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#it was like damn no man has ever laid a hand on you
carmyboobear · 2 days
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Blood Orange (Ch 1: The Walk-In)
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Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)
Rating: E (7.3k words)
links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link
Summary: Losing your job is the worst thing to ever happen to you. Getting hired by Carmen Berzatto is a close second. You tell yourself that The Beef is only temporary, that it's just a replacement until you find something better. It doesn't work. You've stopped listening. You've had a taste of Carmy, and now you don't think you're ever gonna be able to let go. No matter how bad it gets. 
Content Tags: secret workplace relationship/sex, friends/coworkers with benefits, they/them afab reader, miscommunication, mental illness (carmy and reader), dom/sub dynamics, dom carmy (for now), enemies to friends to lovers (eventually), unhealthy coping mechanisms, dysfunctional relationship
A/N: It's finally here! New series! We even get sex in the first chapter! In my other fic, I'm taking care of Carmy. In this one, I'm making him worse. Of course, here's a disclaimer that I DON’T condone or intend to glorify any of this behavior. It's just compelling to write. Enjoy!
You return to The Beef for the first time in years when you're at your lowest.
The only upside to this abysmal situation is that the job was shitty. The job you just got laid off from, to be exact. Retail was never your passion, and there's a certain relief in knowing you don't have to go back to that windowless place. You didn't play an important role in the ecosystem, but it played a pretty crucial role in yours. It kept a roof over your head.
You're sure you could’ve sued them in some fashion for letting you go without any warning, any parachute, but you didn't have the luxury of time. You needed to figure out how you were going to pay rent, and fast.
After the rage boiled over (not to say that it's resolved, the residual anger's leveled into an even simmer), you pulled your hair back, found your cleanest, nicest outfit, and started your job search. With your updated resume in hand and scuffed sneakers on your feet, you've trekked all over Chicago looking for a new job. You weren't optimistic, nor were you hopeful. 
You suppose the only word you could use to describe yourself was desperate, and it was a matter of finding someone that was just as desperate, if not more desperate than you. To put it politely, the odds of that were low. Very low. 
You got laid off that very morning. The rest of your afternoon has been spent walking from door to door to every establishment you could spot. By some cruel twist of fate, none of them were hiring. The ones that were hiring looked unenthusiastic, even adverse to taking your resume. 
“When would you be able to start?” Some of the workers asked. 
“Tomorrow,” was your desperately honest answer. 
“If all goes well, you'll hear from us in a week,” was their response. The unspoken was, of course, the fact that radio silence was more likely than an email or phone call. Places didn't even send rejection letters anymore. 
“Thanks for your time,” you'd say, bringing out a bright smile from a complete lack of reserves, and as soon as you turned around, your face would drop. 
Your hopes were low, nearly non-existent, but damn. Damn. It wasn't looking good for you.
That's why you enter The Beef. You vaguely remember visiting this place a couple years ago, back when you first moved to Chicago. The owner was…pretty nice, actually. You don't remember his name, but you remember having a pleasant conversation with him. Of course, there's nothing you can do if he doesn't have a job opening, but it wouldn't be bad to see a friendly face. Even if that face is from someone who's basically a stranger. 
The doorbell rings when you enter. It catches the attention of the man standing behind the counter, and with how his head jolts up, you'd think the bell functioned as an alarm instead. 
“Welcome,” he says. Your first impression, other than the fact that he seems very, very, tired, is that he's irritatingly attractive. If anything, the eyebags and the greased back waves only add to whatever the hell he's got going on. 
“Hi. Um…” You're briefly caught off guard by his biceps, but you catch yourself. “I was actually wondering if you guys were hiring.”
“We are,” he replies, and it's the best thing you've heard all day. He lights up like the spark of a lighter, bright and instantaneous. It doesn't shake the pervasive exhaustion that radiates off him, though. 
“Thank god,” you mutter, and you want to take it back (it's far too casual), but he cracks an amused smile that makes you want to dissolve like a pinch of salt in a sea of sauce. “Sorry. Do you mind if I talk to the owner? We met a while ago, and—”
“I'm the owner,” he interrupts, and any other words you had planned fall away.
“Sorry?” You repeat. “I swear it was this guy—he had short dark hair, I think—”
“Yeah, he left the place to me. Didn't want it anymore, so.” He shrugs. The light you just saw from him has fizzled away like the end of a sparkler, short-lived and ultimately disappointing. 
“Oh. Got it. Uh…” To your credit, you don't fumble for too long. You have a lot of questions, but you've got more pressing issues. You pluck out a resume from a file folder. “Here's my resume, then.”
He takes it from you, flips it to face him. He's quiet as his eyes lower down the page, and you wonder if it's going to be a guillotine or a pot of gold at the end of this. The only sounds in the entrance are the passing cars outside, the rickety air conditioning, and muffled chatter from the back. 
“You worked as a prep cook.” He says it like a fact, but you know it's a question. 
“Yeah, nothing fancy. Just at some chain restaurants.”
“Right. I see you worked as a line cook at another location. Which one did you prefer?”
“Uh…” They both came with their separate pains. Your honest answer is that being a line cook was one of the most stressful experiences of your life, but if he has a position open as a line cook, you don't want to fuck it up. “They were both fine. I think I was a little better as a prep cook, but I didn't mind either.”
He hums, satisfied by your answer. At least it’s only half of a lie.                                                                                                                    
“How do you work under pressure?”
“Good,” you answer quickly. “Well enough.”
“Willing to learn?”
“Obviously. I mean…” You think you see a flash of a smile, but you're unsure. “Yeah.”
“When'd you be able to start?” You're surprised he's already asking this.
“Tomorrow,” you say, just like you’ve been, and his reaction is different from the others. He nods. He doesn't smile, not like he did earlier, but you can tell this is a good sign. 
Before he can get a word out, there's a sharp, metallic explosion of noises that resounds from the direction of the kitchen. 
“Uh,” he starts, eyebrows pinched in irritation, the voices come in. 
“I told you, you have to say behind!” A woman's voice. She sounds young, but there's no real way to be sure of that.
“How the hell did you not hear me coming?” A Chicago accent, male. Older, maybe. “I was in the middle of having a conversation with Tina—”
“Great, I'm so happy for you, I don't give a shit, now this has all went to waste—”
“Well, who's fault is that?”
“Who's fault is that? You did not just—”
“Guys!” The man you've been talking to gives you an apologetic glance before walking to the back, pushing through the folding doors. You catch a glimpse of the two people arguing on the other side before it shuts. “I'm tryin’ to talk to a new hire here. We can't be like this right now. Not ever, but especially right now.”
Finally, the first sane person I've met all day, you think. 
“Carmy, talk some sense into her,” the older guy shouts, and it gives you a name to the face. “All of this on the floor—”
“You didn't say behind,” the woman repeats, except with more fury in it this time.
“You didn't say behind,” he imitates back. “Carmy—”
“She’s right. Richie, step out,” Carmy says. “Syd, you clean this up.”
“But—” You hear her start to protest. 
“You spilled it, you clean it,” he cuts through, decisive and firm.
“I know, but Richie—”
“Clean it,” he repeats, firmer, darker this time, and there's a beat of silence. 
“...Yes, chef.”
“I told you to step out,” Carmy tells who you assume is Richie. 
“You're just gonna let her—”
“Step the fuck outside right fucking now!” Carmy screams, his patience shooting away like a gunshot. You feel something shrivel inside you, and not in a good way. “Do the one fucking thing you're good at and get out of the fucking way!”
Yeah…definitely not in a good way.
From what you hear, it sounds like Richie has to get wrestled outside by someone, whom you're not sure. After another minute, Carmy returns to the front. 
“I'm sorry about that. Fucking—” He drags a hand across his face. You swear his eyebags have grown heavier in the 5 minutes he was in the kitchen. “What was I saying?”
“Um, I was saying that I could start tomorrow,” you remind him, although the vigor you had just stated it with is a bit fizzled out. 
“Right. Okay. Uh—” He pats his hands on his apron, searching for something. A pen and paper appear in his hands, and he scribbles something on it. This is when you notice his tattoos. A flower on the back of his hand. Surprising. “You're hired. Here's the paperwork you need to fill out, along with the number and email you'll be hearing from me at.”
“What?” You take the sheets, but the smooth paper doesn't feel real in your hands. His handwriting is hasty and dark, like he was running out of time on a test. “I mean, I'm just surprised.”
“Do you not want it?”
“I want it,” you promise, and you feel your cheeks flush. This is a bad time to yet again notice how attractive he is. His pretty eyes, his nose. The little moles under his left eye. “Y-Yeah, I want the job.”
“Good.” He motions towards the sticky note again. “Come in at 8 am tomorrow. You'll be starting as a prep cook, which you've done before.”
“Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll be there.” The reality is setting in now, and an odd cocktail of relief, apprehension, and excitement is settling in your stomach. “Thank you so much.” I just got laid off from my job this morning, so this means a lot, you want to say, but it's too soon. You don't want to say anything that'll make him change his mind about whatever he sees in you. 
“Thank you,” he echoes back. “We need the help. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“See you,” you reply, and with that, the door rings behind you. A customer comes up to the counter, peering up at the menu. You figure this is your cue to leave. He's not looking at you anymore anyway. 
So, I got a job now, you update your friends, texting them on your way home on the metro. As the relieved congratulations come flying in, another remark seems to resound amongst all of them. 
I can't believe you got the job just like that. That place must be desperate, too, is roughly what they've all said. The thing is, they're not wrong. 
You managed to find someone more desperate than you in the job economy. Just one, but that was enough. It makes you think, though. You think about Carmy's weary blue eyes, his brief smile, and his hand tattoos. You wonder if it's just the restaurant that gives him that bone-deep exhaustion, or if it's a smaller part of a bigger picture. 
You think about it for the rest of your commute, you think about it as you smoke on the porch, you think about it as you lay in bed. You think about it as you fill out the paperwork, fingers tracing where Carmy's written his name, number, and email.
Carmen Berzatto
773-555-0901
So Carmy's a nickname, you think. Not about what type of boss he's going to be, not about what it's going to be like working under someone you are obviously attracted to. 
Maybe you should be more worried about this.
If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you tell yourself, and you foolishly believe it.
. . . . .
Your first day on the job starts with introductions. 
At least, that's about as much as you've figured out so far. When he sees you upon arrival, he pauses and stares at you like he's forgotten. Not a great start. Granted, he does snap out of it. That's when he tells you to follow him, which is where you currently find yourself. You're not sure where he's leading to, only that he's introducing you to others as you pass them by.
“They’re working with us starting today,” Carmy tells everyone. “They’re gonna be on prep.”
Right. So that's what you'll be doing. At least he told you that much yesterday.
The catalog of coworkers expands exponentially. You remember Sydney from yesterday, and to her credit, she apologizes about having you witness her fight with Richie, who conveniently isn't here yet. She seems the nicest out of all the bunch, so you decide to let it slide. 
Marcus is pretty nice, too. So are Ebra, Sweeps, Manny, Angel—everyone seems to be pretty alright. It’s obvious they’re standoffish by you being in their space. You find it hard to hold it against them. You’re not really sure how your relationships with them are going to pan out. There are only three that you’re particularly unsure on.
The first and obvious one is Richie. He came in eventually and didn’t give you the best impression, immediately talking over everyone and oozing arrogance. The only salvageable thing is that he’s not even a chef. At least you won’t have to be in the kitchen with him much. You want to avoid the honor of talking to him as much as possible.
Tina is next. She clearly doesn’t enjoy having someone new in the ecosystem, and she’s spent more time ignoring you than talking with you. As you understand it, she’s close to the rest of the staff since they’ve all been together for a while. Minus you and Syd, as you learn she’s only been there for a week. You think Tina will warm up to you…eventually.
Carmy is the last one, and he’s…he’s…
He’s something else.
He has you doing prep for most of the day. After introducing you to everyone and giving you a brief tour, he brings you to your station, scratched up stainless steel.
“You’re going to be cutting onions and carrots today for the stock. The vegetables are in the walk-in I showed you earlier, and when it’s done, it goes on the first shelf.” Carmy’s to your right, set up at his own station. You swear you keep your eyes focused on the vegetables, not his biceps in that shirt, but… “You should already know this, but label everything. I don’t want to see anything without a date. Got it?”
“Yes, chef,” you confirm, snapping out of it. He’s been flinging new information at you like it’s a war and he’s gunning to survive. But so are you. “I’ll do my best.”
“I expect as such.” He slides over a peeler for the carrots and some plastic bins for trash. “It’s just a stock, so don’t worry about an even cut. Just salvage whatever you can, cut off anything that doesn’t look good.” You nod. “Been a year or so since you did this, right?”
“Yeah. I cook regularly, but I’ll need to get back into the groove of things. And I will,” you add hastily. “I’ll combine them into this one when I'm done, right?” You ask, nudging a large plastic container. 
“Correct.” A brief smile flashes across his face. “You're already following quicker than I thought you would.” You’re not sure if he means it as an insult or a compliment, so you decide to take it as the latter. 
“I haven't even chopped anything yet.”
“I know.” His expression is flat again. You resist a laugh.  He plucks an onion from the bin, puts it in front of you. “Show me a rough dice.”
The knife is sharp. You notice this as you place careful cuts into the onion. It's not quite as sharp as his unnerving gaze, which layers pressure upon pressure. It builds up like a pastry puff, thin multitudes of layers expanding upward. You need to be good. You need to be perfect. You don't want to disappoint him, not this early, even though you've barely been here for an hour. 
It's just a shitty old sandwich shop, you tell yourself, but your dicing is uneven and you briefly think about accidentally chopping your fingers off. 
“Not my best work,” you admit, vaguely breathless. Carmy hasn't said anything yet.
“It'll do.” You're waiting for him to say something else, give you some tips, but he doesn't. Irritation prickles to the tips of your fingers. “I'll be back to check in on you later.”
You stand there, motionless and shocked in the aftermath. You're not sure what you expected from today, but being abandoned an hour in was not at the top of your bucket list. 
Man, what the fuck, you think, the thought clear in the silence around you, and that's the last time you can hear yourself think for the rest of the shift. 
There's a prepared stock from yesterday simmering on the stove behind you. It's flanked by boiling potatoes and reducing tomato sauce. The heat from it’s searing your back like a steak, slowly drawing lines of moisture all over the surface of your shirt. Your coworkers constantly invade your space to check on them. You suppose it's not their fault that the kitchen, but it's still irritating. They're also all shouting over each other like it's a competition.
“Who the fuck touched my stock—”
“No one touched your stupid shitty stock—”
“I am trying to find this cutting board, will someone please—”
You move on from the onions with only a thin layer of sweat collected at your hairline. 
Your hands are shaky as they peel the carrots. You know you're not getting as efficient of a shave as you could be, but the caffeine crash from your morning coffee is getting to you. You don't remember the last time you drank water. A cigarette sounds nice. 
“Clean your station, chef.” Carmy materializes next to you. You hear him before you see his hands scooping carrot shavings into a plastic container. It shocks you so much that you almost cut yourself. 
“Sorry, chef,” you reply reflexively. You look down at your station, straightening your tools. You want to ask if you can take your break, but you don't want to look any weaker than you do already. “So, uh, do we get 30's here?”
When you don't get a response, your head snaps up, irritation on the tip of your tongue, but he's not even there. 
Fucking hell, you think, annoyance simmering into something akin to anger, and you go back to finishing your prep. 
You don't see him for another hour after that. It's not even him that tells you to take your 15, it's Syd, who noticed you were half-way through your shift and on the verge of…something. 
“You finished the prep he gave you, right?” Syd had asked. You told her you finished and put it back in the walk-in. “Yeah, then go take your break. Did he not tell you we get 15's here?”
“He didn't,” you say, too annoyed to bother hiding the disdain in your face. Sydney just sighs, rolling her eyes, and you think you love her. 
“Asshole.” She makes a shooing motion at you then. “Go, get a break from this madness. It'll get better, I promise.”
You're not sure if you believe her, but you do step outside to take your break. 
As you stand outside in the back, you take note of tightness in your body that you weren't even aware of. The cigarette smoke calms you, loosens you. Or maybe you owe that to getting out of that hot kitchen. 
This time, you see Carmy before you hear him. You turn to the door to see him stepping out, a pack of smokes in his hand. 
“Hey,” he says. 
“Hey,” you reply.
“Everythin’ goin’ okay so far?”
“Yeah. It's fine.” Other than everything.
“Really?” His surprise just pisses you off further. “Well, that's good.”
“...Yeah.” You decide if your mouth stays unoccupied, you'll start cussing him out, so you put your cigarette back in your mouth. 
“You're bleeding.”
“What?”
“I said, you're bleeding. Your hand.” 
You look down at your hand holding the cigarette, and sure enough, there's a thin, shallow cut oozing blood near one of your knuckles. 
“Shit,” you mutter, quickly sucking the skin into your mouth. When you pull it back, the red refills. “I didn't even notice.”
“Let's get a bandaid on that.” He puts his unlit cigarette back into his pack. “I have some in my office.”
That's how you end up in the enclosed, dark space of his office, seated on the only chair as he leans back against his cluttered desk. The dingy first-aid kit is propped on top of a shaky stack of papers. Carmy takes out a bandaid from it and peels it open.
“Thought I gave you a sharp knife, it shouldn't have cut you like that,” Carmy comments. 
“It was sharp,” you correct. “Guess I just fucked up.”
“It happens,” he says, which surprises you. He keeps surprising you. You just can't seem to figure him out. “Let me see the cut.”
You only realize that he's putting the bandaid on you when he cradles your hand in his. His hands are warm. 
He has so many hand tattoos. You notice the letters on his fingers first, the SOU curled around your palm. You notice the other tattoo on the back of his hand next, since that's the one carefully placing the bandaid on you. 
He wraps it around your finger just right. Not too tight, not too loose. 
“Is that too tight?” He asks, almost in a whisper. He's so close, and he smells like kitchen oil, cigarette smoke, and a faded cologne you can't place. 
“No, it's okay.” You don't mean to talk so quietly back, but you do. You can't stop staring at his fingers. They're long and marked up with silver scars and burns. If you look carefully, you can place the locations of his callouses. 
“Good.” You don’t know why he does it, but he runs his thumb across the seams of where your bandaid overlaps. Surely it’s just to secure it further…surely.
“Thank you.” He’s still holding your hand. You’re unsure if you’re imagining the tension in the air or not. Everything feels more intimate behind closed doors, especially in low light. “I could’ve done it myself.”
“It’s easier if another person does it.” He lets go, finally, and you try not to mourn the loss. “Did you finish prepping for the stock?”
“What you gave me, yeah.”
“Alright. Let’s go take a look at it, then,” he says, like that isn’t the most anxiety inducing thing you’ve ever heard. 
“R-Right now?”
“As opposed to?” He opens the door to his office, and the muffled noises in the kitchen become sharp and clear again, like emerging from underwater. “Come on.”
You don’t know how it happens, but Carmy gets into five separate arguments on the way to the walk-in. FIVE. To be fair, two of them are from Richie.
“I’ve been telling you guys to sharpen your knives, don’t fucking treat them like this,” Carmy shouts, trudging over to someone’s station. “You see this? This is exactly what we should not be doing! How many times have I said this today?! Don’t—“
“Stop going into my office when I’m not there,” Carmy hisses at Richie next. “You keep fucking up where the papers are put, and I can’t find anything! It’s enough of a mess as it is! No—I said—cousin, listen to me—“
“Everyone shut the hell up, clean your stations, and get the fuck back to work!” Is the last thing he shouts before slamming the door to the walk-in behind you. He slams it so hard the wire racks rattle. You decide not to comment. 
The difference in sound is eerie. You’re always surprised by how sound proof these walk-in fridges are.
“Is this the prep you did today?” Carmy asks, touching one of the clear plastic bins. Sure enough, it’s the one you placed there a moment ago.
“Yeah, it is.” You chew the inside of your cheek. You were hoping he would be in an okay mood when he checked your work. It seemed like he was at first, but now?
“It's on the wrong shelf.”
“What?” You stare at it sitting on the first shelf, just like he told you to. “You told me to put it on the first shelf.”
“It goes on the second shelf.” He's pissed, and there's ice in your veins. He huffs as he takes the container and moves it one shelf up, slamming it down unnecessarily. “I told you—second shelf.”
“You literally said it went on the first shelf.” The ice has melted, and it's boiling. 
“No, I didn't.” You wanna punch him. Badly. You know what you heard. “And you forgot to label it.”
“Shit.” That, you did forget. You’re not above owning up to your mistakes, unlike him. “I'm sorry, I was—”
“We always need stuff like this to be labeled,” he interrupts, rude and abrupt. You can hear the thinly veiled anger in his voice. “I told you.”
“I know, I just—“
“Don’t make excuses. Just do better.”
“It’s my first fucking day!” You snap, finally, and it’s like a firecracker in the dead of night. “I don’t expect to be coddled, but I’ve only been here for a couple hours, and you’re just—“
“I told you to put a label on it, to put it on the second shelf, and you didn’t do either of those things.” This is a different type of anger. It’s quiet, contained. Dangerous. And with your outburst, it’s trembling at the edges. 
“You literally hired me yesterday!” You’re exasperated. “You looked at my resume for like two seconds before hiring me, and you’re mad that I’m messing up?”
“You had enough credentials on your resume. You told me you could work well under pressure and learn quickly. Is that true or not?”
“It is true! You just have to give me a chance first!”
“I just gave you a chance,” Carmy snaps back, “and you fucked it up.”
“Oh my god. I just—“ You take a step back. “I don’t have to take this shit.”
“Are you quitting already?”
“I wasn’t going to.” You move towards the door. “But maybe I should, before you fire me. Doesn't seem like you want me, anyway.”
You were planning on exiting the walk-in after that, to leave on cue, but the door doesn’t budge. You and Carmy notice it at the same time. 
Suddenly, there is a new problem.
“Fuck,” Carmy curses under his breath. The two of you are pushing against the door, but it won’t budge. He slams his fist on it and calls out. “Guys, the walk-in door is stuck! Can any of you open it from out there?”
“Carmen?” Richie's voice is muffled from the other end. There's the sound of frustrated efforts on the other end. “It's not fuckin’ budging!”
“Fuck,” Carmy repeats, seething, and you agree. “Call Fak!”
“I already did! He’s gonna be here in 20!”
“20 minutes?!” Carmy shouts. You close your eyes and sigh, audibly. “Don't we have a screwdriver in here or something?! Just take the hinges off!”
“Why do you think I called Fak?! Shut the hell up and be patient!”
“Tell him to hurry the fuck up,” Carmy barks, and that's where their conversation ends. 
“Just what I needed right now,” you mutter under your breath. Carmy's not looking at you, eyes boring into the door that's trapping the both of you in here with each other. “To be locked in a room with you.”
It's quiet for a minute before he speaks, cutting the silence open.
“...I do want you, y'know.”
“You—huh?” He said it so quietly you're not sure if it was a hallucination. 
“We need you here.” He's still not looking at you. “This place—it's fucked.  We don't have enough hands.”
“I can tell,” you say, and you mean for it to come out bitter, but it's soft. Naively so. 
“I want you here. I do.” He doesn't need to say it like that. You don't want to believe it, neither his words or the way hearing it makes you feel. “I need you.”
“Can you at least look at me when you say it?” 
You’re not sure why you say it. You instantly recognize it for how needy it sounds, but you don't get the luxury of embarrassment. Carmy's already turning to face you. 
“I want you,” he repeats, voice low. You think about the paint you'd need to mix to match the color of his eyes. Blue, white, and the slightest bit of orange to desaturate it. You're not sure what type of orange, though. “I need you.”
“Fuck,” you mutter, despite yourself, and it's too late.
“Are you gonna do better?” You didn't even register him moving closer to you. When did your back end up against the shelves?
“I’m gonna do better,” you whisper, “if you stop being such an asshole.”
“It won't happen again,” he whispers back, and you recognize it for the lie that it is. 
You don't really care, though. 
His face is so close to yours that you can see the separate specks of colors in his iris. You watch his gaze fall from your eyes to your lips, and it lingers there before rising again. Any shreds of self respect or control you were clinging onto disintegrate. It doesn't matter if he really means what it says. All that matters is getting your mouth on his.  
“Okay,” you say, a whisper of foolish acceptance, and you're kissing him. 
Or is he kissing you? You don't know who leaned forward first. It's not important. 
“I saw you staring at my hands today,” Carmy says against your lips. Spit makes your mouths slide easily against each other. “Yesterday, too.”
“What the—no you didn't,” you gasp, appalled, heat rising in your face, “how did you—?”
“You're right. I didn't,” he admits with a cheeky grin. You’re really gonna punch him now. 
“God, you're just,” you mutter, “you're such an asshole.”
“I know.” At first, you think he's being smug, but there's a surprising sense of remorse under it. You don't have time to think about it, though, not when his hand is cradling your face. There's no way he doesn't feel how hot your face is. 
“What're you…?” His thumb passes over your lower lip, and the words fall away. 
“Tell me you want this.” Your eyes flicker to his hand, then to his face. His other hand is at the top of your jeans, fingers resting on the edge of your waistband. Excited arousal hits your gut, sizzling like browning butter, warm and toasted. His eyes are dark, caramel on the verge of burning. “If you don't, I'll pretend like this never happened. I'll never touch you again.”
I'll never touch you again, he says, like it's not the last thing you'll ever want. 
“I want this,” you murmur. “Touch me. Please.”
“Good,” Carmy praises, one quiet word enough to sear your insides with heat, blue flame on the underside of a pan. “That's what I thought.”
His hands slip behind you to untie your apron. The strings fall to your sides, and you tug it hastily up and over your head. It falls to the floor next to you. Surely that's a gigantic health hazard, but Carmy's the one who throws it there, so you don't say anything. You lower your gaze to his fingers unbuttoning your pants. The sight of it makes you woozy. You take note of his other tattoos, noticing the letters on his fingers. You watch as the stabbed hand made of ink on his right disappears under the cloth of your underwear.
“Oh,” you breathe. You didn't expect his hand to be so warm, even though you had just felt his heated palm gentle on your cheek.
“You're wet.” The tip of his index finger dips into where your hot folds separate. It strokes at the fluid that's pooled at your entrance, coaxing it out. “When did this happen?”
“Fuck you is when,” you bite back, but it's all bark. “I don't know.”
“Sure,” he agrees, but not really. His condescending smile shouldn't be hot, it really shouldn't, but your pussy throbs against his hand, and he smiles knowingly. “All you need is me to talk and you get wet, is that it?”
“I—” His finger rises upward, splitting you open and flicking at your clit. You buck against his hand. “Don't ask me a question and then touch me like that,” you hiss, horribly turned on.
“Mm, sorry.” It's barely an apology. You throw your head back in frustration. “I didn't mean to.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” you pant. He's pushed your slick up your pussy to your clit, two slick fingers sliding back and forth on your stiff nub. The pads of his calloused fingers are rubbing you almost where you're too sensitive. 
“Then don't. I don't care what you think of me.” You think he's about to get his fingers inside of you, and your breath hitches, but he pulls back. You regret the frustrated whine that is just audible enough in the back of your throat. He does it again, just barely pushing the tips of fingers in before pulling away.
“You—why—do you want me to beg or something?” Your clenched hands raise by your sides to grip the collar of his white shirt and yank him forward. The shock that flashes across his face gives you a sick sense of satisfaction.
“It wouldn't hurt,” he mumbles. Seeing him stagger like this, even if briefly, sends a rush through your head.
“Is that what it's gonna take for you to get those fucking fingers inside me?” 
Like a coward, instead of answering, he leans an inch forward and kisses you. Or maybe that was his answer. That's when he sinks two fingers inside you, long and thick, pushing until your wet pussy's pressed tight against his palm. 
You moan, a pathetic thing, and Carmy swallows the sound of it.
“You're already begging,” he says quietly. He pulls his fingers out. You whine in protest, desperate and angry pleas on the tip of your tongue, but then he's pushing inside again.
That's the last moment of reprieve you get. His fingers start thrusting into you faster, dragging out slick each time he pulls them out. Paranoia suddenly screams that you’re gonna wet the front of your pants at this rate. The aching pleasure is louder than your fear, though. You can’t help the way his fingers are making you moan.
“More,” you plead, “give me another, I can take it.” Your hips are thrusting forward to meet his hand when they push inside. Your clit slaps against the heel of his palm, and you chase the friction. He must notice, because when he obliges and stretches you out with a third finger, he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit.
“You have to be quiet,” he says lowly when you keep moaning. “They’re gonna hear you.” 
“I—I’m trying,” you whine. You’re squeezing so tight down on him. You feel so full. “Your fingers—“
“You’re the one who asked for more.” He slaps his other hands firmly over your mouth. It silences your sound of surprise. “You said you could take it, so here’s what’s gonna happen.” His fingers are slamming into your now, and your hole spasms around them in pleasure. “You’re gonna come on my fingers, and you’re gonna be quiet. Understand?”
You know how soundproof the walk-in is. You had just witnessed it moments ago. But Carmy’s warnings do something fierce to you, bypassing logic straight into anxious, desperate arousal. He’s right, you think. You need to be quiet. You nod quickly in response, so he takes your consent and sprints with it.
To your credit, you try to be quiet. You said you would. But there’s only so much you can do when he’s fingering you so hard your legs are shaking. You’re whimpering into his hand, the sounds muffled.  Your own moans, his heavy breathing, and the slick sound of your pussy getting railed by his fingers—that’s what you listen to as you come.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing down tight,” Carmy hisses, and for an irrational second  you’re afraid you’re hurting him, but one look at his starved expression changes your mind. His three wide fingers are fucking you slowly through your wildly contracting orgasm. In one of his palms, you're oozing slick, and in his other palm, you're smearing with spit.
You should be thinking about how bad of an idea this all is, having sex with your boss. It’s too bad your orgasm is so potent you can’t think at all.
You lean your head back against the cold metal railings of the wire racks behind you. It’s uncomfortable, but a part of it feels good against the coiling heat that’s unraveling in your stomach. The air around you is cold, but you’re hot, far too hot. You don’t remember the last time you’ve finished this hard.
He finally pries his hand off your mouth once you've stopped clamping down on his fingers. His hand lingers at your face before wiping it on the side of his jeans. His expression has this unreadable, unnamed intensity to it, and you can't tell where that ends and where the hunger starts. Although he is looking very, very starved.
His hand that's tucked into your underwear tugs it upward as it leaves, pulling the fabric taut against your pussy. It sticks like paper mache with the glue of your orgasm, molded to your shape. You make an aroused noise that's a mixture of surprise and annoyance.
You're about to complain, something along the lines of “was that really necessary”, but then your eyes are zeroed in on the sheen of his fingers that were fucking you.
“Don't,” you start, suddenly worried he's going to wipe them on his jeans again, but you don't get to finish. He's pushing his index finger into your mouth, and you taste yourself on his skin.
“Good,” Carmy whispers when he feels your tongue wrapping around him. Fuck, hearing him say it like that does awful things to you.
You don't know why you accept it without a fight, but if you're being honest with yourself, this is exactly what you wanted. You start to suck, but he doesn't linger. When he pulls his finger out, your parted lips expect the other two, but he sucks them into his mouth instead. 
God. What do you even say to that? He even has the nerve to look you in the eyes as he pops his cleaned fingers out of his mouth. 
“Let me touch you,” you decide to say instead, because if you think about him and his fingers in—anyway. 
“It's fine. I don't need it.” He's oddly cagey all of a sudden. 
“Let me return the favor, please,” you insist, even adding in some good manners. It seems to still him for a moment, giving you enough time to lift his apron.
Fuck, you think to yourself, the word resounding like an alarm inside your head. His jeans are tented so tightly it looks painful. All this from touching me, you realize. You can see the shape of his bulge under the denim. The silhouette is vague, but...
It's big.
“Carmy? You still in there?”
A voice you don't recognize calls out beyond the door. As soon as you both hear it, Carmy jerks away. You mourn the loss only for a moment before you remember yourself. You're scrambling to get your pants buttoned and your apron over your head. 
“Yeah, I'm still in here,” Carmy shouts back, instantaneously irritable. His back is turned to you, and you want to feel those muscles tensing under your palm. “About fuckin’ time!”
“You're welcome, by the way! I could've left you in here to freeze and die a tragic death!”
“It's not just me in here, Fak.” A beat of silence. “Are you opening it?”
“Am I fucking—Jesus Christ, Carmen, just give me a second! I'm working my magic!”
That shuts Carmy up. Almost. He sighs before turning to look at you. 
“Sorry for getting us stuck in here.” The apology is equally as surprising as the softness of which he speaks. “Shitty first day, huh?”
“It's cool. It's not your fault.” Other than all the shit that was completely your fault, you think, remembering the way you were shouting at each other just a moment ago. “Kinda shitty though, yeah.”
“Yeah.” He sighs again. “If you wanna leave, I don't blame you.”
“I thought I wasn't getting fired.”
“You're not,” he says quickly. “But I'm—this place is a shitshow.” You're not sure which he really means to say, but you hear both. The restaurant, and him especially, are both complete messes. That much was obvious from the beginning. “So if you wanna take off, just…” He shrugs. “Just go.”
Maybe that'd be for the best, if you left. As far as first days go, you've already broken every rule in the book. You messed up your first task, got into an argument with your boss, and then had sex with him. Nothing about this place is particularly inviting, either. This restaurant wears its dysfunction on its sleeve, unabashed in all the ways it lacks. You had left the kitchen with ringing ears from all the noise and a cut on your hand you didn't even notice. 
But here you are. You're not running. Maybe it's because of the fact that you need to pay rent. Maybe it's knowing that just one more pair of hands here could really make a difference. Maybe you're just desperate to keep food on the table. Maybe it's Carmen Berzatto, beautiful, haunted, and angry. Maybe it's all of that, a combined whole that's become greater than the sum of its parts.
Or maybe it's just that now that you've kissed him, had a taste of him, you refuse to let go. Maybe the reason is as shallow as that. 
Carmy's been waiting for you to speak, tired eyes searching your own. You're still not sure what exact colors you need to perfectly recreate the blue you're staring at. 
“Almost done!” Fak shouts. “Just one more hinge!”
“Heard,” Carmy shouts back. He hasn't taken his eyes off you. “So? What's it gonna be? Are you staying or not?”
Blood orange, you think all of a sudden. That's the orange you would need to make the perfect blue to match his eyes. Just a little bit—that's all you would need.
“I'm staying,” you tell him. “I need to pay rent, after all.”
Yeah. That's the reasoning you're settling on. Rent.
“Right. Of course.” There's a glimpse of that gentle smile you've seen flashes of today. It fades away as quickly as it came. “After this, I'm gonna have you learn how to check produce next.”
“Okay, sounds good,” you say as naturally as you can, given the tonal whiplash.
“There should be some that's about to get washed. I'll show you where that is.” The door's shifting. “But before that…” He lowers his voice, leans in close. Is he about to kiss you?
“W-What?”
“Get a new apron from my office. That one's dirty.” Beams of light stream through the entrance of the walk-in, forced wide open. “You need to keep your apron clean, chef.”
YOU WERE THE ONE WHO THREW IT ON THE GROUND, you want to scream. Just when you thought he started being nice, he does something that makes you want to grab him by the collar and shake him.
But you can't. The walk-in's open again, and you see your coworkers crowded by the door. 
“Yes, chef,” you reply, and the words taste bitter on your tongue.
~
@zorrasucia
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slater-baby · 15 hours
Text
The 141 and their massage therapist...
Yeah so I have horrible carpal tunnel and this....yeah just HEAR ME OUT
!!!DUB CON!!!
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The 141 take their training pretty seriously. However, their line of military work is no stranger to service related injuries. Back pain, ankle sprains, muscle cramps - you name it and the 141 has had it. And that is where you come in: the cheap, young, and inexperienced massage therapist charged with taking care of them. You're fresh out of school and still working to get your footing, but you'll be damned if you don't take care of these veterans to the best of your ability.
Though, as life would have it, you take care of a lot more than just the occasional crick in the neck.
-
Price is older than you. That, and very obviously used to being in control. His rank and reputation give him away. Even at your first meeting, you feel silently infatuated with his stature. He's kind and charming, used to cracking jokes, but also used to things going his way. He's confident and mature - something you're very much lacking.
And from the moment you first shake his hand, one thing becomes very, very obvious: his attraction to you is completely unashamed.
Sprawled out on your table with just a towel covering his bulging cock, meaty hands swiping over the hair on his chest while he waits for you to get the oils ready.
"Ready whenever you are, darling."
And the whole time, you can't help but shiver in flustered admiration at his big biceps and chest, hands nearly shaking with trepidation at the beautiful, tempting mass of man beneath you.
And like the shameless man that he is, he absorbs every single second of it. He flexes his arms in your grip, just to watch the way heat rushes to your cheeks. He purposefully edges the towel down a bit lower, just so that you'll bite your lip when the tip of his cock just barely peeks over the top of it.
He's not ashamed to be exposed to you. Hell, he likes it. Likes watching the way you fawn over his bare arms and built legs, likes watching you try to hide the way you bite your lip every time you pour a bit more oil over his skin.
He's always polite and kind.
"Little bit more to the left, darling?"
He always says please and thank you.
And yet, he can't help but tease you with the promise of his naked body, brush his arm against you when he readjusts his position on the table. And when he gets redressed and walks you back to the front desk after each appointment, his hand never fails to rest on your lower back, guiding you along with him, letting you bask in his scent and touch.
And one day, as you're massaging his arm, he sees you crossing your legs like it'll give you even an ounce friction between your thighs. You can't hide the obvious heat in your eyes when he reaches over the edge of the table and ever so slightly brushes over the back of your thigh, reaching up to trace the pretty little your panties make underneath your trousers.
"Sweetheart," he drawls, feeling the way your hand clenches around his skin the harder he traces the panty lines down in between your legs, "Think it's about time I took care of you instead now, yeah?"
Needless to say, it's the first time you've ever been laid out on your own massage table. Though, judging by the way John leaves a trail of hickeys from your waist to neck, you'll soon be doing it again.
-
If Gaz is anything, he's an absolute sweetheart. He reminds you of the boys you met in college. Y'know, the kind of guys you were partnered up with for group discussions? Smiley, sweet, almost idyllic. Idly, you admit you found them cute for a fleeting moment. Perhaps you imagined for a couple seconds what it might be like to go on a date with them. Usually, it stopped there.
But Gaz...
With his lean, hard-earned muscles and spotless skin, he looked like the star in all of your college boyfriend fantasies - with the D1 physique to go with it.
He's talkative and has no shortage of funny jokes. The two of you become fast friends.
Only, it's really hard to concentrate on conversation when your hands get to run over each and every inch of his covetable body. His defined hipbones, veiny forearms, and muscled calves. You find yourself drifting into thought as your hands run from his neck to his shoulder, all the way down to his pristine fingertips.
You're nearly salivating as you watch the way his biceps bend and curve underneath your hands.
"Love," he suddenly shocks you out of your reverie, "Did you hear what I said?"
"Uh--no," you admit, hurriedly pulling your eyes away from where the dimples of his back disappear beneath the towel and onto the boring, beige walls, "Sorry, it's just been a long day."
"No worries," he chuckles, that same, friendly smile on his face.
Only, when he turns to lay his face back onto the table with a roll of his perfect shoulders, you swear you hear a muffled "looked like something caught your eye for a second there..."
And like that, the two of you continue on. Him, making joke after joke - getting more and more suggestive as the days go on.
One day, after a particularly rough work out, you manage to wrangle him on the table. His sore legs scream for help with every massaging touch.
"Fuck," he curses, legs shaking in your hand, "Can you go a bit easier, love? Think I'm liable to pass out at this rate."
You chuckle, pressing into the spot harder, "Trust me, you'll feel better after this."
"I dunno," he grunts, biting his cheek, "Look, it usually means that something feels good when my legs start shaking. But this is just--fuck--"
His words are cut off by a wince, but they stick in your mind nonetheless. A notable runner-up comes a week later. You'd twisted your ankle at the gym just an hour before Kyle's appointment. Your foot had been so sore you'd had a hard time standing straight.
"You okay? Need some Tylenol or something?" he'd commented, worried.
"It's nothing, just twisted it," you'd brushed him off with a smile, "I'll take care of it when I get home."
"You sure?" he'd laughed, looking down at your ankle, "It looks like it hurts. Might just have to trade places with you today, get you on the table instead."
You'd laughed along and made some snide joke about him trying to get out of another painful session. And yet, you can't deny that his voice had lingered in your head long after he'd left the room that day.
It all comes to a head one week when you misjudge the time of your appointment with Kyle and accidentally walk in five minutes early...
...Only to see him with his jeans halfway down the hips you'd been massaging not two days earlier, a big, covered bulge front and center of his unzipped fly. And from the minute you walk in, you swear you can feel the heat building between the two of you. And when that friendly smile drops, you know one thing for sure now: Gaz had never wanted to settle for "just friends" to begin with.
When he gently reaches for your wrist to pull you into the room, bending you over the massage table this time, it's safe to say his strong hands, beautiful body, and hard cock put all of your fantasies to shame. That, and he's decidedly unfriendly when he steals your phone out of your purse, wordlessly entering his phone number while you're still sexed out and dazed on top of the massage table.
-
Ghost, however, is not friendly. Not friendly in the slightest.
Your first meeting - if it could even be counted as one - consisted of about two words and about ten awkward grunts from the masked man. When you handed him the consent forms, your hands felt like they were dripping with sweat. And when he ended up on your table a week later, you almost felt like you were being held at gunpoint when you uncorked the bottle of oil.
He was silent the entire time. Well, for the most part. His only interactions with you consisted of low, breathy sighs as you worked through a knot. Or a small, wordless grunts when you found a spot that he liked. If he found your hands slowing in their ministrations, your eyes lingering on where his scarred pelvis disappeared beneath the towel, he'd snap you back to attention with a single command.
"Love," he'd growl, muscles tensing dangerously underneath your hands, "This is your job, innit? So do it then."
And even if you still harbored the smallest bit of wariness about the guy, you had to admit:
Ghost was big. Like, really, really big.
His feet nearly dangled off of your table with how tall he was. He had to fold his arms underneath his head because his shoulders were too broad to fit on the cushions. You can't even fit your fingers around one half of his massive arm. And his hands - god, his hands. They looked almost twice the size of your own. Some small, timid part of you muses, "if he started swinging, he'd take me out with one hit."
But the other, more prominent side of you thinks...
He would have no problem pinning you underneath him, popping the buttons on your shirt, spreading your legs. He could pick you up, push you against the wall, and take what he wanted - fuck you hard enough that your coworkers could hear it through the drywall.
And then all those breathy groans he tried so hard to muffle in the crook of his elbow would be well and truly yours.
And with those thoughts coursing through your mind...really, it isn't a surprise when he finds your eyes lingering on where the towel covers his half-hard cock. After so many appointments watching you try to hide your obvious attraction to him, he found you looking at his crotch a lot these days.
And when you begin massaging his abs, running your hands down from his plush pectorals to the beginning of the v-line on his pelvis, he doesn't miss the way your hands twitch against his hipbone. Like this, leaned over him, you can barely see the tip of his cock pressed up against his belly button, drops of precum gathering in the hair there.
So lost in your own trance, you don't even register that your hands have stopped moving until he emits an amused scoff. And when his calloused hand pushes yours away, using the tip of his finger to fold the towel back just enough to expose his leaking cock to your eager eyes, you can't even begin to deny the way your blood boils in your veins.
"You're staring," he tells you lowly, watching how you bite your lips at every twitch of his dick.
"M'sorry," your stunted voice replies, "It's just that you're so...big."
"Mm," he hums, reaching down to give himself a teasing tug; the oil lubes him up nicely, "Big in the ways that count."
You don't reply, you only watch him touch himself with rapt attention, practically drooling.
"You wanna touch me here too?" he teases, getting off on the clueless flush you wear, "It's your job, innit? So do it, slag."
As a massage therapist, you took pride in taking away your patients' pain. Sprains, aches, limps - they all cowered before you. And yet, when you leave your own office with a limp in your step and a ten digit phone number scrawled on the back of your hand, you can do nothing more than smile.
It's safe to say your clothes are well and truly ruined by the time you make it home. And it wasn't from the massage oil.
-
Soap is...well, he's just as bombastic as he is in the field on your table.
In the beginning, he was a bit awkward. He flinched and shocked every time you hit a sore spot, a red flush high on his cheeks. For the first few appointments, he can barely field a conversation with you. And even when he gets over his stunted silence, he can hardly keep the stutter out of his voice. For his sake, you try not to laugh anytime he makes an awkward comment.
However, Johnny has always been a firecracker. He throws himself into each and every challenge without a second thought. And while it's paid off nicely in his professional life, it hasn't always been kind on his body.
As the weeks go on, he shows up on your table more often than anyone else. He even manages to nag you into a few private sessions just to ease his aching back after particularly grueling workouts.
"C'mon, bonnie," you hear his familiar whine over the phone, "Gimme twenty minutes. Just twenty. I dinnae mean to whinge, but the Cap'n's cross today. Had me running laps 'til I keeled over. M'legs feel like toothpicks."
And more often than not, you give in to his demands.
While Johnny sometimes eats away at your personal time, you can't help but take a liking to him. After all, his sunny personality and witty turn of phrase would keep anyone entertained. It's just...his brawny body doesn't fail to be the star of every single wet dream you could ever conjure. His thighs are massive and strong, and his chest looks so muscled and soft you can't help but dream of laying against them.
And it certainly doesn't help that his sore body oftentimes makes him the most vocal out of all four of them. That, and his entire body seems to come alight underneath your fingertips with every bruising touch.
"Oh, fuck," his hand shoots out suddenly to grab you around the wrist, pressing you harder into where you're massaging his hip, "Just like that, bonnie. Fuck, you're so good at that..."
And as the weeks go on, you can't help but work harder and harder, relishing in every groan and praise that drops from his lips.
"God, you're perfect," he tells you one night as you massage his thigh.
"Can you--can you go just a bit lower? It's just...my hip's fucked. Can't even walk straight," he chuckles with another week, his pale face deepening into a sheepish, red blush. Looking away from your face, he edges down the towel to expose his sore hip. The next groan he lets out is stifled, his arm thrown over his face - as if the two of you still had even a shred of decency left between each other.
And now that you've solidified your friendship, he's not as awkward anymore. Yes, he still flushes when you first walk in, his nude body on display. But the minute you begin to work into his tense muscles, it all washes away.
Only, during one session, you begin to notice how your hands have a different effect on him than you'd ever seen before.
You're massaging his hip again, pressing into it with nearly your full weight. After a week of hard work, Johnny's beyond decorum, biting into his lip as he tries to stifle loud, relieved moans with each and every knead.
And when you hit one sweet spot in particular, you don't miss a twitch beneath the towel.
"Right there," he tells you breathlessly, "That's - that's where it hurts."
And just like he tells you, you press into it again. And with every move, you watch him get harder and harder beneath the cover, the muscles in his legs tensing while you work through the knot. The towel skews to the side, and even as his aching, red cock is exposed to the air, he hardly takes notice - too caught up in your touch to think straight.
"God, bonnie," he grunts roughly, jerking beneath you hands, "Fuck--"
And to your (pleasant) surprise, the next move finds more than just oil lubing up your palms.
He cums with a grunt, untouched, naked beneath your eyes. And you watch as his ejaculate paints up and over his slick abs, his entire stomach clenching while he rides out the pleasure.
At the very least, he has the sense to be embarrassed about it. For a good moment, he can do nothing more than sit there panting, his arm over his eye while he hurriedly pulls the towel back up.
"I'm - God, I'm sorry, bonnie. I swear I didn't mean to," he blurts out, uncovering his eyes to send you a look of desperate sincerity.
However, when he sees you staring down at his slick, semen covered stomach, an undeniable heat in your eyes...
Well, the shame flees to the back of his mind. Without even trying, he's hard underneath the towel within minutes. And at your lack of a reply, he can't help but cut into your personal time just one more time.
"Bonnie..." he asks, trying to hide the eager look in his eye, "Think we could go another twenty minutes? I promise I'll make it worth your while."
-
HM YEP OKAY WOW CAN YOU TELL THESE GET LONGER AND LONGER THE MORE I THINK ABOUT THEM lkjaljdsflkafj
anyway ;-; this is me venting after a very long week at school. Hope you guys enjoyed ❤️
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tootiecakes234 · 2 months
Text
Going to the Hero Awards with Katsuki for the first time:
You and Mina had been doing prep ALL DAY. The hair, the makeup, final dress fittings, you name it. It was kinda nice, like a self pampering that was being funded by the best boyfriend of all time. Katsuki had given you his card and told the both of you to go nuts. He had to work the day of so he’d be getting home just in time to get ready and leave.
Mina had helped you pick out the cutest dress you’d even seen and it was orange to match Katsuki’s hero theme. Your other accessories being black with slight hints of green here and there.
You’re not gonna lie, you were VERY nervous. This was a big award for him. He’d ended up being number six at the last one and this was the year he breaks into the top 5.
Kats has been acting like it’s not a big deal but you’ve been able to feel how anxious he’s really been. So tonight you were gonna focus on holding yourself together and being there for him in whatever way he needed.
You were touching up your makeup just a little when you heard the front door open. He’s running behind.
“Fuck, I know I’m late. I gotta hop in the shower and FUCK! I never picked up my clothes from the-“, he was pacing around the room like a madman.
“Hey, hey.” And you placed your hands on his shoulders to steady him for a minute. “I have your clothes, they’re hanging up in the closet above your shoes. I have your hair stuff laid out on the counter and you might wanna get a quick shave in too.” You say as you run your hands along his stubble.
And he takes a deep breath. And then another.
“Thanks, I got sidetracked at work and time got away from me.”
“ ‘s fine. You’ve got time. Go ahead and hop in the shower and let me know if your need anything, yeah?”
He leans down a places a soft kiss to your forehead and then heads for the bathroom.
Yeah, this was gonna be a long night.
When Katsuki comes out of the bathroom he’s gotta towel wrapped around his waist and he’s looking a lot more himself.
You were sitting down putting on your shoes, but you stop and look up because you noticed he’s not moving anymore.
“What’s wrong?” You ask him.
“You look…… incredible” and the way you start blushing is insane. You cant even make eye contact with him. His compliments are usually never that straightforward. It shocked you a bit.
“Thanks” you whisper softly. And then outta the corner of your eye you see him striding toward you.
“Kats-“ but your lips are covered by his and you just know he’s gonna be covered in your lipstick.
When he pulls back he has a full grin on his face.
“Damn, I feel a lot better now. Gonna have the hottest woman on my arm and I’m gonna finally be in the top 5. Was worried about nothin.”
The smile that shines in your eyes is worth a million dollars.
“You’re not gonna have any of that if you don’t finish getting dressed so we can leave.” And you start pushing him away. “Go. Hurry up”
“Yeah yeah, ‘m goin” he mumbles as he walks away.
“And wipe the lipstick off your face” you shout behind him.
You guys manage to make it just before the doors close for the event and you’re sat at a table with Eijirou and Mina.
They go through the whole spiel of course before they start announcing the Hero’s in their order.
This year Pinky was number 18 which was 6 whole spots higher than last year and Red Riot broke into the top 10 sitting at number 8. You cheered so loud for your friends, but you didn’t fail to notice that Kats hand had slipped into yours and was holding on pretty tight.
He kept a straight face but he was beyond wrecked on the inside. You look over at him and give the the most encouraging smile you can muster.
The numbers continued to be listed off they’d finally gotten into the top 5. He hadn’t heard his name at 5 or 4.
“Coming in as the number 3 Hero in Japan, Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight. “
He’d broken into the top 3!! You looked over at him and his face was as stoic as ever. Ever the cool man on the outside. This man leaned over, placed a quick kiss to your lips and then walked onto the stage to accept his prize.
“Ugh, yea I worked hard for this. It’s well deserved. Thanks to my agency and the best girl a guy could ask for…. Next year I’ll be number 1.” And then He just walks off.
Everyone else had given these heartfelt speeches but his was of course sweet simple and to the point.
Katsuki has grown up, doesn’t mean he’s changed all that much.
Number 1 ends up being Izuku for the second year in a row. When he walks past Katsuki they hug and congratulate each other. You were happy to see how far their relationship had come.
After the awards are given out, they had back to their seats and you guys have dinner. After, Everyone goes around congratulating and thanking. Most of them kissing ass really, but you digress. You’re in the middle of talking to some agent you really have no interest in talking to when you feel a warm arm wrap around your waist.
“I’m taking her now.”, you hear him say as he starts dragging you off.
“Hey, that was really rude.”
“Too damn bad. I’m number 3 hero, I do what I want” he says and you can hear the smirk on his face.
“Where are you taking me, Mr. Bigshot” ?
“Home. We came, we saw, we conquered. Now I get to have my real prize all to myself.
“And what would that be?” You ask as coyly as you can muster.
“Obviously you dummy. Wanna see how good that dress looks bunched around your waist” he whispers against your ear.
That has you walking with a pep in your step to get out to your car and home.
This had turned out to be a lot better than you’d expected it to.
Katsuki Masterlist
@dreamcastgirl99
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mvybanks · 7 months
Text
Brother’s Best Friend
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request: rooster and you in a secret relationship and hangman is your older brother
a/n: first rooster fic who cheered?!? i hope you guys like this one bc i intend to keep writing for him and hangman and i guess i’m officially in the fandom now👀 let me know what you think! <3
pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Seresin!Reader
warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+, smut, age gap, daddy kink, slight degradation (?), unprotected sex
word count: 2.4k (of pure filth)
nav
add yourself to my taglist <3
It’s not a secret that your brother’s colleagues flirt with you, jokingly, whenever you’re around. Jake seems to have made his peace with it, as long as he’s aware that no one would ever think to actually do something about it. It’s an unspoken rule: no one touches Hangman’s little sister. No questions asked. No exceptions.
However, what your brother doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right? After all, you tried to keep your distance the second you realized that your attraction runs deep, but Bradley sure as hell isn’t a man who backs down from a fight.
There’s always been a tension between you and him, one that you both attempted to push into the back of your minds, but failed miserably to do so. He knew he was a goner from the moment he laid eyes on you, and although it was wrong, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, in any scenario. He wasn’t going to let it go either until you admitted that you wanted him as much as he wanted you, until you let him take you out on a date and bring you back to his apartment, until you were a writhing mess underneath him, begging oh-so deliciously for him. At that point, how was either of you supposed to put an end to this?
That’s how you find yourself in your current situation. You’re sat on a bar stool, listening to Coyote talking your ear off about God knows what, while your secret boyfriend watches you from afar. Every time your eye catches his gaze still fixed on your figure, a particular glint of hunger swimming behind his dilated pupils, you squirm in your sit, hoping that no one notices the way you press your thighs together. Well, no one except him.
Licking his lips for what seems the umpteenth time, he brings his beer to his mouth, taking a long sip and never taking his eyes off of you in the process. It’s been too damn long since he’s had the chance to rip your clothes off and he doesn’t know how long he’s going to be able to keep himself from devouring you, even if it means doing it in front of all these people, including your brother. Never in a million years would he have thought to be in a relationship not only with his friend’s sister, but with a woman who’s fifteen years younger than him, and yet, here he is, stopping himself from rubbing his growing hard on as he stares at you.
Your hands smooth the bottom of your dress, trying to keep your composure as you send the man beside you a fake smile. It’s not that you don’t want to listen to him, but you’d much rather be in a completely different situation right now.
Finally, you notice Jake leaving the building with a girl under his arm and a smirk on his lips. You all but shake in anticipation when you mutter an apology to Coyote and begin to slowly walk towards the empty chair that’s waiting for you in front of Rooster.
“Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you purr as you take your sit, letting his eyes run up and down your body. It’s obvious that you know what you’re doing when you call him by his rank, smiling proudly at yourself at the clear effect that you’re having on him.
“Sweetheart,” he rasps in response.
You try not to focus on his lips, nor his mustache, and you surely try your hardest not to think about how the last time you were alone with him it was covered in your —
“So,” he interrupts your thoughts, a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks at the memory that your brain has decided to haunt you with, “How have you been?”
You both know that Jake has eyes and ears everywhere, which is why you make it seem like you’re just two friends catching up instead of two people who are too deep in a secret relationship.
Crossing one leg on top of the other, knowingly bringing his attention on the exposed flesh, “I’ve been good,” you reply, “You?”
He straightens up as he feels his pants getting tighter the more he looks at you. “Me, too. Could be better though.”
“And why’s that?”
He clicks his tongue, “I think you know why.” Slipping the unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt off his shoulders, he gives you a good view of his muscular arms, barely covered by the white t-shirt that seems to want to rip every time he moves. You swear your mouth waters at the sight, the only thought in your mind being the remembrance of those same arms wrapped around your neck from behind, choking you in the most panty-dropping way. If he’s not going to do anything, then it’s your turn to lure him to your apartment tonight, for there’s no way that you’re not ending this evening beneath Bradley Bradshaw.
You get up, causing a frown to appear on his features while you step around the table to stand behind him. Bending down, you place your hands on his shoulders, then you let them run down his arms, almost making a groan escape from his throat before you whisper in his ear, “If you want me to make it all better, you should come around mine tonight.” You press your mouth against his neck, smirking as you feel his pulse racing on your lips.
“Y/n —“
“Or I can find someone else to take care of me.” You taunt him, reaching your goal when you see his knuckles turn white around the cold beer in his grip.
“Behave.” He all but growls, succeeding in making you feel dizzy with arousal.
“Make me.” You breathe in his ear, and you’re lucky that he hasn’t bent you over the table and fucked you right here, right now.
“You better be there in ten.”
You hum. “Oh, and one more thing,” you seductively bite his earlobe, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
With that, you begin to leave, moving your hips for you know he’s watching you with lust filled eyes now. You turn around, catching his gaze before you yell out, “See ya, Lieutenant.”
As you hear the sound of keys rattling, you thank your past self for telling Bradley where you keep your spare keys. You’re casually drinking water in your kitchen and standing in front of the counter when he bursts through the door, looking mad and hot. So goddamn hot, you think.
“Long time no see.” You joke as he shuts the door behind him.
“What the fuck was that?” The low and dangerous tone of his voice only makes you want him more and push his buttons.
“What was what?” You ask innocently.
In the blink of an eye, you find yourself trapped between his body and the kitchen counter behind you. “I think you like driving me crazy too much.”
“Oh no, Lieutenant,” you raise on your tiptoes in order to place your lips next to his ear, “I love it.”
And after a week of no physical contact, Bradley finally decides to grab your neck and claim your mouth with need. You both moan into the kiss as he easily takes control of your body by making you jump on the counter. His hands fly to your bare thighs and make their way under your dress, only to find out that you were telling the truth about the lack of underwear. Groaning against your lips, he pulls you impossibly closer and runs his palms up your waist. Your fingers find their home in his hair, pulling at the blonde strands.
Reluctantly pulling away, he quickly gets rid of your dress, throwing it somewhere across the room before his lips fall on your neck. Open-mouthed kisses are left on your skin as he makes way to your naked chest. His tongue licks your hard nipple once, slowly and torturously, then he wraps his mouth around it. You can only throw your head back and let out heavy breaths at the feeling of his experienced tongue. He doesn’t stop his attack on your breasts, even when you begin to whine and thrash in his hold.
“Fuck — I love these tits,” he mumbles before softly biting down on your nipple.
“Bradley, please.” You whimper. You can feel your arousal dripping on the surface below you and you only want him to do something — anything.
“You can beg better than that, sweetheart.” He smirks.
He kisses his way up your neck again, making you cry his name again, but it’s not enough. “Please, do something, please…daddy.”
“That’s my girl.” He growls.
In one swift motion, he throws your legs over his shoulders and pulls your wet pussy so close to his face that you can feel his breath fanning out as he asks, “What do you want daddy to do, sweetheart?”
Grabbing his hair, “Make me cum, please.” You plead.
How could he ever deny such a sweet request? His tongue delves between your folds, licking up a long stripe as you let out the most pornographic moan he’s ever heard. He starts to eat you out as if it were the last thing he’ll ever do and, by the way you mewl and whine for daddy, it might actually be, because you’re going to kill him. His mustache tickles your clit as he teases your puckered hole with the tip of his tongue. When his lips close around the swollen and slicked bundle of nerves, you instinctively push his head deeper, resulting in him moaning against you and gripping your thighs tightly. The vibrations are too much and you let out a cry of daddy that causes another throaty sound to come out of the man between your legs.
“Want your cock, daddy,” you manage to say between whines, “Please, I need your cock.”
He raises his head from between your thighs to look up at you, one hand still holding his hair and the other playing with your own breast, and if the sight alone didn’t make him cum in his pants like a teenager, nothing ever will.
“You want daddy’s cock, mh? Don’t you wanna cum all over my face?”
You shake your head, “No, I need you.”
Without even giving you the chance of understanding what is going on, he manhandles you until you’re bent over the counter and your ass is pressed against his covered member. He quickly takes his shirt off and sneaks an arm around your stomach, making you feel his muscled torso on your back. Your hand flies back to his head, holding his neck while you wiggle your backside, waiting for him to give you what you’re both craving so desperately.
With his free hand, he unbuckles his belt, the sound almost making you moan, and lets his pants and underwear fall on the ground as he talks lewd in your ear. “You want daddy to make you feel good, sweetheart? You couldn’t wait to cum on daddy’s cock, huh? Such a greedy little girl.”
As his cock catches with the tight ring of muscles, you throw your head on his shoulder, your eyes rolling back as he slowly bottoms out inside your seeping hole. You breathe in each other’s mouth, completely open while you enjoy the feeling of his cock resting inside the tight and warm walls of your pussy. His hands grab your breasts before he begins to thrust inside you, setting a slow and hard pace.
“‘S this what you wanted? Daddy deep inside you?” He grunts in your ear.
“So deep.” You moan and he chuckles at your fucked out expression.
God, he loves having you like this.
“You can take it, sweetheart. You’ve done it before.”
One of his hands sneaks up your neck, choking you just the way he knows you desire, and the other goes down to your pussy until the pads of his fingers find your clit, rubbing it quickly. The pace of his hips accelerates, the sound of skin slapping fills the room, along your babbling of daddy’s that only make him fuck you harder.
“Aw, are you cock-drunk f’me? Are you gonna cum all over me, baby? Gonna drench daddy’s cock, aren’t you?” He groans as he feels your walls contracting around him. “Are you gonna be a good girl f’me?” He pats your clit harshly and you gasp.
“Yes, daddy,” you mumble, “Wanna be your good girl.”
“Then, cum.” He orders.
And Bradley has always known your body better than you do because as soon as those words leave his lips, your pussy begins to spasm around his member, tightly gripping it while you come undone in his arms and with his name on your tongue. If it weren’t for his strong hold, you would’ve been in a puddle on the floor by now, but instead, he’s still sloppily thrusting in and out of your stretched hole, riding out your high.
“Daddy…” You whine breathlessly as you pull his head down by his neck.
“What d’you want, baby?”
“Want your cum.” You whimper, pushing down on his still hard member. “Please.”
He groans, picking up his pace once again, “Gonna be the death of me.”
His lips catch yours in a mind blowing kiss, moaning and grunting in your mouth as he releases inside of you, filling you up and making you gasp. Your muscles are sore and you’re sweating, however, you wish to stay like this until your legs give out. Bradley’s hands stroke your skin, humming against your neck as he peppers kisses on the delicate skin.
“I don’t think I’m ever gonna be able to take my hands off of you.” He murmurs and a sudden warmth licks down your spine at his words.
“And I don’t want you to.”
Grinning, he adds next, “Good, ‘cause I’m not done with you.”
After spending the rest of the night underneath the sheets of your bed, now smelling like your boyfriend, you rest your back on the comfortable mattress as he hovers above you. You smile up at him, making his heart skip a beat, and force him down for a kiss. As you wrap your legs around his waist and feel his hands grope your thighs, the sound of keys jangling catches both his and your attention.
“Yo, Y/n,” your brother calls from the entrance of your apartment, “Are you home?”
You and Bradley look at each other like two deers in headlights.
Shit.
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taglist:
@multifandomlover4life @illicitfixations
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cindol · 3 months
Text
SHE GOT A WHAM… GYAT DAMN !
Black fem reader
characters included: connie springer, ino takuma, satoru gojo, suguru getou, renji abarai, sukuna ryomen
synopsis— y/n’s man really love her fat ass and have different ways of showing it.
tw— written in 3rd person(y/n is referred to as she/her), suggestive, smut,Spanish spoken(linda,grasa), connie is a white Dominican, ass slapping, ass eating, anal play, true form sukuna, sukuna has two dicks,
tagging— @ykimobessed @conniesdramaqueen @simpingfor-wakasa
a/n: tumblr pls don’t flag it this time !!
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CONNIE SPRINGER
Love showing his appreciation for her ass by kissing it. When y/n and connie are just watching tv lazing around with him laying on her ass hell lazily kiss it. It makes her giggle and try to shoo him away with her hand but he just continues.”just showing appreciation for the best fucking ass I’ve ever laid my eyes on baby.”
At random when she’s kicking her feet laying on her stomach on the couch scrolling through Tiktok he grabs the opportunity to slap her ass even through your jeans making you gasp and pout at him. He just does a mischievous grin.”I’m sorry baby, I can’t keep my hands off this big grasa y’know?” He grabs at the fat of her ass for full effect too.
He even has a pet name for her ass too. Whenever he’s just kissing and squeezing her ass he’ll giggle and mumble,”love my little linda..”
NSFW
He will sloppily make out with her own ass, literally. With her laying stomach down and ass up as she hugged a pillow. Rubbing his hands like a villain he’ll give her a playful ass slap before spreading her open with his two hands, looking at her wet hole and grinning.”Bon appetite as they would say right?” That makes y/n whine as she clenched the white pillow.”stop teasing con and fuckin’ dig in already.” He gave her another smack on the ass making her moan.”don’t rush a critic baby.”
His tongue came in contact with her asshole making her whimper at his wet muscle on her hole. As he gripped her ass cheeks tonguing her out, he gets real sloppy with it. His whole mouth is practically kissing on her hole, making it sloppier as he makes audible groaning and moaning noises himself kissing it, chasing after her own high.
INO TAKUMA
He already treats y/n like a fragile glass plate, so it’s expected of him to treat her ass with care. Always letting her wear his beanie while he gives her warm ass rubs on the couch. He hated seeing those “is my ass big?!” questions on tv so he would hate hearing it from his girlfriend’s mouth. When she begs the question while looking into their shared bedroom mirror he just looks up from his phone smiling and looking her up and down saying.”looks pretty nice and fat to me, just how I like my booties!” It makes her cringe but giggle.
He loves seeing her ass in skirts most of all, whenever she would bend down to grab something she dropped, a shivering sound nearly would come out his mouth.
NSFW
He’s an ass eater and not ashamed of it, once she tells him she loves a good munch he takes any chance to take a nice bite out of her. When they’re getting nice and comfy doing Netflix and Chill that’s when he plots his plan on her. When there’s a sex scene on the screen y/n just makes a soft giggle at it.”what’s so funny baby? They’re doing what we always do all the time” he said it with a smile making her giggle turn into a full laugh.
“Well they ain’t doing it right I’ll just say, girlie doesn’t even look like she’s enjoying being ate by him.” Ino hums with his hand rubbing her ass.” You think I can do better than that sleaze on the screen maybe?” Her eyes meet him while he has that lazy look and smile on his face while she giggles saying a little,”maaaaybeeeee..”
That dragged out maybe leads to her sitting on his face on their couch. She doesn’t resist either as she lays her pantieless ass flat on his face and smiles looking down at him.”jus’ lemme know when you’re readdyyyyy!” Her last word ended up dragged out once she felt his tongue inside her ass. The way his tongue slurped at her hole and his mouth getting sloppy made whimpers and soft moans erupt from her mouth as she gripped a heart pillow from behind her for leverage against her boyfriend’s powerful tongue. He was getting her soaking wet, getting her slick from top to bottom until he abruptly stopped making her pout and get up off his face once he tapped her thigh. “thought you were gonna show me how better you are than ol’ boy on the screen..” she teased but he said nothing in response.
All he did was take off his baggy sweater and black beanie, ruffling his hair a bit and letting out a curse.”damn sweater was too stuffy, can’t eat properly. Now c’mere.” He easily grabbed her by the legs making her gasp.
SATORU GOJO
he loves a girl with a nice rack but loves the wagon his girlfriend has on her. He’s always cracking jokes about her ass or making a whistle when she tries on some new jeans that fit on her ass just right. When she looks at him for feedback he pretends like he’s thinking with a hand on his chin while licking his bottom lip.”might need to cop a feel to see if it’s snug on there baby, y’know? Never know with these online companies and pants! I would know..”
He likes to do silly things with her ass, always slapping on each ass cheek like bongos making her snort and laugh.”you’re gonna bruise my cheeks doing this satoru!” He just does that devilish laugh he always does in response.”can’t help it, it’s like your cheeks are telling a story sweetheart.”
He likes watching things bounce off her ass too, it’s like watching the laws of gravity. He’ll have her laying face down while he bounces small little tennis balls off her ass like a game.
NSFW
Fucks your ass in doggystyle, loves him some anal. His ego grows 10x more larger as he slowly puts every inch inside his poor girl just to hear her shakey moans and “oh god!” and “satoru!” While he shushes her while petting her hair. He starts off with a slow pace and goes off on her reactions to his strokes.”hitting me so good..“ he smiles at that upping his pace inside her ass.”yeah? Want something a lil more up your speed baby?” She responded with a moan and head shake.
He thrust his hips up to a higher pace than last time.”like that?” She whines nodding her head as best she can and he takes that as an obvious yes, he does this game with her until they find the best pace and that’s when he gets to work. With one hand on her shoulder he would give her fast thrusts and strokes inside her ass. Her moans would reach a higher octave.”ah.. satoru..! Wait s-slow down I might..” He just continues making out a giggle when her moans turn into a short gasp when she comes.
Gojo pulls out slowly patting his poor girlfriends head when she looks so flushed and bashful after.
SUGURU GETOU
he likes seeing her in his clothing most importantly only his long white t-shirts. He loved to come into their kitchen when she’s cooking up a nice morning meal then the wide smile that comes on her big lips when she sees him.”breakfast almost done baby!” Saying that like he didn’t just fuck her stupid last night.
He’s a calm man but it’s so hard. When she’s cooking with the girls he has to clench his fists when he sees her in some short clothing and apron. These clothing are appropriate of course but when he sees her backside and ass it’s hard to keep composure as she giggle with the girls when they look back worrying about him.”don’t worry about papa baby, let’s just make yummy cupcakes for papa!”
He a great masseuse just as much as he is a great father meaning that he loves to massage every part of y/n. When she tells him her ass has been slightly sore he secretly loved it even though his calm smile didn’t show it.”come here dear, I’ll relieve some of that tension in your soft spot.” His massages on her ass are always so nice. His hands are so clean and makes her moan at how he treats her ass fat like dough.
NSFW
In the bedroom it’s a different story. He loved to rough her ass up with her given consent. With her laying flat across his lap on her stomach he would squirt cold lube on her ass hole making her gasp out and him make a warm smile.”ah relax dear it’ll get better in a moment I promise.” Once their was a good amount of lube he started to insert his fingers, fingering her hole to good enough pace to where she got a bit soppy and wet stopping making her whine and him hush. He grabbed the anal bead toy next to him adding it in her hole inch by inch making her moan with each inch entering her asshole.
He liked to flog her ass too, he hates seeing her cry in any other setting but seeing her teary eyes and gasp each time the flog would slap against her brown ass and how she let out many “oh god!” and “suguruuuu!”
RENJI ABARAI
he of course loves a fat ass, his mother would slap him on his mouth if he didn’t. Before he even started dating y/n when Ichigo introduced him to her he knew her being around him would be a problem.
He loved having her sit on him in a less sexual way and more in a laying claim way and never questions it. He always has a careless look about too, like when she just comes to sit on his lap while he’s playing a online game match with Ichigo and the others, he liked feeling the weight of her fat ass on his lap. He encouraged her to actually sit on him herself and flaunt him off. He liked aimlessly scrolling on his Instagram stories and seeing her story of herself sitting on renji’s lap while he napped on their bed.
NSFW
Renji may be a dumbass but he liked having her needy for him also, when given the chance he takes advantage of it actually. Seeing the needy look she was trying to control around their friends made him laugh. Rukia would laugh a little looking at y/n.”looks like you may have to use the number 2 y/n.” She shares a look with Renji for a second and then looks back at rukia laughing.”nah.. just cramps, you know how us women get right?” Rukia laughs along.
What they didn’t know was the fact he had her wearing a vibrating plug at a high 4.
RYOMEN SUKUNA
Having y/n as a new girlfriend showed him a lot about the new modern world and era, like more new technology and fashion. What he did notice was how y/n had a completely different shape than the women he usually would be around in the heian era and it interested him. He would always comment on y/n’s shape with his all 6 eyes looking her bounce whenever she strutted around the house. Without fail it always makes her gasp when he lands a sharp slap on her ass.”nice shape! If you were in my era tehy would’ve loved how fattened up you are in the ass era and boiled you and chopped you up into pieces to eat.” It makes her just pout but chuckle slapping one of his arms.
It amazes him how soft her ass feels too, he’s always been so use to the skinny women with pancakes back in his era so it’s a completely no feeling with brown soft ass.
NSFW
sex with him gets trippy. He always fits both dicks in both holes. While one is in her ass the other is making her pussy cream. When she starts to squeal is when he rolls his eyes and uses one of his hands to cover her mouth.”enough of that, don’t need your neighbor coming and discovering the monster you’ve been hiding in your house do you woman?” She makes a quick head shake making him laugh.”then shut up.” And quicken his pace in both holes again.
It’s so mean how he expects her to be quiet when he’s purposely trying to making her cum on both of his dicks
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thehighladywrites · 11 days
Text
ACOTAR MEN X READER, “HE’S THE BEST BROTHER EVER”
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ᡣ𐭩 summary: you prank them based on this | prank link
ᡣ𐭩 warnings: nsfw in cassian’s, crack
ᡣ𐭩 amara’s note: help this was so fun to make thank you for the req anon | based on this request
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⊹ RHYSAND
"Rhys, come here! I'm making a cute video of us."
He practically runs to you, ensuring his clothes are smoothed out and his hair is laid to perfection.
You step back when you press the record button and then get closer to him, putting your hand on his abs.
"You see this man?" you say with an extra dose of possessiveness in your voice. "Yeah, if you wanna get to him, you have to go through me first."
Rhys looks down at you with a smirk, nodding proudly at the fact that you're claiming him for everyone to see.
Your hands travel from his abs to his neck as you bring him down for a long, sweet kiss.
He grabs your hips, pulling you closer for a heated makeout session, but you pull back before he can take it further
“He’s the best big brother ever in this world.”
Rhys immediately lets go of you, taking a step back with a horrified look before he desperately looks into the camera, then back to you, who can't keep from laughing.
"Out of all your practical jokes, this has got to be the worst one ever," Rhys protests, shaking his head. "No, I'm not her brother. We're mated, and what we do is very far away from sibling stuff."
He says the last bit to the camera with a broad smile, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
⊹ AZRIEL
"What should I say, sweetheart?" Azriel asks
"Nothing, Az. Just stand there and let me do the work," you reply affectionately.
"I've heard that one before," he says with a cocky grin.
You roll your eyes, suppressing a smile, as you press the record button.
He immediately draws closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. You smile up at him, mischief hidden behind your eyes.
“This man is mine, and if you want to get to him, you gotta go through me first, right?”
Azriel is filled with cringe and makes this face😲
“Oh! Um, yeah. That’s right.” he says, voice too high
Listen, he loves you but he is wondering how the fuck you’re not criniging out rn too. Like are you serious?
You squish his cheeks together and plant a dramatic, loud kiss on his lips.
“He is the best big brother ever.”
Azriel smiles, leaning in to kiss you again while casting a glance at the camera.
“No, she’s the best little sister ever.”
Your jaw drops at the sudden twist; he has stolen your prank.
“Damn it Az, you can’t let me have one thing?”
He shrugs, “Says the one with the incest prank.”
⊹ CASSIAN
“Cassie, just stand there, i’m going to record us. You don’t have to do anything, okay?”
“Alright, baby.”
You see Cassian behind you checking out your ass through the camera as you press record, backing into him
“Just a PSA, this is my man and if you wanna get to him, you gotta go through me first.” you said exaggerated with your hands on your hips before kissing him deeply
He smirked suspiciously before soaking up your posessivness. But before you could say your other line, he picked you up with one arm, throwing you over his sturdy shoulder as he walked over to your bed
“Wha- Cassian, we were recording!”
“Okay, we can keep recording. Make a fun little video, just the two of us.” he said with a low, lustfilled voice.
You didn’t even bother continuing the prank as you nodded, intrigued by making a whole different sort of video
You just prank him another time, right now you need big dick hot guy general massive wingspan big tattooed arms deep voice nice abs pullable hair daddy cassian (real asf)
⊹ LUCIEN
He already knows what you’re going to do but he plays along
You tug him to stand infront of your camera
The way he looks at you, makes you want to laugh but you bite your tongue
You pull him in closer by his forearm, holding him as you look into the camera
“This is my man so if you want him you will have to go though me first.”
Lucien supresses his smile at your attempt at a joke
“Yeah, you heard her,” he nods determined at the screen
You then pull him down and just as you’re about to kiss him you burst out laughing
Lucien tilts his down at you in mock confusion
“Is something funny? I thought i was the best brother ever, laughing at me isn’t very nice.”
Your eyes widen at him, jaw dropped. “No way, Luc, you knew?”
“Baby, i’m as chronically online as you are.”
⊹ ERIS
“What is this for?”
“For me, please just stand there and we’ll be good to go.”
He is a bit skeptical but listens nonetheless
“Very well. Go on, love.”
You press record and start the prank
“Hi guys, i just wanted to let you know that this is my man and if you ever wanna get to him you gotta go through me first.”
Eris looks at you a bit weird. He can’t take you seriously. The epitome of this face 😬
You grab his face and press a kiss to his lips. Eris warms at the action, smiling at you before his smile drop instantly
“He’s the best big brother ever.”
His entire face sours, a look of absolute disgust portraying his face.
“That right there is some Night Court shit.”
With that he simply leaves but not before scrunching his face in disbelief, sighing in disappointment
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🏷️: @artists-ally @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @berryzxx @clairebear08 @cupidojenphrodite @redbleedingrose @fell-in-luvs
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a-hazbin-reader · 1 month
Note
All the Dad Alastor talk! How will Al react trying to cheer up his grumpy children. Alastor seeing his kids sad or frown. Or angy kids in general. Hangry.
HNNNNNNG
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
✅️Parental
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TW: Crying babies, Angry babies, Desperate dad!alastor
Description: ☝️⬆️
Alastor is a firm believer in keeping a smile on one's face no matter what is happening
Your husband lives by it and is always smiling no matter what, it's part of why you love him so much
It used to annoy you when you were upset or fighting with him, but you've learned to read him through other ways
Like with his eyes, his ears, the different smiles he gives, his body language and tones
His smile happens to be contagious and whenever you're with him, you can't help but smile too
"My dear, your smile is one of the most beautiful things I have ever laid my eyes on~"
It helps that he's so damn charming...
You always try to smile for him even when you're crying, in pain, or scared... something that breaks his heart and also makes him proud of you
The twins seem to take after their father and smile every day, laughing in the face of chaos and cooing at the deadliest of demons
Even when they just wake up, the first thing they do is smile at you and Alastor which is a great way to start the day
But they still have their bad days and sometimes they lose their happy smiles, much to the dismay of your husband
He can handle it if his babies are flustered or angry, usually able to problem solve and fix it for them
"Now now~ There's no need for such a face, put that smile back on and papa will make things right~"
Lots of placating pats and little nuzzles along their cheeks until the babies finally start smiling again
Grumpy? That's even easier because papa knows a few funny tricks to get them laughing again
"Now just what is that behind your ear~? Hm~? Oh my! You're quite a lucky one to have a chocolate hiding behind your ears!"
Or if they get hurt and start to cry? He can handle that to, cleaning and bandaging up his babies up before giving the wound a kiss to make it better
"Mwah~! Now that boo-boo has no choice but to go away~ How's about we go inside now, hm?"
Adores his children's laughter and squeals, loves being the reason their faces light up with happiness
But when they're sad? It's so much harder for Alastor to handle because he hates knowing his children are feeling that emotion
Because sadness is something that lingers even after problems have been solved and things have gone back to normal
He just holds them tight and hopes that with enough love and affection that things will be made better
The poor man almost looks ready to cry himself, bouncing the baby in his arms while rubbing their back in a desperate attempt to soothe them
"There there...it's okay, everything is okay...papa is here now...please be happy again..."
If that doesn't work, then he'll come find you, hoping that the two of you can stop the tears
Sits the babies between the two of you and looks to you for help because he doesn't know what to do to make it better
He can't treat them the same way he treats everyone else, his kids are special
He loves his children so much, and it hurts him to see such a raw emotion on their little faces
His smile is wobbly and his eyes are worried, leaning into the feeling of your hand on his cheek
"We can do this, darling, don't doubt the power you have to make our children happy."
Watches as you pick up one baby and hold them to your chest, humming softly to them while pressing a small kiss on their head
He copies you, and immediately, his heart breaks at how tightly his baby is clinging to him, watery eyes staring up at him
He brushes a hand over trembling ears and makes sure to give his baby the most reassuring smile
"My my...aren't you a little underdressed right now?"
Now his baby looks confused, ears pricking up as a clawed finger wipes away a few tears
"You know, you're never fully dressed without a smile~"
He rubs noses with his baby and feels his heart soar when he hears a little giggle, followed by the feeling of tiny hands on his face
Alastor is so relieved that his baby isn't sad anymore, squeezing them tightly and peppering kisses all over their face
And he's definitely not blushing or a little flustered when he notices you're watching him with a warm smile
"Why don't you give them a show? They love listening to their papa sing..."
He can't refuse that, getting both babies settled in your lap before dramatically taking stage, music erupting from a radio
You're looking at him like he's the most wonderful man in the world, like he's not some vicious evil demon who terrorizes people
And his babies are gazing at him like he hung each star in the sky for them, like he can do anything
But most importantly, you're all smiling
🎶 "Hey! Hobo man! Hey Dapper Dan!"🎶
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🎶 YOU BOTH GOT YOUR STYLE
BUT BROTHER YOU'RE NEVER FULLY DRESSED
WITHOUT A SMILEEEEE 🎶
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ode2rin · 7 months
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it has become an awful pattern of habit how much itoshi sae always shows up at your doorstep only when he wants to. 
“don’t go out with oliver.”
and here he was again, like a recurring relapse that happens every single time you thought you’re doing better. the kind that hits when you think you're finally making progress, that momentary flicker of doing better before it all crumbles.
and you were. you’re doing good, doing better, but god, does it hurt like hell when he pulls stunts like this.
it was a relentless tug-of-war, a game he played so unfairly, leaving you with no rules, no defenses. you were damn sick of it. 
“really?” the word escaped as a scoff, a blend of disbelief and irritation coating your voice. “you're showing up to my place at this hour just to say that?” 
a drawn-out exhale left sae's lips at your reaction, the scent of alcohol accompanying it—a scent foreign to the sae you'd known. was he drinking? itoshi sae doesn’t drink – or at least the sae you knew would never let a single drop of alcohol taint his flesh. 
“just don’t. he’ll hurt you.”
a bitter laugh escaped you, “you're one to talk about hurting people, aren't you?”
if you didn't know better, you'd mistake the look he shot you for something resembling an apology mixed with regret. but no, you knew that those eyes can never hold such, not for you, not for anyone.
“news flash, itoshi. you don’t have the right to decide who i can or cannot go out with.” 
“don’t i?” 
his challenge lingered in the air, a question not constrained by words but driven by conflicting wills, a daring meeting of gazes that had been evaded until now.
you're so fucking unfair, itoshi sae.
“leave,” you spat, your grip on the doorknob tightened, fingers almost digging into the cool metal. 
“don’t i, y/n? do i not have a right to you?”
“please, sae. just go,” you murmured, eyes squeezed shut, a trace of tears threatening to break free.
“— because you have all damn rights to me that it fucking terrifies me.” 
and there it was.
the vulnerability he so fiercely and stubbornly concealed, laid bare for you to witness. it slipped out like an admission, raw and unguarded.
sae's insides churned as your gaze bore into him, the intensity of it feeling like a searing heat that left him exposed, his thoughts laid bare. it was as if you were looking at him as if he had grown a second head, an incredulity mirrored in his own disbelief at what he had just blurted.
but it’s the truth, a truth etched not in alcohol-induced haze but in the sobering clarity that you, ever loving you, terrified him. 
“you– you terrify me," his words stumbled out, like he was admitting a secret he never meant to reveal. “you’re the first thought that comes to my mind, and the last one before i sleep. i feel you everywhere, your presence, your absence — it terrifies me, y/n.” 
he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration that echoed the inner chaos he couldn't quite contain. the sting of alcohol just added to the jumble of thoughts, like mixing a cocktail of emotions he wasn't prepared to deal with. 
sae had never been great with handling drinks, and here he was, wearing his heart on his sleeve, a little more vulnerable than he’d intended. 
after all, a body so foreign to alcohol can only handle so much.
and it's ironic how that also applies to sae's acceptance of your love – like a liquor he's not used to, but still very much would like a taste.
he knew he had absolutely no right to show up here; he had no right to stop you from going out with another man; he had no right to claim a part of you, not after he shattered your heart because he was afraid of his own.
he knew that, but itoshi sae is selfish. he wanted you, terrifyingly so. he hoped — prayed, even—no one will ever have you the same way he does. 
and he meant that in the most selfish way possible. because, time and time again, itoshi sae was selfish, even more so when it came to loving you.
“it terrifies me,” he carried on, a touch firmer this time, his gaze unyielding as it held yours, “how much you consume me, and it frightens me even more how much i would let you.”
“then just let me, you stupid asshole.” 
the words burst out of you, a declaration that felt like a leap of faith. your arms instinctively reached out, embracing him as if to underscore your determination. you had caught his confession like a lifeline, and now it was your turn to throw your heart into the mix.
“and you have all the damn rights to me too,” you murmured against his lips.
the truth is, he doesn't deserve you, not in the slightest. but god, you want him to— so bad. and after hearing what he said, you knew he wanted the same thing too.
you wrap your arms tighter around him, and it's like fitting together two missing pieces. you missed this, missed him. no amount of trying will ever relieve the longing. because truth be told, hearts aren't great at playing hide and seek; that much can be seen from the way you’re both holding on to each other.
“i'll love you slowly, until it's not scary, until you get used to it,” you whispered, forehead pressed against his.
in the quiet space between your whispered words, sae felt the world shift beneath his feet. 
love with you wasn't meant to be frightening. love with you wasn't meant to be all-consuming.
love with you, he realized, only needed to be exactly like this— your fingers against his nape, a smile curving your lips, and the assurance in your gaze that promised better times ahead.
“i’ll get used to it.” maybe the words came off wobbly, but he couldn’t care any less now; it was a promise.
“you better.” you let out a chuckle, genuine this time, and it took just one chuckle for sae to realize that everything will be just fine. 
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[extra]:
“sae?”
you pull his attention, sensing his wakefulness from the lingering kisses he peppers on your skin. the same man who laid bare his heart to you was sprawled within your sheets, his breathing gentle against your neck.
though his lips stay sealed, the comforting squeeze of your hand relays that he was listening.
“where did you hear that i’m going out with oliver?”
a brief pause, followed by a scoff. way to ruin a moment, sae’s inner voice grumbles at the timing of your question. why bring up another guy's name now, especially when he's shirtless and right above you? the nerve.
“doesn’t matter.” he dismisses your question. 
yet, there's something oddly satisfying about riling up the usually composed sae, it’s one of your life’s greatest pleasures. and so, you press on, unable to resist the urge to tease. 
“come on, now. i want to know what made my cold and grumpy sae to show up at my door at 2 am, professing that i terrify him,” you pushed, meeting his irritated glare with an arched brow. “— and don’t give me that look. those were your words, not mine!”
tch. he clicks his tongue, fully aware you won't let him live down his confession. “got it from shidou. he told me right before asking me to drink with him.”
as those words escape sae’s lips, you burst into laughter, leaving him to wonder if he broke you with last night's late-night affection.
“what’s so funny?” he raises an eyebrow at your sudden outburst.
“shidou tricked you into drinking with him, love. i turned down oliver without a second thought. we didn't even get close to going on a date,” you playfully reveal, your grin growing. “i kind of mentioned that to shidou. we share gossip occasionally, you know.”
sae froze at what you said, and he didn’t need no damn mirror to see that he was turning red from the embarrassment and realization that he had been lured to drink.
“i’ll kill him.”
“and i’ll thank him.” may shidou get all the dopamine he so cunningly desires. 
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note. i also don't know what this is so don't look at me now :P i'm throwing tomatoes at myself
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ttodorokiii · 1 year
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animal (m)
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synopsis. Bakugou can be an animal when it comes to fucking you sensless.
warnings. explicit sex, kissing, unprotected sex [BE SMART IRL AND WRAP IT!] biting, obsessed bakugou, he is so lovesick :((, but he’s very horny, rough sex, he fucks you between a door n him, strong bakugou, borderline yandere bakugou 😵‍💫🫡
note. hihi I’m back! Plz send asks because I missed y’all so much n also warning, this is messy n cringe. PLZ SEND THIRST ASKS ANYTIME OR JUST ASKS TALK TO MEEEEE! share feedback!
*not edited*
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Katsuki has no self control when it comes to you.
You are irresistible to him, he is so helpless when it comes to you. What is it about that gets him so hot and bothered, just one look at you? He’s hard.
You get him so horny without doing anything at all, you’re washing dishes? He’s mesmerised by you, with the way your hands work, the way you’re so focused on doing them.
It gets him. He feels so dumb, he should feel disgusting at himself for being so horny about the most normal things you do.
It’s disgusting, but he can’t control it. You’d be so embarrassed if you could hear his thoughts, you’d leave him.
He’s so addicted to fucking you, feeling you in the deepest and most intimate way he can, your lips, your nose, your damn e/c eyes, that seductive gaze you give him.
You’re the most sexiest woman he’s ever laid his eyes on,
If only people knew just how much of a whore their beloved number two hero, dynamite is for his woman. They’d find him pathetic. He doesn’t give a single fuck though.
You are his. He could fuck you forever and he wouldn’t get tired. God, he loves you so much.
Katsuki isn’t good with words or let alone expressing his feelings out loud, he is obsessed with you, he’s so crazy for you but he is unable to express it.
Unless it’s through intimacy.
So that’s why he’s pounding into you like a dog in heat, breathing so loudly into your ear as you yelp, breathless, his large palm holding the back of your neck so you’re looking straight into his wild ruby eyes, clouded with love.
“Fuck! love you s’much princess!” Bakugou confesses into the shell of your ear, his voice rough and husky, you can’t respond because the high of the pleasure is too much for you to handle. He knows your body so well.
He knows your spots. Your man knows how to fuck you so good, you whimper, your nails scratching on his skin, he’s so strong, holding your legs effortlessly when you lose yourself into him.
He feels so good inside you. You’re sure you see stars right now.
He pounds into that spot once again and you moan out loud, digging your nails once again into his flesh. Bakugou moans too, it spurns him on more, the man is a stallion, holding you in place while rutting into you feverishly.
“S-So good, suki!” You praise your husband. Bakugou grands your nipple and gives it a gentle pinch, driving you insane.
“My baby, fuck… love you so fucking much.” He presses his lips impatiently to yours, his kiss is passionate, swallowing your breath.
“‘m gonna fuck you so good because you deserve it baby, I love you so much.”
He is so passionate, so gentle yet rough. You could never get used to his touch truly, it still makes your skin ignite, just one touch and your body’s on fire.
“My princess.” He finally stops kissing you. “Hope you have the energy because we’re not going to sleep tonight.”
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evansbby · 10 months
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⭒✮▹𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬
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𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: older husband!Ari Levinson x naive wife!reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: daddy!kink, smutt, dd/lg vibes, pregnancy!kink, breeding!kink, housewife!kink, lactation!kink, size difference,  age gap, innocence!kink, naive reader, 18+ only, minors dni!
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ari finally comes home to his very pregnant wife.
𝐀/𝐍: I’m just surprised I didn’t write this sooner tbh. Enjoy!
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“Honey, I’m home!”
Your husband’s booming voice echoes around the house, sending thrills up and down your spine. You feel a huge smile plaster itself on your face – despite the fact that you’ve been married to him for almost a year now, you still feel giddy like a little girl every time you hear him come home. You carefully set down the casserole that has just finished cooking, impatiently shaking your oven mitts off before making a beeline to the front door and launching yourself at your big, beefy husband.
“Ari!” You hug him hard, pressing your nose into his hard chest that smells so deliciously like him. Like fresh soap and his manly musk with a hint of salty seawater. Just him. And you can’t help but breath him in, trying your best to climb up his body and wrap your legs around his waist, which is obviously a hard task considering how big your belly has gotten. “Missed you so much,” you mumble against his solid body, loving the feel of his warm arms enveloping you into his embrace. You wish he’d hug you harder, completely crush your body against his like how he used to. Till you can’t breathe but in the best possible way.
But of course, he’s ten times more mindful of you now. Pregnancy and all.
“Baby,” Ari breathes, burying his nose in your hair and nuzzling the top of your head. He presses a bunch of kisses against your hairline, one hand already on your belly (its favourite place to be, as of late), stroking it softly while his other hand meanders down to your ass (his other favourite part of your body). “Mm, I missed you too, sweet girl. Missed your little body against me like this.”
He cups your face, tipping it upwards and lifting you slightly so he can plant a kiss to your lips. He was just so damn tall and big – kissing was a bit of a problem unless he bent down or picked you up. You didn’t mind, though. You loved how much bigger he was than you, how strong and beefy and muscular he looked.
And Ari’s genes were strong enough that he’d passed them down to his unborn children too. You were about eight months along with Ari’s twins in your belly. Both boys. Both bigger than average according to your last scan. And both extremely active and strong just like their daddy – you knew because of all the somersaults and kicks they were subjecting you to day after day. But it was worth it. Ari said that you were the always the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes on, but pregnancy just made you glow differently. And he’d get that fire in his eyes every time he looked at your belly growing his babies, and it made you feel so powerful, so sexy, so wonderful.
You’d only been married to Ari for a month before you’d found out you were pregnant. You’d met him less than a year ago, this business tycoon who’d swept you off your innocent feet. He was handsome, charming and respectful, and he’d proposed to you after only a few weeks. You’d said yes, of course. And he’d made it clear that he wanted a big family, a cute little housewife (you) who took care of him and his children. You were all too happy to oblige, because you wanted all those things too.
“How are my boys?” Ari whispers, cupping your belly with his huge palm. God, he was just so big – built strong like a wrestler yet also lithe and athletic. Not to mention so goddamned handsome! You couldn’t believe your luck. Some of your friends had told you that you were too young for a man like Ari. You were only fresh out of college and he was almost double your age and the CEO of one of the biggest tech companies in the country. That didn’t matter to you, though. You liked being his little baby, having him dote over you and spoil you (which he had done since the day he met you, and continued to do till this day).
And so what if he babied you all the time and made all your decisions for you? You liked giving up the control, and Ari was just so smart and level-headed, it just made sense to allow him to take over every aspect of your life.
“Your boys have been extra rowdy today.” You giggle as your husband continues to press kisses all over your face and neck, his long hair tickling you as he does so. “They keep kicking me like they want to come out already. How am I supposed to tell them they’re not due for another month?”
Ari smirks, easily picking you up with one arm like you’re a little baby yourself. His other hand is still splayed over your swollen stomach. He’d grown addicted to cupping your belly ever since the day you told him you were pregnant. It was a problem in the early days, when none of your friends and family knew yet your husband kept stroking your belly in front of them, a cocky look on his handsome face that all but gave everything away.
“I can’t wait till they come, but I also want to keep you pregnant just a little bit longer.” Ari murmurs, carrying you into the living room. He gives your ass a loud slap, the action making you yelp and clutch his muscular bicep as he grins. “You’re so sexy like this, baby. Have I ever told you that?”
“Only about a gazillion times,” you roll your eyes, but this earns you another hard slap on the ass and a warning look from your husband. You squeal, “Ari! That hurt!”
“You know not to roll your eyes at me, honey. I may have married you and knocked you up but you’re still my little baby.” Ari pats your bum and gives it a soft squeeze before kissing your cheek to make you smile. “And I’ve told you to call me daddy, princess.”
“Oh yeah, sorry daddy!”
“That’s okay, baby.”
You’d called Ari “daddy” during sex ever since he took your virginity on your first date almost a year ago. It just fit him; he took care of you so good and he was just so big and strong and dominant. Ari was really into it, always coaxing you to call him daddy – even outside the bedroom. And he’d always look so extremely smug when you’d inevitably slip and accidentally call him daddy in front of your friends and family.
But especially now that the two of you were married and lived in Ari’s big suburban mansion, he just went crazy every time he’d come home to you in your checkered apron, pregnant with his babies and calling him daddy. He’d told you once that it was his idea of heaven on Earth, and you were the one who’d given it to him.
“You have no idea how hot you look right now, baby.” Ari tells you as he takes a seat on his armchair and sets you on his lap. You’re still dwarfed by his huge size even when he’s sitting down with you on top of him, holding you securely on his knee like you’re his little baby. His gaze grows dark as he watches your breasts bounce slightly as he sits down, pink tongue peeking out to lick his lips hungrily. “I couldn’t concentrate at work, all I could think about was my baby wife, round with my children and taking care of my house in your cute little dress.”
You glance down at your dress, it’s one of many that Ari had bought for you. He had said that baby wives only ever wore dresses around the house so it was easier for their daddies to fuck them. You had absolutely no problem with that, seeing as you loved wearing the cute dresses he bought for you, and you also loved it whenever he’d slip his hand up the cotton material, or bent you over a random piece of furniture around the house and fucked the living daylights out of you.
Ari was a loving and doting husband, but sometimes he would get extremely rugged and rough with you. He’d tell you that you were his wife and it was your duty to bend over for him whenever he pleased. Sometimes, he’d watch you with lust-filled eyes while you did the housework around the house. And all he had to do was snap his fingers and you’d come running over to him.
He’d either push you down to your knees and make you suck him off till he was satisfied, or he’d bend you over the arm of the couch and fuck you fast and hard, calling you his cute little baby housewife, telling you how all your holes belonged to him only, because he was your husband and he owned you. And you’d whimper and mewl and wail and cry while he had his way with you, till he’d fill you up with his cum and then pull you upright, straighten your dress, slap your ass and send you back to your housework.
No wonder he knocked you up so quickly.
“Honey? You still here?” Ari bounces you on his lap and you blink before smiling up at him.
“Oh. Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“Why would you need to think, baby? Daddy does all the thinking, remember? You just look pretty.” Ari bounces you on his lap again, making you giggle while his eyes once more zero in on your breasts. They’re so much bigger now that you’re pregnant, and Ari has been paying more attention to them than usual. In fact, your pregnant body in general has him incensed and feral. He’s always grabbing at you and pawing at you, squeezing and groping and stroking your every curve like he can’t get enough.
He reaches past you to grab the cold bottle of beer which you’d already set out for him on the coffee table. You watch him as he takes a deep swig, admiring how handsome he is. He’s got a defined jawline covered with his thick beard that makes him look more manly and virile than ever. A gorgeous sloped nose with a cute bump on it that you love to kiss, and high cheekbones smattered with freckles. He sports a golden tan almost all year round, as well as a wonderfully beefy, sun-kissed body that you can’t get enough of.
Even now, you slip your hand up and down his hard stomach, feeling his hairy, toned abs through his cotton shirt that’s stretched taught over them. God, he really was the hottest man alive. All the women that worked for him were crazy about him, including his secretary. But Ari had told you not to worry, that you were the love of his life and he’d waited forty years to find you, and he’d wait forty more to find you again.
“Dinner’s all ready for you.” You say, pressing a kiss to his cheek because he looks so deliciously handsome and you can’t help it. “I made all your favourites, daddy. I think I’m getting better at cooking now.”
You’d struggled with cooking at the beginning of your marriage. You knew Ari expected you to be a good little housewife, but cooking was never your strongest suit. Ari hadn’t minded though, always finding it adorable when you’d sheepishly serve him burnt food that was borderline inedible. And then he’d order a takeaway and you’d both eat in front of the TV, and he’d lick the pizza sauce off the corner of your mouth before pulling you into his lap to make out.
But you’d wanted to be a good housewife for him, after all, Ari worked so hard to provide for you and he bought you whatever you wanted. He didn’t expect you to slave away in the kitchen, of course, but you figured he deserved a good homecooked meal once in a while. And so, you sifted through various cookbooks and online recipes and YouTube videos until you’d finally been able to cook something half decent. And Ari had been so proud of you when you’d served him a roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, and making you husband proud was all you really wanted to do.
Back in the present, Ari playfully chucks you under your chin, “You’re an amazing cook, sweetheart. I can’t wait to eat dinner. But I won’t lie, baby, right now I’m hungry for something else.”
His eyes go down to your chest again, and you smile demurely as thrills shoot down to your core. Ari’s big hands cup your breasts, squeezing them lewdly before tweaking your hard nipples through the thin material of your dress. You never really wore bras inside the house, and Ari was not one to complain about that. He grins wickedly when two wet spots appear on the fabric covering your nipples.
You’d started lactating recently, and Ari had been nothing short of thrilled about that. “Baby wives feed their daddies their mommy milk,” he’d told you, and of course, he was always right. You were scared at first, having him drink from you. But he’d been so ravenous, so hungry for your milk and the intimacy that came with doing something like that. How could you possibly say no?
Now, Ari fed from you all the time. It was almost a daily occurrence which almost always ended in mind-blowing sex.
Ari holds you close to him as he kisses down your neck, his hands slipping up your arms to push the straps of your dress down. Your breasts are painful and heavy as he frees them from the dress, your nipples already hard as glass but you still hiss as the cool air hits them, making them even more erect, if that was possible.
“Poor baby,” Ari coos, tweaking your nipple casually while you squirm in his arms, whimpering like a baby who needs to be tended to. That only incenses Ari more, and he gives your erect nipple a couple of flicks, making you gasp as he laughs wickedly. “Look at your sexy tits, all sore and heavy. They must really hurt, huh baby?”
You pout and nod, grabbing his forearm desperately, “Y-Yeah, they do. Daddy, plea–”
“My poor baby,” Ari continues, squeezing and groping to his heart’s content as droplets of your milk begin to leak. Your husband licks his lips, spreading the liquid all over your sore breasts, making you hornier than ever but he only smirks. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for daddy to come home and breastfeed from you, huh?”
“Y-Yeah, please!” You whimper, jutting your chest out till your heavy breasts are almost smothering his face. And all he does is laugh, giving your nipple another hard pinch while you feel the tears of frustration well in your eyes. He reduced you to tears so easily, but it was only because you craved him so badly and didn’t like it when things didn’t go your way. He often teased you about this, calling you a needy, spoiled baby who lacked any type of patience.
Ari gives your nipple a light flick with is tongue, his blue eyes shining wickedly as your breath hitches. But then he lets out a feral growl, completely enveloping your nipple between his lips and sucking down hard. You whimper again, grabbing his hair and holding his head close to your breast as he begins to drink your milk, groaning, biting and licking at your nipple like a starved man.
“God, you have such sexy tits, baby.” He mumbles against your breasts, burying his face into them as he continues to suckle. He grabs your other tit and gives it a rough squeeze, kneading the soft flesh with his expert fingers. “And your mommy milk tastes so good.”
“Th-Thank you, daddy!” You manage to get out through all the different sensations you’re feeling. He’s still bouncing you up and down on his lap, his hard dick poking against your butt like a steel rod through his pants. Plus, his mouth working against your nipple is making you see stars, and you feel pleasure mixed with the relief from him draining the milk from your breast.
“Good girl with good manners,” Ari grunts approvingly, his voice slightly muffled as he lewdly takes your whole breast into his mouth (as much of it that fits) giving it a hearty suck while rocking you against him as he dry-humps his dick up into your clothed core. “Just like how daddy trained you to be. Fuck, baby. I bet none of my friends’ wives are as obedient and cute as you, huh?”
“N-No!” you agree with a yelp when he gives your ass a firm slap before grabbing a handful of your ass-cheek from under your dress and giving it a lewd jiggle. “D-Daddy, need you so bad!” You try to grab his hard dick out from the waistband of his pants but he easily slaps your hands away, making you pout and whine as he continues to suck your breasts.
“Let daddy have his meal first.” Ari scolds, slapping your butt again, harder this time, before focusing his attention to your other breast. He suckles you sweetly at first, before growing greedy once your milk starts flowing into his mouth. Incensed, he moans against your breast, grabbing your hips and repositioning you on top of him. He bounces you up and down straight on top of his crotch while he feeds from you, and you moan wantonly as your body begins to work itself up.
“B-But daddy, I waited all – ah! – I waited all day for you!” You pout, trying to grind down against your husband but he holds you in place, always wanting to control your pleasure and never letting you seek it out by yourself unless you had his permission.
Ari releases your nipple with a pop before grinning wolfishly down at you, a thoughtful look on his face as his hand splays itself on your belly once more. “Well, you were a good, patient baby today, weren’t you?”
“I was, I was!” He slips his hand down under your dress, quickly settling it between your legs while your breath hitches and eyes cloud over with lust and want. And all it takes is for his pointer finger to press down on your swollen, panty-covered clit and you’re cumming. You squeak and clutch on to his muscular forearms as you orgasm, your other hand going down to hold his hand in place between your legs as you hump and ride against it. Your panties are completely soaked through and your entire body is buzzing with sensitivity as you pant his name.
Ari looks extremely smug as he watches you orgasm in his lap, leaving a sizable pool of your wetness on his clothed leg. Casually, he tweaks your nipple, his blue eyes trained on your face as you gasp in response, your body twitching in his arms.
“You’re so sensitive now, baby. I bet I could make you cum without even touching you.” Ari says, looking proud and smug at the same time.
“S-Sorry,” you shoot him a sheepish look once you’ve come down from your high, “can’t help it sometimes, daddy. Specially since I can’t ever touch myself when you’re not here.”
That was one of Ari’s firm rules that you had to follow. At the beginning of your marriage, Ari made it clear that baby wives like you had to follow all the rules that your husband set. That included not speaking to other men without his permission, always doing what he said, always telling him where you were, and of course, never touching yourself without his permission – certainly never when you were alone in the house.
“Dumb babies like you don’t know how to touch yourself.” Ari answers, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he slips his hand out from between your legs, licking his fingers lewdly. “That’s why you need daddy to tend to you all the time. Now tell me, baby, how would you like to be fucked tonight?”
In next to no time at all, your big, beefy husband has you on all fours on your king-sized bed upstairs. A feral energy had overtaken him when you’d shyly voiced your desires to be fucked as hard as possible. Pregnancy made you so horny and feral for him, and in the early days he only ever allowed you on top, because he was so much bigger than you and so scared of hurting you. But soon, he’d learned to be rough in a way that had you both feeling satisfied without ever really causing you any harm.
And so, Ari had wasted no time in carrying you up the stairs, laying you down on the bed and slapping your ass as you scrambled to get on your hands and knees for him. And he’d slapped your ass once, twice, three times, and you knew he was mesmerised by how it jiggled.
“You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.” Ari murmurs, spanking you again like he can’t get enough. “Kept thinking of you like this while I was at work, bent over like a little whore in front of me.”
“Please put it in, Ari!”
“Patience, sweetheart.” He chuckles, running a hand up your spine and sending shivers all throughout your body. He presses his dick against your naked backside, and he feels so hot and pulsating. He’d torn your dress off the moment he’d entered the bedroom, and his own clothes had quickly followed suit. And now you were at the mercy of one big, horny, muscular, beefy man. A caveman, by the looks of how feral he was getting behind you. It’s like seeing your pregnant, naked body just flipped a switch in him, and his own patience was riding thin along with yours as he continues to rut against you.
With one quick thrust, Ari drives his huge dick inside you. You cry out in pain because he’s so big, and you’ll never get used to just how big he is. He’s more than twice the size of you and so incredibly well hung, and all you can do is brace yourself and take it, your whole body jerking forward from the force of his thrust. You’d have gone face first into the mattress had he not anticipated that and grabbed on to your hips tightly.
“Oh, fuck, baby, such a tight fucking hole you got. Daddy barely fits inside.” Ari’s fingers are clutching your hips so tightly, you know it’ll leave a bruise. And he’s rough from the get go, although you know he’s holding back because you’re pregnant. “God, fuck, sweetheart. You got such a good and tight fuckin’ snatch, so perfect for my dick, fuck!”
“H-Harder, daddy!” You cry, rutting back against him as your breasts bounce up and down from the sheer force of his thrusts. But your request earns you a swift smack to your bum.
“Take it how daddy gives it to you, baby.” Ari sneers, the alpha male inside of him taking complete control as his hips increase their pace. It feels like he’s ripping your insides with his hard dick but you feel so goddamn full and so good that you don’t even care, even as he continuously rains slap after slap down on your ass. “God, fuck, such a good little baby wife. Obedient as shit, aren’t you? Daddy’s little baby, gonna give me a bunch of babies, aren’t you?”
“Y-Yeah, gonna have your babies, daddy!” You agree, sounding delirious and very much like an airhead who’s only capable of repeating what her daddy is saying to her but he’s reduced you to this state through his sheer hard fucking and you don’t even care. You want it harder, want him slamming into you till you can’t catch your breath and you pass out. But you know he wouldn’t, you can tell by how he’s got one arm now wrapped protectively around your belly, as if he needs to keep it there to remind himself not to lose control like how he often does during sex.
You remember a couple of times when Ari had gone completely feral, fucking you like you were an animal. Relentless and unforgiving, leaving you with bruises and bumps as he’d had his way with you again and again. But the dark side of you had enjoyed being a cumdump for him, despite the fact that you’d cried from the pain and overwhelming pleasure. And Ari had taken you into his arms afterwards, telling you how sorry he was, how he’d be careful with you in the future, how he got too riled up and how he couldn’t help but take you roughly when he saw how sweet and innocent you looked. And then he’d always be so sweet with his aftercare, and run you a bath and dote on you and hug you till you fell asleep in his arms, smelling like rose scented bubble bath.
“Want me to knock you up again, sweetheart?” Ari asks you back in the present, fucking you so hard you’re seeing stars. His fat dick is hitting all the right spots inside you, making you arch your back as he keeps thrusting into you, hips going into jackhammer mode. “Because I will knock you up again, baby. Soon as you give me my boys, I’ll have you on your back and filled to the brim with my fucking cum so you get knocked up again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Wouldn’t you? Fuck!”
“YES, YES, YES!” You scream at the top of your lungs, the pressure building up inside you till that invisible coil snaps and you cum so hard, you’re seeing stars. You collapse underneath Ari, and he has to hold you up as he continues to fuck you. But him describing how he’s going to knock you up again was enough for you to squirt all over his dick, your slippery walls squeezing his hard, fat cock that doesn’t stop its relentless assault inside you.
“Fuck yeah, baby, squeeze my fuckin’ dick!” Ari groans, using your limp body as a literal hole for his dick as he grabs your hips and makes you shake your ass on his dick, “Fuck yeah, baby couldn’t help but cum from the thought of getting knocked up by daddy, huh? Well, you gotta give me another one, honey. One orgasm isn’t enough for my baby girl.”
He pulls you up to your knees so your back is against his chest. And your body is completely limp and void of energy since orgasming had taken everything out of you, and you’re not even sure you can cum again like how he wants you to. But your beefy husband holds you up against him nevertheless, one big hand wrapping around your throat while the other cups your heavy breast and squeezes, and this whole time his hips don’t stop moving inside you. His fat dick driving in and out of you at different, varied paces. Slow so you can feel every ridge and vein, and then fast till his hips are a blur and you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“You best fucking believe I’m always going to keep you pregnant from now on.” Ari growls in your ear, squeezing your tits together as he paws at you like a feral caveman, his fingers pressing against your throat and cutting off your air supply just enough for your vision to blur and it all feels so deliciously good and you’re long past the point of even being coherent as you wail and scream for him.
You can feel him losing himself, getting rougher and rougher. You know your husband too well, you know he’s turning himself on more and more at the idea of impregnating you again. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and biting while his hands squeeze your breasts so hard it hurts, and you feel your milk dribble down your nipples.
Ari sees it too, and you swear you can feel his dick get even harder inside you. In a nanosecond, he’s manhandled you into a different position. Now, he’s sitting on the bed with you on top of him, and he’s bouncing you up and down on his dick. And oh my fucking God, it’s so much deeper this way! You can feel your puffy clit grind against his trimmed pubic hairs as he does all the work, his muscular arms wrapping around you, not caring at all that your pregnant belly is in the way as he continues to fuck up into you.
“Can’t let your mommy milk go to waste, can we?” Ari grins, grabbing your tit and latching his mouth on it immediately, sucking down so hard that you see stars. He lets go with a pop, “Guess I didn’t get all of it, huh, baby?”
You hold his head in place, carding your fingers through his brown waves as he continues to drink your milk like a ravenous beast, like he can’t get enough of it. Switching from one nipple to the other, giving both your breasts equal attention as he drains the milk from them.
“You’re so fucking hot when you’re breastfeeding daddy, baby.” Ari tells you, his voice muffled as he keeps his face buried in your breasts. And all the while he’s bouncing you up and down on his dick, and you can feel your second orgasm start to build up – and he hasn’t even cum once yet! You wonder how he remains so calm, so casual enough to have a conversation with you during sex. Meanwhile you’re a dishevelled mess on top of him, head lolling to the side as you’ve already gone dumb from all his ministrations.
“God, fuck, gonna keep you pregnant at all times now, sweetheart.” Ari declares, getting feral again as his hand splays out on your belly. “I want at least five more kids, baby. You gonna give daddy five more babies?”
“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I will!”
“That’s a good fuckin’ girl. A good fucking baby wife. I’m so glad I found you, baby. I love you so fucking much.” He kisses you, pulling you by the hair till you’re flush against him, his hips fucking up into you at a blurring pace that makes you feel like he’ll rip you in half any second now.
“And all the other guys will be so fucking jealous that they don’t have a cute little knocked up baby wife who does whatever they ask. Fuck! Tell me you’re my cute little baby wife!” He pinches your nipple harshly before going back to your belly, rubbing it with his huge hand as he clutches you so close on top of him.
“ ‘m your cute little b-baby wife!” You moan, finally finding the energy to desperately ride him, up and down and backwards and forwards, grinding against the thick steel rod that is his dick as it jams up your poor, abused fuckhole.
“Damn right you are. And I’m your daddy who knocked you the fuck up. And I’ll do it again and again, because you’re my fucking property and I can do whatever the fuck I want with you! You got that? Fuck!”
“Yeah, oh fuck, yeah, daddy, you own me! Wanna have more of your babies! Want you to keep me pregnant all the time!” You blabber incoherently.
“And you’re gonna obey me, and be a good little mommy to all our children, aren’t you?” He smacks your ass hard, once, twice, three times till your ass is sure to be raw and all the while you nod and agree with him, “A good little mommy who does what she’s told to do, and spreads her legs every time daddy wants to knock her up again, you got that?”
“Yes!”
“Fuck, sweetheart. Can’t wait to come home to you taking care of our little ones. Five of ‘em, with another one on the way. Fuck, can’t fuckin’ wait for that.” Ari grunts, his thrusts growing deeper and hitting your spot so deliciously and making you mewl, as well as his words and promises of keeping you pregnant which have you turned on beyond belief.
The pressure in your lower belly builds up higher and higher, more intense till you almost can’t stand it. And it feels so deliciously good, your pleasure mounting higher and higher as Ari continues to fuck you throw it all, holding you close and coaxing you, telling you to cum again for daddy, giving you permission to let go and cover his fat dick in your cream. And you obey, and you cum so hard, marvelling at how much of it squirts out of you.
Like a broken faucet, squirt after squirt of your cum covers his cock, and you sob and clutch at Ari’s hairy chest, burying your face in his hard chest as you cum so hard you almost faint. “Oh daddy, daddy, daddy!” you whimper like a broken record, like a baby who’s collapsed and needs to be held by her big, strong daddy.
“That’s a good baby,” Ari coos, stroking your hair like you’re his good little girl and the pride in his voice makes you sag with relief and euphoria, and his thrusts grow sloppy as he continues to ride you through your orgasm. His fat balls slapping against your pussy, and you know his load will be big because he’s held off so long.
“Fuck, baby.” Ari lets out a guttural groan before he cums, emptying himself inside of you as spurt after spurt of his hot cum sears you from the inside out. Brands you as his as your greedy pussy squelches and swallows his seed like it���s your job. And Ari looks so proud, holding you so close to him till it hurts, like he doesn’t want a single drop of his cum wasted as he fills you up like you’re his personal cumdump. “God-fucking-dammit, your greedy little snatch is squeezing me so good, baby. Best fuckin’ pussy I ever had, taking all my daddy cum like a good little girl. Fuck, take it, take all of it!”
And you do, taking every drop of his thick ropes of cum till you feel so full, stuffed to the brim with his heavy load as you fall down, completely spent and breathing hard, on your back on the bed.
You’re completely sapped of all energy, and again you marvel at how Ari seems perfectly fine, as if he hadn’t just emptied the world’s biggest load inside of you after a long session of unbridled, hot, rough sex. But your husband seems more interested in your body in its post orgasmic glow, rubbing you all over as you rest from the fucking you’ve just received, marvelling at his cum as it drips out of your pussy.
“Looks like your baby pussy couldn’t keep it all in, honey.” Ari swipes a finger up your slit and it comes up covered in his cum. Your mouth drops open in the shape of an o, which works out in your husband’s favour as he feeds you the thick cum. Globs of it, again and again, swiping up from your pussy before he brings his finger to your lips and allows you to suckle it off him. And it’s all you can do in your weakened, post-fucked state, suckle his fingers like a baby as your daddy feeds you his cum.
“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You murmur weakly, not forgetting your manners as Ari smiles down at you smugly. Finally tearing his gaze away from your body, he lies down next to you and gathers you into his arms for a cuddle. Kissing the top of your head and all over your face as he holds you close to him, till you can feel his heartbeat in sync with your own.
“You’re welcome, baby. I love you so much.” Ari answers, looking like the happiest man in the world. And it’s such a powerful feeling, knowing it’s you who has made him feel this way.
“Love you too, daddy.” You say tiredly, cuddling close and burying your face into his hairy chest as you breathe in his intoxicating post-sex musk. “Can’t wait to give you more babies. Can’t wait for our boys to come. I’ll be the best mommy to your babies, I promise.”
Ari chuckles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as he gazes at you with eyes filled with adoration. His hand goes down to cup your belly, and he squeezes you so close to him, you feel you might suffocate. But in the best way.
“I know you will, baby. I know you’ll take care of my children, but right now I’m going to take care of you, okay?”
“Okay, daddy.”
He runs you a strawberry scented bubble bath, carrying you to the bathroom and getting into the tub with you. Gently scrubbing you clean and massaging your sore muscles and sensitive skin while you lie on top of him in the bath, content and barely conscious from the incredible session of fucking you’ve just received. Smiling faintly as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, promising you the world and more, his words painting the perfect life which lays in store for you in the future, as well as the perfect life you’re currently living now – all because of him.
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THE END! This is my ultimate fantasy and i have no clue why i never wrote it before now! pLEASE PELASE let me know what you think! thank you very very much! love you all!
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polakina · 9 months
Text
intensified senses
pairing: miguel o'hara x reader
rating: explicit
outline: being highly recommended by his lieutenants, miguel decided to recruit you into the spider society. wary of you at first, he kept a distance. but you were persistent on getting through the cracks of his stony exterior
warnings: cursing, fluff, eventual smut, miguel being a sarcastic bitch, pining, flirting, masturbation (male), blindfolding, sensory deprivation, blowjobs, unprotected sex, riding
requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3
masterlist
II
He watched you from afar at first. Crouched from a high tower, dressed in inconspicuous clothing and hiding in plain sight. You came highly recommended. Jess and Ben spoke rather fondly of you, of your loyalty, bravery. You took care of your neighbourhood, of your city. And you were damn fucking good at it.
Miguel didn’t see it. He looked at you with a rather cold stare as you perched from a rooftop, your headpiece laid beside you as you looked out towards the streets. You crouched there with a bagel in one hand, iced coffee in the other. Your suit was all yellow, like the sun. The spider on your chest a deep orange. The sunset made it shine brightly. A pretty amber in the light. Miguel just sort of scowled at you. 
“What do you think, O’Hara?” Jess came through on his earpiece, crackly, but clear enough to understand.
“She’s…you think that she could join the society?” He asked incredulously. “She’s a kid!”
“She’s actually similar in age to you, just with a better skin care routine,” he heard her chuckle lightly.
“That’s funny,” he responded coolly. Sarcastically. As he usually did. But he trusted Ben and Jess’ judgement, and to be fair, he was trying to expand the spider society further. So perhaps you would be an ample addition, in his eyes.
-
You knew someone had been watching you for a while. You felt eyes on the back of your head. For what reason, you weren’t sure, but they didn’t pose a threatening feel. So you let them be.
It wasn’t until you felt their presence behind you that you felt that something needed to be done about it. You heard his footsteps quite a fair distance behind you, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight. He was big. Very big. Putting your headpiece back on, you stood up straight and kept looking ahead of you. It was only when you felt him get a little closer that you sent your webs in his direction. You heard him grunt as he was webbed to the rooftop door, stuck in place. 
That’s when you turned around to face him. Glad that your face was covered, he wasn’t able to see the look of surprise on your face. The way your eyebrows raised or your mouth fell slightly open. Goddamn. He wasn’t exactly what you had expected to be following you all these weeks.
Dark curly hair. Reddish eyes. A waistline that would put any model to shame. The man was built like a brick wall, but with a face carved from a God or something. You blinked back into focus, not letting him distract you right now.
“Who are you?” You asked, trying to conjure a sort of authoritative voice to not seem so young. Or small. Which you were in comparison right now.
“That isn’t important right now,” he said, struggling against your webbing. “I need you to come with me. I’m recruiting you. That’s the reason I’ve come to find you. Not so we can chitchat and braid eachother’s hair.”
You laughed a little. Miguel ignored how his heart leapt a little at how pretty it sounded. “Wow you’re really good with your people skills. Has anyone ever told you that?” You walked a little closer to him, still hesitant. “Unless you tell me exactly who you are, and exactly what you’re doing in my city, I’m not going anywhere. And by the time that webbing’s structure decomposes enough for you to break free, you won’t find me again.”
He just sighed at you, rolling his eyes out of impatience. “Okay, I’m over this.” talons protruded from his hands in replacement for his fingers, and he sliced through your webbing. Shit, you put so much effort into that webbing too. He sauntered towards you, hips swaying as he looked down at you with a deeply disinterested glare. You backed up until your legs hit the edge of the rooftop, pinning you between him and the ground below. You could have just jumped. Leaned back until you fell from the roof and swung through the streets, far away from him. But you couldn’t. It was like you were frozen in place. “You’re coming with me. One way or another.”
You stepped up onto the ledge, almost as tall as he was now. “As much as I’d love to come back to what I assume is a cute little lair, I’m going to have to pass.” You fell backwards off the ledge and watched his eyes widen as he went to reach for you, but he wasn’t quick enough. Clearly his spidey senses weren’t kicking in today.
You fell, looking towards the ground as it got closer and closer to you. 
But you never did reach it.
It was a blur, a flash of coloured lights blinded you for a few moments. There was a pressure on the back of your neck, as though someone had grabbed you harshly, penetrating skin from the pain it inflicted.
Instead your body collided with a solid stone floor. Hard. you felt somethin crunch as your body hit the ground, sending shooting pains through your entire arm. Blinking your eyes a few times, you adjusted to the bright fluorescent lighting around you. Screens were put up on every wall, a large computer sat atop a much larger desk was raised above you.
“What the fuck?” You whispered, pushing yourself off the ground. Turning slowly in a circle, you tried to gauge where you were, until you came face to face with him again. “You! Where the fuck have you brought me?” You started swinging at him. You don’t really know why. It was a defense mechanism, you guessed? But you swung at him nonetheless. Pointless as it was, it made you feel better.
He just huffed and shook his head, batting away your hands and feet as they came at him, as though they weren’t even hurting him. It wasn’t until he grabbed your wrist which you injured, feeling the dislocation in the bone. You hissed in pain, trying to pull away, to no avail. He said nothing, just snapping it back into place and your cry echoed throughout the room. 
“Asshole!” You cried out, turning away.
“You’re welcome.”
“I wouldn’t have even been hurt if you hadn’t have kidnapped me!”
“I told you I was recruiting you for something.” His voice was so plain, so boring, so calm. Not a smidge of emotion or humanity in it.
“You could have asked nicely! Maybe explained the situation before…teleporting me to your shitty office,” you breathed heavily.
“You didn’t give me a chance. This was the only way.” He turned towards the desk, making his way up to it. You followed, rolling your wrist to alleviate the pain. 
“So why am I here? And who exactly are you?” You walked to the desk, taking a seat in the chair and spinning in it until his face became blurry. You came to a sudden stop when his hands fell hard onto the arm rests, his face inexplicably close to yours. You held your breath as he scowled down at you.
“Get. Off. My. Chair.”
“Who. Are. You.”
He rolled his eyes. But it wasn’t he who answered your question. It was a woman. “Miguel, you’re back! And you brought company. So this is the Lemon Spider? I expected something…different.”
“Lemon Spider? That is not my name,” you chuckled, looking over to see a blonde woman on the screens.
“Well, LYLA is my name. And Lemon Spider suits you, so Lemon Spider is your name.” She smiled, her grin was big and bright.
“And you’re Miguel? I’m glad someone finally told me.”
Eventually Miguel explained why he’d brought you to him. The Spider Society. Hundreds of spiders from hundreds of different alternate realities protecting the canon events and ensuring nothing disrupted them. His lieutenants had recommended you after close observation of how you handled situations within your own universe. You were small but quick, good at getting in and out of places that others couldn’t fit. You had heart. You never acted out of anger, or revenge. Only when someone needed you, needed your help.
It was a noble cause. One that, of course, you would have signed up for yourself if Miguel hadn’t first brought you here against your will. The man really needed to work on his people skills.
-
Months later, you had worked your way up the ranks. A valued member of the society. Even Miguel was impressed. Not that he ever showed it. You’d even met some other spiders. Pav and Hobie being the ones you were closest with whenever you got a chance to see them.
But Miguel was always the one you wanted to see the most, but you tried to keep that your own little secret.
“So…how ya been?” You asked, spinning on the desk chair once again as he leaned over the desk beside you. He rolled his eyes once again, but his mean demeanour had slightly softened with you around over time. Even LYLA had noticed it, once asking him if he did in fact begin to soften towards you. She earned a low growl in response and never spoke of it again. 
“Busy.”
“As always,” you huffed, looking at the same thing he was, a screen with a lot of maps and circles and colours…you understood none of it.
“Shouldn’t you be working? Doing spidey stuff?” He asked, looking over at you, his eyes softening at the way you looked up at him. He brushed it off quickly though.
“My canon events are safe,” you assured. “Besides, I’ll be notified if anything canon related or otherwise is affected or in jeopardy. So until that happens, I have a clear schedule.”
He just looked away, scanning activity on the screen. “Well, that’s great,” he mumbled under his breath, sarcasm lacing his tone.
“Come on, I’m great company,” you smiled up at him.
“Uh huh.”
You sighed, leaning back in the chair, putting your feet up on the desk. “Well, you’d prefer me over Hobie, at least.”
He grunted, pushing himself off the desk and turning towards you. Grabbing both your ankles, he yanked them off the desk, pulling you closer to him, your legs either side of his body as the wheely chair rolled swiftly towards him. “Look, as much as I love the cute little attitude you seem to have,” he leaned closer towards you, his cologne filling your senses. “I have work to do. And you’re a distraction. So either be quiet, or go elsewhere, okay?”
Words escaped you. And Miguel realised exactly what he’d just said. He also realised he’d essentially caged his body between your thighs. You gazed up at him, he noted a little surprise in your eyes, as well as something else. But he couldn’t put his finger on it. Letting go of your ankles, he stepped away. You stood from your chair.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to be a distraction now, would I, O’Hara?” You asked, a little smirk playing at your lips. You patted his chest and walked away.
He hated that he watched you leave, completely ensnared by you as you left the room. 
-
You stayed at the base that night, knowing that Miguel had his room set up there, a few doors down from the meeting room. You planned to go back to your own dimension, but it was quite boring back there right now. So you hung out in the meeting room, suspended upside down from the ceiling. Tracking the activity of your own city, you were met with absolutely fuck all. No activity. No spikes in crime or anything altered on your own timeline.
Sighing, you dropped down to the floor, preparing to go back to your own timeline. You would have said goodbye to Miguel, but you weren’t exactly sure he wanted to talk to you right now.
Just as you were about to leave, you heard something. Your ears perked and the hairs on your arms stood up. It was coming from Miguel’s room. You shouldn’t have inspected, it wasn’t your place. But your feet took you there anyway. Outside his door, you pressed your ear up against it, listening intently. At first you thought he was communicating with someone. LYLA, perhaps. Until you heard something else. Groaning? Grunting, maybe. But then you heard moaning. And he was saying something. Your name. Your hand covered your mouth so that he wouldn’t hear you. But he sure as hell would have sensed your presence. Wouldn’t he?
You stepped back, knocking into the wall behind you. His noises halted almost immediately. Hearing his footsteps approach the door, you backed away quickly, but he opened the door before you were completely out of sight. His pupils were blown wide, his shirt discarded and his chest glistening slightly with sweat.
“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice low, gruff.
“I stuck around, kept an eye on the screens for a little while,” you admitted. It wasn’t a lie, for the most part. “Thought you would have heard me, or known I was still here.”
He cocked his head in confusion. 
“Spidey senses? I always know when someone’s around,” you smiled. But he shook his head in disagreement.
“I don’t have those. Wasn’t bitten by a spider, you see,” he revealed, and your eyebrow quirked. “How long have you been stood out here?”
Your heart dropped. “Um…not long. Was just about to leave anyway, so you get back to…whatever it is you were doing. I’ll see you around, O’Hara.”
You turned to leave until his voice stopped you. “Or you could…stay?” You didn’t turn around at first, but you felt him come up behind you. Close. Very fucking close. His heat radiated onto your back. “I’ve been cold towards you, I know that. I haven’t meant to be.”
“So why have you been?” You spun on your heel, almost stumbling as you came into contact with his bare chest. But his hand on your waist caught you.
“If I let myself enjoy your company as much as I do, I’ll become distracted from my life’s work,” he let his head drop.
Confidence suddenly overtook you and you placed a hand on his cheek, tilting his head back up to look at you. “Sometimes a distraction is what you need to be able to do your job.”
He chuckled. The first time you’d ever seen him do that. “You saying I do my job wrong?”
“I said sometimes, O’Hara,” you smiled. “But maybe a distraction is what you need right now.” Taking his hand, you led him back to his room. You expected him to pull away, but he didn’t, he followed. Miguel shut the door behind him and your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, the only light source coming from his desk light. His hands found your waist from behind you, his breath on your neck.
“A distraction sounds pretty good right about now,” he purred in your ear, kissing your neck softly. You melted into his touch, your legs becoming a puddle. He kissed down your neck to your shoulder and you turned your head, letting your lips meet his in a gentle kiss. 
This was the gentlest you’d ever seen him. Usually his walls were up, and he was cold and distant from everyone. But here…here he was entirely exposed. To you. You walked him slowly to the couch in the corner of the room, the backs of his knees hitting it before he sat down, his hands pulling you closer.
“You said you don’t have spidey senses, right?” You asked, standing before him. He looked up at you expectantly. 
“What are you getting at here, princesa?”
“Just something I want to try.” You pulled the thick ribbon from your hair that tied it up in a bun whenever you were out of your suit. Your hair fell down to your shoulders, falling in front of your face.
“Oh, we’re trying things? So early on?” He joked, a small smile in his voice.
“Oh shush, I think you’ll like it,” you held the ribbon in front of him and he realised what you wanted to do. He nodded, his trust put in you. Covering his eyes, you tied it around the back of his head. “Just have a little faith.”
“In you, I do.”
You knelt before him, so thankful he was just in sweatpants. You weren’t very good at handling belts. Wrapping your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants, you felt him tense up lightly. “Easy, O’Hara. Just relax, okay?”
You looked up to see him nod. Smiling, you continued, pulling his sweatpants down to his ankles. He’d opted to go commando under those pants, and you stifled a gasp at what awaited you beneath the fabric. 
Shit. you knew he was a big guy…but you didn’t expect him to be that big of a guy. Miguel’s cock sprang out of its confinement, hard, long and thick. For a moment you worried yourself that you wouldn’t be able to take all of him. Or even…most of him. But you were too pent up and needy for him that you pushed past it.
Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, Miguel shuddered at your touch. He didn’t want to admit it, but it had been a while for him. Having only his own hand to work with, he couldn’t fathom how good it felt to be your hand instead.
But fuck, the second he felt your mouth envelope his dick, he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his throat. You loved it, the raw feeling behind his groaning and whimpering. Taking him further in your mouth, you sucked slowly, deeply, your tongue circling the tip so his legs tightened under your hand where it laid, resting on his thigh.
You felt his hand travel to your head, fingers entangling in your hair and gripping it with a firm hold. He didn’t push, he just held you there. The more of him you took, the tighter his grip got. His panting and moaning was like music to your ears.
“Shit…shit…” he breathed, raising his hips up off the couch, his dick pushing deeper down your throat. He was about to come, on the verge of it, you could feel it. His head fell back against the top of the couch, his teeth gritted against each other as he felt the precipice of his orgasm fast approaching. “Wait, wait, wait.” He spoke quickly, racing through his words.
You did stop. Pulling away and looking up at him. “Are you okay?” You asked, worried you’d gone too far, too fast.
“I’m fine,” he panted, head tipped towards the ceiling. “But…” Miguel pulled down his blindfold so it hung loosely around his neck. He gazed at you, his eyes coated in a thin sheen, glossed over. “I’m not gonna be the only one who gets to feel this good though.” He pulled you up and onto his lap. You felt his dick twitch beneath you as your face was ever so close to his, inches away from one another. “So now it’s your turn, princesa.”
Miguel smirked, his hand sliding down the front of your pants, gliding under your panties and came into contact with your bare skin. Your breath shortened as his fingers drifted down to your pussy, already soaked from the moments previously, and he smirked at the wetness he felt there. “Already this wet, hmm? Guess it’s not going to take long for you to be able to take me, huh?” He was so smug. So confident. In any other instance you’d find it annoying, but right now you couldn’t have found it more attractive. All you could muster up was a quiet, desperate please.
He smiled, pushing a finger deep inside you and pulling a soft moan from you. God, he could listen to that on repeat for the rest of his life. Moving his finger in and out at a quickened pace, curving his fingertip to hit that sweet spot you could never reach yourself, he felt you clench around him, your eyes begging for more when your mouth couldn’t form the words. He happily obliged, adding a second finger. The palm of his hand grinding against your clit with the added pressure of his fingers fucking you was driving you to the edge quicker than you thought possible. 
He knew it too. Your eyes rolling back, your hips shifting to rock with the rhythm of his fingers inside you. You were close. 
“You want to come, angelita?” He asked, his words dripping with want, with need. For you. He watched you nod frantically. But he slowed his fingers, his other hand gripping your jaw gently, but firmly. “On my fingers, or on my cock, hmm?” He saw the way your eyes lit up at that proposal. “Oh, honey. I think I already know what you want.”
He didn’t even try and take off your pants, he tore right through them instead, his talons scraping against your skin, but never breaking your skin. Throwing your torn clothes across the room, he lifted you up so you hovered above him. Miguel grabbed his cock by the base, running it along your pussy, soaking the tip with your wetness. 
Words escaped you and your mind went numb when he first pushed his cock into you. At first it felt overwhelming, the size of him frying your senses and fogging your head. Only at about half way in, Miguel started to feel resistance, and the look of shock and the overwhelmed tint in your eyes showed him why. “Just relax, conejita. You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, one hand on your thigh and the wrapped around your back.
His praise and encouragement cleared your clouded thoughts. You nodded, taking your time and sinking lower and lower until you reached the base. Letting out a deep breath, you gave yourself a few moments to adjust. Miguel smiled up at you. “Atta girl,” he mumbled, a smirk on his lips. He shifted his hips, rising up into you, purposefully grinding his dick up into your soaking pussy. Fuck, he loved the way you bit your lip to stifle your noises as to not make too much noise. Not that anyone else was here anyway. He wanted to hear you. 
You started rocking back and forth on his dick, the tip hitting something devastatingly sweet every time and it sent shockwaves through your entire body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, nails scratching into his back, digging crescent shaped indents into his skin as you rolled your hips quicker and quicker. Miguel’s hands both found their way to your hips, guiding your movements and controlling your speed. His head dipped down as he kissed your neck, taking your skin between his teeth and biting gently, sucking deep marks into your neck. 
His lips trailed down, passing your collar bones, down your sternum to your breasts. His tongue circled your perked nipple before he sucked identical purple marks into your breasts, kissing along to the other breast as he did, giving the same treatment to both. 
Mumbles and whimpers fell from your lips, flooding the room with your desperation for Miguel’s touch, for Miguel’s praises, for Miguel’s hands all over you. His fingers dug tighter into your hips, grinding you against him hard, his cock reaching the perfect places inside you to make you squirm, to make you cry out his name. 
“You gonna come for me, princesa? Hmm?” He asked, a smidge of cockiness in his tone. He was good. And he knew he was good. You couldn’t deny it, not knowing that even though you were already so overwhelmed by the size of him, mixtures of pleasure and pain that balanced one another out perfectly, you couldn’t deny that you weren’t already craving more of him. 
But the second he started raising his hips to meet yours, you lost it. Your head fell against his shoulder, and his lips attacked your neck, pressing soft kisses there, biting gently. His hand drifted between your bodies, putting pressure against your clit with his thumb. That’s when your body began to unravel, your senses skyrocketed. You gripped the back of his neck so tightly as you felt your orgasm growing closer, your thighs shaking and your movements started to falter in both speed and momentum. 
Miguel sensed it it too, his hands on your hips becoming the sole thing after a point, that kept you grinding on his cock. He was close too. But he held out with all of his focus. Wanting you to come for him first. Needing you to. “Come on, honey,” he purred in your ear, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Be a good girl and come for me.”
You couldn’t hold it in anymore. You let out a small cry, Miguel’s name playing on your tongue. Your orgasm washed over you. It wasn’t gentle either, like it usually was whenever you touched yourself. This was powerful. This was like a tsunami. It tore through you, electrifying your veins and causing you to clench hard. Your thighs caged him, closing tighter around his body as you clung to him. You bit into Miguel’s shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, but it didn’t stop him from fucking up into you. He didn’t stop. Not until your orgasm had finally satisfied the both of you. Your body collapsed against him, your chest heaving as you tried to regain all of your breath, filling your lungs to their capacity.
“You okay, conejita?” He asked, raking his fingers up and down your spine, kissing the side of your head. He chuckled lightly as you just nodded, a quiet groan all you could muster up at an attempt for words.
You lifted your head, leaning back to look at him. A gasp escaped your throat as he shifted beneath you once more, his cock twitching. “You didn’t…” Your words trailed off as you looked fown for a split second.
Miguel shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?” You asked, a mixture of curiosity and a little embarrassment lacing your tone. 
He smiled, leaning back, running his hands up and down your thighs. “You think I can only last one round, honey? I’m offended,” he laughed jokingly. Your eeys widened a little, and you were slightly concerned you wouldn’t be able to handle more right now. Not if it was as good as that. “Don’t look so afraid, baby,” he whispered, lifting you and your legs wrapped around his waist. He carried you to the bed on the other side of the room, laying your down gently, your head settling comfortably into the pillows as he climbed on top of you, his body between your thighs. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
You huffed a soft laugh. “Miguel, I don’t think you know the meaning of gentle.”
He matched your soft laugh with one of his own. Rolling his eyes, he leaned even closer to you, your lips almost touching. “I’ll try to be gentle. At first.” His eyes darkened in the dimmed room and your heart beat just a little faster. “But don’t think it’ll take me more than five minutes to fuck you into this bed until all you can do is scream my name.”
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judithhhh · 2 months
Text
taken (one-shot)
jude x reader
summary : a night out at the club has you going back home with jude even though you shouldn't do so
(im backkk, hope you all like this!)
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you did not even register how it happened. you only knew that one second you were dancing with your girlfriends at the club and the other second you were pinned up against a wall, an attractive man kissing the breath out of you. jude had you in the same position as a month ago, the same position you promised yourself to never end up in again. his lips on your neck made your mind cloudy but the alcohol in your veins managed to erase the last bit of critical thinking you had left. you should have felt bad, you weren't supposed to do something like this. not when you had someone waiting for you at home. the thought of your boyfriend waiting for you in your shared bed almost made you push jude away but god how could you. the man was handling you like no one had ever done. making you feel things you thought only existed in your fantasies. so when he leaned down and asked you to go back to his, you just had to. you mentally told yourself that maybe another round of the mind-blowing sex he gave you a month ago would make you forget him for good but deep down you knew you could never forget that night and probably the one you were about to live too.
in the taxi to his house, jude did not give a damn about decency, shamelessly making out with you as the driver looked annoyed. you weren't all innocent in this either, your wandering hands brushing against his clothed bulge had him moaning into your mouth. arrived at your destination, jude hastily threw a few more bills than needed at the driver and tugged your hand, dragging you to his front door. you were less drunk than the last time, allowing you to actually admire his house. jude saw the look of admiration in your eyes, fueling his ego even more.
"bet he aint got a house like this huh"
you froze at his audacity. the guy was bringing home a taken girl home to fuck and he was mentioning her boyfriend like it was a damn joke.
‘’you open your mouth too much’’
‘’you’ll be the one one opening it for me soon’’
his childish joke made you laugh and the sensual mood from a few moments earlier was back, with jude ripping your clothes off, not even bothering to get to his bedroom. he had you against his kitchen counter, your hands tightly gripping the sides of it as he ate you out on his knees. you had been so unsatisfied with the sex you had with your boyfriend the past few weeks that jude had your eyes rolling back and your legs shaking not even two minutes after. he got back on his feet and kissed you as you rode out your orgasm. as the two of you made out, you were now the one to push him against the counter and to get on your knees. you undid his pants, your mouth salivating at the sight of his dick, it was pretty and perfectly long and thick, everything your boyfriend seemed to lack. you didn't try to waste any time and directly buried all of him in your mouth, making his head fall back and a moan fall out of him. you sucked him like there was no tomorrow, not minding your gagging reflex as you deepthroated him repeatedly. jude was a moaning mess against the counter, his hand tightly gripping your hair but not pushing your head at all as he let you do all the work. his words were all over the place as he praised you, telling you how this was the best head of his life and your mouth was absolute magic. you moaned around his cock, not used to such praise. it wasn't long after that moan echoed around him that he came, one hand buried in your hand and the other one pressed against his mouth as an attempt to hide moans way louder than the ones he was used to letting out.
‘’fuck baby, where have you been all my life’’ jude whispered to himself
he pulled you up by your arm and kissed you yet again as you wrapped your legs around his waist and let him direct you to his bedroom. he laid you flat against his dark bed sheets and pushed himself away from you, for a second, to get a condom. your head rolled to the side as you looked into the window,the alcohol you had drunk making the sight and sounds of the city more incredible than they actually were. jude push your cheek with his hand to make you look at him and you felt your stomach tighten at the sight in front of you. he had disregarded his shirt allowing you to see the muscles of his arms and stomach, his face was simply illuminated by the lights coming from the window and the smile displayed on his face made you cheeks burn. as jude leaned down to kiss all over your neck and tits, you were convinced that he must have been crafted by the gods because he was so perfect it wasn't normal.
you had been fucking for what felt like hours and jude was taking you from the back now, his dick hitting your sweet spot over and over again as his hans firmly gripped your ass and hip. you were so exhausted from your previous rounds, you could not even hold your upper body upright. your face was buried in a pillow as your hands grasped the black sheets. you were almost there and jude’s thrusts getting sloppier indicated that he was too but you were both startled by the sound of your phone ringing. jude leaned on top of your body to reach for the device on the nightstand, not once stopping his movements into you. he chuckled seeing the contact name and picture displayed on your phone.
‘’its him baby, want me to answer?’’ he asked you as his thrusts into you got more intense
you could barely think straight from the pleasure overflowing your body and only managed to mumble a weak yes as your mind did not register who the ‘’him’’ was. he hesitated for a moment, knowing that you would probably be mad when you realize who was actually calling but he knew that after tonight you would never go back to that man anyways.
‘’love, when are you coming back it's getting late’’
you froze at your boyfriend’s voice coming out of the phone. you looked back at jude with furrowed eyebrows as you mouthed to him to stop moving. the man simply whispered back, telling you to respond, a cocky grin displayed on his face as he saw you struggling to keep your moans in.
‘’im sleeping over at katie’s tonight’’ you tried to say without a shaking voice
you failed miserably to do so and as soon as your shaky voice escaped your mouth you knew you were screwed. you tried to talk to him yet again but a hard movement from jude had a loud moan coming out from you.
‘’what the fuck are you doing’’
‘’im serious, answer me’’
‘’im going to pick you up right now’’
your boyfriend’s concerns were the last thing you focused on as jude rammed into you and you got closer and closer to climax. you were a moaning mess, as you looked back at jude begging him to finally make you cum.
‘’she’s doing me mate’’ jude said smugly into the phone
‘’who the fuck are you?’’ he responded angrily
‘’type jude bellingham into google, you’ll know exactly who’s fucking your girl right now’’
‘’get the fuck away from her, are you mad’’
‘’dont worry, i’ll bring her back to yours with a signed jersey. after i'm done making her my girl though’’ jude responded chuckling before ending the call
he chucked the phone somewhere on the bed before taking your hips back into his hands. he wasn't lying when he said he would make you his girl and he wasn't failing to do so as the best orgasm of your life made your mind go blank. he snaked one hand around the base of your neck, bring you up so your back was touching his chest. a few more thrusts and he was also cumming, his lips latching onto your neck and his hand squeezing it a bit harder. he collapsed on top of you before rolling over. he left the bed for a few minutes and cleaned you up when he got back. he chuckled seeing you fast asleep and reached for your phone on the bed. he took a pic of your naked back, hickeys and bruises all over it, and sent it to your boyfriend. he knew you would hate him for it when you woke up but he had to make it clear with the other guy that you would never go back to him and that you were now his and his only.
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bokutosmochi · 5 months
Text
kinktober day five: somnophilia!
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ADRENALINE RUSH ♡ NANAMI KENTO
fem!reader x nanami kento
ingredients: nanami has some adrenaline he has to get rid off
what's it: smut
allergen warning/s: spit, unprotected sex, somnophilia
sugar level: 1.5k
regulars: @ventdavi154 @deobiforever @sugusshi @angelshub @eussstasss
parlor's note: can't do a kinktober without including nyanyamin!!
bon appetit!
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fuck gojo, fuck that patchface curse, fuck the higher ups
those were the only thoughts that bounced around nanami's head.
it was no secret that the man hated going any minute overtime, now here he was going home at fucking ten in the evening. on top of that, because of the late hour, the things he was able to pick up from his favorite bakery were what ever was left over from the day -- though one would argue that he's lucky because said bakery was still open at the late hour. regardless, the fact remained: the pastries were no longer fresh, no longer fluffy and warm.
if it was any other day, he wouldn't have ate it on the subway ride home from work and instead saved it so he could reheat it once he's safely in the confines of his own home, but not today. he was too hungry, and quite frankly, running out of patience.
he sets down his dull blade in its rightful place by the door and tugs off the yellow patterned tie in an uncharacteristically pissed off manner. not only was he filled with negative emotions, but adrenaline from the fight he had against an unnamed, unregistered cursed spirit was still pumping in his veins. with a huff, he hangs it over his shoulder, before moving on to unbutton his blue button down shirt as he walks over to the bedroom.
this was the part of his day that he looked forward to the most. sure, it was the end of the day, but it was the part where he'd see you, hold you for more than two hours.
laid down in the large california king bed was you. thick, soft blankets tucked up to under your chin, hair he loved running his hands through fanned out around your face, and your face. you looked so angelic when you slept, so peaceful even during nights like this when he knew you weren't sleeping well because he wasn't there in the bed with you -- you confessed to him one time, you always get the best dreams, the most restful nights of sleep whenever he's there holding you.
you shifted in your sleep, turning to your other side making the blanket move further down your body. it exposed the thin shirt you were wearing; an old shirt of nanami's. the fabric was so worn down that the man could spot your nipples, hardened from the chilly autumn air, from under the shirt.
you mewled softly and it made nanami wonder what you were dreaming of; whether you were dreaming at all. aside from that, the sound also made his beige slacks tighten and he found a way to release all that pent up frustration and adrenaline from his system.
he pushes the dress pants down along with his boxers, then damn near trips trying to take his socks off and walk to you at the same time. he's just had such a rough day and needs some help from you.
a thought pushes itself into his mind the moment he crawls on top of you, one that's about morality and ethics. he's never done this before and it feels wrong to do it. second thoughts fill his mind, but he remembers the fact that you've had this discussion before. he's already asked for your permission prior. in return, you only asked one thing from him: if i had a long day, try not to wake me if you don't have or want to. and aside from that, you've always been such a nice and thoughtful girlfriend. there has never been a moment in the many years you've been together where you've lacked understanding with him. you're always so selfless, giving him whatever he wanted, so long as it's reasonable, and this is reasonable, right?
with those thoughts as a green light, he pushes the blanket away from your body, nudges you so you'd be lying on your back, and moves the crotch of your panties to the side so he can have his way with you.
always the caring boyfriend, he makes sure you're properly lubricated before he does pushes himself in. after all, he doesn't want anything bad to happen to his sweet, caring girlfriend.
getting you wet the way he usually does takes too long, and besides, he'd probably end up waking you up too, which is something you asked him not to do if he didn't have to. not to mention the fact that he always gets so into turning you on; it's what gets him aroused too. he'll get too handsy, too noisy.
it's not an option so he opts to spit on your pussy instead.
he enjoys the sight of his glob of drool dripping around your vulva for a moment before spreading it around. when he decides that you're not wet enough, he spits again and does the same thing.
the man may think that exerting minimal effort is all that's required for most of his day-to-day tasks, but that rule does not include you and it never will. he always makes sure to take care of you the way you take care of him.
when your lips are shiny with his spit, he backs away for a moment, lines the head of his cock with your slit then pushes in as softly and slowly as he could, trying his best not to jostle you.
he moans lowly as he sinks in your warm pussy. it's a sensation he can never get enough of, even if he makes love to you a million times. he adores it, the way you welcome him so easily. he only stops his motions when he was buried to the hilt, his pelvis flush against yours.
he looked down to where your bodies connected and involuntarily muttered a low shit under his breath. to him, the sight was a masterpiece that could easily top an expensive painting any day; it certainly made him feel more emotions than those.
with a deep breath sucked in through the mouth, he started moving, steadily thrusting in and out of your wet cunt. the movement was calculated, executed with maximum precision to ensure that you won't wake from your slumber.
how could you expect him to keep his composure completely under these circumstances? you're so tight, he's always said that your pussy was made for him, and he doesn't just say that to get you off; he truly means it, and then you combine your perfect pussy with your perfect face. he's a goner.
he tries to stifle his moans, tries to swallow them under his breaths, but a few still manage to escape. despite those, he continues to yearn to make this nice and quick. it's just to blow off some steam, after all.
the moment his attempts become futile comes when you stir, letting out noises that shoots blood steaming down to his already painfully hard dick, and flutter your eyes open.
when his eyes meets yours, his elbows buckle, though he's quick to straighten himself back up again; his motion was so fluid you didn't even notice it, only the slight twitch of his cock.
you yawn before acknowledging the situation. "kento?" your words are slurred due to the sleepiness that remains in your system. "what's goin' on?"
"sorry hun," he grunts, continuing to fuck you. "adrenaline rush. you can go back to sleep if you want."
you give him a hum though you didn't actually succumb to sleep. the feeling of kento's cock inside you wasn't something you could simply nap through, no matter how hard you try nor matter how hard he tries to not rouse you.
he might have thought you were asleep - you were so quiet, not making a noise other than the natural moans - if you didn't mutter an "i'm close" at the exact same moment he felt his orgasm nearing.
"i am too, hun." his movements become sloppier. he loses his rhythm to the pleasure and due to the lapse in concentration since he began to play with your clit to help you reach your high as well.
"ken," he recognizes what you need with the call of his name. one of your hands found their way to his back, currently running the nails down the hard muscle. the pain only added to nanami's delight.
"i'm right there, hun. you can let go."
the both of you come at the same time and the feeling was euphoric. despite wanting rest, you're glad you woke up.
"that was nice." you commented lamely. the word didn't sum up the experience, it was so much better than nice, but your tired brain couldn't think of anything else. apparently, nanami had the same sentiment.
"i think that's a bit of an understatement, darling. now come on and get some rest, you deserve it."
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i get: reblog
you get: a california king bed with a nanami body pillow
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strawhbrrries · 10 months
Text
Ride, Cowgirl.
pairing: dbf!southern!frank castle x afab!reader
summary: neither of you can keep last night off your mind, needing more Frank finds comfort in your room.
warnings: age gap (reader is 22, frank is 52), use of pet names, dirty dirty thoughts!!!, mention of a divorced dad?, fingering, sex!!, praise kink asf, oral (f receiving), soft frank, reader calls him frankie accidentally, frank making noise in bed, riding like a cowgirl!!, bearded frank <3, no mentions of y/n, no descriptions of reader, not proofread
word count: 3514 words
author’s note: I’m in love with darlin’ and frank, they are simply the lomls currently. anyway, the end gives the perfect set up for a third part if it is desired!! In the meantime, it’s 1;30 am for me and I need sleep!! please enjoy &lt;3
read the first part cowgirl ! and the next part cowboy hats !
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Boyfriend by COIN played on the speaker your dad, conveniently, left outside as you laid on one of the pool loungers.  Thoughts of Frank consuming your mind, thoughts of his hands and his voice and the way he smelled and how he looked pain that he couldn’t fuck you in the backseat of his truck. Your fingers finding themselves rubbing the side of your neck, the very spot Frank had found comfort. 
“So how did last night go?” Tiff asked, hanging over the side of the pool to look at you. Your heart raced, did she find out? How would she? Did you accidentally call her when you were panting his name like it was the only word you knew? The way you froze as she asked a simple question, immediately made her suspicious of you.
“Huh?” You asked, in hopes of getting her to elaborate just a bit so you could come up with the lie of your life. Or maybe, you should confide in her. She is your girl for life, it’s not like she’s gonna judge you for doing it. If anything, she’d praise you and beg for details.
“After I left? How did the rest of the night go? Your dad doesn’t have the most interesting friends on the planet. All they talk about is work and their lack of wives.” She rolled her eyes, laying her head on her hands and kicking her legs in the water. 
“Actually…” You smiled, bringing your knees up to your chest to hide behind them as the blush spread across your body.
“Oh. My. God. Hold on!” She rushed to climb out of the pool, dripping water all over you as she sat on the opposite end of the lounger. If gossiping was a team sport, the two of you would have ten gold medals, if anyone asked you weren’t necessarily talking shit but simply saying how you felt about people.
“So, after you left, Frank and I went to the gas station and I asked if he had been with anyone younger. I don’t know what got into me, Tiff! He just looked so…godly. I wanted to jump his bones the second I came downstairs from changing.” You covered your face with your hands and groaned, the blush was probably becoming permanent at this point. You were going to be bright red for the rest of your life.
“Your dad’s best friend?! Holy shit dude. C’mon spill!” She laughed, prying the hands off your face and sitting expectantly. You were beyond grateful for the fact she wasn’t judging you and was actually interested. Maybe that was a bad thing, you didn’t care.
“Anyway, he said ‘Not yet’ and I was in shock or something! So, I reached over and kinda did a weird caress thing to his beard. I was flyin’ by the seat of my swimsuit, I’ve never been with a man who has any sort of facial hair. But he kissed me, and I mean like Really kissed me.i’ve never been kissed like that before, Tiff. Mind blowing.” Unbeknownst to you, the very man you were speaking about had walked out the back door and could hear the whole conversation. His chest swelled with pride, in some fucked up way he was glad no one had ever kissed you like that. It meant there was a lot more he could do way better than any of the other people you’d been with, and he’d be damned if he didn’t ruin you for any other man out there.
“Your dad is about to come out here, suggest you find somethin’ else to talk ‘bout.” He hollered at the two of you, your head whipping around so fast it was a miracle you didn’t give yourself whiplash, chuckling at the way your eyes widened when you realized he had heard you talking about him. “Quit speakin’ so damn loud anyway, sure the whole neighborhood heard.”
Frank didn’t truly mean what he said, he would love to listen to you retell the story of your escapades, what he didn’t want was your father to hear and put two and two together. He didn’t need to get into some shitty mess with the one constant in his life, he owed more to your dad than he cared to admit and ruining that friendship would send Frank to an early grave. That in no way meant he regretted what he did last night, and everything else he planned to do. He simply wanted to go about all this in a way that wouldn’t cost him his friendship but still gives him his girl, gives him you. He prayed for the first time last night, and he really truly prayed, for a situation where it all works out and he’s not back to square one. With nobody. Again. 
“Thanks for the warning, Mr. Castle.” Tiff shouted back, a smug smile playing on her face, giving him a small wave. She nudged your shoulders, giggling at the whole situation. All you wanted to do was shrink and disappear, you couldn’t be more embarrassed. You felt small and helpless, your best friend thought it was hilarious. God if you can hear me, please kill me.
You spent the whole morning thinking about him and the consequence of what you did, how would your next interaction go? Would it be weird? Would he pretend it never happened, that he wasn’t dying to have you right then and there. Yet, here you were no true interaction but you were the one cowering away from it. You were the one trying to pretend like it didn’t happen, when truthfully you wanted to shout it from the rooftops and let everyone know who had given you the best orgasm of your life.
“I’m going to shrink to the size of ant and drown myself in the fuckin’ pool, Tiff. I swear to god.” You slouched as far down in the lounger as you could, squeezing your eyes closed in some desperate attempt to make it all disappear. “Of course he would be here right now.”
“Ants don’t have lungs, they can’t technically drown. Besides, it’s not like he came out here and murdered you, all he did was tell you to be quieter. He also made no indication or mention of last night, so stop lettin’ that pretty head of yours go wild.” Tiff rubbed her hand soothing up and down your arm, she knew better than anyone the way your mind would take someone breathing at you and interpret it as they hate you and want you dead. That’s why she worked so well with you, the sane and grounded to your wild and anxious. 
“I don’t think it would matter even if he did, the principle of it all is what’s causing my worries. Do you think worry dolls are still a thing? I could most definitely use one right now.” A groan once again left your mouth, your eyes opening and searching for the older man who was carrying planks of wood across your backyard. Your father walked out of the house, giving you and Tiff a wave before hollering at Frank about whatever they were building.
The whispers and giggles coming from the two of you were intriguing Frank, he wanted to know exactly what you were telling her and what you were intentionally leaving out. He wanted to know if you were even talking about him, or if she was telling you the real reason that I just left abruptly last night. Because he knew, he wouldn’t say anything to you about it unless you brought it up first, but he knew. The work in front of him was becoming increasingly less interesting, he was so close to telling your dad to throw in the towel and call it a day. He didn’t even know what he was building anymore, he truthfully didn’t care but your dad did. That was enough for him to keep going.
“Those two have been out all day, shockin’ they’re not burnt or nothin’.” Your dad commented, planting his shovel in the ground and leaning against it. He smiled your way, not that you noticed as you were preoccupied with Tiff. You were his pride and joy, his baby. He’d murder anyone for you, it was a part of the reason you never brought anyone home. 
“‘M not shocked. Last summer, I’m not sure either one of em spent any more than twenty minutes inside. Make sure she- they wear sunscreen, don’t need em getting skin cancer.” Frank was quick to correct himself, not that your dad would’ve found anything wrong with his original statement but he was covering all his bases. Not that he didn’t care for the other girl, Tiff was her name? He didn’t need to know her name, not when he knew yours. 
“I’ll make sure to pick some up from the store the next time we make it to the grocery, I know my girl wears some. Not sure ‘bout her friend.” His girl. The words made Frank irrationally angry, you were his daughter but the thought of someone else staking claim over you drove him mad. One night with you and he was acting, and thinking, like you were his wife. Wife. No.
Frank had met your father when you were nineteen, hadn’t met you until you were twenty. It wasn’t like he was truly doing anything wrong but he was going to fight a never ending mental battle about you. Going through every hoop to tell himself neither of you was doing anything wrong, that you weren’t going to be in trouble for your actions. That it was, simply, okay.
The sun was setting, the breeze taking over and raising the hair on your skin. You truly had been outside all day, with sunscreen reapplied every hour or so, you were bound to find a few sunburnt spots in your shower. You exchanged goodbyes with Tiff and made your way to your room to start the nightly routine you had adopted since being home, switching the bluetooth from the speaker outside to the one inside your room. You opened the window, your music slowly starting to dance with the breeze, when a soft knock on your door grabbed your attention.
“Hey cowgirl.” Frank whispered, just barely loud enough to be heard over your music, making his way into your room and studying it. Committing all the bits and pieces of it to his memory.
“I’m so sorry about earlier, if you don’t want me to tell Tiff anymore I won’t. I just, I tell her everything and I needed to tell someone.” Your cheeks slowly started turning pink, Frank thought you were cute like that.
“Don’t apologize, darlin’. I didn’t care, just warnin’ ya ‘bout your dad is all.” He walked closer to you, his height very apparent, your head the perfect height for his chest. He brought a finger up to your cheek, dragging it down before tucking your hair behind your ear. 
“I appreciate it, I know how much he means to you.” No you didn’t. He knew you knew a small bit not enough to truly understand what the two of you meant to him. He would be forever indebted to your father if it meant keeping you, if it meant holding you and kissing you. Consuming himself with you.
“So pretty.” He truly whispered, admiring every inch of your face, leaning down to kiss you. Your heart stopped, he didn’t regret it? He thought you were pretty?
You decided to stop fucking thinking for once and enjoy it, leaning up to meet him halfway in the kiss. Threading your fingers through his hair, much like he did with yours in his truck. One his hands held the side of your face while the other tucked itself into the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms, rubbing at the indentation it left from being worn all day. 
“Ready to ride, cowgirl?” He asked, pulling away from the kiss enough to nip at your jaw as he waited for an answer. He wouldn’t be mad if you said no, he would be patient and wait until you were, but he went home and fucked his hand like a horny teenage boy at the thought of you on top of him.
A whimper is all you managed to respond with, your mind momentarily thinking about your dad but was interrupted by the softness of your mattress touching your back. 
“Goddamn swimsuits, prancing around in practically nothing.” He remarked, still standing as he eyed your body. His finger snapped the strap of your bottoms, smirking at the sound before he dragged them down your legs. 
“What’s your favorite color?” You asked softly, making him burst into laughter. 
“For what?” He responded, controlling his laughter at the fact you would ask that right now. 
“So I can wear one that color the next time you’re over.” You smiled, looking up at him. Somehow he looked even prettier from this angle, if that was possible. 
“Uh, probably red.” He gave a bit of thought before responding, curious to know if you would actually be wearing a bikini the next time you saw him. At your house, anyway. 
He stashed the bikini bottoms in his back pocket, pulling you to the edge of the bed by your ankles and getting down on his knees. Frank thanked all the heavens and the stars for the meal he was about to eat right before licking a stripe through your folds and sucking on your clit. The stimulation instinctively caused your thighs to close, causing him to force them back open and lay one arm across a leg with his hand splayed across your stomach.
He moaned.
He moaned.
Frank moaned, was he enjoying this as much as you were? Were there any downsides or faults to this man? 
He moved his mouth closer to your clit, paying almost all his attention to it as he inserted his middle finger slowly. A wanton moan making its way to his ears, he thought everything about you was pretty. If he wasn’t rock hard when he took your bottoms off, he definitely was now. The stretch in his jeans was not entirely comfortable, it truthfully wouldn’t be able to accommodate much more. 
“Frank, Frankie, please..” 
Did you just- did he imagine that? He’d never had anyone call him that before, but it sounded so damn good coming from your lips.
“What, pretty girl? Use your words for me. Tell Frankie what you need.” 
“‘M so close, please need more.” You whined, to him it even sounded a bit like you were going to cry. He’s bet his life savings you were a pretty crier, a pretty anything. He just wanted to look at you. Always.
All he wanted to do was pull out his phone and record the pleas and the moans coming from you, to listen to later if you were ever ripped from him and he didn’t get to experience this, experience you, ever again. If it weren’t for your fucking music. He was thankful for it, blocking your sounds from anyone in the house. He added his ring finger into the mix, relishing in the sound you made. You were his drug, he truly was addicted. He needed his next fix before this one was over. 
Moments after he sped up his fingers and added more pressure to your clit, your orgasm ripped through you. Body shaking, eyes rolling back. This was better than the one he gave you last night. You’d never be able to touch yourself ever again, not the way he did. You didn’t think anyone could ever compare now that Frank had touched you. 
By the time you came to, he had discarded his clothes and was on top of you. He pulled you into a kiss, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip and groaning into your mouth when you let him in. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth while his fingers explored every inch of your body. 
“I don’t have a condom.” He confessed.
“Don’t care, on the pill. Frankie please, I need you inside of me right now. Need your cock, frankie..please.” The sound of you begging for him had his ego going through the roof, the fact that anyone could want or need him this bad was mind blowing. 
He rubbed his cock through your folds, kissing you a bit more before he pushed the tip in. Your mouth opening in a gasp. You knew he was big, you saw the imprint in the truck yesterday. But this was different, the stretch hurt in a delicious way that you needed more of. He waited a moment before pushing in a bit more, toying with your clit and peppering your face with kisses to distract you.
He bottomed out, you had never felt so full in your life. You swore he was in your stomach, taking rearranging your guts to a new level. He stayed still, letting you get used to his size. He didn’t want to hurt you, too much.
“Frankie move.” 
Your wish was his command. His thrusts started slowly, building up in speed as he went. It was at this point, you realized Frank Castle was not quiet in bed. He wasn’t necessarily loud either, but he was groaning in your ear. The grunts and the groans were spurring you on, your moans and whimpers were doing the same for it. It was a cycle, and if either of you had your way it would never end. 
“Sound so damn pretty. Makin’ all these noises for me, huh? My pretty girl, my girl.” He put all his weight on his forearms, lifting himself enough to look you in the eyes, his hair falling out of place and onto your face. He was gorgeous, especially like this. Raw. Vulnerable. Just for you. 
“Your girl, yours.” You babbled, too busy reeling in the feeling of his cock driving in and out of you. How his bare skin feels on yours. His voice praising you. Calling you pretty. 
“That’s right, such a good girl.” His praises continued, some of them too muffled for you to hear as he sucked on your collarbone. Or your neck. Any exposed skin he could get in his mouth. 
Without pulling out, he flipped the two of you over so you were on top. Riding him. Cowgirl. 
“C’mon cowgirl, ride me. You can do it baby.” He lifted your hips up and placed them back down to get you started, placing your hands on his chest for you.  He slipped one of your boobs out of the top, you were still wearing, and put your nipple in his mouth. Rolling the bud between his teeth, enjoying the new sounds he managed to get.
You placed your weight on your hands, positioning your legs right, and lifted back up. He was somehow even deeper than before, it was almost overwhelming. His pelvic bone was hitting your clit just right every time you came down, accompanied by his groans, you were a goner. You fell into his chest as you felt your second orgasm start to rip through you, your words slurred as you told him to use you. You were his to use. 
Frank had been close since he put you on top, his self control had been wearing a bit thin. He fucked you through your orgasm, pistioning up inside you like his life depended on it. 
“Where do you want it, c’mon baby where?” He grunted, gritting his teeth as he tried to hold his release off. It was getting increasingly harder when your cunt was gripping him like that.
“Inside.” Is all you muttered out, half aware of your choice. You’d deal with it later. 
Not a moment later he painted your inside white, cummimg with a low and long groan. Relaxing his head completely against your pillows, taking deep breaths. You crumpled against his chest, just resting for a moment as he was still inside you. This was the most relaxed you’d been in ages, at some point you drifted off to sleep. 
You were awoken by the feeling of Frank cleaning you up and putting a blanket on top of you, obviously you knew he couldn’t stay. It still hurt. It hurt your heart, your soul, your everything. 
“Gotta go, pretty girl. I put my number in your phone. We’ll talk later.” His last sentence meant more than just texting you, you both knew it. At some point, lines had to be drawn or you had to fess up to your dad. But for now you’d live in delusion, in a world where you were in an established relationship and no one thought anything of it. He placed a kiss on your forehead, finished getting dressed and got up to leave. Stopping at the door he turned around to give you one last glance, you had already fallen back asleep. His cowgirl.
3K notes · View notes
trtlebuns · 9 months
Text
Ghost realizing you’re a wild sleeper
Synopsis: Ghost and yours first night together and you’re worried that you might do something weird while you sleep…
Sfw 😝
Uh…I was going to do a bunch of other cod men but I got lazy :)
First fic on tumblr, whoop whoop
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Simon Riley <Ghost>
The first night of sleeping together with ghost as a newly established couple was nerve wracking not because you’re scared of sleeping with this fine piece of ass, no no no it’s because your friends have mentioned that you’re a “wild sleeper” whatever that means, right?
“You alright” Simon breaks you out of your deep thoughts of you socking him in the mouth as you’re dead asleep
“Hm? Oh! No, I’m just a bit nervous because what if I say something weird in my sleep?” You shyly respond, knowing really that you’re either 1) scared you’re going to WWE fight this man in sleep or 2) fart….let’s go with the latter.
Simon chuckles and responds as you both get comfortable in bed “I’ll let you know, because I’m quite the light sleeper in case something happens through the night”
Shit
was your true response but you quickly respond with an “oh, that’s a bummer, I got some melatonin if you need it.” You turn away to pretend look for some melatonin as your thoughts race:
This man is a LIGHT SLEEPER?! Oh Jesus please watch over me and not let me knock this man unconscious so he can really experience a deep sleep
“It’s no problem at all, in fact I like that fact that I’m a light sleeper, so please don’t put yourself in a hassle and get some sleep” Simon said
Hehe get it??
“Oh alright, justsoyouknowimawildsleeper” you quickly said as you laid down and quickly shut your eyes fake snoring
4am
Simon Riley POV
It’s been 3 hours since the torture has begun.
Y/n was moving around at 1am, slob coving their pillow and mouth and hair a mess, deep sleeper, kinda jealous but nevertheless I left it alone
Normal sleep movements
I felt a hand movement but it quickly connected with my face, I jolted up thinking it was an intruder but it was just y/n and I on the bed.
I look to my right and see y/n’s hand on my cheek and they smacked their lips and turned their head, still fully asleep
I gently move their hand back to a relaxing position and laid back down
Not even an hour passes by and I have y/ns HANDS AND FEET on me trying to push me out of the bed?????
Moving on to them laying on top of me in full starfish mode???
Next to y/n hogging the covers and moving me to the edge of the bed and spiraling out on 3/4 of the bed
“Okay” I say as I push y/n into the middle of the bed and put both of us in the spoon position
Me being the big spoon ofc (😝)
Damn near putting them in a soft headlock, as 30 minutes pass, I slowly sleep into slumber realizing that y/n hasn’t moved but is still snoring softly
TIME SKIP!
Y/n comes down the steps into the kitchen where ghost is there making breakfast
“Yooo, that was the best sleep I’ve ever had my goodness” y/n stated while yawning and searching their head
Simon turned his head looking at y/n get something out of the fridge
“I’m glad” he said while thinking this is something he could get used to.
917 notes · View notes
writing-for-marvel · 5 months
Text
Day 25: Body Worship
Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon
Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader
Summary: Bucky wants to prove to you how beautiful you are on the anniversary of the first time you met.
Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, sensual and romantic, oral (fem receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, hints at reader being insecure about her body, mentions a pocket of fat on her inside thigh
Word count: 2.5k
A/N: a special fic on a special day for me ❤️ dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies
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Your hand grasps Bucky’s bulging bicep as he leads you back into your hotel room after having kept you occupied sightseeing throughout the day.
You thought it was suspicious how interested he had been exploring the old city, when you could instead be exploring each other as he usually prefers, but when you see the scene in front of you as you return to your presidential suite, it all suddenly makes sense.
Candles flicker in the middle of a formally set table, luscious red rose petals scatter the white tablecloth and floor, and where the extravagant leather couch had been this morning, now an elaborate blanket fort has been constructed. Soft violin music plays in the background as Bucky leads you around the room, allowing you time to take in everything which has been set up specially for you.
“Do you remember what today is?” He asks in what you assume is in response to a dumbfounded expression on your face.
You wrack your brain for what on earth you’ve forgotten - a birthday, anniversary, special occasion? But you come up completely blank. Slowly shaking your head, the tips of your cheeks heat up, embarrassed that Bucky has organised such a romantic night for something you’ve completely forgotten.
“Three years ago today was the first time I laid eyes on you, the first time we met.” He informs without an ounce of judgement to be perceived in his tone.
It’s hard to believe it was only three years ago you met the man you now refer to as your soulmate, it feels like you’ve known this generous and passionate person an entire lifetime.
Bucky holds out his hand, which you take without question, and pulls you into his broad chest, swaying in time to the orchestral music. You rest your head on his strong pec, feeling his heart beating just for you as his soft lips kiss your hairline.
“Never in my life have I ever wanted anyone more than I wanted you.” His voice sounds shaky, almost as if he’s choked up and trying to get the words out without sounding affected.
You look up at him through your lashes to find your devoted husband with tears in his eyes, gazing at you like his entire world is resting in the palm of his hand.
“My life has not been the same since I met you. I can’t fathom an existence without you; everything is brighter, bolder, more colourful when you're next to me. This night three years ago, I remember going home to an empty bed and thought it was strange how much my mouth was hurting. It was such a weird sensation. Then I realised, it only hurt because I’d been smiling from ear to ear the whole time I was with you.”
“You never told me that.” Tears are now welling in your own eyes, but you fight them back so that you can memorise the smile curving on Bucky’s features and the twinkle in his eye that you’ve only ever noticed when he’s looking at you.
“I knew that night you were someone I wanted in my life, in whatever way you would have me. It was like I could see my entire future laid out in front of me, all encompassed in one strong, stunning woman, with the most gorgeous, sparkling eyes I’ve ever seen and a brilliant smile that makes my heart leap out of my chest every single damn time. And here I am the luckiest man in the entire world that you chose me to be the one you trusted with your heart.”
He takes your hand while still swaying to the inflections of the string instrument, and presses the palm of your hand against his chest. His heartbeat is quicker than the pace you’re used to feeling while he’s resting, but the notion that his thoughts of you are the reason his body is reacting in such a way makes your own heart leap out of your chest.
“I would never give it to anyone else, my love.”
“Te iubesc pentru totdeauna [I love you forever]. I still can’t believe you’re all mine.” His smile is as bright and warm as the setting sun, and right now you’re Icarus flying fatally close.
But James Barnes is worth falling out of the sky for.
The words tasting sweet and sincere on his pillow soft lips when you kiss him. His mouth moves slowly, yet purposefully against yours, trying to convey his love for you in action, rather than just words. His hands cup your jaw, coaxing you to open up to him, his tongue dancing with yours in a display of his yearning need.
“I wanna give you the whole world.”
“You already have. You are my whole world.” This time it’s him who kisses you, with much more ardour and intensity, sweeping his tongue in your mouth. His hands slide down the length of your back and pull you flush with him, a moan escaping his lips as your hands tangle in his hair. He hasn’t had it cut since before the wedding, and the additional length allows you to tug on the ends nicely. “Let’s skip dinner and go straight to dessert, shall we?”
“You’re the only thing I’m craving tonight.” The hunger in his eyes certainly indicates he could devour you like a five course meal if he were so inclined, so who are you to stop him?
His large hands on your hips slowly turn you around so your ass is pressed against his front. They trace the curves of your figure gradually, taking his time, paying attention to every swell and dip of your shape which he has helped you learn to love.
Bucky zips down your dress, the material coming loose over your shoulders, and with a little shimmy, you’re almost naked before him.
“God, you’re so gorgeous. Let me show you how beautiful you are to me.”
Boys you dated in the past were only interested in one thing: seeing you naked. Though Bucky loves you bare and writhing for him, he first and foremost loves who you are; loves your soul. Being able to strip you off your clothes has always been a privilege to him, not a right.
His lips press gentle, feather light kisses along your shoulder as he rids you of your underwear, and all of a sudden you feel very exposed standing in the middle of the room, even though Bucky’s seen you naked a thousand times.
As soon as he turns you around again to face him, eyes brimming with nothing other than pure adoration and devotion, that nagging feeling of being on display evaporates. He loves you, has vowed to spend the rest of his life worshipping you, there is not a single inch of your body that Bucky Barnes does not love.
“Lay back for me baby.” Bucky requests, his powerful hands assisting you as you fall back into the blanket fort. “I got you.” He promises, ensuring you don’t collapse in a way that will result in you being hurt. The care in his touch, how gentle this burly, tattooed man is, as if he is handling a precious artefact he cannot afford to damage.
Though Bucky looks ready to take you right then and there, he starts out slowly, trailing kisses down your neck, covering your chest and breasts, tongue swirling around your nipples and sucking on both of them until they form stiff peaks, all the while whispering sweet praises against your hot skin.
“My beautiful wife. So fucking gorgeous. My Queen. These perfect tits. God, these hips, these fucking hips. And your thighs, they drive me insane. Just wanna be buried between them. Wanna give you everything, all of me. Gonna make love to you, darling. Make you feel so good.” His breath is hot against your skin, words of devotion whispered just for your ears as he places sweet kisses on the inside of your thighs, staring at your knee, and making his was towards your core, paying particular attention to the pocket of fat you’d forever disliked about your legs, but Bucky has always adored.
A moan escapes your mouth and your eyes roll back as Bucky’s strong arms hold your thighs apart and his lips close around your clit. It’s almost unexpected, with how he had been taking his time treasuring all other parts of you, but you feel a flood of wetness gush out of you at the intimate contact.
There’s a sense of power having a man as important as James Barnes lying between your legs, treating you like a queen, obsessed with bringing you to orgasm. But when Bucky looks up at you through his lashes as he suckles on your clit, you feel nothing but a rush of palpable love.
His tongue is experienced in those little lapping movements that have you throwing your head back, his strong hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you completely open for him. Bucky’s hips rut into the pillows and blankets below him as you grind your hips on his face.
You can’t even control the obscene sounds falling from your lips as Bucky continues to abuse your pussy, your hands flying to his hair as he leads you closer and closer to the edge of the ultimate high.
“You look so beautiful when you cum - show me.” The lower half of Bucky’s face glistens with your juices before he dives back into your folds, as hungry as ever.
You oblige, as you do every time your dangerously gorgeous husband requests this from you, it’s like his words themselves compel you to satisfy his order. Your back arches off the pillows, your whole body trembling as a devastating pleasure rips through you, it feels like burning sunshine radiates in your veins, surging with every pulse.
Bucky’s lips don’t let up their suction until your thighs stop shaking, only to switch his attention to your stomach, showering every inch of your soft skin with kisses as his hands knead your breasts.
You feel cold and empty for a moment as Bucky focuses on stripping off his clothes, but as soon as he looks back at you, completely bare and ready to finish what he started, warmth blooms in your chest.
“I’m so fucking hard for you, darling.” Bucky sits on his heels, thick cock in hand as he rubs his leaking tip through your soaking folds, humming at the sensation. A whine falls from your lips, desperate for him to fill you up, for you to feel so utterly full and satiated by him that you’re almost on the brink of insanity.
“Need to feel you Buck, please, I need you so fucking bad.”
He mumbles something in Romanian you don’t understand in response as he pushes his swollen tip inside you. You let out simultaneous groans as he slowly fills you up. As he bottoms out, he rests his forehead against yours. You finally feel complete with him buried to the hilt.
“Fuuuccckkk… a lifetime of that feeling will never be enough.”
You moan against his mouth as his hands intertwine with yours, pinning them above your head as his eyes brim with pure love. He starts off slowly, almost agonisingly so, pulling all the way out of you before thrusting himself inside to where it feels like he’s in your stomach, watching your face intently to your reactions as his cock kisses your cervix.
His bare chest presses to yours, caging you in, hearts thundering against each other as you move together to a relentless rhythm, an intoxicating tide of intimacy and pleasure. His gaze and touch are full of love, a contrast to the harshness of the underworld he was carved out of, but you know it’s you who makes him tender.
“That’s my girl, taking me so well aren’t you?” Your nails rake down his back as you feel your walls clench down on his member. The rhythm of his cock stroking your velvety walls doesn't let up as his lips attach to your neck, sucking your skin in a way that makes you see stars.
He understands your wants and needs better than anyone else, learning the formula for your gratification in a way that none of your previous partners ever tried to.
“Oh God, you’re so deep, Buck. Feels so good.” His hips roll into yours fluidly, hips circling and rubbing against your g-spot so effortlessly with every thrust. The pressure in your lower belly threatens to engulf you, drown you in a sea of pleasure, but it’s a demise you’ll embrace when Bucky’s making you feel like you’re floating on a cloud of pure bliss.
Your orgasm approaches fast, the look of complete desperation in Bucky’s eyes only bringing you closer to the edge. All it takes is Bucky whispering a phrase in his native language and another deep thrust for you to come apart on his cock.
You can barely breathe with the ferocity of your high, it feels like an entire waterfall of pleasure washing over you at once, overwhelming, brutal, but oh so good.
“I’m gonna cum so hard for you baby.” Bucky moans as your walls flutter around him. He looks the picture of utter sexiness, jaw hanging open, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and that contrasting warm fondness in his blown out pupils.
Your chest squeezes when it’s your name that his lips enunciate as he spills his large load inside you.
You’re the one making him feel this good. You’re the only person who he will ever share this intimate side of himself with again. The only one who gets to see his face as he comes undone, steel blue eyes boring into yours as if he wants to remember each and every detail of your face as you cum together.
Bucky collapses next to you, arm slung around your waist as you both catch your breath. You smile at him and he beams right back as you sweep a strand of hair from his eyes.
“God, I’m so in love with you. Can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.” There’s a moment where he simply looks at you, as if trying to convince himself you laid beside him is in fact his reality, before he kisses the tip of your nose.
“You don’t have to imagine, Buck, I’m all yours, for the rest of forever.” You snake your arms around his torso and pull yourself flush against his broad chest, feeling him place a kiss to your hairline. “I love you.”
Bucky pulls a blanket over your intertwined bodies as you close your eyes, feeling completely content falling asleep beside the love of your life in a blanket fort.
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