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fartfather · 1 month

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Audience of One pt.1

Satoru x fem!reader x Suguru

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Word count: 2k

Series Summary: When Suguru first walked in on you and Satoru having sex, it was an accident. But he couldn't say the same about every time after that. He's under the impression that this habit of his is a secret. But you and Satoru have known this whole time and didn't plan on letting Suguru know anytime soon.

pt.1 Info: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, PiV sex, unprotected sex, voyeurism, hair pulling, choking, male masturbation, male receiving oral, praise/degradation, pet names (princess, baby, love, etc), established relationship w Gojo, aftercare, porn with very little plot

pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

It began as an accident. Geto never meant to walk in on you and Gojo during an... intimate moment. But boy was he glad that he did.

Planning to tell you two about the cursed spirits that he had just delt with, he walked to your guy’s room. Without bothering to knock, the knob twisted under his palm.

The door barely opened a crack, before he heard what was happening. His face instantly turned red and he froze in place.

Shaking his head, he snapped out of his daze. What was he doing? He needed to leave and give you two your privacy!

…Right?

But he just couldn’t bring himself to leave. As perverted as it was, he was enjoying the sounds coming from the room.

One particular moan from you pushed his curiosity over the edge.

He stood there for a few moments, in an internal debate. But his lustful inquisitiveness got the best of him, and it only took a moment before he built up enough courage to take a peek inside.

Just a peek.

The way Gojo was thrusting his cock into you, the look on your face and the sounds coming out of your mouth, it made Geto feel things. He had never thought about either of you that way before. But now, after seeing such a sight, there would be no going back.

You two didn't notice Geto peering in from the crack of your door, so it was no harm right?

At least that's how he justified it.

The only trouble was that you two had noticed.

Gojo lifted your legs over his shoulders and lowered himself closer to you. His forearms were on each side of your head and he dipped his lips to pepper your neck with kisses as he bottomed out into your tight cunt.

Between kisses he traced his tongue up to your ear and whispered, "It looks like we have an audience," his head briefly tilted in the direction of the door.

"Suguru," he clarified, making sure his volume was low enough for your ears only. Your eyes widened and before you could reply his cock hit your g-spot, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

"Oh, you like that?" he asked loudly with a condescending smirk, tilting his head slightly. His words has a double meaning- you knew that when you nodded your head, looking up at him with a pleading expression.

"Who knew my sweet girl could be such a slut?" he chuckled and shook is head, "Use your words, princess, I need to hear you say it," he raised an eyebrow waiting for your confirmation, while simultaneously fucking you into the bed.

“Yes!” You managed to choke out the words between all the moans that left your lips, “Yes, Gojo, I do like it,” If it wasn’t already clear enough for him that you enjoyed Geto’s voyeurism, then your words would certainly confirm your consent.

From Suguru’s perspective, this was nothing but your typical dirty talk. He continued to watch in silence, oblivious that his presence was not only known- but also welcomed.

Gojo pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, lifting your hips up to meet his and sliding his throbbing dick back inside.

"You want Suguru to see how good I fuck you?" He whispered as brought himself flush against you, “How much of a filthy slut you are for my cock?"

"Please, Satoru..." Your words were cut short by a gasp. Gojo had grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked your head back, causing your back to arch even further.

“Am I right?” He said through gritted teeth, pounding into you with a newfound strength.

“Yes I- Ah!- I love your cock,” you moan out. Legs trembling and face contorted with pleasure, the warmth in your abdomen seemed to grow as you near closer to your orgasm.

Geto's breathing grew heavy and the more he watched, the harder his cock became. He reached a hand down to palm himself through his pants, almost letting a groan escape his lips.

Gojo's grip in your hair tightened and his other hand found its way to your hip, using the grip to pull you into him repeatedly.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, feeling your walls flutter around his cock, knowing how close you were.

With the hand on your hip, he snaked it down to rub at your clit. And with the final thrust and rub, your walls clenched around his cock, pulling him deeper into you. You screamed his name, letting your juices drip onto his thighs and bedsheets below you.

In all your ecstasy, your eyes rolled back and moans turned into whimpers. As Gojo kept his grip on your hair your mouth fell agape. You looked fucked out of your mind.

"Such a pretty sight," he praised, letting go of you and allowing your head to drop forward. He continued to fuck you as you rode out your high.

As your high died down, Geto's did not. What a sight to behold.

He watched with an unyielding focus, afraid to even blink and miss a moment of your beauty.

“Fuck, you get so tight when you cum,” Gojo groaned while his thrusts began to become erratic and desperate, “You want me to cum inside you, princess? Hmm? Want to feel my cum leak out of you?"

"Mhm," was the only reply you could muster up. You were absolutely spent.

"I'll take that as a yes," he chuckled.

He gave a few more thrusts before bottoming out into your pussy, releasing his load and filling you up to the brim. His head tilted back and his jaw dropped as he released a drawn out moan.

Gojo leaned over and kissed the top of your head as his hips slowly rocked to a stop. "You did so good, baby. So good," he whispered against the top of your head and pulled out, admiring the sight before him.

"Look at what a mess you made," he smirked.

You giggled lightly and slumped into the bed as Gojo released your hips, the exhaustion beginning to settle in.

Meanwhile, Geto remailed outside your bedroom door with a mixture of shock and craving.

A new found want was burning inside him. He had to have you, too.

He watched as Gojo gently took care of you and helped clean you up.

He felt guilty, but not for the reason you would think. Instead his guilt stemmed from the desire to take care of you and give you the aftercare you deserved too- as a way to show his appreciation for the sight he witnessed.

But he obviously wouldn't do that. Not now, at least.

Eventually, Geto pulled himself away from the crack of your bedroom door with great reluctance.

"Maybe one day," he muttered to himself, walking down the hall.

Maybe one day he'd have his chance with you. But until then, he'll have to make due with his fantasies. And the occasional secret attendance to your bedroom performances.

He was already looking forward to the next time another opportunity presented, the guilt now completely replaced with lust.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

As much as Geto didn't want to admit it, he had become addicted. Addicted to the feeling he got from watching you and Gojo.

There was something so invigorating about watching someone fuck, especially when it's your two best friends.

He felt bad at first, knowing that this was wrong. But he just couldn't stay away.

And now, after weeks of constant visits to your bedroom, his addiction had grown to something more.

He had no clue that you and Gojo knew of his presence. He had no clue that you two now purposely left your door cracked open.

No, Geto thought this was his own dirty little secret. And you and Gojo planned to keep it that way.

"Fuck!" Gojo moaned out, your name slipping past his lips.

His head was thrown back and his lips were parted, allowing all his sounds of pleasure to slip past them.

Your head was bobbing up and down as you sucked Gojo's cock, hands stroking his base. You hummed around his cock in response, sending vibrations up his body and pulling another loud groan from his mouth.

Geto had already been outside your door for a few minutes, but this was the first time he's ever seen you give Gojo a blowjob. It was a sight that made his pants tighten almost immediately, with precum staining his boxers.

He wanted so badly to be able to reach into his pants and relieve himself, but he didn't want to risk making any noise. He'd have to wait until he got back to his own room to jerk himself off, but it was worth it.

Every time it was worth it.

"God, just like that," Gojo praised, his fingers laced through your hair and pulled gently. Your hands moved to his thighs and you continued to bob your head up and down his cock.

You squeezed his legs as you pushed yourself further and further each time, letting the muscles of your throat relax until you could take his whole length.

"F-fuck," he groaned. His hips bucked involuntarily and he held his breath as he tried his best to control himself, but failed.

The sensation was too overwhelming, and Gojo quickly found himself tipping on the edge of his climax.

He was close, so close. You could feel his cock twitch against your tongue. Your name slipped from his mouth, over and over, in between his strangled moans.

And when he finally came, Geto watched as Gojo's eyes squeezed shut and his chest heaved.

Your mouth stayed wrapped around his cock as his release filled your throat. And you made sure to swallow every drop while watching Gojo’s blissed expression.

The sight almost had Geto moaning, which he quickly stifled by biting his bottom lip. That was a close call.

As the two of you were left panting, Geto silently slipped away from your bedroom door and retreated to his own room.

Once he got there, his pants were quickly undone and thrown off.

As he slipped off his boxers, he couldn’t help but wonder if this habit of his was becoming too much.

But then the image of you kneeling over Gojo’s cock- ass up in the air while you sucked him off- quickly dissolved any hesitation.

He began stroking himself at the memory. And it wasn't long before his mind wandered further.

He thought about how good you'd look sitting on his cock. How you'd feel bouncing up and down. How he’d love to take his time with you, tasting every part of your sweet body.

God, he wanted you so bad. No- he needed you. And as he imagined you moaning his name, a moan of his own slipped past his lips.

His hand stroked faster and harder until his orgasm was upon him. His mouth fell agape as ropes of cum spurted onto his fist.

As he slowly came down from his high reality began to set in. He let out a deep sigh and ran his clean hand through his hair.

Geto knew this wasn’t healthy. He knew his actions were wrong. But that didn’t stop him. In fact, the knowledge that what he was doing was so wrong was half the fun.

So what if he was addicted to watching his best friends fuck? What harm was there in that?

All he knew was that he yearned to be a part of it, to experience the intimacy shared between you and Gojo. But until then, he was more than content to observe from the sidelines.

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pseudowho · 3 months

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Defending Your Honour

A series in which the JJK guys stick-it to the creeps and perverts bothering the reader.

A multi-fic in a series ❤️🫖☕

Part 1 (Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, and Todo Aoi) link here!

Part 2 (Higuruma Hiromi, Ino Takuma and Itadori Yuuji) link here!

More JJK men and women to come

Trigger Warning: unsolicited dick pics, upskirting, catcalling, threatened sexual assault/reader followed into bathroom

Gojo Satoru

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"Baaaaabe," Satoru whinged from the sofa, at the exact pitch required to set your eyes rolling. You walked back to him, blushing as you felt his eyes roll languidly up and down your bare legs beneath his oversized t-shirt.

Plopping the popcorn bowl down, you sat on the sofa beside him, lazily draping your legs over his lap, tilting your head inquisitively towards him as he teased his long fingers over your thighs. He felt you look at him questioningly, and smirked.

"Nothin'," he shot, "s'too late. Was gonna ask you what movie you wanted, but you're too late. I picked already."

"Oh, really?" You teased, swirling a finger on his pecs, "And what did you choose?"

"Only the cult-classic noughties Anne Hathaway gem...the Princess Diaries. Two." You clapped, squealing with genuine delight as Satoru laughed, pulling you closer onto his lap by the legs.

The movie rolled, and you cuddled under Satoru's arm, taking turns, giggling as you fed each other popcorn. Your phone buzzed, once. You ignored it. Your phone buzzed, again. You ignored it. It buzzed again-- again-- again--

"Someone's popular tonight," Satoru teased, "you wanna get that?" You squirmed uncomfortably under his arm, your lip curled in disgust.

"No, just leave it. Nothing to worry about." Satoru raised an unconvinced eyebrow, but tucked you closer, deliberately missing your mouth with the next piece of popcorn he offered you, shoving it at a nostril instead. You laughed, batting him away.

A few minutes passed, and the incessant buzzing of your phone began again. Satoru felt you tense under his arm. He sat forward, pausing the movie and turning to you.

"Look, you know I won't push for an answer, but...is everything alright?" You turned away from him, lips curled up again, upset.

"This guy from work..." you started guiltily, fidgeting, "...he just keeps messaging me. Won't leave me alone, I-- I've been ignoring him for weeks." Satoru's face pinched in pain and concern. He reached out a hand, threading his fingers through yours.

"Babe...you could have told me." You shrugged, eyes tearing up now. You reached out for your phone, unlocking it.

"I didn't want you to think it was my faul--" you cried out in disgust, dropping your phone into your lap with a jolt, sniffling, face crumpling, "--I'm so sick of this, Satoru."

Satoru slowly reached a hand out to your phone, hesitating for you to stop him. You shook your head tearfully, gesturing loosely at your phone for him to take it.

Satoru's face morphed into something ugly as he scrolled through photo after photo of another man's penis, sometimes flaccid, sometimes hard, held in his hand, covered in cum, in different lighting, at different angles--

"This," Satoru spat, "is not your fault. None of it is." Satoru dropped your phone on the coffee table, turning fully to you again, "Do you know where this guy lives?"

You frowned at Satoru, nodding slowly, considering; "What...are you going to do?"

Satoru's lips quirked at the edges into a dirty little smile; "Nothing for you to worry about. Don't sweat it. I'm the strongest. You know it."

An hour or so later, the owner of the unwanted penis stepped into his apartment, still buzzing after sending you so many good photos, and from the office no less, it was so filthy, so naughty, he just, just knew you'd love it--

"Hey there, guy. I've been waiting for you."

Grabbed bodily by this unreasonably strong, tall, white-haired man, your assailant cried out in terrified indignation as Satoru threw him onto his sofa. Satoru sat on the coffee table opposite him, eyes covered by a black blindfold, spidery legs spread and blocking the man's exit.

"Unlock your phone," Satoru commanded, sounding almost cheerful. The man glared, snarling.

"I'm not unlocking my fucking phone--"

"Unlock your phone," Satoru ordered again, now cold, methodically dangerous, "now."

The assailant reached for his phone with a trembling hand, unlocking it. Satoru held out his own hand expectantly. The man hesitated. Satoru clapped his fingers against his palm, in a display of impatience. Begrudgingly, the man handed over his phone to Satoru, who hummed as he flicked through the disgusting messages the man had been sending you.

"You know," Satoru said conversationally, his words sending shivers of fear up the man's spine, "I kill monsters for a living...did you know that? Probably not." Satoru sucked his teeth, preparing a multi-participant messaging list on the man's phone.

"Got any sisters? Brothers?" Satoru inquired. The man nodded, uncertain. Satoru smiled, as if delighted by the man's cooperation, "Names?"

Shakily, the man reeled off their names, his stomach sinking lower and lower as Satoru asked for more names-- his boss, his best friend, his best friend's wife, his solicitor...

With a happy sigh of finality, Satoru clapped his hands together, throwing the phone back onto the sofa.

"Hope they like your photos, anyway," Satoru chirped to the man, who stared at his frantically buzzing phone as if it were an unexploded bomb, "no takey-backsies!"

Satoru stood, walking to the front door. He paused, turning back slowly, the very air within the flat seeming to crush in around the man with some inconceivable force.

"And if you ever go near my girl again," Satoru offered, calculating, menacing, "the next monster I'll kill is you."

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Megumi and Nobara

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"She doesn't want to go to the book shop with you, she wants to come with me, there's this dress I think she'll look really cute in--"

"--she's my girlfriend Kugisaki!" Megumi snapped, tugging your hand in his so they sat flush against his thigh. You hummed, pretending to consider your options.

"I dunno Megs...if the dress is cute enough, maybe I'll be Nobara's girlfriend instead." Megumi spun to you, appalled, and you laughed as he and Nobara bickered with each other on the way to the escalator.

Ginza was busy, buzzing with the animated, vibrant ebb and flow of the wealthy, and the excitable tourists, and the perfectly-coiffed fashionistas. You, Megumi and Nobara tumbled through the crowd, being reshuffled by the constant bump of passers-by, and you ended up entering the escalator two people ahead of them.

Leaning round to shoot them an apologetic smile, you saw Megumi and Nobara remained embroiled in their sibling-ish argument. You rolled your eyes, facing forward, eyes up to the twinkling lights of the shopping centre.

You thought very little of the twitching of the back of your skirt, so close was the crowd. You heard a cough behind you, loud, barking. You heard another cough, and another, and another.

"Hey-- hey! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You tried to turn at the sound of Nobara's voice, but failed, shoulders bracketed by the press of the crowd.

"Megumi-- that piece of shit took photos up your girlfriend's skirt! He's covering up the camera noise with coughs!"

"Bastard!"

You cried out as you were shoved forwards, your fingers cracking painfully against the metal of the escalator, and a man in a baseball cap forced his way past you, phone in hand. Nobara and Megumi shouted, in pursuit, Megumi pulling you to your feet as the crowd decompressed at the top of the escalator.

You were confused, humiliated and all turned-around as you staggered at the top of the escalator. Pitying eyes glazed over you in passing, the flow of people giving you a wide berth. You blushed, and clutched the hem of your skirt, feeling so exposed, pulling down the hem at the back.

Megumi had stumbled ahead in chase, but turned back and grasped your hand, his eyes beseeching you to chase with him. Nobara tore off ahead, rounding a corner. You nodded, sniffling, and Megumi raised your clasped hands to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm.

You sprinted together after Nobara and found her pinning the capped man against a wall, effortlessly gripping the front of his hoodie while he squirmed. She was going through his phone, lips twisted in distaste at the intimate photographs he had taken of you.

Megumi approached, fists clenching and unclenching, his nose scrunched in disgust. Nobara held the phone close to her chest, eyeing him inquisitively. Megumi shot you a sideways glance, and shook his head at Nobara.

"Save them for the cops," he snapped, "but for now..." Megumi turned to you; "What do you want to do with this bastard?"

Your lip trembled, and you bit it between your teeth to still it. You felt violated, furiously vengeful.

"I think," you shook out, "we should find this guy a skirt." With matching satisfied, wicked smiles, Megumi and Nobara rounded on your assailant.

The sales assistants manning the changing rooms did not dare approach the scene that was unfolding behind the curtains, some time later. While the capped man frantically sobbed, his knobbly-kneed hairy legs woefully exposed by the cute miniskirt he wore, Megumi kept him arm-locked against the wall, endlessly berating and insulting him, while Nobara knelt, taking miserably unflattering photos of his taint under the hem of his skirt.

You stood back, grimly satisfied as your assailant wept his apologies. As you wiped away tears of mirth, Megumi paused in his bullying for just a moment, to smile at you, eyes soft, warm, full of sincere adoration.

You mused to yourself as Nobara slapped the back of the man's thigh, making him shriek; it's not strictly morally just, you thought to yourself, but I don't strictly care.

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Toge Inumaki

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You found yourself so nervous, the first 'first date' you had had in quite some time. Your date, Inumaki, seemed equally unsure, but rolled with a quiet mischievous confidence that sent butterflies through your tummy.

You had approached him, your outfit suddenly seeming so overdone compared to his hoodie and jeans, and you opened your mouth to apologise for being overdressed. The words stopped in your throat as Inumaki's eyes glimmered with joy, and he gestured up and down your body with one finger, before clasping his hands over his heart and tipping his head back towards the sky.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, blushing, and Inumaki stepped forward to grasp your hands and bring them away from your face, swinging them affectionately in his own. You bumped the side of your head against his, realising with a curling warmth, that he had plaited his fingers in yours as you walked together down the street.

The day passed, in a flurry of arcades, street food, souvenir shopping, buying small gifts for each other...the whole day had been spent in wordless gestures, familiar and comfortable. Inumaki's heart stuttered each time he managed to tease you into a twinkling laugh.

Heading home, hands still swinging together, rich steam and hoppy beer aromas tumbled out of the closely packed ramen shops. You and Inumaki found yourselves pressed uncomfortably close to a pack of young men as you squeezed through the crowd. One man squeezed pricklingly, unnecessarily against you as he passed, the street wide enough to render his intimacy completely unjustifiable.

Inumaki paused, watchful eyes seeing as you drew your shoulders up in defence.

"Oh hey baby! You on a date? Hey bro, your girlfriend just tried to feel me up!" You blushed in furious mortification as your shoulders drew even closer towards your chin, pulling your jacket around yourself, keeping your head down and hoping the assault would just go away.

The young man's pack of friends, four of them, laughed and jeered, taking swigs from cans of beer and turning to join in the game.

"Nice outfit babe! Think I've seen something like it on a street corner near here..."

"Yeah, that jacket ain't coverin' much, sweetheart!"

"Aww, you cold? C'mere baby, I've got something nice and warm for you in my pocket."

As the pack continued to laugh and jeer at you, your happiness shrivelled, and you were reduced to nothing, a pecked worm between birds.

Inumaki raised his hand, slowly drawing his mask down, revealing his unusual facial markings. The pack of men paused, then laughed harder. The original perpetrator raised his beer to Inumaki, and began to speak as Inumaki waggled his tongue in preparation.

"Think you've got a bit of Sharpie on your face, ma--"

"Kiss each other-- like you mean it."

Gripped by something other than his own thoughts and desires, the young man stopped, dropping his can to the floor with a metallic wet thunk...before turning to his friend and grasping his face, pressing a passionate, staggering kiss to his lips. The kiss was enthusiastically reciprocated, and two of the others fought each other for the right to lock lips with the final man.

"Put your hands down his pants."

The crowd around the young men hooted and whistled at the show, as the enforced make-out session grew steamier, beer spilling onto the floor around them, wet kisses sounding through the air, hands down pants, groping.

"Keep going-- really enjoy yourselves."

As the scene before you unfolded into something increasingly erotic and debauched, your jaw dropped, all of your own embarrassment forgotten, and Inumaki raised his mask with a cough. Pulling you to wind through the crowd of onlookers and raised, clicking phone cameras, Inumaki turned and shot you a wink.

You laughed, desperately appreciative, and already planning your second date.

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Fushiguro Toji

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"Toji-- Toji-- I mean it, slow down, I need to pee!"

Toji sighed, brisk and pissed-off (his factory settings), and stopped pulling you along by the hand. He shot you a withering look, until you batted your eyelashes, clasping your hands together as you wiggled at him.

Despite himself, he smirked, glancing away so you didn't see (though you already had), and started scouring the street for public bathrooms.

"Come on, pea-bladder," he mocked, his deep voice slow and drawling, "let's find you somewhere to piss."

"Toji, don't be so gross--"

"Don't be so needy, jeez, or you're payin' for your own dinner." You rolled your eyes, punching his shoulder affectionately. Rounding a corner, a set of public bathrooms appeared opposite a row of shops.

Raising Toji's hand to your face, you pressed a kiss to the back of his enormous fist. Toji pinched your chin lovingly, before spinning you by the shoulders and planting a hefty slap to your bum.

"Hurry up kid. If someone prettier passes while you're in there, I ain't stickin' round." Toji laughed as your jaw dropped, aghast, and pushed you towards the bathrooms.

Toji chuckled to himself as you skipped away, his eyes only briefly registering the figure loitering outside the bathroom as you headed in.

A few minutes passed and you stepped, relieved, out of the stalls and walked to the sink to clean your hands. Sidling from his hiding spot round the corner, a heavy-jacketed man looked towards you as you gasped, immediately backing yourself away against a wall.

"All alone, baby?" The man challenged, tongue sliding across his front teeth as he approached you, a flick knife clacking in his hand. Steeped in terror, your eyes filled with tears, and you were miserably trapped in the corner against a toilet stall. You opened your mouth to beg for your life, but were interrupted by a low, dangerous voice.

"Nah, man. She ain't alone. But you are."

In abrupt, bloody violence, Toji swung a fist, shattering the man's nose and front teeth in an instant. The man's head snapped back and you screamed, spats of blood splattering down to mix with the stale-water-toilet-paper-mulch of the public bathroom floor.

Toji drew his fist back again as the man staggered, Toji's face twisted in filthy, murderous rage; "Chickenshit little coward, I'll fucking gut yo--"

Toji stopped stock-still at your pale little face staring up in terror...at him now, not your would-be assailant twisting like a maggot on the wet floor. Toji felt a hot rush of shame at having been the cause of your terror.

"Babe..." he started, lost for words. You trembled before him. Toji gulped, turning away from you, unable to look you in the eye. As your frightened heart slowed, Toji took a deep, measured breath in through his nose, and out of his mouth.

"I...frightened you. I'm so--" the words caught in Toji's throat, so alien to him. He took a deep breath and tried again; "I'm sorry. Let's finish this guy off together, huh? Before we take him to the cops."

You hesitated, before nodding, tearful eyes smiling up at Toji, sending his belly tumbling. Lifting the bloodied man up by his collar, Toji grinned devilishly at him.

"Swirly..." Toji began to chant, raising his voice as you started to join in, clapping in rhythm, "Swirly, swirly, swirly--"

Other passers-by found alternate public bathrooms that day, put off by the sounds of repeated flushing and strangled wet sobs.

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Ahhh. I managed to find a bit of love even for Toji, who is so SHOCKINGLY in looks and character like my older brother 💀💀💀🫠

811 notes · View notes

peterspinkrobe · 9 months

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Confession - priest!Miguel O’Hara x Reader [part 2]

Word count: 2,270 (oops)

Rating: mature for suggestive content. Mentions of masturbation. You have a dirty mind… tsk tsk. Religious content. Mentions of parental death (sorry for not tagging last time).

A/N: Thank you for your feral support in reading part 1! The art above is again by @Ejpuki on twt. They drew this moment from part one and JUST LOOK AT IT! They also did a pre-reading which I greatly appreciated. Go support them over there <3 I only tagged the people who explicitly stated bc I don’t want to overstep. Also, I guess I should watch Fleabag? Enjoy! part three is cookin’ in my noggin’

// Psalms 32:3-4

When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy on me;

Rumbling sounds drone from the engine in a constant hum as the bus wheels roll down the asphalt, occasionally shuffling the passengers inside. Yourself included.

The wheels in your mind are conjuring images of too much skin, friction, and want. The mental pictures… different positions and other things that you’ve only read about - all featuring the same tall deacon from your small church.

You curse yourself for both your overactive imagination and forgetfulness for having left your headphones at home. Some loud music would drown out the whir of the bus and push out the flashes of lewdness that plagued you.

Reverend O’Hara, you learned that’s what transitional deacons are usually called after inquiring about the proper title on Google the second you got home from that communion, occupied the majority of your mind. He took up residence in your thoughts without even asking permission and you didn’t know the proper way to absolve your sanity of him. It had only been two weeks since you’d met him, two Sunday services, but you were hooked. This trip into the city was supposed to get you out of the house and help clear your mind of its recent inhabitant.

The methods you were currently using were certainly of no help. Nearly every night, for the past two weeks, you’d given into temptation. Allowing the streaking images of what you could only envision his toned body looked like to remain longer in your mind’s eye. His thumb on your lip, the quick swipe across - became more inquisitive of the inside of your mouth in your imagination. You pressed into yourself and thought of those long, thick fingers. You carried yourself away on highs with only his hands in mind. You yearned to baptize him in your waters.

You buried fingernails into your palms to ground yourself as the scenery outside the bus began the change drastically, pulling you out of your daydream.

Your hometown along the Catskill Mountains was enveloped by the natural world - tucked into valleys of the vast countryside. In the three weeks you’d been back home, you had already gotten used to surrounding greenery. You’d forgotten the toll that city expansion was having on the rows of vegetable and orchard farms in the surrounding areas.

Your gaze out the window watched tree lines and grassy hills give way to glimmers of futuristic architecture as the bus entered Nueva York. The rhythm of wheels on tarmac became a backdrop to the din of honking horns, shouting pedestrians, and blaring sirens. You had only recently left a city not too different from this one, but the drastic change in landscape from the mountains made your head spin. The inertia of the bus braking and accelerating over and over on the intersecting streets only added to the motion sickness. You recognize the next stop as the usual one you and your mother used when coming into the city. You quickly get off the bus, blessing the steady ground underneath as your boots hit the pavement.

Towering structures of carbon fiber and glass dominated the skyline, some illuminated by bright neon light displays, others blending into the afternoon sunshine. Advertisements for fast foods, fast money, and fast cars flickered on screens everywhere. You look to where the bus carried you from and, in contrast, the countryside stretched out, calling you back. Despite the slight familiarity in the maze of metal, the sudden change in surroundings made you slightly anxious.

The steady stream of citizens didn’t help your nerves either. You take a moment to get yourself together before following the foot traffic flow up a familiar street.

Your eyes recognize a food spot from a bygone era and you can’t help but smile. You picked up the pace as you headed to the establishment your family used to frequent. Timeless Treats is still here?! You pull on the long handled door and a wave of music, chatter, and sugar hit you at once. Much more pleasant than the waves of anxiety from moments before.

Entering the quaint eatery, you’re transported into a cozy atmosphere reminiscent of an old fashioned diner. A cheerful man at the front waves you in and shouts for you to ‘sit where ya want!’.

You recognized the vintage decor: rusted signs with cartoon mascots and ads for ice cream floats that cost only $2. Imagine! You select one of the smaller retro tables with two stools and hear a jukebox play a song you don’t recognize but tap your foot along to.

There was more to this diner than what it seems at first glance. A few more glances noticed the subtle touches where the diner had embraced the future where it mattered, with high-tech kitchen appliances that helped the staff immensely. A holographic menu pops up across the portion of the table you're sitting at and you slide your finger along the options.

This bakery specialized in delicious treats with a futuristic flare, with many favorites being popular since the establishment opened generations ago. Your eyes fell onto the pastry menu and your curiosity piqued as you ordered the ‘Time Traveler’s Torta.’

All the hustle of the city had occupied your mind until you were sitting alone at the table. Your eyes scanned the other occupants and you wondered what they were all talking about with their sugary sweets. It made you think of him again.

Dammit. A whole ten minutes without thinking of Reverend O’Hara, that’s a record! You couldn’t help the images of Miguel that fluttered now. Only this time you pictured him sitting at the table with you. The two of you share a dessert and you smile at the thought. You visualize his thumb coming to your face to wipe whipped cream from your lips only to plop the finger into his own mouth. That moment as mass replayed in your mind with differing flavors of spice on repeat.

The torta arrives and you gawk at the presentation of the treat. A classic cake with layers of light vanilla sponge, intricately placed swirls of sweet cream cheese frosting, and decadent chocolate sauce. This sweet was the perfect balance of timeless and futuristic as it sat on an oblong, ornate plate.

You savored the flavors as you ate and continued to imagine a date with the deacon. You ask yourself if deacons can even date and the thought pulls you out of your delusions for a moment. Get it together…

As you scooped the last bits of the pastry into your mouth, you pondered your dilemma. Mom always said that confession cleared a clouded consciousness, but there was no way you’d divulge this information to her. Her hypothetical reaction to your crush on a clergy member makes you shiver.

An idea comes to mind that makes you think to yourself that you’ve really gone mad.

The madness pushes you from your seat after paying for the dessert. There’s a slim chance what you’re looking for is actually there considering the cities expansions. That doubt doesn’t stop you from following a semi-recognizable path down the busy streets.

Every tall figure you pass makes you do a double take. The idea of the deacon brushing alongside you making you smile. You turn a corner as your imagination creates sweet scenarios with Reverend O’Hara and stop in your tracks. You cause people behind you to push into your back and spit harsh murmurs at you.

It was still there.

You were surprised for good reason. You were headed towards a relic of past times, nestled between buildings of glass and metal. There was some scaffolding supporting it as the building you headed towards was centuries old. Other than that - the structure you now stood and stared at jutted towards the sky in the old brick and mortar style you were used to seeing in your hometown.

But the Cathedral of Nueva York wasn’t like the humble church in your hometown. The ornate bell tower and large cross atop the chapel in front of you proved that. The only thing to change about the building was the name as the state itself saw many changes a few decades ago - including the name of the actual city.

You find yourself reminiscing on the few times you’d been to the church as you walked inside. Your family used to attend the fancy Easter services and Christmas plays. Those trips stopped after your father passed, and your mother rarely came to the city at all anymore. You remember seeing pictures of them on their wedding day at this very church. Priesthood is a tight knit group and Father Steen knew the head priest, who extended their church for their wedding services.

Given it was a weekday afternoon, there weren’t many souls inside. Despite the numerous options for seating, you sat in your usual middle pew, aisle seat.

You eyed the part of the church that had brought you here in the first place. The confession booth. Its cherrywood exterior made you think of those eyes that bore into yours that day of communion. You shake your head but the visual remains.

The church in your hometown didn’t have a confessional booth. Even if they did - why the hell would you confess there? To the subject of your lustful desires? So many questions and doubts enter your mind.

Could you really do this? Confess to a priest that you pined over a man in his chaste brotherhood? Think of the judgment!

Another thought occurs to you: their whole shtick was that only one entity could do the judging. And it was confidential. If you received some good ol’ fashioned Catholic scolding and Hail Mary’s, maybe that would be enough to get you back to your senses. Reverend O’Hara is a man devoted to God and cannot be hindered by the whims of a degenerate like yourself.

Emboldened by the potential to relieve yourself of your corrupt thoughts, you stand and approach the far right front of the church. The confessional is smaller than it looked from how you remember as a child and teen but it doesn’t stop you from nearly yanking the door open. You don’t even knock.

Thankfully no one is on the confessing side as you burst into the tiny box. The confined space became even smaller as you closed the door behind you quickly. Your mind races towards impure thoughts of the deacon pressed against you in the tight booth space. His height would force him to bend slightly over you and the visual almost knocks you onto the bench which would probably be right at crotch level…

You remember the times you’d done this before and cry out the usual, “Forgive me, for I have sinned and it has been many years since my last confession…”. Who were you even asking for forgiveness? You think for a moment about the last time you were in this booth. You felt so guilty about stealing from the general store all those years back. This was a different kind of confession. This would hopefully absolve yourself of the sinful attraction to the forbidden.

You start light, fumbling over the words, “I’ve gotten drunk and high, uh, a good bit while in college. I lied to my mother and got into major trouble as a result. I’ve been selfish and lazy.”

The anonymity and the release of it all lit a fire under you and you kept going.

“While I’m in this confession booth, and I know it is a sacred and holy place”, you sigh and hear shuffling on the opposite side of the wall, the priest waiting patiently on the other side. “I’ve been struggling with my faith and don’t believe in god…”

You hear the clergyman start to interject but the voice that comes out of you has a fierce tone.

“I’m not done.” Now it was the priest’s turn to sigh and you see movement through the small slits in the partition, but hear nothing else. You continue. The most scandalous part to admit had yet to be said.

“Father, I’ve been lustful over the deacon at my church.” There’s silence on the other end and before embarrassment can take over you continue, “I’m constantly thinking of him and having impure thoughts that drive me to-“ oh god, here it is

“Touch myself. Daily. With this deacon on my mind.” You can’t stop the heat from painting your cheeks a deep red.

“I feel guilty because he isn’t for me to think that way about. From just the two times I’ve seen him, I know he is a good man who does good things. He’s on a path towards righteousness. He’s worthy.” To your shock, you feel tears form and they begin to fall.

“I’m a sinful nonbeliever. Definitely not someone he could be with, unworthy of devotion of any kind. And I’m not good.” Your breathing becomes shaky as the tears fall harder. Despite the fact that you feel your words are the truth, you can’t help but imagine him there now. Comforting you as you cry.

Now that you’ve finished confession, you expect to hear an outburst of disapproval or at least ‘50 Hail Mary’s’ to absolve you of your confessed transgressions.

But that’s not what you heard next.

You hear your name. You hear your name in that sweet music that’s been ringing in your ears the last week or so. This time the musical tone is cautious. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief as your eyes glue to the wall where the music came from.

To confirm your suspicions, you grab the knob on the partition and yank it back.

Through the small window you see a familiar pair of eyes analyzing your face, heavy with worry.

Reverend O’Hara had just taken your confession…

I pray you liked this, dear reader.

Tagged ppl - @friendlynbhdzero @ceoofghosts it won’t let me tag you @hoelychildofgod

#miguel o'hara #fanfic #miguel x reader #priest!miguel #priest au #au fic #across the spiderverse #miguel x you

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darby-rowe · 3 months

Note

hi baby i missed u so much !!!!

would you please do me the huge favor of digging through that diamond mind of yours and find some thoughts on luke and a reader who’s just as talented and charming as him, causing them to butt heads a little bit 🙈

love u so hard dont stress 💕

kaia my love im so happy you're back! i missed u so so so much and i hope you're feeling a lot better :)!!

this is my first time writing luke so i hope u like it ♡

cw fem!reader, not proofread

Luke Castellan, admittedly, did not expect you to have such a fire lit within you

It was you who came up to him and suggested the two of you should spar sometime in the afternoon before dinner

Luke analyzed you, up and down, for longer than you would have liked before agreeing with a cheeky, yet inquisitive grin

He went into the sparring session with a preconceived notion that this was just gonna be a quick one-on-one training session with you — more training, less sparring.

Oh boy, was he wrong!

You showed up with your weapons of choice — your charming smile and your shining aura.

And your sword, too.

Stretching out your limbs, you couldn't help but notice the nonchalant nature of Luke. You quirked an eyebrow.

"Seem pretty relaxed, Castellan," you said, with a challenging edge to your voice. "Woke up on the right side of the cot or what?"

Luke, ever the show-off, flipped his sword around and gave you another cheeky grin. "Just feelin' good, today, I guess," he told you. "Ready when you are?"

It happened in a flash. The two of you engaged in harmless one-on-one combat: dodging, parrying, whipping your bodies around to catch the other off guard, etc.

And then it happened.

You were just too quick for Luke.

When he had his back turned to you mid-spin, your prior training and reflexes kicked in and you pushed him to the ground.

Gently, of course

With a natural swagger, you pressed your foot in between his shoulder blades to hold him down and pressed your sword to the side of his neck.

You were barely even breathing heavy

Luke, however, blindsided by the biggest surprised of the day, just laid there on the dirty, eyebrows furrowed in confusion...

...and embarrassment.

You clicked your tongue and shook your head. "Oof, Castellan," you cooed, mockingly. "Have to admit, not your best performance. However, I am willing to let you try again next time, because I'm such a nice girl,"

Taking your foot off his back, you offer him your hand to help him up.

But instead, Luke stood up on his own, brushing off the dirt and the leaves off of his orange camp shirt.

He gave you a slight scowl. "Next time, I won't go so easy on you,"

You grin at him, eyes sparkling and skin glowing under the afternoon sun.

"I look forward to it, Castellan,"

#☽｡⋆ dally’s asks;#♡; dally writes!#✧.*; dally’s darlings!#divider by pommecita #fem!reader #fem reader #luke girlies pls accept this offering...#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv show #the lightning thief #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic

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kairismess · 3 months

Text

this is what falling in love feels like.

🍰 genre: fluff ! ✒️ word count: 1,113 💭 summary: what it feels like for sakusa to fall in love for his dear old seatmate. 🍥 author's note: FUCK i did NOT anticipate it to be so long what 🎧song inspo: this is what falling in love feels like by jvke

it's hard for sakusa to focus on what the teacher is saying in front, what with you constantly grumbling and crumpling your scratch paper full of notes and solutions in frustration. he silently reaches over your table and plops a spare eraser he had to you. "please don't waste it," he advises you in a hushed tone, going back to the lesson at hand.

his ears perk up when you tell him a soft, 'thank you!' under your breath and erase away at your mistakes, prompting sakusa to prepare another eraser to sacrifice to you. out of everybody at school, only you never seemed to realize how much warmer sakusa was to you compared to everybody else. sure, you used to bother him a lot during your first year when you sat in front of him, but now that he sat in the same row as you, directly next to your chair, you had more opportunities to socialize with him (not that the feeling was always mutual, but he did often listen to you talk).

from remaining silent, glaring at you, and murmuring at you to please go away, he now remains silent... just with an inquisitive energy to him. it was rare for someone to change sakusa's view of them in a matter of half a year, but that was probably why he had developed such an interest in you. you were uniquely annoying, not insufferable, but you were more energetic than him, had a lot more to say, and understood him at certain times.

it was very hard for sakusa to come across a like minded person such as you, hence, he slowly succumbed to letting you just speak your mind to him while he just sat there, listening. that was the first sign he showed that he had some sort of uncommon feelings for you. komori would sometimes join you two, and even he noticed that whenever you tried to include sakusa in the conversation, he would reply to you; they started off as half-assed responses in an effort to satisfy your inquiry, but then, he started seeming a lot more... passionate about talking to you. it was like he enjoyed being in the conversation, all because you were talking to him.

sakusa would often offer you alcohol by readying his alcohol bottle out for you, hand you an extra n-95 mask if you needed it, and even reminded you often to take some vitamins and wear your jacket when its cold; even asking you if you've eaten during lunch, just to make sure, of course.

he also wasn't the type to want to go home with anybody who wasn't family, he disliked the idea of other people knowing where he lived when he wasn't even remotely affiliated with them. however, when he noticed you and komori sometimes heading home together, he'd tag along sometimes under the guise that he and komori had to run an errand before heading home, when really, all he wants to do is hear you talk and walk with you while the sun sets and the day's about to end.

"so... when are you going to confess?" komori asked the dark haired boy as he got a soda from the vending machine. sakusa replied with silence on his end, staring at the blank ceiling as he pondered on what exactly that meant. "...what do you mean?" "i mean like, admit your feelings to them?" the brunette reiterated, smiling awkwardly as sakusa crinkled his eyebrows. "do you not like them?" "...like in what way, i can say i tolerate them," "no, i-i mean... you have a crush on them, doncha, kiyoomi?" he asked sakusa, taking his soda out from the vending machine's dispenser, while sakusa's eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

"...a crush..." the wavy haired boy echoed, looking down at his and his cousin's shoes upon the dirty pavement. "yeah, they're like someone you think of a lot, like the way they behave, the way they speak, the little moments with them; like everything feels better when they're around!" "...feels better when they're around...." the dark haired boy repeated once more, the tips of his ears flushing a little red. "well, you don't have to figure it out right now, it's only been a few months, take your time," komori advised him as sakusa followed him, heading home with the boy.

that entire evening, sakusa lay in his bed, the same scene of him and his cousin by the vending machine by the dirty pavement playing over and over again in his head. then after that scene, he started thinking about the times he'd tag along silently whenever you and komori walked home together, the times you'd talk to him and bother him during class in your first year, the way you scritched and scratched at your paper whenever you made mistakes, how you never came to school with an eraser, hence he always gave you his; how he wishes you used his eraser every day, how he wished you'd think of him while you take your vitamins, or how he wished you'd remember him whenever you'd wear a jacket when going out in the cold.

and at that moment, sakusa's heart flutters for a split second; the color of his cheeks and ears became a deep hue of crimson...

"hey, kiyoomi, do you—" komori was about to ask sakusa for something when he came into his room, only to see his usually stoic cousin blushing hard in bed, his eyes glued to the ceiling as he had his hands clasped over his chest. "uh... y'good?" "...motoya, i think i have a crush," sakusa decided, slowly sitting up from the bed, his blush deepening into a scarlet hue as he looked at his brunette cousin; a dopey smile on the brown haired boy's face, he was in complete and utter disbelief at this news. "w-wow, great!" "it's not great..." sakusa insisted, his blush persisting as he furrowed his eyebrows and lay back down.

"a-and... why not?" komori asked, looking at his cousin with a confused glimmer in his eyes. "...because then i'll shake every time i hand them an eraser, i'll have a crack in my voice every time i reply to their questions, and i'll wanna be close whenever we walk together," sakusa listed down, his blush becoming a tart shade. komori chuckled and was about to leave. "well, my question can wait, but... that's completely normal, kiyoomi, i'll help you out with them!" "please, don't..." sakusa pleaded, flopping over onto his stomach, his face burrowed in the pillows. "...i'll start to think i actually have a chance, and that's the worst kind of feeling."

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saratinz · 1 year

Text

Fuck Away the Pain

pairing ➩ Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

warnings ➩ break-up, enemies to lovers, smut, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, pet names

synopsis ➩ Based off 'Fuck Away the Pain' by Divide The Day

word count ➩ 1.5k

You think your life is done he took it all with him

You hate Bucky Barnes. But right now, you hate Steve Rogers, your cheating asshole of a boyfriend turned someone you have to live with, even more. James may get under your skin, but the two of you have a mutual respect for each other. There’s an understanding that even though you fight, there has to be some level of reverence for the sake of missions.

So you drink enough for it to wash away the sin

You sit at the bar in the basement of the Avengers compound, and self-medicate your sadness with your favorite hard liquor. Bucky takes a seat next to you, but you’re too pissed off at your ex to care.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Hey.”

“What, no comeback?”

“Not in the mood for this right now.” You get up to leave, but he stops you with his hand on your wrist.

“What’s wrong?”

Such a shitty thing he did, the way he said goodbye

“It’s Steve, he left me for Sharon, who he was cheating on me with. He’s such a liar, fucking telling me that he loves me. I hate that bastard.”

“Oh, sorry that happened.”

“C’mon, where’s the James I know? Tell me that I should have seen it coming.”

“I didn’t either, I thought he was changing.”

“Nope, guess he fooled both of us.”

“Hey, what time is it?”

“11:48.”

“I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want to make him feel the way you do?”

“Yeah?”

“Come with me then.” You follow him to the elevator and then to the outside of his room.

“What are we doing here?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Just trust me. I know that’s hard for you to do but..” He’s cut off by your lips on his. Frankly, you were just shutting him up, not really wanting to argue with him today. He grabs the back of your thighs and hoists you onto his hips as his tongue enters your mouth. The kiss is sloppy, and you bite his lip in retaliation for him pushing your back against the wall. You feel a little bit self-conscious with your legs spread in just a dress, but damn, it’s easy to ignore it with the way that he is devouring you.

The two of are in such a state of bliss that you don’t hear the door beside his open.

“I, uhh,” Steve awkwardly mumbles as Bucky immediately lets you down, “she likes it when you choke her.” He gets on the elevator without another word. Once you are in the clear, you two start laugh maniacally. And when you run out of breath, you open his door, inviting yourself in.

“What’s next?” You ask inquisitively as he closes and locks the door behind him, letting out a residual chuckle. You investigate his room, after all you’ve never seen it.

“Umm, I don’t know. We could pretend to have sex.”

Feeling emboldened by your liquid courage, you walk over to him, and standing a foot away you take off your dress, revealing that the only thing you have on under is a lacy thong. Bucky’s eyes widen. “Why pretend?”

You can take it out on me if you like

“You really wanna do this?”

“Take your clothes off, James.” Never one to deny an order, he strips down to his boxers. You move to caress his abs, relishing in the sensuality of it all.

“You like what you see?”

“Stop talking.”

Fuck away the pain, erase him from your brain

You move on top of him, lining his dick up with your aching cunt. “Fuck.” He groans as you sink down onto his cock. You start to move, setting a merciless pace. You move up and down, putting your hands on his chest to hold yourself up. “Good fucking girl, using me like a sex toy.” You tighten around him at the praise. “Oh, you like it when I call you a good girl?” You nod, and he commits that to memory so that he has something new to tease you about.

Fake it like you love me, Come on baby touch me

“Do whatever you need to get off, tonight is all about you.”

Show me where it hurts, this dirty little curse

“Do you want me to choke you, baby?”

“Yes!” he brings a hand to your throat, constricting your airway and making you a moaning mess.

Don't have to be ashamed if you wanna scream my name

“Bucky, I’m so close. Please?”

“Are you asking for permission? Fuck that’s hot.”

“Please! Can I cum?”

“God yes.”

While I fuck away the pain

With one final thrust, he is cumming into your cunt. You collapse on top of him, exhausted from the mind-blowing sex you just had. You don’t even have to try to fall asleep, you just do. When you wake up, Bucky’s gone, but as you get dressed to go on your walk of shame, you hear him in the room next to you.

You hate the way he fooled around behind your back

“You cheated on her, you have no right to judge her.”

“She knows who she belongs to.”

“She is not yours.”

A slave to him but now with me, no strings attached

“Ha, she will always be mine, no matter what she says. She’ll be begging me to take her back within the next month, guaranteed.” Fucking asshole.

“She’s not an object you own, Steve.”

“You just have to see the bigger picture, Buck, she will never want you.’

“No, she won’t, but I’ll be there for her anyway.”

“She’s using you to get to me.”

But if you wanna use me up and leave me in the bed

“I don’t care if she uses me. I have always been in love with her and I will take whatever crumbs of affection I can get.”

“No one actually loves her. She’s only good for sex.” You are so close to running over there to rip his head off, but it seems as though Bucky beats you to the punch, literally. You hear them fighting, and you take that as your opportunity to get the fuck out and process what you just heard from your enemy.

If that's what you need go right ahead

You have a few hours to yourself, and you spend it binging your favorite show for the 5th time. You hear a knock at your door and pause your show. As soon as you see it’s Bucky, you pounce on him, not letting him say even one word before you’re making out. “I’ve had a weird day.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” You notice the shiner on his left eye.

“Hey, what happened to your face?”

“Steve.” He keeps his response short.

“That sucks, I’m the only person who’s allowed to ruin your pretty face.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Come in.”

Fuck away the pain, erase him from your brain

“It’s your turn Bucky, use me. Tonight, I’m your sex doll.”

“I’m not sure you wanna do that.”

“Try me.”

Fake it like you love me, Come on baby touch me

“Fuck.” You’re cumming for the fourth time tonight. He’s been between you’re legs for the last twenty minutes, and he’s not slowing down. “I can’t, I want you inside me.” You’re crying from the overstimulation.

“One more baby, then I’ll fuck you. Be a good girl and cum for me.” In a matter of minutes, he’s bringing you over the edge once more.

Show me where it hurts, this dirty little curse

He’s fucking you from behind, hands planted firmly on your hips, doing it with reckless abandon.

Don't have to be ashamed if you wanna scream my name

You feel so good all you can do is let out incoherent mumbles.

While I fuck away the pain

You completely forget about Steve, hell, you forget your own name while you’re fucked into oblivion.

Stronger than a shot of whiskey or any pill you take

It’s been a week, and you’ve spent every night with Bucky. Coping is easy when it consists of sex. Maybe it’s not healthy, but nothing you crave ever is.

Fuck away the pain, erase him from your brain

You find yourself below Bucky, again.

Fake it like you love me, Come on baby touch me,

You wrap your legs around him to pull him impossibly closer.

Show me where it hurts, this dirty little curse

“Cream my cock, sweetheart.” Bucky demands,

Don't have to be ashamed if you wanna scream my name

“BUCKY!” You scream, cumming as you’re impaled on his dick, completely out of it. “I love you, too.” You cry out.

While I fuck away the pain.

You snuggle into his chest, and he brushes his fingers through your hair. “Did you really mean it?” He finally addresses the elephant in the room.

“I, umm, heard you talking to Steve, when you told him you love me. And I guess while we had sex, I just realized that I feel the same way. Then it just kinda, slipped out.”

“This is probably not the appropriate time, but, do you maybe want to get dinner with me sometime?”

“I’d love to.”

Masterlist / Next part

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #song fic #angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #smut

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darlingdarkly · 2 months

Text

New Year, New You Part 8

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

9k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes, gaslighting

Part 1, 7, 9

You grill him with questions, demanding him to explain to you what he’s talking about. It seems obvious to you that he knows something he’s not letting on. The words fly from your mouth in a panic. “What do you mean it’s not safe? What are you talking about, Johnny? Explain!”

You see him get a little heated, a reaction you hadn’t expected, in fact the whole exchange following your inquisitions is so out of left field that it renders you speechless.

“Obviously hen, ye were a victim of a crime last night. Do ye nae see that?” You hadn’t seen that, it was so hard to remember anything about last night that drawing any kind of conclusion had so far been beyond you.

He sees it starting to click and continues, striking while the irons hot. “How many times in the past have ye gotten black out drunk, bonnie?” You have certainly had your fair share of ragers but black out drunk? To the point of almost total memory loss? Never.

“Did ye really think wakin’ up an’ nae bein’ able tae remember a damn thing was normal? Open yer eyes, lass.” He did this so well it seemed, had a way of breaking you down and making you feel small just to build you back up how he saw fit, cutting through the walls and all the bullshit to speak directly to you in a way no one before him had. It was humiliating and liberating all at once.

He sees he’s made his point. “Ah’m nae kiddin’, lass. I think ye were drugged las’ night an’ ah’d say yer awful lucky ah showed up when ah did.” His voice had taken on a kind of verbal growl, Scottish accent deepening so that it was almost hard to understand. He seemed genuinely upset, more than you could seem to get even though you were the victim, but you could feel it settling into your bones now, the unease.

Your face must be a mask of your emotions because he starts to calm now that he feels he's gotten through to you and he takes your hand into both of his. “Ye need tae understand somethin’, hen.” He seems to be mulling over the words in his head, unsure of the next thing to say. “I care about ye, I want ye tae be safe an’ happy an’ I think ye should stay with me. It’s nae safe fer ye tae be livin’ on yer own.”

You feel a bit surprised at his candidness, a show of emotions you hadn’t expected and it sends a hot flare up from your stomach and heats your cheeks. “Johnny I can’t stay.” He forces his gaze to yours, holds you hostage with it. “Why nae?”

That’s a good question, one you didn’t have an answer for. Why couldn’t you stay with him? Would it really be so bad? You’d been living on your own for so long maybe you were afraid of that change.

You opened your mouth to answer but he stopped you before you could. “Jus’ think about it. I’ll ask ye again tonight an’ if ye dinnae want tae, ah willnae make ye.” He closed it with that, getting up off the bed to signal the talk was over. “Come on, time fer yer warm up.”

After changing, you followed him out the door and into unfamiliar territory, the rest of the house you’ve yet to see. He leads you into an open living area that blended into a nice big kitchen. The house looked like it could house a whole family let alone just the two of you. You followed as your head craned and took it all in. The rent must have been astronomical but it was still Johnny’s house and he didn’t bother with extravagancies. It was spacious but also sparsely decorated making it look huge in perspective.

You cut through the space and into another room. You hadn’t really expected him to have a personal home gym, since he worked at one you naturally assumed he’d just go to work to exercise. The middle of the room was empty and matted, heavy duty, black pads interlocked like puzzle pieces made a twelve by twelve square in the center. The walls of the room were lined with full weight racks, adjustable benches, a treadmill and a power tower.

He stops in the middle of the black square and motions for you to sit. You sit, criss cross applesauce, across from him and he motions for you to begin. You start to go through your warm ups, starting with your sit-ups. He holds your feet and keeps count for you, his grin widening as you progressed.

Today was different and in more ways than one, when you’d finished he had you sit up and hold his feet, meaning for this to be a joint session for the both of you instead of just one sided as it normally was. You had to sit with your knees on the toes of his feet to keep him weighted down and he went for three reps of twenty instead of ten. You could feel the strength he possessed, the power held in the corded muscles of his thighs and calves by just holding him down.

You moved through the first set and into the next, keeping count of his push ups and even clumsily crawling up on his back when he insisted on needing your added weight. While it’d only really been a week since you’d stopped, you found that you’d come to miss this. Partly the healthy routine you’d built with him and partly his presence itself. Slipping back into it was not only easy but welcoming and this new way of having him doing it right along with you was something you secretly found yourself falling in love with.

You practically floated through your warm ups, hardly feeling the burn of them. You sat on the mat with your legs stretched out in front of you in a V. Without any assistance from him you managed a full, complete split and you couldn’t quite hide the elation you felt when his eyes lit up and praise poured from his lips.

Limber and pliant you both rose up from the mat and he walked you over to the power tower, standing out from you as you positioned yourself underneath the pull up bar. You jumped and grabbed ahold of the cool metal. You began, pulling yourself up until your chin passed the bar and then dropping down again.

It was hard but you were determined to finish, huffing and puffing by the last rep but still able to pull yourself past the point without stopping. You caught your breath as he muscled through his. You had long recovered when he finally jumped down, making your measly three look like light work as he managed a solid fifteen before finally coming to a halt.

You knew the next portion was the treadmill but as you made to mount it he stopped you. “Let’s go fer a real run, what dae ye think?” You stopped to consider it. You’d always wanted to go for a real jog, much preferring the open air of outside to the confines of an automated conveyor belt but had been much too scared to attempt such a thing on your own.

You’d always heard stories of women going out on jogs and simply never returning, their bodies found weeks later floating in rivers or lying in ditches. As alluring as the idea was your fears had always kept you inside but with a man like Johnny by your side you could pretty much garuntee total safety.

The prospect of finally getting to do as you pleased excited you and you found yourself chomping at the bit to go. He grabbed his house keys and escorted you to the door, locking it tight behind him and stepping up beside you on the sidewalk. “Are ye ready?”

You smiled at him and nodded, it must have been contagious because one of his own sprung up on his face, lighting it up and making his blue eyes sparkle in the sun.

“There’s a park just doon the way. We’ll head there, do a lap an’ loop back.” You started at a light jog and was pleasantly surprised to see him keep the pace you’d set. You were a bit worried you’d be struggling to match him the whole way, although he did talk most of the way while you struggled to manage anything more than one word replies.

It was a beautiful day, the weather was mild and there was a cool breeze at your back like gentle fingers prodding you encouragingly along. You were suddenly glad for this strange turn of events, as troubling as it seemed at first. Feeling down all last week and then reluctant to go out with Nancy, the anxiety you’d felt in the drive to the club and then somehow ending up in Johnny’s bed the next morning.

Somehow even unable to remember any of the events from the night before, something that, in all reality should leave you mortified and sick left you only feeling a strange sense of calm, like in the end it had all worked out how it was meant to be. You found yourself thinking about this morning and how he’d been almost mad at you for not being more concerned about last night, but you just couldn’t feel it.

There was eventually an underlying sense of unease that he’d practically forced onto you but it was only fleeting, like someone who’s fallen asleep at the wheel only to wake up in the hospital and be informed that you were lucky to be alive. It was hard to understand the reality of your danger when you’d walked away unscathed and without really having experienced it.

Maybe it was shell shock and you just weren’t completely grasping the reality of the situation but you weren’t holding your breath, and as far as taking him up on his offer you just weren’t all that convinced. While it was, admittedly, a problem that you’d drank too much and been unable to make it home last night, you failed to see any real danger in living by yourself.

You’d been doing fine thus far and didn’t see why that should have reason to change. You decided then that you’d made up your mind, you’d spend the day with Johnny, as gratitude for taking such good care of you in a time of need and just to enjoy it as well, it was only early in the afternoon but it was turning out to be a pretty good day in your book. You’d tell him later on when he asked that there really was no reason for you to stay with him. He’d understand, you were sure.

“Lass?” You were pulled away from your thoughts and back to the present. “Hmm?”

“I said what do ye think about havin’ fer dinner. I make an ossobuco that’ll bring ye tae tears.” You had no idea what that was but just expressed your interest anyway as you turned off of the sidewalk and into the entrance to the park.

It was one you recognized, beautfiully landscaped and as old as the hills, this park had been around for as long as you could remember, although it’d been ages since you’d been. They’d updated the playground and had redone the bridge over the pond, there was a flock of geese preening themselves on the surface of the dark, calm water.

You came to a stop at the peak of the bridge, glancing down at your Fitbit and checking your pulse. Johnny leaned his forearms onto the railing and leaned down for a look into the pond as you both caught your breath. He broke the peaceful silence that had settled between the two of you.

“I brought me mum here once. She used tae love feedin’ the swans at the pond near our house when I was wee. Used tae take me over there on our morning walks and I used tae make her laugh tryin’ tae catch one. Ah’ve taken more than one swan nip tae the arse as a lad.” You couldn’t help but laugh imagining him chasing the birds that probably matched him in size as a kid and then laughed some more as you imagined them chasing him, angry and nipping at his heels.

He laughed with you and as you nestled in next to him to stare out on the pond, just as the fit settled he leaned in close, nudged up against your side. “Ye’ll meet her if ye stay long enough ye know. She’d love ye.”

You felt a pang of uncomfortable awkwardness as he brought up the idea of you staying again. You didn’t want to dissapoint him by ruining the moment but you didn’t want to lead him on either. “Johnny…”

He stopped you. “Nae. Dinnae say anything yet. Ah was jus’ sayin’.”

You fell back into silence, a much more uncomfortable one this time but he wouldn’t let it set in as he pushed you back into a jog and lead you over the end of the bridge. It looped back around to where you’d started and it was only a quick jog back to his place where you ended your session for the day.

You both go inside and head for the kitchen, he pulls a blender hidden in a cabinet and sets it up on the counter before pulling out a litany of fruits along with a knife and small cutting board. He chops as he talks, going over your progress and performance, comparing it to your starting time and pace and mooning over the results.

He stops talking as he dumps the fruit into the blender and turns it on, the concoction inside swirling into a deep green slurry. When it’s homogenous he stops and pulls two glasses from a different cupboard. The juice makes a wet plop as it fills the glass and he slides one your way after sticking a bright orange straw down into its depths.

You pull it in front of you and take a long sip, confident in his smoothie skills at this point and relish in the way the sweet cool drink slides over your tongue and down your throat, already working to rejuvenate you.

He downs his quickly, an amazing feat that would surely leave you numb with brain freeze. Setting the glass down in the sink he rounds the counter to you. “I’m goin’ tae take a quick shower and then it’s yer turn.” He slides up close, lean chest pressing into your back and placing a kiss on the back of your neck that sent chills down your spine. “Unless ye want tae join me, that is.”

You do want to, nothing sounds better but you’re still tired from your session and you’ve experienced Johnny in his fulty, intense and unrelenting. If you went at it now you may never recover so you decline, opting to finish your drink and wait your turn. He leaves you and you turn on the stool to take in the decor. The little there is of it seems to be concentrated on a shelf in the corner.

You hop off the stool and walk tentatively over to it, surveying the shelves. There’s a few trophies, the plaques on each read that they’re awarded from some gym for a weightlifting competition. His name and the years were engraved in the middle of the plaque, he’d won them three years consecutively.

The other shelves were adorned with photographs. You glanced at them one by one, picking out Johnny’s radiant smile in each. Here’s one with him on the bank of a river, huddled together with a bunch of people all wearing the same bright orange helmets and yellow vests in varying states of soaked, they’re all holding short stubby oars and smiling.

The next one is a much larger group of people, they’re all different ages but share similar qualities, their eyes and noses on different faces but seem to be shaped from the same clay by the same hands. They’re assembled in front of a sign that reads “MacTavish Family Reunion” and it takes you a moment to pick out Johnny from the crowd of baby blues and deep rich browns. You finally spot him clustered in the back with two other young men hanging off of his shoulders. They look like three of a rambunctious kind.

Beside that is Johnny in a long black robe and mortarboard, from the cap dangles a dark green tassel that hangs in the poofy frizz of long dark brown curls belonging to a shorter stout woman. Her eyes are so bright and shockingly blue they couldn’t belong to anyone other than Johnny’s mother. She looks soft and sweet but strong as she beams at the camera. Her face exudes nothing but pride and adoration for her son. Johnny looks young and happy, his eyes reflect the yet untapped potential of the start of his adult life.

“That’s mah mum an’ I at mah graduation.” His sudden presence startles you and you’re glad to have only been leaning in to observe the photographs instead of holding them, you’re certain you would have dropped them had it been the case.

“Jesus, Johnny. You scared me.” He smiles, a deep grin that you can tell he’s a bit satisfied to have been able to give you a start, despite his following apology. “Sorry lass, Dinnae mean tae make ye jump.”

There’s a small span of awkward silence and to cease it you ask him about the first picture, the one by the river.

He lets out a small hearty laugh and reaches past you to lift the frame off the shelf, bringing it closer like having it here in his hands will give him a better feel for the memories they contain.

“Ah used tae go white water raftin’ all the time. This was a group I joined when ah started. We had just cleared a class four river fer tha first time.” You smile as he reminisces, telling just by his eyes that he’s reliving it a little as he talks.

“Do you still do it? River raft?” He shakes his head and places the picture back on the shelf where it had been. “Nae anymore. Too dangerous.”

He sighs a little, the golden memory disappearing and perhaps leaving a plume of mild gloom in its place but if it had affected him too badly it didn’t show, as his ever radiant smile resurfaced like it’d never retreated.

“Yer turn, hen. The bathrooms in mah room it’s the far door on the left.” You make your way back towards his bedroom as he stations himself behind the sink and busies himself with the dishes.

You pick through the bag on the bed, hem hawing over what to wear when you just decide to bring the whole bag with you into the bathroom. You turn on the shower and let it warm as you retrieve your soap, shampoo and conditioner.

After quickly undressing you step into the warm jet and let it soak into your skin. There was a lot to think about and showers had always seemed like the best time to ponder things. You’re still, even now, in awe at just how things had turned in the past day. You certainly didn’t believe you’d be showering at his place at this time the day before. You poured some body wash into your palm, lathering it as you ruminated.

And then there was his offer, so out of the blue and generous of him. To stay at his place with him and for what? Why? Because you’d drank a little too much the night before and just couldn’t recall any of it? While it’d never been the case for you before now didn’t mean it was impossible for you to become black out drunk. It wasn’t an impossibility, you’d read somewhere that the body's chemical makeup changes roughly every seven years. People all the time grow out of and even develop new allergies as their life progressed. Meaning it was completely possible for your reactions to an influx of alcohol to change over time.

At least, that’s how you justified it to yourself as you rinsed the suds from your skin and began to wash your hair. It just didn’t make sense to jump to conclusions so hastily. And stay for how long? Certainly he didn’t mean to tell you that you were welcome to move in indefinitely. You don’t just extend that kind of an offer to someone like that, he barely knew you. Or did he?

It didn’t matter. For now you just couldn’t bring yourself to impose upon him like that, even if he did offer it up so willingly and insistent. After dinner, you’d gently and politely refuse. He did after all say he wouldn’t make you if you didn’t want to.

You rinse off and turn off the stream, letting most of the water drip off you before stepping out and wrapping yourself in a warm, fluffy towel from the rack. You finally pick out an outfit and stick with it, pulling it on and cleaning up after yourself as you finished, you’d rather not leave a mess for him to contend with later on top of everything he’d already done for you.

You close the door to his bedroom behind you as you step out into the open living room. You had expected him to be unwinding on the couch but instead he was up and pulling on jacket, he had his shoes on and keys in hand. As he spotted you he smiled and stepped towards you.

“Ah need a few things from the store fer dinner. Will ye join me fer a ride?” You smile and nod, turning back towards the room to put on some shoes and retrieve your phone and wallet before joining him to leave. It’s a short walk through the front entrance of his home to the garage. It’s barren save for a big red toolbox and a few boxes stacked in a far corner. His truck takes up the majority of the space, a fairly new dark blue Toyota Tundra. Totally on brand for him, clean and gleaming under the fluorescent lights overhead. He pulls open the passenger side door for you to climb in, which flusters you a bit.

You scurry to climb into it and sit back into the comfy seat as he shuts your door and rounds the vehicle to climb in on his side.

You ride in comfortable silence as he drives you a few blocks down the road to the little grocery mart you’d been to on occasion when you were in need of something on this side of town. He parks and you’re glad to scoot out of the door and join him before he has time to come around and open the door for you again. The chivalry was nice but always managed to make you feel awkward instead of special.

You’re taken by surprise as he takes your hand in his and both make your way towards the entrance. The warmth of his hand envelops yours, his thumb draws lazy, soothing circles on the back of your hand and the flustered feeling you’d been feeling, a combination of the new experience of being seen with him in public and him being so gentlemanly, eases.

You walk side by side out of the car park and into the brightly lit store. He picks up one of the little baskets from a metal cage and begins veering towards the back of the store. He seems to know exactly what he needs and where it all is so you just lose yourself a bit in the moment, looking at things on the shelves and watching him as he shops.

Normally when you shop by yourself it’s a race. A race to get everything you need and get out as fast as humanly possible, it’s something about being out in public for too long that makes your skin crawl. But this. This is different. Something about being with Johnny puts you at an inexplicable ease. He’s confident and knowledgeable, and for once you don’t feel like your mind is moving a million miles a minute under the scrutiny of every other set of eyes in the building. You can just simply relax and be, let him take over.

In produce you watch him pick up three different onions that, to you, look no different but he rolls them in the palm of his hand and gives them each a light toss in the air. Somehow— that decides it and he puts two of them back and places the chosen one down in the basket.

Every time he lets go of your hand for something you’re sure that’s the end of it, just knowing the moment will be lost but he surprises you each time anew when he comes back to you and takes it again, leading you through the sections hand in hand.

You stop in the spirits aisle and grimace as he picks up a bottle of dry red wine. The front is embossed with a duck in a yellow slicker, an umbrella cocked jauntily and tucked securely under one white wing, shielding him from a shower of rain falling from a single dark cloud that looms over its head. In a bright gold scroll underneath this curious image are the words “Rain Duck”. The image is very reminiscent of the Morton salt girl you’d always seen in the spice cabinet of your childhood home.

He looks over and catches your look of disgust and laughs, a hearty cheerful sound that momentarily wipes the scowl from your face and threatens to send you into your own fit of meek giggles. “Dinnae worry hen, s’just fer the sauce. Will nae even taste it, ah promise.”

He sets it down in the basket and heads towards the front of the store to checkout. You stand in line and wait your turn until the cashier clears the person in front of you and Johnny begins to empty his basket onto the conveyor belt one item at a time.

By the time he’d finished, the cashier, a tall skinny man with dark rimmed glasses had already begun to ring you up and Johnny suddenly smacks the palm of his hand to his forehead. “Ahhhh shite. Ah forgot somethin’. Stay here with the groceries bonnie, I’ll be right back.”

He takes off in a power walk towards the back of the store and disappears around a shelf. You rock back and forth on your feet and pray that by the time the cashier is done Johnny will be back. You know if he’s not you’ll cave to the pressure of the people behind you and end up paying for everything yourself, just so you don’t hold the line.

You crane over the partitions of shelves that mark the separate checkout lanes in search of Johnny but your attention is redirected when the cashier clears his throat and calls out to you to get your attention. “Excuse me, miss.”

You turn, dreading the worst but there’s still a good amount of items left unscanned and he’s got the bottle of Rain Duck held past the scanner, looking to you attentively.

You let out a sigh of relief as you realize he only needs your ID to finish ringing up the wine. You pull your wallet from your purse and the relief you had felt instantly dissipates. The pleasantly relaxed state you’d been lulled into suddenly felt like the calm prelude to a horrifying nightmare. The clear plastic pane that normally covered your horrible ID photo was empty. You tipped it open, hoping for some horrible trick of the light or optical illusion but the sleeve was empty.

You quickly shuffled through the individual card sleeves, hoping against hope that you’d somehow slipped it into one of them by mistake but it wasn’t there. Your ID was missing. The panic sets in the pit of your stomach like a lead ball as Johnny squeezes up behind you holding a carton of heavy cream. His smile disappears when he sees your face.

He quickly sets the heavy cream down on the belt and puts a hand on your shoulder. “Bonnie, what is it? What’s wrong?”

The cashier calls out to him impatiently. “Sir?” Johnny looks up at him, with death glaring from his eyes before turning back to you. “Come on, lass. What’s the matter?” You whisper because it’s all you can muster, your vocal cords withered to nothing in fright.

“My ID. It’s gone.” The cashier tried again to get Johnny’s attention and you barely hear Johnny as he speaks very low and angrily at the man behind the counter. Johnny must have done as he asked though because soon enough you feel Johnny’s arms gently pulling you towards the exit. It makes you snap out of your horror for a moment and offer to help carry the bags back to his truck but he’s having none of it, insisting on carrying the whole load in two huge armloads all the way back himself.

You slip into the passenger seat as he puts the groceries in the back and only look up from staring at the lines in your denim jeans when the driver side door shuts and the cab is silent for a moment. He’s looking at you, very concerned and you realize he’s waiting for you to explain in more detail.

“My ID is gone. Completely gone.” He seems to think for a moment before he responds and asks if you’d checked your purse. You quickly do as he’d suggested and go through it but it’s not there either and the momentary hope you’d felt at his suggestion died almost as soon as it’d been born.

“Maybe I dropped it at the club.” A smile begins to form on your face as you grasp at anything other than the truth. “That’s it Johnny! We’ve gotta go back to the club. They’ll have found it cleaning up! And we can go get it and everything’s fine!” He doesn’t look convinced as you look over to him for validation.

“Lass, be honest with yerself fer a moment. How often do ye take yer ID out of yer wallet when ye need it?” Your smile began to fade, he was right. Anytime you needed it you just opened it and flashed it without ever taking it out of the slot, you’d bought that wallet specifically for that feature because you were so worried about losing it.

“I ken ye didnae want tae believe what happened tae ye, but there’s no denyin’ it now. Someone targeted ye last night. Picked ye out of the crowd and drugged yer drink when ye werenae lookin’ an’ they took yer ID in case they couldnae seal the deal right away. He’s got yer address an’ yer name an’ even yer picture.”

You listen to him talk as the cold, cruel hand of reality closes around your throat and the disgust of being violated in such a thorough way begins to worm its way under your skin. You can feel Johnny struggling to find words to comfort you from the seat next to you but he must not find any that are adequate because he starts the truck instead and drives you home in a silence that had on the way been comfortable and passive but now was pregnant with tension and doom.

You get back to his place and he unloads the truck as you sit inside and try not to panic at the situation you’ve found yourself in. You thank your lucky stars that Johnny had found you and brought you home now. If you’d somehow miraculously made it home without incident this mysterious man could have crept into your home while you were incapacitated and done any number of things to you. You imagined all the horrifying possibilities, each more daunting than the last as he unpacked and put everything away.

He must sense your spiraling thoughts because he calls you into the kitchen with him as he starts to cook. Chopping onions, heating shallow pools of oil in two different skillets, measuring out beef broth and flour and water in varying amounts as he practices the fine art of mise en place.

You try, really truly try not to let the fear of your predicament gnaw away at you too hard but it’s almost an act in futility. He looks up at you after cracking his third shot and missed joke while dredging the ox tails in flour and notices you staring down at your hands in deeply troubled thought.

He stops what he’s doing and comes over to the counter, bending down to lean over its sturdy surface and get your attention. You look up at him and feel your heart skip a little as he has no business being so damn attractive covered in flour like he is.

“Listen hen. I ken yer goin through it right now. Probably spooked right out of yer tree, but I promise ye yer in no danger here. I dare him tae walk through that door right now. I swear tae ye ill dismantle him with my flour covered hands before he even so much as touches a hair on yer bonnie head.”

You can’t help but smile as you imagine him wrecking your faceless oppressor, flour flying about in clouds as the impact of his blows knock it loose from his hands.

“There’s tha’ smile. Now be a doll an’ open mah wine fer me. I forgot before ah got all messy.”

You stand from your stool and open the drawer he directs you towards to locate the corkscrew. The rest of the preparation you do in a much better mood. While you had a brand new serious problem on your hands there was no need in sulking over it when there was nothing you could do at the moment and anytime spent with Johnny was hard not to enjoy.

He plated your portion and set you down across from him so he could watch your first bite. You wanted him to eat with you, a bit self conscious at him just watching you eat but he insisted he had to start on dessert before he could sit down to dinner.

You cut the big chunk of meat with your knife and fork and then dipped it down in the pool of sauce just as he’d instructed you to. He watched you intently as you brought the fork to your mouth and took your first bite.

Your eyes widen before half closing, you can’t help the soft moan that resounds as the tender meat and rich, savory sauce feel like they pull your taste buds into their arms and hug them soft and sweetly. It’s absolutely divine and you look up from your plate to see Johnny, smug as a bug grinning wolfily at your reactions.

“Told ye it’d bring ye tae tears.” You can’t even respond, just swallow and take another eager bite, this time with a little of the risotto from the bed that the meat is resting on. “Jesus Christ, Johnny. Where in the fuck did you learn to cook like this?”

His grin is so wide you’re worried it’ll be stuck that way and to your amusement you can tell his cheeks have reddened even under his nice, even tan. “Yer makin’ me blush, hen. S’just what ah’ve picked up along tha way. Ye could do it too. I could teach ye.”

You nod enthusiastically, you’d like that very much and you have a feeling so would he. You really dig into your meal in earnest as he works. His back is to you as he prepares dessert on the stove and you wonder just what it might be. Steam rises up in thin streams as he pours something into two ramekins and sticks them in the oven.

By the time you’re done he’s cracking into his own dinner as you begin working on the dishes. He protests but you stay firm that if he cooked the absolute least you could do was help clean up. He finally relented and let you work as he ate as quickly as he could so he could help dry the dishes at least.

By the time everything was done so was the dessert and he pulled it from the oven to cool as he leaned over the counter and held your gaze raptly with his. “It’s time, lass. What have ye decided?”

But with the way he’s staring you down it feels like he’s on the edge of his seat. Those blue eyes piercing yours and you know every second you don’t answer is killing him, you can read it all over his face so even though you’d made your mind up you told him you weren’t sure.

He looked a bit dejected but it wasn’t the broken disappointment you knew you’d have been graced with if you’d downright shut his proposition down. His eyes light up suddenly in a way you hadn’t been expecting like he’d just had the idea of a century.

“Play a game with me, lass.” You regarded him distrustfully. “What kind of game, Johnny?”

“I’ll show ye, come on.” You follow after him into the bedroom, a bit wary. He stops in front of the pull up bar and turns back towards you.

“Johnny you and I both know there’s no way I’m besting you in a pull up contest, I’d be mental to even try. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Ohhh no, hen. Nothing like tha’, yer right t’wouldnae be fair. All I want ye tae do is hang from the bar. Can ye do that?”

You jump up and grab the bar to see if you’ve got the right idea and he smiles and nods. “Jus’ like that, all ye’ve gotta do is not let go. Think ye can handle it?”

You eyed him suspiciously. “What’s the catch?” You felt like there was something hidden in this that he wasn’t revealing and you weren’t wrong.

“Well it would nae be a game if there was nae some kind of a catch now would it, hen?” You swallow hard and watch him saddle closer, pinning you back into the cool metal bars.

“Ye’ve got tae hold yerself up until ye come.” His smirk widens as your mouth drops open a little, at first for some kind of rebuttal but you can’t come up with anything to say so it just hangs open as your mind blanks.

You finally get a grip enough to ask him to explain. “Well, yer goin’ tae hang onto tha bar an’ ah’m goin’ tae try mah hardest tae make ye come. If ye can hold onto it just until then, then you win but if ye cannae do it, an’ ye let go then I win.”

You mull over his terms and he just leans back a bit and lets you, waiting for your answer. Instead of giving him one you inquire further. “What do I get if I win?”

His answer is another simple question. “What do ye want?” A simple question that was complicated to find an answer for. What did you want from him? After a moment's thought you answered. “I want you to tell me everything you remember about last night and I want you to help me find this guy that did this to me. I don’t want to live in fear like this. You take me up to the club and we ask if they found my ID and if not then we ask to see the video footage of that night.”

“Hen, there’s no garuntee—“ You stop him. “I know. Just promise me if I win you’ll help me.” He looks a bit troubled, like he hadn’t meant for this to take this kind of turn and you wonder for a moment if he’ll back out.

“If I win ye have tae tell me the real reason ye never came back to the gym an’ never texted me an’ just disappeared.” You go to answer when he adds. “And ye stay.”

You sort of knew he was going to play that and even though you’d anticipated it, it still manages to fluster you hearing it.

You think about it real hard, just being around him had you more or less worked up all day, you were fairly confident that you could come quickly, even now just having discussed the game with him you knew your panties were damp. But could you hold yourself up for that length of time?

Reluctantly, you accepted. You even felt sure enough to jest him a bit about how easy of a win this would be for you, it was a decision you came to regret as he leaned in close to your ear and whispered. “Ah’m goin’ tae make ye eat those words, hen.”

A shudder of anticipation passed through you as he kissed you on your neck, just below your ear with a pass of his velvet soft tongue, giving you a little taste of what was to come.

The game had apparently begun as he stooped down to help shed you of your jeans, pulling them down and kissing the skin revealed as he exposed it. Next came your panties and they were damp, a fact that tore a rumble of approval from his chest but he wouldn’t touch you yet.

“Cannae give ye too much of a head start now can we?” He patted the side of your thigh curtly. “Up up.”

You do as he says and it’s a little late to be self conscious now but you can’t help it as you dangle from the metal rod and he spreads your thighs so you’re open to him. You worry he’s going to cheat you a bit as he stares at your bare pussy and you begin to complain when it dies in your throat as his tongue licks a broad stripe up the length of your slit. “Shit!”

He chuckles a little and dives in, resting his hands in the crooks of your knees but offering no support as he begins to eat you out in earnest. You can’t help but moan, your eyes glossy and unfocused as you stare down at him feasting on you from below. It feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced, the strain in your arms adding an element of pain that scratches a hidden itch in the back of your brain.

You shift in his hold uncomfortably as his tongue darts into your entrance, collecting your juices on his tongue and drinking them down. You want, so desperately, to be able to grip him by the Mohawk and hold onto him for dear life but you can’t so you squeeze the bar in your grip and sweetly moan his name instead.

His tongue finds your clit and it just about throws you over the edge but proves to be not quite enough as you chase it in hopes of victory. His hands squeeze and grope the flesh of your thighs and ass as he eats. You thought at the start of this that you would have had this in the bag but the stretch of your arms was outweighing the pull of your pleasure.

It wasn’t for a lack of Johnny’s enthusiasm, his head stayed buried in the heat of your pussy the whole time as he drove you towards the edge as quickly and efficiently as possible. Despite the burn in your biceps you could feel your orgasm building to a boiling point, you had no doubt you’d be coming soon but would it be soon enough for you to win?

He suddenly began to run quick sharp circles over the top of your clit with the pad of his thumb, while his tongue laps at your entrance like a bear to a beehive hole. It’s so good you can’t help but moan, low and dragging as you careen towards the center of the nova of pleasure threatening to consume you whole.

Your wrists tremble and a cramp unlike any you’ve ever experienced begins to glow like a white hot coal in your armpit and it’s beyond you to be able to hold on any longer. Your pinky finger slips first and then the rest quickly follow. You squeal as you realize you’re going to fall but his arms push your legs up onto his shoulders and he catches you just as you let go.

A flood of relief flows through your aching arms and you realize you’ve lost but the sting of defeat plays second fiddle to the massive orgasm that takes you by the throat just an instant later. He holds you up with the strength in his arms alone as you come undone above him. He spins around as your thighs still tremble and gently places you on the bed.

You are still very sensitive and your thighs go to clench shut when they’re blocked by one wide knee. He wastes no time in slotting himself between them, his mouth crashing to yours as you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. He cages you beneath him, pulling off your lips to bite and suck at your neck. His hands roam you freely, pulling at your top until it’s up over your head and lifting you up for access to the clasp of your bra.

With it successfully pulled away from your breasts he dives down and devours them, lips wrapping around one pert nipple as the other he gropes with the full palm of his hand, trying to hold as much of it as possible. You nearly shriek with the overstimulation of it and he pulls away to whisper both praise and apologies.

“Jus’ cannae help it, bonnie. Need tae be inside you, please? Let me fuck you, hen. Been cravin’ tha’ perfect little pussy. Come on, lass. Give it tae me.” He’s rubbing the very prominent bulge of his cock against your thigh all the while and you can’t help but clench around nothing in anticipation.

“Fuck Johnny! Do it! Fill me up.” He wastes no time, quickly abandoning your breasts to free himself from the confinements of his jeans. He doesn’t even get them down all the way before he’s fishing himself from his boxers and rubbing the tip hurriedly up and down your slit. You jump and squeal at the sensation and he coos more apologies at you before lining himself up and pushing inside.

You moan in unison as he stretches you open and his arms come up to brace himself on either side of your head. He muffles your moans with his mouth as he leans down and kisses you, swallowing them up as he begins to move and your hands fly to his arms, bracing yourself against the onslaught that is the drag of his fat cock.

You pull away for air and immediately expel it into a high pitched whine as he picks up a fast and steady rhythm, hips knocking into yours on each upward thrust. The fact that you've already came does nothing to alleviate the burn that accompanies the stretch of him. He’s a force and you can do nothing against it but hold on.

You try to make sense of what he’s saying as he fucks you stupid but only catch half of it. Something about keeping you safe forever. Poorly worded promises and vows pouring from his mouth as he uses you to reach his release.

You can feel it fast approaching and can do nothing but steel yourself against it as he pounds a second orgasm from you, the snap of his hips and the drive of his cock demands it of you. “Aww fuck, hen. Are ye gonna come fer me again? Hmm? Let me feel it. Come on lass, let me take care of ye forever. Ye can have this fer the rest of our lives if ye jus’ come fer me right now.”

He says it like you have a choice in the matter as you become locked in the throes of your ecstasy brought forth by his hand and in the midst of yours you vaguely feel him reach his. Coming hard and fast deep inside the tight clutch of your pussy.

It takes you both an eternity to recover and when he finally rolls off you, you realize you’d half fallen asleep, cradled safely under him, worn out and sated.

After a moment he gets up and leaves the room and he’s gone forever to the point where you almost get up to go after him but he comes back in with two small white dishes in hand along with two spoons.

You sit up on one elbow as he hands you one and the accompanying silverware. Looking down at it you can see a dark golden brown crust, a glassy glaze over the surface but are otherwise clueless as to what’s before you. You watch him experimentally as he takes the handle of the spoon in between his thumb and index finger and brings the bowl of the spoon down on top of the crust with an audible smack. The crust breaks and there’s a jiggly dense cream beneath.

Following suit, you bring your spoon down onto yours and scoop up a glob of the pale white gelatin. You take a bite and smile as the cool, sweet cream melts over your tongue. You sit there with him, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms and eating crème brûlée.

It gets you thinking, you could have this indefinitely. Do this every night if you’d like and as if reading your thoughts he speaks.

“I won, but the choice is still yers. Stay with me, hen. Ah’ll keep ye safe. No worries, no lookin’ over yer shoulder forever or double checkin’ yer locks all yer life. Let me take care of ye. I want to, an tha’s honest.”

You stare at him, his blue eyes are soft and filled with adoration and honesty. He really wants you here with him and is that really so bad? How many times are you gonna pass up this opportunity before it’s gone? And will you be looking back later with regret once the door has closed?

You have to drop his gaze to decide but recapture it once you do. You go to tell him “Ok, but only until I’ve found a new place.” but he seizes you in his arms after the first word and pulls you hard against him like a five year old child handed a cat and told they can keep it.

“Johnny! You’re squishing me!” You complain but the sensation isn’t entirely unpleasant.

He does everything with you side by side for the rest of the night. He changes with you, he brushes his teeth with you, he even lingers around when you try to go to the bathroom before bed, it takes a good amount of effort on your part to make him leave the room but you know he’s stood just outside the cracked door that he neglects to close on the way out.

Climbing under the sheets with him you wonder just how sleeping together for the first night is gonna go, actually wondering if you’ll get any sleep at all but then he pulls you into his chest and to your surprise he doesn’t try anything sexual. He doesn’t rub a hard bulge against you or grope your tits. He just wants you close, his warm chest filling out the dip of your back, his legs entangle themselves with yours, his feet even nudge yours affectionately in lazy passes.

It’s a while before either of you speak and Johnny thought you’d been long asleep when you say “I can’t afford a membership.” There’s a pause in your words and just when he understands what you’re saying you say more. “That’s why I didn’t come back to the gym, I thought it’d be easier.. for both of us.. if I just disappeared.”

And there’s something about your honesty, the way you’d remembered and honored your whole end of the bargain, the candidness of revealing you struggled with the decision, the mild sleepy drag of your voice that’s barely audible in the darkness that pulls directly on his heart and he couldn’t articulate a response if he’d tried so he doesn’t.

Maybe you believe he’s asleep and maybe it’s better that way. But he’s not. A few moments later he hears your breathing even out and he knows from the previous night that you’re asleep. He lays awake long after that holding you.

He thinks about you and how he’d finally got you to see reason. He thinks about times when the outcome of a situation is more valuable and important— the greater good one might say, than the means it took to reach it. Omelets, for instance, constitute broken eggs.

It takes a certain amount of necessary malice for these things. An agent who realizes what’s at stake and what’s to gain, willing to act on these conditions and set them right, no matter the cost. And lastly, he thinks about your ID, sitting snuggly behind his in his wallet. Tomorrow after he drops you off at work he’ll dispose of it. Maybe burn it, maybe shred it, maybe tie it to a heavy rock and throw it off the bridge at the park, watch it sink into the murky, goose poop filled pond until it gets too deep to see.

No one will know. But Johnny will. Johnny will know that in the end, his end, it justified his means. You are safe and you are his and there is no means too heinous, no act too profound to reach it.

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod soap #twdubcon #dark!johnny #darkfic #johnny soap mctavish x you

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starshipsofstarlord · 9 months

Text

Brekkie

Summary -> Damon makes breakfasts for you with your daughter after he comforts her from a bad dream (1k)

Warnings -> fluff, mentions of Damon’s past and death, child abandonment

damon salvatore works other tvd works masterlist

Life as a vampire deprived those turned of many thugs, the greatest punishment for Damon being unable to have children. He had always thought when he was much younger that when he met a nice woman he would have the ability to settle down, and give her the greatest gift of all in the form of a child.

But when he met you, the blessing of a child had already fallen upon you prior to meeting Damon. It hurt him knowing that he could never be a father of his own, but without Tiff having a male parent in the picture, it gave Damon the opportunity to step up. He awoke from his heavenly slumber from being shaken restlessly on his bare shoulder by a small hand that was no doubt pining for his attention.

As his eyes peeled open, as expected he was met with the sight of Tiff. Her wide blue eyes were staring up at him, and if he had no recollection of his past, from a few attributes of her appearance he would have been convinced that she was his long lost daughter. "Tiffy, why are you up so early sweetie?"

In her presence, he felt like a whole new man. He forgot all the terrible things he had done as his sole focus was on her. "I couldn't sleep Damon..." Her voice was small and it trailed off into a silence that scared the man before her. It pained him to hear her minuscule heart having a rave in her chest, yet simultaneously he was comforted that she found solace in her sleepless state in him.

You remained comatised in the depths of your dreams as Dam0n helped Tiff up onto the bed, she laid between the both of you, hugging on of the pillows on the bed. "I get bad dreams sometimes too."" He confided in her, reaching to hold her hand with his own. She gripped it tightly, fearful as though Damon would disappear from beside her.

"What are they about? Your bad dreams I mean..." Tiff was a very inquisitive child, and was well educated in her speech for her age. He would never answer her question truthfully, there were far too many sins he had partaken in. There was guilt wrapped around the remainder of his soul like a parasite, and most things he had done were too violent to share. The little girl before him deserved to keep her innocence, she was a the purest light in his life, and he refused to corrupt her.

"Well Tiffy, when I was younger, so a really long time ago, me and my brother would play around the garden with a football. Neither him or my dad if he dared dirty his clothes never let me win. And I miss my mom, she wasn't in my life then, she left us... me." To know Lily hadn't died but in fact abandoned him and. Stefan only pained him furthermore, it had been her choice to leave him in the custody of his neglectful father.

"Oh. Mine was you left mommy and me, like my real daddy did." His heart ached from hearing her words. "You're kinda like my dad, aren't you? You're here protecting us, and you make the bad dreams go away. Do you think mommy's having a good or bad dream?" To think she saw him as a parent figure made Damon feel proud about his journey, he'd come such a long way and finally, he had everything that he had ever wanted.

In reply to her enquiry his eyes trailed past Tiff and rested on his beloved. Your face was rested peacefully atop of the pillow beneath your head, strands of hair laying softly on your cheek. It was a rare occasion that you weren’t unconsciously kicking him, but he guessed that your maternal instincts sensed that your daughter was between the two of you.

“A good dream.” He answered her, thinking about how perfect his life was in the moment. “But it’d be even better if we woke her up with some brekkie.” He insisted as he laid a kiss on Tiff’s hairline, helping her clamber off from the mattress gently, as to not awaken you prematurely. They trailed through the hallway and down the stairs to the kitchen, Damon picking Tiff up and sitting her on the countertop. “What do you think we should make, kid?”

“Pancakes!” The child exclaimed, and Damon had to remind her to be soft with her voice as you were still sleeping upstairs. Or so they thought… your bare feet had followed the route they had taken some moments later, and as they made use out of the frying pan, you watched the two of them from the doorway. A small part of you had wished they’d woken you up so that you could join them and teach them some culinary skills that would deplete the mess they had made around them, however the sight you had was everything.

The three of you were one big happy family. “And the two of you are making what exactly?” Halloween costumes would have been your first guess for when they spun around, the flour that they had used as an ingredient illuminated the high points of their faces. Tiff gave you a toothy smile as Damon blew you a kiss before returning to the pan that was hissing for his attention.

“We’re making pancakes, right daddy?” You froze, and Damon ignored that the cooking breakfast required a flip to its other side when the title escaped her mouth. She had never called Damon that before, but it justified Damon’s appearance of flour on his face and a towel slung over his shoulder. “Is that okay baby?” Damon asked you with uncertainty tied around his tongue.

You stood there, remembering all of the milestones and moments that Tiffany’s biological father had missed but Damon had been there for. She loved drives in his Camaro, he’d take her out for ice cream after he collected her from kindergarten thinking you didn’t know but you did. It was difficult to be against Damon being her ‘daddy’, because in all aspects he was. “It’s more than okay. But I don’t think the breakf- sorry, brekkie is; smells like it’s burning.”

#damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore x y/n #damon salvatore oneshot #damon salvatore fanfiction #damon x reader #damon salvatore fluff #Damon Salvatore x you #tvd x reader #tvd fluff #vampire diaries fanfiction

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severalforraelee · 6 months

Text

The Girls Part 15: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Photo credit to Mario Renzi / Formula 1 / Getty Images

Word count: 3,167

Written by raelee / Posted Nov 3

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

The Girls Masterlist

“That lady at table seven is being a downright bitch,” I mumble to Kylie while putting a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“What has gotten into you today?” She questions.

“What do you mean?”

“You said that the man at table two’s rude behavior is a defense mechanism for his micropenis. You’re never this negative, Y/N, what’s going on?”

I take a deep breath, mentally debating whether I want to tell her or not. But the urge to tell someone how I’m feeling outweighs my desire for privacy.

“Okay, you can’t tell anyone,” I begin.

She leans in closer at the words, an inquisitive look on her face.

“Charles and I sort of kissed this weekend.”

She gasps and I pause, thinking. “Well, kissed twice.”

She gasps louder this time, causing a nearby chef to look at us. I smile at him and he smiles back, returning to his current task.

“Tell me everything,” she grabs my hands in excitement.

“The first kiss was at the girls’ birthday party when we were cleaning up and it was totally an accident. And then the second kiss was in the hotel room after putting the girls to bed, and that one was on purpose,” I explain.

“And then?” She grins.

“And then what?”

“Are you guys dating now?”

“Uh… no? Yes? I don’t know,” I admit.

“How do you not know?”

“We didn’t exactly get the chance to talk about it.” She gives me a look and I immediately go into defense mode. “Lucy woke up crying as we were kissing, so I comforted her while Charles took a shower and then when he was done I was already asleep!”

“What about in the morning?” She asks.

“He had to go to Italy immediately and we had to catch our flight home,” I share, “And he’s been so busy at work he hasn’t been able to text me and I don’t want to text him first because I have no clue what’s going on. Plus, he’s much better at this emotion stuff than I am.”

I run a hand through my hair and Kylie’s face drops at the obvious stress that I’m feeling.

“I’m sure that he’s just busy,” she tries to reassure me.

“I know, I just don’t want it to be like when we slept together after he came back into our lives and it turned into a big argument,” I sigh.

“I’m sorry, what?” Her eyes widen. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I grin, realizing that I never told Kylie about that. Truthfully, I didn’t tell anyone because I was so embarrassed and confused of how it all went down.

“It happened a while ago. Forget that I said anything.”

“Um, after admitting that you slept with your daughters’ father again? I will not forget that.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing the tray of food that was just completed for my table before leaving the kitchen.

“Where are you going? I need to hear everything,” she calls after me.

“Thank you for staying late, Cheyenne,” I say to the young girl as I pull off my coat and hang it on the coat rack.

“Oh, it’s no problem, Y/N. By the way, this package came in the mail for you,” she points to the big cardboard box sitting on the kitchen table.

“Thank you. Have a nice night, text me when you get home.” She smiles, closing the door behind her and I lock it.

The scissors cut open the top of the cardboard box and I open the flaps, finding several items inside. I pull out a small, heart-shaped red box, opening it to find red roses neatly packed inside. A smile appears on my face as I set it off to the side, grabbing three, fuzzy red robes, my name, Ada’s name, and Lucy’s name embroidered on separate ones. Three chocolate bars are the next items to exit the box.

A small note is the last thing to come out of the box. I open it, immediately recognizing Charles’ handwriting.

Mon amour,

I’m sorry that we couldn’t talk about what happened before we both had to leave. I sent you some beautiful roses, chocolate, and robes so that you and the girls could pamper yourselves together. See you soon.

XO,

Charles

I clutch the note close to my chest, a smile pulling at my lips. He’s so sweet.

“Both Frozens?” Ada asks curiously as I load up the TV with the first Frozen movie.

I look at the clock, debating whether we have enough time tonight to watch both Frozen 1 and 2 and get the girls to bed at a decent enough hour where they won’t be cranky tomorrow.

“Let’s see what time it is when we’re done with the first movie,” I suggest. There’s the sound of the key in the front door and I look over, initially in worry then in excitement once I realize who it has to be.

It’s been a while since I’ve lived with another adult. I’m not used to having another person come and go whenever they want- but to be honest, I don’t really have to worry about that with Charles because he likes to spend as much time with the girls as possible and usually where they are, I am too.

“Why don’t you pick out your nail polish color, girls?” I say, pointing towards the box in front of them as I step closer to the front door.

The front door opens to reveal Charles, glasses on his face and a matching sweatsuit on his body. Once he looks up from his suitcase and closes the door, spotting me directly in front of him, his face breaks out into a smile.

“I didn’t know that you would be coming back so soon,” I admit to him, a smile of my own on my face.

“I couldn’t be away for a second longer.” He steps closer, leaving the suitcase behind and pulling me into an embrace. My arms raise up to press against his back as his hands slide down to my lower back, pushing against the plush fabric to press me as close to him as possible.

I step out of the hug, watching as he looks my figure up and down, swallowing at the sight of the red robe.

“What?” I ask, confused and nervous by his reaction.

I can’t tell if it’s a turned on swallow or a realization of a mistake swallow.

“Nothing. I just didn’t realize that these robes were going to be so short,” he confesses, eyes stuck on my legs.

I smile slyly at the comment, turning around and walking back towards the living room. “Come say hi to the girls.”

“Daddy, I’m painting my nails pink,” Ada shoves the nail polish bottle in his face after jumping all over him.

“I’m doing blue,” Lucy shoves her bottle in his face now.

“What? No Ferrari red?” He teases, grabbing their little hands and placing kisses on the back of them.

“Sorry, daddy.” Ada gives him an apologetic look while Lucy just shrugs.

He laughs at that, taking the bottles from their hands and shaking them.

“Can you put your hands on the table for me? I’ll paint your nails,” he says.

I sit back on the couch, watching the scene silently. Charles paints Ada’s nails with the pink polish, then Lucy’s with the blue. He goes back to do another coat, the three chatting quietly while half-heartedly watching Frozen.

I can’t believe I ever doubted that this man would be a good father. It makes me embarrassed that I ever thought that way. Seeing him now, his gentleness with the girls, and the ability to do things that they like with them, matching their excitement, shows me that he was a man that was made to be a father.

No, he was made to be a dad. And a damn good one at that.

“Oh no, mommy,” Lucy looks over at me with wide eyes, then expectantly looking back at the screen.

Frozen has ended.

“Second movie? Please?” Ada begs.

I’m a sucker for my girls when they pout, which they already know, but with Charles joining in it’s hard to deny them much of anything.

“Yes, we can watch Frozen 2,” I agree, grabbing the remote to turn it on. Secretly, I’m excited to watch it as well, and I already know that with the busy day they’ve had at daycare they’re going to fall asleep soon anyways.

“It gives me time to do mommy’s nails,” Charles smiles at me, which I return. I slide onto the floor, selecting a red nail polish bottle out of the box and passing it to Charles.

“Ferrari red, for you.”

By the time he’s done painting my nails, the girls are asleep on the couch, slumped against one another.

“Sorry that you didn’t win the championship,” I apologize quietly as Olaf breaks into a song.

“That’s okay. I have everything that I need already.”

I give him a questioning look.

“All that I need are my girls.”

I can’t hold myself responsible for my actions after that. That is one of the sweetest- if not, the sweetest- things that I’ve ever heard in my life.

I launch myself around the table at him, straddling his hips with my legs as my hands grip his cheeks, pulling his lips to mine. His hands immediately attach to my lower back.

It’s a kiss filled with passion and anticipation, both of us waiting for the other to make a move since he showed up here a couple of hours ago. Now with the girls asleep, we show each other just how much we were missing one another, and express words that were left unspoken from last weekend.

At the sound of shuffling on the couch, I pull back, whipping my head around to make sure that the girls didn’t wake up. They didn’t, just adjusting their position.

I turn back to Charles, resting my forehead against his. His hands run up and down my back.

“You’re so sweet,” I whisper to him.

“Anything for you, mon amour.”

Charles and I sit on the bench in the park, watching as the girls use their buckets and shovels to build snow sculptures.

“Lucy, don’t throw snow at her, please,” Charles calls out to the toddler.

“Okay, daddy,” she calls back. When she thinks that neither of us are looking, she throws a little bit of snow at Ada again.

I can’t help but chuckle and Charles shakes his head, a small smile slipping onto his face.

“She is so your daughter,” I comment.

“My daughter? Lando’s told me quite a few stories about you as a child,” he nudges my shoulder.

“Hey,” I giggle, “So are you and Lando okay now?”

“Yeah, I would say our relationship is almost back to normal.” I see him swallow out of the corner of my eye, looking at me nervously. “Actually, I know one thing that would probably get us back to normal.”

“What’s that?”

“So don’t kill me,” he starts, “But how would you feel going to visit your family for Christmas this year? We can rent a house, we can just go for a couple of hours, whatever you’re comfortable with. But Lando was telling me just how much your family regrets treating you the way that they have and how they really want to see the girls-””Stop,” I interrupt him. “You’ll be there?”

“Of course, I won’t leave your side,” he nods in agreement.

“You’d ditch Christmas with your mom and your brothers to be with my dysfunctional family?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Yes,” he responds instantly, “I’d do that for you, the girls, and Lando.”

“Fine. But if I want to leave, we have to leave as soon as we can,” I warn.

“I’ll go by your rules, mon amour.” He raises my hand connected to his up to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it.

“Mommy, daddy, come play,” Lucy calls out.

Charles lets go of my hand, reaching down to pack the snow into a tight ball, throwing it lightly at Lucy. She squeals when it explodes on her.

“Snowball fight,” he announces, getting up to run over to the girls. I follow his lead, beaming at the squeals and laughter coming from my daughters as Charles and I play with them.

This is the moment that I’ve been dreaming about from the second that I found out that I was pregnant. Family time with just the four of us, playing together, laughing together, and just enjoying each other’s company. I’ve dreamed of just being able to spend time with all of us together, no tension or question marks getting in the way of our family bond.

And now I’m getting it.

Charles squeezes my hand as we stand on the front step of my parents’ house. My gaze remains focused on the white, wooden door, remembering all of the times I ran through it.

To the car of my boyfriend at the time. To the street to go on my daily jog. To the waiting arms of Lando, just returning from a race.

To never return.

“Anytime you want to leave,” he reassures me quietly.

I nod, taking a deep breath and knocking. There’s no going back now.

Flo opens the door, pausing with wide eyes when she sees me.

“Am I not invited?” I ask with a slightly joking tone.

“No, of course you are,” she stutters, taking a step to the side. “We just weren’t expecting you to knock. Please, come in.”

I take a step inside, my heart skipping a beat at her words. We just weren’t expecting you to knock.

“You remember Charles,” I awkwardly gesture towards the man standing next to me.

“Nice to see you again, Charles,” she pulls him into a hug, obviously distracted by the two toddlers standing behind his legs.

“And you remember our daughters, Ada and Lucy,” I introduce the two. I hold my hand out and Lucy steps out from behind her father’s legs, gripping my hand in her own. Shy little Ada remains behind Charles.

“Hi girls, I’m Aunty Flo. I haven’t seen you two in forever,” she coos. Lucy gives her a toothy smile while Ada sucks on her thumb.

It’s true. I haven’t been out to the house, and no one in the family besides Lando, has been out to visit me since the girls were three months old. That was over a year ago. Kids grow fast, but when they’re babies they seem to grow even faster. They went from newborns that you could cradle in your arms to toddlers that can run.

“Come on, everyone else is in the dining room.”

We follow her to the dining room.

“Now remember to just behave yourselves and be kind. It took a lot to convince her to come here, so don’t do anything to scare her off,” the familiar voice of my brother says before we enter the room.

At our entrance, everyone turns to look at us.

“Uh, hi,” I give an uncomfortable wave. Lucky for me, the girls break the tense atmosphere.

“Uncle Lando,” Lucy cheers, running towards one of her favorite people. At her sister’s words, Ada darts from behind Charles’ legs, joining Lucy in jumping on Lando.

“Present?” Ada asks with wide eyes. Lando’s trained them that everytime they see each other, they get a toy or a treat from him.

“Ada, don’t ask Uncle Lando for presents,” I scold.

“It’s okay, I got you girls these,” Lando grins, reaching past them to grab new stacking cups off of the table, handing a stack to each girl.

I roll my eyes. Typical Uncle Lando.

“They’re so big,” a familiar voice whispers. I turn to see my mom standing beside the dining room table, a shocked expression on her face as she watches the girls play.

“Hi darling,” another voice whispers in front of me. My dad pulls me into his arms, and it’s surprisingly not uncomfortable.

I thought since the last two or three years have been so full of tension and avoidance of one another, this would be a much more anxious and strained meeting. But I can’t help but melt into my dad’s arms. Maybe it’s from seeing the father-daughter relationship that Charles has with Ada and Lucy that makes me want to better my relationship with my own father.

I can’t forget everything that he’s said to me. But I can forgive and hope for improvement.

“Hi, Charles.” My dad pulls Charles into a hug next. The driver seems taken aback, but accepts the embrace.

My mom pulls me into a wordless hug. It’s not as comfortable as the one with my dad, I can still hear her shouting ‘whore’ at me in the back of my mind, but I still wrap my arms around her. I greet my siblings before taking a seat next to Lando, Charles sitting in the chair next to me.

“Hi Ada, hi Lucy,” my mom greets my daughters, reaching out to brush her finger along Lucy’s arm. Lucy doesn't react. “I’m your nana.”

Charles and I exchange glances at her word choice. We didn’t discuss how we want Ada and Lucy to refer to my family going into this, but we both know that we aren’t comfortable with my parents being referred to as nana and grandpa after the way they treated me and the girls when they were infants.

“Let’s just stick to Cisca for now, mom,” I state firmly.

She opens her mouth, about to respond, before Oliver nudges her. He nods towards Ada and Lucy, as if to remind her that this is about improving the relationship with her and her granddaughters and her and me. And that starts with respecting my boundaries.

“Okay.”

“Thank you for having us over,” I tell my mom as we stand in the front entrance.

“Oh, anytime. It was great to see you two and the girls again,” she smiles between me and Charles. “I’ll go check on the girls, Cisca and Oliver will help bring them down.”

Charles and I wait for our daughters to be brought down from their naps, tired out from playing with their family members and new presents. I zip up my winter coat in the meantime and Charles finishes pulling on his shoes.

“Hey look, mistletoe,” he points up at the plant.

I giggle, leaning in to give him a peck on his lips.

“Come on, you have to give me more than that.”

A loud laugh escapes me, and I lean forward to give him a much more passionate, longer kiss.

“You know what would be the only thing that would make this Christmas better?” He murmurs against my lips.

“What?”

“If you became my girlfriend.”

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Charles.”

Story completed.

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#charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction

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anjaelle · 1 year

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Study Buddies

Pairing: College!Dave Lizewski x Black!Reader Summary: He's decidedly taken permanent residence in this dorm room, and you can't say it bothers you much. Warnings: Language, mentions of bruising/battering. Word Count: 2k a/n: The successor to Dumpster Diving. The same two losers in the same universe. Only because you guys asked so nicely.

(gif source)

--x--

"I feel like this is an abuse of my good graces."

You watched as Dave Lizewski climbed through your window for the third time that week and tripped over your extension cord, falling to the floor with a dull thud. He popped back up, readjusting his hoodie and his glasses.

"You really need to move that somewhere."

"Right," you nodded, nudging the power strip with your foot, "gotta make sure my flurry of suitors have clear access to my boudoir."

He cracked a smile at you, one he rarely expressed in public for other people, and you felt your heart thump against your ribs.

Absolutely fucking not.

You plopped onto your bed and crossed your legs, "Okay, Kick-Ass, what brings you to my window this time?"

You were prepared for another round of bruises and cuts from endless fights he seemed to get himself into. Sometimes he explained the injuries, other times he didn't. But he was just happy he had someone who could help him without asking too many questions.

This time he simply shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels.

"I kinda...just wanted to see you today."

"Oh!"

There was a heavy pause and he scratched the back of his head.

"Yeaaaah."

You propped your chin on your fist, inquisitively, eying the way he seemed to fit so seamlessly into your living space. "You just saw me at study group this afternoon."

"C'mon you know it's not the same."

He was right. Sure, you had the tendency to sit next to each other in study group and bump knees. And you could feel his glances every five minutes. And sure, when he wasn't passing glances at you, you were passing glances at him wondering why he wasn't looking at you.

And, yes, you did know what it felt like to have him sleep on your chest while you stroked his soft curly hair. But that usually only happened after you got him sorted out. This was new.

You scooted over and patted the space next to you on the bed, which he happily plopped down on like he always did after leaning over to kiss you on the forehead.

"So you came all this way and climbed the side of a building for little old me? I still don't know why you don't use the front door."

“The security guard creeps me out. Besides, I’m not spider-man. I just used some guy’s ladder.”

“You stole someone’s ladder?”

“He wasn’t using it!”

“What if he’s on some roof trying to get down now?”

He stared at you. You stared back. His eyes widened.

"I'll be right back!" He jumped up and rushed out the door, shouting behind him, "Prop the front door open for me!"

He came back about ten minutes later, red-faced with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. His hair was messy like he'd been running, and his glasses were slightly askew.

"So..."he took a deep breath and wiped his hands on his sweater, "there was a guy on the roof. He was really pissed and, uh, I got freaked out and ran."

You noticed the grass stains on his clothes, which was clear evidence that he tripped and fell at least once on the way back. It was hard not to feel the swell of...something...deep in the pit of your stomach.

"Another job well done, Kick-Ass. Always thinking of the common man." You playfully tugged at the zipper of his hoodie, zipping it up and down while he cleaned his dirty glasses off on the Watchmen shirt you got him.

Because that's what friends did. You bought stuff for each other. For fun.

He didn't think twice about stripping down to his underclothes to throw his things in the wash. His reasons were partially because his roommates were always too lazy to clear their machine out for him to use, partially because he really liked your detergent (he admitted that the smell reminded him of you), and partially because he knew you didn't like when he wore his "gross street clothes" in your room.

Which was absolutely fair.

After throwing his grass-stained, dirty clothes in the wash, he flopped onto your bed and stared at the fairy lights that decorated the ceiling. You sat cross-legged next to him, looking him over and subconsciously checking for new injuries. You'd learned first aid just to help him with his stitches...and the occasional bullet removal. You didn't learn the bullet removal in first aid class. You puked the first time. You could still see the messy stitching in his shoulder where he was shot.

The mixtape he made for you played lowly out of the speaker on your desk, and you heard him humming softly to himself in thought.

"I like your room." He suddenly said, tilting his head to fully address you.

You cracked a smile at him, "Yeah I can tell. You've been hanging out here every other day for the last 2 months. You might as well move in."

A light, airy laugh bubbled out of him in waves. It sounded almost like a giggle, which made you giggle too.

"Why are we laughing?" You asked bumping him with your knee.

Dave pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he thought deeply about what he wanted to say next. The fact that he lacked a poker face made him relatively easy to read--and he's said the same about you at least once.

He tapped your knee with his knuckle, "Nothing. I--just...nothing. I promise."

You sat in comfortable silence again as the music filled the room and the gentle golden lights cast shadows along the walls.

"Has anyone ever followed you here?" You asked.

"No."

It was a stern, short answer. Absolute. Definite. His eyes scanned you from head to toe before settling on your face. It was the most serious you'd ever seen him. When he propped himself on his elbow to rest his head on his hand, he clenched his jaw.

"I'd never let that happen. I would never come here first because I'd never put you in the position to be in danger."

"I know," you admitted, carefully, "I was just wondering--"

"I'd never let anything happen to you." He stated with a shrug.

You instinctively reached out and pushed his dark curls back and away from his eyes, "I thought I was the one keeping you safe. How did we get here?"

In one swift motion, he wrapped his arms around you to pull you on top of him like you weighed nothing. His strength always seemed to surprise you. You barely had time to let out a shocked squeak.

"You can't keep doing that."

His eyes widened, "Did that hurt? I'm sorry--"

"No," you swatted his chest, playfully, "I'm fine. I'm just never really prepared for it."

When he was sure he didn't severely traumatize you with his displays of affection, he resumed rubbing small, lazy circles into your lower back.

"Sorry for startling you."

"You're forgiven."

He leaned forward and kissed your nose.

Dave Lizewski was an enigma. Beneath the nervousness, the dorkiness, the shyness, and general earnestness was someone who surprisingly had a lot of game. You used to imagine that he practiced his lines in the mirror before he visited you. Then you realized...no. He's just very honest when he's comfortable.

You rested your head on his chest to listen to his strong, steady heartbeat that seemed to pick up speed. When you reached up to gently touch the healing scar on his collarbone where he was nearly stabbed, he shifted under you.

"What are you thinking?" He suddenly asked.

"I get scared for you sometimes."

He said nothing, but you felt his hand pause before continuing its trek down your back.

"You're still a human being, y'know," you added, "even when I pulled you out of the dumpster--"

"Which I still thank you for, by the way."

You snorted, "You're welcome. But even when I pulled you from the dumpster, you could've died from how high you fell. And then there's the stabbing, and the shooting, and you got hit by a crowbar once..."

He seemed to consider this. Then he said, "Someone has to do it. No one else on campus--in town--has stepped up to the plate yet."

"But why does it have to be you?"

"Why not me?"

"You can't answer my question with another question, you asshat."

He laughed at your outburst and lightly patted you on the butt.

"Compromise? I pinky swear to stop after graduation."

You didn't believe him. But when he held his pinky out to you, you wrapped yours around his and he pulled you in for a quick peck on the lips.

"Fine. But if you're still running around lower manhattan in a onesie at 26, I'm telling your dad."

You curled yourself back up against his chest while he curled one of your braids around his finger, absentmindedly.

"You don't have to worry about that, by the way." He said, dropping your hair, "I just really, really like the idea of you still being in my life four or five years from now."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Dave nervously pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again, "I dunno. I just...I think you're really cool and I know I can be weird sometimes. And I know you might not see me the way I see you but-"

You leaned forward to kiss him once and then twice. And as your curled your fingers into his hair, he seemed to melt into your touch with a soft groan. He pulled away just enough to rip his glasses off and toss them in the corner before pulling you in again. He wrapped a calloused hand around the back of your neck when you nipped at his lower lip. Your fingernails slipped under his undershirt to walk along the sensitive skin of his lower stomach, just above the waistband of his boxers, and he shuddered.

"Fuck," he hissed, kissing along your jaw and down your throat, "God, I love you."

Your eyes popped open. "What?"

"What?"

He trailed kisses back up to your lips like nothing happened, but you could feel his heart thudding in his chest.

"Did you... just say...you loved me?" You asked, between kisses. He pulled away and stared at you with panic in his wide blue eyes.

"Yes. No. Yes...shit did I ruin it? Do you want me to go?"

"No."

You felt a rush of an unexplained emotion flow through you as you pulled your hand out from under his shirt.

He traced the shape of your lower lip with this thumb before dropping his hand to your shoulder, "I--you don't have to say it back. It just slipped out."

You rolled off of him and crawled up the bed to rest your back against the wall. He hesitated, then slid into the space beside you.

"I lied," he mumbled, "I was gonna say it before, but you distracted me with your mouth. Again."

You sighed and reached over to hold his hand.

"How long?"

"Since last semester."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

You watched him thump his head against the wall, "Because I didn't want to ruin our friendship. But, y'know, we crossed that line the first time we smanged, I think."

"Please don't say smanged."

You could hear the grin in his voice without looking at him, "We smanged."

You flicked him on the shoulder and he laughed. Some of the nervous tension melted away as he squeezed your hand.

"Like I said," he continued, "you don't have to say it back. It's okay if you don't feel the same way."

You thought for a moment about how often you worried about him and how often he watched over you. He seemed to always be around, even when he wasn't physically there. Dave was undoubtedly your best friend. You turned to look at him only to find him already watching you with the most intense gaze you'd ever seen. Felt your cheeks heat up.

"I'm not sure if it's love yet." You said, carefully, "But...I think it could be."

#aaron taylor johnson x black!reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj x reader #atj x black!reader #dave lizewski x reader #jaelle writes

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pillowprincessvarric · 8 months

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I know I've said this before but i do actually genuinely enjoy da2 Cullen & it's frankly incredible how dirty they did him in inquisition. Like I can't believe the Cullen girlies aren't more mad like do you see what they did to your boy.

#they completely nerfed him in the face department & they sucked all his interesting traits out with a straw. aren't you mad?#don't you want to go apeshit????

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the-little-ewok · 9 months

Text

Hard at work

Santiago Garcia X F!Reader

Rating : E/18+

Word count : 3800 (ish)

Warnings : SMUT, office setting (power play dynamics), PIV, unprotected sex, fingering, Dom!Santi (pretty soft), oral (f/receiving), lil bit dirty talk, reader wears a skirt, fluff, semi public sex (I guess. But not really?), Marking, *additional warnings under the fic at the end because spoilers ( nothing bad)

Prompts / summary : “I’m afraid I can no longer remain professional.”, "I think I've made my intentions clear", "Noone needs to know" / Santiago Garcia is your boss. And you should absolutely not be fucking your boss on his desk during the work day…

A/N : I've chosen to put some warnings at the end of the fic as I want to keep a couple of surprises. Nothing bad or super triggering I promise. But if you are worried please check before you read.

Thank you Vi for the hilarious tongue in cheek title 😂 and to the anon who requested!

Please if you read take time to reblog and maybe leave a comment or a couple of tags! The only way writers keep writing is if they hear from you.

------------

Ping

S. Gacia: I need to talk to you in my office. Now.

You stare at the message on your computer screen, debating if you could think of a good enough excuse not to go, unsure if you could keep your composure when you were alone with your boss today.

It wasn't that you were avoiding him exactly. You liked your boss, you really did. He was hard working, fair, supportive, maybe a little demanding at times, well, actually demanding all the time, but he was hot, in a sort of 'your daughter calls me daddy too' kinda way. He had the eye of every girl in the office, yours included. Most people would be glad to have a boss like him.

The problem was he always seemed to find an excuse to be inappropriate with you — pressing up against you as he leans over you to get a coffee mug out of the cupboard in the break room, brushing his hand against your thigh during meetings, looking at you, and not just a normal look, a complete undressing eye fuck that made your face heat and your thighs press together. He made you want him all the damn time.

And while so far nothing has happened at work, everyone else in the office has noticed the growing situation between you. Disappearing away from your pc to meet with him would only add fuel to the fire.

Ping.

S. Garcia : When I say now, I mean now.

With no good excuses coming to mind you get up with a sigh, smoothing down your skirt and making your way over to his office.

The door is pushed open already, Santiago sitting at his desk, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, the top few buttons undone, giving an air of relaxedness, but you can tell he's anything but. Your heart gives a now all too familiar flutter in your chest.

"Mr Garcia?"

You tap the door lightly to get his attention. He gestures you in with a silent wave of his hand, barely looking away from the laptop as you step into the room.

"One moment, and shut the door" he instructs you, tapping away at the keys and muttering in Spanish to himself. You swallow hard as you close the door behind you.

Eventually, your boss sighs, rubbing his hands down his face and shutting his laptop.

"Is everything okay?" You venture inquisitively. Perhaps whatever has frustrated him is the reason he called you in here? Maybe he needs your help with work?

Santiago gets up from his desk, coming around to stand in front of you, just a few steps from where you awkwardly shuffle your feet, waiting for him to speak.

"We need to talk."

You can't help but go through a mental rolodex of things you might have done that you need to talk about with him, but nothing comes to mind.

"I'm afraid I can no longer remain professional," he continues, leaning back against the polished wood with a sigh, as though it's your fault, as though you've done something to encourage him. Perhaps you have. You did specifically pick this outfit today, hoping it would spark his attention, and as his eyes roam a slow trail from your toes to your face, licking his lips, you know it worked, but maybe a little too well.

You choose the innocence card, pretending there hasn't been an underlying tension since you started working together.

"I'm not sure what you mean?"

He doesn't even hesitate for a second before he answers, clearly expecting your response. His dark eyes bore into yours, blatant desire shining through.

"I think you are."

You swallow hard. Sure you might have hoped to get a reaction out of him, but you hadn't actually expected it to work. Especially not when there were specific rules in place about office relationships, especially during work hours.

"No one needs to know," he offers slickly, like putting a deal on the table, some form of forbidden contract. He steps towards you, then around you, coming to stand at your back, close enough that you can feel the warmth from his body.

He leans into you, gripping your upper arms and then slowly allowing his palms to slide down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers.

"It's just us in here. Nobodys going to know what happens here today." His hands ghost over the tips of your fingers, continuing down, stepping closer so his body is pressed up against yours.

"Mr Garcia, I don't think this is the time. We have…we have… work to do." You stutter out as his hands map the curve of your hips, pressing himself against your back. Even as you speak your body leans back against him, tilting your head back onto his shoulder, betraying your every thought about him. You can almost feel the smug smile he's probably wearing, knowing he was right in his assumption that this isn't one sided, and that you really aren't thinking about the work piled on your desk.

Your eyes flutter closed as he presses a trail of kisses down your neck, before his tongue licks its way back up to take your earlobe in his teeth, tugging gently.

"Work can wait. I think I've made my intentions clear," he breathes against your skin. He says it like you have a choice about what happens next. Like there's any possible world in which you would say no.

But you aren't going to let him have the upper hand entirely. You can't just collapse into his arms and beg him to fuck you. He might be your boss, but that doesn't mean you can't have your own fun too.

"I'm really not sure I understand what you mean? Perhaps you'll have to be a little more direct, sir."

There's a hitch in his breath that lets you know the sir hit exactly the way you expected it to.

What you aren't quite expecting is the way he nudges you forward before pressing a hand between your shoulders, forcing you down, bending over his desk. The touch isn't violent or forceful, he isn't the sort of man to do that, but it's commanding enough for you to willingly follow the direction.

Taking both your hands in his he presses them down onto the desk, leaning over you.

"I can make my intentions as clear as you need," he growls, standing back up. "Don't move, or you're fired."

You'd like to think you know him well enough that it's probably an empty threat, but damn does it make your pussy flutter anyway. You press your palms harder against the cool wood, resigned to let him do as he wills with you.

His hands slip across your hips and down over your ass, admiring your position, before he hooks his fingers under the edge of your skirt and raises it, just a little. He's testing you. It's a silent request about how far you want this to go.

You don't move to stop him, so he lifts your skirt the rest of the way, almost delicately slowly, hitching it up over your hips.

He gives a soft hum of appreciation at the pretty lace panties you're wearing, the ones already starting to soak through with your arousal at the fact your boss has you bent over his desk, admiring your ass.

"Pretty," he drawls, pulling back the elastic and letting it snap against your skin, giving a stinging bite and making you gasp. "Not very work appropriate though."

You open your mouth to offer a sarcastic response that people at work don't usually see your panties, but the words catch in your throat as he slides his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down quickly, letting them fall the rest of the way, fully exposing you.

Not satisfied with that, he uses his foot to tap your ankle, encouraging you to lift first one foot, then the other, stepping out of your panties before he kicks them to one side.

"Spread your legs."

If you weren't wet before the gush of arousal you have at his words certainly soaks you now. It isn't a question, it isn't a request, it's an instruction, a command. You spread your legs just a little.

Santiago nudges them further apart with his foot, spreading you for his benefit, before he grabs your ass, squeezing as he surveys you with a groan.

"You're practically dripping on my carpet," he comments, making your face heat.

You hear the whisper of fabric and glancing behind you you see him kneel on the floor, his hands dropping to your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh.

He meets your shocked gaze.

"Now let me be very, very clear in what I want."

The broken noise that leaves your throat as he licks a hot stripe through your folds isn't one you've ever made before, your body jolting forward on the desk.

Your rational brain tells you this is a bad idea. You should be working, not letting your boss eat you out on his desk of all places. But then he seals his lips over your clit, sucking hard, and you can't seem to care about work anymore.

You quickly realise he's too good at this, too good at making you tremble all too quickly, taking long slow laps at your clit, pressing his hot tongue deep inside you, growling and groaning as though you were the best thing he's tasted. He has you on the edge of a climax in no time.

Your fingers dig into the hardwood, curling around the edge of the desk, biting out a curse as his tongue completes another slow circle around your clit.

You wish you could see him, tangle your fingers in his short curls, direct him how to throw you over the edge, but you suspect he knows exactly how, and he's dragging this out for his own pleasure.

"Mr Garcia…Santiago…" you hiccup pleadingly, barely able to get enough air in your lungs.

You don't know if it's mercy or torture when his mouth leaves you, giving a playful bite to your ass before he gets to his feet, gently tugging you up, unpeeling you off the desk, his hands on your waist, steadying you on wobbling legs as he spins you to face him.

"Clear now?" He asks, almost impatiently. His eyes are dark, your slick still shining on his chin as he makes a show of licking his lips.

"That was…pretty clear," you breathe shakily.

He smirks as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding you still as he presses his lips to yours, allowing you to taste yourself as his tongue slips into your mouth.

It's not the type of kiss you're expecting from him. He kisses you sensually, tenderly, it's slow and decadent. He lets go of your chin in order to slide his hand around the back of your neck, holding you to him as his tongue slides against yours, drawing soft little moans from you.

When he pulls away your lips are kiss swollen and your fingers are tangled in his curls the way you wanted to do only moments ago.

"I want to fuck you here, on my desk," he whispers against your lips. "I want to stain the wood with your cum so there's always a part of you in here with me."

Oh fuck.

You don't answer initially, forcing down the moan of desire that tries to escape. Instead, you lift yourself up onto the desk, feeling the cool wood against your heated skin, before you curl your fingers around the white collar of his shirt, pulling him close to you. You're done waiting. You're done playing. You're done being professional.

"So fuck me already."

His mouth crashes into yours, kissing you hard as you both scramble to unbuckle his pants. He's barely shoved them down before his hands are gripping your thighs, tugging you roughly forward to the edge of the desk, lining himself up at your entrance, his actions messy and impatient.

Even so, he presses into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to the stretch that borders pleasure and pain, swallowing each of your moans with his kisses, letting out a low groan as he bottoms out, giving a soft nip of his teeth to your bottom lip.

"Fuck, you feel so good. Pussy is so wet for me," he slurs, taking your chin back in his fingers, forcing you to look at him. "How much have you thought about fucking your boss you filthy girl?"

Ring. Ring.

The sharp trill of the phone cuts in, making you both pause, turning to look at it mocking you from its space next to the laptop.

Shit. No. Not now. The timing could not be any worse. You need this. You've waited too long for this.

Santiago looks at you, his gaze questioning. You shake your head, silently pleading with him not to answer, not to put an end to this yet.

He lets out a soft curse, glancing over to the phone and reading the caller ID.

"Be quiet," he hisses, leaning over you and to your shock, clicking the answer button.

You don't quite know how to react as he grabs one of your thighs, hoisting it up over his hip, forcing his cock deeper as he starts to thrust into you. It steals the breath from your lungs and you let out a choked noise, throwing a hand over your mouth to smother it, still shocked he's actually taking this call.

Santiago lets out a quiet laugh at your reaction as he speaks on the phone, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Fish, what's up?"

"Just checking in on how things are going," the man on the phone answers easily, clearly unaware of the position your boss was in.

"Hard at work," Santiago answers, thrusting deeply into you with the last word, and you squeeze your eyes shut, desperately muffling your moans of pleasure.

You can't believe he's doing this, casually carrying on a conversation as he leisurely rocks into you. Your mind can't really keep up with the discussion— something about a BBQ on the weekend — too distracted in concentrating on keeping quiet, and hoping the wet squelch of your pussy isn't being picked up on the call.

You bury your face into his neck, trying not to allow the pleasure threading through you to give you both away. It's an uphill battle. Each steady thrust pushes you closer, your pussy already sensitive from his earlier ministrations.

You're not expecting it when he turns his head, his teeth biting down on your pulse point. It's just enough to send a shock through your system, making your eyes snap open, and your pussy clamp down on his cock.

Santiago's eyes go wide and it's him that lets out a choked moan, clearly far louder than he intended to. There's a beat of silence in the conversation as he scrambles for the phone receiver.

You have a moment of smug satisfaction at his panic, but the joy is fleeting, as when his eyes are back on you, smouldering and dark, phone in his hand, you realise you are in trouble. A lot of trouble.

"I'll call you back."

Click. With the press of a button the phone call ends, the receiver clattering noisily back onto the desk. Santiago's hands grip your hips, his fingers digging in hard enough there will be marks.

"You shouldn't have done that."

You have a moment of panic that he's going to end this, leave you on the edge, unsatisfied, and send you back to your desk desperate and needy. But instead, he pulls almost all the way out of you, before slamming his hips into yours.

You let out a strangled moan. Every time you think he can't possibly go deeper, he angles his hips and sinks in further. You want to scramble back on the desk, give yourself a moment to breathe, to think, to process the bliss, but Santiago's hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as you fall back on your elbows, splayed out across his desk, being used solely for his pleasure.

Santiago follows your movement, bending himself over you, causing the angle of his thrusts to change just slightly and hit something bright inside you. Pens and papers clatter noisily to the floor as the desk rocks with you. In a desperate attempt to stop yourself from suddenly being pushed over the other side, you grab onto his shoulders, holding yourself in place.

There's a growing blissful ache in your pussy and muscles that lets you know you'll still feel this tomorrow.

But you don't care, you can't care. All you care about is the knot in your stomach tightening, your muscles straining, your vision whiting out. All you care about is the pleasure careening through you.

Your pussy clamps down around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as your climax bursts through you. You give all pretence at being quiet, throwing your head back as you all but scream his name, uncaring who hears.

"Fuck, Santiago!"

The clench of your pussy drags him over the edge with you, and he muffles a growl into your neck, filling you with hot bursts of cum.

He pauses there, buried deep inside you, your pussy still pulsing as you come down. Lifting his head he captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his hands tenderly massaging your thighs, slipping up your back to pull you to sit up, holding you against him.

When he eventually pulls away, his eyes roam your face, taking in your dishevelled appearance, pressing a final gentle kiss to your lips, before he slips out of you, pulls his pants back up and disappears around the other side of the desk.

You slide off shakily, your skirt still bunched up around your waist, turning to watch him throw himself down into the office chair, your panties dangling from his fingers like a hard won prize, back to his cocky, self assured, smug self. All traces of the softness he had only moments ago, wiped away.

"You won't be needing these back," he grins, opening his top drawer to drop your panties inside, before snapping it shut, his gaze daring you to protest as you stand open mouthed.

"Can I at least have something to clean-"

"No." He cuts you off, going back to clicking through his emails on his computer.

You have the realisation that he expects you to walk back to your desk with his cum still dripping down your thighs. You imagine the stain on your skirt, on your chair, one that probably won't ever fully come out, the stain like the one currently staring at you from the wood of his desk, a constant reminder of this day.

It shouldn't make your pussy clench the way it does.

You swallow, pulling down your skirt, ignoring the slick already coating your thighs, and give him a defiant stare.

"Very well. Will that be all Mr Garcia?" You mock sarcastically. If he was going to go back to professional, then so were you.

He doesn't even glance at you as he answers, dismissing you as though nothing has happened.

"For now. But don't go far. I don't think it will be long before I need to see you again."

You suppress a smile as you leave.

"Still working hard?"

Looking up from the document you've barely typed a word on all afternoon, you meet the gentle gaze of your boyfriend.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles warmly at you.

"Yeah, I haven't really managed to get much done," you sigh, glancing back to the half written document, knowing it's a lost cause for now.

"You look tired, baby. Your boss working you too hard?"

"He's pretty unforgiving," you hum, rubbing your eyes, your body aching with exhaustion. "Three times he had me in his office today."

Your boyfriend lets out a low impressed whistle.

"Harsh. Well, how about you leave whatever you're doing for now? I'm sure your boss will be okay with it being finished tomorrow. I'll run you a bath, make some dinner, then we can relax in front of the TV? Your choice of movie."

"That actually sounds perfect," you smile, logging out of the pc and getting to your feet, stretching your cramped muscles.

He holds his hand out to you as you come around the desk, pulling you into his arms and giving you a sweet kiss.

"I told you having two home offices would be fun," Santiago grins, his eyes bright.

Giggling, you shake your head.

"Yes, but I don't think we got any work done!"

Santiago shrugs nonchalantly.

"Guess that's the perks of being with the boss. I'll let you get away with it and make it up tomorrow." He winks and you laugh, knowing you both have a huge amount of work to catch up on now.

When he'd suggested you work with him you'd been hesitant for this exact reason. But he'd promised to keep quiet about your relationship initially, while you settled into the job, and for the most part, Santiago was professional in the office, although your colleagues had started to notice his almost blatant eye fucks. If you were honest, you didn't help the situation, sending him filthy chat messages, knowing he couldn't have you until you made it home. It turned out professionalism when you wanted to fuck your boss, was hard work.

You squeeze his hand as he leads you to the bathroom.

"Santi, can I have my panties back?"

"Nope," he grins positively merrily. "I'm going to frame them and put them next to the stain on my desk."

You roll your eyes, unsure if he's joking or not, but judging by the look on his face, you think not.

—----

Additional warnings (ending spoilers):

*illusions to infidelity/cheating (it's not I promise)/ role playing

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Thank you for reading! Please if you enjoyed take the time to comment and reblog! As writers we always want to hear your thoughts!

#santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia #tripple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia x fem reader

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