#i think the first page would be p good with some work. the second is kind of a clusterfuck but could be salvaged

[sonic-adventure-3]

an incredibly rough comic. i think star fragments would taste like a scintillating phantasmagoria of light, a severe electric shock, a newfound gambling addiction, and a hint of the nastiest artificial grape flavour you’ve ever tasted. sonic is imbued with the power of slot machines now

#i don’t know how comics work in the slightest i’m just fucking winging it lmao #genuinely i’m still figuring out how this shit works so if you have any feedback id love to hear it #i think the first page would be p good with some work. the second is kind of a clusterfuck but could be salvaged #the third is just funny (i hope lol) #my art #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sth #my comics #frontiers #sonic frontiers #doodles #all that spawned this is that star fragments look like konpeito and i fucking love konpeito but i don’t have konpeito #can’t play any games these days without thinking of her (konpeito. because theres so many star items that look like konpeito) #very unlikely this gets past this stage cause i suck at finishing normal drawings let alone comics i’ve never finished a comic before #but i do kinda wanna finish this

[hopesworlld]

౨ৎ oh ! dear diary, i met a boy !

౨ৎ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 — step!bro anakin x fem!reader

౨ৎ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 — your stepbrother anakin finds your diary full of all your dirty little secrets

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 — 6k

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — swearing, stepcest, smut ( masturbation f and m, oral sex f and m, vibrator, degradation, praise, use of the term slut/little slut, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, overstimulation ) i think that’s all !

౨ৎ 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 ! — someone call the psych ward immediately !

part two part three masterlist

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anakin groaned in annoyance as he stormed up the steps at his mothers command asking him to fetch his stepsister for some reason or another. he barged into your bedroom not bothering to knock, he always liked seeing you jump, sometimes you were on your bed, phone dropping from your hands as your lips parted in surprise. other times you were perched at your vanity catching his eye in the mirror with horrified delight. but his favourite would always be when he entered your room to find you clad in nothing but a pair of white panties. your face had been painted crimson, eyes clutching your breasts but he could still see your rosy nipples peeking beneath your manicured nails, pert from the cold winter air.

but this time, much to his disappointment he found the room empty, your fairlights glittered along the ceiling and the pink lamp beside your bed cast light on the little book had seen you clutching to your chest every so often, it was hot pink and dotted with stickers of various celebrities that he despised. you had always been protective of it, even your father had once gained a slap to the hand when he tried to touch your book. so anakin knew he had no choice, he slowly entered the room further, noting the sound of rushing water from the bathroom. perfect.

he crossed your room in a matter of seconds and scooped up the book, flicking through a couple pages, the first few he saw held nothing of interest and he skimmed through. there were no dates but he could tell they were from before your father and shmi had bought the house and blended your family, he read a few sentences of you complaining about school, and friend drama and almost called it a bust. his innocent priss of a stepsister was the same in her diary as she was every day. that was until he skipped ahead and found his name appearing. with new found interest he settled down on your bed.

/ anakin came back from college today and he actually looked happy to see me, or he smiled when he got out of the car which is a first. i wish he would smile more, he looks so pretty when he smiles.

anakin scoffed at this, rolling his eyes, this had only been a few weeks ago and he had been laughing at a text just moments before, but of course you would think he was happy to see you. you always greeted him the same, glossy lips twisted in a saccharine smile as you bounced on the balls of your feet, begging for an ounce of attention from him. it was ridiculous, but he had to know more.

/ anakin is fixing up dad’s old car in the driveway so that he can use it, i’ve never been so happy for my father’s hoarding tendencies in my life. i was sat at my window for two hours today watching him. he was wearing that black wife beater, the one that makes his arms look even bigger than usual, so muscly and strong. i wonder what it would feel like for him to pick me up, and feel his muscles against my back, they look so good when they’re tensed. he was so sweaty too, i wanted to run out there and lick it from his skin, how disgusting but wow, i wish i took a picture of him like that. soaked in sweat and oil.

anakin’s jaw was agape, his sweet innocent stepsister wasn’t such an angel as he once thought. his dick twitched beneath his sweatpants at the thought of you perched on your window seat with a perfect view of him working rubbing your thighs together, desperate for his touch, his taste. it was taboo, disgusting, your parents were married and here you were writing dirty little fantasies. he loved it. addicted to the words you had spilled across the page in pretty gel pens.

/ dad asked me why i was so distracted today at dinner, how could i not be? anakin came down in just shorts and i swear i could see everything, he’s bigger than i imagined, i probably wouldn’t even be able to fit my hand around it, but ellen said boys like that. i wonder what it looks like, i’ve only ever seen them in porn. anakin didn’t even notice anything was off with me, didn’t notice me staring. i wish he would.

“fuck,” anakin hissed, his dick was now almost fully hard and throbbing. who knew you were such a slut, fantasising about his cock at the dinner table. if he had known… god he wanted to fucking ruin you. show you how to take his dick, watch as you choked and cried around it as he forced it past your swollen lips. he wanted to paint you in his cum and not stop until you were a shaking writhing mess. he knew you were hot, had thought it the second he saw you, your hair in braids clad in ivory like some kind of fallen angel but had pushed it away, you were his stepsister for fuck sake, but now…

/ he walked in on me changing today, i was only in my underwear and he laughed, but i caught him staring at my boobs, i made sure not to cover them properly and it worked. i got so wet, i don’t think i’ve ever come so hard before. i wanted him to do something, walk over to me and rip my hands away, push me on the bed and fuck me till i saw stars, but instead i just had to use my vibrator. sometimes i wish he could hear me moaning through the wall, maybe he can.

“little fucking slut,” anakin said to himself as he glanced across the page, hand cupping his rock hard cock through his trousers, your words were depraved, desperate. maybe he should walk into the bathroom right now and take you like you were so desperate for, you would have no trouble spreading your legs for him, would probably beg for it, do anything he asked. his perfect little fuck toy. he couldn’t help himself anymore, spitting on his hand and slipping it down his trousers tugging at his cock as he continued to read.

/ i bought a dildo today from ann summers but i’m scared, my fingers are so small compared to it, the woman said it was about average but wow. no matter how much prep i do it hurts. i bet anakin would feel better, the silicon is so hard and cold. i wore one of his t-shirts it smells like him, that helped a little but it’s not the same, i’ve heard his stories when he talks to his friends about the girls he’s fucked. he knows what he’s doing, i wonder how he would take me, on my back nice and slow, or pound into me from behind while i screamed. maybe he would call me angel like he does sometimes, i wish. now my arm just hurts so i’m here alone in my bed playing with my clit wishing it was him.

anakin jerked against his hand at the last sentence, he had never cum this quickly before, but your words had him loosing his shit, he couldn’t even imagine what else you thought if this was only what you choose to write down, what other dirty secrets lurked beneath that pretty facade of pink and glitter. the next page held a collection of polaroids you had taken of him, some from the window as he worked on his car, skin sheened in sweat and oil, shirtless as he drank a bottle of water. another of him laying on the sofa arm resting behind his head a can of beer in hand, and the last was him glaring at the camera. he remembered this one, he had demanded you rip it up, but here it was immortalized with pink and purple hearts surrounding it. but the next page was from today.

/ anakin came home from playing baseball with his friends about an hour ago, he was gross, sweaty and loud after hours with his friends. he slid past me in the kitchen his hands on my hips for just a second i wish he would have bent me over the counter and fucked me there and then. i would have let him, dad was in the living room but i don’t care, god, he’s ruined me. all i can think about is him, his cock, his hands, his lips. i need him. i’m gonna go shower, i was meant to help shmi with dinner but i couldn’t, not when i was soaking through my panties while stood next to her fantasising about her son.

“oh fuck,” anakin hissed as he came into his fist, cum coating his boxers and knuckles. you were insane, and maybe so was he for getting so worked up but he knew he couldn’t hold back now, he had seen those words and there was no going back. a bit shakily he stood from the bed wiping his hands on his sweatpants and grabbing the sparkly pen from your desk and decided to leave a little note of his own in your dirty little diary.

/ who knew you were such a dirty little slut, angel girl

and with that he left your bedroom, cum drying on his boxers, he could only hope you found his note sooner rather than later.

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after your shower you felt a lot better, you had turned the water considerably cooler than usual and taken some deep breaths you had learned from yoga, pushing anakin far from your mind, you let the ritual of getting redressed soothe your mind, slipping into a soft matching set of white shorts and a crop top, leaving your hair loose and applying your skin care. you almost felt like yourself, untainted by the dirty thoughts that seemed perpetually in your mind.

you wished it would stop, you hated yourself for it, your father was finally happy after years of thinking he would never find love again after your mother had passed. if he knew what you were thinking he would be disgusted, he would probably send you off to your aunt to protect anakin and shmi from your sick mind, the thought made your stomach hurt. you wanted to stop you really did, but then you would see him and all those dirty thoughts would slip back in, he was haunting you.

you headed downstairs, an airpod pressed in one ear hoping some music would soothe your guilty mind, finding shmi in the kitchen. the woman smiled in relief when she saw you.

“there you are, i sent ani up to get you half an hour ago,” she said a little flustered and instantly your heart dropped, you didn’t know why she was upset but she had needed you. you hated upsetting people, ‘always a people pleaser’ your mother had used to scold you fondly.

“i’m so sorry, anakin never told me,” you said truthfully and the woman sighed before laughing begrudgingly.

“my son has many talents, listening has never been one of them,” she said with a fond smile before turning back to the stove, “i’m making your dad that soup he loves so much but this recipe seems wrong, think you could help me out?” she requested holding out a sheet of paper to you and you took it immediately, nodding happily.

“of course,” you beamed, “well firstly it’s chicken stock not vegetable stock,” you informed her, “and secondly use heavy cream instead of milk, he likes the taste more. but other than that it seems perfect”

“really?” she asks you, face a little tight.

“yep, we always make it a little different depending on what we have but you have got this down to a t now i would say, and dads gonna love it,” you said and shmi finally smiled again, you hated when she frowned, it made her seem much older, an echo of the struggling woman she had once been and she didn’t deserve that, she never did.

“want to stay and help me make it?” she asked and you accepted. the pair of you worked in tandem, and soon you had a delicious pot of soup bubbling on the stove ready to be served along with homemade grilled cheese.

“okay, i’m gonna go grab your dad from the den do you mind getting, ani,” shmi asked and you agreed despite yourself, bounding out of the kitchen and up the stairs to anakin’s room, knocking once, then twice and then three times before you finally got a response.

“come in,” he called out, so you swung the door open, expecting a scowl or a blank stare but instead he was smirking widely at you, as though he knew something you didn’t and it made your skin crawl. “oh, hey, angel,” he greeted. fuck.

“dinners ready,” you told him, proud that you managed to keep your voice steady and his face dropped a little bit before his smile suddenly widened again.

“and you came to get me?” he asked teasingly, your stomach tightened, twisting into a ball and sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. he was going to kill you.

“your mum asked me to,” you say shortly, spinning around and walking away, taking a deep breath as you did so. stupid, stupid, stupid…

“angel,” anakin said again, and that name was going to send you into overdrive, a flush growing on your cheeks. “not gonna wait for me? that’s not very nice,” he complained and you shook your head.

“are you high?” you asked him as you reached the landing but anakin grabbed your wrist stopping you from heading down the steps.

“what makes you say that?” he asked you, drawing closer to you so that your faces were only inches apart, you could feel his hot breath fanning on your cheeks, see deep into his eyes, so pretty and blue beneath the crystalline lights above.

“your acting strange,” you pointed out with a frown, anakin was never nice to you, he was cordial sometimes, blunt others and sometimes he was simply rude, but never this. never teasing and friendly and chasing you down through the halls of your home to chat. it was as unnerving as it was utterly addictive.

“i just learned something new today, something that’s changed my perspective a little bit,” he crooned, hand coming up and resting on the wall beside your head, you blinked at him. what the fuck?

“what did you learn?” you asked him curiously and anakin grinned, a beautiful blinding thing that took your breath away.

“you’ll see,” was all he said before withdrawing from you and heading down the steps leaving you flabbergasted where you stood, heart racing and core throbbing. “come on, angel, don’t wanna be late for dinner,” he called up to you and you followed soundlessly, wondering if you had accidentally fallen into a different dimension while in the shower.

dinner was normal, or as normal is it could be with anakin acting so out of character, he was chatting like he hadn’t seen anyone in years, some kind of newfound zest for life that even had his mother seemed confused about but accepted with open arms. it was nice to see anakin talking, usually, he would mutter a few words before disappearing back to his room.

“yea, i was thinking of working at the garage next term to get a little extra cash, you know where you’re going to colleague next year, angel?” anakin asked, you looked over at him a little wide-eyed at the nickname in front of your parents, but glancing at them you saw that they both seemed… pleased.

“um, i have a few options actually, still not sure,” you murmured, still lost in what was happening, but it was making your head spin.

“she’s been looking at your school a bit,” your dad cut in, “it’s got a great program for what she wants to study,”

“oh really? maybe i could set something up for you, or maybe just give you a show around of the school next term, let you see what it’s really about,” anakin suggested with a smile and shmi beamed.

“oh that's a lovely idea, ani dear,” she exclaimed, “what do you think, sweetheart?” she asked her eyes darting to you and you pulled your lips into a smile.

“yea that sounds great,” you agreed, glancing back at anakin who sent you a wink. you almost groaned, rubbing your thighs together, you thought anakin being mean to you was enough to send you spiraling, spilling dirty fantasies into your book but him being nice was going to send you into a whirl of delusions that were going to be detrimental to your mental health if it continued.

once dinner was finished you rushed to your room, ready to spill your guts into your diary, you grabbed it from your bedside table and flicked to the next open page, your heart dropping to your stomach when you saw the words scrawled on the page.

\ who knew you were such a dirty little slut, angel girl

“oh my god,” you whispered to yourself, tossing the book down onto the bed, horror-struck. you knew that handwriting, had seen it many times before and now here it was taunting you in a book full of your sick twisted fantasies that all featured him. you felt nauseous, bile rising in your throat, is this why he was so happy, some sort of twisted revenge? had he taken pictures of it? did he plan on showing your dad? “this can’t be happening,” you whispered to yourself.

“i see you found my note,” a cocky voice echoed from behind you, you span around, lips trembling and anakin’s brows furrowed slightly.

“please don’t tell my dad, i’m so sorry anakin. i know it’s wrong and disgusting but please he will never forgive me if i ruin this for him, he loves your mum so much and i…” the world were tumbling from your lips so quickly you could hardly process them, not even noting as anakin shut the door behind him and crossed the room so that he was stood before you, “i’m sorry,” you practically wailed, “you were never supposed to see that, it was just somewhere to put down my thoughts,” tears were streaming down your cheeks now, “please don’t hate me,”

“you gonna be quiet now?” anakin asked you once you finally stopped rambling and you nodded through sniffles, vision blurred by your tears. “good,” he whispered, reaching up and cupping your cheek, “i’m not gonna tell your dad, angel,” he said soothingly, “not when i know how much fun we can have now,” anakin said with a smile.

“what… what are you saying?” you asked him. this couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening right now. no way.

“i’m saying, that i wanna see just how dirty you can be, angel,” he cooed, “i wanna know the darkest parts of that fucked up little mind of yours,” your breathing hitched, raising your hands to wipe the tears from your ruddy cheeks and staring at him in disbelief.

“anakin…” you whispered, “this is wrong,”

“oh i know that, baby, but it didn’t stop you from burying your fingers into your cunt and imagining it was me. from laying in bed only a room away from me and moaning my name while you tried to use a dildo on yourself wishing it was me,” he hummed, “and what was it that you wrote earlier? that you were picturing me bending you over with your dad in the next room, that you couldn’t be with my mother in the kitchen because you were dripping down your thighs thinking about me,”

“oh fuck,” you moaned, hearing him depict your fantasies, the things you had said were driving you wild, something stirring within you, it set your veins alight with molten flames, spreading through your body and stirring your aching cunt, you could feel your arousal flooding your panties, sticky and wet, you didn’t know what to do, what to think but you needed him, more than you had ever needed anything in your life.

“that’s it, angel, i wanna hear every pretty sound you can make fall from your pretty lips,” anakin prompted, one hand falling to your hips and pulling you in so that your flush was pressed against him another moan falling from your lips when you felt his half hard cock press against your stomach. “what is it you want, tell me, what dirty secret are we sharing tonight?” he asked you.

“kiss me, just kiss me please,” you begged, and anakin obliged crashing his lips to yours, it was messy, all teeth and tongue and spit. immediately he was diving in, tongue prying through your lips and plunging into your mouth, he tasted of smoke, mint and sugar and instantly you were addicted. your hands rose to his shoulders, tugging him closer you wanted to feel every part of him. your hands tugged at his t-shirt wanting to taste his skin, to see him everywhere.

“so eager, baby,” he muttered against your lips before reaching behind him, tugging his t-shirt over his head revealing the planes of his chest and his toned stomach to your awaiting eyes, you had seen him shirtless many times before, but now you could touch him. “take what you want,” he grinned and you did just that, fingers dipping into every crevice, you explored him as though one would a fine piece of art you wanted to memorise the feeling of his skin, the taste, you hardly thought twice before leaning down and kissing the middle of his chest, running your tongue along the unblemished skin, moaning at the taste of salt and skin. “god,” the boy murmured, reaching down and grasping your hair, yanking your head back harshly, “take my sweatpants off,” he commanded and you were not one to disobey, not now, not when you had him.

you wrapped your hands around the waist band and tugged, gasping when his dick sprung free, unrestrained by any boxers beneath, he was already hard, really hard, his cock flushed a deep red, the tip weeping milky precum and gods were you right, he was big, long and thick, far bigger than the dildo you had purchased. you salivated at the sight.

“can i…” you whispered, slowly trailing off, a wave of embarrassment washing over you.

“tell me what you want, angel, this is your dirty little dream, i’m just helping make it come true,” anakin said and you nodded, taking a deep breath.

“wanna taste you, ani, can i?” you asked him gently, batting your lashes at him and the boy hissed through his teeth, jaw clenching in a way that made your entire body sing.

“fuck me, go ahead, pretty girl, show me what that mouth is actually good for,” his words were disgusting, a sick way of calling your words worthless and it made you go fucking feral, you sank to your knees, eyeing his cock a little unsurely before carefully wrapping a hand around his thick length, anakin groaned, watching you, eyes alight with interest.

“look at that you were right,” he told you, “your hand can’t even fit around it,” he said, and you shuddered, ingjerking your hand slightly, letting itit glide along the velvety skin of his cock, admiring it, and the sound he made was worth it, so much so that you leaned in, licking a stripe along the side of his cock, stopping once you reached the tip and suckling it gently. a.nakin’s hands fell to your hair gripping it, but not forcing you, he was letting you explore first, you bobbed you head, sinking deeper on his cock, the sensation was strange but not unpleasant. so you took him deeper, the salty taste of him drawing you in further, you pulled back, sucking in a deep breath before taking him deeper until it hit the back of your throat. you were hardly halfway down his cock, so you tried again this time more forcefully, choking when his cockhead rammed into the back of your throat.

“easy, baby,” anakin cooed, pulling you off of his cock, you looked up at him with glossy eyes, spit spilling down your chin.

“you’re so big,” you whined at him accusingly making the boy laugh, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“poor little slut, so desperate for cock but has no clue what she’s doing,” he patronised, thumb trailing down and hooking in your mouth, parting your lips for him, you let your mouth fall open. “gotta take it slow, you aren’t gonna take it all the first time, okay? probably not for a few times, gotta train that throat of yours to take cock, huh?” he asked and you nodded at him, unable to speak with his thumb in you mouth. “try again, huh,” he prompted and you nodded eagerly, this time letting anakin guide your mouth to his awaiting cock, you followed his instructions going slower this time, starting at just the tip suckling it, savoring the taste of his salty cum in your mouth but eventually anakin began to push you further with a groan. you swallowed around him, trying to remember to breathe with the heavy weight on your tongue, your mouth felt stretched, lips stinging, and jaw aching but you couldn’t stop. you needed this, needed him to cum, to know he was enjoying this as much as you were.

“good girl, that’s it,” anakin praised you and you preened, moaning around his cock and making the boy chuckle, “oh you like that, huh, pretty girl? wanna be my good girl?” you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak so instead you locked your eyes with his and this time it was anakin’s turn to moan. “you look so fucking sexy like this, should have known you made for it,” you bobbed your head faster in agreement, it felt wrong to agree, to accept that you were just some sort of object that was made to take dick and love it, but you couldn't argue. not now when you had tasted his cock and you knew you would never be the same again, this was it for you, a springboard into a world that would drive you insane.

“you keep going i’m gonna cum, you ready for that, angel?” he asked you, but you didn’t respond, only forcing him deeper, spluttering slightly but you didn’t pull back, instead taking a settling breath through your nose, spit was dripping down your chin, tears streaming but you couldn’t stop, continuing to choke on his cock, only pulling away when you absolutely had too and it was barley for a few seconds before you were on him again. it was only about a minute before anakin’s hips began to twitch, his cock heavier in your mouth.

 “i’m gonna cum, fuck, baby pull back a little you don’t wanna choke,” he prompted and you did as you were told. lips suctioned around his tip, using your hand to jerk off the rest of his cock and with that, he was cumming down your throat in thick hot spurts. it was disorientating and everything you had ever dreamed of. you swallowed as much as you could of the salty liquid, but some escaped the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin and onto your plush carpet, you kept suckling until anakin pulled you away, his lips parted and cheeks flushed.

“that was…” he trailed off voice hoarse, “you did such a good job, angel,” he cooed, reaching out and helping you stand up, your knees ached and you felt a little shaky but you couldn't ignore the heat in your core and the sopping wetness between your legs.

“i liked it,” you said bashfully, voice scratchy.

“of course you did,” anakin mocked lightly but there was no malice behind his words, instead he reached down and grabbed his shirt using it to mop your cheeks and mouth, “come on i wanna try something,” he said, grabbing you hand and leading you over to your bed, “lay down, pretty girl,”

“what are you doing?” you asked him softly and he grinned.

“just lay down, okay, i’m gonna do the work for a bit,” he said, so you followed instruction and laid down on the bed, looking up at him with such innocent trust that it made his heart stutter slightly, “i’m gonna take your top off okay?” he said, climbing onto the bed with you and hovering over you, his legs stradling either side of your hips, he looked so big like this, tall and strong, body on show as he looked down at you.

“okay,” you agreed, letting anakin tug the crop top from your body leaving your chest bare to him.

“been waiting a while to see these again,” he murmured, finger pinching your nipple lightly, you gasped, jolting upwards at the sensation and anakin laughed, “sensitive girl,” he teased, pinching your other nipple, using his body to keep you pinned to the bed. “what was it you said in that dirty little book when i saw your tits for the first time?” he asked you, “hm, let’s have a look shall we?” he said grabbing the book from where it lay only a few inches away from you. your cheeks lit up in shame, shaking your head.

“ani, no,” you pleaded with him but the boy shot you a harsh stare.

“what was that, baby?” he questioned, tone stern, “i thought you wanted this? want me to leave you to deal with this alone like you always do, seeing my cock should do you a good couple months, and you even got to taste it,”

“don’t leave” you begged, “i’m just embarrassed,” you whimper, this brought the smile back to anakin’s face.

“you don’t need to be embarrassed, pretty girl, without this little thing you would probably still be downstairs watching tv with your dad trying not to think about me, isn’t that right?” he asked, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your swollen lips.

“yes,” you said quietly, “just don’t be mean, i really… i needed you. i need you,”

“oh, baby, but you like it when i’m a little mean don’t you?” he snickered, “but back to what i was saying, where is it?” he asked flicking through the pages of the book before he found what he was looking for, “ah, here it is. you wanted me to push you onto this bed and fuck you till you saw stars,” you whimper at this, “and look how proud you were that you caught me staring at your tits,” he grinned, “pretty things aren’t they,” he leaned down, capturing your right nipple between his teeth, nibbling slightly before sucking it into his mouth. the sensation was too much, you gasped, trying to jerk against him but anakin was too strong, he bit down on your nipple, a warning before soothing it with his tongue, moving and doing the same to the other one until you were a panting mess.

“good girl,” he praised, “now this wasn’t what i wanted to do actually, just had to get a taste,” he told you with a wink and you blinked at him stunned. “where do you keep your vibrator, angel?” anakin questioned you.

“um, my bedside draw,” you murmured and anakin nodded, leaning over and opening up and pulling out your pretty pink vibrator.

“cute,” he said, “now, baby, i want to see you use this, okay? wanna know what you look like when you are playing with yourself and thinking about me,” he crooned.

“ani, i’m… fuck okay,” you said reaching out and taking the vibrator from him, anakin climbed off of you and you immediately missed the weight of him atop of you but ignored it was you yanked your shorts and panties down, revealing your throbbing pussy to anakin, the boy groaning in apprecation.

“holy shit, you’re fucking soaked, angel,” he crooned, “look at your clit, all puffy and red. all from sucking my cock?” anakin asked and you nodded, cheeks crimson. “you are a dream, pretty girl,” your clit pulsed at his words and quickly you pressed your vibrator to it before switching it on. your body writhed at the contact, you had been desperate for this for what felt like hours, every inch of your being aching for relief as you trailed the toy down, soaking it in your wetness before bringing it back to your clit, moaning at the feeling.

“fuck, anakin, feels so good” you cried out, tilting your head to look at him and seeing him gazing at your pussy in awe.

“i bet it does, angel, you were so sore, so desperate for this,” he said, reaching out and trailing a finger along your dripping slit, your hips jerked, heart pounding, “gonna come that quick, fuck, do it, baby,” he prompted. you pressed the toy harder to your clit gasping and crying out, the sight of anakin before you, the months of waiting, wanting, it all built up and before you could even react the coil in your stomach snapped and you came with a sharp moan, the vibrator still pressed to your cunt as you twitched through the aftershocks of your orgasm. then you felt it, something wet and warm trailing through your fold, you looked down to see anakin now lying between your legs, his tongue buried in your cunt.

“ani” you sobbed, switching the vibrator off and tossing it to the side, anakin taking this as his chance to wrap is lips around your clit and suck. you all but screamed, still strumming with pleasure and overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth on you, it was hypnotic.

“did i tell you to stop?” he asked pulling back and grabbing the vibrator and flicking it on, pressing to to your abused clit, you gasped, looking down at him with wide eyes, “you are gonna hold this while i eat you out okay, you move it and i’ll stop,” he commanded.

“but, ani, it’s so sensitive,” you told him and anakin simply scoffed.

“you can take it, sluts like you can come as many times as you need to, bet you are still aching for relief,” he said pressing it down harder and you screeched, “take it,” and you did, grabbing the toy from his hand and holding it there as he burried his tongue back inside of you, licking into your sopping walls.

“oh my god, oh my god, anakin please,” you begged one hand slipping down to his hair, tugging on the dark strands with a sob. the vibrator on your clit was brutal, stirring up another orgasm in quick sucession to the last but anakin didn’t stop, he continued to lick and suck while you trembled, slick pouring from your slit as you jerked violently, cumming twice before anakin finally let up.

“you taste fucking divine, angel,” anakin said, his face glossy with your cum, you couldn’t move, couldn’t think as he switched the vibrator off and tossed it to the ground. “fuck me, i’ve never seen such a pretty girl before,” he crooned, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before crawling up your body and pressing a dirty kiss to your lips. he tasted of salt and your release and it made your body ache once more.

“ani, ani, please,” you begged against his mouth, you werent sure exactly what you were begging for but you needed it, needed him.

“sh, angel, its okay,” he said gently, running his hands down your hips sothingly, “tell me what you need” he prompted and you wailed, he looked stunned, “hey, come on talk to me, too much?” he questioned but you shook your head violently.

“need to feel you,” you said through heaving breaths, clumsily reaching out and grasping his cock that pulsed in your hand, he spluttered out a moan, rocking his hips into you, head of his cock catching your clit with such delicious pleasure that you swore you almost saw stars. “inside,” you demanded, words failing you in that moment of utter want.

“need to prep you first,” he said, gently removing your hands from his cock before sliding his fingers through your throbbing heat finding your slit with ease and slowly sinking one finger in.

“more,” you begged almost instantly, hands clinging to his shoulders and anakin complied, sinking another finger inside of you, pumping into your wet heat as you babbled and cried.

“never imagined i would have you like this, so desperate for me,” anakin panted, “wanna know a secret, i’ve wanted this for so long, have pictured taking you so many times,” he whispered, “i came reading your diary, seeing how much you wanted me,”

“anakin,” you said, hands coming to his cheeks cupping them so that he would face you, you could see the raw desire that danced behind his pretty blue eyes, “i’m ready, please,” and he complied, slowly lining his cockhead with your swollen hole slowly inching in. the burn was intense, a tearing feeling consuming your cunt even as you leaked more slick onto his sodden cock. you gasped, more tears streaming down your cheeks as anakin slowly inched deeper.

“you can do it, baby, doing so well for me,” he praised as he sunk deeper, inch by inch before burying himself at the hilt and staying there, “look at that, angel, you did it,”

“oh, oh fuck,” it was nothing like your dildo that was all solid plastic and cold feel, instead it was warm and hard and sending your body into overdrive, it took a few moments to adjust to the feel of it, the intrusive weight uncomfortable but not unwelcomed, and it was all worth it to see anakins face. his eyes screwed up in pleasure, bottom lip pinched between his teeth as he tried to stay still for you. “move, you can move, please,”

“you sure, baby,” anakin gasped, voice tight.

“yes, please,” you agreed, he started slow at first, gentle shalow thrusts that allowed you to get used to the feeling of it, but soon he began to speed up, sinking deeper inside of you with each thrust until you could feel the tip pressing against your cervix, the pleasure was indescribable, you never knew it could feel like this, so all consuming. “yes, yes, harder,” you pleaded with him.

“you sure,” he gasped out.

“yes, i’m okay,” you nodded, and anakin listened, suddenly there was nothing between you but the heat of your skin and the slick of your bodies, a mix of sweat, cum and spit. it was disgusting, a sick merging of your bodies, anakin’s face was burried in your neck, sucking crimson marks onto your sensitive skin while you clawed at his back, manicured nails cutting into his golden skin.

“shit, you feel fucking amazing,” anakin said against your skin, grinding deeper, “such a good little pussy for me, taking me so well,” he told you, “you need to come on my cock again, wanna feel you cleanch around me, okay?” he said and you nodded frantically.

“please, ani,”

“that’s it, good girl,” he cooed, thumb coming between you to circle your clit, you could feel your orgasm building as he jerked into you, his thrusts getting sloppy and you knew he was close, could tatse it on your tongue, you needed it, needed him. “i own this pussy now,” he hissed, “gonna make every single one of your dirty fantasies come true and then we can try some of mine,” anakin told you, thumb speeding up and pleasure exploded behind your eyelids, everything went white and you were gone. when you came too anakin was hovering over you still cock in hand jerking himself off frantically.

“ani,” you whispered, hand coming up shakily and grasping his cock jerking it lightly and anakin came in thick hot spurts all over your chest and face while you took it happily. he collapsed down beside you, pulling you in so your face was pressed against his chest, leg cocking over his hips. “wow,” was all you managed to say.

“better get ready baby, this was only the beginning,” anakin smirked, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forhead and you couldn’t wait to see what else he had in store for you, and you thanked the stars that you had made that little diary.

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part 2???

#anakin skywalker fanfiction #emo anakin #anakin skywalker smut #anakin #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #star wars fanfiction #anakin smut #hayden christensen #sam monroe #anakin skywalker #stepbro!anakin #hopes fics ! #star wars #anakin x you #darth vader x reader #anakin modern au

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

G!P Kate bishop where the reader surprises her by wearing a maid outfit?

Every girl get's her wish

Paring: afab!reader x amab!Kate

Warnings: SMUT, dom!Kate, sub!reader, amab!Kate, afab!reader, maid costumes, sexual role play, oral (K), unprotected sex, P in V, praise kink, degradation, facials, spanking, aftercare,

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

Masterlist-

It all started with a stupid joke originating from out of all places TikTok. Not to say that Kate was down bad for cosplayers, but in secret she  certainly was after all Kate was nothing short of a massive nerd. When you sat next to her on the couch you got a good glance on her for you page. You quickly noticed her favouritism of girls in maid outfits; liking almost every video she saw. That's how you got the perfect idea for a little surprise; after all your girl had just made it as an avenger.  

You quickly bought one of the infamous costumes for yourself and when Kate felt for her training with Clint you put your plan into action. The costume hugged your body perfectly: the skirt ending just on your mid thigh revealing your panties whenever you would bend over. You wore her favourite set of white lingerie with little red strawberries underneath with some matching thigh highs. 

You positioned yourself next to the front door of your shared of your apartment waiting patiently for the arrival of your dear girlfriend. When she opened the door she dropped her gym bag out of pure shock; a good shock. You sat on the ground on your knees looking up at her through hooded eyes. "Fuck baby" she breathed out at your clear display of pure submission of the archer. "I cleaned and cooked, Ms. Bishop" The use of her last name made her feel powerful over you and it felt so good. So good she felt her cock straining in her  boxers. 

"Fuck I think dinner has to wait, you need to get your treat first" she chuckled her cheeks still reddened as she tried her best to play the role of a serious dom. Of course she had been in control but never like this. She grabbed your chin forcing your mouth open as you let your tongue out. You placed your hands on her thighs for support as you watched her hastily unbuckle her pants tugging them down with her boxers. Her cock stood proud against her lower stomach, the red tip already tripping with white pre cum. You were sure you had never seen her this hard before. 

You licked over her tip before taking the leaking tip in your hot mouth which forced the sweetest moans from the throat of the archer. You swirled your tongue around her tip taking her time to properly tease you until her release. Sadly she didn't have any of that roughly grabbing your head before trusting her entire length down your throat making you gag at the rough motion. Desperately you grabbed onto her behind forcing her to stay still for a few seconds.  

She let you adjust to the new penetration for a short while before she set a brutal pace. Kate never failed to make you gag with her rough motions. After a few thrusts your mascara was already rolling down your reddened cheeks which only made her want you more. She released small whimpers as she worked herself closer to her peak. One of your hands sneaked to her balls massaging them to make her cum sooner, which unsurprisingly worked. 

Kate pulled out of your throat jerking her shaft a few times as you put out your tongue and closing your eyes awaiting her load. With a loud groan she released all over your face not even trying to cum on your tongue. "Fuck baby girl, all messy huh?" she teased gently patting on your your cheek before grabbing your face squishing your face. "My little maid all dirty" She tugged her length into her pants again pulling up her jeans again. 

She grabbed your arm pulling you with her to the kitchen. "Bend over" She commanded this all dominant act which was completely new to her however you weren't complaining about it. Kate however still was very with this new role but she remembered the advice she had gotten from Nat, never show that you're nervous. Of course the assassin gave the advice Kate for combat but it worked surprisingly well there too. 

You applied to her wishes being over the marble kitchen counter the skirt rising up of course "Fuck you're such a slut" Kate had never used such lewd language with you but you couldn't lie it made you even wetter. "She pulled on your panties before letting it snap back on your sensitive pussy which made you cry out in pure lust. "Ms. Bishop please" You begged her for something, her mouth, her fingers her cock. You didn't care you just wanted her. 

She pushed away your panties before she slide her cold fingers through your dripping slit. Her experienced fingers found your clit rubbing your puffy clit which made you mewl as you could hardly keep your hips still. You could her her pulling her pants off giving herself a few more strokes to make her even harder. "I'll pull out" she playfully slapped your ass which made you cry out for her. You wanted her to cum inside but maybe another day you thought. 

You thoughts were cut short by her penis forcing it's tip inside your tight hole. She pushed inside of you without mercy making it hard for you to not cry out for her to slow down, but the pleasure was greater than the pain. "Sh, good girl" she cooed against your skin stilling inside of your tight heat to let you adjust to her. "You can start" you whimpered as you felt her being to trust inside of your pussy. 

"You're so, fuck, so fucking tight for me" She groaned before slapping your ass but not hard enough to sting "You're my little cock whore, fuck, you're made for my cock" She fastened her pace the roleplay had turned her into a whole other person. "Just for you Kate" You moaned your face smushed against the kitchen counter. Both of her hands gripped so hard on her hips that you were certain that it would leave behind bruises on your soft skin. 

"Are you gonna cum, baby" She asked as she felt your walls clamp around her length. "Y-yes, please let me cum" She was close to small droplets of sweat forming on her abs. "Cum with me" She pulled out one hand around her cock pumping her cock while the other was placed on your clit bringing you to an earth shattering orgasm which made you barely recognise her cumming over your cheeks. "Let's get you cleaned up my little maid" 

You leaned on Kate chest the warm water souring you relaxing your sore muscles. "Baby I thing that was the best idea you had in a long while" She chuckled kissing the top of your head "I know but you have to communicate wishes like that." She sighed letting her head fall back she was clearly blushing "I just thought you'd think that I would be some weird massive nerd or something" You shifted on her lap making the water around you move. "I would never never think like that" With that your lips meet hers.

:)

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop smut #kate bishop #kate bishop imagine #kate bishop x you #Kate bishop x your name #hawkeye x reader #lesbian smut #lesbian #smut #marvel smut #wlw

[carolmunson]

is he rich like me? (wealthy!s.h. x thick!reader)

desc: hi, we've missed you here at slate insurance hq. i've been working on this WIP since i think october, having the initial idea back then and then going back and forth on it for a million years. anyway, i finally finished it. you and big money steve are finally both on the same page, so here's some porn with plot. big money steve is big money steve, and he loves to spoil his girl. especially before a big dinner deal closing with a new client. tw: 18+ minors dni. p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving), some daddy kink (it's steve c'mon) but he's pathetic, some breeding kink. casual dominance. big wealthy tings. recommended listening: time of the season - the zombies

"what's your name? who's your daddy? is he rich like me?"

Big boxes and gifts were nothing new anymore. Selfishly, they'd become expected whenever you walked in the door from work. Though, if it were totally up to Steve, you would have quit your job the moment the last box of your things came past the threshold of his Tribeca apartment in January. But having at least some semblence of your old life was important to you -- and Robin would lose her mind if she didn't have you to share an office with anymore. Steve on the otherhand, was adamant that once the first baby was on the way, you'd put your career behind you. Presumptiuous of course, considering you weren't even engaged. Tonight was a dinner -- not for the both of you, but for business. Sales pitches, deal closings, re-enrollment. He'd never take you a steakhouse for a date, he'd rather die. But, always a steakhouse for business, 'It's just more -- I don't know how to explain it baby -- money talk, red meat, stuff like that. I know you hate it, I'm sorry, but it just looks good when I bring my girl with me.' He'd make it up to you every time with a new dress, a new pair of shoes, his lips on your neck, your knees to your chest. This dinner was no different, coming in from a nail appointment and a pedicure out to see an array of boxes laid out on your side of the bed. Your main component, which you were expected to wear to dinner tonight, was a black silk dress. "It looks small, Steve," you mumble, holding it up by the skinny straps. Sometimes your wonder if he forgets how full your hips are, how things that look chic on Kate Moss can sometimes look suggestive on you. Not that he minded, he was always very suggestive whenever you dressed up.

"It got it tailored to your measurements, so it shouldn't be," he explains while tying his tie in the mirror, "Just put it on, baby. The car's gonna be here soon."

You huff a little, turning on your heels to his walk in closet -- it might as well be a second bedroom with how big it was. You laid the dress down on the center island where he keeps all of his ties and watches in specially made drawers. You eyed the dress for a moment -- it really was beautiful. Black as night with a high slit on the right side -- of course he made sure it showed some leg so he could run his fingers along the hem under the table.

You take a look at yourself in the mirror in the long line black bustier he bought you. Breasts lifted and high, nearly spilling out of the cups. You'd never seen something without straps have so much support. But then again, you'd never had a bra be custom made either. The matching satin panties sat high on your waist, cut high enough that you'd never see the lines under the silk dress.

Moment of truth, I guess, you think, taking the dress and stepping into it. You waited for the resistance when you pulled it up over your hips but it never came. You waited for the uncomfortable pull of trying to get the skinny straps over your arms and shoulders, but it didn't happen. The dress slid on like butter, like it was made for you.

Oh yeah, duh, it was made for you.

"Can you help me with the zipper, honey?" you call out. Steve still loses his breath when you call him a pet name. So overwhelmed that you want him, that you call him baby and handsome and honey. Honey, honey, honey. Maybe someday husband. Maybe.

He steps into the room with purpose, stopping short when he sees you in the dress.

"Oh, wow," he gasps, "Wow, wow, wow."

"Stop," you bloom heat when he eyes you, "C'mon help me, we gotta go soon."

He steps behind you and you can smell the cedar and sandalwood in his cologne -- having long traded his Aqua di Gio for Creed's 1992 Bois du Portugal. His fingers are warm when he trails his middle and pointer up the skin of your back where the zipper opens, just to watch you shiver. He hooks the closure at the top carefully before pulling the tab at the bottom to slowly close the dress up. At the finish, everything is pulled into place. It was perfect. Dipping and flouncing exactly where you wanted it too, every curve perfectly showcased.

“Do you know where my clutch is?” you ask him in the mirror while his fingers trace your shoulders.

“It’s on the island in the kitchen,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss over the strap of the dress, “But I have another surprise for you.”

“Another?” you ask, eyes wide. He already bought you the dress, the shoes, the lingerie. What else was left?

"Close your eyes." You do, you hear him open one of the drawers and can feel him behind you when something cold hits your chest. He fastens it at the back of you -- you know it's a necklace but it must be nice if he's having you close your eyes.

"Keep 'em closed, baby."

You hear him come around to the front of you, adjusting the necklace, feeling his breath againt your ear. His fingers trail from your shoulder, down your arm to lift your left hand up, "Stay like that." Your heart hammers, but quickly fades out when you feel him put on a bracelet. His delicate touches quicken your pulse, his scent makes your mouth water. Steve had a way of making everything romantic -- getting coffee, going to the grocery store, taking out the trash, putting jewelry on you. Jewelry he bought. Jewelry you know you'll love.

"And lastly..." he continues, while putting your hand down. His nose brushes your cheek when his nimble fingers click a pair of earrings into place -- they're heavy and cold. "Harrington," you sigh, squirming at the pinch of the back going too far into your lobes, "I can put these on myself." "Don't be such a baby, Manhattan," he tsks, smoothing your hair away from your ears before standing back and looking at you. He smiles big at the sight, you simply adorned in his gifts. Steve doesn't know whether to cry or kiss you when he feels his heart leap in his chest. It happens all the time when he stares too long at you, no matter what you're doing. You're his. "Can I open them?" "You can open them," he encourages. When your eyes flutter open and adjust to the light, you see them in the mirror. A platinum set tennis necklace sat across your chest, a matching bracelet on your wrist. Earrings in your ears to complete the collection. You gape at your reflection, mouth hanging open while you try to wrap your head around it -- about how much money you're wearing right now.

"Steven -- they're beautiful..." you gasp out. He stands behind you in the mirror again, grinning at your reaction.

"Sorry there's no ring," he pouts before kissing your cheek, "Not yet, at least."

It was an every other day mention -- the ring. You'd only been officially together for half a year, but Steve knew what he wanted. It felt like you both had been together for six years anyway. You knew the ins and outs of each other, literally and figuratively -- there couldn't be anyone else quite like him. It helt like you both had PHDs in each other's likes and dislikes, needs and wants, goals and dreams.

"Don't worry," you breathe, still not over the sparkle on the rest of your limbs, "This is...this is plenty, babe." He burns in his cheeks -- babe. He's your babe! He presses a kiss to your cheek, settling by your ear to mumble a heady 'I love you,' from the deep base of his chest. His lower lip coasts your earlobe and your eyes roll back in your head, feeling his warm breath fan over your jaw. "I love you so much," he murmurs, hand gripping your waist, you can feel his grin against your skin, "But I need you to hurry the fuck up or we're gonna be late, angel." "You're so annoying," you glower when his sensual demeanor turns into a mean snicker, tapping your ass to get you to move out into the kitchen.

It took every ounce of will power in his body to not cover you in hickeys in the car. He had to give it to himself, he knew how to dress you for stuff like this, and God did your body alway deliver. He had to keep looking out the window so he didn't catch a glimpse of your crossed legs in the rear view mirror of the Bentley. It didn't help that you smelled like heaven, dirving him crazy with every movement, sending Mulger's Angel through his olfactory straight to his boy brain.

He helped you out of the car and waked you arm in arm to the door of the restaurant, always sure to be there at least 15 minutes before his guests. You got accustomed to the song and dance: exchange pleasantries, only ask the wife of whoever he's with direct questions, feign some form of old school obedience, let Steve do all the talking and so help you God if you roll your eyes once he has no problem letting you pay for when you get home. Always in good fun, of course.

Tonight is no different, you look over the menu, sharing sweet moments with each other before his guest arrives. Guessing the status of every couple there, what they're talking about, how long they've been together. A few celebrities come in laying low and you never get excited but Steve always does, still deep down a sweet boy from Indiana. "I think I'm gonna do the salmon," I say with a sigh, "I know that's boring."

"Not boring, honey," he shakes his head, taking off his glasses to clean them off before settling the silver frames back on, "The salmon's really good here." "You're really good here," you tease. "Yeah?" his brow quirks, a smile pulling at his lips, "I heard you're really good here." "Actually, you're really good here," you start to giggle. "Surprised to hear you say that because it was reported in the Culiniary section of the New York Times that you're actually really good here," he laughs, but you're both cut short when you see the m'aitre d guiding your guests to the table. You keep giggling, sitting up straight and crossing your legs under the table cloth so that your thigh peaked out of the slit of the dress. "No more fun, Harrington," you say faux seriously, "No laughing, we have to be boring now." "So boring," he agrees in a fake whisper, but his demeanor changes on a dime when his guest and his wife arrive. Steve stands immediately, hand out for a firm shake.

"Mr. Parker, good to see you tonight," he flashes an award winning smile, the kind that make older men wish he was their son and older women wish he was their husband, "Mrs. Parker, you look stunning. He let's you leave the house looking this good?"

Only Steve can make a joke like that and have it be charming. He pulls the fake string in your back and you start your performance as Business Dinner Barbie as soon as everyone sits down. When the sommelier arrives Steve orders a bottle of white and red for the table and when the waitress arrives he gets himself and Mr. Parker their second highest priced scotch. 'Just because it's the most expensive doesn't mean it's good, they just wanna get the suckers to buy it.' You could mouth the words as he says them at this point, the same schpiel every time.

"And would you like to put your entree orders in as well?" the waitress asks. Mr. Parker orders the steak dinner, rare, which doesn't surprise you because he sort of looks like someone who gets joy out of consuming blood. Mrs. Parker orders the salad because of course she does, she's never eaten a starch in her life, or at least not in the past forty years. Steve places his dinner order, always filet mignon medium rare with a side salad. Steve takes your menu from you to pass to the waitress when her attention turns to you for your order. You open your mouth to speak but Steve's hand finds yours with a light squeeze, keeping eye contact with the waitress. "She'll have the glazed salmon, medium. And I hate to bother the chef but can we pass the broccoli rabe on for asparagus?" he asks, eyes dropping from the waitress to yours as she answers 'Absolutely, Mr. Harrington'. You swallow when his gaze lingers on you, a smirk flicking on the ends of his lips, a moment only shared by the two of you.

"Thank you so much," he replies, still looking at you, "She just doesn't really care for it." He smiles back up at the waitress as he finishes his sentence, pulse quickening when he sees you adjust slightly in your seat. You liked that, and he likes that you liked that. He continues the conversation with a winning smile, pretending like he doesn't know you're melting next to him. Staring at him in his suit acting like you care what he's talking about, like you're not watching the way the leather band of his watch hugs his wrist, how he gesticulates when he talks, his long fingers and big veined hands emphasizing his words. The way his brow furrows when he listens, the slight tensing of his jaw while he thinks of what to say next. While Mr. Parker discusses the potential pitfalls of partnering with Slate Insurance, you feel one of Steve's big hands under the table, resting on your knee. His thumb traces circles on your joint for a minute, you figure it's a comfort touch, something to ground him while he considers his next move. You learn quickly that it's not that at all. He lets a finger trace slowly and softly up over your knee and half way up your inner thigh before grabbing it, slowly and intentionally massaging the fat there, slipping his fingers under the black silk. Your back straightens in your chair, trying to keep your cool while he continues -- soft grazes with his finger tips, back and forth, inching further up as he goes. You grab his hand tightly under the thick white table cloth, catching his lips curl at the edges while he speaks -- no one else would be wise to it. You curse him silently at his ability to always play it cool.

"Have some water, honey," he says sweetly, taking his hand from your grasp and pushing your glass toward you, "You're looking a little flushed." You swallow, your smile a little tight while you take a sip and he watches. A battle between the two of you that you know you've already lost. The cool water passes your lips and you're nearly reinvigorated to try your hand but he comes in with a final strike -- a death blow -- "Atta girl," Steve grins. You've never wanted to pull him out of a restaurant by his collar more than you do right now. Just like always, dinner is a success. Steve always closes the deal before the second scotch so that the cool down conversation can feel more friendly. 'You want the client to feel like they made a friend when they leave so that they trust you. That's business, angel.' He'd say. You say your goodbyes and tell Mrs. Parker you'd be happy to join her book club -- you're unsure how many book clubs you've 'joined' at this point, how many invites got 'lost in the mail'. "Very darling woman you've got there, Steven," Mr. Parker says as he and Steve shake hands, the final seal.

"Isn't she?" he asks, giving you a quick once over. Your blood rushes in your ears at his look, the rest of their conversation muffled by an infuriating need for him. As Mr. Parker and his wife leave, he cleans off his glasses while you both wait for his credit card back for the bill.

"Beautiful job tonight, honey," he smiles, putting his frames back on.

"Do not speak to me," you say with a smile, heat pooling through you while a soft pink appears on his cheeks. "Don't worry," he shakes his head, getting his card back and signing off on the receipt. He helps you out of your chair like a gentlemen, passing you your purse as a means to press a kiss to your cheek, "We won't be doing any talking when we get home."

By the time you get home to the Tribeca apartment, all of your lipstick has been worn off. You're lucky if Vinny doesn't quit being Steve's driver after all of that. "Sorry," he says to Vin while you get out of the Bentley, "Won't happen again, I'm so sorry."

You try not to count how many hundreds Steve flips through when he goes into his wallet, you try not to see how many he slips his driver in embarrassment. Sometimes it still made your chest tight. "You say that every Friday night," Vinny laughs, taking the money, "And every Saturday I gotta get the interior detailed. Goodnight, Mr. Harrington."

The air is a little humid when you get out of the car, sticking to your skin slightly -- the soft rush of the river calms you in the quiet of the night, and there he is, in the glow of the lights outside of your building. He doesn't say anything when he approaches you, just pulls you in for another air stealing kiss. Steve's big hand pushing you in at the nape of your neck to give him better access to you. You frown when he breaks away, a small one, a gentle tug on your eye brows an lips. His hand drops to yours, taking you inside, greeting the doorman and front desk concierge by name as he does every morning and night.

The brightness of the lobby is a harsh contrast to the low light outside and the burst of air conditioning makes your nipples peak in your bra. Goosebumps trail up your arms, but you aren't sure if it's the blast of cold air or the way Steve impatiently waits for the elevator to get you both upstairs. The door barely closes when he's on you, shoving you against the wall of the front walk way. "How dare you," he murmurs, lips peppering kisses from your lips to your jaw, tongue licking hot at your neck, "Look this fucking good all night." "It's kind of your fault," you laugh, panting slightly while his teeth graze over a sensitive spot by your collar bone. You kick off your heels, leaving $2600 on the floor of Steve's apartment.

"Mostly yours," he grunts, pulling you over to the living room after taking off his own shoes. He opens the big vertical blinds so that the city glitters into the penthouse apartment. Steve wastes no time however, getting behind you the same way he did earlier, fingers nimbling unzipping your dress. You both watch it fall to the floor in a delicate puddle, black water silk at your feet.

Now there was $6600 on the floor. Steve takes a second to admire you in your skivvies, his bottom lip tucking between his teeth. He surveys you like a work of art, like a statue carved just for him. You shudder while he circles you, feeling the heat of his ambers eyes burning with need on your skin. He chuckles when he notices you get a flustered, settling down on the couch. He motions for you to you come forward and while you are never one to listen, you make your way over to him without question.

"You like when I spoil you?" he asks huskily, pulling you down to straddle his lap. One arm wraps tight around your waist while the other wraps delicately in your hair. Your stomach presses against him while your breasts heave in his face. He pulls your head down to kiss you, hungry and powerful, while his hips press up to grind against your satin covered cunt.

"Mhm," you whimper into his mouth. His hands reach behind you to the hooks and ties at the back of your bustier. Steve's fingers never met a bra that they couldn't take off in an impressive flick of the wrist.

"Let's get all this off you," he mumbles breathily before sliding his lips from your mouth to your neck. The bustier falls forward slightly before he gets impatient, pulling the straps down your arms before discarding it on the ground. You reach for the necklace but he stops you, reaching back up to capture you in a hungry kiss. "Keep the jewelry on," he says, ambers eyes meeting yours. He's stern in his request and you nod obediently, hands lowering down to meet his chest.

Now there was $8,000 on the floor.

His hands find your breasts and he lets out a rugged groan, massaging them with his hands while he presses kisses down onto the soft skin.

"You can't come with me to dinner looking like this anymore," he murmurs between kisses, "Barely closed that deal. Too busy staring at these tits."

"Steve," you gasp out, giggling, "You closed it just fine."

"Mmm," he nods, mouth occupied by taking a nipple between his lips. You can feel the flutter of his tongue over it while he looks up at you, eye shining wickedly. Your whine just encourages him to keep going. Your hips press down against him, reminding him what you want more than his mouth, than his hands. He pops his lips off of you, the sound echoing in the open living room.

“Is there something you want?” he asks sweetly, leaning back on cushions of the couch. You nod, rocking your hips over his hard cock in his pants, letting out a soft tiny moan at each bit of friction.

“You're so spoiled angel,” he teases, thumbs brushing over your nipples before rolling them between his fingers, making you whine. His voice still dripping in depth and heat, “I think you should work for it.”

“I thought the whole point of this was so that I didn't have to work anymore," you tease back, leaning forward to kiss him. He hums into your mouth and you can feel him smirk into the kiss. Bastard, you think to yourself.

“Hmm,” he considers, palm skating over your thigh, “You do make a good counter point."

“I think giving into my demands is a good return on investment,” you assure, hips rolling against him in a way that makes his thighs tense up, "Imagine the long term benefits?"

He groans when you parrot him, getting harder at the thought of you genuinely listening to his business speak when you do these dinners. He squeezes the fat of your hips, tongue gliding over his kiss bitten lower lip while you take off his tie and start to unbutton his shirt. “Take these off,” he says, looking up at you while his finger traces your panty line. You heat up when he says it, a smug smile blooming on your face. His actions only confirming that he’ll always give in, “If you ask for want you want, I'll consider it."

“Oh, you'll pass that on to your team? I'd love to be considered,” you ask with a laugh, but he's done joking around, a tap to your thigh reminds you that he asked you to undress. You stand up off of him, your feet meeting the cold hardwood, your panties sliding down your smooth legs.

Now there was $8250 on the floor.

He undoes his belt while you stand in front of him, eyes glued to yours while he does it. You swallow when he winks, thighs pressing together — you know he notices. Steve shimmies his pants down slightly, enough that he can keep his legs spread wide while pulling out his length. It's clear that he's painfully hard, a guttural groan escaping him while his hand offers him some minor relief, “Is this what you want?”

“Y-yeah,” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Why don’t you suck on it first and I’ll tell you when you can ride it," he smirks, and without thinking, you start getting to your knees. He stops you before you can make it to the floor, putting a throw pillow beneath you to protect you from the hardwood. Steve can't help but kiss you softly once you make it to your knees, he was never any good at being mean and forceful with you. You'd been right the whole time, he couldn't boss you around -- at least not for too long.

You unbutton the rest of his dress shirt that will now need to be dry cleaned and repressed. You let a hand trail down his chest, gliding through the hair there while pressing wet hot kisses down to his pelvis. Pulling some of the skin between your teeth to leave red and purple bruises behind.

“That’s it, baby,” his breath blends with his words as he adjusts on the couch, leaning back so you have more access to him. You kiss close to the base, tongue trailing over the crease of his thigh, breath ghosting over his shaft while your mouth stays occupied with his heavy sac. You feel him lean back, relaxing while you work him up, his hands coming behind his head, arms bending at the elbows. "Just like that, honey," Steve purrs, "Just like that."

Your hand reaches up to stroke him, slow and deliberate, mouth getting wetter while you leave sloppy kisses at the base and on his pelvis. Your thumb glides over the shining bead of pre-cum pooling out of the tip, teasing over the seam just under it. Your tongue finally glides up to the tip expertly, letting your lower lip catch on the head -- his eyes meet yours behind his glasses, burning with need. It feels cruel to keep him waiting when he looks at you like that, so you don't wait. While keeping eye contact you adjust, taking him all the way to the back of your throat without so much as a wince.

“Oh fuck, good girl,” he gasps into a growl, hand reactively entwining in your hair, “That’s daddy’s girl.”

You groan into the praise, sucking diligently on his cock, thighs pressing tight together. Your back arches into a posture he can only recognize as needy, making him grin while he runs his free hand through his own hair.

“Learned to like that, huh? Whose your daddy, angel?” You smirk up at him in response, tongue gliding from the base to the tip again, taking half of his shaft in your mouth before taking it out with a low laugh, "You are, honey."

His eyes roll back, hips canting up towards your mouth while his grip in your hair tightens. You press him by the thighs back down onto the couch eyeing him while he whimpers when your tongue traces the curve of his cock again. Always on top even on your knees. "Fuck, don't stop," he breathes out. He lets go of your hair, arm reaching behind him to clutch the back of the couch. His hips roll up again, disrupting your rhythm slightly. You taste the salt of him on your tongue while you continue, a soft giggle erupting from your throat, sending shockwaves through him.

"Having fun, honey?" he asks, pulling himself away from you slightly. You sit back on your heels and smile, nodding. He leans forward, blessing you with kisses, deep and slow, "Let's take this to the bedroom."

"I'm on top, right?" you ask. He smirks, watching the jewelry glitter on you in the low light. "Not a chance," he giggles darkly, "Not tonight. Really wanna show you how bad I want you tonight."

"Oh, just tonight?" you ask smartly, getting up from your knees to head to the bedroom.

"Every night," he says with a roll of the eyes, getting up and tossing his dress shirt and tie on the couch. He watches you as you walk slowly to the bedroom, eyeing your smooth skin, the way your hips and waist twist when you walk. He knows you're walking like this on purpose, but he'll never complain. You fall back on the sheets you've been sleeping in for six months and he watches your breasts and thighs and tummy jiggle when you land. Steve grins, sliding off his slacks, socks, and boxer briefs before stepping between your legs, standing over you while you lay on the bed. "Hi," you say, a genuine smile pulling at your mouth when you look up at him. A stripe of amber light from outside pools into the room from between the billowing white curtains, coating you both in a dreamy haze.

"Hi, baby," he says back, his hands reaching down to slide from just under your breasts to your waist, "So beautiful," he whispers to himself.

"Move up a little for me," he instructs, his voice sweet and deep. You scooch up the bed, settling between the mountain of pillows leaning against the short head board while he settles between your legs again. He watches you and the way your body manipulates when he reaches down behind your thighs, pressing the tops of them to your chest. He leans forward, pressing his own chest against what can be felt of yours. Your knees are at your decolletage when he leans in closer to give you another deep kiss before leaning back again, quickly tossing his glasses on the bedside table.

You both stay quiet while he strokes himself a few times, smirking down at your glistening core while he lines himself up to push in. You aren't sure why, but every time he does, it feels like the first time.

"Oh my God," you whine while he pushes in slow, "Stevie." "I know, angel," he nods, gliding in all the way to the hilt. He grunts when he feels you grip him tight, trying to pull out slightly only to get sucked back in. He grips the back of your thighs for leverage, pulling back half way and pressing in, feeling you get wetter around him while he picks up a rhythm.

"Shiii-Steve, that's so deep," you whine. It only encourages him to push in deeper.

"Gotta practice, honey," he grins, starting to pant while he looms over you, letting go of your legs to get close to you again, "Need it to stick when we do it for real."

You pulse over him when he says it, back trying to arch despite your position beneath him.

"You like when I talk like that?" he whispers, his voice sliding back to gravely in your ear, "When I tell you how bad I wanna cum inside you?"

"Mhm," you whimper, nodding against his searing kiss, working himself up the more he thinks about it. "Get you all fuckin' full with me?" he growls, "Keep you nice and pregnant the second I get that ring on your finger?" You burn with lust while he babbles on, wrapping your legs around his waist while his thrusts get rough and desperate. Your body shakes and quivers while his hips slam against you, filthy wet squelches filling the high ceilings of the room. Mixing with a symphony of both of your sighs and moans, the smell of your sweat mixing with his cologne. Slam, slam, slam, slam, slam. The headboard beating the wall between the windows with a thud over and over again. "I fucking love you," he grits out. "I love you, too," you whine, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Heat licks at your lower belly, building while the slight curve of his cock makes the head brush over your g-spot in rapid succession, "Baby, I'm..." "Yeah?" he asks with a knowing smile, "So close for me, hm?" He sits back on his calves, still able to thrust while he looks down at you. His thumb presses against your lips, asking for entry. You let him in, making sure to get it extra slick with your spit before he takes it out, reaching down to slide it in circles over your clit. "How's that, angel?" he asks, thrusts not showing a hint of slowing down, "Does that feel good?"

Your thighs shake, eyes pricking with tears, shining while they look up at him. Well he's pleased with himself, you think, making a mental note to throw him on his back tomorrow and ride him into next week until he's a babbling mess. "It does, huh?" he asks softly, nodding down at you while you nod up at him. "Shit," he huffs, "Oh fuck."

"Not so...oh my god, oh wow -- not so t-tough now, are you?" you giggle. He groans when you giggle, Why are you so fucking precious? he thinks to himself, Who allowed this?

Heat rises even more, the jewelry starting to feel clingy as it sticks to your shining skin. Steve keeps his pace, eyes closing softly while he leans his head back, the column of his neck begging to be bitten and kissed by you. You whimper, pulling at the clasp of the bracelet, tossing it onto the carpet next to the bed. Now there was $48,250 on the floor. Feeling less trapped and more desperate to destroy his neck and chest, you sit up, your manicured hand pressing against his hair covered pecs. It doesn't take long for him to allow it, looking up at you while you climb on top of him.

"That's it, honey, give it to me," he breathes, "Show me how bad you want it."

Your hips move with a slutty percision that he loves, grinding against him for your own pleasure and his. He hisses when you bite down on his neck, letting out a soft laugh when you pull at his hair, "Come for me, angel, c'mon." He hears you pant in his ear while you lean over him, the diamonds in your necklace shimmering in his eyes. You sigh, sitting up straight, unclasping the necklace while you bounce on top of him, gently tossing it to meet the bracelet. Now there was $198,250 on the floor. "Do not," he groans out, hands grabbing your hips with bruising grip, "Put those earrings on the ground, we will never find them until a post ends up in my fucking heel." You laugh, your own head leaning back, making him yearn to taste the column of your neck this time. But your laugh doesn't last long, it morphs into guttural moans while he holds you in place, thrusting up into you in an unforgiving speed. Steve gasps, watching your breasts bounce in front of him while he continues on unrelenting. "Baby..." You squeak out, "Steve...oh fuck, oh Steve -- Steve, Steve, Steve..." The heat builds and builds and builds. Your eyes water while his cock bullies into you. The head hitting your g-spot, pushing in deeper while he goes. You let out a cry, nails digging into his broad freckles shoulders while our hips slam down on him, thighs vibrating while white blooms behind your eyes.

"Good girl," He coos while you shake, collapsing onto his chest, "That's it, angel, that's my girl." He eases you onto your back again, giving you slow kisses on your neck and chest while he chases his own orgasm. It doesn't take long, nearly on the precipice of cumming since he zipped you up in your dress earlier in the evening. His mouth gapes while he sends his seed over your tummy, painting you with ropes of glistening white. "Jesus Christ..." he gasps, settling himself with some big deep breaths that expand his sculpted chest. You both look at each other, panting and sweating, the passion wearing off to a pure and gentle love for each other. You both start laughing. "We swear we're sexy," you laugh up at him. His smile makes you melt all over again. You watch him ease up off the bed, leaning forward from the side to kiss your forehead. He picks up the jewelry, inspecting it for missing gems, or - god forbid - a scratch, and places it carefully on the side table with his glasses. "Wanna get cleaned up with me?" he asks, tilting his head, "Can you stand?" "Oh please," you roll your eyes, sitting up slowly, "I can..sort of stand." You already feel the ache between your legs from taking him, knowing you'll need at least a day to recover from something so big. He helps you up, taking you into the en suite bathroom and getting the water just right for you to step into. "I'll be right back," he says, pulling you in for a kiss on the temple before he disappears in the steam. When he returns behind the glass of the standing shower, covered top to bottom in dark green tile, he passes you a glass of Malbec that matches his. "A little celebratory night cap," he says sweetly. "To closing the deal," you grin, giving his glass a clink to cheers. "To closing the deal," he says back before you both take a sip.

"I know you're not wearing those earings in the shower, Manhattan," he sighs, putting the glass on the product shelf out of the water. He reaches for you ears but you yelp playfully, stepping away from him, "You're gonna be the fuckin' death of me, honey. I swear."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x thick!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #pbv!steve #steve harrington fluff

[gracieheartspedro]

I Can See You

Joel Miller x fem! Reader

Hiya friends, I am back with part 2. This time, it gets juicy (; I'm planning on doing tons of parts to this story, so please give me feedback! I'm not used to writing smut, so this is all new to me.

Warnings: DBF! Joel, age gap-ish (reader is 25, Joel is 39), smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f recieving), fingering, workplace sex, joel being a little bit of a perv, reader not having a filter per usual.

Outline: After an encounter with his boss's daughter that was a bit inappropriate, Joel finds her a bit irresistible and teaches her a lesson in not dressing like a tease at the office.

Word count: 3.7k

PART 1

I was not looking forward to our usual monthly meeting. My father invited all the contractors and office crew to the conference room, where we made sure everyone knew the game plan of the month. I usually gave everyone a heads up on some delays in shipments and new clients. 

Which meant I had to stand in front of Joel Miller and my dad and talk about work. 

It had been over a week since I went to Joel’s house and “apologized” for almost fucking his brother. Last week he was hardly in the office, and when he was, he wouldn’t say anything but “hi” and “bye”. He was busy, I knew that. But I couldn’t help but stare at him when he was in the office. I wanted to say something to him. But I didn’t know how to catch his attention. 

After our talk, where I waltz into his house and he told me he liked to stare at me, I knew we were kind of on the same page. He was hard to read, I was too easy to read. He knew how to press my buttons. And God, did I need him to push all of them. 

If he liked to stare like the rest of them, I was going to give him a good reason to stare, I decided. 

I found a tight blue dress in the back of my closet and heels that were a bit higher than my usual. It wasn’t a dress I usually wore to work, but I could get away with it if I started the day wearing a sweater. 

I usually carpooled with my dad every morning, but he left before I even woke up for some reason. I chalk it up to meeting prep. 

So I grab a banana and my car keys and head to the office. 

—

I walk to my desk, anticipating everyone’s arrival. I hear my dad on the phone in his office, which meant it was going to be a rough start. If someone was bugging him before his second coffee, he was going to have a rough day.

I was the first desk people would see when they walked in, so I would be the first thing Joel would see, so I needed to be strategic in my welcome. 

I start printing out the usual outline for the monthly meeting, glancing up at the door every time it opened. As I was the last page printed, I grabbed my highlighter and started highlighting the most important parts of the meeting. It was routine at this point. 

I lean over my desk, my sweater hanging off my shoulders. I hear the door open and I lock eyes with Joel. And behind him, Tommy. 

He had wet hair, I could tell he must’ve been in a rush this morning. He wears a blue short sleeve button up and dark wash blue jeans. His boots are filthy from mud, which always tracks through the office. 

“Mornin’ Millers,” I say plainly, trying not to make it too obvious I was trying to grab his attention. 

“Mornin’,” Joel says groggily, “Everyone here before us?”

I finish my last line of highlighter and stand up straighter to really face him, “Yes sir.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with wonder in his eyes. Man this guy saw my tits too, I think for a second. The thought makes me cringe a bit. 

Tommy doesn’t frequent the office often since he’s not the boss of the work sites. He’s mainly Joel’s little helper. He always attends the meetings, just in case Joel or my dad need him to pick up slack somewhere. 

Joel doesn’t say anything, just opens the conference room door. He waves Tommy in, trying to grab his attention away from me. Joel stands against the door, waiting. 

“I’ll be in a second,” I say, grabbing all my pens and my phone, “Don’t wait up.”

He rolls his eyes and lets go of the door, letting it slam behind him. 

Play it cool.

My dad finally comes out of his office, giving me a confused look as I head to the door. 

“What’s the occasion?” He questions, gesturing towards my dress.

“You’re always bitching that I’m not even trying to dress business-y and now here I am, trying, and you-”

“Whatever, hun, just lets get this meeting done. I have a lot of shit to deal with when this is over. Got a long day of meetings downtown.”

I nod, knowingly. 

My heels clack against the marbled floor as I waltz into the room of about 8 men. 

The thing about being the boss’s daughter is, the men that work for him are never going to blatantly ogle you. They will do it when he’s not looking. So when Dad was setting up his screen on the TV, I watched as the older contractors stared at me up and down. I am not a very self conscious person, but old men just gross me out. These guys were old enough to be my grandfather at this point. 

Joel was different. He always kept his head down and looked outside the huge window, unless he had a genuine question. He always stayed later focused at work. No funny business. 

Today, I needed his full, undivided attention. 

So I slip my sweater off and start handing out the outlines. I get a few confused looks, but I keep my composure. 

“Okay gentlemen, good morning,” My dad starts, “We got a lot of shit this week. We have to finish the Locklane Property this Friday. I am having Joel oversee everything is in order there. The check hasn’t fully cleared, so we need everything perfect. It’s a big payday.”

I find my seat next to my dad, right across from Joel and Tommy. 

“The last few shipments for the Brier Woods property are delayed by the way,” I purse my lips, “But I can try to make some calls to speed that up. I know we need it done ASAP.”

“Any status on those kitchen sinks you put in for last month?” Joel asks, directing his question at me. I cock my eyebrow, not expecting a question from him so quickly.

“Not yet,” I lean back in my chair, “But when I get in touch with them, you’re the first person I’ll call.”

“Much ‘preciated,” He mumbles, his eyes go back to scanning the outline. My dad starts his normal speech about not staying on the job too long and how he wants to make sure his crews are being treated fairly. This was normally directed to the older contractors, who treated their crews like shit and constantly overworked them. 

The meeting is usually about 30 minutes long, so when we finish up final talks, my dad practically races back to his office to grab his car keys and leave for downtown. All the other men mosy out of the room and to their work trucks. I watch Tommy eyeball me from across the room while I clean up some spilled coffee and all the outlines littering the table. I look up at him, giving him a slight nod and wave. 

“Have a good day, Tommy,” I say, acknowledging him for the first time since almost fucking him. He smiles, giving me a kurt nod. He walks out of the room with another guy, while Joel hangs around typing on his phone. 

Once he notices everyone is gone, he speaks up. 

“That a new dress?”

My heart rate picks up. I clutch the papers against my chest, “Not new, just never worn.”

He stands up, putting a tooth pick in his mouth. 

“Never wear it again,” He says sternly. I watch him come closer to me, his shoulder lined up next to mine, “Ya’ tease.”

He starts for the door, leaving me as practically a puddle on the floor. 

I find my voice, grabbing his wrist to prevent him from walking further, “Only if by the end of the day, you’re the one taking it off.”

I never have seen a man move so fast, turning on his heels to face me. He’s centimeters away, I can smell his aftershave and his shampoo. 

“Playin’ a dangerous game there, sweetheart,” He murmurs, “You know better, right?”

I smile, inching closer, “Guess I don’t.”

He doesn’t smile back at the little game I’m trying to play, “I’m comin’ back on my lunch.”

And he leaves.

—-

I was just glad that everyone left at the same time during the day for lunch in the office. 

When 12 o’clock hits, everyone in the office bids me farewell for their hour and a half lunch. As one of the assistants opens the front door to leave, she holds the door for, you guessed it, Joel. He strides over to my desk slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. 

“Is anyone here?”

I shake my head, “All left on their breaks.”

I stand up, finding my way to the other side of my desk where he stood. 

“Why did you come back?” I question, leaning against my desk, moving some of the papers with my butt.

I am so nervous but I am still trying to play it cool. I spent all morning anticipating his arrival that I hardly did my job. I couldn’t make a phone call, I couldn’t answer a single email, I was so in my own head. What was he going to do when he got here?

“I don’t really know,” he licks his lips, “Just know ’m eager to have you alone again.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. After all these years of this man practically ignoring my existence, and here he is, eager to be alone?

“Oh really?”

He positions himself in between my legs, wrapping his arms around my waist. His biceps are tight against his shirt when he flexes like this. 

“And these fuckin’ dresses you’ve been wearing?” He scans my body like I’m something he wants to eat, “Has me thinking of all the things I should’ve done when I had you with your tits out in your bedroom.”

I laugh, a little too hard, “You mean when Tommy had my tits out?”

He shakes his head, grabbing my face with his hand. His hand is so big and his fingers so long, he takes up a lot of my face. 

That stops my laughter. 

“Tell me,” He mutters, “Why did you want him so bad?”

He doesn’t release my face, so I just shake my head.

He finally lets me go, his other arm still tightly around me. 

“You left me high and dry after tying up my bikini,” I say, my arms finding their way to behind his neck, “And you were too busy with the new neighborhood MILF.”

I slide a bit more off the desk and onto his right leg. My dress is slowly riding up. If I would’ve known this little dress caused such a stir, I would have worn it months ago. 

“Oh, so you were jealous?”

I felt a pang of embarrassment. I shake my head, “No, no, I just-”

“You are a terrible liar, sweetheart.”

I press myself into him a bit harder, my underwear finally making contact with his jeans. He looks down at what I’m doing, his head shaking. 

“Whatcha doin’ there?”

I smirk, using his grip on me to my advantage. I wrap my legs around his one leg, pressing myself even harder against him. 

“Don’t want anyone seeing us,” I whisper into his ear, “We should finish this somewhere else.”

He nods in agreement, knowing exactly where I was going with this. The only two places that have shades on the windows was my dad’s office and the conference room, so I choose the respectable thing and lead him into the conference room. I draw the shades, while he shuts the door and locks it. 

I walk over to him, my arms finding his neck again. He purses his lips, “I don’t think you realize how badly I wanted to bend you over this table this mornin’.”

Those same pursed lips, find their way to my exposed neck. I was already wet, but there’s something about someone’s breath on my neck. It went straight to in between my legs. 

“You should’ve,” I practically moan, “Right in front of everyone.”

He chuckles darkly, “Right in front of Tommy? Poor guy is down bad for you.”

I pull him away from me for a second, “Do you feel bad doing this?”

He shakes his head, “Fuck no, that guy gets every pussy that comes his way, this one is mine.”

This one is mine. 

I was fucking soaked at this point. 

“Is it?” Is all I can say, because his tongue is back on my neck and chest. He mindlessly tugs up my dress some more, exposing my panties. He uses one arm to lift me onto the conference table, my bare legs getting chills from the cold table top. 

I have been with 3 guys total, and not one of them had ever eaten me out. My first boyfriend was inexperienced and terrified to hurt me. He always told me “we would get around to it” but let’s just say, the relationship ended as quickly as he finished inside me. The other two were one night stands and I was too drunk to remember if they even touched my pussy with anything but their dicks. 

So when he gets eye level with my wet stained panties, I get a bit nervous. I clench my legs together a bit. 

“You gettin’ shy on me?”

I bite my lip, “No one has ever gone down on me.”

He leans back a bit on his knees, “You’re not a virgin are y-”

“No, no, Joel,” I quickly quip up, “I just never had a guy eat me out before. No guy has even shown initiative so I just let them fuck me.”

He looks flabbergasted, before spreading my legs again with his right hand. 

“These boys these days don’t know what the fuck they’re missin’,” He kisses my inner thighs, “Lemme take care of you, girl.”

He kisses my inner thighs, taking his sweet time. Watching him from this angle reminds me of seeing him trying to get those serving plates. He was so handsome, his dark hair falling around his ears. 

His lips eventually find my mound, which sends me into a moaning mess. I lean back, resting my elbows on the table. He uses one hand to keep me in my position, all while using the other to pull my panties off. 

He looks so focused, so driven and hungry. 

“Please,” I whimper, “Please Joel, do something.”

He smirks, “Very eager, little one.”

He licks one long stripe on my slit, my whole body freezes up for a second. He continues, diving deeper into me. He swirls his tongue everywhere. The sounds are pornographic, wet and so fucking hot. 

He presses harder down on my stomach, trying to keep me from moving. 

He brings his other hand up, his two fingers run through my heat. He releases my stomach for a moment, standing up from his spot on the floor. He then lifts his other hand up to my face. 

“Suck ‘em baby, get them nice and wet.”

I grab them with one hand, sticking them into my mouth. I lick and suck them like my life depended on it. Joel’s eyes get darker watching me moan around his fingers. He removes them, those two fingers finding my slit. 

“Gonna open you up some,” he mutters, “Not done eating ya.”

He returns to his knees, using his middle and ring finger now. He’s pushing them in skillfully, before pressing his lips onto my mound again. He starts fucking me slowly, his tongue running up and down my hot slit. 

He sets a pace, his fingers hooking inside me a bit, pressing me in spots I didn’t even know existed. 

“Holy fuck-” I groan, my hands finding his hair, “Don’t stop.”

His mouth finds my clit again, and that’s when I know I’m done for. He’s sucking so good, I can’t even think straight. 

Between the sounds and his expertise, I feel that familiar build up I feel when I’m touching myself. It feels hot in my lower stomach. I feel my legs and arms tense up. He feels it too, removing his mouth from me and focusing on using his fingers. 

“You gonna cum on my fingers? Go on, cum for me.” 

It throws me over the edge, my whole body tenses up. As I do that, his hands leave my tight hole and he starts to rub his entire hand over my clit. The continuous stimulation makes me feel something I’ve never felt before. I watch his jaw tighten as I cum all over him. 

“Jesus, fucking Christ, Joel.”

As I’m trying to catch my breath, I notice him undoing his belt. 

“I’m not done yet, girl,” He mumbles, “I still have so much I want to do to you.”

He pulls his pants down, keeping his shirt on. But I wanted to see all of him. 

“Take your shirt off,” I say, “I want to see you.”

“No time for that,” He groans, letting his dick free from his briefs. 

I practically gasp. 

He’s fucking huge. Bigger than I’ve ever been with, for sure. I knew he’d be hung, but for God’s sake, was that going to fit in me?

“Don’t worry, little one,” He says, noticing my jarred face, “It’ll fit.”

It’s like he reading my fucking mind. 

He finds his way on top of me. I realize all this foreplay, and he still hasn’t kissed me. 

“Joel,” I murmur, his face inches from me, “Kiss me.”

I capture his lips before he can respond. 

It was a patient kiss, at first. When I try to slip my tongue into his mouth, he starts to get a little more passionate with it. I can taste myself on his tongue, which turns me on more than I thought it would.

I was so lost in the kiss, I didn’t even realize he was starting to run his dick along my entrance. When it touches my clit, I pull away from the kiss with a hiss.

“Gonna ease it in,” He grabs ahold of his shaft, guiding it through my heat before settling right on my entrance. 

He pushes forward. I’ve never felt such delicious pressure in my life. I was still sensitive from the first orgasm, that as soon as he continued pressing himself into me, I was a moaning mess. 

He grabs my face again, pulling me up to meet his eyes. 

“More,” I moan, relaxing a bit so he could fill me up. And fill me up he did. 

“Goddamn,” He groans, “So fuckin’ tight.”

Once I adjust for a moment, he removes his hand from my face and lifts my legs up and places them around his hips. I notice I still have my heels on, which only feeds into this workplace fantasy I had imagined before he got here. God this was so dirty. 

He starts to move, his hips snapping into mine at a gentle pace. But something comes over me while he grinding into me. 

He’s watching himself disappear inside me, taking his time. 

“Joel,” I moan, “Fuck me harder.”

He chuckles lowly, “Oh, you ready for that?”

“Pleas-”

He snaps forward, settling into a brutal pace. I couldn’t help but moan out whenever his pelvis rubbed against me for a second. The table was squeaking and moving under us, but Joel just held me in place while pounding into me.

He reaches out, wrapping his hand around my throat. 

“Gonna be a good girl for me,” He’s clenching his teeth while he fucks me, like he’s holding back a little, “Aren’t ya?”

“Yes, sir, yes,” I strain out, not even realizing what I’m saying. 

“Oh my god, girl,” He’s going even faster, like he’s chasing his own orgasm, “Keep sayin’ that.”

He puts those expert fingers to good use again, reaching between us, and finding my clit. It takes less than a minute for him to get me back to the edge, my body starts shaking involuntarily. I had no control over it. 

“Oh my god, please sir!”

I lurch up, wrapping my entire body around him. 

“Squeezing me, baby,” He moans, “That’s right baby, cum all over this cock.”

It’s something I’ve never experienced while having sex. The concept of cumming at the same time seemed like something that only happened in porn or my favorite romance novels. 

But we did. 

We moan in unison, falling over the edge of our highs. He goes to pull out, but I hold him tighter, making him cum right inside me. As soon as we catch our breaths, he let’s go of my upper body slowly. 

“I came inside ya,” He mutters, easing himself out of me. It makes me feel so unbelievably empty. 

“I’m on birth control,” I explain, in between my gasps, “Wanted you to.”

He starts to pull his pants up, stuffing his softening cock into his briefs and away from my view. When he notices me staring, he stands back, getting a good look of me. 

“You look so fucking hot with my cum leaking out of you.”

A sentence I never thought I’d ever hear from Joel Miller. 

I smile, finding my footing on the ground, still kind of wobbly from having the life fucked out of me. I shimmy my dress down to cover my ass again. I glance around the room, trying to find my underwear. He knows exactly what I’m looking for, clearing his throat. 

I look up at him and see he has my underwear on his pointer finger. He gestures for me to grab them, but I think of an even better idea. I grab them from him and ball them up. I grab his belt loop, pulling him towards me. I slide the panties in his back pocket, all the while giving him a shit eating grin. 

“You’re bad news, little one.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #dbf joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot

[cobaltperun]

Woe out the Storm (3) - Thunder

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 3.3k

-I was lightning before the thunder-

The Harvest Festival, frankly, you preferred it over the Outreach Day, for plenty of reasons. One of which was easily the fact you could just kick back and relax instead of working for people that despised everything you and other students were against your free will.

The only issue was you couldn't relax this year. Wednesday would escape tonight, meaning tonight was Rowan's last chance to try something.

And then there was Galpin... Talking with his father. Now, you did hear he stopped bullying people with the other three, but you found it difficult to forgive and forget.

You frowned and looked at Wednesday. "Really, Galpin is the one driving you?" you couldn't help but ask.

"I don't see how it concerns you," Wednesday replied.

You nodded, simply choosing to back away. Wednesday wasn't helpless, and who she interacted with definitely didn't have anything to do with you.

"Obvious dislike aside, are you sure you can trust that normie?" Enid asked, though she did send you a bit of a teasing smile.

"I trust that I can handle myself," Wednesday replied. Considering what she did against Bianca you found it difficult to disagree.

"Well, good luck and safe travels," Enid stepped toward her with her arms spread wide, only for Wednesday to decisively take a step back. "Still not a hugger. Got it," Enid shrugged, smiling at the girl.

"If you change your mind a third of that room is going to stay yours," you grinned.

"Until Weems puts someone else in," Wednesday told you.

Your grin turned into a smirk as you lifted your hand up and allowed a few sparks to appear around it. Just for a moment you thought you saw a spark of interest in Wednesday's eyes as she observed the sparks. "Nope, I'll personally make them ask for another room." you promised.

Enid coughed and elbowed your side.

You winced. She sometimes forgot her strength. "Nicely, of course, I'll keep my lightning to myself."

Wednesday tilted her head to the side by less than an inch. "Pity," she said.

You leaned to the side, shifting most of your weight to your right foot, you weren't sure how to take those words. "Since I won't be seeing you again, I, uh, I think you're great with the cello," there, a compliment to end the brief time together. That shouldn't make Wednesday uncomfortable, right?

Her eyes met yours and you felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of her stare. "Thank you," she eventually spoke up and the three of you parted ways soon after.

The moment Wednesday was out of sight Enid clasped your shoulder and smiled sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, Y/N."

"Huh?"

"You don't have to pretend, I don't get what you see in her, but you don't have to hide it from me," somehow Enid got the wrong idea.

You sighed. This was your life now. Enid thought you had unrequited feelings for Wednesday. "Look, I know I can't change your mind," she enthusiastically nodded at that. "So, I’ll take a page out of Wednesday's book, somewhat. If you gossip about those feelings you claim I have, I'll fry your stuffed unicorn collection."

Enid squealed and bounced excitedly. "OMG! You do have feelings for her!" she wasn't going to let this go and you didn't even know how she came to that conclusion! Her eyes widened suddenly. "Go after her! Go!" in less than a second she was behind you and pushing you in the direction Wednesday went. "At least find a way to exchange letters with her if you can't convince her to stay!"

"Enid," you groaned, facepalming as you dug your feet into the ground to try and keep her from pushing you. All that achieved was two rows of dug up ground behind you. From the corner of your eye you saw Rowan, even more agitated and anxious than he was back when you confronted him in his and Xavier's room. "I have to go," you said, moving so abruptly Enid stumbled and almost fell to the ground.

~X~

Wednesday only touched Rowan for a moment, but it was more than enough. She saw flashes, glimpses of what was to come, all vague and unrelated, painting a picture she couldn't understand. She saw the purple book, the flames, the tree in the quad breaking into pieces, the raven surrounded by lightning, a glimpse of a blonde woman holding a bloodied hand and crying as blue eyes closed, red eyes turning orange, herself surrounded by cloud of dust and smoke with a huge beast surrounded by lightning standing over her trapping her, Rowan screaming as he was being torn apart by claws. And then the vision stopped

"Rowan, come back!" she ran after him, ignoring Tyler calling after her. She didn't understand why she was running, why she wished to prevent the last vision from coming true. Perhaps she just wanted to see if everything she saw was true, or if it somehow could be changed.

"Rowan, wait!" she shouted as she followed him deeper into the woods, the only signs of the festival that remained were occasional flashes of firework and the sounds they made.

Rowan stopped and turned toward her, furious and looking unhinged. "Argh! What do you want? Why are you following me?!"

"I don't have time to explain, but you're in danger," she wouldn't tell him about the vision, she didn't know how much time she had.

"I think you've got it backwards," he lifted his hand and suddenly Wednesday felt an invisible force lifting her up and slamming her back into a tree.

Even with her pain tolerance she still grunted, feeling the trunk digging into her back uncomfortably.

"You're the one who's in danger!" Rowan told her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, and though she struggled it was futile. She couldn't get free.

"Saving everyone from you," he grunted, straining to keep her pinned to the tree. "I have to kill you."

That's when she pieced it together. "The gargoyle, that was you?"

"Yeah," he even smiled a bit.

"It's always the quiet ones," Wednesday commented as a piece of paper floated out of Rowan's pocket and unfolded in front of her. She saw a girl, dressed in black, with the background that looked like quad, only on fire.

"Girl in the picture, that's you," he said, she could feel the strain in his voice, but the force pinning her to a tree only got stronger.

"You want to kill me because of some picture?!" that was a ridiculous reason to kill someone, even for her standards.

"My mother drew that picture 25 years ago when she was a student at Nevermore! She was a powerful Seer. Told me about it before she died," Rowan yelled, as if that fact made his excuse for trying to kill her any better.

"Rowan, put me down," she demanded, his powers made it harder to breathe. He was choking her; he wasn't going to stop.

"No! My mother said it was my destiny to stop this girl if she ever came to Nevermore because she will destroy the school and everyone in it!" he cried out as Wednesday became unable to breathe.

"Rowan! Let her go!" she heard your voice and looked to the side, just as you threw a knife toward Rowan. Your aim was awful. He didn't even need to move and it would miss him by at least two feet.

And then she saw it, just as the knife was about to reach Rowan your body was engulfed in red lightning and you disappeared, your entire body shifting into lightning and bursting forth toward the knife. Wednesday watched, speechless as your body regained form right in front of Rowan, the knife in your left hand, and you, too fast for him to react.

You slammed your fist into his guts, sending him flying back, though she couldn't help but notice you didn't use lightning for the punch, just the natural momentum and strength you had. It still sent Rowan flying.

It also broke his hold on Wednesday and you threw the knife toward the tree, zapping toward it just in time to catch her before she fell to the ground. Wednesday blinked, still dazed by what just happened as you set her down and knelt in front of her. you weren't touching her, but she could clearly see the concern in your eyes.

"Are you hurt?" you asked, looking for any visible signs of injuries.

"I'm fine," she denied having any injuries. What were you thinking? That she'd show vulnerability to you just like that?

"Y/N!" Rowan enraged, bellowed as he got up to his knees and raised his arm. Your eyes widened as you were pulled into the air.

"Wait, Rowan!" Wednesday found herself shouting as she tried to get up.

"I'll kill you after I'm done with Y/N!" he had lost his mind completely, the madness in his eyes made that clear.

"Bring it! I'll show you exactly why Weems and the staff dread the storms!" you thundered, lightning gathered around you and began concentrating in a ball above your head. "Give up or I'll drop this on you! Forget all this madness!" despite the anger she could hear you pleading deep down for Rowan to just listen to you.

You never got a chance to do so, as a monster emerged from the shadows and grabbed Rowan, slicing and tearing him apart with its claws.

You dropped to the ground, landing on one knee. You were too surprised by the monster's appearance to maintain the ball of lightning. The monster turned to look at you two, with its bulging eyes, hunched back, sharp claws and greyish skin it was unlike anything Wednesday saw in her life.

"That's an," did you recognize the monster? "...oversized Gollum?" she expected too much from you...

~X~

The oversized Gollum fled and you and Wednesday were left with Rowan's corpse. You didn't need to be an expert to see he was ripped open by those claw and dead.

You watched, wondering if there was anything you could have done. You had your lightning ready, but you just couldn't react in time. Were you going to hurt Rowan? Yeah, as far as that went you couldn't say you were any better than the monster that attacked him, but you weren't going to kill him, as strong as the lightning you gathered looked. You were going to aim for the ground in front of him, close enough to knock him out from the shock, but not nearly close enough to kill him.

You were frantically looking around, searching for any signs of the monster coming back, but it looked like it really left.

"We need to get someone," there was an urgency in Wednesday's voice you didn't quite expect, but you could see her legs shaking slightly. Shock from Rowan's death? No. She didn't look shaken. Was it the hit she took when he tossed her into the tree?

Deciding that it was probably that you nodded and followed closely behind her, just in case she couldn't keep standing. Damn Xavier for slowing you down, maybe all of this could have been avoided if you were only a minute quicker.

The first person you came across was Bianca and you noticed Wednesday faltering just for a split second. "Rowan was killed by a monster, I don't have time to explain, just get someone," Wednesday opened straight with that.

Bianca's eyes widened. "Are you crazy? What are you talking about?"

But before Wednesday could reply she began falling forward. "Wednesday," you caught her and turned her around in your arms. She was unconscious. "Bianca we both saw him get killed. Get someone, I need to take Wednesday back to the dorm," you knew you were putting your life at risk by doing so, and that Wednesday probably knew roughly ta thousand different ways to inflict pain, give or take a few hundred, and that she'd be more than eager to put you through them. You still picked her up. "Please don't wake up," you pleaded, but your gaze softened. Wednesday looked peaceful and you couldn't help but notice how light and small she actually was. "I got you, I know you can't hear me, but I got you."

~X~

In the most ridiculous turn of events Rowan was actually alive, even though he clearly got killed less than 24 hours ago. How was that possible? You had no idea. You just knew the entire school thought you and Wednesday made that up. So, here you were, in the woods, looking for anything that could prove the two of you weren’t crazy.

And you found it, you found Rowan’s glasses with drops of blood on them. With glasses in your hand you went back to your dorm. Someone was covering things up.

When you came back to the room you found Wednesday and Thing at her table, looking at the drawing she took from Rowan. You placed the glasses on her table, near Thing. "Someone is covering this up," you went to her other side and leaned back against her table, your hands gripping the edge of it.

"These are Rowan's. You went to the woods?" she demanded, looking at you with slightly widened eyes.

You nodded. "I wasn't sure if the oversized Gollum was still there, so I went alone," you heard tapping and saw Thing rapidly signing to you. Somehow you understood. "I wasn't being reckless, I'm a raiju," in your mind that was all the explanation you needed to give.

"Don't do that again," Wednesday stated firmly. "I want to make sure we don't miss any clues," she said and then showed you the drawing. "I need to know what this is about."

That made sense. "Any clues as to where that's from?"

"No," she then pointed at the upper right corner. "But I noticed this just before you came in," there was a mark there, it was faint, but you could see it.

"Looks like a flower? I guess?" you couldn't offer much aside from that. You've never seen it before.

"Let's go to the library," she stood up from her chair and Thing went into her bag.

“You can go ahead first, I’ll join you in a bit,” you figured she was too eager to search for the book to let you go into the library first.

“Why?” she immediately asked.

You looked away, embarrassed. “The rumors, I guess? Most people go to the library for reasons that don’t have anything to do with books, if you get what I mean,” when she remained silent, and more importantly when she maintained that same look that inquired you to keep going, you were left with no other choice but to sigh and elaborate. “Making out. Most people make out in the library. So, we go there together and it won’t take Enid’s vlog for half the school to think we’re doing the same,” she was already deemed a psycho by most of the school, and the rumors that she killed someone could still be heard every now and then. Add in the fact that the entire school thought the two of you made up Rowan’s murder and as far as you were concerned the last thing Wednesday needed right now was for people to think she was with a raiju of all outcast groups.

Wednesday just frowned, tilting her head the same way she did during the festival. “Do not assume I care about such trivial rumors. Come on,” she was already halfway to the doors by the time you processed what she just said.

“Wednesday, I’m a raiju,” you reminded her, but still followed. She wasn’t going to stop and talk about this.

“I don’t see an issue with that, lightning beast. You can back out if you’re so sensitive about rumors,” she said evenly, there wasn’t a hint of hesitation, or any emotion in her voice, it was as if she was just stating a fact.

You could just watch her back, not entirely sure how to feel at the moment. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

That got Wednesday to stop and turn around to look at you. “Then you should know I don’t care if they think I’m with you,” she just said it. As if she didn’t just say it didn’t matter what you were. That it didn’t matter you were a raiju. Sure, there were more dangerous outcasts, but raiju were solitary creatures. Docile, but uncontrollable, and you weren’t talking about just storms. That could be controlled, with time and practice you’d be able to stay in the rain and not worry about uncontrollable discharges. No, it was the beast form. Untamable, driven by instincts, unable to speak or fully grasp the situation it was in. Lightning is only capable of destruction and that form was the embodiment of lightning. Even with all the efforts you put into learning how to control your lightning you’d never, under any but direst circumstances, willingly shift into the actual raiju form.

Your father, as much as he cared about his roommate while at Nevermore, still lost control when he shifted and the man and his brother barely avoided being killed during a particularly bad storm. The fear of doing the same was what made you so adamant on staying in control all the time.

And here Wednesday was, acting as if rumors about her being with a raiju wouldn’t bother her.

All you could was to let out a weak laugh and go after the girl to the library.

~X~

Basically bursting into the library the two of you were met with the sight you expected to see. Heavy make out session of two students, vampires this time. You awkwardly looked to the side, not really wanting to meet their eyes as they fled the library, embarrassed to be caught.

Wednesday, for whatever reason, and against your expectations, didn’t seem to be affected by what she saw. She just went straight into searching for the book. Thing got out of her backpack and began searching as well, so you did too. You looked for anything purple that had the mark on the page Wednesday had.

"I keep seeing that same purple book," Wednesday said to thing after you showed her yet another shade of purple that didn’t match what she was looking for.

Apparently, Thing didn’t have much luck either. "The cover was darker, more like a day-old contusion, keep looking."

“That’s one way to describe a color,” you grinned at her, but before she could reply, if she was even going to reply, the doors opened and the two of you looked up to see Thornhill at the top of the stairs. Thing quickly hid behind the books.

"I don't usually find students in here looking for actual books," Thornhill said as she came down the stairs. "Most sneak in to make out."

"We accidentally walked in on two vampires fanging, I can't unsee that," Wednesday said and you looked away, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I’ll come back later, if you don’t mind,” you said, not really wanting to spend time with the woman. You couldn’t get the look in her eyes out of your head whenever you saw her. That look of fear she had when she saw you electrocuting Tyler and his friends on the previous Outreach day. It was barely stronger than a taser, but it could have been stronger, and no matter what was said or done your and Thornhill’s relationship was permanently and irrevocably damaged. Hence, why you didn’t pay attention to her classes and did the tests just well enough to pass them.

"Sorry about that, I'm afraid Y/N and I got off on the wrong foot," you heard Thornhill saying as you left the library.

A/N: So, I'm just gonna say it right now. In the middle of writing this chapter, I was struck with sudden inspiration and I skipped way ahead and wrote the ending scene. You are probably going to hate me when you read it. (No, Reader doesn't die, in case anyone considered that for a moment.) So, yeah, until next time, bye!

#wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #jenna ortega x reader

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Behind the Crime

Warren Lipka x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, dominate warren, underage drinking, underage smoking, use of marijuana, rough sex, hint of choking, talk of robbery, um yeah i think that’s it

summary: from the moment you were brought into the heist, you knew working with warren was going to be hard…

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for not posting guys i have not been on the grind lately. i watched this movie and omfg evan was so attractive i just needed to write. if you’re the real warren lipka just scroll this is about evan…

~~~

You sit back in your chair, the crew members adjusting your mic. You’re starting to regret doing this interview, but it’s too late to back out now. Everything’s already set up, the camera is about to be rolling. The interviewer is sitting a few feet away from you, notes in his hand. He waits for you to give him the signal that you’re ready. You nod, he begins.

“So, y/n, how did you become involved with the group?” He asks.

“I was first approached by Spencer when I was eating lunch outside one day...”

~~~

You were sitting alone, the cool fall breeze almost too cold to be comforting. You didn’t pay much mind to it though, you were more focussed on your studying. You were flipping through the pages of another history article when suddenly there was a presence beside you. Looking up at them as soon as you noticed, you recognized the boy as someone from your class.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your tone polite.

He looked nervous as if he were about to ask you out. “Hi, uh, I don’t know if you remember my name, I’m Spencer we have Art History together.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you,” you replied. “Do you need help with the homework or something?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, if you’re not busy or anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

You look away for a second before replying. “Sure, sit down if you want I’m not busy.”

He smiled at you before quickly sitting at the spot across from you. He put his bag on the table, you could see him take a deep breath. Was he really going to ask you out? You thought he was cute, but definitely not your type. You started to pray he wouldn’t say anything along those lines.

“I started to ask around a week or two ago about people who are good with computers and stuff, a lot of people told me you were the best person to go to,” he started. He lacked confidence in his voice, you felt bad for the poor guy but paid close attention to his words. “I need some... help with cameras.”

“What kind of cameras?” You asked, intrigued.

What he was saying was true, you were decently good with computers. You mostly would hack into places and disable things you didn’t like, like the cameras on the public library computers. It wasn’t anything illegal, at least you didn’t think it was illegal. It probably was, but you didn’t care.

“Just you know cameras in... semipublic places...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what kind though? Phone, laptop, desktop, security?”

“Security,” he answered quietly. “But before you say no listen, how does a couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of payment sound?

“What?”

“I won’t tell you the details till I know you’re on board but let's just say something is going down and we need help with the cameras. The pay would be huge and all you’d have to do is just mess with some cameras for like twenty minutes.”

You only stared at him; your mouth slightly hung open. Was he being serious? Was he really asking you to join him in a potential robbery that would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars? You never would’ve expected to be asked such a question on a cloudy Thursday at lunch. You shut your book completely and look around to make sure nobody is close.

“This money, it’s guaranteed?”

He nods. “As long as we get the job done, you’ll have it.”

You knew it was crazy, you knew whatever was going to happen would either result in you going to prison or having to run off into hiding. But the thought of being able to pay all your student loans off and have extra money to live off of was more appealing. Hacking into cameras wasn’t that hard, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Unless it was.

“If you’re trying to get me to make sure a murder or rape isn’t on camera I’ll snitch,” you warned him.

“Oh no, nothing like that is happening at all. It’s just you know a robbery,” he replied, his expression genuine.

You nodded your head, convinced whatever he was asking couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.”

~~~

“What was your first impression of the guys?

You smile. “They were really cool, funny, just overall really fun people to hang out with.”

“Do you remember the first time you met all of them?”

“Of course, like it was yesterday...”

~~~

The house you sat in front of didn’t look like a typical criminal's house. It looked like an average American’s family house actually. You were parked out on the road outside the house Spencer told you to go to, you were meeting the rest of the people involved with the robbery. It had been about ten minutes of you sitting out there debating whether or not to go in before you got a text from Spencer asking where you were. You sighed, praying to God this decision was the right one before getting out of your car.

You knocked on the front door with a shaky fist. You started to regret your decision, you thought about turning around and leaving, but the door was opened before you could act on it. An older woman stood in front of you, she looked to be in her 50s.

“Oh, you’re very pretty,” she said, making your cheeks turn red. “You’re here to see Warren, right?”

You had no idea who Warren was, but you nodded. The lady's smile grew, and she opened the door for you and ushered you inside. She directed you to the basement entrance, asking you a million questions you had no answers to. After those few but excruciating painful minutes though, you walked down the basement stairs and finally caught sight of Spencer.

There were three other guys in the room and all of their eyes were on you. Two, along with Spencer, were sitting on a couch. One of them was skinny with glasses, the other muscular with no glasses. They didn’t grasp your attention though. The last guy who was standing did. He had long dark curly hair, and eyes to match. His eyes met yours before you watched them slowly move up and down your body. You didn’t know how to react.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Spencer said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, I’m Eric,” the guy with glasses introduced himself.

“Chas,” the muscular guy spoke, not paying much attention to you. “Are you sure this was a good idea, Spence? How much do we really know about this chick? No offense.”

“Shut up, we agreed,” Spencer hissed. He waved you over and you complied, walking to the couch and sitting on the end beside him.

The standing guy took a step forward and held out his hand to you. You looked up at him before accepting his handshake. His hand was rough, you liked the feeling of it in yours. “I’m Warren and you are our cameraman or woman I guess.”

You laughed. “I guess.”

“How much has Spencer told you?” Warren asked after letting go of your hand and stepping back. It was then you noticed the maps on the wall with drawings all over them, the layout looked familiar.

“Just that I need to hack some cameras and that it’ll pay me a lot,” you answered. “I don’t even know what you guys are stealing.”

“Well y/n, I’m sure you’ve been to your own school's library right?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever taken a tour of the library’s rare book collection?”

You nodded again.

Warren smirked. “Then you know exactly what we’re stealing.”

Your face fell and you immediately looked at Spencer and the rest of the guys. “Are you serious? You guys want to steal historic books?”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Chas mumbled from his chair.

“Shut up Chas,” Warren quickly snapped. He looked back at you, his dark eyes engulfing yours completely. “We’ve been planning this out for months, and you are the last piece to our puzzle y/n. Think about how much you’ll be earning.”

You didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a bad idea.

~~~

“Chas eventually stopped being cold to me, I actually think in the end he became my closest friend in the group,” you say, finishing your story.

The interviewer gives you a look. “Well, besides Warren right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, a confused look on your face.

“I have to ask if the stories are true, you know about you and him. The other guys say something changed between the two of you after a party you all attended. I mean, didn’t the police even question if your involvement had a deeper meaning than simply the money?”

You shake your head, giving your best performance. “Me and Warren were only ever best friends, there was never a deeper meaning behind anything.”

~~~

Music was pumping through your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head you could feel it. It had been a few weeks since you met the guys, and they all wanted to do something fun before the heist. So, a frat party was naturally the easiest option. That’s where you were now, already two shots and half a joint in. You didn’t know where Spencer, Nick, and Warren were, but Chas was dancing with you.

Though the two of you got off on the wrong foot, you and Chas quickly learned how well you get along. He was a good friend, all of the guys were. You liked how easily they could make you laugh and brighten your mood. They were all good people who you enjoyed being around.

Warren was the only one that you felt different for. You didn’t know why, but from the first day you met you knew your feelings for him would be different than the other three. The way he looked at you alone was completely different than the others. There was always something darker in his eyes, something you knew wasn’t supposed to be there for simply a friend. Every time the two of you looked at each other, your stomach filled with butterflies. You wanted it too. But in those first few weeks, nothing had happened. No matter how much either of you wanted it.

After some minutes of you and Chas dancing, Warren and Spencer appeared. They asked if the two of you wanted to go out and smoke, you both agreed and followed them outside the back. Not too many people were in the backyard, but there were enough for there to be a bonfire going. The four of you found an empty spot near the fire and sat down. Warren took out a joint and lit it before passing it around.

“Where’s Nick?” You asked after taking a hit.

Spencer shrugged. “Probably with the weird kids doing weird stuff.”

“He’s not that weird,” Chas replied. “He’s just awkward.”

You watched as Warren took another long hit of the joint. Because of the weed and alcohol, you found yourself even more attracted to him than when you were sober. You wanted so desperately to run your fingers through his hair, you wanted to hear his voice as you touched him. He suddenly met your gaze, his lips curled up into a mesmerizing smile. You wanted to kiss him. It was too much for you to handle.

You swallowed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your shorts. “I need to um use the bathroom.”

You didn’t wait for any of their replies. Instead, you rushed back into the house straight to the kitchen. You poured yourself a shot, downing it before giving it a second thought. You needed these feelings to go away. How were you supposed to work with Warren if you couldn’t even look at him without thinking about having sex with him? It made you feel awful. A hookup couldn’t be the reason the robbery went bad, you refused to let that happen.

After another shot, you started to forget about your feelings. In fact, you started to forget about Warren completely. All you felt was the burning sensation of the alcohol in your stomach and chest, it felt good. You stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway, grabbing the railings of the staircase for support. Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you, their hand on your back.

“Y/N, are you good?” It was Warren.

You turned your head and looked at him, God how could he look even better? “No- I’m not okay.”

“You’re wasted, you need some water,” he said. He moved his hand around your waist and pulled you up straight. You felt like you were on fire. “Come on, back to the kitchen.”

“Why are you here? I just- I just wanna forget about you,” you mumbled.

He started helping you walk back to the kitchen. “What? Why would you want to forget about me?”

“Because... I want you but I can’t have you. I thought you- felt the same that’s why it’s been so hard to resist,” you spoke, stumbling over your words. “I can’t look at you without thinking about you fucking me.”

Even in your drunken state, you could still see the cockiness on Warren’s face. He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly before turning and getting you a cup of water. You leaned your head back against one of the cabinets, your head was spinning. You couldn’t think straight.

“Drink,” Warren’s voice filled your ears.

You lifted your head and grabbed the solo cup from his hand, downing the water faster than ever. When you finished, you threw the cup to the floor, your eyes meeting Warren’s once again. He was standing close enough that if you reached, you could touch him.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, or perhaps it was because of how long you’d felt the tension between you two, that gave you the courage to gently place your hand on the top of his head. His hair was soft, just like you’d expected it to be. You smiled and played with his curls. He didn’t object, you were glad. You needed this.

“Do you want me?” You asked, your voice barely audible against the loud music.

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “I thought so, but I could always be wrong.”

“Maybe I should make it clearer,” he said. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand off his head before stepping closer to you. “If this house wasn’t crowded, I’d fuck you right here, right now.”

Your heart was racing, your cheeks bright red. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Warren was still holding your wrist, it sent electric shocks throughout your body. His eyes began to shift from your eyes to your lips and so on. You swallowed; a lump had formed in your throat.

“There’s probably an empty room somewhere,” you mentioned. “You could take me to one of them and show me you mean what you say.”

Warren raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, you’re pretty drunk.”

“I’m not- I swear. I consent, I’ll remember all of this in the morning,” you replied quickly.

“All right.”

Before you could say anything else, Warren scooped you into his arms and began to carry you through the house. You didn’t know whether to pretend you were drunk so it wouldn’t look suspicious or stay awake to also not make it look suspicious. You chose to stay awake and within minutes you and Warren were alone in a bedroom, your lips connected.

The kiss was fast and rough, everything you expected from him. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he towered over you. You wasted no time, immediately kicking off your shoes and pushing Warren back until he fell onto the bed. He pulled you on top of him, guiding your hips in slow motions over his clothed erection. You felt like you were on fire, you needed more.

You broke this kiss and leaned back so you were straddling him. You pulled off your shirt and bra, Warren followed your actions. Once your eyes fell upon his toned abdomen, you audibly moaned. You quickly leaned down again and kissed his chest, beginning a trail down his body. Each breath that left his mouth made your pussy drip even more. And when you reached his navel, his breaths turned into soft whispers.

“Keep going.”

“Please.”

“I’ll do anything.”

When you no longer had any skin left to kiss you looked back up at him, his eyes were already on you. He got your signal and instantly pulled his shorts and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. You weren’t surprised at his size; you had a feeling he’d be big. You started off by slowly stroking him with your hand, the expressions on his face already enough to make you cum.

After a minute or so of that, you bent down and pressed a small kiss to his tip. You loved the way his leg twitched. It made you proud. So, you took him into your mouth. He gasped, one of his hands finding its way to the back of your head. He didn’t push you; he only twirled your hair back into a ponytail-like style and gripped it tight. You moved your head up and down, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. You were never a fan of giving head to guys, but with Warren, it was a different story.

Not much time passed before Warren pushed you gently, telling you he wasn’t going to last much longer. You didn’t care, you wanted him to finish in your mouth. But he told you he wanted to have sex, so you stopped. You peeled off your shorts and underwear before you climbed back onto him. His naked body against yours felt unreal, you were almost convinced this was all part of your drunken imagination.

However, when Warren pulled your head down and began to kiss your lips again, you knew it had to be real. His hands gripped your ass, kneading and playing with your skin. You positioned his tip at your entrance, you were so wet you didn’t need any lube. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, you wanted to know it was okay. He gave you a nod and so you began to push yourself down on him.

He filled you well, just the perfect amount. You had thrown your head back, a moan escaping your lips. You hadn’t had sex in months, and this was the perfect way to break that streak. You started to move your body forward and backward while simultaneously going up and down. Warren’s grip on your ass tightened with each movement you made.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned. “You do it so well.”

Your confidence was boosted; you began to move faster. This only lasted a few minutes though, much to your dismay. You weren’t too athletic; you didn’t have good stamina. Warren noticed this, and without saying anything he flipped your bodies. Once on top of you, he began violent thrusts. You almost screamed from the pleasure; you’d never felt anything remotely close to it in your life. He hit your cervix each time, it made your back arch off the mattress and your nails dig into his back.

“Warren,” you whimpered. “Oh, fuck Warren.”

One of his hands wrapped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, he just rested it there. You felt the knot in your stomach form at this. It felt so good to be dominated by him. It had been your dream for weeks, and it had finally come true. You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Warren fucking you fill your senses.

When you came, you practically screamed his name. You swore you could see stars. You’d never experienced an orgasm so hard in your life. Warren came a few seconds after you, you felt his dick pulsing inside you. He collapsed on you. You didn’t care about how his weight crushed you, you still held him as the two of you began to come down from your highs.

~~~

As the crew packs up, you remain in your chair, staring blankly out one of your windows. The interviewer is still across from you, but you don’t notice until he speaks.

“Just tell me one thing, off the record,” he says, grabbing your attention. “Did you love him?”

A small smile grows on your lips. “With all my heart.”

#evan peters #evan peters smut #tate langdon #evan peters x reader #fanfiction #kai anderson #james march x reader #jimmy darling #kit walker #tate langdon x y/n #warren #warren lipka #warren lipka smut #warren lipka x reader #warren lipka x you #evan peters imagine #evan peters characters #american animals #tate langdon smut #smut prompts #smut

[armysantiny]

My Exception – HRJ

P: Renjun x gender neutral reader | G: drabble, fluff | Inc: reading corners, movie nights, renjun and y/n being really soft, pastries, movie snacks, hot drinks | Wc: 600 | W: food (bc pastries/snacks) | R: G

Summary: Renjun’s reading time is sacred; a dedicated few hours every weekend spent with him, his wax melts, a book, and a hot drink. Though he can make an exception for y/n. He can always make an  exception for them.

Min's notes: Everyone say thank you to Kyu <;33

Renjun inhales as he settles down in his loveseat, the sandalwood and cardamom wax melt covering his little reading corner in warmth. The air around him smells inviting, tempting him into drifting away into the world of his books. He’s already got a book in mind, picking it out from his stack of books and returning to where he last left his bookmark. It’s a romantic thriller, pulling at his imagination as soon as he begins to read.

Y/n’s on their way back from an outing, he’s got a coffee beside him, and he’s got a good book. What more could he ask for?

It’s silent in the shared apartment, bar the occasional turning of the page and hum of interest. The twists in the novel have already started to appear, one by one in a slow but addicting pace, and Renjun finds himself theorising more as he goes along, taking sips of his coffee and making a note to thank y/n again for splurging on the Nespresso machine. It’s a thing of beauty.

“…home baby~!” y/n’s voice pulls Renjun out of the scene he was reading, drawing his attention to the door where his partner’s taking off their shoes. He leans forward, grins when y/n eventually spots him and waves his greeting. He looks for his bookmark, slotting it in between the pages and returns the paperback to the mini library stand of books. Sure, he could go back to reading his book, knowing all too well y/n would be more than happy to respect his reading time, but he’s missed them.

He can pause his reading time for his favourite person.

“I brought some pastries from that café you like, wanna have some later?” Y/n asks, making their way over to Renjun’s little reading nook and draping themselves over the back.

“Sure. Movie night?”

“Movie night.” They confirm, tapping their lips for a kiss, a pleased smile on their face seconds later when Renjun grants their wish. “How’s the book?”

“It’s so good! The police just started hunting down one of their suspects,” y/n chuckles as Renjun starts becoming more and more animated, “but if you ask me, I don’t think the professor did it at all, he’s clearly trying to cover up for someone else.” Renjun’s review continues, and a little ball of fondness grows in y/n’s chest as they listen, admiring the man they get to call their own. They subtly ask him to budge over and take a seat beside him, half sitting across the grey Hampshire loveseat and half hanging over the armrest.

It's comfy. They’re comfy, with him.

The wax melt burner sits on the tv stand this time, a new wax melt on the surface melting away as y/n brings a tray of cookies from the kitchen, Renjun holding their drinks. It’s a movie night, there’s a shower of rain outside and the Netflix menu screen stares back at the pair, awaiting to play their first of many films that evening. Renjun’s the first to sit down, open arms inviting y/n to cuddle up beside him as they rest on the sofa.

“Want to pick first?” Renjun offers, a simple thing of a gesture and he basks in the soft affection he feels when they nod, a languid smile on their face. He watches them pick, eventually landing on a movie they’ve been putting off for a while now and rests his head on top of theirs.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep just yet,” y/n warns, a smile in their voice. “I’ve been dying to watch this with you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

© copyright work of armysantiny 2023-2024

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @whipped-kpop-creators, @blankjournal

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @teeztheflag, @jeonqquk, @mikailo666, @babyboobean, @taem-min, @iiindigocheesecake, @xavi-in-kpopland, @flowerjun, @marxenash, @tinystarstay | Taglist form

#Writer Elf Minnie #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #ultkpop #wkcnet #bjnet #nct dream #nct renjun #nct dream renjun #nct drabbles #nct dream drabbles #renjun drabble #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #renjun x reader #nct dream fluff #renjun fluff #nct fluff

[wheresarizona]

Anniversary

summary: With your toddler at his abuelo’s for the night, it means Javier and you have the house to yourselves, and you can be as loud as you want. 

rating: E (18+!! This is fluff and smut. Established relationship, pregnant sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (m), breeding kink, lactation kink mention, squirting, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, body worship (Javier loves your pregnant body), Javier being the best partner, Javier being so in love, Javier being a good dad, so much fluff, feelings)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 7.3k+

a/n: Can be read as a standalone or part of the Learning to Live ‘verse (it’s canon). To celebrate Learning to Live turning one and Pedro’s birthday, here’s a Javier and Cielito future fic and a glimpse into what their lives look like. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing! I love you.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

The lighting is dim in the restaurant to set the mood, a candle lit on each table for some lovely ambiance. They sat you at a table instead of a booth, Javier across from you, holding the one-page menu in both hands low on the tabletop, his eyebrows creased as he read it over. 

He’s wearing the navy blue suit because he knows it’s your favorite, with no tie and a crisp white shirt beneath his open jacket. The first few buttons are left undone, so you can see some of his chest and the column of his throat, it working as he swallows, mesmerized by how his Adam’s apple bobs. You’re thinking about how it looks with a sheen of sweat coating it, always paired with a nice flush that moves down onto his chest, and the way perspiration catches in the tantalizing trail of hair below his belly button, leading to his hard—

“I can feel you undressing me with your eyes, Cielito,” he rasps, glancing up with a knowing smirk under his perfectly trimmed mustache. 

You feel zero shame at getting caught. 

“A suit with no tie and buttons undone?” you ask. “It’s like you’re waving a big sign that says, ‘I’m down to fuck,’ and I’m just admiring the goods before I decide to buy.” 

One hand goes to his mouth, his thumb swiping along his bottom lip, your attention drawn to it, arousal swirling in your belly. 

“Yeah?” he asks. “You gonna buy?”

“Maybe.” 

His hands go to his shirt, deftly opening one more button. 

“How about now?” he asks. 

“Javier!” you gasp dramatically, clutching imaginary pearls over your chest. “The townspeople will be scandalized by such indecency! They’ll think you a man of loose morals!”

One of his eyebrows arches. 

“You done?” 

Grinning, you reply, “Yes, and also definitely yes to us fucking as soon as we get home.” You wag your eyebrows. 

He looks proud of himself, crookedly smiling. 

“Knew this outfit would get you,” he says. 

“Because you exploited my weaknesses.” 

“And you just happened to decide to wear that tight fucking dress I love with no ulterior motives?” 

“We exploit each other's weaknesses. It’s honestly quite romantic.” 

“It is.” He nods. “You know what you’re gonna get? I’m assuming the pasta?” 

“Yep. I don’t know why you stared at the menu for so long; you’re just gonna get the steak.” 

“To rile you up.” He shrugs, setting his menu down on the table.  

God, he knows you so well. 

“I love you so fucking much it’s dumb,” you say. 

He smiles, a tender look on his face. 

“I love you, too, baby.” 

“Javi?” 

“Yes, mi amor?” 

“Is it always going to be like this?” 

His eyebrows furrow. 

“What?” 

“Just being so disgustingly in love and horny for each other. I know we’re still in the honeymoon phase, where everything is good and easy, and every day I love you more and more, but will this feeling fade?” you ask with a frown. 

“Cielito, we’re at this fancy fucking restaurant celebrating being married for four years…” he says slowly. “You’re gonna have our second kid in less than two months. We’re way past the honeymoon phase, baby—this is just how it is.” He smiles fondly. “I can tell you without a doubt that this feeling is never gonna fucking fade because what we have is real, and I love you more than anything.” He reaches over to grab your hand, his thumb rubbing over the diamond ring on your finger. “You’re the best wife and the most amazing mother to our son and daughter on the way, and I’m so fucking lucky that you chose to be with me all those years ago. I love you, Cielito, and I’ll never stop loving you.” 

Tears are in your eyes, your throat feeling tight as your lip trembles. 

“Javier, you know I cry easy. How dare you be so romantic!” 

He raises your hand, leaning forward to kiss your knuckles and the ring. 

“I’m sorry for making you emotional,” he says, setting it back down. 

You can’t help yourself, starting to weep, the tears rolling down your cheeks, thankful you aren’t wearing makeup. Your skin is far too sensitive to get all dolled up, and add in the fact that if you tried, you’d probably end up crying it off; there’s no point. 

“You’re not sorry, and I love you so much,” you sob. “You’re such a good dad and husband, and I feel like I won the lottery with you. Oh my god, I love you.” 

Concern is on his face. 

“Oh, baby, I love you, too,” he says in a calming tone. “Need a hug?” 

“No, I’m okay,” you reply, grabbing your napkin to wipe at your wet face. “I feel like I’m crying more this pregnancy.” You look at him. “Cried about the quesadillas you’d made the other night ‘cause they were so good and your mom’s recipe. Cried when I saw a mamma duck and her ducklings on my way to work.” 

Javi nods his head. 

“You cried when we watched Star Wars,” he adds. 

“The ewoks are so cute!” 

“They are. I’m still not sure why you cried while listening to ABBA…” 

“It’s ABBA, babe, and ‘Lay All Your Love On Me’ is just that good.” 

He smiles. 

“Right,” he says. “It was stupid of me to even wonder.” 

The server arrives at the table, her eyes getting slightly bigger because she can tell you’ve clearly been crying. 

“Thank you for your patience,” she says with a Texas twang. “Do y’all need a minute..?” 

“Oh, no, we’re ready to order,” you reply. “Excuse the tears—pregnancy hormones are a bitch.” 

The woman nods her head in understanding.

“Oh, darlin’, say no more. I get it. What can I get y’all?” She looks between you both. 

Javi orders for you both, and once you are alone again, easy conversation flows between you.

The baby must’ve woken up, feeling her moving all about her tiny space, thinking she might be practicing kickboxing with the way she’s kicking so much. You jump from pain when she hits something low in your hip, making a face. 

“What’s wrong?” Javi asks, his eyebrows furrowed. 

Your hand is rubbing over your swollen belly, trying to calm the baby down. 

“Your child is using my insides as a punching bag.” 

“She’s my child when she’s being a dick, but ours when she’s cute?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“You heard me–owe!” you yelp, thinking you got punched in a kidney. 

Javi is out of his seat instantly, coming around the table to crouch beside you, resting his big hand over yours as he gets his face close to the side of your protruding tummy. 

“Cálmate, mi bebita (Calm down, my baby girl),” he says in a soothing voice. “Porta te bien para tu mamá, por favor (Behave for your mom, please).” He switches to English, “You’re getting so big, mi princesa. I know you’re running out of room, but you gotta watch where you’re hitting. Aim for tu mamá’s belly button.” He presses down with your hand over the front of your stomach, feeling a kick to your palm. 

“Oh my god, she hit my hand.” 

Javi chuckles, kissing your belly over your dress. 

“That’s my girl,” he says, sounding proud. “Aim toward here, so you’re not hurting your mom.” 

It always surprises you how Javi can get the baby to calm down just by talking to them. It had been the same with your first, your husband speaking to your tummy and the kid mellowing out, which is happening now, the movements slowing as she relaxes inside you, his voice lulling her. 

“We love you so much,” he continues. “Can you be good for us while we celebrate? Your brother is with tu abuelo (your grandfather) tonight, and I’ve got plans for your mom when we get home, so I’m sorry if her screaming my name scares you. I promise she’s okay.” 

“Javier!” 

He laughs, kissing your belly again. 

He looks up at you. 

“Has she calmed down?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you answer. “You’re the fucking baby whisperer, I swear to god.” You’re resting your hand on your bump. 

He chuckles, kissing over your dress one more time before groaning as he rises up. 

His hand lightly grasps under your chin to tilt your head up as he leans down to kiss you tenderly. 

“I’m happy to help,” he murmurs onto your lips. 

“I’m counting on it.” 

He nips at your bottom lip, and it makes you moan. 

“I meant what I said about tonight.” 

“I can’t wait.” 

You really can’t with how you are throbbing between your legs, tempted to skip dinner and just go home, but it is your anniversary, and you are starving, ordering the safest option on the menu that wouldn’t give you heartburn. 

He kisses you one last time on the lips, then to the tip of your nose, pulling back to look you in the eyes with a soft look on his face. 

“Happy anniversary, Cielito,” he says. “I love you.” 

“Happy anniversary, Javi. I love you, too.” 

He returns to his seat, and you talk until the food arrives, both of you quiet while eating. You share a dessert; before you know it, the bill is paid, and it’s time to leave. Javi is there to help you up, grabbing your purse hanging on your chair, and making sure you have no issues as you get out of your seat.

Getting outside, he’s shrugging off his suit jacket to put it over your shoulders, one of his arms wrapping around your waist, his other hand still carrying your bag as you make your way to his truck. 

Pregnancy is crazy. 

The first trimester was exhausting, morning sickness hell, where Javi was an MVP and did more than his fair share to care for your toddler and keep the house running while making you rest since you were growing a baby and still working your full-time job. 

Then you entered the second trimester, and the morning sickness disappeared, being replaced with ridiculous horniness—it was insane how fucking horny you were all the time, pouncing on your husband any chance you got, much to his delight. It was the same moving into the third trimester, but now your stomach is getting huge, and you can’t move as well as before, needing Javi’s help to put on your shoes and socks in the morning. Sex has to be more strategic to make sure you aren’t uncomfortable, and your husband is more than willing to adapt, finding yourself being bent over the washer or the couch, him investing in a wedge pillow to support your belly when he was fucking you in bed. Honestly, you are beyond blessed to have such an amazing partner who can keep up and hadn’t tapped out the first weekend you had alone together after the horniness kicked in—you’d fucked nonstop, and afterward, Javi stocked up on sports drinks, and protein snacks to keep beside the bed. 

He’s perfect. 

There are some days when you’re too tired, or everything hurts, and all you can do is suffer—thankfully, those days are few and far between. 

Javi’s dad is a godsend who babysits any chance he gets, giving you guys at least one date night a week and occasionally a whole weekend to yourselves. This is a night that you have alone, not needing to pick up your son until the following day, who will be excited to tell you all about his adventures with his abuelo—he loves when Chucho wheels him around in his wagon to help feed the animals at the ranch. There’s a framed photo of him in the red wagon with a bucket almost the same size as him, holding a long carrot up to Daphne, one of the two grown cows you and Javi jokingly called your bovine children, Velma, the other one, standing next to her. 

Excited is an understatement for how you feel about getting home because even though you and Javi still have sex when your toddler is home and asleep in his own room, you always have to be quiet; things were a bit more subdued, but tonight the two of you can actually fuck, and be as loud as you want. 

You sit next to him on the bench seat in his truck, as close as you can get without being in his lap, unable to keep yourself from pawing at your husband while he drives. Your belly keeps you from blowing him, and your mouth waters at the thought, getting your hand in his pants to make yourself feel better. 

He’s fully hard by the time he’s parking in the garage at your house. 

He helps you get out of the truck and up the couple of steps into the house. Once there are no more obstacles, Javi is on you, his mouth fusing to yours in a hungry kiss while his hands roam all over your body—grabbing handfuls of your ass, rubbing over your swollen stomach, and along your spine under his jacket as he safely guides you to the bedroom. 

Your need for him is unreal by the time your giant bed is within reach, but there is one slight problem. 

Breaking the kiss, you’re panting, about to speak, Javi beating you to it with a smile on his kiss-swollen lips as he asks, “You gotta pee?”

“Yes! I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine, baby.” He kisses you quickly, giving your ass a smack when he pulls back. “Get in there.”

“I love you!” you reply, turning on your heel and tossing his jacket onto the bed, waddling as quickly as you can to the en suite.

“I love you, too!” Javi calls to your back. 

After emptying your bladder and thoroughly washing your hands, it’s go time, your body thrumming in anticipation. 

The bedroom lights are dim as you make your way into it, finding your husband completely naked and standing beside the bed, chugging a bright red sports drink. The sight stops you in your tracks, pulling your lip between your teeth as you watch his throat work, wanting to lick up the column and nibble on his jaw. 

“You ready?” His voice makes you jolt, so caught up in your thirsting over him you haven’t realized he finished drinking. 

His eyes are dark when they meet yours, his lips glistening in the low light from spit and his drink. 

Smiling, you answer, “Oh, yeah.” You point at the empty bottle in his hand. “Are you pregaming?” you ask. 

He moves to set it on the bedside table. 

“Gotta make sure I’m hydrated,” he replies, his attention solely on you, long strides having him in your space in seconds. His hands land on your hips, rubbing over the stretchy fabric of your dress, locking his gaze on yours. “I know you’re gonna keep me up all night.” Leaning in, he nudges his nose against your own. “Thank fuck you don’t work tomorrow.” 

Your arms go around his neck, pushing your fingers into the hair at the back of his head, feeling the thick, soft strands. 

“I know how we are,” you purr. “A big night—our anniversary, the house to ourselves, your wife so horny she’s had to change her underwear multiple times today. There’s not gonna be a lot of sleeping.” 

“Mmm,” he hums, smiling, “I better take care of my wife then.” His big palms move down to squeeze your ass while his mouth presses into yours in a searing kiss, moaning when his tongue pushes between your lips to tangle with your own. 

Arousal burns brightly in your belly, feeling your cunt throb and slick drip down your thighs. You want him with every fiber of your being—need to taste him, touch him, smell him, you need him, all of him, and you think you might explode if you don’t get his dick in your mouth as soon as possible. 

He’s kissing your jaw, nipping at your chin. 

“Wanna suck you off,” you pant. 

“Whatever you want, Cielito,” he rasps, sucking on your pulse point. 

You know he means it, too. With being pregnant, Javi always lets you be in control of these situations—you’re the one that calls the shots, and he makes it happen because only you know how you’re feeling and what you’re up for with your body changing day by day. Some days one position feels good, and the next, it doesn’t. Sometimes you can’t stand your breasts being touched, or everything hurts. There are too many variables, and Javi cares enough that all he wants is for you to be comfortable and actually enjoy yourself.

His hands go to the bottom of your dress, pulling it up and off your arms to be tossed on the floor. 

“Tits?” he asks, resting a palm on your bare stomach and the other moving to your back, unclasping your bra with ease. 

“Good to go,” you reply. “Just leaking.” 

He nods in understanding, and then he’s moving, his mouth on yours, kissing you hard while he pulls off your bra to let it drop to the floor, his hands moving up the sides of your belly to palm your breasts. His fingers pluck at your wet nipples, making you moan at the jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core. Kissing a trail down your neck and over your chest, ducking low to lick at one stiff peak, the warmth of his tongue making your toes curl. He’s groaning at your taste, moving to the other side to lave at the hard bud, licking them both clean. 

Looking up at you through his lashes, there’s hardly any brown left, his voice lower and raspier as he says, “I hope you make too much milk again—fucking loved having to help.”

“I sure the fuck hope not,” you reply. “They hurt and were so swollen. I’d like to produce a normal amount of milk this time around; thank you very much.” 

He sighs forlornly, frowning. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Don’t want you going through that again.” Looking a little hopeful, he continues, “But if there’s too much for the baby or you get a blocked duct—” 

“Yes, Javi,” you cut him off in exasperation, cupping his cheeks with your hands. “You’re the man to call. Mr-Accidentally-Discovered-He-Has-A-Lactation-Kink-When-His-Wife-Forgot-Her-Pump-And-We-Were-Out-Of-Town-And-Away-From-Our-Baby.” 

“Hey,” he pinches your hip. “It’s better I liked it than found it disgusting.” 

“That’s a good point. Thank god you’re kinky.” You smirk with a wiggle of your eyebrows. 

“Yeah.” His focus goes back to your breasts, his hands groping them. “Fuck, I love when you’re pregnant.” 

“The bigger boobs?” 

“The bigger tits.” He crouches down, running your fingers through his hair as he rubs over your swollen stomach. “You carrying my baby.” Leaning in, he presses kisses all over the bump. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says into your skin. “I love how your body looks.” His fingers get under the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs, him helping you step out of them. 

“I’m huge—I can’t see my feet,” you reply. 

“You’re sexy,” he corrects, standing with a groan. His eyes are on yours, grabbing your hand to press it to his dick, feeling him all hard and throbbing. “This is all you and how much I fucking love your pregnant body.” 

Your fingers wrap around his length, his mouth falling open as you slowly stroke him. 

It’s taking everything in you not to drop to your knees and start sucking him off, but you want to rile him up a bit. 

“Yeah?” you purr. “You like knowing you fucked a baby into me?” His eyes close, groaning loudly as his cock twitches in your grasp, making you smile—oh, you got him. “You like me pregnant with your child? You wish you could keep me pregnant, Javi? Just keep knocking me up and having your babies—you want to breed me, baby?” 

“Fuuuuuck.” The word is a drawn-out moan. His dick is weeping precum, your strokes getting slicker. He looks at you, seeing his throat bob as he swallows. “You’re playing fucking dirty.” 

Grinning, you reply, “Me? Play dirty? Never. Exploiting your weaknesses? Always.” 

His hands come up to caress your face as he crushes his lips to yours, kissing the breath right from your lungs. He wastes no time to get his tongue in your mouth, swallowing your moans as it slides along your own. 

You feel a little dazed when his mouth leaves yours. 

“You still wanna suck my dick?” he asks.  

Opening your eyes, you answer, “Yes, please.” 

“Knees or bed?” 

“Knees.” 

“You got it, Cielito.” He smiles, kissing you quickly before grabbing your hand and walking you toward the bed. 

There’s an assortment of pillows at the end of the king-size bed, most normal, but one was specifically for sex—the wedge pillow was a lifesaver. 

He grabs one of the regular fluffy ones, setting it on the floor and helping you kneel on it, thankful to have the cushion.

He’s standing in front of you, and you grab the backs of his thighs to make him come closer, Javi chuckling. 

“You hungry for my dick, baby?” he asks. 

His groin is at level with your face, reaching to take him in hand, feeling him hot and hard in your palm as you start stroking him. Looking up at him, you smile. 

“We both know I’m always hungry for your dick—can’t get enough of it.” 

“I know,” he says, crookedly smiling. “You gonna put it in your mouth?” 

“Someone’s impatient tonight.” 

“Someone wants to fuck your pussy.” 

“You’re the only man on earth who’d turn down a sloppy blow job.” 

He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“'cause I’ve been inside you. Nothing compares.” 

“That’s oddly romantic.” 

“I love you a-whole-fucking-lot. Please, suck my dick, baby.” 

“Impatient.”

You love teasing him and getting him all worked up.  

“Horny,” he corrects. “You said all that fuckin’ shit, and now I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.” 

“Sorry,” you say, not sounding apologetic at all.

His eyes narrow. 

“You’re a dirty fucking liar.” 

You give him a cheeky smile. 

“You got me,” you giggle, and before he can say anything else, you’re licking up his shaft from root to tip, swirling your tongue around the head to get all of the sensitive spots. 

His head falls back, groaning, you gathering spit on your tongue and letting it fall onto his dick before following it with your mouth, moaning as his thick girth slides inside to hit the back of your throat. It feels so good, bobbing your head, taking him as far as you can without swallowing around him. 

His hands are on your head, rough sounds falling from his lips. 

Coming off of him with a wet pop, you use your hand to wetly jerk him, keeping his cock out of the way, while your other hand cups his balls, lightly tugging to make Javi’s breath stutter. Looking up through your eyelashes, seeing him watching with his jaw slack. 

“You’re so fucking good to me,” he pants. 

You suck one into your mouth, gently massaging it with your tongue, getting it all nice and wet, and letting it pop out to give the other the same treatment. 

“Jesus Christ, baby,” he groans, watching you make a show of licking all over his sack, leaving it shiny with spit when you move back up to take his dick into your mouth again. 

You keep your eyes on his while your head moves up and down, feeling him heavy on your tongue, then licking from his base up to the head, suckling on him while fondling his balls, and moaning as you do so, having the time of your life. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful sucking my dick,” he husks. “My beautiful, pregnant wife, fuck, I’m lucky.” 

That flush you love is moving from his chest up along his neck, already staining his cheeks—a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead and over his pecks, seeing drops starting to shine in the trail of hair below his belly button. 

Javi looks gorgeous with his eyes glazed over, lips parted, his hands resting on the back of your head while watching in awe, clearly enjoying what you’re doing with the way his taste is getting stronger, his cock steadily leaking on your tongue.

He sounds wrecked when he says, “Fuck, Cielito, I fucking love you.” 

It’s wet between your legs, the insides of your thighs coated in slick, feeling yourself throbbing, so turned on by what you’re doing. 

What you love most about sucking your husband’s dick is getting to make him feel so good. 

Obviously, he loves penetrative sex, which is undoubtedly his favorite, but with that, the focus was on you both. With oral, you get to focus solely on him, and pamper him, if you will. Let him relax and just enjoy himself, make him feel loved, and show that even after being married, having a kid, with another on the way, you’re still just as wildly horny for him as you were when you first started dating—even more so after getting to see him as a husband and becoming a father. 

Javier Peña is a certified DILF, the elite of the elite, and dear god, is it so fucking sexy, to the point that you can’t keep your hands off of him. 

It’s sloppy. There’s no finesse with how you’re bobbing your head, his hard cock sliding in and out with ease. Your hands move to grab onto the globes of his ass, squeezing the flesh while his eyes are on yours as you enthusiastically suck him off. 

The muscles in his abdomen are tensing, his breathing getting harder, and it doesn’t surprise you when he’s saying, “Shit, shit, fuck, you’re gonna make me come—wanna come inside your pussy.” He gently pulls you off of him, a line of saliva and precum connecting you to him, your chin wet, spit having fallen onto your chest and breasts, his cock shining in the low light.

His hand goes to grasp your chin, rubbing his thumb over your wet bottom lip, looking at each other. You suck it into your mouth, digging your fingers into his asscheeks.

“Baby,” he gasps.  

It leaves your mouth with a ‘pop,’ you smiling. 

“You wanna fuck me, Javi?” you ask in a sultry tone. 

Nodding his head, his voice is rough when he answers, “Yes.” 

“Help me up.” You hold up your hands to him, a soft smile on his face as he helps pull you up, your palm going to your belly. 

He’s suddenly touching the swell of your stomach, asking, “Is she sleeping?” 

“Yeah.” You nod. “Must’ve worn herself out. She’s been really active today. Thought she was learning karate with how she was punching and kicking.” 

He frowns.

“You should’ve said something,” he replies. “I would’ve helped calm her down.”

You wave away his words. 

“It’s good for her to get some exercise, and as long as she’s not hitting my organs, it’s fine. Plus, it was father-son yard work day, and you guys were having so much fun.” 

Javi has a carrier to strap your toddler to his back, using it when he mowed the lawn while you were tending to your small garden. He had to set up the sprinkler to water the grass, your son begging to play in it, and so you’d sat on the back porch drinking lemonade and watching them in their swimming trunks, having the best time playing in the spray.

Smiling fondly, he says, “Yeah. We need to make a trip to the city so I can go to Toys ‘R Us. I wanna get him a toy lawnmower and see if they’ve got anything else he’d like.” 

“Your dad will have to babysit him.” 

“Why? He should be there.” 

“Because you’ll end up buying the entire store, Javier. You are fucking weak to those big brown eyes of his. One look, and you fold faster than a beach chair in a hurricane. We will go bankrupt if we take our tiny child to a giant toy store.” 

He frowns, sighing. 

“Fuck, you’re right. I can’t say no.” 

You cup his cheek. 

“I know it’s hard. You just have to build up your immunity to the Peña puppy dog eyes.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yep.” 

“That why I can’t get away with shit anymore? You’re immune?” 

“I had to build up my defenses. If I didn’t, we would probably be on baby number four by now with the way you get baby fever, and we wouldn’t know what sleep is. One of us needs to have self-control.” 

“I’m not seeing how being on our fourth kid is a bad thing…” 

You snort. 

“You’re not the one who has to grow a human inside of you, and I’m exhausted at just the thought of four kids under five. I’m happy we’re at one and a half. Now, I’ll be back—” you pat his cheek. “—I gotta pee again.” 

He smiles, replying, “Of course.” He nods, giving you a quick kiss before you make your way to the bathroom. 

Both of you are used to the pauses when getting down and dirty. They are necessary when it feels like you have to relieve your bladder every five minutes. 

When you return, you’re feeling much better, your hands clean, and Javi is crowding you to kiss you fervently, his hands moving all over your body—palming your breasts, grabbing your ass, feeling your stomach. He’s walking you toward the bed, anticipation swelling inside you, digging your fingers into the backs of his shoulders, wanting him so badly you’re aching needily between your legs. 

Standing at the edge of the bed, your husband’s mouth comes off of yours to ask, “What sounds good? Want me to eat you out? Or do you want dick?” 

Sparks skitter down your spine, having to think quickly because his mouth does feel really good, but the thought of him inside you has you clenching hard around nothing. 

“Dick,” you answer.

Smirking, he asks, “How do you want it?” 

There aren’t many choices, and you’re too tired to be on top.

“Spooning sounds nice.” 

He kisses you, then moves to set up pillows at the head of the bed. He helps you get up onto it to lay on your left side with your head on a pillow, making sure you’re comfortable by grabbing the wedge to put it beneath your belly to prop it up and keep your back and hips from hurting, allowing you to relax. 

Soon he’s moving in behind you, the line of his body flush to yours, ghosting his fingers up your thigh and along your side, leaning his head close to whisper in your ear. 

“Comfortable?” 

“Very.” 

“Good.” 

He grabs your top leg to move it up onto his in order to open you up, sliding his hand between your thighs, moaning when he pushes his fingers through your folds. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he says. 

His digits circle your perky little clit, making you gasp at the shocks of arousal igniting in your center. 

He presses his lips close to your ear, feeling his hot breaths. 

“Another thing I like about you pregnant,” he rasps. “Is you’re always ready to fucking go.” He pushes two fingers inside of you, loving the slight stretch, him feeling how soaked you are. “I fucking love eating your pussy or using my fingers—” He languidly pumps them. “—to get you off before we fuck. You know I love foreplay. But the times when all I can think about is getting my dick inside of you, it’s nice that you’re good to go.” 

“You’ve got pussy on demand.” 

He huffs out an amused breath. 

“I do. You’ve got dick on demand.” 

You wiggle your ass against his hardness. 

“I do, and as you’ve said, I’m ready to fucking go, so please put it in me.” 

“Who’s impatient now?” He sounds amused, his hand leaving you. 

“Horny,” you correct. “Put it in, Javier.” 

He chuckles, placing a kiss on your neck, then your shoulder. 

“What my wife wants, she gets,” he says, feeling him moving behind you. 

“Your wife wants your dick.” 

The thick head of his cock presses to your entrance. 

“You can have it,” he says as he pushes in. 

Your eyes roll back in your head, moaning loudly, him filling you inch by glorious inch, stretching you open, sliding in with one smooth thrust—loving how full you feel when he bottoms out. Your fingers are clawing at the bed, him pulling out almost all the way and pushing back in, doing it over and over, groaning behind you. 

His hand is on your belly, and you grab it, lacing your fingers over the swell, Javi slowly fucking into you, slickly sliding in and out. 

You’re so sensitive that the familiar heat is already growing in the base of your spine, knowing you aren’t going to last. That was a somewhat nice side effect of pregnancy: the sensitivity and ease of getting off from penetration alone. It had been a shock the first time it’d happened with your first pregnancy, coming in less than five minutes.

“You feel so fucking good, hermosa,” Javi husks. “Gonna fuck you full of me. You want that? Want me to fuck you full of my come? Want me to fuck another baby in you?” 

“Javi,” you moan, your cunt clenching around him, a wave of slick dripping out and soaking his cock. “You already knocked me up.” 

His hips speed up, pounding into you hard enough to make your ass jiggle. 

“I did,” he says. “And I wanna do it again.” 

His words have you feeling hot, ramping you up, getting closer and closer, feeling the build inside of you. 

You’re pressing back against him, your noises getting louder. 

“You like it,” he continues, kissing your shoulder. “You like carrying my children.” 

“Yes,” you gasp. “Love having your babies.” 

“I’ll give you another.” 

Your brain is fuzzy with pleasure at the thought of him getting you pregnant again, your pussy starting to spasm. 

“However many you want,” he adds. “We can fill every fucking room in this big ass house. Fuck, we can buy a bigger one.” 

It’s too much, everything he’s saying and how he’s fucking you causing you to crest, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as you come with a shout of his name. Your body clenches up so tight that his pace slows to a grind, feeling every vein and ridge along your sensitive walls. 

“Fuck,” he groans, “My good fucking girl.” 

Euphoria is spreading through your system, feeling so fucking good, breathing hard. 

A sharp jab of pain erupts in your abdomen, making you hiss out, “Owe!” Followed by another and another. “Fuck, that hurts,” you whine. 

Javi is pulling out of you immediately, making you gasp from the sudden loss. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, his head coming up to look at the side of your face. 

“No. Your child is pissed off,” you say through your teeth, your ribs starting to get sore. 

“Shit.” His hand unclasps from yours, Javi sitting up and leaning over your body, rubbing over your big belly. There’s a grumpy look on his face, “Bebita, te pedí que te portadas bien para tu mamá (Baby girl, I asked you to be good for your mom),” he gently scolds. “Lo siento que te despertamos pero no significa que tú puedes dañarla (I’m sorry we woke you up but it doesn’t mean you can hurt her).” 

“It’s okay, Javi,” you sigh, the baby already starting to calm down. 

His eyes meet yours, a deep frown on his lips. 

“I don’t want you in pain.” He looks back at your stomach, his palm still moving along your skin. “And my daughter is going to be on her best behavior for the rest of the night.” 

You huff out a breath. 

“Dream on, babe. She’s your daughter.” 

“She is my daughter.” He smiles. “And she’ll listen to her Papá when I ask really fucking nicely for her to please let me fuck her mom without interruption.” 

“Javier!” 

“She doesn’t understand me.” 

“Still.” 

He sighs. 

“Te queremos, bebita (I love you, baby girl). Cálmate (Calm down). Todo está bien, te lo prometo (Everything is okay, I promise).” He glances at you. “Is it better?” he asks. 

“Pretty sure you could make millions if you offered this as a service, just calming people’s babies. We’d be rich.” 

He chuckles. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Yep. She’s as cool as a cucumber.” 

“Thank god—I’m not done with you.” The bed jostles as he moves, Javi grabbing your hips from behind. “I need you to get up on your hands and knees, baby,” he says, helping you move into position. He stuffs a couple of pillows under your stomach for support, you leaning down to rest on your forearms and widening your legs apart. 

Quickly, he’s behind you, grabbing handfuls of your ass.

“Is this okay? Are you comfortable? Need more pillows?” he asks. 

Looking over your shoulder, you smile.

“I’m comfy,” you answer. “‘Speak, friend, and enter.’” 

His face pinches. 

“Did you just quote fucking Lord of the Rings?” 

“Yeah, and you can’t give me shit about it because you made us watch both movies the day they came out, you fucking nerd.” 

“Wanted to beat the crowds.” He shrugs.

Your eyes narrow. 

“Right. Put your dick in me.” 

One of his hands grabs his hard cock, sliding it through the sticky moisture of your cunt and notching it at your sopping opening. 

He has an amused look on his face as he stares down at what he’s doing.

“Mellon,” he says, and before you can respond, he’s sinking in and stealing your breath, your mouth falling open. 

He goes deeper and deeper, your pussy contracting around him like you’re trying to suck him in and keep him there for all of eternity. 

“You’re so deep,” you moan, resting your head between your arms on the bed. 

His hips finally meet the flesh of your ass, his fingers gripping your waist. 

“Is it too much?” he asks, his voice strained. 

“No, feels good.”

He starts slow, and it warms your heart because you know he’s making sure that there isn’t any pain, and there isn’t—it feels so fucking good the way his thick cock carves out space in your inner depths. 

He starts picking up pace, your breasts slightly bouncing, him working you up, feeling the threads of your orgasm making itself known and curling in your gut. 

You’re panting, every nerve in your body alight in pleasure, electricity humming under your skin.

Adjusting his angle has him rubbing against something heavenly that has you gasping out fuck.

“There it fucking is,” Javi grunts, focusing on the spot, snapping his hips faster, harder, every thought leaving your brain except for how amazing he was making you feel. “You gonna come for me, baby?”

The strong, steady thrusts have you drooling, the muscles in your belly tightening. His hands squeeze your asscheeks while he pistons in and out of you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans. 

Your thighs are quivering, so close you can taste your end, chanting Javi’s name, getting louder and louder. 

“Scream my name, Cielito, let the whole fucking town know how good I fuck you,” he says through gritted teeth, hearing the wet squelch of your pussy taking him. 

It feels like something big is building inside you, your body trembling, Javi’s name becoming incoherent sobs from your lips. There’s a chance you’re going to explode, the pleasure growing, expanding, it taking over all of your senses. 

“I know you’re close, baby,” he grunts. “Let me fucking have it, and I’ll give you my come—fuck you full of it. Fill you to the goddamn brim.”

Everything winds up tighter and tighter, feeling like you want to pull him in as deep as possible but also push him out from how intense it feels. 

His hand moves to your front, massaging the ripe berry of your clit.

“Fuck!” you scream, shattering around him, coming so hard it pushes Javi out with a wet gush, splattering onto the bedspread. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he moans. “That’s my good fucking girl, drenching me.” One of his hands rubs comfortingly along your spine. “Shit, that’s good—so fucking sexy, Cielito, almost makin’ me come.” 

You’re shaking uncontrollably, the pleasure overwhelming you, your brain mush, head empty, zero thoughts. 

He only gives you a second before sheathing himself back inside you, fucking hard and fast, drawing out your high. He’s close, his hands on your hips in a death grip, grunting in exertion as he rails. 

“I fucking love you,” he pants. “Love you so fucking much.” Moans are stuttering from your throat, feeling like your orgasm just keeps going. “The best fucking wife,” he says. “The best mother to my kids. Fuck, I love you.”

He blankets over your back, his mouth at your ear, hearing his harsh breaths, him rutting into you to chase his own high, the wet sounds obscene between your legs. 

Shoving his face in your neck, he pushes his dick in as deep as possible, raggedly moaning, “Te amo.” His head moves, sinking his teeth in your shoulder as he comes, a rumbling groan bubbling from his chest, feeling the hot spurts of his come filling you, rolling his hips to fuck it as far inside of you as he can get. 

He needs a moment to catch his breath, not putting any weight on you. He pulls out, flopping down on the bed beside you, bringing you with him to cuddle on your left side, curling around your back, rubbing your tummy with his broad palm. 

“Happy anniversary, Cielito,” he whispers, kissing the skin of your shoulder. 

“Happy anniversary, Javi,” you croak. 

“Feelin’ okay?” he asks. 

“Feel fucking fantastic,” you answer, smiling dreamily. 

The baby starts moving.

Javi’s hand stops. 

“She hit me,” he says in awe, pushing down a little.

“I think that’s her foot, babe,” you reply. 

“She kicked me. Again.”

“Better you than my organs.”

He chuckles, excitedly getting up with a groan. You’re thankful you guys have such a huge bed, your husband easily moving to your other side, laying with his head next to your belly, his legs hanging off the mattress. 

He moves his other hand to the same spot, feeling her kicking away, him now able to kiss over where she was lying inside you. 

“Such strong kicks, preciosa,” he cooed. “You gonna be a soccer player like your Papá?”

“Javi, you hated playing soccer.”

“She could like it. Be better than me. Isn’t that right, bebita?” The baby kicked his hand hard. “See, mi amor? She agrees.”

“Right…”

“Your mom has her doubts,” he says to your belly. “But I know you’re gonna do great things ‘cause you’re mi bendición (my blessing), and I love you so fucking much.”

Your eyes start to burn, sliding your fingers into his hair to play with it while listening as Javi keeps talking to her—guessing what she’ll be like or what she’ll enjoy, if she’ll be anything like her brother, or either of you two. It’s soft and sweet, and you’re so fucking happy that the tears started falling, thankful to have this man as your partner and the father of your children. 

“I love you, Javi,” you whisper. 

His head tilts up, smiling at you. 

“I love you, too, Cielito. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

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Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @lola766 @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin @themarcusmoreno @woomen23 @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @enjoyourlattebitch @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @theewokingdead @guess-my-next-obsession

#pedro pascal #Javier Peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña/reader #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

[ddejavvu]

For multiverse Monday

Doctor bradley Bradshaw dating single mom teacher reader andits being rooster first time meet her daughter being super shy and when she meets him " i wike your moustache " while hiding between readers legs maybe

sorry honey i couldn't really think of a good scenario where he would be a doctor and she would be a teacher and they'd connect while also meeting her daughter so i took out the doctor part! this isn't an au anymore, it's reader being an instructor at top gun and having a young daughter. i hope you're not too disappointed! also i know rooster would not have been in a class with the dagger squad during his time at top gun and that most of them only met for the uranium mission but fuck canon actually they're all school friends in a little group &lt;3

--

"For the most part, I thought your simulations were done well. Many of you made rational decisions while considering both your safety and your plane's, and it showed. Some of you-" You try not to look at Hangman even though everyone else already is, "Were more... daring in your hypothetical plans. But that's something we'll discuss privately, when I come around to work through them with you."

Jake's smirk doesn't fall despite the relentless jabs he gets from everyone sitting within his range. You avoid speaking to him first, choosing to target Fanboy instead, who performed fantastically in his work.

There isn't much to go over with him, a play-by-play of his simulation that you agree with wholeheartedly. You only give him one pointer, and it's that he could be a little less cautious if he wanted to be. But you're moving onto his seatmate next, your back turned towards Rooster as you crouch over Payback's desk.

There's similarly minimal work to be done on Payback's simulation. He'd clearly done the assignment thoughtfully, and you're sure to give him a glowing review. When you step up to the side of Rooster's desk there's a lingering smile on your face, that he glances up at and returns with one of his own.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw," You nod, your voice kind, "Your work was done well. I do have a few pointers, though, if you'd let me nitpick?"

"'Thought you would," He admits, chuckling sheepishly, "It's hard to simulate something so unpredictable."

"I know what you mean," You nod vigorously, missing the sound of the door creaking open, as well as the silence that falls around the classroom from your other students, "There weren't any major problems, I just wanted to offer you some advice. I think you could change the way that you operate here," You tap your pen against the printed frame of his simulation, showcasing a maneuver he could have taken, but didn't. The second time your pen hits the page you feel something thud against your legs, and your hands brace themselves urgently on Bradley's desk to stop yourself from falling forwards into him.

"Oh!" You crane your neck backwards to see what had rammed into you, seeing the wispy-haired, pigtailed-head of your daughter.

"Oh, Lizzie," You breathe, laughing bashfully as a few coos are heard around the room. You sneak your hands beneath her arms, hauling her up off of the ground and onto your hip, "You are not supposed to be here, you know that. What happened to your group?"

"We walked by your door." Elizabeth mumbles into your neck, her tiny voice muffled nearly silent, "And I heard you talking. And I heard Phoenix, and I wanted to say hi."

Natasha gives her a sneaky wave from her seat beside the door.

"Lizzie, you're supposed to stay with the group," You try not to chide her, keeping your voice sweet as she flops herself lifeless over your shoulder, "They're going to be worried when they can't find you."

"I'll catch 'em and let 'em know," Bob offers, rising from his seat cautiously, "Probably on their way to the rec room?"

You pinch Elizabeth's side to get her to answer; she nods once into your shoulder.

You flash Bob a thankful thumbs-up as he rushes to catch Liz's daycare group, and you make a silent promise to yourself to get her a backpack with a leash on it.

When you turn back to Rooster, he's staring at your little girl. He's got a sweet smile on his face, something that no one seems to be able to withhold when looking at her tiny face. She's peeking right back at him, and you can feel her smile against your neck when he waves.

"Lizzie," He tests her name on his tongue, then glances at you, "Short for Elizabeth?"

"No," Your little girl pipes up, ready with the joke she's been waiting on (courtesy of her wisecracking grandfather) for two years now, "Lizard."

Bradley blinks.

"Lizard?"

You can't help but laugh, stifling the sound by biting your lip. He looks bewilderedly between the two of you, two giggly girls, wondering if he's crazy for mishearing something, or if you're crazy for naming your daughter after a reptile.

"It's Elizabeth," You confirm, "Her grandpa has a flair for bad jokes."

"Oh," Rooster breathes, face crumpling into half mortification and half relief, "I see."

"She steals all of his favorite ones," You lament, setting her on the floor only for her to smush herself between your legs and keep her face hidden behind your left thigh, "I think one day she's going to tell me she's 'trying to quit' when I offer her a juice box."

He snorts, "That's a good one."

A moment of silence passes between you, but it's not awkward, it's fond. You're almost ready to get back to your review of his performance, but Lizzie ducks beneath the desk to crouch by Bradley's feet. He cranes his head down to look at her, eyes questioning but kind.

"You have a plane in your pocket," She observes, poking at his F-14 keychain, "I sawed those at the gift shop once."

His face quirks into a smile at her grammar, and he tugs the keys out of his pocket so that she can fiddle with the plane.

"My dad gave it to me when I was your age," He tells her, "That's what he flew in."

"Your dad was a pilot, too?" Lizzie squints up at him, face scrunched.

"No, he sat behind the pilot. He didn't feel like driving."

Bradley's jokes seem to go over well with Lizzie, something that makes your heart flutter. She giggles at, her toothy grin on display, "You don't drive a plane, you fly it."

He chuckles, but he doesn't have time to offer her a proper response before she speaks again, still squinting up at him.

"I like your mustache," She blurts, and you're just glad she doesn't reach up to poke it, "It looks like my grandpa's."

"Less grey, though," You reach down to ruffle her hair, giving Rooster an amused smile when he bites his tongue to stop from laughing.

"Wanna know something?" He raises his brows, leaning in like he's telling Lizzie the nuclear codes.

She leans forwards, just as eager.

"My dad gave that to me, too. He just-" Rooster reaches up to tug at one end of his mustache, "-ripped it off of his face and-" He slaps a hand over his mouth, "-put it on me."

Elizabeth roars with giggles, squealing at the image. Bradley digs in his pocket, the one that hadn't held his keys, and comes out with a creased, yellowed picture from his wallet.

"See?" He holds it out to Liz, showing off a man that's undeniably his father, and a bleach blonde child you can't believe is him, "There he is, that's before he took it off and gave it to me. Can you tell it's the same one?"

"No!" She shakes her head, wobbling to her feet and reaching out. He doesn't back away, but your stomach churns awkwardly at her naive forwardness when she pokes at his lip, "Yours is more higher."

"Lizzie," You rush to grab her arm, but Rooster shoots you a soft smile.

"It's okay," He assures you, voice calm, smooth, and adoring, something that only worsens your pounding heart, "She's fine. I think she's right," He sighs, looking back at the photo, "Maybe he shaved it down before he gave it to me."

Lizzie doesn't have time to ponder the possibilities of The Bradshaw Mustache Transfer before the door creaks open again, Bob's hand bracing it open as a caregiver peers inside cautiously.

Her shoulders slump when she sees Elizabeth and she looks equal parts horrified and delighted at the sight of the unscathed little girl, "Miss Y/L/N, I am so sorry, I didn't-"

"She's an escape artist." You wave away the woman's apologies, "Don't worry about it. Even I can't keep track of her. Go on, Lizzie," You steer her away from Rooster, and you only sigh a little bit when she skips over to hug Natasha first, "And no more running off!"

She's not the one that promises you, her caregiver is. It's not reassuring.

"Anyways, I'm sorry about that," You're not sure if you mean for the general disruption, or for your daughter sticking her fingers around Bradley's mouth, but it's curved into a grin when you turn back to him, so you're sure he doesn't mind.

"It's alright," He promises, "She's cute."

"You're good with kids," You muse offhandedly, ducking down once more to peer at his papers.

"I want a few someday," He admits, righting himself in his chair and tucking the photo of his father away, "I guess this is practice."

"You'll be a fantastic father," You gleam, trying to ignore the familiar heart-flutter when his hand brushes against yours reaching for his pen, "And I'm sure your son will love to carry on the tradition of the Mustache Transfer."

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw oneshot #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x reader fanfiction #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw drabble #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster x you #rooster x y/n #rooster oneshot #rooster fluff #rooster blurb #rooster drabble #rooster fanfiction #rooster x reader fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw oneshot #bradley rooster bradshaw fluff

[maximwtf]

“The sun’s down.”

Baizhu x Reader

Words: 2900

Google Docs Pages: 4,1

Warnings: Small injury, established relationship but nothing more than a few kisses and pet names, hurt/comfort, Baizhu is worried about you >:( small spoilers from his quest

Opening: You’ve found something interesting in your research, making you stay up late for multiple nights in a row while working. Baizhu frowns upon cutting from your sleeping time, but doesn’t say anything until it truly seems to start affecting your health.

AN// Reader can be any gender! This is very much self indulgent. I might have survived yet another fever but the joint pain hasn’t gone anywhere, and my wrist now hurts enough that writing this was a pain. On top of this, I requested an ao3 account, so maybe a piano will fall on me by the time I finally get one (or something along the lines of that). Who knows, the fanfic writer curse is real.

“The sun’s down.”

What now felt like forever ago, Baizhu had told you about the contract with the white snake that seemed to be glued around his neck. He’d told you of his deep interest in immortality and how he had been trying to pursue this interest. How he was researching some form of medicine that would maybe grant this everlasting life he so desperately craved after. 

You couldn’t lie to yourself and say you hadn’t been a little taken back by the idea at first. The whole contract part had almost gone over your head, and the reason for it was even more absurd to your mind than anything else. Sure, you were interested in herbs and their possible medical use as well, just like him. But you’d never go as far as to take up on a contract such as he had. It almost sounded like he was fighting against time every second of his life as it was now. Every free moment he had away from patients feeding on his life force were spent thinking of a way to make his seemingly impossible quest possible. And when he wasn’t working on that, he was doing his best to make it to another day after treating more severely ill patients. 

But you also knew that even if you’d known him before the contract, he wouldn’t have listened even if you’d begged for him to not take up on it. He wasn’t one to turn his back to such power, nor did he have it in him to let someone else with a weaker mind to bear such bother on their shoulders. He was invested in making the spiral of contracts end with him for good. And all you could do was help him achieve this mission. 

So, whenever you had the time, you travelled around Teyvat and researched different plants and herbs. This allowed you to bring them back to Baizhu for further research, knowing he himself wouldn’t have ever had the time nor the health to perform such long trips. Only, you had to remind yourself to be careful. He deeply frowned upon the trips where you returned even slightly injured. Repeating the same speech each time of why you shouldn’t get into danger for his sake. That he could do this himself, if otherwise it meant the research would affect your health as well. And you knew he was serious when he said that. He truly and honestly didn’t want to bother anyone with his health and the contract he had made on his own accord. And telling a man like him that he wasn’t a bother and that you cared about him never helped. He wouldn’t listen, even if he knew of your care and worry for his life. Because again, he reminded himself of the bother he’d made of himself by even telling you of the contract in the first place. 

After the last trip you’d taken, you had found something new. Plants you hadn’t researched before and as of right now, they seemed promising. Not something that would automatically concoct an immortality potion, but something that could potentially help with the making of one. But to find out if this could be one of the possible ingredients, you had to sit down and think. Think and write out any possible outcomes and possibilities plants such as these could have. 

So you had taken out all of your books on plants, found chapters with similar plants and begun to read, think and write down everything you could find. It didn’t take long for you to realise the true length of a process such as this. Not that you hadn’t done something like this before, but it had been a while. And even the last study you had done hadn’t been as large as this. 

Of course, you had informed Baizhu of the study you had picked up. He’d been accepting of it, knowing you were just passionate about helping him achieve his goal. But what he hadn’t foreseen was the time this project was going to take. Not only did he worry half the time when you were gone on your trips, but he began to worry about the new habit you had picked up. Staying up late, cutting time from sleeping to maximise the time around the research. 

He had put off lecturing you about it for a while, but the first time he saw you nod off in the middle of the day was when he decided the habit had gone far enough. If you were so tired that you kept falling asleep against your will during daytime, you clearly weren’t getting enough sleep during the night. 

So he waited, waited until the next night rolled around once more. He found you seated at your usual spot, eyes going over pieces of text from a book before moving to your own notes and noting something down quickly. His brows furrowed, eyes becoming a little more serious than before. Even in the dark he could tell how tired your eyes seemed, begging for rest. An awful sight which twisted something in his chest. “Dear?” He called out in his usual tone, voice a little quieter than usually, as to not wake up Changsheng. This still caught your attention almost immediately, half lidded eyes turning to Baizhu. The sight of him erasing the more serious look from your face, a faint smile replacing it. “Yes?” You lowered your hands to the table, letting go of the page you’d been holding previously. “You do know staying up like this is detrimental to your health?” He said, and you could have sworn you heard a sigh escape him right after. The seriousness on his face had disappeared, one of worry staring down at you. You chuckled, trying to ease the mood that had settled as the conversation went on. “I’m only doing this page, I’m coming to bed straight after. Promise”, you nodded straight after as if trying to assure him further. His eyes looked to the side for a moment, wanting to argue with the fact that he’d seen you nod off. But then again he didn’t wish to call you out like this was some kind of serious argument. “Very well”, was all he said. You could see his shoulders ease out a little but the worry never left his face. Though it was not very apparent, you could only tell it was there from the years of companionship you’d had with the man. He was criminally good at hiding his emotions when he wished to do so. 

And with that he had left you alone to finish the page you’d been working on. Though, the research had tempted you enough to work a little longer than that. It was only when you’d begun to feel your wrist ache a little that you’d seen it best to stop and get some rest. Thankfully Baizhu had fallen asleep by that time, making it a little easier to slide under the covers and get some shut eye. Though, that didn’t cancel out the slight guilt you felt about taking longer than you had promised. 

But by the morning, it seemed like he hadn’t noticed the extended time you’d taken. Only, the wrist pain from last night hadn’t disappeared. Not only that, but it felt like it had gotten worse. Certain positions hurt enough to gain a slight gasp from you and having your hand relaxed felt a little awkward too. Not even mentioning that any sudden movements like shaking your hands was a no as well. You even thought of putting something to still the range of movement your wrist had for the day, but if you did that Baizhu would without a doubt lecture you on the project and the toll it had taken on your health. 

But even with the pain and slight tiredness, the mornings were always peaceful. The smell of fresh fruit and breakfast comforted you no matter the mood you might have been in in the morning. And that portion of each day felt like a puzzle that wasn’t missing any pieces. 

You felt the presence of Baizhu as his back was turned to you. He’d sat down to eat, which you intended on doing as well. You reached into a cabinet for tea, knowing the kind Baizhu liked wasn’t the one you preferred. So the one on the table mustn't have been the one you were looking for. Only, the teas were kept high up in the cabinet. This usually wasn’t a problem for either of you, but this morning the placement couldn’t have been more inconvenient for you. Your hand almost got to the teas, but before you could get it down you twisted your wrist. It caused a silent wince to escape you, but as silent as you’d tried to make it, it hadn’t gone unnoticed. Baizhu’s sharp eyes were on you, his lips parting as he was clearly interested in questioning you of what had happened. “Haha, silly me. Thought the package was going to fall on me!” You tried to giggle off the fading pain, biting your inner lip in hopes that the excuse had been good enough. Of course it hadn’t, but Baizhu only frowned lightly. “Do you need me to get it for you?” He asked, placing his hands on the edge of the table, ready to stand up. “No! It’s okay.” You quickly nodded, flashing him a smile before fighting through the pain as you swiftly grabbed the tea and brought it down to you. It hurt, but admitting to your bad habit would have hurt even more. It wasn’t even about your ego, but instead seeing him worry for you when you were doing the whole research for his sake that hurt even more than any wrist pain could. 

You eventually sat down with him, enjoyed your breakfast and followed him to the pharmacy as he opened the place up and let patients in. You spending the rest of the day out of his way and continuing the research project. It was apparent that the pain had been caused by the immense writing you’d suddenly started doing. And it must have agitated something in your hand to cause pain from your wrist to elbow and back down to your fingers. But that was only one hand down, you still had one perfectly working hand to use and you weren't going to waste anymore time pondering about such minor issues when you had work to do. The secrets the new plants withheld weren’t going to solve themselves. 

The day passed quickly this way, and only the sound of the last patient thanking Baizhu and leaving got your attention. With no breaks taken yet again, you could feel your lower back ache. Nothing bad, but you noted that a better chair could help to avoid it down the line. 

Baizhu came around to your table, eyes quickly scanning the freshly written pages in front of you. Something of relief passed through his body as he saw some clear conclusion markings on the pages, indicating that you’d come to some kind of conclusion with the research that day. “Would you mind giving these to Qiqi, I have something to go and fetch.” He asked gently, placing two wrapped packages on the side of the table. “Mhm, of course.” You hummed, putting down the book that you’d been reading. “Much obliged, dear”, the man said before heading off. You gently pushed the chair you’d been on back, taking a gentle hold of the packages before heading for the front desk in the search for Qiqi. Nowhere to be found, you stood still, looking around for her. 

It had taken you quite a while to catch a glimpse of her, but eventually you’d been able to call her over. Only, by that time Baizhu had made it back as well. He was able to observe you pick up the packages once more and attempt to hand them over to Qiqi. Though, doing this with one hand had proven to be the wrong move. They weighed quite a bit and caused your wrist to complain about the strain put on it. You winced, almost dropping both of the packages. Thankfully Qiqi had been close enough to catch the one that had fallen, carefully accepting the last one you offered her. She seemed to know what they were for and hurried to take them wherever she’d been told to drop them off at. 

You scrunched your nose a little while caressing the wrist. “Dear, are you alright?” The all too familiar voice of Baizhu’s called out, concern clear in it. “Ah, it’s nothing. Really.” You sighed off the initial shock of finding him in the same space, shoulders relaxing. “Then I assume you wouldn’t mind if I had a look?” The doctor asked, clearly already assured that something was wrong. And he was right too, if you truly were fine there would have been no reason to run from the questions. You’d been caught. “Very well. Go ahead, doctor.” You sighed, reaching out your arm for him. He raised his eyebrows for a moment, looking at you before lowering his eyes to your hand. 

His hands felt smooth as he took a hold of yours. He was always gentle, even now when he seemed a little frustrated with the way you’d been deceiving him. He kept his eyes keenly on your hand, which was a performance you couldn’t even attempt. Chewing on your inner lip, your eyes were fixated on him. He gently pressed along the muscles of your hand, moving along to your wrist. Nothing. His eyes narrowed, gently turning the hand up and pushing it further with his own palm. Nothing. Not out of options, he pushed your hand down, making you bite down on your lip just a little harder. But he felt the way your hand tensed up. Gently, his fingers slid along the ink stained skin of your hand. He turned it around, the palm facing him. Intertwining his fingers with yours, the hold got a little stronger as he used his hand to push yours down once more. A silent ‘ah-’ gave him a mark to stop but also confirmed his initial worries. Careful, he lifted your hand back to a more comfortable position. “Does it hurt if you shake your hands?” He asked, the question so specific you had to think for a moment. Think all the way back to this morning when you’d washed your hands and shook them dry before using a towel. The shaking had hurt enough for you to stop the action completely. “On occasion,” you muttered, voice now more defeated than ever. “You’ve been working far too much. You’ve given your body a proper shock by switching its natural rhythm.” He spoke surprisingly gently while turning around and swiftly picking up some bandages. But at the end of the day his reaction shouldn’t have come as a surprise. This was the most patient man you knew, and he somehow kept it together no matter what came his way. And you’d found that when it came to you, he couldn’t find it in him to be mad. If only ever so slightly frustrated, but even that seemed to have been rooted in care, not malice or hate. He knew rushing others and being impatient wasn’t going to help anything or anyone. 

“But I’m almost done. Well at least I suspect so.” You automatically chirped out a protest, eyes keenly following as he leaned forward and carefully began to wrap your wrist. You didn’t pull away, watching as the roll got thinner the more he applied it on you. “Too tight?” He asked, seemingly having ignored what you’d just said to him. You gave him a look for that, knowing he most likely missed it as his focus was elsewhere. To answer his question, it was rather tight but that meant it was going to hold better. Just what you’d been craving since the morning. “It’s good”, you replied and observed as he held the end of the bandage in place and used his other hand to grab a clip which he stretched out to hold the bandage in place. “There. Now, I’d suggest you go and rest early.” He took a pause, but spoke up again early enough so you couldn’t protest immediately after. “And I’m not saying this as your doctor. Please, dear.” He sighed, perhaps without even noticing he gave your hand a squeeze. Your mouth opened ever so slightly, a protest you’d prepared at the tip of your tongue. Though something stopped you, dragged you back from saying it out loud. “Sure, thank you.” Your gaze rose up to his face. A more warmer smile appeared on his face, his hands gently slipping away from yours, slowly like he didn’t want to let go. You gave the wrist a little test of endurance. What had felt painful before felt much better now. Baizhu seemed to have noticed this too as he straightened his back. 

His hand carefully placed itself just below your shoulder, gently pushing your forward. “And now, we’re going to rest.” Baizhu said calmly, but you could hear the tiredness from his own voice. He’d spent his own life force today, but as always he hid that well. And you didn’t question him about it either. “The sun’s down.” A whisper hit your ear as he gave your cheek a tender kiss. The way he was now eased any worry you might have had, willingly following him to a bed which now felt a lot more inviting than before. 

AN// Now, about ao3, since I most likely won’t be making a separate post about it. I won’t post anything new there, only cross post the fanfics from this blog that I like the most. Since I know a lot of ao3 users don’t use tumblr ! But tumblr will still be my main platform for anything I write, and most likely will have even more content since AO3 will be only for my personal favourites :”D

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #baizhu #genshin impact baizhu #baizhu x reader #x reader #genshin x reader

[shinjisdone]

𝒯𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒮𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈

(A Yandere Pinocchio X fem!Reader fic from Lies of P)

Pɑɾt 1; Sluɱbeɾ

capitolo uno

capitolo due

capitolo tre

capitolo quattro

capitolo cinque

capitolo sei

capitolo sette

capitolo otto: is here

capitolo nove

Capitolo dieci

Pɑɾt 2; Awɑƙeƞiƞƍ

It was a privilege to share the same blood as Giuseppe Geppetto. To be his family, his niece and take part in the marvelous worlds of puppets. The privilege to learn from him as his apprentice. The privilege to care for the things he cares for and to have the things he cares for, care deeply for you.

Tag list:

@greeknerd007 , @mitsureigen , @kame11a , @thirdblogsacharm , @sarah22447 , @blueberryhitosh1 , @written1nthest4rs , @huicitawrites

TW in general: Yandere behaviour, creepy and still puppet, dubious intentions and relationships

[TW for this one specifically include: Hurting an injury, threatening tension, creepy puppets, advice that could almost be seen as a threat, grief, slightest meltdown and crying]

The clouds were thick and heavy - if only they wouldn't deter you with their gray color and the fog they brought with them, you could at least watch the city's lights from your window.

Not even imagining them as cotton candy ceased your boredom. They were just too grey, too ugly. Not an ounce of sweetness.

Laying down on your bed, you adjusted the book with one hand. Even with the thick blanket and the pillow supporting your head and shoulders, staying still like this for so long felt uncomfortable. The pages tardily turned as the hours passed.

On the first day, you mainly slept through your exhaustion.

You'd often hear your uncle rummaging through the workshop. He'd stalk from one room to the next, shift a few things, opening and closing creaking doors. You occupied yourself with cleaning your humble room, though it dragged on. Perhaps you should get yourself a few fancy furniture like Uncle yourself. Your arrival had been a few months ago.

On the second day, you took care of small chores you've neglected throughout your project.

The raindrops on your window slowly dried up. You postponed to wipe the glass clean since the constant drizzle would stain them but feeling optimistic that the sun would pop up, you spent the morning wiping the windows. You did hear on the radio that the weather was supposed to get better in the coming days.

You were very well aware that you were supposed to rest. Yet testing out your injured hand to clean the windows, you felt some cautious hope that you could continue with your routine with the smallest of pains. Pretending to work with one thumb less wouldn't be the death of you.

Geppetto restocked the tea you so liked. Fresh leaves with a hot kettle next to your little table did wonders to brighten your mood even though you somewhat struggled to hold the wrench with four fingers. Once again, a round of footsteps were heard, louder this time, as the older man passed by you. Swiftly turning his gaze to you, he stopped abruptly, documents in his hand and melon hat always on his head whenever he was ready to leave the workshop again. "Are you sure that is a good idea, my dear?" He sipped on his cold coffee as he intently watched you.

You shot him a smile over your shoulder, sitting with your back turned to him. "I won't work the entire day. Just going to do some...time blocks every now and again." You closed the small opening on the upper part of the chest, before going in for the heart. The cables were still a mess. "Besides, I just think it'd be a shame to leave them like this, all alone. I've been tinkering on them for, what, one and a half months? And so inconsistently, too."

All this time they've been brushed aside. If the butler brothers had a human heart, it sure would have been long broken.

Geppetto sighed. "It is admirable that you are so diligent despite your injury. Many would just push their work away. But you - you are always as busy as a bee." He chuckled, "Take the defective arms to the work room. It'll be more comfortable to work there."

"But you use that room mostly, Uncle." The man took one last sip and waved his hand. He gave you a grin. "No matter. Take the room, I'll be gone and busy at the Workshop Union mostly anyway with a few colleagues. Feel free to take as much time as you want and leave the limbs there, it will not bother me." You couldn't hide your grin. "Thank you, Uncle. The butlers will be up and at 'em in no time!"

Geppetto only nodded and smiled before leaving again.

On the third, fourth and fifth day, you were tinkering away, the butlers limbs on an table.

On the sixth day, oil ran out. The elbows shrieked like an braying animal when bending, so they were left on the table, lights out, until the Workshop Union would be stocked up again. Your room was a sight for sore eyes, clean and tidy, compared to the working room downstairs. Blinking, the light from your window blinded you briefly.

That's right. It was finally sunny in Krat.

Looking back down, you finished the doll's hair. You used to braid and style it when young and it was nostalgic to do it once again and especially productive with a clear goal in mind.

Though you used to talk to your doll, Aurorie obviously never answered. Yet your experiment - which you'd still best keep a secret - intriguied you. You were far from able to make puppets really take in information and construct an reply based on that. Training them to listen and act upon basic orders was something you grew familiar with quite early in your life thanks to Geppetto, but that was as far as your knowledge went.

Now you knew how to make them repeat your words like a cockatoo.

Slowly, fingers stopped gliding down the blonde locks and you turned her around. Her eyes met yours as if she was contemplating things on her own as well, staring into your soul. Knowing what it meant when you held her like this, when you looked at her like this. She always smiled at you.

Wood screeched and a door was burst open. Rushing down the stairs, your eyes lit up when you saw the front door crack. Laughter errupted from the other side as their shadows casted by the light outside grew bigger.

You braked aburptly with a hitched breath. Scanning the emerging figures, you saw one, two, three and four men coming in. There never was more than your uncle.

As if he had read your mind, he noticed you with a grin. Quickly, you hid the doll behind your back.

With a wave of his hand the rest were welcomed in. He closed the door as some chatted along and took off their coats. One gentleman followed his gaze and approached you with a big smile of his own.

"You must be the apprentice." His hand was reached out and ready for your own, gait big and assured. His voice was deep but friendly, in an condescending way. You first glanced down at his gloved hand before looking back at his face and accepting the greeting. Geppetto followed quickly.

"Ah, that is my niece. She is training under me, yes". The man peeked from behind the other gentleman's larger frame. With a noise of acknowledgement, his attention would turn back to Geppetto and then to you. "Ah, so that's what it is! You mentioned that you had an apprentice but I wouldn't have guessed that it would be another Geppetto!" He laughed heartily. Geppetto replied with his own chuckles.

His handshake was long and crushing. You kept your cries to yourself and feigned a polite smile.

Dark mustache and beard were thick but kept neatly. His cylinder of quality material, even under the dim light and his grin that of an business man. A long scar flowed down his forehead down to his blind eye.

The only green one flickered to the bandaged hand he was shaking.

He glanced back to exchange looks with your uncle.

"I am Simon Manus, head leader of the Alchemists. A pleasure." He nodded before finally letting go of your hand. You mimicked and tugged yours behind your back. "A pleasure to meet you as well, Sir Manus. I...did not know we were getting visitors." "Oh, this is spontaneous," He waved his hand with a carefree tone, "We would have liked to spend this fair day not with work but well, it always waits and piles up. We only wished to speak with your uncle and couldn't quite find a better place for a conference. I hope this doesn't disturb your training."

You politely shook your head. "Not at all. Today has been an day off, anyway." Manus found another reason to laugh. "There is never a day off for those of the Monad Charity House! They keep all their youngsters as busy as bees!"

You grimaced at his booming bellowing. That was a name you had not heard in a long while.

The other man stepped forward, putting a foot between you and Manus. "Oh, but she learns under me under my roof. I wouldn't let a dear family member study it all with other peers when it is more effective to be taught by me personally." "Really?" The gentleman spun his head from him back to you, mouth that of an gaping fish out of water. "You must be lucky, miss, to learn under the great Guiseppe Geppetto! To even be his niece, how blessed you are! But please, do not turn out to be a workaholic like him!" Laughter again.

In turn, you courteously offered a bleak smile, nodding along.

"Now then," Taking a sharp breath, Geppetto came in between the two of you and gesutred to the hallway to the right. "Time is of essence and there is much to discuss. Shall we?" Manus nodded vigourisly, taking off his cylinder and followed along. Shooting you a glance, he curtly bowed. "It was nice to meet you, Geppetto's niece. As his apprentice and successor, I expect brilliant things from you."

Without another utter, the men left in a line like well-behaved children - but your good hand still clung to your doll. "Oh, uh, Uncle...!" You hesitantly sprung a step forward but the man in question held out his palm to you with an acute look. "Not today, my dear. Why don't you enjoy your day off and explore the rest of Krat? The circus re-opened with a brand new parade puppet and the weather is rarely this lovely." He watched you slowly shrink and finally give in with a nod. Gaze softening, he turned around and led the rest further into his domain.

On the seventh day, you stood alone and the Alchemists of Krat were invited into your workshop.

For a few minutes you stood there by the window, contemplating with a thick coat in your arms. The chirps of birds nor the chatting of people was a familiar tune here. Though Krat thrived on the puppets, none of them could brighten the sky like they do the people's moods. Aurorie sat on the corner of the bed, watching as you picked out one outfit after another - at last deciding on one you seldomly were able to wear here but were very much fond of - and almost ready to leave.

It felt nostalgic as well in a way. Visits to Krat were frequent but short in the past and for a child it always felt like exploring a new part of the city. It would change drastrically everytime you saw it, so this place was full of adventures, full of fairytales.

Your nose wrinkled as you grabbed the dark gloves on the table and put them gingerly on. They were too big.

Just as your hand hovered above the handle, you whipped your head back to the dim hallway echoing in whispers. The jolly laughter was but a short memory in your mind and the more you pondered on it, the more you remembered their hollow smiles. The sunlight outside was much more inviting.

"...To the right you can view the grand bridges connecting the buildings of our beloved city. Each day puppets check on its stability and status, making sure we all stay safe while entertaining us with their banter."

Eyes followed the upbeat voice halling from the moving train, even as the sight had already been ingrained into your mind. As the disembodied voice of another puppet promised, there were a bunch, hanging and sitting on the bridges with tools in their hands and fitting, dappered safety helmets on their tin heads. They waved and the awing passangers waved back.

You sat still with one hand on top of your other.

"Please note that - Now stopping at Krat Central Station. I repeat: Now stopping at Krat Central Station. Please mind your step - and don't forget to pay a visit to our newly opened circus! Now the colors pop brighter and are brought alive by our newest member, the Parade Master! Known for his mirthful smile as his dances-"

You were quick to get off before the next reprise. The trains got awfully full during the afternoon but it was worth the hassle. You surely wouldn't walk and lose your way. Dusting yourself off and adjusting your outfit, you walked up the stairs to Cersani Alley. That's as far as you knew your location would be since the rest of the place was full of signs, cuttboards of merry puppets ready to serve and posters about the oh so great circus and their parades. Besides, looking around the bumbling crowd, the families, their fancy attire, the balloons floating in the clear blue sky - a smile graced your face knowing all you had to do was follow the herd. Knowing that this is a bright, joyous day and that you were able to live in every day, that Krat could be your reality. Surrounded by the beauty of puppets. Perhaps you were blessed.

The crowd followed along nicely. Children would yell out and play, giggling in delight when handed out balloons in various shapes and little hats to wear. The parents were pranked with harmless jokes and the esteemed ladies bowed to and blown comedic kisses. Feigning bashful mirth, everyone continued on as the puppets waved them farewell.

You nodded and bowed to one you passed by, it did the same.

There it was, the thump, the stupid, cheesy grin. You had to bite your lip at this awfully childish behaviour you were dying to show - or, best, hoping to hide. An adult your age cannot act this silly, goodness, especially if people knew that you weren't even an local! How embarrassing it would be.

Not a local, that's how it felt as you marveled at the scenes before you. You have been here for months, tinkered on puppets almost identical as the ones greeting you yet it all felt so surreal to not sit behind the workbench but be part of the easily amazed citizens. It felt simple and light. You played with your fingers.

Blessed you were. The atmosphere and technology cannot compare to anything else you've ever seen or ever been to - Krat is an exception, the center of the new world it seemed. Yet there you were, hiding in your room and musing over a small toy that any other child in Krat would have long replaced with a better, bigger and aware puppet.

They flow as light as a breeze into the crowd, become one with the citizens. They are more home to this place than anyone as if this was their core and their very heart. Like flowers they bloomed from it, their vines thicker and stronger than anyone else's here, where they can smile and radiate instant happiness, bow and dance more elegantly than any aristrocrat and have man-made faces that seem more human than that of their creators. Their suits and attire never wrinkling, never littered with splotches as they wave about their limbs fulfilling the next order, eyes - as if they could really see from those, the public did not know where the vision was really located - trained on the target in question and ears - as if that is were the microphones were - perked up and ready to listen with a smile so bright and a strength so mighty they can pierce flesh-

"Oh!" Breath hitched in your throat, feeling your ankle twist and lose your balance until a gust of wind hit you in the face, a force not only getting you back on your feet but dragging you to the side of the street. You stumbled, vision hazy for a single moment, hands patting your shoulders.

"You alright, miss?" Inhaling sharply you whipped your head to a snout facing you. You took the close sight all in and a weight fell off your heart when you recognized long, flappy ears and a wide, dark snout with round, holes for eyes as green ones did the same in observing you. Their heavy boot took a step back and tilted their head to take a better look at you through the mask. "Hey, miss." In turn to their deep voice, you let out a breathy sigh, corners of your mouth crinkling up. "Yeah. Thank you." Simultaniously, you stepped back, holding your smile as your eyes mustered the man up and down. His person was heavily armed with pouches, a blade to the side of his hip and a pistol on the other. The coat, a murky dark brown and splotched, hung on his shoulders but with the tall and broad statue of his, shifting one weight on his left as he crossed his arms, he did not seem to mind the heavy material. You were sure if you wore it, it would drag you down to the ground.

A small scarf was around his neck, just as dark as his lightly hairy donkey mask. It blendid in quite well.

"Can't believe how people just lose sight on their way to a parade, and one just made of puppets out of all things." He talked with a grunt, sigh filled with disgust. "You're on your way there too, right?"

You looked back to his masked face and tried to hold eye contact through the small holes. "Ah, yeah. The crowd is pretty big so I thought if I just followed I'd get to the plaza." "The wave still pushed you around. Hm, I can accompany you to it if you wanna. Gotta take guard there anyway and you're sure to get there easily without tumbling down anywhere with a Stalker with ya."

"Er-" You briefly looked around the moving lines and congegrated circles marching on and disappearing into the alleys and plaza. A small noise escaped your throat, your hand covered the other in reflex. Your smile was too hesitant to truly shine to him. "...If you don't mind."

"Sure." Quickly he patted down at his pouches in a rythmatic manner, hand going to the sword and pistol first. Adjusting at last, the Stalker tilted his head and waved you after him. Just before you could follow closely, he offered his hand. "Stay behind or else people will think I'm arresting ya. Wouldn't want to be treated like a criminal at the parade, wouldchu?" Ah, uh," Your smile didn't reach your eyes no matter how much you tried to force it and you shook your head. "No."

Time seemed slower as you glimpsed between his mask and outstretched palm, breath stuck in your throat. However, just a moment later you meekly offered the same hand he did. "Oh," He lightly let out before taking your good hand. "We use the same one."

He wanted to become a Stalker too.

The wave was like a calm sea as you sailed through it with the Stalker as your captain. Instinctively you watched his dark ears peek up above the colorful heads of the crowd as he swiftly passed by each of them. He was sure in every step he took with his body tilting and swinging from side to side whenever he was just a hair's touch away from bumping into anyone. In just a few minutes, you jogged up the long and grande staircase of the street, as the commotion and music got louder and louder. Standing in your toes while trying to keep up with the donkey, you could make out puppet twins in matching outfits leading on the parade together with another pair juggling and giving away flowers. They've already come a long way, people marching with them with an appropiate distance to still esteem their performance, and you pointed at farther away to the big spring located at the plaza. Banners and flying hot ballons with their red and greens were seen far away, a stark contrast to the blue sky, and invited more. The Stalker swallowed down his sigh at your big grin and led you to it. Once he could find the best spot for you to enjoy and view at, he gave you a final pat on the shoulder before excusing himself. You thanked him.

"I'll be nearby though if trouble comes along. Just holler if you need help." You eagerly nodded. "Thank you again."

With a last wave of his hand, he disappeared into the crowd. Turning back, you waited for the next group to pass by like an excited child. The chatting of the people slowly ceased before an echo of an heavy thumb made them abruptly stop their prattling. Around the corner a huge, metal leg playfully showed itself going up and down, up and down, before roughly taking another step. Squeals of children followed each stomp and soon, one by one, an arm shot out and waved at the waiting audience. Loud cheers rung in your ears as you clapped as well as the biggest and newest member of the circus danced its way towards the plaza. A small duo of trumpet players on each side accompanied it.

A round of rallies full of hurrahs greeted the dancing puppet. "Parade Master! Parade Master!" was sung, especially loud by the children. The puppet with its big and burly form was built with something of three to four meters in mind, you reckoned, if the incredibly and comically long, black cylinder was not screwed on its metal head. Its shape reminded you of chimneys illustrated in fairy tale books and probably designed to have the kids get a kick out of it. The rectangular limbs moved freely, legs stomping in rythm to an made-up swing and its arms rotating 360 degrees, begging for people's laughter. While the majority of its body was metal painted to look like an magnificent coat, the upper part of it did seem like real cloth to you. While you applauded, your face soured in scrutiny with squinted eyes at the performing puppet. While it ushered people to sit on its shoulders to carry it around - with great awe as the response from the citizens including you, you couldn't deny it - the back of its 'coat' did have a long train divided into three parts floating about everytime it showcased its skills. It partly must be real cloth.

The face was oval accompanied with a big grin that showed a row of straight, white teeth. It's big nose was painted a lovely light red to give him the slightest resemblences to an sweet, unclely neighbor, especially with the receding hair line, as it shared sweets from a basket. The mustache and side hair were cables most likely connected to its system and curled around to give the illusion of facial hair. How quaint, you found it.

What a sweet and brightening puppet. All to bring joy to Krat.

"I can show you the world, shining, shimmering, splending..."

Its singing was jolly as well. The rest of the crowd around you quickly caught on to the classic song and started to sing along. You couldnt help but let a giggle escape you and held no shame on joining in the puppet and the people. The Parade Master led the song with dramatic flair as if talking to each audience member who heard his voice, wanted or not. Singing to the stars, pointing to the sky and clenching claws to its non-existent heart. Bowing with a deep kneel, low enough to make the men on its shoulders yelp, before twirling around, several ballons in its claws and giving them away. Your wide eyes were hung on its movements no matter how ridiculous they may seemed, no matter how many people laughed at the antics or how gauche it got. It was fascinating to watch it feign tumbling only to get back up with vigor as everyone sang.

"I can open your eyes, take you wonder by wonder,"

Absent-mindedly you sang along as one of the trumpet players did. Its tin fingers snapped in rythm, clanking rather as it spun into your direction. Catching your figure, it bent its knees and offered an open palm with its head tilted. Its everlasting grin bore itself into your memory.

"Tell me, princess, when did you last let your heart decide?"

As its companions did the same, people joined - and it wanted to take you to the stage of the plaza you feared. Eyes went on to the only one not taking the invitation and once again, the puppet shifted closer. Tin fingers begged for yours. Frozen in place, you could only stare at its open metal hand.

"Over, sideways and under...on a magic carpet ride..."

Breath hitched, its eyeing your hand as it goes behind your back and with a trembling motion, you let a coin fall on its palm.

You swore its grin widened and it clutched onto the money in an blink of an eye.

"A whole new world!"

"A new fantastic point of view!"

It recoiled its arm suddenly and with the other one it offered a ballon. It let it go but with ease you caught it, twirling it around your fingers. You stepped back as it searched for another dancing partner.

"No one to tell us 'No',"

"Or where to go,"

"Or say we're only dreaming!"

You stepped further and further back, the chanting of the people growing monotone in your mind as you held onto the balloon. The Parade Master, as lovely as its movements were, was not something you could admire for so long. Your shoes' clicks loud enough for you to focus on as your gaze never left the puppet performance. The dancing enchanting but the actors-

"You really alright?" A yelp escaped you with a few people turning puzzled at the shrieking sound. You covered your mouth and hid from their gaze, face hot and flushed. Widened eyes stared at the perpatrator, who only looked down at you with confused, narrowed gaze. "Yer really out of place here. You wanna leave to a more quiet place?"

You looked to your left and right with a stutter. As the cheers and music grew louder, you managed to nod. With a wave of his hand, the Stalker walked forward and you, back hunched and small, tailed after him. Balloon floating above the heads of the mob, it grew smaller and smaller until it vanished from the plaza all together.

The rythm was off. Your eyes glimpsed at the muddy boots in front of you, the casual gait, the sword at the hip. All you were armed with was your wallet and a balloon tied around your wrist. Your fingers massaged your other hand.

"...You wanna sit down and catch a breather?" "Huh?" Head snapped up to the donkey mask with its snout tilted in your direction. He repeated himself. "You looked uncomfortable there."

"Oh, no." You tried to smile as you waved your good hand. "No...I just wasn't at a festival for so long now. I guess the huge parade took me off guard." You licked your lips. "I like parades and big, bumbling places and puppets but maybe I've just bitten more off than I could chew." You dryly chuckled. His eyes still stayed on your shrunken form, tilted even further before he briskly stared back on the road. The man chose an quieter alleyway with only a few late families and children fresh from school rushing by you. They skipped in their step, hollering a name and some pointing at your balloon in hopes they'll get one too from a puppet.

The Stalker hummed. "And all that to show off a new, chunky puppet." He outstretched his arms and dramatically waved them, "Happy Charlie!" His voice oozing with mockery as the laughing children ran past you. With a scoff, he let his arms fall. "What a terrible joke."

"You don't like the parade?" Carefully, you leaned your head to peek into his eyes to somewhat understand this pettiness, a skip in your step to catch up. "I don't like any of these puppet's play!" Turning to you he shot his arm to point back at the commotion lowly resonating, "Everyone is way too calm, too carefree! They keep forgetting that they are interacting with machines and not human minds!" Another scoff escaped him through the nosetrills of his mask and he focused on the road again. In a mumble he let out; "Just last week someone was hurt by a puppet."

Swiftly, his snout turned back into your direction at the sound of a sharp inhale. Through the small holes he stole a glance at the clenched jaw and the way you quickly tried to keep up with him again.

You licked your lips. "...What?"

"They tried to not have it publish it," The Stalker said, "It'd be an uproar if one of their beloved puppets were to harm a person, even if it was accidental, but it sure as hell would be good wake-up call for Krat. I know the truth - the higher-ups just wanna keep their vests nice and clean." The man kept on looking at you for an reaction, shaking his head at all the foolishness that the entirety of the city is committing in his eyes. "There's no way someone at the Workshop Union is not going to make a mistake, they're just human themselves. But to hide such a grande mistake even though someone got hurt, now that's unacceptable."

"I, uhm..." Unwittngly, you were looking around for an distraction as your mind went blank if ideas and responses, taking a small distance from the man. "Puppets have been manufactured here for decades. The safety data has been updated consistently through the years and each factory of the Workshop Union makes sure to follow them religiously." You spewed out as if it was a spell, "Surely somewhere something went wrong but it'd be odd if something so...severe happened after decades of perfection."

Again, he shot you a look but focused back on the road, turning the corner of the alley with you. "You sure know a lot about that, miss. You like the puppets?" Licking your lips, you needed to take a deep breath. Even now mustering a smile was difficult but you hoped this one was convincing enough for the Stalker. "I very much do. I have ever since...I was a kid." "Hm, stupid question." Loosening his mask slightly, he scratched part of his neck that was itching to peek out. "You went all the way here for this parade. Everyone likes 'em." He whispered.

The air felt heavy after that. Often you'd find yourself distracting yourself with the beauty of the young sunset as its rays sneaked between the buildings, between the bridges where the puppet workers were still checking them. Their movements the same rigid ones when you last admired them on the train. Their lengthy, wide figures were like shadows in the light orange glow with only the sound of metal coming in contact with metal being heard faintly.

"It's," You were still staring their silhouttes, "It's good to scrutinize such important work, you're not doing anything wrong. But maybe..." Slowly your head lowered, a sudden weight seeming to pull you down in a way that felt too familiar, and your voice lowered as well - like an apologetic child. A hand went up and wiped your nose after a discreet sniffle. "...Well, maybe things aren't as bad as they seem."

No one passed by you anymore. If these streets weren't familiar from the darkest depths of your mind you might have felt an surge of panic but this Stalker, armed with a blade an an donkey mask, was the most harmless person you've met today so far.

"You a puppet maker, miss?" Suddenly you sprung up, eyes now full and big as you finally rose from your shrunken form. You blinked rapidly, wiping your nose for the last time before looking at him curiously. "...I am in training. But have only started a few months ago." The man hummed, followed by a small 'That explains it' and tried to speak in an more upbeat tone. "It's just that ya seem old enough to have long graduated and I've never seen you in the Monad House." "Oh," You let out, cleared your throat, and tried to speak much more cheerful as well, "I, ah, am not from here. I came to Krat to start my training actually in the...Workshop Union, so I never attended the Monad Charity House. I, I have heard it's a great school though and that almost all of Krat's puppet makers graduated from there."

"Yer not from here? Well, you certainly have to have a talent then." A small chuckle escaped you. You looked back down to the ground.

"Yeah...I've been told that, too."

"Uhm, I'm sure you must be a talented Stalker too, then, if you guarded the entire plaza all by yourself." With a smile and a nod, you attempted to throw the compliment back. In return, the donkey laughed curtly. "My comrades left me there for 'a new experience' since I usually hang around the Alchemists looking out for their stuff. Never had to deal with a puppet there before." With a quick turn and move, he grabbed his pistol and spun it around, before quickly stashing it back to his hip.

"I did graduate with flying colors and became this spectacle of an Stalker today."

You couldn't help but soften your look. Eyes crinkled at the words and a more genuine feign of an smile graced your lips. He'd spun his toy sword around like that as well but often had it slip out of his grasp as he did so.

"Hey, now, listen. I'm sure I've dampened your mood. But I am serious and I know the truth." As the light had finally turned red and hit Krat, the both of you stopped at a crossroads. Left, the Central Station. Right, the Workshop Union and the Alchemists. Lifting his head high, the donkey decided to stop this pretending and spoke sternly once again. "You should know it too, since you are a puppet maker, or will be one. The Workshop Union isn't as pretty and diligent as they make themselves out to be and people are suffering because of it. If you wanna become a good and honorable puppet maker, make sure to be better than what we got now 'cause they are a bunch of liars."

Your eyes flickered from his form to the ground below. Dainty flowers snaked out of the crevices, tainted in red by the setting sun. The image of the man with the scar and your uncle behind him flashed in your mind.

"...I'll keep it in mind."

The Stalker nodded along and his gaze followed yours. He pointed to the left. "The trains leave in a few minutes, you'd have to wait for the next one in an hour to get to the Workshop Union. I can tag along if you want me to." You stared at the direction he pointed you, where people congegrated and the sun hit them. It'd be best to hurry but your head turned to the right.

"I think I'll take a short walk before that. Squeezing in there with the rest of the people would be too much." The man shrugged and scratched his head. "Whatever floats your boat. It was nice talking to you, I would've lost my minds with these overjoyed lot. Stay safe on your way home." With a final wave over his shoulder, he turned his heel and went back from where you came from. His ears swayed back and forth as he slowly vanished in the red light.

Your farewell was much quieter. With a long, withdrawn and almost painful sigh you let your arm fall and stood at the crossroads. The high whistling of the train called out the people like a herd, passing by you as they made their way downstairs to the station. Droning of chit-chats consuming and devouring the street. The people clad in gloomy red. The last call for the train of the automatic puppet voice rang through, your eyes drooped and hollow as they stared holes into the air. Pushing you with enough might that you had, you turned around and dragged yourself through crowd and onto the right.

The people less merry and less loud, the crevice now bricks with small stone fences and the red now blue.

The Monad Charity House was not touched upon like all the other buildings but it was clear that it was still taken care of. The marine blue that were the walls and the lovely white that clad the windows and roof. You wondered if somewhere there they had added or renovated rooms through the years but you couldn't know, you rarely went inside. Never was even allowed to stay the night for an sleepover. The fences made small and eyepleasing were only meant for the flowerbeds on the front to give it that trustworthy look parents needed when letting their children attend here. Roses, sunflowers, dhalias and daffodils bloomed healthily, taken care of by the children themselves. Whether they wanted to or not. It was good publicity.

Ambling into the yard, the fences quickly grew to broad walls. The evening approached. Children with homes were eating their dinners at this time and those who had not that, were at the parade, extending their time outside school and their many rules as much as they could. You knew that very well.

You also knew you'd see the old swing again. The playground grew larger and seemed to pop up a new device to play with each time you visited. You'd love to go here even when it was a school, even when it wasn't your school. Yours did not have the grande walls or the beautiful flowers, the chic uniforms or the big playground or any sophisticated classes. You used to imagine what it'd be like to go here.

Back there, next to the wall, was still this old, grimy tree. You visited once again here, one day and this tree, as big as it was, its crown one day just bent over the wall's edges. It was once joked about that it did not grow up but grew shy and is now hiding from the students.

Other students also used it as an 'escape route' and climb over the wall to skip class.

Tenderly you touched it. Your balloon was high enough to hit the extended, naked branches but you barely noticed, as the moist of the wood stuck on your fingers. Your shoulders went up to your ears and your face grimaced but you kept on gliding your hand on the coarse surface until a finger felt a bump. Croutching down, you held up the hems of your outfit to not get in contact with the grime and ever so carefully shifted to the side and pressing yourself against the wall. Your eyes went up and down the side of the tree trunk and the words etched into there by a stolen pocket knife.

'I am thiiiis taller!'

Two stripes were cut in with one a bit higher than the other with the mockery written on there. Looking farther up, there it was as you expected.

'I am taller than the both of you!'

You couldn't help smiling to yourself at the third stripe towering over the other two. The strongest mocked the least.

The tree had grown its branches. Their leaves all on the other side, you wondered if the crown could already graze the street. Wondering if it was hiding its beauty for it looked naked from within the walls.

Getting up you made your way to the swing as you used to. No more, however, did you let your bottom fall onto the seat but carefully sat down as to test out the waters. Your clothes are probably dirty by now. The swing held on quite well however, and so you felt free enough to carelessly rock about. It's squeaking was ear-piercing, which was new, but you kept on swinging anyway.

To your right, your gaze trailed up the blue rail.

'Girls are stupid'

The scribble of an angry face was the cherry on top.

Your face scrunched up with a glare, eyes narrow and misty despite the flash of anger you felt. Your hand gripped on the rope fiercly, but quickly let it go to wipe your stray tears. Facade broken, you lowered your head down to your lap and hissed at the accidental pressure you put on your stitched thumb.

"You're stupid, Carlo..." You sobbed into your lap.

How he stuck out his tongue at you while spinning with his toy sword. Taunting you for having been short even when you surpassed him just a year later. Romeo would put him in his place, reminding him how lucky he was that he even had a cousin, only for him to turn his mockery from your height to your gender. Now you knew how petty and infantile it all was, but it hurt nevertheless. He had that sad look in his eye when Uncle would bring you to him during the holidays and leave you two alone on the same day. You warned him over climbing the wall to skip class, how he'll be in trouble and Uncle will be mad. He called you a coward and Romeo urged you to come along. Carlo used to be so nice to you, played with you with the toys Uncle used to whittle, pretended to be great whales in the ocean when Krat was filled with rain puddles, would push you on the swing high enough to be taller than any wall or tree while your laughter rung but over the years he'd gotten sadder and angrier, all at you - until you stopped visiting when you grew older, busy with your graduation and he with his.

'Well, maybe things aren't as bad as they seem.'

You still wonder if he even read your letter to him instead of throwing it away.

"You're a stupid, stupid, liar..."

#yandere lies of p #Lies of p #lies of p x reader #lies of p pinocchio #yandere pinocchio #Pinocchio #Lies of p pinocchio x reader #Pinocchio x reader #P x reader #Yandere #my writing #my fanfiction #ticking springs

[rendy-a]

Locked in with the Film Research Club

I had Vil on the mind from finishing my last fic when someone "liked" one of my Club Visit stories and...here we are! Sorry Ortho, but of course Vil steals the show here!

Sometimes, it strikes you at odd moments that Vil is famous, really famous. You'd been walking past the gym when you saw a student drop a heavy looking box and kick it. "Who does he think he is? Mr. Famous is too good to do the grunt work but can order us around like we work for him!" The student waking with him also drops his box and smiles, "Yeah, let's ditch and let our delicate princess figure this out himself." With that, they both laughingly depart.

You walked over, already having an idea in mind about what had happened. You pulled open the box to see a mixture of lighting and sound equipment. You give a small sigh, putting the picture together. Vil was a strict a leader in the Film Research Club as he was a Dorm Leader. Not everyone could deal with his...intense... style of encouragement and grew to envy and resent him.

You sighed but hefted the boxes anyway. You wouldn't exactly say that you and Vil were friends, but after the VDC, you were at least friendly. Plus, Ortho was always telling you about the things he'd done in club. You can't disappoint a fellow first-year! So, you trudge your way over to the alchemy school wing that you heard the Film club would be using for their shoot today.

When you arrived, you found Ortho setting up some complicated machinery to attach the camera to. You greet the cheerful boy and tell him about the boxes. "Vil Schoenheit has been looking for that equipment. He'll be so happy you've found it, Prefect! I'll go tell him right away!" You pat Ortho on the back, "That's OK. I've got lots of spare time and you seem busy here. I'll go tell him. Just point me in the right direction!"

You found Vil in a large storage closet near the Alchemy room, just as Ortho suggested he'd be. You swing the door open and approach Vil, who is leafing through a book near the back of the closet where a small amount of light shines through a tiny window. "Hey Vil, Ortho sent me," you began before Vil turns and shouts, "Perfect! Grab the door!" You jump at the shouting and hear an ominous click behind you.

Vil sighs, and you look at him guiltily, "Oops." It turns out that the supply closet near the Alchemy rooms locks automatically when closed due to the expensive ingredients and tools stored within. Plus, since some of the components have a chance of magical reaction if not stored correctly, the room was warded against magic. All of that added up to you and Vil being locked in the supply closet until someone came to find you.

Vil gave another sigh and returned to the book he was viewing. After a moment of looking around, you wandered over to join him. Plus... it's a closet; you really don't have a lot of choices here. You peek over and see it's a photo album. "Rook took them," Vil comments when he notices your interest. "I was in here picking up some special effects potions. Rook makes them in Science Club and leaves them in here until we need them. I guess he also stores some old photos here, too."

You leaned in to look. They were pictures from last year's Film Research Club. Some were productions, and others were candid shots from behind the scenes. A few you found confusing, but you imagined, if you asked Rook, he'd have a long explanation about why he'd photographed a scarf on a chair or a stack of paint canisters. By the end of Rooks flowing explanation, you'd probably believe the unusual subjects to be highly beautiful as well.

Vil turns the page, and the next image is his own, albeit a somewhat younger version. A frown graces his beautiful face, and he comments, "I'm sure he never intended for this to be seen, but I do hate pictures of myself being taken when I can't control them." You look at the photo of second-year Vil, "You look good, though." He looks at you sadly, "How naive you are, potato. You never know what sort of trouble a small photo can start. The tiniest detail that goes unnoticed by you can start a wild scandal."

Vil crosses his arms across his chest and looks at you with a frown, "And speaking of scandal, no good will come of the story of us being in this closet." You can easily imagine the gossip but assure Vil, "I'm sure it will be fine. No one is here but the club members, and we will just explain what happened. I'm sure they will understand!" Vil continues to look at you for a moment, and his expression slowly slides into one of amusement, "Potato, you are so refreshingly optimistic and naive."

You give a small laugh and smile, you know it to be true. Vil looks at you with a sort of fondness. It was so rare to find such a genuine person to interact with once you've become as famous as he. Suddenly, Vil's smile grows sharper and sly, "I, in the other hand, am not as foolish as you. If the peanut gallery is going to spread rumors about me..." You look on in amazement as his smile deepens and he slides close to you...

The closet door opens at last, and Ortho greets you, "Vil Schoenhit! Prefect! My sensors indicate that you have not left this room for thirty minutes. The club members grew worried, and we came to check on you!" You smile gratefully at the AI boy, "Thanks for the rescue, Ortho. I thought we'd be stuck in there all afternoon." Even as you smile at Ortho, you spot the envious duo from earlier. Just as Vil predicted, you can hear their gossiping whispers begin.

You hold your head high and push past them. After all, Vil was right. If people are going to talk about you kissing in the closet, then you might as well be kissing in the closet. You gently put your fingertips to your lips and smile, it wouldn't be a photo to add to Rook's album but you think it is definitely a beautiful memory of Film Research Club for you to hold on to.

#mini event #club visits #twst #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #twst x reader

[oliviajdjarin]

Matt Murdock: Forget

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader (she/her)

Summary: An endless cycle of reviewing is interrupted by some much needed negligence.

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, law student Matt, law student reader, probably inaccurate law school studying, p in v sex, oral (female receiving), finger licking, with a dash of dom!reader.

A/N: Something about Matt in She-Hulk really messed with my head. Here is my first marvel fic (I can’t believe that) for my fellow INFJ and love of my life. Thank you all for your patience in my lack of updates. I hope this makes up for it.

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be much appreciated <3

(I completely forget where I got this gif. Please let me know if it’s yours).

Matt’s nails scratching against the scruff of his face was not helping your focus.

Neither were the rays of the city lights against his darting dark eyes.

He leaned forward on his leather couch, squeaking the fabric against his hard body, and exhaled.

“Okay,” he breathed, staring down at his case-covered coffee table. The clock behind him shined red an ungodly hour of the night as he dragged his long, slender fingers over the braille, and exhaled again.

“We know the defendant’s breach of duty, and we know the plaintiff’s sufferance of an injury.”

You “mhmed” him along as he spoke, grateful he could not see your eyes glued to his hands gliding down the page…

…or so you thought.

“We just don’t have proof that the defendant’s breach actually caused the injury defined through proximate cause.”

You swallowed with another “mhm” and started rubbing your eyes. “Right,” you said after a moment, confirming that you heard him fully.

He sighed again and rubbed at his scruff. He was really really good at that.

“Aka the most important fucking element for a negligence case.”

He stood up at that and placed his hands on his hips. His body somehow broadened even more when he did this, and the white sleeves of his dress shirt from a day of mock court and a night of play pushed further up his forearms.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

You had a final tomorrow morning—actually this morning—and all you could think about was how much you enjoyed seeing your “study buddy” angry.

You rubbed your fingertips against your temples, trying to force yourself to fucking focus, but nothing would work. You knew nothing would work, because on any other night at this hour, the only thing on your mind would be how pretty Matt would look between your legs. Your brain had built those thoughts into your head so consistently that it became a habit. That, combined with being sleep deprived and having the man of the hour standing right in front of you, you were fucked.

Beyond fucked.

And the worst part was, you didn’t even care.

You had met Matt as an L1, first day of Civil Procedure, and something about the way his hair sat, the way his voice sounded, the way he laughed at himself, and the way he moved drew you to him like a magnet.

You had yet to leave that magnetic force, even when your trusted buffer Foggy wasn’t around. After over a year of slowly knowing Matthew Murdock, you had never loved anything else more.

Not that he knew any of that, of course.

The slap of a legal pad hitting the floor broke you from your train of thought, and Matt sat down with a huff.

You took a deep breath, centering yourself. “Why don’t we take a break?”

Matt chuckled. “A break? This entire night has been a break, Y/N.”

He was right. The two of you had gone out, much later than anticipated, and procrastinated studying to the last possible second.

And if it wasn’t for the way he said your name just then, you might have agreed.

“We’ve already been at this for two hours, Matthew,” you snapped back. “We are obviously exhausted, and like you said, we know 99% of the elements on this case. We can wake up early tomorrow, figure that out, and then take the exam afterwards. It will be fresh in our minds.”

You wanted to add and delightfully avoid staring at your stupid fucking eyes for the entirety of the night instead of the task at hand, but decided against it.

“You of all people know that that’s not how it works,” Matt replied. “Sleep is the time when the brain sorts everything together, not an hour before an exam. We need to do this tonight.”

You scoffed. “Speak for yourself. I’m going home.”

That was what made him pause, and the dimples on his cheeks disípate.

“What? You’re leaving?”

“If you’re going to sit here and panic and stress me out then yes, I’m leaving. I’m exhausted, and cramming for this won’t help.”

You stood from your seat, but Matt stood with you. Meeting you at your level, just as he always had.

“We’re in this together Y/N. You’ve said that a million fucking times.”

You breathed through your nose, continuously frustrated at his pattern of remembering seemingly everything you had ever said. “I just need to forget about this for a while, Matt. That’s all.”

With that, he made his way around the coffee table, and creased his eyebrows together fiercely. He moved closer and closer to you as he spoke.

“You think I don’t wish I could forget about this too,” he spat. “Do you honestly think I don’t want to throw all this shit out the window and spend a night with you, enjoying myself for once in my fucking life, and just forget? You think I don’t want that?”

You were frozen solid. It was unlike Matthew’s personality to raise his voice, especially around you.

He breathed rapidly, trying to regain composure.

“My whole life I’ve done what’s good, what’s right. Hell, the entire reason I’m becoming a fucking lawyer is to make things right…but there’s nothing I want less than that right now. There’s nothing I want more than to forget everything in the world but you.”

Your eyes met his unfocused ones, and you took a step closer. An unprecedented confidence overtook you, like the universe was giving you a shove, and you had no fucking clue where it was coming from.

You stood closer than you had ever been to him. Close enough to feel his hot breath on your face and his usual musk of birchwood and peppermint.

“Then forget, Matthew,” you whispered. Boldly. Making up a sexy voice that you had only heard from women in movies. “Forget with me.”

Whatever you did worked, because with one last second of rapid breathing, he slid his hands around your jaw, and attacked your mouth with his own.

Nothing could have prepared you for the addiction that was the feeling of his body against yours and his tongue in your mouth.

You immediately pulled him closer to you by his collar, kissing him so harshly your teeth clashed, and he reciprocated the motion by lifting you into the air. He backed you up into the coffee table and, with his mouth still meeting yours with a fever, single-handedly swiped every document and legal pad off the wood. You gasped as you heard the papers fly through the air and smack against the ground, but at the same time, you pressed against his crotch harder.

Something about him knowing exactly where this was going knocked every rational thought from your brain.

You moved your hands to his face and hair as he laid you down delicately and crawled over you, completely covering you with his body.

Nothing could have prepared you for that feeling either.

He moved to your neck, and his loud breathing mixed with frequent moans sent chills down your body. Your breathing matched his in volume, and you slid your hands under his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. All of him.

You smiled dreamily, already feeling completely fucked out, before asking innocently, “Do you want to taste me, Matty?”

His body shuddered at your ask, and your heart leaped to your throat.

“Please Y/N,” he groaned in your ear, “please.”

Had you ever heard him use that word before?

You chuckled. “Get on with it.”

He removed your clothes so fast you didn’t even have time to wonder why a “blind” person would know how to do that so well.

You pulled his shirt and pants off as well, but when you reached for his boxers, he politely moved your hand away.

“No,” he said softly. “If you touch me anywhere close to there I’m going to drench them.”

He giggled—giggled—at your silence, likely imagining a shocked expression etched upon you, and kissed all around your face.

“What?” he questioned. “I thought sex was about honesty.”

You laughed back. “Not necessarily brutal honesty.”

“We’re lawyers,” he countered, moving down your body with his lips.

“Not yet.”

He smiled and kissed around your stomach and hip bones, breathing deeper and slower. He was slowing himself down.

“Don’t rush me Y/N,” he whispered against your skin. “I’ve waited over a year for this.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

And then he dove in.

You were surprised your scream didn’t shatter his windows.

He mapped you out so intentionally, so thoroughly, and so unapologetically that it felt different than anything else you had ever experienced. He hit every crevice just enough to leave you wanting more before moving onto the next one, and you dug your nails into his hair to keep you tied down to earth.

“Matthew fu—fuck.”

He grinned and swirled his tongue so perfectly that the familiar rope of heat began to coil in your belly faster than you had ever had.

“I feel you. I feel you. Fuck you’re right there Y/N,” he breathed. He then moved up your body and held his fingers above your lips. You didn’t hesitate to bring them to your mouth and swirl your tongue around them, tasting a mix of his sweat and skin.

You could’ve sworn he drooled at the feeling.

You pressed a kiss to his palm before he went back to work with his fingers instead of his mouth, perfectly lathered, and when he massaged your clit just so, everything inside you imploded.

You regained feeling when Matt brushed a piece of sweaty hair from your forehead and kissed it gently.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You scratched your hands up his naked back and kissed his shoulder. “Just wait until you give me a second one.”

He didn’t laugh at that. “Are you sure?”

You held his face in your hands and rubbed your thumbs over his cheekbones. “I’m sure.”

With that, a smile so big it reached his eyes etched over his beautiful face, and he kissed you long and hard.

“Okay,” he said excitedly, and reached for his discarded pants on the floor. “Alright.”

He pulled out his wallet and tore through it with shaky hands. You laughed and took it from his hands, finding the condom almost immediately.

He couldn’t stop rubbing your body.

“Classy, Murdock.”

“When am I to not be prepared?”

You kissed his nose and dragged your hand down his stomach, tracing every ab, every scar.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you are.”

He hummed, tensing up at the word, and you kissed him softly.

One day you would make him believe it.

“You can take them off now,” he said softly, and you obliged. His cock sprung free, hitting his belly, and you felt your pupils grow almost instantly.

He laughed at your silence. “That bad?”

“Yeah,” you replied, opening the condom with your teeth. “That bad.”

He laughed again, and you slid the condom over his length. He hissed as you did this, arms shaking in restraint, and you pumped him only once.

He growled through his teeth, “Careful.”

You were never that. Not with him.

He lined himself up and kissed you softly, breathing into your mouth, and slid his right hand into yours with a loving squeeze before he entered you.

You knew about Matt’s religious affiliations. You knew how close he held that to his heart and kept his moral code in check, but you weren’t that way, had never been, and never planned to be.

But when he slid inside you and the curve of him entered you just right, you had never believed in God more.

The two of you gasped cohesively when you felt how well you fit together, and Matt stayed still, forcing himself not to instantly snap his hips back.

You squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. “Let go Matt. I can take it.”

And did he ever.

He rocked into you so intensely you saw stars and every molecule of oxygen from your lungs escaped you. His rocks were hard and deep, touching places inside you you didn’t even know existed.

Matt’s breath was just as stolen, and with every thrust, he had something more to say.

God Y/N you’re perfect.

I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this, but how worth it it’s been.

I’m going to believe in God for the rest of my life. The rest of my life. What else could have created you?

Let’s keep doing this. Fuck let’s do this forever.

A single tear dripped down your face, and he licked it away.

“I’m almost there,” he whispered into your ear, and gave your hand another squeeze. “Tell me how to get you there.”

You swallowed. “My—touch me where you touched me before. Right there yes right there.”

You clenched around him, and he sucked in a breath.

Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead down onto you as he said, “I’m…I’m there Y/N. I’m coming.”

You exhaled, drenched in euphoria. “I am too.”

And you went together, just like you always did.

There was nothing left in your body but pleasure. No aches or pains from stress, nor pounding in your head, there was only him. Only Matthew.

He pressed his forehead against you, still inside of you, and kissed down the bridge of your nose.

“I needed that,” he mumbled. “I need you.”

You smiled and rubbed your thumb against his shaking hand, still encapsulated in your own. “I need you too.”

He pecked the side of your mouth before moving his mouth down to your breasts, kissing all around them, before ending his feast on top of your heart. He pressed a longer kiss there before fully collapsing on top of you, exhaling in an entirely different way than before.

“Fuck this test,” he whispered, and you smiled. Feeling only him.

“Fuck this test.”

Tag list:

@leahkenobi

#matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matthew murdock #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil #marvel fanfic writer #marvel #sub!matt murdock #karen page #foggy nelson

[littlebitsmile]

in flames [C.L.] | Chapter V

This is it, finally. With this chapter, we kick off the 2024 season and Emma takes part in her first official F1 race in Bahrain. I'm really excited about going forward with this, hopefully you are too.

Enjoy this chapter, breathe it in, feel it in your heart xx

story: in flames driver: Charles Leclerc [C.L.] trope: #haterstolovers summary: Always working three times as hard as everyone else, Emma does not intend to blow her chance of driving among the best of the best in her very first season in Formula 1. Concentrating on first and foremost getting ahead of her brother, she does not even notice that there are some people even in her own team who think she does not deserve this spot and would rather see her fail. And one driver in particular seems to have a need of always reminding her of that.

────ʚ C H A P T E R V ɞ────

"How exactly does this work here?" I ask, while two screens of light shine directly into my face and three or four cameras are pointed at me. A makeup artist is just powdering the last of the anxious sweat on my forehead dry, and a young man is sitting opposite me with a script in his hand. Probably the same one that was sent to me two weeks ago.

"You introduce yourself with your name, which team you drive for, and then I'll ask you a few questions. Easy cheesy lemon squeezy," he replies without looking up from his script.

I can't deny that I'm afraid of messing something up. I still regularly attend the social media training sessions run by Aston Martin's PR department, but Netflix's Drive to Survive team is probably in a whole different league. At least most of the drivers have already warned me about it.

Someone shouts "30 seconds," and suddenly the room empties. The lights are still blinding, and apart from the camera lenses and three-quarters of the interviewer's face, I can't really see much. Just a dark room, almost as if I were the suspect in a murder case and was being questioned - creepy.

I'm handed a film flap with my name, my team, and "Take 1" written on it. I hold it up in front of me and wait for the interviewer's hand signal.

"Hi!" I wave at the camera. "My name is Emma Verstappen, I'm turning 21 this year, and I'm driving for Aston Martin as a rookie in my first Formula 1 season."

"Cut!" A little bit of shuffling around echoes through the room. "That's great, Emma. You're doing good!"

"Thanks, I'm trying my best. Do you need that again or...?" My voice goes up half an octave towards the end of the sentence, unintentionally.

"Ah, no, thanks! But you can answer a question for me directly! How does it feel to sit in this chair?"

"Honestly, like I've been accused." I laugh nervously into the camera. A montage of the last six seasons of the show plays in my mind's eye - almost as if my brain is warning me not to say the wrong thing or get emotional.

"Don't worry, the jury found not guilty. For now, at least." A brief pause as he flicks through his question pad and finally stops at a page. "Emma, when you think about the coming year, what do you feel?"

"You're not the first to ask me that, what do you think my answer will be?" I raise my eyebrows. After his interview, Max gave me the advice to be as detached as possible. Don't stir up drama. Don't take shots at other drivers. Then I take two breaths and continue: "This is a huge year, not only for me, but also for my team. Aston Martin has made a huge bet by putting me in one of their cockpits. But I have no intention of making them regret it."

"Completely understandable! Do you feel comfortable in your team? It was actually very surprising that you didn't end up with your brother's team, Oracle Red Bull Racing! Would you like to tell us briefly how that came about?"

"Well, you probably all know Max, and you don't know me, but let me tell you, even though I love him and he's my brother... we would need some more time to get acquainted with the feeling of being stuck in a team together. Our mom could tell you that as well - everywhere Max and I are involved, there is trouble to follow." I answer honestly. What I don't say is that Max didn't speak to me for a week and a half after I turned down Red Bull's offer to be a test driver for this season. That I had to explain to him almost every hour why the match with Fernando Alonso works better for me at the moment and that later, after I've proven myself, we can drive together until we're old and gray.

"Emma? Are you still there?" The interviewer waves his hand vigorously in front of my face. I apologize and ask him to repeat the question.

"As you know, some contracts are coming to an end this year, and that's why there are a few places with big teams that have been in high demand for years. With Lewis moving from Mercedes to Ferrari and some contracts expiring, for example, Sergio Perez at Red Bull - are you speculating on one of them?"

I have to think for a moment, do some soul-searching. Do I even want to join a big team? Is "Formula 1 World Champion" at the top of my list of dreams? Then I answer: "As a driver, every week you're fighting for your seat, especially this season. It's no longer about where I stand in the world rankings, but rather about the potential I bring with me. I am convinced that I will find my way - regardless of my brother, Red Bull, or anyone else. Where this path will ultimately take me... I don't think anyone really knows."

-

"Two more laps, Emma," Sarah orders over the team radio. She still doesn't speak much, but at least the radio communication works well. Will I ever have as much fun with her as I did with Enzo? Probably not.

"Copy."

I say copy, but what I really mean is I hate you. Forty-five laps under the desert sun of Bahrain, drops of sweat evaporating in my racesuit and making the fabric stick to my skin. I've been trying to suppress my thirst for half an eternity. At least the heat is now my only problem. During the first few test laps, I had to mentally remind myself several times that throwing up in a new car doesn't make a good impression - especially not on the official first day of work. That moment when you're standing at the end of the pit lane waiting to get the final go. In the first corners while hitting the brakes for the first time, my head got put back against the headrest, body compressed. It felt like my heart was going to give up at any moment.

Pre-season testing is the first chance to see if what my team spent the whole year designing is actually going to work. So far, the car feels great - a few comments here and there about oversteer, the right braking behavior, and the optimal line, but at least I'm not a total failure. At least, I hope I'm not.

Fernando has already completed laps in the three-digit range yesterday and this morning combined. I happen to be put in the same test window as Max. I didn't think long about whether this was perhaps intentional, so that we could compare ourselves better, but after the first few laps, the thought crept into my head and wouldn't let go.

As I return to the pit lane faster than expected and the engineering team pushes the car and me back into the garage, I realize that I'm still holding my breath. I take off the steering wheel, release the headrest, and squeeze out of the tight seat. A few mechanics murmur "Good job!" or pat me on the back, but no one says a word. I exhale. Then I look at the car again. Standing right in front of it while the green of the bodywork hits me - an indescribable feeling.

"You know I'm your biggest critic, but that was a good performance today. We can work with that," says Sarah as she comes to a halt next to me and compares graphs on her clipboard. She looks at me from the side, then glances at the car and back at me. "This is your car, you better believe it."

I laugh and nod. "Thank you, Sarah. I don't think that was such a bad practice. There's still plenty to do." As I start to speak, I take off my helmet, finally remove the hearing protection from my other ear, and walk towards my cabin in the back of the garage. Sarah is hot on my heels. "I feel like I have to turn the steering wheel a bit more on the right-hand bends... but maybe it's just because the right-hand bends are a bit faster than I originally thought. I don't feel the headwind as much as I did in the wind tunnel, you can really feel the aerodynamic adjustments on the sides straight away. Do you think I can do one or two laps, just running around the track tomorrow before the start of training? I feel like I don't have every corner completely under control yet and..."

"Emma," Sarah tries to interrupt me, but I keep talking. Unlike me, she is at a loss for words and never let me finish my thoughts during our first few weeks. But this is about our car, about the points, about moving forward and not standing still. I carry on talking impartially.

"...maybe I can have a quick word with Fernando tomorrow? I'd like the front end to be a little sharper, at the moment we still have a lot of leeway - only if it's okay with him."

"Emma."

"Hm?" Now I'm paying attention.

"You're in fifth place at the moment."

"Wow, I didn't think so. That's good news, isn't it?"

"Max is in P6," she says slowly, smiles and then leaves me standing alone in the corridor. My water bottle almost falls out of my hand. I turn around quickly and call after her.

"Hey! You can't just say something like that and then disappear," but she's already around the corner and isn't paying any more attention to me. Has she just smiled for the first time since I met her? And that makes me almost more nervous than the fact that I have beaten my brother for the first time.

-

I'm not that lucky over the next few days of pre-season testing. But the high from my first day of practice on the track carries me through the week like clouds, before we even get to the first three free practices. I stay in the top 10 during the practice sessions that are part of the race weekend, but I seem to have completely lost my groove in qualifying. Starting from 12th on the grid, neither I nor my team are particularly enthusiastic about my performance, and this contributes to the fact that I don't get much sleep the night before the actual race.

I also have to attend several photo shoots in between - not just from my own team but also the official ones. For the first time, I get placed in an all-male field of riders, which is why I am allowed to stand in the middle of the so-called "class of 2024"-picture this year. That is more than awkward for me, but in that respect I will probably have to get used to not being allowed to have a say. On this occasion, I also try to spend more time with my brother, firstly to get some first hand insider advice and secondly to get to know the people he gets on well with.

Carlos Sainz, who tried to persuade me at all costs to go and celebrate with the group before my first race - as a season opener – immediately melts my heart. When I thankfully declined, he laughed and told me not to worry so much - after all, the Verstappen gene is in me too. I didn't mention that I wasn't so sure about that. At the same time, I wish him all the luck in the world - after all, he is currently without a seat for 2025. Secretly, I hope that he achieves better results than Charles, but of course I'm not allowed to say that out loud.

I also have time for a game of paddle tennis with Max, Fernando, Lando Norris, and Daniel Ricciardo - none of them seem to care that I've never held a tennis racket in my life, let alone a paddle tennis racket. On the contrary, each of them patiently explains their way of playing to me, until at some point I'm sure that each of them has at least slipped me some false information so that I don't turn out to be a sudden natural talent.

Unfortunately, all these distractions have not helped to reduce the pressure. The pressure from my father, who follows every Instagram post with excitement and then asks me whether I can really afford to play paddle tennis with Max and whether he missed the fact that I already have a World Drivers' Champions title in my pocket, which would explain why I would think that some free time is something I am allowed to have. The pressure from my team, whose hopes are mainly pinned on Fernando, but a driver duo consists of two people and not everyone is convinced that this is the right place for me. So I continue to sleep uneasily.

-

Before the race starts, I march up and down in the garage with a pulse of just under 130. Outside, I see fans running past, taking their seats, while the structure of the course burns in a continuous loop in my mind. It feels like I remind myself every five minutes that I shouldn't pick at my fingernails and instead find my focus. Max wished me good luck as I left the hotel, and he meant it, but that's easy to say when you start from pole position and have literally nothing to loose.

I overhear Sarah being interviewed somewhere, but unfortunately, I can't quite make out who it is from the voice. The walls here are so thin that I can hear every little movement of the technicians on the car, so I'm not surprised that I overhear conversations that aren't really meant for my ears. Only the interviewer's question burns itself into my head: Do you think you put too much faith in someone who is still so young?

I immediately shake my head, grab my helmet and water bottle, and make my way to my car. There I high-five one or two mechanics and then squeeze into the seat of my car. The cable for the radio connection on my left shoulder is connected to the car, someone plugs in my steering wheel, and the crew slowly removes the heaters from the tires. I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel, squeeze harder, and then let go again. Sitting here feels right, just like the pedals under the soles of my feet and the muffled sounds that can’t quite reach my ears. I try to find my focus and go over the route again in my head. Too much faith in someone who is still so young. The colleague in front of my car gives me the signal to rev the engine and drive out of the garage. Then I'm pushed to the starting grid.

The next few minutes fly by. The impressions of the last few days, the ups and downs, the conversations with other drivers, but also the phone calls with my father and his criticism - everything is buzzing around in my head without having an outlet for it. My body is tense at every turn and I'm literally clutching the piece of metal between my hands. I keep counting to ten in my head and tell myself that everything will be fine, no matter where I end up today - at least that's what I try to tell myself.

The signal is given for the last call to leave the start area. I get some last looks before my team makes its way towards the pit lane.

"Let's go, Emma," says Sarah through the microphone. I nod, even though I'm aware that she can't see me. My brain empties completely during the warm-up lap. Quicker than I'd like, I'm back in my starting position and looking towards the traffic lights. I feel nothing, think nothing. This is the first race of the season and nothing has been won or lost yet. All the cards have been reshuffled and we can only really say how the cars will actually perform afterward. The first lights turn red. Red. Red. Red. Red. And then the lights go out, and my foot presses down on the gas pedal. This is the official start of the 2024 season.

────ʚ [Masterlist] [Chapter IV] [Chapter VI (in progress)] ɞ────

Tags: @cmleitora @alliwantisadonut

#f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #slow burn #f1 imagine #haters to lovers

[thot-of-khonshu]

Daddy Steven? please. 🥵

Man oh man, I've been thinking about this ask since it dropped into my inbox. I've had a particularly shitty day today and I'm writing this for #selfcare and because I really want Professor Steven Grant to top me.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (By proceeding to read beyond this warning, you agree that you are 18 years or older)

Content: Explicit Smut, Professor Grant au, daddy kink, p in v sex (unprotected, wrap it up folks), dirty talk, desk action

The first thing you noticed about Professor Grant was how someone so broad could contort himself into a smaller, shrank version of himself. Your Egyptology professor was someone who began the class hunched over, meek and quiet during introductions but by the end of the class he was expanded, arms spread out and voice booming with passion over the subject matter. He always went over. You didn't mind.

You also noticed during these moments of an expanse that his hands were particularly large. When carrying a textbook, you noticed how his thick fingers would grip around the spine, sometimes setting it down on the desk to finger out a specific page with such slow tension it felt like the world was going too fast and too slow at the same time.

So on a Wednesday afternoon when you found yourself in your professor's office, his hands on your neck and his thick erection pressing up against you, you had a brief moment to yourself where you remembered fantasizing about this exact scenario for weeks.

"Oh fuck, you like that don't you?" Professor Grant panted in your ear, grinding against your skirt. "You dirty little girl, you filthy thing."

You just had some questions regarding a paper you had written. He was happy to oblige. You were both incredibly nervous. Whenever you had spent any time with Professor Grant in class or seeing him around campus, there were always long lingers, a touch on the shoulder that lasted a bit too long. So it was no surprise that the first time you spent any proper time alone together ended up with his hands hoisting your skirt up.

He bent you over his desk, erection still between your cheeks as he gripped at your ass. He gave you a hard smack as you tried your best not to cry out so anyone could hear.

"I bet you can't take it harder." He gritted through his teeth. You turned to him, hair splayed out on the desk, cheeks flushed and showed an inviting smirk.

"Harder, daddy." You moaned. Steven groaned above you, using his broad hands to lift you up by the throat and by the breasts.

"Is my good girl gonna let daddy fuck her on his desk? My dirty girl going to work for that higher grade?" He slides his hand that was on your breast towards your panties, feeling the wet pool between your legs as he slides them over and guides himself to your entrance.

"Please let me feel your thick cock Professor Grant." You whisper, and you feel him slowly slide into you. His girth surrounding your folds as you feel incredibly full. He continues to hold you up by the throat, slowly upping his pace until you heard the noises of your wetness and him bucking into you. You wouldn't be able to take it much longer.

"You're squeezing daddy's cock so tight, such a good girl." You were blown away by how the shy Professor Grant could go from meek to so controlling in seconds. Sure, it was always the quiet ones but you never expected his hand wrapped so tightly around your throat as he whispered dirty words into your ear.

"I think I'm gonna cum." You were nearly out of breath, lightheaded as you felt him taking you from behind. He made you feel so full.

"Not yet." He growled, he turned you over, pushing you onto his desk and lifting your legs up towards your stomach. As he slowly inserted himself back into you, you felt yourself begin to lose control. He was so slick and pressed up against the spot inside of you that was making you clench. You could barely muster words, mouth agape while small whines came out.

"Please, daddy. I want you to feel me cum all over your cock, Professor."

He slammed himself into you, giving you harder strokes, the room filled with your grunts and the noise of your hips snapping together. "Go on then, cum for daddy. Squeeze around my cock."

Those words made you release on him, Steven groaning at the juices surrounding his cock. You felt so tight, so perfect, he nearly felt himself cum.

You panted below him, seeing stars and taking a moment to come down. In awe that Professor Grant could make you release like this. He looked down at you with a devilish grin.

"We're not done yet, you've got to earn your marks, little girl."

#steven grant #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you #moon knight au #steven grant au #professor steven grant #ask bea #drabble on