meant so much to her.

When the others finally arrived, none of them said anything about Jenna doodling all over your arm. Nor about the way you sat next to her, head on her shoulder, fast asleep.

#jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #void-wolfie

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noellawrites · 8 months

Text

Involuntary Celibate - Yandere!Carmy Berzatto x reader

requested & also helped by @tryingtowritefanfics <3

summary: Carmy's been saving himself for you... but he's tired of waiting.

warnings: 18+, incel!Carmy, teasing, dub/non-con, forced breeding, rape

"Yo chef, can you stay late for prep?" Carmy asks as he passes behind you.

"Of course, chef!" you pipe, turning around and smiling at your boss.

He stole a glance at the sauce you were working on and cocked his head towards it.

"Go ahead, I need some feedback," you confess, handing him a spoon.

As his lips touch your creation and his eyes brighten just a bit, you can't help but blush. After a year of working for him, you'd developed quite a crush on the man.

"Excellent, chef. Just try adding a bit more honey," he offers, looking right into your eyes.

You thought about that interaction for the rest of your shift, even as everyone else left.

—

Now, it was past ten and only you and Carmy remain.

You sidle up to Carmy, leaning over the large metal table as he works on one of his drawings.

He looks over at you briefly, his mouth cracking into a small smile before turning back to his work.

Before you could stop yourself, you reach out and touch one of the tattoos on his left arm, the world inside the measuring cup.

"I love this one," you whisper, tracing the cup's thin lines.

Carmy immediately stops drawing. Unbeknownst to you, Richie's words from the past few weeks were echoing through his mind.

"C'mon 'cuz, why haven't you tapped that yet?" "Carm, she's obviously fuckin' obsessed with you." "Jesus 'cuz, you can't be a virgin forever." "If Mikey were here, he'd tell you how much of a loser you are."

Before you knew what was happening, Carmy grabs your arm with his right hand and pins your back against the table. Alarm bells ring through your head but you can't move, your body feels numb.

"Stop fuckin' teasin' me," Carmy grits, pressing his body against yours. You can feel his hard-on through his pants as it presses against your midsection.

You have no idea what else to do, so you lean up and press your lips against his. His strong arms wrap around your waist as he deepens the kiss, groaning and bucking against you.

You let out a loud moan as Carmy works his way down your neck with his mouth. All of a sudden, you feel his big hand attempting to tug your bottoms down. You reach down and grab his hand, but he slaps your hand in response.

"You've been teasing me for months, it's my fuckin' turn to take what belongs to me," he hisses, and you immediately start to feel your eyes water.

"C-Carm, please—" you start, but he cuts you off.

Carmy leans in, lips ghosting over your ear as he says, "I'm done with your shit. I'm gonna knock you up and leave you beggin' for more."

"Carmy, I-I'm a virgin. Please don't do this to me!" you beg, still trying to push against him in vain. He has you trapped, no chance for escape.

"I'm a virgin, too. Been savin' myself for you, so we can lose it to each other. We can start our own family, leave our fucked up ones behind," he promises, and you can hear the strain in his voice. Probably a combination of his intense lust and deep desire to get you pregnant.

"Stop, please! I'm not ready to—" you try again, but Carmy cuts you off by clamping a hand over your mouth. With his other hand, he finishes pulling your pants and underwear down.

"You're so good, all wet for me, huh? Slutty women like you are always fuckin' teases," Carmy hisses, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock.

You might've enjoyed this, following maybe four dates and a label and maybe a condom. But you clenched your eyes shut, trying to pretend you were anywhere else.

Anywhere but being cornered and raped by your boss while he tries to put his baby inside you, a little baby Berzatto blossoming inside your womb.

"Hmm—mphh!" you try to speak through Carmy's hand over your mouth. He was almost fully sheathed inside of you, groaning while rocking his hips into yours.

Your extreme discomfort shifted into throbbing pain as his cock breached your cervix. You couldn't stop the tears from filling your eyes as he fucked you harder, like a man on a mission.

Pain mixed with pleasure flooded your senses as Carmy groans, painting the walls of your cervix with his cum.

"Richie and Mikey'd be so fuckin' proud’a me," he says under his breath as he pulls out of you, immediately yanking your underwear back up to keep his fluids inside your pussy.

He un-clamps his hand from your mouth as he shuffles back into his black pants and buckles his belt.

“Why did you do this to me, Carmy?" you sniffle as his intense gaze meets your eyes.

"Because I love you. You're mine now, you'll never be with anyone else," he says, a bored expression on his face.

You can't hold back anymore. You burst into tears, a mixture of post-coital emotions and terror at the very real possibility of a baby inside you.

Carmy pulls you into his chest, holding you close to him as your tears soak through his white shirt.

"I love you so much," he whispers, and you cry even harder. You're never going to escape Carmy Berzatto, you know that now.

#carmy berzatto x reader #the bear x reader #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagine #yandere carmy berzatto #yandere the bear #lip gallagher x reader #jeremy allen white

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riddle-me-ri · 3 months

Text

a/n: I totally didn’t forget the result of my poll…a..couple months back, lmao. I’ve actually always been thinking about it but never had a chance to sit down and get them done lol. Starting off strong with the riddle bois! Not sure who's up next, but no worries, all the rogues I write for will have a chance to shine!

Also not entirely back to fully uploading like I used to but may upload like once in a blue moon especially when the inspiration strikes me or if I need a small break from drawing lol

Content Warning: mentions of non-gender specific nudity and some allusions to sexual activity but nothing explicit.

The Riddlers React to Reader Going to Bed Naked

Arkhamverse Riddler:

- Well, first things first he’s got to be willing to go to bed.

- You figured you could have an interesting surprise waiting for him when he finally gives into the sweet call of slumber.

- Edward doesn't notice at first–basically running on fumes as he gets under the covers.

- It isn't until he tries to get comfortable he notices.

- And he is extremely shocked.

- How–what–what's the logic behind this? This is ridiculous!

- He almost has half a mind to wake you up and demand you put and demand you put something on.

- Yet he somehow even feels too tired to even do that.

- Ed will deny it in the morning, but you cannot deny that he did enjoy nestling into your side and into your skin.

Reevesverse/Dano Riddler:

- Oh..uhh…oh wow…umm…is that really comfortable?

- Gotham can be unbearingly cold at night and his apartment doesn't have the best heater.

- Edward is still very new to this level of intimacy–

- His brain will go into overdrive, trying to figure out if you're trying to tell him something.

- Are-are you trying to initiate…what he thinks you are?

- As his head spins, his face is flushed red.

- Edward will try to work up the courage to ask what this is about.

- You will have to explain to him if you were teasing him or just trying a new sensation.

- Either way, he will understand or try to, just give him a heads up next time…you almost gave him a heart attack.

Gotham Riddler:

- Is that really comfortable? 2.0

- His whole pale face is as red as a ripe tomato.

- Eddie will likely assume you aren't feeling well…that…that's the only explanation.

- Are you getting chills? Are you overheating? Do you feel nauseous? Here let him take your temperature.

- You really can't help but laugh and find his concern incredibly endearing.

- Ed is relieved to hear you're fine, but is now back to surprise when he realizes you were just teasing him.

- What…what should he do? For once he kinda leans into his confident alter ego for guidance.

- Once you two get closer and he gets to feel the softness of your skin, he's immediately hooked.

- Eddie can't just have his hands touching you, he wants all of his skin touching your own.

BTAS Riddler:

- Man's face is as red as his hair.

- Well, well, well…this is um…quite the surprise.

- Where in the world did you get this idea?

- Eddie will try to keep a confident and collected aura about him.

- But he's absolutely quivering on the inside, his heart about to beat out of his chest.

- His eyes rake over your body, appreciatively, until you tore the covers from his hand and snuggle into the mattress as you tuck the comforter back underneath you.

- You tease him and say he can't see or touch until he joins you also naked.

- Well, who's he to turn down a deal like that?

- Eddie snatches the covers and hops into bed, quick to wrap you in his arms and kiss youwhich muffled your laughs.

Zero Year/Capullo Riddler:

- Oh my God fucking FINALLY

- As much as he does enjoy the occasional strip tease…

- Having you already naked makes it a gazillion times easier to get to the main event.

- I imagine this Ed only sleeps in his boxers (briefs)...(and question mark socks)

- So when he sees you naked he's very quick to discard his underwear.

- If you weren't trying to have sex by sleeping nude then…good luck trying to convince him otherwise.

- Or trying to get his hands off of you…like at all.

- But come on, were you really expecting anything less?

Telltale Riddler:

- Quirks an eyebrow.

- He's not sure if he's amused, confused, or annoyed.

- And you can't quite tell either at first.

- Of course not one to give in to your antics..

- He asks you plainly what you're doing and what you were expecting out of this “surprise”

- You shrug, maybe you wanted to catch him off guard, maybe you've been getting too hot cause he won't let you turn the ac on (cause if it's hitting anything below 80°F he claims to be freezing)

- Ed will either call your bluff and actually get into bed with you and not give you any attention…you will have to work for that.

- Or he'll tell you to put some clothes on or he won't share a bed with you.

- OR if you catch him on a particularly trying night he may just pounce immediately.

Young Justice Riddler:

- *blue screen of death*

- *dial up internet sounds*

- Most likely to genuinely have his nose slowly bleed.

- He's confused on what to do or how to respond.

- Like not that he doesn't…err…appreciate you letting him see you but…why?

- Also like Gotham Riddler and wonders if maybe you're overheating or not feeling well.

- When you tell him you just wanted to tease him, he's practically melting.

- Oh well, yeah you…you did very successfully.

- You'll likely have to drag him to bed with you and proceed to take off his clothes for him so he can join you properly.

#ri writes #arkhamverse riddler x reader #dano riddler x reader #reevesverse riddler x reader #gotham riddler x reader #btas riddler x reader #batman the animated series riddler x reader #zero year riddler x reader #capullo riddler x reader #telltale riddler x reader #yj riddler x reader #young justice riddler x reader

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the-hole-in-terzos-shoe · 1 year

Text

Taking Care

Papa Emeritus IV x Nanny/Sister of Sin!Reader

TW: smut obviously, cheating, mentions of alcoholism and drug use, child does get hurt at one point but they are okay!, mentions of pregnancy, breeding smut, mentions of condoms in case that makes you uncomfy. Let me know if there's anything else I need to add, things get a little heavy in this one.

Word Count: 10.4k

This started off as a dirty little scandalous idea, actually based on a previous fandom I used to write for, and it turned into a big thing... As all of my fics do. I don't think I'm capable of writing anything short anymore. Also @sweatandwoe came up with the title 😉

Anyway! Papa IV has a horrible Prime Mover who is never present at home, and it leads to him developing some feelings for the nanny. Enjoy!

𝘓𝘢 𝘢𝘮𝘰... Copia thought to himself as he fondly observed the sight before him, framed by the paned glass door leading to the balcony: his little one bouncing on your hip as you cooed at him, trying to get the bambino back to sleep. The antipope had returned home late from the ministry offices, as he often did, entering his suite completely exhausted, kicking off his shoes to let his aching feet relax, perking back up a bit upon laying eyes on you.

Eyes glossed over as a cheery little smile came to his face, he simply watches as you saunter back and forth, his progeny lulling back to sleep in your arms. Before he even realizes, his sore feet carry him right out to the balcony, making his presence known.

"Oh! Good evening, Papa!" you whisper, not wanting to rouse the little one.

"No need for such formalities, 𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢..." he mocks you with a wink.

A faint blush colors your cheeks; always so charismatic, even when he's as tired as he looks. Luckily before you can put more thought into it, baby Giovanni stirs a little, sitting back up and eyes popping open.

"Sh, sh, shhh..." you hum pressing a kiss to his little head.

"D-deh..." he whines reaching out towards Copia.

Letting out a little shocked gasp, you feign, "Who's that? Who is he, huh? Is that Daddy?"

With the sweetest giggle, the little one exclaims for his Da-da, reaching out again.

Copia swoops right over, playfully bending down to smooch his only son, getting a bit of black face paint on the soft fuzz of the little one's head. "Whoopsies, we'll have to wash you up, piccolino," he runs a finger delicately over his little cheek.

As Copia stands up straight again, and his baby stretches right back out for him.

"I think someone wants Daddy, yeah?" you try to urge your boss to take the bundle in your arms.

Instead, he does the unexpected. Wrapping an arm around the small of your back, he pulls you flush to him, cocooning his son between you. You and Copia both have an arm supporting the baby, as he holds you both close to him.

"Someone wants Daddy, sì?" he asks, and you're not sure if that was for you or Gio. Either way, it draws another blush to your cheeks.

Copia looks you over, eyes softening now that his little one is safe between you. In your avoidance of eye contact, you didn't see him lean in, only feeling his lips press softly to your forehead; surely you would have a mark as his child did. The softest gasp escapes you; it isn't lost on you that things had not been well for some time between him and his Prime Mover...

Maybe you were reading too much into it. Perhaps he was just being affectionate. You knew he could be handsy, and he'd had a long day; he was probably just seeking a moment of comfort before bed.

"Let's go put him down for the night, eh?" Copia motions to his baby boy.

You were so lost in thought, you hadn't even noticed he drifted back off. Snapping back into action to take him to bed, Copia stops you, scooping the bundle from your arms, giving you a warm smile as he disappears back inside to the nursery connected to his bedroom. You trail behind the man to make sure he won't need help with anything.

Laying the little one in his basinet, Copia offers him one last goodnight kiss and jokingly promises not to disturb him again. The man turns to see you standing in the doorway, illuminated by the soft glow of the night light in the room.

"I should retire to bed before he wakes again in a few hours," you dutifully remark, eyes cast down and thumbs twirling together.

Gloved fingers brush your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, "It's a blessing having you here." Softly he cups your jaw, while his other hand grips your waist, effectively pinning you to the door frame. "May I kiss you, cara mia?"

Wide eyed, you stare up at him as about a million thoughts race through your mind. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘱𝘢? 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶... 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬? 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯... 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬. 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦? 𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴, 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘯...

Copia inhales and starts to straighten up, "It's quite alright if you don't want to, cara. I do apologize if I made you uncomf-"

Snapping out of your thoughts, your arms snake around his neck and your lips crash into his. Immediately, his hands cradle the back of your head and your waist, keeping you flush against him. The way his mouth moves against yours is sinful to say the least; he's quick to use his tongue, tracing it across your bottom lip before giving it a quick nip with his teeth. It was masterful really.

Within seconds, your mouth was giving him access, his tongue desperately wanting to meet yours, which drew a small whimper from you. While he moved excitedly within your mouth, you were more hesitant. Stupid as it may sound, you weren't sure you wanted to tempt him more; you had already totally crossed the line and disrespected your Prime Mover.

You know Copia isn't the kind to cheat, but he's been so miserable lately, always arguing with her, only for her not to remember a thing because she's so intoxicated. She was always out at parties and hardly ever home, and when she was in his suites, she was practically out of her mind. He's been trying so hard to get her the help she needs, but she won't take it. She likes the money, the power, the drink and drugs her position can afford her more than the life she's made here in the Abbey. It's sad really, especially with the baby involved.

The heat of the kiss had simmered down a lot and Papa slowly pulls away from you, searching your eyes for what went wrong. "I'm sorry, Papa, I shouldn't have- It was completely inappropriate of me to-" You try to pull away from him, but you only manage to slide your hands down to his chest before his grip on you returns, holding you close.

He swiftly pulls you outside the child's nursery and lightly clicks the door shut, so as not to disturb him.

"Papa, I'm- I'm so sorry..." It barely comes as a whisper.

"For what, tesoro? Giving me the kiss that I offered to you first? Now that's the real slight against me," he quips playfully, giving you a warm smile.

You hated to admit it, but it felt so nice being held so close to him. He always smelled of expensive cologne, it was heady getting to take in the scent at such proximity. All that consumed your mind in that moment was laying your head on his chest, so you did. Forehead in the crook of his neck, your eyes flutter closed and take in the soft moment.

Rubbing gentle circles into your back, his voice rumbles against your ears, "You're probably sleepy, piccolina. Let's get you to bed." Without another word, he leads you right down the hall to the guest room that was all yours. You never really returned to the Sisters of Sin quarters since you were the full time caregiver to the Emeritus heir.

It could get lonely at times, so you were grateful for the days when other Siblings would be assigned to work with you, whether to give you a break or to take Giovanni on an outing like a picnic or to the beach. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘯, 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘗𝘢𝘱𝘢 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳... Sleepily, you yawn as you arrive at your door.

Copia opens the door for you, stopping at the threshold. A gentleman even in his own home. "Goodnight, cara mia."

"Goodnight, Papa," you mumble, hands returning to his chest.

He couldn't help himself; he leans in pressing another kiss to your lips, fingers tangling in your hair for a brief moment before pulling away again. You may have whined at the loss; you aren't sure in your sleepy state. Looking up at him, the man bites his bottom lip, and only then do you realize how smudged his face paint is, especially around his mouth. Copia simply nods at you one final time before closing you in your room, and you let out a groan, knowing you should wash all the black and gray off of your face before bed.

• • •

The next morning you emerge from your room a little earlier than normal and in a bit of a tizzy, because Giovanni is already crying and that's not like him. Turns out he just needs a diaper change, but of course he's hungry afterwards. 𝘐 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺.

Baby in tow, you head to the kitchen to warm up his bottle. You pass Copia in the living space, adorned with a little couch and TV, as he's having his morning coffee and reading the newspaper; he really could be a stereotypical old man sometimes. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴.

"Up so early, you two?" He sets his mug down, promptly following you to the kitchen.

"Yes, he was extra whiny this morning, so I couldn't put him off any longer," you explain.

It was pretty rare to see Copia before he left in the morning. He was always up so early and home so late. This morning he was already dressed and face painted; you were sure he was getting ready to walk out the door any minute.

As you reach for the kettle to warm some water for the baby's bottle, you feel a large hand on the small of your back, and suddenly you're acutely aware of the fact that you are only in your silky nightgown. You hadn't had time to put on your habit this morning.

"Let me help, Stellina, I don't get to do enough for the little guy," Copia chuckles at the little one, pinching his cheek before moving to warm up the water.

You turn your attention back to keeping the little one calm, as he could get quite cranky when he's hungry. The antipope stops to admire the sight before him as the kettle heats up: your undivided attention on his child, the curve of your hip holding him, the bare skin of your collarbones and shoulders. It has his mind drifting to all the places he'd like to mark on you; you were just so motherly, even though you had none of your own... He'd like to be the one to give you one, or many.

Just as the pot starts to spit and sputter, before it can reach boiling, Copia quickly pours it into a large bowl, submerging one of the many bottles you kept ready in it to warm the formula up.

You lightly press a kiss to baby Gio's head as he laughs at his father for some unknown reason.

"What's so funny, huh?" he turns and gets right in the baby's face, eyes wide and smile big.

"Who's that?" you coo.

"Da... D-" he babbles; he was still learning his first words.

"Close enough, eh?" Copia giggles before gasping and covering his face with his hands.

"Oh no, where's Daddy?!" you feign looking for him.

A burst of laughter comes from the little one when Copia reveals his face again. Peekaboo always did the trick.

By now the bottle would be warm enough, so the man slides an arm under his child, taking him from you. Quickly tossing him up in the air, the baby squeals happily, as he settles into his father's arms. As Copia reaches for a towel and the bottle, the infant points at you, "Mama!" It was the clearest word he'd ever said.

"Oh no, sweetie, I'm not-" you start, but Copia finishes it.

"Sì? She is kinda like your Mama, yeah?" He bounces the baby and gives him the bottle.

"Copia... I'm not his mother. She'll be pissed."

"She's never here. You're all he knows. Satanas, 𝘐'𝘮 not even here as much as I'd like to be. You'll be the only reason he turns out right," he ponders out loud, face looking forlorn at the thought.

"Well... Maybe we should plan something? Give him a Daddy son day, yeah?" you suggest.

"I shouldn't only be around for the fun times. You deserve more help, and he deserves for at least one of his parents to be here for him," Copia asserts, leaving no room for argument. "I'll go in late today. I want to help you get him ready this morning. And tomorrow, I'll come home early."

You weren't sure how Sister Imperator was going to like that, but it seems he's made up his mind, and you certainly weren't going to complain about seeing him more.

• • •

Copia kept to his word and stayed through the baby's entire morning routine, burping him, getting him washed up and dressed for the day. And of course he didn't leave you without a kiss.

The next day, he arrived to his papal suite early, just as he said, and helped you fix dinner. Normally it was just you and the baby, so you ate whatever was around; you weren't above eating sliced up hot dogs and applesauce. But since Papa was home and wasn't used to eating that way, he helped you cook, making pasta, alfredo sauce, and some broccoli and zucchini for a side.

You spoon fed Gio a jar of baby food while Copia worked his magic at the stovetop. Sleeves rolled up and apron donned, he checks every pot and pan diligently, tasting and adding ingredients where necessary. He really was built for this; it's a shame he isn't able to be home more.

Once he was done, your Papa insisted on you taking it easy for the evening. From pulling out your chair at the dinner table to fixing your plate, you weren't doing a thing. It felt unreal, like you shouldn't even be there if you weren't doing your job, but it also felt nice to have him doting over you, even if it was wrong. Copia even chopped some noodles really small for his son to try; Gio was going to be a mess later, but he needed a bath anyway.

Which after the delicious meal, Copia handled that too. He was perhaps a little inexperienced and ended up covered in water himself, but he was so happy to kneel next to you on the bathroom tile and take care of his little one. And seeing Copia holding a bundle of towels afterwards was probably the cutest thing ever.

"Go wash up yourself, Stellina. I'll put il bambino down, I picked out his pajamas and everything. Meet me back in the main room for a movie, hm?" The man softly grabs your hand, kinda like he was asking you on a date.

"Oh, o-okay," you bite your lip.

"You do not have to if it would not make you happy, tesoro." You were both treading new waters.

"No, no. I'll be there." You offer him a smile.

He returns it, happy you accepted his offer. "Bene. See you then," he gives you a wink before heading off to the nursery.

• • •

After your respective showers, Copia relaxed on the sofa in nothing more than a pair of silk pajama pants that left little to the imagination. You try to avoid eye contact with a certain... outline, as you enter the room, donning a few more layers than him. He didn't wear a stitch of paint and his hair was still damp.

He admires your look of cozy pajama shorts, a tank top, and a short robe loosely tied over top. Moving to lie on his side, Copia pats the spot in front of him, meaning you need to squeeze in right next to him on the little seat. It seemed especially small now at the thought of having to share it with him.

And it's not that you don't want to. You just knew what it could lead to, and that makes you hesitant. The thought of cuddling up next to your boss, your Papa, and his Prime Mover could walk in the door at any moment, although it was unlikely.

"Is okay, tesoro, I'm nervous too," the man admits to you, "but I desire to be closer with you." Apparently, he means physically closer as he slides an arm around your waist as you sit next to his lounging form. He quickly catches your hand, kissing your knuckles. "C'mon, cara, get comfortable," he urges you, "Lie down with me if you'd like."

You oblige him, laying on your back with him still on his side beside you, faces mere inches from one another. "Hey," you greet him, a nod to the nearness.

"Hi," he replies, looking over the features of your face that he adores so much.

You'd never really gotten to look into his eyes like this before and take in the lack of pigment in that white iris; it's fascinating the way it nearly glows, and so well balanced by the warm golden hues present in his green eye.

"You're a good dad, Copia." You're not sure what prompted it, but after all the work he'd put in this evening, he deserved to hear that. And you could tell the work wouldn't end there; he wanted to be more present in his child's life.

"Grazie, Stellina," he gingerly lays his arm across your waist, "I couldn't do it without you."

Between his praises and his fingers tracing shapes along your side, your cheeks betray you and blush a deep shade. Scanning your face for any indication he should stop, he slowly presses a few small pecks to your jawline, and he catches you in a passionate kiss before asking what movie you'd like to watch.

After settling in on a classic you'd both seen before, you turn to your side, so Copia is spooning his body against yours, propped up just so that you can both see the large screen. With his warmth settled all around you, worry crossed your mind that you may not make it through the entire movie...

He was just so soft and warm... inviting... His breath at the nape of your neck soothing your heavy eyelids-

𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵- 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦... 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸?

Keeping your eyes glued to the screen, you subtly arch your back, pretending to stretch, feeling out the... 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 behind you. When you receive a stifled groan from your Papa, feeling his erection pressed tight against your backside, your inquiry is answered.

His arm draped around your waist tightens its grip, keeping you oh so close to him; you feel him let out a hot shaky breath before pressing a kiss to your neck. The feeling immediately sends a spark running through you as his mouth warms up your sensitive skin.

Your fingers lace with his as your ass wriggles against him again, earning a wanton moan from your Papa.

"Dolcezza... Look what you do to me," he whispers next to your ear.

"Papa," you breathe out, turning to catch his lips in a fierce kiss, the movie long since forgotten about. Quickly into the kiss, you're shifting onto your back, fingers tangling in his hair, to give him better access to your body.

His fingers delicately trace your jaw and neck, a sharp juxtaposition to the way his lips attack yours, needy and starved for attention. His lips deserved to be kissed like this every day; you couldn't understand why his Prime Mover would throw away the opportunity. Speaking of...

"Copia," you pull away from him suddenly, chests heaving as you both seek to fill your lungs again.

"Sì, bella mia? What is on that pretty little mind?"

Between the way his words make your heart swell and the shaft trapped against your hip, what you need to tell him fumbles on your lips. "We, uh... Copia, we- we shouldn't."

"Mm..." he grunts, "we shouldn't." He leans up to kiss your forehead, "But I want to. I want you. What do you want, cara mia?" He caresses your cheek again.

"I-" you look up for a minute, taking a deep breath, "I want you, too," you whisper, looking right into his eyes, like you were afraid to admit that you wanted your boss. But you do. He's damn near perfect! He's your Papa. He's the one you swore your vows to when you became a Sister of Sin. He's so devoted to his work, to the church, to his followers. He's a good dad. Damn it, you can't understand how she doesn't want him.

If his Prime Mover wasn't going to take care of him, then you would.

Your lips crash back into his, fingertips raking along his scalp harshly, causing him to rut his hips against you, desperate for your touch. As you moan against each other's mouths, his hand explores your body, sliding down your side, your hip, your thigh. Fingers trail up inside your shorts, teasing at the fabric of your panties.

You nearly whine in anticipation, only just now realizing how much you wanted his fingers inside you. Taking your little noise as a good sign, Copia slides his hand between your legs, urging your thighs apart and fabric out of the way as he runs two fingers through your slick folds.

Just to accentuate his actions, he draws your bottom lip between his, nibbling at your swollen flesh, which leaves you room to let out a breathy moan. "Cara..." he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes blown wide with lust for you, "so wet for me..." He bites his lip, pushing those two fingers deep inside you. Gasping loudly at the feeling, your hands roam his bare skin across his neck, collarbone, chest. He ruts into you at the same pace that he pushes his fingers in and out, eyebrows furrowed, clearly fighting the urge to rush right into things.

"... feels so good, Papa. So good," you praise him, fingernails scratching at him.

"Sorella... I could say the same to you," he pants, brows softening as he presses a kiss to your cheek. How he managed to be so soft yet build such a fire between your legs made no sense to you, but you revel in the dizzying feeling of it all. You feel your walls petal around his digits thats he works in and out of you, thumb frequenting your clit, making you arch for him. "So tight, so warm, Sorella. I can't wait to feel you fully, amore."

"Copia," you drag his name out, "Copia, I need you." His duochromatic eyes search yours, and when your hand snakes down to grip his hot girth, he doesn't have to be told twice.

He curls his fingers sharply one good time, making you mewl out his name again, and pulls them out of you. Quickly, fingers rush to shove your too many layers off to the floor; first the robe, then the shorts, before he pulls you up off the couch, walking you backwards towards his room, lips never leaving yours.

Upon the back of your knees hitting the foot of the bed, the antipope shoves you back on the lofty mattress. Immediately he's on top of you, moving you back onto the pillows. After throwing your tank top across the room, his mouth latches onto your collarbone, sucking a sizable love mark there, fingers tangling into your hair. His other hand found your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as his eyes flicked up to yours to make sure he wasn't going too far.

Your fingers grant him permission with a gentle scratch on the head, and his mouth moves to suck on the soft flesh of your bosom. Toying with the waistband of your panties, he tugs them down, sitting back on his haunches as he flings them off. He leaves you on the bed to free himself from those devilish silk pants, erection springing free, heavy with lust, as he reaches into the bedside drawer to pull out a condom.

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦...

"Are you ready, cara mia?" he prompts, almost like a nervous teenager doing it for the first time.

Scanning over his body, completely bare to you from his messy hair to his flushed chest, bushy happy trail, and leaky shaft, you nod your head, looking up at him through your eyelashes. "Please, Copia."

Without another word, he ripped the little package and rolled the protection onto himself before climbing back on top of you. It felt good to have him there, like he belonged this close to you.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, he lined himself up with you. He worked gently, as if he might break you if he did what he really wanted to do. Really, it was romantic the way he rocked his hips ever so slowly, cradling your head in his hand, his eyes fluttered closed as he exhaled what felt like all the air in his lungs, nose nuzzling against the side of your neck.

You whine for more as he languidly fills you, his girth pressing on all your walls; you were grateful to have been partially stretched by his fingers earlier. Looking down at him, you bite your lip before pressing a light kiss to his forehead. He meets your eyes, pressing a kiss to your jawline in response.

Finally, it feels like he's bottomed out in you, and his knees dig into the bed as he gives one final push, that last little bit feeling so much more sensational than all the rest as he makes contact with that sweet spot his fingers teased earlier. Letting out an airy whimper, your eyes screw shut as he stays put, taunting the spot without moving.

"P-p-mmm... papaplease-" you whine for him to end his torture.

His cock twitches inside you, and a wicked grin forms on his lips, knowing what he's doing to you. He hasn't even moved yet and you've probably already forgotten your name. It may have been a while since he'd gotten any action, but he was happy to see he hadn't lost his touch.

After what feels like an eternity, he pulls out a bit, relieving the pressure on that spot deep inside you. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, and he slides right back in, his tip kissing your sweet spot. Gasping as your thighs tighten their grip around him, he grins again, this time settling just above you to kiss your nose as you take on his assault.

Moving slowly at first, he relaxes into the pleasure of you: the way your delicate fingers curl into his hair, the way your jaw hangs open in pleasure, your eyes looking up into his longing for one another... How long you'd pined for one another without even realizing it; he'd wanted you from the moment he'd met you, seeing the way you cared for his progeny better than anyone else could.

With each thrust he wants you to know how much he cares for you, wants for you, needs you. Tears of lust and longing stain his lashes as he loses himself in the feeling of you surrounding him. As if to add to what he was already feeling, you pull him into a sweet but spicy makeout. His hips pick up pace, needing more.

"Dolcezza... I don't think I'll last..." he lets you know.

"Me either, Papa. Touch me, please."

Obliging you, his hand snakes between your bodies, the rough pad of his middle finger sending a jolt through you as he finds your clit. Between that and the treatment of your g-spot, you're cumming in seconds, growing impossibly tighter around his length each time your muscles convulse.

His lips find yours again, hating to muffle the sounds coming out of you, but desperately needing to kiss you. "Stellina... Ti amo, Stellina. Così tanto... Ho bisogno di te nella mia vita," he cries out for you as he spills into the condom and goes limp on top of you.

You cradle his head against your chest, and for a moment, he wasn't unlike his little one sleeping in the next room, needing your affection. You kiss the top of his head, nuzzling into his messy hair, and he returns the sentiment by nibbling on your earlobe, earning a giggle from you.

With a quick peck on the cheek, he rolls off of you, heading to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth to clean you up. His aftercare is nearly as good as the lovemaking, as his lips trail behind the terry cloth, leaving a kiss wherever he wipes and soothes your skin.

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" you blurt out.

"What is that, cara mia?" Copia tosses the rag aside and wraps an arm around your waist, cuddling into you.

"That... That you love me," you bite your lip, "and I think you said something about your life? I don't know Italian as well as you obviously..." you trail off.

"Mi dispiace, tesoro, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," he caresses your cheek, searching your eyes.

"No, no, you didn't," you tell him, also stroking his cheek.

"I just lose control of myself when I, uhhh, when mia signora makes me feel good," he smiles and taps his fingers on your collarbone, "I hope you know, cara, that I-"

"I love you, too." You stare at him like you'd just been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

"Oh, Stellina... I didn't know you would feel the same," he admits.

"Of course, I do, Papa. You're... perfect. Who wouldn't love you?"

"Well, I can think of one person," he gives a disgusted half smirk before chewing on his cheek. It wasn't lost on you all the times Copia's Prime Mover had walked out on him, but not before screaming and arguing at the top of her lungs about how much she hated him.

"Hey, hey, don't let her ruin your night. She's ruined too many of them already." You pull him closer, seeing him fight off the anger.

He looks up at you, face softening, "You're right. I'm letting her get to me, when I should be confessing my love to you," he chuckles softly, fingers walking up your arm.

"Yes, you should, Papa. Confess away," you sigh and lean in for another kiss.

"Ahhh, ti amo, principessa mia," he starts dramatically, "sei la mia vita, the very breath I breathe..." You both share a laugh at his little act. "Really, cara mia, I've loved you a long time. And it's supposed to feel wrong, but instead it just feels like... Like what it should've always been. Like you should be the one I'm with. Like you should be il mio bambino's mother."

"Copia," you whisper, tears welling up. You know he shouldn't say things like that, but admittedly it felt nice to hear it. Actually, it made your heart soar.

He pulls you in for another fierce kiss, one that's let's you know exactly how much he means it.

• • •

"Mmm, cara mia... I think I'm calling out of work today," your lover chuckles, squinting in the bright morning sun.

"What's that, old man? Four rounds and the baby crying got you worn out?" you jab at him.

"Did we go four rounds?" He looks impressed with himself.

"Did you lose count?" You both laugh, him groaning at his tired headache. As you wiggle out of bed to go get the little one ready for the day, Copia grabs your wrist.

"Let him sleep. We should too," he begs.

"Are you really calling out today? I'm sure Sister Imperator won't be happy."

"That woman is never happy. Now get your ass back in bed," he pulls you back under the covers, holding you flush against him. "Your 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘺 ass." He grabs your backside to accentuate his point, leaning in to kiss your neck.

"I thought you wanted to go back to sleep..." You bite your lip with a cheeky grin.

"Maybe we go for round five first, sì?"

• • •

"Sh, sh, shhhh... It's okay, baby boy, it's okay," you whisper into Giovanni's ear, kissing his head repeatedly to calm his tantrum.

Copia's Prime Mover had come home, which means everything is a mess. You'd had a peaceful few days navigating your newly admitted feelings for your boss, and he was settling in to a new routine of being home more for the baby. Of course it was an added bonus that he got to spend his nights with you. But now everything felt like it had been turned on its head.

"Oh, so you think you're the best Daddy in the world since spending more time at home, huh?! Look at you all high and mighty! Making me out to be horrible!" She screams at him, loud enough that you can hear every word from your spot of the balcony. The sound had been driving the baby crazy, so you brought him out here to try to drown it out. It wasn't working as he cried and cried against you.

"Someone has to be here for him! My being here for him says nothing about you. Your own absence says it all," Copia cuts back at her, but it was the truth.

"So... you do think I'm a horrible mother?" She shrinks, wrapping her arms around herself. You try not to look, but you can't help but be concerned for your Papa.

"Of course not, tesoro..." There it is. The little shred of hope he still has for the mother of his child. He steps towards her, gently rubbing his hands over her arms. "You need help. It's not your fault, but you need help. All that stuff you pump into your body isn't good for you. Please let me help."

Finally, the little boy in your arms starts to settle down. You just hoped they wouldn't start shouting again.

She really was a beautiful woman, Copia's Prime Mover. Tall, looks that kill, charming; she really had been a great match for your Papa. Of course that was before the pressure of her position got to her. You suppose you'd be upset too if you got forced into a marriage; you'd probably go off the deep end as well. Copia had his whole life to prepare for that fate; she had a few months, and so she makes herself numb, she runs as far as she can, she resents all of it, especially him.

• • •

You wake early the next morning to a light knock at your guest room door. The sun wasn't even up, so you immediately got worried something was wrong with Gio.

Flinging the door open, you're met with the sight of a broken man. "Papa? What's wrong?"

"She's gone... She left again." He wasn't even blinking, but tears streamed from his mismatched orbs.

"Oh, Copia," you pull him into a hug, supporting him as best you can.

"She said I could get her help. She was going to get help, but she ran away again." He rests his chin on your shoulder, staring off at nothing as you lead him to sit on the edge of your bed.

"Copia... You do everything right. You try so hard for her. And for him," you nod to the nursery, "You can only help her as much as she'll let you. If she doesn't want to change, then she won't. It's not your fault; I hope you know that it isn't your fault."

He takes your hands and nods at you. He didn't have much else to say. He'd dealt with this so many times, he was almost numb to it. Almost.

You look at the clock, seeing that it was only 4am. "Let's get some more sleep, Papa. You need to rest." You stand up to lead him back to his room, but he just sits, looking up at you like a lost dog.

"Can I stay with you, cara mia?"

The simplicity of the question cut you deep; he yearned to not be alone. He didn't want to wake up to a cold empty bed once again.

"Of course, you can."

You climb back into bed, Copia happy to spoon your body. Sitting in comfortable silence, he drifts back off, getting the deepest sleep he'd had in the days since his Prime Mover had come home.

• • •

"Knock knock!" you chirp, entering Papa's office with baby, diaper bag, and picnic basket in tow.

He looks up from something he'd been reading over, a smile spreading across his face at the sight of you, "Ahhh, to what to I owe the pleasure? It's a long trek across the Abbey just to come see me." He stands up from his desk, taking the diaper bag and picnic basket from you and setting them down.

"Da-da!!!" the little one exclaims; he was getting much better at his words.

"Oooh, piccolino, come here," he replies, scooping him up too.

"He wanted to see you," you start, "and I did too... I know you haven't been able to be home as much as you want because of work, so I thought maybe we would bring lunch to you."

Paperwork had stacked up since he was taking more time to be home; he was taking this week to just try to push through as much as he could. But he's also making a plan to hire several assistants and delegate as many of these menial tasks as he can.

"Dolcezza... That is so thoughtful of you," he cups your cheek, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. "I think I could sneak away for a little while." He gives you a wink, bouncing the baby on his hip.

"It's okay if you can't! We can eat in here too. I don't want to get you in trouble with Sister..."

"Silly girl, when are you going to learn I don't care what she thinks?" He smirks at you, returning to his office chair to sign a few more papers before heading out. Somehow him holding the baby while working made him even cuter. "Besides, technically she answers to me."

Out in the gardens, Papa plays with the child, keeping him occupied while you set up lunch. Watching the little one doddle across the grass, Papa towering over him but offering his fingers as support, warmed your heart; Copia had been trying to get him to take his first steps on his own, and he was hellbent on not missing it.

"Okay, boys, time to eat!" you call over to them.

Copia immediately scoops the child up, tossing him high in the air, watching him giggle the whole way. He does it a few more times as he makes his way over to you and the picnic blanket. "Sorella, this all looks so good. Grazie. I wish I could've been some help to you," he offers his gratitude as he sits next to you, baby in his lap.

"It's okay, Papa. We know how hard you've been working, and without you, this whole Abbey wouldn't run, so really I should thank you for making it so wonderful here."

He nods his head at you, silenced by your sweet words. "Still, grazie, cara mia."

Lunch goes by peacefully, enjoying the warm sun and the image playing out before you: Copia trying to get Giovanni to eat some cut up strawberries and the little one sputtering red mush everywhere, making a mess of himself and his father.

"You'll have to change your clothes after lunch," you giggle, taking a bite of your sandwich.

"Mm, what a shame... Won't he be taking a nap then?" Your Papa gives you a smug look.

You blush at his implication and look around to make sure no one could hear. "Papa..."

"Oh, don't be so coy, Sorella. You certainly weren't shy when you went down-"

"Papa!! Hush!" you whisper yell at him, hiding your face in your hands.

He waits for you to peek through your fingers at him, and you both burst out in laughter.

• • •

What was supposed to be a quick stop back in his suite of course turned into a heated make out session on the kitchen counter.

"Cazzo, Stellina, I would take you on the fucking dinner table right now if I could," he grunts, biting at your bottom lip.

"Hmm, guess you'll just have to daydream about it in your office, huh?" You tease him.

"I'll have you there, too, if I have anything to do with it." His hands pull harshly at your hair, smashing his face against yours again. Your tongues dance with one another as your fists crumple the fresh shirt he'd put on.

When you can no longer wait for air, you push yourself off of him, breathing heavy. "You're gonna have to fix your paint, you know that?" you chuckle.

"I can see that," he wipes some gray from your lip to show you.

You both fall into giggles again, staring into each other's eyes as you reluctantly release one another to return back to your duties.

• • •

"Mm, we've probably got a few minutes before little Gio wakes up, right?" Copia grumbles into your cleavage.

You swear this man will be the death of you. He finally gets a day off, to sleep in if he wants, and the first things on his mind this morning is pounding you into the mattress... Again. Like he didn't do that all last night.

"All you ever think about is sex," you chuckle, kissing the top of his head.

"When it's as good as you are, amore mio, sì. I think about it morning, noon, and night," he starts pressing kisses across your chest, grinding his growing hardness against your thigh.

"Copia-" you start, hearing a couple thuds down the hallway, "What is that? Do you hear that?"

Seconds later, a loud shriek comes from the baby's room. In an instant you're both jumping up to throw on some clothes.

Copia slips on some pants before bolting out of his room with you hot on his trail, tying on his robe. In the hallway, you're both confronted with Copia's Prime Mover with Giovanni on her hip and diaper bag slung over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?!" The man steps right in front of her to stop her from shoving further down the hallway.

"I'm taking him and we're going!! You've got some new life now, so we're gonna move on too!" She is clearly out of her mind, her eyes bloodshot like she hasn't slept in days and bruises all up her forearms.

"What are you talking about??" Copia attempts to grab the child from her, but she snatches him away, which only eggs on his crying.

"Oh, please! You think I don't know you're fucking the nanny?! I saw the condoms in the trash last time I was here, and now she's in your robe!"

Tears of anger build up in his eyes as he turns to look at you; he felt totally helpless.

It gives his Prime Mover just enough time to push past him and into the living area. "You just want to put me away so you can move on to your new life with your newer, younger little whore!"

"Do not talk about her! She cares for your child more than you do!! While you're out on the streets strung out, she's here, doing the job you took vows to do!" he shouts to defend you.

"That was before I knew you ran a cult! All of this is just some facade to make you famous! You're a selfish bastard, leading the blind just so you won't be lonely like when you were a kid," her words cut deep.

Copia clenches both fists, a fire you'd never seen in his eyes before, as he very evenly doles out, "Give me back my child and get the fuck out."

As if on cue, the little one reaches out for you, face red as tears stream down his face, "Mama! Mamaaa!!"

You step closer to her, wanting to reach out for the squirming little bundle in her arm.

"So you think you're his mama now?" she cuts her eyes at you.

"No, I- I tried to teach him... I would never," you stammer, not knowing what to do, "Please. Please just give him to me."

"What? Let you have my husband and my baby? I think not, bitch." She moves towards the door, but you move with her, body acting on pure adrenaline now. The child reaches out, little hands latching onto your robe, and you wrap your arms around him to slip him away from her, but her fingers lock tightly around his thigh, making him shriek once again.

"Please. Please don't hurt him!! Don't hurt him!" You raise your voice at her, holding the baby tight to your chest.

The next thing you know, Copia is letting Aether and a couple other ghouls in the room, and they swiftly pounce on her, pulling her away from you and the baby you care so much about. You look down to see that his little leg was already bruising from where she'd grabbed and twisted at his skin.

You held him tightly, bouncing him around and humming something to drown it all out as Copia and the ghouls dragged her out into the hallway. The antipope was absolutely seething, and you didn't care to know what he was screaming at her.

Looking out to the sunny balcony, you feel the urge to walk out there. Honestly it was probably to soothe you as much as it was for the screaming one in your arms. Before you can move a muscle, your lover bursts back into the room, making a beeline for you. Without a word, he wraps his arms around you and Gio, resting his chin on top of your head. Fighting back tears, he holds you like that for a while.

Finally comes a soft, "I am so sorry, cara."

Pulling away just enough to look up at him, you reassure him, "It's not your fault. Are you okay?"

"I will be. Please tell me she didn't hurt you," he brushes his fingers through your hair.

"No, she didn't, but we may need to have this looked at," you motion to his son's bruised leg.

A series of emotions flash across Copia's face upon seeing the injury. Part of him blames himself for ever letting that woman get close to either of you. But he also knew that without her, he wouldn't have either of you in his life.

"Well, she's not coming back. I won't let her hurt anyone here ever again. She needs help but I can't keep letting her come back, not when I have a son who needs safety and stability."

• • •

Months went by, and it felt like a whole new chapter for all of you. Copia officially separated from his Prime Mover, announcing it at Black Mass; he always felt transparency was important in his congregation. You had moved into his room permanently, and Copia had even hired another nanny to give you a break from time to time. He didn't want you feeling like caring for his son was the only thing you were good for. He also hired assistants for his office, Siblings of Sin who were honored to take some weight off their Papa's shoulders.

Now that the two of you had less worries, you almost didn't know how to fill your time. Almost...

"Your sidekick has Giovanni out in the gardens... What do you say we have our own playtime, eh?" Copia chuckles next to your ear as you recline back against his chest on the sofa.

"Do not call her my sidekick," you laugh at your lover, "She does just as much work as me, she deserves more credit than that."

"I don't know, dolcezza... She doesn't spend the night like you do."

"Oh, and look how much trouble that got us in," you smirk, turning to catch him in a kiss. "You're not going to start sleeping with the new nanny again, are you?"

"No, no, no, no, amore mio," he whispers right in your ear, "Il mio cazzo belongs to you alone."

You huff out a laugh, "That's all? Just your 𝘤𝘢𝘻𝘻𝘰?"

"Well, perhaps il mio cuore, too..."

"Perhaps, huh?" you tease him, turning to get on your knees in between his legs. Leaning forward, you give him a single chaste kiss. "Don't I deserve a little more than 'perhaps'?" You sit back on your heels, unbuttoning your shirt slowly.

"Dolcezza..." Copia pants, already excited just from seeing your lacy bra.

"Ah, ah, ahhh. Don't 'dolcezza' me," you wink at him.

"Please-" he whines in a way that was a little unbecoming of a Papa.

Your shirt drifts slowly to the floor, and Copia reaches out to touch you, but you swat his hands away. "I don't know, Papa. Maybe I don't mean enough to you. Maybe I should just go take care of the throbbing between my legs all by myself, huh? Make you sit out here and listen while I cry out, making a mess of myself..."

He feels his cock twitch at the thought of you touching yourself in his bed.

"Stellina, please, you know I love you so..." His eyes roam your body hungrily.

"How do I know you mean it, Papa? That you aren't just saying that? For all I know, you tell the other nanny that all the time..." You grin at him, leaning forward and propping yourself up on your knees. With your elbows propped on his shoulders, he has a nice view of your cleavage spilling out of your bra just the way he likes.

"No one else is worthy of those words, no one else is worthy of these feelings I have for you." His arm snakes around you, hand resting on the small of your back. "Let me show you, cara mia. Let me prove how much I love you. Only you."

You bite your lip. It felt good to make a powerful man like him crumble, to have him rock hard without even touching him. Your little teasing game is fun, but you know his words are serious.

"Take me, Papa. Make me all yours. Prove I'm the only one for you."

With that, he wraps his arms around your thighs, carrying you right to his bedroom and kicking the door closed loudly. Your back hits the bed and your torso is met by his hot mouth tracing all your curves. Impatiently, he pulls at your tight pencil skirt, needing to feel more of your skin.

Reaching down, you undo the zipper on your hip, "There." Another wink.

The skirt finds its place in the corner of the room as Copia kisses at the top of your panties. "Mia dea... ti amo con tutto quello che ho. Sei la mia dea."

A blush tints your cheeks, you'd learned a bit more Italian in the last few months.

"Worship me, then."

He looks up to meet your commanding eyes, freezing for a brief moment before working his own shirt to the floor and positioning himself between your sinful thighs. Kissing at the supple skin there, he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. Hungrily, his fingers grab at your skin until they hook into the lace at your hip. A tearing sound rings out and you feel his breath on your core.

"Hey! I liked those!" you whine.

"I'll buy you another pair, principessa," he looks up at you through his eyelashes while placing a sloppy kiss right to your clit. You can't help but buck up into his mouth at the sensation.

He grips your hips firmly to hold you in place. You had taunted the beast and now you would reap what you sowed. His mouth latches onto you, sucking on your already swollen clit. The feeling is so intense, you instinctively try to push him off you, but he is having none of it.

"Oh!! Papa!" you cry out, one hand tangling in his hair and the other gripping his satin sheets.

He offers you some reprieve by backing off of your bundle of nerves and instead opting to flatten his tongue against you, licking a stripe. His tongue then traces your folds before teasing your entrance, threatening to push inside. And he does just that. Eyes rolling back in his head as he stretches you with his tongue.

It has you mewling his name and arching as much as his grip will let you. When his nose makes contact with your clit, your hand in his hair tightens as you practically fuck yourself on his face.

His lips move back up to suck on your clit again, and you whimper at the loss of his tongue, but it is quickly replaced by two fingers curling deep inside you, as deep as he can reach. 𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦. Devious eyes watch your face as he curls his digits, scratching that spot that he finds so well.

"Papa- damnit! Satanas, Papa, I'm gonna cum," you warn him, but he's ready for it, only sucking harder at your words. You let out a needy moan as your body shudders around his fingers, juices coating his hand and chin. He doesn't stop until you're done riding out the wave of your orgasm.

Unexpectedly, he snatches you up in a kiss, forcing you to taste yourself on him. "Do you taste that, amore? You on my mouth. There will never be another, you are the only one, I could never want for anyone else." He has your head reeling; he's never been so possessive, and it's hot.

Pulling him down, you both fall back on the plush bed together. His fingers lace with yours and his erection presses against your thigh, still trapped in those unholy tight jeans. Wanting to offer him some relief, you tease your fingers over the large bulge, cupping at it and earning a groan from the man. Clearly, he was in need of some attention, so you pop open the button and slide the zipper down, taking his girth in your hand.

"Cazzo, baby, I need you," his eyebrows knit together as he begs for you.

"Then, take me, Papa," you wink at him, "No need to keep me waiting!"

He chuckles and gives you one more kiss before kicking off his jeans. "This needs to go," he snakes a hand behind your back to unhook your bra, banishing it to the corner with your skirt. His mouth gently teases your nipples as he stretches for the bedside drawer, fumbling for a condom.

Suddenly, he sits up, looking a little frantically at the empty box in the drawer. "Fuck!" He groans, head falling in his hands, "I forgot to send Aether for more..."

"Oooh so that's who does your dirty work, huh?" You tease, sitting up next to him, and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "It's okay, ya know... Maybe we don't need one."

He gives you a confused look.

"Maybe... maybe it's about time for little Gio to be a big brother, hm?"

His eyes widen, eyebrows raised drastically. He dips his head slightly, reading your face for any sign that this was a joke. "A-are you... Are you s-sure, amore?"

You love those funny little moments when the stuttering Cardinal jumps back out of him again. "Yes," you chew on your bottom lip, cupping his cheek, "I'm sure. Let's have a baby."

For a brief moment, it looked like his brain was short-circuiting. "O-okay," he nods his head, eyebrows softening and a big smile spreading across his face. "You're really sure, Stellina?" He takes his face in your hands, looking all sappy, "You want to have miei bambini?"

"Sì," you nod at his little switch to Italian, kissing him on the nose, "Now are we gonna get all lovey dovey about it, or are you gonna get me pregnant?" Your fingers tease at his erection, still standing proudly.

"Mmm, maybe a little of both, sì?" His lips catch yours again, and the weight of his body pushes your back down onto the bed. You spread your legs for him to get between them, but he simply shakes his head, flipping you over instead. When you look over your shoulder at him, feigning a snooty look, he chuckles deeply before growling in your ear, "You intend to be bred, do you not, Sorella?"

His words make your stomach do flips, and you clench your thighs together at the thought.

Now with you flat on your stomach, Copia's strong hands works the muscles in your back, slowly massaging up from the small of your back to your shoulder blades. "I need you nice and relaxed, principessa." His fingers lace into the base of your hair, tugging your head up to look at him, "You want it to take, sì?"

"Yes, Papa. I do," you moan for him.

"Bene..." He shoves your head back down in the pillows and lands a sharp 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘬! on your ass, earning a squeal from you. After he smoothes over the red mark, he lets his hand dip between your thighs. His fingers moving over your folds at this angle feel impeccable.

You push your ass up in the air, trying to get more friction from him, not even understanding how he could be so patient right now. But as if reading your mind, you feel his warm thighs straddle yours and his tip line up with you.

"To feel you so fully and completely, amore mio... I know this will be spectacular," he praises you, pushing forward with a needy groan.

It does feel a little different than what you'd grown used to, hearing a little pop as the tip pushes through your entrance. Things feel somehow smoother than before, maybe from the lack of protection, but maybe you were just that wet. You take him all the way to the hilt, whimpering and moaning into the pillow.

He sets a devilish pace pretty quickly, barely giving you time to get used to the stretch. The discomfort quickly wanes, and you feel your lover's breath hot on your back as he fucks into you in earnest, losing himself in feeling your wet heat unshielded. He leans down to press a few kisses and small bite to your shoulder before he throws his head back, really picking up the pace.

Your hands reach back gripping at his thighs mostly, as your makeup smears across his satin pillowcases.

"Cara... I need- more," he grunts, a small warning before he sits himself up, dragging your hips up off the bed and slams back into you.

"Ah!!!" you scream at the sudden movement, trying to stabilize yourself on your hands and knees. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the air alongside your noises of pleasure.

One of Copia's hands leaves your hips to ponytail your hair, pulling harshly to urge you back on his girth with more force.

"Papaaa!" is the only thing you can manage, hardly able to form a thought at this point.

"Mia dolce dea, I'm going to fill you with my seed. I'll make you grow round with my child," he tells you between thrusts, "it will be... 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘢, 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘢..."

"Copia, please... Please, touch me, Papa," you cry for him.

Using the grip he maintained on your hair, he heaves you up so you're standing on your knees, back flush against his chest, "You think I would leave mia principessa untouched? What kind of Papa do you think I am?"

Finally releasing your hair, the rough pads of his fingers toy with your nipples. He can't wait until your breasts swell too... Holding you stable with one arm, the other searches for your clit, finding it in expert time. As his finger starts to circle it, you arch your hips back, also aiding him in finding that perfect spot inside you, "Oh! Oh, Satanas Papa! Right 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦- 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱!"

Always a good listener, he does exactly as he's told, holding his pace, snapping up into your heat the exact same way every time. You feel your orgasm rapidly approaching under his ministrations.

"Vieni per me, amore, per favore, vieni per me. I'm cumming- cum with me," he loses himself in the feeling of you. And when you feel an unfamiliar warmth spread deep inside you, it sends you right over the edge with him.

Your lover struggles to hold you close to him as you double over, riding out your release. His hips continue to buck into you in shallow thrusts through his orgasm.

Finally, he sits back on his heels, pulling you with him, cock still stuffed inside you. He throws his head back and rakes his hands through his hair, jaw hung open as he catches his breath. "You are perfetto, amore mio. You know this?" He wraps his arms around you, hugging your torso.

"I'm far from it, Copia." You lean back against him, resting your head against his jaw.

"No, no, no. I will show you how perfect you are. Even if it takes our whole lives, you will know how much you mean to me." He kisses the top of your head, chest still heaving.

"Papa..." you turn, giving him a quick, sloppy kiss, "I love you."

"Anch'io ti amo, cara mia, ti amo così tanto."

619 notes · View notes

cyancherub · 2 years

Text

video girl | hayakawa aki

PAIRING. aki x fem!reader (established relationship)

LENGTH. 2.5k

NOTES. mappa aki has me acting unwise......

SYNOPSIS. aki misses you so much when he's away for missions, especially when you start sending him suggestive texts on your lunch break. good thing he has a folder full of videos of you stashed away, right?

CONTENT. 18+, pwp, sexting, nudes, filming, exhibitionism (ish), pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart), solo (m) (he watches a vid the two of you made together): creampie, cumshot, ass play, daddy kink, breeding kink (light), multiple orgasms (m + f), begging; flashbacks/references to: oral (m rec), oral (f rec), facial, anal, solo (f), toys; reader wearing a skirt; a touch of codependent aki because i simply luv that for him <3

A/N. all my love always to my akiwife mystic @uppermocns for a few of the ideas that went into this and for thirsting for this man 24/7 with me!!!!

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING THE CONTENT STATED IN THE WARNINGS.

Aki gets back to the hotel midday, after a long overnight shift, and the first thing he thinks to do as the door clicks shut behind him is text you.

Hi, baby. I just got to the hotel.

He tosses his phone on the bed while he’s waiting for your reply. There’s tension in the back of his neck; he rolls his head over his shoulders for a second, before loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Once the fabric’s shrugged off—discarded in the growing pile of equally bloodied work shirts sitting in the corner of the room—he pulls a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his slacks and sits at the edge of the bed, leaning forward to light the smoke he places between his lips.

His hair, pulled free from its usual knot, falls forward into his face and tickles his nose. But he barely notices the sensation; his mind’s numb with exhaustion. He takes several drags from the cigarette, studying the cuts on his hands and forearms absently.

I’ll have to get more gauze soon, he thinks in passing. Peroxide and cigs, too. But other than that, he’s too tired to think of much else. Except, of course, you.

The nicotine kicks in just as his phone chimes with your reply.

I’m glad you’re back safe. How was your shift?

A little long. Now that the main mission’s over we’re just taking care of some of the smaller Devils still loose in town. Just a few more days of work and I’ll be home.

Those twelve hour shifts must be killing you, babe. Make sure you’re resting enough.

He flicks ash into the tray on the bedside table before typing, Nevermind me. How’s your day going?

It’s good. I’m on my lunch break, got a few minutes left.

I’m glad I caught you before your break’s over.

Me too. I can’t wait for you to get home. Denji and Power keep whining about missing the lunches you make for them. They say my cooking’s like cardboard. Those kids would eat dirt for a snack, and they draw the line at my cooking?

Aki laughs. Those brats. You’re a top notch chef, sweetheart. Save the leftovers for me. I’ll take them for lunch when I get home.

I will.

And then another message from you, right afterward: I miss you.

His chest aches. This mission hasn’t been a particularly long one, and he’s grateful for that, but it’s hard even when he’s only away for a little while. To be near, to hold you close—those things are only natural. Aki feels most secure when the things that are most important to him are tangible. Within reach. His security comes in providing such for others; if he could, he’d keep you with him all the time. So when he’s away, he doesn’t just miss you. He’s constantly thinking about you. He’s craving you: something like the withdrawals he’d get if he tried to quit the smokes.

I miss you too. I can’t wait to see your pretty face again.

There’s a short lull in your replies, and he uses it to settle in. He lays back on the pillows, spreads out on the white sheets; the comforter’s cool to the touch, plush. You’ve always liked hotel beds. Maybe he should’ve brought you with him—he could’ve let you stay in one of the beds you like so much during his shifts. You’d miss him so much by the end of them that you’d pull him right into bed with you as soon as he got back. He’s sure he’d get through the shifts just fine if you were here waiting for him; in fact, he’d come back with energy to spare, just for you…

His phone chimes, and he peers down at the message on his lock screen.

Is there anything else you want to see?

Suggestive. Aki smiles around the cigarette. He knows exactly where this is going.

During his trips, he’s come to learn that you crave him just as much as he craves you. If he’s not home to fuck you to sleep every night, you get frustrated. Needy. But Aki loves being needed, and he always plays along.

I guess that depends on what you’re willing to show me, he replies.

Whatever you want, say the word.

His smile widens. He’s already starting to get hard. At work, baby? That’s risky.

I’ll be careful.

Think you’re careful enough to show me what you’ve got on under your skirt?

He takes a drag of the cigarette, feeling his dick stiffen against his thigh as he waits for the picture he knows you’re going to send.

It comes in just a few moments afterward, but his slacks are already uncomfortably tight by the time he receives it: a shot of you on your leather office chair, with your conservative, work-appropriate pencil skirt hiked all the way up, and your thighs spread open so he can see the pretty panties he bought you, and the soaking wet spot right in the middle of them.

Aki ashes his cigarette, freeing one hand to grab his stiff cock through his slacks as he zooms in on the picture with the other.

The damp cloth hugs the shape of your pussy, gives him a vague glimpse of something he’s spent a lot of time burying his face in. He’s so familiar with you that he can taste your pussy on his tongue just from looking at it.

Another chime.

See how much I miss you, daddy?

Aki inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—Daddy. And then he’s letting go of his cock to undo the button of his slacks and pull his zipper down, texting you back with his free hand.

Your pussy’s so perfect, baby, I wanna put my face in it. You always taste so good.

His hand’s down his boxers by the time you text back.

No one makes me feel like you do. I can’t touch myself the way you touch me. I need you.

He wraps his fingers around his cock and strokes it slowly, thinking about catching a flight. He’s dying to show up at your office; he’d stretch you out right on the desk, make you drip all over it, fuck you until the surface beneath your ass was all slippery with your squirt.

Wanna go in the work bathroom and call me, princess? I’ll talk you through it.

Give me a few minutes. I have to wait until I can sneak away, but I want you to keep going. Watch something while you're waiting for me.

You know him so well. You know all about the videos he keeps in that locked folder on his phone, a whole stash of them that he saves for times just like this. When he needs to sate a craving for you—at least for a little while.

I will. Call me when you’re ready for it, baby.

After he sends it he goes right to that folder and pulls his tented slacks down until they’re mid-thigh, and he can feel his cock dripping precum onto his lower stomach. He enters the passcode, bringing his other hand up to spit into his palm. With his stomach knotted up and his cock throbbing, he scrolls through the thumbnails.

There are tons of them. His eyes catch one thumbnail, and then the next; they can’t seem to decide where to settle. You’re alone in some of the video snapshots—your fingers stretching your pussy; you riding a dildo with your ass facing the camera; you pressing a wand to your clit, your thighs glistening. But in most of them, he’s there too. He sees your pretty face next to his cock, your tongue out, running up the side of it; you on your knees, with both hands on his dick as a rope of his cum paints your face. He sees your body bent over the kitchen counter, with your back arched and his dick in your ass. He remembers the whine in your voice; in his head, he can hear exactly how you sounded when you begged for him to fuck it deeper.

He can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet.

It’s the one he took the night before he left. You’re always extra needy on the nights preceding his trips—anticipating the deprivation, starved for him; he gives you one orgasm after another and you still want more. And you want all of them on tape, so you both have something to tide you over until he gets home.

That’s the video he taps on.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet—sticky, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back home, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet—you were supposed to be careful not to wake anyone up. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, I’m so close. Your fingers slip over your clit, each movement sloppier, and your whimpers heighten, competing with the wet smack of his skin on your ass. He remembers the mess between your thighs: all the wetness he fucked out of your pussy dripping down your ass. He remembers feeling it there, rubbing his fingers (all lubed up with the juices from your pussy) over your asshole, the way it clenched, and then relaxed for him.

He can hear his breaths behind the camera turning into soft moans, just as you say, I’m gonna cum, keep fucking me, I’m gonna—

You let out a strangled little whimper that makes his breath hitch, each stroke of his hand over his dick feeling more pleasurable as he watches you cum. That night, he’d had his eyes on your face—so pretty when you cum for me, he’d said, watching your eyelashes flutter—but he’d kept the camera pointed between your thighs the whole time you were cumming. Now, he gets to watch his cock sink into your twitching hole, fucking you faster and faster. From behind the camera, he hears his own voice again: That’s right, baby, get my dick wet.

You cum hard; he watches your clit pulse under your fingertips, his cock a little messier each time he pulls it out. That feeling’s always so good—rush after rush of wetness on his dick, the clenching of your walls; it’s hard to last.

Your pussy’s gonna make me cum, baby, fuck.

You have the same effect on him now—just watching you on camera makes him want to cum just as bad. He’s dying to be back there, fucking you again, especially when he hears your voice say: Cover me in it.

His dick’s already spurting cum when he pulls it out. It shoots all over you, coats your chest and paints your tits; more of it shoots up onto your throat. Aki digs his heels into the white comforter, trying not to cum. There’s just something about seeing you covered in it, watching it drip down your body; it’s like an affirmation—a reminder that you’re his.

If that wasn’t making it hard enough for him to hold back, you give him another reason to grit his teeth, swiping a finger through the cum on your chest before popping it into your mouth.

Tastes so good. I want more of you, daddy, put it back in.

Daddy. He feels the same way hearing you say it now as he did then. He wants to make it real for you. On screen, he pushes into your pussy again, with his cock still twitching from his orgasm. (It was sensitive, some halfway point between pleasure and pain that made him shudder.)

Wanna make me a daddy? his voice murmurs. Take more cum, I’ll turn you into the prettiest little mommy.

If you were in this hotel room with him right now, sitting on his cock in this bed, he’d shoot this load into you, and however many more you wanted. He’d give you whatever you asked for.

Aki watches the space between your bodies close a little as you lock your legs around his waist.

Fill me up this time, daddy, I want your kids.

God.

His eyes are fixed on the screen; he’s fucking you sloppier, this time—now that he’s letting himself chase the high he’s so close to. Now that he knows he can stay inside, he doesn’t have to restrain himself so much.

Aki strokes his cock faster, watching through heavy eyelids as his breaths pick up. It feels so good, watching you take his dick; you looked so good that night. You sounded so good, begging for his cum like that—Please, I need it so bad—give it to me, I’m about to cum again—

He watches himself bury his cock into you, a deep thrust all the way in accompanied by a shudder, and then he’s watching the two of you cum at the same time, thinking about how your walls felt pulsing on his dick. Then it’s all coming to a head—fast strokes of his hand over his cock as he watches himself fuck you, fast breaths; his stomach’s all knotted up from watching you; he needs a release; he needs to feel your pussy again; he needs to fuck another orgasm out of you; he needs to cum—and then he’s going over, too. His eyes roll back; his head drops back onto the pillow, and he feels his cum shooting all over his stomach and dripping down his knuckles.

He comes down just as the video cuts off, and he’s raising his head to look blearily at the mess on his body when his phone starts to buzz.

He picks it up after one ring—“Yeah, baby?”

“Sorry it took me so long to get away, but I’m finally walking into the ladies’ room.”

“Good,” he says. “Are you ready to get started?”

#writey cherub (csm)#hayakawa aki x reader #aki x reader #csm smut #aki smut #aki hayakawa smut #KLDFKL.. is that all the tags i need #pls i havent released something in so long i dont remember how to do this LMAO

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gummydummy19 · 1 year

Text

Not a man of many words

Summary: Geralt of Rivia isn't a man of many words, luckily words aren't what you need him for.

Content Warnings: smut, cockwarming in a bathtub (yes, IN A BATHTUB), biting, handjob, slights thigh riding/grinding, maybe a few curse words, kissing

A/N: I posted this a long time ago on my old account and I decided it was finally time to bring it back heheh

Word Count: 1500+

It was a quiet night. Soft yellow hues of candlelight surrounded you, as your mind slipped further and further away in the book you were reading.

The day had gone by quick, but it had been tiring nonetheless. You had sold a couple potions, some herbs, and a few flowers and plants too.

The smell of your homemade rosehip tea invaded your senses. You took pride in brewing your own teas and potions here and there. And the people in town paid you good money for your stuff.

You lived in a small village. The house wasn't the most spectacular but you thought it was absolutely perfect. Especially the garden.

You moved to take another sip as you were suddenly startled by a loud knock on your front door, almost making you spill the steaming hot beverage all over the slightly tanned pages of your book.

There was no need to be nervous, you knew exactly who was at the other side of that door. Even if you ever had any company other than him at this hour, you'd still recognize him from that harsh knock alone.

"Can I come in?" was all he asked, as soon as you opened the door and his golden gaze met yours. His voice was even deeper and raspier than you remembered.

He was covered in dirt, sweat and some dark crimson remains of what you guessed were dried blood.

You gave him a sweet look. To everyone else, he might look big and scary, but you could see beyond the broody exterior. And underneath and the blood and dirt and telltale of the emotionless best, you saw a kindhearted man in need of a place to stay.

How could you ever say no to that?

"Of course."

Taking a step back, you allowed the massive man to enter your home once again. No matter how long it had been, you always welcomed him just the same.

"Shall I draw a bath?" You asked. A question you both already knew the answer to.

All you heard was a rumbling "hmm" in agreement as he started dropping his things on your wooden floor and ridding himself of his garments.

You grinned, starting to fill the large tub in the middle of your bathroom with warm water and a mixture of bath salts and healing herbs. It looked more like a small, un-deep pool than anything else to be fair.

"Do you ever smile, Witcher?" you asked as you sat behind him, gently washing his muscular back.

"No." he grumbled, his usual frown still plastered on his forehead.

Slowly, you dragged a soaked piece of cloth over his enormous shoulders, when an idea popped into your head.

The scars that covered his wet skin glistened in the dimly lit room. They looked beautiful, just like any other part of him.

You felt his entire body tense when you pressed your soft lips on his skin. It made you giggle. You moved to kiss his back again, only this time the intimate gesture was followed by the feel of your teeth sinking into the damaged skin.

He hissed, glancing over his shoulder to meet your mischievous gaze.

You grinned at his annoyance, before sweetly soothing your fingers over the fading bite mark you had left.

Yet again, the Witcher stayed quiet. Turning his gaze forward again as he huffed out an aggravated breath.

"Grumpy old man," you whispered, propping your chin on his shoulder to leave a quick nibble on his ear.

Before he could shoot back a response, you wrapped your arms tightly around his torso, pressing your cheek flush against the bulging muscles of his back. You couldn't help but let out a satisfied hum at the feel of his hot skin against your face. This man radiated so much warmth that you were fairly sure if you'd filled the tub with cold water, it would have turned hot from his body heat alone.

Your hands slowly wandered his chest, following the trace of his chest hair all the way down his stomach. They dipped under the surface of the water, finding the treasure between his thighs. You gave him a small squeeze. Even though you couldn't see what was in your hands, you felt how big and needy he was for you. You hummed again. Relishing his warmth.

Intimate moments with Geralt were rare. Not because he wasn't capable of feeling like many people thought, but because he had a hard time expressing his emotions, being vulnerable, and letting people in. In all fairness, no one had ever cared enough about him to take the time. To dig deeper, tear down his walls.

Don't get it wrong, he knew how to fuck. No woman had ever been left unsatisfied by him. No, the fucking wasn't his problem. It was the soft and emotional stuff he had trouble with.

With your face still pressed tightly against his back, you could hear his heartbeat quickening in his chest as you slowly pumped the length of him. Lathering his back with soft kisses and nips. Occasionally grazing your teeth along his scars, nibbling on the sensitive skin until he was rock hard and throbbing in your hand. His rumbling groans vibrated against your cheek, traveling straight to your core.

Your movements were halted by Geralt's large hands wrapping around your wrists. A frown overtook your face, worried that you might have overdone it. But your worries were quickly put at ease as the large man turned around in your grasp, finally facing you and pressing his lips to yours.

It didn't take long for you to cling to him again, snaking your arms under his and wrapping them around his large torso as your legs did the same. You crawled into his lap, the water surrounding your worked in your favor as you half floated against him, linking your ankles around his waist.

Suppressing a chuckle, the Witcher finally spoke up. "Needy much?" he asked with a raised brow, looking down at the beauty that clung to his chest.

His comment didn't make you loosen up in the slightest, quite the opposite in fact. It just made you hold him even tighter, letting him know that you were in fact, needy for him.

"My god, woman! You're going to crack a rib if you hold me any tighter," he grumbled once more.

"Maybe then you'd finally stay a little longer," you mumbled quietly, but he still heard it. Moving his fingers to your face, he slowly lifted your chin up to meet his golden gaze.

A sudden shyness overtook you as you stared up at him, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck but he stopped you.

There was so much he wanted to say, but you both knew words weren't his strong suit. So he decided to show you instead.

Mimicking your earlier movements, he dipped his head to nibble on your ear, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck to your collarbone. His large hands caressed your skin, everywhere they could reach. When his lips ghosted over your shoulder, he didn't hesitate to sink his fangs into the supple skin, earning a squeal from you.

"OW, you brute! That hurts!"

"Don't like the taste of your own medicine, Princess?" he asked as he kissed over the bruised flesh.

"I just like the taste of you." you breathed, hands wandering down again, eager to please both him and yourself.

Satisfied with the slight growl you got in response, you continued to pump his heavy length until he was throbbing in your grasp.

With his lips still hovering over the exposed skin of your neck, his hot breath left goosebumps in its wake. You were thoroughly soaked, and it wasn't just the deliciously warm water surrounding you. Slick covered your aching core, and you finally couldn't take it anymore.

"please..." you moaned as you ground yourself on his thigh, desperately trying to create some friction. "Geralt please, I need you. Need to feel you...please."

Well if he wasn't hard before, he certainly was now.

"Come here." was all he mumbled out before positioning you on top of his cock, pulling you down with ease, he slowly slid inside of you and you happily welcomed him.

You let out a sigh and he let out a groan, slowly sliding down his length until you were fully seated on him and you felt him, all of him, throbbing tightly inside of you.

Your eyes locked and there was a long beat of complete silence. The two of you just stayed like that for a while. Gazing in each others eyes, basking in warmth and unspoken adoration. The sweet smell of the bath salts lingered around, tangling with the faint scent of sweat.

You didn't dare to move, afraid to lose this intimate moment with him. But as you stared into his eyes, you were relieved to see a look of reassurance, telling you he didn't want to move either.

Geralt tipped his head slightly to press a long, slow kiss to your lips.

"hmm, I missed you." you sighed once he pulled away to take a breath. Your eyes fluttered open again and for the first time, you were greeted with a dopey smile.

"You do smile." You grinned at him.

"Only when I'm truly happy," he stated, and with that, he conquered the last piece of your heart, making you entirely his, 'til the end of time.

Taglist;

@metalbuckaroo

@princessayveke

@montsepliego

@scxrletrecsmarvel

@hopelesslyrogers

@eclecticpatrolroadlawyer

@tfandtws

@vicmc624

@ahahafudge

@enchantedbarnes

@wickedravyn

@pono-pura-vida

@amayaraestyles

@matchat3a

@fictional-hooman

@sebastianexplicit

#gummydummy19 #fanfiction #fluff #smut #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia smut #the witcher #the witcher smut #the witcher fluff #biting #teasing #bathing #henry cavill moodboard #henry cavill fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction

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fandxmslxt69 · 6 months

Text

Daisy (modern, small town AU)

mechanic!Frank castle x f!sunshine!reader

Warnings: Frank's an asshole lmao. UM me making up shit as I go about cars (i dont know enough abt them okay). Um, Frank works at an automobile shop/garage (he owns it more like but whatever). WRITTEN IN LIKE 3 HOURS AND AN IDEA THAT WAS BIRTHED THIS MORNING. Some swearing, lazy descriptions, probably HORRIBLE structure but idc idc idc.

Synopsis: You just moved to a small town, and just your luck, your car breaks down after a few errand runs. You have no choice but to go to the town's official Mr. Grumpy (Frank) to ask for help.

Word count: 1.8k (WHOOPS)

A/N: BAHAHAH SO THIS WAS BORN LIKE THIS MORNING/LAST NIGHT and i could NOT get the idea out of my head so I had to do SOMETHING about it. Yeah, there'll probably be more to this but FIRST, i have to go study after putting it off to finish this. SORRY IT MIGHT BE SOOO FUCKING OOC AND CRINGE BUT I WAS TOO LAZY TO WRITE IT PROPERLY! this is kind of just a set up/build up bit it gets BETTER promise promise anyway was this just me reading like 10 small town romances and going "all of them, but with Frank?" yeah basically, you're welcome.

Tags: YEAH um @soft-girl-musings its kinda your fault for encouraging me (im kidding ily) and um @runa-falls cuuuz yknow you <3 and Frank <3

Imagine a modern AU in a small little town where Frank owns the only garage there. It’s just a small happy town with a little community that grew up with each other- everyone knows Frank as Mr Grumpy- he’s always got that frown and those eyebrows knitted together in annoyance.

Imagine you’re new in town and you feel just a bit out of place in this tightly knitted community. You try to make some friends, but it’s hard fitting into already tight social circles.

Imagine your car breaking down on your way home from a grocery run. The front of smoking and its making weird jumbling and rumbling noises. You leave the car quickly, not wanting to be inside of it in case something goes wrong. You’re nowhere near your house, and the cute sandals you’re wearing are in no shape to walk the rest of the way. You really don’t want to barge into a random shop and ask for help. But you notice, a little far from the rest of the shops in town, a little store with an ugly neon sign that said GARAGE in big, flickering red letters. You sigh heavily, making sure to grab your keys from the car, along with your purse and phone, lock it, and start walking towards the shop.

Imagine walking into the little automobile shop to find it pretty much deserted. The walls were lined with different tires, tools and various car parts lined the little room with a small area left unlittered for the cash register. And yet, there was no one to man the station. You walk around, feeling hopeless, until you hear voices coming from behind the door at the back of the room.

Imagine walking through the door hesitantly into a big garage, and you’re greeted with the sight of a gorgeous shirtless man in loose jeans stained in grease stains. He’s bent over a car and wiping the windshield while a radio beside him blasts some country tunes. You stood in the doorway, mouth hanging slightly open at the sight. Who could blame you? His hair looked so soft, and from what you could see, his face was probably just godly. He looked heavenly,and he clearly didn’t hear you come in from how loud the music was. You clear your throat lightly, clutching the strap of your purse tightly. “Um, excuse me-” you say as quietly as you can, not entirely sure you want to draw his attention. Yet somehow he still hears you. His eyes snap up to meet yours and the look of peace on his face immediately transforms into a look of permanent annoyance.

Shit. He does have a pretty face. A sculpted jawline and a little stubble lined his jaw. Pretty eyes too.

Imagine the way his eyes would roam over you. Your hair held back in a little ponytail, your short blue sundress with daisies that barely just reaches your thighs. The way his pretty lips would set in a hard line and his jaw clenches, and while his eyes take in your pretty look, the way that dress rides up your thigh whenever you take a step, you can see his jaw tick and the frown lines forming.

“Yes?” He said slowly, one eyebrow raised.

“Um,” You shuffled a bit, carefully stepping into the garage, but making sure to keep a distance from him and the car. “Um, my uh, my car broke down, and I kind of need help,”

He wipes his hands on the towel tucked into the pocket of his jeans, walking around the car to stand in front of you. Well, more like tower over you. He was, to put it simply, enormous. At least 6 foot something with broad shoulders and a deliciously sculptured and defined chest. His muscles weren’t the pretty boy skinny things you’d see at the gym- his biceps looked big enough to crush a man’s skull, and his chest looked comfy enough to use as a pillow.

He clears his throat, and you realise you missed a question. You look up (practically STRAINING your neck) to meet his eyes. He definitely looks frustrated. Maybe he's annoyed that he has to repeat himself.

Imagine how mean he’d be about it- he doesn’t mean to be rude, or to come off as an asshole. He definitely didn’t mean to act as if your lack of knowledge in this situation bothered him. Normally he didn’t care, but the way you looked up at him with big worried eyes and the anxious fiddling of your hands just…ticked him off. He certainly doesn’t mean how condescending his tone is, but he just can’t help it. Pretty girls fucked him in the head.

“What’s wrong with your car, doll?”

You fiddled with a strand of your hair. “Um, I don’t actually know,” He lets out an annoyed grunt, running a hand down his face. “Where’d it stop?” “Um, just a little back,” You pointed behind you. “Not too far. I don’t know, it started smoking and making weird noises. Assumed it was bad, so I came here,” He shakes his head, throwing the towel in his hand to the side and grabbing a shirt from one of the chairs. “Yeah sweetheart, that is very bad,”

“Okay well, I figured,” You hesitated. “Can you uh, can you fix it?” “Depends,” He grunted, pulling the shirt over his head. He’d walk past you out front to grab his truck keys from the cash desk, making a couple more caveman noises to indicate that you should follow him.

Imagine getting to his truck and you stand there awkwardly because there’s no fucking way you could get in there. It’s too high up, and you sure as hell can’t just jump into it. You throw your purse in, brace your hands on the door, and try to lift your leg high enough to reach the step.

Imagine Frank getting so fucking pissed when your dress rides up to barely even cover the curve of your ass and he just places his (very big, very warm) hands on your waist and hauls you up, firmly sitting you on the chair and slamming the door shut.

Imagine how the short drive to where your car stopped is just filled with really awkward silence as you clutch your purse to your chest. Frank's got the radio on, an arm hanging out the window, but his other hand on the steering wheel is holding it so tightly his knuckles are turning white. And he looks almost calm, if not for the way he’s clenching his jaw so hard you think he might shatter his teeth.

You pull up to your car, and Frank whistles quietly as he gets out of his truck and walks over to examine it. “What d'ya do to this thing?”

You practically hopped out of the truck, frowning. “Nothin’! I didn’t even do anything. I was just driving back home and it broke down,”

“Well ya must’ve done somethin’ if she broke down this bad,” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Can you open the front?”

“What if it like- explodes on you? What then?” You ask horrified. That’s a horrible impression to leave on someone.

“Not gonna explode, now open the damn front,”

You nod hesitantly, unlocking the car to open up the front. He tries to blow away the smoke with his hand, but it’s really no use. “Yeah, might need to take it back to the garage,”

“But-” You felt your bottom lip wobbling. How could everything go to shit so fast. “I need to get home!”

Despite how grumpy Frank wanted to stay, he can’t help soften when it’s clear how panicked you felt. He knew you were the newest person in town, and he also knew he’d have everyone on his ass if he didn’t try and help a little more.

But he’s still gonna be an ass about it. “I’ll drive you back to your house and send someone for your car, no need to cry ‘bout it, doll,”

You nod hesitantly, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay. Okay, thank you,” And then you smiled this shy, grateful smile at him and he felt like the air was knocked right out of his lungs. You were gorgeous, he knew that, but looking at you now he felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. You looked….cute. And he wanted to keep that smile on your face. Shit. Imagine Frank realising just how fucked he is, having to help such a cute and pretty girl out, he’d just shut himself off even more. His frown deepens and he only communicates in grumbles and grunts as he drives you back home and calls someone to come pick up your car. He only holds out his hand to ask for your keys- not even uttering a word, just holds out those really sexy hands. He just sits in his truck with his arm out the window as you hop out of the seat and make your way up your porch. He feels so screwed. Even your house looked cute.

“Thank you,” You call out to him.

He raises a hand in return and then he pulls out from in front of the house and drives back to his shop.

You falter a bit, feeling a tad stung at how shut off he is. Maybe not everyone is as open as you were, but he could have at least smiled. You sigh, walking into your house and dropping your purse at the door. You discard your shoes, and head to the kitchen to grab a couple snacks and collapse on the couch, feeling overall exhausted and drained from the whole day. Maybe you won’t have to see Grumpy for another few days- just so you could cool down.

The landline rings a few minutes after, and you frown. Who the hell would have the landline’s number? You get up and answer the phone. “Hello?” “Hey daisy, it’s Frank. You left your groceries in the car,” Frank’s voice fills your ear (god he sounds so…so hot)

Your eyes widen and you gasp in shock. “Fuck, I did!”

He hums in response. “Yeah. Bet you need those, don’tcha?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah, I kind of do,”

There’s commotion from Frank’s side, it sounds a lot like someone yelling at him. He sighs heavily. “Alright daisy, I’ll figure somethin’ out f’r you,” And then he hangs up.

Daisy? Figure it out? And why was it so oddly comforting to know he could handle this without you needing to worry?

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x f!reader #the punisher #jon bernthal

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ghostboneswrites2 · 2 months

Text

Bit || One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

A/N// This was the first one shot I ever posted here! This was the story that started everything lol

Summary: You were bitten before he found you.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: sad, death, profanity

The sounds of the forest lulled you in and out of sleep. Sun rays rained down through the leaves. A lovely sight when you could manage to open your eyes. Your back against a tree, sweat beading over your forehead, you winced in pain. Your whole body ached. Down to your very bones, pain was present. The fever was raging, boiling you from within. You scolded yourself internally. How could you let it come to this?

You recalled the chain of events that led you here. You knew you were taking a risk when you tried to loot that old store, but you had no idea just how bad it could get. The coast was clear when you went in, but somehow there were tens of them when you came back out. You ran as fast as you could but there were just so many. Eventually you slowed down, got tired, but they didn't. They never did. They were mindless killing machines. Exhaustion meant nothing to them.

They caught up with you. You fought. You fought hard, but they won. They always did. This time, you were just the unlucky loser. You got bit, but you took it down. The adrenaline and fear from the bite kicked you back into gear. You ran again, and didn't stop until the fever debilitated you. Damn, was it fast. A single bite, and your life was over. What a sick joke.

You thought you heard footsteps in the distance but you made no effort to investigate. You were already gone. It was probably a straggler, coming to finish you off, or a person strolling by that might show you some mercy and put a bullet in your skull. No, not a bullet. They wouldn't draw that much attention to themselves. Maybe a quick knife through the base of your skull, that would work nicely.

A crunch snapped your eyes open, and a pair of long, grungy gray jeans stood before you. You followed the pants up to a shirt, then up to a face. It was hard to make out with the bright sun behind it.

"Ya bit?" A gruff voice asked. It was weird how it sounded like you were under water, or like they were a mile away. You held your arm up, displaying the wound. You dared not look, but the smell told you all you needed to know. It was bad. "'M sorry." They grunted sympathetically, turning and walking away.

"Wait." You croaked. They stopped. "Don't let me die alone." You begged.

The person stood for a moment, back turned to you, seemingly considering your request. After a few moments they turned back and sat down against a tree right across from you. Down at your level you could make out the stranger as a handsome archer with his crossbow sat right beside him. His knees were up with his hands rested on top of them as he eyed you curiously, a hint of sadness in those narrowed eyes.

"What's your name?" You asked.

"Daryl." He said.

"(Y/N)." You told him, coughing a little.

"How'd ya get bit?"

"Looting a store. There was too many."

"'M sorry." He repeated.

"Yeah, me too." You chuckled, humorlessly. You groaned at a random ache. "You know, my dad always told me pain lets you know you're still alive. I don't feel so alive right now."

"My brother always said the same thing." He confessed. "How long ago ya get bit?"

"Don't know. Fever's getting bad though. I'll be out of your hair soon."

"Ain't botherin' me. Got nothin' better to do." He shrugged.

"Really? Nothing better than watching me die?"

"Nah. Shouldn't have to do it alone." He told you. You offered a weak smile.

"Nice guy. Cute too. Wish we met under different circumstances. got a cigarette?"

He tossed you one, and a lighter. You lit it and resisted a cough, enjoying the burn in your lungs as they filled with smoky chemicals.

"Sound like my brother. Askin' for a smoke in your last moments." He said.

"Brother sounds like my kind of people." You croaked.

"Nah, he was real ass." He said, sadly.

"Was?"

"He was bit, too."

"Sorry to hear it. All my family's gone."

"Sorry to hear it."

"Nah," you smiled sadly. "They died in a crash. Before all this. Glad they didn't have to live this way. Or, die this way, in my case. Just hate that their memory and mine dies with me."

"I won't forget ya." He assured.

"Guess that's worth something." You rasped. "Thanks for staying."

"Surprised you didn't ask me to put you out. Looks like it hurts."

"Yeah." You nodded. "Hurts bad. To be honest you're the first friendly face I've seen in weeks. Might as well enjoy it 'til I can't."

His throat tightened a little. He was sad for you. To have felt so lonely you'd suffer to the end just to feel the presence of another person.

"'M sorry." He said again.

"Don't be." You told him. "Got nothing to be sorry for. You're here with me now, that's more than I could've asked for. You got a group or somethin'?"

"Mhm. Got a prison we took. It's safe. Fences, walls, gardens."

"Damn. Now that's somethin' I would've liked to see."

"I would've took you there." He said.

"Too bad." You coughed. "Too bad, indeed"

You were getting paler by the minute. Your eyes could barely open. He took in your features, noting to remember your pretty face. He wouldn't let you go forgotten, because that was what he told you. Your breathing was so shallow he couldn't see your chest rise anymore.

"Ya still there?" He asked.

"Mm." You grunted. "Still here."

"You wanna be buried?"

"You walk around with a shovel?"

"Nah. Prison's not far. I can bury you there, next to our people."

"Oh." You breathed. "That's real nice."

"We bury our people." He said, recalling Glenn's words that day outside Atlanta after the camp got attacked by walkers. Daryl was gonna burn all the bodied, but Glenn insisted their own people be buried properly. He'd be sure to extend that same sentiment to you.

"That's good. Humanity prevails, and all that shit."

"Somethin' like that."

It grew silent again. He watched you closely.

"(Y/N)?" He called. No response. His heart sped up. "(Y/N)." He said, louder. You were gone. He swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring the feelings of despair as he stood and walked over to you. He gently pulled your head forward and plunged his blade into the back of your head. He looked you over, noticing a rope necklace around your neck with some wooden beads strung over it. He untied it from the back of your neck and tied it around his own, before he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the prison.

When he arrived, he got plenty of questioning stares. Rick approached him.

"You know her?" He asked.

"Just met her. She was bit. Asked me to stay." Daryl said as he laid your body down gently on the grass. It took him over an hour to dig your grave, and a good while to fashion a marker for your grave. He stood there over your buried body for a while, wondering what life could have been for you if he found you earlier, if he found you before the bite, if you lived to see another day. He wiped the signal tear he shed for you before retreating inside, to his cell, to seclude himself and mourn the potential that was lost with your life.

#daryl dixon fanfic #twd daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl x female reader #sad #mdni

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ouroborosorder · 2 months

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Arknights VFX question: Any highlights or personal favourites as far as the "Stick a whole background/huge jpeg in there behind the character" category of skills goes?

Oh I like this question. This made me consider things I've never looked at before, so thank you for that. I had to do research.

So, there's not a lot of ops like this, and shockingly, I don't have many positive things to say about them. BUT I did find a few interesting highlights I think are worth discussing.

First off, I will leave Eine Variation out of this, as I have made my thoughts on that Thing very clear.

But, my favorite skin in the game actually does indeed have the Background.Jpeg - Specter's As One!

Aaaand it's easily the worst part of my favorite skin. Don't get me wrong, i think it's probably one of the better executions of the idea, since it's like, a skybox, it matches the pallette, matches the artstyle of the skin, it's almost perfect. I wish it was a LITTLE less static, maybe have some distortion ripples across it like waves to keep the stars moving, or maybe have them twinkle a bit or something. But it's fine. But a good effect isn't everything.

Effects relies heavily on the principles of animation, too. Appeal, weight, color, and most importantly of all - timing. Having a proper lead in can make a bad effect good, and having a bad lead-in can make a good effect fucking terrible. And having no lead-in at all will absolutely fuck your effect and make it super clear that you took a jpeg from the skin art and superimposed it behind your operator.

Here. Look at the picture above. Now, I am going to tab back literally just one single frame in the animation and...

oh ...there's no fade in at all. It just literally appears in a single frame. It draws way more attention to itself than it needs to just by virtue of literally popping in. It's SUPER obvious that it's just Skybox.jpeg. If it faded in with some sort of noise mask (which takes literally less than 2 minutes to make,) it would be so so so much better. Again, this is my favorite skin in the game, and I already think S3 is quite beautiful, so this is nitpicking, but this skybox always bugged me a lot.

Now to say a sentence no one has ever said - going up a step in quality from Specter to Hoederer!

I can't fully get this one in a still image and I'm too tired to record a video / gif so just go with this, alright?

This one is ALMOST GOOD. ALMOST. IT'S SO FUCKING CLOSE. The texture is being distorted by a wavelike noise that is giving it the rippling effect of fire, which is the standard thing to do for making a stylized fire. The problem is that... The texture itself doesn't fucking move? It's just being UV distorted, just a bit of offset to the material and I just AUGH.

It's so so so obvious that it's just a static jpeg of fire that's being waved around like a flag to get it to contort into being fire. This wouldn't bother me if the actual fire texture didn't have implications of movement in the little waves and fades and stuff. I hate it it's so irritating it's so CLOSE. But also, animating an entire fire flipbook would have taken a lot more time, and I can 100% guarantee you the VFX artist is also unhappy with this one. Their A team was probably on Arturia or something. Speak of the devil -

I've had a few people ask how I feel about Arturia's S3 after I expressed my hatred for Eine Variation, and I am here to say - this unambiguously fucking rules, for a few reasons.

First and least importantly, THE MONSTER MOVES. The monster itself has slight movement, you can notice its arms wiggle a little and mouth open and close. This is a small thing that goes a LONG way to make it feel way more dynamic and alive. It's also being distorted by a noise like Hoederer is, which is quite nice as a touch, really helps to make that limited movement feel way more significant than it is.

Second, is that the texture is monochromatic, but in a different way than Arturia is. The grays are colder, harsh blue-grays to contrast Arturia herself, who is a very warm gray. This makes it so that it adds a really nice background that looks like part of her, while also standing out and allowing her to stand out against it. It's a really smart use of monochrome to create visual interest using just different subtle shades of gray.

But that bluish hue also serves to compliment the only color in the effect - the blue light from the cello. Your eyes are naturally drawn to brighter glowing things, which is also the only colored spot on the effect - the cello from which her Arts emerge. As a result, the Beastie.jpg fades out of your attention, becoming monochromatic noise, which, due to being just kinda chaotic and aesthetically dissonant, you interpret more as abstract Shape than anything else. That abstract shape then makes a cone which leads you down into Arturia's center, which is her cello, which is where her Arts are coming from.

This is basically to say - These are very emblematic of what I think makes good effects textures in general. They work best when they're not alone. When these backgrounds are part of a larger whole that's all coming together to make an effect, rather than being the centerpiece of the whole thing. When I notice the background, it's a problem, in my eyes. Maybe people disagree. They keep putting them in skins, and a lot of people thought the Eine Variation goat was cool as hell, so clearly I'm in the wrong here, but hey. Who gives a shit.

I'm sure there's way more examples of this, (actually I know there are,) but I'm extremely tired and need to go the fuck to sleep. If there's any particular backgrounds ya'll want me to take a look at, lemme know and I'll get back to you when I've woken from my dread slumber.

#arknights #arknights vfx breakdown

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littlexscarletxwitch · 1 year

Text

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗺𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵

paring: amy march x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, headcanons, friends to lovers, secret relationship (?), period piece

warning(s): grammatical errors, not proofread, unedited

word count: 1.9k

note: Amy has been in my mind the last couple of days so i decided to finally write this idea and I got carried away. I hope it doesn't flop but I feel like it's going to flop :( I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you enjoy! <;3 (Also "jealousy" part 2 is currently in the works since a lovely person asked for it)

requests are open! + check my rules here <3

Your older brother was best friends with Laurie. Meaning you were always around him. Laurie was like a second brother to you.

It was always the three of you, until Laurie met Jo. Then it was just you.

Both Laurie and your brother were very fond of her, so the three of them became an inseparable trio.

You didn’t mind, of course, because they were always there if you needed them. But the best part of meeting Jo was meeting Amy March.

Your brother, Laurie, Mr. Brooke and you were all present when she came to the Laurence residence with a wounded hand.

“Sit down,” Mr. Brooke said. “Sit down, Laurie,” you could sense the annoyance in his tone. He was clearly tired. “Latin is a privilege,” he continued.

You honestly weren’t pay to much attention to them, your book was more interesting than listening to Laurie being lectured about the importance of latin.

“Please, you have to learn this. I can’t afford to lose this position. Just return to the Cicero–”

“There’s a girl out there,” Laurie cut him off, catching everyone's attention.

“What?” your brother asked in disbelief, standing up next to him.

“No, there’s not,” Mr. Brooke tried to catch their attention.

“Yes, Mr. Brooke, there’s a girl,” he insisted.

“No, there’s not.”

Laurie and your brother moved so you and Mr. Brooke could see that there was in fact a girl out there. You could see she was pacing back and forth, tears running down her face, and she was holding her hand.

“Oh, there’s is a girl,” Mr. Brooke said.

“That’s a girl,” your brother confirmed.

The four of you opened up a window and stuck your heads out. Laurie called out to her.

“Hello there. Are you hurt?”

“I’m Amy.”

“Hello, Amy. I’m Laurie.”

“I know. You brought my sister back after the dance,” so that was Jo’s little sister. “I would’ve never sprained my ankle. I have lovely small feet, the best in the family. But I can never go home again because I’m in such trouble,” she cried out.

Your heart shrunk at her words, she was having a really hard time.

“Look,” she held her hand up. You could see she had a cut there, it didn’t look too deep though. “Mr. Davis hit me.”

She was then brought into the house and Mr. Brooke put on a bandage on her wound. Amy was looking around the place, the four of you looking at her every movement.

She gasped, “Tell the servants I want this painting purchased immediately!” she said in a funny tone, which made you chuckle. A small smile appeared on her lips because of your reaction.

“Amy! Are you in there?”

“Meg! My hand. Look.”

Jo was trailing behind Meg. Laurie's eye’s immediately found her.

“What richness,” you heard Jo say.

Meg, the eldest, immediately made her way towards her little sister.

“It hurts so much,” Amy complained.

You heard Jo talking to Laurie, your brother soon standing next to his friends. But your eyes were still on Amy.

“What did you do?” Jo asked Amy, you could tell she was annoyed by her little sister.

“Nothing. I did a drawing, and then Mr. Davis hit me,” she explained.

But Jo was, once again, distracted by something else in the room, a painting. Laurie’s grandfather’s painting.

“Jo, we do not compare grandfathers,” you heard a soft voice say.

Margaret March and Mr. Laurence entered the room.

He gently patted your back, before making his way to his grandson, your brother and Jo.

The March woman were now discussing Amy’s education, giving that Mrs. March decided that her daughter wasn’t coming back to that school.

“Yes, women being taught at home is more proper, I believe. Take Y/n for example,” Mr. Brooke said.

You discretely rolled your eyes at him, but Amy saw it and sent a smile your way, making your cheeks go red.

“Only because schools for women are poor,” Meg fired back.

“Indeed. Quite right,” you could tell he was nervous just by talking to the brunette.

“I wish all the girls would leave this horrible school and that he would die.”

You chuckled at her words, earning a stern look from your brother. So you coughed trying to divert the attention from your reaction.

“You did wrong. And there will be consequences,” Mrs. March insisted.

“I didn’t. I didn’t even do anything. I just did a drawing.”

“Thank you so much for taking care of our Amy,” Mrs. March said to Laurie and your brother.

“Oh, yes of course.”

“My girls have a way of getting into mischief.”

“Well, so do we, ma’am,” your brother said, a grin forming on his lips.

“Then one of you will run over and we’ll take care of you.”

“Please, and come over whenever you’d like. Invite your sister Beth as well,” Laurie said.

“Yes! Beth would adore the piano,” Jo said, jumping out of the couch, making Amy gasp in pain when Jo touched her wounded hand.

“Is she the quiet one?” Mr. Laurence asked.

“Yes, that’s our Beth.”

“Tell that little girl to use our piano. I’m sure Y/n wouldn't mind, right Y/n?”

Mr. Laurance snapped you out of your thoughts, forcing you to look away from Amy.

“Not at all,” you smile at the March family.

“And Jo, borrow whatever book you’d like,” Laurie added.

“Can I come look at the painting?” Amy asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes!”

You and Laurie replied at the same time, your tone showing more excitement than his.

“There’s also a lovely greenhouse,” Mr. Brooke said, smiling at Meg.

“We must go. Girls.”

The room suddenly was filled with all the girls talking at the same time. Before walking out the door you heard Amy shouting goodbye.

“Thank you for my hand! It was nice meeting you, Y/n!” she said, raising her hand and flashing you a smile, making your heart pick up its pace.

And ever since then, the two of you were attached at the hip.

Laurie and you were admitted to their little club. They weren’t quite sure about Laurie, but you convinced them that the two of you would be the best members.

Everytime Jo and Beth would come to the Laurence residence, Amy would tag along just to see you.

The two of you would spend the entire day together. She would tell you about painting, you would tell her about the book you were currently reading.

Some afternoons she would convince you to model for her and she would draw you.

But it was just an excuse to stare at you.

In time, the friendly touches and stares became something else. It wasn’t friendly anymore, it was something deeper than that.

The two of you would sneak into the woods and have some alone time, somewhere where you could hold hands without having to hide or where the two of you could give eachother little kisses away from the public eye.

Neither of you quite understood what the two of you were doing. You both knew that it felt right and just went with it.

When Amy went to Europe you sent her letters, expressing all your love for her, how much you missed her. But you never signed them with your actual name, you would use a different one in case someone were to find them and read them.

Amy would write back, and tell you all the amazing things she’d been up to, tell how much she missed you as well, and how much she loved you.

Later on, you accompanied Laurie to Europe in hopes that you would see her again. And you did.

Laurie and you were walking when all of a sudden you heard yours and Laurie’s name being called.

“Y/n! Y/n! Y/n! Laurie!” she shouted, getting off the carriage and making her way towards the two of you.

“Amy!”

She hugged you tightly, trying to show her love for you. The truth was she wanted to kiss you but she couldn’t with all those people, Laurie and her aunt looking.

“My, you’ve grown so much,” Laurie said.

“You look beautiful, Amy,” you smiled at her with loving eyes.

“You wrote you’d meet me at the hotel.”

“We couldn’t find you,” you were holding her hands.

“You didn't look hard enough,” she said, holding back her smile.

“Well, maybe we didn’t recognise you, ‘cause you’re so beautiful now,” Laurie said.

“Oh, stop it,” she playfully rolled her eyes at him

She asked about Laruie’s grandfather, about your brother, about what the two of you were up to.

“I couldn’t believe Jo turned you down. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, Amy,” Laurie said, a small smile on his lips.

“Amy!” her aunt called out to her.

She got in the carriage again, Laurie leaned inside to kiss Aunt March's cheek.

“Hello, Y/n,” she said. Aunt March thought you were a decent young lady and actually liked you.

“Hello, Mrs. March,” you smiled at the lady.

Before saying goodbye Amy invited you and Laurie to a New Year’s eve party.

“See you, Y/n!”

“Later, March,” you replied. Watching as the carriage moved away.

When the three of you came back because of Beth’s funerals. Your brother noticed how you felt around a certain March and decided to ask you about it.

“I’m sick, am I not?” tears running down your cheeks as he now knew your truth,

“No, Y/n. Loving someone could never mean you are sick,” he hugged you tightly, afraid that you would break into million pieces

The both of you stayed there, holding onto each other.

“You know,” he broke the silence. “I’ve always loved Amy,” you looked at him, confusion writing all over your face. He chuckled at your reaction. “No, not like that, silly. Not like you love her. What I’m trying to say is that, maybe I could take care of her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know how rich our family is. She would be settle for life, and if she doesn’t want to have kids then that’s okay.”

“You’re saying you will marry her?”

“I’m saying that...” he carefully thought his next words. “Yes, I would be marrying her. But only for you. On paper we would be together but it could be the perfect opportunity for the two of you to have your chance together.”

“Would you do that for me? For us?” your eyes were watery once again.

“You know how I feel about marriage, I don’t like it. So I would gladly marry Amy if it means one of us gets to live their happy ending.”

“But what if you fall in love and you do want to marry her?”

“If that happens we could figure something out later. But you should talk to her.”

“You’re dead serious about this?”

“Dead serious, Y/n. Now go and tell her.”

So you did. You told her your brother’s stupid plan.

You thought she would laugh in your face, but the only thing she did was kiss your lips.

It was so intimate and so perfect. It felt as if the two of you were promising to live together for the rest of your lives. As if things should always have been that way. It felt like the start of something new.

“I can’t wait to marry your brother,” she joked before connecting her lips to yours once again.

(Y/n’s brother understood how she felt because he felt the same way towards a special someone. No, it's not Jo. Let me know if you guessed it.)

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#amy march #amy march x fem reader #amy march x you #amy march x y/n #amy march fluff #amy march headcanons #amy march imagine #florence pugh #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh imagine #florence pugh headcanons #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #your fav florence pugh blog <3

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