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tarjapearce · 3 months

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El Diablo Wears Prada (pt. 2)

Mafia! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Manhandling, mild degratadion, rough sex, mentions of protected sex, angry and unprotected sex, p in v, use of tracking device, smut, No proofread at all.

Summary: Upon new information revealed, El Diablo tries to pry information out of you.

A/N: Centuries later, here is part 2~ Hope you like :'). Feedback and reblogs much appreciated ❤️

The ride back at whatever place you were being taken was definitely taking a toll on your throat. He wasn't nice, nor charming as he initially had introduced himself as.

The coldness of his gun reminisced in your temple, his taste was loaded with so many things. Tangy, rich in anger and frustration, sprinkled with a dash of danger and violence. The perfect treat for someone willing to gain his favor.

Not you though. Not when he nearly choked you out with his cock, with the promise of training you into taking it better. You had to be useful for something, and his purpose was still unclear to you.

After you were released from his steely grip, he just chuckled while you scrambled away from his personal space, sitting deeper in the SUV. He was silent, sleepy almost.

Of course he'd be. After that whole workout session you were spent and quite sore. Hips ached in protest every time you decided to shift in your seat, all thanks to months of being untouched by Massimo.

It was unavoidable to not think about him. Had the police arrived? He certainly wasn't fine but it worried that he was left injured. Had he called someone? You didn't know and as tired as you were, your head truly would start steaming the more you thought about everything.

Ride was smooth. A bit too smooth that when you woke up your head rested on the soft part of the seat. Your mouth was ajar, body had relaxed a bit, enough for the soreness to subside.

He was slanted against the window, knuckles holding his sleepy head. Some fine lines above his forehead along some scarce white hairs out of stress. He looked like in his early to mid thirties.

The ring on his middle finger drew all the attention to it. Golden band with a red ruby in it. If you squinted you could see a bit of an inscription 'Acta non Verba'

Deeds, not words.

His personal mantra and what he actually preached. Miguel had been tired of warning Massimo, he was a patient man, but the fool of a husband you had was all the opposite.

You were certain that he hid things, but never in your life had you imagined that it would end up like this.

"Boss?"

The soft and apprehensive voice of Ben awoke him. Bored eyes turned to you to flash a smirk before opening the door. A ten floor building nested before you. Crystal windows, adorned the layout of the structure, not many people crossed this part of town, making it almost deserted. The only signs of some movements werw his agents scattered outside, that immediately turned their attention to him.

"Let's go" He didn't let you finish your thoughts as he pulled you out of the SUV, his grip steely. A wince rasped in your throat. It all took a slip of his hand for you to dart away in the opposite direction.

There was no people to turn to, none to scream for help yet you didn't care, the need of running away just increased tenfolds, even if you were barefoot and naked under his shirt.

"Jesus fucking christ."

In a few strides he caught you. Strong hands pulled you by your hair, yanking a bit too hard to draw some tears from your eyes while you fell on your butt. Hands immediately trying to pry his hold out of your hair, the henchmen outside just threw quiet and derisive snorts your way.

"Stop! It hurts!"

"Cállate!"

He roared and you remained still, too stunned and pained to actually protest as he pulled you up, you whimpered as your feet scrambled. It was like watching a hungry and pissed cat playing with his food. One of your tears fell on his hand, releasing you to grab your arm instead.

His grip only increased to make his point clear.

Shut The Fuck Up.

But you didn't, instead you yanked and pulled or at least attempted to get away from him, but his resolve was as steely as his grasp. Even if you fought, he wouldn't budge.

"Let me go!"

His brow quirked but instead of releasing into an explosive outburst, He grabbed your waist and threw you easily over his shoulder like a potato bag, Ignoring your wails and tantrums, tired of your antics.

Your yapping was silenced with a rough and stinging slap on your naked rear. It made your toes curl and whimper enough to cut the meltdown. He wasn't in a mood to tolerate bullshit.

"Pinche bulliciosa." (So fucking noisy)

People in the building looked at you, mostly minded their business, others threw a chuckle or a low whistle your way. Upon entering the elevator, he put you down gently, just to feel the soft skin underneath his shirt. You twitched and he pressed the penthouse button.

Jessica and Ben joined in, each way too focused in their own world to actually pay mind to you. Jessica got off in the fifth floor, and Ben on the seventh. All of them full of agents, that undoubtedly obeyed him to the very last word.

As soon as the elevator's door closed, you wiped your eyes while rubbing the back of your head. He had yanked a bit too hard when trying to stop you, a headache simmered under your skull.

He just watched you, not saying a word. Not that he wanted to. What would he talk to you about?

Miguel was sure that you weren't that innocent as you looked, but he was sure that Massimo's betrayal had hurt.

In fact, he knew that the corrupt lawyer had a wife, even imagined someone way much older and wrinkly. Not you. Too pretty for your own damn good to be with someone like that. It made him wonder what made a good girl such as yourself marry a rotten man like Max.

The man in question had been fooling around enough to hide all his wrongdoings to to the point of having a secret life, hiding everything from you. Paying up shouldn't be an issue for Massimo, he was a top notch lawyer after all. Was that what drew you to him? Money? Success?

What did you work as? Who were your parents and why he still hadn't heard a thing on the news about the attack or you missing?

The elevator's door swung open, he pulled you out, but you remained glued to the floor, not daring to foray deeper in his place.

His den, where he could rest from playing the wolf and the rest of the world his cattle. Where he could be a normal man instead of being El Diablo.

Minimalistic, yet luxurious. The smell of his cologne and tobacco filled in the air, ever rich and manly. Like him and the shirt you wore.

"Take it off."

But you seemed set into pushing buttons not even his most trusted allies dared to press. Patience towards tantrums wasn't a virtue he possessed.

You blinked a couple of times before frowning at him.

"What?"

"I said, take it off."

"I'm naked."

He shrugged while prowling his way to you.

"You're not leaving this place anyways. Why would you need clothes?"

"If you wanna see me naked again, just say it. You probably have a shit ton of these in your stupid closet!"

His plump lips twitched into an amused smirk before cornering you against a pillar nearby.

"Ah, mira. La ratoncita tiene agallas." (Oh, look at that, the little mouse has guts)

He toyed with the upper button to loosen it.

"Take it off. I need my shirt."

Nervous breaths made you recoil as he fumbled with the second button, "I've got nothing to wear!"

You shrieked when he pulled the hems up, slapping his hand away, too focused in covering your bits rather than pushing him away. Brain reacting a bit too late when it registered his hand cupping your pussy.

"W-What are you-"

He crashed his lips on yours, angry and borderline famished from the lack of contact. You pulled him away, but his fingers turned bolder and it made your knees tremble. It was enough for him to grab the shirt to hang it loosely on his shoulder and leave you naked once more.

Palms immediately covering yourself, he rolled his eyes. Cold air hit you.

"This is your new home, until your dear husband decides to pay me, so better get used to it-

"How much is it?"

Miguel's bushy brows shot up in a 'Seriously?' look, to then frown at your interruption.

"Unless you have four million dollars to pay back, I'd suggest for you to trust your husband."

"Why don't you spare me the theatrics and kill me, then? I'm dead anyways."

"Killing you won't teach your husband a lesson. I'd be making him a favor if I get rid of you, if anything." He poured a glass of whiskey and downed it in a go, "Besides, did you just admit that asshole won't pay me back?

You gulped.

"N-No. He will, he has to."

The last bit sounded more of hou convincing yourself than the mob lord before you.

"Damn right, he has to. But wouldn't be surprised if he didn't make an effort. As I see it, you were useful for him, until you turned into an issue."

Your eyes widened in surprise and anger. How could he say such things to you? How dared he assuming that he knew Massimo?

"You don't know anything about him!"

"Oh? And you do?" Miguel taunted "You didn't even know who I was until I showed up in your doorstep, ratoncita."

He put the bottle away as he explained, "He got nervous not because of you finding out. But because of those files he tried to protect so badly to the point of endangering you. Call me whatever you want but even I know that's a low thing to do."

Your head shook, denying each and every word.

"I know he is a dick, but he wouldn't leave me sold out."

Miguel chuckled, almost sympathetic at the foolish hope. You still believed in the man, despite him cheating, lying and other horrors. You were either too inlove, or too blind to see.

Miguel leaned towards you, cold eyes boring into yours "Wanna find out?"

"He will pay up. I know so!" You didn't hesitate, almost convincing yourself that one day things would be nothing but bad memories.

"That would be a shame, really. Cause even for us, those lowlifes your perfect man tries to put behind bars, have standards when it comes to our close ones."

Another difficult gulp rolled down your throat. A sudden question popping in your mind.

"W-What if he doesn't pay?" His eyes softened at the underlying fear behind the question. His knuckle grazing your chin, smoothly.

"Then, you're mine."

-----

My property to do as I please.

What he really meant. You rolled on his bed. By the overall state of the place, you wouldn't have to worry for him coming at random hours to try something. In fact, he hadn't been around for days, but was a gentleman enough to provide some clothes for you to remain inside. His shirts and sweaters really.

But it was definitely better than being naked.

The place was a bit too big for your own tastes, yet oddly, it felt familiar. It reminded you of the several days you'd spend up waiting on your own, in your old home's grandeur, for Massimo.

He often left for weeks, due business trips. Or so you thought. Sometimes you'd have friends over, meaning, acquaintances that you made along the way when getting involved with Bianchi.

Miguel's words visited over and over your mind. Had you been beyond stupid?

Your mind replayed the last conversation you had with him over and over. Nothing regarding your safety, or wellbeing but rather a couple of papers.

That last kiss meant something, right? He still worried about you. Or else he wouldn't be furious while Miguel touched you. He wouldn't scream whatever he meant in Italian.

You held onto that. You wanted to believe that he was doing his best in getting his money or at least get Miguel behind bars.

You missed your old life. Although dull, you weren't under the cat's merciless paws, worrying about the police raiding the place or a wacko shooting a gun inside.

But you'd be a liar to say any of that happened, but loneliness was taking a toll on your mind. What was the use of having a large dream-like place when there was none around to even talk? Massimo had trained you well in the arts of seclusion, but being on edge hindered all that progress.

Not even the person that got you food remained too long in the same space as you. Hunger left you ever since yesterday, there was no news of you, of Massimo or anything related on the tv.

He was right

No. You refused to believe your husband had forsaken you, or your parents. One way or another you'd be in their emergency radar and hopefully you'd be able to be free. Where would you get four million? What did Massimo did with all that money?

There was so many questions that left your head pounding. Not that you needed light anyways. The elevator's door opened swiftly, yet you didn't bother to look at whoever had arrived. Too focused on a spot in the wall and lost in your thoughts to care.

"Why aren't you eating?"

The voice made you snap your head towards its owner. Jessica, that stared with a vexed deadpan upon finding the cold foods piled up on the dinner island.

"I'm not hungry."

Jessica huffed and put the food in the table while walking over your slouched form on the couch.

"He'll get pissed if he finds out you're letting food to waste. So stop acting like a-"

A hiccup.

Jessica rolled his eyes and grunted, annoyed at your crying but in truth, she couldn't really blame you for it.

This wasn't your world, your way of living, she still wondered what made Miguel to take you, other than his own amusement. You wiped the tears away.

"Look, as shitty as you feel right now, you need to eat. Won't solve all your problems but will do your body good. You'll need it."

"Why am I here?"

Jessica shrugged while bringing the plate back to you.

"Go figure."

"Where is Miguel?"

A tiny smirk crept up Jessica's face.

"Why? Miss him already?"

"Far from that. I just need to get some things back from home. Can't keep using his things."

Jessica just stared at you, lips about to speak but they remained shut. She looked solemn, like if bad news were about to spill from her glossy mouth.

"I'll see what I can do, got it? Now eat. You're insulting my chef"

Jessica pushed the tray to you, food looking Michelin star quality.

"Don't make me come back and force you to eat it, alright?"

The little smile in your face offered little reassurance, but it wasn't her duty to deliver the bad news.

----

Miguel barely slept, the constant stress of his empire prevented him from getting some full sleep. And the woman straddling his hips while rutting herself into oblivion only made him even more exhausted. Her clumsy kisses stained his neck with the lipstick, music booming around him.

He had to give the femme some credit, if it wasn't for her loud and borderline fake wailing, he'd consider to indulge her again, cause her hips moved rhythmically and nonstop, edging him to the brink of a much needed release. But even so, his body remained tense after spilling into the condom.

He quickly removed the woman off him, annoyed while he cleaned after himself, the week's burden have been greater than he could handle. Peter offered to distract him while visiting one of his clubs. And the distraction had proven to be more a nuisance than anything.

At least she understood the message and left after catching her breath.

Peter entered the vip room, hand full of a whiskey glass, he pushed it back to him as he returned from the bathroom and then sunk into the single couch, quanked. The smell of sweat and perfume lingered in the air.

"Feeling better?"

"No."

Miguel threw his head back, Peter chuckled at his unkempt look. Shirt wide open, mouth flushed and smeared with creamy rouge, a soft hint of pink in his ears and cheeks and hair disheveled as the woman had held onto him.

It took him a moment to fix himself after downing the whiskey.

"I needed sleep. Not another woman with a cheap perfume."

"But she got you tired enough to sleep, didn't she?"

Miguel rolled his eyes and buckled his belt.

"Did Gabriel arrived already?"

"An hour ago actually, he was waiting for you to be done."

El Diablo stretched his long legs over the coffee table, knuckles holding onto his head.

Peter called Gabriel through one of the employees.

"What are you gonna do with that woman?" Peter gestured with his hands, trying to resemble your physical attributes.

"Who? The little mouse?" He chuckled before sighing, a hand rubbed his face, exhausted, "Who knows."

"Have you told her about her home yet?"

"And make her clam up even more? No. Jessica has been taking care of her. She's refusing food, all cause she's really missing that bastard."

"That's all she's known so far. Can't really blame her for it" Peter shrugged while looking through the window. The club thrived as usual.

The couch Miguel laid on was too comfortable to be standing up.

"Why don't you just... let her go?"

"No me digas." Red eyes stared at his left hand, unamused. (Oh really?)

"She's a witness. Plus I'm sure she knows more than she lets on about that pendejo."

"Massimo?"

"He disappeared. She must know where he is. A famous lawyer suddenly going missing? Not good. No news yet about it or his house burned to the ground? Even worst. That son of a bitch is up to something."

"What if she doesn't wants to cooperate?"

"I'll make her."

Gabriel entered the room, hands extended ready to hug his brother but upon looking at his current state, he stopped and chuckled.

"You done or... should I return later?"

"Gabri."

Miguel acknowledged him sleepily.

"Nor a fan of seeing you freshly milked. But I need your help."

Miguel's bored gaze fell on him while straightening his posture on the couch.

Gabriel, also known as Green Goblin, a name that still he was trying to not laugh at, the youngest of the O'Haras. Miguel's gun supplier and most trusted contact inside the bigger companies.

His little brother had followed his steps and now he was making his own name out there. And so far things seemed promising for him.

"¿Qué ocupas?" (What do you need?)

"To find a guy or his wife."

Miguel quirked an eyebrow, and Gabriel continued.

"You see, there is this... son of a bitch that works in a fancy firm, right? A month ago, one of my friends, my best friend, was raided in his home and arrested for drug trafficking."

"You're getting with junkies again?"

"Judge my friendship choices later, ok? As far as I know the guy had been in rehab and was celebrating five years sober. But that was just the tip of the iceberg".

Gabriel poured himself his own glass of whiskey and sat in front of his brother, a staid expression on his usual perky countenance. Miguel's discomfit grew bigger.

"It was him first. Then everyone I was collaborating at the moment suddenly get arrested and sentenced to a shit ton of years in jail." Gabriel crossed his legs before him.

Miguel's mouth soured. Not really liking the route the conversation was taking, the idea of who his younger brother was talking about turned less and less blurred until a clear image came in his mind.

"When I bribed an FBI agent-"

"You what?! Tas pendejo o qué?! Ya te dije que no te andes codeando con la policia-" (Are you stupid or what? I've told you to not hang around with the police!) Miguel’s voice was stern and Gabriel just dismissed him.

"Ay ya, calla. I know what I'm doing, so turns out that this... guy has been cooperating with them in exchange of not going to prison." (Oh shut up)

"A snitch." El Diablo scowled. If there was something he hated the most was snitches. Everyone knew what happened to the rats and snitches.

"He's the responsible of our agents getting shot or thrown in jail. Some say Kingpin is also after him and his family."

Fuck...

"What's his name?" He knew it, but even so needed to confirm the magnitude of the chaos the man had left and dragged you in with his lies.

"Massimo Bianchi."

-----

Miguel's door swung open, Jessica and Peter after him.

"Wait, Miguel!"

Jessica tried to stop him, but Miguel's rage was stronger than her and Peter.

Red eyes searching everywhere, until he spotted you on the couch. The atmosphere felt heavy, just like his breaths and thoughts.

Massimo was the culprit of all the issues he was trying to fix. Some of his most proficient agents in jail, because your dutiful husband was allegedly making things right and Miguel was sure Bianchi was screwing with him just cause. He had underestimated him and now it was giving him a headache.

The cherry ontop of his messy cake was Gabriel telling him that Kingpin was looking for you. And when the big man looked for someone, it meant nothing but trouble.

And still, he was angry cause you had been so damn stupid to sign things on Massimo's behalf and your name was in some documents that undoubtedly had served the police and FBI as evidence to get his agents in jail. Making you a target to many enemies Massi had made along his way to the top.

As lovely as you looked asleep, he yanked you by the ankle and dragged you all over the couch, your startled yelps echoed in the room. His shirt railed up, exposing thw only piece of underwear Jessica was able to get you.

"Stop!" Legs kicked and thrashed, railing the hem of his shirts up even more, upon seeing your panties he stopped.

"Get out"

"No, no, Jessica!" You pleaded but his hand darted over trembling skin to take a hold of your nape. A gasp escaped you as your face was buried on the cushions of the couch. Ass up high, clothed holes with a filmy red panties.

"Que te calles, pendeja!" He pushed the face deeper in the cushion while seething, "Why are you still here?" His question dripped with venom as his hand tangled in a fistful of your hair. (Shut up, dumbass)

Both of them left, Jessica threw you a subtle look of concern before going away.

A stinging spank echoed in your flesh, it had tears welling up your eyes while wincing painfully.

"God... I swear... I've known dumb ass people, and then there's you."

He pulled his trusted pocket knife out, flickering the blade alive in a swift swoosh. He was pissed. Now you were a real problem, not a mere plaything or guarantee he'd keep around for shits and giggles as he had originally planned.

"Do you know how many of my agents are in jail because of your stupid signature? Where is your husband?"

Another spank and your tears rolled

"You fucking crying? No, no, no." Miguel hovered over you while dragging the tip of his knife over the curvature of your rear, a pink welt trailing in it's wake. The blade slid horizontally on the panties, cutting the feeble fabric in half.

To then sit yourself properly to kiss you with all his anger. Assailant mouth devouring yours with such expertise you barely had time to breath properly, his tongue mercilessly curled and tasted around yours. Strong arms caged you as he ate your lips with hunger, leaving no room for gentleness.

Hands tore the remaining bits of fabric you had around your hips, as you gasped for a much needed gulp of air.

"I won't ask you again. Where is Max?"

"M-Massimo" you mumbled, trying to recover from the dizzying effect lingering in your senses.

"Me importa un carajo como vergas se llame, Where the fuck is he?" (I give two flying fucks on what his fucking name is)

"I don't know!"

His eye twitched but seeing your own spark shining through, amused and irked him equally. He pulled his shirt off you with a few tugs, since you refused to cooperate

Long and big hands squeezed your neck as he pushed you against the couch's back support, his other hand immediately cupped your pussy, fingers deftly exploring between them leisurely.

"Lemme refresh your memory then." He purred and your pelt crawled on its own. It wasn't full of that rich entice he first gave you, tempting you to drown in that corrupting well you ended up falling as he fucked you before your husband, but a much more dern and dangerous thing. Equally alluring.

Your legs trapped his hand in between, twitching at the contact. Your own hands grope at his wrist in a rickety attempt to release yourself.

His fingertips prodded viciously at the hardened nub between your puffed folds.

"You have no idea what you've done." He seethed in your ear. His touch was as delicious as painful.

"F-Fucking explain then" You moaned in between clenched teeth and breaths. And oh, you now were scared. The glint in his darkening eyes only matched the creeping darkness in his smirk

With a renovated vigor he took your ankles and folded them over you exposing your snug cunt, breath blown as your spine curved inwards, just like your legs, pushing them against your trembling hands.

A simple a quiet order. To hold them. He shook off his suit and unbuckled his belt, fumbling with his pants and underwear to finally release his hefty and hardening cock that landed on your shivering slit with a quiet slap. Feet kicking off his clothes.

He slicked his tip with his spit and rubbed between your awaiting folds.

"You" He sunk in, inch by inch, letting his girth to stretch open your slurping hole. Your lids drooped as a languid moan escaped your heaving lips. His hands trapped yours while holding your ankles, securing your and his grip on them. Making sure you wouldn't falter, "You're a target now"

He gritted his words as he pushed balls in deep. Earning a sweet shuddering squeak off you.

Eyes trailed down in the junction of your legs, mesmerized and marveled at how his thickness delved in with such ease in between your gummy and snug walls, with such slug speed it had your toes curled in. He made sure you felt everything.

When he pulled out, you could see your walls etching to him, begging to get back as your own creamy slick soaked him. Your fingertips curled underneath his larger palm, and he frowned.

"No, no, you'll fucking take it. You wanted me to explain, you'll take it."

There was a thrust. A wet one that had your jaw slacking open.

"That fucker is messing with me" Another thrust and it made you sputter a garbled moan, "And you know where he is"

"I-I don't knng-"

Your teeth clenched upon his tip rubbing your cervix. Cunt so full of him, twitching at the minimal movement.

"Where" A thrust, "Is" A deeper one, "He?" His hips slapped yours with all his might, dropping all his weight on your tightness, your eyes almost rolled back with a trembling sob.

Pants turned erratic, your head shook as he caged your folded frame in between his muscular thighs, accommodating deeper. There was no room for you to move, sweat begun forming on your forehead and neck. So far he had given you a few ruts and you were already hazy.

The couch creaked under your weight. His hands grope your ankles tighter, spreading them as further as they could go. Your hands were numbing. His weight crushed you so deliciously it had you watching, enthralled as he disappeared inside you.

"I don't know" words came in a shaky and husky breath, "I swear he-"

He released one of your ankles to squeeze your cheeks together, smirking darkly as he pulled out again.

"We'll do it my way then."

Before you could even reply, he held on once more on your ankles, a loud sob came out while he plowed relentlessly, unable to keep your squeaking and hiccuping away. His little mouse, ever compliant.

Loud and pleasurable wails filled in the room. Your jaw tightened and grunted, body bounced underneath his frame, taking each and every plow like a champ.

Feet swayed violently, like your breast. The heels of your soles dug in every side of his shoulders. Air lacked in your burning lungs. His muscles rippled and contracted with every remorseless plunge.

Wet and scummy slaps of flesh echoed unceasingly. Eyes bounced at the beat his creamed cock rutted into you. Fast enough to have your brain rewired, deep enough for your walls to feel each and every inch, taking the delicious beating of his cock in your already bullied cervix, and hard enough to mess with your thoughts in such way you were forgetting your own name.

Maddening, aggressive, dangerous yet addictive, like his thrust. Like him.

Oh God

He cupped your cheeks as your dazed eyes tried their best to remain awake.

"Fucking look at me" he growled

You were really really trying to. His forehead rested inches away from yours, letting your moanings turn into acute and desperate wheezes when he picked up the pace. You were sure your ankles would end up bruised and scratched, but in truth, right now it was the least of your concerns.

You were sure your brain shut off for a second or two. Panting and gasping for air like a fish out of water. Throat dry and hoarse.

Too much

Your legs shook and your mind snapped. You came, and came hard, squeezing his cock so tightly it made him whimper at the overestimulation. Juices coating him and rolled down your belly in a wet and explosive climax.

Walls spasmed so deliciously around him in a pompoir-like hug, that ignited his own peak.

Miguel had to support on the couch's frame to catch his breath as his hot spurts of cum painted your walls white. Forehead finally collided against yours.

Gaze locking on your dazed eyes as he left your insides with an approving hum.

One of your legs fell on the couch, a little whine accompanied the limb's fall. Miguel bend to pick up something from his pants. A little clink and a beep made your attention to snap at him.

El Diablo gave a brief kiss on your ankle to then wrap the tracking device on it. To then let your leg fall next to you.

"Beg for me to find him first instead of Kingpin."

You curled on the couch, catching up your breath.

His eyes lingered on your body. Gorgeously tussled and flushed, marked by his own hands. A proud smirk crept up his face, but it quickly faded when staring at the golden band in your finger.

You were now his, but a problem. His problem. He believed you when saying you had no idea where Massimo was. But eventually you'd have to cooperate. If he was to keep you alive, the least he needed was honesty.

But how to get it when you were kept in the shadows for so long? An idea popped in his mind. Sex wasn't a good incentive, he noted. Not that it wasn't great, all the opposite really as he was ready to sleep, finally able to relax. Maybe he'd try a different and less physical approach.

He picked up his clothes and spoke over his naked shoulder.

"We'll leave tomorrow." He popped his joints back.

"Better sleep well."

You heard him disappear into his room. Your body protested when trying to sit up right. You reached for the forgotten shirt, and with difficulty wore it again.

His perfume tingled your senses, but you were too tired and sore to walk over the bed. Besides, he was there and as much as his bed was great for your back, you curled on the bigger couch. The way his eyes looked your way when he was done, made your heart leap.

No.

He was dangerous and in truth you were sure he had many other women scattered around. And you were married.

With a man that has gotten me in so much trouble...

For once, it wasn't Massimo that you thought when going to sleep.

----

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headspace-hotel · 2 years

Text

The day before yesterday I got to try a ripe pawpaw for the first time.

Someone else was supposed to come in at the center, but I was in the mood to be alone, so I fucked off into the woods at the earliest available opportunity, looking to collect more hickory nuts.

I hiked about two miles down the trail, seeking to find a little-used path as far from the center as I could reasonably make it. I was five or ten minutes down a fork in the path heading down a valley when I unexpectedly smelled something familiar: the scent of ripe pawpaws. I only knew that scent from having come upon a rotten one several days back on the trail.

I had seen pawpaw trees on the way up, but I looked around and saw nothing. I indulged a beast-like impulse: I sniffed. I turned until I was facing the direction of the scent and moved towards it. And I saw, about 50 feet away down the hillside below...a pawpaw grove

Some interesting facts about pawpaws:

The pawpaw is the largest fruit native to North America, known for its "tropical" flavor. Despite being reputed to be delicious, it is not found in grocery stores due to the fruits being far too delicate to ship without spoiling. A few people farm them, but otherwise the only way to get one is to come upon one growing wild, which is rare, because the opossums love them.

Pawpaw trees are hard to grow and take 10-15 years to produce fruit, but you can see wild ones in mature and well managed woods of Kentucky. They are small, barely trees, only about 15-20 feet tall, with trunks only a bit bigger around than a circle you can make with your index finger and thumb. They almost always grow in clonal colonies, groups of many trees that are all clones of each other due to being propagated from the roots of existing trees. They are also strictly understory trees, growing in the shade of much larger trees.

Now, an interesting fact about Eastern Kentucky: At the fringe of Appalachia, and even into parts of the Outer Bluegrass, the terrain frequently turns into very steep rolling hills.

It's hard to notice if you are in more cultivated areas that have been leveled out more, but in wilder parts you can seldom just casually walk in a straight line through the woods. Unless you are following the contour of the hills, you are either sliding and gripping saplings to slow your descent or you are climbing on all fours.

Such was the hill below me, descending at roughly a fifty-degree angle into the pawpaw grove.

I was going to get me some fucking pawpaws.

I climb down the hill by a combination of scooting, sliding, and scrabbling. After a few minutes of struggle I am standing in the pawpaw grove, alone, scanning the branches with my eyes.

The ground is littered everywhere with pawpaws, some very rotten. I see only two or three fruits remaining in the trees, and I walk around giving each tree a good shake, thinking to myself about how this is certainly an experience shared by millions of years' worth of primate ancestors before me.

After nearly ten minutes of (literally) fruitless tree-shaking, I start to eye the fallen pawpaws on the ground around me.

Some of them are perfectly fine-looking. The skin hasn't even been broken into. I pick one up.

It is very soft, but not squishy like something rotten. It is about as long as my index finger (my hands are small) and oblong. Its smooth skin is pale green and spotted with brown like a very ripe banana. I tear the skin back and give the creamy orange insides a test lick.

Friends.

It was transcendent.

Imagine the most perfect ripe mango, but with a flavor that is more banana-like, mellow and creamy and mild instead of tangy. The texture is perfectly smooth and soft unlike any other fruit. You can lick it and it will just melt in your mouth.

I am autistic and a very picky eater due to the difficult textures of many foods, and this fruit has the perfect texture. Mangos are already one of my favorite foods and this is somehow even better. I remember, deliriously, that farmers are seeking to improve pawpaws for possible commercial production, and it seems like the height of foolishness there in the pawpaw grove. There is no possible way wild pawpaws could be improved. All of creation is tainted by the Fall of Man, except for fucking pawpaws, because they are beyond the earthly tier of fruits.

I lick it like a dog going crazy on a Kong full of peanut butter until it falls apart in my hands and start scanning the ground for another.

They are all perfectly ripe and mostly untouched by bugs or creatures. I start just squishing them in my hands and licking the creamy insides. I am just planting my face in these fruits like some kind of animal. My face and hands are covered in pawpaw squish.

I go through like ten of them before returning to my senses. I've been thoughtlessly wiping my hands on my pants, and they are now more soiled than the clothes of the messiest toddler. I feel primal and connected to my ancestors. I have truly earned my Primate Card.

My mom said in the car that I smelled very strongly of something (pawpaws) so it's safe to say that literally every person I passed on the way back down the trail got a good whiff too, and likely connected it to the Pawpaw Squish that was basically all over me.

Regrets: None

#nature #fruits #pawpaw

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house-of-daena · 8 months

Text

IMAGINE...

[CONTENTS: nsfw, lactation, a little voyeurism from an unexpected audience, sub alhaitham, gn.reader]

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤ alhaitham should've known better than to drink that bottle of dubious alcohol kaveh bought from archons-know-where. he thought it would be nice to lay back and drink the bottle while he read a book he had recently taken an interest with, but his day took an unexpected turn as soon as he took a sip of the sweet, tangy taste that lingered on his tongue.

the mesh of his top suddenly grew damp, and his chest felt increasingly uncomfortable and heavy. for some reason, his nipples became unbearably hard and his neck, all the way to his chest, was reddening with stinging heat, his heart pounding.

alhaitham thought he was poisoned, brows furrowed as his hands carefully inspected his pecs. only when he squeezed his supple skin that he realized that his chest was leaking milk. he was lactating like a pregnant woman, which probably only intensified because of the drink.

he was about to look for kaveh, scrambling to his feet and almost tripping. gods, he wanted to fix this as soon as possible, he can't handle the embarrassment of such a mess, but his mind was easily clouded with the urge to tweak his nipples and squeeze out as much milk as he could. his breasts—pectorals, were aching with the need, for relief, his hands twitching as he stops himself from touching anywhere close to his chest.

but you entered his home, eyes wide to see a shirtless alhaitham in the living room, panting and red for whatever reason. at first, you approached him with worry and concern, then when he turned to you, your eyes immediately went down to his pectorals and your breath hitched at the sight.

his pecs were ridiculously swollen, it has gotten bigger as a side effect and his buds were all perky and puffy, white liquid dripping down his nipples and onto every curvature of his abs. to say that you were shocked was an understatement, you had to force yourself to pry your eyes away from his tits—chest and look at him.

and oh, his quivering bottom lip and glistening eyes made your heart race. you didn't know your dearest haitham could be so pathetic before you. his tits ceaselessly burned with ardent need, and it was beginning to be too much for him that it was making his head spin. so, without much thinking, he grabbed your wrist and forced you to sit on the couch, his legs straddling your waist. before you know it, alhaitham has buried your face into his chest with his hand at the back of your head, his body trembling at each breath he takes.

then he babbles softly on how much he needs your mouth on his tits, pleading and begging as his hand strokes your cheek, that his breasts ached and how heavy it was that it was starting to hurt his back.

so you happily obliged, your hands squeezing and kneading his leaking pecs, watching as more milk oozed out his nipples and lapping it all up. it was so sweet, so addicting, it left your lips tingling from the warmth. you suckled on his nipples like there was no tomorrow, slurping so loudly and lewdly as you did your best to suck his tits dry.

all alhaitham could do was moan your name as big globs of tears rolled down his cheeks, throwing his head back. his mind grew fuzzy and empty, screaming fuck! and don't stop! and more! in between his whimpers. then, when you pulled back to pinch his nipples at the same time, licking your lips as milk dribbled down your chin, he keens at the overwhelming sensation.

despite only paying attention to his breasts, he came so hard in his pants that could only slur out your name and pathetic whimpers that sounded so heavenly coming from his lips. you had to lean back to take in the beauty that is alhaitham, sitting on your lap with his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

his nipples still continued to leak with milk, and judging by his gritted teeth, he was hungry for more. that's alright, you don't mind at all, you planned on milking him until he passes out.

you glanced at the little troublemaker watching from the hallway of your shared home, his hand cupping his crotch as he stared. when he realized that you were looking at him, he gasped and scrambled away, probably back to his room and wallow in shame.

after you've sucked alhaitham dry, you'll have to discuss with your boyfriend how to deal with your roommate. after all, bad boys deserve punishment.

a/n: .... i have no words for this... i am but an enjoyer of haitham's boobies.. pt.2 of alhaitham being a fucking cow, rqs r open btw! also yeah dw there'll be a part 2 :3

#» asmo's writings #» alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x male reader #sub alhaitham #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #genshin smut

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moon-rivr · 4 months

Text

here, spider spider

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: masturbation (m), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it 🤨), use of pull out method, orgasm denial

author’s note: hope you all enjoy and i hope you had a good nye :p

word count: 1.7K

inspired by this ask lol

You've been ovulating.

And it's been torture for Miguel.

Your scent covers every inch of the house when he comes home, almost taunting him since he wasn't able to do anything about it. Every time that he came back from work, you were either already asleep or you were out doing errands. He'd even resorted to masturbating once more, something he hadn't done since before the two of you started to date. Luckily for him, you'd worn the red lingerie that he adored so much so he was able to use it for his depraved fantasies. The material bunched around his fist as he slowly dragged it through his shaft, precum slowly dribbling onto the pretty bow in the middle.

The tangy smell of your discharge clouded his mind as his hand wrapped around his cock, pushing the flimsy material up and down. He looked over at you as you slept, seeing the way that the nightgown slightly raised above your thighs. He felt perverted as he jerked himself off, knuckles starting to turn white as he tightened the fist wrapped around his cock. He couldn't help himself though, you just looked so pretty when you slept with your lips parted and arms wrapped around a Spider-Man plushie you'd bought to support a flea market vendor. The worst part was that his fist couldn't replicate the feeling of your cunt, his orgasm offering no sense of euphoria afterwards.

He'd left the house before you had the chance to wake up, his frustrations following him into the workplace. "You don't think you should chill on the recruits? You've been working them like a pack of dogs," Peter had taken notice, teasing Miguel at every opportunity that arose. Miguel pushed him away with a small grunt, unwilling to entertain the obvious bait that Peter was setting in front of him. "You look stressed. Maybe you should let us go home early," Peter had told him before lunchtime, an idea sparking up in Miguel’s head after he said that. "Maybe I will," he muttered to himself, looking through the monitors to make sure nothing too catastrophic was occurring.

After scrolling for a while on social media, you'd discovered a couple of reviews about a Sol de Janeiro lotion that was presumed to attract wolf spiders by mimicking their mating pheromones. While that seemed to warrant the lotion a one star review by the people affected, you couldn't help but wonder how it would affect your boyfriend. You knew that he must've been struggling to contain himself with the smell of your hormones lingering around the apartment, planning to intensify that feeling by adding the body butter.

"Are you sure you want to buy this? Some of our customers have been complaining that they're attracting spiders," The Sephora associate at the counter asked you after scanning in the product. You were certain that it was the best purchase you could've made, an investment towards your pleasure if you will. "I'm sure, but thank you," you responded, putting your card into the reader and grabbing your bag after the payment processed. The butter itself didn't seem too special when you scooped some up into your hand but you were willing to indulge for the sake of the experiment. After lathering the butter onto your skin, you dressed up in your nightgown and waited for him to get home.

"¿Mi cielo? Ya llegue," Miguel called out from the living room, the sound of the front door closing behind him. (my darling, i’m home) "In the bedroom!" You called out, his heavy footsteps padding closer and closer to you as he made his way through the apartment. He came into the bedroom, having to take a step back as the scent engulfing the room made its way to his head. "Did you buy a new perfume or something?" He asked, sitting down on the corner of the bed as he pressed some buttons on his gizmo. The material of his suit disintegrated, leaving him completely exposed to you. "Or something. Why, do you like it?"

You hoped that he did, you'd had about two spiders crawling on you before he came home. He brought his head closer to your legs, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head as the combined scent of your arousal and the lotion overpowered his senses. "I don't just like it, think I'm starting to love it," he murmured as he licked a stripe up your leg, already starting to feel his cock pushing into the mattress. He ignored the growing arousal leaking onto his shaft, focusing on the task that was presented right in front of him. He spread your legs open, exposing your cunt. "It's like you've been wanting this. No panties underneath that nightgown?" He mused, bringing his head closer as he started to kiss his way up your thighs.

"Wanted to be all ready for when you came home," you responded, the words slowly dying out on your tongue as he ran his tongue through your folds. His eyes shut closed as your arousal coated his tongue, the different amount of pheromones lingering in the air making it difficult to maintain his composure. He wanted to take his time with you, ease you into it but his cock throbbed with anticipation. His tongue pushed in and out of you, fingers spreading your folds open to expose your cunt to him. Your hand made its way down to his hair, fingers running through the strands before slightly tugging on them.

His fingers replaced his tongue, the thickness of his middle and pointer filling you up with ease. They were longer than some of your toys so he was never able to go in knuckle-deep, but he enjoyed the way you seemed to write underneath him with just half of them inside of you. His tongue started swirling around your clit, eyes opening and locking up on yours as he gauged for your reactions. While he enjoyed tasting and eating you out, the one thing that he enjoyed the most was listening to the way that you moaned out his name. Especially when you tried to give him a broken segment of a sentence, unable to speak from the sheer bliss that he brought you.

Your thighs enclosed around his head, holding him in place as he sucked on the swollen nub. "Oh fuck Mig! Don't stop!" You moaned out as you felt his fingers curl upwards inside of you, the tips hitting that spongy spot inside of you. Your toes curled as he hit that spot inside of you repeatedly, the grip on his hair tightening as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your orgasm. He pulled his mouth back just as your cunt tightened up against his fingers, the prospect of your orgasm subsiding as he did so. "Why'd you do that for?" You protested, a small smirk appearing on his features as he got on his knees. "Only place you'll be coming around is my cock, princesa." (princess)

He brought your legs up to his shoulders as he aligned his cock with your entrance, the tightness of your cunt engulfing his tip as he pushed it in. The arousal from the prospect of an orgasm that was rudely ripped away from you made it easier for him to slide in, though every inch of his cock made it seem like it was pushing past your limits. "Tan apretadita. Have I been neglecting you for too long?" he teased as he felt your walls flutter around his cock, struggling to adjust to the sensation of having him inside you once more. (so tight) All you could do was nod along to his question, receiving a small chuckle in response as he retracted his cock. "I'll make it up to you," was all that he said before he pushed his cock back inside of you.

He was unable to help himself, bringing his head closer to your legs as he smelt the remnants of the butter lingering on your skin. The angle that he was thrusting in allowed for him to hit deep inside of you, the tip of his cock almost reaching your cervix. "You take it so well for me, made to take this cock," he told you, looking down to meet your eyes. You looked so needy, laying there and taking everything that he had to give you. His thighs slapped against yours with every thrust that he took, his pace speeding up to fulfill the desire that had been building up towards this moment. The sounds of skin slapping together mixed along with the scent of your arousal and the moans slipping from your mouth, the room reeking of sex.

"Mig, Mig," you started out, unable to finish the sentence but you didn't need to. He just tell from the glassy look on your eyes that you were close to your orgasm, his pace remaining the same as his cock pushed in and out of you. "I know baby. I’ll be nice this time and let you cum," he cooed, his thumb coming down to your clit to stimulate the bud. You felt a small shudder running down your spine at the contact, your legs starting to spasm as you slowly approached your orgasm. Your walls clenched around him tightly, almost sucking his cock in deeper as he thrusted into you. When your walls unclenched, your arousal completely flooded his shaft and formed a creamy ring at the base of his cock.

He had half the mind to fill you up with his cum, knowing that his sperm would take much easier given the state that you were in. He reluctantly pulled out, giving himself a couple of strokes as you got onto your knees. Your doe eyes stared up at his while you swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock, hand wrapped around his cock as you pushed it up and down his shaft. He let out a small grunt as he reached his orgasm, some of his cum drooling down your chin. You swallowed the sticky residue, one of his fingers coming up to your chin as he cleaned what had leaked out of your mouth. He brought his head down to meet yours, his lips meeting yours for a passionate kiss as your eyes fluttered shut. His cock grew hard again within seconds, the smell of the butter still managing to last through the previous session.

"Get on your stomach, hermosa. We're not done for the night."

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pursuitseternal · 6 months

Text

“Beg me…” Ascended Astarion tells you, you naughty darling… highly NSFW drabble

Also known as I blinked and wrote 2K of dom!Ascended Astarion x turned female reader. Oops 😇😈

Ascended Astarion x f!reader |E| 2K of BDSM

Summary: you burn, waiting for his return, waiting for your punishment…. Waiting for him

CW: degradation, BDSM, bondage, orgasm denial, and the sweet satisfaction that comes with its fulfillment

Continue for your delicious recompense…

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

You lay stretched on the bed, arms numb from where they are tugged tight, bound to the headboard far above you. Your legs however, you wiggle, writhing, the ache he’s left between your thighs still burning hot.

And you are powerless to do anything about it. Your folds tingle, left untouched, unsated for the hour he’s been gone. And all you’ve been allowed to do is watch as the clock ticks, left wanting as he attends to matters of state.

Punishment.

You seemed a little too friendly with some Druid, someone… you don’t even remember his name. But the smile you gave was enough to stoke Astarion’s ire and flame his jealousy. Enough to have him sweep you away and bind you to your bed. To tease you with his fingers and tongue until you were close.. so close to bursting. Only to have him pull away.

And then he ordered you… compelled you… not to lose your focus on just how badly you wanted him.

You don’t know for certain if it was your bond, as master and bride, as maker and spawn, that kept your loins absolutely on fire for him, or if it was just the magic of your lust for him.

Does it matter? Not a jot, not as you squeeze your thighs together, the sheets beneath you soaked with your arousal as you wait.

Footsteps approach your door, whimpers escaping your mouth as you tug at your bindings. The clock begins to strike the hour, its resonant chime deafening to your ears, every sense of your body burns with overstimulation. You can almost smell him on the other side of the door, the waft of spice and bergamot making your mouth water.

Making your cunt drip more down to the bed as you hear the faint click of the key in the lock.

The bolt draws back, and he enters at last. His face is cold, eyes heavy-lidded as he turns his back on you to shut the door.

And to lock it again. Pocketing the key inside his doublet.

Your heart races, a slight edge of fear spiking your pulse and clamping around your lungs.

But he only shushes you. “Oh, you naughty little girl,” he sneers. “Glad to smell you’re still so hot for me,” he croons as he turns and crosses to the bedside. Instantly, he shoves three long, cold digits into your cunt.

The hum of approval from his throat is nearly enough to send you into bliss. But he simply withdraws his touch. Not a stroke, or a curl or catch on your clit. He merely pulls away to wipe your slick on your panting belly. “There’s hope for you yet, my sweet…” his eyes flash, his body coming to cage you in, the bed buckling beneath you as he slinks over you, careful not to let one inch of his body touch yours. “….that is assuming you still want me? That you’re not ever going to throw seductive smiles and come-hither eyes at anyone else.”

“I wasn’t…” you moan, but his hand flies to cover your mouth, fingers tangy and wet from your arousal.

“Shhh, don’t you insult me by arguing,” that gaze rakes down your naked figure. His lips curl into a sad sort of smirk. “The least you can do is assure me, darling, that you are mine…”

You nod, vigorously. Your breath stifled, his palm over your mouth and nose. He lifts it away, smiling as you gasp for air. “Yours, only ever yours, my love,” you pant. You strain against the silken bonds that still pull at your wrists.

“Better,” he purrs, “much better. Your body says as much, as well. But you’ll still have to prove it, darling. Prove to me that your words are not false.” The tips of his fingers ghost down your neck, trailing feather light between your shaking breasts and circling over your clenching belly.

His hand comes to slink beneath your ass, his hand clutching hard as suddenly he flips you on the mattress. All that power surges from him, stinging your skin as your world spins. Your numb arms ache, your face buried into the silken sheets. The sounds of his clothing rustling is the only warning you get before you feel the hard, cold lines of his body coming to rest on your back.

He bears all his weight down on you. Crushing you. Suffocating you. But his kiss at the sensitive spot beneath your ear is gentle. His voice, that honeyed melody that only makes you wetter. Hotter. “Are you going to be good, my sweet, sweet little slut, so wet and needy?” He takes your ear between his teeth, his sucking kiss deafening, making your whole spine tingle and twitch under him.

You nod, breathless, pained. You moan, “yes,” wanting nothing more than to show how much you do desire him. To show him how wrong he is to doubt you. You shiver, burning and throbbing in agony. But then you feel his kisses, trailing down the curve of your spine. Heavy, sucking, they ground you. Soothe you. His hands lift your hips, holding you steady, fingers sweeping through your drenched seam, catching your clit with just enough force to make you buck against him.

“How badly do you want me, darling?” he rasps in your ear, bracing an arm by your head to press his hissing lips right against your temple. “You tell me, you beg me, and I might do something about it, my love.”

“So badly,” you buck your hips against his hand, feeling his fingers slide deep inside your channel.

He chuckles as he strokes you. “But how badly, darling?” He withdraws his hands, his tongue lapping at your ear to send tangible shivers through your frame. “Badly enough for you to beg?” Those fingers catch that secret spot only he knows between your slick walls. “Badly enough to have you on all fours, keening for me to fuck you?”

“I… beg... you…” you do keen, relief instantly flooding your core as his fingers dive right back in, as they assume a demanding pace, one finger teasing your clit with such command and precision, your vision blurs.

“Good girl… for now… but you have been such a bad, lustful slut, you know,” he purrs into the creases of your ear, the weight of his body easing as he shifts behind you, his hand caressing over every inch of you, the other still stroking deep inside, bringing you so close to your bliss, you can taste its sweetness and feel its tingling heat just starting to crest.

But then, with a low-throated giggle, he extracts his touch, “You better beg me again for my mercy, better show me you’re not just willing to spread your legs for any powerful male that comes sniffing after you…” fingers claw into the fullness of your ass, squeezing it as he growls in your ear. “After all, you were so easy to seduce, to make you mine… always so wet and greedy and eager for a fuck… maybe a little reminder of how much you’re mine is in order.”

You feel the swell of his cock’s head pressing just at the edge of your folds.

“Remind me all you want, my love, but I know I'm yours alone,” You want to cry, tears in your eyes and drool in your mouth as you moan, “So please, dammit, I beg you. I’ll only ever be yours, and you know it.”

“I do know it,” he croons, mock condescension warming his voice as he slides his length in just an inch or two before he pulls back out, “but I do just so like to hear it from those lips of yours, darling.”

“Fuck you, Astarion,” you groan as he does it again, just the bulge of his head dipping into your wetness.

“That’s what you want… isn’t it?” he taunts you, that silken wickedness in his voice, “for me to fuck you?” An arm wraps around your waist, a single finger slides between the crest of your folds to catch your clit again.

You groan, throat going sore with how loud you cry. “Yes, please, please, my love…” you pant. “My body, my smile, my glances are only for you,” you add. Praying, as he strokes you harder, dipping his cock in you shallowly again, that it’s enough.

“Oh my sweet,” he purrs, thrusting slowly until he fills you, the delicious length, the pressure finally making you whole, “now you’ll taste my mercy.” He laughs slowly. Darkly. “I hope you’ll last, hope you’ll take it like the good girl you want to be…”

Withdrawing, he slams into you, bottoming out at the edge of your channel. Pain. Pleasure. It’s all one. The saccharine relief of him buried and thrusting inside you finally soothing that burn you’ve had festering inside you for hours. You can’t even hold your head up anymore. You can barely keep your face high enough to breathe, letting him plunder you at his relentless pace. Gasping, twitching, bucking. You put all your remaining energy you haven’t had burned up with your desire for him into just riding his cock. Another catch on your clit, and you feel yourself hurling into orgasm. His hands hold you firmly up, even as you spasm and clench so hard around him, that length is almost forced out.

He laughs, slow and deep, setting you down, rolling you on your back as you still twitch with your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “Another four orgasms should do the trick, don’t you think, my love… enough to make you learn your lesson.”

You groan, burying your mouth into the inside of your arm to hide the noise of pleasured anguish.

Slowly, languorously, he covers you with his body, its weight a comfort and an arousal, especially as you feel his knee tuck under yours to spread your folds wide. The breadth of his cock sweeping along the seam of your cunt.

“Four?” You gulp, already feeling another wave of climax burgeoning between your thighs. He gives a little thrust of his length over you, and then another. The hardness of his erection sweeps over you, catching every nerve that flares on fire for more in your slick. Your arms tug on the restraints, your head thrown back to press hard into the bed. Every muscle in your legs clenches, heat and pain and pleasure tingle, bursting down every nerve.

You scream as you come again, but it’s muted, covered by his own devouring mouth. “Three,” he breathes over your tongue. “Perhaps more, if you’re extra obedient, an extra good girl.” Reaching over your head, his finger slips into the silken binds around your wrists, the fabric instantly easing. Your hands fly to embrace him, your touch running up and down his back, riding the scars that cover him, gripping into the pert swell to his ass, pulling him even harder into you. You sigh, his cock returning inside you with a gentle little thrust. “My little love,” he purrs as his hand cradles your cheek softly. “Forever mine…” he gives a slow, attentive thrust, the undulation of his hips catching right on every tingling, overstimulated sensitive nerve inside you. “You’ll come for me again, won’t you? And you’ll let me come too?”

“Yes,” you moan, tangling your tongue with his. “For you my love,” you whisper into his mouth, “for you I’ll come for eternity.”

For @marimosalad ❤️

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Read More Ascended Astarion: “The Rogue You Were”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read More Vampire Rogue Astarion: “Bites in the Night” series

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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bi-writes · 6 months

Text

again and again | the mandalorian

he comes when i call. every single time.

type: one-shot pairing: the mandalorian x afab!fem!reader word count: 4.3k (quick work while i try and finish the 10k+ monster in my drafts) warnings: mature language and content, mature written sexual content, 🔞⚠️ (warnings under the cut) summary: the mandalorian is not very nice when he's jealous. but he can be nice to you. complete masterlist

concept art chosen: "envy" (2007), "jealousy" (1895)

detailed warnings: 18+ smut, size kink (reader is described as smaller than the mandalorian, able to be moved by him easily), possessive!mandalorian, soft!dom!mandalorian -> read at your own discretion

You had been here before.

Not this cantina, exactly. Not this planet. But you had been here before, in an outfit this small, in a room much too loud, feeling the glare of eyes you didn’t even know the fucking color of.

You were not quiet about your presence here. If you were being honest with yourself, you left a messy trail to your whereabouts in hopes a certain bounty hunter would follow your breadcrumbs. You had a feeling he would not be able to resist. You had a feeling that he would get a whiff of you, and not be able to stop himself from getting a peek, a glance, a taste of even just a strand of your hair or a trace of your footprint in that big, shiny helmet of his.

You smoothed out the front of your skirt as you shuffled your way to the bar. You had to elbow a few organics out of the way, but you finally had the droid in your sight, and you banged your palm against the bar counter for a refill.

If you were being even more honest with yourself, you would admit you dressed up just for him. You were in a bright red two-piece, a short mini skirt with a matching long-sleeve top made of shiny, geometric leather. Your midriff was on display, leaving little to the imagination, and you paired it with matching leather boots and an exposed thigh holster with your favorite blaster strapped to it. You wanted to put your hair up, but you had a feeling the style would only get in your way tonight.

Besides. He liked it when you had your hair down.

You hopped onto a barstool as the droid poured you your refill. You sat up straight, putting the straw to your lips and sucking it down almost entirely, letting the sugary alcohol seep into you and warm you from the inside out. You swung your feet and giggled to yourself, loving the feeling of his attention. It sent a lick of adrenaline shooting down your spine. Your toes curled, and your nipples hardened under your top, and you hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet.

“Need another?”

A warm voice motioned for the droid to give you another generous pour, and you smiled brightly at the unsuspecting human taking up space on your right side. He was wearing a uniform of sorts, dark and pressed, and he had a dazzling smile. Pearly white teeth, curly locks, and a sweet, innocent face. He was adorable. Too bad you didn’t care much for adorable.

“Oh, I’ll take whatever you’ll give me,” you laughed, nodding as he put a few credits down for you. After another fruity refill, you were finding yourself being pulled off your seat, soft hands gripping your bare waist as he tried to coax you onto the dancefloor. Your flirtatious banter was less than subtle; you knew he had so many gadgets adorned in that helmet, and if he was going to hide in the shadows away from your eyes, then you would give him a reason to come out.

Those fingers around your waist stiffened suddenly. Instead of a warm touch guiding you to move, you felt the change your stranger’s demeanor. His palms went clammy, and he went rigid at your side. You licked your lips, your eyes shutting for just a moment as you smelled that familiar edge—blaster residue, leather, iron and something dark and tangy and his.

“Come to ruin my fun?” You asked over your shoulder. You couldn’t see well in the dark of the cantina, but the Mandalorian was a ghostly, towering figure, nonetheless. He caged you into the bar, and you realized then that one of his hands was occupied—his blaster aimed right at the boy’s middle. “Maker, you just can’t help yourself!”

You stepped in front of the blaster, the point of it pressed into your bare stomach, and his helmet tipped down just enough. You would described the stiffness of his movements as unamused. He drew the blaster back immediately, away from you, but the damage had been done. The boy behind you fled before you could blink, and you huffed out an angry sigh, glaring up at the Mandalorian. You opened your mouth to say something, but he holstered his blaster, and with that same hand, he gripped your waist tight, yanking you forward until your middle pressed against his. Your bare stomach pressed against his utility belt, soft breasts squished up against that cool beskar. You fought the chill that ran through you, letting your eyelids flutter a bit as you fell into that comfortable headspace that could only be had right here, with him, in his arms. You lit up inside, fighting a grin.

Yes, yes, yes—

“You’re taunting me,” the Mandalorian growled finally. The edge in his voice should have scared you, but it enticed you instead. Lit a fire under your feet. The Mandalorian was nothing short of the being you craved the most, and every time you set eyes on him, you were reminded how much of an effect he had on you. He was all-consuming, and you were a bunny in a trap.

“Bite me,” you snapped, but a smile broke out on your face, nonetheless. You tilted your head to the side, standing up on your toes. Even in your heels, you craned to be level with him. You tucked your fingers into his belt, pulling him that much closer. “No, really…bite me.”

You let out a light giggle of surprise when the hand on your waist slid down to grasp you under your thigh tight, the gloves doing nothing to cool the heat of his touch. One of his hands reached to smooth over the handle of your blaster, a pretty little silver gift that he had given you some time ago. The sight of it strapped on your person didn’t go unnoticed; he was rather excited with the view, if the warmth against your thigh had anything to say about it.

“Maker, you missed me, didn’t you?” You cooed softly, leaning forward to kiss the beskar of his pauldron. The tone of your voice was almost pitiful, a childish reassurance that sent a pang of annoyance straight through him. “It’s okay…” You put your hand over his on your thigh, dragging it up until it slipped under your skirt, guiding him to touch you. “I missed you, too, baby.” You closed your eyes, kissing now just under the jaw of his helmet. “I knew I could get you here by leaving something along the way for you…wearing something pretty and shiny just like you…” You mewled softly as he kneaded the flesh of your ass in one large hand. “…getting boys to buy me drinks…”

Bunny in a trap, bunny in a trap—

“You’re coming with me,” he said simply. It wasn’t a question, it was a demand. An order. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pouting just a little.

“Don’t be mad,” you whined. “Or jealous. If you think for one second that I have eyes for anyone else, you’re blind.” Your fingers rubbed gently along the nape of his neck. He wore too many layers for you to feel those soft curls you adored pulling on. “If you weren’t such a stubborn piece of work, maybe you’d let me call you my boyfriend—”

A disgruntled sound left him, and his grip on you tightened. You met his visor for just a moment before realizing if you wanted any conversation of substance, you needed to get him alone, in private. You liked playing games, but the Mandalorian seemed as if he wasn’t in the mood. Most times he found you this way, he let hands wander just a tad longer so he could take pleasure in breaking their noses.

You took his free hand in yours, turning and guiding him out of the cantina. The crowd parted for you immediately, patrons not wanting to bump into the armor accidently. When you were outside in the quiet, you moved to the alleyway, covered in privacy by tall walls and dark light.

“I-I don’t know why you get so mad at me—” You started, tucking yourself into his side. He was hard to cuddle against with the rigid layers, but you wanted to be close to him. “You always get so jealous, but at the slightest whiff of commitment, you run the other way…” You looked up at him, right into the visor, hoping to find his eyes. “I miss you when you go,” you whispered. “I miss you all the time. I know what you do is dangerous, but Din—” His head tilted sharply at the use of his name, “—I miss you, and I know you miss me, too.”

You stood up on your toes and cupped the cheeks of his helmet in your hands, kissing the space where you thought his lips might be. You smiled, eyes glossy with sadness, and you sighed with relief when you felt two gloved hands slip up your short skirt again and squeeze your ass firmly, possessively. You adored having his undivided attention, adored being at the center of it. Seeing only yourself in the reflection of his helmet brought more peace to you than he could ever know. The Mandalorian was always so cool and calm and collected, and you loved that he lost complete sense of it around you.

“Say you missed me, Din,” you murmured. “Say you were jealous tonight and that you missed me.”

The smile on your face never left. The Mandalorian thought you could not look more precious than right now, waiting eagerly for him to murmur in your ear the praise you so deserved.

“I was jealous,” the Mandalorian admitted, slipping one gloved hand between your thighs and guiding those fingers against the seam of the lace there. You swallowed a bit, knowing that he would be able to feel how wet you’ve been for the last hour. “I was jealous, and I missed you.”

You broke out into a bigger smile, giggling with delight and moving to take his hands out from under your skirt to hold, but he held tight. He chuckled darkly, shaking his head slightly.

“No…” He manhandled you, turning you around and pressing you up against the alley wall chest-first and caging you in with the broadness of his figure. It happened so fast, and your heartbeat echoed in your ears as you tried to keep up with him. “I’m taking what I deserve, right here, right now.”

You hummed softly, your body turning liquid in his grasp. There was no place safer, no place more tranquil and perfect, than in his arms. It didn’t matter to you that you were out in the open, that anyone could walk by and see you. The Mandalorian would never let anything happen to you. You were safe, always. You feared nothing except for losing him, perhaps.

“You’re such a good girl,” he muttered in your ear. His modulated voice was honey in your ears. You leaned back against him, your ass pressing against the front of him eagerly. “Always letting me have what I want, no matter where we are, huh?”

You nodded, reaching up and wrapping an arm around his neck, the other hand bracing yourself against the wall. “I’m safe with you, Din,” you whispered. “Always have been, always will be. Not afraid of anything when I’m with you.” You reached down and slid your skirt up until it was bunched around your hips. “And I’m yours, whether you want to admit it or not—” You moved your hips at an angle, the hardness of him now pressed against your ass, and he stiffened, his grip on your middle bruising. “Yours to do whatever you want with…whenever you want.”

The Mandalorian grit his teeth under the helmet. It was infuriating how much of an effect you had over him, and he couldn’t even punish you for it because you were being so good. You were saying all of the right things, talking sweetness into his bones, making him feel that hot, scorching satisfaction of his claim over you and everything you were. There was no need to convince you that you were his, there was no need to remind you; in fact, it was you that was begging for him to do the one thing he had refused all this time—to simply acknowledge you.

You were so pliant. Doe-eyed and soft, gentle and easy, so small and moldable. The Mandalorian felt a warmth in his chest every time he towered over you. He was big and bad and rough around all of the edges, but nothing ever seemed to cut you. His touch only warmed you from the inside out, only had you gasping and making such pretty noises.

“Just…promise me one thing,” you said over your shoulder, meeting the visor with your eyes. He said nothing, but he smoothed a hand over your waist and squeezed you there to encourage you to continue. “Tell me I’m yours, Din—” You rested the back of your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes. He brought that hand up to wrap around your throat, but his touch was more soothing than anything. “Please,” you begged softly. “I need to hear you say it.”

The Mandalorian sighed deeply, his other hand moving to unzip his flight suit.

“If you want to know why I don’t want you to call me your kriffing boyfriend—” he spat, shaking his head, and you gasped as you felt his cock hard and leaking against your back, “—you should know it’s because that title is insulting.” You whimpered as he gripped the lace of your panties and pulled, ripping it apart easily. The delicate fabric was no match for those hands, and you squirmed under his grasp. The show of strength was enough to send another wave of need through you, wetting the place between your thighs even more. With no panties to soak, you could already feel yourself dripping slowly. “I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not your lover.” You moaned loudly as he notched himself at your entrance, hissing as he felt you immediately drenching him with your arousal. You were so wet, it was almost pathetic, but this was your Mandalorian, and by the chuckle that left him, you knew there was only satisfaction and need in the air, no room for embarrassment.

“I am yours, and you are mine—” His voice was muffled by your cry when he pushed into you, meeting little resistance as he pressed his hips into you until there was no space between you. You were tight, but so, so slick, sucking him in and squeezing him as another rush of slickness coated him. He groaned lowly as he felt you, realizing now just how much he had missed being so close to you, inside of you, intertwined and all around you. He hoisted you up in his arms, easily maneuvering you until you were right where he wanted you, full and squirming and drunk on the feeling of him. “—I could devour you here, and I would still be hungry, do you understand that?”

His voice in it of itself was enough to send you into another wave of pleasure. Deep, crackling static enveloping the roughness and neediness that he spoke of. It wasn’t a secret between the two of you the amount of times he had brought you over the edge with just his words, talking in your ear as your shaking fingers abused the soft, wet center of yourself.

My sweet girl. My perfect girl. Pretty, pretty girl, all mine, all mine, all mine to look at, all mine to touch, all mine to eat—

You moaned softly, clawing at him from behind as you tried to gain any kind of stability, but the Mandalorian was using you how he pleased, not giving you any sort of control. All you could do was cry and whimper and beg for more as he used the wall for leverage, fucking up into you. You managed to grab onto his forearms, digging into the clothed flesh there, feeling the pulse of him.

“What you mean to me…” He let out sharp groans, savoring the soft cries from you as he watched you take him so well. Your legs were shaking, your toes barely touching the ground as you tried to be coherent enough to say something back, but you were rendered speechless. There were tears forming at the corners of your eyes, the piercing feeling of the Mandalorian filling you and taking over you and consuming you almost too much to bear. He was so big in so many ways. Big enough to hold you, big enough to crush you in his arms, big enough to split you in two and put you right back together with those skilled, deadly hands of his, big enough to fuck a mark into your cunt so well that you would never ever forget that he had been there. “…mean more to me than anything in this world…wanna tie you up and stow you away all for me…wanna hide you from anyone and everyone—wanna have you every minute of every day and keep you full of me—” You squeezed him hard at the very thought, “—oh, you like that, yeah? Like that thought? Like the thought of me right here, all the time?”

Fuck, he was rambling. The Mandalorian was never a man of many words. You had seen him have conversations with just a nod and shake of his head, with just that steel glare alone, but whenever he was buried inside of you, he could never stop. Sputtering, grunting, spitting—maybe this was how he grounded himself, maybe this was how he kept himself just sane enough to not completely lose his self-control while he was inside of you.

Right here, all the time—mine, mine, mine—

You nodded, your jaw loosening and falling open in a silent cry as he snapped his hips quicker. His unwavering thrusts hit you deep, and he squeezed your throat gently before lowering them to your hips, spreading you open to give him more room to take you. There was something still soft about the way the Mandalorian fucked you. It was filthy this way, out in the open where someone could catch you, but his towering figure hid you from display. He held you tight, crowding you in his warmth. He was always possessive, but never cruel, and your pleasure came before his. You thought you couldn’t be anymore wet, but one gloved hand slipped up the front of your skirt, cupping your mound to give you the heel of his glove to grind against, your clit throbbing against the leather.

Oh, fucking—Maker—more, more more—

“Din—” Did other words even exist? Why couldn’t you form a coherent sentence? The only phrase you could muster was his name. Had his cock really dwindled you down to something so simple, so pathetic? The sounds between you were flushing you with embarrassment almost. So sticky, so wet, your thighs were glistening with sweat and your sweetness, and you nearly cried when you noticed one of his gloved hands smear his fingertips with that pretty creaminess and slip just under the lip of his helmet—

Yes, yes, yes—taste me—

“I’m gonna take you away,” he babbled. He was talking, just talking to fill the space, talking to keep himself from moaning too loud or cumming too fast, “Gonna take you away from here, keep you with me, yeah?”

He cursed under his breath, his hand finding its place spreading you open better, and his tongue was warm with the tang of you. It was enough to have him canting your hips just that much more, the tip of him prodding at the softest parts of your walls.

Soft, tight—she’s so cute, look at her, nothing there but me, all me, can’t think of anything except for how good she takes it.

“Yes, Din, please—!” You begged, your hands gripping his forearms harder and nails digging in hard to hold yourself steady. “Please, please, please—wanna be with you, please…”

“Shhhh…it’s gonna be alright,” he muttered. “I’m not gonna tease you today, don’t worry…gonna give you what you need, yeah?”

You nodded, gripping onto him tighter and grinding down against his hand, feeling the dull ache in your belly become sharp and buzzing and hot. Sex with the Mandalorian was always messy, but you were soaking your bodies, the wet squelch echoing in the alley and giving the Mandalorian an audible reminder of just how cockdrunk and dizzy and absolutely crazy you were for him. If you could eat him alive, you figured you just might.

“Know you’re close, yeah?” He panted. “Give it to me. You’re mine. Need you to show me.”

You swallowed hard, shutting your eyes tight. He dropped one arm to grip your leg, hiking it up to angle himself deeper, kissing your cervix and hitting a soft spot that had your tears falling quickly down your face. He was so good at this, too good at this, hitting it again, again, again—Din—right there—please—! Sheer, rippling, hot pleasure trickled down your spine, feeling so hot that your blood ran in your ears and your legs gave out underneath you. Like always, the Mandalorian caught you, holding you up so he could pound you through your orgasm. You could hear the thick wet of your release smearing between you, reaching up to grip the back of his neck and force him close.

“Inside me, Din,” you whimpered. “Need to feel you…”

He’s so warm, he’s so big, he’s mine, I want more—

“I know, I got you—”

You relaxed when you felt him, frantic thrusts and deep grinds as his cock pulsed and emptied and branded you so tenderly. You mewled happily, nuzzling back into him. His arms wrapped tightly around your middle, holding you close, and you hummed softly. The coming down was always sweet with the Mandalorian. The way he would press you to him, no space for air between your bodies. If the Mandalorian could fuse you to his beskar, you figured he would. You would let him, if only it meant he would take whatever he needed from you always.

“Wish we could stay like this forever,” you mumbled in a daze. Your mind was still fuzzy, your vision trying to straighten itself out as it basked in the rush of sweetness and calm and utter pleasure that seeped into your very bones. He brushed your sweaty hair back and off your shoulder, letting his heartbeat steady as he held you. The Mandalorian was the only thing holding you up straight, but you knew he would not drop you. “Were you serious, Din? About taking me away?”

He pulled out of you slowly, soothing you with gentle fingers through your hair as you winced a bit. You could feel the warmth of him slowly making its way down your thighs, a familiar, aching feeling that you wished could stay.

“Yes,” he murmured. “My ship is in the landing bay. I have more than enough room for you.”

The Mandalorian carefully moved your skirt back into place, slipping the cowl out from his chest plate and draping it over your shoulders. Something fluttery and nice settled in your belly at the gesture, and you were grateful that his hands didn’t leave you, still settled against your bare midriff and squeezing there absentmindedly.

“Why now?” You asked gently. “Every…every other time I’ve asked, you…you’ve refused.” You sniffled a bit, and he brought a hand up to wipe your tears. Tender, sweet, apologetic. “You never let me come with you before. You…you always…you always leave. Why is this time different?”

The Mandalorian tucked your head into his chest, smoothing a hand down your back.

“I guess I just can’t be away from you anymore,” he said simply. He took your hand in his, but you realized quickly that you had to hold onto his arm for support as you followed him towards the landing bay. You smiled up at him as you walked.

“So…does this mean I can call you my boyfriend?” You joked, biting your lip cheekily. He reached down and gripped your ass tight, squeezing it harshly for good measure.

“No,” he clarified, but you could hear the amusement in his voice. You picked up your pace when you saw his ship in the distance. You had been on his ship before. You had enjoyed many nights there, tangled up in warm sheets and small spaces. You planned to take full advantage of your new privileges in it. Before you could make it inside, the Mandalorian tugged on your hand gently, bringing you to face him. You smiled up at him, and he kept a hand busy adjusting the fabric around your shoulders.

“I just need you to know that you didn’t have to tease me this way for me to come get you,” the Mandalorian said lowly. “I know I hadn’t given you any reason to believe that I care for you more than…” Your eyes lowered a bit, a little sheepish, but the Mandalorian cleared his throat. He put his fingers under your chin and lifted your gaze back to him. You couldn’t explain the feeling, but you knew you had his eyes on yours. “I would’ve come for you. All you had to do was ask.”

You stood up on your toes, leaning forward until you could put your forehead to his. You closed your eyes to savor the kiss, and he followed easily.

“But did you like it?” You asked playfully, holding back a laugh. You felt the tips of his fingers playing with the hem of your tiny skirt, and he let out a low hum.

Teasing, little girl.

“Yeah…I liked it.”

#my kinktober contribution ig 🫶#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian smut #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #pedro pascal #the mandalorian imagine

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angelltheninth · 5 months

Text

What Happens in the Chair

Pairing: Minhyeok x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, masturbation, getting caught, watching porn together, friends to lovers, confession, mutual masturbation, blowjob, fingering, clit stimulation

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: When I found out about the chair my brain went haywire.

It was a little dark in his room, the only light coming from the computer screen, and most of the noises too. Sure you often felt bad about watching porn on Minhyeok's computer as much as you did but he never complained, not about that. It seemed a waste not to take advantage of alone time when you had it. So you kept your eyes glued to the screen and your fingers in your pussy and failed to hear the door to his room open.

"The fu- uh- oh. Oh!" You turned to see your neighbor standing at the doorway with his eyes moving from you, to the porn playing on the screen, to the hand between your legs. "I fucking you were the reason my chair was always wet. So this is what you get up to when I'm away." He smirked as he closed the door behind him.

"I... this isn't... I meant it is but... ah fuck... I'm sorry I'll go. And I'll buy you a new chair this time." You scrambled to click away from the porn still playing on the screen, but in your embarrassment you couldn't focus.

"Are you close?" He asked while very casually cupped his cock through his pants.

Did you hear that right? "Am I close? To an orgasm?"

"Yeah. I've been interrupted before, I know it feels like shit. I don't mind if you keep going. You're forgetting I use this computer too, the stuff you watch comes up in my recommendations, I know what you fuck yourself to." You could make out the outline of his hard cock straining in his pants, wanting to be free and pleasured.

You were thankful for the dim lighting covering the heat you felt in your face, but it didn't cover up the sloshing sounds of your fingers pushing in and out of your pussy. "Do you want to... do it together?" You never thought you'd be so horny to ask your neighbor to masturbate with you.

"I was hoping you'd ask. Go ahead and hit play." The moans and dirty talk started up again. You tried to ignore the sounds of Minhyeok's clothes being taken off but you couldn't ignore him when his cock was right next to your face.

He didn't make any moves on you, he didn't comment, he stroked himself at the same pace as you fingered your pussy. It was oddly enjoyable to be watched.

You watched him too, his hand going all the way down to his balls, the white pre gathering at the tip, "Wanna taste me?" He urged by pushing a bit closer, right into your open mouth. The salty, tangy taste made you whimper louder than the porn actress.

"Is it okay?" You licked around the tip while looking up at him and spreading your legs fully to the either side of the chair so he could see your hand moving more clearly. "I can't do it like in the videos but I hope that you-"

"Perfect." He conformed with a slow thrust back and forth. "Your mouth feels perfect. Much better than my hand." He pulled his shirt up, revealing his hard abs. You never took the time to look at him like that, your pussy clenched around your fingers in immediate response. "Been working out lately. You like guys who look like that right? They're in all the porn you watch so I thought if I looked like that... you might look my way too."

Your eyes met his dark brown, almost black ones, begging for this not to ruin your friendship. A little late for that, you already had his cock in your mouth, he was watching you fingering yourself, you already saw so much of each other. You took a deep breath, relaxed your throat and took his whole cock down your throat, showing no sign of stopping.

"Can I touch you?" He asked with a shaky voice and waited for you to hum in response. One hand grabbed the back of his chair, the other cupped your breast and rolled the soft mound in his big palm. Were his hands always so nice? "So soft. And your nipple, it's poking against my palm. Y-You're... you feel amazing baby. Can I call you baby?"

You moaned around his cock, your wrist started to hurt from movement. Just a bit more. "You can call me anything you want handsome."

He couldn't help the laughter, "I have some ideas. I never knew you had such a degradation kink." Oh fuck, he saw those too. Minhyeok, calling you a whore, a slut, a fuckdoll, a toy, a warm hole for cocks, you heard it in your head. You weren't even paying attention to the porn anymore, it didn't matter because he was making you orgasm right now, he was looking at you while you fucked yourself silly and sucked his cock hard, gagged on his cock. "Close your eyes, I'm gonna give your face a cumshot... you cumslut."

You came around your fingers just in time for him to pull out, letting your moans go uninterrupted as he jacked off over your face, painting it white with his cum. You opened your mouth wide and stuck your tongue out so he could use it to wipe the last of the cum off his tip.

Deep, tired breaths mixed together as the orgasms washed over you. Minhyeok's own legs were a little wobbly as he reached for the box of tissues next to his computer. He used one on himself and handed you the other.

"Thank you." You wiped his cum off first, "Sorry about your chair. I made it wet again." He gave you another wipe for your thighs but leaned in when you wanted to grab it. Staring you down he sucked your wet fingers in his mouth and playfully flicked your clit while you were distracted, "Minhyeok!"

"Hm? I didn't do anything baby." The term of endearment caused butterflies in your stomach. Fuck. This wasn't just... he was serious about you.

"If you meant what you said about making me look your way, could we go out sometime?" It was rare that you were the one who asked but he was obviously too much of a silent pining type.

"Sure! I mean yes! When you're free, I'd love to go out with you." He was so shy all of a sudden and you loved that it had nothing to do with his soft cock still hanging out for you to see. "And from now on you don't have to try and hide the porn you watch here." Well you were doing a bad job of it in the first place so that was a huge relief. You never guessed you be walking out no longer single after a masturbation session, bit weird things seem to happen to you all the time.

At least this one was good.

#what in hell is bad #what in hell is bad x reader #what in hell is bad x you #what in hell is bad smut #minhyeok #minhyeok x reader #minhyeok x you #minhyeok smut #what in hell is bad minhyeok #whb minhyeok #wihib #wihib x reader #wihib x you #wihib smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

To be alone with you 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, cheating, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your babysitting gig becomes complicated. (f!plus sized!reader)

Character: dilf!Clark Kent

Note: who predicted 2024 would be the year I converted to Cavill.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The blinds are drawn as you hug your pillow with one arm. Your body is stiff as you sleep with one leg hooked around your blankets, the bottom of one cheek exposed to the steady blow of AC. You shiver and roll onto your back, pulling the covers around you fully.

The night before is a vague shadow in your mind. You remember starting the movie but not much else. You’d been so tired after the break-in, you must’ve passed out almost immediately. You feel bad, hoping that Clark doesn’t take it to heart.

You push yourself up. Your head is thick and full with sleep. You haven't slept like this in forever. Your mouth is dry but tangy. You swallow the gritty morning and cough, turning to dangle your legs over the edge.

Your striped shorts are crooked and wrinkly and your tee shirt smells like sweat. Ugh. You're a mess.

You stand and lumber around clumsily. You grab a change of clothes and try to stretch out the kinks as you cross the hall to the bathroom. You close the door and put your clothes on the counter, facing your reflection.

You look rough. You feel just as bad. You turn on the cold water and splash it over your face before you brush your teeth, scraping out the stale taste stuck to your tongue. You turn on the shower and undress, wincing as your thighs meet.

You must be close to your time of the month. You get a bit sensitive. It would explain your fatigue and the soreness. Great.

You step into the glass booth and wash yourself. The warm water is soothing against your stiff muscles. God, you really hurt. You reach down to touch your folds, checking your fingers for blood.

PMS is a bitch. Not enough to bleed for a week, your body has to gaslight you into thinking you are already.

After, you pull on the fresh clothes but hardly feel more awake. Just sluggish and achy. Coffee. You don't live off it like your sister but you need it in that moment.

Thinking of, where is your sister? Not too unusual for her to he errant but it's been a few days.

As you come downstairs, you hear snoring rumbling through the first floor. You slow and tiptoe into the front room. You cautiously approach the couch and find Clark, arms crossed, sleeping on his side, cramped into the small space as he slumbers. The small throw stretched over his shoulders.

Your stomach pits. You're certain he'd much rather be at home in his own bed. Your guilt keeps you from disturbing him.

You creep into the kitchen, making your movement muted and staggered. You flip the switch on the kettle and wait as it hums. You load the french press with grinds and teeter on your toes, dancing nervously around the tile.

You pour the boiling water into the press and check the time on the stove. You give it time to brew and lean on the island, listlessly cupping your chin and tapping your cheek with your fingertips. As you blow out, you hear the floorboards and stand up to greet Clark as he enters.

His hair is askew, eyes droopy, and the blanket still draped around his neck. You didn't realise before he hadn't been wearing a shirt. His pajamas hang low on his stomach, the dark hair across his chest and trailing down his stomach exposed shamelessly. You gulp and focus on his face.

“Smells like coffee,” he grins crookedly, “morning.”

“Morning, uh, I hope I didn't wake you up,” you squeak.

“Not at all,” he waves you off, “you passed out so quick, I figured you'd be up and at em. Besides, Jonny’s an early riser.”

“Oh, okay,” you turn to press down the plunger on the press, “I'm sorry I zonked out so fast–”

There's less resistance than you expect and the coffee splashes up and overflows, splashing your hands as you recoil with a yipe. You try to shake it off but a particular spot on the back of your hand singes badly. Before you can think, Clark has your arm and angles you to the sink as he flips on the cold water.

He guides your hand under, crowding you as your arm shakes in pain. You hiss even as the water soothes.

“Oh, I'm so clumsy,” you murmur.

“As long as you're okay,” he slowly lets you go, “you let me take care of this.”

He swipes up the dish towel and sops up the errant drops of coffee. He dries off the outside of the press and patiently pushes down the plunger. You turn off the water and use a fresh towel on your hands.

He faces you, “blistering?”

You look at your hand, “just tender.”

“You're lucky I'm here,” he chortles, “scare away all the bad men and take care of your burns.”

“Ha, yeah, I–”

“Mm, something smells like cherry blossoms,” he interrupts, sniffing the air, his blue eyes narrowing on you, “is that you?”

“Um, yeah,” you catch a wafting scent from your body, “that's my body soap. Oh no, is it setting you off?”

“Not at all,” he smiles, “I was more worried about you.”

“Ah, no, it's fine. The soap doesn't trigger me surprisingly.”

“Hm,” he leans on the counter, gripping the edge as you notice how his stomach muscles clench, “I bought Lois some cherry blossom soap once. She never used it. Guess it isn't her scent.”

“Not for everyone I guess,” you turn and open a cupboard, taking down two mugs.

“Mm, yeah,” he agrees dully, “well, I should call your dad over my coffee,” he pushes himself straight and nears, stopping right beside you as you pour into the cups, “maybe after we can go get breakfast. My treat.”

“Oh, you don't have to–”

“I want to. Kinda weird not having Jonny around, looking fir a distraction,” he accepts a mug as you slide it over to him.

“Makes sense,” you say, “well, who am I to deny a free meal?”

🏡

After searching your coffee cup for an ounce of strength, you give in to the persistent glaze in your eyes. Maybe eating will help. Clark's offer is generous, almost too generous, yet your stomach clenches at the thought of food.

You grab your purse and head down to find Clark. He's in the kitchen, rinsing his mug, your own forgotten on your night stand. He dries it and puts it away as you wait for him to notice you.

“Did you talk to my dad?” You ask.

“Yeah, actually, couldn't get through. They must be on the road. Service gets spotty, right?” He hangs the dish towel neatly, “so you ready? I gotta stop by my place and change but then we can eat.”

“Sure, uh, well, you know, if it's too much…”

“Not at all, I'm excited. There's this place I've been meaning to try for a while but Lois hasn't felt like it,” he says, “tried calling her too. Think she's still mad at me.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Kent.”

“Clark,” he corrects you, “you make me feel so old.”

“Sorry,” you apologize again.

“It's fine,” he shrugs, “we should get going. I'm starving.”

“Not gonna lie, me too.”

“Must've been all the salty snacks last night,” he kids.

🏡

After you stop at the Kents', you set off for breakfast. The more you think about it the hungrier you are. You grow restless as you watch several options pass by, holding your tongue as Clark keeps driving.

You're surprised as he passes the city limits and you shift in your seat, craning to watch the sign pass. He clears his throat and turns down the radio, "almost there. Guess I shoulda mentioned it's all the way out here."

"Nah, it's fine," you shrug, "just curious."

"Really cute place, locally owned," he explains, "I prefer to give my money to an honest family business, you know?"

"Totally get it," you say coolly.

He taps his fingers on the wheel, as if he's restless or even agitated. He pulls into a gravel lot off the country road and you look up at the painted side. You passed this place with your parents a few times but never pulled over. It's a quaint brunch restaurant in a cottage-style house.

"Oh, this place," you chuckle.

"You been here?" He asks.

"No, but I've seen it."

"Right," he intones and clicks free his seat belt.

You free yourself of your own seat belt and climb out as he mirrors you. You let him take the lead and follow him to the front door. He holds it open and you enter ahead of him. You're greeted inside by an elderly lady.

"Good morning, may I show you to a table?" She offers.

You nod as Clark gives a vocal response over your head. She leads you to a table for two. You notice the place isn't very busy. There's an older man in the corner drinking coffee over a newspaper but no one else.

You sit as she introduces herself as Lena and promises menus. She shuffles away as you look at Clark who seems enamoured with the place. He admires the painting of flowers not far from your table and the lacy curtains around the front windows. It's cute but a bit outdated.

"There ya go, honies," she lays two menus on the table, her knobby hands shaking, "would you like coffee or tea?"

"Coffee, please, and..." he looks at you.

"Green tea, please."

"Coffee and green," she repeats, "lovely."

She hobbles away and you shift awkwardly in your seat. She must be the only waitress. In a place like this, you're not surprised. You just hope the food is decent, not that you can be picky.

"This place is nice," he muses, "peaceful."

"Yeah, it's interesting," you say as you pick up the menu.

"I'm glad you got some sleep," he takes his own menu and browses it lazily, "glad I could be there to keep an eye out. Protect you."

"Ah, well, yeah, I don't think they guy would come back anyway but it did help," you give a small smile and settle on eggs benedict.

"Great," he puffs out his chest just a little.

You peek up at him. It must be a good distraction for him. With Lois and Jonny gone, he needs something to keep him busy. You can humour him.

"Here ya go, sweets," Lena returns with a mug off coffee and a teacup on a saucer. She places both shakily and stands as straight as she can to ask if you've decided on what you want.

Clark lets you order first and you speak loudly and slowly to the woman as she cups her ear. She repeats it back to you before listening aptly to Clark. When she's done, she gives a soft clap and goes back behind the counter. She scribbles on a piece of paper and puts it in the window.

You glance over at the window, distracting yourself with the blowing grass. Somehow out here, you don't feel the same tickle in your sinuses. You sit back and cross your arms, watching the lazy blue sky.

"Oh, it's so romantic, a nice breakfast for two," Lena startles you as she appears again. She places a candlestick in the middle of the table then puts a wax taper in it. You can only stare and share look with Clark as she lights it, "you are so darling together. Is it a special occasion?"

"Uh," you bite your lip and look at Clark.

"Just breakfast," he answers as he throws his hands up, "spur of the moment, you know?"

"That's precious," she squeals, "you are such a beautiful pair."

"Thanks," Clark says and you just smile awkwardly.

She winks and leaves once more. You watch her cross the restaurant and sit with the old man and his newspaper. He lowers it as she whispers to him. You turn back and face Clark, leaning forward.

"I think she thinks we're together," you keep your voice quiet, "like a couple."

"Eh yeah, I didn't want it to be awkward," he shrugs, "no harm in it, really."

Your mouth slants as you consider his response. You guess he's right. What will it hurt? She's just a lonely old woman.

"What?" He tilts his head.

"Nothing," you answer.

"Really? I mean, I could correct her if it's a big deal--"

"It's not, really," you lean forward and cross your arms over the table, "just funny, I guess. Second time it's happened."

"It is?" He furrows his thick brows.

"Yeah, the ice cream guy..." you trail off, "whatever. Just... I'm kinda young but maybe don't look it."

"It's flattering, really," he insists, "people really think I could be with someone like you."

"Well, I mean, Lois is gorgeous," you laugh, "so..."

"Lucky man, surrounded by beautiful women," he grins.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you sit back awkwardly, not expecting the compliment. You're nothing like Lois, love handles excluded, you still couldn't compare. You're just the babysitter. “Thanks, that's… you don't have to say that.”

“Well, you are,” he rubs his neck bashfully.

“Ha, yeah, well…” you clasp your hands in your lap and look again out the window.

As you watch the horizon over the dusty road, your heart roils in the tension. There's something nipping at your mind, just on the edge of your memory but you just can't grasp it. Is he just being nice or is there something more behind his compliments?

Don't be silly, he doesn't see you like that. He couldn't.

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #babysitter au #superman #dc #dcu #to be alone with you

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sunflowersteves · 2 years

Text

isn't she pretty? || e.m. & s.h.

part two to this blurb; what if everyone was spending spring break at steve's holiday home and eddie and steve bond over how pretty you are.

this is for @indouloureux bc she gave me the idea for a part two and ily

warnings || fluff, smut, threesome, fem!reader, praise kink, oral sex, little degradation, mean!dom!eddie, shy!sub!steve, sub!reader, [18+ only], use of y/n once

“You wanna play with us, Stevie? I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

Eddie's low voice crackled beneath the pillows of his lips, and it sent shivers down your and Steve’s spine. He was smirking—cocky and devious—as his rough, calloused fingers pressed harder against your sensitive clit.

A strangled sound burst through Steve’s throat at your hips involuntarily bucking into Eddie’s hand. Steve can’t help but stare at your shimmering body and the shuddering breaths that escape your lips.

His eyes then fall over toward Eddie. His long, curly hair tickles his cheeks, and a smirk cascades fully against his lips. His thumb is circling your clit, which is slick and wet from the multiple orgasms that Eddie pulled from you.

Steve can see it, too, the white, thick cum leaking from your walls and down to your other hole. His cock hardens at the pure incredibly dirty sight.

It’s addicting. It’s erotic.

“Aw, Stevie, are you nervous?” Eddie feigns concern for the preppy brunette that takes a small step forward. Eddie seems almost calm, Steve observes. His hand lazily moves while you’re melting into a puddle.

Steve could only nod as his adam's apple bobs. Another sultry moan releases from you, which causes Steve to gaze at you once more.

Eddie chuckles and takes out his other hand in Steve’s direction. “Why don’t I show you, hmm?”

He swallows. Was he really about to do this? There’s a part of him that didn’t care—the tent that popped up from his sweatpants was evidence of it all, but there was another part that cared deeply.

You both were his friends; who were together. Sure, Steve has thought about you and Eddie. He has thought about holding your hands—linked together as one. He has thought about taking you while Eddie takes him or maybe the two of them taking you. He has thought it all.

Before Steve could really decide, Eddie’s patience wavers. “C’mon, Harrington. I told her she couldn’t cum unless you helped her.”

The plea for Steve that left your lips made his head feel dizzy. Never in a million years did he think he would be this lucky.

He ever so slowly gets on the bed where you’re spread out for the two men in front of you. Eddie moves his hand from your core—prompting much begging and whining from you. Eddie’s lips fold into a frown, though.

He harshly slaps your clit, and the sudden harsh pleasure makes you yelp. “Fucking greedy, aren’t you, sweetheart? Now, sit still.” He pries open your legs as wide as he could. “Now.”

Your elicit whimpers halted to a stop. If you made one movement or one sound, Eddie wouldn't let you cum. “Go ahead, Stevie, give her a taste.”

Steve follows his orders and leans down to your sopping cunt. He breathes in for a moment—relishing in the musk smell of your mixed ecstasies. He flicks his tongue from his lips and draws right on top of your clit.

He hums from the taste, tangy and metallic that erupts through his taste buds. Your head leans back on the silky pillows, gasping for air.

“Steve!”

“How’s she taste, big boy?” Eddie doesn’t expect a response, though, not when Steve starts to lap up and down your folds. He sucks harshly on your clit again, and Eddie has to move over to hold your thighs down. “Stay fucking still.”

Oh, how you try, but it’s hard. It’s so difficult when Steve’s foreign tongue reaches into your folds, and his lips kiss your mound. You mewl into him, hands finding his fluffy hair.

“Oh, she likes that, Harrington. Look at her.” His eyes flicker up to look at you—fucked out hazy eyes and whimpers leaving your lips. Fuck. You looked ethereal, coming undone with him and Eddie by your side.

“You wanna ruin her, Stevie? Want her to cum on your mouth?” He nods over at Eddie—never wanting to stop. He’s drunk, completely pussy drunk, and he’s not sure he can stop.

A part of him reminds him that you’re Eddie’s, but by the look of Eddie’s puffy tip and strangled moan as he wraps his hand around his own cock—his hands holding your thighs in place were long gone—he’s not too sure anymore.

Maybe you were both theirs.

Steve’s hips bucked into the mattress from the mere thought.

“Eddie, please, I-I need—” Steve grips your thighs, hands splayed across your soft skin.

He smirks, his hand moving slowly up and down his shaft. “Need what, sweetheart?”

You don’t speak. You can’t. Not when Steve rapidly flicks his tongue against your clit, and the rippled sensation of his moans creates friction.

“P-Please, Eddie—”

He almost chuckled. “Nuh-uh, baby, you need to ask. You know the rules.”

He grips his cock harder as Steve’s hips buck into the mattress again. The pretty boy was just as desperate as you were. It was heaven.

“I need to cum! I need to cum, Eddie. P-Please, let me cum.” Your eyes followed his every movement in hopes that even with a flick of his wrist, he would let you. However, nothing follows. He sits there with his hand on his cock and a smirk.

That goddamn delicious smirk.

“Oh, am I too mean, pretty baby? Okay, okay, you can cum. Cum all over Steve’s mouth.”

Steve grips your thighs in anticipation, and you let go. The tight coil explodes almost immediately from the word, ‘cum,’ and you gush over Steve’s face. Your hands grip his hair, and you scream the names of the two men in front of you—over and over again. Like a prayer.

“That’s my good girl, f-fuck, yes, did so good for us–”

Us.

Not just for Eddie, but for Steve too.

"Did so fuckin' well for me. Both of you."

Eddie yanked Steve by his hair off of your now very sensitive core and kissed Steve so passionately that his brain turned to fuzz. He let go, prompting a whimper from both you and Steve.

“You are going to sit on my face,” Eddie turns toward Steve, trailing a hand down his yellow sweater, “And you are going to suck on my cock, got it?”

“Yes, Eddie.” Steve barely says above a whisper, but you both still catch it. You let out a shaky breath, thighs pressing together.

“Well? What are you both waiting for, hmm?”

“Are they all still going at it?”

Robin crans her neck closer toward the stairs. “Yup. It’s been like,” she looks down at her watch, "four hours.”

After Robin and Nancy got back from their walk, they expected a blushing Steve to sit straight on the couch and act like you and Eddie having sex did nothing for him. To Nancy and Robin’s surprise, he was nowhere to be found downstairs.

Nancy shrugs, “At least they’ve finally all admitted they like each other.”

Robin snorts, “thank god. I was getting so tired of Steve’s endless rants about how pretty Eddie and y/n are.”

Nancy looked at the lone non-touched water bottles that sat on the coffee table. She turns to Robin, “Should we?”

Their eyes flicker toward one another, and Robin sighs, “Probably. I doubt they’ve had a break. They all have way too many pent-up feelings.”

They grab three water bottles and trudge up the stairs. “Steve! Eddie! Cover your asses! Nance and I are bringing you guys some water!”

~~~

I don't normally do tags but since a lot of people loved the blurb, i decided to go ahead and tag those who wanted it :)

@theamericanjewitch @mlktea13 @eddiessweetheart86 @littleashleylynn @urfatherspp @ourautumn86 @only4wakingup @mayahawkewife @queenofthehellfireclub @stuckys-babydoll @eddiemunsonwhore67 @imjinxx @strangerthings1983fan @thefreakofhawkins86 @hellv1ra

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dioriya · 12 days

Text

home, bakugou katsuki.

1.01k. fluff. sappy feelings and speaking through actions. pro-hero!katsuki. did i mention sappy feelings? this little guy is so important to me.

it’s warm at this time of night, the cool breeze through the open window providing just enough chill as to not be too overbearing. the curtains sway to and fro in its graceful dance with the wind. it’s light and curious, almost toying and catlike, and it’s entrancing.

the earth is still. no noise but the wind and its newfound partner, quiet sounds blending into the background. the coffee’s gone a tad bit lukewarm, and your phone lights up momentarily before slowly fading out.

you feel his presence before you see him.

katsuki bakugou is a plethora of surprises you’re still trying to figure out. gone is the boy who pulled pigtails and spoke with his fists — although a select few would disagree with this statement — and in his place, is acceptance. a gathering of discovering who he once was and emerging as something to be proud of. he’s still boyish grins and declarations of war and promised destruction to his path towards the glittering promise of success and fame that comes with japan’s number one are all still there, but there’s no denying the maturity steadily growing at the seams. unbridled anger has been confronted and recognized at last instead of being pushed to the side to fester at an alarming rate, his past catching up far too quickly than he would have time to prepare for, and it cost him.

it cost him a lot. far more than he would have realized. he doesn’t regret it though, and you’re proud of him.

a familiar warmth signals his arrival. heat spreads through your bones, unrelenting, and you lean into that feeling instinctively. a faint whiff of something sweet and a bit tangy fills the air, settling in with the heat, breathing in deeply the aroma of assured comfort and safety. exhaling slowly, you hum content, a soft sigh emitting past your lips as you set your mug down. the coffee’s no good now that it’s gone cold, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to make another.

fingertips graze over your skin and leave goosebumps in their wake, the pads of his fingers trailing over the sliver of skin between your sweats and t-shirt before his arms come to rest around your waist, your back hitting his chest with the faintest rustle of clothing. his warmth becomes shared warmth, and your body naturally curves into his hold like two puzzle pieces finally slotted together to paint the portrait of unbothered tranquility.

his chin hooks over your shoulder and he gently noses into your neck. hello, he says, thumbs skimming over soft cotton made material and rubbing circles into your hips.

missed you, you reply, eyes closed, your hands moving to overlap his. three squeezes in an unspoken form of i love you that doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond, who hums and squeezes your sides in return.

it’s moments like this that you cherish the most with him. where pagers are silenced for a suspended minute in time. where the world is dimmed for a brief second, motionless in its repose, and didn’t need a hero. didn’t need him. here, the word was blissfully narrowed down to comfort in his arms and silent shows of gratitude, and it meant more to you than anything else.

“you smell good,” he mumbles into your shoulder. you feel the faintest bits of a smile against skin when your quiet laugh fills the air, squeezing you once more. “stop laughing.”

“you’re tired,” you offer instead, and he grows quiet, slowly picking your words apart. it’s an old habit of his, not one of your favorites much less, but you allow him to peer between the lines and search for any double meanings. it’s routine, no matter how many times you reassure him you don’t mean any harm, but it’s more for him for you, anyway. who were you to judge? “you came home later than usual.”

you worry for him, and he still has a hard time letting someone other than himself care for himself. it still prickles at his skin, makes him feel scrutinized. the feeling of being held under a lens returns, but he immediately squashes it out. they care, so you’re okay. it’s okay.

“patrol’s kickin’ my ass,” he sighs out after a moment, and the admission is a whole other feeling he has to process. opening up took ages, but somehow, you had the patience and.. understood that things like these were hard. and he couldn’t be more grateful. “..missed you, though.”

he sees your smile without even looking up. maybe powering through weird emotions was worth it if he got to see it over and over again.

“you’re a sap.”

“you’re hallucinating,” is his quick rebuttal, and he feels your smile grow even wider, and a foreign tug pulls at his heartstrings.

comfortable silence falls between the two of you once more. you can see the sun beginning to sink below the horizon through your little window to the outdoors. the faint smell of coffee lingers in the air. the trees stand sturdy and trustworthy as their branches sway freely to a tune only they can hear, and it strikes a weirdly familiar feeling, almost like déjà vu.

katsuki stirs slightly, so you wait. moments pass, and then:

“you feel like home.”

his few words are muffled into skin, but it’s clear enough to be heard in its sincerity. the thought alone is near tear inducing, and he pinches your sides gently to bring you back.

“lost you there,” he starts. nonchalance hangs heavy in his tone, but you know he’s waiting for a response. and so:

“you were already home.” it’s spoken just as soft and you wonder if you had even said anything at all, but he knows. he knows you, just like you know him. words have never been a strong suit for either of you, but it’s there. the connection exceeds the confines of words that can only speak on your behalf for so long.

you were already home, you’d said. and he knew you meant it, too.

#if you think you’ve seen this before-you probably have haha #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha fic #bnha fluff #bakugou fic #bakugou fluff #boku no hero academia #bnha #bakugou katsuki

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swordcreature · 5 months

Note

okay so that last last post you made said Dammon had a scent kink, but what about Rolan and Zevlor?

mmmmmmmm listen okay i enjoyed this too much honestly but i feel like i could literally write an entire fic centered around Dammon the panty stealer okay. idk why it just calls to me. so thank you hehe

Dammon, Rolan, & Zevlor - Scent Kink

very NSFW, adult themes, etc etc. MDNI/18+

Tiefling boys and getting off to Tav's scent

Dammon:

I’ve made my feelings on this known before, but the man is dirty! I honestly feel like the smutty book he has in his room is one of the tamer ones he owns, somehow. And then he literally smells the malfunctioning components of Karlach’s heart, so we know he has a good nose. Put them together and the scent kink just makes sense!

He's not just interested in the pretty scents either– how they smell like flowers right after a wash or how their hair always seems to bring with it the scent of a campfire. No, it’s all of them.

The way they smell after sex: the salty, earthiness of their sweat as it mixes with the floral perfume of their soap.

How they come into the forge with a tangy musk after having ran around all day in their warm armor.

Even the bitter metallic odor that permeates their clothes after trying to wash all the blood out.

It never fails to stir something in him deep down, like a primal instinct to lay them bare and take them like a wild animal.

His favorite scent though? Their arousal.

Maybe it’s because he’s a tiefling with a superior sense of smell, but the way they smell when they get heated, wetness pulling in their smallclothes. It raises the hairs on his neck with pure want.

Dammon isn’t proud of it, but when Tav isn’t around he’ll steal a pair of their underthings that haven’t made it to the wash yet (only if they’re in a relationship of some sort, okay he’s not an animal) so that he can really enjoy himself. The smell alone makes him so hard he can feel the wet spot forming in his own pants.

He’ll touch himself right then and there with nothing but Tav’s scent in his nose and his hand around his cock. And it’s the hardest orgasm he’s ever been able to give himself.

But Tav always ends up wondering where their underwear went? They know they had more when they moved in with Dammon!

Rolan:

Rolan will never, ever admit he enjoys a good filthy sniff or two. Even to himself. Nope, he’s not some ‘degenerate’, thank you.

And to be fair he isn’t as down bad as Dammon. I think out of the three, he’s the least likely to have a true scent kink.

He can be a little pretentious at times, and definitely doesn’t like what he considers to be bad odors. Things like potent, musky sweat just aren’t his cup of tea to be honest.

He’ll enjoy the smell of Tav’s clothes because it reminds him of home for some reason, and he always ends up feeling at ease when the minty smell of their breath washes over him.

But he’s a total sucker for the smell of sex.

The way the room smells head and organic after they’ve just fucked over his desk.

Or the smell of their sheets as their cum and arousal and sweat all mix together.

Makes him ready for another round almost immediately.

When he’s alone and touching himself, he’ll sometimes stop to smell the sheets just to try and catch a whiff of the last time they had sex. I’m talking on all fours, nose pressed into the bed, hand around himself desperately.

Nothing ever makes him throb as hard as when he goes down on Tav, their slick on his hands and chin and lips. When he’s absolutely positive that Tav is too far gone to notice, he’ll sit and take in the sweet musk of their wetness, it makes his mouth water like the bouquet of a fine wine.

Tav jokes that Rolan gets a renewed vigor for oral after they cum the first time, but they never know why that is.

Zevlor:

Alright Zevlor fuckers this may be controversial. But. Zevlor is BIG into sweat. I just know it. He has to have some dirty secrets up his sleeves somewhere!

Like, you know the way someone smells after a long day in the sun outside? Kind of like dirt and warmth and just a tinge of bitterness?

That shit drives him mad. Feral.

I don’t even think he realizes it for a while. He just thinks he’s particularly pent up on those days and that’s why he’s taking Tav into the bedroom at his first chance, or furiously tugging himself off after they get home.

But one day they’re both in bed, sweating and breathless and sore. Zevlor leans in to kiss them and instinctively takes a whiff of them. And it’s almost a bad smell but not quite, it’s uniquely Tav. It makes him groan out loud.

It’s very clear to him after that.

He’s like Dammon: a clothes thief. But his go to is shirts, especially after an intense day of training or after an incredibly hot day.

He will never, ever let Tav see this though. It’s too ungentlemanly and he would actually rather combust into flames than let them in on this little quirk of his.

That still doesn’t stop him from using their shirt to get himself off on days when they’re out of the city or when he’s sure he won’t be interrupted.

#bg3 #bg3 smut #bg3 dammon #bg3 rolan #bg3 zevlor #rolan #dammon #zevlor #dammon x tav #rolan x tav #zevlor x tav #baldur's gate 3 #requests/suggestions #lemonandhoneytea #my writing

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mandos-mind-trick · 10 months

Text

Eyes On Me

Summary: You wouldn't care if they heard. You wouldn't care if they saw. They already know you're in Tech's bunk.

Pairing: Tech x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, p in v sex, fingering, slightly rough sex, clothed male unclothed female, glove kink, exhibitionism, slight pain kink, armor kink, this is absolute filth I am so sorry.

A/N: *Sweats* Uh, did I intend on making most of these about the Batch...not really. I just can't help it. I have no excuse for this one. Please forgive me.

MASTERLIST

The barracks are quiet, aside from the pounding of the rain against the window and the occasional rumble of snoring from Wrecker’s bunk. They’re all tired after a hard series of missions, back on Kamino for a short stay before they ship out again.

You only feel slightly guilty about what you’re doing, only that it might disturb them in their much needed rest. You stare up into those brown eyes above you, his gaze sharp and focused. One arm is looped behind you, hand covering your mouth to keep you quiet. His gloved fingers pinch into your cheeks as he muffles your moans, trying not to wake the others.

You wouldn’t care if they heard.

You wouldn’t care if they saw.

The kinds of things that made your pussy clench would make even Crosshair blush.

You, their sweet little medic, laying in Tech’s bunk with his gloved fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. His movements are slow and deliberate, fingers curled into that spot inside you. His armor presses into your side, digging into the dips and curves but you don’t care.

Tech had been the obvious choice for you, his quiet but commanding demeanor was alluring, and you work with him often. He’s eager to learn, and you posed your desires as a learning opportunity. A chance to gain knowledge in an area he had little experience in.

They were all rather looked over when it came to that area, mostly because they didn’t get chances for shore leave often. You were the first woman they had close contact with, which led to some interesting situations in the beginning. None of them had ever approached you with an offer, and you could guess they wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t approached Tech.

You know the others listen sometimes.

You love it.

Tech doesn’t seem to care either, his fingers stilling as he removes his hand from your mouth to tug your breastband up. He covers your mouth again, thrusting his fingers into you faster. You whine against his hand, suddenly aware of how silent the barracks have gotten. Even the rain seemed to stop, making the wet squelch of your pussy all the more noticeable. The lube he’d coated his glove in only made it louder.

Your eyes roll back as he drags the rough fabric covering his palm across your clit, your legs clamping closed as you cum around his fingers. He eases you through your orgasm, your breaths coming in pants from behind his hand. He stills his fingers inside you, holding them there. You continue to flutter around him, squeezing his fingers.

He finally draws them from your aching pussy, the black fabric sticky and coated in your cum. He shifts over you, moving his hand from your mouth. He presses two fingers against your lips and you take them in your mouth. He tastes like metal and plastoid, tangy and bitter on your tongue. You whimper around his fingers as he removes his codpiece with one easy movement, shoving it in the corner of the bunk.

You part your legs further as he opens his blacks, pulling out his cock. He’s hard already, his hand jerking the thick length. Your mouth waters around his fingers, drool slipping out of the corners of your mouth and running down your cheeks. He watches it for a moment before lining himself up.

You moan around his fingers as he presses into you, your pussy already raw and aching from his fingers. The stretch is almost too much, your whimpers loud in the quiet barracks. His fingers press against your tongue, cutting off all noise for a moment. You swallow around his fingers, breaths coming in gasps as he fills you.

The barracks are very quiet. They’re awake. They have to be. There’s no way they could sleep through this, even with Wrecker’s snoring. The thought makes you clench around Tech, his eyes snapping up to your face. He gives you a look, your body relaxing around him, allowing him to press in further.

You’re entirely exposed, the blanket pushed off to the side. Your breastband is up around your armpits, leaving your tits exposed to the cold air in the barracks, and to whomever just happened to look over.

Tech knows this too.

He angles his body just enough if they wanted to see, they could. His hips press flush with yours, his belt pressing into your stomach. His tools bite the inside of your thighs as they press against his sides. He starts to move, dragging his length along your walls. You moan around his fingers, hand sliding to grip the wrist of the hand that’s pressing into the mattress beside you.

His gaze is angled down, recording the way his length slides in and out of your wet pussy. For research, he’d claim. It’s definitely for him to watch later, when it’s harder for you two to get alone time.

“Let her go.”

The voice makes you jump, not expecting it. It’s rough and low, breathy and slightly muffled from the wall between the two bunks. Hunter. He can’t see what you’re doing, but no doubt he’s been able to hear the entire time.

Tech slips his hand from your face, drawing his fingers from your mouth. He snaps his hips into yours, a high pitched whine leaving your lips. It’s downright sinful sounding, putting those girls in those holofilms popular among the clones to shame. You continue to moan loudly as Tech snaps his hips into yours, the sound of your pussy rivaling the sounds coming out of your mouth.

You’re going to cum again and soon.

You hear quiet groans, the sounds of bodies shuffling in bunks. You go to turn your head but Tech grips your jaw, keeping your head still.

“Eyes on me.” He says slowly, his voice low from pleasure.

You want to see. You want to see them, hands in their blacks, watching you get fucked by their squadmate. You keep your eyes glued to Tech’s behind his goggles, arms falling open to give them the best view of your bouncing tits.

Your moans get louder, and for a moment you’re worried anyone walking by might be able to hear. It would be one hell of a reprimanding if you were caught in this position, and you’d likely get reassigned. The guys wouldn’t get much more than a stern talking to. They were too valuable to the Republic to risk decommissioning.

Perhaps that’s what made them so bold.

“Kriff, kriff, kriff!” You curse, crying out Tech’s name as you cum, writhing beneath him. He stills his hips, letting you ride out your orgasm around him. You can hear echoing groans from the others, desperate to turn and look but you know Tech won’t let you. He’ll force your gaze on him and only him. You also know he’s not done.

He’s far from finished with you.

Taglist:

@kaminocasey, @rosechi, @mxkyrie, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka, @rain-on-kamino

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #bad batch tech x reader #x reader #the dark side fic

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daydream-cement · 9 months

Text

Watching (NSFW)

Larissa Weems x Reader

Larissa pleasures herself while you silently watch.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone for the birthday wishes! I love you all so dearly. This community means so much to me. A little smut for you all. Muah Muah.

The sounds of small huffs and moans emanated from Larissa’s office. You weren’t familiar with the sweet sounds, but you were sure they sounded as if someone were pleasuring themself.

“Shit- Ah-ah… Fuck… Ugh- Sh- I- Ahhh…”

The moans from the office sounded so pathetic. They were the cries of a woman so close to orgasm, but the final tipping point alluded her. If you weren’t mistaken, it sounded almost as if an animal in heat was caged inside the office from the nature of the grunts and growls.

Grasping the doorknob, you slowly turned the handle and pushed against the wood ever-so-gently, not wanting to disturb the scene unraveling within. It felt so wrong, but your deepest urges compelled you to peek inside. Your breath caught when opening the door revealed Larissa with her back facing you, clad in only a bra and desperately rutting against a pillow in front of the fireplace. She sat up straight with her face tilted towards the ceiling, her back arching when she guided her hips to hit just the right spot.

Your name tumbled from her lips, broken and strangled by her pathetic moans. Her hands clutched the pillow; you could see her knuckles turning white from the unrelenting grip. The pacing of her beautiful hips rocking against the pillow demonstrated just how badly she needed this orgasm, just how badly she needed you.

While you felt compelled to intervene to help her finish herself, it was far too delicious of a sight to watch her rut like a wild animal to interrupt.

“Sh- I- I- Ohmygod… Fuck! Ughh.. Uh… Ah- Ah- AH!” Her body doubled over when she started hitting just the right spot, her torso revealing the soft folds of her stomach and her thighs offering a slight jiggle that was so pleasing to the eye. Her hands flew to brace herself against the plush carpeting, fingers clawing into the rug as she tried to ground herself.

It made you hunger for a taste. How you wished to leave love bites across her body. How you wished to take the pillow’s place and have her rut against your tongue.

Your mouth went dry when her desperation led her to collapse face forward onto the bed and shove her hands between her legs. Much to your dismay, the rug muffled much of her cries, but you were soon rewarded with the sight of her long fingers dancing around her clit.

The fireplace illuminated her body in the most incredible way, the firelight licking across her body in such a way to make you jealous. Only if it was your tongue dancing its way over her skin like that. Your eyes flickered about Larissa’s ass. It should be covered in all shades of love bites. Someone should be worshiping her body like the divine altar it was.

Next your eyes fell to her dripping sex. The sheen of her juices coated her fingers and her pussy lips were spread revealing the most beautiful cunt you had ever laid eyes on. The bit of thigh nearest to her pussy was also glistening with her desire, evidence that she had been working hard for this orgasm.

You could see the soaked spot on the pillow. God, you wanted a taste. What you would give to bury your face in that pillow and touch yourself until your own climax. With a firm grip on the doorknob to support yourself, you pushed a hand beneath the waistband of your pants and underwear to relieve yourself of the throbbing between your legs. You imagined taking the place of her fingers, pushing your tongue through the folds of her cunt and gathering her tangy cum on your tongue.

Her fingers rubbed wildly against her clit, creating a slick sound when her fingers ran across the juices flowing from her hole. She turned her head, pressing her cheek deep into the rug and revealing her moans to the office once more. Your name fell off her tongue once more, only now her voice was a higher pitch. Never had you heard your name sound so wonderful.

With a forceful and swift movement, Larissa plunged two fingers into her cunt, fucking herself relentlessly. Her voice became aggressive and gravely. “Fuck me. Oh, fuck me… Fuck me, Y/n! Fuck me!”

Her pussy ran like a waterfall, her juices coating her fingers to the knuckle and dripped onto her palm. Larissa was desperate for you, picturing your face and fingers ravishing her cunt with a ferocity that made her dizzy. The wet noise of her sweet cunt made you even more desperate (if that were even possible) for a taste. Why couldn’t you be the one pleasuring her?

Larissa continued pounding herself, the force and pace increasing to the point in which you could hear the slap of her hand against her pussy and the squelch of cum lubing the way for her fingers. This was perverse. You shouldn’t be watching any of this, but the mesmerizing sight and sound of your name on her tongue kept your feet in place and your hand working feverishly against your clit.

She sounded close as her voice increased in pitch. You weren’t privy to the feeling of her cunt clenching around her fingers or the way cum gushed onto her palm, but dear god you wished you were.

When Larissa came, she turned her face into the carpeting and let out a long strangled groan. Her body remained still for a few moments, fire still illuminating her skin that now glistened with sweat. Larissa’s shoulders relaxed into the rug, driving her hips higher into the air. Her thighs trembled and she released a breathy whimper as she pulled her fingers from her cunt.

The shapeshifter’s entire hand seemed to be glistening and the pads of her fingers were pruney from being in her drippy cunt for so long. Your mouth gaped when she pulled her soaked fingers to her mouth, her tongue darting from her ruby lips to lick herself clean.

From her filthy way of cleaning herself up to the position she remained in with her ass held high and pretty cunt on display, you quickly pushed yourself over the edge. You swallowed your moan by holding your breath as your thighs clenched around your hand.

With your mind cleared after your orgasm, you quickly realized you would soon be caught if you didn’t leave the doorway of her office immediately. You pulled the door shut and closed it gingerly, holding down on the handle so Larissa wouldn’t be able to hear the click of the door. From there you quickly dashed away from her office, knowing you would return to your rooms to relieve yourself once more, only this time in bed, fully undressed with a vibrator pushed against your clit.

Eventually Larissa pushed herself up off the floor, and cleaned herself up. She redressed and fixed her makeup in the little bathroom attached to her office. It wasn’t until after she tidied her office and collected her belongings that she noticed her office door had been unlocked the entire time.

Good thing no one walked in on me, Larissa thought to herself as she walked from her office, locking the door behind herself.

On her way to her private quarters, the shapeshifter heard the familiar ping of her phone, absentmindedly smiling to herself when she saw it was a text message from you:

Dinner tomorrow night? My place?

Link to Part 2

Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @weemswife, @smutuniversesblog, @opheliauniverse, @teashock, @enchantressb, @alex-nyx, @renravens, @whenyouhaveanobsession, @scream-queenlover, @shyladyfan, @lilfartbox1, @rubberduckiesbathing, @mcufanisme, @peanutbutterprincess, @larissaoftarthweems, @sicklygrlsicklygrl, @lvinhs, @myzzjolanda, @principal-weems09, @xuukoo, @brienneswife, @dumbasslesbi, @oculusalien, @sweetderacine, @giogwensversion, @milciak, @gela123, @thevillagegay, @katiemcgrathsbitch1, @naomi-m3ndez, @mysaviorfalsegod, @h-doodles, @salems-spaghettios, @imgayforwoman69, @bychrissi, @alexusonfire, @weemssapphic

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems smut #principal weems #principal larissa weems #nevermore academy #wednesday netflix #fanfic #oneshot #gwendoline christie #smut #principal weems x reader #gwen christie

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bigassmoonchild · 4 months

Text

Happy

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Simon finally comes home, and he meets his two little angels. You’re finally happy, and things seem perfect. A little too perfect.

Content Tags: Comfort, Twins (name reveal), Death, Canonical death, SPOILERS FOR MW3, Family Moments, Good Father Simon, Simon Finally Realizes How to Deal With His Emotions, Mentions of Pumping, More Original Characters (no name mentioned), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, Omega! Reader, No Use of Y/N

A/N: This is the end. Maple Syrup is done, it has been finished. Feel free to keep sending asks about Doc and Simon! I am more than happy to keep answering prompts about their life together and their family <3. It is insane. I am so proud of how far this has come, and I am so happy that you all have enjoyed it. Don’t worry, I have another fic lined up!!

Part 1 | Previous | Headcannons, Masterlist

Price isn’t entirely sure the last time he could smell something like this on Simon. He isn’t entirely sure if he’s ever smelled him like this. Not in the however long he’s known the Lieutenant. There’s words that he should find, something to get his other alpha, his Lieutenant, to feel better, yet there’s nothing. No matter how much he wants to say something, the words are lost to Price.

He knows the feeling coursing through Simon. Price himself missed his middle pups birth, and yet this all feels different.t He isn’t even sure there are words to convey what he wants to say, if he could just transmit the feeling he needs to he would. But he can’t do that, that just isn’t a thing that’s possible. Maybe in the far, far future but right now? All he needs to find are the words to help make his other Alpha hurt just a little less.

The tangy scent that fills the air of the heli almost burns his nose. It’s not something he’s ever smelled before, not on Simon. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley didn’t smell hurt, or sad. Hell, he never even really smelled anguished even when he probably should have. Price knows the pup- the pups- are here, and he knows Simon should be feeling a sense of joy. Excitement, even. But there’s nothing. No joy, no happiness, just fear and a tang of pain.

While Price knows the feeling- he missed his own middle pups birth- he can’t find the words to express to Simon that it’ll all turn out okay. That everything will be figured out, that you won’t just abandon him. Simon isn’t a bad Alpha, he might be rough around the edges but he truly does mean well. Maybe his words were a little harsh, maybe his tone wasn’t always what he wanted to convey, but Simon never meant real harm to those on his side.

The sounds of shrieking, wails and snarls coming from the other end of the phone almost haunted Price. He’d never heard his own Omega, the perfect parent to their pups, scream in such a way. Maybe it was just because it hurt, maybe because you had to push two pups out of you, but maybe it was because it was so unexpected. His omega had gone to a few classes to prepare for it all.

Christ. You’d had two pups, and Simon wasn’t there to help at all. Your own pack, the one you were born in, wasn’t even there to help you with this moment. Price knew that there was very little anyone could do to fix this, but by all the gods who knew of the green Earth he wanted to find a way.

While your relationship with Simon had definitely been through worse, he knew that it was torment. Price had been given the opportunity to slowly court his own omega, make them fall in love with him each time that they were together. He knew what it took to get an omega, at least his own, to fall in love. But neither of you were given that chance. You were just some Doctor that had been assigned to their base, just a Doctor who was sent out by your own leaders and Captains to figure out what was happening.

You were just a Doctor, tossed into a world of hurt all because of Simon. And Simon wasn’t sure if he could forgive himself for any of it. You were alone, to care for two newly born pups, all alone to give birth to them. He’d heard you snarl at one of the doctors who had come in. Just Price’s Omega was allowed in, they were the only person who was allowed near you.

Simon shouldn’t have just ran off to the mission without at least having gone and seen you first. Maybe then, just maybe, he would have had the balls to stay behind and try and fix his mistakes. Maybe then, you wouldn’t have been left alone to birth your children. God, he felt so fucking stupid. He’d missed the birth of his pups.

Maybe, hopefully, you’d forgive him. You had before, so hopefully this wouldn’t be that much different. He had to stop doing this, stop making these situations occur where he hurt you so much and had to hope to whatever god would listen that you would accept him back into your arms. He could see Price, Gaz and Soap glancing at him every now and again. Soaps nose was scrunched up, his eyes slightly narrowed while looking at him.

“You alright, L.T.?” Soap asked in the silent helo. The tension was so strong Simon thought he could cut it in half. His eyes slowly moved from staring out of the window to looking right at him. Soaps eyes didn’t move, matching his stare.

Swallowing thickly, Simon broke eye contact. “Worried, s’all,” he responded, voice slightly hoarse. A hum came from Soap, and he watched him turn to look back away where he’d been prior to it. No one else spoke for the remainder of the flight back, and Simon found himself glancing back out the window he was near and watching the ground pass by quickly.

Sometimes he wondered what other people were up to, how simple their lives might be. How they might be having a nice dinner with their pack, watching as their pups grow up with ease. He felt a pang deep in his chest, and he almost felt his eyes burn for a moment. He craved such normalcy. He wanted to curl up in your nest next to you, hold you close as you slept against him.

Take care of his pups and help you out after the birth. He barely noticed the helo land and was half conscious as he walked into the compound. People were glancing at him, their eyes following him as he walked. Simon barely noticed, though, and he felt as though he had tunnel vision on his walk to your shared room.

From a few halls down, he could smell something. It was sweet, mixed in with your own scent. Milky, almost, and slightly powdery. He swallowed thickly, as just another hall down he could hear shuffling coming from your shared room. Christ, when had his hearing become so sensitive? He heard you humming faintly, some cooing and whining from two other sources.

And he opened the door, sliding the key out of the lock as he walked in. Your eyes found him, widening just a little and the faintest scent of fear coursed through your scent. Two wails suddenly screeched through the room, your eyes darting back to the closet nest and you moved without hesitation. He heard little purrs and coos coming from you, the wails slowly dying down into soft whimpers.

His heart shatters into pieces. He feels a pain he hadn’t thought possible, the thoughts whirling through his head. His pups don’t know him, they hate him and he can’t be here. Simons muscles are tensed, ready to make a run for it. He can almost feel tears pooling in his eyes, his throat closing up as a small whine comes from deep within him.

There’s nothing he can do. Absolutely nothing. He wasn’t here when they came into this Earth, he wouldn’t be here when they left. And he hated himself so deeply. But the purrs that you gave, little coos bringing him from his thoughts. His head almost cleared, listening to you whisper soothing words to the little things. God, they’d be tiny. They had to only be a few days or weeks old at this point, but everything felt like it had ground to a halt when he’d heard you were in labor.

And he shouldn’t he absolutely should leave until he can talk to you alone but he can’t. He can’t run away again when things get difficult, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you. He had to make things right, but he wasn’t sure how.

Simon didn’t feel like he could move. He slid his boots off, sliding them in their spot in the corner. He moved slowly, cautiously as he inched closer to the closet. He was barely peeking around the corner when you spun and growled at him. Growled. Deeply, from so far in your chest he hadn’t thought an Omega could make that noise.

Your eyes had shifted from being you, shifting into a deeper and more primal look. They softened, slowly, as your snarl faded carefully. You had remained crouched next to the two pups, your hands still gently laid on each of them.

When you growled, you could smell fear coming from Simon. You aren’t entirely sure if that’s what pulled you out of this weird and deeply defensive spot. The father of your pups, your Alpha was standing above you and looking down at you with wide eyes. You watched as he carefully slid the balaclava off, his eyes dropping down to take a look at your pups. You shifted a little, no longer crouching down in front of them.

His eyes became softer, his brows no longer furrowed so deep into his eyes that he almost looked awed. You knew they had his eyes, although a little lighter because of how young they were. They looked so similar, although your little Lily had more of your features than her fathers. Finley, on the other hand, had his stronger features but he had your hair. Maybe he had your nose, but you were partial to your pups.

You said nothing as you handed one of them to their father. Lily shifted, her nose scrunching up as she inhaled his scent up close but it slowly disappeared as she became comfortable. Her little hand grabbed at his shirt, and one of his hands moved to stroke against her hair. He held her closer to him, and you could see his nose twitch a little as he inhaled her scent.

“I want to retire,” he whispered, not looking away from the little pup in your arms. You could feel your heart stop, your eyes almost welling with tears as the realization slowly sunk in. Your pups would have their father, and you would have your alpha.

“Do you know their names?” You whispered softly, watching as he looked up at you. He shook his head and you gave him a weak smile. You still hurt, not just physically, but emotionally. He had abandoned you. And yet he was here now, holding Lily in his arm and his eyes felt so gentle while he looked at you. “You’re holding Lily,” and he nodded, his nose twitching a little bit. “Finley is down here,”

“How do you differentiate them?” You gave a little laugh, picking up Finley and letting Simon grab onto the two of them. Your big, scary looking alpha was standing there with his head ducked down looking at his pups. He seemed so gentle, his jaw was relaxed and his brows weren’t furrowed. He seemed almost happy.

You glanced away from the three of them, swallowing thickly. “Lily’s scent is a little stronger, kind of like yours. Finley isn’t as shifty and he’s a little quieter. Mostly it’s just their scent, though, but also. Other things,” you glanced away and heard Simon laugh from deep in his chest. His eyes were scrunched up, and his head was tossed back.

Genuinely, you don’t remember if you’d ever seen him laugh as hard as that. You’re not sure that you have, and it made you feel warm. Your chest hurt, but in a good way this time. You could feel your cheeks aching from the smile you had on your face, watching your little pack enjoy themselves.

For some time, the two of your stood there basking in the little family you had. Simon finally sat himself in your nest, and you showed him how to change their diapers. The two of you sat there for what felt like minutes, but had to be hours. He helped you to the toilet when the pain relievers finally stopped working as well, helping to prepare your new pad and helping you get back up.

The first night you were able to spend with him, you hadn’t woken up once. You’d stashed away some pumped milk in a little mini fridge they’d let you keep in the room just for this, and when you woke up and added some more that you’d packaged you noticed a few missing. You smiled a little, glancing at him snoring away in the bed you shared.

It didn’t take long for his retirement to become official. The two of you found a little place not too far from the compound, and he’d gotten a new job. It was pretty decent, but he also received an alright amount of money from the government for his service. You were still working in the medical field, but you found yourself leaning more towards finding an office job, one where you could actually have decent hours to be able to help care for the pups.

Raising two pups at once was difficult. Sure, Simon helped when and where he could, but it was just difficult in general. When one pup wasn’t crying, it was the other. When one needed a diaper change, the other suddenly needed one as well. You were just happy to have your mate and your pups healthy, happy and not at risk to die.

Until Simon got a phone call.

“They think Makarov survived,” he whispered to you in bed after you came back from finishing your pumping. You could feel your blood run cold, and you turned over to look at him.

“What?”

He sighed deeply, shifting his head to look at you. “They have some,” he paused and swallowed. “Evidence. They think he’s still alive, and we need to find him. Kill him,” and your heart was suddenly pounding.

“We?”

You watched as his eyes closed, his scent changing to one that confused you. “They need me to help them,” he whispered, his hand finding yours carefully. He squeezed it, and you squeezed back. You sighed deeply, closing your eyes and feeling your heart begin to slow down.

Opening your eyes, you looked carefully at Simon. Even in the dark, you could see his brow furrowed. “I’m coming with,” you whispered. He sat up straight, elbow locked as he held himself up.

“Absolutely not,” his voice was stern, almost a growl. “You will not be going anywhere near this mission,”

You scoffed, rolling back over onto your back. Your eyes gazed across the dark ceiling. “I’m coming with you,” you whispered once more. Simon shook his head, his free hand sliding across his face.

It was a week long argument. Tempers were short, and things weren’t very happy within the house. The two of you still worked together with the pups, but it was silent. He still took care of the pups at night, even though he was sleeping in your guest bedroom. You stayed quiet, listening faintly in on his phone calls. He was trying to stay quiet, you could tell.

It was mostly arguing, at least from his end. Anger about not wanting you to go with, and whoever he was talking with appeared to be arguing for your help. He was always a little angrier after finishing the call, but he stowed away with the pups while they took their naps and seemed to just stew with the thoughts for a while.

After a week, probably just a little longer, he finally came up to you with his head down. He wasn’t making eye contact, but his brows were still furrowed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered after a moment. You nodded, continuing to package the breastmilk you’d just finished pumping. “Price wants you to join, he’s worried there might be issues with medical care while we’re on the mission,” you nodded again but paused after finally registering what he was saying.

“Price said what?”

And the mission was horrible. Absolutely horrible.

The only part you truly remember about it was watching as Soap took a gunshot to the head. You watched the blood pour out of him, heard the shouts and ensuing chaos.

Makarov got away. You did what you could, but at the end of the day you had no way of saving Soap. Simon had grown silent, and the return to the compound was horrible. Price’s omega was taking care of the pups, as their own were almost finished with their last years of school. And you left the 141 alone as they spread his ashes, holding Simon close as he sobbed into your body.

His grip on you those next few weeks were incredibly strong, his arms not letting you out of bed when you needed to use the bathroom, and he was just a little withdrawn for some time.

You named your next pup after Soap. And Simon slowly grew better about the passing, the 141 was often around to see their pack-pups. Everything felt wrong without Johnny, though. No longer just Soap, it was Johnny. Even your youngest had become Johnny, and Simon was able to keep himself from being especially partial to the young one.

They grew up so fast, but it took so long. And maybe it should have felt good, but Christ were they some difficult pups at times. Lily had her first rut, as did Finley. Johnny hadn’t yet presented, so you were just assuming he was a Beta until he would present. Maybe he wouldn’t, but you loved your little pups more than you had ever thought possible.

It wasn’t all too bad. The 141 stuck around, and you found yourselves living in the same neighborhood as the other two. Gaz had found himself a mate, and they had a few pups of their own. You helped with the birth of the first, just as Price’s Omega had done for you. They were there as well, and Simon was holding Gaz back even with the shrieks.

Gaz had tried throwing the two of you out of the room, as his omega had ended up in a similar situation to you. In the middle of birth suddenly, and unable to make it to a hospital in time. Lucky bastard, the birth took twenty minutes.

But you were happy. And that’s all that mattered.

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weirdworldofwinnie · 8 months

Text

Heat of the Moment - One Night Passion

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Reader NSFW 18+ only, One shot

Summary: You, a young psychology student and friend of Jean Tatlock, drink a little too much at a Communist gathering and find yourself falling for the esteemed Dr. Oppenheimer himself.

Word Count: 3,830

Warnings: Age gap, Cheating, Drunkenness, Loss of virginity, Unprotected sex, Smut with little plot

Disclaimer: this is ONLY intended to be based on Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Oppenheimer in the film and takes place before he marries Kitty, moves to Los Alamos, and the development of the Trinity Test bomb. NOT historically or scientifically accurate and not supposed to be in support of the real man's life actions at all. DNI if you are uncomfortable or take issue with this. It is purely for entertainment purposes, and it is fantasy/fiction!

The party was brimming with people, many being prominent due-payers of the Communist party and you met your friend Jean's eye across the room through the warm glow and haze of cigarettes. She was standing with a few men and one woman as you approached, noticing one well dressed man in particular who had his back to you and you felt your heart involuntarily stutter when he turned, his wide strikingly blue eyes on you intensely. You swallowed and then Jean introduced you and he simply nodded with an amicable smile before turning back to the others in their discussion huddle. You were at bit surprised at his dismissiveness, but didn't take it too personally as you drifted over to get a drink from the bar area. Holding a full cocktail glass, you casually observed the room, noticing at once how Dr. Oppenheimer had one of those magnetic personalities, as long as you were an intellectual (although he was a good enough speaker that he could capture the attention of the common man and likely even someone who knew absolutely nothing about physics), yet at the same time he tended to eclipse everyone else around him. They all seemed to orbit around him in a fashion and the longer the night drew on, you too found yourself drawn to his quiet charisma and you now were seeing what Jean saw in him. After an hour of drinking and mingling around in various conversations, you mustered up the nerve to approach his ring again and stood next to your friend with only a couple other people you didn't know chatting to him about his teaching at Berkeley. He glanced at you, his eyes lighting with more interest than the initial impression.

"Hello again, Miss Y/N. Excuse me," he told the others and moved, breaking their circle to focus on you alone.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked politely but without waiting for an answer, he went to personally make a martini himself and then pour it into a crystal glass, topping it with a slice of lime. You were empty handed at the moment, but neglected to tell him you'd already had two glasses of alcohol already. He gave the filled glass to you, his fingers brushing your wrist as he did and you thanked him as he leaned against the counter with his own drink that almost mirrored yours.

"It's my preferential recipe. Do you like it?" he asked curiously as you drank and decided it tasted a bit bitter and tangy, so you just raised your eyebrows and smiled assuredly with what you thought was a convincing nod, however, he must have seen otherwise.

"Too bitter, isn't it? I'm working on it; it would probably be better off with a dash of honey." He raised his glass and suddenly swapped it with yours, taking a sip and giving a satisfied expression.

"Hmm, right. I'll remedy it and I do apologize, I was actually just testing you there for your opinion. I'll have this one, you enjoy mine instead."

Unsure of whether you should be flattered or not, you drank his original and it was more appeasing of your sweet tooth, and then he proceeded to ask you about what you were currently studying and how long you knew Jean.

You gave him simple answers at first, feeling a bit shy and guarded compared to the spotlight he projected. He was far from being a loud, obnoxious man but he wasn't timid in the slightest when it came knowledge and he gave off an air of aloofness and professionalism that slowly broke the more you opened up about psychology and politics while making it clear to him you considered yourself a somewhat free spirit trying to make your way in a predominantly male run world. It was refreshing to you that he actually sincerely listened and wasn't too condescending like other men you had encountered in the field.

"Interesting. Have you considered applying that to a career for the future, I assume you are aiming for a psychology degree? Or is it a base point to advance you into becoming a psychiatrist? I'm sure you would be able use medicine in addition to your Freudian theories to mitigate such deep mental issues."

"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm only my second year in for psychology and I doubt my father will pay for addition schooling on top of that, but theoretically yes, I would love to. It's my passion and I have a prudent desire to assist others, not just study them under a detached microscopic lens, so to speak. I want to help people understand who they are and I myself want to understand why their brains work the way that they do. And if some disorders could be cured with certain drugs when all else fails, I would consider that a great accomplishment for humanitarian progress."

"That certainly is a valuable asset, to understand one's self, and especially in this rapidly complicated changing world and the more we have a stronger grasp of the human mind, the better off we will be I suppose. But remember, to know is to do. Theory will only take you so far."

You nodded, soaking that in and taking an ample sip from the drink, which was spurring you on in confidence, so you began to ramble on about the damaging psychological impacts of war before jumping to the effects of practical versus ideological Communism on modern society... at least until a young man interrupted, joining the two of you for a while and you let Oppenheimer divert his attention to him instead as they delved into more physics, which you honestly only had a basic understanding of. You drained down the rest of the martini, refilling it with a simple gin instead to sip more than you should and you definitely were feeling tipsy as the evening wore on to a close, hovering by Oppenheimer's side constantly and perhaps even unconsciously flirting while ignoring Jean's stares from several feet away. He wasn't paying attention at the moment, so you turned to set down your empty glass, but stumbled into a stool on the way. You spun around, feeling Dr. Oppenheimer place a hand on your shoulder, steadying you.

"Perhaps you should retire for the night," he advised softly, close to your ear.

"No… I'm fine," you insisted, the heat rising to your cheeks as he took your shaky hand and you caught Jean giving you one last glare before she disappeared into a murky corner of the room. You looked back to him staring at you concernedly and you blinked as he spoke quietly.

"There, now where are you staying? Surely it can't be far, I'll take you home."

"N-No, my apartment's the next town over and you don't have to, I-I think I'll be okay..." you stammered absurdly and wavered on your feet, not the least bit sober. He changed direction, pivoting to catch you under your arms, and propping you up straighter.

"I believe there is a spare bedroom upstairs, I'll take you to it." Without another word, he led you out of the room and tottering up creaky stairs that led to an upper floor. A few doors down, he took you into an empty small stuffy room with a single queen bed. As you collapsed onto it, sighing deeply after a hiccup, he brushed aside the beige curtains and opened the window, letting the cool night air flicker through.

"Stay here, I'll be right back with some water," he said and exited for a few minutes, coming back shortly with two glasses of water in his hands, one for himself that he took a careful gulp from and you found yourself wondering if his mouth was dry or if he could be nervous. You accepted your cold glass and drank, washing down the strong mix of cocktails and gin taste from your tongue.

"A bit better?" he asked kindly, getting a nod in return as he took the glass from you and set it down on the bedside table next to his own. You watched as he stepped over and stood in front of the window, rustling the curtains. He stayed still there for a while in a pondering pose, smoking and staring out at the street below, presumably lost in thought as he often was. You made a sort of groaning noise and he turned, hand on his hip with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Are you going to be sick? Should I call for someone?"

"No!" you gasped, sitting up with a swirl of the room as he strode over to the door. You did not need your parents to find out about this, especially your father.

"Wait - Please don't leave," you begged and he hesitantly came over, abandoning his cigarette in the ash tray on the nightstand next to the glasses of water and sitting down, getting a good look at your bloodshot eyes and tousled hair, a few strands obscuring your vision. He gently took his hand and wiped the hairs off to the side of your face, his touch on your flushed cheek sending shivers up your spine. He leaned back, putting his hands on his knees and you let out a shaky breath, trying to reorient.

"Have you ever drank before?" he inquired knowingly and you laughed weakly.

"Of course I have."

"I'm afraid that you overdid it this time or otherwise you must have a low tolerance. I only offered you one drink after all." He held up his right hand, splaying his fingers apart.

"How many do you see?" he asked seriously and you only giggled, pushing his hand down.

"Five, maybe six? I feel finnee."

He shook his head, maybe amused, and you had the impulse to climb onto his lap, so you began to slide over, swinging your legs and scooting halfway onto his lap, making him blink in surprise and gasp slightly.

"What are you…?"

You shushed him and wrapped your arms seductively around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder with your ruby lips inches from his neck. He put his hand on your back uneasily and you whispered in his ear.

"Could you carry me to the bathroom?"

"I can't - What? Why?"

"I might be sick."

He pushed away, letting you slip off his slender body and sitting back onto the sheets with a light laugh.

"I think you should lie down again," he said firmly and you flumped your head onto the pillows, your face burning as he stood up, moving around to tug your feet out of your heels and then his hand caught, wrapping his fingers around your ankle and sending a sensation up your legs. You tilted forward, reading his oddly grim expression.

"What is it?"

"I should leave," he murmured, tossing the shoes to the floor and removing his hand reluctantly.

"You don't have to," you told him earnestly, struggling to grasp for him as he stayed at the end of the bed.

"You aren't in a normal state of mind, I'm afraid."

"Are you?"

"Not as much as I should be," he admitted with a sigh, knowing it would be inappropriate to sleep with Jean's friend that he had just met and it was unknown if you had a boyfriend or not.

"Well, I doon't caaare…" you slurred out and he went to sit on the bed next to you as you shifted, sitting up with your elbows. Dr. Oppenheimer gazed fondly and then you both began to instinctively lean into each other, his nose meeting yours and he tilted his head, giving you the incentive to lock lips and slide your tongue into his mouth, letting him reciprocate slowly until both parties pulled away, you panting excitedly.

This seemed to cause a chain reaction that had him scooting over closely so he was fully on the bed, loping his arms around at your back and you tugged at his black tie, wrestling with undoing it as he let go of you to shrug off his suit jacket and discard it, his breathing quickening. He slipped off his shoes and socks, dropping them over the bed with a clump before his fingers found the zipper on the back of your dress and he fumbled, forcing it down and letting it pool off your body to the sheets, running a hand over your bare skin. Pausing slightly with his hands nearing to unfastening your bra, he murmured urgently.

"Don't tell Jean about this."

"But she's my friend," you protested loudly and he put a finger to your lips with a 'shh' that made your heart palpitate.

"I don't want her to find out the hard way."

"She… She'll figure it out, right?"

"She may, but I don't want it to come from you. This is all my doing, I'll take the responsibility for my own actions, do you understand?"

"Oh yes, I do Mister J. Robert 'Oppie' Oppenheimer… What's the J stand for anyway?"

"Nothing important," he replied shortly and you reached to feel his bottom lip, smiling in curiosity.

"C'mon, tell me. Is it John, James, Joe...?"

He shook his head, closing his eyes and you laughed, tracing his defined cheekbones with your fingers.

"It's Julius," he admitted almost sheepishly and you cocked your head, cupping his chin.

"As in Julius Caesar?"

He wet his lips, the corners of his mouth twitching in annoyed amusement.

"Et tu, Miss Y/N?" He paused for a fraction of a second with a light sigh.

"Just call me Robert," he then told you and leaned in to kiss you again, caressing the sides of your face as he did so and you eagerly wound your tongue with his, passionately pressing into his face. He smelled heady; smoky and of aftershave mixed with some brand of cologne, not overpowering but enough to be noticed and mildly sting your nostrils when you went to mouth his neck.

He moved to hover over you, hands grazing your nearly naked body. You let him take the bra and he flung it over his shoulder to the floor and all that was left was your panties. You unbuttoned his light blue dress shirt and opened it up, stroking the light hairs on his chest as he fingered your panties, the last barrier to whatever was going to come into effect. Robert ran a single finger up along your abdomen and past to one of your breasts, circling the nipple and it hardened substantially at the stimulation, which he transferred over to the other one, teasingly fingering back and forth before he sank his face into your chest, his tongue trailing where his fingers had been and you whined, letting the budding arousal take you higher. Then he retracted his mouth, moving back and going to himself, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, popping them open to reveal boxers concealing his burgeoning, bulging cock with tightening testicles. He wriggled out of his pants, kicking them away to hang off the side of the bed and he leaned over, coming to hover on top of you and you felt the pressing of the underwear fabric hiding his growing penis, and you felt inclined to slide your hands down to grope it, fingers yanking at the band around his waist.

"Go ahead, take it," he encouraged and you pulled the boxers down, seeing he was already dripping with precum and your breath came in pants, anxious to feel him, but the rational part of your alcohol tainted brain was reminding you that you'd never taken it this far with a man before. He shifted, supporting himself by pressing his palms to the cream colored plump pillow behind your head and immediately settling over to align. You felt him trying to enter, your clitoris throbbing with anticipation, but he wasn't successful at first of getting in.

"God, you are too tight," he muttered and you froze, staring up at him as Robert now realized the exact nature of you.

"First time ever?" he asked with trepidation and you nodded somewhat shamefully, embarrassed. It wasn't like you hadn't been with men before, but this was the first for it to get this far with full-on penetration. He closed his eyes for a second, controlling his patience for he wanted so desperately to come inside of you, but he had to ask.

"How old are you?"

"I - Is that important?"

"Just please tell me you're at least 21 and don't lie about it."

"Yes, I'm over 21."

"Alright. Well, there's a first time for everything. I'll go slower."

He shimmied down your naked body until his head was at your vagina and he put his hands up on your stomach, massaging vigorously into your skin, eliciting a tiny happy moan. You never felt this aroused around anyone before and just his hands on any part of your body was pleasurable, so you hoisted your hips up to meet his touch. But then he stopped abruptly, displaying two fingers and you squinted, body aching for more.

"How many I am holding up now?" he asked and a delirious giggle erupted from you.

"T-Two."

"Correct," he praised and promptly slid them up into your moist entry, causing you to cringe painfully and make a noise that made you clamp your own hand over your mouth, afraid the people downstairs might hear.

"How is that? Okay?" he asked in a hushed voice, anxious to go further and you just nodded, taking deep breaths.

You were now getting so wet and he started pumping his fingers in and out, eventually gaining traction with three in and you were whimpering and moaning, so close to orgasming when he pulled them all out and sat back on his haunches, his tongue flicking across his lips in a kind of hunger.

"Don't stop," you pleaded and Robert's eyes were dilated with desire as he came down, burrowing his head in-between your thighs, gripping your legs and kissing your pussy before lifting his head and looking at you squarely.

"Oh, I won't."

Without further ado, he repositioned himself over you and slowly pushed in, his cock breaking at your walls. You moaned, the pleasure outweighing the sharp pain and you clenched around his shaft, letting him penetrate as far as he could go into your core. Within moments, you let the orgasm ripple through you as he kept at it, coming to his own climax that wasn't going to be outside of you.

"Fuck, this feels good..." you breathed, rubbing your palms on Robert's short cut dark hair and he couldn't hold back any longer... exploding with his own euphoria, emitting a primal grunt that became a loud gasp. He pulled out wetly a few moments later, shuddering from the exertion and you reeled in what had just happened. You just had intercourse with this brilliant man… Oh God. And you didn't want it to stop; you weren't done yet.

You rolled over so you were on top of his body now and you carefully settled down so you were sitting on his upright swollen cock and the rubbing of it against your clit was making you close to orgasming for the second time.

"Stop," he gasped suddenly, trying to push you away.

"W-Why?"

"That's how she does it." He frowned, licking his lips and you didn't have to ask to know who he was talking about.

"Do you… like it?"

"Yes, of course, but-"

"Then I'm doing it, it feels good for me too," you told him with no arguments allowed and both of you began to rock back and forth, his still hardened dick pushing up against your vagina. He thrusted in again and you groaned, quivering.

"Oh, good girl," he whispered and you almost lost it at the tone of his slightly husky voice. You certainly never got that from the few men you'd courted briefly that had turned out to be too immature or pigheaded. This man actually felt like a real decent, more experienced man.

"Robert...!" you squealed, letting the boom of climaxing implode inside of you. You leaned back, letting him slide out and you gripped his slick dick mixed with fluids from both you and him, your nails very gently stroking it as he smiled, throwing his head back against the pillow in relaxation and pure joy.

You orgasmed a couple more times after that, each nearly as strong as the last which was new to you. What the hell was it about Robert that made your libido go off the charts?

Finally the two of you collapsed back together, staring up at the ceiling above in ecstasy. His chest was rising and falling in rhythm with yours and gradually your body cooled down, though your face still felt hot and a dull headache was coming on, but the night breeze from the window was making goosebumps pepper up on your skin.

"Cold?" Robert asked softly, noticing.

"Mm-hmm."

He sat up and grabbed his wrinkled boxers before deftly swinging a leg out of bed, getting up to the floor and yanking them back on. He also hastily snatched up his pants and slid back into them, not bothering to zip or buckle as he went over to the window and peered out once more at the street, then firmly shut it, closing the curtains securely and heading back over to the bed, lifting a corner of the sheets up and crawling in next to your bare body.

You scooted under the sheets and cuddled into his slim side, playfully fiddling with a button on his open shirt and letting him wrap an arm around you as you dozed off, listening to the faint ticking of his wristwatch, feeling utterly fucked out and exhausted. He fought his own fatigue, considering getting up and leaving you in case someone found the two of you up here, lest it be Jean, but you felt so cozy and close, he couldn't bear to disconnect and leave you alone for the night.

He wasn't entirely sure what would become of this drunken rendezvous encounter that you may not remember entirely, knowing very well it was likely he may never find himself loving you like this again. He loved Jean, he very much did, but he wondered if you would accept his flowers as easily as you had accepted his sex? Jean was most definitely a complicated, intelligent woman and he wasn't sure if you were in the same vein as her, but it wouldn't surprise him if you were. Was he drawn to any other type, really? Women were fascinating to explore, a close second to the hidden world of quantum physics.

Robert studied your pretty sleeping features in the dim lighting and then closed his eyes, letting the orange aura of the room drift the both of you away far off into nothingness…

(Thanks for reading and if you really liked this, please let me know! I'm rather new to Cillian Murphy and not well versed at all in writing one of his characters with smut, but there was just something I found so attractively compelling about him as Oppenheimer especially, so maybe this is a bit self-indulgent, but he's such a great actor that is also very sexy of course.❤️)

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