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illusioninfnty · 6 months

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day 21 ; spitroasting

↠ roronoa zoro x reader x vinsmoke sanji

fandom: one piece word count: 2.1k warnings: nsfw 18+, caught in the act, jealous!zoro, possessiveness, spanking, praise, blowjob, face fucking, gagging, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, squirting, overstimulation, cum marking, cum eating, creampie, aftercare, some unintentional homoerotic subtext if you squint

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

Grunts and skin slapping together are the only sounds in the room as Zoro fucks into you from behind.

Your arrangement with him was as simple as it could be, whenever the two of you were stressed, and whenever the other crew members were occupied, you would fuck. It was a lot easier than trying to pick up strangers from whatever bar you could find everytime you guys docked at a new town. The last time that happened, you may or may not have brought back someone that had a hidden vendetta against Luffy, and it resulted in yet another fight aboard the Going Merry.

Oh well. Mistakes happen.

You moan into the pillow beneath you, doing your best to conceal your sounds of pleasure. You were in Zoro’s bed, as all of the crew were out exploring the newest town

Despite that fact, it never hurts to be too careful.

And indeed, you were right. Because not even a minute later, you hear the door to the men’s quarters open and you gasp in surprise. You involuntarily clench around Zoro, making him hiss as you both turn to see who walked in.

Sanji stands in the doorway, jaw dropped and suit jacket halfway off his body.

Zoro turns to maneuver the bed sheets in a way that covers your body from Sanji’s eyes. You could tell that the cook was staring at you, just by the way his eyes completely avoid your gaze and he looks upward as a blush rises to his cheeks. He looks cuter than ever in that moment, and maybe it's because you have a dick inside of you at that very moment, but you desperately want to fuck him to see what other reactions you can get out of him.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Zoro growls out. The hand that was splayed across your hip tightens in anger the longer Sanji stands there. “Fucking scram.”

You could tell by his initial embarrassment that Sanji was planning on leaving, but Zoro’s reaction has him heated up, and you know that neither of them will let the other have the last word.

You roll your eyes and get settled in, waiting for the argument to begin.

Sanji tsks at Zoro, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “Putting her in such a degrading position like that, it’s a wonder she stays with you.”

“She stays with me ‘cause I fuck her right every time. Not like she’d have the same experience with you.”

“I’ll have you know that I’ve never gotten a single complaint about my performance in the bedroom!”

“Yeah, right. Like she’d ever go for you when she has me here.”

“A-actually,” you speak up for the first time during their spat. Both men turn to you, Sanji with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, and Zoro, who’s glare seems to scream don’t you dare, as if he knew exactly what you were going to suggest.

“Sanji,” you swallow, hoping you’re not making a mistake, “you should join us.”

“Join—?” He chokes on his spit, and you can see the way his cheeks turn red from his blush.

“Please?” you put on a classic pout that you know will make Sanji weak in the knees.

Hook, line, and sinker.

He scratches the back of his neck, feigning concession. But you can see the tent in his pants that is clear as day. “If you insist, madam.”

“Madam,” Zoro mutters from behind you, mocking Sanji’s choice of word. You kick at the back of his leg in warning.

Sanji approaches you in the front of the bed (staying as far away from Zoro as possible, you notice) and stares at you hesitantly. You motion him closer, and begin palming his erection through his pants. He moans softly, his hips subtly bucking into your touch.

Zoro, having enough of your attention pulled away from him, begins to thrust back into you from behind. The sudden movement has you moaning, and the force of it pushes you right into Sanji’s crotch.

The ship’s cook grabs your hair by the root and keeps you in place with one hand as he uses his other to undo his pants and free his cock from its constraints. His hard erection springs out, hitting you in the face, and without any prompting you stick it in your mouth, sucking on it furiously.

You bob your head up and down, swallowing him all the way down to the root. You swirl your tongue around the head, and Sanji’s grip in your hair tightens as he groans from the sensation.

“Better not make any noises over there, cook,” Zoro says. “I was planning on finishing.”

Sanji’s response comes back within a second. “I can’t help it when your woman is giving all her attention to me.”

You don’t even need to be looking at Zoro to know what his reaction is to that—you can just picture the glare that he gives Sanji as he slaps your ass and ruts his hips into you more.

The force of his cock filling you to the brim has you moaning around Sanji’s cock as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your hands grip the sheets below you as you make a feeble attempt to stabilize yourself as you lay helpless between the two men who use your body for their pleasure.

Zoro does his best to ignore Sanji and occupies himself with grabbing the flesh of your ass and spreading you open wider than before. He bullies his cock deep inside of you, and the bulbous head reaches parts of you that have your vision going blurry and your mind going numb, only able to focus on how much he fills you up.

“You see this?” Zoro motions to you, and the way your body shakes in pleasure from his cock thrusting deep with you. “This is all ‘cause of me. You couldn’t make her feel even half as good.”

As you look up at Sanji through your teary vision, you can see the way his eyes narrow at Zoro’s fighting words. Suddenly your nose is pressed up against Sanji’s pubic bone, his cock stuffed all the way down your throat, you cough and gag around him, spit dribbling down the sides of your mouth yet he doesn’t relent.

He has one hand entangled in your hair at the scalp, and the other moves to wrap itself around your neck, gripping it lightly, feeling the imprint of his cock on your throat as he fucks it in and our of your mouth.

You moan around him, relishing in the sensation of fullness that you’re getting inside of you from both ends. Your hands move to grasp onto Sanji’s thighs and you suck down as much as you can on his cock, gagging as his cock reaches as far as it could possibly go within your mouth. Tears start to stream down your face now at the way he pounds himself all the way to the back of your throat.

Sanji looks down at your reaction, and then up at Zoro with his trademark smirk. “Seems like she’s too occupied enjoying my cock down her throat.”

Both men are relentless in trying to prove themselves, and you’re on the receiving end of it. It seems as though you’re never going to catch a break between the two of them. They constantly try and one up each other, with each new action or technique they try on you has you edging closer and closer to your eventual orgasm.

The final straw is when Zoro, through his relentless ruts into you, begins to stick his thick fingers inside of your pussy as well, curling them up in the perfect spots where he knows you’ll fall apart.

And you do. You attempt to pull a hand back and slap him against his arm to warn him or your incoming orgasm, but Sanji’s grip in your hair remains as solid as ever and you don’t have enough strength to pull yourself back.

Your arms flop to your side, weak and useless, the two men being the only things holding your body up now. Your screams of pleasure are muted around Sanji’s cock, but the vibrations from it have him groaning nonetheless.

Your orgasm comes like a colossal wave, crashing down onto you with so much pain and pleasure it becomes too overwhelming to bear. Your whole body goes rigid as you climax. Your pussy clenches like a vice around Zoro’s cock, and your mouth tightens around Sanji. The two men groan in unison as your release washes over you, squirting juices all over yourself and Zoro, who you can hear laughing (and probably mocking Sanji) from behind you.

Neither man lets you rest after your orgasm, though. They both continue to fuck you with intense vigor, as if it’s their dying wishes. It’s Sanji who finally folds first and cums, doing so by holding you by your hair as he smashes your face all the way to the base of his cock. His groans are loud and continuous as you suck down on him furiously, swallowing the jets of cum that shoot out of him.

A mix of your saliva and his cum leave the sides of your mouth as you do so, causing you to make a mess of his cock, slobbering all over it as he guides your head up and down.

“Fuck, so good for me,” he mutters out with his jaw clenched, just loud enough for you to hear, and you preen under the praise.

After he’s done cumming, you open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue for Sanji, showing him your empty mouth from swallowing all of him. And you’re glad you did so, because based on his lovesick expression alone it looked like he was about to cream himself for a second time that night.

Zoro cums soon after, his cock throbbing harshly as he buries himself to the hilt deep inside your pussy. He tends to be quiet when he cums, save for a few grunts here and there as the jets of hot liquid pour into you. But this time, you can hear him uttering praises to you.

“That’s it baby,” is what you hear the clearest through his groans, his voice gravely and deep. “Fuck, squeezing me so tightly. Could die in this pussy.”

If you literally didn’t just have your orgasm a second ago, you probably would have cum again right then and there.

Zoro always came inside of you whenever you two fucked, insisting on going bare. You never minded it; it felt better without a condom on, anyways. But you always knew that the reason why Zoro truly did it was because he loved marking you with his cum, seeing it drip outside of your pussy whenever he finished.

The swordsman reluctantly leaves your pussy after he cums. He watches the way the excess liquid seeps outside of your pussy, which still clenches around nothing, desperately looking for his cock again. He scoops it up with his fingers, pushing it back inside of you and barks out a laugh at the way you moan pathetically and your pussy walls quiver as they constrict around the shape of him.

He takes some of the excess left on his fingers and wipes it across your ass, rubbing it into your skin.

It takes you a couple of moments for you to finally open your eyes and register your surroundings after all of that. Zoro is wiping you with a wet cloth, and you see Sanji coming back in with a glass of water and a snack he no doubt whipped up quickly, then and there.

Once you’re finally calmed down from the overstimulation and cleaned off from all of the stickiness, you roll back into Zoro’s bed with a sigh collapsing from the exhaustion. Zoro moves in next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and rubbing circles into your skin.

Sanji glances at the two of you. “Room for one more?” he asks cheekily.

Zoro glares at Sanji and his arm tightens around you. “Fuck no. Piss off.”

He closes his eyes, and within seconds he’s snoring away, dead to the world.

You look over at Sanji and roll your eyes at Zoro’s words. Silently, you scootch over in the bed, making some room for him. You motion with your hand for him to climb in, and he does so gladly, nestling himself into your body. With Zoro’s arm around you and your face resting in the crook of Sanji’s neck, you’re able to fall asleep quickly and peacefully sandwiched between your two favorite boys, not having a single care in the world.

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katiexpunk · 5 months

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Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Part 2 | Part 3 Preview | Part 3

S P R I N G Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them.

Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful.

Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.

That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life.

“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite. After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it.

She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged.

Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK.

++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore.

While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story.

You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.

As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.

After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one.

As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below.

Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug.

You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.

In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it.

Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think.

As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up.

You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram.

With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it.

The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep.

++++

The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await.

It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste.

And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try.

You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts.

You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.

++++

The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone.

While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.

“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl.

More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door.

You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open.

As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.

“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"

The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast.

"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door. “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone.

Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.

Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive.

And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door.

“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess.

His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more.

“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even.

“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”

“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman.

Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious.

“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk.

Oh god.

You’re so fucked.

++++

Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is. You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it.

Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot.

“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.”

Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.

You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it.

Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note.

The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did.

Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it.

“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.”

Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain.

God, he wishes you would have kept it.

S U M M E R

As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days.

It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden.

Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown.

People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway.

You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it.

Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place.

You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy.

You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself.

The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside.

You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter.

The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help.

As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one.

Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy.

“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot.

“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh.

Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him.

"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease.

Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.

Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country…

You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile.

“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception.

“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box. It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency.

Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.”

His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt.

He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him.

“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.

“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”

“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive.

“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink.

He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again.

“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls.

You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car.

Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom.

Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life.

He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one.

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.

“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him.

++++

Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected.

If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had.

“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen.

You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.

Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated.

You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment.

He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves.

“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips.

“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips.

“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken.

“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching.

“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him.

His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.

“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.

“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room.

“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice.

You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it.

You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight.

“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop.

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.

You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.

Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock.

You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.

You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.

His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him.

The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm.

“Fuck.” Joel groans.

TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal #new york #firefighter smut #pedro stories

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incognit0slut · 4 months

Text

Better for you

Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

(THIS CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE BUT IS TECHNICALLY A THIRD PART FOR LOSE CONTROL AND THE LAST LAUGH)

words: 4.6k Category: fluff (surprisingly this is not my usual NSFW work) warnings: kissing, suggestive content a/n: I’m killing two birds with one stone here. One, I caved in and did another part for this rival couple. And two, I wrote this as a participation in @imagining-in-the-margins office party writing challenge🥳 Here are the prompts: 1. The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B. 2. “I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

WAS A PARTY SUPPOSED TO BE THIS BORING? A subtle sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around the backyard. When Rossi invited the team to gather around at his house in celebration of the new year, everybody was on board.

"Who would say no to a David Rossi party?" JJ had said, which led her to bring her family along the occasion. Even Simmons brought his wife and five little kids. And now Rossi’s place never looked so alive with this many people, it seemed that everyone was present at this joyful soirée.

Everyone but one person, that is.

She turned her attention back to the drink in her hand, leaning against the open bar Rossi had set up, her mind drifting towards a certain man. It wasn't like she was keeping tabs on him. Really, she wasn't. It just happened that his absence became surprisingly noticeable when he decided to take some time off work to visit his mom, even days before Christmas break.

How long had it been since the last time she saw him? Two weeks? Three? It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed since she saw was forced to work with him, which happened during the case in a remote town. And despite successfully apprehending the Unsub days later, her resistance to temptation, unfortunately, wasn't as successful.

It was hard not to think of what happened during the travel when it kept playing in her mind like a broken record. It was as if the memories were engraved in her brain—his slick, sweaty body pressing against hers; his soft lips caressing her skin; his large hands roaming her curves, traveling to places that had her hot and wet—

What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a sip of her drink—or more like chugging it down—trying to test if the burning sensation could wash away her filthy mind.

"Whoa," a sudden voice broke through her haze and she looked up to find Luke standing close to her. "Easy there."

His easygoing grin met her gaze as he gestured toward her almost empty glass. She shrugged, aiming the glass toward him in a mock toast. "Just trying to enjoy the party."

"Yeah?" He chuckled, leaning against the bar.

She shot him a sideways glance. "What's it to you, Alvez?"

His grin widened. "Well, when someone's drinking like they're on a mission, it catches my attention. Everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone calm. "I'm just getting into the party spirit, you know?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor unwavering. "Is that so? Or are you trying to drown out some thoughts?"

She scoffed. "Thoughts? What thoughts?"

"The kind that makes you chug down your drink."

"You're imagining things. I'm simply enjoying this..." Her eyes scanned the party, trying to find a word describing the ongoing festive. "...ambiance."

"Alone by the table full of alcohol?"

"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on these drinks from disappearing too quickly."

"Hmm," He responded. "It kind of seems like you're waiting for someone to join the party."

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she scoffed again. "I know who you're referring to, and no, I am not waiting for anyone."

He leaned in, the mischief in his eyes unwavering. "So, you're telling me that if Reid walked in right now, you wouldn't do a happy dance?"

"Please, there would be no happy dance," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just a casual acknowledgment, maybe."

"Casual acknowledgment? You're going with that?" His grin widened, his teasing persistence unyielding. "There's nothing casual about you two."

"If you mean hating each other's gut, then sure, there is nothing casual about Reid and me."

"He doesn't hate you, you know." She gave him a deadpanned look, her skepticism evident in her arched brow. Luke laughed. "Fine, he disliked the idea of having another prodigy on the team. When he got out of prison, he felt like you were his replacement."

She frowned. "I kind of was. Emily wanted someone to fill in for his absence while he was away."

Luke raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. "True, but I think you're starting to grow on him." She shook her head, trying to brush off the comment. "I'm serious, I think you made an impression."

Her skepticism lingered as she fully turned towards him, pointing a finger at him. "So you’re telling me every time he tried to pick a fight he was actually impressed by my intelligence?"

"Well, Reid's got this... unique way of expressing himself, but trust me, he respects you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just pushing it."

"There's got to be something more than what you're letting on. He's not exactly subtle, you know."

She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain composure. "You're reading too much into it. Reid and I have..." a complicated dynamic between coworkers who hate each other but had sex twice—well, three, including that one time in the shower. "...a professional relationship," she decided to say.

His grin widened. "Professional? I've seen the way you two spar during cases."

She huffed. "It's just our way of solving problems. It doesn't mean anything more."

Luke's expression turned thoughtful. "I've worked with him for a while, and he usually doesn't go back and forth with people in smart talk. There must be something about you that intrigues him."

"Or irritates him," she added dryly. "You're giving him too much credit."

"Maybe," he admitted with a laugh. "But I don’t know, he might surprise you one of these days."

She shot him a skeptical glance. "I highly doubt that."

"Yeah?" He suddenly looked past her, a sly grin forming. "Then maybe should find out for yourself."

Confused, she turned around to see what had caught his attention…. And time seemed to slow as her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Spencer entering the party, a casual smile on his face as he greeted everyone. For a moment, their eyes locked, and despite her attempts to remain nonchalant, a subtle flutter danced in her chest.

She quickly looked away, her attempt to maintain composure falling apart.

"See what I mean?" Luke's voice broke through her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect. "It's just a party, people look at each other. There's nothing special."

He raised an eyebrow and responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Sure."

"I'm serious. Stop reading into it."

"Alright, I won't."

That only annoyed her even more. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the situation. "You're insufferable."

"What? I believe you," he replied. "I mean, nothing could've happened between two people who were locked together and then forced to share a room, right?"

She shot him a glare, but before she could say anything, she felt a presence coming up behind her. A sudden chill ran down her spine as she caught a whiff of scent she was accustomed to by now, something woody and fresh with a subtle hint of sweetness.

"Reid," Luke greeted as he gave her a side glance before moving towards Spencer, casually dropping an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to see you. How's your mom?"

Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before responding to Luke, "She's doing well, thanks."

“Good to hear.” Luke nodded his head towards her. "Y/n here was just telling me how much she missed you during the holidays."

Suppressing a groan, she shot him a warning look. Spencer, however, responded with a small smile. "You did?"

Her cheeks warmed slightly, caught off guard by his direct question. She feigned nonchalance, offering a casual shrug. "Please, I was just mourning the lack of someone to challenge my wisdom."

Luke chuckled and gave her one last pointed look before excusing himself with a pretense of Rossi calling him somewhere from the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on his back as he walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "That man coming close to being second place on my hate list."

"I take it I'm still on your number one spot then."

She turned towards him at the sound of his voice, and now that they were alone, she finally took her time to observe him.

Her eyes scanned his clothes, taking in the details. From the carefully styled hair that hinted at the time he took to prepare, to the open dress shirt that he seemed unbothered to button all the way, exposing his long neck and the slight expanse of his chest. He looked good. He looked clean, polished, and undeniably handsome.

She blinked and cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure. "Well, you certainly took your time getting ready."

He met her gaze with a hint of amusement in his eyes, seemingly aware of her scrutinizing observation. "I believe in making a good impression," he replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to acknowledge the effect his appearance had on her. "Trying to win over the crowd with something beyond your brain?"

"Partly," he admitted, "And partly because someone once told me that a well-dressed genius is a force to be reckoned with."

"Must have been Garcia."

He grinned. "You know her well."

She took another sip of her drink, a blend of sweet and bitter notes dancing on her tongue. Keeping her eyes on him over the rim of her glass, she observed the play of shadows on his face, accentuating the angles of his features. The ambient light from the party cast a subtle glow, and she couldn't help but notice how it highlighted the soft strands of hair that fell gracefully across his forehead.

"I'm actually surprised to see you here," she slowly remarked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Surprised? Should I be offended?"

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I'm not," he agreed. "The only exception of social gathering I can endure is with everyone present here."

"Including me?"

“Especially you."

Her demeanor faltered for a split second, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in his tone. It wasn't the usual witty remark she anticipated. A flicker of surprise crossed her features before she could conceal it, her throat clearing as she attempted to regain control over her beating heart.

"Especially… me?" she echoed, attempting to mask the surprise in her voice.

Spencer's gaze held a warmth that felt unfamiliar, and he nodded. "It seems social events are more bearable when you're around."

She tilted her head and studied him. "You're just saying that because you have someone to pick a fight with."

"A fight?" He wondered. "Is that what we've been doing?"

"It's what we've always been doing."

"Not for the past few weeks, we haven't."

She knew what he was referring to. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of indulging in a conversation about their sexual escapades, she instead responded with, "Well, you haven't, I'm still trying to play my part here."

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the quiet space between them. "And what part would that be?"

"The one where I constantly question the liability of your knowledge, of course."

Spencer's smile widened, the lines of his face softening. "Maybe," he began, his voice low, "We can explore different roles that don't involve any fighting."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting a truce, Dr. Reid?"

"More like a change of tactics, Dr. L/n," he replied, gently taking the glass from her hand and placing it by the bar.

Her frown deepened, uncertainty in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

He nodded toward the center of the backyard where most of their team members filled the space of the party. "Dance with me."

She gazed towards the dance floor, then back at him, and her brows furrowed. That did not sound like the Spencer she knew, heck, she wasn't sure she had ever seen him dance before. Her eyes narrowed further when he gave her a grin.

"Come on, it's just a dance. It won't kill you," he urged, extending a hand towards her.

She eyed his outstretched hand with mock skepticism. "Are you implying that dancing with you is some kind of survival?"

Spencer grinned. "Considering the number of times you've survived my intellect, this should be a walk in the park."

She rolled her eyes. "Intellect, yes. Dancing? I'll take my chances."

"Are you afraid you'll step on my toes?" he teased.

"More like I'm afraid you'll step on mine," she shot back.

Spencer chuckled. "Just one dance, and if you don't enjoy it, you can revert to questioning the liability of my knowledge."

Her eyes drifted between his outstretched hand and his gaze, a silent contemplation unfolding within her. She knew that if she agreed to this, there was no turning back. Was it a wise decision? Probably not. But a small, rebellious part of her was curious to see how the night would unfold.

Spencer watched her with a patient expression, his hand still extended. The music continued to play, a steady beat that seemed to echo the pulse of the night, and after a moment's hesitation, she sighed in mock exasperation.

"Fine," she said, finally placing her hand in his, "But I reserve the right to make sarcastic remarks about your dance moves later."

"Deal," he agreed, leading her onto the dance floor with a grin.

She could feel everyone's scrutiny on them as he pulled her onto the dance floor, her breath hitching when he grabbed her other hand and placed her arms around his neck before snaking his arms around her waist.

"Everyone's watching us, aren't they?" she asked as they started to move to the soft beat of the music.

Spencer's gaze held a mischievous glint as he twirled her around, navigating the dance floor with surprising grace. "Let them watch," he replied, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's just a dance, after all."

"You don't strike me as the 'just a dance' kind of person." She arched an eyebrow, unable to shake off the sense that there was more to this move than met the eye. "You don't even strike me as someone who even knows how to dance."

He shrugged. "Dancing is easy. All you have to do is move in circles and hold on to your partner."

He proved his point by pulling her further into his arms, and she couldn't help but notice the contrast in their heights. His broad chest pressed against her, the softness of his abdomen against her stomach, while his arms securely wrapped around her body.

Her breath caught for a moment, her gaze instinctively locking with his. The initial awkwardness transformed into a surprising ease, and she reciprocated the movements with a newfound confidence. The subtle sways and turns took on a rhythm of their own, syncing perfectly with the music that enveloped them.

"See?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Easy."

They continued to move to the rhythm, and she couldn't help but notice the intensity in his gaze. The world around them seemed to blur, and for a moment, she actually enjoyed being held close to him.

But before she could fully relax in his arms, JJ appeared on the dance floor, hand in hand with her husband Will. The look of disbelief in their friend's eyes was unmistakable as the couple approached them while being tangled in their own dance.

"Are my eyes deceiving me," JJ teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Or are you two getting along quite well?"

She rolled her eyes, attempting to maintain a casual facade. "It's just a dance. Don't read too much into it."

JJ's grin widened as she exchanged a knowing look with Will. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you and Reid would willingly share the dance floor."

She shot a glance at Spencer, and there was a momentary flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise? amusement? She couldn't quite place it. Collecting herself, she responded with a mock grimace, "He forced me into it."

Spencer's expression turned playful. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they didn't know they wanted to do."

"You mean manipulate."

He chuckled. "Persuade, Y/n. It's all about perspective."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw JJ and Will exchanging another pointed look. "Either way, you both look like you're having a good time."

"And you both look good together," Will added.

"Thank you."

"We're not together."

They both looked at each other while JJ raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Yet here you are. Spence, you might have just discovered a hidden talent—getting Y/n to dance."

She let out a sigh. "Don't encourage him."

Spencer leaned in, his tone low. "You're just mad because you're enjoying this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let's not get carried away."

"Come on, just admit it," The corners of his lips lifted in a playful smirk. "You're having more fun than you expected."

"Fun?" She scoffed, attempting to deflect the growing warmth in her cheeks. "I wouldn't call this fun. It's just an unfortunate consequence of being at a party."

"Yet you can't deny that you're not entirely opposed to the idea."

She shot him a glare. "You're dangerously close to overestimating your influence."

"Or maybe you're underestimating your willingness to enjoy the moment."

She shook her head, turning towards JJ. "Can you believe him—"

She stopped when she realized they had been left alone for a while, noticing JJ and Will were already at the other side of the dance floor. However as her eyes scanned around them, the scrutiny of the others didn't go unnoticed by her. She fixed her gaze back on Spencer.

"We must be such a sight to see," she remarked. "I bet they're starting some rumors about us."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think they haven't already?"

She sighed, acknowledging his words. "Fair point."

"What do you think they're saying about us?"

She considered for a moment. "That we secretly don't hate each other," she responded after contemplating her answer. "I think they might be disappointed when they realize the truth."

His arms instinctively tightened around her waist. "And what's the truth?"

She studied him, her heart suddenly beating fast. Weeks ago, she would have answered the question with certainty, stating that they were nothing more than coworkers who were both very stubborn. But as she felt his eyes watching her intently, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"The truth?" she echoed, her voice a little softer than she intended. "I don't know, Reid. What is our truth?"

He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. "Well, the part where we secretly don't hate each other is true, for me at least."

Her breath caught as she absorbed his words.

“…you don't hate me?"

"Hate is a very strong word." Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hate is often fueled by fear or misunderstanding. It's a complex emotion rooted in our perceptions and experiences. So, in a way, hate is a reflection of the mind rather than a true evaluation of a person."

She couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you just use psychology to explain why you don't hate me?"

"Considering our line of work, it seemed appropriate."

She shook her head in amusement. "Only you would analyze hate in the middle of a dance."

Spencer continued, "Well, understanding emotions is crucial in our field. And I believe there's more to us than mere hostility."

She pursed her lips together, her mind suddenly going through the times they often bickered. "I still find it hard to believe you didn't hate me the first time we met."

"Dislike would be a better way to put it. But I was at my lowest point at that time. It wasn't just you, I was angry at everyone. At the circumstances. At myself." He slightly leaned back and sighed. "And I admit, it was wrong of me to take it out on you."

Then after a moment of silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. The apology hung in the air and she found herself at a loss for words. For a fleeting moment, the walls she had built seemed to crumble, leaving her standing on the precipice of something unfamiliar.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "And how do you see me now?"

Spencer's gaze held a thoughtful intensity as he considered her question. "I think you're someone who challenges me. There's a depth to you beyond the harsh glare and cold shoulder." He eased, pressing a hand on her lower back. "And, if I may say, someone who looks surprisingly stunning on the dance floor."

A blush crept over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had another motive behind the compliment. "You're using flattery now? Are you trying to get in my pants again?"

He laughed. "Is it working?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Nice try, Reid. Flattery might get you far, but not that far."

His grin widened, and he guided her through the dance floor with ease. "Well, I'll have to come up with better tactics then."

His touch, gentle and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced an almost hypnotic pattern on the small of her back through the fabric of her dress. The soft caress felt both intimate and tender, catching her off guard. "I mean it though," he said, his voice a soft murmur that resonated with honesty. "You do look beautiful tonight."

There was something in his gaze that was unfamiliar, even hearing him easily compliment her was foreign in her ears. Her confusion must have been evident on her face because he smiled at her. "What?"

She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing. It's just... unexpected, coming from you."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as they moved in sync with the music. "It's part of my New Year's resolution."

"What? To be nicer?" She guessed. "Be a better person?"

"To be a better person for you," he corrected.

Her heartbeat picked up, and she found herself drawing closer to him, the music weaving a subtle spell around them. The warmth radiating from him, the soft glow of the string lights, and the gentle melody created an intimate atmosphere that blurred the lines between the hostility she often wore.

The distance between them diminished, and she felt the subtle shift in the air. Without registering what she was doing, her fingers came up behind his neck, softly playing with the strands of his hair. They were so soft, just like the look reflected in his eyes. Then her gaze went down to his lips; they too looked incredibly soft.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Like what?"

"Like you want to close the distance between us," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because I'm trying to restrain myself from doing just that."

His fingers found the small of her back, pressing gently, while hers continued their silent dance in his hair. Every touch, every movement, fueled the escalating heat between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. The distance diminished further until she could feel his breath, warm and inviting, grazing against her lips.

But before she could indulge herself, Garcia's voice echoed somewhere in the crowd. "It's the final countdown, people!"

Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, she released her arms from around his neck and shifted her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the projector screen, previously used by the kids for a movie marathon and now it displayed the vibrant scenes of people joyously ringing in the New Year celebration.

As the digital numbers on the screen ticked down, the energy in the backyard intensified. The countdown became a collective heartbeat, a shared anticipation that echoed through the crowd.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

In those final moments, she stole a glance at Spencer, their eyes locking silently.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

But his stare became so intense that she quickly looked away.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

The cheers erupted, and the backyard was bathed in the glow of fireworks, the sky above adorned with bursts of color. She watched the dazzling display in awe, the explosions of light reflecting in her eyes.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, she noticed her friends wrapped in the arms of their loved ones, celebrating happily. JJ and Will shared a sweet kiss, Simmons was embraced by his family, Penelope and Luke exchanged laughter, and even Rossi, with a subtle smile, clinked glasses with Emily and Tara.

And as the colorful explosions painted the night sky, she felt a lingering gaze on her. Turning, she found Spencer watching her intently. His eyes were searching hers as if he were asking for permission to close the short distance separating them.

She knew what he meant. It was beyond asking permission to kiss her. It was a gentle plea to understand the unspoken boundaries that lingered between them. Engaging in intimacy behind closed doors was one thing, but to take that step in front of their peers meant exposing a vulnerability she had carefully guarded. Did she want to cross that line?

A part of her wavered, finding herself drawn to him—his warm brown eyes, his smile, everything about him seemed to call out to a part of her that she had kept guarded. The barriers she had meticulously built started to feel like fragile walls as everything around them started to fade, leaving only the soft glow of string lights and the distant echoes of laughter.

Oh, fuck it.

Feeling the pull of an undeniable force, she took a step closer with a small, bashful smile playing on her lips. It was all the answer he needed. Closing the distance between them, he framed her face with his large hands, his warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the vibrant display of fireworks overhead, he finally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers.

Warmth spread through her body as he held her, his touch gentle yet possessive. He tipped her jaw, allowing his mouth to move along with hers. His tongue easily slipped into her as he continued to taste the subtle hint of liquor she had been drinking. Spencer was never one to drink, but he didn't mind tasting it on her. If anything, he couldn't get enough.

Her arms instinctively traveled underneath his suit jacket, seeking more of his warmth as she wrapped them around his waist. The fabric of his suit was smooth under her fingertips, and the heat of his body radiated through the layers of clothing.

The kiss deepened as he continued to explore her mouth, growing more intense with each passing second, and it wasn't until they heard someone through their haze calling out, "There are kids here!" that he finally pulled away.

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound and she couldn't help but join in. He then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space that separated them. The lingering taste of their kiss hung in the air, and for a moment, they simply stood there. The reality of the situation slowly sank in, and they exchanged a glance filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"I guess we got carried away," he mumbled.

"You think?" She chuckled, her fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. "We should keep it PG-13 for now."

His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. "Does that mean we can go R-rated later?"

She let out a laugh, throwing her head back in mirth. "You're relentless."

He smiled, savoring the moment of ease between them, and he found himself captivated by the genuine joy she radiated. His gaze traveled around the backyard and noticed everyone watching them with amused grins. He leaned down and pulled her flush against him. "Everyone's watching us."

She groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I can already imagine their teasing."

There was a moment of silence before he responded, "I think it's worth it."

"What is?" she mumbled into his neck.

He pulled away and looked down at her. In a tender gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I can handle the constant teasing if it means I get to hold you like this."

The corners of her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're willing to endure their teasing just to hold me?"

His gaze met hers, unwavering. "More than willing."

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She couldn't believe how this night had turned out, yet, here they were—wrapped up in a dance of their own. It was a position she would've never imagined herself in. And despite her best efforts to resist, the walls she had meticulously built were crumbling.

"Can I kiss you again?" He whispered. "I promise I'll make it family-friendly."

The corners of her lips curled as she laughed. The unexpected turn of events had brought them to a place she never anticipated, but surprisingly, it felt oddly right.

"I suppose one more won't hurt."

His smile widened, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Happy New Year," he whispered against her lips.

She found herself smiling, realizing that perhaps, unexpected as it was, this change of year wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and wondered where her life would take her this year. The path ahead seemed unclear, but one thing was certain—Spencer Reid had managed to find his way into her heart.

a/n: if you’ve followed the story since lose control, this is the ending for this short series. As much as I wanted to write smut again for the last part, the fluff was calling out to me :3

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bunnylovesani · 5 months

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A Birthday Affair

Summary: It's your birthday and your best friend is making you a cake! Too bad she's left you home alone with her boyfriend, Anakin. She should've known you two had a thing for each other, right?

Content warnings: cheating, p in v sex, creampie, daddy kink

WC: 2.6k

“Alright guys, there’s only one shop that sells the buttercream we need and it’s way at the other end of town.” Padme shouts tiredly, grabbing her coat by the door. “Could’ve sworn I’d already picked some up…but anything for the birthday girl. I might be a while so make sure you keep an eye on the cake in the oven!”

“We’re not that incompetent, Padme.” Anakin rolls his eyes.

“Of course, we got it!” You answer as she leaves and turn to face Anakin. “You should really be nicer to her.”

“I’m plenty nice.” He responds. “And you’re the birthday girl, it’s you I need to be nice to.”

“But she’s your girlfriend. You’re obligated to be nice to her all year round.” You put the empty batter bowl into the sink as Anakin stares at you across the kitchen, leaning against the countertops.

“I’m about as nice to her as she is to me.” He murmurs and you look back in confusion. Were they having issues you didn’t know about?

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, Padme is the perfect girlfriend and you-“ You paused, looking at him up and down with a light scowl. “-well you’re you.”

“Ah, so you think I’m not good enough for her? How cliche.” He gives you a look of displeasure. “And what is it that makes me so unworthy of her company?”

“You’re not bad per se, you’re just…” You sigh, struggling to put your thoughts into words. “Look at it this way- Padme is one of those rare people. She manages to balance being successful and beautiful with somehow being humble and kind- I know for a fact she wakes up every morning to make you breakfast- and she does things like drive all over the city looking for a specific frosting for her best friend. That’s just the kind of person she is.” You ramble on, walking around the kitchen as Anakin stares at you in fascination.

“And then there’s you, who’s forgotten every anniversary and has been fired from every job because of his inability to control his temper. You see what I’m getting at?”

Anakin furrows his thick brows as he processes what you’re saying and you think he might get mad at you for a second but to your relief, he cracks a bright smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as much of a mess as you are. Just as unworthy.“ You laugh and a puzzling smirk crosses his face.

“So you’re saying I should be with someone better suited for me?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Someone like…you?” He raises an eyebrow.

You chuckle nervously and take a step back, suddenly aware of how close he’d gotten.

“Obviously not. I-I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.” Stuttering, you try to move away from him but he doesn’t budge, tall figure towering over you. That stupid smirk he has plastered over his face increases your heart rate tenfold.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Have I got you flustered?” He sneers.

“Stop playing around.” You push him away by his chest and escape to the sofa, slumping down it with a huff.

“Padme told me about the little crush you had on me.” He stands behind you and you refuse to face him, consumed with embarrassment.

“Crush is too strong of a word for what that was.” You feel your cheeks burning up at the memory; when you first met Anakin at that bar last Christmas, you’ll admit you initially wanted him all to yourself. But what were you supposed to do when Padme got to him first? You can’t believe she told him.

“So you don’t find me attractive anymore?” He asks in that provocative tone of his.

“The outer shell is fine but the inside could do with a little work.” You feign confidence, avoiding the question. To be truthful, you found him incredibly attractive. So much so that you actively avoided him because you felt yourself folding under pressure anytime he was near.

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” He asked quietly, taking a seat on the footstool across the sofa.

“No, but I sense you’re going to anyway.” You brace yourself.

“That night I saw you and Padme playing pool at the bar.” He begins. “I wanted to approach you, not her.”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“But she came up to me first and when I asked her who her friend was, she told me you weren’t interested…in men.” Your mouth widens as his words linger in the air.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You stutter, feeling a small sense of betrayal run through you. “I don’t know why she’d do that.”

“Because she knew she wouldn’t stand a chance otherwise.” He gets up to sit next to you and you tense up at his knee lightly brushing past yours.

“I thought you were a lesbian for half the time I’ve known you- until you started dating that loser a few months ago and Padme had to come clean. She thought I’d find it funny.” He curls his lip in disgust.

“And did you?”

“No.” He responds, steely eyes staring right through you. “I’m still mad about it.”

“Anakin…” You cautiously murmur, sensing the direction this could so easily take.

“I’m just saying, remember that next time you want to rant about how great she is. If it wasn’t for her deceit, it could’ve been us together.” He rests his hand on your leg but you swiftly brush it off.

“But it’s not. And it never will be. You’ll always either be her boyfriend or her ex. Either way, you’re off limits.” You try to assert some boundaries before your self-control completely slips away from you.

“And if it weren’t for these limits?” He reaches his hand up, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Oh God, the cake! Must go and check on the cake.” You get up, trying to escape his grasp but he pushes you back down.

“I said what if it weren’t for those limits?” He repeats sternly and you can’t help but fixate on his rosy pink lips. You’d always wondered how they’d feel pressed up against yours.

“In another galaxy where you’d never met her-“ You sigh, walls crumbling down. “then I’d be yours.”

“Is that what you want?” His husky voice mutters, barely above a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter because this isn’t another galaxy. This is reality.” You shuffle back a little in an attempt to impose some distance between you.

“Fuck reality. I want you.” He pulls you in and you’re hit with a wave of warmth radiating off his firm body.

“Anakin, no. Padme is my best friend! I’m not a homewrecker.” You cry out, unsure whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

“You can’t wreck something that’s already fallen apart. I don’t care about her— I don’t care about any of it anymore. For God’s sake, I even hid the damn buttercream because I wanted her to leave us alone for a while.” Your mouth gapes open at his revelation.

“I knew it!” You point your finger at him but he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you onto him, faces barely an inch apart.

“I need you. In every way possible.” His voice is so breathy it makes you squeeze your thighs together.

“Ugh, Ani I-“

“Do you want me as much as I want you? Please, put me out of my misery.” He whines and you bite your lip over the beautiful desperation in his words.

“Of course I want you, I’ve always wanted you.” The words barely leave your mouth before he grabs your face with both hands and kisses you sloppily, grip on your jaw a little too strong. He has you gasping for air, stubbornly holding onto you like it was the last kiss he’d ever have.

“Don’t you worry about her, I’ll take care of everything.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb comfortingly and you feel all your worries melt away; he was here, he would fix it all.

“I’ve thought about this for so long.” You cry, pawing at him. The sense of elation you felt at finally being able to touch him, inhale him, taste him- after an eternity of forcing every feeling down. You did it all out of respect for Padme, out of respect for Ani who chose her- but now that you’d learned the truth, restraint flew out the window. He should’ve been yours- he is yours.

“Lie down for me sweetheart, I wanna see my pretty girl.” He pushes you down onto the sofa and inches your skirt down, admiring your pretty pink panties. “You wear these just for me?” You nod frantically- it’s true, you wore everything for him. Your best underwear, your prettiest lipstick, your shortest little skirts, it was all for him. He pushes your top up slowly, messy kisses being planted all over your tummy until he reaches your perky tits.

“Is there a reason you’re not wearing a bra, young lady?” He scolds you playfully.

“Mhm, it’s fun watching you fight the urge to stare at the way they bounce and jiggle.”

“You noticed that, huh?” You giggle at his honesty as he rips your top off, laughter instantly replaced with breathy moans as he squeezes your boobs harshly, taking turns sucking on the nipples.

“Best pair of tits I’ve seen in my life.” He mutters into your chest as he continues to kiss and lick all over, making you writhe underneath him.

“Ani, please.” You buck your hips up towards him, desperately needing more. “Hurry, we don’t know when she’ll be home.”

“Then it’s a good thing the door bolts shut from the inside.” He grins, hands trailing down between your thighs.

“Ani, no! We can’t lock her out, what would she think?”

“I don’t care, all I know is if I don’t get enough of this sweet pussy, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He groans as he hooks his arms under your legs and pulls you down, pulling your panties to the side. You bashfully cover your face with your hands as he rubs your clit with his thumb and when you peek through your fingers, you see him biting his lip and curving his eyebrows into a pitiful swoop. Just as you think it can’t get better, he lowers his boxers and frees his cock, heavy length slapping against his stomach. Not wanting to inflate his already engorged ego, you try not to look shocked- but he sees right through you.

“You tryin’ to make me feel bad, sweetie? No problem, I’ll have you squealing in a minute anyway.” He confidently asserts and you feel him rubbing his tip along your soaking folds; the anticipation alone is enough to make you throw your head back.

With one sudden thrust, he pushes himself into your tight pussy and you sink your teeth into the pillow beside you to conceal some of the noise. Reaching forward and grabbing it from you, he tosses it aside and grabs you by the jaw.

“I want to hear every little sound you make. Raw and unmuted.” He growls.

“B-but someone might hear-“

“I don’t give a fuck.” He asserts aggressively. “Let them hear. They might as well start getting used to it now.” You moan at his depraved words, drool forming around your lips.

“If you want something in your mouth that bad, here.” He offers you his fingers- which you accept gratefully, sucking and biting on them to your heart’s content. Just as you’ve adjusted, he slides the rest of his cock in- filling you so deeply you question how it’s even possible. The mewling that proceeds boosts Anakin’s ego more than is healthy; you pant and whine so fervently that you look like you’re on the verge of passing out. Your pupils are dilated, your hair messed up, your thighs dampened with arousal and sweat.

“Ani, mm fuck- fill me up, please!” You dig your fingernails into his back as he lowers himself to kiss your wet lips, silencing your sobs and pleading if only for a moment.

“You want my cum, sweetheart? You wanna be daddy’s cum slut, hm? Let me hear you say it.” His strokes get deeper and sloppier as he hurtles his way to his release.

“Yes daddy, yes! I wanna be your cum slut so bad, it’s the only thing I want.” You ramble, words barely audible over the loud sounds of smacking and squelching.

“I could never say no to you.” He whispers, head tucked into the crook of your neck planting open-mouth kisses.

“I need it, need it noww.” You whine, tits bouncing into circles as he roughly pounds into you, strong hand maintaining a firm grip on your hip as he rams himself into you one last time: cum spilling from his tender cock and filling you up to the brim. Pulling out, the sensation of his cum dribbling out of you doubled with his thumb circling your clit sends you over the edge, orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. He rests his head on your chest as you both catch your breath, running your fingers through his hair.

“I’m gonna leave her.” He softly speaks. “I’m leaving and I’m telling her about us.”

Your heart seizes in both panic and excitement. There’s an us?

The familiar thud of footsteps in the hallway has you both scrambling to get dressed- you pull your top down and your skirt back on but can’t find your frilly panties anywhere. Anakin just about finishes zipping up his jeans when Padme walks in to the sight of her very flustered-looking best friend and boyfriend, sitting oddly far apart in unnatural positions on the couch.

“Hey guys, I had to check several different stores but I finally found the right buttercream, what have you- wait, do I smell something burning?”

Fuck, you forgot the cake.

Running over to the oven, she scrambles to pull out the smoking tray. Despair takes over her face when she sees the round crust, black as cinder.

“How did you forget?! What were you doing?” She yells, throwing the ashes straight into the bin and frowning at you.

“Nothing, Padme. We just got carried away chatting is all. ‘m really sorry.” You walk over to join her in the kitchen but start to feel Ani’s seed leaking out of your stretched-out hole and dribbling down your thighs. Noticing the glistening sticky wetness, Anakin rushes over in front of you to distract Padme.

“It was my fault, I said I’d keep track of time and I didn’t.” He explains, subtly tossing a kitchen towel your way.

“Classic Anakin, honestly a monkey would have better time management.” She hisses, barging past him and opening windows to let the smoke out. “No wonder you can’t keep a job.” He takes a shaky breath and you can see how hard he’s trying to restrain himself.

“Not now.” You think, giving him a knowing glare and he nods reluctantly. Padme stomps over to the bathroom and you quickly wipe the cummy mess off your thighs, giggling a little at the excitement of sneaking around. Anakin rushes over and gives you a feverish kiss, whispering in your ear “She goes to bed early, you know.”

Maybe you wouldn’t tell her just yet.

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10

Part 2 here

#hayden christensen #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x you #star wars smut #sam monroe #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars prequels #darth vader #padme amidala #sw prequels

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upsidedownwithsteve · 8 months

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Simmer #8

CH8. Boiling Point | The Menu [3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

You wished the diner was busier.

You would’ve done anything for more customers to serve. Anything. But Jim’s was quiet, only a few regulars scattered around the tables, only wanting coffees, no refills, scowling if you came too close, blocking the sunlight that fell onto their newspapers.

Robin and Steve were by the bar, throwing a crumpled napkin between them like a baseball, talking softly about nothing important and you felt too hot as you stood polishing the cutlery, shoving napkins into dispensers with clumsy hands. You could see Eddie through the kitchen hatch, prepping the burger buns for the dinner rush that you hoped would come. His eyes were trying to find yours as he rolled out the dough but you were avoidant, moving around each empty table with your head ducked.

Eventually, the rolling in your stomach became too much and the sight of Chrissy loitering in the kitchen was making that hot flush creep higher up your neck, across the back of your ears. You slammed a pile of menus down on the coffee bar, ignoring the way Mr Creel grumbled at you, looking at Steve and Robin as if they’d be able to fix the way you were feeling.

“Did Eddie and Chrissy used to date?” You came right out with it, voice rushed and quiet, speaking low in hopes that your question wouldn’t carry into the kitchen.

The radio was on, a female voice crooning from the speakers and you hated the way Chrissy was swaying to the beat, powder blue uniform skimming the tops of her thighs as she stood too near Eddie, refilling the salt and pepper shakers.

“It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want, cry if I want to, cry if I want to. You would cry too, if it happened to you…”

“Chrissy?” Robin wrinkled her nose and looked into the kitchen, too obvious. You tugged at her arm, pleading. “Don’t look.”

Steve snorted, hopping off of the bar to block lean over it instead, knocking his knuckles against yours. “Nah. I mean, I don’t think so?” He squinted at you before he shared a look with Robin and the girl shrugged, confused. “Chrissy just likes to flirt. With like, everyone. Her and Eddie were friendly, I guess?”

“Friendly,” you repeated, swallowing the word with the lump in your throat.

“It’s not, it’s not like that,” Steve murmured softly. His eyes were searching yours, watching the way they turned glassy. “It’s not like it is with you, trust us, you don’t have to worry about that, okay?”

Robin nodded, reaching out to hold your hand. She squeezed your fingers and smiled. “Yeah, you seriously don’t have to panic. Eddie doesn’t worry about our eating habits,” she grinned when you rolled your eyes. “And can we talk about that hickey yet? ‘Cause, shit…”

You groaned, cheeks warm but your friends had succeeded in quelling the ache in your chest, if only just. You felt like the new kid again with Chrissy around, watching her sit on the stool - your stool - at Eddie’s station, laughing at a joke you couldn’t hear, pocketing tips from the truckers who came in for coffee and cake, asking her how her summer was, if she was still working seasons at the camp a few towns over.

Chrissy was confident and bright, a bubblegum pink smile and rosy cheeks, a pretty, bouncy thing that made you feel two inches tall and every time you caught her near Eddie, your heart sank a little. She touched him a lot, a delicate hand on his arm, shoving at his shoulder when he made her laugh, brushing a crumb off the lapel of his chef whites after he whisked up a new batter.

You stayed away from the kitchen, only taking orders that Jonathan handed you from across the hatch and you could see the way Eddie’s brows knitted together every time you turned your back on him but the jealousy was too overwhelming. The uncertainty, the self conscious ache that made your neck feel too hot and you knew you were being ridiculous.

You did. You knew.

But it was too soon to be marking your territory and scaring away the boy with questions like, ‘what are we? Have you kissed her? Have you kissed her like you kissed me? Are we more than friends now? Are we more than what you have with her?

“Chicago,” Jonathan’s voice interrupted your pity party. He was pouring a coffee for Mr Creel, the man’s seventh refill of the afternoon. “Chef’s asking for you.”

Your stomach flipped and you grimaced, trying to pull off the expression as a smile. You weren’t sure it worked. You held up the cloth you’d been walking around with for an hour to look preoccupied, shrugging half heartedly. “Busy,” you told the boy.

“He said he’s made you lunch,” was all Jonathan replied.

So you sighed and tried not to let his words tug on your heartstrings too much. You smiled and gave in, throwing the cloth onto the workstation by the kitchen door and you didn’t even bother announcing your arrival when the diner was so quiet. Eddie looked up the second you appeared, eyes wide and he was just finishing plating up a stack of pancakes, a bundle of chopped strawberries in a bowl beside them.

“Hey,” he breathed, wiping his hands on his apron. “Hey. You okay? I’ve not seen you all shift.”

The kitchen was empty, no sign of Chrissy. The stoves were off and only one grill was still sizzling, leftover pancake batter crisping in the corners as it cooled down, a simmer in the quiet. You smiled weakly, unable to stop the wobble in your lip.

Cry baby, cry baby, cry baby.

You coughed, clearing your throat until the lump there disappeared and you nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Sorry, it’s, uh,” you winced as you gesture back to the empty diner. Steve was sleeping in one of the booths, his head against the window. “It’s been… busy.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmured, a frown on his face. It was soft, concerned. “Sit, yeah? Have lunch with me?”

You took a step forward, aching to walk to the boy, to let yourself push your face to his chest and let him smooth his hands over your hair. You got to spend the night into the early morning with him, draped over his lap as you shared triangles of grilled cheese and then kisses after it but you missed the way he felt already.

Then the fire exit door opened and Chrissy sauntered back in, cooing at the sight of the pancakes on the worktop. Eyes wide, she skipped over, ponytail bouncing like something out of a damn daydream and you didn’t know what to say when she picked up the fork Eddie had laid out for you and speared it through the stack. Her lips were sticky with gloss and maple syrup as she licked them, moaning sweetly as she looked at Eddie.

“Oh my god, Eds,” Chrissy sounded pornographic. “I missed your cooking so much, you know that?” She turned to you, grinning. Oblivious - maybe. “Does this cutie pie cook you up some food too? I swear, I used to get three meals a day when I worked here full time. Oh my god— Eddie! Remember the triple stacked pizza—?”

You didn’t hear the rest of the story. You really didn’t care to. And as rude as it may have seemed, you walked right past Chrissy and Eddie and the pancakes that were no longer yours. You could feel the tears burning the corner of your eyes and it made your nose itch, your cheeks burn. You weren’t doing this where people could see.

The door to the walk-in was heavy but you yanked it hard, breath catching in your throat like a hiccup and you were quick to close it behind you, the thud making the shelves inside rattle but it was suddenly quiet as it was cold. The heat of embarrassment faded, the burn crawling up the back of your spine disappeared and you sniffed, gazing up at the ceiling as if that would quell your tears. You stared at the patches of ice, focusing on the goosebumps rising across your bare arms instead.

It was silly, you thought, to feel such a way. To let someone make you feel that way. But beside Chrissy and her perfectly curled ponytail and her pretty Mary Jane sandals, you felt small. Unimportant. Like you suddenly didn’t belong in the stupid diner with its stupid chequered tables and its broken soda machine. Chrissy hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. It was mean of you to dislike her, with nothing more than a name and her connection to Eddie to fuel your jealousy.

Feeling petulant, you decided that was enough. You swore, mostly at yourself, and pressed the heels of your palms to your watery eyes. You felt replaced and it was an awful, ugly feeling. As much as you tried to remember what Robin and Steve had told you earlier, you couldn’t get over the way Chrissy looked at Eddie, like she really knew him, like she had some sort of claim on him. It was a very female thing to pick up on, only seeing the subtle signs through the eyes of being a girl.

The glances, the quick up and down she gave you as you arrived that morning, weighing up the chances of you being competition. The touches on Eddie’s arm, the territorial way she barely left his station, the too sweet smile she gave you as she ate the lunch Eddie made for you. The chit chat that seemed pleasant enough, the not so hidden reminders in her stories that she knew Eddie for longer than you had, better than you did. They had inside jokes, old memories, shared stories.

There was a knock at the door.

An odd thing to hear, on the other side of a walk in refrigerator, but you knew there was only one person it could’ve been. So you sniffed again and swiped meanly at your eyes, leaning against the door, ignoring the chill, the way your cheeks were both hot and cold at the same time.

“I’ll be out in a second,” you called through the steel. “I’m just… trying to find some—” your mind blanked as you looked around the space aimlessly, eyes landing on crates of vegetables. “—some asparagus.”

You made a face, annoyed with yourself for such a lame excuse and you heard a shuffle from outside before a familiar voice came through. “Sweetheart? Can I come in?” Eddie sounded muffled, mainly from the inches of steel and insulation between you but you could still pick up on the concern in his voice.

You sighed, bottom lip wobbling and you opened the door, the brief wash of warm air hitting your cold face. The fridge didn’t lock. Eddie could’ve bathed in whenever he liked. But there was something about the way he’d asked you that had you giving in easier than you thought you would. You stepped back, arms goosepimpled and crossed over your chest as you made room for the boy inside the walk in. Back against the metal racking, your hip bumped against a pallet of butter, boxes of it stacked high. You didn’t look at Eddie not yet.

“Why’re you crying?” Eddie asked gently, ducking down and bending slightly at the knees so he could look at your face, so he could try and coax you into meeting his gaze. It was a soft question, not anywhere near an accusation and he said it so sincerely, like he really wanted to know what was upsetting you.

All you heard was crybabycrybabycrybaby. So you turned your chin and hid your face in your hair, letting the strands stick to your wet cheeks and you swiped at your eyes again, too harsh for Eddie’s liking. Your breath left you in a hiccup, a holding thing that made the boy’s brows pinch together.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie reached out and curled a hand around your wrist, wide and still warmer than your own skin. “Hey, c’mon, c’mere.” The boy pulled you in closer, hands coasting over the apples of your cheeks, tutting softly as he wiped the way the tears there.

You cringed, embarrassed at being caught in such a state but Eddie pushed his thumb into your cheek until you let him lift your face and your gaze met his. He frowned, eyes big and earnest and he made a noise that was meant to soothe. You couldn’t help but lean into his palm, eyes watering again and you moved away, stumbling over your words, not sure if you should be apologising first or asking the questions you didn’t wanna know the answer to.

“God, I’m sorry,” you scrunched your face, mortified. “I’m— I don’t know why I’m getting myself like this, m’tired or something.” Before Eddie could respond you pulled back to stare at him, cheeks hot. “Is Chrissy like… did you and Chrissy— are you—?”

Eddie blinked at you, surprised. “I—”

You regretted it immediately, the accusatory way you asked such a personal question. It had been two months, one date, one kiss. You felt so stupid. “I have absolutely no right to ask you that,” you rushed out, eyes wide. Fuck, you felt worse than before. “I’m sorry, that’s— that's none of my business.”

“Sweetheart, you spent the majority of last night with my tongue in your mouth,” Eddie tried to joke, smiling weakly. “I think you’re allowed to ask that question.”

You looked at him, mournful, the lump still stuck in your throat and an awful feeling of unease clinging to you. You shrugged, a little hopeless. “Were you guys like.. a thing? Are you a thing?”

“No,” Eddie answered, soft and sure. “We’re not. We’ve never been— not like that. Chrissy…” Eddie swallowed and pulled at his apron, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Chrissy just likes to be the centre of attention. And well, I guess you could say, uh, I used to have a crush on her?”

Eddie noticed the way your shoulders tensed. “But that was way, way back in high school. Nothin’ happened. Ever. And— and I don’t want anything to happen now.” Eddie grinned, wry, awkward. “She just likes to make sure she’s got everyone’s attention, y’know?”

You did know.

“You used to make her food too,” you noted sourly and you hated the way your voice came out small, delicate. Moody. “She said she was your favourite.”

“Babe,” Eddie said a little gruffly, fondly. He reached back out, hand catching yours and you let him. He played with your fingers, the ring on your middle one, his touch delicate and comforting. “I’m a cook. I make food for everyone, they just— they just gotta ask me.”

Well, didn’t you feel silly. So you bit a little, heat rising up then back of your neck again, embarrassment tingling, your voice rising. “I don’t know! It could’ve all been part of your— your moves, or something.”

“Moves?” Eddie choked out, incredulous. “Sweetheart, it took me two months to kiss you, you think I’ve got moves?”

You squirmed, embarrassed still. You shrugged, unsure what to say because in your eyes, Eddie had all the moves. You could still remember the way he kissed you, the feel of his hand on your jaw, your waist, in your hair, on your thigh. The way he kissed you between making you your grilled cheese, the bread almost burning as he got too caught up in you, in the way he pressed you back into the counter, dotting kisses over your cheeks, your nose.

“I don’t know,” you said again and you ducked your chin, hiding.

Eddie tsked but it was a soft sound, sympathetic and he pulled at your hand, tugging you into him until you relented. Your face found his chest, nose pushed to his fresh chef whites and he smelled like his cologne, lemongrass and something sweet like leftover icing sugar. He let you hide there instead, your hands clinging to the front of his apron and you only pressed closer when his hands smoothed over your shoulders, climbing down your sides until he could hold you to him. His lips were on your hairline, a little hesitant, because all of this was so new, because you were clearly upset, because he didn’t know what this was yet, how this worked.

“What can I do, hm?” Eddie asked you softly, voice a low murmur. The walk in didn’t seem as cold with the way his nose was pressed to your temple. “What can I do to make you feel better, tell me.”

That hopeless feeling melted away with each pass of Eddie’s hand up and down your back, fingers trailing over the curve of your spine. You mumbled something intelligible, shrugging your shoulders again and hoping that Eddie couldn’t feel the heat that radiated from you. “I dunno,” you whispered. You swallowed, throat tight. You didn't know what to ask for too much, not so soon. “I don't want to— I’m not trying to—”

“Breathe, sweetheart.” You could hear the frown in his voice.

“Last night meant something, right?” You didn’t ask for the world. No labels, not yet. Nothing too scary. Nothing too deep. “That wasn’t just a, uh, one off or whatever?”

Eddie laughed, the sound softened by the way he buried his face in your hair and the arms he’d wrapped around you tightened, squeezing, affectionate. “I have absolutely every intention of doing that with you again…” he murmured, coaxing you out of hiding only to cup your jaw, thumb pushed to your cheek. He grinned down at you, all flirt and charm. “And again and again and again. If you’ll let me.”

It was unnerving, what those words did to you. The tilt of his lips, the pretty cadence of his voice. Eddie’s thumb coasted over the apple of your cheek and suddenly you forgot all about the other waitress who was no doubt still outside in the kitchen. “That sounds nice, yeah.” You nodded, warm all over again, all for the right reasons.

“You gonna let me take you out too?” Eddie asked and he leaned back against the racks, the cold metal doing nothing to deter him as he spread his legs a bit, pulling you between them by the tie of your apron until you were framed by his thighs. Closer, closer. “A proper date this time, please. A movie, some dinner, a walk somewhere real nice so I can kiss you goodnight and all that stuff?”

You grinned, cheeks aching, surprising yourself with the suddenness of it because now? Right then? Nothing else mattered but Eddie. “That sounds even nicer,” you told him and your eyes crinkled with the brightness of your smile. “Please.”

“Can I kiss you now? Been wantin’ to kiss you for ages,” Eddie murmured and his eyes were on your mouth, thumb moving closer to your chin, the tip of it ghosting the curve of your bottom lip and you nodded, eager in a way that should’ve been embarrassing but you pushed yourself to your toes and clung to him a little tighter.

A soft kiss, much, much softer than the ones shared the night before but still not appropriate for the workplace. Especially not a walk-in that was cold enough to make your toes ache. Not that you cared. But Eddie didn’t seem to either, humming in appreciation when you pressed yourself against him, face tilting to the side for him to deepen the kiss a little, lips moving a little more urgently against your own.

“Need to stop,” he breathed as he pulled away, grudgingly, giving in again to press a peck to the corner of your mouth and then another to your cheek. His palms smoothed over your jaw, up across your temples to swipe away the baby hairs there. “Gonna get carried away.”

You felt dizzy, miles and miles away from the kitchen, from that awful feeling, from Chrissy. You knew exactly what he meant.

“Can I make you some food now?” Eddie nosed at your cheek, arms winding around your waist and you felt so adored, the affection pouring from him by the bucket full. “You’ve not eaten all day.”

“Because someone ate my pancakes,” you said sourly and you regretted it immediately. You didn’t want to be the jealous girl, the insecure girl, the petty girl. But Eddie made it very hard to want to share. “Sorry, that was rude.”

Eddie snorted and just kissed your head, a touch so casual it made your heart jump. “C’mon,” was all he said. “Get your butt out of here before you freeze.”

It was easier to shuffle out of the walk-in when Eddie was leading you, his hand holding yours, the burning embarrassment you’d once felt fading to a shameful simmer. Chrissy was still at the boy’s station, picking out pieces of strawberry from the bowl, the plate of pancakes now empty. Steve was placing a bucket of dirty coffee cups into the sink and he looked up as the two of you appeared.

“Oh hey,” he frowned in concern at your red rimmed eyes. “I wondered where you’d gone to, you ok—?”

“Couldn’t reach the top shelf,” Eddie interrupted, smiling as if nothing had happened. He sent Steve a look and Chrissy watched, sucking fruit juice and sugar from her fingers. Eddie grinned at you, squeezing past you and the counter, his hands on your hips as he passed. “Had to lend a helping hand, didn’t I? Short stack.”

Your heart ached, your chest feeling too full with the kindness, the affection. So you could only nod, looking sheepish and even if Steve didn’t believe Eddie, he stole a knowing glance at Chrissy and nodded. The kitchen was filled with the kind of tension that had made you run off in the first place, but the feeling of being out of place disappeared when Steve asked Eddie:

“I’m going for a smoke, you comin’?”

Eddie shook his head and busied himself with pulling an old stool out from Argyle’s prep station. It had one wobbly leg, but you didn’t care. Not when Eddie took your hand and helped you hop onto it, the chair closer to him than the stool Chrissy was sitting on.

“Nah, man,” Eddie said. “M’gonna make my girl some food.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #linecook!eddie

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eddiesxangel · 2 months

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Let Me Be Your Goodnight | Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

CW: angst, rough sex, possessive Eddie, female fingering, p in v (protected and unprotected) , creampie, biting, light choking, pet names, Eddie and Reader are fuck buddies, but Reader isn't necessarily a groupie? Mutual pining but Eddie is a fuckboi, heavily inspired by Temporary Fix by 1D lol. Not a happy ending?

WC: 4K

For my 1D babes this is for you 😏

His eyes were transfixed on you. There you were, front and centre, first row, directly in Eddie’s line of sight. Perfect. You were perfect. He wanted you the second he laid his eyes on you. Your cherry red lips are perfectly in sync with the lyrics falling off his lips. He knew he needed to have you.

He tried to find you after the show, but you were gone before security could reach you. You had slipped through his fingers.

Eddie couldn’t believe his luck when he saw you hours later during the after-party. There you were, across the bar, standing with somebody, but it was clear he didn’t know what you liked, but Eddie knew; he read you like a book. Your body language was not inviting, and the eye roll you gave when the guy leaned in and whispered something in your ear. He knew you didn’t want to talk to this guy any longer.

Remembering how your eyes trailed his sweaty muscles as he performed for the crowd. How you were making his leather pants tighter than when they put them earlier that night.

You watched as Eddie sauntered over to you, pushing the countless bodies, including the guy who was trying to take you home, to get to you.

“Hey gorgeous, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” He leans on the bar, so close you’re almost touching.

“I’m sorry? who are you?” You twirl the straw in your cocktail.

“Feeling bratty tonight, aren’t we?”

You turn your back on him, flipping your hair over your shoulder, Eddie gets a whiff of your sultry perfume as you do. His eyes scanned your back, stopping at the hem of the tight, shiny black mini-skirt.

You feel Eddie walk up closer behind you, his breath cascading down your collarbone, his body heat radiating off of him like a furnace. You couldn’t help but react as his deep, raspy voice whispered in your ear.

“You know what I think, baby? I think you’re getting real tired of running that mouth of yours… maybe I can show you another way to use it.”

“Excuse you?” You snap.

“You know I saw you looking at me first.” He smirked.

“Who do-”

“And when I was on that stage, all I could think about was you waking up in nothing but my shirt, in my bed.” His hand trailed up the side of your leg and around to the hem of your skirt.

A small gasp leaves your lips as you let Eddie’s hand travel further towards your inner thighs that were clenched.

“You don’t have to tell me anything; I don’t have to read your mind… You’re soaked for me, and you have been since you saw me on stage; why else would you be front and centre, hmmm?”

The cocky prick knew your weakness, and your weakness was him.

“Eddie,” your body relaxes into him, and he removes his hand so it’s in a less compromising position.

“Oh, so the Princess does know who I am?”

“Shut up.” You were not very convincing; you were transfixed by him.

“If you're not hooked on anything right now, I can be your vice.” his plush lips grazed that spot on your neck he knew all too well.

Now, this was not the first time you let Eddie touch you. Any time he was in town, you ended up being pulled together like two magnets. You couldn’t help yourselves; you were addicted. But every time you say it’s the last, that it won’t happen again. That’s why you turned your back to him; if you saw those eyes, you knew you would, in fact, be waking up in his t-shirt.

A moan leaves your ruby-red lips as you feel his hand interlace with your own. Before you know it, you’re willingly being pulled by Eddie, and your lips are attached to his neck as he pulls you out of the club, trying to call a taxi.

A million lights flash as you exit the club, and paps and car headlights flash as he surprisingly doesn't cover your face like he usually would. You’ve seen him paps with dozens of other women; he’s always covering their faces, not wanting to show them off… but not you. Not tonight.

Lipstick is tattooed on Eddie’s throat, claiming him as your own. You couldn’t help it; there was something about Eddie that made you act like an animal. It wasn't the fame or the glitz or the glam or even the money, for that matter. It was Eddie, how he commanded the stage, how he carried himself, how he knew exactly what made you tic.

Eddie could hardly get into the car before he felt your body climb on top of him. Your skirt hiked up, and you straddled him in the back seat. Your hips ground into Eddie’s already hardening cock, and Eddie's hands shot up to your ass to keep you from moving.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Need you.”

“Did my baby miss me?”

You didn’t reply, how could you? Truthfully, Eddie was everything you wanted, but he wasn’t cut out for settling down. You knew there was another version of you in each city, and you couldn’t take the heartbreak.

Your lips latched on his neck once again, only this time you sucked the skin until it was black and blue. That could be his problem for his next girl tomorrow, but for right now, he will be yours tonight.

The ride to the hotel in NYC took as long as expected at two in the morning. The paps tried to follow you, but the taxi driver surprisingly lost their tail. Eddie let out a sigh of relief as he pulled you into the hallways off the elevator. Finally, he was back in the hotel room. He wanted you so bad, even if it was temporary; he was desperate for you. You were his favourite; you could actually be someone to him if he would let you, but Eddie was stubborn. Love didn’t exist for Eddie; he knew that.

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous.”

“I need you.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” he ruts his hips into you, pressing you further into the hotel room wall. His lips found your neck, and his hips ground onto you.

You needed Eddie’s hands; his talented fingers were pinning your hands down, but you wanted him to touch you; you needed him to touch you. You squirm under Eddie’s grasp, and he has you right where he wants you. Needy.

“Eddie, touch me already.” You were done with these games; you both were here for one reason. There is no need to beat around the bush or be timid or embarrassed about getting what you want. You wanted him to make you cum, and you were going to get it.

“There’s my girl, knows what she wants”

“Not your girl,” you moan as his fingers trail up your inner thigh.

“No?” Eddie cocks his head because in his mind, you were his favourite.

“Please, I know you, Eds.” You locked eyes. “Tell me to my face I’m the only girl you want... like you were balls deep in someone else yesterday.”

You were right; he couldn’t give you the answer he wanted, but he didn’t want it to be true.

“That’s what I thou-”

“You can own me,” Eddie quickly cut you off, “and we'll call this what you like.” His hands slipped under your panties and across your wet slit finding your swollen clit.

“Eddie!” You moan as your head falls back.

“Good girl, scream my name.” his thick, tattooed, ringed fingers slip past your folds and sink into your walls.

He watched your pretty red lips part as he worked his fingers up inside you, finding that spot deep inside you with ease. He knew your body, studied it, and now he was going to own it, even if it was just tonight.

You trembled below Eddie as his fingers pleasured you like no others could. This is why you keep coming back to Eddie. He knew how to work you, how to please you; he owned you; there was no denying.

“I’m coming!” You gripped his shoulders to brace yourself. It had been a while since Eddie, and you last got together, and he always could get you there quickly.

You needed to wipe that smug look off his face, so you kissed him so you didn’t have to look at him any longer. You push yourself off the wall and walk you and Eddie over to the bed.

Eddie fell back as you climbed on top of him. You needed to feel him under you, you wanted control, you wanted to be the one to give him the most mind-blowing sex of his life that any time he’s inside another girl, you’re the one he’s thinking of. No more temporary.

Grinding your hips down in Eddie's hard cock he lets out a whimper. The squeak of his leather pants against your core, heavy sighs and moans were the only sounds filling the room.

“You want me, Eddie?” You never used pet names with Eddie; it made things too real, and you couldn’t play into the fantasy that he was yours.

“Always, baby.” his chest rose and fell as he lay, and your fingers trailed down his stomach to the waistband of his pants.

“I don’t believe you.” You play with the happy trail leading toward what you want most.

“I’d say otherwise” Eddie cupped his hard cock, gesturing to how much he did in fact need you. You were the one, always.

You take his waistband between your fingers and yank his pants down. Unsurprisingly, he isn’t wearing underwear. His cock sprang free of the tight confines of his pants, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It looked painfully hard, and he looked desperate, needy, and beautiful.

“Tell me what you want, Eddie.”

“Already told you babygirl”

“Tell me again.”

“I want your sweet mouth on my cock; I want you to call me when you’re lonely when you can’t sleep,” he smirked, “You control me, baby, even if it’s just tonight.”

“Shut up” You gripped his hard cock in your hand and rolled your tongue over the tip before taking him as far as you could go. You didn’t let up, you didn’t slow down, you went for it, all in.

You knew he was full of shit, and you wanted to prove to him that he truly was missing out on the best thing that could happen to him.

“Shit, shit, shit, just like that, fuck, that mouth of yours is too good” he gripped your soft hair in his hands.

You worked him to his breaking point, his cock twitched, and you pulled off immediately,

“What the” Eddie stopped mid-sentence as he watched you slowly strip in front of him. His chocolate doe eyes widen as he watches your clothing come off piece by piece. Your exposed skin was calling him; he needed to feel your soft thighs warming his ears, your perfect tits cupped in his hands.

Your last article of clothing fell to the floor, and Eddie's eyes burned into you. He watched as you bent down to pick up his pants. He watched as you found his wallet, pulled it out, and opened it up to find the sealed golden foil he kept inside for times such as these.

You toss his wallet to the side and slowly crawl back to him.

Teasingly, you slowly unwrap the condom, watching Eddie drool as you do. You smirk, knowing you’re making him wait and squirm beneath you.

“Hurry up, baby girl.” He wants to grab the condom from your hand and do it himself so he can throw you around how he likes, but he also wants you to do it; he likes not having to be in control the whole time.

Unlike the others, you knew how Eddie wanted you and how he needed you.

“Patients Ed’s,” you cooed in his ear as your swollen lips trailed down his neck before you sat up to roll the condom on finally. His cock was leaking precum, so you dipped your head down one last time so you could lick it up. Once it was cleaned and clear, you swiftly rolled it down onto his throbbing member and positioned yourself over it so you could sink down.

Riding Eddie was always your favourite pastime; the way he filled you and brushed up against your walls, nothing could compare to that feeling he gave you.

You both let out a moan as you fully enveloped him. Eddie reaches up to grasp your hips to help you move with him. Sure, he loved you on top, in control, but he's only a man; he can't help but fulfill the need to thrust up into you.

Your thighs were burning, but you didn't care. The way Eddie was making you feel was all-consuming. His long hard cock hit that perfect spot every time you bounced down onto him. Skin slapping skin, your breasts bouncing in his face, your pretty mouth left agape in pleasure.

"That's it, bunny. Do you like being my little bunny, bouncing in my cock? This is the only cock that can make you feel this good isn't it?"

You didn't reply; you were too focused on the burning in your thighs and the pleasure building in your core.

Your hand slinked down between you and Eddie so you could rub your clit, giving you enough so your second orgasm of the night could build and build until Edie swatted your hand away.

"Answer me, Bunny," Eddie gritted through his teeth.

"Not your bunny, not yours." You didn't slow down; you only picked up speed.

"Wrong answer," Eddie was annoyed you never played into his little games like the others do.

You felt Eddie steady your waist, stopping you from bouncing, and flip you backwards so you were flat on your back, head almost falling off the foot of the bed.

You let out a startled yelp as Eddie yanks you by your ankles so you are closer to him.

He waists not another second to thrust back into your wet cunt.

"Fuck Eddie!" you cried as he roughly fucks into you. He had your legs pinned by your ears; you didn't even know you were that flexible.

"What was that gorgeous? You're not mine? I think you are, even if it's just tonight." he sneered.

A chain of curses left your mouth as Eddie pounded into you over and over and over again. His large hand travelled up to your chest, surprisingly not resting on your swollen breast but where your heart was.

You were slipping; you were feeling the weakness of your judgment unfold as your impending orgasm grew.

"You're so tight, baby girl; you're so tight for me; I can feel how close you are. You're gripping my cock so good." Eddie spoke as he stroked your hair out of your face. His actions were such a contradiction to how he was abusing your cunt.

"More, Eddie!" you pant.

"No, you know my cock is good enough to make you cum. You've been naughty. This is all you're getting unless you tell me you're mine." His hand slid up from where it was resting on your chest up to your throat, squeezing it hard enough that you still could breathe, but his fingers dug into you so hard there might be a mark left tomorrow.

Fuck him.

"No!" you spit.

"Then this is all you get. He leaned back, releasing your throat from his hands and replaced it with each of your ankles. He steadied himself before jackhammering into your cunt.

You let out a cry, and Eddie's hips slapped hard into you, his heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. The tip of his tick-long cock grazing your spot.

Eddie was right; his cock was all that you needed because you were coming in seconds, and he wasn't too far behind. Your body felt like it was dripping fire as your orgasm took over your mind and body.

Eddie fucking loved the way your cunt squeezed down on him every time he made you cum with his cock alone. He knew it was a rarity; he was so proud of himself each time.

He fell on top of you after that marathon of sex you both participated in. He pulled out, discarded the condom, and then went to crawl back into bed with you, but you were already up and halfway dressed.

"Where do you think you are going?" he blocks the door with his lean, naked frame.

"Home to sleep, it's three thirty. I'm tired."

"You think I'm letting you go out by yourself in the middle of the night? Looking like that?" He raises his brow.

Suddenly, the euphoria of the sex you just had completely drains out of you.

"What the fuck is that suppose to mean?"

"It means I'm not letting you, the most beautiful woman I've ever met, go out onto the streets where who knows what is out there so you can get snatched up. No way, you're spending the night; I'll sleep on the floor for all I care. It's not safe right now."

What the fuck was happening? Eddie always threw you out once you were done? And did he call you beautiful? Maybe you did, in fact, fuck his brains out?

"Uh, are you feeling okay?" You hold the back of your hand up to feel if he has a fever because what?

"I'm fine but won't be if you leave." He took your wrist off his head and looked you in the eyes.

"Fine, but you promised me a t-shirt." You decided to cave based on your better judgment. "And you don't have to sleep on the floor. I think we are way past that." You turned to walk back to the bed, slowly stripping for Eddie once more.

Eddie made his way over to the closet and pulled out his favourite shirt to give to you.

"Thanks." You caught it when he tossed it to you. You slip over your head before you turn to the bathroom to get unready the best you can.

Thankfully, the hotel came with a fresh toothbrush, and Eddie had cleanser and moisturizer you could borrow. You didn't bother brushing your hair. You just fixed it with your fingers and then exited the bathroom.

Eddie had just come in from the balcony after having a cigarette when you walked back out.

He drank you in; his shirt hugged you in all the right places. Your face was bare and fresh, but the hickeys he had left on your neck were raw; to him, you had never been more beautiful.

You watched him take you in, then hesitated before getting into the bed.

"Uh, what side do you want me to take?" suddenly nervous about sleeping in the same bed as him.

"I usually sleep on the right,"

"Good, I'm more of a left girl myself." God, that was lame.

"Meant to be," Eddie smirked before turning down the bed.

You tried not to read too much into that comment as you crawled in, lying down and facing away from him. You were stiff and didn't understand what had changed between now and all the other one-night stands.

"If you wanted to be the little spoon, all you had to do was ask baby." His strong arm wrapped around your middle and pulled your back flush to his chest.

Was Eddie Munson cuddling you? What kind of twilight zone have you entered?

"Um, Eddie?"

"Yeah, gorgeous?" He spoke as he nuzzled his face into your hair. You could feel his cock hardening against your ass, and there goes your train of thought. All semblance of a sentence was gone from your lips because Eddie's dick was pressed up against your backside.

You can't help it when your pussy floods itself all over again. You can't help it when your ass starts to grind into him.

"Greedy girl, you wanna go again?"

"You started it," You point out.

"Can't get enough of ol'Eddie, can ya, babygril?"

You let out a whine of frustration. You were supposed to be on your way home, but instead, here you are, begging for Eddie's cock once again because you're weak when it comes to him.

"I'll take that as a yes."

You don't let Eddie speak anymore before you take his cock and align it when your dripping entrance.

"Wait, are you sure?" Eddie asked; you never fucked without a condom before.

You didn't give him a verbal response; you only dragged his tip through your wet folds, confirming that this was what you wanted.

You opened your legs a bit wider to let Eddie glide in easily. Another wave of wetness pulsed out of your pussy as the velvety skin of Eddi's cock brushed up inside of you.

You feel Eddie's teeth sink into your shoulder as his hips slowly thrust into you. Your ass pressing into his bush with each thrust.

"Oh, Eddie!" You cried at the pain of his teeth marking you but also the euphoria that his bare cock was giving you. Eddie pulled you in closer, his hand wrapped around your middle, tweaking your hardened nipple under the sift you were wearing.

"Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, " Eddie spoke with each thrust.

"Yours, yours, yours yours," You agreed, fianllly you gave in.

He then gave in and finally played with your clit as he trusted in you again and again. It was slow and sloppy; he fell out a few times, but it was sex like you hadn't had with Eddie before.

Before, it was always rough and hard, a temporary fix to get off and go. But this was different. This was like he was fucking you as if he cared for you as a person. Not just another one in his little black book

Your mouth hung open as silent screams tried to come out of your lungs. You were speechless.

Eddie didn't say much either, which wasn't normal for him, but it didn't feel right at the moment. He wanted to endure the way your body wrapped around him. The way your cunt tightened when the pad of his finger grazed your swollen clit.

Before you knew it, you were coming undone all over Eddie once again. Your cum flooded over Eddie in a warm wet embrace, and that had him trying to pull out, but he wasn't fast enough. His cum was spurting up into you as his cock spasmed inside of you.

"Holly shit," He panted. Never had Eddie had such intimate sex before, and he didn't want to go back.

"Wow," you said when you started coming back to reality. You could feel Eddie's seed leaking out of you, and you needed to go get cleaned up, but you didn't think you could move.

Eddie peppered soft kisses along your neck and over your cheek before falling back exhausted.

"Good night, gorgeous." He wrapped his arms around you and fell asleep instantly.

The next afternoon, Eddie woke up to find he was alone. A pang of disappointment filled his chest before he spotted the note on your pillow.

"We need to talk."

That was all it said, followed by your phone number.

Eddie's stomach dropped while reading it, and he wasn't sure why, so he chose to ignore it and move on with his day...

You hadn't heard from Eddie for about a month, and it was killing you. Had he not seen the note?

You refused to be the one to reach out; you would not be that girl. So it surprised you when Eddie called five weeks later when he was back in New York.

"Hey gorgeous"

"Eddie, we need to talk."

"Don't think we will be doing much talking with your lips wrapped around my dick" You could practically see the smirk on his face. In any other instance, that probably would have made you roll your eyes and give in, but this was too important to skim over.

"Eddie, I'm pregnant."

Eddie doesn't respond, and you hear the disconnected tone on the other end of the line.

Tagging those who seemed interested:

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#Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie Munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #rockstar!eddie Munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson angst #Spotify

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ghouljams · 4 months

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Mmmm, jealous 1870s!cowboy!Soap starting a barfight at the saloon bc a guy was being too pushy with his girl 🤭

You hear the glass break before you actually see Johnny's fist crash into the interloper's jaw. You blink at the booze dripping off the strangers face as he struggles to keep his bearings. There's a dark flash in your regular's eyes, one you can't say you'd ever want to see again. You shrink back against your bar when Johnny looks at you. His jaw twitches with how tight he's got it clenched.

"I'll pay for the glass." He rolls up his sleeves and turns his attention back to the man who's rapidly realizing he's just been struck. "Go fetch the doctor, hen, gonna need 'er," He tells you, nodding towards the door. You nod quickly, just quick enough to assure him before he's grabbing the man by the collar to punch again. The way his fist pulls back is hypnotic; the flex of his back and the tightening of his bicep make you hesitate to leave. The spray of blood when he handily breaks the strangers nose sends you out the door.

The conversation you'd had with the stranger rings through your head as cross the street to grab the town doctor.

"It's my bar," You'd corrected when he'd complimented "your husband's" saloon.

"No man lookin' after you, eh?" He'd smirked over his glass. Your eyes had flicked to Johnny asleep against the bar, his glass untouched next to his folded arms. You'd given him a double, sure he'd worked a long day and promised to bring him a meal as quick as you could. He'd hardly waited for the words to leave your mouth before waving you off to sleep. "Bet you like that," The stranger had said, dragging your attention back to him, "bet a woman like you takes every man she can get her hands on."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You'd scowled.

"It means, whatever your rate is I'll pay it," He'd finished his drink, and tacked on for good measure, "haven't had good pussy in months." Before the glass had broken and Johnny was flying at him.

Duck meets you outside her office as a regular goes flying through the saloon doors behind you. She's already got her bag, hustling past you before you can even give her the situation. You give a quick heel turn to follow her, stepping over the Johnson boy with a half apologetic shrug when he groans and rolls onto his side. Duck holds the door open for you, her mouth in a hard line as you both watch blood drip off Johnny's knuckles.

His chest heaves with breaths as he stands over the unconscious body of the man who'd insulted you. Although you wouldn't recognize the stranger now, you'd guess he's missing a few teeth, and his cheeks puff around a broken jaw. One of his compatriots is strewn over a nearby table with a broken arm slung at an odd angle behind his back. You grimace at the turned over chairs and spilled drinks.

Johnny wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the sweat with the blood on his hand. Duck shakes her head and pushes past him to treat his unconscious victims.

"Fuck did you do to 'im?" The doctor asks, crouching and pulling different gauze and instruments out of her bag.

"Nothin' he didn't deserve," Johnny reasons, rolling his shoulders back with a soft pop and a low groan. Something low in the pit of your stomach clenches tight and warm when he looks over his shoulder at you. You squeeze your hands into fists and push through the chaos to get something high proof for the doctor to clean up with.

"There's a bed upstairs," You tell the room, pouring a tall glass of something clear and strong enough to strip paint, "if you want to finish your nap before the sheriff shows up."

You set the glass on the bar and let yourself meet Soap's eye. He's got a cut bleeding on his brow and a hell of a shiner starting to purple on his cheek, but he smiles at you brilliantly. You look away to find a broom and starting cleaning up his mess. You know he'll find his way to your rooms, and you'll have to pull him out of your bed despite there being plenty of open guest rooms. You know too that later you'll push your face against the pillow and try to find the lingering scent of his soap.

Folks in town know better than to get pushy with you when your dog is around, but strangers always take the gamble.

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dilemmaontwolegs · 3 months

Text

Belle Mort || LN4

AN: this was deep in the archives of abandoned fics but figured I’ll just post it anyway.

Pairing: Lando Norris x vampire!fem!reader

Summary: Your paths weren’t meant to cross - he was a famous driver and your brethren were the thing of myths and nightmares.

Warnings: smut, major character death

He didn’t belong here.

You could only surmise Vinny let him in the club because he knew an easy target when he saw one. Rich, young and handsome - he was ripe for the taking. A part of you knew not to get involved but, unlike your brother, you had a small conscience, especially when it came to the pretty, blue-eyed man who had shared your bed.

Making your way across the busy dance floor of Belle Mort, you snaked between the women who were selling themselves to the richest man one sway of their hips at a time. You slapped away roaming hands that tried to pull you into their laps and glared at the men until they looked away with wounded egos.

Your brother spotted the target and you stepped lightly in your high heels as you dodged the revellers, finally making it in front of the handsome man. “Qu'est-ce que tu fais, garçon perdu?”

Lando smirked as he cast his eyes over your body, the tight fitted dress hiding very little of the body he knew intimately. “I don’t speak French.”

“I know.”

His hand caught your waist and pulled you closer, his lips brushing your cheek. “You didn’t call me.”

You rolled your eyes at the need that laced his words, but it would have been a lie to say you hadn’t thought about it. You had even kept his number when you should have deleted it. Your worlds were so far apart you didn’t see the point in making it more than a one night stand, it was safer that way. “I know. Find another bar.”

“I like this one.” His hand tightened and his thumb brushed over your ribs, tracing the curve under your breast. His smirk grew as he felt your ribs expand with the sharp intake of air you took.

“You’ve never been here before.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I own it.”

“Co-own, dear sister,” Nix added as he stepped to your side. “And if Lando wants to party then who are we to deny him.”

You narrowed your eyes at your brother. “It’s bad for business.”

“Why? Because you mixed it with pleasure,” he laughed as he ruffled your hair, cracking your neck as he pushed you away to leer at the man himself. “I can see the appeal. No one can deny you have good taste, it’s just a shame you always leave them broken.”

“What’s he talking about?” Lando asked as he helped keep you steady from your brother's push.

“Nix has always been jealous of me, haven’t you?” you taunted him. “Always wanted my dolls for himself.”

Nix’s jaw ticked and if the music wasn’t so loud you probably could have heard a tooth break. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I’m on a break,” you stated, catching Lando’s attention as you grabbed his wrist and started to drag him to your office before freezing. Your hand met bare skin and you held your hand out to your brother. “Give it back. Now.”

Nix rolled his eyes but reached into his pocket to return the watch he had easily lifted from Lando. The glass and diamond face slapped into your palm but you curled a brow at him and cleared your throat, waiting for the rest.

“You really used to be more fun,” he grumbled as he returned Lando’s wallet too. “Don’t worry, the condom is still in there.”

“And the cash?”

“I don’t think that is really your worry, but yes, cash too.”

Nix disappeared into the crowd and even you found it difficult to trace his movements but he was one of the fastest vampires you knew.

“Interesting family you have,” Lando commented as the music was cut off with your office door.

“You should be more careful,” you warned as you slid the security chain onto the latch. “This side of town could get a guy like you killed.”

“A guy like me?” he asked as he accepted the whiskey you poured, neat. “Handsome?”

“Well known,” you corrected, despite his knowing smirk. Of course you found him handsome, or else you wouldn’t have let him fuck you in the bathrooms of another nightclub in the city. You had a business meeting, with a wolf no less, and the owner had left you displeased, so you found another form of pleasure in his den. “Where you go, pictures are taken. That is bad for my business.”

Who knew what illegal activities those pictures or videos might capture and be uploaded. Voices had been silenced for less in the dark alleys around the club - but the bodies were never found.

Lando took a sip as he weighed your words of warning, but it didn’t stop him wanting to go another round with you. He knew you were different from the moment he saw you. Determination and strength rolled off you as you stalked through the club to a door labelled ‘staff only’. A different look of determination had been seen when you emerged, scanning the crowd for someone to use - he had come to the club for the same reason.

“I can be invisible, when I want to be,” he promised as he followed you to the desk you leaned back on, crossing your heeled ankles in front of you. He placed the glass on the wood beside you and smelt the smooth spirit on his breath when he kissed the corner of your lips. “But I wanted you to notice me, again.”

His hand ran down your thighs and your ankles uncrossed. He took the space given and parted your legs so he could step between them and steal your moan with his kiss. His tongue parted your lips with the same confidence he parted your legs and he hummed when your hands slipped under his shirt, your nails dragging down his spine.

“I’m going to fuck you on your desk and every time you have a meeting here you will think of me.”

Desire pooled between your thighs at the promise and when his fingers found your body bare beneath the dress he felt it slick and warm. “You like that idea don’t you?” he chuckled in your ear, the deep timber of his gravelled voice making you clench around his fingers before they withdrew from you. “Turn around.”

For a woman who considered herself to be the bossy one, you were quick to follow his instruction and it didn’t go amiss from the smirk on his face. “I don’t remember you being this demanding last time,” you said over your shoulder, feeling the air on your skin as he pushed your dress up over your hips.

“That’s because you looked like you needed it more than me.” He flipped his wallet open and pulled the condom out, tearing through the foil packaging before rolling it down his hard length. With one swipe of his arm he cleared space on your desk and started to push you down before he changed his mind and spun you to face him. “Actually, I want to see your face when I make you come.”

The mahogany wood was hard under your ass and you spread your knees for Lando to step between. His cock pressed to your entrance and he watched your lips part as he slowly began to stretch you, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside you.

“You’re going to call me, aren’t you?” he asked with the teasingly slow retreat he made. He stopped just short of leaving you empty and made no move to fill you again. “I’m not going to fuck you until you answer me.”

You tried to shuffle your hips closer but he held them tight and your feet were off the ground so you couldn’t move, not without revealing your unnatural strength. Finally a frustrated sound left your lips and he smiled triumphantly when you agreed. “Now would you please fuck me?”

He answered with the snap of his hips and you moaned in unison as he filled you completely. The computer screen came to life and the mouse moved with the rocking desk and the cup of pens tipped over, scattering among the mess he had already made. Stars danced across your vision and your body pulsed with the deep bass that made it through the soundproof door.

“Lando,” you moaned as you tipped his head back, baring his neck as you felt your canines elongating behind your lips. The throb of his rapid pulse invited you to taste him and you dragged your nose over the vein, inhaling the rich scent hidden beneath his cologne. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

He shivered as your teeth grazed his skin but he was too far gone in his pleasure to question the sharp points. Just a little sip, you told yourself.

Lando gasped as pain flared, but just as quickly as it came it bled to a burn that felt better than any high he had ever had. He couldn’t breathe as you sucked at the puncture wounds, filling your belly with the same need you had for his cock.

He couldn’t explain how he found himself sat on the couch in your office with you on his lap, he had only blinked. You were high on him, making silly errors like using your speed and strength carelessly. You weren’t new to this life, but you were acting like it with him.

“Why did you come here?”

His head fell back and his eyes closed as you took your pleasure in riding him. He couldn’t think, there was only the tight feeling in all his muscles as his orgasm threatened to shatter him beneath you. “Just wanted you,” he choked as he bucked his hips up to meet you. “Again.”

You cried out as your climax peaked and Lando followed, unable to hold back with how tight you felt around him. Your head spun as the high receded, but you wanted more - it was the curse of immortality, you always wanted more.

You turned his head and struck again, lapping at the twin lines of life blood running down his collar. Cursing inwardly, you realised you were taking too much, you always took too much when you played with your food. Lando’s eyes fluttered shut and his breathing laboured, his skin fading before your eyes. Nix was right, you always left them broken.

“Fuck,” you growled at the thought of losing another man. Tearing the skin from your wrist you made what was possibly the second biggest mistake of your life, the first would always be asking for this life. Your blood was thicker and darker than his, staining his lips as you squeezed it out before the wound could heal.

“Wake up…” You prayed you weren’t too late, the seconds ticking by with quiet reassurance that time would continue to move on even if Lando never did again.

—

Nix crashed through the office door as dawn approached and the club closed. His black eyes found Lando’s body on the couch and a sneer carved across his lips. “What a waste.”

You barely lifted your head from your hands as you sat at your desk. You had felt lethargic from a full belly and drained veins. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You never do,” he snickered. “There will be people looking for him, I’ll have Vinny dump him in the marina - another rich boy who partied too hard.”

Lando gasped as he jolted upright, his eyes ringed red from the transformation, and a war waged within you. Rage exuded from Nix as he realised the danger you had put the entire coven in and his features sharpened as his fangs pierced his lips. “You would bring the Council down on our heads, sister?”

“I said I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t stand to see another die because of my weakness.”

“I would rather you have just killed him.” Nix pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. To change a human required petitioning to the Council, and permits were rarely given this century - and certainly not to those well known. People tend to notice when someone doesn’t age at the same rate: Jennifer Anniston, Cillian Murphy, Paul Rudd, Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Those half breeds could get away with it for a little longer but they would soon be faking their own deaths to keep the secret of their heritage.

“Take him to the mountains,” Nix said as he crossed the room to where Lando writhed in pain on the carpet, the transition destroying his delicate human cells for something much more robust. “I’ll tie up the loose ends here.”

Nix took the car keys from Lando’s pocket and checked his watch. There was still enough time before dawn came to wreck the car off the cliffs and into the French Riviera. When the car was found empty they would assume his body was carried out to sea. Lando Norris was dead. Lando de Belle Mort had risen.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #vampire!reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction

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ceilidho · 4 months

Note

oh i just know bear latches onto the single pregnant woman working at the diner closest to his place, he sees her as a way of saving her from gods wrath if he married her and adopts her unborn child and he gets the family he always wanted with Lena (who idk she rubbed me the wrong way in the show, maybe its due to the shows inability to write woman but i digress) but like that god complex sort of mentality that has been building in him with the loss of his navy brothers, the divorce and the loss of his own child idk man youre the one with the amazing brain and ability for these concepts god i love your work sm its not funny.

oh you've got something insane cooking here........

divorce has been finalized, Lena's long moved out and maybe even left the state altogether (I'm not touching what actually happens in the last ep)......only his work is really keeping Bear upright at this point, otherwise he would've just gone on a year long bender. he still has his bad days though, weekends where he just disappears. passing out in the bushes outside his house, waking up with a kink in his neck and a headache that threatens to split his forehead open. spends his days questioning why God has allowed everything else in his life to fall apart, has allowed countless other people to die, but just won't kill him.

and then one day he stops at the diner for a quick meal before heading to the bar and notices the new waitress. pregnant, obviously so. not terribly far along, but noticeable. his first thought, the most immediate thing that jumps into his mind is what she's doing working at this crummy diner on a friday night. just his luck that he's seated in her section and remembers how to turn on the charm, smiles and asks for her name and peppers her with compliments and she just rolls her eyes and smiles bashfully like she's used to grumpy old men melting around her.

when he finds out that the guy that got her pregnant has long since skipped town, told her in no uncertain terms that he has no interest in becoming a father, Bear's eyes go cold and hard for a bit. after what he's been through, the thought of someone having everything that he's always desperately wanted handed to them on a silver platter and then...sending it back...has him feeling just a little off-kilter. not quite right. it doesn't last long and he apologizes when she seems unnerved, but the rage still sizzles under his fingertips. makes his hands shake, old nerve damage and anger problems.

but as he sits there, drinking his coffee and lingering, the hour slipping by into the next, it starts to come together in his mind. why he's been forced down this long road alone, why God hasn't struck him down yet despite every terrible thing he's done. he was supposed to be in this diner with this sweet girl and save her. make her an honest woman, give her baby a father. bring her into the lord's house and do for them what he couldn't do for his daughter and fallen brothers.

so he sips his coffee and waits for her to come back to his table. and plots.

#ceil writing #joe bear graves

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little-diable · 3 months

Text

Stay for a while - Charlie Swan (smut)

It's been a while, I missed Charlie, so @deathofpeaceofmind threw this idea my way, and I rolled with it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated!! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is new to Forks, on her first day she crosses paths with the handsome Chief that instantly catches her attention. How convenient that they meet around the same time Charlie needs a date to his daughter's wedding.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, lots of fluff

Pairing: Charlie Swan x fem!reader (2.8k words)

With her eyes focused on the road ahead, (y/n) kept humming to the song blasting from the radio, allowing the sound to fill her car. Even though her phone had stopped working a while ago, no longer able to connect with the endless-seeming forest surrounding her, she already felt awfully comfortable in her new home, excited about her new life in Forks.

Perhaps it was the fault of being so distracted by the pretty town she was driving through, perhaps it was the fault of her giddy self, unable to concentrate on anything in particular. Whatever it was, it didn’t help (y/n) find her new workplace, the diner she was supposed to work at, hoping to find her new home in this town she had never set foot in before.

With a sigh leaving (y/n), she parked her car in front of the police station, knowing they’d be able to guide her to find the diner. Her soft steps brought her closer to the building, walking up the stairs with a small smile glued to her lips. And even though she tried to keep her eyes focused ahead, (y/n) found herself bumping into something, or rather someone.

A pair of strong arms found their way around her waist, keeping (y/n) from losing her balance. Her eyes found a pair of dark ones, a colour so rich they told a story of longing, struggles, and yet a softness she was a stranger to.

“I am so sorry.” Softly (y/n) spoke the words, smiling at the man who had caught her. Chief Charlie Swan, a face she had seen on TV now and then, giving interviews about accidents that have happened in the area. (Y/n) felt a strange kind of warmth flush through her since she had always found him handsome, a face she’d think of when her thoughts got a chance to wander.

“That’s alright, don’t you worry. Can I help you, darling?” His voice shot shudders down her spine, momentarily having to avert her gaze to collect herself, unable to stop her smile from growing. The use of the nickname almost left her choking, unable to part from the man she already felt weirdly connected to.

“Uhm, yeah actually. I was trying to find The Lodge?” With the chief now standing a few feet away from her, she got the chance to properly study him, his moustache gracing his features, and that almost cheeky smile that gave the man an even friendlier demeanour. There was something about Charlie Swan she hadn’t ever seen in another man, something she couldn’t put her finger on, yet it was something that drew her to him like two magnets made to find one another.

“I’m about to drive there, if you want to I can take you with me, or you can follow my car with yours.”

……

“Morning, Charlie.” A soft smile tugged on her lips as she watched the chief step into the diner, taking off his hat to properly greet (y/n). It was her third week of working at the diner, slowly adjusting to her new surroundings, to the friendly town that had instantly taken her in with open arms, and to the friendliness of a certain chief who only seemed to treat her this warmly.

“Morning, sweetheart. How are you?” He sat down at the bar, staring at her with those eyes she found herself longing for every single morning, counting the minutes till he’d step into the diner.

“I’m alright, very much looking forward to my first free weekend.” Her words drew a chuckle from Charlie, who was intently watching her pour him a cup of coffee. She loved these mornings with him around, with only a handful of customers filling the diner. (Y/n) found herself sharing conversations about her old home, her hobbies, and her dreams and longings with Charlie.

“Do you have anything planned?” He took a sip of his black coffee, eyes glued to her features, not daring to look away for even just a moment. There was something unfamiliar binding these two together, something both of them felt, yet struggled to voice out, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

“I wanted to drive down to First Beach, I miss the ocean.” (Y/n)’s soft chuckles drew some more from Charlie. Even though her coworkers had told her that they had never seen Charlie this relaxed and happy before, (y/n) tried not to overthink their back and forth, not wanting to dig her own grave in the new town she would live in for a while.

“I’m off duty on Saturday, I can come with you, if you want, show you around the area and introduce you to some friends.” Slowly she crossed her arms in front of her chest, unable to bite down her teasing grin.

“Does that mean you think of me as some kind of loner who has no friends of her own?” And with another heartily chuckle bubbling out of Chalie, he shook his head, murmuring something under his breath (y/n) couldn’t pick up on.

……

“How long have they been together?” (Y/n) was walking next to Charlie, arms wrapped around herself to try and shield herself from the cold wind. The waves were rolling ashore, wrapping the two in its icy yet gentle embrace.

“Not for long, but I fear this is something that will endure every struggle.” She watched a frown tug on Charlie’s features as he told her about his daughter’s upcoming wedding, clearly struggling with watching her grow up, turning from her dad to marry a man her father wasn’t the biggest fan of.

“Well, if you need extra moral support, I’ll gladly join you.” Charlie’s eyes found (y/n)’s, shooting her a soft smile with his arm slowly finding its way around her middle, pulling her to his side. Without overthinking what he was doing, Charlie pressed a kiss to her hairline, trying not to pay his racing heartbeat any attention.

“That’d be very sweet of you, but I’m sure you have better things to do.” She moved away from him, not far enough to escape his embrace, yet enough to get a good look at his handsome face, unable to read the expression tugging on his features.

“Better things? It’s a wedding, Charlie, what better things are there?” Both laughed in unison, eyes holding contact for a few more moments. He cleared his throat, looking away from (y/n) before they could give in to the pull that seemed to guide them. She kept close, her hand finding his big warm one to interlace their fingers. “I’ll make sure to keep you from murdering Edward, we’ll have fun, promise.”

……

“Let’s go for some shots before I force you to dance with me.” (Y/n) had her fingers intertwined with Charlie’s, pulling him through the crowd with her eyes set on their table, ready to sit down for a few. But before they could even get near their table, they were stopped by Bella’s call for her dad, forcing the two of them to a halt.

“Bells, this is (y/n).” So far (y/n) hadn’t gotten the chance to speak to Bella, not wanting to disturb Charlie and Bella’s moments together. She had met a few of the Cullen’s, and even Renée, instantly befriending the rather giddy woman. And yet, as much as she had tried to focus on the people Charlie had introduced her to, she could barely focus on them, eyes drawn to Charlie’s frame at every given moment.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Bella. You look absolutely stunning.” The girl shook (y/n)’s hand as her eyes kept flickering between her dad and (y/n), trying to figure out the relationship between the two. But before she could interrupt the somewhat awkward atmosphere now wrapping itself around the three, her name was called by Edward, stealing his bride away with a soft smile.

“Well, that was something. Shots?” Charlie’s raspy chuckles left (y/n) giggling, eyes not wanting to leave his relaxed features just yet. The dark suit he wore fit perfectly, making him appear even taller, paired with those dark eyes of his and the moustache she desperately wanted to feel scratching her skin. Charlie had a special kind of grasp on her body and soul, keeping (y/n) close without realising what he was doing to her.

“I guess she didn’t expect me to turn up with a woman, I only told her I’d bring a friend.” Her eyes grew a tad bit wider, tongue kissing her teeth as she pondered over his words. The alcohol flushing through her veins seemed to spur her on, guiding her towards Charlie with her arms finding their way around his neck.

“Did you just friendzone me, Chief Swan?” She was standing close, and could almost hear the uneven beat of Charlie’s heart, enjoying the way he was staring down at her, hands firmly placed on her waist. For a second, she debated kissing him, breaking through the wall he had built around himself for the past years, needing to protect his fragile heart.

“I doubt friends think about one another the way I think about you, sweetheart.” His words almost made her choke on her breath, wide eyes staring up at him as his thumb found her lower lip, slowly stroking the soft skin. Heat flushed through her, a fire so strong nothing could tame it, set on burning her to the ground. Silently she hoped that he’d close the gap between them, lips meeting hers in a slow kiss, but Charlie seemed to have other ideas, taking a step away from her.

“Seems like Bella and Edward are about to leave, let’s say goodbye.”

……

If (y/n) had known that she’d find herself pressed against Charlie’s car about an hour after saying goodbye to the newlyweds, she would have died in anticipation, unable to hold back her excitement. But now, as Charlie kissed her deeply, hands holding her thighs, forcing her further against his car, her thoughts were all over the place.

His name rumbled through her as his lips kissed their way down her throat, moustache scratching her soft skin just the way she had hoped it eventually would. Her gasps left her, rumbling through the quiet night. Both were heavily panting, riled up by their unfamiliar touches, not daring to let go of one another.

“We should move this inside before my neighbour gets a heart attack when she sees me fucking you out here.” Charlie’s words left (y/n) gasping, not expecting to hear foul words like these rolling off his tongue. A squeal tore through her as he squeezed her thighs, pulling her in for another heated kiss. For a few more seconds they kept making out, only pulling away from one another as their lungs ached for some more air, “Come.”

With his hand reaching out for (y/n) to take, Charlie pulled her towards his home, guiding her inside. The second the door fell shut, she found herself pressed against it, lips once again pressed against Charlie’s. Even though (y/n) wouldn’t admit to it out loud, she couldn’t help but thank her lucky stars for the way Charlie was touching her. She had been worried about pressuring him into doing things he wasn’t ready for just yet, but the way he was touching her now seemed to erase every single worry she had about a moment like this one.

“Let’s go upstairs, you deserve a nice mattress at least.” Charlie tried to part from her, wanting (y/n) to feel as comfortable as possible, but she only shook her head, fingers working on the zip of her dress, stepping out of the thin fabric. His pupils grew bigger once again, wandering up and down her underwear-clad frame. Slowly she walked towards the couch, murmuring a soft “I don’t want to waste any more time, Charlie”.

Within moments he had her in his lap, allowing her hands to work on the buttons of his white dress shirt, suit jacket long forgotten. Both were desperate to undress one another, desperate to feel their naked bodies intertwined, and desperate to touch the parts they kept on longing for.

“Fuck, I tried to hold back, I really did, tired to give you enough time, but it was torture not touching you these past days.” His words left her grinning, letting go of a simple “Same” as she pushed his shirt down his arms. Her fingers roamed his chest, exploring his warm skin. (Y/n) was too concentrated on his skin to pay his wandering fingers any attention, and how they undid her bra. Charlie’s groan ripped her out of her trance, letting her bra drop to the ground while she watched Charlie undo his trousers, set on fucking her right there and then.

“Charlie,” his name rolled off her tongue as if she was reciting a poem, set on expressing her adoration, set on telling him all about her feelings for him without needing to put them into words. “Fuck me, please, just fuck me.”

A gasp left (y/n) as Charlie flipped them around, grinning down at her as he now hovered over her, doing quick work on her soaked panties, pulling them down her trembling legs. The sight of her bare cunt left Charlie groaning, eyes taking in every inch of her now naked body, “You’re dripping baby, making such a beautiful mess.”

“Charlie, I need you inside of me, don’t make me wait any longer.” (Y/n)’s words dripped with desperation, eyes growing wide as he spat onto her cunt, saliva mixing with her arousal. He circled her bundle and grinned down at her as a string of curses rolled off her tongue. She was at his mercy, ready for the man she needed like a starving woman who needed her food, he was the air she was desperate to breathe, the one she’d search all earth for.

“Let me grab a condom.” He tried to rise from the couch, but (y/n) wouldn’t let him, pulling Charlie down for a messy kiss.

“I’m on the pill, I want to feel you.” Her words drew another groan from Charlie, grasping his cock to pump himself a few times, pushing into her without another warning. Both moaned in unison, eyes holding contact, not daring to look away for even just a second. He didn’t hold back, didn’t move slow, no, Charlie fucked her into the couch, high on the feeling of her clenching around him.

It had been too long for the both, no longer used to feeling this close to someone they actually enjoyed being around, and yet it felt better than ever before, more sincere, more loving, more intimate. They didn’t hold back, didn’t try to swallow their sounds, giving into every call, choking on one another’s name.

His fingertips dug into her skin, not daring to let go of her, of the way she fitted to him oh so perfectly. (Y/n) was sure that she’d forever remember this, forever remember his sounds, his touches, the way he fucked her into oblivion on his couch.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” Charlie’s raspy voice left her gasping, arching her back off the couch, trembling thighs tightening their grip on his waist. This was messy, this was rough, this was everything the both of them needed. She felt him shift, felt him raise her hips off the fabric with another deep moan leaving them at the new angle.

“God, Charlie, you’re so fucking deep.” She was sure that she felt him in her stomach, fucking her deeper than she had ever been fucked before. The way she shook beneath him, breaths uneven, eyes wide, warned Charlie of her quickly arising high, about to cum on his cock, about to let go with a call of his name.

And it was the prettiest thing Charlie had ever seen, a sight so vulnerable, so beautiful, he felt himself tumbling over the edge seconds later, cumming deep inside of her. Her walls pulsed around his twitching cock, needing to hold on for as long as possible, not daring to part before both could relax, heavily panting.

“See, I told you, there’s no better thing than weddings.” Her whispered words left Charlie chuckling, forehead pressed against hers. He pulled (y/n) in for another kiss before he slowly pulled out of her, watching her make a mess on his couch with a smirk glued to his lips.

“Well, if they always end like that, I’ll have to drag you to a lot of them.”

#Charlie Swan smut #Charlie Swan imagine #twilight #Charlie Swan x reader

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gummygowon · 11 months

Text

sugar | jeong yunho

word count: 2.7k

genre: smut (minor dni!) just another pwp, cowboy!yunho x waitress!afab reader

warnings: dom!yunho x sub!reader, unprotective sex (booo!), creampie, big dick yunho eheheh, slight humping lol, petnames (sugar, honey, sweetheart, doll)

author's note: don't know why this took light years for me to finish BUT SHE'S DONE!!!! and just in time for the cb >:) i will say though that this was written even before the cb was announced so i will take full credit for cowboy!ateez like i literally manifested that shit with this

in your quiet, little hometown not much went on. even the gossip that got around town was drier than the tumbles of weeds that ran through the streets.

recently, however, they were rumors about some lone cowboy who came in late last night. you were sure that the lone cowboy would wound his way into the saloon at one point of his stay here even if he was just passing by. what man could resist a glass of beer?

and you were right, well, you're pretty sure you're right. in the middle of your shift, some tall man stalked into the bar and quietly sat down in the back of the saloon. his eyes and the top half of his face were covered by the large black cowboy hat that he wore leading everyone curious as to what he looked like.

"do ya think that's him?" you ask your coworker miyeon as the two of you wipe down glasses and cups behind the bar.

"the mysterious cowboy who wandered into town last night?" she asks leading you to nodding, "well, let's look his tall man sitting in the back of a saloon and everyone is looking at him like he has horns growing out of his head so i assume so."

rolling your eyes at miyeon's sassy response, you find yourself taking a peek to look at the new visitor. from where you're standing and with the man's big cowboy hat blocking eighty percent of his face, your curiosity grew to as what he looked like. did he have a scar on his face? a beard? or maybe a mustache?

"if you're gonna keep looking at him, you may as well take his order." miyeon comments on your long gaze on the outsider.

"absolutely not!" you retort back but miyeon is already pushing you out the bar with your tray, "remember to smile! it gets ya more tips!"

you contemplate flipping off your coworker but decide against it and give her a nasty glare as you walked off to the back of the saloon.

as you approach closer to the man, you see him shift in his seat but he doesn't look up at you until you clear your throat.

the man finally looks up at you and you feel your breath gets caught in your throat. the man had no facial hair or any nasty scars on his face. to your surprise, he was well-shaven and his eyes were full of life along with his plump lips that sat prettily on his face.

too entranced by his aura, the man had to tilt his head and raise an eyebrow at you for you to start functioning again. "my apologies sir, "what can i get ya started with?" you ask, trying your best to calm your heart down before the stranger in front of you could hear it beating out of your chest.

he lets out a soft chuckle at your flustered state, "what do you recommend sweetheart?"

your heart stopped for a solid second at the pet name. "well, if you want something a little stronger i recommend our house's whiskey. but if you don't want something as harsh, our draft beer is great too sir."

the smile from his laugh stays on his face, "you can call me yunho, sweetheart. callin' me sir got me sounding old."

your face turned redder than the apple tree behind the saloon. "my apologies, yunho" you say, your eyes glued onto the floor.

another laugh erupts from yunho's mouth as he watches you flush with embarrassment. "what's got you so wound up so tight sugar? relax a bit for me sweetheart, you can do that, can't ya?"

the grip on your serving tray loosens as you let your shoulders drop.

"good girl." the cowboy praises as he leans back his chair, the big buckle on his black belt reflecting as it shines from the candlelight. "now, a glass of whiskey will do just fine for me sugar."

"i'll be right back with that, yunho." you curtsy at him before rushing to the bar.

miyeon!" you whisper-shout at your coworker, who somehow had disappeared behind the counter.

"so what does mister outsider look like?" miyeon asks, popping up from the bar like a jack-in-a-box. "i bet he got a nasty scar on his face!"

"he doesn't have a scar i can tell you that. but that man is fine as hell."

"no shot, he really is?" she asks, attempting to peek over you to get a look at the stranger.

"yes, he is and he keeps calling me sweetheart," you whisper at your coworker.

"he keeps calling you what?!" miyeon shouts into the saloon causing a few eyes to look over at the two of you.

"miyeon!" you whisper-shout once more. "anyways, he wants a glass of whiskey so would you be a dear and get me some."

"i think you should be the one filling up his glass, if he called you sweetheart."

"oh for christ's sake, miyeon. just give me the damn whiskey."

"who spit in your tea this mornin'" miyeon grumbles as she puts the glass down in front of you.

you roll your eyes at her response, before whisking away to the back of the saloon once more.

"where's ya whiskey," you place the glass down on the table before giving him a curtsy.

"thank you sugar."

in the distance, you hear another customer calling you over. reluctantly, you turn your attention towards the voice leaving yunho behind.

"sweetheart," yunho calls out to you, attention fully back on him again. you tilt your head waiting for him to finish his sentence, " you gonna be busy tonight?"

it took everything in you to not give yourself to him right away but godamn it was tempting. "i got some things to do tonight, but come tomorrow. i might not be busy."

you watch as the man slowly nods before downing the rest of his glass. "alright then sugar, i'll see you tomorrow."

yunho doesn't know how long he's been sitting in this damn saloon but he's been there too long and he can't keep slowly sipping this whiskey for another hour.

the cowboy arrived roughly around the same hour as he did last night assuming the flustered waitress he met would have the same hours again but as of right now he was wrong. yunho recognized her coworker and was tempted to ask about your whereabouts but decided against it. he didn't want come off as a creep or desperate.

usually, yunho didn't mess around with any of the girls in the small towns he visited. he was strictly a business-only type of man but something about you was just so enticing. a one-night stand wouldn't hurt right?

"wanna refill on that sir?" a pretty voice asks him luring out of his thoughts.

"i'm alright, i'm just," yunho looks up midsentence to see you standing above him. "waiting on someone..." he trials off, his eyes shamelessly wandering to places they shouldn't.

"really?"

"actually, they're here now." he answers absentmindedly, eyes still drifting towards your chest.

a blush makes its way to your cheeks as you hug the tray closer to your body, "well, let me know what they want, i'll be right back."

yunho only ordered one more glass from you as he waited for you to get off. he had planned to invite you back to his hotel room sometime during your shift but even with the alcohol running through his veins, he couldn't bring himself to talk to you.

once the night had began to wind down and most of the patrons had cleared from the saloon, yunho wandered to the bar to pay for his tab. he watched you gossip with your coworker, your backs to him as words carelessly left your mouth. he didn't know what the topic of the conversation was but yunho did catch some pretty interesting things.

"y'know what they say," your coworker leans into you with a knowing smirk. "save a horse, ride a cowboy!"

"miyeon!" you shout at her, giving her a slap on the shoulder. "we still have customers here!" you look over your shoulder to exaggerate your point only to see the cowboy she was referencing.

"hi sir! what can i help you with?" you ask, elbowing miyeon to get back to work.

a small laugh came up yunho's throat as he walked up closer to the counter with his hands on his belt, "just wanna close up my tab that's all."

"right, we'll get that for you. what'd ya order again?"

"just three glasses of whiskey."

"that'll be one hundred won."

"alrighty then." yunho reaches into his pocket to fish out the money. before placing on them on the table, he leans over the counter beckoning you to come closer which you do, "i can teach ya how to ride a real cowboy."

you froze, thighs rubbing at the suggested thought. "o-okay."

the corner of yunho's lips quip into a cocky smile as he watched you turn red. "i'll wait for ya then sugar. don't keep me waiting too long."

you have never cleaned up and closed so fast in your life. the tables were wiped and the floors were mopped. even miyeon had sped up with her own chores after you agreed to tell her what the mysterious cowboy told you.

before leaving the saloon, you take a moment to fix yourself up in the mirror. once deeming yourself presentable you take a deep breath before walking out.

the crisp, night air embraced you forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself as you look for the tall cowboy. "yunho?"

as on cue, the man emerged from the shadows with a cigarette between his lips. "you finished a lot sooner than i expected."

"there wasn't much to do."

"ahhh," yunho hums as he stomps on the cigarette to put it out, "ready doll?" he sticks out his arm for you to hold.

humming in response, you wrap your arm around his much larger one. the warmth radiating him his body instantly warming you up as you walked in the cold.

yunho made some effort to get to know you to refrain from taking you right now. it was hard to avoid thinking about he was going to fuck you tonight.

when the two of you arrived at yunho's room after passing by the innkeeper who merely raised an eyebrow at you, there was a thick tension in the air as you (im)patiently watched yunho unlock the door.

once unlocked, yunho stepped aside to let you in. the tension grew even thicker when he came inside. it was like a waiting game to see who would make the first move.

with hungry eyes, yunho stalked towards you, his figure looming over you as you eventually backed into the door. "i won't bite, sugar."

as soon as those words left his mouth, you closed the gap between you two attacking his lips mercilessly. yunho fought back with equal fervor, his tongue clashing with yours as he kept a finger under your chin to keep it titled.

pulling back for a breath with your chest heaving, yunho pulled away to your dismay but stayed close enough to whsiper, lead you to the bed inviting you to sit on his lap. eagerly, you throw your legs around him without a thought. your lips return to his in an instant, this time even messier as your teeth clashed with his. yunho pulled you higher up on his lap so that your clothed core came into contact with his raging hard-on. you gasped at the contact, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

yunho pulled away to catch his breath making you whine at the loss of his lips. he immediately shut you up by leaving soft kisses all over your neck and dangerously venturing toward your chest. soft gasps quickly turned to moans once those sweet kisses turned to love bites. one of your hands finds its way to yunho's hair, pulling every time he added another hickey. subconsciously, your hips began to rock against his.

a tut comes out of yunho's mouth as he stops his attacks on your neck, "patience sugar."

a pout forms on your lips as you beg with your eyes for the cowboy to do something about the ache in your lower half. "please,"

"you gotta use your words, doll." yunho teases as he matches your pout.

warmth begins to spread throughout your face, "please, let me ride you."

"there's my good girl," he praises a smile replacing the pout on your face.

his hands went to work at his belt, swiftly removing the chunky leather along with his pants as well while you unzipped your dress and drawls underneath. once you were fully unclothed, you shyly looked at yunho for guidance who was already waiting on the bed, a hand lazily pumping at his cock.

"come 'ere sugar," he motions at you with his free hand.

obediently, you climbed onto the bed, both legs swinging over each side as your hands shyly press against his lower stomach. yunho watches you intently as you glide your slick cunt over his aching cock before finally sinking down on him. once you've fully taken him in, your big doe eyes look down at yunho for help.

"you can move sweeheart." he encourages you. god you were going to be the death of him. how could such a pretty thing like you be so clueless? it made yunho want to ruin you more.

you nodded your head as the pain in your lower half turned into sweet pleasure. giving an experimental roll of your hips, you watch as yunho's bites down on his lip harder and mumbles a quiet "fuck".

"just like that sugar," yunho praises, his hands snaking around your waist to help him ground himself.

with yunho's praise, you fell into a steady rhythm of rocking your hips back and worth. whimpers left your mouth as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to tighten.

yunho could feel your pussy clench around his dick as you neared your high. he was close well but he needed more to be able to come. the cowboy was patient enough to let you figure out a rhythm but now he needed to cum. the hands on your waist still you for a moment as he guides your hips in a up and down motion. this new pace had you seeing stars as the repeated motion of yunho's big dick breached your walls every second.

"fuck yunho," you moan, "feels so good."

yunho smirks at your fucked out state, "does it baby?"

you hum in response, not even being able to form a single word. god, he was fucking you so good.

the cowboy started to bounce you harder on his dick as he bucked his own hips to meet yours. your moans spurred him on as he chased his high. lord, you were addicting. he could listen to your pretty sounds all day long.

"yunho, i'm-fuck, so cclose!" you whimper out with your eyes shut.

"wait for me sugar," yunho grunts slamming his hips even harder as his hands gripped your waist so tightly that there was sure to be a mark tommorow.

a whimper leaves your lips, warning yunho that you may not be able to hold off your orgasm. "you can be a good girl, can't you?" he groans in between thrusts.

"yes-fuck," you cry out, nails scratching at his toned chest.

"i'm close sugar, aalmost," yunho groans, his fingers pressing even harder onto your hips as he continued to slam his hips into yours.

"fuck!" you groan as you feel the knot in your stomach unravel as yunho finishes. his hips stutters as he empties his load into your cunt.

yunho watches as the cums leaks out from you and onto his lower stomach and he couldn't help but buck his hips one more time. a whine leaves your lips as your pussy aches from the overstimulation. "sorry sugar, you're just too tempting."

you collapse onto yunho's chest, arms tired from holding yourself up for so long. his body felt warm as yunho's arms wrap around you, encasing him in his embrace.

"good job sugar," yunho praises once more, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. "i think ya just need one more lesson from me doll. what'd ya think?"

#ateez oneshot #ateez oneshots #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez smut oneshot #ateez x reader #jeong yunho smut #yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho oneshots #yunho oneshot #yunho imagines #yunho smut oneshots #yunho scenario

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somanyratsinthewalls · 5 months

Text

A Little Funny Business (+18)

Pairing: Buggy x Afab!Reader

WC: 3760

Summary: As a Warlord, you’re always being invited to prestigious Marine Events. With your insatiable sexual appetite, you use these events as a hunting ground for your next prey, and tonight you’re feeling a bit… silly.

Warnings: Bisexual cunty BFF Mihawk, Alcohol consumption, Face Sitting (HONK), Oral Sex (m and f receiving), Inappropriate use of Devil Fruit Powers, nervous Bugs, Missionary, unprotected sex (bad idea!), cream pie (worse idea!), spitting, multiple orgasms, porn with a lot of plot for no reason.

*authors note* I saw someone ask a few weeks ago for more fics about Buggy being a huge loser and I was a little inspired by that LOL he's such a dork wow

MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

——

“And why do I need to come to this again? I have much better things to be doing than rubbing elbows with those fools.” Dracule ‘Hawkeye’ Mihawk was lounging in your parlor chair with his boots kicked up on the glass coffee table, the large glass of red wine you had offered him swirling in his hand. He was your best… friend? As a fearsome pirate, no one had friends, per se, but he was probably the closest thing you had other than your own crew.

“Because…” You emphasize while you throw on one of your dresses from behind your changing curtain. “I’m in the mood for a romp and if I can’t find someone I think can satisfy me tonight, I might as well bring along ole reliable.” You peek over the top of the curtain and shoot him a wink. Over the years you’ve known each other, you and Mihawk realized that you have incredible sexual compatibility but the thought of being in a committed relationship repulsed you both.

Mihawk rolls his eyes at you.

“For future reference, it’s not sexy to tell a man that he’s your second choice.” He smirked as he sipped his wine. He was indifferent, he just liked to poke fun at you. “So who do you have your eyes on, then? Another Admiral?” He teased.

You scoff as you exit the curtain in a red plunging, halter, backless gown with a slit up nearly to your hip. “After Aokiji? No way. His hands were so cold I felt like I was the the doctor’s office.” You give Mihawk a twirl, gesticulating at your dress. “Thoughts?”

Mihawk takes another sip of his wine.

“You look like a whore.” He smiles slightly and quirks up an eyebrow at your body. You turn around to face yourself in the mirror. You grin.

“Perfect.”

— —

Upon docking your ship at the upper-class Marine town where the ball was being held, you slipped on your jacket and heels and made your way to the banquet hall. You made sure to arrive fashionably late, to make your presence known once most of the attendees have already gotten comfortable in their cups.

“Miss Y/n, I can take your coat, please allow me.” A dinky little pink-haired Marine Cadet gently shuffled your coat off your now bare shoulders.

“Aren’t you cute, thank you dear. Keep it warm for me, hey?” With a wink you slipped a one-thousand berry note into his uniform pocket.

“Y-y-y-yes! Of course, Miss! M-m-my pleasure!” The young cadet sputters out while hurrying off to hang your coat.

You square your shoulders as you saunter into the extravagant banquet hall filled with important men and women. The hall had vaulted ceilings with beautiful skylights and the walls were adorned with gold appliqué and candelabras. You feel the eyes of many on you as you stroll towards the bar.

“A gin martini please, up, extra dirty.” The bartender nods at you and begins mixing your cocktail. You reach into your purse for your pocket mirror and lipstick and reapply the gorgeous shade of red that matches your dress. After stowing your cosmetics, your drink was ready so you reach out and touch the martini glass.

“Really? The Marines can’t even spring for chilled glasses?” You furrow your brow at how cheap the government organization had gotten lately. You hear a low chuckle from the man next to you.

“Allow me.” You hear him say. Suddenly, as if by magic, a frost of ice begins to form from the bottom of your glass to the very top. Realizing who was standing beside you at the bar, you smile.

“I wondered where you’d made off to. You never called me back, you know.” Admiral Aokiji looks down at you.

“I do know. It’s nothing personal, Admiral, but keep frosting these glasses for me and I might just change my mind.” You wink and stroll back to the rest of the party with your drink.

After scanning the crowd you see Mihawk seated at a table with a few others. He was hard to miss… he just had to bring that eyesore of a weapon everywhere. You take the seat next to him and put your drink on the table.

“I miss anything good yet? Did the fishmen get here? They always make it weird.” You question Mihawk.

“No, painfully boring as expected.” Mihawk swigs from his drink. “At least it’s an open bar. Have you found your ‘soup of the day’ yet?” He inquires about your hunt for your next sexual conquest. You laugh out loud at his phrasing.

“Hah! Not yet. Old man Garp looks kind of nice lately though…” You say looking over your left shoulder at the vice-admiral who was paying attention only to the roving stewards with trays of meat-heavy appetizers. Mihawk crinkles up his nose slightly.

“He looks like he bites. Not in a good way.” The two of you make eye contact then snort into your drinks trying to hold in your laughter.

“Ah, my friends! What a pleasure to see you both!” A booming voice caused both you and Mihawk to turn around in your chairs. A massively tall, blonde, sunglasses-clad man was sidling your way.

“Oh gods, why him? I thought for sure he wouldn’t make it…” Mihawk whispers as he takes a huge gulp of his drink.

“Ugh.” You turn back towards the table, hoping he would just go away.

“Is that any way to greet an old pal?” DonQuixote Doflamingo laughs as he muscles his way in-between the two of you.

“Doflamingo.” You beam up at him with the fakest smile you could muster. You extend a limp hand which he takes in his much larger one. He licks his lips before he kisses it. “Couldn’t be bothered leaving that gaudy thing at the coat check?” You nod your chin towards his ridiculous hot pink jacket. Doflamingo chortles.

“Always such a charmer, y/n. What does a King have to do for you to join them in his bedchambers tonight?” He licks his lips again. Still smiling at him widely, you respond.

“When I say that I would rather cover a sea cucumber in sandpaper and-“

Doflamingo leans over you, trying to intimidate you.

“You’re rejecting me? You must think I won’t kill every single one in here and then-“

Mihawk rises and pushes a hand against Doflamingo’s massive chest.

“Wait until she has a few more martinis. She’s much more… adventurous. Speaking from experience… friend.” Mihawk dispels the situation with ease. Doflamingo huffs and heads off to converse with some Marine Higher-Ups.

“He’s going to actually kill you one day, you know.”

“I’d rather fight him than fuck him. He’s insufferable and you know it. Fucking bird brain.” You snap at Mihawk as you take the last sip of your drink. You notice Mihawk’s drink is empty as well. “Get me another drink, will you love?” You smile sweetly at the swordsman.

“You’re lucky I can’t say no to you.” Mihawk grabs your empty glasses and leaves for the bar. You take this opportunity to scan the ballroom for potential lovers or anyone interesting enough to even have a conversation with. You were starting to regret even coming… when you overhear two marine captains chatting near you.

“Who invited that guy?”

“Bro he’s a warlord now, can you believe that?”

“No way… he’s so… lame?”

This piqued your interest. You looked in the direction they were gesturing in. There was a man who had just arrived at the event, one you had yet to meet in person. This gentleman was wearing a slightly dirty orange fur jacket with a matching giant, orange pirate hat adorned with blue and green. What you noticed immediately, though, was his large, round, red nose.

“Buggy the clown, nice to meet ya. It’s me, Buggy, the clown. The Genius Jester, Buggy the Clown, yes that’s me. Captain Buggy, pleasure to meet ya.” The silly looking man was shaking hands like he was running for office. It was corny and he was clearly out of place. You found yourself smiling at his awkward behavior. After pandering to the crowd, the clown eventually seated himself at a table across the room with a glass of whiskey.

“Your martini, my lady, just the way you like it.” Mihawk returns with a new martini for you, unfortunately not chilled.

“Thanks. Say, what do you know about the circus guy?” You nod in Buggy’s direction.

“Oh him? We have an old mutual friend. He’s an idiot. Everything good that’s ever happened to him he’s stumbled ass-backwards into it. I give it a week or two as a warlord before someone’s killed him for his spot.” Mihawk explains.

“Interesting. I’ll be back.” You stride towards Buggy’s table at the opposite end of the ballroom. Without asking or saying anything, you take a seat right beside the clown.

“Hi.” You lean on your elbow on the table with your head tilted to the side.

“O-oh, Hi! You’re uh- um- y/n!” The clown stutters out, startled by your sudden appearance next to him.

“Mhmm…. And you’re Buggy… Captain Buggy.” You look into his sea-glass colored eyes.

“Y-yes! I am Captain Buggy the Clown. A powerful warlord of the sea!” He nervously chokes out at you. You giggle.

“Yeah, me too. So…” You draw circles on the table with your finger. “What brings you to some stuffy Marine function like this one? Doesn’t really seem like your speed.”

“Uh… The free food and booze, honestly.”

You laugh. Buggy’s posture becomes less stiff and uncomfortable.

“I’m glad we’re here for similar reasons, Mr. Clown.” You raise your martini glass in his direction. Buggy raises his whiskey and clinks his glass to yours.

“Please, y/n, call me Buggy. Mr. Clown was my father.”

Maybe it was the gin talking, but you found yourself laughing out loud at his stupid joke. You both finish your drinks after your toast.

“Hey, y/n… wanna see a card trick?” Buggy pulls a crusty old deck of cards out of his coat pocket and starts shuffling them. Your eyes widen, not expecting this man to be fully committed to the clown bit.

“Fuck it, show me.”

Several minutes of shuffling and slight-of-hand go by before the clown pulls a Queen of Hearts out the deck.

“Is this your card?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“No fucking shit!” You slam your hands on the table, genuinely impressed that he had picked your card.

“Hah Hah! Told ya!” Buggy laughs as he finishes his drink. You notice his empty glass.

“Let me get you another drink. Don’t go anywhere.” You wink as you grab your glasses and turn towards the bar. After ordering and receiving your two drinks, you spy Mihawk at the end of the bar facing outward.

“So, how’s the plight of the huntress going? Anyone that you-“ He starts as he brings his drink to his lips, but you cut him off.

“I’m going to fuck the clown.” You say with a deadpan expression.

“Gods, y/n, what?” Mihawk chokes out after he spits out his drink.

“Yep. See you!” You don’t give Mihawk a chance to criticize your choice before you walk off. You bring the drinks back to the blue-haired clown and sit down, pulling your chair close to his as you sit.

“Thanks!” Buggy takes a big gulp of his drink, noticing that your knees are now touching his. “So… uh… y/n? I gotta ask… with all these big wigs here… why are ya talking to me all night?”

You sense his insecurities. Cute, you thought.

“Well, Buggy,” You emphasize his name. “Unlike you, I am not new to this game. And since I am not new to this game, frankly, I am bored. All these stuck up, no-fun, corporate dickheads make for a very boring party.” You grab his hand that’s clutching his drink on the table. “You however…” You stroke your thumb along the back of his glove. You could see a drop of sweat slide down his temple. “You are fun. I like fun.”

Buggy giggles nervously.

“Heh, well, uh, t-thank you. You’re… you’re f-fun too…” He uses his free gloved hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Do you wanna see how much fun I can be, Captain Buggy?” You cock your head to the side and place your other hand on his knee. Buggy’s eyes blow so wide you thought he had seen a ghost.

“I-… I- Um… Ah!” He jolts as you slide your hand up his thigh, further trying to get your point across.

“Want to come back to my ship with me, Buggy?” You lean and whisper in his ear.

“Yes! Of course I do! Now? Can we go now?” He stands up. You laugh.

“Follow me, funny guy.”

— —

Buggy follows you all the way back to your ship like a lovesick puppy. Trailing behind you and asking you all kinds of questions and oversharing about himself. You board your ship and lead him into your luxurious captain’s quarters and close the door behind you both.

“Wow it’s really nice in here, y/n! Who does your…-mmph!” Buggy is cut off by your lips smashing against his as you push him against the closed door.

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and kiss him deeper. You feel smooth gloved hands wrap around your waist as he finally kisses you back once the shock wore off. Your lips move slowly together at first. Buggy is awkwardly trying to find a rhythm, but after a few moments he feels confident enough to walk you backwards and push you both onto your plush pink comforter. Now laying down, you wrap your legs around his hips, effectively hiking your dress up and exposing your panties to him. Buggy pulls back breathlessly and looks down at you.

“Uh, so, uh… I-I don’t do this a lot… A-Are you sure you want to-?” His brows are furrowed and his eyes are full of uncertainty.

You bring your hands up and remove his hat and tossing it to the floor, smoothing his long blue hair off to one side.

“Buggy. I want you. Please.” With your last plead, you bucked your hips upward to grind into his hardened bulge. Buggy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, okay- let’s get this thing off you, hey?” Hurriedly, Buggy lifts your already hiked up dress over your head leaving you fully exposed except for a red lace thong with a little wet patch right over your hole. His eyes dart from your naked breasts to your long legs to your clothed sex, before you snapped him out of it.

“I think you have too many clothes on.” You jump up and slide his jacket off of his shoulders and then lift his shirt off his head as he takes off his trousers and boots. Not wearing underwear (you smirk at this realization) he was now naked in front of you. You grab his face with both hands and pull him into a passionate kiss. He falls on top of you again. But during your heated make out, you roll him over so that you’re on top, grinding your lace covered cunt against his hard cock.

“Y-y/n! Ah!” Buggy moans out lewdly, and he isn’t even inside of you yet. Perhaps knowing he wouldn’t last long once he feels your warm insides sucking him in, he pleads with you.

“Let me taste you, please, y/n. Wanna make you feel good on me…” He was so desperate, it was so cute. You giggle.

“Aww, you’re so cute, Buggy. Of course I’ll let you have a taste. Now open wide baby…” You shuffle your way up to his face and straddle it with your body facing the headboard. You grip your panties and push them forcefully to the side, exposing your slick pussy mere millimeters above Buggy’s waiting mouth. You fully seat yourself down on his face, knowing he could take it. He was a warlord now, after all.

“Mmmpph!” Buggy swirls his tongue experimentally around your slit, groaning at the sinful taste. He laps and sucks up and down your cunt until he eventually finds your clit, eliciting a loud moan from you when he slurps it between his lips.

“Fuck, there!” You throw your head back in pleasure as the man below you learns what turns you on and how to bring you to that edge. “Just like that, fuck! Keep going!” He enthusiastically licks at your clit harder with your praise. He moves to slip his tongue into your hole, you sigh out and wind your hands in his hair below you. Instinctively, you push your cunt onto his face, trying to force his tongue deeper into you when you hear-

HONK!

You gasp as all motions on your sex stop and you look down. Nervous, anxious eyes look back up at you from between your legs.

“Buggy… baby…”

“Y/n I-“

“Baby that’s so hot.” You were panting down at him. His expression became one of even more confusion. “I want more. Do it again.”

Buggy was in shock. There’s no way you were really saying his nose was… sexy? It was turning you on? You had to be joking. There’s no way that you-

Buggy’s thoughts were cut off by you pushing your pussy down onto his mouth again, whining and begging for more of his tongue.

HONK!

“Please baby? Make me cum on that handsome face of yours.” You gasp out as he resumes his ministrations on your swollen clit. You close your eyes and moan loudly. You feel two hands massaging at your breasts, and you snap your eyes open to see two disembodied hands at your chest.

“Shit, yes! I’m gonna- ah!”

With a final pinch of your nipples and a harsh suck to your clit, your orgasm rips through your body and you shriek out and grab the headboard in front of you for balance. Shudders of pleasure still radiate through your body as you hear Buggy’s hands reattach to his body and he pulls you down onto the bed with him. He cradles your face and kisses you deeply. You moan at the taste of your release on his lips.

Buggy pulls back from the kiss.

“D-Do ya still want to-?” Buggy asked, hesitantly, like he didn’t just let you ride his face.

“Gods, yes. Fuck me.” You sighed as you slipped your panties all the way off and laid back on the bed with your legs spread. You were wiped from your orgasm, but your hole was still aching to be filled by the clown. He climbs on top of you and smiles a wicked smile.

“Get it nice and wet for me first, kay?”

Suddenly you feel something velvety and hard tap against the side of your mouth. You glance down and see Buggy’s detached cock prodding at your kiss-bitten lips. You mindlessly obey and open your mouth and allow Buggy to slide it onto your tongue hands (and body) free. You wrap your lips around his shaft and try to suck it in as far as it will go down your throat.

“W-wow doll, you really are somethin’!” Feeling himself already losing it at your cock-hungry expression, he pulls himself from your lips and attaches his spit-soaked cock back to his body, positioned at your dripping hole.

“Just fuck me already, Buggy!” You grab his ass and push his hips into yours. He gets the message and swiftly bottoms out inside of you, the sloppy wetness of your saliva and arousal making it easy to slip right in. His long blue locks are splayed over his bare shoulders that stutter as he tries to compose himself now that he’s fully buried in your hot sex. You groan out, finally feeling him fill you.

“FUCK, y/n!” Buggy leans forward and bites deeply into your neck, still trying to steel himself. Thinking this would keep him from cumming immediately, it had the opposite effect. When you felt his teeth in your neck, your cunt clenched on him so tight that it triggered his orgasm. Buggy’s eyes roll back and he muffles his moan. He can’t let you know that he came so early.

Fighting overstimulation, he shallowly starts thrusting his hips into yours. Buggy whimpers at the feeling of his oversensitive cock gliding through your slippery, now cum-coated walls.

“Harder, fuck me harder, PLEASE!” You were begging him to rail you, and he knew he had to give it to you. Hearing you plead made him fully hard again immeasurably quickly. Buggy places one hand on your hip and angles himself to thrust upwards inside your cunt.

“That’s so good baby, please, right there just like that, you’re doing so good for me.” You slid your left hand down and rubbed your clit in tight circles.

“Fuck, let me…” Buggy slaps your hand away to replace it with one of his now detached hands. He slows down his thrusts enough to drop a glob of spit down onto your clit and start rubbing it himself.

“Bugs, fuck! Gonna cum! Ah, shit… yes!” You jolt upwards and waves of pleasure start overtaking your body. Buggy fucks you through your orgasm and picks up his pace. He attaches his hand and now places both hands on your hips to slam you onto his cock at a breakneck speed.

“Gonna fucking make you mine…. All mine…”

“Ah- yes- yours- fuck-“ You sputter out incoherently as you bounce back and forth against the bed on Buggy’s cock.

“There it is baby… yes-!… ” Buggy slams his hips into yours deeply and empties himself for a second time inside of you tonight. After catching his breath in the crook of your neck, Buggy rolls off of you and lays his head on the pillow next to yours. You both make eye contact and start laughing.

Buggy eventually rolls his body into a sitting position and rises from the bed. He begins picking up his belongings and tries pulling his shirt over his head. You sit up and look at him, while pulling the blankets over your body.

“You’re not staying?” You inquire of your clown lover.

“I-I wasn’t… I mean I wasn’t invited to sleep- sleep over? You know? I didn’t want to-“ He stutters out, his shirt on, dick still out in front of you. You giggle and flop back on the bed.

“Get in here. I may be tired now, but I might want to see what else those chop-chop powers can do in the morning.”

Buggy strips his shirt again and hops under the covers with you.

“Doll, you haven’t even seen the half of it.”

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanart #one piece fandom #one piece netflix #one piece live action #one piece smut #one piece anime #zoro x reader #law x reader #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #captain buggy #op buggy #buggy x reader #buggy d clown #one piece fanfic

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themidnightcrimson · 1 year

Text

tarot ࿏ wm

summary: in which you visit a psychic for a tarot card reading and find that her tricks seem too real.

words: 4.9K

warnings: dark!wanda, fem!reader, non-con/dubcon, tummy riding, scissoring, dildo (r receiving), size kink, use of magic for mind manipulation, dumbification, degradation

this post is a dark!fic and is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

The loose rocks of the pavement scuffed under your heel as you mindlessly kicked them with your shoe, taking a long, slow drag from the cigarette. It was cold that night, and the smoke that you exhaled through your lips was dense with the fog from your warm breath.

Nat reached forward and took the cigarette that you were sharing from your fingers. “It’s been months, y/n.” Her leather jacket squeaked as she curled her arm to bring the cigarette to her lips. The air was damp and the music from the bar muffled as Nat leaned against her truck. “I don’t mean to be that friend who just tells you to just get over it and move on, but just get over it and move on.”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved your numb fingers into the pockets of your coat. “I have moved on.”

Nat squinted at you as she turned the cigarette back to you, and you took it, breathing in the smoke she exhaled. “You fled the bar as soon as you saw her across the room.”

You glanced around, hoping that your ex was still inside and nowhere near you. It had been two months since the nasty and dramatic breakup between you and the woman you had been with for over three years. It was sudden and unexpected, and she really gave you no other reason for it besides “I think we should see other people.” You knew that meant she had been or planned to cheat on you, which just made the entire ordeal even more sickening.

“Is it so bad that I don’t want to be around the person who dumped me after three years together? I mean, c’mon, maybe two months is a long time for you but on the time scale of relationships, it’s still very fresh to me.”

“Aha! So you haven’t moved on, like I said,” Nat countered, taking the cigarette right as you were about to take a second draw.

“No, I—I have moved on. I mean, I don’t care about her anymore. It’s not like I still love her. It just hurts seeing her.” You tried to explain it the best you could. You truly did not love her anymore and would never even fantasize or contemplate getting back with her after how crudely she had left you, but seeing her reminded you of all the hurtful words she had said and how she had betrayed your trust so cruelly. It was a reminder that you were heartbroken.

Nat only nodded, looking down at the pavement and crossing her legs. There were a few beats of silence as you stared up at the full moon and she stared at the side of your face. “You know, I would say you should try therapy, but why waste a thousand dollars when you could get a psychic reading for 20 bucks.”

“Huh?” You turned to look at her incredulously. “Why would I do that?”

Nat shrugged and handed you the cigarette. “Maybe to give you some clarity, or the closure that she never gave you. You know I don’t believe in all that holistic spiritual shit, but I do think something like a tarot card reading could help you move forward, even if it’s just by placebo effect.”

“How?”

She shrugged. “I mean, they tell you what you want to hear. It’s fake, you know. They figure out what you’re in there for and they tell you everything they can so that you leave with a smile on your face and their pockets full. Nonetheless, it’s some pretty good bullshit they spew. Better than anything I could tell you, with how shit I am at words.” She kicked at the rocks and chuckled. “It’s either that or going to church.”

You raised your eyebrows and laughed. “Church makes a psychic reading sound like heaven.”

“There’s one in town, you know?” she added, turning and pointing West. “Down at the end of Ellis Avenue.”

“Ellis Avenue?” you echoed. In all the years of your life you had lived in that small town, you’d never heard of that street. “What’s down there?”

“A shit load of nothing. It’s where the town turns into all woods. But I know there’s a tiny psychic shop down there. It’s got a purple sign that says 20 dollars for a tarot card reading.”

“Tarot cards,” you laughed. “Why have I never heard of it?”

“It used to be owned by some lady named Agatha, but there’s a new woman there now that took her place. Wendy, I think she’s called. Wait, no—Wanda! That’s it.”

“Wanda,” you sounded out the name, and you noticed how the wind picked up and caught the word from your lips, whistling it into the air eerily. “That’s a fitting name for a psychic.”

Nat flicked the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with her boot, rocks crackling under her heel. “You should go tonight. I’m sure it stays open pretty late.”

You glanced back to the bar, knowing that your ex was somewhere still inside. You certainly weren’t going back in there, and Natasha didn’t seem like she was willing to go home yet, so your only other options were to either go home and sleep or go test out this psychic.

“Fine,” you finally said, digging your car keys out of your pockets. “I’ll go check it out.”

Nat hesitated suddenly. “Well, actually it’s a little late. Maybe we can go tomorrow, and I’ll go with you.”

You were already walking to your car. “I’m not getting any sleep tonight after seeing her, anyway. I might as well just go.”

Nat looked around and scratched her head. “Well, just be safe. There really is nothing on that end of town, and I have no idea who this woman is. Keep your phone on you and text me when you get there and when you leave.”

“Okay, mother,” you joked, to which she grinned. You waved her goodbye and got in your car, watching as Nat walked back into the bar.

“Ellis Avenue,” you whispered as you typed the words into the map app on your phone. Nothing came up. “Huh?” You deleted it and typed it again, but still nothing showed. Did Nat get the name wrong?

You glanced out your window in the direction that Nat had pointed. She said it was on the far West end of town, where the woods started. You supposed you could just drive around until you found it—the town was too incredibly small for you to not find it. You imagined that you were so used to the town that you never looked hard enough to notice new things, and that’s why you had never seen the shop before.

Buckling up, you pulled out of the bar and onto the road. You drove West across town, taking a few turns that you knew would lead you to the woods. After a while of seeing nothing, you thought maybe Nat was pranking you, but finally, you saw a dingy street sign that read Ellis Avenue and a tiny little shop with a purple sign that read $20 for tarot card reading above a hand with an eye in the palm.

There were no cars in the parking lot. The place barely looked open if it weren’t for the blinking purple sign. You paused, wondering if this was really safe. It was late at night, and this shop was way out of town, alone and isolated on a road where there were no other shops or houses.

It seemed intriguing, though. As you stopped in the middle of the road and stared at the shop, you felt something pulling you towards it. Maybe it was the universe telling you that this was going to be good for you, that whatever this psychic could tell you would be the key to unlocking your grief and moving forward with your life. Whether it was placebo or not, maybe this would help you be in the same room as your ex without freaking out and fleeing.

Trusting what you believed to be your intuition, you cut your wheel and turned into the gravel driveway, your headlights reflecting off the dark tinted front windows. Shutting off your car, you walked up the crickety front steps to the door. You paused, feeling almost as if you should knock before entering. Considering that it was a public shop, you just helped yourself inside, gently opening the door to be met with the intensely strong smell of incense.

A cough scratched at your throat as you stepped inside and closed the door. The air was smoky from an incense stick burning in the corner and from probably two dozen candles burning all around the room. Your eyebrows sewed together as you looked around curiously.

Everywhere you looked were little trinkets and whatnots—crystals of varying sizes and shapes and colors, tiny bottles of strange colored liquids, little jars filled with herbs and flowers and sealed shut with melted wax, bundles of sage and other herbs and leaves, and other little things that you could not recognize. Whoever this psychic was, she truly put on the act and made her shop part of the show. It would be impossible for someone to walk in and not feel like they were being handled by someone who knew what they were doing in the realm of spirituality.

You jumped when you heard a shifting sound, your eyes flickering to a curtain of beads that separated this room and another. Through the curtain that was parted by a ringed hand came a woman, a young woman with long brown curls and smokey green eyes.

“Hello,” she greeted you with a low, accented voice. “How may I be of service to you tonight?” Her voice was pleasant but careful, and her narrowed eyes looked you up and down as if she were suspicious of you.

“Hi,” you squeaked, knowing how silly you probably looked standing in her room of witchy tools. She wore a black dress with a red scarf wrapped around her arms, her fingers fiddling together as she neared you. “Um, are you Wendy—I mean, Wanda?”

An amused look crossed her eyes. “I am. And you’re y/n.”

Your spine jumped out of your skin. How did she know your name? You looked down at yourself, wondering if maybe your wallet was hanging out and showing your ID, but there was no reason she could have known your name. You chalked it up to it just being a small town and everybody knowing everybody. “Yeah.”

“Sit,” she spoke, gesturing to the table sat in the center of the room with candles lining it. You saw a crimson set of tarot cards sitting perfectly on the tabletop. “You’re here for a tarot card reading.” She simply said it rather than asking it.

“I suppose,” you slowly began, feeling your nerves tingling. You tried to remind yourself that psychics were like magicians. They used tricks you were unaware of to make it look like they can read your mind or have supernatural abilities.

You carefully sat down at the circular table, and once you were sitting, she gracefully sat down opposite from you, letting the red scarf slip off her arms and hang over the seat of her chair. The smell of the incense was almost nauseating as you watched her fingers take the tarot cards and begin shuffling them expertly.

The silence was loud as she eyed you while shuffling. You supposed she was pretending to look hard into your mind, so you just stared back at her.

“It must have been hard seeing your ex at the bar,” she said simply as she started to cut the deck into thirds. Her hands were moving so swiftly you couldn’t keep up with them, only seeing a blur of rings and cards.

Your lips parted in shock. “Um… I know you’re a ‘psychic’ or whatever, but how the hell did you know that?”

She didn’t answer you. She laid the cards into three decks in front of you and then withdrew her hands, leaning back in her seat. You noticed then how quiet and solitary the shop was, how intimate with its low lighting and flickering candles and smoke.

“Draw the top card from each pile,” she instructed, a sultry tone in her voice.

You wanted to press her question further, but you reached forward and took the top card from each pile as she said, laying them face-down on the table in front of you. When you were finished, she slid the remaining piles to the side and flipped over the first card to your left. You were confused when you saw that the card was upside down.

“The Chariot,” she read, her eyes blinking thoughtfully. “Reversed. Your future has been carried away from you.”

You tried not to scoff, but she noticed anyway, sharply eyeing you and pursing her lips. She continued anyway, flipping over the second card which was upright.

“Death.”

Your heart started to pound in your chest, your brain already calculating what that card meant. It was eerie, the way it looked, drawn in a smudgy black and white sketch of a body laying dead on the ground and a horseback knight, assumedly the murderer, jumping high over its victim.

“Your relationship ended abruptly, and you find grief a difficult transition.”

You still did not know how she knew you had been through a breakup, but maybe it was an easy guess for a young girl walking into a psychic shop. A part of you, a very gullible part, started to wonder if maybe she really was a psychic.

Finally, she turned over the last card. Chills pierced your spine as you recognized the Satanic image on the card—Baphomet, a horned man, drawn with an unnerving smile over the words The Devil.

“Ah,” she smiled, her lips curling into a pearly smile that caught your eye. She was a beautiful feigned sorceress, that was for sure. “You’ve been tricked.”

Your face scrunched at her words. “Tricked? How?” You were genuinely curious what she meant, even if you were starting to fall for her illusions.

She paused for a thoughtful moment, fiddling with the rings on her fingers as she stared at the card. “She was judgmental, wasn’t she?”

You held your breath, silently urging her to go on.

“She made you feel ashamed of yourself and manipulated you into thinking you were nothing without her. She even made you feel like you were unworthy of her love, though she suffocated you with it before taking it away abruptly. She tricked you into thinking you could not breathe without her, and then she took away your oxygen. And you didn’t even know it was happening, did you, detka?”

She was staring at you now, her misty eyes gazing into your own. A drowsy feeling overtook you, and you couldn’t keep hold of your thoughts. They were rushing past you, plucked just before you could think them, scrambled out of your reach. You didn’t know it was the crimson glow on her fingertips under the table giving you this blank and dazed feeling.

“I…” you trailed, your head starting to pound. “How did you…”

“I am a psychic,” she spoke, and her voice started to sound far away from you, though she was sitting just across the small table. “Says it on the door. You knew it before you came in.”

Tilting your head, you squinted at her, your mouth forming words that your brain would not let your tongue speak. Suddenly, you felt like you had forgotten completely how to speak.

It was then that every candle in the room except for the few on the table were snuffed suddenly by a gushing wind that tickled your hair across your cheek. In the dark, under the glow of the table’s remaining candles, you saw a scarlet light in her eyes.

“You… you’re…”

“I am everything you think I am and more,” she interrupted you. “And you are more than you think.” She leaned forward, bringing her hand out of the table. You watched as she twisted and curled her fingers around in the air, sparkly red magic dancing between them as she scrambled your brain with a tilted head and a curious stare.

Suddenly, flashing memories of your ex passed through your mind. The fights, the arguments, the words you had pushed down and forgotten about under your ex’s manipulative gaslighting.

Wanda spoke, “She made you think the relationship was perfect so you would stay with her for as long as she wanted you, and so that when she didn’t want you anymore, she got to have the upper hand while you suffered. Evil little cunt.”

“That’s not true—”

“I’m seeing it right here, detka.” She twisted her fingers, and the moments were clear in your mind. Your head started to feel fuzzy, your vision dim as you gripped the table, losing all sense of balance like you might fall right out of the chair. “How could someone treat a perfect little kitten like that? Take you for granted so, and leave you out on the road like a discarded dog.”

Now your heart was starting to hurt as much as your head, and before you realized it, you were crying. The smell of incense was burning hard through your nostrils as the witch picked her way through your brain and scrambled the rest. She was surprised at how easy it was to get in your head from the moment you had walked through the front door. She heard your thoughts before she even stepped in the room and looked at you. Now, seeing how easily a non-magical human had broken you down, she gleamed at the thought of how easy it would be for her and her powers to dumb you down even further.

“Stand up.”

Control over your own body was way past you. You moved at her words, standing sharply to your feet. She grinned in satisfaction and stood slowly, walking towards the curtain of beads she had first came through. She didn’t even have to speak or move her fingers for you to follow, floating mindlessly after her through the long strings of beads into the next room.

The back room was small, a sort of bedroom with a crimson velvet bed and a few pieces of furniture. More candles were lit back there, and the smell of incense was even stronger.

“Take off your clothes, detka, and lay down.”

Your body submitted to her voice. Mind far from matter, you peeled your own clothes away until you were bare naked and laid down on the bed, feeling the velvety red sheets on your nude skin.

Wanda sauntered towards the end of the bed, feasting upon your nudity with her darkened orbs. Her hands sinking into the mattress, she crawled on all fours onto the bed and towards you. You couldn’t describe what it was you were feeling. The state of your mind was both entranced and clear, sunk deep into murky waters while also soaring high in the clouds. It felt like static buzzing within and around you, and between blimps of momentary unconsciousness you suddenly saw that Wanda was now straddling you, her short black dress resting high on her thighs. You could feel her bare pussy resting on your lower stomach, her hands gliding across your upper abdomen.

“The most perfect thing to have fallen in my hands,” she whispered, her hands snaking over your tits and squeezing them eagerly. A whine escaped your throat, and she looked surprised to see that you were still present. “Still with me, detka? Let’s have a little fun before you go. I like playing with my new toys right out of the package.”

Her magic infiltrating your conscience was hot and feverish like fire, like bits of ember and ash sizzling away at the mass of your cognizance. It trickled down through your skull like lava and burned the inside of your throat. What piece of you was still there tried to file through which exact moment it was that she caught you—as soon as you walked in? When you inhaled the strong incense? Or was it when you sat at the table? Or when you touched the cards? Was it the very moment when you stopped your car in the middle of the road and stared at the blinking purple sign? Could it possibly be the very moment that you looked up at the full moon outside the bar as Nat told you about this place? Which moment was it that she found her way inside your head and stapled the roots of her magic to your mind?

It felt like you were lucid dreaming as the witch’s hands scoured your body, groping at your tits, squeezing the soft flesh of your waist, tickling over your collarbones and neck. You felt pressure on your lower tummy and saw that she was grinding her bare cunt against you, her wetness sliding easily over your skin.

“Silly puppy,” she taunted with a sharp laugh, her hands fondling your breasts as she undulated her hips against you, skirt catching on your waist. Your skin was growing sweaty under her fingers as her magic coursed through your blood like a venomous infection. “A witch doesn’t reveal her tricks, does she?”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she let out a soft moan, grinding harder on your stomach as she pinched and tugged harshly at your nipples. Your body reacted with a small gasp and a jolt through your muscles, and she smiled.

Lifting up, she backed herself between your legs and then spread them open wide at an angle, casting one leg over yours. Your breathing picked up as she pressed her clit against yours, grinding her cunt into you.

“Fuck, puppy,” she moaned, throwing her head back as dirty squelching noises filled the room. You were wetter than you had realized, and it was evident by the feeling of both yours and Wanda’s juices mixing together. She pushed your hips upward so that she was at a better angle, halfway folding your body as she used your pussy to get herself off. A drop of your mixed wetness started to slide down your tummy, running over the spot that was still wet from when she had grinded herself there.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, detka,” she grunted, her eyebrows sewing together as the bed started to squeak with her motions. “You just be a good toy and let me use you, and I’ll take care of everything. You won’t have to worry about your ex anymore, or your job, or your friends, or even your life. It’s in my hands now.”

Her feelings of pleasure allowed her focus to slip momentarily, and you took the opportunity to string together words of your own will, still struggling to speak. “P-Please,” you said coarsely, looking at her with pleading eyes. She knew exactly what you meant, because she was inside you with her own mind in yours, and she could feel that coil of pressure in your belly, and you could feel hers, too.

She grinned, grinding her clit harder against yours, reaching up to pinch at your nipples. Your body squirmed, teeth piercing into your own lip as a moan escaped your throat, heavenly pleasure washing over you in an orgasm like a warm ocean wave. Wanda moaned and her hips stuttered as she came, her hand that was holding your leg up squeezing your flesh painfully.

She panted as she came down, and you thought maybe that would satisfy her and she would let you go, but now she was crawling down between your open legs and shoving her face between them.

“Ah!” you whined as her tongue lapped over your throbbing clit, slipping down to push deep inside you and tasting you there. Your body reacted outside of your control, trying to jerk away.

“Be still,” she ordered in a whisper, and your body commanded like a machine, stilling as she continued lapping at your sensitive clit. She suckled and pulled away to spit right on your slit before returning her mouth to you again.

“W-Wanda,” you mouthed, hands squeezing at the sheets as another coil of pressure sprung within your belly. It tightened and tightened as she devoured you, and before you knew it, you were blinded with another orgasm, eyes squeezing shut and mouth falling open as you cried out.

Coming back up, she licked her lips and moaned at your taste, wiping your remnants from her mouth and spreading it over your belly. Your legs were trembling now, clit throbbing painfully, but by the look in her eyes, she was not done.

“You saw all my toys in there,” she spoke as she leaned over you to reach to the nighstand beside the bed, one of her necklaces tickling your nose in a cool metal graze. “But I keep some in here for special pets like you.”

Dumbed down, you didn’t know what she meant until, after hearing her open a drawer and rummage around, she kneeled back down between your legs, holding an uncomfortably large dildo in her hands.

You had the urge to jump off the bed and run away, but her magic had been keeping you pinned to the bed this whole time. You watched with wide eyes as she spit on the dildo and smeared her saliva around it, lowering herself down between your legs again and running the tip of the toy through your folds. Jolts of electricity went through you at the touch on your overstimulated pussy, your voice strings cracking together to sound out a pathetic whine.

“If you’re going to be a good toy, you will take whatever I give you,” she whispered, eyes concentrated on your bright red clit and the way your wet folds moved around the dildo as she teased it through them. “Be a good pet.”

She pushed the tip into your entrance, and for a moment, pleasure coursed through you, but as she pushed it in further and your hole ached to stretch around its girth, you cried out, “T-too b…big.”

“Take it, my dirty slut,” she husked, grabbing your thigh and jerking your legs open wider. Sharp pain filled you as she stuffed your pussy full of the dildo, sinking it all the way inside until the hilt touched your skin, and the tip of it was braced against your cervix. Your mouth fell open at how full you felt, how deep it was, at how much your walls ached and throbbed around it. “That’s it,” she praised, “That’s so good, detka.”

She eased it out, earning a hiss from you, and then forced it back in, doing this slowly until the resistance eased and she started to thrust it harshly into you.

“Look at you, taking the whole thing,” she spoke as she grabbed your knees with her free hand and bent them against your stomach so she could fuck you deeper. Using her magic to keep your knees bent, she placed her free hand on your clit and started to rub it hard.

“No!” you exclaimed, your clit hurting from the contact that it was ultra-sensitive to. You tried to squirm, but you couldn’t, and the dildo was hammering hard into you and poking through the skin of your lower tummy and making your legs turn to jelly. “W-Wanda,” you cried, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks.

She smirked at you, feasting on the sight of you crying and begging her to stop, wanting to squirm away from the overstimulation. She was trying to break you down even more, dwindle and dumb you down into a messy puddle of nothing, and she was doing a great job of that.

Squelching noises filled the air as she pivoted the dildo into your hole at a rough speed with one hand and rubbed hard at your clit with the other, pausing only to spit on your rubbed raw clit before rubbing it again.

“W-w-w…” You tried to speak, but your mind was so scrambled, and you were in so deep under her spell and her cruel administrations to your body that you couldn’t do anything but scream as two orgasms violently crashed over you one right after the other. You didn’t even notice that you squirted upon the second one, shooting the warm liquid right upon the skin of Wanda’s chest where her dress did not cover.

She twisted the dildo inside you as you came, urging more liquid out of you until finally there was no more, and you were on the brink of blacking out. Finally, she pulled the dildo out of you and put it away, putting your legs back down on the bed and climbing off you.

Your core ached and throbbed as more tears slid down your cheeks, your legs violently trembling. Wanda rounded the bed to place a hand over your forehead. Through teary vision, you took one last glimpse of her.

“You will be my best toy,” she whispered, a dimple forming in her cheek as she smiled before whispering, “Sleep.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!fic #marvel #lgbt #lesbian #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x fem!reader

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upsidedownwithsteve · 10 months

Text

Simmer #1

CH1. Home Style | The Menu [3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Jim’s Midnight Grill wasn’t the magical place the name made it sound like.

In fact, it was worse at night. Hawkins' only diner sat on the outskirts of town, just before the road that took you out alongside the cornfields. In the height of a sunny day, the water tower cast a shadow over the old building and the gas station next door only had one working pump.

The leather booths were constantly sticky, the table tops grainy with spilled salt, but if you made your visit on a Thursday night after nine, milkshakes were two for one. The back alley was littered with cigarette butts, graffiti on the walls telling you who to call for a good time— and someone called King Steve used Farah Fawcett hairspray? The regulars were permanent fixtures on the bar stools, coffee stains on the counter in front of them, stolen sugar packets in their pockets, frowns on their faces.

The staff didn’t want to be there, the owner refused to replace the flickering lights and the cook had a bad attitude and liked to communicate with heavy sighs and eye rolls. But he made a mean grilled cheese. The walk in freezer was reserved for the pitiful weekly deliveries and breakdowns, a stolen kiss or two. Or three, or four. But no one liked to tackle the clogged sink and god forbid anyone change the TV channel— Mr Creel always had something to say about it.

—————

Honestly, Hawkins wasn’t your first choice when you decided to move to a smaller place. The idea of a big city was all fine and well until you lived a year in Chicago, the dream of a brownstone apartment quickly disappearing when you realised jobs were hard to come by and finding friends was even harder. Living alone wasn’t all that fun, especially when your landlord hinted at sexual favours to justify late payments and he didn’t care to fix the leaking radiator in your bedroom. The nights were never quiet and the city hardly slept, but instead of neon lights and late night bodega runs, you lay awake on the broken spring in your bed and flinched at the sound of backfiring cars and people arguing on the street below.

It was lonely, living somewhere so big and busy and always eating dinner by yourself. So you sold the old car you didn’t really use and cried enough that your landlord eventually gave in and ripped up your lease that still had four months to go. Packing your stuff was an easy enough job, hardly enough belongings to fill the duffel bag you’d dragged with you. You dug into the back of your freezer for the wad of cash your grandma gave you, threw it into the bag and grabbed your greyhound ticket and decided you’d get off the bus when the skyline turned a little more green. When the buildings shrunk, when the smog lifted and when wildflowers sprouted from between the cracks in the sidewalk.

So you rolled into Hawkins before the day broke, way before the sun crept up over the quarry, before the small town came alive. The apartment you’d found was the same tiny size as the one you’d had in Chicago but it was cleaner and the carpet was new. Nothing leaked. Nothing smelled weird. The parking lot was filled with cars and none of them had bullet holes in the side, your trash can wasn’t on fire and god, god, the first neighbour you saw - an elderly woman who was walking with a yorkie on a leash - smiled at you.

She smiled at you.

So despite the lack of twenty four hour stores and pizza parlours, Hawkins was already looking up. There wasn’t much on the Main Street, a library, a tiny bakery run by a couple who offered you a free croissant as a welcome to town gift. There was an outdoor pool with sun bleached bunting across its chain link fence, an arcade next to a video store, a high school that was derelict due to the summer months. The larger houses across from the park were lined with cherry trees, neat lawns with white mailboxes and flowers under the windows and suddenly Hawkins was a million miles away from Chicago and the buzz of traffic and car horns.

The librarian let you print out some resumes the day after you’d settled in, and you found your way around town by asking kind strangers, buying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in exchange for directions out of your neighbourhood. It was easy to stroll along the sidewalk with an iced latte and your headphones around your neck, blue skies above you and the sound of sprinklers in their yards, breathing in air that didn’t smell like diesel. You found a man by a rundown garage, white haired and tired looking, mechanic scrubs tied around his waist as he smoked a cigarette.

You took a deep breath, and then another one, smiling politely - warily - as you approached. The man lifted a brow at you, a little suspicious, but he held the burning stub away from you, smoke billowing in the opposite direction.

“You lost, kid?”

You were. Just a little.

“I’m looking for Jim’s, uh,” you glanced down at the pink flyer that had been pinned on the library's notice board. “Jim’s Midnight Grill? I got told it was out this way, but—”

You looked around, noting that there wasn’t much out this way. The busiest part of Hawkins was behind you, tidy sidewalks giving way to long roads out of town, a lone bus stop by the garage, a farm in the distance across the street. You squinted against the sun and shrugged.

“You wanna keep going for ‘nother mile or so, it’s just before the town sign,” the man pointed further out where the cornfields were overgrown and the sun faded billboard told everyone ‘thanks for visiting Hawkins!’ You weren’t sure the bus ran that far out. “Jim should be there, but if he’s not, jus’ ask for Eddie, he’ll sort you out.”

“Eddie,” you nodded, peering into the distance. You couldn’t see another building, but this man didn’t seem like he was lying. “Right, okay. Just keep to the road?”

The man nodded and he cracked a smile, small but soft. He stubbed out the end of his cigarette and gestured to an old pick up that looked like it had seen better days. “You needin’ a ride?”

The urge to say yes was strong, especially after walking all the way from your apartment as the heat soared. It snuck up on you like a slow roll, going from pleasant to warm to too hot, far too quickly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin underneath your sundress but you shook your head, shyness crawling up the back of your neck. Accepting a ride from a stranger didn’t seem the wisest idea, no matter how kind he seemed.

“It’s okay,” you told him. “Thank you, though. I appreciate the help.”

The man smiled again, a little bigger this time, crows feet crinkling, the sunlight catching the white of his five o’clock shadow. “That’s alright, kid. Jus’ tell ‘em Wayne sent you, yeah? Follow the road, you’ll see Forest Hills - the trailer park - keep going a lil’ ways and it’s right across the road.”

It turned out Wayne was right.

You kept walking, the heat soaring, the fields on either side of you growing taller but you bit back a smile at the sight of the wildflowers that snuck through the cracks in the concrete. Eventually they gave way to a trailer park, just as Wayne side, a quaint place that hummed with generators and had lines of laundry between each mobile home. Across the road sat a sandy lot, a diner in the middle, a neon sign letting passer-bys know they’d arrived at Jim’s Midnight Grill. Except the ‘r’ was loose, hanging from its wire and buzzing blue and purple.

Cats patrolled along the roadside, going from trailer doorsteps to the back alley of the diner, hoping and waiting for a free meal that they all knew would eventually come. You stopped to pet an orange kitten, a little scruffy looking thing but cute all the same, your CV clutched in one hand as you peered suspiciously at the front of the restaurant. It looked too quiet, like it wasn’t open yet. But there was a black van parked along the side of the building and some steam leaked from a vent on the roof, so you opened the front door.

The bell jingled but the patrons at the dining bar who sat on their stools didn’t move, didn’t turn to look. The place was nearly empty, some people nursing a coffee, some staring blankly at the buzzing television screen that was mounted in the corner. No one stood at the host desk, the menus stacked messily, the phone off the hook. In fact, there wasn’t a server to be seen as you made your way to the counter. You grimaced as you leaned on the surface, elbows sticky, avoiding spilled coffee the best you could. You waited, resume still in your hand, patience on your features.

No one came.

So you rang the bell that was on the bar top for the very purpose of gaining attention, but the man beside you glared at the noise. Still, no one came. The fans overhead squeaked and whirred, the TV fizzed with bad signal and from somewhere behind the open serving hatch, you heard the clatter of pots and pans. You tried to crane your neck to see through the window, steam and smoke billowing from it, the slight shadow of maybe a person moving through it.

The person swore, dropped a skillet and swore again.

You leaned in further, elbows on spilled salt grains and drops of ketchup, trying to gain a better view into the kitchen from the bar top. “Hey, ‘scuse me? Can I— can someone—”

You huffed as the figure moved out of sight, falling back onto the stool that squeaked and the man next to you snorted into his coffee cup. You frowned and took further action, sundress falling back around your thighs as you hopped off the chair and made your way to the side of the counter that lifted up. No one paid you any mind, no one at all, but you still hesitated before ducking under the bar and hovering by the hatch. You could smell garlic and sage and something a little sweet now you were closer, the scents of the kitchen winning over the stale coffee, cigarette smoke and engine oil that clung to the patrons clothes behind you.

You peered into the kitchen, your paperwork still clutched to your chest. It wasn’t much cooler in here than it was outside, the AC unit broken and the fans working overtime to combat the heat. The kitchen seemed empty now, a stovetop still on despite no one to supervise it, flames licking high up the sides of a steel pot, big enough for you to fit both feet in. There was something inside bubbling, foam rising to the top and chopped courgette and red onions sat on the workbench beside it, abandoned. A radio played, staticky and fuzzy, an old sixties tune floating out to mix with the smoke.

“Come a little bit closer, you’re my kind of man. So big and so strong, come a little bit closer, I’m all alone.”

“H-hello?” You cleared your throat and braced yourself to speak a little louder. Stronger. Braver. “Hello?”

No one answered. In fact, it seemed like the entire diner was run by ghosts, no waiting staff, hosts or cooks to be seen. Maybe you’d imagined the silhouette in the smoke, maybe the heat was finally getting to you.

“No customers back here, what d’you think you’re doin’?”

You startled, jumping back a little only to knock an elbow into a half filled coffee pot, the brown liquid thankfully lukewarm but it still spilled across the countertop, soaking into stray packets of sugar and scattered napkins.

“Oh, fuck, uh—” you grabbed at whatever dry napkins were left, hurriedly mopping up the spill before it dripped to the floor. Old coffee dotted the red and cream tiles, into the gaps between your sandals. You grimaced and looked up, only half paying attention. “Shit, I’m really sorry, I just— there was no one there and—”

You stopped, swallowing hard, cheeks hot, eyes wide. The person in front of you was half hidden behind the serving hatch, but he was scowling through the window with a ladle in his hand. Big brown eyes, unnervingly expressive and dark hair to match, unruly looking curls that were pulled back with an elastic band in a bun that wouldn’t have passed a health inspection.

A boy, unfairly pretty, and annoyed looking with tattoos peeking out from his chef whites, a black paisley printed bandana knotted around his neck. There was a furrow between his brow, lines etched there so deep that it made you think they were a permanent fixture on his handsome face.

“—no customers behind the cash desk, sweetheart, you look bright enough to understand that.”

Your mouth fell open, a burn creeping across your cheeks. Annoyance settled in your chest but you realised you weren’t quite brave enough to do anything about it. So you lifted your resume and slapped it on the hot steel ledge that separated the kitchen from the coffee bar. “No one’s working,” you tried to explain, gesturing with one hand to the empty diner behind you. “I rang the bell—”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” The boy scoffed, raising a tattooed forearm to wipe away the sheer layer of sweat from his brow. “Havin’ a spa day? Shit, no one rings the damn bell, don’t you know that?”

You scrambled for a response, the burn on your face growing hotter, an awful clawing feeling coming across your chest. You swallowed, your throat tight, but you pointed at your CV once more. “I’m here for the job opening. I need to speak to Jim? About the kitchen porter role?”

The stranger laughed, a breathy thing that you didn’t think was supposed to come across as mean as it did, but it stung all the same. You shrunk a little, a hardly seen thing as the boy turned his head to check on whatever was bubbling in the big pot. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be a dick about it, but uh, I don’t think you’re cut out for the kitchen - sorry.” He turned back to you, a slightly more apologetic look on his face instead of the frown. “You understand, right?”

You were speechless, just for a second. Blinking away the confusion, you made noise of protest as the boy started to move away. Your hand touched his bicep and he swivelled back, scowling once more. You snatched your hand away, glancing at your fingertips as if the ink from his tattoos would have stained them black.

“Sorry— it’s just, I, I need a job.” You swallowed, hoping none of the customers could hear your desperate plea. “I just moved into town and honestly, I’ll take anything, like anything. I’m supposed to talk to Jim— or Eddie?”

The boy seemed to mull over your words for a second or two, a passing of sympathy or something just as kind coming over his features. He sighed and shrugged, turning away to stir the pot before it boiled over and he shouted at you through the smoke and steam. Not meanly, just enough for his voice to be heard over the music, the hissing of the stove, the hum of the freezer. “I dunno where Jim is, sorry.”

You deflated, sliding your stack of papers off of the ledge and back to your chest. You tried not to appear too frustrated as you asked, “what about Eddie? Someone - a guy, at the garage - he told me to ask for Eddie.”

The ladle clanged against the pot, some soup - or maybe stew - spilling out the sides. The boy frowned at the mess, dragging a rag over the spots before he glanced up at you. You tried to smile, tried to tamp down the watery doe eyes you knew you couldn’t help but have on show, but you felt desperate. Leaving Chicago with nothing more than the bag on your back and no plans was suddenly seeming like an awful idea.

“Sorry,” the stranger said again. “I dunno an Eddie.”

—————

Sitting in a sticky leather booth in the corner of Jim’s Midnight Grill for another hour turned out to be worth it.

Just before two o’clock, a man walked in, greeting the same customers who were still nursing their coffees with a muttered ‘hello,’ a familiar thing that everyone grunted back at. He was a tall man, broad shouldered with a moustache and a shaved head that was covered with a battered wide brimmed hat. He looked more cowboy than business owner, checked shirt dirt covered boots and all, but you heard someone call him Jim and you were up and running after him.

Your sneakers stuck to the linoleum tiles, the ‘shtick shtick shtick’ of your soles pattering between the aisles of empty tables until you caught up with the man just before he disappeared into the kitchen. He raised his brows at your sudden appearance at his elbow, wide eyed and hopeful as you clutched the same resume you’d tried to hand the cook, the pieces of paper stained with coffee now.

The man lifted his chin to a small table before you could speak, gesturing to two chairs by the window. You startled, wondering what was happening as he pulled out a seat and pointed at you to sit in the other one.

“You’re new, right?” The man - Jim - fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, most of them crushed and bent, but he found a good one to lift to his lips. He lit it and blew smoke upwards, staining the already yellowing ceiling. “Here, in town?”

You nodded, unsure how he knew that. You guessed that news travelled fast in a place as small as Hawkins, so you decided to elaborate for the sake of talking. “Uh, yeah. From Chicago. I’m inquiring about the, um, the porter job?”

“What’s your name?” Jim leaned forward in his chair and poked gently at your forearms. “You don’t got a lot of scars, you done soft jobs? No kitchen stuff before?”

The AC unit kicked in and rattled a vent above you as you stared at the man, trying to work out what he meant. Stammering, you told him your name and passed over a resume, pointing out your last few jobs, doing your best to try and make them sound more professional than they actually were.

Librarian's assistant.

Barista. For two weeks.

Cashier at a knock off Chuck E. Cheese.

“I guess they’re what you could call, uh,” you squinted Jim, floundering for the word he’d used, “soft jobs. But I’ve got a scar on my knee from pulling a kid out of the ball pit. He’d come straight from little league, he still had his spikes on and there was a considerable amount of blood even th—”

Jim stopped your spiel by jamming a thumb back towards the kitchen hatch. You could still see the boy there, pretty and scowling all the same, a dark curl falling from his hair band to fall over his cheek. You watched him blow it away and flip something in a skillet, the sizzle of it just heard over the music, the bad TV in the corner of the bar.

“You ever worked a kitchen?”

You shook your head, stomach sinking. ‘Fake it til’ you make it,’ failed you once before, and the owner of the coffee shop in Lincoln Park quickly realised you were wasting both your times when she discovered you didn’t know the difference between a mocha and a latte. “No, sir.”

“Our line cook is real particular ‘bout who we put in his kitchen with him,” Jim pointed to the boy, who’d now been joined by someone else. Another male, one with even longer hair, sleek and dark and they seemed to be arguing over blocks of cheese. “Now I don’t think it’s a good idea to throw you in there—”

Dread bubbled in your stomach. If you didn’t manage to land this job, you weren’t sure where else to look. A small town brought on few opportunities, and you’d already exhausted most of the businesses on Main Street. “Sir, please, I—”

“—but there is a waitressing gig available.” Jim frowned as he tried to remember the details. “Full time, forty odd hours if you don’t mind doing lates.”

“Yes!” You blurted out the answer too loud, loud enough for the customers to turn away from the TV screen for a second or two. The boys in the kitchen peered out the hatch, one curious, one annoyed. “Yes, sorry, yes. I’ll take it, thank you.”

Jim nodded and stubbed out the amber end of his cigarette in an ashtray beside the sauce bottles. “Easy enough job, minimum wage, you keep any tips you make.” He listed off each point on his fingers. “You start tomorrow.”

You could only nod back, eager and grateful. “Of course, yeah, sure. Uh— do I need—?”

Jim waved you off, already standing as he lit up another cigarette. “Just come by for eight, Eddie’ll sort you out with a uniform, locker, that kinda stuff.”

You frowned, confused. Looking around the quiet diner, you wondered if there was someone you hadn’t noticed before, but the number of visible staff members remained the same. The two boys in the kitchen, the pretty cool who you’d spoken to back at the stove, tasting its contents with a teaspoon.

“Uh,” you coughed awkwardly, feeling stupid. “I thought— I thought there wasn’t an Eddie who worked here?” You pointed warily to the boy with the messy curls, the black tattoos across his exposed forearms, he was staring at you, like he knew you were talking about him. He was scowling. “He said there wasn’t.”

The noise and heat of the diner and the summer outside didn’t do anything to diminish the embarrassment you felt at Jim’s next words. His gaze followed to where you were pointing and snorted. “Kid, that is Eddie.”

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