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spicyllewyn · 7 months

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Kinktober 6. - Mirror sex.

Moon system x F!Reader

Tags & warnings. Mirror sex + hair pulling. (+18)

Word count. 2.8k

Summary. Marc got tired of Steven and Jake breaking his rules.

Kinktober masterlist.

So far, the agreement had been going relatively well. You were in a serious relationship with Marc at first, you met in a café like those silly romantic movies, with the small difference that you almost killed him by spilling your cold drink on him and tripping over him.

Neither of you could deny that things were moving very fast, but everything with him was so ridiculously easy that you weren't afraid to give him your all. You told him about the pet you lost when you were young, about the disagreements with your parents, and the occasional traumatic event in your life. He did the same.

When he told you about Steven and Jake, you joked that he was winning the trauma competition, and he could breathe easy knowing that this was not even close to being an obstacle to your relationship. He could trust you.

Things began to get a bit out of control when everything also became easy with Jake and Steven, each with their own personal charm. You never imagined being with three very different guys, but starting to experience it was a real adventure. The problem was that while you were having fun, they had endless discussions about you and the boundaries they set for each other.

Well, the boundaries that Marc set.

The main and biggest one was that marks on your body were prohibited. He understood that all four were part of the relationship equally, but he also used something he liked to call "privileges of having met you first and being the main reason why everyone is together." Or something like that, he always changed the name for it, the thing is he couldn't help but be a jealous man, he hated that Jake and Steven would forget who you belonged to first.

The first one to break the rule was Steven, unconsciously. You didn't know anyone who was a bigger fan of make-out sessions than him, and when his kisses got deeper, more desperate, he had the habit of holding onto your hips as if you were about to run away at any moment, or as if he wanted to verify that you were real and that you were in his arms, devouring his mouth as if you depended on it to live.

That, combined with the fact that he had a terrible habit of forgetting that his muscles were stronger than he thought. You tried to be as discreet as possible when his fingers left marks on your skin, but with someone as touchy as Jake, it was impossible to keep secrets about your body.

He took it as a challenge, of course. If Steven could break the rules, why couldn't he?

The next day, you could be sure that he saw you as a blank canvas because your neck, your shoulders, and even your breasts were covered in bites and hickeys. You didn't remember him being so aggressive, but maybe pleasure had blinded you.

"What is this?" Marc held your chin, turning your face slightly, just enough to get a better view of your neck.

"It was Jake." You chuckled, still distracted by your phone as you let him guide you, without noticing how his jaw clenched, but feeling his fingers tighten on your jaw.

"Darling?"

Your eyes traveled to him.

"Mhm?"

"Will you come with me to the bedroom? We need to talk."

With a furrowed brow, you obeyed because the hand that held your chin ended up in one of your hands, pulling you as if he were a child wanting to show you something very important.

"Am I in trouble?" You joked as you watched him close the door behind you.

"Sit on the bed."

"Am I...?"

His brown eyes on you were enough for you to obey once again.

"Could you explain to me what the hell is this?" His hand in your hair made you turn your gaze away from the mirror you had in front, leaving the marks in plain sight.

You immediately understood who he was talking to.

Or whom.

"Oh, come on, hermano." Jake rolled his eyes in the mirror's reflection, his arms crossed over his chest. "Steven broke it first."

"False!" The mentioned objected after. It seemed like a competition of who could make Marc lose his patience first. "I would never do something like that."

"Check her hips if you don't believe me."

Raising an eyebrow, Marc released your hair.

"Stand up, sweetheart."

If there's one thing you've learned over time in this relationship, it's that it's not worth objecting when one or all three of them are arguing, especially when you don't even know what the problem is. You stood up slowly, wearing Steven's blue sweater that you slept in, which only covered half of your thighs.

He slowly lifted the edge of the fabric, his fingers brushing your thighs and causing a slight shiver. You could swear you heard him growl when he found the damn marks that fit perfectly with the size of his hands. Some of them were covered by your panties but they were pretty visible, already turning to a purple color.

“I-I didn't even notice those were there!”

“Why can Steven do it and I can't? That’s a damn injustice if you ask me.”

“Fortunately, Jake, I'm not asking you.” He rolled his eyes while you tried to imagine what the other two boys responded to him from the headspace. "On your knees."

The cold of the floor on your skin felt good and you had to look up to meet your boyfriend's chocolate gaze. You never had a problem following his orders.

“The problem here…” His fingers ran through your hair slowly, making you close your eyes for a few seconds. “They are forgetting who you belong to. Who do they think they are to mark my girl like this, huh?” He cooed, the gaze of the other two fixed on him.

Your hands went to the hem of his pants, and when he didn't object, you understood well what he wanted. A small smile spread across your lips as you freed him from his tight black jeans, as well as his underwear.

He wasn't completely hard yet until your tongue ran along his entire length from base to tip.

“I want you to show them who was your first, my love.” Your fingers, as if you were an expert, wrapped around his cock, giving it a squeeze before beginning a slow, up-and-down pace. “Who you think about every fucking time you cum.”

You couldn't see it, but in detail you imagined the way Jake was rolling his eyes.

“It's a punishment for all 3 of you, you understand, don't you, honey?” His eyes boring into you as you kissed all around his cock wetly. “What makes you believe you should allow yourself to be treated that way?”

You parted your lips, taking the head inside before starting to suck. That always gave him chills, the way you didn't rush.

“No-oh.” His fingers tangled in your hair, those soft caresses had stopped. One push of his hand and you had half of his erection inside your mouth. He groaned.

Although you enjoyed taking your time and savoring every inch of Marc, he seemed to be in a hurry, you thought that perhaps the clumsy and aggressive way in which he was directing your head movements was part of the supposed punishment.

Were you supposed to not enjoy that?

“Push deeper.” Jake's voice caught Marc's attention, who a few seconds ago had been distracted by the messy and sloppy way you were sucking him off. He could have sworn there was a point where the only sound in the room was your saliva every time he slid over your tongue.

Marc looked at the mirror with a frown.

“Push harder.” He repeated, looking up. “Steven always fucks her mouth until she cries, if you want to prove your point push harder. Right, Steven?"

The other boy received an elbow against his ribs that forced him to look up. It seems he was enchanted by watching the way your left cheek bulged against the pressure of the head of Marc's lenght against it.

Still distracted, he nodded quickly.

It was that what resulted in you suddenly feeling him push your head harder. The brush against your throat brought tears to your eyes and you heard your boyfriend grunt. He was never so rude.

You didn't complain, though.

You tried your best to relax the muscles in your throat around him, but you were so caught off guard that a couple of gags only did the opposite, feeling you squeeze him every few seconds until he guided your head back.

Saliva ran from your lips to your chin, some drops ending up on your neck. You broke the string of saliva that joined his cock to your mouth by licking your lips.

You sniffed, looking up before giving Marc a smile.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” His fingers wrapped around himself so he could hit your tongue with his heavy member. You kept your tongue out, happy to receive it and hear the wet slapping. “Or does Steven do it better?”

Another movement of his hips was so abrupt that you felt your nose eventually collide with his lower abdomen, having to close your eyes as your tears ran down them. Still, you didn't give up, you didn't use your well-known "signal" to ask for some mercy.

Instead you moved your tongue slowly underneath, you only managed to graze his balls with the tip of it but it was enough to get a gasp from his throat. You held on for more seconds than you thought you were capable of before it was Marc himself who pushed you away.

It took you several seconds to even out your desperate breathing, you wiped your lips on the sleeve of Steven's sweater.

"Stand up." He ordered. His chest rising and falling rapidly. Jake's smirk on the other side of the mirror screamed at him that he knew. He knew Marc would finish stupidly quickly if he kept fucking your throat like that.

You swallowed hard before standing on shaky legs, the intense heat between your legs beginning to burn through your entire body, without receiving any kind of attention the only thing you could feel was the way your insides clenched around nothing.

"Turn around." Your cheeks took on a reddish color as you remembered the two pairs of eyes that were on you on the other side of the reflection. You slowly turned your back on him, your fingers gripping the wooden cabinet that held the huge mirror. “You better not close your eyes, I want you to look at them.”

Marc's hands took care of the job, pulling the hem of the sweater up to your waist and pulling your panties down to your ankles. You didn't need instructions to spread your legs and raise your ass for him.

He positioned himself behind your body, holding his cock for help. The tip separated your lips and you flinched when it brushed your swollen clit, it was just a couple of brushes as if he wanted to collect your juices on it in order to make penetration easier.

Although with you dripping and him full of your saliva, at this point it was just his pettiness and his desire to make you beg. You lifted your hips higher.

Marc looked down, his hand positioning itself exactly over Steven's finger marks and with a single movement you felt him slide inside you. Your legs trembled as you received him this deep and rough way, an action that you recognized as more typical of Jake.

“M-Marc, fuck, Marc.” You stammered as your body tried to get used to his size. No matter how many times you had done this, it was like your body insisted on giving him that death grip that drove him crazy.

"That's it." He caught her bottom lip between his teeth in a lousy attempt to silence her gasps. “Louder, baby, remind them who's fucking you.”

Somehow you felt like Jake and Steven's eyes burned into your skin. You couldn't look in the mirror, not while you were babbling Marc's name between moans, with that look that made it obvious how cockdrunk you were with just a couple of thrusts.

When Marc hit that sweet spot that made you vibrate from head to toe, your eyes closed automatically, your head falling downward.

"No." He growled, his hand rising to place it in your hair where he tangled his fingers. The sudden tug he gave to your locks made you snap your head up and let out a loud gasp, your eyes snapping open. "Look at them."

On the other side Jake was leaning slightly so he could be at your face level, analyzing every small expression of pleasure he saw in you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are dilated, and your lips are red from biting them so much.

Steven was too lost in his own thoughts to object anything, the truth is that he was enjoying this new angle he had to see his cock splitting you and making you whimper more than he would like.

“Tell them how good I'm making you feel, honey.” He cooed, his fingers giving your hair a harder tug to force you to keep your head up. “Remind them who was the first to break that tight little pussy.”

You stifled a moan, making your bottom lip bleed with a bite.

“Tell them.” He growled, his fingers squeezing your hips so hard you feared your body was going to give up at any moment.

“I-It was you, Marc.” You whimpered in pleasure as his thrusts pushed your body forward, you were already on your tiptoes so as not to end up with your entire body against the furniture.

“Repeat it, I want them to listen to you.” His entire length remained still inside you, brushing against that spot that made you lose your mind. "Louder."

Your parted lips took in deep gasps of air and you had to swallow hard to recover your voice by moistening your throat a little.

“It’s you M-Marc.” He didn't give your hair a break, he was pulling with his fingers so hard that it was starting to hurt. “Fuck, Marc! A-Ah, fuck. It’s you, it’s you, only you.”

Bold of you to assume that Jake wouldn't have that in mind the next time he had his turn with you.

“Fuck her harder.” Marc looked at the mirror when the opposing voice caught his attention. “Come on, she can take it.” A mocking smile appeared on his lips, only irritating Marc even more.

Still, he obeyed.

You could hear the slapping between your bodies every time he thrusted into you. Your legs were threatening to stop supporting your body weight as they began to shake, your entire body feeling small spasms as you got closer and closer to the end.

“Marc?” Steven's soft voice caught the attention of the other two. His pupils were dilated and there was an adorable blush on hid cheeks. "Touch her."

Marc grunted when he realized that this wasn't the punishment he'd originally thought, but who was he to say no to Steven? The hand that was holding your hip slowly slid between your legs, separating your pussy lips with his fingers and then pressing his thumb against your sensitive clit.

He immediately felt your little hole tighten around him.

“Circles.”

“I know how to touch her, Steven.” He growled in your ear, only reminding you of the pair who were probably enjoying the show. The pleasure you were experiencing was too much to rescue the few grams of shame you might have somewhere on your body.

Your nails scratched the wood of the furniture in front of you.

“Cum all over me, honey.” He managed to whisper between moans. Two more thrusts of his body snatching the air from your lungs. “I bet they’ll like it.”

And that was enough for the wave of pleasure to make your body tingle from head to toe, your walls milking Marc until he followed you immediately after, filling you with his warm, thick liquid, which he pushed deeper inside you with a couple more strokes.

For a few seconds the only thing you heard along with the ringing in your ears was Marc's heavy breathing. After a moment his fingers gripped your hips, drawing your attention.

He gave you one more thrust and you squealed, sensitive, overstimulated.

“Marc.” You complained, looking up at the mirror in front of you once more as you tried to catch your breath.

On the other side, Jake's smile greeted you, almost playful.

“Let's see which name you can shout the loudest, princesa.”

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futureplayboibunnie · 7 months

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Aphrodesiacs Pt.10 (Finale)

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

You and Miguel were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

okay grand finale for y’all. I REALLY BUST MY ASS TO MAKE THIS A LONG JUICY ONE. i was listening to once more to see you by mitski writing this soooo.

NSFW AS ALWAYS 18+

You kicked Miguel out that night.

Yes, it was petty. Yes, it was bitchy. But you really couldn't be around him, not when you had to go to HQ tomorrow. You got a taste of his lifestyle and you found that it was enough.

You didn't want to be a secret side fling but you didn't want to be in a relationship either, you were confused, and being near Miguel never made you clear-headed anyway so you found it very easy to kick him out. He wasn't saying the right things to you and to be honest, you didn't care if it was petty. You wouldn't settle, even if it was Miguel. But then again, it was Miguel- the man that makes you bend to his will, the man that makes your pussy sore and your body ache, the man that can make you cum over and over again until you're biting into the bedsheets. Your mouth went slack at the mere thought. You had to put your foot down, although it felt so fucking good, you wouldn't reduce yourself as someone he fucks from time to time.

You really weren't looking forward to Monday.

Monday morning was hell.

But as it approached nightfall, everything became worse.

Miguel was pacing in his office, his trembling fingers rubbing the skin of his forehead. He couldn't work properly, not when you so casually said 'leave' and shut the door in his face. He couldn't lie, it definitely stung, almost like he was being rejected by the popular girl in high school, reducing him to an awkward, idiotic mess in front of a pretty girl. The thought made his eye twitch, embarrassment twinging at his chest. The issue that was heavier than the embarrassment was the frustration and regret, he couldn't help but feel sad about it- but he would much rather die than show it. After all these years of keeping himself hidden, keeping busy with his work, with his role as a leader...he really didn't know how to open up to anyone. The only person he had ever gotten properly close with was you, and that was just sex. He hadn't had an intimate conversation about his true feelings with a woman he wanted before. It was always just about the sex. But with you, it had always felt like it was something more, maybe it was the spider, maybe it wasn't- he just wanted to be...near you. Lyla had heard him humbling to himself, cursing in Spanish. She was looming over him trying to see what was up with him but he just waved her away.

What if you were already fucking someone else? Did you hate him? What if you never spoke to him again? His jealousy over hypothetical scenarios was messing with his head. He frowned. Miguel felt a surge of anxiety and insecurity flow through him.

Miguel won't cost his dignity to approach you first though, it was always a challenge between you two, this cruel dance of death, the constant miscommunication, the back and forth. You were both just as stubborn and as unrelenting as each other.

Maybe if he just gave an excuse to see you, maybe if he had you in front of him he could actually talk about it instead of being a cold, unfeeling monster everyone saw him as. Miguel's face dropped as soon as he thought that, his brows furrowed in misplaced anger. The truth is... he was afraid. Miguel hasn't been afraid since Gabriella disappeared in his arms. Now he was about to lose you too.

He didn't want to risk it, he needed to do something.

Miguel pressed a few buttons on his watch, scrolling down to your name and alerting your watch to come see him. He didn't want to make excuses anymore, he just felt lost and you were the only one to find him, you were the only one to save him from eternal damnation. You were his sin, his haven, it felt...it felt like you were his everything at this point. This weekend gave him a glimpse of heaven and now he was aching for it back, yearning for it like a clawing dog at a closed door.

When you saw the notification on your watch, your lips curled downwards and your face shifted into a grimace. You let out a deep sigh, your face softening a little. Okay, another chance. Another chance to see him. You hated that you wanted to see him, but you just had to. Although you stood by your decision, you still felt a fraction of guilt just kicking him out like that. All you wanted from him was to tell you how he felt, not just about this tension between you but his feelings, your chemistry. If there was a future outside of this, if his heart was ready for it, to be open to love. You were scared to admit it, you didn't want to but you had to....you were falling in love with him. That weekend taught you so much about yourself, but it barely told you anything about him. He was unreadable, unknowable. All he was able to show was anger or frustration. You wanted to know if you were important enough for him to let you in. You just wanted to know him. Not just as Spiderman 2099. Not just as the spider that happened to bite both of you. Just Miguel. The heart he loved from, the brain he thought from. You wanted to love him, but he was so hellbent on pushing you away and you didn't want to force him to want you.

You knew this was a necessity. One last time, one last chance before you decided what you wanted.

Anxiety coursed through your bloodstream but you didn't show it as you finally walked into his office and Miguel felt your presence immediately, like your scent was his sustenance. You walked in confident but it always felt like Miguel saw through you, but you didn't know that, again, he was unreadable.

His eyes pierced through yours, a sad and frustrated look carving into his face, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, he never did. Miguel threw his head back, signaling for you to hop up on his platform. You huffed reluctantly and swung up swiftly. when you landed on your feet next to him, his presence already formed goosebumps on the back of your neck but you were still defensive so you crossed your arms with an intent look.

"You wanted to see me." You say flatly.

“We left things...abruptly.” His voice was low but unconfident, he didn't know how to start, he needed you to take the lead for him.

“Think that was best.” It felt like the words were getting lost in your mouth, you still weren't looking at him and it made Miguel frown. His hand raised to grab your chin softly for you to look up at him and when you did you were met with sad, insecure, guileless eyes.

“Please just...look at me.” His voice was just above a whisper, a plea for something he wasn't sure of. Your mouth opened to speak but your brows just tensed, a moment passing between you as he touched you softly, almost affectionately.

You grabbed his wrist and let his hand fall off of your skin. “What do you want from me, Miguel?” You breathed impatiently.

“Just talk to me cariño.” The softness of his voice contrasted against the frustration on his 1 face, harsh lines of uncertainty and anger played on the softest parts of him, your cold words twisting the knife even further- but he still won't give you the power to hurt him. Miguel wasn't sure if he was capable of letting anyone in, let alone you. The thought slashed through the forefront of his mind and it made his heart hit his gut. He was scrambling for something, his mouth went dry and his hands went numb.

If only he stopped being so self-righteous, so bent on sabotaging everything good in his life. You sighed.

“I don't wanna be some...casual fuck buddy that's of momentary use to you.” A grimace plastered your face as you said it, you didn't want to be reduced to a hole that he fucks from time to time, you wanted him but you're not stupid, you still had your dignity.

Maybe Miguel pried it out of you before, but now you were just irritated. Your hands went to cradle his face, desperate eyes meeting his, searching for an answer but he didn't say anything, his face wasn't giving anything away. “I need more, I want more...” You lean in, lips parting into sullen apprehension, pleading with him to see you. Your fingers rubbed his neck, but this time it was him that was prying your hands off of him.

“What you're asking of me is not something I know.” His utterances were gruff and stern but it was clear he wasn't actively seeking to hurt you, he just never liked articulating how he was feeling, but he wanted to change that- but people don't change overnight.

The sad look on your face just turned into one of surprise defeat.

“Am I not worth trying for?” You breathed and Miguel didn't like the way such a question caught him off guard, it was like his ears were ringing with it, with anxiety...with fear. It's not something he's prepared to deal with, he watched your eyes dim, and your brows raise in disbelief in front of him in real-time and it made him feel even more guilty.

“You're enough for me now.” Miguel lied through his perfect teeth and his answer was making you even more upset, slivers of sadness echoed through him. You let him lie though.

“Then why are you trying to change me?” Your voice faltered a little, and it sent shockwaves down Miguel's spine. He watched as your nose pinched pink like you were about to sniffle in sadness but you kept your guard up, you definitely wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

“I'm not.” He said matter of factly, his face softening for a moment when his fingers brushed a few strands of hair behind your piping hot ear. “Don’t you see? It's you who's changing me.” You felt the depths of his voice scream in sincerity, soft-spoken. His gaze will always be as haunting as it is captivating, the one that makes you feel that you can finally see through him, but it was a beautiful illusion of the bliss he could bring you but never actually could.

“What am I to you, Miguel?” Miguel felt that you were actually withholding your anger from that and even then it still stung, you were still venomous yet harbored a tragic sadness that he couldn't help but feel guilty for. He was making you this miserable and you weren't even in a relationship. The passing thought struck him like lightning. “I know I'm not being fair or rational right now but I want more... need more from you.”

Miguel breathed out in frustration, placing his hands on your shoulders as if to shake some sense into you. “I want to. I want to give you more. I just-“ He forced the words out of him, manning up for the first time other than putting his fists in other people's faces.

He wanted to be good. He wanted to do good for you. But like he told you, he was never a good man to begin with. His lip quivered for a second but he didn't want to be weak in front of you...but you were breaking down his walls, at his door yelling to come in no matter the consequence. It would get you killed. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“Why? I'm not this fragile, breakable object that needs to be kept behind glass at all times. You recruited me, you know I can take care of myself, so why is all that changing now?” You were tired and angry and you just wanted him to want you, to fight for you.

"I'm the one that needs to protect you, no one else can do that but me.” He gritted out, his teeth clenching together.

'”What about me? What if I want to protect you? What if I want to take care of you for once?” That was all you were trying to get across, that you wanted to love him, that you wanted to care for him.

“No.” He said simply.

“So, you can want me but I can't want you? That's such backward logic, Miguel. I just..I want you to know that I care for you, I want you. Not just Spiderman or the aphrodisiacs we've become - you. I want to know you, I just want you to let me in. Why won't you let me do that for you?”

“Because you're mine now!”Miguel's grip on your shoulders tightened. He was practically yelling at this point, he couldn't do this.

As much as he wanted to tell you, the words just died in his mouth. Miguel wanted to cry, he hadn't let a tear shed in so long, and now he was this pent-up ball of emotion that he couldn't even fathom let alone differentiate. He hung his head in between you, his head now facing the floor as his breaths started to turn into heavy pants. “Because you're mine now...I’m the only one that can protect you. But what is that worth when I’m so capable of hurting you. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.” He repeated gently, almost solemnly and all you could do was stare at him wide-eyed, stilling at his unexpected outburst. A tear dripped from his eye, he couldn't face you looking this weak. “I'm supposed to hold it all together, to protect everyone, to keep everyone safe, To keep you safe. I can't be weak, I can't be weak- I have to hold everything together.” He choked out, spluttering and then it all just clenched at his heart:he started quietly sobbing, his head still downcast but his hands softening on your shoulders. Your lips parted in pure unbridled shock, gaping down at him as he fell apart. You really couldn't fathom this, it was all happening so fast.

“I've failed.” Miguel stifled. “I've failed as a leader, a father, a lover. And it's all my fault...I can't hurt anyone else.” Miguel couldn't stop the tears streaming down his face, and then he felt it- your warm touch softly trailing the outside of his face, lifting it up seeing he connected with your sad, eager eyes. That look could make a man fall to his knees, and Miguel honestly felt like it, his knees went limp. Your hand gripped his face as you leaned into his body, he blinked his tears away as his gaze fell on you. Your beautiful face was ashen with sadness and he hated that he was the reason for it. But you were holding him like he was water in your hands. Your soft fingers smoothed away his tears and it was like he was at the altar begging for your forgiveness.

Miguel looked so beautiful. His heart was opening and breaking at the same time and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Miguel O'Hara was crying out in front of you, red eyes now a subdued hazel that you could fall in forever and never look back. All you wanted was to take care of him like he has for everyone else, to show him that he's worthy of love.

“Look at me...” You tipped his chin up and his lip quivered. “You are not a monster. You are not just Spiderman. You are not what you think you are, I've seen you up close and observed you from afar and this weekend has taught me so much about myself and what I want. All I want is to take care of you, to want you.” You had never been this honest about anything. The sincerity coursing through your body oozed out of every pore, radiating your need to want him. Miguel felt his heart stutter and his face freeze, he clenched his jaw to stop tears from pricking at his eyes as your words hit him like a brick. “Don't be the mask, let it out.” You added quietly. You gripped the back of his neck and placed it on your shoulder, your arms wrapping around him as if you would die if you ever let go.

Miguel stilled and then he melted into your embrace, feeling your warmth, he felt like Icarus being dragged into the relentless flames. Your acceptance of him was almost enthralling. You grasped his head into your hands, your eyes flitting from feature to feature as you felt him quite literally freeze in place-your fingertips were the salve to all wounds, the medicine to all sickness and Miguel was as damaged as can be. The walls he manufactured were nothing but dust between his fingertips, your unshakable will to not let him go, to love him as he is, guilt ridden and desperate, made him feel limp. Miguel's underbite clamped in an attempt to stop crying in front of you like this, to be so vulnerable in front of a woman was as foreign to him as being happy. He hasn't been happy in a long time and now you were here wanting to make him all better.

"You have no idea how much you mean to me.” Your grip on his face tightened as if to show him how serious you were. Miguel sniffled and melted into your warm hands, turning his head slightly to kiss your palm. Silence whipped through the air, the crackling of nothing but each other's breaths keeping you both steady as you tried to find the words to say, and this time you were hellbent on being clear. “The moral ambiguity of your actions doesn't scare me, I feel like you don't understand that. The mistakes you made in your past don't define you. Bad people don't care if they're bad...and I know you're good. In your heart, I know you're good...It's why I love you.”

Miguel's eyes widened a fraction and glazed over twice. He felt his mind turn to white noise but he heard you clear as day, the words falling like scripture. Like you were meant to say it. The words felt so sweet and liberating in your mouth but your heart was plunging further and further down, afraid of his reaction. You loved him. The silence that settled between you was palpable, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from yours.

Miguel didn't say anything, he just grabbed you by the waist with his right arm, pulled you close, and smashed his lips against yours. The tears smeared his face and then dried into his skin. Your kisses were always passionate, but this was like wildfire spreading onto the ocean. A fire in December. Warmth in the darkness. Miguel's tongue seeked to find yours, a soft tangle of lust and tenderness- something that he thought he would never be able to have. He sucked the sadness out of your lips and it felt beautiful.

“Let me take care of you..” You whispered sensually in between kisses and Miguel groaned, his fingers pinching gently into your skin. “Let me love you.” Your soft tender sighs were the glue that seemed to hold him together, he paused, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure?” He was hesitant, unsure if you were willing to see past all of his mistakes, to love him as he is, to be intimate.

Instead of answering, you pressed your fingers against your watch to form a portal to Miguel's place, to show him that you don't care about anything other than him at this moment, that you were willing to accept him as he is. You weren't afraid of proving it, if you had to you would, and right now you were desperate to prove just how much you wanted him, Miguel's eyes widened when he felt the portal beam right beside you, giving you a soft hazy look as you extended your hand, offering him to take it

��Let me prove it to you.” You whispered and that was enough to do Miguel in.

You were his calling, a siren guiding him through muddy waters. He intertwined his fingers through yours and you felt like your soul was being bound to his with every second your soft touch traced against his. Whenever Miguel's hands were on you, they were calloused and rough, his talons protruding from his fingertips aggressively but this time...it was tender, it felt meaningful- his touch was gentle, the way he was holding your hand and letting you guide him to a fate he wasn't even sure of felt surreal. He just can't leave you alone.

You lead him into the portal as your grasp on him is firm, a warning for him to show that you weren't letting go, not this time. As you both stepped out of the portal into his living room, it sealed behind him and left you both blinking at each other compressed by the thick tension. Thank God for this watch, honestly, it could take anyone anywhere.

“Wait...” He muttered hesitantly as he stopped you in your tracks. Turning around, your gleaming eyes were lasered on him and you shivered into his touch as he put his hands on your waist as a means to stop you from going to the bedroom. His free hand went to cradle your face as his thumb caught on your lip. “Did I hurt you at all? When we fucked did I hurt you?” He murmured sensually and it sent a permanent smattering of goosebumps to dimple all over your heated skin. Miguel's eyes were dim with curiosity and most importantly seriousness.

“No. Never. You never hurt me.” You confirmed and it settled the pace of his beating heart a fraction, but it was always racing when he had his hands on you. “We've fucked but...You’ve never made love to me.” Your voice was honeyed and low, the words slipping from your tongue as you suggested it.

Make love?

Oh, baby, you don’t know what you’re talking about. He doesn’t make love.

All he knew was to fuck. Hard and animalistic. But that wanton scorching look in your eyes, so desperate for him to be gentle, to make you feel wanted. And fuck, he wanted you to feel cherished by him.

He hadn't been so intimate with another woman like this, even with the mother of his own child.

Your eyes were wide, lips wet and eager but not eager in the way that he always knew you to be, you were desperate to show him something new, you were taking control and he was following along. It was refreshing.

His thumb was brushing over those perfect lips, plush and pink with heat and blush. You were so damn beautiful it was haunting.

Your eyes fluttered closed and your sweet mouth pressed against his softly, pecking kisses at his lips as you slung your hands around his neck and rubbed his scalp tenderly. “Let me make love to you…” You breathed low and thick and Miguel felt his cock harden already, he whimpered into your mouth and your brain committed the once-in-a-lifetime sound to memory. You made Miguel O'Hara whimper, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Miguel melted into you, his atoms jumping within his body to the point where he leaned into you so eagerly. You opened your mouth to deepen the passionate kiss, he was going so fast but you placed your hands on his chest. “Go slow baby...Need you to go slow.”

Your low voice shot straight down to the tip of his cock and it pulsated within his suit. Miguel listened to you and his mouth moved slowly, his tongue massaged against yours gently, tasting the mouth he adored. You tasted even sweeter like this- this slow waltz of passion allowed him to savor every second of it. The fact that you were on your tiptoes wanton for his lips made him realize how sincere of a moment this was.

"You're so beautiful it hurts.” He pulled away and breathed raggedly. His words were making you so malleable, so bendy under his will and you wanted nothing more than to please him. It was at this moment that you grabbed his hands laced it between your fingers once again and led him to the bedroom. “On the right.” He said huskily.

You opened the door and Miguel trailed behind you like a lost puppy, eager to follow your every move like he was in a trance. He closed the door behind him and that's when you realized it was going to be a long night. Your hands slipped from his and you took a few steps forward so you were near the foot of his bed: You reached out and quickly turned on his bedside light. You wanted to see his face. Miguel just leaned against the door, watching intently to every microdose, to every fraction of a move you made- waiting for your next move. At this point, you wanted to test him. You let out a soft breath with the part of your lips and felt the zipper of your suit. Miguel tore through your clothes like a knife through hot butter just with the sharpness of his talons, this time you wanted to make this slow and less immediate. Miguel's eyes were fixed on you, eyebrows tensing with a strive he hadn't felt before. The tips of your fingers toyed with your zipper and you pulled it down hesitantly. You hear Miguel let out a short breath when you slide out of your suit, slivers of skin piercing his peripheral with your shimmering glow. The fabric pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it, only left in your pretty underwear and bra set. Even subconsciously you were dressing up for Miguel.

He sighed and his eyes fluttered closed when he saw how you looked under the golden glow of his bedside lamp, he saw you perfectly. Your frame was even more beautiful than the last time he gawked at you. His jaw clenched and his teeth gritted when his eyes wandered to your lips. You were biting it and small marks indenting the soft flesh. “Come here..”

Miguel stalked up to you slowly, playing along with you, feeling the gorgeous reality set over him.

You wanted to make love to him, and he wanted to make love to you. To feel you intimately, slowly, passionately. He wanted to take the time to memorize the way you react as he makes you feel good. When he fucked you, he only got flashes, now he wants the whole thing. He was hungry for it.

He was in front of you now, your breath mingling with his, and your eyes flitted from gorgeous feature to feature. Miguel's hand traced up your thigh in barely there touches and you hung your head to watch his ministrations and it felt like you were spellbound by his mysticism. His finger hooked onto the side of your underwear and twirled it gently. “Hmm.” He hummed in a clipped tone and his eyes met yours in a powerful connection. He watched the black of your eyes burst widely, you clearly liked what he was doing.

He was being so gentle with you, so slow. It felt so damn sexy. This waiting. This tension. It felt like the beginning of all of this but…better.

“Tell me, Cariño...What do you want me to do for you?” Miguel whispered as his fingers hooked under your chin to tilt your head back up, he noticed that your lips were already swollen by a few kisses. You were so gorgeous like this, it was inhumane.

“Undress me..” You murmured sweetly but the force of your words seemed more like a diverted beg. Miguel was savoring every second of this torturous process, watching the little twitches of that perfect body of yours under a magnifying glass.

“Hmmm. That what you want?”

"Mhmmm.”

With that, Miguel placed his palms on your back, feeling the straps of your bra as he traced his fingertips over the hooks, teasing you, watching the way your face and body reacted to his barely-there touches. You reveled in it, the uncertainty of the touches he put on you. He finally unhooked your bra, the snaps liberating you as the tension is being relieved bit by bit. You stifled a moan and that sound was so much hotter than a usual moan, you were suppressing it making it clear that you were already getting aroused.

And fucking hell, it was arousing. He wasn't even in you yet. See, before when you and Miguel were yearning for each other, neither of you was thinking straight. All you both needed was to fill each other, Now after that, there was something missing.

This feeling of emotional need was what was missing. This emotional connection and chemistry.

Miguel watched with creased intent eyes as he tugged the pretty bra off you, your breasts bouncing out of its confines. His eyes flicked to yours, one soft palm caressing your chest, that telltale squirm told him everything he needed to know.

“Such a beautiful body, such a pretty face. Like you were made for me Carino.”

“Miguel...” You whimper out slightly.

“What is it, baby?” His voice was gruff and smooth all at once, a velvety mixture of husky and sensuality. It was like he was cooing down at you. “Hmm?” You darted your head down as an indication to strip you of your underwear.

Miguel's lips parted as he understood immediately, his eyes didn't rip away from yours as he slowly bent down to his knees. He hooked his arms around the back of your legs and kept eye contact with you, a surge of arousal washing between you. He planted a few trailing kisses up your thighs and you squirmed into him lime clockwork. His fingers shimmied down your underwear delicately and you stepped out of the flimsy fabric.

“Kiss me.” You say under your breath in such a sweet voice. How could he ever say no to that? The last time he couldn't really remember it, he was so taken over by his primitive instincts that it was all over in flashes-relish every last bit of you.

Miguel let out a sharp breath as his fingers kneaded the soft flesh of the back of your thighs before he cupped the globes of your ass, he was taking his time to feel you, to memorize it all and commit it to memory. Every time he touched your skin, it felt like he was touching God or angel matter. As his mouth placed teasing kisses on your lower stomach his aind was beginning to reel. You were arching into him, your fingers sinking deeper into his hair. He gave you one last look as a confirmation and all he got back was a pretty blushing face with a slack jaw and parted lips. “Need you…” You muttered and that's when his mouth started to suckle on your pussy, his lithe tongue moving up and down and in and out, he was keeping you guessing and it made you all the more frustrated and wet. His nose nudged your swollen clit and it made your body jolt from the aftershock.

“You always taste like heaven incarnate...” he mumbled between licks and all you could do was moan. You were caught off guard when he started to suckle on your clit, his pace was torturous, so slow and you were becoming more and more needy.

“Miguel...Please I-“ You tried to protest but you weren't even sure what you were protesting for and before you could even get off he rose from his knees and wrapped his arms around you, his mouth shutting you up.

Miguel's hands were placed firmly on your ass, squeezing tightly whenever you moaned into his desperate mouth. Your lips were melting into each other and blurring into a slow, wickedly passionate make-out. “It was like my name was supposed to come out of your mouth.” He felt like a teenager about to lose his virginity he was that excited. Your arms hung around his neck and your tongue was so sweet in his mouth, exploring unhurriedly but he knew you were at your threshold- even though he got a taste, you were still reeling from the fact he wouldn't let you finish.

Your mouth unsheathed from his and you both took a beat to gawk at each other. A dark look fell onto Miguel's eyes as he saw your cheeks pink and red with arousal. His hands cradled your pretty face and you looked like a doll in his palms.

“Want me to make love to you, yeah? Make you feel just how deeply I need you?” His voice was strained and low, seduction scraping at his vocal chords and it sent waves of neediness course through your body. The connection your gazes held was a simmering fire that was beating with passion. It was impossible to look away

“Yes." You breathed out sensually, an angelic hazy daze clouding your brain as the word just fell from your lips.

“You're so beautiful, querida.”He kissed your forehead tenderly and your breaths became even more rapid when you felt your legs go limp. He was holding your face like you were a jewel, you leaned your head forward to kiss him on the lips and Miguel just held you back with just the might of his palms. “Easy ángel...” He murmured. “Be patient f’me. You wanted me to make love to you, let me take my time with you then mi amor. Let me feel you.” His easy words just made soft moans roll from your tongue, he was doing a damn good job at making you feel not just wanted but cherished.

Miguel planted a kiss on your temple, you were squirming in his touch, rolling your body onto his. “You know, I haven't been doing well without you...Even after a day, you make me lose my wind with just how badly I need you.” he planted a kiss on your cheek and whispered hotly in your ear. “I got you baby, stay still f’me." He then kissed the corner of your mouth and then fully engulfed your lips with his. You were red hot with anticipation, your senses skyrocketing with every second but the reality was slow and agonizing- it was perfect. You decided to take the lead now, you got Miguel on the bed and he leaned up on the headboard, your head was in between his clothed thighs and you pouted. Miguel quickly rid of the holographic suit and his rock-hard cock sprung free in front of your face. The look on your face was priceless, a mixture of eagerness and seduction- it was a brain fuck.

“Let me taste you too.” Your tone was doused in pure lust and before Miguel's eyes could widen, your tongue stuck out and licked the head of his leaking cock. It wasn't like the first time you gave him head though, this was solely focused on him, no challenges, no teasing, no games. Just making him feel good. You gave kitten licks to his sensitive slit, those barely-there touches already driving him to the sharp edge. Your warm, wet mouth finally covered his tip, suckling gently and swirling him with your tongue, the salty taste of him you craved was already filling up your senses, he tasted so good.

“Mmm..fuck.. you're too good to me, so good f'me.” He let out a strained groan as his head tipped back slightly. You lapped him tenderly, sliding him down your throat, little by little. It felt...loving.

Miguel felt himself still in place when your warm mouth left him hanging, it was you who was prepping him this time. You crawled onto his lap with this innocent glimmer in your eyes, a look that was of mere longing and yearning, a face so eager to please. You settled between his thighs and Miguel's face was steely and serious, he really wanted to show you exactly the kind of love he harbored for you but you had other ideas and Miguel was uncharacteristically allowing you to do whatever you pleased.

“Wanna ride you...” You say softly as your hands massaged at his shoulders and Miguel is already letting out small groans at the slightest bit of contact. You placed your hands on his and guided them to your face, the pads of his fingers traced over your skin and you tilted your head to kiss his palm, then you caught one of his fingers in your mouth, suckling and twirling your tongue around the tip of it softly. Miguel sighed deeply at the pretty sight before you let it go with a pop. “Can I do that for you?” You breathed out.

This all felt so...personal.

Like you were reaching to the darkest depths of who he was and loving him anyway.

It made him burn for you. Miguel's cock was slapping against your stomach, your eyes darted from his face to his length and it made you wet your lips. “Mhmm.” He rasped, his big palms landed on the dip of your waist, helping you guide yourself on him. Before he could though, you leaned in and chastely kissed the tip of his nose, the bridge of his nose, and his forehead. Jesus Christ, it was like you knew exactly how to make him putty in your hands. You gave him a lazy smile as you rose up and eased yourself down on his cock, your pretty pussy swallowed him up entirely like always- even after he's fucked you so many times, he still never got used to how wet and tight your pussy was. Your eyes never broke from his as your tits pressed into his chest, you whined in his ear and his hands burrowed in your soft sweet hair, the strands falling down like a waterfall. "Ah...Mig-“

"Always taking me so well. Do you have any idea just how good you feel, mm?” He grunted out, his big arms wrapping around you entirely, trapping you in him. He was always balls deep inside you, there was no space left between you and that was just how you liked it. “My pretty girl. My beautiful girl. I need you.” He cooed.

You moaned when your hips started subconsciously moving, grinding down on him and making discernable shapes on his cock. Miguel watched you with awe equated to being starstruck, you were bouncing on him and rutting your greedy cunt on him trying to get yourself off on him. “You always- Fuck. Fill me up so good.” You moaned out, your mind all hazy from his brute strength alone, he was forcing you to stay put on his thighs, spending whatever time you needed to please him. Miguel slowed you down as he caught your supple lips with his, it was a desperate kiss that was bursting with flames and then your pace got slower, savoring the kiss. You broke away with a moan and sunk your teeth into his shoulder blades, Miguel's mouth was on the crook of your neck peppering you with the sweet kisses you were aching for, and you felt him inhale the scent of you deeply. His hands apathetically palmed your tits, he rolled the nipples between his nimble fingers, pulling and nipping on them with his teeth and smoothing them with a suckle.

Hm.

He's not known for being kind.

But feeling you like this made him thaw.

Lord, he just wanted to please you, make you feel good and you were just as inclined to do the same thing-bursting each other up with the flames of passion.

“Mmm. Slow yeah? Slow for me. Take your time for me, baby.” He mumbled out through strained pants, you were jerking on him steadily and his eyes tore away from yours to stare at the bulge of your stomach- he was so fucking deep in you it bulged out of your tummy. Miguel's ego skyrocketed at the sight. Fuck, that perfect body of yours would be the death of him. "Look how fuckin deep I am- He pressed the bulge on your stomach and it made your body twitch wildly, you quite literally felt him pulsate inside of you and it made you clench even harder around him. He felt an orgasm approach him, teetering off that blissful edge that tipped between sweet heaven and damning hell.

God, he felt too good, stretching you and bottoming out into you.

When you pressed your forehead against his and whispered “I love you” to him, that was it.

Miguel moaned and rolled you over so that he was on top of you, his legs trapped you in place and his cock was still aching inside you, craving your friction. He weaved his fingers with yours as he pushed in and out of you, Miguel's knuckles turned white as your palm flatted from bliss into the mattress.

He had never done this during sex before, the simple intimacy of hand-holding turned into something so much more consuming. Miguel's figure loomed over you, his eyes piercing and moody, a whirlwind of passion and emotion making his eyes crystal clear than before.

You stared at Miguel.

Miguel stared at you.

Watching each fraction of your body intently, the way your face moved with every thrust, the plush of your cheeks pillowing whenever you whined, the crease of your eyebrows when he hit that spongy spot so deep inside you. The eye contact was driving both of you insane.

“This what you wanted? Me to look after you? Me to take care of you?” He questioned lowly, the strained words coming out in a deep husk. He was deadly serious, it was easy to see when he was glaring at you. That steely resolve melted slightly when you rolled your body against his, your bodies slid together so closely that not even a sheet of paper could fit through.

“Yes, fuck, yes.” You whispered against his lips, your soft breaths were being knocked out of you with a very torturous slow thrust. It made your collision all the more beautiful. Miguel had fucked you so many times during that weekend but this, was otherworldly, this was the true connection, this was lovemaking. He was cherishing you, treating you like pearls and gold in his hands and it made you feel lucky to be alive, The electricity was hot, the gaze you both shared was simmering heat encased with something other than just chemistry.

“I'm not hurting you am I?” He asked inquisitively, his voice cool and suave.

“No, no, no, no, no....No, fuck, you're perfect.” You responded in pleading tandem, your eyes widening with a worrythat he would stop

“I love you, you know that? God, I love you.” He babbled and that's when you felt his thrusts falter and your nerve endings singe, it was like he was taking your beating heart and meddling with it to go faster, to give in.

“I love y-“ Miguel cut off your words with a scorching kiss, his fangs nipped at your lower lip and his teeth bit the supple flesh and pulled back, it snapped back into place and a shaky moan fell from your swollen lips and hs grip on your hands tightened.

You were so close.

This sizzling passion was eating you up alive.

Miguel watched your body react to him and it was a sight created in heaven.

“Miggy...Mig...I'm g'na cum...Just wanna cum for you.” You moaned drunkenly. Miguel's lips captured around your nipple, suckling it and grazing it with his teeth before his eyes latched onto yours again.

“Cum for me baby. Wanna watch you cum for me.” He breathed out raggedly, his gaze dimming and hair in disarray.

Your pussy was so drenched for him as always, but this time you were leaking, the slow pace offering a new and rare kind of satisfaction. When his cock nudged and ground on your clit, you knew you couldn't hold it in anymore. Hot euphoria washed over you in waves, and a new kind of electricity coursed down your thighs anf you soaked his dick in your wetness. “Thaaat's it...I'm right here, I got you.” Miguel fucked you through your mind-altering orgasm.

It was so different. So surreal. When that list final whine fell from your pretty lips, he was already cumming before he could even stop himself. He spread your insides a thick stringy white, spurting out how much you meant to him. His strained pants were soaking your glowing skin, and a thin layer of sweat coated your body in the dim room.

“Shit...”He muttered before your lips collided with his. Your tongue delved into his mouth, taking what he would give you like you were a cat chasing after a mouse. Miguel rolled off of you to your side but his arms were still wrapped around you, your lips still connected in that heady unforgettable kiss. Your hands nestled in his hair, your gentle fingers raking through the strands as you broke away from his mouth and when you looked back into his eyes Miguel's gaze was just as piercing as before.

Miguel stared at you.

You stared back at him.

Your cheeks stained pink as you gave him a lazy fucked out smile. Miguel had the urge to fuck you like that again now. He loved what he had just experienced though. Missionary was so much better like this. It was so much better when he looked into the eyes of the woman he loved. When you kissed him on the forehead and told him you loved him, he knew that this was different.

A sudden wash of defensiveness tightened at his chest. You should've walked away from him. He should've walked away from you...but you didn't and that was a risk in itself, no one knew how it would unfold.

Miguel had his temper.

You were stubborn.

What if- What it-?

Miguel watched you like a lovesick fool, your pretty face warming his cheeks and dimming his eyes. He contemplated you for a moment, your presence, your smile, your warmth.

Was it worth it?

Yes.

He wanted to wake up to you every day, he wanted to take you out to dinner, make you feel special, make you his.

You both just gawked at each other blankly, sweet words filling the sweet atmosphere. All this yearning, all this pining lead up to this.

You were flustered. He was flustered.

You felt so fulfilled, so wanted, so needed by him- it had never been like this with anyone.

Miguel was facing his fears head-on with you by his side. His anxieties were quelled with every moment he spent here with you, he found that your soft breathing and guileless eyes were what was keeping him afloat.

Y’ALL I HOPE U LIKED THIS SERIES!!! the amount of support is unbelieveable ilysm! i will be writing an extra bonus chapter for u ;)) iknow i def need to do a masterlist and i will get on it soon i promise (tumblr deleted my old one smh)

taglist (giggles): @thel0velykey190 @scaleniusrm @drefear @mafer383 @i-feel-violated @crowleysthings @avatar-lover @wyvernnest @rowboatweeb @schniti-is-in-the-house ri @d1lf-loverrr @iamv1n @ro99se @nxrdamp @mrssabinecallas @jesmynsjoys @xiylio @leahnicole1219 @reine-sans @tallmanlover @neverlandlostchild @axerrri @frieschan @plzfeedmebread @rorel1a @z0mbiekat @rey26 @stunkbiggu @honeycovered-bandaids @hearttjason @brittney69 @thyroidissues @4imhry @pinkliquor @realalpacorn @dr-skazka @simoniithehomii @aisyakirmann @deezisnotreal @synamonthy @bread6069 @iite-cool @thedevax @soymiguelsesposa @heartthrobinsblog @siidmm @queerponcho @luvingmyships @dhollandhs @kehlanilopez @lyrasdrawer

#spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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klausysworld · 1 month

Text

Sinful

Klaus had become, to an extent, addicted to sex.

The amount of time he had spent indulging in his deepest fantasies over the course of a thousand years was unbelievable.

He had learned how to please himself and others.

He was able to tell what people liked or wanted just by their body language. He was able to tell what their darkest desires were.

Some girls were shyer with what they wanted, they would make him work for it and tease him. Klaus learned to enjoy the chase, the game of catching the girl and finally unraveling all those dirty little thoughts and playing with his new toy until she was all tired out and used.

Klaus often could't help himself but ruin women whenever they let him. The knowledge that they were his to break and claim turned him on enough and it was so easy for a man like him to push their limits and get whatever he wanted from them.

Girls would fall to their knees for him. The image of legs spreading was permanently engraved into his mind and the sweet scent of sex always span through his head.

As the centuries past by, woman had gotten a lot friskier. Much more forward and confident which made Klaus's desires much easier achieved. Especially in recent years, it meant he had been partaking in many more types of play.

From being in sex dungeons where he was able to literally use woman as personal fuck dolls to having someone restrain him and use him in return. There was very little Klaus would ever not do. There was also very little Klaus had not done aalready.

It was because of this, all this experience that he knew a girl like Y/n when he saw one.

She had been eyeing him as though he were nothing more than a piece of meat for her to sink her teeth into and as he trailed his eyes over her, he found himself doing the same back.

Y/n was what Klaus would call 'sex on a stick'.

She was gorgeous, flawless actually.

Legs long and toned, ass firm and round, waist tight and slender, breasts ample and tender, neck utterly delicious and biteable attached to a borderline angelic face.

But Klaus knew that she was no angel. No this girl was surely hand carved by the devil himself, utterly sinful.

Her eyes were dark under the dimly lit club lights. Admittedly Klaus had come there hoping to find someone to satisfy his needs but he hadn’t expected to be graced with a seductresses presence.

He looked right at her, soaking up the feeling of her attention. There was something daring about her gaze as though she were taunting him, testing to see if he would come over to her. Klaus didn’t bite the bait very often, he preferred for his women to come to him however he also knew how quickly someone like her could be snatched up.

Especially when he glanced around the club and noticed the other eyes she had on her.

He wouldn’t risk the opportunity to taste a treasure like her.

However when he moved to sit beside her, she pulled herself up and walked away from him. Klaus’s eyes narrowed in both annoyance and intrigue at the challenge as he followed her.

His hands slid up her hips and abdomen as she began to move along with the crowd in the centre of the room, the dance floor. Her body moved so smoothly that he could only imagine how well she could ride a man, how good her thrusts were. As her skin began to shine with heat, he pulled her closer to his body so that her squeezable ass could grind against his hard cock through his jeans.

Her head leant backwards until the back of it rest against her shoulder and he was presented with the site of such a delicious looking neck. Her hot breath tickled his ear in a way that sent shivers along his spine and made his hips press forward again.

His lips began to latch onto her skin, sucking and nipping up her throat slowly. A little giggle vibrated through her body as she kissed his ear teasingly and pulled her neck away from his mouth. A low growl left his chest and his hands gripped her body in need and possession.

She shifted round in his hold to face him. He pulled her right up close, squishing her breasts against him and sliding his hands down to her ass.

Klaus leaned forward so his face hovered just over hers. The music made it difficult for her to hear him but she watched as his lips moved. Eventually he spoke up, “I want you” he told her firmly and she laughed.

“You and everybody else” she answered, a taunting smile on her lips as she moved backwards but he wouldn’t let her get away from him. She was far too good to lose.

Klaus rolled his eyes and tugged her back to him, “Come on sweetheart” he hissed into her ear, his hands squeezing the firm flesh of her ass before kneading it. Y/n took slight amusement in her ability to have men all over her in the matter of seconds. Especially a man like him.

Someone like Klaus would get what he wanted, Y/n wasn’t a fool to that and she saw no bother in dragging it out too long but still, it was fun to watch the desperation set in.

She could feel how hard he was, how badly his body wanted her. Naturally she rubbed herself against him, allowing him that slight satisfaction to make his grip tighten further.

Y/n let out a little moan as the pain of how aggressively he held onto her ass, the mere idea of the things this man would do to her was enough to make her want him too.

Klaus responded to her display of pleasure and smacked her ass harshly to hear her breathy moan beside his ear. He breathed in the rich scent of her blood that pumped just below her silk-like skin.

The music vibrated through both their bodies as Y/n continued to move against him and welcome his eager hands as they groped and grabbed at everything she had to offer. Klaus slid his hand up to her throat and squeezed until he heard a sound of approval making his lips pull into a cruel smirk. He knew she was going to be something special.

Y/n could feel the delightful buzz of alcohol fuel her confidence as she brought her hand to cup his cock through his trousers. She caressed him firmly, enjoying how his hips ground back against her touch and his head tilted back in pleasure. Slight amusement made her lips twitch to a smirk as she squeezed his erection.

It took every ounce of control left in Klaus not to fuck her in front of all those people. Not to push her down onto her knees and fuck that perfect face until her vocal cords stopped working.

Fortunately for him Y/n could read his thoughts very well and slid her hands back up his body. She cupped his neck in her hands and smiled at him, her red lips curling enticingly.

"I hear there's a nice hotel a few streets over" she whispered, eyes shining with desire. Klaus nodded faintly, holding onto her hips as she lead them out of the club.

The cool air soothed his boiling body for a moment and he was able to think a little clearer. He pulled her flush against him making her squeal and stop walking, placing her hand on his chest and giving him a questioning look. Klaus, however, didn't have anything to say. He just desperately wanted to see her face in the moonlight, to feel her right there and then. Her hand felt like pure sin as he leant into it. Everything about her was sinful. And he loved it.

Y/n could see everything flashing through his eyes and slowly continued to guide him towards the block of hotels. Klaus was barely aware that his feet were moving as he felt all along her curves, stroking and squeezing as much as he could. Eventually they got into the building and after almost losing it and nearly taking her against the elevator wall, they got into a room.

Klaus finally let the animal in him out to play when they got inside. Her body was handled roughly as he threw her onto the bed and pinned her down with him on top of her.

Y/n laughed softly and ran her fingers through his hair as his lips and teeth attacked her jaw and neck. She laid back willingly and pet the beast that was so desperate to ravish her.

Her feet shifted to kick her heels off before she lifted one to press against her crotch, offering something for his throbbing cock to grind against. The contrast between his roughness and her softness stirred so much within him. Klaus couldn't help but tear the dress right off her body.

Y/n rolled her eyes to herself, wondering what she'd wear when she left in the morning but pushing the thought away when his big warm hands cupped her tits. His palms rolled over her nipples, before the heat of his mouth tugged at them.

"Fuck" she whispered breathily, her hand pushing his head encouragingly. Klaus had his eyes closed so she wouldn't see the wolf behind him as his tongue flicked over the hardened bud before switching to the other. His find could only imagine how gorgeous she would look with his cum splatted all over her tits. His hands squeezed them painfully as he pulled off her nipple with a loud 'pop'.

"I want to fuck these" He murmured, a growl to his voice that send a wave of warmth between her legs. Her hand lifted his chin, nails denting his skin as she pulled him up to kiss her lips at last.

They both moaned in unison as their tongues danced and played tauntingly at the other. Her fingers worked his clothes off his body, wanting him bare for her to touch and admire.

He pulled away from their passion as her hand tugged at his cock, he hadn't known himself to get quite so hard before. To the point where it pained him, he had to restrain himself from jerking himself off right then just to soothe himself. He knew if she tried to tease him that he wouldn't be able to help but cum. She knew it too.

Her hand stroked him firmly, once, twice, three times before he came with a loud guttural moan. Her humour filled laugh made his gut twist with humiliation but he couldn't overthink it. All he could think about was her.

"I hope you have more left in you" she teased and his skin blushed red as his wolf raged under the surface. He could see that she expected him to get embarrassed and defensive so he tried especially hard not to. Instead he simply rolled his eyes and pulled her against him again. His lips moulded back against hers and his hands caressed down to her hips.

"Don't mock me yet sweetheart, you won't last much longer than I" he muttered, brushing his fingertips over the soaked lips of her pussy. Her moans were like heaven and hell twisted together and he lusted for more of them.

The pad of his thumb caressed her clit slowly to begin with, teasing and spreading her wetness before a finger sunk into her. Y/n's eyes went back into her head and her teeth bit into her lip as she rolled her hips to feet his touch. The tightness of her cunt made his cock twitch again while his fingers worked her up.

"You like this sweetheart?" He murmured as his knuckles bent inside her and he stretched her with a second finger. Y/n nodded with a moan, bucking her hips to feel the delightful friction against her clit. "Your pussy feels so soft" He mumbled, more to himself than her but she still her heard him.

A breathless laugh left her as he pumped three fingers inside her, his eyes locked onto the way her cunt wept for him and the way her clit pulses with need. His thoughts blurred together as his hand sped him, effectively fucking her until her nails clawed at the sheets as her walls spasmed around his fingers. His breathing was as heavy as hers as he lifted his fingers to his lips and licked her fresh orgasm off of his skin.

Y/n was looking up at the ceiling, panting as she calmed down only for his hot tongue to press against her cunt. She cried out in pleasure, legs spreading for him to fully indulge himself between them.

He lapped at her like a man starved, his tongue curling passionately until the familiar taste of her cum filled his mouth again.

Y/n pushed him onto his back, kissing his lips deeply and forcing a groan out of him. Her hands caressed up his body to his chest. He grunted and his back arched when she sat on his cock, her pussy swallowing it whole.

"Fuck- angel!" he moaned and Y/n let out a soft laugh as she slowly rocked her hips, getting familiar with the feel of his dick inside her.

"Don't call me that" she whispered and he grunted, bucking his hips up in time with hers so that smack of their skin could be heard.

"Why not, angel?" he muttered, a little amused until his eyes locked onto hers.

Y/n's eyes were entirely black when he looked into them, in response his went gold against his will and a choked groan left him as she bounced faster on top his cock.

"Because I'm not an angel" she told him, her voice much lower and almost smoky as her words sunk in.

Klaus had no time to react before her teeth were in his throat.

An ironic turn of events for the hybrid as the demon fed on his soul.

Klaus's mind was a haze for the following hours though he was vaguely aware of what he was doing and the pleasure she was giving him.

The feel of her wicked tongue wrapped around the head of his cock was burned into his memory. Her pussy took him time after time again until they were both trembling with overstimulation.

Eventually they both passed out.

He woke a while later, when the sun was high in the sky.

He was laid beneath the covers with Y/n tucked to his chest. Visions of her true form flashed through his head and a slight feeling of fear mixed with the prominent intrigue he felt.

His body was heavy, too heavy for him to get up and he truly had to wonder what she had done to him and what she planned to do.

When she woke, she behaved as though it were a normal one-night stand. She smirked at him as he watched her get changed from the bed. Before she left she came to his side and stroked the side of his face, her touch so hot that it sizzled his skin,

"Don't worry Niklaus, your strength will restore" she whispered and his brows pulled together when she uttered his name though his heart sped up at her following sentence; "When I feel that you're ready, I'll find you again." She warned him as she kissed his lips and left.

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undercoverpena · 6 months

Text

anytime

javier peña x f!reader

summary: “Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper. Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing the place where the hair sits atop his lip. “Anytime, cariño.” “Anytime, really?”

wordcount: 3.1k. warnings: fluff. bestfriends to lovers. banter. reader wears a dress and has a gloss on lips. no physical description. javi calls reader solecito as a nickname only. likely warnings for spelling as i wrote this on my phone. an: huge thanks to @wildemaven for creating this moodboard (pls go show it some love), letting me make a banner from it, and then letting me write this for Javi instead of Frankie. bby, i hope you like this.

Javi had never been good at avoiding challenging situations.

For the longest time, he’s been finding himself in the centre of a whirlwind—whether in Bogotá, Cali or apparently even back home.

You, his friend, best friend—a well-kept secret, tucked away in his chest, not shared with a soul when he was away. You were a thing that he’d clutched close to his chest from the moment the two of you had first gotten close, through his failed engagement and even more so when he left for Colombia. You, in all your understanding, hugging him, telling him he’d be great, amazing, the very best.

Both of you were younger then, less worn down by life, its many obstacles and all the other things.

You best not become best friends with anyone over there, Peña. As if anyone could annoy me as much as you, solecito.

In the brief interim of his return, you hadn’t appeared all that different. You may have had a job, a house—drove a slightly better car than when the two of you were staying out at all hours—but you, at your core remained very much the fucking same.

Still just as understanding, as kind. A person who got him, without really needing to try.

For Javi, the best thing—outside of you being you and the monthly calls you made him promise to keep when he was drowning in murder, drugs and Escobar—is that you never ask him about it. Any of it.

You had always let him pretend, escape, listen to you fill him in on gossip—things such as disagreements over the size of rhubarb and whether someone was having an affair. A thing you did even when he came back. Even more grateful for it then, when he grew tired of the questions, the compliments, the everything.

Its why he didn’t tell you when he would land back in Laredo for good. Just waiting, standing outside your place, leaning against your car as you walk down the street—eyes brushing over him, pausing, before he gets to see that smile. That signature fucking smile.

When he’d left the first time, he remembers how you’d lingered near your car, unwilling to climb into your bright yellow death trap—the entire reason he called you solecito to begin with—wearing the beginnings of that smile even then.

The difference is now he knows that there was something under it. Hidden, held back, kept from him.

It’s why it meant so much to him when he saw it in all its glory, all alight, blooming and somehow healing.

He can’t explain it, but it repairs strands inside of him. Your presence alone continuing to do so when he meets you for lunches, coffees, and late-night drinks. In exchange, he makes you laugh, your head thrown back as he tells you about whatever he did on the ranch—all of it comical, apparently. Because the idea of him, Javier Peña doing ranch work brought tears to your eyes.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” you splutter, taking a mouthful of your beer as you narrow your eyes.

Nodding, he leans back into the booth, arm stretched out, picking and picking—the label crumbling from the sweating bottle. “Yeah. Bet you’re upset you don’t get to see me herd cattle and mend fences.”

“Oh, yeah. One-hundred-percent.”

Shrugging, he grins—an easy task with you. A thing that has always been that way, even when he turned up at your door when he couldn’t get married; even when the two of you sat under the stars when he told you about possibly going to Colombia. You still made him grin—even when things weren’t fucking easy at all.

“I’ll add it to my to-do list—visit Peña on the ranch—it’s currently sat under finding a dress, a boyfriend and the will to fucking live.”

Snorting, he traces his bottom lip with his thumb.

Your face scrutinises him, before rolling your eyes. And he just waits—because you always spill eventually.

One. Two. Th—

Fine, you huff, before it unravels from you. How the wedding of your work colleague is close, closer than I thought and you’re tired of attending these things alone, circled like a fucking fish by single sharks.

And he’s listening, taking it in. Trying to not wince at how high-pitched you’ve got as you’ve ranted.

Mainly, Javi finds there’s more questions rising than answers provided.

One singular one rising to the top. A thing he’s wanted to ask for the last few weeks. Not in a rude way, or in the way it burns inside his chest when he talks to you on the phone and he has to bury it. But, it’s there, bubbling, wishing to escape and know. It's even louder when the two of you are like this, crammed in a space, laughing, smiling, sharing, wondering—

Why are you even single? How are you?

You’ve mentioned people—names, here and there when the two of you had been on the phone. Them fluttering out before you can pull them back, but then they’re forgotten. Javi, I get one call a month—let me tell you about the cattle war going off. And, in a way, he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know, so he never asked.

Now, it’s all he wants to ask.

Because you’re… you. You’re brilliant, beautiful—funny, clever, witty. And yet—

“—so, now it’s a week out, and I need to find a dress, a date and drive there to watch another person I know get married.”

He knows he should busy his mouth with the bottle—wrap his odd idea in beer. But, that part of him—the one which wants to help, solve issues, and be useful—rises up in him like a phoenix left from the ashes of Colombia.

“I’ll go with you.”

He expects the pause, even braces for the look of shock.

He doesn’t expect the smirk. Doesn’t expect the way it spreads out, to hit your eyes. How under the low-bar light over the table, it makes your eyes glimmer and fucking shimmer.

“You want to go to a wedding with me?”

Shrugging, he picks off the last part of the label—the mess of it all circling around where the glass meets the wood.

Mirroring him, you shrug. “Alright.”

“Alright.”

He should take his eyes off you, but he finds he can’t.

Javi hasn’t been able to since you stepped out of your place, a handful of your dress as you locked up—stepping down your steps to his car, letting it flutter down to your ankles.

You look like a fucking dream.

A thought he knows he shouldn’t have—but has all the same. His heart staggered, half-halting in its hammering as his hands paused in their drumming on the steering wheel; his glasses slid down his nose, his skin suddenly warm all over, even if his jacket was already splayed out across the backseat.

Close your mouth, Peña.

I’m chewing gum, solecito.

Yeah, that’s why your mouth is open.

It hadn’t passed his notice that you were good-looking before today. He’s known you were, had always known it—he had eyes, after all. But, he’d always felt there was a line. A line the two of you never delved too close to step over. The sign above both of your heads already illuminated in bright bulbs and flashing lights:

JUST FRIENDS.

Until this, anyway. This thing that can only be described as the longest one-hour drive he’s ever been on. And he used to do recon with Murphy.

Because you’re teasing, taunting him. All in that usual way that you do. And it’s so easy to flirt back, to let line after line roll, but he has begun to spot you squirming.

Doing so while matching his suit in a deep brown shade—chosen by him, ‘pick a colour suit, Javi’. Adding a tinge to some of your comments—things that if said by someone that wasn’t you, he’d ask them (flirtingly) if they were coming on to him.

But with you, it’s something he can never be sure. Never something that can be completely understood, known, cracked or figured out. In the same way, he can’t understand how your perfume keeps following him. How it embeds itself into the cabin of his truck when he picks you up, sews itself into his clothing when the two of you meet—and right now, is attempting to bury itself in his skin, muscles, and bones.

“You’ve been abnormally quiet.”

Smirking, he snorts. Fingers smoothing out his hair as he swings into a spot—the tyres crunching over the gravel. “Have I? Or have you just not shut up.”

“Rude.”

Laughing, he cuts the engine—hands resting on the top of his thighs, not missing the way your eyes follow his movements before clearing your throat. It shifts something in him, makes a little part of him surge, like the smallest of fireworks suddenly erupting in his chest.

Something he forces himself to shut down the moment you shove open your door, slipping out, as he grabs his jacket.

“Do I need to be worried about you crying today, solecito?”

Rearranging your dress, and slipping the strap of your bag over your shoulder, you squint as you stand tall, hand covering your brow as you meet his gaze.

And fuck, with this backdrop, even squinting, you look beautiful, radiant, stunning all over again. Somehow his brain having forgotten when you were next to him, when you were acting as if this was the most normal fucking thing they’ve ever done.

It isn’t.

Something he’s becoming more aware of as his throat goes dry, and his thoughts slow to nothing—

“No, you’re good. Your mouth is open again.”

You say it with a smirk, all teasing—making heat lick up his spine all over again. And, if you were anyone else, he’d have already pulled you close, tilted your chin up, and likely smothered your mouth with his.

But, you’re his friend—his best friend. The one solid thing he’s had in his life since he became a name, a poster, a hero.

“C’mon,” you say, turning on your heel as you head in the direction of the entrance, him following, jacket slipping on as he mutters mouth isn’t fucking open under his breath.

Even if he knows it was. Even if he’s desperately trying to stop his eyes from descending down to your hips, eyes fixated on the way you walk with ease to the wooden sign which greets all the guests.

He knows, due to his absence from home, there haven’t been many weddings he’s attended. Least of all like this. But even he thinks this is over the top, suddenly understanding why you hadn’t wanted to come alone. Because grand doesn’t quite cover it—not after the last one he’d attended.

This one has flickering candles lit in the day, waiters all set to hand glasses of bubbles and offer little mouthfuls of flavour on silver trays. Then, there’s the backdrop—the enormity of the building, only for you to tell him that it’s an outside wedding.

It’s more of a comfort as to why his hand drops to the small of your back than anything else. A need to be rooted, to feel calmer as he nods at passing people he doesn’t know (and hopes don’t know him), feeling you curl into him subconsciously, your bag swinging between the two of you both—affording a gap, forcing it, in fact.

The ceremony will start soon.

He overhears it, as he assumes you do, because your fingers wrap around his wrist—taking it from your back, before your palm meets his, and then you’re guiding, leading. Dragging him. All willingly to the back of the building where he sees it—the makeshift aisle. A wooden arch, and lots of deep orange-brown chairs all line up on either side of an orange aisle.

“Glad we chose brown now,” he murmurs.

“Does it make you think, y’know—being at a wedding?”

He swallows. Because it’s a loaded question.

One he assumes has been sitting all politely on the tip of your tongue since you sat beside him in his vehicle. It’s why his eyes watch you carefully as you grab the two of them a flute each from a passing waiter. Handing it to him, adding nothing—not rescuing him. Just waiting instead, doing that thing you do, where your eyes widen as you wait, trying to look all innocent even though it’s you who has just dropped a live grenade into the centre of the conversation.

Shaking his head, he snorts. “No. Not really. Knew… I knew deep down it wasn’t right. Her… and me.”

“You got any idea what’s right?”

You take a sip this time when the question lands, it again sparkling in glittered innocence, the softest of smiles pressed against the glass.

You he thinks. But he swallows that away and says ‘Not a fucking clue’ instead.

Throughout the day, he’s been desperate for a reason to stop looking at you.

So far, he’s found none.

Bits and pieces of things Murphy used to say, the words he’d drop into conversation when talking about his wife: how he knew, why she was the one, all coming back to him in drips and drops.

It dawns on him, the same as it had done since before he went to Cali, that you might mean a little more than a friend. A lot of what Murphy used to say, so easily applied to how Javi felt about you.

You make him feel calmer, create a space where he can relax, really unwind. It’s easy, uncomplicated, when he’s with you—from the conversation to the things he thinks. Complex balled thoughts stretch out until they’re in easy-to-decipher lines, able to process, able to understand.

He even told you about the boats.

A secret he’d have been prepared to take to the grave, if not for the fact you pointed out he wasn’t sleeping. Your eyes watching, pleading, don’t lie to me. And fuck, he couldn’t—not even if he wanted to.

That should have been the first sign.

He guesses he should be thankful today has been stuffed with more of them. One after the other. From the way you made sure to make him a plate of only his favourite things, to the way you knew when he needed a bit of space from the thousand questions as to how you both knew one another, and what he does.

Now, Javi is on the sidelines, admiring you in a way that makes his heart double in size.

Your dress skims around your calves as you dance—your arms rising above your head, glee stitched itself from cheek to cheek. On occasion, time halts when your eyes land on his—stealing whatever thought he had, only resuming normality when you close your eyes, belting out the lyrics to the song.

Mainly, the thought he finds which keeps returning is: I wanna do this with you again. any place. any time.

A hollowness scratches out in his chest as he lets himself acknowledge it. A thickness growing in his throat, a sorrowness weighs down on his shoulders as he nurses his glass—hand in his trouser pocket, telling himself he should be content he got to be on your arm, got to have you against him during a slow dance over an hour ago. That he gets to see you smile, hear your laugh—even know you.

“Hey, Peña.”

“Hey solecito.”

You grin—a little breathless, the music having changed, becoming slower, softer—wrenching the glass from his hand as you drain it.

“Fuck me. Y’thirsty?”

“Very. You’d know if you had any rhythm.”

He pinches you, lightly—teasingly. Your grin shifts into a laugh, tucking yourself in against him, arm around his back. And fuck, the way you’re looking up at him, he wants to warn you.

If you look at me like that, I’m going to kiss you.

Javi wonders what you’d do if you did. Whether you’d pull away, hissing the two of you are friends. Or whether you’d kiss him back.

“Want to get some fresh air?” you ask, your words against his ear—lips so close to ghosting his skin.

“Sure.”

It’s cooler when the two of you step out from under the marquee, the music getting quieter when your fingers loop in his, guiding, easing him around plant pots and tall trees, until the two of you are descending marble stairs and past iron fencing, to take him to the perimeter, to the view looking out over the city.

He watches as you step forward, fingers around the iron fencing, leaning, staring out as you let out a heavy sigh. One laced with things he wants to ask for, tug it from you, let you unload whatever is weighing on you—because that’s what you both do for one another.

You make it easy.

Make it all bearable.

But, whether you mean to, or not, you shiver. A light one, barely noticeable by most—but he isn’t most. His fingers are already at the button, undoing it, sliding his jacket down his arms before he places it over your shoulders, watching your head turn, meeting his gaze.

“You look really pretty.”

Flicking your eyes down, you smile. Sweetly. Unreadably. “Well, you’ve always been pretty.”

“Pretty?”

Laughing, your fingers tug his jacket closer, burying yourself in it. “The prettiest, Javier.”

Leaning beside you, he feels the metal from the railings, you’re both resting on, cut into his palms. He wonders if you feel the same, your dress billowing in the gentle breeze as the two of you stare off into the distance, spotting the flickering lights of a city, of homes tucking in for the night.

Then he turns his head, finding you already watching him, studying him in a similar way as you were before.

And, he lets his eyes drop to your mouth. A sign. A signal. It’s not the first time, usually, he does so when you’re not looking, letting himself trace the curve of your lips. Now, he stares at the way your gloss has long since gone, left behind on glasses and straws.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper.

Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing where the hair sits atop his lip.

“Anytime, cariño.”

“Anytime, really?”

Nodding, he swallows. A thousand things he’s thought, and felt, all rushing to the surface—unwilling to bury itself, to descend under the usual guilt and feelings of inadequacies when it comes to you.

“I’d do anything for you.”

Smirking, you tilt your head. “Anything?”

Biting your lip, he feels it—something thrumming in him, being plucked.

“Will you kiss me?”

“I could…”

Your brows rise, a louder cheer coming from inside, but it doesn’t do anything to tear your eyes away from the other.

The whole world could slowly vanish from around the two of you, and all he’d want is just to stare at you.

“But?” you ask, delicately.

Almost so softly, it makes his chest ache.

Dipping his head, he lets his gaze wash over the place again—the rolling land, the trees, the houses in the distance.

“If I kiss you, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

You slide closer, shoulder to shoulder, eyes scorching his jaw, his neck, the side profile he can feel you tracing with your gaze.

“Then don’t,” you say.

His neck almost cracks with the quickness of his movement, his eyes scanning, reading, a part of him wanting to step back, and protect you. Because he’s not sure about the parts of him you’d find easy to love—

“You don’t know what you’re—“

“Don’t care,” you interrupt, fingers twitching on the lapel of his jacket. “I know you—Javi, not Agent Peña. I know the boy who cloud-watched with me when my parents wouldn’t stop fighting; I know the man who told me to stop sending him postcards from the town shop—but also whispered that he liked them.”

Snorting, he smiles.

“So, if you want to, no pressure—but, I think you should kiss me.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your cheek. “Think you’ve wasted a lot of time not kissing me already, honestly.”

Of course you do, he thinks. And then he kisses you, palms on your cheeks, slanting his mouth over yours.

And fuck, it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever done.

an: honestly, this made me so fucking happy to write.

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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hungharrington · 2 months

Note

okay what are ur thoughts on challenging steve to edge himself everyday for no nut november 🫣 do you think he would make it through the entire month????

okay this turned into a whole rambling thought fic ??? a whole 3k of it?? this is hella unedited cos i'm running out the door so i'll be back to check for mistakes but enjoy some sub!steve & some sorta mean!reader, definitely a hint of a humiliation & exhibitionism kink so beware if that isn't your thing! enjoy u horny bastards MDNI this entire blog is 18+

the whole thing comes about because of a playful bicker.

it’s starts with talking about how long you’ve gone without sex— with steve insisting his dry spell before you two started fooling around was way longer and more difficult than yours.

and you had laughed and teased, cooing about how he could absolutely not make it through an entire week without cumming like you did for a whole month— while he insists the opposite is true.

and steve is nothing if not a competitive bastard who loves to try prove people wrong. so you challenge him to last the whole month — no cumming, no nothing.

but you don’t say no touching. and steve, poor, oblivious to the consequences he’s going to feel very soon, figures there’s no harm in giving in to his morning wood, rutting against his sheets with these quiet grunts until he gets bored and rolls out of bed. it’s something he’s done before and his hard-on goes down in the shower like usual & he goes to work far too smug, feeling so confident and ready to brag when he sees you.

you come into family video middle of the day and steve delights, ready to demolish the challenge you’ve set, bragging about his easy morning and his killer restraint.

your eyebrows raise and you look pleasantly surprised — not miffed, like steve hoped you would — and you offer to raise the stakes. leaning over one of the shelves as he works idly, you change the rules a bit… and set a prize if he’s to complete your challenge.

“if you go the whole month, no cumming, i’ll let you fuck me,” you hum, a wicked smile on your mouth at the way steve straightens up. you’ve been fooling around, tucking your hands into each others pants like horny teenagers but you haven’t actually slept together yet. “anywhere you want, any way you want,”

and steve is smarter than he looks, even as you can see this lust glazing over his eyes— options, so many options pour into his mind.

you in his car, in his lap, riding him and making those nice pitiful noises you do. you in his bed, beneath him, head thrown back in his sheets as you cry out. you, against the wall behind the family video, hidden away but only just, moaning into his hand as you try to keep quiet while you fall apart on his cock.

his cock begins to thicken in his pants just at the thought & steve shifts his weight.

“what’s the catch?” he asks.

“to make your challenge more difficult, you have to touch yourself every day of the month.”

“touch myself?”

“mhm,” you nod, eyes darting down to his bulge. your wicked grin grows at the sight of it growing in his jeans. “properly. not just a little touch, a proper jerk off. how long’s it take you to get hot and bothered? let’s say 5 minutes of stroking, each and every day.”

you’ve got this look in your face like you don’t think he can do it — so of course, steve takes the bait.

“easy.” he snips back, eyes narrowing. “hope you’ll spend the month getting prepared to take it. after a whole month of nothing? can’t promise i’ll be too gentle.”

your smile turns almost feline.

and so it begins. the first few days sail by, steve easily using his mornings in bed to stroke his cock idly, feeling his desire swell and then letting it swirl down the drain in a shower that gets colder every day. after the fifth day, steve has to admit it’s not nice — he can feel his mounting urge to cum building up but it’s not terrible. it’s certainly ignorable. he’s got this in the bag.

another five days pass— but now, he’s waking up aching hard. it takes longer now in the shower to get his hard-on to flag and worse when steve realises he has to still jerk off to win your challenge. his hand feels so much softer than usual and his keyed up lust springs to the surface to moment he starts to stroke himself— steve groans lowly, pressing his head against the tiles and tries go think of unpleasant things.

he fucks up on day 13.

his alarm goes off late and his dream had been lewd and vulgar, an endless loop of sinking his fat cock into you and envisioning how wet and warm you’d be around him. his cock is throbbing when he drags himself out of sleep and he realises he’s been humping against the mattress in his sleep.

the cold shower helps, barely. shivering beneath the icy spray, steve stares at his thickened cock and groans— knowing if he wraps his hand around it now and fucks his fist, he’ll cum in a minute.

so he leaves it and goes to work, wound up enough to snap at robin and then apologise 20 minutes later. you come into his work again, having been absent for the last couple of days, and it’s like you can smell it on him.

“hard morning?” you smirk at him.

“fuck off,” he growls, shoving a vcr back onto one of the shelves. then he looks back at you. “i’m still winning your stupid challenge by the way.”

“uh huh,” you say, not believing him at all. “how’s it’s been going? fucking your cock but never getting finish?”

even your words have an effect on him. steve feels his body flush, his dick strain in his pants, his gut churning with heat. he stiffens up and scrambles to think of a reply — but you’re already laughing.

“oh man, we’re not even halfway through the month and i think you could blow in your pants right here.” you muse teasingly. steve grips the shelf tighter and shakes over the fluster you have on him.

“i have more self restraint than that,” he snips back. the flush passes and he resumes his task, flashing you a quick glare.

you nod and hum again, like you don’t believe a thing he’s a saying, and then he’s watching you head out the door again.

the moment steve realises he’s fucked up is when he’s getting into bed. his cock is, thankfully, not hard — even if there is this persistent tug from his balls that never seems to leave. but he hasn’t stroked himself at all today.

painstakingly, he begins to — soft, gentle strokes over his cock, hoping, praying he can get five minutes in without working himself up too bad. it’s futile because it only takes about twenty seconds behind his cock is twitching in his hand, growing heavier, the head of it beginning to dribble pre-cum and steve moans in anguish into his pillow.

he stares at his alarm clock and strokes slowly, so slowly, having to stop every couple of seconds until finally five minutes passes. steve sighs and releases his cock which twitches in response, the head giving a sad spurt of pre-cum. he’s so keyed up he can’t possibly sleep. his cock is so hard it’s throbbing.

as he pulls his boxers up and buries himself under the duvet, but every touch is too stimulating, his skin on fire with how the urge to cum itches beneath it. he ends up having a very cold shoulder at 3am and his cock never fully softens.

it’s brutal from there on out. from day 14 onwards, his cock remains in this permanent state of aching, always half thickened and ready to go the moment it gets some stimulation. which turns out, is far easier to get now— jeans on the tighter side, the right seat, even the rumble of his car beneath him are enough to have steve swearing and pushing at his crotch, willing it to go down.

that’s how you find him on day 20, five minutes late for his shift because he’s staring down at his tented jeans and trying to think of anything to make it go away. your tap on his window makes him startle, seizing in his seat before he realises it’s probably the only person who’s expecting to see him with a boner in public.

“hard morning?” you joke again, this time pointing at his obvious bulge.

steve glares at you. “you already made that joke.”

“and you didn’t appreciate it the first time!” you say back cheerily. you round the front of his car and open the door, plopping yourself in the passenger seat like you own it.

“what are you doing?” steve asks, going to cross his arms but feeling terribly exposed. he settles for covering his groin, muscles twitching at the slight stimulation the weight of his hands does. his hips twitch forward.

“i’ve got a proposition for you,” you say.

steve shakes his head instantly. “nope, no way.”

you laugh at his quick insistence. “wait listen! i think you will want to consider it, okay?”

you pause and when steve doesn’t say anything more, just eyes you warily, you continue.

“i will knock off five whole days off your challenge,” you hold up your hand, fingers splayed out to indicate the number. your mischievous eyes make steve worry. even if five days off makes his challenge that much easier.

“if you do your five minutes today right now.”

steve blinks. his chest flushes hot at your proposal as it sinks in— here, in the parking lot in front of his work, you want him to jerk off for five whole minutes?

“what? right here?” the question bursts out of him.

it’s not busy out in the least. even in the store, steve hasn’t even seen keith walking about or any customers milling around. he knows keith won’t come outside to fetch him and he’s the only car in the parking lot, besides one another that parked down the other end.

“five minutes for five days off,” you say, twiddling your fingers with a wicked smile.

steve considers it, even though he can already feel his cock growing harder beneath his hands. he groans and throws his head back against the headrest. was he really about to do this?

he looks at the time and then starts to undo the button of his jeans. fuck, guess he was.

he steals a glance at you as he pulls down his zipper and tugs his jeans down a couple inches to expose his boxers. the mischief from your smile has faded, a hunger taking its place. steve averts his eyes, far too aware of how his cock twitches in his boxer at your attention.

he slips a hand into his boxers and curls it around his hard cock. a keening noise pulls from his throat and steve blushes scarlet— all his little noises as he’s spiraled into this lustful denial haven’t had an audience until right now.

he shifts his hand up, a slow stroke, but you’re quickly reaching out to grab his wrist, halting to movement. steve opens his eyes, not sure when they had closed, and makes a noise of confusion.

you grin deviously. “wait,” you point to the clock on the dash. “you can go when the minute changes, big boy.”

steve’s hips jump forward at your words, both the name and your denial. he groans before he can help it, his eyes trained intently on the dash. in his hand, his cock leaks pitifully, a wet spot beginning to stain through his boxers.

humiliatingly, you notice it too. “aw, you’re making a mess and you haven’t even started.”

“stop,” steve murmurs, aiming for stern but failing pathetically. the word comes out as a whine. his cheeks glow fiery hot.

you laugh and then tap his wrist— the minute having flicked over just a second ago.

steve starts his stroking, slow and easy, his eyes slipping closed. five minutes, he can do five minutes of jerking off. even if he was suddenly keenly aware of your watchful gaze, of the window beside him, of the pure exposure of the situation.

“that’s not jerking,” you huff disapprovingly. steve’s eyes crinkle open, his mouth already hung open as he pants softly. his hand does another pass over his cock and he smothers a moan into the palm of his hand.

“go faster or it won’t count.” you say wickedly and steve whimpers, his hand obeying without thought. with the way he’s leaking all over himself, it only takes a couple long strokes before he’s making lewd, wet noises as he fucks into his hand.

it shouldn’t be as hot as it is — rubbing his own cock while you watch, eyes darting between his moving hand and his flushed face. steve can hear himself making little noises with every exhale, tiny little whines as he burns up. the coil in his tummy tightens unexpectedly.

“f-fuck-!” he stops his hand completely, gripping the steering wheel with the other as he feels his orgasm swell. it grows closer, so near to tipping over that steve can’t control his hips as they keep moving, rutting into the air frantically, into nothing, as they try to get him over the edge.

it takes another thirty seconds for his breath to catch and steve to settle down enough to not cum immediately. he quivers in his seat. his eyes flutter open to look at you.

“that was really cute,” you muse, eyes almost feline, dragging up and down his body, slow as trickling honey. steve feels his cock twitch at your words, flushing hotly when your eyes dart to his boxers and definitely notice.

“not five minutes though,” you say with teasing tilt in your voice. you point to the clock on the dash. “i think that was… 1 whole minute?”

despite how he tries to stop it, steve can’t help the pathetic noise he makes in response. he wants to be able to finish this stupid fucking challenge you’ve set, wants to prove himself, wants to be good.

he starts moving his hand again before he can consider how bad of an idea it is. he should just say no and do the next ten days. but it’s wet and warm in his hand, the tip of his cock so drippy that he can pretend his hand is yours. you seem pleasantly surprised to see him going again so soon, your lids low as you watch him closely.

“are you normally this loud?”

steve knows you mean the slick noises coming from the way he’s fucking into his hand. he tries to huff but it comes out as a quiet moan and his face flushes hotter again.

he shakes his head instead, his hair scraping against the headrest. god, his neck is burning up. he’s pretty sure he’s never been harder in his life — but fuck, he can’t stop now.

“how- how ma- many minutes?” the words strain to get out, wrapped in his arousal. his nipples peak hard in his shirt, the friction only adding to his pleasure.

at some point, his hand stopped moving all together and his hips started doing all the work. steve presses against the drivers seat, hips lifting off and bucking into his hand and— shit, it’s too much, the sticky boxers are gonna make him cum if he rubs against them one more time.

in haste, he shoves them down his thighs, exposing his cock to you and anyone who deigns to take a peek in his window. something churns in his gut and steve screws his eyes up, willing himself not to cum yet. so close, he’s so close.

“just one more,” you say, suddenly sounding more breathy than before. steve’s eyes snap open, darting over to look at your face — but you’re fixated on his crotch, watching with a hungry expression.

your eyes lift to his face. another devious smile. steve whines. so close, he’s so fucking close, so close he can taste it. he can win, he can do it.

“steve,” you say softly, reaching out to nudge his chin in your direction. he wasn’t aware of when his eyes slipped shut again but your staring him in the face all lovingly, all wickedly and steve wills his orgasm down. another minute, another fucking minute, he can wait, he’s so close he’s— “cum,” you command.

steve does. white hot flashes through his body as he tips over the edge, ecstasy washing over every sense, stronger than he's ever felt before. his cock kicks up in his hand and a whorish moan drags out of his throat as he paints the steering wheel with ropes of cum.

for a minute, steve doesn't give a fuck if he's just lost— he just cares about how fucking good it feels to fuck his fist, to feel every pass over his slit all the way through his body. he whines and whimpers as the feeling tapers off, his hips finally settling down into the seat.

the mortification of what he's done begins to set it, like the drizzles of cum drying on his steering wheel. he can't stop panting, can't think of single word to say, his lips opening and closing as he tries to recover from the best orgasm of his life.

he hears the car door open and it shoots him into gear, stuffing himself back into his sticky boxers, a shiver going down his spine at how unpleasant it feels. oh fuck, and he's got a whole shift ahead of him.

you're still hovering, one hand on the open car door, leaned down and watching him frantically try to recover— all with that damned wicked smile on your face.

you rap your knuckles on the roof of the car. "damn. better luck next month, right harrington?"

you don't sound sorry at all. steve watches you close the door and leave, weaving between the stores and out of sight as his cock softens and his boxers grow colder. he screws his eyes up and smacks his head back against the headrest.

he's so fucking screwed.

#jay writes #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #sub!steve #sub!steve harrington

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arabellasleopardcoat · 2 months

Text

Vūjigon (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon has been having sex without love his whole life. It's easy. Marriage should be more of the same, right?

Warnings: Smut. Rough oral sex, male receiving. Daemon is smitten, he just doesn't know it.

A/N: Part two to this, can be read as a stand alone. You only need to know that they don't speak the same language. Whole credit for the idea of a blowjob / character study to @precious-little-scoundrel

Westeros was full of people who hated Daemon Targaryen. It had never bothered him. Daemon knew that when you were closer to a God than a man, there were many that would envy your position. Natural superiority was challenging to accept for those of inferior stock, after all.

Your father was the kind to care about that sort of thing. He had probably found out when the two of you had been trying to trap someone with Valyrian blood to marry you. Daemon wondered if you cared about that. Or if you thought about joining their ranks.

You very well might, after this. But since you had no words with which to air your grievances, Daemon wasn't too worried. Besides, there were plenty of wives who hated their husbands, and as far as he knew, you didn't seem to like commonplaces.

It was why he was going to introduce you to this practice, after all. Daemon hoped that your foreign education and your natural curiosity might stop you from slapping him.

He pulled you in for a kiss. Eager thing that you were, you sat yourself in his lap with a saucy grin. Daemon wondered at the walking dichotomy that you were. One second you could put the most expensive whores to shame with how wanton you were, the next you turned shy, still not having fully shredded your innocence.

“Bodmagho.” Daemon says, tapping your lower lip to get your attention. It proves a dangerous thing to do because you give him a little pout, pushing your lower lip against his thumb. And Seven Hells, Daemon is just a man. When you stick your lip like that, he wants to bite it so bad.

“…” You peer up at him, with your widest eyes. Clearly waiting for your lesson. Daemon can't focus. His cock throbs painfully in anticipation of what is to come. Your small, wet mouth, spreading around him. Hot and tight, just how he likes them, but made better, because this is a hole no one has ever used before. Your astonished eyes, when you hear what Daemon is about to propose.

You jab him in the ribs, hard. Daemon shakes himself out of his lust induced stupor. There is a lesson to be taught here. Otherwise, his fantasies will never come true.

He unbuckles his belt with one hand, lifting his hips to be able to lower his breeches. His movements jostle you, and the motion makes you giggle, so Daemon lifts his hips a few more times, making you bounce even more.

It’s not often that Daemon actively tries to make others laugh. Those times were left behind in his youth, when he didn't know of other ways of charming women. He thinks himself out of practice, but is pleased to notice that you do laugh. Defenseless, he just smiles back.

Daemon grabs your hand and guides it to his cock, between the both of you. A crimson red blush stains your cheeks, and you give him a wide-eyed look. This is the first time in all of your couplings that you have touched him there. He can feel your inexperience, the way your hand strokes way too lightly, trying to get used to the feel of him. Daemon knows it is fucked up, but it arouses him even further.

Nothing is better than a maiden's touch. Perhaps your grip isn't the best, nor do you have much of a rhythm going, but your hands are soft. He can tell just by the skin on your palms that you are a lady. Someone who should be loved and protected, and that is currently debasing herself for his pleasure. The thought makes his stomach clench, cock hardening.

There is a tiny furrow on your brows, almost confused by what you are feeling. You lean in and kiss him, and unsubtly try to peek a glance at his member. Daemon chuckles, and opens up his posture even more, letting you look as much as you want. He even guides your hand on a few strokes, showing you how to touch him to get him hard.

The sight of your small hand wrapped around his shaft threatens to lead him to insanity. It's made even worse by the fact he has to guide your hand when you get a little shy. Daemon wraps his hand around yours, dwarfing it, and jerks himself off inside your smaller fist.

He is fully hard in almost no time, and he then lets go of your hand to allow you to explore on your own. Almost without noticing, you rub the head of his cock. Some of his seed is already leaking. You smear it around, curiously chirping something or another in that language of yours. Daemon has no idea what you are saying, but it amuses him how similar your accent is to those from Dorne.

They say the most beautiful women are from Dorne. Daemon wouldn't be surprised if you had family there. You are a lovely little thing, all sultry eyes and a pouty mouth that you use to great effect. You seem bright, though his assessment of your intelligence is seriously impaired by the language barrier.

Some men at court have jested about his luck, in finding a wife that never nags. Daemon no longer shares their opinion. At first, he had, but now he finds himself often wishing he could speak your language. See what hides behind your eyes, get to know you in more profound ways. Sometimes, even, he catches himself trying to find translations of his favorite books to see if you would like them.

He smiles at you, fondly, before shoving you off his lap. You let out a startled yelp, before coming up to your hands and knees. You glare at him, starting to push yourself up. Daemon stops you.

“Daor.” He says, trying to get you to stay on your knees. And fuck, if the sight of you kneeling between his spread legs doesn't do something to him. You obey with a confused and hurt look. Daemon cannot stand it. His pretty girl, all pouty and feeling unwanted. He can’t have that, can he? “Vūjigon.”

You stare.

“Come on. Vūjigon.” Daemon repeats. You still give him a puzzled look, tilting your head to the side. He fights the urge to coo at you. Instead, Daemon points to his cock, and brushes his fingers over your pouty lips. “Vūjigon.”

Sudden understanding lights up your face. The triumph at understanding what he wants only last a second, though. You balk, trying to get up. Apparently, even non westerosi noblewomen know that what Daemon is asking is somewhat debasing.

A whore's trick, Mysaria had called it, when she first introduced him to the practice. Daemon had greatly enjoyed seeing her on her knees, subjected to the indignity of having him thrust wildly inside her mouth.

With you, it was bound to be even better. There was nothing like corrupting innocence, and nothing like bringing uppity women to heel. Daemon had been eager to do this, picturing it the whole day. His pretty highborn girl, wantonly sticking her pink tongue out, eager to lap up his seed.

Rebelling, you tried to get up. Daemon placed a hand on your shoulder, and firmly ordered.

“Daor.”

You spluttered something and glared. Daemon glared back. He stared you down until you lowered your eyes. There was a prideful look in your eyes, quickly being replaced by embarrassment.

Daemon brushed your pretty hair back and gently repeated his order.

“Vūjigon.”

This time, you folded. You pressed a kiss to his shaft, scrunching up your face. Daemon tutted, and smoothed down your frown.

“Ñuha kēlītsos.” Daemon smiled. His kitten. You glared, but understood that word well enough. You gave him small, kitten licks, making him shudder. Daemon had been planning this for almost a fortnight. You probably now understood his insistence at teaching you the names of animals, and your indignation was justified. All your lessons had been for naught but his hedonist tendencies.

His eyes dropped. The look on your face was priceless. All prideful highborn girl forced to do something she thought demeaning. With your pretty jewels and expensive dress, you were all that he had fantasized about and more. The gift that keeps on giving. His precious, obedient girl.

“Daor?” Daemon asks, softening a little. He doesn't want you to suffer, after all. Only be a little uncomfortable. You stop your kisses and kitten licks to give him a fierce look.

“Bodmagho.” You glower, before wrapping your pretty mouth around his leaking tip. Your brows furrow a little at the taste, but you look up at him, patiently.

Daemon can feel the heat of your gaze going straight to his cock. It turns impossibly hard. He lightly caresses your cheek with his thumb. You blink up at him, shy.

Never before have you looked more gorgeous than with your pretty mouth stretched around his cock. Daemon beckons you closer with a hand gesture, encouraging to take more of him inside. Molten, liquid heat accumulates in the base of his spine when you give a little awkward shuffle on your knees, advancing towards him.

He keeps petting your hair and muttering sweet nothings that you are probably unable to understand. You press forward, gluttonous little thing that you are, until you are choking on him. Daemon has to slow you down then because no matter how delectable your throat feels when contracting and spasming around him, the sight of tears on your face is not as arousing as he expected.

Somehow, it looks better on whores. He would like much better to see you stricken and crying from pleasure than pain.

You are his precious girl. Not deserving of rough treatment, of having to kneel on rough floors. Fuck, he hadn't even checked to see if you had a rug under your knees. He was a cunt. Daemon yanks you off his cock, and pulls you upwards. He places you on his lap.

You pout. You try to go back to his cock. He brushes the tears away from your face and wipes the corners of your mouth, getting rid of the spit gathering there. He even presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Daor, kēlītsos.” Daemon kisses you, softly. You respond poorly to the endearment, probably because you can't understand what he means. You associate it straight away with sucking his cock, which he now realizes wasn't the best idea. He taps at your lower lip to get your attention and rubs his face against your neck. You giggle, squirming like there is no tomorrow. “Kēlītsos.” Daemon orders, and you rub yourself against him, all kitten like. It would be the most adorable thing he has ever witnessed, were it not for the fact that you are rubbing against his hard cock.

He holds you to him with one hand, and unbuttons your dress just enough so he can pull your teats out. For the first time in the night, you struggle. You pull your dress up and squirm, trying to cover yourself. Daemon gives you a warning growl, and holds your hands to your sides.

You avert your eyes. Your shoulders hunch, as if you are trying to hide yourself. Embarrassed, Daemon realizes. You are embarrassed.

“Daor.” He kisses your jaw, then your neck, and makes his way to your pretty teats. He cups them in his hands. “Gevie.”

“Gevie?” You frown, puzzled. So Daemon repeats it fumblingly in your language, until your face lights up, and you are fully convinced he is calling you nothing but pretty. You give him a blinding smile, and something in him warms at seeing you so happy. He decides to just grind his hips against yours while fondling you a little. He can try teaching you how to suck his cock another night. After all, as a married couple, you had all the time in the world.

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doumadono · 5 months

Text

Warnings: smut - oral (f & m receiving), fingering, p in v, f!Reader, semi-public

Synopsis: you and the Duke find yourselves sharing an intimate moment within the confines of his office when unexpectedly, Neuvillette chooses to pay Wriothesley a visit

A/N: I dedicate this piece to @crystalwolfblog & @arthurbristow - this is my first attempt at writing for Genshin, so please be gentle

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

In the opulent office of Wriothesley, the Duke of the Fortress, a symphony of soft rustles echoed as he sifted through the papers strewn across his expansive wooden desk. The room exuded an air of authority, adorned with rich tapestries and antique furnishings that spoke of a legacy steeped in history.

The Duke, a figure of power and refinement, reclined in his plush leather chair, an emblem of comfort amidst the grandeur. His legs were casually spread, an embodiment of relaxed dominance.

Positioned between his legs, you knelt down, skillfully taking his rock-hard dick into your mouth with deliberate and measured intent, striving to provide an experience of unparalleled pleasure. You were drawing him into the depths of your mouth at a leisurely pace. Your dedication was evident as you explored the limits, the tip of your nose delicately brushing against his groin in tandem with the deepthroating.

As one of the guardians laboring within the esteemed Fortress, your daily existence revolved around subservience to none other than the formidable Duke Wriothesley himself. Life in this capacity was far from easy, marked by numerous challenges inherent to your responsibilities. Yet, amidst the intricacies of your duties, the most unforeseen development transpired – you found yourself captivated by an unexpected love, directed towards the Duke. In a twist of fate, your sentiments were reciprocated by the very figure of authority you served. In the grand tapestry of your experiences, this revelation of mutual affection unfolded as a stroke of fortune.

A guttural mixture of grunts and hisses escaped him, a visceral response to the teasing graze of your teeth against his sensitive member. Amidst the intensity, a low, warning growl emerged from him, "Watch your teeth, babygirl," a cautionary note laced with a blend of desire and insistence.

With an audible pop, you withdrew his cock from your mouth, casting an upward glance at the Duke. "Sorry, your grace," you offered in apology, the tip of his dick resting against your extended, flexed tongue.

Wriothesley deftly slipped his hand into your hair, his fingers tracing gentle patterns against your scalp. "That's my girl. Keep on sucking."

A warm smile graced your lips as you obediently took his member back into your mouth, a silent acknowledgment of your commitment to fulfilling his desires.

With a deliberate pace, you resumed the act of deep-throating him, emitting a soft moan that reverberated around his shaft.

The Duke, momentarily abandoning his pen, leaned back against the chair, a series of breathy curses escaping his lips. "Oh God, you're sucking me so fucking well," he lauded, his words a testament to the pleasure he was experiencing. "Just like that. Work your tongue for me, babygirl," he encouraged, his voice a seductive melody guiding your actions.

Being the dutiful subordinate you were, one of your hands delicately manipulated the skin on his cock, mirroring the rhythmic motion of your head's bobbing. Upon withdrawing his member from your mouth, a glistening trail of precum had already emerged from the slit at its tip. Reverently, you planted a series of kisses along his length, descending to the base where you enveloped his weighty, seed-laden testicles into your mouth, all the while emitting sultry moans that bespoke a certain carnal abandon.

In response, he tilted his head backward, and his other hand seamlessly found its place in your hair, securing a hold on the back of your head. "Yeah, just like that," he echoed, his praise punctuated by repetition. "You're so good for me, Y/N, so obedient, and your mouth's so skilled."

Suddenly, a brief knock resonated through the massive wooden door, interrupting any potential acknowledgment before Wriothesley could utter a polite "come in." In a swift response, Neuvillette, the Iudex of Fontaine, entered the room.

In the nick of time, Wriothesley managed to adjust, shifting slightly and leaning forward, creating the illusion of engrossment in the scattered documents on his desk. With head bowed, he endeavored to compose himself, suppressing any telltale signs of the lingering arousal that had adorned his cheeks with a delicate shade of pink.

The creak of the opening door initially startled you, but upon recognizing Neuvillette's voice, a mischievous grin played on your lips - it presented the ideal opportunity to playfully taunt your beloved Wriothesley.

"Wriothesley, I believe you overlooked the report I requested," Neuvillette exclaimed, closing the distance to the desk.

Wriothesley subtly shifted, ensuring that the Iudex remained oblivious to your discreet presence, kneeling between his legs with his fly undone. "I… Uh… Ah, the report! Yes, yes, I'll bring it to you promptly," the dark-haired man nodded hastily.

"Ah, so you've prepared it?" Neuvillette inquired, halting right in front of the expansive desk.

Wriothesley affirmed, "Yes."

"Excellent. In that case, you can present it to me now. I'd rather not risk you forgetting it later," Neuvillette teased lightly, a genial smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Meanwhile, you once again took Wriothesley's member into your mouth, creating a firm suction as you sensually bobbed your head, skillfully massaging his arousal with your tongue. The dichotomy between the professional exchange and the clandestine pleasure beneath the desk added a layer of tension to the scene.

Wriothesley regarded Neuvillette with a certain bluntness, as though grappling with the comprehension of the words directed at him. After a moment, he shook his head, scanning the surroundings and shuffling some papers in a futile attempt to locate the elusive report. The throbbing ache of his dick in your warm, wet mouth posed a distracting challenge, threatening to unleash his essence right then and there — a far-from-helpful circumstance.

"Uhm, can I bring it to you later, Neuvillette? As you can see, I'm a little… busy," he stammered, a hint of discomfort in his tone.

Neuvillette raised an eyebrow in a deliberate, slow manner. "All I can see is that you can't keep your desk tidy. Maybe if you clean it up, you'll not have any issues with delivering stuff I'm asking for without a delay. Do you need a hand with those papers?"

"NO!" Wriothesley exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock at his own unexpected outburst. "I mean, no need…"

You deftly withdrew his manhood from your mouth, beginning to jerk him, the tip of your tongue dancing over the sensitive mushroom head.

Wriothesley licked his lips briefly, a soft pant escaping him as he covered his mouth with a curled palm, his vulnerability momentarily exposed.

Observing the Duke's flushed countenance, Neuvillette frowned. "Are you sure you're okay? Your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes are glistening. You appear as though you might have a fever. Perhaps I should send someone to check upon you?"

Wriothesley shook his head, struggling to maintain composure. "No need, Neuvillette, I'm just a tad fatigued, that's all."

The Iudex acknowledged with a sigh. "As you say, my friend. But do remember, it's a crucial document, and I need it, right?"

"You have it," Wriothesley affirmed eagerly.

Neuvillette surveyed the expansive room, nodding to himself, and then turned around to depart.

Simultaneously, your actions took a more intimate turn. You intensified your movements on Wriothesley's dick and deftly squeezed his testicles, eliciting a climax that painted your face with three swift spurts of his cum. The seed adorned your nose, lips, and cheek, while a trickle descended down your chin, gracing your exposed décolletage as your dark shirt remained provocatively unbuttoned.

The sudden release prompted a loud moan from Wriothesley, a sound he managed to stifle only after it had echoed through the room.

Certainly, Neuvillette overheard the unexpected noise, prompting him to swiftly pivot around, fixing the Duke with a quizzical raised eyebrow.

Wriothesley endeavored to conjure a quick falsehood, his eyes meeting Neuvillette's with feigned innocence.

Meanwhile, your tongue skillfully traced the sensitive part beneath the Duke's dick which turned out to get even harder than before, focusing on the most prominent vein.

Wriothesley, attempting to maintain composure, offered a sly grin and replied, "Ah, just reminiscing about a particularly amusing anecdote from the Court of Fontaine, my dear Neuvillette. Nothing more."

Neuvillette sighed audibly, his concern evident. "You're spending an excessive amount of time in your office. Maintaining work-life balance is crucial, remember," he gently reminded before departing from the room.

In response, Wriothesley shifted in his chair, leveling you with a stern gaze, his brow quirked, and lips pressed into a thin line. "What the hell, babygirl? Did you genuinely aim to get me caught red-handed with my cock stuffing your mouth, huh?" he inquired, a tad of frustration in his tone. One hand found its place in your hair, while the thumb of the other was used to wipe away his seed from your cheek.

Undeterred, you turned your head and sensually took his thumb into your mouth, sucking on it provocatively, your gaze never leaving his. When you released his thumb, a playful smile adorned your lips as you expressed, "I just wanted to savor the taste of your semen, your grace."

A rosy hue graced Wriothesley's cheeks, his grin taking on a mischievous tilt. "Get on the desk," he commanded.

As an obedient girl, you rose, deftly undoing your belt and shedding your pants along with your panties. His gaze lingered, his tongue moistening his lips in anticipation, as you gracefully hopped onto the desk, perching on the edge and sensually parting your legs, a display crafted exclusively for him.

"So perfect," he murmured, this time relinquishing control as he knelt before you. His fingers delicately parted your folds, and his tongue traced a deliberate path up and down your moist slit, paying particular attention to your throbbing clit.

A symphony of moans escaped your lips, your hand finding solace in his dark locks, fingers entwining in a silent plea. "Oh, fuck, Wrio, more," you urged, surrendering to the escalating waves of pleasure he orchestrated.

Wriothesley moistened two of his fingers with a deliberate lick before expertly guiding them into the warmth of your pussy.

The consequence was your supine form sprawled across his desk, your back gracefully arched, and your legs enveloping his head, seeking intensified friction. In the midst of burgeoning pleasure, a fervent moan escaped your lips, carrying his name in a breathy melody.

Wriothesley's skilled tongue danced over your engorged clit, synchronized with the rhythmic exploration of his fingers within your velvety, slippery walls. "You're delicious, Y/N," he murmured, savoring the moment before bestowing a tender kiss upon your aroused clitoris.

Once you were thoroughly drenched, and your runny juices cascaded onto the marble floor, he rose from his position. With a deliberate motion, he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his fly fully, allowing his uniform pants to slink down his legs, forming a pool at his ankles.

Seated, you took a moment to unbutton his uniform, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he joined in the effort. Soon, his greyish waistcoat and shirt beneath were opened, unveiling a canvas of a muscular torso and abs, each etched with scars that whispered tales of battles endured.

"You're goddamn handsome," you whispered, your lips barely moving.

A gracious smile adorned his face as he expressed his gratitude. His hand then found its place on your chest, exerting a firm pressure that guided you to recline once again on his desk. With practiced ease, he parted your legs with one hand, while the other indulged in jerking his cock.

Wriothesley, driven by an unbridled desire, pressed the tip of his dick against your entrance. With a single, commanding thrust, he fully immersed himself in the warmth of your pussy, bottoming out, leaving you breathless, lips parted, emitting a seductive whine. "God, you're so wet and tight, holy shit," he groaned, fingers gripping your hips as he embarked on a deliberate, slow, and profound rhythm.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, an urging plea for him to fuck you deeper. "Fuck me hard, my Duke," you implored, locking eyes with him, fingers clasping his forearm. "I know you've yearned for the taste of my pussy, and now it's yours, all yours," you playfully teased. "I've missed you so much, my grace."

"I missed you too," he whispered, punctuating his words with a potent thrust. Leaning forward, he captured your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, tongues dancing as his dick skillfully explored every gummy spot within you, igniting a symphony of pleasure that resonated through the intimate encounter.

Wriothesley gradually increased his rhythm until the only sounds reverberating within the confines of the room were the amalgamation of your labored panting, impassioned moans, and the rhythmic slapping of skin meeting skin.

His dick pulsated within you, responding to the tightening pressure of your inner walls. "Oh, Y/N, you're so eager to milk my cock, aren't you?" he grunted, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation evident as the tension coiled within his abdomen threatened to unravel. "I'm cumming, holy shit, I'm cumming!"

In an explosive release, he reached the climax for the second time, dispensing the entirety of his thick, heated seed within your pussy, the involuntary contractions of your pussy still clenching his member.

A whimpered cry escaped your lips as you called out his name, your hand slipping between your thighs to tenderly stimulate your swollen clit. "Fuck, oh God," you panted, the intensity of the experience etched across your features. "It was so good, oh God." The room lingered in the aftermath, a symphony of shared pleasure and sated desire.

Wriothesley withdrew from you, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips as he admired the mingled releases oozing from your cunny. Opening a drawer, he retrieved a box of tissues. First, he tended to himself, methodically cleaning and readjusting his attire — zipping his tie and buttoning the shirt, securing his belt, and settling his pants around his hips. Then, with a meticulous touch, he ensured the same care for you. "I needed this," he confessed, picking up your discarded panties and gently guiding them up your legs, assisting you in dressing, "It's been a while, and the tension was oh so painful."

A playful grin adorned your features as you deftly maneuvered into your pants and buttoned your shirt. "I know, my Duke, but you're well aware I've been dispatched on a clandestine mission, leaving me with little control over the situation," you responded, a trace of understanding in your voice.

Wriothesley nodded solemnly. "I know," he affirmed, drawing you into a close and reassuring embrace. His lips pressed gently against the crown of your head. "Thank you."

"Anytime, my grace," you responded, a warm smile gracing your features. "Now, you should deliver the report to the Iudex. None of us want him angered."

#wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley x reader smut #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x you #wrio smut #wrio x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin smut

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bluetooththereptile · 5 months

Note

Can I request a part 2 for His Mother (Yandere Damian Wayne x naga reader x Yandere Bruce Wayne)🙏🙏🙏

Yes! For sure you can!

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: this oneshot is continuation of this fic.

Tw: mentions of drugs

The faint scent of soaked wood was in the air, and your den's condition was stimulated so well that if it wasn't for the walls around you, you'd feel at home. Minus the sunlight of course, and a fresh breeze, the air made you feel weak and sleepy and its scent was sort of sweet on your tongue, as if it was spring already and the flower petals were in the air. Every day, all you did as time passed was either spent sleeping or taking care of the little one who unlike you was extremely energetic, cooing and babbling as she crawled around with her tiny hands, still not old enough to learn how to crawl with her tail. She could be a menace and a little angel at the same time, crawling on top of a few branches and then jumping down onto you, giggling, which was her favorite pastime that left you alert most of the time to her presence. Lately, a few teeth had grown into her mouth and she had started to nibble on things, including your tail, and feeding her with your hands had turned into a challenge. Now that you looked around, you could see her bite marks on the plants around you. That little thing had explored the whole invisible cage so many times that you'd wondered if she had learned to crawl on the walls as well...it wasn't that unlikely of her.

Speaking of the devil...

Lulu's head popped up from under the water as she splashed the water around her "Mama, mama!" She reached out for you, and you slowly reached out and took the baby in your arms, she could breathe underwater unlike you, which meant her parents were water-based Nagas. Handling her wasn't easy, but it was for a few hours before they came along. Bruce and your boy, Damian. They somehow knew how to handle both you and little LuLu, or as they called her, Lucy.

You looked down at the cooing baby in your arms, smiling softly, Lulu was pure white, her large eyes having a red hue to them, you thought the poor thing was sick for not having a color to her scales or little puffs of hair, not knowing that she was a very rare albino, oh how many nights you had spent on worrying about her health not noticing that she was chubbier than most of baby Nagas you had seen, which meant she was quiet healthy.

As you held the baby, she nuzzled into your chest, liking the fabric of your topwear. Bruce would provide you with them, and not much to your liking, he'd take it off or put it on you himself. Lulu's tail wrapped around your arm as you rocked her, watching her play with the tip of your tail, poking it with her chubby fingers. You let out a soft sigh of irritation as she reached for the tip and started playing with it, you didn't know when you found that abandoned egg you'd end up like this, you were mateless and young, without much experience, you didn't know how to handle the baby, and she didn't help you with handling her either...well, except Damian, at least he'd listen. Your mouth turned downwards, remembering that he was the reason you were now captive. Poor you, you didn't have much luck in both parenting and mating...well, as for mating, Bruce still tried to woo you, you could easily deduce that, but how did he know of Naga culture and their ways of courting, you weren't sure.

Lulu squirmed out of your arms and swam into the shallow pond, splashing around as she swam to the other side of it, you sighed again, too tired to follow her around. "Lulu...honey come back" You tried to take her attention, but she was already on her way to creating chaos once more. You relax your upper body on the warm sands close to the pond, and your lower half rests in the water, soaking in. Today none of them came along, were they unwell? The thought made you feel bad, both with the image of them being sick and your thought of caring about them made you feel bad. You couldn't deny you worried about them as well, but...Were you being tamed like a beast? Never! You wouldn't allow that!

You were too busy rubbing your temple as you let your thoughts circle in your mind like a swarm of irritating flies, to notice the door of your gilded cage opening. Damian and Jon's heads popped in, noticing that you were far away from their side of the cage they let out a sigh of relief. Knowing you, if it wasn't for the sedatives you'd be charging at them already. You looked at the two humans entering slowly, struggling with blinking to keep your eyes open, you rested your head on top of your hand, watching them walk to Lulu, who was already crawling toward them.

"Dami! Dami!" Lulu squealed with excitement as she spotted Damian, her chubby cheeks flushed with the struggle of crawling faster to her brother. Damian smiled at the little one and bent down and picked her up, her giggles filling the air. You smiled softly at the scene, looking at how Damian's one snake-like eye's iris widened at the sight of his sister, a sign that he loved her.

You hummed his name under your breath, remembering the time you had to put your special balm on his wounds, made out of your blood and a few different herbs, unknowingly giving him some sort of mutation, making him gain some snake-like features. How precious he was when he held onto you tightly, seeking comfort, fever haunting his body because of the infection in his blood. You wanted to be mad at him for bringing that man, Bruce, to take you away from your swamp, but you couldn't, he was your boy.

When Damian turned around to take Lulu away you felt a little surge of panic rush into your reptilian heart, where was he taking Lulu? "W-wait-!" You were too slow and the boy and his friend had left with the little one, leaving you there, filling your heart with worry. You moved into the pond, getting closer to the door of the cage, you knew you couldn't move past the invisible walls of it, naturally you didn't know of glasses, thinking of them as invisible walls, you didn't know how to move past them, but you still tried. You moved your hand and slammed it on the door of your confinement with the remnants of your energy in a struggle to make it open, you knew it would be in vain, but you still did so, but much to your surprise, the invisible door opened, letting clean air come into your cage, you could see a different light coming from there...oh?...oh...OH!

....

"Just be quick, I need to put Lucy back with Mom..." Damian told Jon as he put Lulu in the little tub to keep her from crawling around. The baby Naga was a little distraught by the unfamiliar nature of her surroundings, her small fist tightly holding onto Damian's finger. Jon moved closer, with a few little dresses that his mother had tailored for little Lucy. "My mom said they are water resistant," Jon said with his proud smile and helped put the dress on top of Lulu's body, she giggled as her head popped out of the neckline of the little pink dress, finding it amusing that Damian tried to pull her little arms into the holes of the sleeveless dress, to her everything seemed like a game.

"If you want to take pictures, I have a camera you know" Dick appeared behind the two young boys startling them slightly. Jon nodded enthusiastically, while Damian huffed "Let me at least tidy up her hair". He said as he ran his fingers into her white messy locks. "Say cheese!" Dick spoke as he used a rattle to gain Lulu's attention as he held the camera, chuckling slightly as Lulu looked up at him with a large smile, her few teeth shining. The picture of the Naga in her cute dress was taken with a bright flash from the camera. The bright light made a huge shadow behind them appear on the wall the three humans tensed up visibly, turning around slowly, their eyes widening in shock.

....

"E-easy, Y/N..." Bruce groaned out as your tail made another circle around his legs, tightening around them not so gently. You were on top of him, your hands holding him as you glared down at him with your snake eyes. You had crawled out of your cage and since you weren't inhaling sedatives, you were gaining back your strength, so you had startled Bruce on his seat in the bat cave.

You looked down at the man you had pinned to his seat, unconsciously moving your hand to trace the different parts of his face, you were too focused on his blue eyes that you didn't notice his hand move to push a button, it'd give you an electric shock to stop you from doing something reckless, but his hand paused as he watched you lay slowly on top of him, trying to get some warmth from his body. "Mate..." the word came out of your mouth in a whisper, you had realized that struggling was futile, Bruce was the alpha predator of your chain of family, and you should submit to feel happier, he knew how to handle Lulu and Damian and seemed to like you, even now that Lulu was away from you she seemed happy enough, so why resist?

"Mine..." you added, making Bruce smile nervously, something that he had thought would happen with force, now had happened easily. His hand moved away from the button to caress your hair, chuckling slightly as he heard Lulu's voice as Damian approached them with her in his arms "Mama! Mama!" Her voice echoed in the cave, promising a new future in a much different world for you with your new family.

#blue answers #yandere batfamily #yandere batman #yandere #yandere damian wayne #yandere bruce wayne #yandere robin #yandere x reader #naga reader #dc comics

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plasticferal · 5 months

Text

what you want | chris sturniolo.

authors notes: okay i had fun with this one. longer read, finally smut with the love of my life.

warnings: mentions choking, kinda dom!chris but we know he can switch, explicit language, cunnilingus.

you and chris have a complicated relationship. you’re untouchable to him, and as enticing as he is, you enjoy the chase more than the prize. you don’t want to ruin your delusions by giving into him, giving into what you want.

he’s taken it as a challenge, and in his mind you’re already his. he’s made that very clear. the more you push him away the more he wants, so showing up to a house party you explicitly told him you weren’t interested in, is the perfect way to push him over the edge.

you swing the unlocked door open to the all too familiar house. music was blasting from the other side, only getting louder the moment you walk in. bodies move around you with red solo cups in their hand, people were making out in the hallway up the stairs, and eyes glanced up and down your body, making you hyper aware of your short black skirt.

with a sway of your hips as you stroll into the living space, your eyes lock with chris. you watch a smirk grow on his face, licking his lips slowly, and undressing you with his eyes. he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, ankles crossed and one hand gripping the marble. he pushes himself up, and bee-lines for you.

“you made it,” he speaks deeply, sauntering closer to you, snaking an arm around your waist. you grabbed his arm, dropping it quickly.

“yeah, i wanted to see your brothers,” you smile, sickenly sweet, voice laced with sarcasm. he huffs a laugh, rolling his neck.

“not funny,” he replies.

“i thought it was,” you shrug one shoulder and nudge past him, re-directing your route.

“grab me something to drink?” he shouts. you turn on your heels while you walk backward toward the fridge, scrunching an eyebrow.

“come and get it yourself,” you match his tone, earning mumbles and laughs from the house party guests manoeuvring around the kitchen.

“gladly,” not caring about the attention on you two, and he follows you like a puppy.

you pull open the fridge and bring out a cold drink, closing it to see chris leaning a shoulder on the other door.

“you look good” he speaks, unprompted. staring you up and down again.

“i know” you twist the top off, bringing the glass bottle to your lips. he rolls his eyes.

“can i taste some?” he nods toward your drink. you swallow your sip, narrowing your eyes at him.

“come here,” you tempt, holding your drink out, just far enough, but he can’t reach it.

“y’gotta make me work for it?” he asks, shoving one hand into his pant pocket.

“have i ever made anything easy for you?” you grin. he gives a half suppressed laugh, taking the bottle from your hand. he hums after his gulp, wiping his mouth with his thumb.

“it’s nice. you know what would taste better, though?” he speaks as he passes the bottle back to you. you give him a bounce of your eyebrows as if to say ‘keep talking’.

“you.” he finishes. you fake laugh.

“who’s the funny one, now?” you tease.

“it’s always been me, sweetheart,” he winks, earning an eyeroll from you and turning your back on him again.

“where you goin, ma?” he’s hot on your heels, needing to follow the scent of your perfume like a lion to its prey, it drives him crazy.

“your room. i wanna change into a hoodie, something comfortable,” you speak while walking, hoping he can hear you. he’s keeping up, not caring if he’s pushing or shoving past anyone in his way.

to be fair, it’s a lot colder in the house than outside, despite the crowd. really, you just need an excuse to have him linger around you.

you walk and sip your drink, pacing down the stairs before you reach the serenity and contrasting quiet of his room. it’s hidden away from the chaos, and no one’s around now, making hearing him so much easier.

“do you always have to steal mine?” he sounds more enthusiastic about what he says than upset, but yet again he always does when he’s talking to you.

“mhm,” you hum a smile while sipping your drink, pushing his bedroom door open.

“weren’t planning on guests, huh” you mumble, looking around the room that’s in disarray. despite the fact he barely sleeps in his own bed, it’s still a mess. you didn’t expect anything less though.

chris leans both his arms up above his head on the door frame, forcing his hoodie to raise up, revealing the band of his branded boxers and tanned skin that cuts sharp to his waist.

you avoid staring, as much as you want to.

“if i knew you’d be in my room tonight i would have tidied up,” he grins obnoxiously, and you bite your smile back.

finally managing to find a fresh love hoodie that wasn’t tossed or in a dirty wash pile, you set your drink down on his desk. you bring your hands to bottom of your way too tight, kinda itchy, short sleeve shirt, beginning to pull it up but then pausing noticing chris’ stare.

“what, i can’t watch?” he plays dumb, tilting his head and pouting his bottom lip slightly.

“turn around,” you order, using your finger to point to the empty space he should be staring at behind him.

“what if i say please?” he takes half a step into the room before you snap at him again.

“christopher,”

“fine okay,” he whines, turning to face the wall behind him. you watch as he plants his feet, impatiently tilts his head back and forth and fold his arms over his chest.

you pull your shirt off and begin to slide on his hoodie through your arms, then stop in your tracks.

as much you love the fact he’s taking your orders, him finding it hard to resist you makes you rethink. it’s the perfect time to lean into torturing him. just a little.

“actually, chris?” you ask, tone endearing, inviting him to turn around.

“yea-woah,” he elongates his words, stopping suddenly when he turns to face you, being stunned at the sight of you in just your bra and skirt.

“can you find me a different hoodie? i don’t think this one matches my outfit,” you lean your heap out, which makes your ass pop, having one hand on your hip.

“mmm, i think i like this look on you better,” he slowly steps into the room. you ignore him.

“i like the hoodie you’re wearing. can i have it?” you toss the one you’re holding and step closer to him, putting your hands on the bottom of his attire and begin to pull it up. he grabs your wrists, and you’re taken aback by his sharp movement.

“you can have whatever you want from me, y/n,” he then raises his arms, letting you slowly pull the black hoodie over his head, and he’s not wearing a shirt underneath. he shakes his hair, fixing it, and you can’t help but look down his body.

of course he notices, and he’s happy to let you look. more than happy actually. you can see now that the hoodie isn’t hanging past his waist, that his pants are tightening around his cock. the subtle form of his dick pressing against his pants is enough to make you feel hot.

you turn away from him, beginning to put the hoodie over your head when he stops you by pressing his palm to your lower back. he’s towering over your shoulder from behind, and you can smell his cologne strongly. his bare chest brushes your half naked back, and you feel your entire body chill, a contrast to how warm his skin is.

“what else do you want, y/n?” his voice is a low, husky growl in your ear. it makes your breath hitch.

there was only so far you could go with a chase. you wanted the catch now, and he was bait waiting patiently, desperate to be caught. no better time like the present, you think to yourself.

you turn around to face him, chests brushing each other. you look up at him and he tilts his head slightly, absorbing every detail of your face. it’s the first time you’ve felt insecure, and truly exposed around him. he slides the cold tips of his fingers up your arm, over the hill of your shoulder and collar bone, then up your neck, making your knees week.

he uses his thumb and index finger to cup your jawline, giving a squeeze and forcing your head to look up even more, holding eye contact.

“use your words,” he orders.

“i want you.” you’re direct. he knows what you want, just needed to hear you say it.

chris crashes his lips onto yours, his lips are like silk pillows. gentle, but the kiss itself is rough and needy. he slides his tongue between your teeth and let’s it fight with your own, moaning into the kiss. his grip tightens on your throat, forcing you on your tippy toes and grabbing at his chest for support. he pulls away, strands of salvia pulling your lips and he wipes them with this thumb.

“where do you want me, hm?” he asks, loosening his grip and pulling your neck to the side.

he gives himself full access to plant kisses behind your ear and across your skin, near your bra straps. you can’t even think straight.

without using your words, you take his hand from your throat and slide it down your body, past your chest, past your ribs and waist and finally you push his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers hard against your cunt.

“shit, wet already. i haven’t even touched you yet,” he has a jump of amusement in his words.

“then hurry up before i change my mind.” you hold your eye contact with him and you watch as he slowly runs his tongue across his lower lip. he nods, more to himself, like he’s just agreed with his own thoughts.

he moves his hand from between your legs, curling it around your waist then under your ass. he uses both his hands to hike you up, and you wrap yourself around him. he kicks the door closed behind him and throws you on the bed.

chris crawls over you, and you dance your nails across his chest.

“do you know how long i’ve been thinking about this moment?” he asks, leaning down and connecting your lips again.

you grab his hair from behind, pulling the kiss deeper. you both moan into each others mouths, and his hand reaches for your throat again. his touch his gentle though, just kind of resting his hand there.

“i wanna take this off,” he tugs at your skirt with his free hand, pulling away from the kiss and both of your chests are rising and falling rapidly. his lips are hovering over yours and you can’t help but reach up and connect the kiss again. he pulls his face back slightly and you furrow your brows.

“i need you to agree with me, sweetheart” chris says, and you nod your head, giving him the green light to tear your skirt off. it becomes so real when he’s asking for permission instead of just messing around.

he only needs one hand to slide it off your body, and you raise your hips to help shuffle out of it. your panty line touches his lower stomach, and you feel his now hard cock press into your skin.

“chris, take them off,” you tug at the waistband of his pants.

“whatever you say,” and you chuckle at his response.

he shuffles them down, managing to kick them off the lower half of his body. your mouth is almost watering at the sight of how hard he is, pre-cum drenching the grey fabric.

chris has his hands planted either side of your head, and you lay gazing up at him. the look that his icy blue eyes give you is hypnotic.

“you know what i want, y/n?” the slight strain in his voice makes you want to pull him to you.

“what do you want, chris?” your tone is soft and airy, and it makes his cock twitch.

“i wanna hear you scream my name,” he plants a kiss to your collar bone. “i want you to cry out for me,” he kisses your stomach. “i wanna make you cum on my face” he kisses your pelvic bone.

he looks up at you from your crotch, his hands intertwining with yours by your sides. he takes your panties between his teeth and drags them down to your thighs.

chris dives between your heat and with an open mouth, sucking hard. his tongue is pressed hard against your clit and swirls circles around, making your body jolt and fuck into his face hard. he growls into your skin, eating you out like he’s been starved for a decade. you release your hands from his and dig your nails into his shoulders. you quite literally think you’re about to draw blood with the pressure you’re using.

“fuck, o-oh, chris,” you pant.

“m’god you taste so good,” he mumbles into your cunt, licking up your folds and circling, wiping his mouth and then going straight back in.

he takes two of his fingers and presses them against your entrance. he spits hard, and you gasp.

“sh-shit,” you roll your head back and flutter your eyes closed. he pushes his ring and index finger into you and curls upward, hitting your walls. he fucks his fingers back and forth into you while continuing to stimulate you with his tongue.

he hits a spot on your clit that almost makes you shatter then and there.

“right there right there right there” you plea, squeezing his hair in your fist. your legs are shaking and thighs are squeezing his head.

chris wraps his free hand up behind the back of your knee, so you’re like a vine wrapped around his arm. he pulls you so you’re tight around his face and grinding into his mouth.

“g-god i’m s’close,” you exhale, neck straining into the pillow. chris hums against your heat and the bed underneath you is drenched, a mix of your juices and his saliva.

his fingers curl and thrust and the sounds are so loud. the moans parting your lips are making chris rub into the quilt underneath with his dick. you’re convinced he could make himself cum from hearing you alone, with how dire his need is for friction.

your stomach knots and heat rises across your body. you thrust your hips up and chris’ face follows, gluing himself to you, pulling you close.

“i wanna hear you, pretty girl. say my name,” he’s catching his breath between his words before working on you again.

“chris oh my god, fuck, FUCK,” you scream out, pulling so hard on his hair you’re not sure how you didn’t pull any out.

your climax build up so fast that you feel you’re about to black out, chris moans into you and finally pulls away to let you cum. you’re shaking and clawing at any surface you can, the bed sheets, his skin, yourself.

opening your eyes finally you watch as he licks you up hard and slow one more time, and you twitch with shock. and his face is a glistening mess. his fingers slide out of your pussy and he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

“holy shit,” you’re struggling to regain your train of thought, and chris is crawling back up your body. he drops beside you with a hand on your waist, turning you so you’re both lying facing each other.

“that’s a sight i could get used to,” he presses your lips together again, and you’re both covered in a thin layer of sweat, tasting it on your lips.

“that’s a feeling i could get used to,” you agree, and for once, you’re on the same page.

“now chris,” you speak, shifting onto his lap.

“yeah?” he traces his eyes over your body, hands on your thigh, looking up at you.

“what else do you want?” you mimic his actions, kissing his chest, down his torso, to his very subtle snail trail and hips. you feel his hips roll, and know he’s dying to break free of his boxers.

he stops you from getting too far down and grabs your cheeks between his grip, making you look at him again.

“i wanna fuck that pretty mouth,” he states, watching a satisfied smile grow on your face.

“how bad do you want it?” you tease.

“so bad, y/n,”

the moment you hook your fingers onto his waist band is the moment a pounding knock at his bedroom door is heard. you both audibly groan and you roll off of him, flailing onto the mattress.

chris jumps off the bed and adjusts himself in his boxers, wincing as he does. you can only assume how much built up pressure there is that he’s waiting to release.

“what?” he opens the door just a crack, so only his head is peaking out. you hear matt’s voice on the other side and he’s begging chris to come back up to the party. which you had forgotten about by this point.

“alright alright, i’ll come up.” you hear chris’s frustrated tone snap back. he slams the door shut and scratches his head, sauntering back over to the bed. you support yourself on your elbows and watch him walk back.

“you’re going back upstairs?” you piece his sentence and actions together.

“fuck no, come here.”

needless to say your relationship has become a lot more complicated. maybe it’s less of a what you both want, but what you need.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets

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strawhatsoraya · 2 years

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Hi! you work is amazing, can i request a nsfw headcanon for Zoro, Law, Kid and Ace (i don't know what number of characters are your limit) being very sexual frustrated bc their partern doesn't want to have sex with them? They think there's something wrong with them as boyfriends but they're more calm after they overhears that S/O is just too nervous to do it due to how big are

Anon, I don't know how long it's been. I'm not gonna pretend to keep track of time anymore. I live in the Twilight Zone where everything is dated 2 weeks ago. I have taken your request and written the headcanons as little ficlets/drabbles. Thank you for the request!

If you were to tell the truth, you shouldn’t have drunk as much as you did.

If you were to tell the truth, you should be canoodling up to your boyfriend, thigh flushed against thigh, whispering lewd promises into his ear.

Instead, you were too busy avoiding the subject. Shame and embarrassment pulses through your veins, the same way the alcohol you gulped down your throat did. You’re thankful for the flush it brings to your cheeks. At least you can blame it on something other than yourself.

You felt his gaze on you all throughout dinner: hungry, starved, almost pleading.

There’s a dip at your stomach, one you can’t quite decipher–or you try not to. The truth was, your boyfriend was damn near irresistible. Wanting, or lack thereof, had never been the issue. The issue was that you–by all means–were a coward of a pirate. You never dreamed of the day you’d run away from a challenge but every time you came so close to giving in, to throwing caution to the wind, and everything be damned–if you split in half, then you’d split in half, and die in ecstasy–you always ended up running away.

You consider jumping ship–exposing yourself to the elements, or letting yourself fall into the depths of the ocean. Anything was preferable than openly admitting to your boyfriend your cowardice over what he might consider a trivial matter. Close to intoxication and close to tears, you turn to your best friend for advice.

Portgas D. Ace

He never thought he’d be lucky enough to be loved the way you love him. He never thought, not even in his wildest dreams, that he’d be allowed to love someone like you. You were always so warm, so kind, so easy to be around. Your laugh was the spark to light the fire in his heart day after day. He wanted nothing more than to return the favor, even if he felt he could never give you as much as you gave him.

He was never good with words. They always tumbled out of his mouth, in the wrong direction; too scratchy, too many sharp edges. He thought he was better with his hands. He wanted to show you how much he cared about you, how much he appreciated you–and how much he wanted you. Your body was soft, and pliable under his hot hands. Your kisses scattered goosebumps across his body every time. It seemed like you wanted him too, every time he’d grind against you while making out, every time his hands would grope your ass.

Yet you always stopped him before it got that far.

Ace slams his mug down on the table, beer sloshing over the mug’s lip and spilling over his hands. He bites down on his teeth, until his jaw hurts.

“This is ridiculous!” he hisses, eyes slightly unfocused as he glares across the table at Marco.

Marco in his infinitesimal amount of patience, casually throws back the remainder of his drink, tanned throat exposed. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, licking a corner of his lips where a drop of beer had collected.

Ace glares at Marco’s neck, wishing he could wrap his fingers around it and strangle him.

“How exactly am I ridiculous? What are you trying to say? Can you speak plainly for once?” Ace barks his questions–a metaphorical barrage of fists he tries to aim at Marco’s impudent face.

“I would,” Marco starts holding out his mug for it to be refilled. “If you’d let me get a word in. This is part of your problem.” Marco pauses, and raises a brow. Ace lights the tip of one index finger and contemplates tracing that questioning eyebrow to burn the hair right off. “You’re probably coming on way too strong.”

Ace groans. “Shut the fuck up,” he whines, as he leans over, elbows on the table. His face is hiding behind his unusually warm hands when your voice floats over to him; a siren at sea swimming in circles around his head.

“Honestly!” your voice is thin–embarrassed, and when he peeks through his fingers to look for you–he sees you quickly run a hand through your hair; a tell tale sign of your discomfort. “That’s not the case at all.”

There’s giggling at the table as the nurses crowd around you. He sees the redhead lean over, a mischievous grin on her face. “Aren’t you at least a little curious? You have been fooling around for months. It’s about time.”

You groan as you finish your drink–it was bright blue from where he sees it swirling in your glass. “Yes, but–” You cut yourself off to sigh before proceeding: “The problem isn’t that I don’t want to. I do,” you finish, cheeks aflame. “The problem is that...” You abandon your glass on the table to gesture with your hands, fingers splayed, a big space between your palms. “The problem is he’s–” your eyes grow wide. “So big!”

He is used to the heat of his own body–a sense of being under the sun even on the cloudiest day–but it still fears searing when your words finally sink in. A hook pulls at the pit of his stomach, threatening to bring him down, ship and all. He stands up abruptly. A drink spills, and he vaguely hears Marco saying something about decorum but he flips him off as he walks away.

All he can hear, and all he can see is you at that table, cheeks bright and your mouth that was too busy smiling at others instead of kissing him. Ace interrupts your little group talk, and you stand up stammering an excuse.

“I need to borrow y/n,” he says to the crowd, a big smile on his freckled face. “I saw a seagull and I need her to go look at it.”

It was the stupidest thing you had ever heard, but you still nod enthusiastically and allow him to lead you away. You’re in his familiar room aboard the ship, when you prepare to launch your interrogation. You don’t have time. He crashes his mouth against yours before you can speak. His hands are fiery as they travel up your back, underneath your shirt. As you gasp, he slips his soft tongue into your mouth, brushes it against yours. Suddenly, you’re pressed against the wall. He nips at your jaw, hot and wet kisses trailing behind him as he moves towards your neck. As he sucks on your pulse, so hard you are sure he’ll leave a mark behind, his hips start pressing into yours. You feel him hard under his pants, his cock teasing you; reminding you of what you had been so scared to face head on.

You moan when his hands slide away from your back and towards your chest. He kneads your breasts gently.

“If that’s what you’re so worried about,” he mumbles to the crook of your neck, pressing his hardened cock against your heated core. “You should have told me sooner.” He bites down on the soft flesh of your shoulder. You cry out, dig your nails into his back. He moans softly, hips never stopping. You feel yourself grow wetter every time he brushes against your sensitive nub just right.

“I’ll get you fired up enough,” he mumbles against your neck, licks up the column of it with the flat of his tongue. You feel the trail of saliva hot, then cold as the air hits it. There are goosebumps running across your body.

“You’re gonna be so wet,” he says almost in a whine against your ear. “Fitting me in won’t be a problem at all.” His breath is hot as his lips brush the shell of your ear, and his fingers even hotter as he slips one hand between your legs. He presses up against your dripping slit, pushing your panties into you. “Get ready, babe. Here I come.”

Eustass Kid

Kid was aware of his limitations. He was not gentle, or soft. He could not grasp tiny little pieces of metal between his index finger and his thumb. He also knew what he was good at. Your aversion to his tactics of seduction made him feel almost incompetent. Almost. Because he knew there was no way his skills had grown rusty, or tattered. He was damn good at it. He was sure, after all, because he could feel your slick coating his fingers when he’d rifle through your folds. You’d lay squirming, and panting underneath him, face flushed, neck and chest wearing matching splotches of pink and reds.

The way you’d moan his name as you’d cum around his fingers, was enough for him to know you liked it. You’d cling to his broad back, fingernails scratching down lines on his skin. You wanted him. He knew that much. Then why did you keep running away? You had come so close to letting him go all the way. He had been there, angry red tip literally at your dripping entrance, before you balked and called the whole thing off.

Kid was many things, but he knew when ‘stop’ meant stop.

It didn’t mean he was happy about it.

He couldn’t take it out on you, and someone had to pay–so he made the crew his targets. They were easy pickings, and it helped ease his mood slightly; very very slightly. His large feet clank down the corridor, Killer by his side mumbling softly about his attitude. Kid considers telling him to ease himself off the ship, or to suck his dick if he’s so inclined to be on it and all over his business when he hears your voice around the corner.

“No no,” your voice is insistent. He stops just around the corner, and peeks around even when he feels Killer’s hand on his shoulder. Kid shrugs him off. “I mean, he’s already so big, like generally speaking!” you enthuse in a loud whisper, which Eustass finds isn’t a whisper at all. “But when we kiss…” you trail off, and shift your weight on the spot. The sight of you, wiggling shyly, eyes downcast is enough to pull a crooked smile out of him. “And, well I’ve seen it and I don’t think it’ll fit. That’s all I’m saying.”

He tries not to laugh. He tries really hard, but the barking laughter comes out anyway. It echoes in the corridor as he stomps towards you. Your eyes grow wide, and before you can stammer a greeting, he is picking you up.

“Let’s go,” he says as he throws you over his shoulder. You squeak, face growing hotter. He raises a hand and brings it down on your ass, the sound of a resounding slap filling your ears. He walks awkwardly, his stiffened cock between his legs demanding attention. In his bedroom, he tosses you on the bed. Your hands go out as he climbs over you. You try to press them against his barrel chest. “I gotta tell you,” he mumbles against your cheek. His tongue is hot as he licks up your face. “I’m not a liar.”

You shiver underneath him, and rub your legs together. His voice is gravely, and it scratches over your skin. You feel your panties growing wet.

“So I can’t say I’ll be gentle,” he speaks into your hair, fingers grasping the fabric of your shirt. He pulls, and buttons tear and scatter–flying across the room. You gasp as your skin is exposed to the cool air, and to Eustass’ heated gaze. He looks as if he has been starved for days, and he would want nothing more than to devour you whole, bones and all. When he drags his eyes away from your heaving chest, he meets your gaze and it takes your breath away. Kid licks his lips. “Feel free to slap me or choke me if you need me to stop,” he drawls out of the corner of his crooked smile. “Although,” his smile grows slightly sinister, a smirk that makes your body grow cold and hot all at once. “I might be into that too.”

Trafalgar D. Law

He would sooner die than admit it. He would sooner bite his tongue, and choke on his blood than to admit the selfish side of him; how needy and desperate he can be for your touch, to feel satisfaction as he drowns inside you, buried to the hilt, just like he fantasizes about every night. Law would sooner die than to push you into doing something you're not comfortable with, and so he deals with his stiff little problem all on his own. For weeks, he furiously pumps his fist over his cock, neck strained, chest rising and falling as he tries to smother his own moans. No matter how vivid his imagination can be, no matter what scenario he can picture, it is never enough. His hand is too familiar; not soft enough, not warm enough, never wet enough no matter how many globs of spit he drops on the bulbous tip of his cock.

If he got into the habit of being honest with himself, Law would admit that honestly: he just wants to hear you fall apart as he pounds into you. He wants to see your tears cling to your curly lashes, and wants to see your bottom lip quiver as you struggle to take the full length of his cock.

He tries to reign in these thoughts as he swirls a gulp of whiskey around his mouth. He is embarrassingly at half mast under the table, Bepo chattering away at his elbow. His golden gaze takes in the shape of your shoulders from a distance. Penguin and Shachi are having a conversation about wanted posters, one they keep trying to enthusiastically drag him into. Law purposefully ignores them. Your face is enigmatic as you talk to Ikkaku and he strains his ears to hear you over his chatty crewmates.

“He’s scary,” you say, one palm slapping the table noisily. Your fingers are splayed, and your eyes wide. Law frowns at the sight and at your words. He doesn’t get to ponder over it further before the conversation starts up again.

Ikkaku scoffs at you, and shakes her head as she pours rum into your shot glass. “I can sympathize,” she begins, although she wears a frown. “But then, why are you two dating again? I know the captain can be a little intimidating.”

You shake your head furiously, hair moving with your actions.

“That’s not what I meaaann,” you whine, cheeks flushed bright. Law scoffs. You were a terrible drinker. He did not understand why you insisted on the habit. “He’s not scary like that. His…” You stop and press your lips together, trying to think of how to phrase it better. You use your hand and point upwards, imitating a gesture Law uses a lot, but suddenly you point the finger down to the table. Ikkaku’s eyes slowly follow your actions. “Little Law is the scary one!”

You tell her, you’ve felt it before, as you sat on his lap, tongues brushing hotly against one another. You had felt it, hot and thick against your core, when his mouth was busy sucking on your nipples, making you so wet you’d grind desperately against him–anything for a form of release.

Ikkaku shrugs and throws back a shot of rum.

“Can’t relate!” she declares without an ounce of sympathy. Your mouth twists in a grimace, and you bang a fist on the table, ready to fight for your case when a hand grasps your wrist.

You look up and follow the arm to see the face of its owner. Law is frowning down at you, ears bright red. You swallow thickly. He leans down until his mouth hovers around your ear.

“Come with me right now if you don’t want me to make your clothes disappear in front of everyone,” he mumbles. You gasp as he brushes his nose against the shell of your ear. His thumb brushes the soft inside of your wrist. “There are much scarier things about me than the size of my dick.”

You feel his free arm wrap around your waist and he pulls you up from the chair into a standing position. You spin around in his arms, and gasp when he pulls you against him. His cock is stiff against your soft belly. One of his hands keeps you pressed tight against him, sitting on the dip of your back. His other hand still holds your wrist, tightly against his own chest. His face swoops towards yours, so close you can smell the whiskey off his breath.

“Like my lack of patience. Please,” he enthuses in a slow hiss. His breath is warm against your mouth, as he brushes his lips against yours. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Roronoa Zoro

He has always been a man of discipline. He trains hard, and lives for battle. When he decided to become the strongest swordsman he gave himself up for a deadman and dead men don’t need or want.

At least, that’s what he tells himself at night, when you slip away from his body before he can smother the heat between you that consumes him by sliding inside your pussy.

Years by Luffy’s side had taught him patience and understanding. Still, he couldn’t understand you completely. He couldn’t understand why he could kiss you the way he kissed you–feverishly, as if he could taste you past your teeth and tongue. He couldn’t understand why he could touch you the way he did, how he’d slide his callused hands over your smooth skin, how you’d let him play with your nipples until you were whimpering under his touch, how you’d let him rub your clit until you were so wet he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you’d taste on his tongue. He especially couldn’t understand how happy you were to ride his thigh, to rub yourself on his muscle until you soaked right through his pants, or how sometimes that wasn’t enough for you and you’d straddle him, and rub against his hardened cock until you cried out his name. All of that but the moment he’d pump his cock, and lick his lips at the sight of your dripping pussy, you’d immediately press your hands against his lower belly to stop him.

You confuse him, and it infuriates him. He wants to understand you, and he wants to keep things simple. He wraps his lips around the mouth of the bottle of sake–a trusted, simple, and loyal friend. He takes a large swig, and then another as he sees Luffy, Chopper and Usopp doing some kind of cha cha line out of the corner of his eyes. Brook is singing a tune Zoro would rather not hear, and he leads the line enthusiastically laughing.

Franky and Robin sit together at the end of the table, their faces close together. Zoro blinks as he frowns, before drinking again. He sees Nami drag you towards Robin, and squeezes you in between her and Franky. Franky starts to protest but something you say makes him pause. Zoro feels his heart accelerate. He tries–concentrates–to shut out Luffy’s loud calls for more meat from Sanji, by leaning back on his chair. He closes his eyes, and crosses his arms over his chest.

He hears you pause, and it’s like he could feel your eyes on his skin–feel them rake over his arms and shoulders. You start to speak again, and suddenly, your little problem makes so much sense to him. You were scared of his size? Zoro tries not to smirk, and he stays still for so long he eventually does fall asleep. When he comes to, he catches you slipping away from dinner.

Zoro follows you quietly. He moves silently in your shadow, his gaze on you ravenous and seeking. You look so good from behind, he feels himself grow hard, stiffening in his underwear. He loves watching your hips sway, your juicy ass that stretches the fabric of your skirt. You reach the library, still not sensing him behind you. As you reach towards a bookshelf, a finger tracing the spine of an encyclopedic tome, Zoro slides up behind you. You gasp, startled at the sudden unexpected heat, but his fingers slide over the sides of your thighs and you immediately recognize the calluses.

You hum, and lean into his touch, as a warmth spreads throughout your body. “Zoro,” you breathe out with a trembling voice. “What are you doing here?”

He draws circles over your skin as he moves his hands forward towards the inside of your thighs. His breath tickles the nape of your neck. “What do you think?” he asks you. He takes in the scent of your soap, and drops a kiss with parted lips on the side of your neck. “Hunting you down since you’re a scared little rabbit.”

His mouth is hot and light against your skin as he drops feathery kisses over your exposed shoulders. “If you were so scared, you should have told me,” he mumbles against your shoulder, as he presses another kiss on the soft flesh there. His hands move slowly, up and down your inner thighs. His thumbs brush against your skin, each time higher towards the center of you. “Never pegged you for a coward,” he whispers against your ear. You tremble under his touch, the tip of his thumb brushing ever so slightly against your panties. You gasp, and spread your legs wider before you can stop yourself. “See?” he adds with a chuckle, one hand resting on the inside of your thigh to keep you from moving. His free hand moves to your clothed pussy. He rubs against it gently with his fingers. “I can be gentle. But only one time.” He nips at the top of your ear. You cry out in surprise as he adds pressure to his touch, rubbing over your panties on top of your clit. “Only this time.” You moan under his touch, and arch your back. You rest your head on his chest, and he nips at your exposed neck. You hear him groan against your ear when he sucks on your earlobe. “If you keep being like this, I’m not going to be able to go easy on you,” he tells you as you moan again. He feels your slick coating your panties, and it stays on his fingertips as he traces the outline of your slit. He captures your bottom lip in an upside down kiss for a slow and noisy suck. When he releases it with a soft smack, he licks your lips. “And whose fault would that be?”

#one piece headcanons #one piece hcs #one piece smut #portgas d ace x reader #ace x reader #eustass kid smut #portgas d ace smut #eustass kid x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d law smut #zoro x reader #zoro smut #law smut #law x reader #kid x reader

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stqrgirlie0 · 26 days

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⋆toxic!theo⋆

now we’ve all hear of theo in a healthy and loving relationship, however in a toxic one? Probably the worst. Things would start off good, you guys would be all over each other, all the time. Everything would be great, unit it wouldn’t. After a few weeks, theo would grow bored and tired of you. He’d talk to other girls right in front of you, on purpose. And then when you’d confront him about it he’d get all defensive, make you think that you’re the one who’s wrong. He’d accuse you of being controlling and that he’s allowed to have ‘friends’ who are female. Despite being emotionally done with you, he wouldn’t break up, because he lovees getting you all riled up to the point where you are so mentally exhausted with his mind games, that you just give up. You give up, and you let him win, again and again and again. You guys would argue every single day, and it would always be in his dorm- because there’d always be something to go confront him about, no where other than his dorm. Leaving a toxic relationship isn’t easy, and when it’s with theo-it’s even harder. All your friends say to get out of it before it’s too late, but you’ve already ran out time. Confrontation doesn’t affect him, all the more reason for you to not leave him just to accept the challenge of making him care- just once. You would be screaming your lungs out and he’d just stand there, with a stupid smirk on his face as watches you pace around the room while shouting, and wonders what your thighs would look like locked around his head, your hands brushing out his fluffy curls and your mouth chanting out his name instead of whatever you were saying right now. Eventually the previous becomes a reality. It was almost like an indirect apology, yet theo had no intention of apologising, he just wanted to keep you hooked on for the next few days until he would do it again. suddenly everything’s fine. Well it’s not, but that’s how he’ll be pretending it is for the next few days. It’s this and his love bombing that made it so hard for you to leave, you hate it but you don’t. It’s a tricky one, but the cycle goes on, and on, and on. And oh my god this man is so stubborn, he cannot and will not change himself for you. During the honeymoon period of your relationship, his smoking didn’t really bother you, he wouldn’t be smoking all the time, maybe once every two or three days (sounds very unlikely I know). But after things got a bit more strained, he’d smoke multiple everyday- maybe even finishing the whole pack in a day. It was horrible. You hated the smell, and the worst thing was that it was everywhere. on nights when you and theo would supposedly ‘make up’, every corner of you would be infested with the scent, lingering on your clothes for the next few days. on the other nights when you’d go back to your dorm, alone and crying, you’d toss and turn in your bed. The scent would arise, from your pillows, duvet, hair, clothes, and it’d remind you of him. Shamefully you’d admit that sometimes the smell mixed with his signature cologne, would automatically drop you to your knees (don’t worry girl, me too), not that he minded. Honestly he loves seeing you from above, it just engraves the power dynamic between you two into his psychotic little brain, inflating his ego more than it already is. god he hated you, but oh how he was in love with you even more, infatuated and obsessed- feeding his desire of seeing you crying your pretty eyes out because of him, shouting with your pretty voice at him, pulling at your pretty hair because of him. Yeah, he’s (very much more than) borderline insane, but girl, as soon as you learn the rules of his games, he’ll wish he never started it.

a/n: guys if your s/o reflects any behaviour below- LEAVE. this is not meant to be normal!! This piece is not in any way condoning toxic behaviour- just a little writing task seeing what I can come up with

#something I started ages ago and decided to finish #YALL IM SORRY BUT IM GON HAVE TO HOLD OFF PART 4 FOR A BIT LONGER #work is killing me and I have easter break to catch up😭😞 #pls take this as a peace offering🙌🏼🙂

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theo nott smut #theodore nott x you #theodore x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x slytherin!reader #lorenzo zurzolo

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thewulf · 1 year

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That's a Kill || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Y/N Kazansky. The Admiral's daughter. You always had to prove yourself to the boys. The good old boys. You never thought much of any of them, knowing you were better than them. That was until you were called back to Top Gun. You meet Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin who drives you nuts, the first day. You start to fall for the man in front of you as he does the same.

A/N: You all really are the sweetest. This one is a bit longer. Hope you enjoy! I Appreciate the feedback! All fluff. We're also pretending Ice is completely okay - no cancer :)

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 8,900+

Part 2 | Part 3

You weren’t sure you wanted to be a pilot when you were a kid. Over the years you learned to love flying, especially with your dad. He had always encouraged flying but never forced you into anything you didn’t want to do. Your brother on the other hand had decided he wanted to be a pilot just like his daddy. He became a damn good one at that. But you, you were exceptional. Once you decided you did want to become a pilot you weren’t going to stop until you were the best. You kept true to your word; you were one of the best. You graduated first in your class at Top Gun, earning the coveted picture on the wall. It wasn’t without challenge though. People made many assumptions about you because of your dad that you had to overcome. Once you did, you were a force to be reckoned with.

You were so different than your dad, oh so different. Your dad, the legendary “Iceman”, Tom Kazansky, was a cocky son of a bitch (his terms, not yours). He always got whatever he wanted. He was cool, calm, and collected Tom. He was ice cold. He was Iceman. It worked for him.

But you, you decided from an early age that you caught more flies with honey than you did vinegar. You quite literally killed them with kindness. It became your thing. You only seemed to grow kinder over time, never letting anybody walk all over you though. It worked for you.

You shamelessly tried to hide your lineage, but it just didn’t work with your brother’s big mouth and your rather recognizable last name. Kazansky wasn’t easy to hide with your dad being an Admiral and all.

The word spread quickly of the Admiral’s daughter joining the ranks of Top Gun. You kept your head low and worked hard. You were kind to everybody in your class confusing your instructors who had to deal with your brother, and your dad, not that long ago. You didn’t have the ego nor the cockiness your lovely father and brother had. You were laid back, kind, but so sure of yourself.

You were a quiet one too. You never spoke out of turn only when you were addressed. Just a quiet observer in a world of crass pilots who thought they were the best. You knew you had a leg up on all the boys in your class, you were trained by your dad and Maverick from a very early age. You were yet to beat either of them, but you swore your day was coming. Each time you went up in the air you were determined to fly even better than the last, they both noticed. They knew you were special, Y/N Kazansky.

When you were in the air you were just as cool, calm, and collected as your dad. You knew you were better than your brother you would just never dare to say it out loud. You flew just like your dad did. Ice cold. You had that something special that everybody chased after. People didn’t know how to deal with you, your personality didn’t match up with the girl who flew. It made you smile, they always walked on eggshells around you. You knew you held the power you just never took advantage of it.

Your personality is what got you the callsign Lava. Everybody claimed you were the exact opposite of your father. You wanted to disagree with them, you and your dad were more alike than anybody knew. But you couldn’t fault them, the way the two of you presented yourselves was completely different. You were kind, you smiled at people, and you helped others. You had to laugh at the subtle shade that was being thrown your fathers way. You knew how cold he could be, but you also knew how loving of a guy he really was. You loved the entire situation, so you embraced your callsign. What was the opposite of Ice? Fire. But Fire didn’t sound as cool as Lava, per the boys, so Lava it was.

The instructors couldn’t quite grasp who you were. You were a sweetheart on the ground but a menace in the air. You didn’t even sound like yourself when you were giving orders and having the time of your life in the sky. You proved them wrong time and time again in the air. They thought you only got into Top Gun because of Ice; boy were they wrong. You just had that little something extra that other pilots didn’t seem to have. You couldn’t put your finger on it, nobody could figure it out either. That was years ago now, you had graduated Top Gun first in your class two years prior.

You went on a few decent missions that brought you some sense of accomplishment. You were sure your father had something to do with all the lame assignments you had been given over the last few years. You were the best of the best and you were going on missions that any pilot could go on. You had blowout arguments with your dad about it. He claimed he never did anything, you just had to believe him even though it didn’t make sense to you.

That was until you were called back to Top Gun. You were called back just like the rest of them. You were a few years younger than the majority of group that was invited. You weren’t familiar with anybody you were briefed on. You’d certainly heard of them though; they were all very well known within the Naval Aviator ranks. The best part about being a Kazansky was getting to know who you were going on missions with.

“No Will?” You asked your dad. Will was your older brother, three years older. He had gone to Top Gun with a few of the people on this list of twelve. You recognized Hangman from his class. Will always complained about him telling you the stories of how he earned his callsign Hangman. Will always referred to him as Bagman, you made of note of that one in your head. You grinned seeing him on the list knowing he’d be a tough one to deal with.

Your dad shook his head, “No, he isn’t ready yet.”

You nodded your head eyeing your dad curiously, “Must be serious then?”

“More than you know Y/N. Please, be careful.”

You hid a smile from your face seeing his apprehension. You knew it had to be one hell of a mission, “Yes sir.” Finally, your chance at something big.

You had gotten the invitation just like the rest, to meet everybody at the Hard Deck the night prior to your reporting day. You really didn’t want to go but you had a feeling that everybody else was going to be there. You were mortified when it said to show up in uniform. You considered showing up in your civ gear but decided it would be worse if you were the only one to show up in regular clothes.

You ended up going in your uniform trying to play it cool as you entered the bar. You quickly spotted the other aviators before slyly made your way over to them, all of them in uniform. You mentally thanked yourself for wearing it.

You sat down next to the most unassuming looking person there who happened to be shoveling popcorn into his face, “Hi.” You greeted him as you took a seat.

“Hi!” He smiled setting the popcorn down, “I’m Bob.” He stuck his hand out to you. He was a little dorky, but you just knew you were going to love him.

You nodded taking his hand gently in yours, “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you Bob, what’s your callsign?”

He laughed while nodding his head, seemingly like he just went through this, “Bob.”

“I like it!” You giggled.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He smiled genuinely seeming to not get that reaction all too often, “And yours?”

“Lava. Lav for short if you wish.” You smiled swinging your legs back and forth on the high-top chair.

“Noted.” He smiled at you while fixing his glasses, “How’d you get that name?”

You sighed leaning back into your seat, “My dad. Kinda sucks when your own callsign comes from somebody’s else.” You paused for a second before continuing, “My dad is Iceman.” You nearly whispered the last part. Everybody knew about Iceman. Iceman this or Iceman that. He was a legend among Top Gun piloting legends.

“You’re Admiral Kazansky’s daughter?”

You nodded looking your head down, “I swear I’m a good pilot Bob. I’m not just here because of the name.”

“I didn’t mean that!” Bob spoke frantically, “Just surprised is all, your kind of well-known but nobody really knows you. I’m surprised you’re here.”

You bit your lip in spite, “I believe my dear old dad had something to do with that. I’ve always flown the most basic missions. None of them worth a damn. Who knows how I even made it here?” You said grumbling in frustration.

Bob shrugged, “Who cares? You’re here.”

You nodded your head, “You’re right Bob, I am here.”

“And who do we have here?” A new voice interrupted the two of you. You slowly turned your head seeing your brothers favorite pilot leaning against the chair next to you with a toothpick sticking out of his mouth. You had to admit he looked good. Better than the pictures ever showed. Your damn brother would never mention how handsome he was to you either, you weren’t surprised. Will had made him out to be some horrific monster. Not the tall, tan, muscular pilot standing before you.

“Y/N.” You gave him your sweetest smile knowing you’d have to kick up the charm to get through to him. You didn’t necessarily want to beat Hangman, you simply wanted to get into his head. You wanted to know he could be beat if you wanted to. You weren’t a hundred percent sure you were better than Hangman in the air you just had a sneaking suspicion you were.

His eyes flicked down to the last name embroidered on your chest. Kazansky big and bold for everybody to see. You heard him chuckle before looking up to you, “The other Kazansky. Thought you were some mythical creature. Nice to know you actually exist.”

You smirked seeing just how this man got under Will’s skin so bad, “Nice to meet you Bagman.”

He snorted setting his beer down ready for the conversation to begin, “Seems like your brothers got a big mouth. Where is he?”

“I don’t disagree.” You giggled, making sure to turn that charm up even harder than before, “Dad said he’s not ready.” Shrugging you leaned back into your seat wishing you had a beer to distract yourself with.

“That’s cold Kazansky.” He eyed you up and down taking you in. He didn’t know how much trouble he really was in before he initiated the conversation between the two of you. He was starting to get a sense of just how fucked he knew he was once you started throwing words right back at him with the sweetest look on your face. He knew right then and there you were going to be a problem for him, a thorn in his side. He got a rush just thinking about it knowing he had to continue the conversation on for as long as you would let him.

“Would you say, ice cold?” You tapped the table.

You heard Bob let out laugh from behind you, almost forgetting he was sitting there. Hangman shook his head leaning just a touch closer to you, seemingly being drawn in by you, “My real name’s Jake. Jake Seresin.” He stuck his hand out to you waiting for your response to his move.

“Will did not like you Mr. Seresin.” You took his hand gently in yours, just as you did Bob’s. Not reacting to his firm grip instead cocking your head to the side looking at him curiously. You felt him release your grip immediately. You weren’t sure why but that move made every man react the same way, almost embarrassed to be showing off to you.

He took a second to regain his composure, thoroughly enamored with the game he knew he had just begun with you. “I hope you don’t take anything he said to heart darling.”

Smooth. So smooth. You were a sucker for endearing names. He didn’t know that, and you couldn’t let that one slip. Your turn to regain composure. You just hoped your delicately crafted façade hadn’t slipped already, “Your telling me not to trust my own brother? Wow. That’s cold Seresin.”

“You don’t think family can be a bit dramatic sometimes?” The world around you two had seemed to slip away. You forgot Bob behind you. Hangman forgetting the game of pool he was playing with another guy, looked like Payback to you.

“A bit. But I don’t think my dad is.” You played the dad card not really caring that you did. Wanting to keep him on this toes.

You saw him visibly gulp, “Now, I know your joking.” He almost sounded, desperate? You knew you had to draw it back a little bit. Truth be told your dad only had good things to say about Hangman, some thing he needed to work on in the air but a damn good pilot otherwise.

You shrugged hopping up from your seat, “I’m getting a beer. Bob, you need one?” You turned back to the silent observer who was picking up on something between the two of you.

“I’m good.” He smiled back to you.

You waved at him before turning back to Jake, “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Guess you’ll have to find out Bagman.” You winked at him before making your way to the bar.

The rest of your night consisted of strategically staying away from Hangman. You didn’t want to get caught up with his antics just yet. You felt what Bob had seen earlier. The bantering between the two of you came way to easy. It didn’t take you long to warm up to a person, but you just felt connected to Jake instantly. You decided when you walked away from him earlier that you would have to avoid him at all costs. You didn’t really think the plan would work but it would certainly delay the inevitable. You knew the two of you would either become the best of friends or hate each other bitterly. You didn’t want the latter, so you decided to avoid it.

Any other night and you would have likely gone home with Harvard. You were instantly charmed by the Clark Kent looking man. You knew it wasn’t the brightest idea to go home with him once you realized you kept looking around for Hangman to see if he was paying attention to you or not. You accidentally caught his eye a few times instantly looking away. He smirked know he had gotten into your head. Physically, you were with Harvard but mentally, Hangman had caught your attention. So, he backed off, he saw what you were doing. He wasn’t dumb. He was thrilled when he saw Harvard leave without you. You moved back to Phoenix, still avoiding Hangman.

You got to know the entire Dagger squad the rest of the night. You were one of three women on the team of twelve, Phoenix and Halo rounding out the crew. You knew you would grow close to Rooster, hearing everything about him from Maverick, he was the life of the party. The squad welcomed you with open arms. You still avoided Hangman, knowing how screwed you were. But he knew, he knew he won that night.

The next morning you were pleasantly surprised to learn that Maverick was your instructor, a detail your father had refused to give you. You sensed the tension immediately between Rooster and Mav. You quickly remembered just how awful things were between the pair You didn’t know Rooster personally, until you met him last night, but you felt like you knew him from the stories you were told. You weren’t sure why you had never met him before last night. He was older than you are sure, but it still didn’t add up. Mav always said Carole had kept him to keep him from the Navy, one of the many failed attempts.

You were snapped back into reality when you heard the two quietly arguing with one another before the class was dismissed. You sat patiently waiting on Mav to pack up and the rest of the class to leave.

“Good class Mav. Can’t wait to start.” You grinned getting up from you seat.

“Kazansky. Good to see you kid.” He walked over wrapping you into a tight hug.

“Dad didn’t spill. Can’t believe your teaching us!” You squeezed him tightly.

He ruffled your hair after releasing you, “Didn’t know until a few days ago.”

“Oh Yeah!” You laughed, “You blew up the Darkstar! Dad told me all about it.”

“Course he did.” He chuckled guiding you out of the classroom. The next six hours consisted of field air training. You couldn’t be more pumped to have your hand at Mav again.

“Heard you went past Mach 10 though. That’s certifiable Mav.” You paused as you got to the front of the women’s locker room.

He nodded stopping with you, “Pushed her a bit too far. We’ll get her next time.”

You nodded along with him, “Good luck up there, old man.”

He feigned hurt by placing his hand on his heart, “You wound me Kazansky, I still don’t recall you ever getting me though.”

“Eat it.” You laughed walking into the locker room.

You changed into your flight suit quickly. Phoenix and Halo were already finishing up, they waited on you while you changed keeping you company. All twelve of you gathered in the training room waiting on direction from Maverick.

“Payback, Fanboy, and Rooster. Your up first.” Mav spoke in the doorway entry exiting quickly to his plane. The nine of you tuned the radio into the channel listening into the chatter between all the aviators.

You simply smiled listening into the panic once Mav came on Radar between all the pilots. He had done that shit to you so many times before. So Maverick. You giggled when Payback and Fanboy nearly begged for 200 pushups, no idea what they were in for. Maverick broke the rules. He didn’t give a shit about the Navy’s policies. Maverick did what Maverick wanted to do. He always had your dad to pardon him, he was truly fearless.

You were up next once all three were eliminated. You were with Hangman. You audibly laughed once Maverick gave you your assignment. You turned to him radiantly, “Let’s beat him.”

He snickered, “Yes ma’am.” Whew, you nearly melted. You had to turn away quickly walking out of the training room and to your plane so you wouldn’t get distracted. You and Hangman were up in the air five minutes later in two separate planes, of course.

“Let’s see what you can do sweetheart.” He chuckled before breaking left away from you.

You audibly sighed forgetting you were on radio for everybody to hear, “That’s why they fucking call you Bagman.” You knew you were on your own, not that you minded. You were used to this game with Maverick. You heard Maverick audibly laugh, the game was on.

You had avoided him and tried to help Hangman, but Maverick was just too good. He knocked Hangman out first. Your turn. You lasted longer than you thought you would, pulling out all the stops and maneuvers you had been taught throughout all the years. You faltered when a flock of birds changed the plans in your head at the last minute breaking you right instead of left which left you as a sitting duck. You mentally cursed yourself when you hopped out of your jet joining Hangman in your 200 pushups.

“Not bad Kazansky.” Maverick patted you on the shoulder.

You shook your head, “That was not good Mav, and you know it. I should have seen those damn birds sooner.” You wanted to pout but replaced your frown with a small smile.

“You’re too hard on yourself kid. That’s the best I’ve seen you fly. Don’t sweat it. Plus, I need your head in the game. These next few weeks aren’t going to be for the faint of heart.”

You nodded, “Got it, Captain.” You smiled, “Now don’t mind me, I have a punishment I must fulfil.”

“Lieutenant.” He nodded before walking back to the training center. Grabbing the next pair of victims.

You dropped down and began your pushups. Jake was already past 150. You grumbled internally knowing he would be watching you once he finished. You loved having his eyes on you but him being this close was rather intimidating.

“Thanks for the help up there.” He spoke once he finished his 200.

You sighed knowing you were just going to have to have a conversation with him because you couldn’t move, “If you would have listened to me, you wouldn’t have been shot down.” You said as sweetly as you could muster. Pushups were never really your thing. You could do them. They just weren’t the prettiest nor the fastest.

“I disagreed.” He retorted.

“Thus, why you were shot down.” You said quickly, knowing how easy it was to get him upset. You just considered it payback.

He sat there quietly watching you. He didn’t really blame you. He blatantly didn’t listen to you on purpose. Not wanting to believe you were as good as he thought you were. Turns out you were better. He thought you might even be better than him. Especially watching you work with Maverick. He was in awe of your ability to control the aircraft. You were effortless in the air.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You spoke up breaking him from his trance.

He bit his lip sending shivers down your spine. Not good. Not a good reaction you thought, “I would if I could Darling, don’t seem to have my phone on me though.”

Smooth, he always seemed to have something to say. When he didn’t, he sat down and shut up to figure out how to get himself out of the situation. He knew you’d beat him though and that excited him beyond belief. He was yet to be matched and he knew that Y/N Kazansky would be the first to change that.

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Pig.”

He shrugged, “You suggested it Lava.”

You nearly recoiled hearing your callsign off his tongue. You truly didn’t dislike your callsign it just wasn’t frequently used for you. You were often called Baby Ice or Kazansky. You didn’t want to admit how good it sounded though. How much you liked hearing any sort of your identification coming from his lips. You needed to get ahold of yourself and quick.

You sighed getting up from the ground shaking your arms out, “Just try and keep up next time Seresin.” You smiled to him before walking away.

He walked up behind you almost making you jump. You weren’t expecting that. Kind of bold you thought, “Need any help stretching those arms out darling?”

You almost gasped at his forwardness. You really didn’t know how to handle this man. You could’ve sworn that my growing up around your dad and Mav you would’ve been prepared for any scenario. You were wrong about that. Jake Seresin was figuring you out quicker than anybody had in your entire life, perhaps he’s the only one that would be able to. That truly freaked you out. You had a finely crafted exterior that nobody had been able to penetrate. You were worried that was going to change and soon.

You shook your head, “Don’t even think about it Hangman.” You laughed smiling back to him. He really was a handsome man. Blond hair and green eyes. You were a sucker for a man with green eyes. You knew once he figured that out, you’d be a goner.

He smiled at your resistance. His breath got caught in his throat as you whipped around and greeted him with that smile. He was a sucker for a beautiful smile and man oh man did you have a million-dollar smile. He returned to his thoughts quickly as you turned back away from him, “Just offering sweetheart.” He followed you back to the training room where you were cheered for and greeted by the other pilots.

You weren’t sure what Mav was up to when he told the class to meet at the Hard Deck at 5 PM that night and to wear your ‘beach workout gear’. You were sure you were incredibly nervous as to what beach workout gear meant to the guys, specifically Mr. Jake Seresin.

You weren’t given much time to go home and change, Mav letting you go at 4 PM, giving you just an hour to get ready. You raced back to your temporary home looking for just the right clothes. You mentally cursed yourself for putting so much time and thought into what you were going to wear to this sunset workout, specifically for Jake. You had never done this sort of thing for any guy you’ve come across in the Navy yet somehow Jake freaking Seresin was beginning to wrap you up in his tangled web.

You groaned hitting your head softly against the wall. You knew your dad would be getting a kick out of this one. Your dad never thought anybody was ever going to crack your hard exterior, much less a boy from Top Gun. You were always so much more confident than anybody you had come across. Your dad would always comment on it, sure that you would rarely get challenged. But here came Jake Seresin to mess up all your plans and assurances.

Maverick was yet to catch onto anything between the two of you. You had gone up with Hangman a few more times, each time a little better than the last. All Mav noticed was the bickering between the two, seemingly no different than any other flight with Hangman. He seemed to bring out the fighter in everybody he talked to. But the bickering was different, for Jake it was. You were so much quicker and wittier than anybody he had come across. You seemed to have a response ready to go at the tip of your tongue no matter what he said. You only got tripped up when he mentioned not very work appropriate actions. Your face would go a light shade of pink when he alluded to indecent things in such a casual manor. He was ready to use that against you, simply bidding his time.

What Jake did notice was how damn good of a pilot you were though. He found that the two of you were easily matched. You were quicker and seemingly more agile in the air. He was better at locking onto targets than you were though, he locked onto Mav a few times but failed to hit him so far. Mav was as cocky as ever, so much fun to watch as he ripped through the air. Always proudly shouting his favorite phrase as he show the twelve of you down over and over, “That’s a kill.” You really couldn’t wait to use it against him one of these days.

After letting yourself think way to hard for a few moments you snapped back to the present. You decided on a simple set of a black sports bra and spandex. You through on a loose tank top fully intending to take it off if it got to hot in the San Diego sun.

You rushed down to the Hard Deck upset at yourself for leaving with such little time to spare. You hated being late, something your dad instilled in you at a very young age. That topped with your mom making you late to everything she took you to cause that sense of dread every time you were coming close to being late. Luckily, you got there with a few minutes to spare rushing over to Phoenix and Halo’s side.

Jake grinned when he saw you arrive a little frantically. He had picked up on your punctuality. You were always one of the first aviators to arrive in the classroom and in the field. He saw a glimpse of panic when you arrived far to close to Mavericks call time. He smiled knowing he had noticed another small thing about you. He never planned to use it against you only to use it for his advantage. He knew you were always early to things giving him a chance to talk to you alone, away from the other pilots.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Maverick called everybody to attention. He explained the rules of his made-up game of Dogfight Football. You were an avid football watcher knowing the game like the back of your hand. You weren’t allowed to grow up in house with Iceman and not know every rule like a ref would. What Maverick was explaining though confused even you. Nonetheless you split into two teams. Phoenix and Rooster on your team. Hangman, Payback and Cayote on the other. Halo was unfortunately snatched up by the opposite side, she lined up against Phoenix. Leaving you with Hangman. You wanted to complain about how unfair a matchup it was but could never give Hangman that simple satisfaction, so you shut your mouth.

“This ought to be easy.” He winked at you as he lined up for the first time against you.

You squatted down ever so slightly. You were fast but you weren’t Jake Seresin fast. You needed to take any advantage you have against him. Rooster also had you back against him in case he got by. Not that you were going to let it happen, “Do you ever just keep your mouth shut Bagman?”

“Now you know there’s no fun in that Lav.” That nickname was new from him. You had heard it time and time again from your various classmates and naval aviators throughout the years. But it was new coming from him. You liked the way it sounded more than you wanted to admit.

You hummed admitting he was partially right, “Not everything has to be a game, Jake.” You admitted sincerely, not sure where you wanted the conversation to go.

“Sure, it doesn’t.” He admitted, “But again, no fun in not making everything a game darling.”

He caught the small sigh that escaped your lips, “That sounds exhausting.” You spoke looking down to the ground trying to listen for both Jake and if the balls were being snapped.

He wanted to answer you honestly, it was exhausting for him. But he didn’t know how to turn that side of him off. So, he just let it happen. He knew it was something he needed to work on he just wasn’t so sure he was ready to admit that just yet.

The two of you worked well against one another, to your utter astonishment. You were both able to stop the other often, occasionally letting a good catch or run slip through. The game was utter chaos, yet you and Jake were able to stay in the little bubble the two of you seemed to be in. You didn’t forget the world around you, you both just ignored it and focused on the other.

You about lost it twenty or so minutes in when Jake tore his shirt off and threw it over to the sideline where Penny was sitting. You bit the inside of your mouth to stop the face you were itching to make. You kept your eyes on his not daring to look down at his toned body. You knew you were toast if you looked down, so you opted to look ahead.

You heard Jake laughing before you saw it, “What’s the matter Kazansky? Never seen a shirtless body?” He spoke a little too loudly earning a chuckle from a few other pilots. Embarrassing. You were thankful your cheeks were already rosy from the workout hiding the stupid blush you know adorned your face presently. He really knew what to say to tick the right buttons didn’t he?

“Shut up, Jake.” Was all you could think of quickly before the balls were snapped again giving you a second to regroup.

“That all you’ve got Kazansky?” He egged you on once he blocked the pass that came your way. He was in your head and he knew it. You knew it.

You nodded, truly at a loss for words, “Yeah, you got me.” You admitted, maybe sounding a little too upset in the admission.

You noticed Jake’s features soften a bit. He was itching to reach out to you, to ask you what was wrong. You seemed more than fine a few moments ago. He knew a few silly comments wouldn’t throw you off your game that bad, but they seemed to this afternoon. He decided to back off a bit not wanting to push you too far. He knew you could handle a lot, but he didn’t know your limits. He didn’t want to push you over the edge.

You ran over to the side ignoring Jake’s silent protests. You spotted Yale sitting there taking his break, “Yale! Can you cover me? I need to talk to Mav.” You smiled as sweetly as you could to him.

“Sure Lav.” He laughed taking your spot across from Hangman. You saw Jake watching you frowning when Yale stepped in front of him. You watched him out of your peripherals as you ran over to Mav who was sitting in the distance letting the teamwork out the game on their own. Jake didn’t take his eyes off you until the balls were snapped bringing him back to the present.

“Mav!” You gasped when you finally reached him, the sand decided to humble you a bit leaving you out of breath.

He slid his aviators off raising his brows curiously, “Everything alright, Y/N?”

You took a second to catch your breath, “I need you to have me switch teams.” You clapped your hands expecting him to oblige beginning to walk back to the game.

“No.”

“Great!” You stopped abruptly before turning a little startled by his answer, “Why not?”

“I made the teams purposefully Y/N. I’m not just moving you over. You’ve got to learn to work with what you got.” He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you inevitable rebuttal.

“It’s not that I don’t like my team Mav. They’re all great.” You stopped short not wanting to admit to your almost Uncle why you really wanted to switch teams.

“Then what is it Kazansky?” A small smirk was beginning to underline his features. Did he know? He had to of known. Or else he wouldn’t be doing this to you right now. You paused and thought this over with yourself. On one hand it was just Mav, maybe he knew the right way out of the little predicament you were in. On the other, it was Mav and he’d immediately be calling your dad up. You loved your dad but there were just some things he didn’t need to know while you tried to figure it out.

“I can’t play opposite of Jake.” You admitted softly.

Mav laughed, “I know he’s annoying Y/N. There’s a reason why I put him and you against each other.”

“It’s not that!” You groaned turning away from him. You wicked the sweat off your face with your damp tank top, knowing it wouldn’t be on your body much longer either.

“Then what is it, can’t help if I don’t know Baby Ice.” He full on smirked using your childhood nickname.

You couldn’t stop the eyeroll that already begun when you heard the name baby coming from him, he just loved to get under your skin too, “He’s too distracting Mav.” You gave him a wide-eyed look hoping he’d pick up what you were putting down.

He in fact did not pick up what you were putting down, “Too distracting?”

“Dammit Mav! You’re really going to make me say it.” You sat down next to him on the sand brushing the stray hairs away from your face, “I can’t focus when he has his shirt off. I forgot we were playing a stupid game there for a second.”

Mav’s face finally came to the realization of what you were telling him. His mouth formed a small o as he processed the information, “Jake really?” He laughed waiting for you to join in. When you failed to join him, he realized you were being serious.

“Mav that’s not funny.” You grumbled looking down finding the sand super interesting.

“I thought you detested him.” Mav admitted finally processing what his almost niece was telling him.

“I did! On the first day.” You threw your head back looking to the blue sky that was slowly beginning to turn orange. Cursing the timing of everything. You finally got a huge mission, and a stupid southern boy was going to distract you from it? You weren’t into boys the way your friends were growing up. You were a tomboy through and through and saw most of them as brothers, not lovers. This didn’t end when you graduated high school, college and even all the way through Top Gun. Nobody interested you. Sure, you had a few suitors and you dated sporadically but you never had a tried-and-true boyfriend. Your brother teased you until his face was blue about it sometimes. He had a few long-time girlfriends but none of them ever seemed to work out in the end, your only weapon against him. But that weapon was shattered when his girlfriend of three years accepted his marriage proposal. Not that you minded, you loved his fiancée Marissa and really couldn’t wait for her to marry into the family.

Marissa never gave you a hard time about it. She understood it made sense for you. You had something to prove in your Naval career that would likely get thrown off course with a serious boyfriend. You couldn’t get distracted, your career depended on it. That mindset worked. You were always the young one. You went to the Naval Academy at 17 and graduated by 21. You were invited to Top Gun at 25, the youngest in your class who turned out to be the best in the class, cruising by all the men. You knew you had a lot to prove being the daughter of Admiral Kazansky. It irritated you though that you had to work tirelessly for it while Will seemed to just have it. And now here you were, the youngest at 28. You had really hoped it was all worth it.

Maverick laughing pulled you back out of your mind and into reality, “Does Y/N Kazansky, my own Baby Ice, have a crush?”

If looks could kill Mav knew he’d be dead. He’s not sure he has ever seen such a look on your face before, “Mav keep it down.” You sighed not denying him.

“You didn’t answer my question Y/N.” He sounded a bit more serious this time. He had certainly not picked up on your feelings towards Hangman. He really thought you detested him. You body language made it seem like you really hated the guy, always standing away from him if you could. You snapped at him quite a bit, not ever losing your cool but not acting like that towards anybody else.

You nodded silently, “I do. But you can’t tell dad.”

“You’re taking the fun out of it for me Kazansky.” He sighed leaning back into his chair. He was happy for you although still confused. You really didn’t show any signs of it, maybe he was that oblivious though.

“Mavvvvv.” You sighed just like him dragging his name out like a toddler would.

“Fine. You have my word. I won’t call up Ice. But you’ve got to figure it out for me. I cannot afford to have you distracted kid. Either say something and own up to it or forget about it, alright?”

You gulped and nodded, “Okay. But you’ve got to give me a little time.”

“Sure. But this really is life or death Y/N. I need you here. All of you. 100% of that big ass Kazansky brain that you have. Do you hear me?”

You shook your head up and down hearing him. It frightened you a little bit. You understood how hard this mission was going to be, yet you had the confidence you could do it. You had yet to master the course but you, Phoenix and Bob were the closest group to completing the task yet. Only off by thirty seconds, you knew those thirty seconds were life or death though. Seeing Maverick this serious though threw the gravity of the entire situation right in front of you. A knot formed in your stomach finally understanding this was it, this was a true test of skill. You were picked because you were the best of the best. Maverick needed that Y/N, he was going to get that Y/N.

“I hear you Maverick.” You stood up, ready to rejoin the group.

“Good. And no, you still can’t switch teams.”

“Mav!” You eyed him angrily before returning to the game. Mentally preparing yourself for what Hangman was going to tease you with next.

You knew you couldn’t ignore it anymore when the Dagger Squad met for drinks at the bar and your eyes couldn’t seem to be taken away from the blond man. You now knew you didn’t have a type before you made it to this camp. But now you did. Jake Seresin was your type, just your type. You were entering week three of training, things have kicked up by about a hundred notches. Mav constantly reminding the team that it was life or death, day in and day out. He had to prove to the team it could be done. Boy, did he show off. Doing the whole course in under 2 minutes and 15 seconds.

You learned later that day that he was selected Team Captain. You saw how disappointed Jake was when it was announced. Mav decided to take his time selecting teams. The whole squad was in an all-out Dogfighting war during training, for the next few days at least. You were tired yet you refused to show it, having to prove yourself once again. You could see how exhausted the whole squad was, tonight was needed. Mav gave you the weekend to recover before one last session on Monday where he would announce teams. You were nervous. You had flown the course with a wizzo and without. Proving your capability with both. You desperately wanted to be picked. You were still nervous about the whole situation though, who wouldn’t be? One mistake and you could be dead. No pressure.

Jake noticed your eyes on him. He couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread across his face. He might have managed to crack you, just a bit. He played it cool though. Wanting you to make the first move. He wanted to see if you crack or not. He did want you. He had never been so matched before. He was also sure he would never meet somebody who could put him in his place quite like you did. You beat him more often than not in the air. He was amazed by your flying. Only Mav was able to beat you and even then, you had come close a few times only to be outsmarted by the old-timer. You also challenged him when both feet were on the ground. You didn’t piss him off like most people did when they challenged him, he tried to become better.

He knew he really had liked you when you told Rooster off for the stupid death spiral that he and Maverick were in. You were the only one that was able to get through to Rooster as your words really cut like ice, your dad shining through. He watched curiously as Rooster walked away like a sad puppy, tail tucked between his legs. You, you were fuming. He was sure he hasn’t seen you so mad. You let out the most frustrated groan as you lightly punched the wall. Not stupid like the boys before you who had broken their hands on the cement behind it. He watched as you leaned against the walls collecting yourself. You took a moment before you stood back up fixing your uniform. You turned and spotted Hangman standing there giving him an awkward hello before walking away quickly. Yeah, he liked you. He liked you more than he really cared to admit.

He brought you over your favorite beer on tap sliding it to you as he sat at the high-top opposite you. You smiled thanking him and took a big swig from the glass, “Rough day?” Jake asked eyes softening just slightly.

“Nah, I’m okay.” You spoke, “Just been thinking about the mission, that’s all.”

He bobbed his head seemingly agreeing with you, “Kazansky scared? I’ll be.” He grinned giving you some much needed shit.

“Shut up, Hangman. You know that’s not what I meant.”

He laughed softly nodding in agreement, “I know Y/N. Some serious stuff.”

“You could say that again.” You downed some more of it, nearly finishing the glass in two drinks, “I guess you could say I am a little scared.” You admitted quietly waiting for him to interrupt. When it didn’t come you continued, “I’ve known Mav my entire life and I’ve never seen him like this before Jake.”

“That’s why were here.” He tried to cheer you up.

“I know.” You sighed finishing the beer off. Hangman was impressed, he was only a few drinks in. “It doesn’t make it any less frightening.”

“Shit, Y/N.” He spoke delicately, you traced your eyes up his body to his face wanting to hear what he had to say. He continued when he had your full attention, “You’re on of the best pilots I know. You might be better than me. If you repeat that I will deny it so don’t even try it.” He smirked continuing on, “You were born for this mission. Don’t let Mav freak you out. Go be that confident Lava in the sky, that you can’t be stopped.” He breathed out looking at you happily.

Stunned. You were stunned. And you were a hundred percent your face looked just as stunned as you felt. You were computing his words, yet it didn’t make sense coming from him. Soft Jake? Sweet Jake? You weren’t going to sit here and deny it. Especially because he didn’t give you a chance to respond before he took your glass and told you he was getting you another. He left you with that.

He was showing you a different side of him. You had seen the softened facial expressions and knew when he let up when you two were going at it. But this, this Jake was different. You were sure he was showing his true self to you. He came back and slid the beer over to you like he did the first time, smoother than ever.

“Thanks Jake. For the beer, for everything.” You smiled softly to him. You took your time looking at him curiously, fully drinking him in. Gosh, was he beautiful. He had that damn toothpick in his mouth. You loved that damn toothpick. You loved when he smiled with it too, his dimples always showed when he did. You could hardly take the green eyed, dimpled combination that was in front of you all too often. Mav was right, you needed to tell him, you were struggling keeping this one from him.

“Anything for you Kazansky.” He said without a bit of sarcasm in his voice. A chill ran down your spine, you were sure these physical reactions were going to give you away at any time now. You sat back slightly wondering how in the hell the Hangman had wrapped you so tightly around his finger. You were hooked. Truly hooked on every word he spoke, every look he gave you. How had he done that to you in less than three weeks? You weren’t sure. You didn’t really care either. Your head was already exploding in fear from the mission but with something else entirely when you thought of Hangman, something foreign to you.

“I like soft Jake.” You fluttered your eyes, clueless to the effect you were having on him. He too was utterly fascinated by your presence. He also wasn’t sure what you had done to him. But he sure well knew he would do just about anything for you. He was so drawn to every aspect of you. Your delicate smile you gave everyone and the genuine one you threw his way every now and then. Your calm and collected demeanor in the air, even when Mav beats up on you. Your sweet eyes and all the emotions you tried (but failed) to hide from him. He didn’t really want to wait on you anymore. He just wanted to tell you exactly how he felt so he could hold you, feel you, take you in.

“I like you. You know.” He admitted so nonchalantly you did a double take.

You sucked in a breath so taken aback by his admission to you, “You what?”

“Like you, Kazansky. A lot. I like you a lot. A lot a lot.” He grinned moving himself to the seat next you. He took one of your hands in his, picking your hand up so gently.

“You do?” You whispered, dumbfounded really.

“Don’t act so surprised Y/N. You’re incredible.” He kissed the back of your hand softly. Your heart nearly jumped out of your throat.

“Okay.” You nodded wanting to slap yourself in the face. Okay? Okay, was that all you had? You took a second longer to process what he was really saying, “You like me.”

He laughed scooting even closer, not dropping your hand but squeezing it instead, “I do Kazansky.”

“Well, that’s good.” You gave him that genuine Y/N smile he desired to see once more.

He chuckled inching even closer, your chairs were touching now, “That’s good.” He repeated back to you.

Realizing how dumb you were sounding you continued, “I like you too, Jake.”

He gave you his genuine Jake smile. You could’ve melted right then and there. You had to remind yourself that your fellow classmates were not too far off, “I know.”

You shook your head in response to that cockier than thou attitude, “Course you did.”

He moved his hand to brush some hair out of your face, “It’s nice to hear you say it though, darling.”

You eyed your surroundings, not forgetting where you were. You were going to melt into this man and the wrong person was bound to see. You pulled him out of his chair pointing to the door. He grabbed the beers following you out of the bar as casually as possible. You found a spot on the back patio away from any prying eyes.

“Sorry, it felt… claustrophobic in there.”

He pulled you down, so you were sitting on his lap. You felt so self-conscious when he did so. Your breathing became uneven. He could feel your apprehension. Slower, he noted. He was excited to get to know you better. You were unlike any woman he’s ever met. He didn’t want to screw it up by doing something your uncomfortable.

“I should have asked. I’m sorry Kazansky.” He whispered in your ear trying to make you more comfortable. A full body shiver erupted when he did so. If he noticed he didn’t say anything. He just ran his hands across your back willing you into his embrace.

“S’kay.” You mumbled falling into his touch almost immediately. You relaxed against his chest quickly feeling at home in his arms. You fought to keep your eyes open, but they didn’t want to listen.

You felt him laugh softly as he moved his hands up and down your back. Seeing just how easy it was to get you to relax into him, “It’s only nine sweetheart.” The sun had begun its decent for the evening casting a beautiful array of oranges and pinks into the sky.

“Way past my bedtime.” You mumbled into his chest. You instinctively curled yourself closer into him. You took a long deep breath in smiling as you smelled him. He smelled so good to you, even after a long day he smelled so good, so Jake.

“Let’s get you home then.” Before he could shift you shook your head.

“No, please.” You sighed looking up to him. He was looking at you so lovingly. The droopiest eyes you’ve seen on him yet. It felt like every nerve on you was on fire, not feeling so tired anymore, “Just a few more minutes, you’re so comfy.” You dopily smiled to the lovestruck man holding onto you.

“Like I said earlier, anything for you Kazansky.”

You lit up at him, “Which reminds me, you’re going to have to meet my dad.”

He looked like he lost a shade off his tan as you reminded him. He tried to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, “He’ll love me, promise darling.”

“We’ll see about that Jake.”

“We sure will.” He kissed the top of your head, pulling you closer.

Part 2

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