#I did him so dirty on the bottom one I swear

[silly-centipede]

Brad paintings for the soul

This is my first time doing anything like this and I’m pretty proud of myself

[nanaslutt]

Geto def gets off to being called a pervert

I see the vision clear as day anon, i hope you enjoy<3

Geto is so dirty in this holy........

contains: fem reader, roomate!geto, panty thief, teasing, dirty talk, degradation, praise, accidental voyeurism, mating press, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (reader receiving), cum eating, geto is nasttyyyyyy, slight crack at the end, shoko makes an appearance :p

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Suguru can I borrow that band tee you were wearing the other day? I’m about to go out with shoko.” you scrolled on some social media site on the sofa while you called out for your roommate in the kitchen.

Head hanging upside down off the armrest, looking at his naked back in your twisted view, waiting for his response.

Geto peeked his head briefly over his shoulder from the counter he faced, letting out a short laugh before he replied, wanting to ask if the ridiculous positions you came up with were actually comfortable.

Saving his smart remark for another day and responding that he didn’t care, followed by the location of the tshirt.

Picking up your body you placed one foot in front of the other, making quick work for his room, voice ringing out in the hall, “thanks!”

“Shoko said she’s heading here soon so I should probably start getting ready.” you shouted from his room, reaching for his second dresser drawer, where he said it would be.

Pulling the nob back and messing up his carefully folded clothes as you pulled out shirt after shirt, unfolding it to get a better view of the piece before shoving it back in when it ultimately wasn’t what you were looking for.

Eyebrows scrunching inwards when your sights landed on a piece of bright pink fabric shoved deep in the bottom of the drawer. Not remembering suguru ever wear anything like it, you pulled it out.

And you really don’t remember him wearing anything like this.

Because what you were holding between your fingers was your panties.

Jaw dropping slightly in disbelief, head turning back towards the doorway you just walked through, before snapping your neck back in front of you and digging deeper.

“Where are you guys going?” he questioned, yelling from the kitchen as he chopped up some vegetables, back facing the direction of his room.

A decent sized pile was forming of the undergarments you thought you had lost the deeper you looked. You were fuming.

Between Suguru and yourself, you divided the chores up evenly the day you moved in together. Him opting to be on laundry duty over trash, both splitting the dishes.

Never once did the thought even cross your mind that they might’ve been kidnapped by your usually sweet roommate; who is in charge of handling those same panties every day; when you were unable to find them anywhere in your space.

You scoffed in disbeleif at his antics, tongue poking the inside of your ckeek, making it bulge.

You heard him say your name from the kitchen when you didnt answer his question.

Wading up the thieved panties in your fist, you stormed out of his room. Stomping down the hall at a much hastier pace than before, his toned back once agains came into your view.

Geto paused his chopping, muscles in his body going rigid, because he swears you just threw something at his back.

Turning his body to face you, he looked down at the underwear at his feet, a smirk creeping onto his face when he drags his sights back up, making eye contact with your furious expression, brain racing with questions only he could answer.

"Whoops," he says, not an ounce of remorse in his tone. He could practically see the steam coming off of the top of your head when your face scrunched up in a scowl.

"What the fuck were you doing with my panties, do you have any idea how long I've been looking for some of those!?", he feels the anger in the air with your every word.

"You sure you want me to answer that?" he giggles, crossing his arms over his bulging pecs, letting the weight off one of his legs as he braced his lower back into the counter.

"Oh my god!" you shook your head, "you're such a fucking pervert!" you shouted.

"Woah, you don't even know what I did with them yet. Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions when you call me that, huh?" he retaliated, faux offense gracing his features before a more smug look took its place.

"There is no non..." throwing your hands up in search of the right word, "freaky explanation as to why you hid my PANTIES suguru!" Lip curled up in frustration again when laughed at your retort, “so I think my choice of words was fitting." you finished, referring to the name you called him.

"Haha! yeahh, you might be right." both hands dropped from his chest and slid into his pockets. "I wrapped them around my cock a couple of times when I was jerkin' off." An amused look sticking to his face when your jaw dropped in speechlessness, face turning completely red at his confession.

"Came all over the crotch of ur pretty panties too, pretended it was ur pussy." his big mouth continued spilling his dirty secrets out into the open air.

"Y-you," stuttering as you felt the air around you shifting into a heavier one, one that you both picked up on, heart racing in your chest matching the throbbing between your legs as you spoke, "pervert."

----

"F-fucking pervert, fuck!" you moaned into the air when his curved cock drilled perfectly into the most sensitive spot inside you for the nth time that evening.

Really hoping Shoko was taking her time as Suguru held your thighs open by your head, pushing your flexability to the limits as he bullied his thick cock inside your gushing pussy.

"Yeah? tell me how fucking nasty I am baby," he groaned with a smile. Eyes not being able to choose their favorite sight as he looked between where the two of you were connected; your cum making a ring form around the base of his cock; and your pretty drooling face that was looking so fucked out.

"S-so f-fucking disgusting for st-ealin' my dirty panties sugu-ru." words getting broken up by your pleasured moans as he brought his hips back till just the tip of his cock was caught on the rim of your little hole, before fucking it back in with such force it made you dizzy.

"C-cant believe you would d-o that." whining loudly when his thick thumb came down to rub circles into your throbbing bud.

Geto felt a tingling sensation of pleasure jolt through his spine at your harsh words, "M' sorry baby," he lied between his teeth, "got tired of seein’ ur cute little ass walk around the house in basically nothing." cooing at you when you squeezed your cunt tightly around his length at his filthy words, "h-had to do something about it,"

The both of you bounced against the bed as you let out loud Ah's and curses in response to his mean thrusts.

"Nothin' compares to this tho," Geto smiled, rubbing your clit faster when he noticed it made you tighten up your pussy, "Fucking ur pretty little pussy like this is so much better than my fist 'n holdin' ur panties against my face."

"S-suguru thats so nas-tyyy." you drawled out when he picked up his pace, fucking into you with such force and speed you thought you were gonna pass out.

Leaning his body into yours, practically crushing you with his weight with your legs dangling over his shoulders, he brought his face just inches from yours, lips grazing each others at his rough thrusts jolting you both around.

"Is it?" he replied to your declaration, opening his mouth and moaning against your lips before he closed the distance, " Felt so fucking good tho," he laughed against you, pushing his tongue into your mouth, his groans mixing with your squeals.

Less of a kiss and more of him just crushing his jaw into your own as he overwhelmed you with his tongue. Greedily inhaling your moans into his lungs as he continued his assult on your sensitive clit.

"Sugu' 'm gonna cum, fuck-" you mumbled against his wet lips. His own high-creeping rapidly up on him, feeling his balls tighten as they slapped against your ass.

"Me too baby m-me too," eyes squeezing together and eyebrows furrowing, thumb against your clit becoming sloppy as he started to lose himself, "gonna let this pervert fill you up, huh?" he babbled, breaking the kiss and buring his head in the crook of your neck while he messily sucked and kissed the skin there.

"Gonna take a-all my fucking cum like a good girl?" his moans raising in pitch, goosebumbs forming on the back of his neck hearing your loud whines and moans go straight into his ear.

"P-please, give it to me, please." you begged, "fu-ck, c-coming," you managed to voice before your cunt constricted around him, squelching noises increasing when your pussy forced your orgasm out around him, "oh m-y go-d" you repeated as he fucked you through it.

Getting thrown into overstimulation as he repeatedly hit your g-spot, not being able to move his thumb off your clit, or even voice him to do so, "cum inside me sugu-ru," you whimpered into his ear, helping him reach his end. Squealing at his rough thrusts losing their once steady pace when he came.

He bit down hard on your neck, groaning and whining into the skin as he fucked his cum into your womb. Timing his heavy thrusts with the ropes of warm seed spurting out of his dick, pressing his balls hard into your ass each time he did, making sure he really filled you up.

Geto’s eyes rolled back in his head feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm spasm around his twitching dick, milking him for all he was worth. "holy shittt." you voiced at how full he was making you feel.

Your overstimulation died down when his brain was no longer able to function well enough to remind him to play with your clit, something you were grateful for.

He silently lifted his head from the crook of your neck and pulled his incredibly sensitive cock out of your warmth. Staring between the two of you to watch his cum drip out of you, his mouth watering.

Your own arm being draped over your face while you tried to catch your breath, blocking you from seeing his next moves.

Holding your legs up and spread by your calves, he leaned down to your pussy and started sucking on your folds.

Caught off gaurd at the simulation you shot your hands down to his head, trying to push him off you at the intense feeling of his fat tongue on your mound.

He forced his tongue into the tight ring of your cunt, greedily drinking up your combined cum and moaning at the taste. Your thighs twitched with the need to shut around his head at the vibration.

Detaching his mouth from your pussy with a 'pop' he sat back on his heels, your calves still in his large palms as he stared at your abused pussy, licking his lips clean.

"So much fucking tastier than your panties." He grinned.

"You really are disgusting Suguru." Shaking your head against the sheets as he finally let your legs drop back down to the mattress.

"Careful, my cock likes when you talk to me like that." He teases, meaning every word as he tucks his drenched cock back into his boxers,

"Whatever, take me to the bathroom please." You said, ignoring his previous comment, "Cant stand and I need to pee." Holding your arms out to him.

He giggled at your dramatics; even tho he really did fuck the strength out of your legs; scooping his palms under your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He raised you from the bed in a princess cradle and started walking you to the bathroom, "You need to learn how to take it easy. Seriously." you chastised, noticing the bruises and bite marks on your neck when you walked past a mirror, "If this is how you're going to treat me when we fuck, you're better off sticking to stealing my panties, at least they won't feel what you do to them." you complained, only partially meaning your words, which he knew.

"Don't act like your pussy doesn't throb when you see how I marked you up." you rolled your eyes at his retort, making it to the bathroom that neighbors a wall with the kitchen. He placed you down on the seat of the toilet before backing up and leaning against the doorway, facing the doorframe parallel to him as he let you do your business.

"I just had to listen to you guys fuck each other like rabbits for ten minutes, please don't make me listen to you dirty talk each other outside of the bedroom too."

You knew that voice.

"Shoko! good to see you, didn't realize you made yourself at home." Geto snarkily remarked.

"Your pretty roomie gave me a key you big oaf, now go hide in your room for awhile kay?" she brushed her hand in the air, signaling him to fuck off, "Was suposed to take her out but its sounding like you broke her legs so.. well just watch a movie here." she sighed.

Geto brought his attention back to you once more. He had to fight back the laugh burning in his lungs when he saw your crimson face buried in your hands, shinji posing on the toilet in embarrassment.

Stupid fucking panty thief.

“pt.2” here

[gloomwitchwrites]

You send him a text "Thanks for the flowers, babe" attached with a photo of a bouquet as a prank. Obvs, he gets jealous/possessive.

Anon, I love this. I cackled the first time I read it, and I've been wanting to get to it for a while. There are so many requests (and I will get to them all), but with my health being shit, I'm trying to select from the pool where I'm not overworking my brain or stressing myself out trying to come up with something. This prompt came very naturally to me.

These are all spicy. Period. I didn't hold back with this one. Maybe I'm ovulating or some shit but I literally couldn't write anything but smut for this prompt. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you enjoy.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, dirty talk, praise, spanking, oral sex (female & male receiving), face fucking, restraints, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, jealousy, possessive behavior, orgasm control

Word Count: 4.4k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it, attention stuck on Price who stands in front of a large map of Europe.

There are pictures—some have a red “X” through them while a couple others have black question marks. The mission isn’t done, but that isn’t surprising. This has taken months to complete. It’s been slow, and entirely too complicated for Simon’s liking.

His phone buzzes again, the vibration pulling his attention away.

When the third buzz comes in, his agitation turns to worry. Simon never allows messages to come through at work unless it’s from very specific people. To have three come through in less than two minutes stirs something in his gut.

Price starts talking again but Simon’s brain is melting. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone. Keeping it next to his thigh, Simon awakens the screen.

Your name is there and 3 new messages.

Simon glances up, but no one is looking at him. Silently, he unlocks the phone and clicks over to his messages, tapping on your name.

At first, Simon doesn’t understand. His brain short-circuits, and then unbridled jealousy comes roaring forward.

The first message is a photo of a beautiful bouquet sitting on the kitchen island. It’s fucking large, taking up most of the space. The flowers are different shades of pink, yellow, and orange. It looks like spring.

Beneath the picture are two texts.

Thanks for the flowers!!

I love you!

But Simon did not get you flowers. He didn’t order these, and he certainly didn’t have them delivered to the flat.

Fuck. What the actual fuck.

Someone else did this.

Simon’s first thought is that Johnny did it to prank him. But Johnny has been a bit subdued today, and his attention isn’t on Simon at all.

No. It’s likely not him.

Simon locks his phone and stews. He can’t just leave this meeting. It’s important, but he’s going to get to the fucking bottom of it.

By the time Price dismisses them, Simon is already out the door, charging toward his locker to grab his stuff. It usually takes him a half hour to arrive home, but today he does it in twenty. When Simon bursts through the front door, he’s ready to toss those flowers right off the balcony.

But then he sees your face—how happy you are—and Simon melts. You throw yourself into his arms, and Simon instinctually responds, embracing you tightly. He presses his face into your hair and inhales.

“Missed you,” you say, grabbing both sides of his face and kissing him. “Thank you for the flowers.”

I didn’t get you any flowers.

Simon smiles because it’s all he can manage. That jealousy from earlier starts to curl back up, twisting around in his ribcage.

“Did you like the note?”

You frown. “What note?”

The way you ask is…odd. It’s far too innocent in the presentation. Simon knows your cues and this seems forced to him. But the sender didn’t leave a message. That doesn’t give Simon much to go on if he’s going to track down who sent them.

“Maybe they forgot,” he replies, kissing your forehead. “Show them to me.”

With a bright smile, you take his hand, guiding him into the kitchen. They’re much more stunning in person and Simon momentarily freezes. Did he forget your birthday? An anniversary? An important event?

Simon recalls nothing for today’s date.

The jealousy rises again but he clamps down on it. Anyone could have sent this, especially a friend of yours or a family member. Doesn’t mean there is someone out there with predatory intentions. And for all Simon knows, you’re having a laugh, riling me up. You’ve done it before.

“They’re lovely,” observes Simon. “Better than the picture.”

Your grin is gorgeous, a thing Simon wants to bottle up. You open your mouth to answer him but the dryer goes off. “Hold on,” you call over your shoulder as you dash away. “Let me change over the loads.”

When you disappear, Simon goes for the bouquet. He quickly checks through every flower and between the stems, even sticks his fingers in the dirt. Simon doesn’t know what the fuck he’s looking for, but he’s grasping for anything.

The only thing of note is the business card which Simon quickly plucks from its holder and tucks into his pocket. Simon steps away from the bouquet when you appear again.

Jealousy is stewing, showing its fangs, curling tighter around Simon’s ribs.

When you reach for him, Simon sweeps you off your feet, planting you on the kitchen island. You giggle, but Simon cuts it off, drawing you to the edge to seize your lips in a fierce kiss.

That jealous viper between his bones tells him to possess you.

Simon’s hands drop to your waist and then your hips. He settles himself between your legs, hands moving down to your bare thighs.

You’re flushed with embarrassment, attempting to hide your face from him, giggling his name as you fist his shirt.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” rasps Simon.

Your lips part and Simon slides his tongue inside. You moan, suck on his tongue, and release him. Simon’s grip on your thighs tightens.

“All day?” you ask softly.

Moving his hands to beneath your thighs, Simon tugs you into his arms and carries you over to the dining room table, but doesn’t place you on top of it. He brings you to your feet, and then his fingers curl around the shorts that are little more than underwear.

“Take these off.”

“Simon—”

“Do it,” he growls, releasing them and bringing his hand back to his side.

Slowly, you do as he says. You bring them up so that Simon can see them before tossing them to the side. That viper in him hisses, the venom leaking into his system.

Simon slides his hand between your thighs. You lean back against the table, hands resting on the edge as you part your legs. What his fingers find only makes him groan.

Withdrawing, Simon licks his fingers clean. “Turn around. Bend over the table. Show me what I want.” With a smirk on your lips, you face the table, and bend forward, going up on your toes.

Fuck the flowers and whoever sent them. You’re his.

Simon unbuckles the front of his belt, undoes the zipper of his pants, and frees his aching cock. He needs to be inside you, to hear you say his name, to feel you come around him. He needs to possess because it’s the only thing he can do right now.

Guiding with his hand, Simon rubs the head of his cock through your slickness. You’re already so wet for him—so fucking needy, and he’ll devour it all. Give you exactly what you want while taking something for him.

As he starts to slide in, you whimper. Reaching back, your hand grabs your ass, opening yourself a bit wider for him.

Bloody hell.

Simon doesn’t want to go slow. Using his grip on your hip, he slides all the way in, making you take him to the hilt with one forward thrust of his hips.

Your gasp is choked, and then Simon is lost, pounding into you as if this is the last time he’ll ever fuck you. It’s only your tightness, your breathy moans of pleasure, and the desperate why you say his name. It wraps around him, satiates the viper, calms the rising jealousy until it’s only you Simon can focus on.

Through the haze, Simon finds your clit, plays with it, slows his thrusts until your orgasm arrives, squeezing him so tight he almost finishes right then and there. But once that wave crests and crashes, Simon is back at it. Planting both hands on the table on either side of your waist, Simon stutters out, his lower back tensing, everything draw up.

Simon’s orgasm is an unraveling. All the tension melts as he finishes, and even then, he continues to thrust, pushing his cum deeper inside you. His chest heaves, body shuddering as he draws back a bit. Your breathing is just as labored.

Easing out of your body, Simon admires the bloom of cum at your entrance. He presses it back inside before helping you unbend from the table. Turning you around to face him, Simon claims your mouth in a deep kiss, his grasping the back of your head.

You form to him, and Simon’s hunger flares.

“To bed,” he says, drawing you away with a tug on your hair.

“To sleep?” you ask, smirking.

Maybe you did all this. Planned it all from the beginning.

Naughty girl.

Simon shakes his head. “Not yet.”

He releases you, and then smacks your ass for good measure. Squeaking, you scurry away toward the bedroom. Simon stands there for a moment, composing himself. Reaching into his pocket, he withdraws the business card. There is an address and a phone number.

Glancing over his shoulder at the bouquet, Simon comes to a decision. Stalking toward his duffle, Simon secures the business card in a side pocket. He’ll deal with this at work.

Right now, you’re getting undressed.

And Simon is much more interested in that.

Flowers can wait.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You send the final text and lock your phone, leaving it on the coffee table.

It’s just a little prank. A tease.

Kyle is always a gentleman even when he makes your toes curl and pulls unseemly sounds from between your lips. But riling him up can be just as fun. Kyle isn’t one to be jealous or even possessive of you. He’s certainly protective, and his presence always makes you feel safe, but you’re aching for something else right now.

The flowers weren’t all that expensive. And they are pretty.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it.

It buzzes again.

When you check the screen, you see two new texts from Kyle. You stare at it, and set it back down. You’re going to let him stew and question. If anything, Kyle might think the flowers innocent.

Tapping your fingers against your knee, impatience stirring in your belly, you stare out the patio door. You need to distract yourself, but the urge to look is too strong. Snatching the phone back up, you glance at the messages.

That’s sweet, love.

But I didn’t get you flowers.

Honesty. This man is terrible at lying or hiding his feelings.

You tap out a reply.

Of course you did! Loved the note you left with it!

Kyle’s reply is instant.

Note?

You nearly cackle at the ceiling and when you hit send.

I want you tonight. You know you can have me whenever lol. No need to send flowers about it.

Within seconds of you hitting send, you phone starts to vibrate. Yelping, you nearly drop the thing. Kyle’s name and a photo of him at the beach pop up on your screen. You stare at it, allowing it to go to voicemail. He calls again immediately.

You launch off the couch, pacing as the phone falls back into voicemail. It’s a bit thrilling knowing that Kyle is likely worked up on the other end.

Answer the phone, comes Kyle’s next text, and then, I’m coming home.

Oh shit.

You are all nervous excitement waiting for him. And when he does come barreling through the door, you’re a bit shocked at the sight of him.

Slowly, he shuts the front door, striding into the kitchen where the bouquet is. He stares at it for a long moment before turning his gaze on you.

“Kyle,” you say brightly, walking toward him.

He holds up a finger and walks past you. You hear the opening and shutting of doors, of drawers being opened, and items moving around. Kyle returns, hands on his hips, concern on his features.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I didn’t send you those flowers.”

“Didn’t you?” you reply, innocently, moving toward them.

Kyle shoots forward and begins digging through the stems. “Where is that bloody card?” he mutters.

There is no card. No note. You made it all up.

“Kyle,” you say, but he ignores you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he says, ripping opening the plastic to see inside.

“Kyle,” you repeat, adding a bit of volume behind your voice.

Again, he ignores you, scattering the flowers across the countertop.

“When I find the fucking wanker that—”

“Kyle!”

He turns, eyes a bit wild. Kyle looks ridiculous, and you suddenly feel terrible. You reach for him, placing both hands on either side of his face. “There’s no note.”

Kyle blinks like he didn’t hear you correctly. “What?”

“There’s no note,” you repeat. “I bought the flo—”

Kyle groans loudly and places his entire hand over your face, muffling the last few words. “Bloody hell, baby girl.” He lightly pushes off, dropping his hand, and stepping back.

You grin sheepishly as Kyle crosses his arms over his chest.

“What was the goal?” he asks, leaning forward a bit.

You shrug your shoulders. “To rile you up?”

Kyle laughs, short and clipped. “Rile me up?”

“Yes,” you say slowly.

He leans in a bit more, a smirk on his face. “And what do you think was going to happen once you riled me up?”

You know that Kyle already knows the answer to this question. But he’s indulging you. As he always does.

“I didn’t think that far,” you reply, but it’s far from the truth.

You wanted to rile him up so that he’d come home and fuck you like a man possessed.

Kyle bites down on his bottom lip and you track the movement. “No, love. You did.” He straightens. “And I know what you want.”

Kyle steps into your space, his head dipping as if to kiss you but pausing just before. “You need a good throat fucking. I need an apology. And then I can give you what you want.”

“Kyle,” you breathe.

“On your knees, love. Present your mouth.”

You obediently drop to your knees, and part your lips.

“Wider,” he almost growls.

You do so just as Kyle reaches down and undoes the front of his belt. He doesn’t even look. Doesn’t flinch. The belt is gone and the front of his pants are open by the time Kyle grabs your face and brings you close.

“Tongue out.”

You do so, and Kyle taps the head of his cock against it before sliding it back and forth over your tongue. His hold shifts, falling to the nape of your neck.

“Take it like a good girl. Got it?”

You nod, and Kyle draws you forward, forcing you to take all of him. Holding you in place for a few seconds, Kyle only eases you back once your gag reflex kicks in. Kyle adjusts his stance, and your hands grasp the sides of his thighs.

Kyle’s hand on the back of your neck tightens as his other hand tangles in your hair. Keeping you in place, he starts to thrust, fucking your mouth like he would your pussy. All you can do is cling to him, to hold on as he grunts above you.

There isn’t any anger there, just a stern brow and a need for control. It’s delicious. Entirely mouth-watering. Your core warms, a slickness blooming, indicating just how much this turns you on.

To bring Kyle toward his end, you make little sounds in your throat. It makes him stutter. It makes him moan. Beneath his pants, you feel the muscles in his legs tighten. And then he’s forcing you down his length, throating him entirely as he comes down your throat.

Breathing through you nose is the only thing holding you together. And when he slides you off, you cough, wiping at your lips.

Kyle’s hand caresses your cheek, drawing your gaze to him. He arches a single eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

Reaching out, Kyle draws you up to your feet, bringing you close. His smile is soft, and when he comes in for a kiss, it is consuming.

“Now that you’ve riled me up,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Kyle pulls away, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip.

“Take off your clothes. Kneel on the bed. And bend over. Got it?”

You nod, and Kyle drops his hand.

“That’s my good girl.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny’s ears are ringing.

“You better be bloody joking,” he growls at his phone.

On the screen is a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Flowers that you’re thanking him for. Flowers that he didn’t send.

And the card? Bloody fucking hell. That card is going in the shredder. Johnny will tear it apart with his own teeth if he has to. Some fucker had the bright idea to send you flowers like he’s the one you’re dating.

No. Fuck that.

Johnny might be the demolitions expert, but he knows Ghost could dig around for him if he asked. Scratch that. Johnny is asking right fucking now.

“Hey, Lt!” Johnny jogs over to Ghost and turns his phone around. “Can you trace who sent these flowers?”

Ghost’s expression behind the balaclava remains flat. “It’s a fucking photo, Johnny.”

Cursing under his breath, Johnny forwards the image to Ghost. Ghost checks his phone, enlarging the image.

He grunts. “Should be easy.” Ghost glances up from the screen. “Why?”

“Someone making a move on my woman,” replies Johnny, holding back a growl.

“Done,” says Ghost. “Give me a couple hours.”

It doesn’t take Ghost long, and Johnny has to laugh out loud.

“You fucking naughty thing,” mutters Johnny as he unlocks the door to your flat.

When he enters, you’re nearly on your toes, eager for him. It’s cute, but you need to learn first. Sure, the prank is harmless, but you were wanting a rise out of him.

Punishment is needed.

“Johnny,” you say brightly, coming around the counter to greet him.

As you arms reach for him, Johnny removes his belt. Your gaze drops, but he is faster than you. Johnny has the belt around your wrists and secured before you can even protest.

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly.

“Thought I wouldn’t find out?” Johnny tuts. He yanks you forward, bringing the two of you almost face-to-face. “Bought those flowers yourself.”

Johnny tugs on the belt again. You stumble into him and he spins you around. With another quick tug, Johnny has the belt looped onto one of the coat hooks embedded in the wall.

Reaching down, Johnny palms your ass, his lips pressed to your ear. “Got me all jealous at work. Had Ghost stalking the flower shop and everything.” He squeezes, and then smacks your ass. Hard.

You whimper. “Johnny. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies, love.” He kisses your throat. Your skin is soft and he inhales, savoring your scent. You’re freshly showered, and the smell of your shampoo invades his nostrils.

It doesn’t take much to rid you of your underwear. It’s just you in an old shirt and your bare ass on full display. Johnny slides his hands between you clenched thighs.

“Spread them.”

You do so obediently and a primal part of him simmers with pleasure. Johnny slowly drops to his knees behind you. He savors the view, taking his time to enjoy the sight before him. Even from here, Johnny can see how slick you are. How wanton.

He’s going to devour you. Make you beg. Deny you what it is you most want until you’re a fucking mess for him. That’s punishment enough.

Johnny tests by running one finger over your pussy. It comes back glossy. He pops it into his mouth, groaning at your taste.

“Want me to eat this pretty pussy?” asks Johnny, running his finger over you again.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Please.”

That’s a start.

Johnny leans in, the tip of his tongue playing with your entrance. He traces it with his tongue before slipping inside, slowly fucking you with it. It’s not enough, but Johnny knows this. He needs to suck on your clit and give you his fingers to make you come.

But even then, you’ll have to wait.

You’ll have to beg.

Johnny trails upward, swirling his tongue, finding your clit. He teases it. Flicks it back and forth in a steady stroke. You’re already growing wetter. You’re already moaning above him. Too bad you don’t know what’s coming.

Johnny slides one finger inside of you, pumping twice before inserting a second. You’re tight around him. He can feel the stretch.

He works you slowly, lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of your pussy as he teases your clit with his tongue. Above him, your moans come unbroken and loud. It’s sweet. He loves the sound. But Johnny knows your tells, and when your muscles begin to clench and unclench quickly, he ceases all movement.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, glancing down.

Johnny chuckles. “You have to earn it love.”

“Johnny, please,” you beg.

“What’s that, love? Didn’t hear you?”

“Please,” you say, drawing it out.

“Please what?” he prompts.

“I want to come,” you murmur.

Johnny smirks and starts fucking you with his fingers again, but doesn’t put his mouth back on your clit. It’s not enough for you. You’re squirming. Wiggling. Needing more.

“You pull another stunt like this again, love, and this,” Johnny smacks your ass with a sharp thwack, “will be red.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny. Please. Just—please.”

Johnny teases your clit with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Beg some more.”

You do. All sorts of obscene things fall from your lips. When tears form in the corner of your eyes, Johnny finally gives you relief.

He fucks your gorgeous pussy with his fingers. He tastes and teases until you’re crying out, clamping around him as you come undone.

Johnny withdraws. Straightens.

You’re still hanging on the hook.

He frees you from it, but does not remove the belt from around your wrists. Johnny presses you against him with a flat palm upon your stomach.

“Don’t do that again,” he murmurs.

“I won’t.”

Johnny kisses your throat. “To bed.”

You frown, holding up your bound hands. “But the belt.”

“Stays on,” he says, fisting the tangling leather. “Until I’m done with you.”

John Price

John isn’t one for texting.

You’ll send him a barrage of texts only for him to call you hours later asking what you were texting him about.

Which is why you didn’t think this plan would work.

But then it did, and now you’re bent over John’s lap, bare ass in the air.

John told you that he was working late to catch up on paperwork. Whenever that happens, he always gives you a call to check-in and hear your voice. It’s routine at this point. A comfort. Most of the time, he just wants you on the other side, to have you talk about the day or whatever you want while he’s working. John will usually remain silent, listening, basking in your voice.

You planned it perfectly, knowing that he’d check his phone before giving you a call. You sent the photo of the flowers. A beautiful display really. And they were on sale. You also sent him a picture of the makeshift “note” that you made for it. All it said was “thinking of you” with no name. All of that was follow up by a “thank you” and promises to please him later.

John was calm when he called you—almost eerily so. When you thanked him from the flowers, he didn’t reply. He simply pushed past it. The thing is, John saved all of that energy up for when he came home.

Your ass stings. John rubs the spot he just smacked before squeezing.

“Now, love. Tell me the truth.” He says it so sweetly, like it’s such a simple thing.

And you don’t know how much longer you’ll last under this barrage.

“You bought them for me,” you whimper, keeping up the façade.

John shakes his head. “We both know that’s not true.” He squeezes your ass again, the sting burning slightly when he let’s go.

“I’d guess you’re seeing someone else but that would be lie. Wouldn’t it?”

He punctuates this statement by slipping his hand between your thighs, his fingers running over your pussy, parting your slickness. John dips one finger inside and then another, only to retreat and grab your ass cheek with the same hand.

“I know just how to make you wet, love. You have no one else to run to.”

“I told you—Fuck! John!” You jolt in his lap as his palm comes down on your already throbbing cheek.

“Be honest, love. Or you’ll get a few more.”

You swallow down your pride. You wanted him riled up, but you weren’t expecting this. Not for John to come home, strip you down, and bend you over his lap.

“I bought them,” you grumble.

John’s hand eases. “You what?”

“I bought them,” you snap.

“I knew you did.”

Before you have the chance to form a retort, John guides you up and into his lap. He grabs the front of your throat, bringing you close to him. He does not kiss you. He simply hovers.

“You’re going to straddle my lap and bounce on my cock until I fill you up. You understand?”

You nod, and Price let’s go of your throat.

“Get to it,” he purrs.

John is fully clothed, and you’re wearing nothing at all. You undo the clasp of his belt, pull the zipper, and he flexes his hips enough that you can work his pants down a bit. When his hard length is free to you, you straddle him, lining yourself up.

He remains impassive as you start to sink down. The stretch is perfect—as it always is, and you groan as you seat yourself entirely on his cock. Gripping his shoulders, you roll up and back down, rocking when you can to give your legs a break.

John still stays quiet but his gaze is assessing. Slowly, his hand comes around your neck again, and this time he squeezes slightly. It’s not to hurt. It’s to dominate and possess.

“Who do you belong to, love?” he asks.

“You,” you murmur, sinking down on him.

“Say it again,” repeats John.

“I belong to you,” you gasp, coming up and then back down.

“Again,” and this time there’s a growl in his tone.

“I’m yours, John.”

“Fucking right,” he says, crashing his mouth to yours.

The kiss is a claiming, one that shoots through your body and consumes your limbs and control. You shudder, pussy clenching, and then John is fucking up into you, his hands on your hips.

You’re no longer in control. It’s just John, and his need to possess.

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[benevolentbones]

newcomer | spencer reid x fem!reader part 2

part 1

warnings: swearing, v mild dirty thoughts

word count: 1.3k

summary: your dad calls you on your day off

a/n: thank you so so much for all the support on my last few works, it means the world!! i love reading through all the comments! please if you have a fic request please let me know!!

it had been a few days since you dropped in to visit your dad at the bau, but your mind kept wandering back to the hazel eyed man you met.

you found his awkwardness quite adorable, and the way his face flushed when you spoke to him, made you smile.

you had heard a lot about the team over the years, so it was nice to put faces to names after your father had returned home that evening.

today was your day off, and you didn’t really have many plans, maybe you’d go and grab a coffee or take a walk around the park, who knows.

you stretched back against the plush sofa in your living room, flicking through the channels on your tv.

your phone began to chime, blasting out your ringtone. you picked it up on third ring, bringing it to your ear.

“hello?”

“y/n, are you at home?” your father questioned.

“yeah dad- i’m just watching tv at the moment, what’s up?” you sat up, scooting to the edge of the couch.

“can you do me a huge favour?”

you hummed in response “what is it?”

“in my home office, i left the latest case files- would you come to the bureau and drop them off?”

you chewed your bottom lip. on one hand, you didn’t really want to drive thirty minutes to and from your dads work, just to be there for less than five minutes. on the other, those five minutes could be spent talking or spencer reid.

“i’ll be there soon, dad.” you replied, hanging up the phone.

~

you practically raced to the bureau, cutting the usual thirty plus minute drive down to twenty three. a new record.

you clutched the case files to your side, making your way inside the building and making a b line for the bullpen.

morgan, garcia and reid were all sat around spencer’s desk, the younger man rambling on about the book he had just finished reading, which was a recommendation from penelope.

“honestly the plot could have been better- and i didn’t really like the-“ spencer was interrupted with a dig from morgan, whos eyes were glued to the elevator doors of the bullpen.

“why’d you do that ow.” spencer complained, rubbing the aching spot on his forearm. he turned his gaze to where both morgan and garcia were looking.

and there you stood. you had just stepped out of the elevator, you weren’t in the same office attire you had adorned the last time you visited the bau.

you were wearing a tight pair of black jeans that flared slightly at the leg, with a striped button down fitted shirt which rode up slightly, showing off part of your midriff.

“damn little gideon is mad fine.” morgan mumbled earning a quizzical look from spencer.

“little gideon- ew is that what you’re calling her?” penelope’s face contorted into one of disgust.

“i mean, you aren’t wrong..” she added, the blonde woman was practically undressing you with her eyes.

“guys come on- that’s a bit much don’t you think?” spencer mumbled, though his eyes did not once leave your form as you walked across the room towards gideon’s office.

“you’re just saying that because you like her, ain’t that right lover boy?” morgan cracked a smile, smacking spencer on the shoulder.

“shut up man..”

“do you really think gideon would want you dating his daughter?” derek mused.

“i mean anything is better than you..” spencer mumbled jokingly.

you reached your fathers office, balancing the files in one arm while using the other to knock against the oakwood door.

“come in.”

you pushed the door open, to reveal gideon leaning back in his desk chair, case files spread across the table. he had a telephone pressed in between his ear and his shoulder.

“hey dad- i brought the files you needed.” you smiled, shuffling over to his desk and plopping the bundle of papers onto his cluttered work space.

“thanks hon, you want to wait outside? i’ll be done in a few minutes and we can grab a coffee?”

you nodded, allowing gideon to continue his phone call. you backed out of his office, walking down the steps into the main section of the bullpen.

you scanned the room, your eyes landing on the three agents huddled around spencer’s desk.

you plucked up the courage and began to saunter over to them.

“hey reid look.” penelope whispered just loud enough for spencer to hear, immediately his head shot up, his gaze softening when he realised you were making your way over to him.

“good luck tiger.” morgan grinned, both he and garcia leaving the premises upon your arrival, after giving you a small smile.

“hey dr. reid right?” you mumbled once you reached his desk.

his eyes met yours, through his wire-framed glasses, and he nodded.

“yeah- you can call me spencer though- you’re y/n? gideon’s daughter?” he stumbled upon his words, rushing the sentences together.

you hummed in response, perching yourself against the genius’ desk.

“he’s told me a lot about you.”

“all good things i hope-“ spencer began, a slight nervousness to his voice.

this made you chuckle, “yes, all good things, i promise.”

“i hope you don’t mind keeping me company, i’m just waiting for dad to get off of the phone.” you eyed spencer, watching as he frantically neatened his desk.

“no-no not at all, i’m enjoying your company.” he mumbled out.

from the corner of his eye he could see morgan and garcia watching their interaction from the kitchenette, morgan had a cocky grin plastered onto his face and garcia held her thumbs up supportively.

spencer let out a breathy sigh, slumping down into his desk chair. he pondered for a moment, considering being forward. he didn’t want to come across as too needy or awkward, but if he was being honest with himself that’s exactly what he was.

he watched as you sat on the edge of his desk, happily swinging you legs back and forth, glancing around the bullpen.

fuck it.

“y/n?” spencer began, not being able to stop the crimson staining his cheeks.

“spencer.” you giggled.

“would you, i don’t know maybe like to go for dinner sometime- with..me?” you could sense the anxiety in his voice, the brunette avoiding your gaze as he fumbled with a pen on his desk.

you felt your cheeks heat up, and you reached over to place a hand on spencer’s arm. his eyes flickered up to look at you when he felt your touch.

“i would love to, let me give you my number.” you smiled happily, jumping from the desk.

you took the pen from spencer’s grasp, your fingers brushing against his causing a spark from the contact.

you picked up a pad of sticky notes and began scribbling down your number.

as you were doing so, gideon had left his office and was making his way towards the two of you.

“here, i’m free friday if you are.” you mumbled, passing him the paper and pen back.

“o-okay i’ll call you.” spencer’s eyes were now on gideon who had come to an abrupt stop, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“lets get going, kid.”

you nodded, shooting spencer a smile. “i’ll see you soon, dr. reid.”

and with that you had walked on ahead, gideon bringing his arms into a folded position in front of his chest.

spencer swallowed hard, feeling beads of sweat build up on his forehead.

“you want to take my daughter out?”

“uh yes, yes sir-“

agent gideon pondered for a moment, eyeing the younger man. he had worked with him for a few years, he trusted him to be sensible with you, and out of everyone he was probably the best pick.

“better you than morgan.” gideon shrugged, and with that comment he followed you out the door.

[dustofthedailylife]

How to Steal the Duke's Heart 101

→ Masterlist || → Taglist -> Next Part

Pairing: Wriothesley x (gn!) Reader

Summary: The moment your verdict was decided as guilty you were brought to the Fortress of Meropide - despite being innocent. Little did you know that the trip to prison would make you meet the love of your life.

Tags: Fluff, kissing, you're in prison (but innocent), some violence (not graphic), swearing

A/N: Due to me being utterly normal about Wriothesley I had the idea for this fic - who am I kidding I would commit a crime for this man.

“According to the judgment of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale, the defendant is declared… guilty.”

The voice of Chief Justice Neuvillette was ringing in your ears as he read out the verdict. Your verdict.

You couldn’t believe it. You knew you hadn’t done what you had been accused of, that the eyewitnesses had lied the moment they had opened their mouths, that the evidence had been tampered with, that you had been framed for the crime – but you were innocent. And no one was ever going to believe you. 

After all, the device that had handed you the fateful false verdict was treated as infallible in Fontaine. You now at least had proof that its reputation was nothing but hollow words. But what use was the knowledge other than just a bittersweet confirmation for no one but yourself? 

And before you knew it, guards were escorting you out the back of the Opera Epiclese in handcuffs. Roughly dragging you along with them into a big elevator. Down – deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean.

You had heard stories of the Fortress of Meropide before – the secluded place where all criminals and outcasts of Fontaine resided. The place no one had ever come back from to tell the tale. At least not in one piece.

You weren’t sure how you felt on the way down the elevator but you would describe it as something akin to hollowness.

The glances the guards threw your way out of the corner of their eyes literally screamed disgust. You were nothing more than a dirty criminal to them after all – someone who was to be shunned and banished from society for all eternity. And if you really had done what you were convicted for, you wouldn’t even blame them for their disdain.

When the elevator arrived at the bottom the doors opened with a mechanical hiss. The scent of machine oil, iron, and damp moldy cellars immediately pricked at your nose and it was the exact opposite of what you’d call homely. 

The guards turned you in at the reception, where a rather unpleasant woman took your mugshots before handing you over to yet another rather unfriendly man who led you even further down into the Fortress.

With every new step you took, you tried to come to terms with the fact that the sight of damp, stone, and ironclad walls as well as the lingering industrial smell was going to be your life from now on. 

And the dawning realization of that was painfully pulling a tight rope around your throat. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry and most of all, you wanted to run away and pretend like all of this was a bad dream. But you couldn't.

Instead, you were trodding behind the man who was escorting you and silently began to cry as big beads of tears soon began rolling down your cheeks.

"Crying won't help you anymore, sweetheart." The man remarked almost mockingly as soon as he looked back over his shoulder at your defeated frame. "Should've thought about that before you did some shit."

No. You’re wrong. I'm innocent.

At least that was what you wanted to spit back at him. But it was as if any fierceness or strength to stand up for yourself had left you the moment you set foot into this prison. You simply had no strength left to fight.

You soon arrived in a gigantic circular room. The contraption in the middle almost looked like a giant engine, elevators were going up one level on one side and even further down on the other side of the room. The ceiling was so high up that you almost couldn't make it out at all. The light was dim and the only real light sources were yellow lanterns whose light was bouncing off of the copper-colored iron pipes, crates, and frames that lined the entire room. Gloomy would probably be the best way to describe it.

The pungent smell of oil and damp cellar was hanging in the air here as well and probably even more prominent than it had been before. Only now it was also mixed with what you thought was old sweat and… tea? The smell of the latter seemed oddly out of place and you couldn't make out where exactly it was coming from. All you knew was that it was probably the only pleasant smell you had encountered down here.

Taking the elevator up one level again the man you had been following this entire time led you into a side hallway that looked more like a vent pipe. The dimly lit room that was lying behind it was only furnished with a bunk bed and a barely functioning lantern. He unlocked your handcuffs before roughly shoving you into the room with a smug grin on his face.

"Make yourself at home." He chuckled mockingly before turning around on his heel and leaving while whistling a tune to himself that eerily echoed off the stone walls.

You lay down on the bed, exhaling in defeat. Your throat still felt like someone had painfully tied it shut and tears were dangerously pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

Now what?

You had no idea what to do here aside from sitting your time off. Where do you get food? Were you supposed to work and if yes, where do you have to and when?

You closed your eyes as a single tear escaped from the corner of your eyes, rolling down your cheek, dampening the pillow you lay on. 

All you heard around you were wet droplets falling from the ceiling onto the wet stone floor, distant voices from down below, and your own breathing. The only thing that drowned these sounds out were the thoughts in your head. 

Now that you had a quiet moment to yourself after everything that had gone down today, the realization about your situation was beginning to seep in for good. This bed, these walls, the oily smell… this was going to be the rest of your life now.

And that’s when you broke down and started crying once again.

Eventually, you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you knew was waking up to the smell of food wafting through the air vent in front of your room. 

You got up from the bed, took the elevator down, and followed the smell. Soon you found yourself standing in front of a Cafeteria, where fellow inmates were queuing for lunch. Or was it dinner? You’ve barely even been here a day, but the distinct lack of daylight already made you lose track of time.

You sighed and walked over, queuing for some food as well. You didn’t have any appetite but you knew you had to eat something and your grumbling stomach was screaming for food, appetite be damned. Much to your dismay, the food needed to be paid for, well, at least the stuff that looked digestible.

You ordered the only free option and sat down with the bowl of grayish, funky-looking liquid whose consistency was more akin to that of wallpaper paste. It didn’t look appetizing, but at least it was free and would prevent you from starving.

Just as you were about to lift the first spoon of gooey pap in your mouth, someone sat down at your table, making you halt your movement for a brief second. 

He placed his tray on the table with a loud bang before plopping down on the bench right in front of you. His food looked tremendously more high quality than yours. Your mouth began watering from just looking at it. Freshly made roast potatoes with rosemary, fluffy pieces of baguette with salted butter, a big juicy piece of meat – grilled to perfection, and a glass of mousse au chocolat.

He leaned forward, supporting himself on the table with his elbows, folded his hands and intensely looked at you with his piercing blue eyes. It seemed like he wasn’t in a hurry to start eating any time soon.

You pretended to ignore him and began eating. The soup, which could vaguely be identified as lentil soup, left a slimy feeling on your tongue and tasted completely bland. Every fiber of your body told you to spit it back out again but with enough willpower, you actually managed to swallow it. Not without pulling a grimace first though.

“You’re new here.” The stranger in front of you observed with curiosity.

You looked up at him, nodding slowly shoveling another spoonful of goo in your mouth before going back to ignoring him. You weren’t really interested in trying to make connections here. All you wanted was to get out of here again – even though you knew deep down that the likelihood of that was nearing zero.

“Adapting well?” He inquired, still not in a hurry to touch his food.

You suspiciously looked up at him. There was just something about this guy that was off. He didn’t quite fit in here at all. He was admittedly very handsome. He looked well groomed and his attire was way too pompous to be an inmate - or maybe he was some rich guy who got some sort of special treatment down here. Every other inmate was avoiding your table and people looked at him with an almost reverent look in their eyes. If it wasn’t for the scars that seemed to cover the majority of his body already, this just further confirmed your gut feeling to avoid this guy at all costs in the future.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He chuckled, eyeing you further with a smirk plastered on his lips.

“What do you want?” You asked, now slightly annoyed.

“Just trying to strike up some friendly conversation. You know, seeing how lost you were while ordering food, not knowing about tickets, and just dashing around like a scared blubberbeast, led me to believe that no one gave you a rundown of how this place works. So, allow me?” He remarked with that same smirk.

When you wordlessly motioned for him to continue, he began explaining the workings and rules down here in detail. Unspoken rules, general rules, what and who to avoid, how jobs worked, work times, payment and money, general daily schedule, and a lot more. There was simply so much you were beginning to feel lightheaded as soon as he had finished speaking and you could feel the lump in your throat grow in size with every minute that passed. You would never be able to live here.

“That should about cover the basics.” He finished explaining as you swallowed thickly.

You opened your mouth in order to speak but he swiftly lifted his finger to shut you up. 

“No need to say anything. I know it’s not easy to adapt to a new environment. Especially not one you feel trapped in. But that feeling will fade eventually. Trust me.” He threw you a genuine smile before lifting himself up from the bench and pushing his tray with the food in your direction, pointing at it with an offering gesture.

“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide.” He said, before striding away.

“Wait-” You jumped up from the table causing him to halt in his tracks and turn around once more. “What’s your name?”

“Wriothesley.”

After this strange encounter with the mysterious and admittedly attractive man, you didn’t see him around for a long while. This came as a surprise because you’d assume someone with his looks and attire would stick out like a sore thumb wherever he went. But it was as if the ground itself had swallowed him.

You wanted to see him again, mostly because you thought you could learn from him for your life down here. And despite your gut telling you that he was a walking red flag you had developed a strange curiosity for him.

You had begun working at the ship dockyard where a big window was offering a view into the ocean. You could somewhat make out the sky and time of day from there and it was the only thing that kept you from going completely insane in here. All you had done was sleep, work, eat, and repeat since you came here. Some people had tried speaking to you and some asked what you were here for, but you didn’t have any interest in conversing with them – especially not after you had tried telling someone that you were innocent and they had just laughed at you. Needless to say, you had no desire to connect with people – although he was the only exception seeing as you were craving to talk to him again, as much as you tried to deny it.

Today you were working at the docks again and found yourself longingly staring out of the large window. Your mind drifted off and you wondered how it would feel to simply swim back up to the surface where your lost freedom lay.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” A familiar voice reached your ears from behind. 

“Wriothesley!”

The man in question walked up to you and came to a halt right next to you. He looked out through the window himself before looking at you from the corner of his eyes with a slight smirk.

“Still longing for the surface?” He inquired, crossing his arms over his chest. “It never fully goes away but once you get used to the Fortress you’ll find yourself unable to want to leave.”

“Is that so?” You ushered quietly, scoffing. You were simply unable to believe him, not when your freedom had been taken unjustifiably. 

“Thank you for the food the other day, by the way. I didn’t have a chance to thank you yet.” You attempted to divert the topic.

“Don’t mention it.” He waved dit off with an unwavering smile. “It is almost time for lunch, have you eaten yet? We could head to the Cafeteria together. My treat.”

“Oh, you absolutely don’t have to, I have enough credits for food now that–”

“Please. I insist.”

And so you found yourself sitting at the table with Wriothesley again, with the most exquisite meal that tickets could buy down here. 

You were surprised he was able to fork over nearly four thousand credits to buy the meals as if they were nothing. And especially since he treated you to such a meal as well, while everyone else down here held onto their credits as if their life depended on it. And of course, you also didn’t miss the stares of the others again when you sat down with your fancy meal.

You carefully eyed the food and then Wriothesley as if you didn’t deserve to be treated to something like this. He looked back at you with a genuine smile as he continued nibbling on his baguette.

“Anything wrong?” He asked with curiosity.

“No. It’s just… why–?”

“Why am I treating you to something?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement as if he had read your thoughts. You nodded slowly in reply.

“You’re interesting. That’s all there is to it.” He admitted with a smirk.

“I’m interesting? Me?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “You say that when you’re the one I could say that about. You don’t look like you fit in here at all, you have a truckload of credits to spend, and everyone here looks at you like you own the place.” 

You paused for a second, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’ve been here for a long time already, haven’t you?”

“You… could say that, yeah.” He replied with a chuckle, dipping his baguette into the rich sauce on his plate.

“Why are you here?” You continued prying.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He replied with a smug grin before he continued eating.

You couldn’t quite decide if he was a red flag you should run as far away from as possible or if you wanted to get to know him closer. But either way, your first priority for now was not letting the food go to waste so you began eating the heavenly-tasting meal.

A silence settled between you two that was surprisingly pleasant as you both quietly ate with the occasional glace thrown at each other. 

Once you were both done he took your tray with him to put it into the tray cart before turning back around with a smile.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked.

“U-uh… yeah, sure. I don’t see why not.” You stammered a bit taken aback, still confused as to why he wanted to hang out with you so much. You were a nobody with nothing to your name – not even a criminal record technically.

“Great. See you tomorrow then.”

And with that, a habit would slowly form. You would meet up for lunch each day and not long after, also for dinner. He often picked you up at the docks and bought a meal for you and only sometimes you were able to deter him from doing so and insisted that you bought your own since you were genuinely beginning to feel bad even if he seemed well off. 

You sometimes sat down for a long time talking even after you both had finished eating. You chatted just about anything and as it would turn out you two seemed to share similar interests. You found out he really loved tea and had extensive knowledge in that regard. And it just so happened that you too were a fellow tea aficionado. Not only that though, you two shared a similar taste in music, books, food, and more. After a couple of weeks had gone by it felt like you had already been friends for the longest time. And much to your surprise, not once had he attempted to ask you why you were here or pried into your private life.

On another such day, you were just heading out of the dormitories towards the Cafeteria to meet up with him. But before you could arrive there someone forcefully yanked you behind some iron crates. You crashed against them with the back of your head with a loud bang, momentarily losing consciousness as pain shot through your system.

"What kinda big shot are ya, huh? What're ya sitting for?" A man yelled at you aggressively. 

As soon as you got a grasp of your surroundings again, even though now extremely dizzy, you saw a big bulky guy with a missing front tooth who was pinning you against the boxes by your throat with an iron grip. He was accompanied by two other, less muscular guys who were staring at you in the same aggressive manner. His lackeys, you assumed.

"I have- I have no idea… what you're talking about." You struggled the words out due to the applied pressure on your vocal cords.

"What're ya here for, asshole?!" The man yelled at you even louder now, a few beads of spit flying right into your face through his tooth gap.

"I… I didn't do anything. I–" You gasped breathlessly as you clutched your hands around the hand around your throat, trying to alleviate some of the pressure being applied to it.

"Bullshit! You don't land here for twiddlin’ ya thumbs counterclockwise. And if the Duke's got the eye on ya already, ya've to be some VIP or some shit!" The toothless man spit on the ground between your feet.

“Duke?” You asked confusedly. 

“Tch, don’t fuck with me here, shut ya trap. Now, tell me. What’ve ya done? Be honest or I might’ve’ta polish your visage a lil’.” He viciously cackled in unison with his two lackeys who were cheering on him.

“I didn’t. Do. Anything.” You bit back through clenched teeth, putting a strong emphasis on each word. And before you were able to react, a stinging pain shot through your system as a fist connected with your face, sending your head flying back against the crate once again.

You immediately began to see stars and could feel your consciousness quickly fade away. The ringing in your ears and the accompanying dizziness from the impact was overbearing everything and all you could make out before you passed out was a flash of white light and pleas for mercy. Then everything faded to black.

The next thing you knew was waking up with a bandage around your head and an intense migraine. You felt like a horde of boars had trampled over you. The omnipresent pain got worse when you instinctively tried to sit up on the bed you found yourself on.

You hissed in pain and immediately felt a pair of big hands push you back into the fluffy bedding.

“Stay.” 

You recognized this voice. You had heard it so often in the past couple of weeks that, despite your delirious state, you had no issue placing it.

“Wriothesley.” You uttered weakly with your eyes still closed.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here.”

He took hold of your hand with a reassuring squeeze and the feeling of his warmth on your skin made you feel tingly all over and the all-present pain immediately felt like it was being alleviated ever so slightly. Out of all people you were glad it was him by your side.

“What? Where?” You rasped, attempting to slowly open your eyes.

“We’re in a separate room at the Fortress Infirmary. Someone roughed you up real good and you fell unconscious. I arrived just in time to prevent worse. You’ll probably have a nasty bruise on your face for a while and you’ve got quite the concussion as well as a cracked rib. But nothing some bed rest and a good cup of tea wouldn’t be able to fix, hm?” He tried to reassure, brushing a strand of hair out of your forehead.

"Your Grace, here is the medicine you asked for." A guard suddenly came rushing into the infirmary with a small satchel that he handed to Wriothesley before quickly leaving again after a courteous bow towards the man by your side.

You furrowed your brows in confusion at the display of submissiveness of the guard towards a fellow prisoner when you've been treated with nothing but disdain and… wait a minute.

Your Grace. The looks he got from the others during lunch and dinner time. The Duke. It's him?!

The memories suddenly came rushing back to you – how you had been slammed into the metal crates, how the toothless man had mentioned the Duke while threatening you and how his fist had then ultimately painfully kissed your face.

You didn't have all the puzzle pieces to connect everything into a clear image yet but it was enough to feel that there was an epiphany just mere millimeters out of your range.

You startled and sat up on the bed with wide-blown eyes once more as pain shot through you again from the abrupt movement. Pain so bad you thought you would have to throw up for a second.

"I-I… your Grace? The Duke? It's you! He meant you and– who? W-what?! I-I– he threatened me and I-I'm innocent. I don't belong here I–I'm innocent–" You incoherently stammered nonsense because your mouth couldn't match up with the speed at which your thoughts were racing.

Just who was he?

But before you got to properly ask that question a pair of soft lips gently connected with yours, rendering you speechless and cutting off the words that were spilling from your mouth relentlessly like water from a leaky faucet. He squeezed your hand a little tighter while the other gently found comfort on your cheek. Cradling it so carefully as if you're the finest piece of porcelain in the world and could break any minute.

The gentleness of his touch, the warmness of his lips, and the smell of Earl Grey on his breath made your body explode into a sea of fireworks. It wasn't until this moment that you realized you had developed feelings for Wriothesley that went beyond the casual acquaintance you met up with after work for food in the prison cafeteria. It was just that you had been too occupied and lost in your own thoughts about your predicament to realize it.

Your curiosity and cravings to see him more and more often weren’t just born from a place of loneliness. Your heart had craved for him all this time.

Your hands found comfort in his hair as you leaned into the kiss more, prying a low chuckle out of him and you felt him smirk against your lips.

"I know you are." He whispered against your lips when he separated from you again.

"What?" You asked in confusion, already forgetting what he was replying to.

"That you're innocent."

"N-no I don't mean just in this case… I didn't commit any crimes I was sent here despite being innocent I-" 

You didn't even realize you had started crying until he gently wiped a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

"I know." He reiterated firmly.

You looked up in his face and his eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity. He must be the first person you ever encountered who didn't see the sentence of the Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale as infallible and unquestionable.

"How?" You quietly breathed out in disbelief.

"I knew it on the first day I saw you. My beliefs were just further confirmed when I talked to you for the first time. I've been working behind the scenes to get you out of here again ever since." He admitted, wiping another stray tear from your cheek.

That's why he was gone for days after your first meeting and suddenly arrived again behind you at the docks.

"You went above ground?" You rasped, making the question of who he actually is even bigger.

He nodded, taking your hands in his and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Is that why he also said you would find out who he is soon enough that one day? But you still didn't know… who actually is he?

"How are you allowed to go out? Who are you?"

"You still didn't figure it out?" He smirked. "I'm Wriothesley. Warden of the Fortress of Meropide." 

And at that moment everything fell like scales from your eyes.

His attire, the looks of other prisoners, the abundance of tickets to spend, randomly disappearing for days, the Duke… the Cryo Vision dangling from his shoulder despite not being allowed to carry any in here.

He was the one who saved you earlier.

He must've noticed your glance because he squeezed your hands a little tighter and reassured you: "They won't ever bother you again. I took care of it."

You didn't dare ask what he meant by that and simply nodded in acceptance.

"I can also tell you that things are going well. I pulled some strings and you might be out of here by the end of the week again with no criminal record to your name."

But what if you actually didn't want to leave anymore? At least not without him.

"Will I be able to see you again?"

A question that spilled out of your mouth before you could properly think about it. But the deafening silence that followed told you everything you needed to know. He rarely left the underground and was occupied down here most of the time so the possibility of you and him seeing each other again was low.

"Certainly." He replied after a while avoiding looking into your eyes.

A white lie. He wanted you to return to your old life again, out of the confines of this prison you had unjustifiably been thrown in. He didn't want to keep you here only for the selfish desires of his heart that he had unplannedly given to you along the way. Maybe he would find a way to be with you once you returned, maybe he didn't – But that didn't mean he couldn't indulge in what you had for the remaining time you were here with him.

And that's when he pulled you closer once more, one hand resting on your waist, gently massaging your skin through the fabric of your shirt while reuniting your lips as if it was the last thing he would ever get to taste.

And maybe, if it was what it took to see him again, you wouldn't mind actually committing a crime.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[bookshelf-dust]

the art of dancing in the kitchen

carmy berzatto x fem!hairdresser!reader

gif by @hotch-girl

word count: 3,479

warnings: literally nothing? this is pure fluff with slight swearing and little baby innuendos. i did make reader a hairdresser because i just love the idea and it makes so much sense for this.

synopsis: nothing brings you more joy than spending time with carmen…except maybe having him help you bake.

a/n: i swear to you, i think this might be my favorite fic that i’ve ever written. i love it so much and it made me so happy to write. i found myself smiling at the screen while typing, if that tells you anything. i think i’d definitely like to continue writing things in this universe, too! carmy is so fun for me to write and i love coming up with ways to make him feel tangible. (also shoutout to the first pic because if you know, you know.) i hope you enjoy this one and happy reading!! <33

————

Carmy never sees you run as fast as you do when you’re leaving work. In this case, it’s just so he can eat lunch with you, but you rush out of the salon door just as fast.

Your sundress catches the wind, the hem flying behind you as you jog up to the passenger side door. You catch a glimpse of Carmen through the dirty window. His curls are crushed underneath that worn blue cap, but today it’s turned the wrong way around on his head.

It makes him look boyish. The hand rubbing over his mouth in an effort to hide a grin doesn’t help his case. 

If you’re honest, you’ve been giddy since six that morning, when you got up and remembered that Carmy was meeting you for lunch. And when you got to work and found it was much slower than expected, with no show after no show, you were so grateful for the blue eyed man waiting for you outside. In a loading zone, no less. 

You hop into the car, pulling the door shut behind you distractedly. You’re too eager to see him, and before you can even say hello, how are you, how’s life—anything—you’re kissing him. 

His lips feel a little chapped against yours, the skin slightly dry and cracked, but you don’t mind. It feels like he’s just shaved, his jaw all smooth, and he smells like cinnamon and dish soap and cigarettes, but you’d be a liar if you tried to claim that wasn’t the best smell in the world.

You pull away from his kiss, locking eyes with him, where his pupils are blown wide and his cheeks are flushed like he’s been pinched. “Hi, gorgeous,” you say. 

Carmen laughs, that little shy one that’s more of a big puff of air than a chuckle. He shakes his head at you, still not used to someone being so excited about his presence, so…enamored by him. 

“Hey, you,” Carmy answers, placing both of his hands on your cheeks. He stares at you for a moment. He’s trying to drink you in. He does this every chance he gets because he literally cannot believe you’re real. He’s not dissociating, he’s not daydreaming. This is his life.

Your already broad smile widens as you take the opportunity to stare back at him. Your eyes wander to his just-too-long sideburns. “I think it’s time for a trim again, Carm. Lookin’ a little grizzly there.” You ruffle his curls, which feel surprisingly clean. 

Carmy watches you bite your thumbnail in an effort to conceal the laugh threatening to burst from your throat due to your own horrible joke. 

“Ha, ha. So funny.”

He puts the car in drive and listens to you giggle to yourself as you fasten your seatbelt. Neither of you say much on the very short drive to the park across the street, knowing you’ll be able to vent as much as you please while you eat. 

“Cross your fingers our bench is free?” you say, raising your hand up towards Carmen. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as if that also counts as a way of manifesting your favorite seat. Carmy lifts his fingers in the air, the middle crossed over the index and gently knocks his hand against yours. 

You pull into the parking lot, the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires filling your ears, and your gaze immediately flies to the bench underneath the biggest tree with the most shade and the best view for people watching. “Fuck, yeah!” you shout, a brilliant smile blooming on your face as you unbuckle. 

Carmy laughs for real this time, the corners of his eyes going all soft and crinkly at your joy. “Run over there and claim it, yeah? I’ll grab everything.”

You push open the car door and stand quickly, smoothing the sweet ruffles of your dress. You wink, already starting to happily jog away. “Yes, chef!” Carm catches your salute just before he reaches in the backseat for the cooler and bag of food he brought with him from the restaurant.

On your bench, you prop your hand on your chin, tuck your foot under your thigh, and watch as Carmen walks up the short little incline to you. He looks gorgeous.

He’s wearing jeans, Levi’s that hug his ass and thighs just right. He has on an old “I heart New York” t-shirt that he only wears when he hasn’t caught up on laundry (and only bought for that same reason a few years ago). 

His curls and necklace bounce almost in sync, and you can’t help but think that he just looks so pure and free.

And he’s got this glint in his eye that’s directed right on you. 

“Ebra made your favorite. He heard I was meeting you for lunch and insisted he do it,” Carmy says, snapping you out of your how-could-this-man-get-any-more-sexy daze. 

He places the tin foil wrapped sandwich in front of you, pretending not to notice the way you’re gawking at him. “I swear he’s never been so gentle with roast beef.”

You smile, pulling up the strap on your dress where it’s started to slip. Carmy leans over the table to press a kiss to your shoulder. It makes your stomach flip. 

“Did he make yours for you?” you ask, mouth watering impatiently as you lift the still-warm bread up so you can take a messy bite. 

Carmen hands you a napkin. “Put that over your chest—yeah, like that. So you don’t get your dress dirty.” He rips open a bag of chips for you to share. “But to answer your question, fuck no he didn’t.”

You toss your head back and laugh. “You’ll have to tell him I said thank you for making such a yummy lunch for me.” Your boyfriend watches as you suck a stream of au jus from your thumb. 

Carmy scoffs playfully. You wink at him. “I did have the cutest delivery boy though.”

His brow raises, and the corners of his mouth quirk while he chews on the handful of potato chips he’s just shoved in his mouth. “Oh yeah?”

You hum. “Yep. Cute even with roast beef stuck in his teeth.”

Carmy falls for it, quickly taking a sip of his drink like he’s going to wash the beef free. But the twinkle in your eye tips him off. “You’re fuckin’ with me?”

You wipe your grinning mouth. “‘Course I am, Bear.”

Carmen raises up from his side of the picnic table just enough so that he’s leaning across to meet you halfway. He waves you closer with his hands. “Come on now, you owe me a kiss for bein’ a little shit.”

You brace your palms against the worn—and slightly damp from last night's rain shower—wood, quickly connecting your lips with Carmy’s. 

You do this thing where you start smiling into the kiss and in turn it makes Carmen smile because your giddiness to have your mouth on his is insanely fucking contagious, and he’d be a damn fool not to join in.

When you pull apart you make sure to quickly kiss both of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “There’s your tip for being such a pretty delivery boy and bringin’ me lunch.”

The both of you settle into quiet conversation, catching up on whatever as you finish your sandwiches and drinks. Carmy reaches across the table to hold your hand, rubbing the pads of his fingers over your polished nails. He likes the way they feel.

As a surprise to end your lunch hour, he pulls out a little back holding two oversized oatmeal raisin cookies. One for each of you. And he knows those are your favorite. You do a happy little wiggle in your seat when you see them. It makes him laugh, makes his stomach flip. 

“Marcus made a batch of these, just tryin’ out cookie recipes? We thought having them out front for people to grab on their way out would be smart.”

You take the cookie from him. “That is smart. And I already know it’s gonna be yummy.”

“Damn straight. I ate like, four of them as my breakfast and lunch yesterday. But that’s not important. How’s work so far?” 

You’ll have to berate him about that later. The man cannot eat cookies and wash them down with Pepto Bismol and call it a day. 

You demolish your cookie within seconds. “Work has been so fuckin’ slow today, Bear. We’ve had all these no shows, so I got set up and then they don’t come and now I’ll have to send them the files about the fee.”

“You want me to yell at ‘em for you? Tell them how they’re missin’ out on the world’s best haircut and color?”

You smack him playfully on the wrist. “I just love my job, y’know? So it sucks when I sit there playin’ on my phone instead of listening to all the gossip my customers bring me.”

Carmy downs the rest of his Coke and swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “If it helps, I’ll let you give me that trim after service tonight.”

“At least I know you won’t cancel on me.”

Carmen watches you for a minute, losing himself in now fucking ethereal you are. He’s never imagined himself using the word, but that’s the only proper way to describe you. And he secretly loves you cutting his hair because your hands feel so good, especially when you wash it for him. 

“I’ll tip you real good too, baby.” Carmy blushes at his own joke and it makes you laugh. Mid-laugh though, your eyes widen like you’ve just had an idea. It feels a little devious to him.

You pull out your phone. “Oh! When I was doomscrolling this morning, I found this video of blueberry muffins—dammit, of course I can’t find it now—but they had the…the…”

You lift your hand, wiggling your fingers in a sort of sprinkly motion like you’re try to demonstrate what you’d seen. “The crumbly shit, Carm! I don’t know what the fuck it’s called.”

You reach over and take both of his hands. “Point is, they looked really yummy and I wondered if you’d help me make them?”

Carmy starts chuckling. He definitely knew what you were talking about with your hand gesture, since you’re always making them and he’s got them memorized by now, but it’s so fucking fun to see your brain work. 

He begins to gather up your trash and put it back in the bag he brought it in. 

“Yeah, I think I have enough flour and shit. There’s some frozen blueberries in the back of the freezer. But do you want the crumbly shit, or streusel?”

“Carmen, sweet angel baby, I don’t know what streusel is.”

“It’s usually got cinnamon and nuts and shit, so that’s what we’ll do because I know how you like your nuts, love.”

You take his hand when he offers it to help you stand. You smack a big, wet kiss on his lip. You let your eyes drag up and down his form before you begin to walk back to the car. 

“Sure do, Carmy.”

————

“You don’t need a recipe or anything?”

Carm presses a sweet kiss to your lips and passes you a few fresh blueberries to snack on. He’d grabbed some at the store on the way home because was he really going to teach his girlfriend how to make muffins with a questionable bag of frozen blueberries? Fuck no.

“Nah, it’s all pretty simple. I’ll tell you everything to do, and I can write one out for you if you ever wanna make ‘em when I’m not home.”

You pinch his sides, raising up on your tippy toes to express your giddiness. “Really? Holy shit, I love that.”

He lets out a huff of a laugh. “Yeah?” Carmen cups your chin, tilting your mouth up to meet his because he wants a kiss.

You start to talk while his lips are still on yours. “It’s your handwriting. I have a thing for it.”

He bites your bottom lip playfully. “You’re insane,” he says, smiling through each syllable. He pulls back briefly. “That reminds me, I got you somethin’.”

Carmen walks to the living room and pulls something out of his work bag. “Does this have to do with my insanity?” you ask, jokingly. 

He shakes his head. “Only with your insanely cute ass.” He holds up an apron. “It’s your honorary chef apron. Ta-da.”

It’s the same blue as his at work, except it has a ruffled hem and the logo for The Bear embroidered on the chest. Your brows shoot up.

“You got this today, Carm?” The alarm in your voice makes him smile. 

Carmy walks up to you and starts tying it around your waist. “No, no, not today. I got it awhile back, but you bringing up muffins made me remember I’d ordered it. It came with the chef’s whites and shit.”

“You got it made for me?” Your voice pitches up a notch, causing Carmen to spin you around so you’re facing him. 

“‘Course I did. Couldn’t leave my number one out. And yours is cuter than everyone else’s.”

Your eyes water, just slightly, and you start smothering Carmy’s face with kisses until he starts to giggle boyishly. “Okay, okay!” he fusses, “No tears, only muffins.” He grabs your hips and moves you in front of the counter where he’s laid out all the ingredients for you. “Let’s get movin’ now, yeah? This shit is making me hungry.”

————

“Why do they tell you to fold it in? I’m not doing fuckin’ laundry, Bear.”

Carmy is sitting on the counter next to you, watching you intensely. There are floury handprints on your apron and you have your tongue poking out in concentration. He keeps bringing a straw to your lips every few minutes to keep you hydrated, like this is a very important surgical operation. 

“Probably ‘cause it looks like folds when you do that?” You smack him on the knee and continue to fold in all the ingredients, pretending like you don’t see exactly what he means.

Once you feel like it’s all combined you let go of the spatula and turn to Carmen. 

“What now, Bear?”

“You gotta mix up the sugar and the flour and the cinnamon, and then you can add your little nut mixture and I’ll show you how to do the butter.”

You reach for the collection of small glass bowls Carmy set out for you. “So sassy,” you say, shaking your shoulder just a little. 

He smiles at you and extends a socked foot out to lightly kick you on the butt. But you were expecting it, so you reach behind you and grab his ankle, tickling the bottom of his foot, which is where he’s most ticklish. It’s his Achilles heel. 

Carmy releases a short bout of laughter before pulling away from you to catch his breath. “Fucker.”

You grin, leaning over the sink to wash your hands for the umpteenth time. “But I’m your fucker, angel boy.”

He hops off the counter, scooching in behind you to press a kiss to your clammy cheek. “Can’t argue with that,” he says. 

Carm watches over your shoulder as you add a small mix of crushed almonds, granola, and pecans to your streusel topping. “Good job, baby. Now I need you to cut a few pats of butter and add ‘em in. Just do a few—yeah, just like that—and you can start mixing it up. You can use your hands if you need to since it gets so difficult to stir.”

The warmth of Carmy’s chest against your back should be unnerving, what with him observing your every move. 

But it isn’t. Rather, it's comforting. When the butter combines with your little potion mix as much as it can, you use your hands to make sure nothing gets left behind. 

“You’re very good at making sure the crumbly shit is crumbly, lovebug.”

You look over your shoulder at Carmen as you finally slide the finished tray into the oven. “I’m givin’ you a run for your money, aren’t I, Bear?”

He smiles at you, reaching around your waist to untie your apron and lift it over your head. He hangs it on the little rack meant for keys. “Might have to tell Marcus about this. Get you in there, helpin’ him decorate donuts and shit.”

You push up on your toes and wrap your arms around Carmy’s neck. His go around the small of your back like that’s the only job they’ve ever had. 

“So you can throw them on the floor?” you quip, biting your lip to hold back a laugh. You know you’re being a little shit, but at least it’s a memory you can all laugh at now. 

Carmy’s lips quirk up at the corners. His right hand lowers and squeezes at the fat of your ass, a little menacingly, but loving all the same. “Never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

You lower your forehead so that it’s resting on Carm’s chest. He feels your giggle against his skin. Feels the way your fingers play with his necklace where they rest at the back of his neck. It’s giving him goosebumps. 

“Nope,” you say, that cute little teasing lilt to your voice. 

Carmy tightens his grip around your waist and lifts you up into the air, spinning you around his small kitchen a few times. Just enough that you squeal out of surprise, out of pure, unadulterated joy because of this romantic ass gesture that feels straight out of a story book. You pop your feet up for good measure. You could never let Princess Mia down like that.

When he sets you down, you both stare at each other for a moment, catching your breath with these stupid happy smiles on your faces. And right there, you both feel that little bolt of electricity. The one that tells you this will never go away. This connection is everlasting. 

It takes a minute for you to register that you’re both shuffling lightly across the floor, in gentle, sloppy circles. 

You look down at Carmy’s socked feet and back up to meet his eyes. “Does this count as dancing?”

He scratches his nose. “Couldn’t tell you.”

You kiss the spot where he was self-consciously rubbing. “Maybe we should practice, you know, in case we need to dance someday.”

Carmen snorts. “Yeah, maybe, sweetheart.”

You play with the curls around his ears, remembering your promise to give him that trim. “Have you ever danced, Mr. Berzatto?”

He kisses you. “Only alone in my room.”

You kiss him. “That what you do when I’m not around?”

He kisses you a second time. “Yep. Busted. But Richie used to try and make us play Just Dance with him when he got drunk.” He grins at the little chuckle you let out. “What about you?” he starts. “Have a past dancing career?”

You shake your head, admiring every little freckle on his face. Every little dry patch of skin, every line. 

“In high school, me and my girlfriends would usually just hold hands and spin around in a little dance circle since we were all single. It was very cool of us.”

“I would’ve paid to see that,” Carmy says, cupping your jaw. You grin up at him, eyes twinkling. You imagine you’ve got big ‘ol pink hearts fluttering back and forth at him. 

You both melt into each other after that. Slowly shuffling around the kitchen, hips swaying to music that isn’t there. Usually Carmy would be on the verge of shitting his pants in a situation like this, but…it’s you. You’re safe. 

Why wouldn’t he dance with you? 

Carmen brings his lips to your ear. “Is there music in your head right now?”

“Rick Astley,” you whisper. 

Carmy blinks. 

And then he tosses his head back, laughing. “Seriously?” 

“Nope. I just wanted to hear you laugh,” you say, and kiss the chuckle right off his lips. He kisses you back, pecking your lips three times in quick succession because one is just never enough. You tug on a curl. “We’re stupid in love, aren’t we?”

“We’re dancing, shuffling like old people really, in my shitty kitchen on a weeknight, and waiting on blueberry muffins that I’m pretty sure we’ll finish within the hour.”

“Oh my god, Bear.”

“Yeah, baby. We’re stupid in love.”

You are. And when you sit on the kitchen floor, your socked feet in his lap, eating warm muffins and getting butter all over your fingers and down your wrists, that only confirms it. 

Those are the best damn muffins you’ve ever had. And Carmy’s lips taste like blueberries for the rest of the night. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[ivysoul]

FIRESIDE. ✸ farmhand!rafe cameron au [1.1k]

summary. rafe cameron. everything you need and more.

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ ༘⋆❥ afab!reader, farmer’s daughter au!, reader calls her dad “daddy” but it’s obvs not sexual (it’s country. it’s a country thing it’s normal.), porn with minimal plot, ooc rafe (he’s just sweeter in this lmao), mutual pining, friends with benefits, except reader has such an awful crush on him, unprotected p in v, public sex (no one sees), against a barn oops, dirty talk, fingering, praise, creampie.

reign speaks. i have a rlly bad obsession on the farmer’s daughter aesthetic rn so pls just bare with me while i literally milk the ever living hell out of it. a lot of farmer’s daughter/country au’s in the drafts rn. rafe, leon, ghost, you name it. just let me cook y’all i swear something good will come of it i promise LMAO. sorry about any spelling errors i wrote this in two hours😭

• — ꒰ masterlist ꒱ ꒰ nav ꒱

rafe cameron had an incredible way of making you feel both wanted and wholly confused all at once. he could be at your feet, begging you to follow him around whilst he did his farm work for your father, to keep him company and fill his ears with your voice of honey. he’d look at you as if you yourself had put the very moon and stars in the sky, as if you’d put them there just for him. hell, he even carved a small heart out of wood and attached it to some ribbon and gently wrapped it around your wrist.

he’d do all this just to continue calling you his friend.

his friend that he occasionally fucks dumb every week. the friend whose brain he turns to mush with his sweet words as he thrusts his cock deep into your cunt. the friend that he spends more time pleasuring than himself.

this time was no different. just another time when you snuck out of your bedroom window and into the warm night, illuminated by the soft hues of the moons glow. the note he had slipped into your hand earlier in the day had been discarded in a box under your bed.

(where you kept all of the notes he’d given you. shamefully, you must admit).

now, you find yourself being pressed against the side of your father’s old barn, towered over by rafe, mouths colliding in mutual desperate need. you pawed at his clothe covered chest, taking the fabric in your fist. his hand held the back of your neck while the other gripped at the skin on your hip, having pushed itself up and under your floral cotton nightgown. his fingers toyed with the waistband of your panties but never dared to go further, not yet.

the feeling of rafe took over your senses. he rendered you unable to form any thoughts other than him. it was embarrassing—the effect he had on you.

he pulled away against his own wishes to catch some air. but the look in his eyes, the look, forbade you from breathing any air at all.

“i missed you today,” he confesses. his voice is like silk against skin. smooth and gentle. “where’d you go?”

you smiled at him. “ran some errands with daddy. needed t’ get a new rake since someone broke the other one.”

“i told you, it was an accident!”

the laugh that escapes him makes butterflies form in your belly.

“i know, ‘m just teasin’.” you run your hand through his hair. when he leans back in and kisses you deeply, gently nipping your bottom lip, you tug lightly at the roots of his hair. the groan he lets out sends shocks through you.

you felt anticipation build up higher and higher when rafe’s index and middle fingers grazed over your clothed cunt, feeling the wet patch and knowing how wet you were already. he applied slight pressure to your clit over your panties, making you whine desperately.

“rafe, please.”

he made a faux pouty expression, displaying fake confusion. “what? i’m just teasin’.”

he is not mocking you right now.

he let out a small laugh before dipping his hands into your panties and finally drawing small circles on your clit. you moaned a little too loud at the sudden feeling, making rafe clamp his free hand over your mouth.

he then pushes a finger, then two, into your sopping cunt, curling them slightly. your eyes practically roll to the back of your head. you were thankful he had your mouth covered, otherwise you would’ve woken up not only the animals on the farm, but also your parents inside the the house.

rafe wasn’t holding back, giving you exactly what you wanted and needed. “god, she’s so wet f’r me, baby. you been missin’ me? missed my words? my fingers? my cock?”

you nodded the best you could with his hand on your mouth. your abdomen constricting with every sharp jolt of pleasure he gave you. an all too familiar feeling was rising too fast for you to prepare for.

but just as quickly it came, it left when he retracted his hands entirely.

you wanted to plead, you would’ve if not for the mouth guard, but instead you attempted to grab at rafe’s hand once again. he just shook his head, shushing you softly and undoing his belt with one hand. christ, you could’ve cum right then.

“don’t worry, baby, i’m gonna take care of you.”

he pulls your panties down and they pool at your ankles. you only have time to step one foot out of them before he’s grabbing at your leg and pulling it against his waist, your panties hanging from your ankle.

rafe takes his hand off your mouth and instead wraps it around your neck and captures your lips with his. in one push, he filled you to the brim with his cock.

your jaw falls slack as moans upon moans escape you. there was nothing rafe could’ve done to muffle you now. with him hitting every spot inside of you that had you seeing stars, you were done for.

the wood of the barn walls scraped against your bare shoulders, rafe’s hand sneaking up and under your nightgown to grope at your tits, pinching your nipples.

“rafe, rafe—fuck!—”

“watch your mouth, princess,” rafe warns. the nickname making your mind swirl. “i know it feels good, y’pussy’s just squeezin’ me. like it wont let me move.”

“‘m sorry! ‘m sorry!” you could barely think. his cock stretched you so much, providing the perfect combination of stinging pleasure.

once again, you felt the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter the more rafe fucks his cock into you. you attempted to grasp at any part of him that you could get ahold of and the only word you could mumble out was his name, over and over, until you finally let go. your body spasmed, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. rafe fucked you through your orgasm before he came inside you, against his better judgment. his hips stuttered back and forth, grinding himself against you as much as he could until he had nothing left to give you.

he stilled as you two caught your breaths, until he eventually pulled out and fixed himself back up.

“lift your foot, baby.”

you lifted your foot as he said and he put it through your panties, lifting them up your legs and resting them back against your wet cunt. his cum pooled from you and into your panties, but you didn’t care. you’ll just wash them tomorrow.

[hencheri]

Mark and cock warming. Maybe he slaps the reader 🫶🏾

18+. mdni.

hard dom!mark :(

.

mark doesn't fuck slow and steady. he fucks like he can never get enough — fucks like his dick is going to fall off. it never ends without a mess either, whether it's his cum everywhere on your body or the bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, there's always a mess.

but there are those days where mark wants to be intimate, where he needs you as close to him as possible. sometimes he's very tired and he just needs to relax with some cuddles — and in mark's book, cuddling means cock warming.

he swears he doesn't have any dirty intentions, but he's still rock hard just at the thought of having your walls tightly hugging his cock (though, to his defence, he has to be hard to slide inside of you).

so you reluctantly agreed, letting him play with your pussy a little bit to get you wet enough for him. your back is facing him, his pelvis totally flushed against your ass with his arms wrapped around your waist.

surprisingly, mark is very silent, and you're the one who's bothered, face burning hot and teeth sinking into your bottom lip. his cheek is laid on your shoulder, eyes closed, listening to your breathing that is clearly irregular.

you shift a little, creating some friction and getting mark out of his slumber.

he tightly grips your hips, pulling you back on his cock. "stop squirming around," he groans, his breath hitting your uncovered neck, making you shiver slightly.

"sorry..." you mumble back in response, feeling a little embarrassed for not being able to just relax. how is he so calm with your pussy around him? he'd be pounding you down onto the mattress by now.

and just thinking about that has you clenching around mark involuntarily. he definitely felt that.

"baby." he warns you, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips, so, so close to your crotch.

you clench again, and he doesn't like that.

"what did i tell you?" he growls, delivering a sharp slap to your pussy, making you flinch out of surprise.

he takes a hold of your jaw, turning your face to the side so he can look you in the eye. you're speechless, only gulping down as mark looks really pissed off.

"you speak when talked to," he says through gritted teeth, glaring at you with angry eyes, eyebrows frowned. he presses down on your cheeks, and you wince out of pain, forcing your mouth open. "i'm not repeating myself ... what did i tell you?"

"to- to not move!" you say, trying to wiggle your face out of his painful hold, but mark follows your movement, steadying your head in place.

"why are you being a little brat? d'you always need me to dick you down?" he asks, his hand still remaining on your hips inching closer to your heat, nails sinking into your soft skin. "can't think straight with a cock in your stupid, little pussy, huh?"

that's rich coming from him when he's fucking you every chance he gets, but you won't comment on that if you don't want to be in more troubles.

"n-no," you manage to croak out, but it sounds a little sloppy due to your strained neck and mark's hand around your face.

"what was that?"

you inhale, taking in your breath, "no, i can't think straight, so you better fuck some sense into me."

and he chuckles right in your face, the corner of his mouth lifting up into a grin. he eyes you down, looking at your lips before going back up to your eyes.

"want it that bad, huh? little slut."

and he finally pushes you onto your stomach, holding your head down against the pillows. he immediately starts moving his hips back and forth, hard cock sliding between your walls, hitting all the right places that make you scream his name.

he spanks your ass, too, the sound of his skin hitting yours echoing in the room. mark doesn't go easy on you, and he doesn't hold back either, especially not since you quite literally asked him to fuck some sense into you. which he will gladly do.

[seonghwaddict]

flattery — choi san

in which your boyfriend just looked so good in his group’s music video that you can’t help but be all over him.

idol!choi san x fem!reader. genre. smut, fluff, established relationship. warnings. barely any plot, swearing, explicit sexual content mdni, ab riding, brief unprotected sex, filming, brief cowgirl, dirty talk, praise, nickname (baby, pretty, sweetheart, my girl). wc. 1.3k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. did i make a post abt wanting to ride san’s abs a while ago? yes, i did. it’s not my fault that the music video curled those thoughts even more 🤷‍♀️ something was def purring… guys i’ve been so obsessed with blind and shaboom it’s actually not even funny anymore. what’s y’all’s fav?

listening to. nasty, ariana grande.

masterlist.

you really love your boyfriend’s abs.

like really love them.

it started off as a harmless little date, if you can call lounging together in his empty dorm that. as you had promised, you didn’t watch the new music video until you were with him, seonghwa and mingi out somewhere. despite there being no one home, you and san confined yourselves to his bedroom, basking in his smell as you cuddled up to him in bed while he pulled up the video on his phone.

you watched with rapt interest, giggling at the absurdity of the scenes, commenting on some details every now and then. he watched you instead, grinning from ear to ear and revelling in all your praises, occasionally leaning down to sneak a kiss on your head.

“you’ve outdone yourselves, really,” you turned your head to look at him from his chest as the music video ended and he set the phone on his bedside table, “and you looked good doing it!”

he snorted as you wiggled your eyebrows, shifting you to lay on top of him, “yeah? you think so?”

“mhm,” you hummed and nodded, leaning down to peck his lips teasingly, “very handsome.”

“flattery’s not gonna get you anywhere, baby,” he rolled his eyes playfully despite the tender caresses of his fingers on your hips, brushing under the hem of the shirt you stole from his closet a while ago. one of his hands left your hip to tangle into your hair, pulling your face closer to his as he muttered, “come here.”

you complied, leaning down the rest of the way to press your lips against his softly, smiling into the kiss as your eyes fluttered shut. teasingly, you pulled away a few times, grinning as you pecked his li s repeatedly until he had had enough and held you in place by the back of your neck.

he sighed quietly and you felt all his muscles relax under your touch. his tongue ran along your bottom lip before dipping in, making you gasp softly as the kiss turned heated.

one kiss led to more, usually, because in a matter of moments his shirt had been discarded along with his sweatpants and your panties as he guided you over his length with his hands on your hips. your whimpers and his groans melded together as they echoed of his bedroom walls and you were silently grateful his roommates weren’t home.

san’s head tipped back against his pillows as you leaned down to kiss his neck sweetly, whining against his skin as his pounded up into you to meet the rolls of your hips. he groaned as you clenched around him, the feeling of his thick cock inside you and his pelvis hitting your clit with each thrust quickly making a knot form deep in your abdomen.

you mewled softly, stuttering out a quiet “‘m c-close” between your moans and whimpers. your abdomen clenched, heat spreading throughout your body as you prepared yourself to be hit with an orgasm.

only for him to lift you off his dick right at the last second, making you lift your head to look at him with a frown as your thighs twitched and your chest heaved, catching your breath. he grinned in return, holding your hips firmly so you had no way to move for a few moments. your core pulsed and clenched around nothing, the wetness of it making a faint squelching sound that had him raising a teasing eyebrow at you.

“you’re mean.” you pouted once you finally caught your breath, wiggling your hips in attempt to sink back down on him.

“hush, i just wanna try something,” he rolled his eyes and pulled your hips forward before setting you down on his stomach; his abs. he caught the way your eyes fluttered as your clit pressed against his skin, or at least he assumed so—the shirt you had on obscured your heat from his view as you pressed yourself down on him. his voice came out mildly cocky, “ride.”

“w-what?” your eyes snapped open, blinking almost comically.

“ride my abs,” he repeated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “and when you finish i’ll let you cum on my cock.”

you didn’t have to be told twice, letting him slide you against him slowly at first, dragging your pussy along him and making your your clit catch on every ridge of his abs.

“that’s it, baby, you look so pretty like this,” he practically purred as he felt you move on your own, pressing against him desperately as little sounds tumbled from your lips. he moved his hands to knead your thighs before lifting one, grabbing a fistful of the hem of your shirt and lifting it to your waist, groaning as he noticed the sticky threads connecting your pissy to his abs whenever you lifted off him, “fuck… can i film this? please, babe?”

unable to form any coherent sentences, you merely nodded, slowing your movements as his hands leaves your thigh to grab his phone off the bedside table, the hem of your shirt still balled up behind your back as he tugged lightly. his hand shook a little as he opened his camera app, holding it close to his face as he recorded the way your hips stuttered as he tensed his muscles, making you let out a breathy whine.

“look at you,” he cooed softly, almost a teasing lilt his voice, “you sound so pretty for me, don’t you? that’s right, baby, keep going just like that… does it feel good? hm, sweetheart?”

his tone made your cheeks flush, giving him a shy nod as you subconsciously pick up your pace, your moans growing louder as your puffy clit glides along his torso greedily. “y-yes, sannie, ‘s so good.”

“that’s my girl,” he smirked as he felt your legs press against his sides a little harder at his praises, practically feeling your cunt pulse against him. he tugged at the hem of your shirt, prompting you to pull it off clumsily, your arms trembling. his hungry gaze roamed all over your naked form, angling his phone to capture your face as well as he hummed appreciatively, “as much as i love fucking you in my shirts, i think you’re much prettier like this… all bare and all mine.”

his words seemed to be your last straw as you cried out, his name slipping between your moans as your hips stuttered and slowed and your body twitched. he groaned as he watched you come apart on top of him, shutting off his phone and tossing it aside before sitting up, making you slide down to sit on his lap.

his length of his hard cock covered your pulsing heat, making you twitch from the brief overstimulation as he pressed his lips against yours, muttering between kisses, “you did so well, baby, so perfect for me.”

you laughed breathily against his lips, melting against him and winding your arms around his broad shoulders. you let him kiss you for a few moments before your hips absentmindedly rocked against him, smiling when his breathed hitched.

“still want more, pretty?” he rasped as he pulled away, kissing the corner of your lips as his hands helped moving you against him.

you hummed softly, nodding as your hand ran through his hair, twirling a short lick around your finger before slipping them back down around his shoulder.

“you’re always so needy, hm?” he chuckled lowly. a moment later you were on your back, pressed against the mattress as he hovered over you, his heavy tip sliding against your clit teasingly and making your hips buck against him, whimpering. he leaned down, biting your earlobe as he whispered, “god, you’re insatiable.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf @okdudeiime

[miyasturniolo]

DRIVER LICENSE | chris sturniolo

pairing: bf!chris x f!reader

summary: where chris finally obtained his driver's license after years of waiting, but during your first ride with him, he couldn't resist the urge to explore something else.

warning: smut, car sex, swearing, pet names (ma, mama, baby, darling, pretty girl, sweetheart), sub!chris, p in v, dirty talking, hand job, needy chris

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. bro needs his driver license though. OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE STURNIOLO TRIPLETS!!

WORDS: 2.1k

miyasturniolo on wattpad

you - pink | chris - orange

-

Matt had always teased Chris about not having his driver's license, especially since he was turning twenty one in less than a week. Little did anyone know, he had been taking driving lessons and had finally obtained his driver's license.

His brothers and you were surprised, but happy for him nonetheless. You couldn't help but wonder how long he had kept this secret, especially since he had even bought a car without telling anyone.

At this moment though, you were in his room, running your hands through his hair in a way that made his eyes roll back in pleasure sometimes.

You were watching a movie together when he suddenly suggested going for a night drive. He trusted himself to drive with you, even though he would need to focus a lot since he had just started driving on his own without an instructor.

"Do you want to go for a night drive?" he asked, shifting slightly to look into your eyes while making sure not to disturb your hands in his hair.

"I don't mind, why do you want to?" you say, and he nods, a smile on his lips. It was reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland, but it was a pleasant, contagious smile.

"Are you going to drive?" you ask, and he simply nods again, closing his eyes as your fingers lightly massage his scalp, providing a sense of comfort.

You watch him as he shifts to get out of bed, and you follow suit, changing while Chris casually throws on a shirt over his sweatpants.

He grabs his car keys from the bedside table and then looks at you. "You look fine, baby, no need to get all dolled up," he chuckles, gazing at you.

You smile and listen to his advice, slipping on your shoes while he wears sandals with white socks. You glance at him from head to toe but say nothing, a small smile playing on your lips.

He had just left his room, but he held the door open for you to go first. He smiled and followed you downstairs once you thanked him and walked past, but you waited for him to go ahead after reaching the bottom of the stairs.

He then gently places his hand around your waist and wrapped his arm around you as you both headed to the garage to unlock his car.

You settled into the passenger seat while he took the driver's seat. You chuckled to yourself, which prompted him to look at you in confusion. "What?" he asked.

"I don't feel like I'm with you, it feels like I'm sitting next to Matt," you teased. He just rolled his eyes and playfully hit you in response.

“You're an asshole," he says before starting to drive. He had been nervous about it since he was still new to driving, and there was an unusual feeling in his chest because he was scared of making a mistake. However, he tried to push those thoughts away.

As he began driving, he decided to stop at a nearby shop first so both of you could grab some snacks before figuring out what to do and where to go.

You observed him focusing, finding it new to see your boyfriend behind the wheel, which definitely made him look more attractive.

His blue eyes were fixed on the road, his hands on the wheel showing prominent veins, his messy hair, a small smile on his lips, and the way he quickly glanced at you now and then to make sure you were okay.

He was parked close to the shop and quickly asked, "Wanna come in with me?" Your eyes met his before nodding, and he smiled as he headed towards the car, with you following suit.

As you both strolled towards the shop, he locked the car with the keys and then casually placed his hand on your backside as you entered the corner shop.

"Are you sure you're alright, darling?" he murmured, noticing your silence, but he didn't press further. He simply kissed your forehead.

You found it difficult to resist him any longer - his strong hands, his soothing voice, his masculine scent, and his protective nature all stirred a desire within you.

"I'm okay, I promise," you chuckled softly as he went to grab some snacks, and you tagged along, feeling like he was guiding you. He selected snacks for you and him, insisted on paying, even though you offered to contribute.

He carried the items, holding your hand with his free hand, not allowing you to carry anything. You obediently followed him to the car and sat in the passenger seat as he had instructed.

“Do you know where we're going now, sweetheart?” he asked as he finally settled in his car, gazing at you and gently caressing your cheek with his thumb.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes and relaxing, though your eyes was filled with love and more, as he had seen before.

He continued to look at you a moment longer before kissing your lips, causing you to pull back slightly, but you couldn't due to he made you to stay so your lips are connected to his.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, his hands moved to your hair as he drew you closer, despite the constraints of the gear shift and other obstacles.

“Why do you look so beautiful tonight? You always are, but perhaps it's just the lighting that's making you look so stunning right now,” he whispered against your lips.

He eventually pulled away and removed his shirt, feeling a strong desire for you but managing to restrain himself, asking first, “Are you as turned on as I am?” he inquired.

You chuckled softly, nodded, and took control as he leaned in to kiss your lips. You grabbed his belt, pulling him closer, and kissed his lips quickly before drawing back.

“Want to take this to the back seat?” You suggest, and he simply gazes into your eyes before a smile forms on his lips, which quickly turns into a smirk.

Without saying a word, he climbs into the backseat, and you follow suit, pinning him down and kissing him passionately. His hands move to your backside, gripping it tightly.

“How much do you want me?” you whisper against his lips as you pull back slightly, meeting his blue eyes.

“Really badly, ma,” he mutters, his cheeks turning red. He reaches for your head, pulling you in for another kiss, to which you eagerly respond.

As you both explore each other's mouths, his hands roam over your body, unsure of where to settle. When you eventually break the kiss, he lets out a small whine, keeping his gaze fixed on you, uncertain of your next move.

You remove his shirt, exposing his chest as his fingers graze your shirt. It seems like he's nervous but trying to appear confident.

You remained silent but let out a small chuckle before gently brushing his hair away from his face, causing him to smile.

Soon after, you removed your own shirt, his eyes fixed on your body. Without hesitation, he ran his hand over your boobs, since you haven’t been wearing a bra due to your wearing pajamas before leaving the house.

"Shit, mama," he whispered, gazing at your breasts, unable to tear his eyes away. You simply smirked before kissing his jaw.

A soft moan escaped him as he leaned into your touch, his hand now moving to your hair, tenderly stroking it. However, he found it hard to concentrate, so enthralled was he by your touch.

"Y/n... please," he whispered, struggling to articulate his thoughts. You gazed at him after breaking away from his jawline.

"Look at you... can't even speak properly," you teased, causing him to meet your gaze and squint, though he bit his lip to suppress a smile.

You removed his sweatpants, causing his heart to race faster as you saw his arousal growing due to your actions.

You gently grasped his erection and began to stroke him, eliciting shivers and heavy breathing from him.

"Y/N, oh god, baby, I'm going to cum if you continue," he whimpered, locking eyes with you and then glancing at where your hand was around him.

Pre-cum dripped from his cock, indicating his intense excitement for you. He was unable to contain himself any longer, feeling as though he was being teased.

His legs were trembling slightly as you stroked him, and when you kissed his neck, occasionally nibbling on it, he let out louder moans that were particularly noticeable because you were in his new car.

"Y/N, please fuck me! Please, baby! I'll do anything," he cried out, pulling his own hair as he loved when you did it, pretending his hands were yours.

"So needy for me, I love that from you," you said as you pulled away from his neck, his eyes filled with passion and pleasure.

You continued to stroke him a little longer before pulling away. He whimpered, but then he watched as your hands moved to remove your remaining clothes.

His mouth watered, he bit his lip, and he couldn't help but gaze at your naked body, trying not to moan just from the sight.

"Oh, God," he whispered to himself, unable to resist putting his hands on your body, rubbing your ass, and then moving close to your thighs.

"I just need you to ride me! Please, Y/N," he said, his eyes filled with vulnerability that you loved.

You didn’t hesitate at all, you didn’t want to waste any time. As his hands moved to your hips, you positioned yourself more comfortably against him, feeling his cock covered in pre-cum.

He arched his back when he felt you wrap around him, and you moaned softly as his breath caught. "That's it, sweetheart," he whispered.

His size stretched you, and it took a moment to adjust, but you began rocking your hips, causing his eyes to widen and his moans to grow louder.

"Do you like that?" you asked with a smirk, holding his chest as you increased the pace, eliciting another loud moan from him as you added your own small moans to the mix.

He was rendered speechless as you noticed his heart racing in your hand, but you continued to ride him. Unable to withstand it any longer, he was on the verge of climaxing but held back. His hands reached up to move your hair away from your face.

"Pretty girl," he whispered before releasing a soft moan. You bit your lip to stifle your own moans, feeling his cock pulsating inside you, indicating he was close.

"Me too, baby, me too," you responded, knowing exactly what he meant. Unsure of where to place his hands, he ran them over your body.

As you continued to ride him, planting kisses on his chest and leaving a few hickeys, he whimpered and moaned louder.

"I can't hold it any longer, y/n," he softly confessed, signaling his impending orgasm. You simply hummed in agreement.

His grip tightened as he climaxed inside you, reassured it was safe from pregnancy. He let out a loud moan, rolling his eyes with his mouth agape.

You continue to ride him, causing him to shake as he struggles to catch his breath. His hands tremble on your thighs as you keep riding him towards your climax.

As you felt your orgasm approaching, you surrendered to the sensation, covering his cock with a mix of mutual pleasure.

A loud moan escaped you, causing him to glance at you with a small smile before tucking your hair behind your ear.

"Just lay on top of me," he whispered, guiding you gently to relax as you slowed your racing heart. He continued to stroke your hair while your thumb grazed his chest.

Your sweaty bodies pressed against each other, yet neither of you seemed to mind. Chris shifted slightly to locate your clothes and remembered that he had parked somewhere while you both had been entangled in the backseat.

"Darling, we need to get dressed. We have to head home," he said softly before tenderly kissing your lips.

MIYAS MASTERLIST & INFO

[bamfkeeper]

NSFW Alphabet: Nightcrawler

a/n: At last, I thought this was going to take longer to write but I couldn't help myself. I was surprised that my sfw one did as well as it did, so naturally I had to do a nsfw one. I want to mention I tried to make it as gender-neutral as I can, I want everyone to enjoy my writing regardless of what you identify as. I hope you all enjoy. <3

Minors DNI. 18+ below the cut.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Kurt is very cuddly after sex. Whether he was top or bottom, he likes to snuggle.

If Kurt was on top, he will hold you and reassure you, saying loving things to you while giving you tender kisses on your cheeks and temples, and anywhere that he might've bit or marked. He will also get up and make sure to clean you, wiping a warm rag over your sensitive areas and praising how beautiful/handsome you are.

He would draw a bath or shower, and he'd absolutely change the sheets while you clean up. Kurt would also make sure to get you snacks or anything that you like to have for aftercare.

If Kurt was bottom, he would be rather clingy to you, not wanting you to go and wanting to hold you. He likes to be taken care of in a similar fashion to how he would care for you. He likes to hear your praise and he will want you close to him for the rest of the night.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Kurt has a hard time loving himself sometimes, but he learned to from you. He likes to see your reaction to his body, so he learned to love his tail and pointy canines, since you always seem to react positively to them. His ears can also be quite sensitive if you kiss or lick them.

On his partner, he couldn't possibly choose a favorite body part. He loves your hands, how they feel on his velvety fuzz, how warm and delicate/strong they are.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Kurt has unique biology, so naturally that applies to his spunk too. He cums a lot, and he likes to cum inside you because he feels more connected with you. He also can't deny how incredible it feels, you're already so warm and tight around him, and when his hot cum spurts out and surrounds him, it just makes him want to orgasm again and again.

He isn't ashamed or afraid of cum play either. He will eagerly lick you clean, eating you out after he fills you up. He isn't shy about it. Sometimes he will do this instead of using a damp cloth just to be cheeky. And that typically leads to another round.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Kurt secretly wishes you walk in on him touching himself or masturbating so you can see how needy he is without you.

He's always wanted to try recording himself for you, but that would be something extremely sensitive and intimate you'd have to swear you never showed or told anyone about.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

Kurt isn't a virgin, he's been around a few partners so he is at least a little experienced. He might have only done vanilla things with past partners, or not, but he has had enough partners to know what he's doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

The good hearted part of him wants to stick with missionary, he feels more connected with you that way, and he gets to see how your eyes roll back when he hits that sweet spot deep inside of you, watching you cling onto him, holding him tightly.

But the naughtier part of him wants to say doggy, he can really push himself deep and let loose that way. Especially if you like it too, he loves feeling your ass against his hips, watching you cling onto the blankets while he thrusts with abandon.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

Kurt is obviously very playful, so being intimate with him would be loving and sweet, but he'd laugh every now and then out of pure love and joy. Sex can be a little awkward or messy, and he'd absolutely love those moments where you both let out a little giggle because of a funny sound that came from either of you.

There are times where he takes it more serious, but because it is such an intimate and vulnerable moment for the both of you, it feels more comforting when you can smile and laugh a little.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

Kurt is covered in a layer of velvety fuzz, but he has a happy trail of longer hair that leads down to his crotch. He isn't crazy grown, but he had a good patch of longer fuzz where his pubic hair is. It is groomed well enough to not get in the way of your activities. The hair is also slightly darker than his skin, but not completely black like his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

He can be incredibly sweet and tender, or go a little more intense depending on what you like or ask of him. Overall, his default will generally be loving and romantic. He likes to make the scene comfortable for you, making sure you are cozy laying down, the room will smell nice with candles, and he makes the atmosphere relaxing.

He likes to give you a massage before you have sex, rubbing out any nerves you might have or just to get you extra comfortable with him. He likes to do this especially when you are trying something new that you might be a little wary about.

If you are uncomfortable, he will hold your hips and gently move his thumbs in circles, speaking to you softly and making sure you're not in any pain. He is very patient and won't rush anything.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Kurt doesn't masturbate a whole lot, but when he does, he gets a little crazy. He will touch himself when he's gone on missions or when you're not around to help him. He whines for you, his hand moves up and down and lightly twists to add extra feeling. He likes to pay special attention to his tip.

Sometimes if he really misses you and can't hold out, he will hump himself into his bed and imagine you are there with him. He can get very needy when you're away, and sometimes he just can't help himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Kurt is German, so he has a handful of kinks he likes that are out of the ordinary.

He has a religious and corruption kink, the idea of the blasphemy turns him on and he didn't even realize it until it was an accidentally discovered one night when you two were having sex. You decided to talk dirty to him, and while you generally leave his religion out of it, you said something that made him stiffen and instead of saying something to you about it his cock seemed to harden in your grasp and leak out extra precum.

You learned that he really enjoyed feeling like you were corrupting him. You don't go crazy, but you speak to him about his religion and corruption just enough to make him a mewling mess. Especially if you are roleplaying and he is a priest and you are the sinner corrupting his mind. He gets into it.

He might try some light bondage, nothing too crazy, but tying you up or having himself tied up might be fun. He doesn't like to use anything that would hurt, so no rough ropes or hard metal cuffs. He sometimes wraps his tail around your wrists to hold them above your head or behind your back.

He has a secret breeding kink, hence why he loves doggy so much. He feels like he can let go and pound into you, filling you up and moaning about how many little bamfs you will have (regardless of gender lol it's all for play anyway).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He likes to do things in the comfort of his or your bedroom for the most part, but he isn't opposed to doing it other places. He wouldn't mind going to the roof at night for some fun, or teleporting to the woods, or to places like the danger room when it's unoccupied. (Professor X totally didn't see you two on the security footage).

But mostly just likes to stick to the bedroom. He can enjoy you fully there without feeling rushed or worried about being caught or seen, and he can properly take care of you there.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

Praise towards him gets him riled up like no other. Telling him he did good in something, but really putting emphasis on it makes his cheeks turn purple and his underwear feel tight.

Also learning to speak things in German to him turns him on like crazy, especially if you learned how to say something dirty on your own and randomly saying it to him. He will pounce on you immediately.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Kurt wouldn't want to hurt you or be hurt himself. He takes intimacy seriously, despite him being able to be playful. He would never harm you.

If you treat him poorly or go too far with your dirty talk to the point where it sounds degrading, he won't enjoy it. He's been through a lot of negative experiences and a lot of it was verbal, so anything that sounds similar to that will be a no go for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

Kurt is a giver, so he would jump on you any chance he got. His tongue is incredibly skilled, he knows just how to lap and flick, can mix licking and sucking perfectly. He knows where your clit is and finds it every time, teasing that little button with the swirl of his tongue and sloppy kisses. He loves to tease you, holding your hips still while he buries his nose into your pubic bone and eats you like a starved man.

On the other hand, he knows how to work around a dick, he likes to give teasing kisses and kitten licks before taking you fully and sucking. He will gradually build up to deepthroating, he likes to look up at you with you fully in his throat because you make the best noises for him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Kurt is very adaptive to your preferences. He will pretty much do whatever you ask, whether it be slow or fast, rough or gentle. However he doesn't ever get too rough with you.

If Kurt is bottoming, he usually likes it slow and steady, he likes to feel every thrust given to him. But sometimes, he gets so pent up and horny, he wants you to fuck him good.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

He wouldn't mind doing them. He likes to pull you away, sneaking you behind a wall or teleporting you to an empty room and getting a quick fuck in.

Kurt would prefer to have all the time in the world with you, but he understands that sometimes you just need a quick release, and so does he.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

Kurt is pretty open minded to things, he'd be willing to try just about everything once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

His stamina is very good, I mean he was a trapeze artist and that takes a lot of strength and stamina to do. He can thrust and fuck for quite a long time.

As far as how many rounds he could do, probably only two or three, but he prefers to have one big orgasm inside you rather than dragging it out for too long.

Kurt can last for a while, but generally he only lasts from 10 minutes to an hour, not including foreplay. Which doesn't sound like a lot, but 10 minutes of constant thrusting does get tiring.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

He does have some toys for himself. He has a small bullet vibrator he likes to hold on the underside of his cock, right beneath his tip, it drives him crazy and gets him there fast.

He has some other toys for exploratory things like anal, but wouldn't bring them up with you unless you expressed interest.

If you own toys, he would be down to using them on you for sure. He encourages you to show him how you like to use them so he can learn what you like too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Kurt is a huge tease. He likes to bring you sooo close, then stop and watch you whimper and squirm. That cheeky grin, watching you unravel and become more and more desperate for him gets him going, so when he does finally penetrate you, you're nearly cumming just from that. But when he does allow you to cum after teasing you for so long, it feels so incredible.

Vise versa, Kurt cannot stand being teased, he is a puddle if you bring him close and then stop. He begs and whines, but knows you're only doing it because he did it to you, and his sweet sounds are so good to listen to.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

He can be very loud. Kurt makes an array of different noises when you are together. All of which turn you on even more because he isn't afraid to be loud with you.

He will whimper and whine, moan and groan, and mewl with pleasure. He begs for more from you, talks dirty in German to you, and his accent makes him sound even more desperate sometimes.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

Kurt doesn't cuss a whole lot, but if he's super into it, he will let out a spray of German curses while he is inside you or you inside him, and generally right before he's about to cum.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Germans have nice sizes, so Kurt can range from 7-7.5 inches depending on how long it's been since he had sex and how horny he is.

His cock is blue like him, obviously, and his head is a purple-ish blue that grows brighter when more aroused. It's a very pretty cock, and he blushes like crazy when you tell him that.

He is girthy, just enough to stretch you good when he penetrates you. You will need a second to get used to him, but he won't hurt you terribly.

When he's erect, his cock springs up and curves upward slightly.

Even flaccid, he is still large, his length flaccid is about 4 inches.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Kurt can go without sex for a long time. He has bursts where he is horny a lot and his drive is high, but then he has bursts where he isn't. It depends on his own hormones and his partner. He would never pressure you if he is horny and you aren't, he always wants you to feel comfortable.

Sex isn't a necessity in the relationship, and while he can get pretty kinky and lustful, he ultimately sees sex as another way to connect with his partner in a way no one else can. Being vulnerable and intimate like this makes him feel so special and he hopes that you feel that way too.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Kurt can fall asleep quickly after sex, but he won't allow himself to unless you are completely satisfied and taken care of. He goes through his entire aftercare routine before he will lay down with you.

Once you are cleaned up, fed and given water, he will slip in next to you and curl up right beside you, whispering 'I love yous' and gentle praises, laying sweet kisses along your temple and forehead.

Thanks for reading <3

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[wanda-widow]

Dirty Little Secret

Bucky x Pole Dancer!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Bucky's a sweetheart, but like everyone else, he's also got something to hide. And no one would expect the famed White Wolf to spend his evening as a strip club with a pretty thing he calls his. 

18+ MDNI

Warnings: smut, jealous Bucky, oral (f receiving), light threat, choking kink, swearing, pussy slapping (once), light/no aftercare, light fluff near the end, no use of (Y/N)

Like and reblog if you want, thank you sm for the love on my last post <3

Everyone's taken Bucky as a gentleman, especially after the takedown of the Flag Smashers. His reputation's free of red, amends made, the biggest sweetheart. The biggest sweetheart with the dirtiest secret. 

Over 70 years with no sex has got him pent up, needing release. Sure, his fist can get him off but it doesn't compare to the feeling of a warm body under his. It doesn't matter if he's giving or receiving the pleasure, he just needs sex in any form. 

There's a small but well known strip club located in the heart of Brooklyn, Bucky's favorite place on Monday, Tuesday, and Friday nights, along with weekends. His pocket is always well loaded with cash, especially with the money the government is funding him as an apology for what HYDRA put him through. 

But that's in the past and you, you are the present and future. You, who works Monday, Tuesday, and Friday nights, along with weekends. His favorite dancer and his favorite hookup. 

This Friday night is no different as he steps foot in the pounding club, eyes scanning the sweaty crowd until they land on you, just finishing your routine on stage. You're dressed in a skimpy red piece that barely leaves anything to the imagination, knee high heels adding to the appeal. His eyes rake over your body, darkening at the various bills stuffed wherever the hands could reach. Bills that should be his. Hands that should be his. 

You can practically feel his glare, eyes flitting up to meet his, calculating his expression. With a barely perceptible jerk of his head, you already know to follow him to one of the private rooms. Quickly blowing your kisses, you hurry off stage just in time to see Bucky slap a couple bills into someone's hand before they let him into the dim room, leaving the door open for you. 

The moment you step foot in the room, the door slams shut behind you and you can feel him behind you, radiating anger and something else. Jealousy. 

"I thought I told you to wait for me" he growled into your ear, vibranium fist clenching against the wall. His other hand comes to rest on your waist, a mockery of affection before whatever comes next. 

"I did but you didn't come on time" you shrugged, the excuse sounding lame to even you. "I needed the money, you know that" 

"I said I would pay you extra for your time" he retorted, plucking the bills out from your bra one by one before tossing them somewhere in the room. You barely get the chance to open your mouth to respond when you feel a cold metal hand spin you around and wrap around your throat, just barely applying pressure. 

"Since you didn't wait, I don't see a point in paying you extra" he breathed out, thumb sliding up to tilt your chin up, his lips ghosting over yours. His arousal is evident against your thigh, your body shifting instinctively so he's nestled right against your core. 

"I'll give you better service for more money" you offered, already sinking to your knees for him. Truth is, if you didn't need the money so desperately, you'd do anything for free for this man. 

Bucky almost caved but shook his head, tugging you back up. "I don't have time" he muttered, frustrated as he checked his watch before spotting the loveseat in the corner of the room. Leading you there, he tugged you into his lap, lips meeting your eagerly as you melted into his hold. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip before you parted your lips, tongues sliding deliciously. 

You were already grinding against him on instinct when he gripped your hips to stop you. 

"Get on your back" he muttered, already doing the act for you as he flipped your positions and then settled on the floor to be face to face with your soaked panties. 

"Already so wet for me... or is this from all those other men giving you money, hm? You don't need anything from me anymore, might as well make this our last session" he taunted,  his metal hand sliding up your thigh teasingly, goosebumps following in his trail.  

"No, no... no, no just you. Only you get me soaked" you whined, missing the way he smirked at your desperate words. 

He let out a hum before carefully sliding your panties down your legs, tucking them in his back pocket as he spread your thighs wider. You clenched around nothing in anticipation, letting out a quiet gasp when he ran a finger up your slit, gathering your slick. 

"So pretty..." he murmured, glancing at you as he kissed up your inner thighs. "So perfect" 

You squirmed, almost about to beg for him to touch you when he ran his tongue through your folds, a moan tumbling past your lips as your hips canted up. 

"Such a pretty pussy for a pretty girl" he smirked, tongue doing circles on your clit before he took it between his lips and sucked lightly. 

"B-Bucky- ah... need more..." you moaned, fingers fisting in his hair, lips set into a pout. 

"I don't think you deserve it" he chided, his flesh hand sliding under your back to pull you closer to him. "You're lucky I'm fond of you"

He slipped two metal fingers into you, curling them so they hit your sweet spot that he knew so well. His tongue worked quickly over your clit, flicking back and forth, his fingers pumping with the obscene shlick shlick shlick, already building you towards your orgasm. 

"Are you gonna wait for me tomorrow instead of throwing yourself on stage for the world to see?" he asked, purposely slowing his fingers as you whined from the fading pleasure. His thumb pressed down on your clit, your hips bucking up into the pressure.

"Yes, yes I'll wait for you" you cried out when his flesh hand came down on your clit. 

"Good girl" he growled before his mouth attached back onto your sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers slipped back into your pussy, curling and pumping eagerly, your walls starting to flutter around him from the building pleasure. 

One last swipe of his tongue on your clit had you unraveling, his eyes watching as your back arched off the couch, legs shaking and clamping around his head as his fingers worked you through your high. The cries of his name falling from your lips mixed in with curses and moans were heavenly. He tucked the sounds away to memory, his cock throbbing against his jeans but he could take care of that problem later. 

He drew gentle circles on your clit, huffing softly when your body jerked in response to the overstimulation. You felt a couple bills flutter down onto your flushed skin, not bothering to count them when you felt him lean down next to your ear. 

"If you're really worried about money, just tell me. I can cover it, doll" he said softly, brushing some hair out of your face before leaving a quick kiss on your lips. 

You nodded, shifting so that you were sitting up on the couch, noticing that the bills littering your skin were hundreds. 

"If you forget our agreement tomorrow, consider your orgasms also forgotten" he said casually before the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you dazed and always, always wanting more. 

Part 2

[rhysazriel]

Feel My Touch [Azriel]

SUMMARY: After Azriel left you high and dry one night, he’s left with the task of coaxing you out of your subspace. (4.2k)

WARNINGS: kissing, teasing, swearing, smut, dirty talk, dom/sub relationship, unprotected sex, very brief mentions of daddy kink 

A/N: in my humble opinion, Azriel and subspace should always go hand in hand together, he is a dom!!

You’d been feeling a little soft the past couple of days. Azriel had been busy most days with gathering information against the mortal queens, leaving you to your own devices until the sun allowed the moon to shine and he loved on you a little. 

You’d been patient, to say the least, and last night he took his frustrations from the day out on you and offered no aftercare to follow.

It was something he’d done (or rather, hadn’t) a few times, but only when he had a bad day or he needed to teach you a lesson – when you’d been a bad girl. Well, you’d been a very good girl so you were awfully confused last night when Azriel fell asleep moments after slipping out of you; not offering any love or care that he usually showered you with after.

You were unable to sleep – too caught in your own head trying to figure out what you did to upset him. Did you forget to do something? Did you say something you wasn’t supposed to? You didn’t know. What you did know was that Azriel very rarely used his real dominant side unless you were in big trouble or he’d had a real bad day.

That strict rule he’d set on himself meant you’d only been in subspace once or twice before and it’d always been something to massively worry Azriel. He was used to seeing his love be this independent, badass female that didn’t let people boss you around. Not watching you mope after him with teary doe eyes and a permanent pout in your bottom lip.

But when you have one of those nights where he is ruthless and mean and doesn’t follow through with any aftercare, you’re left to coil into yourself and drown in this dark hole of submission where you feel like a tiny person that needs constant reassurance and love.  

You’d always been affectionate; you both were–Azriel more so secretly–but when you were in that turmoil state, it was worse. You’d seem like a child that leeched onto his limbs and wanted to sit in his lap while sucking on his fingers as he read a book. You never truly realised you did those things in your sub head because you seemed to disassociate from yourself and into a childlike mindframe.

The first time it happened, Azriel made the situation worse. He thought that by showering you with affection and love, he’d be able to coax you out of it. Unfortunately, it shoved you deeper into your dark hole and took almost three days to get you back to your normal state and frame of mind.

The second time it happened, he tried another approach. He was harsh and mean and demanded that you snapped out of it. It only made you coil into yourself more and for hours, all you could say was, “I’m sorry, Az. I’m sorry I was bad, please don’t hate me!” to which, Azriel’s heart broke and he coaxed you out of it again with a little more love and affection.

Maybe that was why he didn't like to delve too far into the kink very often. He much preferred you as your vibrant and independent self and if he was honest, seeing you in such a subby and insecure state had bile rising up his throat. He hated knowing that he rendered you to a helpless state outside of the bedroom. 

He’d had a long week and he knew he probably should have coddled you to his chest last night and reminded you he loved you, but he was fucking spent and when he awoke this morning to go back out again, you were still fast asleep and he didn’t want to wake you.

He hoped to come home to you lounging on the sofa with some snacks or wine waiting for him. But when he rolled home at 7:30 and kicked his shoes off at the door, he was greeted with the complete opposite. There was no warm scent of cookies wafting through the house and the sofa was bare with the cushions placed neatly; like you hadn’t sat down in hours.

Azriel made his way closer into the house with furrowed brows and a twitching nose. He could very clearly smell garlic and a cheesy hint of tomato sauces and meatballs. When he crept into the kitchen, he found you dishing up two plates of your homemade spaghetti and meatballs and popping little garlic dough balls into a side dish.

Your dining table was decorated with wax candles and two tall glasses of wine, the good cutlery put out by their placemats and Azriel was certain he could also smell a hint of caramel chocolate that you’d no doubt baked a cake from. 

His brows were still furrowed as your back stayed turned to him. Your hair was thrown in a messy nest atop your head and you were in nothing but a pair of tube socks and one of his dress shirts.

“What’s all this?” he coughed out to clear his throat and catch your attention. You had both plates in your hands as you spun around with slightly widened eyes and a big, toothy smile. 

“You’re home!” You squeaked, placing the dishes of piping food on the placemats. You reached for him on your tiptoes, pressing a longing kiss to his chapped lips and he kissed back but didn’t let his eyes close like yours did.

“I am, what’s the occasion?” he asked again, hands on your hips as you wrapped your little arms around his broad shoulders. 

His dress shirt rode up your body as you stretched and he could feel the delicate skin of your hips and soft material of your cotton underwear beneath his palm.

You seemed to blush at the question, avoiding making eye contact with him but Azriel tried to chase your line of vision to force it upon you. You tried to shimmy out of his grip but Azriel wouldn’t  have any of it. He gently pinched your jaw with a bent pointer finger beneath your chin and a thumb hovering across your bottom lip.

His head dipped to get a better look at you. There was a barely familiar look in your eyes and it was only when Azriel really looked that he noticed the perk pout in your lips. He should’ve known the second he saw you that something wasn’t right. 

You never pranced around the house in his shirt unless you were sick or  having a lounge day – neither of which were currently happening.

His shadows finally allowed themselves to circle your chest and up to your neck, a few straying to your arms before they returned back to their master. 

You were in subspace.

Azriel let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his wings droop on his back. He knew this was his fault, that he basically shoved you down into that little mindset last night when he left you to sort yourself out and didn’t kiss you goodnight. He knew you were  feeling needy and just wanted to please him.

“Baby…” he cooed, both hands cupping the sides of your face and your plump lips squished slightly between his hold. 

“I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore,” you murmured in a slight whine, like the words were stuck in your throat and you were too scared to mutter them out.

Azriel leaned down and kissed softly at your mouth, nudging the tip of his nose against your own. Brushing stray chunks of hair from your face, he pulled back just enough to allow you to look at him. 

“I’m not mad at you, my love. I never was,” he told you in a gentle tone. His words were spoken in a soft drawl – slower than usual to stress how much you needed to listen to him.

You let out a pathetic whine and tears started to pool in your eyes. You wanted to argue that he was, that surely you’d done something to upset him for him to act the way he had. 

Azriel seemed to know what was running through your head. Like you were too worried to speak in case you angered him further or he punished you. 

Punished you outside of the bedroom. Something he’d never done and never would. 

“But I made you dinner to apologise. I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you mad,” you pouted in a frantic state, like you were desperate to show that whatever you did to warrant the cold shoulder after sex last night, you didn’t mean it and you were sorry.

Azriel shook his head and kissed you again. “You didn’t make me mad, angel. You never make me mad,” he mumbled against your lips. 

The look in your eyes suggested you didn’t believe him. That perhaps you were telling yourself that his gentle tone was a trap. That he’d shower you with affection before neglecting you again, right when you believe he wouldn’t. 

“I was mean last night. I didn't take care of you after, did I?” he tried to encourage you to agree, to get you to nod your head but you stayed silent.

“It’s okay, my love. I’m not mad at you, could never be mad at you, baby,” he shushed you. Azriel released his hold on your cheeks and coddled you into his warm chest, pressing comforting kisses to the top of your head as your arms wrapped around his middle.

You didn’t seem to believe him, worried that maybe he was just saying that to coax you to warm back up to him before he punished you. Maybe as soon as you start smiling he’d throw you over his knees and give you a spanking. You were unsure if that’s what your subby mind wanted or not.

Azriel pulled you out of his grasp and held your face again. There was denial swimming in your eyes. You didn’t believe that you had done anything wrong – you didn’t think you deserved to be let off the hook. Azriel squinted and tilted his head a little, trying to read what was going through your head.

Do you want to be punished? Wouldn’t that just shove you further into your submissive headspace?

He knew you, it was best not to entertain the thought of Azriel being above you—being dominant—being daddy. Every other time he’d snapped you from your subspace, he’d had to remind you that he didn’t want his little girl – that he wanted his baby, his fiancé, his strong and independent female. 

He had to remind you that he was Azriel and he wouldn’t respond to you if you didn’t address him as such. But he also had to be careful. If he didn’t go about it the right way, you could fall deeper and it was the last thing he wanted.

He leaned down to kiss at your lips again but you didn’t kiss him back. You didn’t think you should be allowed to. Azriel frowned, his lips smearing against your closed mouth. 

“Why won’t you kiss me back, baby? Just want some kisses,” he pleaded softly, nose bumping yours and he coaxed tiy to open up; to kiss him back just as gently.

“That’s better…” he breathed. 

You let yourself sink into the kiss, your arms wrapping back around his neck as your chest bumped with his. Azriel still had his hands on the sides of your flushed face and they sunk down your body in tender holds. His palms rested on the little dips in your hips as he pulled you closer. Your neck craned up to meet his kisses and he dipped down to keep your touch intact.

An idea sparked in Azriel’s head and his grip on your hips loosened. His hands snaked around to the front of your (his) shirt and he began unbuttoning it from the bottom to the top. You don’t break the kiss or comment on his advances. You let him have his way with you, do what he pleased because you thought this was it: your punishment was just beginning.

But oh, how wrong you were. 

When the shirt slipped from your shoulders and swam at your ankles, goosebumps broke across the surface of your soft skin. Your nipples pearled and they scratched against the material of his leathers. The sensation caused a careless whimper to slip from your mouth, and into his. Azriel tried not to grin at the noise and let his warm, scarred hands run up the expanse of your bare back.

“Feel good, baby?” he mumbled into your mouth, hot tongue sliding against yours and you hummed again, welcoming his heavy taste of coffee and mint. 

Your mind was in a state of turmoil. Was he going to punish you? Was this his way of proving he wasn’t mad? What was he going to do? You can’t think straight.

You nod your head, kissing back with just as much vigour as you could but Azriel slowed the pace, wanting you to just feel him. 

“Just taste my lips,” he guided. 

His mouth moved slowly across yours, touch barely there but enough for you to feel him, to taste him. The gentleness of his touch helped to clear your mind to a state of blankness where you had nothing but him.

From the thumping of the bond that tugged on his chest, Azriel knew what word was festering on the tip of your tongue. His mouth barely caressed you as his left hand came up to massage your jaw. 

“Azriel,” he corrected you before you even spoke, his words a breathless whisper. He didn’t let his eyes close and you didn’t let yours open.

He watched you keen for more, to get a stronger taste and he felt you shiver in just your underwear and tube socks. Azriel allowed his hand to wander to the backs of your thighs before hoisting your small frame into his arms. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his middle, minding the expanse of his wings, and with his lips still on yours, he carried you through the hall and into the bedroom.

He didn't throw you on the bed like you expected. Instead, Azriel slowly eased you back on the balls of your feet while keeping his tongue against your own. 

“Daddy,” you mewled as he backed out of the kiss just enough to unbutton the lapels that contained his weapons to him. 

You felt the rough graze of the leather brush across your nipples and you expected him to blindfold you, to tie you up with the belt that holstered his weapons. But he let it fall to their ankles and you were left in another state of confusion. 

“Azriel,” he corrected you again, nosing at yours and tugging the leathers off his chest. Azriel guided your small hands to his torso, allowing the heat of his skin to warm yours. 

“I’m here, Y/N. Just feel my skin,” he encouraged in a soothing mutter.

He guided your hands across his chest and shoulders, coaxed you to squeeze and grope at his muscles and he started to swell harder in his pants when your thumb brushed over his nipples and fingers reached to lock in the tendrils of hair on the nape of his neck. With your mind and hands occupied on his body, Azriel took the opportunity to unbuckle his belt and slip out of his trousers.

He toed off his socks and kicked the clothing to the side; a prominent tent pitched in his boxers and you bravely let your hand fall further down his body. Your wrist knocked against his length through the cotton pants and he stifled a groan. “Please, daddy,” you whispered in a shaky tone against his lips and he could taste the cinnamon bagel you had for lunch.

He subtly shook his head against you, nose bumping yours as he eased you onto the bed – crawling between your parted legs and helping your head to lay back on his pillow. He knew his scent was encompassing your senses and boggling your mind. He also knew it was what would bring you back to him.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered softly. 

You’re swarmed by the darkness of his shadows that caress your skin, that whisper gentle reminders that he wasn’t made. Even through the shadows that swarmed you and the dim lighting of the bedroom, Azriel could still see your face – still make out your fluttering eyes beneath closed lids and he urged you to open them.

“Open your eyes, my love. Feel my touch,” he breathed.

His hips were gently rutting against yours, body keeping your thighs parted. Azriel reached a hand between your bodies. He didn’t want to break the touch to take off your underwear, so he opted to pull his aching cock from the waistband of his boxers instead. His tip was oozing with precum that he knew you loved to taste but you can do that later.

Azriel just wanted his love back.

He massaged your dripping core over your knickers, soaking the fabric as you whined desperately at him. Azriel peeled the fabric aside, thumbing at your swollen little clit and he felt your body jolt under his touch. “That's it,” he coaxed encouragingly, rubbing slow circles and you felt his cock bump at your entrance.

You let out a shallow shrill, one that was drowned by the silence of the room and he cooed at you. Azriel had one arm bent by the side of your head to hold up his weight and his hand was angled perfectly for him to brush strands of hair from your clammy forehead. “Gotta come back to me, Y/N. Gotta taste my lips and feel my skin, my love.”

You keen under his touch as Azriel dragged his thick cock to your weeping hole, feeling it flutter against his tip at the anticipation of intrusion. “Shh,” he cooed, circling your entrance before pushing in just a few inches. You gasped against his mouth, welcoming his tongue as he massaged his against yours.

He slowly sheathed in, vision dotted and he tried to muffle his belts of pleasure. You were clamping him down, walls soaked and warm and he felt so fucking snug in your tiny little cunt that stretched around him. 

“So good,” he praised, shuddering breaths across your face and your back arched, your chest out and into his.

“Daddy, please,” you mewled in a soft gasp, eyes wide open but you were staring straight through Azriel, like you didn’t really see him. He shushed you, rolling his lips deliciously and suckling on your tongue. “Come on, Y/N,” he guided. “Come back to me, love. Come back to Azriel.”

His hazel embers were drilling into yours in a gentle manner, like he was trying to get you to find the light in his eyes and swim to it. He tugged on that bond again, surging as much love and force as he could. 

He could feel your heart hammering against his chests and you were clawing at his back when your eyes met. “Yes,” You gasped as his cock hit against your precious little spongy spot.

Azriel grunted and panted above you, a sight so fucking holy toy thought you might’ve gone to heaven. But his thrusts were anything but angelic and his curls and wings were feigning devil horns above his head. 

“Azriel,” you choked, fingernails tearing into the taut skin of Azriel’s shoulders but he fucked into you harder at the mention of his name spilling weakly from your lips.

“That’s it. Just feel me, my love,” he grunted, slick sounds of your pussy squelching and his cock thrusting filled the air. Az’s chest was heavy on yours, a crushing weight that he couldn’t seem to hold up but the touch of his body on yours was what you needed. That push of guidance and pulling of grounding that knocked you into you right mindset.

“Azriel!” You cried again. 

Your voice was much harder, louder – you were more sure of yourself and him and where your mind was racing off to. Your eyes were still locked in an intense gaze and he didn’t know if your body was relaxing because you were close to your release or because you were out of your subby headframe.

You tugged back on that bond, finally, and Azriel could hear the pleads and cries of his name that you echoed through the bridge that connected your souls. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Want you to cum all over my cock, baby. Come on.”

Azriel nipped at your bottom lip, let your tongue run across his gums and lick into his mouth. He could feel your thighs trembling from either side of his body and he kept going.

“Wanna cum! Please, please, please,” you begged, eyes frantic and wide. Azriel’s lips smeared against yours messily, cock sliding easily as you gripped him tighter and tighter. “Cum, baby. You don’t have to ask, just cum,” he promised.”

“Azriel! Fuck, Azriel!” 

Ecstasy washed over you with a shrill cry, eyes shut tight as Azriel met his own release and spilled into you hotly. You squirmed as he stilled, panting and frantic. Your hands were all over his clammy skin as you tried to regain a sense of consciousness.

Azriel’s hands looped around your face, shushing and cooing you to open your eyes, to come back to him. “Hey, shhh. Open your eyes, my love. Come on,” he spurred tenderly, tip of his nose nudging yours as your eyes slowly fluttered open. 

You blinked away the orgamsic blur and a toothy grin sat lazily on your lips.

He waited a beat, tried to decipher for himself whether or not you’d snapped out of it and was back with yourself. 

“Cauldron, you literally fucked it out of me,” you choked out a drunken giggle. 

Azriel let out a sighed laugh, head in the crook of your neck and your eyes were dazzling in post-orgasmic bliss.

“You’re a nightmare,” he joked into your chest, kissing his way up to your mouth. You offered an exhausted giggle, cheeks tinted pink from embarrassment of the underlying situation at hand. 

“I’m sorry, you know. Don’t know why I got like that,” you apologised. You felt a little silly, if you were honest, but Azriel never let you feel that way for long.

He shook his head and kissed your swollen lips again. “Don’t,” he said. “Was my fault for not making sure you were alright after. I normally do, I don’t know why I didn’t last night,” he admitted lowly. 

It was your turn to shake your head and scratch your blunt fingernails through his curls and at his scalp. “Not your fault, we both know how I get sometimes. Thank you, for snapping me out of it.”

Azriel kissed you softly, lips enveloped in a tired kiss as he slipped out of you, both of you hissing at the lack of warmth you offered each other. He sighed as he fell onto his back, sweaty chests cooling from the air. You coddled into his chest, his seed dripping from your sore cunt but you didn’t make any attempt to stop it.

Azriel snorted. “You’re dripping on the sheets.” 

You rolled your eyes at the comment and peeled your body away from his, sitting up to look between your parted thighs. Sure enough, there was a soaked patch just beneath you where arousal was starting to stick to the sheets.

You shrugged. “It’s your cum, not mine,” you argued playfully, shooting fake glares at the culprit. Azriel grinned cheekily at his love, reaching out for you so he could massage at your thigh the way he knew made you relax. 

“Well I do apologise,” he quipped in a playful tone and you hummed, playing into his mood.

“Mhm, you can change the sheets.” You leant down to kiss his cheek before hopping off the bed and padding nakedly to your bathroom. You switched on the light and allowed it to drown out into the bedroom so Azriel could see just how much mess you made. He couldn’t stop the blush that sat heavy on his cheeks.

You peered your head out of the bathroom and Azriel swore his heart fucking grew twice it’s size and he almost forgot how to breath. You had a shy smile on your lips and a look in your eye that he knew all too well. “I know you snapped me out of it but I still want to feel you… can we take a bath?” You asked, eyes hopeful as you gnawed on your bottom lip.

Azriel swallowed back the love that wanted to spew out of his mouth and nodded his head. “You can have anything you want, my love,” he sighed, dreamily. 

He followed you into the bathroom. When the water was drawn just enough and to the perfect temperature, you climbed in together with your back resting against his chest and Azriel’s lips pressed to your neck.

feedback is always appreciated!! <3

[makeyoumine69]

Euphoria (Memory Reboot x2)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After wrestling with the lingering thoughts of Bateman, you finally found yourself open to Paul Allen's offer — a life-changing opportunity. But despite your resolve, you couldn't shake the need for closure. Determined, you sought one last encounter with Patrick, intent on resolving the unsaid and the undone before the cityscape of New York faded into your past.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, pegging, sex toys, face riding, penetrative sex, rimming (Patrick receiving), oral sex (69, blowjobs), edging, biting, spanking, cum shot, masturbating, praise kink, body worship, drug usage, pet names, dirty talk, needy Patrick, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation.

WORDS: 8.7k

SONG REC: V��J, Narvent — Euphoria

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm sorry it took me quite long to write this, I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [CHAPTER 1].

The clock’s ticking was the only sound in the opulent meeting room of Pierce & Pierce office. Your heart seemed to beat to the rhyme of ticking, while you were nervously spinning the thin cigarette in your hands but never really trying to actually smoke;  the glass ashtray in front of you would probably be left empty till the end of the day. It was even funny how drastically things changed after that…moment of privacy you shared with Bateman. Starting from that, you couldn’t really get him out of your head, even though it has already been several weeks of your pretending game of “nothing had happened” between you and Patrick. It was a matter of time, when your colleagues would start to notice your strange behavior whenever you and Bateman were in one room. 

Squeezing the cigarette between your shaky fingers, you turned around in the leather chair to look at the New York skyline through the wide window. ‘That it is not an exit,’ echoed in your ears and you tried to shake the nervousness off from your tense shoulders, but the more you were being alone, the more surrounding space was weighing on you as if you were on the very bottom of the Pacific ocean. 

The moment the door swung open and Timothy Bryce entered the meeting room, you were more in control of yourself. “Hey, Tim. Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Sorry, (y/n). Had a business call with some delusional prick.” Bryce snarled and took a seat across from you.

“Delusional prick?”

"Yeah, you know...delusional," he chuckled and glanced at the cigarette in your hand, which was still more like an accessory. "The guy thought I gave a fuck about his life and his wife, who used to be a whore, by the way."

With a soft snicker, you made yourself more comfortable in your chair, throwing one leg over another. “Wanna smoke?”

“Yep,” he leaned over the table to take the cigarette, your fingers touched for a moment but none of you paid attention. “So, what happened? Why did you want to see me?”

Confused, you took a moment to think about your answer. You worried a lot about picking the right words, but now you were even more anxious. ‘I just need to tell him the truth and that’s all,’ you reassured yourself before turning to face Tim. “Well, the thing is - I’m quitting P & P.”

Tim’s face remained unchanged for a second, but then the man furrowed his brows, tilting his head and rubbing his ear as if he didn’t hear. “You're what? Quitting?”

"Right," you gave him a half-smile and continued. "Recently, I received a very... very good offer from one company in Chicago."

“Jesus Christ. Chicago? Really?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Bryce lit the cigarette and leaned back in his chair. “Who the fuck even gave you this idea? And why so sudden? You have such a good job here, with a good salary and…” He paused and blew a few rings of smoke. “Do those bastards pay well?”

Laughing heartily, you crossed your arms over your chest and watched the smoke dividing the room in two with a white veil. “So many questions. Are you interested in leaving Pierce & Pierce too?”  That was not a serious question, since you knew that Bryce was more than satisfied with his job. “If I say who recommended that place to me, will you keep it a secret?” Tim nodded even before you could say something else. “I was at one P&P party, that one you decided to skip a week ago. So, there I met Paul Allen and we talked a bit and he mentioned that he just came back from his business trip from Chicago…we had a long conversation, but as a result he proposed to me to think about the option to change my current job.”

All the time while you were speaking, Tim was glancing at you with wide open eyes, his prominent brows curling up and down whenever you mentioned Paul Allen’s name. It was always funny for you to watch Bateman & Co getting so frustrated and annoyed whenever Allen was around or whenever someone discussed his success with having the Fisher account. To say the least, his ability to get a reservation at Dorsia. ‘I’m not gonna tell any of them that Allen offered me dinner in Dorsia after that party.’

“So you were unsatisfied with your job all this time and didn’t say anything? That sucks, (y/n). Didn’t expect that to come, not gonna lie,” Bryce made a low sound which was very similar to growling, but at the same time it also sounded like a scoff. “But, if that really is what you want, then who am I to judge you? We have only one life to fulfill all our needs, right?”

Timothy’s statement was like a balm to your soul, that was exactly what you hoped he would tell you and when he did, you felt some kind of relief washing over you like a breeze of fresh air.

“Thank you, Tim,” you finally grinned and put your elbows on the table. “Glad you didn’t start to read me notations.”

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Him?” You squinted and tilted your head; your intuition was screaming that something was so damn wrong.

“Bateman,” with a sly smile, Bryce put the cigarette out in a glass ashtray; his glance was eloquent but you never really managed to read it. “I bet he will be upset. Very upset.”

“Bryce ” you rolled your eyes. ‘Is he lying or…?’ That question remained unspoken. “Leave these cheesy jabs to yourself, okay?”

Tim only laughed at your weak attempt to threaten him and stood up from the table. “You know, I saw him with Jean in Arcadia last night…” Now this information could come in handy… “I think they had some kind of date or something, huh,” he chuckled again and fixed his tie, giving the picture on the opposite wall a scrutinizing glance. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but something is definitely happening. In my opinion, you should tell him about your…unexpecting leaving, you know.”

Before you could respond, Timothy Bryce looked at you one last time and left the meeting room. Now, you were left alone but not really alone as the weight of the newfound information lay on your shoulders like two massive dumbbells. ‘If everything is too obvious for Bryce, what other things might the others think about me and Bateman?’ That was a rhetorical question mostly, but still you couldn’t even get up from the chair, sensing the strange, chilling fear inside your chest—what if you were mistaken with accepting the offer of a new job?

Gritting your teeth, you snarled and almost kicked the table from beneath, your palms were clenching and unclenching, thankfully no one could see you like this. Swiftly but nervously, you finally stood up and headed out from the meeting room, striving to avoid any of your soon-to-be-ex colleagues on your way to Bateman’s office. 

How many times have you rehearsed the words you were going to say while you were walking up there? Countless. But still, when you entered Patrick's office and saw his lovely secretary, everything inside you froze - words, emotions, even your breath.

“Hi, Jean,” you mumbled, with a half-smile on your slightly tensed face. “Looking good.”

“Uh, thank you,” the blonde woman replied and fixed the stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

As soon as you heard the echo of Patrick's voice through the office door, a lump formed in your throat and you had to cough several times because of the unpleasant dryness.

“Well,” you paused and glanced at the closed door with a nameplate ‘Patrick Bateman’ on it. “You would help me a lot if you let me have a private conversation with your boss.”

“Patrick is,” her voice suddenly wavered, implying that something was wrong. “He’s busy right now.”

“Oh,” you stepped back involuntarily. “Okay, I can come later.”

“No,” Jean replied curtly. “I’m sorry, but today is not an option at all.”

‘Is that some kind of joke?’ You hummed to yourself, already regretting coming here in the first place. “All right then. Have a nice day, Jean.” Turning around you already stepped out from the office when you head her voice:

“(Y/n), wait. Oh, I hope I pronounced your name correctly.” She blushed once you came back inside. “I think I can tell him about your visit, when he will be less busy.”

That offer was not something you would expect. “Actually, that would be nice,” you clicked on your tongue, considering your next steps. “Tell him that I have a reservation at Dorsia at eight o’clock–”

“Today?” Her question cut off your bluffing. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

You just grinned politely in return. “Yep, today. Tell him…that I need to talk with him about business and stuff. And, that it would be probably the last chance for him to catch up with me.” Jean’s eyes widened for a moment, but you reassured her instantly. “No drama, just changing my job.”

“Uh, that was probably a tough decision?”

“Not really,” you winked at her and crossed your arms over the chest. “But don’t tell him about that, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” She tried to hide her confusion behind a warm smile but failed. “I’ll tell him that you will be waiting for him at Dorsia tonight and that this conversation is very important.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed and for a moment just stood there, looking at the closed office door. “Thank you, darling. For everything.”

You made a special accent on the word ‘darling’, purposely embarrassing her and leaving no room for any questions and other stuff that would make a current situation even more fucked up. 

After you left Bateman’s office you had to find Allen as only half of what you told Jean was actually bluffing—you knew that Paul had a reservation at Dorsia tonight, considering he was inviting you for dinner. Allen’s strange interest in you wasn’t your top priority at that moment but using it for your sake was something you couldn’t deny at such a situation. So when you finally found Paul in one of the meeting rooms, you persuaded him to give you that reservation, explaining that you wanted to show one of your colleagues Dorsia before you would leave New York and move to Chicago. And even though everyone would find out that that colleague was Patrick Bateman, you wouldn't’ care since you would be far away from here.

A few hours later, the melodious voice of Whitney Houston reverberated off the walls of the opulent living room in Bateman's apartment, the lyrics of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody," which Patrick knew perfectly, striking a chord in his chest every time the song came on.

But today everything was different.

Everything, except some random blonde bimbo who was on her knees between Bateman’s spread legs, sucking his thick cock but not actually giving him any pleasure. Frustrated, the man tugged on her hair without any compassion, bringing her closer, so her nose was almost brushing against his hairy pubis. But almost immediately, the woman began to whimper and claw at the perfect skin of his hips, and he didn't like it.

“What? Already tired?” Bateman sneered and fixated the blonde’s head in one place for a moment by her neck. “Or is that your first time? Then, I’m so fucking honored!"

As soon as the man let the blonde go, she pushed him away and sat back on her ass, breathing heavily. “Are you crazy?” the bimbo inquired and pressed a hand to her half-exposed breasts, her whole appearance looked messy. “I was about…t-to choke on your fucking dick!”

Sighing, Bateman rolled his eyes and just stretched out on the couch, lazily stroking his half-hard shaft. "So, this is your first time?" The woman hesitated to answer, which only made Patrick mock her even more. "Did you tell me that you have a boyfriend? And he works at P&P, right?"

Wiping her mouth with undisguised contempt, the blonde started to get up, but Patrick stepped on the hem of her dress and she almost fell. "Marcus! Stop it!"

"Uh, look at you," the man chuckled, watching her feeble attempts to get up. "Such a pathetic little bitch, pathetic and greedy," the man added, giggling. "Ready to give head to every vice president at Pierce & Pierce! Your boyfriend should be so proud of you."

The woman was on the verge of tears when Bateman finally allowed her to get up and collect her things. She had been in such a hurry that she had left her panties on the glass coffee table. All this gave Patrick much more pleasure than the blonde's inexperienced blowjob.

"Ask your boyfriend to teach you how to suck dicks," he blurted out as the woman rushed into the hallway, rifling through her purse looking for something. "Since he's probably a pro at that sort of thing."

But the girl was already gone. So the man could only laugh to himself, so proud of his cheeky jabs, if only he didn't feel like a schoolboy dreading his upcoming meeting with his teacher. With a heavy sigh, Bateman closed his eyes for a second, his cock was already soft, but his sac were still tense and full of his cum; he felt too unsatisfied with himself, which only made things worse.

What was it even for?

The man could just take some coke, lie down on his bed, close his eyes and think of you—that was enough for him to cum so hard that he had to go to the laundry almost every day because he ran out of sheets. But today was different, considering that Patrick was going to meet you, and not just anywhere, but in fucking Dorsia. It seemed that everyone in this town could get a res there, but not him.

Biting his lower lip, the man looked down at the throbbing cock in his hand - the mere thought of you was making him horny as hell. "Shit…" If only he could reboot his memory and get rid of that scene in the Tunnel. If only. Meanwhile, the Whitney Houston tape continued to play the song "Where Do Broken Hearts Go". Bateman doubted he would be able to masturbate, he was too nervous and stressed out, even imagining you while that bitch was giving him head didn't work. Although it usually did. "Dorsia, huh," the man giggled nervously and checked his Rolex - he still had plenty of time. As if spellbound, Patrick slid to the floor and kicked off his leather shoes, his red tie already loosened and his pants hiked down. Leaning against the couch, Bateman threw his head back and began to jack off, recalling the forbidden, sinful sensations of your hand sliding along his hot flesh. "Mmm-fuck," he moaned and shivered, his free hand already gripping the edge of the white couch, several beads of sweat running down his tense temples. What if today he finally found the courage to confess? Confess that all these days had been a fucking torture for him, that he was ready to crawl on the walls from how much he longed for you, not even physically, but mentally. Maybe, just maybe, your reassurance that everything was not over for him, that maybe he still had a chance to have some normalcy in this cruel world—could change everything?

"Fuck, f-fuck!" Patrick cursed, sensing that his impending orgasm was slipping away from him just by reflecting on the things that were happening between the two of you. Jerking off and thinking about your sexy voice, your hot body and your cheeky smile was one thing, it always turned him on better than anything else, but thinking about the complexity of your relationship… that was not a turn-on for him. Not at all. Cursing to himself, Patrick slicked back his auburn hair and quickly got up to stagger to the bathroom, where he nervously opened the cabinet behind the mirror and found a small white jar of pills. Xanax was his only stress reliever so far. Taking a deep, almost desperate breath, Bateman looked at his reflection, his bloodshot eyes full of tears that threatened to cascade down like a waterfall. "This is not an exit." Patrick told his reflection, but opened the jar anyway and took a handful of pills. Frustrated, unsatisfied, he didn't know how he was going to survive dinner with you, and Dorsia was the last thing on his mind. "Because I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared."

Luckily, the marble walls of his bathroom were the only witnesses to his downfall.

Dawn came to New York faster than you could imagine. All the way to Dorsia you were nervous, but still confident in the plan you had made earlier that day. Even though you had failed in your previous attempt to dot the T's at the Tunnel, today would be different, you were sure of it. ‘I don't even know why, though,’ you chuckled to yourself, and the taxi driver gave you a concerned glance, but you just shrugged it off, signaling him to concentrate on the road.

In the restaurant everything looked the same as when you were here with Paul Allen, but this time you were not the one who was invited, but the one who invited another person—named Patrick Bateman—and speaking of whom, was late and that made you quite anxious. ‘What if he just doesn’t come?’ This thought made you fidget in the chair, your hands fumbling with the napkin on your knees and after telling the waiter for the second time that you were expecting someone else to come, your fingers became cold as if they were frozen. 

“Maybe I can bring you some drinks?” The waiter didn’t give up, spurring you to order at least something to drink.

Quickly running a hand across your strained face, you exhaled loudly and nodded. “Yeah, drinks,” you stummered when you looked past the waiter, noticing the familiar elegant silhouette coming close to your table. “Can you…bring…some water?”

Confused, the waiter glanced down at the full glass of water next to you. “Uh, more water?”

“(Y/n),” Bateman’s voice echoed across the space. “I hope I didn't make you wait for so long,” he chuckled and took a seat at the table. “Had some important business affairs.” The moment he noticed the confused waiter, Patrick gave him his most sassy smile and checked his Rolex for no reason, probably just to show them out. “Can you please bring me a glass of J&B and some fresh salad to your taste.”

‘A salad, really?’ You almost snickered, but instead your face turned into a neutral expression. "Business, huh?"

Bateman rested more comfortably in his chair after the waiter finally left. "You know, some affairs with blonde hair and long legs, big tits and an amazing ass."

That came out of nowhere. 

Still calm, you watched the man across from you smile, surely proud of himself and so damn bossy it was almost absurd. "You mean someone in particular, don't you?"

“Oh, yeah,” Patrick put his both elbows on the table, clasping his hands, revealing his gold Rolex once again. “Her name is Stephany, if I’m not mistaken, she’s a girlfriend of one of our accountants,” the man paused before snickering. “That one who makes monthly reports, you know him. So, I’m a bit late because I couldn't leave such a lovely girl without a treat she deserved.”

Right now, you didn't care if it was true or not—his well-framed—confidence was something you found very interesting and even amusing, as it was proof that he was preparing for this dinner just like you were.

"And that's when I thought vice presidents actually worked at Pierce & Pierce." With a slight grin, you joked and finally took a sip of water, feeling your throat suddenly go dry, just like when you were talking to Jean earlier.

Bateman's sudden laugh rang out like shattered glass. "'C'mon, (y/n), don't pretend you don't know that-"

"I know that your father owns almost half of the company," you interrupted him abruptly, and he wasn't happy about it. "And that gives you certain privileges."

"Don't be envious. It doesn't suit you."

"Envious?" You set the glass of water aside. "I think it was me who invited you here so that you could finally visit Dorsia… at least once."

The air between the two of you was thick with venom and something even more poisonous. Nevertheless, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't think Bateman was acting like the jerk he undoubtedly was. But, to be honest, you expected him to act a little less smug.

"I still think this place is overrated," Patrick hissed through clenched teeth right as the waiter brought him his whiskey and salad with sliced vegetables and some cheese, which he didn't even touch, taking a big gulp of his drink. "So, uh, Jean told me you wanted to talk to me about something important. What is it?"

The waiter didn't even try to offer to check the menu again and retreated, but he would definitely come back later with the same request, since you hadn't ordered anything yet.

"Well, it doesn't seem to matter anymore," you suddenly declared, crumpling the paper napkin before dropping it on the finest tablecloth. "The thing is—I'm quitting P&P and moving to Chicago. That's it. Nothing special, really."

The moment of silence washed over them both like a tidal wave. Visibly shocked, Bateman just sat there, then nervously straightened his tie and looked around as if to call for help. 'Not so ballsy anymore, Patty?' There was something about the way he was humiliated, something that stirred a burning flame in your gut that came dangerously close to burning you alive from the inside. And again, you would be lying to yourself if you pretended you could control it.

"Chicago?" Patrick repeated as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"Why do both you and Bryce react as if Chicago were a desert island?"

"Heh," Bateman rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair. "So Bryce knows everything. Why am I not surprised?"

"I'd tell you more," that was the moment you'd been waiting for so long—the moment of his vulnerability, and you couldn't stop yourself like a shark who sensed blood in the water. "Paul Allen was the one who actually recommended this job to me."

Patrick's jaw clenched at the mention of Paul Allen. "Really?"

"Yes," you continued to corner him. "One day we were having dinner, here, in Dorsia," you grinned, catching every little change in Bateman's no longer confident face. "He said one of his buddies was starting a new company, and they were looking for specialists… like me."

"Well," he began, sliding his hand across the table's surface as if to calm down. "Good for you, (y/n). Congratulations!" That was the most fake 'congratulations' you ever heard, even though you were expecting a slightly different reaction. "But I don't understand. Why didn't you talk to me before? Before you made your decision."

This question almost made you choke. 'Did he really say that?' And just as you were about to answer, the waiter came across the table again, choosing the perfect moment. Before he could offer to check the menu, you raised your hand in an irritating gesture. "Bring me a vodka and orange juice," Patrick's eyebrows arched almost immediately. "Double vodka, please."

"Yes, s-sure." The waiter stuttered before taking the crumpled napkin and walking away, very stressed.

Without giving yourself time to think, you leaned against the table and muttered. "Why should I? We are not friends."

"Of course not," Bateman scowled, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the black pinstriped suit outlining his physique perfectly. "Not after you gave me a decent handjob in the Tunnel bathrooms."

Patrick caught you off guard by injecting this argument so blatantly into the conversation. "Decent? It was fucking amazing." You growled and quickly turned around to see if anyone was paying attention to your table, and when you were sure there was nothing to worry about, you faced Patrick again. "Too amazing, considering you seem to be thinking about it all the time."

"W-what? I… I didn't…"

Sneering, you tapped your fingers on the table in nervous anticipation of your drinks, even though you hadn't planned on drinking any alcohol, wanting to keep yourself as sober as possible for the dinner and everything that might or might not happen afterwards.

"Relax, Bateman," you rested your chin on your clasped hands, finally allowing yourself to examine his handsome appearance, including the way his cheeks were tinged with a red hue. "You've said too much already."

And from that moment on, you began to feel relaxed, even pleased with all the things Patrick revealed to you, accidentally or not, you would use every little detail to your own advantage when the time came.

A little later, when the waiter finally brought your cocktail, you finished it too quickly, so you asked for it to be repeated under the attentive hazel eyes of the man sitting on the other side of the table. The more drunk you got, the more topics you discussed, but when you mentioned Paul Allen again, you noticed that Patrick's good mood was fading.

"Wait a minute!" You held out a hand to stop him from jumping from one topic to another. "Can you tell me why the mere mention of Paul Allen triggers you so much? Is there something between you two?"

Bateman couldn't hold back a loud, hearty laugh. "That joke's too tasteless even for Bryce," he finished his whiskey, the salad still untouched on the table in front of him. "Allen…he's…not the person he tries to pretend to be."

"Oh?"

"I think he's part of that Yale thing."

You narrowed your eyes and leaned in closer. "Yale thing? What do you mean?"

Patrick quickly licked his lips, not expecting you to delve further into the subject. "Well, I think he's probably a closeted homosexual who likes to do a lot of coke and have orgies with male hookers."

At first you just giggled out loud, not caring that some people were looking at you, but then your face suddenly became serious. "How do you know about that? Did he tell you or…" you smiled playfully. "Did he do something… that made you think so," you bit your lower lip and drank the last drop of your cocktail with unabashed thirst. "That sounds strange…very strange."

"You're drunk, (y/n)," Bateman murmured, tilting his hand as if thinking about something. "Too drunk, which gives me the impression that you're as much of an amateur at drinking as you are at doing coke."

"Uh, s-shut up."

"See? Can't even speak words."

"Maybe...maybe I am drunk, now what? Are you gonna be a fucking gentleman like you always try to be and offer me a ride? Or maybe," you fixed your hair nonchalantly, your vision slightly blurred. "Would you be brave enough to show me your apartment?"

As soon as those words came out of your mouth, you knew there was no turning back, and your inner voice, which usually kept you from doing shit you would regret, seemed to fall asleep from the high level of alcohol in your system.

The man across from you straightened up at your bold suggestion, reading the subtext with ease. "Is that what you want? For me to take you to my place?"

His question hung in the air for a moment before you managed to come up with an answer, but you didn't know how to get out of this situation and turn it into a joke, as you usually did. Maybe you just didn't want to get out of it? Just like you didn't want to let him go when he helped you get up from the table after he'd paid for dinner and the two of you were in a cab. Not to mention when you almost fell down and the man caught you in his arms, but there was still a barrier between the two of you—an invisible wall—the only line that kept you apart. The line that was too dangerous to cross, but too tempting not to think about what lay behind it.

By the time the cab pulled up at the American Gardens Building, you were half asleep on Bateman's shoulder, his Lancome cologne not helping at all, making your mind even more cloudy. But you did your best to get out of the car without his help, letting the cool fresh air bring you some relief and clarity. 

In the elevator, Patrick began to mumble about his musical preferences, but you didn't really pay attention because your brain was overworked trying to come up with a plan B in case things went too far. 'As if they hadn't gone too far already,' your inner voice suddenly tried to break through the thick layers of alcohol, affection and uncontrollable desire.

Bateman's apartment looked exactly as you had imagined—opulent, stylish, and very minimalist. Everything seemed to be in its place, including you, standing next to the tall window in his living room.

"Not a bad view," you admitted, taking off the jacket of your suit. "Not Central Park, but not bad at all."

"Central Park?" Patrick asked, hiding in the kitchen, which was perfectly connected to the living room, but you couldn't see him behind the wall as he examined the large number of different kitchen knives.

"Yeah, you know, Paul Allen's apartment faces Central Park, looks really fancy," you didn't mean to hurt Bateman's feelings, but the moment you turned around and saw him, it was obvious that your words had reached him. "But, I really prefer your place...it's more modern for my taste."

Puzzled, Patrick didn't hurry to join you in the living room, his thin fingers never ceasing to slide up and down the sharp blade in his hand, but at the very last moment, the man put the knife back in its place. With deliberate steps, he walked out of the kitchen and approached his stereo system.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief, as if his life depended on your answer.

Such a reaction from him was oddly appealing, the vulnerability, the desperation in his brown eyes. This was a level of satisfaction that no drug could ever match. Meanwhile, Bateman turned on the music, the charming voice of Phil Collins filling the room as "Invisible Touch" began to play.

The man was examining the tape in his hands when you slowly approached and gently cupped his face, inducing him to look at you. "Yes, I do," you confirmed your previous words, and when Patrick didn't flinch from your touch, you decided to go on, tracing your finger along his sensual lips, fighting the urge to kiss them here and now. "Speaking of preferences," you removed your hand only to place it on the lapel of his suit. "Would you be a good boy and give me a full tour of your apartment, including the bedroom?"

In any other situation, you would probably die from shame at saying something like that, but not now. Not with him, because no sooner had your question escaped your lips than you noticed that his hands were shaking, and the CD was about to fall out of them, so you had to gently grab it and pull it out of his hands. Bateman reminded you of a man struggling with addiction, every twitch of his plump lips, every furrow of his perfect eyebrows spoke volumes about the undeniable affection between the two of you, an affection you were both too exhausted to fight and hide.

Without further ado, you placed the CD on top of the stereo and pressed Patrick against the nearest wall, holding the lapels of his Valentino suit and sealing his hot mouth with yours, opening it wider with your tongue, so eager to taste him again after such a long wait.

"Mmhm," he purred into the kiss, his hands desperately wrapped around your waist, then going lower to cradle your hips, groping and squeezing a little too hard so that you had to bite his lip to make him stop, but the man just growled and pushed you closer, your groins rubbing against each other in the most lewd way possible. "Bedroom...go to the bedroom...and wait for me there."

Bateman's words right after the kiss sounded like nonsense, which you found oddly arousing. With a foxy smile, you licked his cheek, then his neck, almost biting the artery and sucking on the reading mark. "No, no, no, Bateman," you shook your head, grabbing his neck slightly to kiss him again, but he did it first. Even now Patrick was trying to take the lead, your tongues fighting for control like two snakes entwining around each other. "I'm in no mood for games or waiting."

The moment you said it, Bateman lifted you with practiced ease as if you weighed nothing, and you didn't even have a chance to protest as he began to move toward the closed room behind his white couch. In his arms, you finally felt complete, even if you let him take the lead for a while. Noticing the pair of panties on the glass coffee table, you wrapped your legs around him and buried your fingers in his silky hair, ruffling them and letting them fall on his forehead, making him look even hotter.

Jesus, you were on the verge of an explosion just from the foreplay alone.

Bateman's bedroom greeted you with stark white walls, the brightness of which was almost painful to look at as he turned on the light holding you with one arm, and the king-size bed on which he carefully placed you, but you didn't let him pull away, tugging at his tie and forcing him to lay on top of you.

"Fuck, look at you," Patrick grazed your earlobe before massaging your chest through your shirt and hovering over you. "So insatiable, aren't you? Running in circles like a trapped kitten."

Growling, you pulled him closer again to suck on his lower lip, letting your body rub against his so you could feel how hard he was, so painfully hard, considering the sound he made when you snaked your hand between his legs to cradle his bulge. "Are you gonna cum in your pants if I don't stop?"

With a determined persistence, you continued to massage his hard cock through the layers of his expensive clothes as you removed his jacket and then his suspenders, one by one. Bateman didn't interfere as he was also busy getting rid of your clothes without actually tearing them apart.

"Let me," you insisted as soon as you noticed him struggling to unbutton your shirt. "This is my favorite shirt, you know," you gasped, your own fingers trembling, making it difficult even for you to finally remove your shirt. "I don't want it to get torn."

When you finally got rid of the top part of your clothes, the sight of your exposed skin made Patrick grunt in hunger, and the next second the man was already sucking on your nipple, his muscular frame shaking on top of you from your teasing ministrations on his twitching dick and hard balls. Damn, you wanted to suck him dry as much as you wanted to ruin him until he forgot his own name.

"Don't like it anyway," Bateman muttered suddenly, holding your hands above your head. "You need to go to some... fashion shows... maybe you will have more free time in Chicago, considering Paul Allen offered you this job. I'm sure it would be some boring shit."

‘Good Lord, he mentioned him again…’ You rolled your eyes and turned away from his face, eliciting a low rumble from Patrick's massive chest. "What the fuck is wrong with Paul... are you... jealous of him or something?"

"Me?" he asked, confused and you took the opportunity to release your hands and roll over so that you were now on top of him. "I'm not the one bragging about having dinner with him in fucking Dorsia!"

Bateman sounded like a little boy who was upset that no one wanted to play with him, which made you giggle, but then you straddled him and opened his white shirt and removed his tie.

"The more you talk," you murmured as you ran your hands along the smooth skin of his torso, paying special attention to his toned pecs and abs. "The more you make me think you two had a history," you leaned down to teasingly lick his lips, your sneaky hands already working on the zipper of his pants. "But still, I don't care." In one swift motion, you pulled down his pants along with his boxers, watching his thick cock pop out, yearning for your attention. "Mhmm, the last time we were alone you worked me up really good, I wanna return the favor," your hands wrapped around the base of his beefy shaft, the small droplets of his pre-cum already covering its tip, forcing you to lick your lips in hunger. "If you have nothing else on your mind?"

Did you really care about his feelings since you asked him that question? 

The man beneath you was definitely growing impatient, his hands gripping your hips as if he was about to imprint his fingerprints on your skin if you were not wearing your pants. 

"Lie on your side," Bateman suggested suddenly. "Take off all your clothes and lie down here," he tapped the spot next to him and you stood up quickly, as if he had cast a spell on you. Never in your life did you get rid of your clothes faster than now. "Uh, what a cute ass you have, (y/n)."

You frowned at his words, giving him your dead stare as you slipped out of your underwear, giving him the full view—the glint in his hazel eyes was too much to ignore—so you turned around and presented yourself to him; Bateman couldn't help but lazily stroked himself, putting a hand under his head. 

"Tell me, Bateman," you began, your hands slowly sliding down your bare skin. "Have you been thinking about me all this time?" You cupped your ass, bending over a little so he could see the spot right between your legs. "Or have you found a way to forget things you don't want to remember?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a second. "I wish there was a way to forget." Patrick murmured and watched as you lay on your side in the 69 position, then he did the same, his hot breath scorching the soft flesh between your thighs. 

You wrapped your hands around his hips and eagerly took his drooling dick in your mouth, while he was lapping at your crotch. "Mm-fuck," you jerked against his face, your fingers digging deeper into his skin as Bateman feasted on you like the most delicious meal. "Me too, Bateman, m-me too."

Having said that, you swirled your tongue around the swollen tip of his veiny cock, causing a muffled moan to erupt from his mouth, its vibration sending shivers down the base of your spine, only spurring you on to go further, pushing his dick deeper into your mouth. Soon the room was filled with the soft, wet sounds of your shared oral pleasure, punctuated by soft but powerful moans and groans as you both teetered on the edge of ecstasy. Gripping your ass, Bateman responded to your actions with the same passion, devouring every drop of your flavor and giving you no chance to escape, his strong arms like ropes around your body. After giving his cock the attention it deserved, you decided to tease his heavy balls with light lapping on them, before slipping a finger inside his tight ass, you expected him to protest but instead you heard him moan and the next moment his hips began to move towards your penetrating movements.

"Good boy," you praised him, rolling your eyes at the way the man was sucking on your most sensitive spot. "Taking my finger so well..."

The coil in your lower abdomen was about to snap at any moment, but you still wanted more, you wanted to feel that cock inside you, even if it was going to rip you a apart. Breathlessly, you didn't even remember asking him about condoms, and how you managed to get out of bed and go to the closet, where you found a little box Bateman was talking about—its contents almost made you gasp in awe, so you decided to take it with you.

"Well, well," you crooned as you stepped back into the bedroom. "Should I ask you what this is or are you going to tell me?"

With a wide grin, you held out a large purple dildo, Patrick's eyes twitched and he gulped, leaning on his elbows. "I... I use it with hookers," the man confessed, licking his glistening lips covered with your juices. "Why?"

"Hmmm, you like watching women play with it?" You asked as you reached the bed. "How about actually using it and not just watching?"

Damn, you could swear you saw his breath catch in his throat, his muscles tense and his dick throbbing just at the mention of using that sex toy on him. 'So he likes that idea, what a naughty boy,' you chuckled to yourself and took your place on the bed next to him. "This is going to feel so good, baby," you brought the dildo to his lips, suggesting that he lick it for lubrication, and when he did, you could barely keep yourself from cumming, just from the sight of his tongue flicking around the tip of the silicone sex toy. "Get on your knees and let me take care of you."

"Fuck," Bateman cursed, but it was too late to turn back. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, the man got down on all fours and gave you full access to his firm ass, which you immediately fondled, spreading his buttocks and biting them one by one. "Mmh-hmm, (y/n)."

"Relax," you stroked his hips, kissing the lower part of his back just above the dimples that were too sexy to ignore. "God, you have such a beautiful body," you decided to praise him, knowing the effect it would have on him. "I would worship it forever if I could," which was only half true, or maybe...it was not. Leisurely, you showered his soft skin with little peaks here and there, dotting it with your marks of love, not even realizing that you were giving all of yourself to the process.

As you pressed the tip of the dildo against his puckered muscle ring, Patrick tensed at your touch, gripping the sheets and closing his eyes, so overwhelmed and confused at the same time, but your reassuring hand on his trembling one encouraged him to look back at you as you hovered over him to kiss his lips, his neck, his shoulder.

"(Y/n)," Bateman suddenly huffed through his clenched teeth. "I want you to..." he gasped as you flickered your wet finger around his tight asshole. "...fuck."

"You want me to feast on that delicious ass of yours?" You finished the sentence for him, grinning in pure gratification at his complete submission. "Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, y-yes," he grasped the sheets and positioned himself more comfortably on all fours— a clear sign that he was not used to this position and you couldn't miss it. "I want to feel your tongue... all over me."

"Shit, Bateman, you're a real sweet talker." With that you put the dildo on the bed next to you and before you knew it you were spreading his ass cheeks wide open to make a flat lick along his tight hole. "I wanna hear you," you gently but insistently probed his ass with your warm tongue, giving him several slaps on the buttocks that drove the man wild as you felt his velvet walls tighten around your tongue. "Good boy, c'mon, spread it out for me."

Blushing, Patrick used both hands to spread himself for your eager ministrations as you fucked him with your tongue while your hands traveled all around his hips before you wrapped one of them around his pulsating cock, fuck, he was so close, you could tell by the way his balls tensed when you gave them a slight squeeze.

"Don't cum until I let you," you commented and the next moment you were already pushing the sleek sex toy into his ass and this time he accepted it gradually, taking it in with ease—the sight made you gasp but you focused on giving him pleasure. "Tell me, Bateman, how does it feel?"

The question remained unanswered for a brief moment as you began to slid the dildo in and out, stimulating his prostate and causing him to shake and whimper in pure bliss, but when you decided to add fuel to the fire by jerking him off and sucking on his strained sac, Patrick could barely contain himself, his legs about to give way at any moment.

"F-fuck, a-aahhh, mmhhmm," he murmured into the pillow, his hands finding their way to your messy hair, gripping them almost to the point of pain. "I...c-can't...hold...it any longer," Bateman's wailing bounced off the walls of his luxurious bedroom, which had never seen anything like it before. "I..."

Though you wanted him to last longer, you were too overwhelmed yourself, feeling the string in your belly ready to burst. "Let it go," your words were like a balm to his ears as, just a moment later, his cock pulsed in your grasp, spraying loads of his thick cum across the Chinese sheets that Patrick had always been so fond of. "That's it…" You didn't stop fucking him with a dildo, nor did you stop pumping his throbbing dick, milking it until the last drop of his seed. "Good boy, you're such a good boy." 

Panting, you pulled out the sex toy, covered in his slick, and brought it to his trembling lips, inducing him to suck it before taking it into your mouth, feeling the mixture of tastes on the tip of your tongue. Then, Bateman rolled onto his back, desperately gasping for air, his cock still hard. That was fucking phenomenal, but you didn't comment, thinking about your own orgasm at last. Locking your eyes with Patrick's hazel ones, you touched yourself the moment he beckoned you over, and without words, you mounted his flushed, sweaty face, riding it as desperately as you could, using his tongue and lips without shame. Tilting your head back, you grabbed his head and almost clawed at his scalp, feeling your insides about to fucking explode from the tension. So when you peaked, your scream could be heard all over Bateman's apartment. The orgasms you had before were nothing compared to this. It took everything from you, it made you die and rise again.

The final chord of the parade of shameless lust was when you let him fuck you in a way you didn't even expect. Spooning you from behind after he put the condom on, the man lifted your leg and sheathed himself inside of you till the hilt, making you feel so full you had to wrinkle the fabric underneath, but that was just the beginning as Bateman pulled you closer, trapping you in his arms like a cocoon, his tongue sliding around your ear shell with undisguised affection,

"Mmhmm, fuck, you're...so perfect," the man whispered into your ear, setting up the pace and resting his hand between your legs for extra stimulation. "Holy fuck! I'm cumming again, omh-shit..."

"Fuck m-me, yeah, just...l-like that...a-ahhh," you coaxed him to fuck you harder as you suddenly found yourself on the verge of climaxing again. "Gimme everything, baby, a-awww...goshhhhhhhh," you were the first to fall over the principle of pleasure, twitching along his body as if you were hit by the electric shock, all your nerves were on fire. "Bateman, mmhm-fuck-fuck! Your dick feels s-so good.."

Your vivid orgasm became the last straw for his second release as you felt him bite at your neck, his buffed frame shaking in spasms of pure rapture, you even had to hold back a scream from how painfully Patrick's hands squeezed your hips, but it was pleasurable pain of being ruined, of being fucked into a wet mess. Barely breathing, you didn't even remember how you passed out from exhaustion and for the first time in the last few days you fell asleep completely satisfied and happy.

When the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds into Bateman's bedroom, you were already awake, as was he, but since you were lying with your back to his face, you didn't notice until the man kissed your shoulder, snuggled up against your neck, and made you roll over to face him.

As you did so, you dared to look directly into the brown eyes still clouded by the aftermath of your shared pleasure. "Hey." He muttered in a husky voice.

"Hey," you murmured back, hugging the pillow. "Did you sleep well?"

“Surprisingly—yes," the man stretched his arms, flexing his muscles and checking himself in the mirror on the other side of the room, which you hadn't even noticed. "(Y/n), I want you to go to the office and tell everyone that you're not going anywhere."

Shocked, you blinked several times, not knowing what to say as you hadn't expected anything like this.

With a nervous chuckle that turned into a hearty laugh, you rolled onto your back before sitting up on the bed. "Oh God, you're such a little Delulu, it's even funny," you looked at him—his face was nothing but a blank space without any visible emotions. "Did you really think that random sex would change my mind about changing jobs?" You chuckled again, louder this time. "I mean, the sex was really good, but... it's not like I'm going to give everything for this, you know?" With that, you got up from the bed and wrapped a blanket around yourself. "Can I take a shower?”

Trapped in the thought that only he could know, Patrick rolled onto his back, his eyes fixed on an invisible spot on the ceiling above him. "Yes," he murmured, barely audible. "Do whatever you want."

Walking towards the bathroom, you suddenly stopped and turned half around. "You better forget it," you said, savoring every word and finally returning the favor. "Maybe ask Paul Allen for advice," you grinned as you watched Bateman close his eyes in a feeble attempt to distance himself from everything that had happened. "Maybe he knows something about memory reboot machines that can help."

Without waiting for his answer, you continued on your way to the bathroom. Even though you were pleased with yourself, your revenge didn't taste sweet, but bitter, and its bitterness would remain on the tip of your tongue even after you washed yourself clean under the hot streams of water.

But the game was worth the candle, as they said.

Was it?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[unheavenlyvision]

SLEEP OVER PT.2

ʚ⁺˖⤷ part one

pairing: fushiguro toji/reader

wc: 4.8k

summary: the night carries on but you can't forget what toji promised... you're hoping he plans on following through tonight, you just need to try and not make a fool of yourself first

a/n; i finished it... sorry it took me so long to upload it, i'm completely read up on the manga now and i want to end it all but we carry on i guess

warnings: 18+ only, smut, pwp, swearing, dirty talk, cunnilingus, dacryphilia, light pussy slapping, tease!toji, possessive!toji, fingering, cum play, big dick!toji, p in v sex, cockwarming but not really, afab!reader, no use of y/n or pronouns, nicknames used: doll, honey

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

The shower water runs down your body, cleaning you of the mess made, relaxing your muscles. As you wash yourself, you can’t help but wonder when ‘later’ is, what did he mean by it? Did he mean later tonight? Or later as in… a later date? You wish he had been more specific, though he was kind of preoccupied at the time so you can understand the lack of details on his part.

Before you had gotten up to shower, Toji had offered his help but you felt embarrassed accepting the offer and had told him you’d be fine on your own. Now, you kind of regret it, imagining his hard body pressed up against yours has your body getting hot, the thoughts less than innocent.

Hopping out the shower and drying yourself off, you tug on the fresh clothes, mainly the bottoms needed replacing, you feel bad for ruining his clothes and then borrowing more but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, based on his reaction to you in his clothes, you have a feeling he prefers it this way.

Walking back out into the main area you announce to Toji, “The shower’s free.”

“Ah, good, I feel gross,” his face scrunches slightly.

Smiling to yourself, you hum, “Take your time.”

He shuffles off down the hall to the bathroom, wanting to be in fresh clothes as soon as possible… maybe you should’ve let him go first… or at least let him shower with you. You feel a little bad now, in hindsight, he might’ve needed the shower more.

Pushing the thought to the back of your mind, you continue your journey into the kitchen. The brownies were too hot before so you let them cool a bit, you’re looking forward to them. It’s been a while since you made some, that’s still kind of true though, since Toji mostly made them.

You can’t help but snicker at the crispy edges, they’re honestly not that burnt. While Toji is in the shower, you cut them up and stack them onto a plate. Obviously, you have one, leaning against the bench and indulging, still yummy. Maybe you’d be a little more bothered by the toughness of them but knowing Toji made them just because of a light-hearted comment from you makes them even better.

Off in the clouds, you think about how much you adore him and his kindness to you, as well as his patience. Eyes slipping closed for a moment, you find yourself thinking about him, under you, moaning, how he spoke to you, how he gave you one of the best orgasms of your life through your clothes. It was honestly quite impressive of him.

Breath against your neck, he asks, “What you thinking about?”

His sudden closeness and low voice makes you jump and gasp, “Toji! Jesus… you scared me…”

He smiles at you, amused, “So?”

“So?” You repeat, not sure what he’s asking and getting even more lost when you notice that he’s only in a towel. It sits low on his hips, water trailing down his abs and beneath the towel. He’s completely distracting, is he talking? He might be talking…

One of his hands grabs your face, your cheeks squishing slightly with how he’s holding you and bringing your eyeline back up to look him in the eyes, “You back?”

You nod wordlessly at him.

“I asked what you were thinking about,” he asks his previous question again.

“Uhmm…” you’re feeling warm, how are you meant to tell him you were thinking about him moaning while you humped against him, “I was thinking about the brownies… they turned out good…”

His eyes watch you in a way that tells you he knows you’re lying… and poorly at that, “Are you sure?”

You try cementing your answer, sticking to your lie, but it sadly comes out more like a question, “Yes?”

Humming, he teases, “You sure you’re not having perverted thoughts ‘bout me?”

Oh god, you might pass out, “I would never… I mean I would… obviously but not just… now…”

As you stumble stupidly, he only lights up more, enjoying your obvious struggle, “You sure? You’re looking awful guilty right now, doll.” His hand lets go of your face but he’s moved in closer, eyes glinting with mischief as he watches you.

Trying to change the subject, you reach for the small bit of brownie you had left, “Try this.” You say, shoving it into his mouth.

He eats the brownie, his brows pulled up in a way that tells you he’s trying not to laugh at how flustered he got you, “You’re cute.”

“And you’re persistent,” you grumble, moving your finger to your mouth, going to lick the rest of the brownie off.

Toji’s hand reaches for you wrist stopping you, before you can process what he’s doing, he’s leaning down and sucking your fingers into his mouth. Tongue licking lightly at you, his eyes dark but playful as he watches how you turn into a sputtering mess in front of him.

He pulls back and comments, “It was good.”

“You are an unbearable–”

“–But you know, it occurs to me…” His body moves closer to yours and his hands reach for either side of your head, “…There is something else I would much rather taste right now.”

Opening your mouth, you go to call his name, tell him he’s an unbearable tease, that he embarrasses you so easily but it’s all lost on you when his mouth is crashing down onto yours. His tongue in your mouth immediately, his lips insistent, fervent, hot. He kisses you dirty and wet, it’s dizzying, he kisses you like you’re a whore and it makes your heart stutter in your chest.

His body crowds you in against the bench, leaning into you, your only choice to grab at his shoulders and try and kiss him back as passionately as he’s kissing you. He gives you a minor reprieve, his lips pulling back, both of you breathing heavy into each other’s mouths. You feel dizzy and stupid, thinking about how large and firm he is pressed up against you.

Breathlessly, you ask, “Is it later yet?”

And fuck, how can Toji possibly say no when you’re looking at him with those big, wet eyes. His kiss pulling you apart like this just makes him want to see how much more he could possibly ruin you. He curses as he tugs you down the hall after him, he’s going to give you what you both need.

In his room, he grabs the pants and boxers of his you’re wearing and tugs them off in one swift motion, “Toji!” You gasp, not expecting his speed.

“Sorry, doll but I need to hurry this along or I’m gonna lose my fucking mind,” he pushes you back until you fall onto his bed, bouncing lightly with the force. Body in the centre of his large bed, you hold your knees together as you jostle. He’s crawling onto the bed after you and resting on his knees, his hands on yours.

Any response you want to or could give dies on your tongue because he’s pulling your legs apart, putting you on obscene display. Eyes staring shamelessly at your wet pussy, you feel red hot and extremely embarrassed. Your hands reach for your shirt and pull it down, covering yourself, trying to retain some of your decency.

Toji growls at you, not approving of your choice, one of his own hands moving off your knees to pull your hand away, “Come on…” he groans, not moving your hand by force even though he definitely could, “Your boyfriend wants to see your pretty, little cunt.”

You whinge, “Toji… it’s embarrassing…”

“No, the fuck it isn’t…it’s fuckin hot,” he sounds pained, desperate, “Please doll…”

Slipping your hand away, you let him do as he pleases. Other hand coming off your knee, he uses both of them to bunch your shirt up your torso. His palms move along your skin, raising goose bumps in their wake, he slowly trails them back to your knees. Then he’s pulling your legs apart again, biting his lower lip as he watches your pussy, eyes stuck on you, on how your cunt twitches for him, how your arousal drools from your cunt.

“I’m putting my mouth on you,” his voice is deep, so effected by you, pussy whipped and he’s not even had you yet.

God, you feel so timid, he makes you feel inexperienced, “…Okay.”

He’s quick to lean down at your acknowledgement, he’s wet, sloppy, licking at you with no particular rhythm. He’s just desperate to taste you, he’s got you arching your back and gasping, fingers digging into the mattress. You’re biting your lip to hold back, not wanting to bother his neighbours but it’s hard when he’s making out with your cunt in such a diabolical way, almost like he’s attempting to get you to scream.

His lips wrap around your clit and suck, a gasped whine resulting from the pressure, a sound that Toji deeply appreciates, the groan he releases at the needy sound sending delicious vibrations through you. Your hips twitch, your thighs going to lock around his head, his hands hold you open. They hold you so open that if he hadn’t just switched from sucking on your clit to fucking his tongue inside your cunt, you might have cared about how lewd the display was.  

Vaguely, you’re aware of the mess he’s making, his saliva and your pussy leaking onto his bed in an absolutely debauched display, “Toji– ah– it’s messy,” you manage to force out.

He grunts into you, his nose rubbing against your clit, he’s not at all concerned with the mess, in fact, he’s fucking in love with it. Pulling back for a moment, he nips your thigh, “Mhmm let’s see just how fuckin messy you can get, doll.”

His words make your insides twist in such a filthy way, his words have an effect on you that you wish you didn’t find so delicious but unfortunately your body is a traitor and you can’t help the way your hole clenches around nothing. Something that Toji takes note of because of fucking course he does, he doesn’t say anything but he hums thoughtfully.

Grabbing higher on your thighs, he puts his mouth back on you, drinking down your slick, relishing in the taste of you. Fuck the goddamn brownies he thinks, this is what a real good sleepover needs.

Blunt nails bite into your skin, the feeling has you buzzing, your hips jerking against his face. Unaware of how you’re desperately rutting into him, seeking more friction, movements needy and so unrestrained. Pleasure addled brain not feeling shame, only Toji’s mouth, his tongue.

The sloppy sounds of him making out with your cunt filling the room, a sound that burns through you, sounding so wet, so ruined, how are you meant to make it out alive when he’s licking at you like a man on the brink of death seeking salvation. Small moans and grunts leaving him at the way you twitch and gush into his mouth, his own pleasure from this immense.

He forces your legs up and apart even wider, something you didn’t think possible, you don’t even know how you’re bending like this. Your fingers are tugging at his bed sheets, your brain fuzzy, your feet feel hot as your orgasm approaches. Gasping out to Toji as your high starts in the tips of your toes and travels up.

Your undoing is the way Toji shakes his head between your legs, his nose rubbing against your clit. Your pussy seizing around his tongue, as he realises you’re cumming, he’s pulling his tongue out of you and latching his mouth onto you instead, drinking you down as you cum into his mouth.

The moan you let out is pornographic and a sound you don’t even really register as something you’re able to do. The way he’s ruined you with his mouth delights him, feeling like he’s on cloud nine at the way you sound so pathetic for him, fucked out from just this much.

He fears he’s going to want to push you so much farther, just how do you look after he’s given you so many orgasms you cry? But fuck as he looks at you in the eyes now, he thinks it wouldn’t take much to make you cry for him at all, your eyes already so so wet for him.

Suddenly he’s struck with the memory of how placid and dazed you looked after he kissed you, he’ll have to remember this for the future too. Now having plans for kissing you until you cry for him, he thinks it might be possible…yeah, looking in your eyes, he definitely feels it possible.

Leaning down over you, he kisses you deeply, just so you can taste yourself on him. Your hazy brain reciprocates, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him down into you, wanting his weight on you. Kissing him makes your heart soar, never sick of his lips, never sick of him.

Trailing kisses from your mouth to your cheek and down your jaw, he speaks into your ear, “Still want it? Or was this enough for you?”

“Never enough, Toji… always want more of you,” the words are murmured back to him, still slightly absent, floating after your orgasm.

“Greedy huh?” He teases, though he has a feeling you might actually be a needy little thing, not that he minds.

Your head tucks into his chest, “Don’t be mean…”

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

You shake your head against him, telling him no, you don’t like it.

He knows it’s a lie though, “You sure? You could’ve had me fooled…” He pulls up and back, looking down at you, his fingers sliding through your folds, collecting your wetness and spreading it all over your cunt, “…Making an awful big mess for this mean man.”

Your hips wiggle against him, “Hah– Toji~”

He’s still playing with your pussy, never touching you exactly how you need him to, his fingers just grazing your clit before circling your hole and then back up, “Hmm? Need something?”

You’re reluctant but you don’t have the strength to fight him, choosing instead to give in quickly and hope he shows mercy, “You…please…”

“Me? But I’m so mean to you…” he’s smiling, frankly, too large, enjoying teasing you like this.

“That’s –hah–  true…” your words are spoken through choked gasps, Toji’s still teasing you evilly, “S-should I find ah– someone nicerrr?”

“Oh?” oh, he did not like that, “Should you find someone nicer?”

You don’t know how to reply, “I… uhm…”

“Maybe you should…” his hand slaps against your cunt lightly, the sound of your wet pussy loud in the otherwise quiet room, “But would they make you this fuckin wet? Doll, you really should be more honest with yourself.”

Through your immense embarrassment, you mutter out, “I’m sorry.”

His fingers switch to stroking at you, fingers circling your pussy hole, “I know you are, now say how horny your boyfriend makes you…”

You start off strong, “Toji, you make me…”

“What was that? Didn’t quite catch it all,” one of his fingers probes at you, pushing in slightly, he seems to have gotten distracted, “Look at the way your pussy sucks my finger in, needy fuckin thing.”

Forcing yourself, you rush out, “You make ah– mehorny, Toji~”

“Don’t I fuckin know it,” he laughs wistfully, eyes on your cunt and how his finger is gently fucking into you.

You’re getting frustrated, you want to feel full, you want him inside you, you want him to do something more. You want him to show mercy or pity or something, anything that will have him shoving his cock inside you.

“I want–”

He cuts you off, voice curt, “–Why should I care what you want? I’m mean, remember?

“No nononono, you’re so –ah nice to me, Toji. Always treating me so nicely, make me so happy,” you’re desperate but you’re also not lying.

“That so?”

Nodding your head, you add, “Mhm, yeah, make me feel so cared for.”

He sounds amused, “Changed your mind pretty quick there, doll.”

“I want you inside me,” you all but sob out.

He coos at you, “I am inside you.” His finger pumps, curling upwards, stroking your inner walls in a way that makes your stomach seize with pleasure.

Shaking your head, you whinge, “Want your –mmph.”

He’s smiling too large for someone who’s feigning ignorance, “Want my what?”

“Please fuck me, Toji,” you look at him with wet eyes, pleading with him, “please pleasepleaseplease.”

The sight of you begging for him to fuck you has him folding embarrassingly quickly but you look like you could cry and he’s suddenly not got the strength to tease you anymore. “Alright, doll,” he hushes you; you’re still pleading quietly with him.

He eases his finger out of you, his hands tugging your shirt off quickly before pulling his towel off. Leaning down, he presses soft kisses to your head, trying to make up for how worked up he got you, maybe he should’ve been nicer to you for your first official time together.

“I’m okay… I’m fine.”

He moves back to look you in the eye, “You sure?”

Nodding, “Mhm, yeah, promise,” you smile up at him and he thinks you look beautiful right now.

“Alright… Remember to breathe through it.”

And at the time that comment had seemed incredibly egotistical of him but as he’s pressing the tip of his cock into you, you understand his advice a little bit more. It wasn’t his ego talking, it was his experience and concern and you find your lungs stuttering as you struggle to intake breath as he stretches you open.

“Breathe, doll, relax,” he reminds, his thumb circling your clit, trying to get you to relax for him.

You’re practically choking his dick, your cunt fluttering around him, he can’t move the tiniest bit forward without the grip you have on him increasing. Your small moans and gasps making it difficult for him to maintain focus, he’s trying to be so careful, he knows how big he is and as much as he jokes about being mean, the absolute last thing he’d want to do is hurt you.

“Honey, you need to relax,” he’s trying to keep his tone even and soothing but he sounds strained, his focus continually drawing back to your pussy and how you’re trying so hard to take him, “Taking me so well, just breathe for me.”

His voice praising you and being so kind makes your heart ache, his free hand strokes up and down your thigh, calming. Finally, you ease up slightly and he slips deeper, the sounds you both let out are ones of relieved pleasure, the pain ebbing away. You want him deeper; your legs wrap around his waist and you tug him down into you.

You don’t get to pull him in that far, his hand moving to your pelvis and holding himself back, “Doll,” it comes out through gritted teeth, his restraint wavering, “I know it feels good –holy fuck– I know but you’re going to hurt yourself if you force it.”

You sigh out, “Wan it.”

“You think I don’t?” He snipes back.

“Wanna feel full, Toji.”

His eyes look dark, full of promise, “You will.”

It’s a process, taking all of him, he pulls his hips back and fucks you carefully on just about half his cock, taking it slow. He’s already getting lost in pleasure, it runs up his spine and into his limbs. Slowly but surely, he opens you up on his dick, eventually fucking you full of him.

The moment he bottoms out and can fully press up against you has you keening into him, your nails on his back and your legs hugging him close. Before he picks a pace, he holds steady for a moment, enjoying your skin on his, the feeling of your snug cunt wrapped around him sinfully tight. Quite frankly, he can’t move too soon, he might blow his load deep inside you before he can manage to get you to cream on his cock and that would be an awful shame.

You don’t know what he’s waiting on, he’s so fucking big inside you, tip kissing your cervix, he’s pressing up against all the most perfect spots but he’s just laying on top of you. He’s kissing your cheek and stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. He’s being so tender with you and if you weren’t so desperate and dazed, you’d find it more endearing but right about now, you just want him to fuck you within an inch of your life.

Sick of the wait, you rut up into him, grinding pitifully against him, “Move…” you huff out before tacking on a pretty “please,” for good measure.

“Just a moment more, honey,” he hums, nosing at the side of your face, “Be patient.”

He’s twitching inside you and he feels so fucking hot and heavy and you’re not able to think straight. You want it so bad and he’s not giving it to you, he’s been so mean. You’re gushing around him so obscenely, your cunt drooling on him and the bed, the mess you’re making getting worse by the second but all you can think about is how good just the weight of him inside you is and if he doesn’t move you’re going to fucking cry.

Regretfully, you choke on a small sob, “I’ve been so patient though.”

Oh, and the sound of you so pathetic makes Toji nearly dump all his cum inside your tight cunt in that same second and when he pulls back to look at you the sight is no better. You’ve actually begun shedding a couple tears over him not fucking you and if he were a better man he would be ashamed over just how turned on he gets from it. But he’s not a better man, and he’s mean.

“Aw honey,” he coos at you, cruelly, “Crying over my dick?”

“Please, be nice to me?”

He kisses you hotly, tongue in your mouth, his kiss devouring and full. He nips you a little as he pulls back, “And how do I do that?”

You frown at him, somewhat exasperated and on the brink of sobbing, “Fuck. Me.”

“Anything for you, doll,” he smiles at you in an unkind way.

He says that but he’s been such a bastard and a tease tonight, you want to say something in reply about how he’s not made it feel like that but the heavy drag of his cock pulling from you and slamming back in very suddenly has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, choked moans forcing themselves from you.

The pace he sets is brutal and the sight of you going so stupid so soon has a dark chuckle leaving him, extremely pleased with himself and the state of you. Your cunt seems to love him a lot, sucking him right back in the second he leaves, he wasn’t lying earlier, you really do take him so well.

So responsive and so fucking wet, walls soft and gooey and soaked. A part of him thinks he may have died and gone to heaven because there’s no way a feeling like this exists on the awful planet he’s currently living on but then he looks down at you and hears the way you sigh and moan for him and he remembers that you are very real and he is very much alive.

Every time he pulls his dick from you and shoves it back inside, more of your slick gushes from you and onto the bed and of course he’s going to tease you for it, “Got such ah– messy pussy, doll.”

You whinge at him, not enjoying his observation but that also makes him chuckle because he didn’t mean it in a bad way. There isn’t anything about fucking you that is bad to him, you’re divine, thighs twitching and cunt fluttering on him deliciously. He’d say he could die a happy man right now but he thinks before that can happen he needs to have the sinful sight of you creaming on his cock burned into his memory.

His pace is dizzying, are you even still present? He’s in so deep it almost hurts, your head moves to the side, tears slipping from your eyes again but for completely different reasons. The pleasure you’re feeling overwhelming in more ways than just one. Is sex meant to feel like this? If it is, you’ve been doing it wrong.

Toji’s hand pulls your face back to him, “Keep your –hnng– eyes on me.”

“I ha– can’t, it’s toooo much,” you whimper to him, the sound of it making his dick twitch.

He shakes his head at you, “Be good and just do as I say.”

You’ll try, you will but keeping your eyes from rolling back is so hard and his eye contact is so intense and you’re already so fucking close to cumming like this. You see the moment Toji realises this, his eyes lighting up and his pace quickening.

“Fuck,” he curses at the way you tighten around him, it slows his pace slightly, making it harder for him to fuck you through it, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck.”

“Toji, I hah–”

“I know,” he grunts, “Go on, doll, soak me.”

God he sounds wrecked, his words send you over the edge and you cum all over his dick, your cunt seizing on him. Slick coating his cock, white, creamy ring forming at the base of him. His eyes lock onto the sight, enjoying the obscene display, relishing in it. It was everything he fucking wanted and more. He could make you cum on his dick for hours, just to see how sticky and messy you could make him.

The pitiful little whimpers of his name that you let out and the tears staining your cheeks have him almost cumming inside you. At the last second he pulls out and furiously jacks himself off, his dick twitching as he releases all over your pussy, aiming at your lower stomach and cunt, next time he’s going to remember to ask if he can cum inside because that’s the only thing that could’ve made this better for him. Distantly, he thinks it might not be too late to ask.

“Hey, honey…” you hum out at him and he continues, “You on birth control?”

It takes you a second, like your brain is buffering, “Mhm.”

At your answer, he begins scooping his cum up with two fingers and gently pushing it inside your perfect pussy. His attention completely and fully on the way you twitch and try to push out what he stuffs inside you. It makes you whine; you’re feeling incredibly sensitive, your legs try to close but he keeps them open, not done watching yet.

“So fuckin messy,” he comments.

You sulk out at him, “Stop.”

He laughs at your objection, “Sorry, doll.” He leans down and kisses your cheek softly; a stark contrast to how he fucks.

You’re not completely present still, fighting the urge to sleep, Toji’s bed is soft but you notice that his warmth isn’t nearby and you try to push yourself up, only half succeeding. Toji walks back into the room, sweats low on his hips and a cup of water in his hand. He helps you into a full sitting position.

“Drink this,” he hands you the cup and you take it with two hands, feeling weak and shaky. He’s smiling so fondly at you.

Quickly, he goes to the bathroom to find and dampen a washcloth. Once he’s back in the room, he cleans you up carefully, first he wipes your tear-stained cheeks, trying so hard to be gentle. Then he moves to wipe your skin of his and your own cum.

You’re still holding the now empty cup as you sit and sway slightly. He plucks it from your grasp and places it on the nightstand before discarding the washcloth. On his way back to you he finds the shirt of his you had on previously, slipping it back on you. You’re completely pliant like this, eyes barely open, he gets into bed behind you, his front to your back.

“Did such a good job,” he whispers into your ear, kissing you there.

“I think…” you lean back into him more, snuggling in, “You nearly killed me.”

“I went easy on you,” he murmurs back. It’d be funny if you thought he was joking but you have a nagging feeling that he is not.

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

[maybank-archives]

caught - jj maybank

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warning: +18. NSFW CONTENT. MINORS DNI. sex. language. public sex. oral sex

word count: 1.4k

author’s notes: hi!! look who remembered the password to this blog!!! it's been a chaotic but gooooood couple of months, kinda fell out of my obx phase but I'm back and I miss writing sm!!! so to all my horny babes here's a unpublished piece (that was unfinished since october) hope yall enjoy!

masterlist | join the taglist |

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every time you and JJ were caught.

occupied —

my back is pressed against the wall, JJ holds me tightly, his lips are pecking and biting the side of my neck as he buries himself inside of me. JJ’s hands cover my mouth as his thrust becomes faster.

I didn't even get the chance to get in the shower, my shorts were stuck on my knees, same thing with JJ. I suck him for 5 seconds before he pulls me on my feet and fuck me against the wall.

“y/n did you lock yourself?” Sarah’s voice rasped on the voice

I press my lips together concentrating on giving her an answer, but as JJ keeps pounding into me, I’m pretty sure she can hear my muffled cry.

“I’m gonna come princess, shit,” JJ whispers in my ear

“I…oh gosh, I'm good,” I squeeze out

JJ presses his body closer as he gives me his last thrusts, I look at him and see him control himself not to curse as he fills me with his cum.

“Are you sure?” Sarah insists

“YES,” that was for jj, who cupped my pussy and drew his fingers on my clit.

“for fucks sake, is JJ there with you?” I hear John B. shout at the door

He gives a little chuckle before giving the door a few thumps “Can no one get laid in this house?”

“y’all are disgusting, there's a bedroom, you know?”

“oh my god”

you hear the rest of them say outside, but my mind is far away from this reality and it's focused on JJ giving me an orgasm.

hammock —

we're both spread out in the hammock. it started with a massage, I swear.

It's a massage… on JJ’s dick.

bringing the blanket outside was an unintentional good idea. I threw on top of our lower bodies as my hand accidentally started stroking JJ's cock.

his body joint under my touch, I gave him the perfect amount of pressure, tugging his wet foreskin and sweeping up the beads of precum at the tip.

JJ gasps as I bring my hands to my mouth, giving it a nice lick and stroking him down again. but faster.

I could feel him getting closer. his eyes shut tight, his arms around me felt tense, and then…pope exited the chateau facing us, laying static on our back. too late, he realized JJ’s expression and the motion of my hands.

“Ew guys, c’mon, we all used this,” he says turning his back to us

I buried my face in JJ's neck laughing.

volume –

shoving her bikini bottom to the side, I grip her hips as y/n settles on top of me, slowly sinking. I could die watching her bounce on my cock.

I palm her tits as she rocks back and forth, using me to hit the spot that makes her whine.

speaking of whining, we're lucky that there's no one home, cause we're definitely not using our indoor voices.

her palms planted on my chest, as she supported herself. her nails buried in my skin as she moans.

“just like that baby, let me see you come,”

The dirty request makes her fasten the pace and bounce in circles. I clenched my ass trying to hold the climax.

“oh fuck, jj.” she cries while her legs shake, that's my signal.

I flip us over and bury myself deeper inside of her. groaning, I gave her rough thrusts, feeling her squeezing me.

“fuck baby, don't stop j,” her sweet moans send a bolt of heat to my balls. I rise on my knees, angling her hips watching her pussy slide back and forth as she grasps at the bedsheets. 

“yes, yes,” y/n gives me one less moan as she milks my shaft. my muscles clench as she climaxes and I come right away, painting.

“oh fuck, y/n,” I grunt as my body relaxes

“ayo, glad y'all are done, 'cause I need to sleep,” we hear John B shouting as he bangs into the wall.

“oh…no,” y/n says, hiding her face with her palms.

“too late to be shy, cupcake,”

beach —

The tent was mostly in darkness, but the moon's glow peeked through. Y/N slipped in so quietly that I barely noticed. She moved around, and I could sense her doing stuff, but I was too tired to pay much attention.

I gave her a little peak and sure thing, her topless self was taking her shorts out, she was looking for something but all I could care about was the fact that she was only in her bikini, in front of me.

Yep, my dick is semi-hard.

“Can I help you, princess?”

“Sorry babe, I thought you were already asleep,” She whispers

“Luckily, I’m not, otherwise who would appreciate this view?” I told her, sitting up and trying to be as silent as her.

“Yeah, as if,”

“You’re so beautiful,”

“Thank you J” she replied still looking around 

“I think what you’re looking for is inside my shorts”

“Huh?” Y/N furrowed her brows as she analyzed my expression, I shot her a malicious smile which made clear my intentions.

“Our friends are literally right there,” She whispered again 

“You could be quiet?”

“Can’t guarantee,”

“But I can. Blow me, since you’re already on your knees,”

Y/N covered her mouth to stop the giggle, when she looked at me again, I could see that her mind was made and that it was in the same place as mine.

She adjusted herself in front of me and pushed me to the floor, slowly dragging my shorts out. She put her hair in a ponytail and held my cock in her hand firmly.

I could come just with the sight of her topless self in front of me. I’m leaking already, making her hand slide easily on my dick, I adjust myself and roughly remember that the sand is not that comfortable to be laid on. Still, Y/N lowered herself and closed her mouth around the tip, slowly sucking, and my hips snapped involuntarily. 

She sucked me deeper into her mouth, almost to the base, I have to use all my force to not let a groan leave my lips when she chokes on me. Y/N keeps her pace slow but firm, I guess to not make any “suspect” sound.

My breath is heavy and my eyes shut, she releases me and I look down as her tongue glides along my hard-length cock.

“Fuckfuckfuck Y/N” I quietly curse

She uses both of her hands to stroke me and give my balls a nice squeeze, I can see her gaze darkening, she’s getting off and seems to be fighting off the urge to not ride me.

I know this look. I give her a signal to come closer.

“What?”

“Let’s fuck”

“No, not here.”

“I have the keys to the Twinkie,” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” She murmurs, cleaning the sides of her mouth, she slid into one of my shirts and I pushed my shorts back, exiting both of us, half-naked.

We successfully sneaked out and the only sound around us was the waves, I grabbed her hand and guided us far from the sand. 

As I open the doors, I look around and lock it behind us.

It all happened too fast, I slipped my tongue in her mouth and she desperately climbed on top of me, my shorts were now stuck to my ankles and Y/N’s bikini bottoms were pushed to the side.

Reaching for it, Y/N aligns my erection into her entrance and sinks in it.

Both of us let out a moan, feeling the pleasure fill our bodies, Y/N fastened her pace, bouncing on top of me, I’m too close for her, any minute I’m out, but since my girl is getting there I hold as much as I can.

“Mmm yes JJ, touch me”

I lifted my shirt out of her body and sucked and licked on her buds, she was bouncing and grinding her clit on me, it’s noticeable that she is getting there. The gasps and the nails digging on my tights confirm that.

With my free hand, I hold her waist and meet her halfway through her movements, each deep thrust sends me closer and closer to the edge. I can’t hold it any longer. Her moans are desperate and her whining is music to my ears.

“Y/n, fuck…”

Our breathing grows as our bodies slap together, and her mouth opens without making any sound, that’s my cue. I burst inside of her as her body shook on top of me. My last pound is weak leaking out of her.”

“Fuck baby, that was insane.”

“Thank God for the Twinkie.”

“More like than God for m-”

“JJ, I’m gonna kill you.” John B's voice echoes outside as he bangs the Twinkie door.

My bad, I guess.

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