#I hated dresses and skirts as a kid but I like them now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

b00tyliciousbabe · 3 months

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da vinci

pairing: dacre montgomery x male reader

summary: just the actor fawning over the abundance in your cultural capital.

request: @gayaristocrat YOU ARE THE VISUSLS BBY! thanks sm for your patience, plus the anon who also requested a while back, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing.

notes: happy pride! after FINALLY handing in my art coursework, this is my projection onto the character of the reader. never will i ever pick up another paintbrush - well…also officially finished my exams now so i am a slut for y’all’s requests! flood my inbox (but more importantly my hole) xx

song rec: naomi sharon - definition of love

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dating dacre was nothing short of a dream. he always made you feel so at ease. he loved how creative you were - the perfect match to his inner theatre kid. taking him to fashion exhibitions + poetry slams, and the actor inviting you to theatre shows, seeing the world through each others’ eyes made the time together even more precious. you first met at a ballet show. he had been dragged to see it by a few of his castmates, but was more so enjoying the bts view of you with the dancers. you were backstage fitting all the dancers and making sure they were all comfortable in what you styled. he managed to peek behind the curtain and saw your beautiful, so focused on draping the fabric of the lead’s skirt.

fuck, you were fine.

but he didn’t think much of it, just some cute guy, with beautiful eyes, who probably had a boyfriend. he took his seat and watched it with his friends. one of them was engaged to one of the dancers and so took dacre to the dressing rooms after the show. after introducing the two of you, y’all were practically drooling over each other. barely a word was said between you, but your hearts’ communicated greater feelings than mere speech ever could. they say love at first sight is something for the big screen, but your initial encounter rivalled the biggest stories of romance any writer could ever craft.

from that night, you practically were together, with the tabloids plastering the two of you holding hands, yachting in capri. the pop culture side of twitter was OBSESSED with your relationship to the actor and was in constant awe with how perfect you guys were for each other.

y/nsupremacy: you guys make my heart smile

user111: they’d make such cute babies

dacrefanclub6: sexiest couple on the internet

there was even a time where he had to do a nude scene in an upcoming blockbuster and the whole world saw how much your man was packing. in his press tour, the panel of interviewers didn’t shy away from your bf’s HUGE deal, some even made inappropriate comments.

‘god bless bottoms like y/n, he be taking that shit better than a pornstar’

‘poor y/n, how does that thing even fit?’

‘checks out…big booty bitches y/n deserves to be fucked by hung men.’

dacre was afraid that you would feel uncomfortable with the constant media comments on your thickness, but he had nothing to fear. you embraced it, you were said to have the best bod in fashion. as much as he tried to keep his life with you private, he lowkey wanted to let the world know that how much of a good boy you were for him.

dacre: ‘in all fairness i ain’t had any complaints from him so…’

dacre: ‘but…our neighbours definitely hate us.’ he remarks with a devilish grin.

everyone was rooting for your relationship, and what better way to show this than him enlisting the joint troops of your fandoms to surprise you whilst you were working in paris. he had gotten some time away from filming and decided to come and visit your atelier in paris. sprawled out on your desk, with needles and materials adorning the creative canvas of the room, he saw you hard at work. with the same vein poking through your forehead as the first time he laid eyes on your angelic physique, he could’ve fallen in love all over again.

‘hey babe’ he came up to you with flowers. ‘you look ravishing tonight’ rolling his r’s with a tenacity that made you smile. his tone always made you feel so safe.

‘i ain’t even dressed yet,’ you protest, dusting off the loose threads and sequins from your sweats. ‘you’re beautiful in whatever you wear,’ coming closer and gripping underneath your butt, ‘even prettier with less on.’ dacre quips as his lips tickle your ear.

‘dacre stop,’ you laugh out. ‘that giggle of yours is so infectious.’ he crashes his lips into you, the flowers dropping haphazardly onto the desk as he pushed his tongue deeper.

he was wearing the blazer you had designed for his birthday last year, paired with a pendant necklace with the first initial of your name on it. he looked so sexy. ‘can’t seem to keep my hands off off of you.’ he breathed, nudging his jacket off.

‘nuh uh, we have dinner reservations.’ nudging him away.

‘fuck. why’d you gotta be so damn sexy?’ he sounded aggravated but you pecked him again, ‘don’t worry, i am all yours tonight.’

taking you to the balcony of a quaint, parisian bistro, the chill of the capital’s air made the two of you even more enamoured, your hearts burning passionately. whilst eating, you got some sauce on the corner of your lips, as he pushes it back into your mouth. ‘gotta get you used to the feeling of a foreign object in your mouth before tonight, don’t i?’ dacre always loved being dirty in public and you made sure to satiate his exhibitionist kink.

after many glasses of wine, you made your way to the louvre. with your many contacts you managed to snag an after hours tour - solo. you were much more of a lightweight than your boyfriend (the man could drink like a pirate and be even more chipper than before) and you couldn’t walk in a straight line for more than a few metres. he let you go so he could see your figure and admire it from afar, but as soon as he saw you stumble, dacre’s hand on your waist guided you to safety and sobriety.

y’all ran throughout the museum, finally landing and kissing in front of the mona lisa. it was such a picturesque moment. the taxi ride back to the hotel was such a fever dream, y’all were all over each other, your chauffeur knew well to close the barrier and give you two some alone time.

‘have i ever told you how beautiful you are?’ he says slurring his speech.

‘tell me again…’ you implored.

‘the most beautiful boy in the world.’ he reassured, pulling you in as the city of paris lit up, illuminating your eyes.

you called him an ‘eager beaver’ as dacre stumbled the two of you into the hotel you were staying at. he grunts between kisses,‘you know you love me.’ serving you with another peck. he stripped your clothes as you followed suit with his own, leaving a chasm of fabric in the corner of the room.

only your shared jewellery was left to remove. you fell back seductively onto the mattress. as dacre crawled on top of you with a dark lust growing in his eyes, you pulled him by the pendant around his neck.

the muscular man laid atop of you, placing each hand on the bed at dip of your waist, using his palms as a fulcrum to steady himself. you glanced down to see the light reflecting off his abs as they danced on the curves of your body.

‘you’re so beautiful.’ he whispered, kissing your cheek and cupping your face.

he lifted himself from your figure, grabbing your thighs and placing your feet at either side of his head.

kissing your legs softly ‘so fucking soft.’ he moaned into your skin. his dick was throbbingly red, precum glazing his cock as he slowly thigh fucked you. he folded his arms around your plush knees, and kept that pace, your fingers grazing his cock head each time it escaped the warm walls of your inner thighs. to your annoyance, he kept this up for what felt like forever. halting, you felt his rock length graze your hole.

‘dacre, put it in already!’ you said with overstimulated passion, earning a snicker from your boyfriend.

knowing that you were beginning to grow impatient, he caresses the flesh of your abdomen. ‘look who’s eager now?’ he smirked.

shut up,’ stroking his happy trail with an endearment. you looked up at him and bit your lip. ‘I need you, please.’ his mouth agape at you ‘of course baby.’

he laced his fingers into yours. rocking slowly into you. his huge dick stretching you out slowly as the the dimly lit room made his ash blue eyes appear dark with lust.

‘fuck, have i missed this pussy’ rhetorically muttering. dacre began whispering sweet nothings into your ear:

‘you’re doing so well.’

‘taking it like my good little boy aren’t you?’

he made you so hot. lifting himself onto his toes, he angled himself directly into you, placing his entire weight on you. fucking down into your hole, your boyfriend was hitting nerves that had been neglected in his absence.

your sphincter began tightening around him, dacre knew what this meant - your release would soon follow. he started kissing your neck, and circled your left nipple with his thumb, goading your orgasm out of you as he started drilling a bit faster. dacre chased his own high begging you to finish with him whilst slurring his words.

‘take it, baby it’s all yours. UGHHHHH’ he busted strongly inside you. his big balls slapped at your butt one last time, reassuring both of you that he had seeded you deeply. you came all over his chest, as he chuckled.

‘love it when you paint me, that’s that sexy shit i like.’ he praised giving you an eskimo kiss to calm you from my high.

‘y/n,’ he whispered, big spooning you.

‘what’s wrong baby?’ you sounded concerned, cradling his hand.

‘nothing love, i just,’ he paused hesitantly.

you turned back to face him. ‘what is it? you know you can tell me anything.’

‘I just need you to know how much i missed you,’

‘oh dacre, you already did an amazing job showing me.’ You joke ‘I feel so…enlightened right now.’

he lets out a sad deep chuckle, turning to him and stroking his cheek ‘I missed you too.’

he gripped your waist, taking your words as a source of comfort. pushing his tongue down your throat.

‘ready for round two,’ you say, massaging his dick with your palm, getting him ready.

‘always.’ he affirms, spanking your ass and turning you over. the first round was very much for your pleasure and to let you know that he had truly craved your body.

but seeing your coke bottle body all splayed out for him? it was here that dacre’s beast was awoken.

‘ass up for me baby.’ he said guiding you to a more comfortable position. he massaged your thick cheeks and started eating you out. his large hands looked abysmally small in comparison to how juicy your ass was.

‘I ain’t gonna show you any mercy this time, you know the safe word, but i don’t think we’ll be needing it.’ he muttered, kissing down your spine before impaling you.

‘shitttt dacre, slow down.’

‘shut the fuck up and take that shit like the pretty, little cockwhore you are.’ dacre degraded, knowing how much you loved his dom/aggressive nature almost as much as his softer side.

dacre began going ham on your poor hole. he stood up as he began pulling you into him from the edge of the bed. with one hand crossed against your cheek and the other in his hair, he had to compose himself - else he come to quickly.

he fucked into you at a painfully quick pace, but it felt so good having him take control. dacre slutted you out almost unconscious for a bit and you were brought back to earth as he hit your second hole.

‘fuck baby,’ ‘I will never get tired of that ass.’ he said watching your thickness bounce against his abs. you started becoming more active, pushing back onto him for a heightened pleasure.

‘shake it for daddy, theeeere ya go, that’s MY shit baby. FUUUUUUUCK.’

‘oh god, your dick is so good, dacre.’ you moan out , which is enough to send him over the edge.

he came as your ass halted at his base. tightenibg around him he started breathing falteringly. ‘baby d-don’t do that, shiiiiit.’ he started leaking like a faucet. trying to thrust inside with some rhythm (to no avail), he collapsed on top of you.

‘I love you so much.’ you say breathlessly.

‘the feeling is so mutual babe.’ he kissed into your skin.

‘y/n, you’re so fucking wet,’ he spoke under his breath. still inside that filled pussy of yours, his cum and your slick provided a juicy lubricant. as he pulled out, the cum oozing out of your wrecked hole pooled into his pubes and on the duvet cover. the two of you were completely oblivious to the mess, and cuddled in the filth you’d created - a filth you were looking forward to adding to in the morning.

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tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@ghostking4m

@lysanderplume

#gay #bottom male reader #smut #gay male #gay reader #male bottom #male x male #gay love #gay smut #male bottom reader #dacre montgomery #gay men #male reader #male x male fluff #bottom reader #gay fluff

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 7 months

Text

≡;-꒰ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍

╰┈➤ ❝ zayne x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : softdom!zayne, husband!zayne x wife!reader, reader has body insecurities and negative thoughts, kissing, heavy petting, body worship, praise and reassurance, nipple play, clit play, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, soft sex, slight dirty talk, slight cursing, use of pet names "sweetheart" "snowflake", lmk if i missed any tags !! ((unedited))

wc : 5.4k

youtiful masterlist

You couldn't sleep.

It was late; later than late—you knew that once Zayne got home, you would definitely be reprimanded for your sleeping habits again.

But how could you sleep like this?

The day had kept you restless.

Tara had proposed another one of her gala nights this afternoon, having practically spammed your texts with an invite for next week. She was quite adamant in this one, considering it was the only time that everyone seemed to be free enough at the same time, and of course, it went without saying that you were invited. But Tara wanted it to be extra special—to make up for all the lost time, and to make the most of the moment, because who knew when you all could get together like that again?

And you couldn't really argue with her on the matter; she had a good point. Though Tara and you saw each other often enough, both being the senior hunters that you were, schedule clashes were becoming more and more common. Suffice to say, it was even harder for the two of you to get ahold of the other girls you'd become close friends with over the years. Adulting was hard, sometimes.

So naturally, this was, as she put it, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, one worthy of a little extra—and while exaggerated, in typical Tara fashion, you could definitely see where she was coming from.

You wanted to meet with the girls, just as much as she did.

But formal events had never been your favorite.

Earlier in the afternoon, you had spent your lunch break with Tara in favor of scouring for the perfect new outfit for that night out. "Window shopping only, for now, of course!" she had said, none too keen on spending right from the get go, but excited to scan all the options nonetheless. And perhaps, you, too, had been excited along with her—Tara's energy was always contagious, and she knew exactly how to string people along with her in all of her happy-go-lucky skip-throughs. But soon enough, you were quickly reminded as to why you disliked formal events so ardently.

It was the clothes.

While many girls you knew jumped at the prospect of dressing up a little fancier, it was hard for you to love—you never saw yourself as someone with a body shape that could easily fit into these fancy clothing, and you had always been jealous of the girls around you that did. You weren't exempt from the same desire to dress up, of course, but—it was simply harder to enjoy when it has only ever caused your confidence to dwindle.

You, yourself, had never really voiced out your insecurities.

You didn't know if the girls knew, nor if Tara had figured out why you were so hesitant to try things on with her.

But whether or not you spoke about it or showed it at all, it did nothing to change the reality that those thoughts were there.

In truth, you hated it.

Despised it.

You never thought yourself to look good in those form-fitting clothing; never thought yourself to look good in a dressed up skirt. If anything, it was hard for you to feel comfortable in such clothing at all—and shopping for them was always a pain.

You wanted to meet with the girls.

You did, you really did.

But suddenly Tara's little cocktail dinner party was more daunting to you than you'd have liked it to be.

Naturally, by the end of your little mall adventure, Tara had found herself a few options to go back, revisit and, perhaps, buy for that very night... While you remained blank on your choices.

The mere thought had you sinking even deeper into the duvets, never more grateful for the fact that you were covered and unseen under the thickness of them.

Your mind was simply racing too much.

You, too, wished you could just sleep all of your thoughts away, and maybe, maybe, the morning will be more bearable.

...If only.

You haphazardly brought the duvet over your head, burying yourself completely hidden under them, and let out a whine.

Zayne would probably be home in a few moments.

He would see you like this, very much wide awake despite all his texts having insisted you not to wait up for him, already on the verge of crying from the sheer intensity of your less-than-welcome thoughts.

You didn't know how much he knew of all this, either.

Though you had been together for a couple years, married for roughly one—the topic had simply never come up. You hadn't explicitly told him anything about it; you'd simply managed enough through all the other formal events you'd had to attend.

You didn't want to be a baby.

In the end, you knew that this would pass, and you would get through it just fine like you always did—

Only that, somehow, today, it was worse than all the other days.

The thought of trying to get through this like you normally would only made your heart churn with discomfort, tears welling up in your eyes unwarranted.

Fuck.

Your lips quivered.

You didn't want to cry.

Zayne would be getting home from a long day.

He would be tired.

He would want to sleep.

He had an equally early start to the next day, and you couldn't—

You couldn't possibly bother him with petty problems you could solve on your own.

You always have, anyway, right?

Why should now be any different?

You heard the door click gently, followed soft, careful footsteps padding the floor to the room—

The minute the doorknob turned and you could vaguely make out the brief flicker of light, you shut your eyes tightly and turned to the side.

You had to sleep.

You swallowed thickly as you heard the faint rustle of fabric, the lightest clink of a hanger meeting its clothesrail, and the shifting of weight on the mattress.

Though you were under the blankets, you could feel the telltale warmth of your husband beside you, enough for it to have some form of comcort wash over you in an instant.

Perhaps, too much comfort.

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, and you drew in a careful, shaky breath.

Of course, Zayne, of all people, would never miss the slightest of cues from you.

"Sweetheart?"

There was a soft murmur of his voice over the top of your head, and you felt the duvet being slowly peeled off of.

There was a rush of cooler air over your face, and Zayne's arms wrapped around you, pulling your body closer to his.

...Ah, shit, you instantly surrendered, knowing there would be no way to play it off, only willing for those stupid tears in your eyes to magically disappear.

"You're awake, aren't you? It's not healthy to sleep under the blankets like that."

His voice was soft, and gentle, and he placed a light kiss into your hair.

You swallowed thickly.

"H-how was your shift...?"

You winced internally, thinking the waver in your voice was already a very telltale sign.

And as you were met with momentary silence, you figured you had been right.

Zayne shifted around, gently pulling you backwards against him, just enough for him to see your face.

And the moment your eyes locked, it was almost as if you couldn't take it anymore.

His lime-green eyes regarded your own with concern, and affection, and love—

It was almost as if all and any emotions swimming restlessly in your heart overflowed in an instant, and you couldn't think to stop the tears from falling. Choked sobs edged their way out of your throat, completely ignoring the horror at your sheer inability to control your own emotions.

You were so... pitiful. So pathetic.

You'd promised yourself you wouldn't cry in front of him over this, and yet, here you were.

Insult after insult swirled adamantly in your head as you turned, burying your face into his chest, desperately searching to anchor yourself in his warmth.

"What is it, snowflake? Are you unwell? What's wrong?" He murmured into your hair, soft, soothing rubs against your back, holding you tight against him—and you didn't feel like you deserved any of it. You wanted yo shy away from his gaze, from his touch—but the mere thought of such irrationality had you sobbing harder, berating yourself for even daring to doubt him at all.

You shivered in his arms, shaking your head, willing yourself to calm down.

And, perhaps, to you, there was no greater comfort than having him here with you.

Despite the conflicts in your mind—whether or not you were deserving of all of his affection—Zayne, and his sweet whispers of comfort, his reassuring squeezes, his loving caresses... Time and time again, you would never fail to find solace in his arms.

Now was no different.

Zayne always had that effect on you, and, perhaps, you wondered if maybe you should have considered opened up to him about this much sooner.

Now, at least, it was enough for you to steady your breaths, eyes closing, your own arms shifting to hug him back.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," he said, running a hand through your hair, soothing you through your sniffles. "It's bad to go to bed with negative feelings. Won't you tell me what's wrong?"

He didn't push you away, nor egg you to look back up at him, but you could easily hear the concern in his voice.

You shut your eyes tightly.

"...But you're tired," you whispered. "It's silly, Zayne..."

"It is not silly, not if it can make you cry."

This time, he brought his hand to your cheek, caressing it gently, and you tilted your head upwards to meet his gaze. "I didn't see you all day, snowflake," he nuzzled your forehead. "What happened to make you so upset while I've been absent?"

You pouted, already feeling another set of tears prick at your eyes, though you blinked them away rapidly.

"I... I missed you," you said quietly. And it was the truth, just not—all of it. It wasn't as if you planned on lying to him—what kind of a wife would you be if you did?

But you wouldn't have known where to start on this otherwise.

It was still true, anyway.

You'd missed his presence; you almost wished you had spent your lunch break with him like you normally did, and, perhaps, that way you wouldn't be feeling so down in the dumps like this.

But what was done was done.

"I missed you, too, sweetheart." He brushed the tears away from your face, and leaned down to place his lips on your temple, causing you to close your eyes at the gentleness in his every action. "But it's more than that, isn't it?"

Ah, a faint, barely-there smile made its way to your face. Zayne always knew you so well.

You let out a sigh, feeling yourself move in to chase his lips, hopeful for a more proper kiss that you had, in fact, been missing for most of the day.

While he allowed you to steal one, his eyes were expectantly searching yours.

You faltered, like you always did.

"...There's... a cocktail party next week..." You started quietly, moving to lay back on your back, eyes focusing on the ceiling above. "Tara planned it just this afternoon. A girls' outing."

"Did she? It's been a while since you've had those."

"...Yeah."

You turned to look at him, another tiny pout forming on your lips. "I just... I don't know if I want to go..." You leaned into his touch when he brought his hand back to cup your cheek, a familiar, comforting action he would often do with you.

"If you don't, then you shouldn't," he spoke matter-of-factly.

You let out a soft laugh.

It was a very Zayne-typical answer.

"Right, because it's always that simple," you rolled your eyes playfully. "...I wish it was, anyway. Zayne, I haven't seen them in forever..."

"Forever would be an exaggeration..."

You could almost hear the frown in his voice, but for a while, you didn't say anything else.

"...Sweetheart?"

Another gentle squeeze of your arm, and your eyes searched his, feeling your throat close up at truly admitting the source of your problems.

But you should, right? This was... communication. The both of you had always valued it; you couldn't just... go back on your own promises to him.

...It might have made you hate yourself more if you did.

"Zayne... I— I want to, but..."

You paused, taking in a deep breath, averting your gaze once more. Your lips quivered again, and Zayne's immediate reaction was to give you another soft, gentle kiss. Now, you could only close your eyes, focusing instead on the lingering feeling of having his lips upon yours, if only to keep yourself from breaking into tears yet again.

"I-I don't feel like I... Like my body very much, these days..." Your voice came out barely a whisper. "It's a formal event, right? Fancy dresses and all that... I went window-shopping with Tara today, and, I—"

Your breath got caught in your throat, and you shook your head, moving once more to bury yourself into his chest.

"I don't know, Zayne... Maybe, I think I just feel—hard to love, right now, or something. And it's so stupid. I know that you love me, I know that the girls do, and I've never questioned it, I just—I don't feel like I'm pretty enough to be loved, and..."

You clutched him tightly as more of your tears seemed to fall without your consent at all, your own heartbeat thrumming wildly in your ears just painfully hyperaware of just how pathetic you were being.

And you've been feeling pretty darn pathetic for virtually the entire day.

You really couldn't tell if crying was making you feel any better, either—you'd held it together this whole day up until now, but each and every time you spoke, it was almost as if the tears wouldn't stop. Even as he sighed into your hair, even as he hald you close, even with his soft, feathery kisses over the top of your head.

"Don't cry, snowflake," he murmured, gently rubbing your back. "Here, breathe with me. Relax, alright, sweetheart?"

You swallowed your sobs, settling slowly into whimpers and then slowly into hiccups, focusing on the steady movements of his palm against the silk of your nightgown.

"That's it. Breathe, okay?"

You sniffled as you looked up, pouting visibly, and he reached over to wipe your tears away once more, shifting to press his forehead against yours.

"Sweetheart. Have you been feeling this way for some time now?"

His eyes were intense. They carried within them was an emotion you couldn't quite place. It was almost as if it had swirled into a complicated mix, almost as if desperate to pull you out of your self-deprecating reverie; only giving way to a certain kind of sorrow when you feebly nodded your head.

"Oh, snowflake," he whispered, and the genuine regret that was laced into his voice made your heart thrum. "If only you had told me sooner."

"...M'sorry, Zayne..."

"Why do you apologize? I only wish to make you feel loved. Because I do love you. And I think you are the most beautiful, beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon."

His words felt weighty on your heart, nd you had to swallow down, for the nth time that night, that very same desire to cry.

"...Zayne..."

This time, he kissed you—soft, and slow, and gentle; not unlike most of his kisses, but laced with a certain passion that almost seemed to drown out all the fragments of disdain still in your mind. His hand moved up to your hair, his other drawing you even closer against him, the heat from his skin becoming ever more noticeable to you.

When you pulled back from his kiss, eyes dazed and mildly breathless, he traced his fingers over your face—from your eyes, to your nose, to your mouth, to your jaw... And down, over your collarbone, over the skin of your upper arm.

"You are beautiful, sweetheart," he repeated. And he stroked your arm, never once taking his eyes off of you.

For the first time that night, you thought—yeah. Maybe I am beautiful.

His hand, then, moved from your arm over to your clothed breast, grazing over the exposed skin peeking out of your now-disheveled nightgown, before trailing down to your stomach—and your hips—and your thigh—

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes moving downwards to watch as his hnd repeated the same motions, steadily feeling yourself relax into the lull of his caresses.

"Your hips," he mumbled. "Your stomach... your thighs... your arms... your breasts..." Zayne leaned over to kiss the tip of your nose, offering you the smallest of smiles. "Your cheeks. Your lips. Your nose, your eyes, your..."

"—Z- Zayne—"

"...Everything." His voice dropped low into a whisper, his hand slipping right between your thighs, brushing a knuckle against your clothed heat.

He nuzzled against you, sighing.

"You're beautiful, my snowflake. And I love every single part of you. Do you understand?"

You could only nod underneath his gaze, staying completely still as he moved his arm down to settle firmly over your waist, his eyes conveying a certain desire that was quite familiar to you.

"...Zayne," you mumbled. "A-aren't you sleepy?"

"No."

"But... You always say it's bad to stay up late..."

He gaze was unwavering; firm, yet expectant. You could feel his thumb rubbing circles into your skin, and when he lened back in to whisper over your lips, you could feel yourself dizzy at his hot breath against you.

"Maybe so," he whispered. "But you are more important right now. And if you would allow me, sweetheart... Then I, as your husbnd, would want nothing more than to show you just how much I love you."

Your breath caught in your throat.

His hand, now, would slide up ever so slowly, tracing the curvature of your spine, and you shuddered—

"Okay," you spoke, breathless, quiet, waiting in anticipation of his movements.

And when he smiled, you thought, truly, you couldn't wish for a more loving husband.

"May I know?" he mumbled as he gently moved the fabric of your gown up above your breasts. "What about your body do you hate so much?"

He stopped when you shivered involuntarily against the cold air on your stomach, subconsciously moving your arms over to cover yourself.

You looked away.

"I understand if you do not want to talk about it. If it's too much, then please, forget I as—"

"...I'm not slim, like the other girls," you cut him off softly.

Zayne's hands gently pried your own away from your stomach, bringing one of them up to kiss at your knuckles.

For a while, there was silence, and you shrunk under his gaze.

What if he also...

"You don't have to be," he interrupted your thoughts with a nod of his head, having finally gathered his thoughts, and his other hand moved back to stroke the side of your waist.

"...But... I-I don't fit well into dresses... My torso is long, and my figure isn't very flattering, my belly fat would show if I—"

He moved lower, this time, to place a trail of kisses from the valley of your breasts down over your navel.

"Z-Zayne..."

"You must understand that I think your figure is very flattering, sweetheart. You've always looked stunning in everything that you've worn. Don't you know how much self-control I must practice whenever I see you?" A smile tugged at his lips, and you almost shivered at the look in his eyes, goosebumps raising on your skin when he snaked his hand over to the plush of your inner thigh. "And I love the way my hands would mold into your skin. They fit so perfectly around your waist, your thigh... So easy for me to hold. Very easy for me to love."

He gave you a squeeze as if to prove his point, but you could only look away almost shamefully. "...But I have scars on my legs," you mumbled. "So wearing short skirts would expose them, and they're—"

"Beautiful."

He bent your leg to kiss your knee, gently brushing his fingers over the marks on your skin.

"They are beautiful."

Zayne shook his head with a sigh, before moving back up to capture your pout into another kiss.

"But—"

"No buts, sweetheart. These are not flaws to be hidden, nor things that you should feel the need to get rid of. They are part of you, and to me, that makes them perfect."

Another kiss, this time by the side of your jawline, and you drew in a breath.

"You are perfect, snowflake."

You felt your skin burn against his touch, and his words made you feel warm and tingly.

"The shape of your face is, too, perfect as it is. In case you were wondering. Just as perfect for me to hold, and just as perfect for me to kiss."

A kiss on your neck, to your collarbone, to your shoulders, down your arm...

"I can only say the same for your arms. So soft. They wrap perfectly around me, did you know that?" He smiled against your skin, before shifting to press you onto your back, caging you between his arms and hovering above you. "And your shoulders sit on you perfectly fine, I hope you don't think of them so badly, either. Frankly, they must be tired from carrying all the burdens you keep from me still..."

You noted the seriousness in his voice, and felt yourself subsequently relax.

"...Zayne, I—"

"Do not apologize. I won't ask for it, and you've nothing wrong. However... you must tell me, next time, sweetheart, whenever you feel like this. Can you promise me that?"

A silence followed, as if you were weighing your words—

And perhaps, you were.

It was never easy for you to speak of this thoughts. You'd think yourself normal if not for all these baseless insecurities, and you'd much prefer to keep them to yourself—

But what had that done? All these years spent holding in your tears, only to break at the slightest prod of your thoughts.

It wasn't as if crying had helped you.

It even made things worse, probably.

And it would do more harm to you if you continued in this unhealthy cycle of bottling things up.

"...You don't mind?" you whispered. "I don't want to bother you... You're always so busy..."

"Oh, sweetheart. I will always have time for you. And I am always here to listen. You understand that, don't you?"

"...I know, but..."

"I am your husband. What husband would I be to ignore your concerns?"

You smiled faintly at that, finally finding in yourself the courage to loosely hook your arms around his neck.

In the end, Zayne was willing to be your confidant. And communication had always been important between the two of you, you knew this well enough—an issue like this shouldn’t be too different from that. Why would you keep such things from him, truly?

"Okay," you nodded, a promise to yourself and a promise to him. "I promise, Zayne."

"Good girl."

His praise, so associated now with certain activities that you had often done, went straight to your core—you almost wanted to hide, despite knowing you had given him consent to do as he wished, but he leaned in for another kiss.

You could feel his smile as he moved his lips against yours, biting gently at your lower lip enough to elicit a gasp.

When he pulled back, the mirth in his eyes was clear, and you jumped as you felt the pad of his thumb graze ever so slightly over your pert nipple.

"Z-Zayne..." you whispered, eyes searching his.

"Do you know what I love the most about your body?"

He spoke against your lips, close enough just to touch, but not quite.

You slowly shook your head no.

"You're always so responsive."

His hand moved to knead at your skin, brushing slightly over your nipple but never quite touching. His eyes fixed upon yours, taking in the way your eyelids would flutter and the way you would instantly shudder at his touch;

"So... expressive. So telling."

You couldn't help the way you whimpered, feeling yourself arch slightly into his hand, eyes closing as he flicked once more against your nipple before pinching it between the pads of his fingers.

The moan he elicited out of you was airy and long, and had you opened you eyes, you would see the way he tilted his head, watching you, observing you. He only continued, of course—rolling it slowly, tugging slightly, feeling the bud get harder between his nimble fingers. It was almost as if he were eager to hear more of you moans, and he would get them instantly.

"You're always so sensitive for me, sweetheart."

Without giving you a chance to react to his words, he dipped his head down, latching his mouth over your other bud, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your arms. Another moan fell from your lips. You felt him gently rub your waist once more to ease you into the pleasure, expertly working you up.

He knew you so well.

You could feel it in the way he pinched and rubbed at you in all the right places, skillfully swirling the tip of the warm muscle over your stinging nipple. You felt his saliva pool from the sides of his mouth and onto your breasts—when he pulled back with a 'pop', you flushed at the way he casually wiped it away, eyes never leaving yours.

"Z-Zayne, really, you..." You were breathless when he spoke, barely getting a chance to collect yourself when he sat up, spreading you open and settling between your legs.

"You're wet, aren't you?" he spoke matter-of-factly, but the look in his eyes told you that he was quite pleased. "Hm, what did I say? So responsive for me."

His hand moved lower.

"Just like the good girl that you always are..."

Lower, lower, digging into the waistband of your panties—

"And you are such..."

Another kiss on your stomach, and he slowly pulled the fabric away.

"A beautiful..."

His eyes dropped to the way your slick pulled with your underwear, a telltale sign of your wetness.

"Good girl."

Zayne moved to swipe a finger over your slit, collecting your arousal and spreading it over to your clit. He raised an eyebrow slightly at you as he did so, taking in the way you would mewl almost instantly; "So wet for me, my snowflake."

You whimpered, hands reaching out for him, settling only when he tucked you under his chin, easily slipping a finger into your hole.

"Mmh— Zayne..."

Another moan, and he kissed at your hair, gently pumping his finger in and out of you.

"See how perfect you are?" He murmured, and his thumb would press over your clit, gently rubbing in time with the languid thrust of his finger. "The way you wrap around me like this... I could keep my fingers inside of you all night long, sweetheart."

You could feel everything, with the way he took his time with you, exploring every inch of your pussy almost as if committing it to memory. And he was right—he felt perfect inside you, feeling his sighs against the crown of your head everytime he would clench around you.

He slipped another finger in, and you groaned at the stretch.

"Shit, Zayne," you whispered, feeling yourself buck up into his fingers.

"Language, sweetheart."

You almost laughed at his words, had he not quickened his pace, finally moving his head down to bring you into another deep kiss.

You could feel it—the gradual knotting in your stomach, the jolt of pleasure when he rubbed against your sensitive spots.

"Zayne—" You moaned when he pulled back from the kiss, eyes turning hazy. "Zayne, please, I'll cum—"

He peppered kisses over your face, and smiled.

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

You gasped as you climaxed almost as if by command, trembling in your place, eyes wide as you felt the pleasure rip through you intensely. Zayne continued to kiss at your skin, soothing phrases in your ear, gentle caresses over your arm.

"Z-Zayne, I... You...—"

He pressed his cock against your cunt, sighing into your neck.

"One more, sweetheart, okay?" he breathed, teasing your entrance with his tip. "I need to be inside you."

And how could you say no?

You could feel the lust radiating off of him, his chest heaving with remnants of self-control, leaving slow, languid licks on the side of your neck if only to placate himself.

It was rare to see him lose control, but you knew that he would always end up getting like this whenever he would push himself inside you.

He would only get like this with you.

For you.

Your heart jumped, and you nodded, running your hands over his back.

"I can take one more," you mumbled.

Immediately, inch by inch, you felt him sink deep into your cunt, feeling the stretch of your walls to accomodate his length no matter how many times you'd done this.

Your eyes closed as you hissed in pleasure, wrapping your legs around his waist, taking in the way he would gently rut against you. Soft, steady, rocking movements; the bed would creak along with his thrusts in a lull that had your eyelids fluttering closed.

"You take me very well," he groaned from the throat, voice slightly muffled into your neck. "So perfect for me, snowflake... Your pretty pussy around my cock..."

His words sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core, every squeeze of your cunt on eliciting a sharp hiss from his lips.

"Haah... Zayne..."

He made you feel loved.

His cock was snug in your walls, every vein and ridge dragging perfectly against you. You were made for him, and he for you—his low moans were music to your ears, and you hugged him tighter, your chest swelling with warmth.

"I love you," you whispered, bucking your hips up to meet his. "I love you, Zayne... so, so much."

He finally lifted his head, the lustful cloud in his lime-green eyes mixing with overflowing adoration.

"And I love you, sweetheart. More than you think. More than you know."

You'd never felt yourself glow at such words before.

The pace he kept was steady, but the lingering feeling of your previous high had you now moaning unabashedly, feeling yourself getting closer, and closer to another one.

"Please," you whimpered, feeling your nails dig into his back when he angled his thrusts, hitting that spot that had you seeing stars. "Please, Zayne, 'mso close..."

He shuddered at the way you clenched, obliging you with harder, deeper thrusts, adoring the way you would throw your head back in moans of his name.

"Fuck," he cursed, eyes closing, hips stuttering. "Go ahead, sweetheart, 'm right there with you."

You could feel the way he twitched inside of you, thrusts getting faster, more erratic.

"Inside, right?" you breathed, clutching him tightly, almost locking him in place. "Inside, Zayne, please—together—"

He moaned lowly, nearly driving you into the mattress with the force of his thrusts, your words igniting a newfound fervor. "Shit—you'd like that, huh, sweetheart? Want me to fuck a baby in you? You'll be such a beautiful mother, won’t you?"

Your eyes squeezed shut, focusing on the feeling of his cock against your walls, claiming your cunt in the way you liked best. "Yes, yes, yes," you chanted, "please, Zayne—"

You mewled in your release, clenching tightly, feeling him paint your insides white as ropes of his cum spurted deep inside of you.

You held him close, panting, burying your face into his neck.

"I love you," you whispered, repeating your words. "I love you, Zayne. I love you, and thank you... For always being there for me."

He panted as he thrust inside of you once, twice, plugging you full of his spend, before pulling out and kissing you deeply.

"I love you ever more. I will never stop feeling lucky to have you, and I will always be here. I meant it, sweetheart... You'd make a beautiful mother." As you flushed, he pressed a hand against your stomach, and smiled. "For what it's worth, your weight is perfectly healthy. And there is nothing wrong with your body, okay, snowflake?"

"...I know. Thank you, Zayne."

"Would you prefer to go shopping with me, instead? My shift will end earlier tomorrow. I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with you."

This time, you smiled. You snuggled into his embrace, finding solace in his warmth, just as you always did.

"I'd like that a lot."

⁺₊ / an: i ended up combining a couple of requests for this (and the youtiful series as a whole) and finally got around to writing zayne!!! this was incredibly hard to write, i love him INCREDIBLY so, and something about writing him amplifies the need to have it down perfectly 😭

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

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agentmarcuspike · 4 months

Text

dave york x babysitter!f!reader

summary: the kids you babysit have a hot dad. you want him. but he's married... cws: unfaithfulness (dave is married to carol), power imbalance (employer and employee), fainting, thigh grinding, fingering, reader wears a skirt, dad!dave and his kids, nicknames (baby, honey), reader sits in dave's lap, mention of blood, frottage kinda, one (1) shoulder bite word count: 2.7k divider by @thecutestgrotto thank you and shoutout to my cheerleaders on this, liv @5oh5 and han @swiftispunk <3 and my love @joelsversion for helping with the header <3

"Without touching his skin, How can I be guilty as sin?"

You hate being alone with Dave York.

There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a perfectly pleasant, well-mannered man. His daughters, Molly and Alice, are angels when you look after them (mostly), and nothing Dave has ever said or done has made you uncomfortable. Your interactions are innocent and professional. And that’s exactly the problem.

There’s nothing wrong with him.

Because when you’re left alone together, in the evenings when his kids are asleep and he offers to drive you home, or in the mornings on the days he doesn’t work from home and he pours you a cup of coffee in the kitchen while you make the girls breakfast… you can’t stop your mind from wandering.

You’re not entirely sure what Mr. York does for work, but you know he must look good doing it. Prancing around the house in his fitted dress pants that hug his front and back just right. His loose dress shirt hiding the body you suspect is strong and strapping, based on the sounds coming from the garage when he tells you he’ll be working out. And those are just the parts you don’t get to see.

His hands, however, are always on full display. When they curl around that mug he hands you. His palm brushing the small of your back as he opens the door for you when you leave. Fingers tapping, sometimes only one on the steering wheel, when he drives you home. When he’s typing away at the computer in his home office, or brushing the hair out of his girls’ faces before kissing their heads goodnight on the nights that he makes it home in time. Oh, those fingers… and that ring.

The ring he wears as a promise to Carol, his wife, that he’ll always be faithful to her. You should know how much a promise like that means. Someone once promised you the same. To always be there, to never stray. But stray they did. And the pain of that is something you don’t wish on anyone.

So yes, you hate being alone with Dave York. Because he’s so close. You spend more hours in his house than your own, basically raising his kids. And he’s right there… but he’s not for you.

It has been a very long day, and yet the clock on the kitchen stove shows only 11:27. The girls have run through the garden sprinklers all morning, worn out and down for a nap already, a combination of heat and exhaustion making you wish you could do the same. The heat wave has lasted for days now, only alleviated by a few minutes of clouds during the worst hours.

Your bare thighs cling to the chair as you get up to clean up your lunch. It’s quick work, so you do the rest of the dishes too, even though it’s not your job. Warm soapy water prunes your fingers quickly, the only parts of your body not already damp with sweat. The house is rarely this quiet during the day, only the distant sounds of traffic from the main road blocks away filling the room, joining the splashing of water and clangs from dishes as you put them back into their cabinets. Some mornings you can hear Dave talking in his office, the sound carrying through the house. You can never make out what it is he’s talking about, only the low rumble of his voice sometimes plaited with other voices through computer speakers. He’s quiet today.

This heat is unbearable, you think, as you wipe your forehead with wet hands. Leaning on the counter, you take a deep breath. For a second your eyesight falters, and lightheadedness washes over you. Have you even had a glass of water today? You can feel your legs start to wobble, vision turning static, and you’ve just started swaying when–

“Hey, hey!”

A strong hand grabs your arm as you topple over, and you lean into Dave’s solid chest, letting him support your weight as you focus on your breathing.

“There you go, honey,” he soothes. “Deep breaths.”

His shirt smells crisp and clean, the scent interrupted by whiffs of soap and cologne from his skin underneath it, as you inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“You okay?” His big hand draws circles on your back, still holding you up with the other.

“Just hot…” you manage, lifting your head up to see a concerned Dave look down at you with furrowed brows.

“Come lie down in my office for a bit, the AC is better in there.”

He supports you on your unsteady legs with an arm firmly around your waist, guiding you to his work room at the other end of the house. You’ve never really been in there, only stuck your head through the door to let him know you’re leaving at the end of the day.

The room is huge, especially for a home office. Floor to ceiling windows cover the far wall, his desk in the middle of the room, facing the door. Bookcases line the other walls, filled with mostly folders and what looks like heavy encyclopedias. In front of one of them is, of all things, a chaise lounge. What is he, a shrink? You’ve never seen him have anyone else in there, but for all you know he might as well be. He’s got the calm and steady presence you imagine one would need to be any kind of doctor.

“Here,” he says as he guides you over to the chaise, one big hand engulfing yours, the other supporting your neck as you lower yourself down.

“Let me get you some water.”

As he leaves the office again, you hurriedly smooth your skirt down, suddenly very aware of how much skin you’re showing. If you lift your knees your entire ass would be on display for him when he returns, but you know keeping your feet up will be good for the dizziness. You settle for an in-between, only one leg raised, and the other straight out, just as Dave returns, bottle in hand. He twists the cap open before he hands it to you.

“Thanks,” you breathe as you accept it, gulping down half the contents in one go. You hand the bottle back to him and he chugs the rest. Your eyes are fixed on his plush lips around the bottle opening that was just between your own. You wonder what they would feel like on your warm skin.

As he drinks, a stray droplet escapes from the side of his mouth, trickling down to his chin. It runs down the length of his throat, Adam’s apple bouncing when he swallows, and then the drop disappears underneath his shirt collar. Your mouth waters, yet you feel even thirstier. You’d like to rip his shirt off and lick the droplet off his chest, as if only that could quench your thirst. And you can’t help but feel… No, you can help it. You should. It’s completely inappropriate. He’s your employer, your boss, and he’s… so Goddamn good looking. Shit.

He crumples the empty plastic before throwing it away in the bin next to his desk. Slumping down in his office chair he turns his attention to the computer screen.

Typing away at his keyboard, you watch him. Doctor York? Professor York? You try to imagine him; teaching a class, doing paperwork at an office, running a store, being someone’s strict and authoritarian boss. The latter thought makes your legs clench together involuntarily.

“What do you do?”

The question escapes you before you can help it, and you cringe slightly at your own sudden bluntness.

“Sorry?”

“I just realized I don’t know what you do for work.”

He doesn’t look up from the screen when he speaks, but a subtle smile plays on his lips.

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” You laugh.

“That would suck. Who would look after your kids?”

“I’d be on the run, so not me.”

“Carol, then. All alone. Poor Carol.”

“Yeah. Poor Carol…” he agrees, voice suddenly grave.

A few minutes pass, comfortable yet somehow charged silence surrounding you. When he speaks again, his tone shifts—still dark, but less grave.

"Ever been to Europe?" he asks, breaking the stillness.

The unexpected question leaves you momentarily flustered.

“Uh, yeah, I, uhm… I went backpacking there a million years ago,” you stutter.

His eyes narrow slightly. "Really?"

“Why is that so hard to believe?" you challenge, squinting back at him.

“Just a little surprising, I suppose.”

He meets your gaze without flinching, a spark of something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.

“I’m actually planning a trip to Belgium. Come have a look at this.”

He beckons you closer with two fingers, the gesture innocent and yet, paired with your clouded judgment and current state of mind, borderline obscene.

Carefully, you put your two feet down on the floor, taking a moment to test your balance. Once confident you won’t topple over again, you step over to his side of the workspace. You lean over his desk, one hand on the table and one on the armrest of the office chair he’s seated in, squinting at the screen. It’s probably very interesting, pictures and lists of things to do and see abroad, but the only thing you can focus on is the sliver of ass you know is revealed when you bend over in this particular skirt. You’d usually wear something more work appropriate, even just a pair of hot pants underneath. But this weather… This heat…

Dave’s gaze is just as scorching as he awaits your reaction, and you can tell he’s working hard not to let his eyes wander. Just like you do, when from the corner of your eye you spot his hand moving absentmindedly up and down his thigh, resting a little too long at the top, thumb grazing his groin.

“Want me to bring you something back?” he asks, voice low, close to a whisper, as if worried someone could hear him.

You shift your weight from one leg to the other, giving your feet a little more space between them, making room between your thighs. Suddenly, his fingers graze the insides of your thighs and his hand trails upwards, coming to rest over the wet patch of your underwear, damp from your excitement or from the temperature you’re not sure. An audible sigh escapes you at the contact. He responds with a groan of his own as he starts drawing circles over your clothed clit.

“I’ve heard they have great chocolate,” you stutter in response to his question.

“Yeah? You got a sweet tooth?”

You wish desperately he would touch your skin, and try to angle your hips so he can slip a finger under your panties, but he just follows your movements, touching you through the fabric. You only hum in response.

“God, this isn’t right…” you hear him whisper to himself. You don’t disagree, yet neither of you make a move to stop.

His hands move to rest on your hips, and he slowly turns you to face him. Soft fingers grip you tightly. The insides of his legs brush the bare skin of your own, making you shiver despite the heat. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me,” he says, pleading. So you do. The darkness of his eyes pull you in, and you’re almost taken over by the urge to lean down and kiss him. As you start to bend down, one hand resting on his shoulder, his hands on your hips keep you in place. At a distance.

“Tell me we shouldn’t do this.” His eyes rake over your body, taking you in, short fingernails digging into your skin. “Tell me this is wrong.”

It wouldn’t be a lie. It really is, and you really shouldn’t. So you’re not sure why throw one leg over his and straddle his thigh. A buzz shoots through you as your swollen core meets the tight muscle of his leg. You’re so close to him like this. So close you can feel the warm puffs of his quickened breath fan your skin, with a faint scent of coffee, toothpaste, and something else, indistinct but distinctly Dave.

Details of his complexion you’ve never noticed before become clear. The worry lines between his brows. The sharp curve of his cupid’s bow. The few hairs he’d missed while shaving, probably in a hurry, that morning.

Almost unwillingly your hips start drawing small circles, chasing release. Dave’s hands haven’t moved an inch, still gripping your hips, following your movements. His eyes are fixed at where your legs clasp around his own, soft movements growing erratic as your pleasure pulls you further.

Under his clothes he’s fully hard now, the fabric of his dress pants stretching around his erection. You imagine the weight of him in your hand, how your fingers would barely meet around his shaft when you jerk him off. You shift forward, thrusting, wanting desperately to feel him, but he holds you in place, pulling his own hips away from you.

“Nuh-uh.” One of his hands releases its grip on you and rises to gently cup your face. The tips of his fingers barely brush your skin. “Not like that.”

“What?” you breathe.

“Just…” Dave’s face contorts slightly as he sighs. “Just take what you need. What you want.”

You continue to grind on his thick thigh, drenching his trousers with each movement. Back and forth, clenching around nothing. As your breath quickens, you hunch over more and more, forehead eventually landing on Dave’s shoulder. Your teeth come down on the soft flesh of your cheek, and you chew, molars slicing through the skin until you taste blood.

“Come on,” he purrs, his voice hoarse and vibrating in your ear. “Come on, baby, give it to me.”

“I’m gonna–

Your mouth falls open in silent moan, and you bite down on his shoulder to keep from making a sound, soaking his already damp cotton shirt in saliva and drops of blood from the inside of your mouth. His grip on your hips is relentless, and he groans through his gritted teeth as you fall over the edge.

“Fucking… come… on.”

And you do.

Your thighs clench around Dave’s, and you can feel him tense up as well, sending new waves of pleasure through your core. The buzzing vibration runs from your middle, through your spine, and sets off another spark at the very top of your skull. Your hairs stand up, goosebumps. The blood pumping in your ears deafens you momentarily.

With your nose buried in his neck, nuzzled behind his ear, you take a few breaths to restrain yourself. His hands are looser on you now, thumbs drawing small circles on your hip bones. His chest rises and falls underneath you, slowing in time with yours.

And just as you’re about to lift your head from his shoulder, not quite ready to face the reality of what has just happened, what you’ve done, someone else breaks the silence.

“Daddy!”

Molly’s sleepy voice is unmistakable from down the hall. Dave’s hands are off you in a second, and you barely have time to react before he’s on his feet.

“Dave, I’ll take her–”

But he’s already out the door.

Once you’ve flattened your skirt and straightened up in the hallway bathroom, you find them in the kitchen. Molly is blabbering, Alice yawning, while Dave is listening and laughing, arranging their lunch in funny shapes on their plates. Cucumbers for eyes, a slice of bell pepper for a pair of red lips, a piece of mushroom becomes the nose. The children giggle at their Dad’s shenanigans.

You stand in the doorway, observing. Domestic bliss. They’re not your kids and he’s not your husband, and this moment is not for you. As the kids’ laughter and the clang of kitchenware reverberates through the open kitchen, you catch yourself wondering how Dave will explain the stains you made on his clothes to Carol.

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#dave york #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x female reader #equalizer 2 #my writing #ahhhhhhhHHHHHHH

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luveline · 6 months

Note

That family holiday kbd was soo cute😭

Can we get a blurb about playing at the resort’s pool with Steve and the kids? 🫶🏻

kbd — the harrington’s go poolside !! mom!reader, 1.4k

“Can we hold hands?” Beth asks.

You throw your hand out to her showfully. She giggles as she takes it, rejuvenated after a good night's sleep and a huge breakfast from the buffet. You and Steve are probably happier about her gorging than she is; it’s never a bad day when Bethie eats well.

Steve holds a toddling Dove’s hand, leaning down to accommodate her tiny stature, while Avery walks just ahead. “It’s gonna be fun, bubby,” Steve’s saying, “I promise.”

Dove’s been to the pool a couple of times, but never for long. Last time she’d been in Steve’s arms for the whole session, while you shepherded Beth, and Avery played water games with her Aunt Robin. You’re a little scared to be taking them now with just the two of you, but Steve reassured you that everyone would be perfectly safe in the kids pool under both your supervision and the lifeguards, and you tend to trust his judgement.

You leave the hotel lobby and step out into the resort’s back, white concrete and bright green sections of grass cut by paths that lead down to the pools and water features. Steve shouts for Avery to stay close, your oldest girl gasping with excitement as you draw near the pool and families already swimming in the sun. Her flip-flops slap the ground.

“Mom, it’s too sunny,” Bethie whines.

“This is why we all have hats. Do you want a hat?”

“No.” She frowns. “I can’t see.”

“You can’t see?” you ask. “I might have something that can help. Let’s just get to some seats and I’ll show you.”

There are rows of blue plastic chairs and sun loungers outfitted with tables near the kiddie pool, more further down toward the adult pool. Families have already set up in places, but there’s plenty of room for you, your family, and your huge baby bag.

Steve hoists Dove onto a sun lounger. Avery next, though she stays standing, her excitement catching. A sprinkler shaped like a flower rains generous streams of water down onto a laughing little girl and her mother. Avery watches them over Steve’s shoulder. “Can we swim? Please, dad, I want to go under the sprinkler!”

“Yeah. Let’s take your nice dress off first, sweetheart, put your arms up. Up, up!”

She holds up her arms for Steve to help her out of her dress. You and Beth take the sunlounger opposite, where she’s quick to climb into your lap, hiding her face from the sun.

You knew Beth wouldn’t wear a hat. She hates them, just like she hates flip flops, sandals, and any shoes without socks. Luckily she’s fine to go barefoot from here —you begin to untie her laces. “I have something new for us to try. I think you’re gonna love it, but maybe you won’t, I don’t know.”

“What is it?”

You unzip the bag and pull out a round blue container. It clicks open, unveiling a toddler-sized pair of sunglasses made of a strange soft plastic.

“You can match daddy,” you sing-song, attempting to entice her. “And keep your eyes away from the sun.”

“Will they stay on when I swim?” she asks.

“Maybe not, but I’ve got you goggles for swimming. Are you ready to swim? Or are we gonna sit here for a bit in the sun?”

Avery jumps down off of the sunlounger. The skirt of her swimsuit bounces as she runs to you, hands vying for your bag. “Mom, I want goggles too.”

“I got you some, don’t worry. Let daddy do it. He has to make them smaller on your head.”

Steve outfits Avery in her goggles, and takes Dove’s dress off to leave her in her swimsuit (or scuba suit). Beth doesn’t wanna swim yet, but you take her dress off and begin the long process of covering each child in SPF.

“There,” you say, wiping a smudge of sunscreen from Avery’s arm down into her hand. “Tada! You’re now safe from the sun.”

“I love the sun.”

“I know, but the sun doesn’t love us. It gets too hot.”

“That’s why we have to drink.”

“Exactly, baby, exactly.” You frame her face with your hands. “Hey, you look beautiful today. You do! Look at your lovely smile, so pretty, better let me have a little kiss.”

“Mommy,” she giggles.

“Just a little one, Avey, just one–” You kiss her cheek twice, one near her nose and the other her ear, before pulling her in for a slightly slimy hug. The sun warms the back of your neck, and her shoulders are warm where your arms slide over them.

“That was two,” Steve says.

“You rat,” you say, grinning as he leans down to hug you from behind.

“Better give me one to make it even,” he says in your ear.

“Don’t think that’s how it works.”

He gives you a quick kiss. “Hey, Dove! Babe, where are you going?”

“Swim!”

“Guess we better get in,” he says, thumb in your shoulder and then suddenly gone as he chases your waddling barely-toddler before she can get too far away.

“Ready, Beth?” you ask.

“You’re coming in?” she asks you.

“Yeah, I’m coming in,” you say, forcing a smile.

You've had three babies. You know you don’t look like you did when you and Steve first met, don’t look like somebody you’d see on TV or in the background of a Madonna video. He sees you naked all the time and he’s never had any complaints (the opposite, always), but these people aren’t used to you. You have a doughy stomach and the baby weight sticks to your chest and thighs; you’re so worried you’ll be judged for how you look you start to resent yourself for not trying to fix it.

You pull your dress over your head hesitantly.

An immediate wolf whistle echoes from the poolside.

Steve’s ankle deep in the kids shallows, his fingers still in his mouth, the other arm wrapped around Dove. The sun turns his hair a dirty blonde, his mild tan lightened.

“Steve, don’t,” you scorn, immediately flustered at the attention it draws.

“That’s my wife,” Steve says to Avery, unaffected.

You grab Bethie, kiss her under the chin, and try to act like you aren’t embarrassed as you meet them in the water.

“Well hello, gorgeous,” he says, grabbing for you, not quite reaching.

The water’s cold. “Stop, Steve.”

“You’re so beautiful, come here, I need a kiss.”

“Stop.”

“Seriously?” he asks.

You hug Beth. “Maybe one more.”

“Mom, you’re beautiful!” Avery shouts.

“Yeah, mom, you’re beautiful,” Beth says.

Steve smirks from over Dove’s head. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

You and Steve kneel in the pool. The water isn’t that deep at its deepest, and the girls can stand without being submerged. Avery and Bethie hold hands under the sprinkler flower to stop from either girl getting lost, while you and Steve watch with Dove held in his arms. “How’s that, Dovey? Are you having fun?” you ask saccharinely.

Steve sighs. “You really are so, so beautiful.”

“Daddy’s feeling silly,” you say to Dove, “he doesn’t get it.”

“I get it.”

“You don’t think people wonder what you’re doing with me?” you ask, mostly joking, ninety percent as you give your stomach a self-deprecating squeeze. “You look like you're still twenty-two.”

“No I don’t. I used to have abs.”

You push through the water to poke his lean stomach. “Feels solid to me,” you say.

He laughs and pulls away from you. His eyes dart between you and the girls, softened with his laughing, “Get off of me, you rascal.”

“Rascal?”

You laugh worse.

Steve’s predictable. He makes sure Dove is alright floating in the water with his one hand on her back before he leans across to kiss you, a wet hand to your collar, his lips persistent as he pecks you twice, three times. “Love you, pretty girl,” he says.

You flush with heat from your face to your fingertips. That’s a rare one. “I love you too.”

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fillinforlater · 11 months

Text

Phone Part 10: Return of the Angel +3

Male Reader x Kim Minju, Yeh Shuhua, Jung Eunbi (Eunha), Hwang Eunbi (SinB)

Length: 1550 words

Tags: strap-ons, lesbian sex, spitroasting, double penetration, overstimulation, loveless sex, voyeurism, watching, fingering thigh riding

TW: messy crazy bs

(A/N: this series randomly returns because I just needed to get this idea out of my system for good. This might be the conclusion to it, but probably not... well, maybe you send me some ideas to where this could lead up to.)

"I'll get going."

Bomi kisses your cheek, that sore cheek, sore like every patch of your skin, every bone in your body and every damn muscle, some of them you didn't even know could hurt before today. Hell, you don't even have the strength to give Bomi a proper goodbye, a weak wave is all you can muster up.

She'll not be mad at you. For what might have been either 15 or 150 minutes, you have taken turns on her and Shuhua's pussy—licking, fingering, fucking them until those tight caverns each got a big load in them. In the meantime, Minju has been their plaything. Especially Shuhua has this cruelty towards her "friend", edging her with fingers, reddening her thighs with extremely hard slaps and always promising that she'll get your cock—just to claim you with her pussy again.

You turn around when Bomi closes the door. Shuhua and Minju wrestle on the couch, the latter clearly outmatched when Shuhua puts her in a headlock with her thunder thighs. Minju tries to escape with licks on Shuhua's clit but can't find it—the nightmare of so many guys.

"Cut it out, you two," you groan, fingers on your temple.

"N-no," Minju whines. "Minju still needs cock, wants cum in her tummy!"

"I can't." Point at your limp dick, absolutely spent. "And I have a headache. At this point, I’ll start to hate sex. Fucking hell, I'll make myself tea."

"Oh, I have an idea," Shuhua smirks and reaches for her phone while you leave for the kitchen. Whatever it is, you don’t want to deal with it. You need something relaxing, something herbal, to heal all the soreness in your body. It’s incredible to think that there is something like too much sex. You’re really close to giving up on it, even though two nymphomaniacs have turned your house into sex hub.

“No, no, stay down. You’ll get cock soon,” you hear Shuhua belittle Minju, who just whines in her usual tone. She seems to not be a bit tired after all this.

“Well, it won’t be mine,” you shout back, watching the hot water fill your cup and turn the leaves into something magical.

“Yeah, I know, you’re basically useless at this point.” Ouch, that stings. “That’s why I called back up.”

“You what?!”

“They should be here any minute now.”

Shuhua is spot on. Before your tea is finished steeping, your door bursts open. But instead of a hung man, two rather petite women enter your house. Both have a bored look on their face and immediately get to undressing. Overcoats seem to be the shit right now, and no matter who comes through your front door, they always drop it on the floor.

“Uhm, hello?” you carefully greet them before remembering that this is your home, your kingdom! You can’t let strangers just walk in like they own the place. “This is kinda rude, you know?”

“Don’t care,” says the taller one with long, raven hair, dressed only in jeans. “We have business to do. Also, it’s rude to just stand there, naked, while two ladies walk in.” You blush and hide your crotch with the tea cup.

“We aren’t ladies, stop kidding yourself,” the other snarks back, while climbing out of her skirt. “I bet he is a good fuck, you shouldn’t kill your chances already.”

“Eh, I’ll think about it, but first—” Both girls suddenly pull out two strap-ons from God-knows-where and put them on with the casualness one would wear a fricking hat. The taller one hasn’t even removed her jeans, wearing the harness over it, while the other is fully naked and flaunts her butt at you.

“Yeah, I know, we got shit to do.” The short haired girl slaps her butt and you almost drop the cup when she walks past you with a wink. “Shuhua, where is this needy bitch? Or are you the needy bitch?”

“Oh, it’s so nice to see you, Eunbi and Eunbi,” Shuhua greets them and points at Minju, still trapped in between her fat thighs. “Look who I found.”

“She is insatiable. Incredible that he can still stand,” the shorter Eunbi says.

“Hm, maybe he is a good fuck. Anyways, we’ll try our best to keep her down,” the taller Eunbi says. The three conspirators try to agree on a strategy on how to fuck the angelic girl. You’ve become invisible in your own house, your entry to the living room goes largely unnoticed. Except for Minju who pouts at you when the two Eunbis lift her up and put her in a doggy position. The shorter one is below her, the other is ready to press the plastic cock into Minju’s puckered hole.

"Should we do it at the—nevermind, you're already in." The small Eunbi groans in annoyance, the other looks unapologetic and starts to rut slowly against Minju's butt. The long shaft forcing open Minju’s hole, paired with the denim on her sore, pink buttocks, must feel incredible and incredibly painful at the same time. Who knows which of the two makes Minju wail and moan more.

"Come on, Eunha, shove it in her sex," Shuhua urges on the Eunbi below as she excitedly stares at the unholy sight of fake cocks on ready holes. Her eyes mimic the camera lens for a porn shoot, while you're the director, watching the scene play out. Either way, it's good content.

"Minju's pussy, Minju's ass, so full!" Minju is loud, louder than before. Shuhua is having none of it.

"Shut up. SinB, make her stay quiet. And don't let her cum."

Two hands move to cover Minju's mouth, two cocks move in and out at a rapid pace, two sets of eyes watch on in awe. Satisfied with what crazy madness she has come up with, Shuhua sits down next to you and lazily jerks your cock with two fingers. Oh, that victorious smile, glassy, lewd eyes, you'd love to wipe it off her face.

"You like what you see? Now you don't have to do anything anymore."

"What was that about me being useless?" Grab her by the throat and spit in her face. She looks pissed, you love it. "I came in you, even when Minju was willing to do anything to get my load and now you're still cruel to her? Seems mildly unfair."

"And what are you gonna do about it? Fuck her, if you can."

Shuhua is bratty, but just as much as she is bratty, she is also light. You easily place her nude frame on your thigh, her still dripping, creaming heat right on your skin. She hisses and you tighten your grip on her throat.

"I'm going to make you cum—you know I can, it's super easy—but only if you tell those two friends of yours to make Minju cum until she passes out.”

“Fuck, bastard,” Shuhua hisses. With your thumb on her clit, this is easily the quietest and tamest she has been for hours. Her body twitches, an honest reaction to how much she is addicted to the mind-blowing orgasms you can get out of her. Such a small finger, yet she is squirming, contemplating, faltering.

“Those two are so cruel,” you tell Shuhua, nose deep in her greasy hair. “They fuck her so hard, just to pull out at the last moment. Why do you want to torture Minju so bad?”

“Be-because she needs to get to the-the point.”

“What point?”

“The point where sex is no fun. She can go forever. She will never stop, your—fuck—plan to make her p-pass out, useless.”

This explains a lot. The Angel is insatiable, her lust seems infinite, but Shuhua’s plan—won’t it make things worse? At some point, SinB and Eunha will have to stop and Minju will be more desperate than ever. She will wobble through the house, tackle you the second she sees you and will force your cock in her pussy no matter what. A true tragedy.

“Well, I don’t care,” you say and tug at one of Shuhua’s nipples, she bites her fingers. “You’ve been too greedy, time for her to—”

“Fuck, fine.

“SinB, don’t hold back. Eunha, suck her tits, overstimulate this bitch!”

“What?” the two ask in unison and disbelief.

“Do-don’t ask questions, please, just do it!”

The way the two purple plastic cocks move in and out of Minju with the sole goal of too much pleasure has you satisfied and in a new heat, your cock hardening slowly but surely. With an ever increasing rhythm, you move your thigh up and down and Shuhua starts to ride, her loudness increasing again. She is as close as Minju and it only takes SinB pulling those messed up oak strands, you to rub Shuhua’s clit, for them both to explode.

You focus not on Shuhua shuddering, shaking on you, but at Minju’s expression. Her eyes jump wide, then tears shoot out and flow down, just to be blocked by SinB’s hands on her mouth. She’d be so loud, words messier than her hair would fill the room. After this peak, both collapse. Shuhua meets the floor, Minju falls on top of Eunha, who still thrusts, even spanks the Angel’s ass.

You’re hard again. Where is this going to end?

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #male reader #male reader smut #minju smut #gidle smut #shuhua smut #gfriend smut #viviz smut #eunha smut #sinb smut

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bakugoushotwife · 11 months

Text

kinktober day twenty-eight: uniform kink

>>> all the hating bitches to the back i literally do not want to hear it!!! ttyl xoxo this is for more of my depraved self-ship needs

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: established relationship, clothed sex, reader and gojo have three kids, breeding/pregnancy kink, uniform kink obviously i swear they tie in bear w me, spankings, doggy >>> wc: 3.6k >>> event masterlist:

it started out innocently enough. well, that’s a lie. it was not innocent, ever—though it wasn’t weird!! you guys are the same age, married for years–with children! it’s only weird when there’s massive age gaps, right? either way, he feels a daunting sense of guilt mixed with devious amounts of excitement shiver down his spine as you step around the corner.

the two of you have been pilfering through boxes all day, trying to clear out the bonus room now that the girls were old enough to have their own rooms. they were visiting uncle megumi while their parents rearranged the house to surprise them, but it seems you’ve gotten a little side-tracked walking down memory lane. the first box was full of pictures from school, some of your earliest moments with satoru memorialized forever in the stills. it does make you a little emotional to think about how far the two of you have come, the years spent together and the things accomplished side by side. these pictures tell your story; the first few days of school where you and satoru—then spitefully called gojo-kun—stood at opposite ends of the frame to be as separated as possible. satoru gives ieiri bunny ears and you’re hugging suguru’s arm–but the two of you are looking at each other. it’s clear to you now that you were trying to make each other jealous, but at the time you would have sworn to the heavens above that you couldn’t stand the man.

now satoru always had a soft spot for you, torturing you was all just fun and games to him—until you started dating a guy from the kyoto school. this, of course, was memorialized in pictures too. there teenage you stood, all dressed up for winter formal, grinning ear to ear as you pose for the camera shoko was operating. you can remember this like it was yesterday, standing in your dorm after exchanging your uniform skirt for an icy blue cocktail dress—you were more nervous for a certain someone to see you than you were to meet up with your date. you knew what you were doing when you picked the dress out, and its effect was clearly captured with satoru’s bulging eyes, red face, and gaping mouth in the background. you pass that one to your husband after taking a few good chuckles at it, remembering shoko turning around her little canon camera to show you the picture and how good you felt after seeing gojo-kun’s reaction.

he waves the picture in his hands, whistling in the same way he did as soon as that camera fell to shoko’s side. he looks at the picture with fondness, remembering it as the moment he decided to get serious about you. the warmth in his cheeks and jealousy squeezing his heart as your date came to pick you up had him reeling to come up with a way to stop you from going.

“he gonna make you go halfsies on dinner?” he calls after you, and embarrassment stung your cheeks. your date, just as petrified of gojo as he should be, shakes his head no.

“n–no, we’re going on full stomachs.” he replies, clutching a pathetic bouquet in his hands. gojo laughs. that bouquet was three dollars maximum, and you were a $30 arrangement at the least. and too cheap to take you on a real date? he shouldn’t be surprised, but he can’t help but press on at the horror on your face and the desperation in his gut.

“ah, daddy didn’t give you any money? i’ll pay you enough to get yourself a real nice dinner if you leave the lady with me.” he sings, holding out a few yen notes for him. you’re mortified, sure this was another one of his stunts to embarrass you— but your date was easily bought.

“but–”

“b-but–” gojo rolled his eyes in annoyance, slapping the money in his hand. “i recommend the sushi place on the corner.” he turns, beaming at you, slipping his arm through yours when the kyoto boy drops— without skipping a beat. “c’mon. i believe there’s a dance tonight?” he pulls his sunglasses down his nose a little bit to let you see the mischief and excitement swirling in his eyes.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you want to punch him in the arm–so you do–and then you nod. it sure took him long enough. “you better make this worth it, gojo-kun.”

he grins. “call me satoru and i’ll make it all worth it, pretty lady.” his voice is a low rumble in his chest instead of his usual light tone. it makes your heart skip a beat and that warmth burn on your cheeks again.

you never call him gojo-kun again. the rest is history–a viewable version with the many grainy phone selfies of dates and onslaught of school photographs and even an old camcorder with some footage of you practicing your technique on him made it to this spare room. you’re amazed at how nostalgic it all feels, pulling out a picture of you and satoru on graduation day. he’s smiling and pressing a kiss to your cheek—making the switch to a blindfold instead of his circular specs. his hair stands due to the fabric, but you liked the new look; especially when he pulled the blindfold up to wink at you and let you see his sunshine. he’s slumped over you, arms wrapped around your chest. you’re grinning, leaning back against him with your hands tucked into his hold on you. it’s a sweet picture—but you’re focused on the next few. you’re in the same position, but he sneaks his hand to the dip of your waist, then your hip, finally ending with a picture of you blushing from the invisible hand grabbing a handful of your ass. you pass those to satoru too, watching his expression as he flips through them, admiring the youth on your faces.

“god you made that uniform so sexy.” he snorts, eyes dancing over the way the black fabric clung to you. at the time, he wondered if you’d ordered it that tight just to taunt him, but now he knew there was no amount of clothes that could’ve hidden that bangin’ bod. he shakes his head as he remembers just how horny he had been–not that much has changed even after three kids and over fifteen years together. “had so many fantasies of you in that thing.”

you arch a brow, “really now?” you ask, clearly intrigued. you had seen the familiar bundle of fabric folded at the bottom of the box. “what kind of fantasies?” you purr, making the hairs on the back of neck stand up, the effects you had fifteen years ago just as efficacious now.

how honest could he even be with that answer? yes, back then—even as your equal, he envisioned punishing you as your sensei in that little skirt—oh the ways he would have defiled you in yaga’s classroom if you had let him. he’d wondered if you would lean into the slutty schoolgirl act, if you would call him sensei instead of daddy. or would you think that was too much given his current occupation. not like it was the uniform that he liked, just the way you looked in it—and the way it felt to be young and obsessed with you. his obsession has never wavered, its just had to become more subdued as you raise your children —wanting to be a good example and all, he’s nothing but a loving and proper man in front of them. buuuuut. they were with megumi for a few more hours. “what other kinda fantasies about schoolgirls are there, gorgeous?”

“you perv! gives gojo-sensei a whole new meaning.” you tease him, watching in sheer enjoyment as his cheeks darken a few shades and he crinkles his nose at you in embarrassment.

“only if you say it like that.” he mumbles in his defense. great, now you think he’s a sicko. he turns back to his box of collectibles, pilfering through what he actually cared to keep now—even though he hasn’t seen any of it since your oldest was born. it’s mostly to hide his shame as he continues to think about you in that little getup with that matured body of yours. he wonders if the material would stretch to accommodate your wider hips and fatter ass. he wonders if the stretchmarks you’ve developed from carrying his children would peek over the waistband of the skirt that’s sure to ride up a little due to your widened thighs. he’s so immersed in the thought of you that he doesn’t hear you slip around the corner to tug on the old outfit.

it certainly doesn’t fit the same, but it fits. there’s not a shred of modesty to be found– the once form fitting turtleneck top now a cropped version due to the strain from your chest. you hadn’t realized just how much your body had changed beside the obvious pounds on the scale and the marks on your skin—but your mid-thigh length skirt was now a navy mini, showing the dimples of your thighs and the bottom of your ass cheeks. you were no longer the girl from those pictures, but instead a woman who bears the beautiful changes of giving three gorgeous gojo’s life. your husband has always been a massive fan of what he calls “enhancements” to his favorite areas—loving the fluffy stomach for him to rub and the hips that fill his hands. he traces your stretch marks to soothe his racing mind at night, snuggling into your heavy chest for warmth and ultimate comfort in his free time. you know he’s only fallen deeper in love with you and it makes your heart warm with appreciation now that the differences between the young you and the current have been made so clear. you almost give up on the idea altogether, but your husband’s voice calls out for you, so you step around the corner before you can doubt yourself any more.

he was giving you the sweetest little face—holding up your youngest’s hospital baby blanket with only fondness in his eyes. that is until it registers, as his eyes follow your bulging chest struggling against the fabric, the sides of your hips spilling over the top of the skirt—barely covering anything at all. his face turns red and the blanket falls from his hands, back into the box from whence it came. oh the shame he feels as his cock processes this shock too—making him hiss at the sudden tightness in his pants, biting his lip as he looks at you. it worked on you then and you make it your bitch now, absolutely stunning him beyond words. and he’s never short on things to say. you look even better than anything his imagination drummed up for him. fuck, you are so sexy—you only get better with age.

the way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s falling in love all over again—eyes bouncing around your frame like he can’t make up his mind to settle on one area. your face burns under his amorous stare, but you fold your hands behind your back and sway to let him admire you. it makes your whole body warm and your cunt clench around nothing the longer he sits and stares–biting his lip, clearly in no hurry to end this moment. as beautiful as he makes you feel, you just can’t help but tease him slightly. you know he’ll pay it back in kind. “do you like it, gojo-sensei?”

“oh aijichan, can’t you tell?” he hums, eyes falling to his clear erection before they flicker back to you—overcast and darker than usual. he usually playfully calls you his lover, but the addition of the suffix lets you know how thoroughly he’s enjoying your little act. he pats his thigh, spreading his legs even wider across the luxurious office chair. you giggle a little bit, excitement flooding your veins as you walk over to meet him. how you swing your hips and flutter your lashes is not lost on him, in fact he feels the painful buildup pressing against your thigh as you sit sideways on his, looping an arm across his shoulders. “you were such a good little girl in school. i always wondered what it would be like to treat you like a bad one.” he offers, his voice a permanent purr when it comes to the naughty things he presses to your ear.

it sends a shudder down your spine, and you can’t help but press your chest closer to him in an automatic response. he hooks his hand around your waist, feeling the dip of your waist. he doesn’t miss the reaction—and he loves that you like it. his hand squeezes the fat on your hips, helping you off his lap before standing to full height to tower above you.

“then bend it over, little lady.” he suggests with a wiggle of his brow, pushing the office chair closer to you with his signature smugness. his eyes sparkle with an erratic excitement, gripping the back of the chair with a tight hold—leaving his impressions in the fabric. you giggle and lean over the chair as instructed. a giddiness floods your veins while he walks circles around you, humming approvingly. “i think ten should teach you your lesson, hm?”

you wiggle your ass preemptively and nod just to be safe. “yes sir, i think that’ll fix everything.” you purr, feeling one harsh spank to your cheek. it sends a jolt of excitement pulsating to your core, and you know that the results will be evident once he moves your skirt. the arms of the chair dig into your stomach—but it just adds to the sensation as he layers a few intense slaps to your ass.

“well?” he talks over your loud squeals and happy giggles. “aren’t you going to say thank you?” he hums, shoving your skirt up to your waist to expose the growing redness and incriminating wetness all over your bottom half. he chuckles fondly—you surely do impress. he hits you once more.

“yes–mmf-” you moan out at the stinging sensation. it’s so much more pleasurable on your bare skin, you can’t help but arch back into him, giving him such a beautiful view of your glistening hole and handprint-branded ass. he slaps it again, enjoying the recoil. “thank you sensei, feels so good~”

he kneads the irritated flesh a little in between the spanks–he’s not heartless, after all. you’re his wife, no amount of roleplay could make him forget the love that swells in his heart for you; especially with that beautiful ass of yours. “that’s seven—can you take your last three, naughty little thing?”

“mhm, i can take it.” you assure him, finding it wholesome and sexy that he still checks on you even if the dirty talk never skips a beat. from the way you wiggle your bruising ass for him, he knows you’re loving this. he cups his hand under your pussy just to check even though your shiny thighs tell him all he needs to know. he’s delighted when your essence coats his hand anyway, giggling with schoolgirl excitement. hey, that’s your part—

“seems the punishment’s only making you badder.” he hums in approval, hurrying his last few spanks up in order to finally have you. he makes them count though, loud and stinging worse than a wasp—though you can’t recall the last time a bee sting made you feel that good. he can’t remember the last time you two had the house to yourselves, and he planned to put that all of that alone time to good use. you scream out and shudder at the delicious agony, tossing a look over your shoulder to see the sheer pleasure on his face–tufts of hair hanging over his vivid eyes. “seems we’ll just have to move onto something that suits you, aijichan.”

you clamp down reflexively at his statement, nodding to your undetermined punishment, if such a thing existed under your husband’s treatment. he frees his erection with a little grunt of relief, sliding it through your sloppy lips instantly. he sighs at the feeling—but you whine at the lack of relief. the fire in your gut was burning so hot—you couldn’t take any more of the waiting.

“aw, what is it, little girl?” he mockingly pouts with you. “so needy for your sensei you could cry?” he arches a brow–sheathing his impressive length into the hilt without any more wasted time. he closes his eyes at the feeling of you, just as tight and warm as the first time he had you. it’s wild to him how three kids haven't changed how amazing it is to have you wrapped around him.

you do cry out at how perfect he fits inside—curving into every gummy spot that needs him with hardly any effort. the sound you make is like music to his ears. you haven’t been able to be this loud since ieiri took the kids to the beach for a weekend four and a half years ago—and that’s how your youngest happened. not to say you haven’t been intimate since, just more…cautious and certainly more quiet. but that does give him an idea.

he starts to move, grabbing a decent handful of your hair to make a handle out of, pulling you up into a pretty arch. “got one more in you, princess?” he coos, leaning over your body to give you short but powerful thrusts. you can tell from his tone and your regular nickname that playtime was over—he was too consumed by the feeling of you coupled with the undying love you bring out of him to keep up the pet names, but he could succumb to the flash of memories flooding his brain. falling in love with you, making you his for the first time which was also the day he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. he can see the day you played strip uno—which was something he made up just to be cheesy. he remembers your wedding day, you looked so beautiful and were already a few weeks pregnant with your first baby together–your son. god, the memories of you swollen and whiny—

“i—are you serious?” you giggle, a little out of breath from the rigorous way he rocks into you, keeping your asscheeks separated so he didn’t have any resistance. you knew what he was asking, and you know your heart flutters at the idea of having another one despite agreeing to stop after the ones you have. “i thought three was all you could handle?”

“i changed my mind. wanna see you big again. i miss it—’nd i can handle anything.” he says in between the sound of his balls hitting your ass. you can hear the pout in his voice, “you don’t want one?”

“didn’t say that.” you struggle to form responses, knuckles turning white as you grip the desk in front of you. “just wanted—to be sure—you’re sure!” you squeal with every bruising thwap to your cervix, eyes scrunched shut. you’re almost so gone you might just agree to anything, but the idea of one more pregnancy, one more addition to the family, one more round of being endlessly spoiled as you wait for another gorgeous baby to arrive—it doesn’t sound so bad. it sounds perfect actually, and his words only egg you on. you clench around him in spasms, nodding. “gimme–”

he chuckles wildly in pride. he would say he loves bully-fucking you into getting his way, but he heard you on the phone with your girlfriend the other day. you were missing that feeling of a new baby as much as he was—and he’s here to please. he moves your hips back to meet his, ass bouncing at the force. your squeals slip into screams and he’s fucking you as hard as he can in order to get more of it: of the sounds, the feeling of your womb keeping him from going any further, the way your pussy flutters around him to tell him you’re so close to cumming—everything was sending him reeling.

“cum for me first—then’ll give you everything you want, baby.” he encourages, giving you a cocky, “yeahhhh that’s my girl.” when he feels you coat around him—gasping out moans as your legs wiggle and jump. it’s not long after that that he’s gripping your hair even harder, balls drawing up close to him just to spurt his seed as deep as it will go—hoping that his sperm is still just as successful as it’s been known to be. he helps shove it deeper with a few more rolls of his hips, to which you shiver and whine due to oversensitivity.

he pats your ass affectionately, leaning over you again to kiss your cheek as you both sit in the moment and try to catch your breath. he lets your hair fall from his fingers and gently brushes it out of your face, grinning his usual giddy grin. “you’re even sexier now, you know? feel like it’s every day, but even teen satoru would—”

“allllllright thank you, honey, that’s sweet.” you chuckle, shaking your head as he pulls out. he scoops you over his shoulder and shakes his head.

“whaaaaat–you’re a fucking milf–” he slaps your ass playfully as he sashays toward your room with you. “that i still have–mmm forty-five more minutes give or take to knock up again.” he guesstimates, tossing you on the mattress and crawling over you—determined as ever.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kyleewritesjjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #saturo gojo

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bl0odyh3art · 6 months

Text

WHAT A SURPRISE.

warnings: incest (uncle/niece), uncle Leon, leon being a freak, non-con, vomit, Leon thinking reader is child until he sees her ??? 😭

this is dead dove/dark content. if are uncomfortable with this kind of content or don't like it, then do not interact.

a/n: ummm idk about this? felt like this was rushed : P

tags ^w^: @bunnyclaire

Leon hasn't seen you since you were around 12, too many missions and meetings to actually pay attention to family.

Besides, he fucking hated his brother, always stealing his women, but it was Christmas, so why not go see them? He's got nothing better to do than drink his feelings away and pay hookers for a barely good fuck.

He drove all the way down to his brother's house, he got you a coloring book and plushies…but until he knocked on the door, and you answered, in that fucking outfit.

"Uncle Leon?" you tilted your head.

Holy shit. That's my fucking niece? He thought

He just nodded, playing it off with the fact he thought you were some hot chick that your mom was friends with, could've almost fucked you right there.

"Uh, yeah….this is for you." he handed you the three presents, fixing his jacket.

"Wanna come in?" you pointed inside the house. He just nodded.

Throughout the night, he got more and more touchy with you, his hand on the small of your back, grabbing your hips to move you out the way, but he really just wanted to feel his boner against your ass.

It was time to open presents. Your other family members got you age appropriate things, underwear, socks, bra's, and just clothes.

It was time to open up your uncle's present! awww, how sweet of him to get you something after all this time!

You unraveled the poorly done wapping paper to find a princess and hello kitty coloring books, a box filled with 25 crayons, and the best yet….an plushie.

You smiled and dryly chuckled while everyone else was laughing their asses off.

Leon was not so proud of himself, rubbing his temple and groaning to himself, walking into the kitchen to get himself some whiskey.

You followed after him. "Leon?" you called out softly to him, hoping he wasn't crying or something. No more 'Uncle Leon! Uncle Leon!' it's just Leon. Just Leon now.

"Yeah, darlin'?" he muttered, leaning against the counter as you sighed and stepped beside him. "You know I'm not a little kid anymore…right?"

He cleared his throat and looked down into his glass "Yeah, yeah….I know"

His brothers walked in. "Hey! Leon!" he threw his arm around Leon's neck and chuckled. "How's my baby brother doing?"

"Fine. I'm good." Leon shook his head and groaned.

"Got yourself a little lady yet?"

"Nope, not yet."

Leon was in the bathroom, wetting his face with water. "Yeah…nice fucking job embarrassing yourself in front of everyone. dumb fuck….. buying your niece kid shit….fuck, fuck, fuck." his mind was a mess.

he wanted to fuck you, but he's your uncle, and he thought you've been a kid for years.

You knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey, you okay in there?"

"Y-yeah…just wait" he grumbled and opened the door.

"Umm…were you talking to yourself?" you tilted your head and slightly squinted your eyes at him.

He wanted to take you in the bathroom right now, bend you over the sink and fuck you like your his and his only.

"No…..uhhh yeah. You got me." he looked at you.He pulled you into the bathroom and just instantly bent you over the sink.

"w-woah…. Leon, wait, wait!" he slapped your ass and lifted the skirt of your dress. "Only sluts wear shit like this…are you a fucking slut?....huh?" he slapped your cheek lightly.

You shook your head "Wh-what?... Leon, what are you….what?"

"No. No. No more Leon….. it's fucking 'uncle'. Got that?" he was in your face, pulling your hair back, so you could look at him.

You quickly nodded as he forced you onto your knees, he struggled to undo his belt and pulled out his dick, smacking the tip on your cheek.

"You're gonna take this like a good girl and there'll be no problems…. understand?" he cooed sternly, slapping the tip against your pouty lips.

He grabbed your jaw to force it open and burry his cock inside your mouth, groaning as he forced your head up and down, making you choke and scratch his thighs. He chuckled and slapped your cheek.

"I said you take this like a good girl." he moaned and hissed a breath in as your teeth scraped his skin slightly

"stupid bitch…." He thrusted too hard, hitting the back of your throat and making you vomit all over his dick, thighs and some even on his bottoms.

"You…..you stupid bitc-!" he stared at you.

On the floor sobbing and hiccuping as you tried to clean him up. Muttering tiny little 'sorries', he sighed and threw you out of the bathroom.

He had to ask his brother for a new pair of pants because he 'accidentally' pissed in his.

You did keep quiet but you wanted more.

So, he fucked you and fucked you until you passed out.

Such an amazing uncle. One of a kind fucked up man.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #tw.incest

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obessedwithfictionalmen · 7 months

Text

I'll come pick it up after pt.7

John Egan X Female! Reader

Sumarry: Their first night alone in London. Bucky is eager for more than just dancing...

Waring: +18/ smut/ p in v/ oral sex (female reciving)/ unprotected sex (wrap it up kids!)/ Swearing/ alcohol/ historical inaccuracies/ use of sir/ use of y/n/ fingering/

Word count: 2.5k

A/n: First time writing smut, please give me feedback. Love y'all :)

Egan was driving his Jeep; his nurse was beside him. He was driving with one hand; the other was on the nurse’s thigh. ‘’I still can’t believe that you got Buck to testify for me’’ she laughed, looking at her pilot. ‘’My darling needed a break, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to have you for all alone with me. No mission, no injured soldiers, just the two of us’’ he said, gently tapping her thigh as a sign of excitement. She laughed and kissed his cheek.

When they arrived in London, Egan looked for a hotel to get checked in. Like a gentleman, he took the luggage, they went up to their room and start to unpack. Bucky was excited for this weekend, he was in a room, alone with no possible interruption. When unpacking her things, Y/n took out a piece of lingerie. She didn’t own any, so it’s probably one of the nurses that put it there. She saw a piece of paper with something written on it.

Dear Y/n don’t hate me, I thought it might be a good idea to give you this. Bucky sure will like it. Have fun, Daisy.

‘’Damn you, Daisy’’ she muttered. The lingerie was beautiful, it was a baby blue one piece, it was really short and would clearly show her butt. It had pink lace at the bra piece of it. It was also in satin, it was beautiful, and she was sure Bucky would like it. She put it in one of the drawers before Bucky would see it. She’d had packed dress and all her things except her nurses’ uniforms. ‘’What do you want to do tonight, darling?’’ he asked. ‘’Go out, drink, dance, have fun’’ she said, laying down on the bed. He laid on top of her. ‘’Have fun, uh?’’ he kissed her, they haven’t made love yet. This week, they were both busy, a few stolen kisses here and there, but she was ready, she wanted him.

She finished getting ready for tonight, she was wearing a black blouse, short sleeves and a forest green skirt. She didn’t want to put on a dress, and she definitely didn’t want to put on heels. She put on black flat shoes, they were beautiful, it showed the top of her foot, but not too much, it had a strap at the top, to make sure her the shoe didn’t flew off her foot. Her hair was down, and she had put on the lipstick that Bucky was so crazy about. Her plan was clear, drink, to get confidence, flirt with Bucky and finally, have sex with him. When she got out of the bathroom, Bucky couldn’t believe his eyes, she was beautiful. She was always beautiful. She put on the lipstick to tease him, she knew it, and he knew it. ‘’Beautiful, like always, darling’’ he complimented her. She was blushing, Bucky was in his uniform, that was all he had. But he looked good, like always. She went closer to him and fixed his collar. ‘’You are very handsome’’ she kissed him. When he went to kiss her back, she stopped him with a finger on his lips. ‘’You’ll ruin my lipstick, Bucky’’ she teased. Before he could answer, she added another finger on his lips. ‘’I’ll kiss you later, maybe I’ll even mark you up, like you wanted me too’’ she flirted. ‘’Why not now?’’ he asked trying to kiss her, she pushed him back on the bed. ‘’Later, Bucky, I want to dance with you, and I want a glass a whiskey’’ she laughed. He smiled and got up the bed. ‘’Whiskey, uh?’’ ‘’Told you, Major, I’m full of surprises, and I don’t have to work tomorrow’’ she smiled.

They didn’t know how much they both drank, but it was enough to boost their confidence. They were dancing together, mostly kissing, but still. Y/n was teasing him, her hips were glued to his and she moved them to a slow rhythm in her head. The main objective was to tease him, and it worked. His hands were all over her body, touching her, teasing her. He was breathing in her ear, he discovered this week, that this sport was sensitive for her, so he decided to use it. ‘’Still not convinced to let me ruin that lipstick?’’ he said, with his dark husky voice. ‘’You’re starting to convince me’’ she purred. ‘’Let’s get out of here, darling’’ he said as she nodded. The walk back to the hotel was kind of a blur for the both of them, the important thing was they made it back to their hotel room.

The second the door was closed, Bucky kissed Y/n, it was a passionate kiss, filled with desire and attraction. She was against the door as he was kissing her, he was like a men starved. ‘’C’mon, darling, jump’’ he said, between kissed. She did as she was told, jumping as his hands were on her butt. He walked to the bed, were he gently, laid her on it. He started to take his shirt off, but she sat at the edge of the bed. He was standing in front of her. She started to help him with his buttons, she was faster than him, after all, sometimes she had to open the shirts of men without any scissors. He threw his shirt somewhere in the room. ‘’Let me help you, darling’’ he said, starting to unbutton her shirt. To his big surprise, she wasn’t wearing a bra. ‘’You’re n-not wearing anything underneath, are you?’’ he was flustered, he had been with women, but never one like her. ‘’I’m on vacation, I don’t wear a bra when I’m on vacation’’ she teased him. ‘’Get back, darling’’ she moved back on the bed, to let him have space. He almost crawled to her; he was starved. He had her for himself, and he wasn’t going to let anything ruined the moment. He started to unbutton her skirt and she wiggled her way out of it. ‘’You’re breathtaking’’ he said, admiring her body. She was only in her panties in front of him, normally she would’ve been intimidated, but she trusted him. She looked at him, impatient for him. She needed him. ‘’Come here, Major’’ she said, he kissed her, again, with passion. It was raw, it was what they needed.

To Bucky’s surprise, she took control, she switched the position, so she was on top. On his lap, she felt him getting hard underneath her, it gave her confidence, she was making him hard. She kissed his neck, finding a sweet spot that she sucked a little. Leaving her mark on the men. Her lips felt hot on his skin, but he liked it, he was almost moaning. She started to move her hips, to create friction between the two, friction they desperately needed. ‘’H-hold on, darling, let me get these off’’ he stuttered. Bucky was starstruck, he was usually the one in control, the fact that they were both competitive and want the control was to be certainly interesting. He quickly took his pants off before returning under the nurse. She trailed her hands on his body, his chest and his muscular stomach. She watched as his body was reacting to her touch, when she got close to his boxers, he took her writs in his hands. ‘’Not yet, let me feel good, darling’’ he groaned. He switched the position; she was now on the bed. He went on top of her, to kiss her, he started with her lips, then moved down, kissing each part of her body. He kept placing wet kisses on her body until he reached her lower stomach. Where he placed a gentle kiss, each part of his body was begging him to go faster, to take her right now, but he wanted to take his time. The sleepless night he spent thinking about this moment, he was going to take his time and savour each and every second of it. ‘’Bucky’’ she moaned his name. He looked at her from between her legs, making sure she was okay. ‘’You okay?’’ he breathed out. His hot breath between her thighs makes her buck her hips in impatience. ‘’Yes’’ she breathed out, but it sounded like a moan. ‘’I just want you’’ she admitted. Her honesty turned him on even more. He took her panties off, revealing her fully to him. ’’I haven’t touch you yet, and you’re soaking wet’’ he felt proud, but now, he needed to taste her. The second his tongue was on her, she moaned, she wasn’t a virgin, but it was the first time a man properly took care of her. ‘’Shit, major, you sure know what you doing, ah’’ she moaned as her hands found his curls, pulling them gently. His eyes found hers, she was a goddess, she was beautiful, her legs spread for him. Her hips bucked against his mouth, he decided to enter a finger in her. She was so wet; it was easy for him to enter. Her back arched and another moan was coming from her mouth. ‘’Can you handle it, sweetheart’’ he teased her. She could feel him smirk, he was teasing her, and he was enjoying it. She didn’t answer, he added another finger as he was licking her clit. ‘’I didn’t hear you; can you handle it?’’ The words couldn’t form in her brain. ‘’Use your words, darling’’ she moaned again. He felt her walls clenched around his fingers. ‘’Yes’’ she managed to breath out. ‘’Yes, sir’’ he ordered. Oh, she was going to make him regret being this bossy, but not now, she was enjoying this too much. ‘’Yes, sir’’ she gasped as a not in her stomach was about to burst. Bucky was holding her hips down; they were bucking too much. Then when he moaned against her, she saw stars. The not in her stomach exploded as she moaned his name. ‘’Jesus, Bucky,’’ she moaned.

He took his fingers out and brought them to his lips, he was tasting her. Y/n had never saw anything like that before, she was excited, she was wet, and she needed him. ‘’You taste so fucking good’’ he growled. He looked at her, her face was red, her hair was a mess, she looked perfect. Like an angel coming down form heaven, just for him. ‘’What do you want, darling?’’ he asked as he kissed her again. ‘’I want to touch you, please let me touch you, sir’’ she whimpered. ‘’I’m afraid if you do that, darling, I’m not gonna last long, and I want to be inside of you, is that okay, sweetheart?’’ he said and she nodded, getting rid of his boxers. His length sprung free, Y/n was nervous, he was bigger than the other men she’d been with. When he saw the way she was looking at him, Bucky could’ve faint. She licked her lips, she was nervous, but again, she trusted him. ‘’Lay down, darling.’’ Bucky came on top of her, supporting himself with his arms, his muscles were so big, she’d never seen such a handsome man, he was perfect. She kissed him, she needed to kiss him to help with her impatience. He moaned in her mouth when he felt her grind her hips. She was looking to get some friction. She could taste herself on his tongue. ‘’Are you ready, Y/n’’ her name on his lips sounded so good. ‘’Yes, sir, I’m ready major’’ she said. Her brain couldn’t make a clear sentence, she needed him. He positioned himself at her entrance. ‘’This might hurt.’’ He warned her. ‘’I’ve done it before, it was a while ago, but I’m not a virgin, major’’ she said.

He kissed her as he sunk down into her. He went fully in, not wanting to torture her, but mostly himself. He wasn’t going to last long. He waited a little bit, to let her adjust to his size. ‘’Oh lord, you’re so big’’ she cried. ‘’Darling, you’re too sweet for my ego’’ he joked. She laughed and was able to relax a little bit more. She gave him a nod, indicating him that he could move. When he did, he had to think about something to distract him, he was about to come, already, but he had a reputation to maintain. ‘’Tell me about your grandmother.’’ He grunted. ‘’Right now?’’ she was confused. ‘’Yup, because you feel so fucking good, shit so where did your grandma lived?’’ He stopped his movements, not wanting to risk coming too fast. Y/n chuckled. ‘’You sure you can handle it, major?’’ she teased. Something in Bucky’s eyes changed, she had woken the beast up. She smirked, proud of herself. When he had calmed down a little, Bucky started to move again. He rolled his hips so he could be deeper inside of her. She threw her head back as she moaned something that sounded like his name. She kissed the sweet spot on his neck, making him roll his eyes. He quickened his pace when he felt her clench around him. One of her hands came down to her pussy, she began to touch her clit. ‘’N-no one would b-believe me if I told them h-how dirty you are’’ he breathed out. He kissed her again, they were breathless. Her thigh was shaking. ‘’That’s it, come for me, darling, come on’’ he praised her. That’s what she needed for her orgasm to crash down on her. Her climax triggered his and they came together, saying the other’s name as they did. He collapsed on top of her, her hands finding his hair to play with his curls. ‘’That was- ‘’ ‘’amazing’’ she finished his sentence. He chuckled. They were both catching their breath and recovering from what they just did. He was the fastest to recover, he took his length out of her and put his boxers back on. ‘’Just stay there, I’ll go get a tissue’’ he said, going into the bathroom.

Her brain was slowly starting to work again, her throat was dry, she needed a drink. Before she could move, Bucky came out of the bathroom with a tissue. ‘’I’m gonna clean you up, darling’’ he said before kneeling in front of her. He took the time to clean her, she’d never had this type of intimacy before, she could get used to it. When she was all cleaned, Bucky took a new pair of panties from her drawer, but before closing it, he saw a piece of lingerie. Like a 12-year-old, he was grinning and chuckling. ‘’Darling, what’s this?’’ he held it up while laughing. She put her hands in her face to hide her blush. ‘’That’s Daisy’s idea. I didn’t even know she put it there.’’ She laughed. He put it back in the drawer, still smiling. ‘’You gonna wear it for me?’’ he teased. She clicked her tongue in her teeth and took her new panties from his hands. ‘’Maybe’’ she laughed. They both smiled at each other before she got up, even if she wasn’t sure if her legs were gonna be able to support her. She put her panties on, before almost falling. Bucky held her, grinning. ‘’I got you, darling’’ he said, proud of himself for making her like this. ‘’Do we have anything to drink?’’ she asked. He looked at the bottle of alcohol he had brought with him, and then looked at her again. ‘’Maybe water, my head is going to hurt so much tomorrow’’ she said. He went to get her a glass of water and came back, sitting on the bed. She drank the liquid and laid in the bed. He laid next to her, opening his arm for her to cuddle with him. Her hand was now resting on his chest. ‘’Thank you, for everything’’ she said. ‘’For the orgasms?’’ he teased. She snorted and rolled her eyes. ‘’Yes, but mainly, thank you for getting me that weekend pass, I needed it’’ she said. ‘’That’s why I pleaded with the Corporal’’ he said. He kissed the top of her head as she was slowly falling asleep, him too.

Part 8⬇️

#john egan x female reader #john egan x reader #major john egan #john egan #master of the air imagine #master of the air #callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #callum turner #austin butler

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lucygxybaird · 1 month

Note

billy noticing his girl wearing a new dress and he makes her feel so pretty :)

You nibble on your lip as you stand in front of the mirror, holding your arms out like you’re preparing to dance as you turn your hips one way and then another. The hem of your skirt swirls out as you move, and you hum softly, tilting your head. You can’t decide if you like it or not, but you can’t stand here for much longer. Billy will be here any minute.

In any case, it isn’t like you to stand in front of the mirror, studying your reflection like a little parakeet. You spend most of your days working in your father’s general store, so you tend to dress simply, stocking the shelves and tending to customers when they come in. But he’s just received a shipment of cloth from a new supplier, and your mother surprised you with a dress made from the nicest print — white with pale blue stripes, with little forget-me-nots blooming in the rows.

You straighten your bodice, smoothing your hands over your hips. The bustle in the back has been artfully sewn into folds and pleats, and you have to admit you like what it does to your shape. Warmth floods over your cheeks as an entirely foreign (but not entirely unpleasant) thought occurs to you: you hope Billy agrees.

You’re particularly fond of the buttons on the front, sixteen bronze pieces engraved with Celtic love knots. They march down your bodice, starting underneath the hollow of your throat and ending just above your waist. Your flush deepens as you imagine Billy running the rough pad of his thumb over one of them, maybe slipping it free of its loop and—

There’s a knock on the front door, and you nearly jump out of your skin. Your hands fly up to smooth down your hair as you realize it’s just Billy, punctual as he so often is. You know how much your dates mean to him — as important as they are to you, for Billy, they’re idylls of peace, moments suspended in time like pearls on a string. Moments where he can just be himself: Billy, your Billy, rather than Billy the Kid; a young man in love, rather than an outlaw fighting for his life.

You hurry to the front door and open it, using your nerves to pin up the corners of your smile, so that it trembles in place ever so slightly. Billy would never say if he hated your new dress, but you’ll know; you can read him so well that you’ll know, just by a twitch of his eyebrow or the softest sigh from his lips if he likes it or not.

“Hi, Billy,” you say, sounding almost shy, although you feel a measure of relief when he smiles at you like he always does. As if he can’t quite imagine how he found you, or how he managed to keep you once he did — but William H. Bonney is not one to question a miracle, so he’ll just marvel, and keep smiling.

He smiles at you again, leaning a forearm against the doorway. “Hey, baby.”

Before you can ask what he thinks, Billy reaches out and draws a fingertip along one of the stripes running down your sleeve, his hand finding yours. He lifts it to his mouth, brushing a kiss against your knuckles. “I’m sorry for starin’,” he says, his eyes on yours, your hand still at his lips. “I just can’t help myself. You’re a vision.”

You blush to the roots of your hair, which only makes Billy smile again. “My pretty girl,” he says, reaching for you, wrapping his hands around your waist and drawing you close to him. “Is this new?”

“Yes,” you tell him. Your hands find his chest, and you can feel the steady drum of his heart in your palm. “Daddy is workin’ with a new textiles merchant. Mama made this for me.”

Billy hums, leaning down to nose against a stray curl escaping your chignon, a flyaway against your temple. The warmth of his breath makes your back arch just a little, and you catch his grin from the corner of your eye. “I’ll have to thank all of ’em,” he says into your ear. “Your pa, your mom, and the merchant, too. You’d look like an angel in homespun, but now…”

“Now?” you prompt, your voice a little shakier than it was a moment ago.

“Now I can hardly believe my eyes,” he says. He kisses your cheek, moves to gently nip at your earlobe. “There can’t be a more beautiful girl in the whole world.”

You laugh a little, though it’s just as tremulous as your voice. Your face is on fire and your knees are weak, but you don’t pull away. “Billy, it’s just a dress.”

“Mmm, it’s not just a dress. Not when you’re wearin’ it,” he says. “You’re pretty like the moonlight is pretty, baby — you make everything around you more beautiful just by bein’ near it.”

He kisses your scarlet cheek and pulls back, taking you by the hand. “Yours truly, included,” he says, smiling a little. “If there’s anything beautiful about me—”

“There is,” you interrupt. You sandwich his hand between both of yours and hold it against your chest. “You’re beautiful because your heart is full of kindness, and love, and courage. Anyone else who’s been through what you have would just be bitter and ugly, inside and out. But you aren’t.”

Now Billy’s cheeks have taken on a rosy hue of their own, but he offers you a crooked grin. “Now, what’s this about out?”

You laugh. “Like you don’t know you’re gorgeous,” you say. “Like I don’t have to beat the women off you with a stick.”

“I don’t care about them,” he says, giving your hand a little tug to lead you through the door. “Just you.”

Once you’re out in your yard, he takes you by the waist, lifting you onto his horse. He carefully arranges your skirts, making sure nothing is trailing in the dirt and your legs are covered, before swinging up behind you.

“We’re goin’ into town tonight,” he says. “I gotta show off my girl and her pretty new dress.”

#billy the kid #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #william h bonney fanfiction #william h bonney x reader #tom blyth

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missmielyhoran · 2 years

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Breakup sex

Breakup sex but not what you think...

[Warning- Car smut, fingering, choking, exhibitionism?, p in v, dirty talking (slut, whore), unprotected sex (wear condom kids!), teasing, slight bit jealousy, breeding kink, Olivia Wilde]

A/N- Since Harry is out there buying Ferrari which is like hot asf here is smut😙. I don't know if the relationship was pr or not (it was) but in this it was.

Masterlist

*****

Harry has never been more ecstatic about break up, he was probably jumping on his feet. He was free from this exhausting PR.

Since start Harry didn't want to get into this mess but Jeff is known to be persuasive. Jeff made Harry see how much he could benefit from this blinding him from the demirts. He agreed on it and boy oh boy was it a ride.

Like any other PR he wanted to keep it professional. Keep his personal life out of it but she was so fucking clingy, going to hang out with his sister and mother at shows. Although yeah it made the "relationship" look real but it pissed him off. He liked playing with her kids though cause well they were kids and Harry loves kids if it wasn't obvious enough.

That was in past now he was a free man. No parading around with her hands in his showing off a fake relationship.

He didn't know what to do to celebrate so, he went to buy a car, Ferrari to be exact. He has a wide vast collection of cars, since One Direction days he was fond of cars. So, when 1D grew and they started earning good money he brought himself his first car. Then the collection grew and grew along with him.

He was walking around looking at cars with the store owner and manager on their toes telling him about the various features of models when the red Ferrari 812 superfast caught his eye.

So, he bought it.

Now he was on his way to yours.

Harry met you when he was in "relationship" with Olivia. You were Sarah's friend coming at the first few shows of the tour and then the LA ones to support her. When he first saw you he couldn't help but garner a little crush on you but couldn't make a move since he had a made-up front to keep up.

For few months he forgot about you the but then you came to see them on UK shows and his crush was back again stronger this time cause you stayed as Sarah's kid's temporary nanny.

Both of you started to become really good friends and Harry's crush grew more. He got to know you more like how you liked a little extra honey in your tea, you hated spicy food and had a sweet tooth, how you were studying to be a pediatrician and loved to play with Jake (Sarah's baby).

He had texted you when he got out of the store telling you to wear something cute. He tried to ask you out many times after he told you that his relationship was not real. It was after you two slept together for first time. You were both very drunk but Harry tried to grasp on every touch and curve of yours thinking he might not get a chance again.

You woke up panicking thinking you have slept with a take man and have ruined a relationship and how your mom was probably cursing you from heaven so, he had no choice but to tell you the truth to make you stay.

You slept together multiple times after that but you never agreed to go on a date with him.

But today he was a man on mission.

*****

You were sitting on your couch facing the door shaking your leg anxiously. You have seen the articles about the breakup this morning. You squealed happily so loud it scared your cat off the bed and then you got his text an hour ago telling you to be ready and it became the best day of your life before it even ended.

He told you to wear something cute. You were wearing a pale yellow skirt you have just brought with a heart detailing in front and a denim corset strapless top with heart shape neckline with a black leather jacket over it reaching the end of your skirt, with some chunky knee high boots.

Was it a date? were you dressed too busy? if it was a date you probably weren't dressed for anything fancy and if he had any intention to take you to hiking you just have to suck it up and break your ankles.

A knock gets you out of your racing thoughts. Your hands smooth down your outfit, taking a deep breath you open door and see Harry standing there with his signature smile.

All breath gets knocked out of him when he sees you, shamelessly checking you out from head to toe. You were gorgeous he always knew that but, "Fucking hell babe" he groans pushing you back inside and closing the door behing him so, no one can see them.

His hand immediately finds spot on your waist and his lips on yours. Your fingers get tangled in the hair on the back of his head. You thought of how many times you had to share these lips woth someone else and now they were all yours, the thought made you smile against his lips.

"What?" He asked breaking the kiss but not going far. You shake your head and look down between you two.

"Come on tell me" he pushed further, you looked up at him your chin resting on his collarbone.

"It's just- Only I get to kiss you now" You said with a shy smile. He laughes at how cute you are, his hand drawing circles on your back. He kisses your forehead, nose all over your face making you laugh.

"My jealous baby" He cooed.

"Come on lets go" You said pulling away from him knowing if you stayed like this long you will never leave house.

You locked the door behind you as he took your hand in his threading his fingers into yours tightly. You squealed excitedly inside.

"Is that a new car?" You pointed out as you came closer to the car parked.

"Yup just brought it this morning" He said opening the passenger side of the door for you then jogging towards his side and sliding in.

"When you said you were going shopping I thought you meant groceries not a Ferrari!" you exclaimed but also let out a chuckle. He just shrugs and starts driving.

His one hand stays on the wheel while the other on your thigh rubbing back and forth.

"Did I tell you, you look absolutely gorgeous?" He asked looking at you sideways. Your face heats up at the compliment as you let out a small 'no' making him smirk.

"Mhm. You looking soo beautiful baby, irresistible." Harry turns to look at you fully when there is a red light.

"You just want to get into my pants" you shook you head laughing. He smirks joining you in laughter. He leans down pecking your lips three times.

"I don't know about pants my love but this skirt is making me feral" He whispers against your lips. His hand on your thigh sliding up towards your heat.

"Harry" You breathe out looking at him through lashes and seeing his emerald eyes darken. Your whole body shivers with goosebumps his faint touch making you lose all control over yourself.

"You want me to make you feel good baby?" He asks still looking at you through the same gaze. Your eyes flick towards the traffic lights now turned yellow.

"There are people around, you need to dri-"

"It's a simple yes no question Y/N" He says with his authoritative voice. You were sure your panties were drenched with arousal. You simply got wet when Harry was around you but like this god you could die.

"Y-Yes" You mumble out making him smile again with dimples.

"Good girl" He pecks your cheeks and goes back to normal. His hand slid back up where it was before leaving you flustered.

What the fuck.

*****

Harry was having fun seeing you squirm in your seat. Your eyes flicking all over him like a hungry animal then staying on his hands. He knew you loved his hands, the veins and rings turned you on.

He kept his face forward while yours was facing the window. His hands started sliding up already feeling the wamth of your pussy.

"Har" You sighed as his middle finger slide up and down your covered folds. You were unbelievably wet making him almost groan out but he kept his face straight.

"Yes darling" He smiled innocently like he didn't knew what he was doing. He tried not to keep his eyes on you longer as to not distract himself and get into trouble.

"Please" you whined and fuck him. He felt his dick twitch at your tiny whiny voice.

"What you want darling? tell me?" He asked trying to focus on both you and the road.

"Your fingers please" You whined again, your face scrunched up in pleasure and distaste. You were soo turned on it started to hurt, you clit swollen and throbbing.

"Poor baby" He pouted. With two of his fingers he slid your panties aside. His thick fingers moving up and down collecting your arousal. "Fuck baby, all this for me?" He groaned.

"Yes fuck yes" You sighed falling back on seat your hand gripping his and other holding the dashboard.

His fingers slide up towards your clit and you let out a loud moan. The frustration leaving your body as he starts running tight but slow circles on it.

"You're so pathetic Y/N I haven't even done anything yet and you look like you're about to cum" He chuckles shaking his head. His cock was straining against his pants begging for release but he needed to please you first.

"Want me to fuck you with my fingers baby? Want to come all over my fingers and drench it?" He asked leaning in close and nipping on your jaw.

He had parked seeing an empty parking lot. The windows were tinted so, unless someone comes really close no one can see them.

He pushes off your jacket seeing your bare shoulders and neck, your tits almost spilling out of your tight top.

He brings his middle and index finger near your entrance and replaces his thumb on your clit. In one motion he pushes them inside you making you choke out a loud moan. Your body topples over gripping his hand tight enough to leave the mark of nails on them.

He's pushing his fingers in and out at a relentless pace. Your hips move up to grind against his hands to chase your high. After sometime he starts pushing his fingers up in a come here motion hitting the spot inside you. All while his lips move along your neck and chest leaving trail of wet kisses.

"Fuck fuck Harry I'm-" You get cut off by a moan. "I know baby" He coos, "Feels good doesn't it?" He says moving his fingers faster you didn't thought he could and all you could do was nod.

You came with a loud moan not caring if there was someone in the lot hearing you two no, it only made your high last longer.

"Fuck my whole hand is wet baby" he says pulling his fingers out. His fingers and rings glistening in your arousal, he takes his time sucking off every single one with his darkened eyes on your tired ones.

"You okay?" He asks pushing hair stick to your forehead out of your face. Instead of answering you take off your seatbealt and move to the drivers seat, in his lap. Your lips on his moving in frantic motion.

His hands slide down to your ass pulling you closer to him, his clothed dick feeling hard against your clothed pussy. You started dry humping on his lap, desperate like a bitch in heat making him groan.

"Fuck baby need you" He breaks the kiss to take a breathe. You keep your hips moving as his lips trail down to your neck making sure to leave his mark.

"Me too" You consent making him hum against your chest. He swats your behind asking you to move, you stand up uncomfortably on your knees as he quickly pushes down his pants and boxers in one go. His cock now laying heavy against his black shirt, red oozing with precum.

You sit back down on his lap grinding against his thigh to get some friction while yiu jerk him off, you give his dick giving it a firm squeeze and slide your thumb on the slit collecting the wetness making Harry moan loudly.

Your panties were uncomfortably sticking to your pussy but you didn't care. Not when he was in front of you red face, parted swollen lips with head thrown back letting out pretty noises.

It was like the switch went off inside his brain when your hand touched his neck. He swatted your hand off his cock and pulled you closer again. "Want this?" He asks again and once you confirm he brings his lips to yours.

His hands slide back under your skirt getting hold of your panties and tearing them in one go. You gasp at the burn but he didn't let you break the kiss. He took the ruined panties and put them in the cup holder.

He finally pulled apart and lined his dick to your entrance pushing it in one go. He gave you some time to adjust his finger moving in soft circle on your clit.

You started swaying your hips back and forth once the pain diminished fucking yourself on him. He groaned and leaned back ajusting his seat all the way back.

"Go on darling take whatever you want. Use me" He said. He brought his hand to your top pulling it down making your tits spill out of them. Harry laid back his hands folded behind his head as you bounced on his dick with your tits moving up and down. He was surprised he didn't already come at the sight.

He bought his hand up to your neck squeezing it enough to make you feel light headed. You threw you head back in ecstasy feeling the euphoria fill your body. Harry bought his hand up from your neck to your jaw holding it tightly, bringing your eyes back at him.

He pushed his thumb against your lips which you invited in sucking on it swirling your tongue while keeping your eyes on him.

"Fuck look at you riding my cock while sucking on my fingers like a filthy whore" He degraded his voice getting deeper and restrained. His words only made you more wet. "Who's slut sre you baby?" He asked.

"Yours" You whined your thighs starting to cramp up from all the movement.

"Aww, my pretty pillow princess getting tired? Want to be a slut but can't work for it?" He pouted taunting. Harry sat up separating his legs wider as he could in the cramped space of car. His hand holding your waist tightly stopping any movement.

"Now I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are and you're going to take it and scream so loud the whole parking should know my name" he whispered in your ears.

You didn't have anytime to comprehend what he said cause he was thrusting up into you at hauntingly pace. Your head fell down to his shoulder muffling the noises leaving you. Harry pulled you back with the hold on your hair making you cry out.

"Look at me when I'm fucking you" His deeper authoritative voice made you clench around him. "Fuck" He cursed out.

Harry bought his lips down to your chest sucking on your nipple hard almost breaking the skin while his fingers rolled the other one. You were a moaning, panting mess, there were tears streaming down your cheeks and you were sure your makeup was all ruined.

But you didn't care.

Harry gave both your breasts equal attention while you slide you hand down to touch your clit. You needed your release asap you couldn't hold it anymore. Seeing you touch yourself while his cock fucking in you had his eyes rolled back.

He was close, his thighs quivering and his balls felt tight ready for release. "Fuck baby I'm about to come" he groaned out, panting against your neck.

"Me too- oh god" you moaned loudly. You were clenching around him so tight you almost pushed him out.

"Where?" he asked. Usually he would pull out coming on your tits, mouth or ass wherever you wanted.

"In me please" You whined out. Harry's eyes bulging out, his pace faltering at the thought of his cum dripping out of you. He knew you were on pill but he never did that not knowing if you would be comfortable or not.

"Are you sure baby?" He asked again to confirm, "Yes I'm on pill but can't care less if you knocked me up" You moaned, you were on the brink of your fall into euphoria. Harry was sure you were angel and the thought him knocking you up was what made him lose it.

"Fuck cum them" He screamed. His order was all you needed, your whole body tingled as your vision went white. You felt Harry shoot his warm load inside you filling you up. Both of you were moaning, whimpering mess coming down from your high.

The car was hot and sticky from all the heat, the window were fogged up and it smelled like sex. You felt harry go soft inside you, his head between your tits while yours in his mess of curls.

"That was fucking incredible" He was the first one to speak. You laughed along with him agreeing.

Harry pulled out of you hissing from slight pain you felt. He shot you an apologetic look and took out some napkins from the dashboard and cleaned you up as much as he could.

He pulled his pants up and you pulled your top up much to Harry's dismay. His childish pout when you started buttoning up your top made you chuckle.

Both of you stayed silently there holding each other in the empty parking lot basking in each other's presence.

"So you will finally go on date with me?" He asks you sheepishly.

"Yes" You laughed fondly.

*****

I'm not trying to make anyone look bad...do I not like her? yes. Do I also not care? yes. I didn't know who she was before this and I'm going to keep it that way<3

Let me know what you think about this or talk to me here♡

Please Like, Comment and Reblog<33

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry x yn #x reader #harry x reader #ferrari #harry smut #smut #harry fluff

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winniethewife · 1 year

Text

Kinktober day 8

Day Eight: Cockwarming (Tony Stark x reader)

Warnings: smut under the cut, nsfw, 18+, FemBodied, plot, P!inV!,punishment, begging, Unprotected sex

Minors DNI

Words: 650

“Tony…”

“Shhh…just let me, look at you.” Tony looked over you with pride and lust in his eyes.

“You can’t be serious, this is barely a dress.” She remarks as she tried to pull down the short skirt to no avail.

“Hm? Oh yeah definitely, Nobody will question your credentials in that.”

“I thought my years in undercover training was supposed to help us with that, but what do I know…” She Rolls her eyes

“Oh probably, but I like this method way more.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she sighed in frustration

“Whatever”

Hours later, Tony’s driving them back from the party where they were supposed to get the information from. “Supposed to’ is the key phrase. She’s pinching the bridge of her nose and muttering curses under her breath.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Tony mutters

“Oh, really? I would say it was pretty much a disaster Tony.” She says with venom in her voice.

“You kept flirting with that guy! I couldn’t focus.” He tried to defend himself

“I was distracting him, so you could get the information dimwit. You know, doing my job?” she looks at him pointedly.

“I’m sleeping on the couch aren’t I?”

“Oh no, I have a much worse punishment in mind.” And she did, as he would find out. As they lay bed, she sat on cock. Not moving. Just sitting there. It was absolute torture, and absolute heaven at the same time. It didn’t help that He had stripped down entirely naked and she was still wearing that dress.

“Come on sweetie. Let’s just forget about this… Baby please.” He pleads with her as her wet pussy contracts around him, he couldn’t honestly tell which muscle movements were intentional and which were purely coincidental.

“Oh no you’re not getting out of this easily. You totally screwed our mission and Fury will chew me out tomorrow like I’m a piece of his favorite gum. And it’s not even my fault this went poorly. It’s yours. So suck up and deal.” She smirks slightly at his pouty face and puppy dog eyes. She’s not gonna fall for it. She clenches around him, refusing to move, warming his cock. He let out an uncharacteristic whine as she does this.

“That’s stupid…I mean maybe I deserve it…but I still hate it.” Tony grumbles like a toddler who was just told he could only have one piece of candy. She lifted her her hips and slammed down on him once, causing him to groan.

“Enough back talk or I can find a better way to spend my time.” She uses a tone of voice that makes it very clear to tony that she isn’t kidding.

“Yes ma’am.” He says with a smirk, which quickly disappears from his face as he feels his cock twitch inside her. Every involuntary movement made this whole situation that much better, and that much worse. He would have thought that he would have gone soft by now but every time he thinks hes going to she does something that sends the flag back up the pole. A slight shift of her hips, a single thrust, clenching down on him, she knew exactly how to play him, like an instrument she had taken years to master. It was like this for nearly half an hour when she started to rock her hips back and forth. Her own will to continue like this waning. That’s when Tony knew he had a chance.

“Come on sweetie, let me make it up to you…” He leans forward and takes her hips in his hands lifting her slightly off his cock, then back down. Both of them already on the edge of over stimulation. A moan escapes her lips as he does this. She may be a stubborn woman, but she was still a woman with needs.

“Alright. But you’re not really off the hook…yet…”

Kinktober masterlist

#tony stark #the avengers #marvel #marvel smut #tony stark x reader #iron man #x reader #fawktober2023 #kinktober #cockwarm #mcu

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emilysslvt · 11 months

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Halloweekend

Halloween was always your favorite, and even though you were a college student studying to be an FBI agent, you always loved to party. Until your professor, Emily Prentiss, saw you extremely intoxicated.

happy halloween everyone, have a good day :) i'll enjoy it being high. веселиться 🥂

warnings: swearing, smut, drinking, smoking

Halloweekend was your favorite time of the year, to dressing up slutty, going to frat parties, and drinking like you're 16 all over again. Since you started criminology, you never really did stuff like that anymore. But your best friend begged and begged until you finally gave in.

She sat on your bed, waiting for you to show her your outfit. You didn't want to go too revealing, so you wore a skirt and a cropped shirt. You went as Freddy Krueger.

You told her to open her eyes, and she clapped. "Oh, yes! Finally, something other than your boring regular clothes. We are going to have the best night tonight!" She exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes at the comment, "thank you, Max. Just what I needed tonight. My professor has assigned a lot of work, and I need to relax." Picking up your purse, you held your hand out for Max and she gratefully took it.

"Professor Prentiss again? She never gives you a break! Always on your ass and no one else's." Max huffed, as you both left your dorms and made your way across campus.

You laughed slightly, "I know. Today she yelled at me because I was on my phone, but some kid was on his too and she didn't say anything to him. It was a text from my mom, I am usually never on it."

Max shrugged, "maybe she has a crush on you." You slapped her arm, and she laughed.

"Yeah, right. She's too professional for that. But I wouldn't be opposed to it, she's so fucking fine." You admitted. You always had a small crush on her, no matter how intimidating she was. In fact, that made her so much hotter.

You and Max continued your conversation until you got to the frat party. You easily got in, as you both knew who was in the frat. Plus, they loved young hot women.

As soon as you got in there, you were handed shots. Max hit her shot glass against yours, and you both downed them. It was like that for the next 3 hours. You had lost count on how many shots you had, and how many times you lost Max. She always did that at parties, you should've known by now.

It was almost 2am, and you had classes in the morning. Once you came to the realization, you made your way out of the house. Not without stumbling, and almost dropping all of your shit. You hated walking alone, but you knew Max was definitely with some guy. You were on your own for the night.

Half way to your dorm, you needed to sit down. You were tired, and about to pass out. You sat on the grass, grabbing a cigarette from your bag. You lit it, and sat there smoking. Yes, the grass was dirty and gross but you didn't care at the time.

"Y/n? Is that you?"

You heard your name, and you opened your eyes. You looked up at the mysterious woman standing in your view, and your mouth slightly dropped.

You put your sober face on, which wasn't convincing at all. "Oh shit. Professor Prentiss!"

"Y/n, what the hell are you doing outside at 2am smoking a fucking cigarette?" She asked, bending over to get a better view of you.

"Oh, well.. you know. Regular Saturday night." Your words slurred, barely making any sense.

Your professor looked frustrated, and she sighed. "Come on. Get up." She held her hand out for you, and you took it. As she pulled you up, you stumbled and dropped your cigarette.

You were sad, looking down at it. "Aw man. I can't believe I dropped it." As you went to pick it up, you almost fell right along with your cigarette. Your professor immediately grabbed your waist, holding you in place.

She sighed, holding you up. "How much did you fucking drink? Where is your dorm? And why are you walking by yourself? That's dangerous, and you out of all these students should know that." Your professor said, wrapping your arm around her shoulder.

"Hahaha I don't really know where my dorm is. And my friend is definitely being fucked by a frat guy right now." You said, giggling to yourself. You barely made any sense, but to yourself it made sense. Well, barely.

"How do you not kn- you know what? You'll stay at my house until you're sober." Your professors tone was off, she sounded pissed. But at the same time, you were too drunk to notice. Or care.

The rest of the night was a blur, you fell asleep on your professors bed but you couldn't remember that. You woke up the next morning, cursing at yourself from how bad your hangover was.

Once your eyes were able to open, you realized you weren't in your dorm. You started to panick, thinking the worst. Up until your professor walked in with a cup in her hand.

She made her way towards you, placing the cup in front of you. "Thought you might need this." You smiled, taking it from her and immediately drinking it. The warm feeling hitting your lips made you feel like a winter day when you had a snow day.

Your professor sat next to you, watching you closely. "Do you remember anything from last night?" You placed the cup on the nightstand next to her bed, as you tried to recollect your thoughts.

You shrugged, deciding to be honest. "I remember before the party. Half hour at the party. That's about it. I think I blacked out immediately. Max told me I needed to blow off some steam, and so I kept taking shot after shot."

She sighed, running her tongue along her lip as she pulled her lip between her teeth. Your eyes watched her tongue, as you always thought that was extremely hot.

"I found you outside around 2am, you were in the grass smoking a cigarette. You couldn't remember where your dorm was. I hope you know that was extremely dangerous, and there are other ways to blow off steam rather than drinking yourself to death." She went on. You knew she was right, and hearing what you did was a tad embarrassing. Now she knew you smoked, and that you were an idiot for forgetting your dorm room.

"And how do you blow off steam, professor?" You asked, tilting your head. She smirked, shaking her head. She avoided the question, and she stood up.

Your professor stood rather close to you, and you watched her eyes quickly dart from your chest back up to your eyes. "You have class in 45 minutes, would you like to go back to your dorm to get ready?"

"I asked you a question, professor. How do you blow off steam?" You were curious as to why she avoided the question. Plus, you didn't want to leave. The way she made you feel like a teenage girl every time her eye lingered your body, or the way she talked in a low tone.

She took a moment to think. Her lips parted, but no words came out. You watched the smirk form on her lips, "would you like me to show you?" You bit your lip nervously, watching as she leaned over you. You felt her breath on your neck, making you lean your head back a bit.

She grew impatient, waiting for your response. "You need to learn your lesson from last night, don't you think?" She whispered in your ear, as she bit the tip of your ear, sending chills down your spine.

You never wanted something so bad. Scratch that. Needed. "Yes, professor."

Her smirk grew, pushing you against her bed. You propped yourself up by your elbows, as she straddled your lap. "Perhaps you need to be punished?"

"I didn't do anything that bad to be punished, professor." You stated. You knew you did, but arguing with an older woman was always fun. And hot.

She leaned down, pressing her lips to your neck as her hand dragged down your body. "No? So getting drunk to forget your problems wasn't bad, hm?" Her lips grazed your neck, as she got closer to your lips. "Or walking by yourself at 2am? Becoming a profiler, you should know better than that." The gap between your lips was killing you. She was so close, but so far.

Her hand slipped under your cropped shirt, her finger grazed the bottom of your bra making you crave her touch even more. "Please touch me.."

With her free hand, she drew the outline of your jaw with her finger. "Do you think you deserve it?"

At this point? Yes. It was torture. The way she slightly touched you, turning you on by barely even touching you. "No.. but I need you." Your words came out in a whisper, but she was happy with the answer.

Your professor ran her hand along your neck, pushing your head to the side. "Tell me how bad you need me."

You were impatient, you needed her now. "Please touch me, professor. I need you. I crave your touch." You sounded pathetic, but professor Prentiss seemed to like it.

"Good girl." Her hand kept a grip on your neck as she slammed her lips against yours, her knee pushed your legs apart as she pressed it against where you needed her most. The kiss was filled with desperation and lust, the way she bit your bottom lip, how it felt so wrong but yet so right.

Her knee pushing against you made you softly moan against her lips, and you felt her smirk. You loved it when she did that. As she pulled away, she bit your bottom lip. You whined at the loss of contact, but her lips soon found your neck. Your hands found her hair as she sucked on your soft skin, leaving a hickey.

Her hand wandered down your stomach, until it found your the hem of your skirt. She slid her hand into your skirt, and she circled your clothed clit, as she lifted her head to whisper in your ear. "Can I touch you?"

"Yes. Please, touch me. Please."

"Needy, are we?" Her tone was low, filled with lust and dominance. You were so turned on, you needed her so fucking bad. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt her fingertips cirling your clit. Her pace was slow, painfully slow. You were so desperate and needy even though her lips were on your neck, and her fingers were on your clit.

Emily lifted her head, "take your shirt off." As she was still keeping her slow pace, you slightly lifted yourself up, pulling your shirt off. Her eyes immediately found your breasts, and with her free hand she unclipped it, letting it fall to the side of her bed.

Her pace sped up as she slightly leaned over, circling your nipple with her tongue before pulling it between her teeth. Soft moans left your mouth as she sucked on your nipple, and her fingers were working your clit. You never felt so good before, and it felt even better just by being fucked by your professor.

Your head fell fell backwards into the pillows as she slid one of her fingers inside of you, making you moan her name softly. Emily bit your nipple before she moved onto your next one, while she slid another finger inside of you. Her hand hit your clit, making you moan louder. Emily loved the sound that left your mouth, and she pushed her fingers deeper into you, hitting your g-spot.

You felt your orgasm approaching, feeling the familiar knot form in your stomach. "Oh, fuck.. I'm going to cum." The words came out in a stutter, as you had barely any thoughts. There was no response from the older women, she just fucked you deeper and faster. Moans and curse words left your mouth, you were so fucking close. Your back arched as you were on the edge of your orgasm, her hand brushing against your clit, her mouth sucking on your nipples, and her fingers so deep inside of you. You were about to cum, but Emily immediately stopped. She removed her fingers from inside of you, and she stopped sucking on your breasts as she looked up at you.

Your professor had her fingers in her mouth. She looked so fucking hot, but you were pissed. You needed that orgasm, and she just stopped.

She sucked her fingers clean, waiting for you to catch your breath. "That should teach you to behave, hm? Maybe next time I'll let you cum. As for now, we have class in ten." Her lips formed a smirk, as she leaned down, placing a kiss on your lips. You were mad at her, but her lips were so fucking soft.

As she pulled back, she bit your lip. "There's no time to go back to your dorm, so take a quick shower and meet me in class. Wear my clothes, because if you show up to class like that I'll have to punish you again."

You nodded, and she smiled. She placed a soft kiss on your forehead, and she got up. "After class, I'll be able to take care of you properly. I'll make it up to you, okay?" Her tone was soft, and it made you want her even more.

It was safe to say that wasn't a one time thing. Both of you enjoyed that too much. Maybe it was because it was wrong, but even then it felt right.

#criminal minds #paget brewster #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #emily x reader #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss #lqbtq #smut #fan fiction #fanfic #fantasy #halloweekend #professor and student #maybe part 2?

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zepskies · 2 years

Text

Never Say Goodbye - Part 10

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

AN: Bear in mind, season 2 aired/took place circa 2006, so references like iPods are going to be dated lol.

Word Count: 5,500 Warnings: M-rated chapter ahead—18+ only! Angst, smut, fluff, and feels. Oh yeah, and kidnapping.

Part 10: Worthy

In the months after John Winchester’s death, Sam and Dean spent even more time on the road than before. Hunting down the demon, as well as trying to find the Colt.

You helped them the best you could with research on their various cases. However, now that you had been promoted to Library Curator at the museum, you had even more access to scholarly research and ancient texts, but even less time on your hands.

If you were honest (and you weren’t), it was getting harder to balance your real job and Sam and Dean’s requests. But you knew if you said so, Dean would never ask you for help again. At the end of the day, it kept you connected to them. And you liked helping out.

The next time the brothers came home marked a few months shy of two years since you’d met Dean. When they were a day’s drive away, he called you to ask you something he’d never asked before…

He wanted to take you out to dinner.

You had cooked for him before. He had cooked for you. You two had ordered in and gone to grab dinner with Sam in tow. But in almost two years, you and Dean had never gone on an actual dinner date, getting dressed up, just the two of you.

Needless to say, you were very excited…but you also had no idea what to wear.

Dean had seen you in the professional blouses, slacks, and skirts you wore for work. He’d seen you in ratty old college shirts and yoga pants while slurping ramen noodles from a plastic cup. He’d also seen you in nothing but one of his old buttoned-down shirts, and then, in nothing at all.

But he’d never seen you dressed to kill. That wasn’t to say you couldn’t pull it off, because you most certainly could. It had just…been a while.

So you dove into the shadowy recesses of your closet and searched for something you knew he hadn’t seen before. And you might’ve gone to the mall and bought a couple new pieces of lingerie, just in case the night went really well.

You were grateful Dean gave you a full day’s notice. It gave you the time to mentally prepare, but you still had to call him again to verify a few things.

“Okay, but where are we going?” you asked. “Casual dressy or dressy, dressy?”

Dean chuckled. “I have no idea what that means.”

He sounded tired to you, but the playful note in his voice still made you smile.

“It means just tell me where we’re going,” you said with a laugh.

“Nope,” he refused. “But here’s what I can do for you. I’ll be leaving the leather jacket at home this time.”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Okay. That’s something, at least. Man, you really are the worst with these little guessing games.”

“I think you mean the best,” he joked. “Remember, I’ll be there by seven tomorrow.”

You let out an annoyed huff. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He was still laughing when you hung up on him. You now had a plan though.

The next day was a Friday. You were able to get off work right at five, but that still only gave you two hours to shower and fix yourself up. Not nearly enough time, you lamented, but you made it work.

Your dad, blessedly, was working late again. So you had the house to yourself as you played your music loudly and danced to the beat while you finished up your makeup.

Then around seven, a knock sounded at the front door. Wow, he’s actually on time.

You swallowed a small swell of nerves in your throat. Stop being silly, you told yourself. And you were careful in your heels on your way down the stairs. You checked yourself real quick in the mirror, just to make sure your hair and everything else was in place. Then you looked into the door’s peephole.

With a smile, you unlocked and opened the door. Dean was there to greet you with a familiar grin, and then his eyes went wide at the sight of you. You crossed your arms and leaned on the door frame.

“We’re all stocked up on Girl Scout cookies, thanks,” you teased. Dean’s grin kicked up into a smirk.

“I’m not here to sell you anything, sweetheart,” he said. His hot gaze took you in—from your softly curled hair to your dark red lipstick, to the black suede dress that clung to your every curve and fell to mid-thigh, and finally down to your scarlet red heels. Then his eyes traveled all the way back up to yours.

“But I’ll bet you could get me to sell my soul with just those heels,” he said.

Your brain stuttered to a halt. You couldn’t help but blush at the flirtatious depths in his voice, overlayed with a fine layer of charm. It didn’t take much for Dean to turn it on, but when he did, you could guess how many panty-dropping one liners he’d had in his arsenal before he met you.

And he’d cleaned up nicely himself. True to his word, he’d forgone his typical leather jacket (though you were fond of it) for a solid black jacket. He’d paired it with a charcoal gray button-down and some dark wash jeans. (You suspected that Sam had given some pointers for this ensemble.)

His familiar pendant still hung from his neck though, along with his mom’s ring on his right hand. He was still Dean, but he looked good enough to eat.

His smirk deepened, and you realized he’d likely heard that thought.

Damn it.

You hadn’t seen him in a long time, so you forgot you’d have to pull your thoughts back from the soul bond sometimes. Right now though, it was all you could do to stop from dragging him into the house and kissing him senseless.

Dean shook you out of your thoughts when his hands found the curve of your waist. You looked up at him, holding onto the edges of his jacket.

“Sam’s not joining us for dinner?” you asked innocently, while knowing full well he wasn’t. Dean leaned down to brush his lips against your cheek, down to your neck where he caught the pleasant, sexy scent of your perfume. He felt you shudder a bit at the sensation of his lips across your skin.

“Nope. It’s adults only tonight,” he said. Pressed against him as you were, you felt the reverberation of his voice in your chest. It was a very pleasant sensation that pooled warmth in your lower belly, and down between your legs.

Dean came back to your lips, letting his ghost over yours. He didn’t want to ruin that pretty red lipstick (but he also really, really did).

You played into it; your smile brushed against his lips while your fingers dragged down his chest. “Then, maybe you should take me…”

You shifted on your feet, letting your thigh graze between his legs. You felt his fingers dig into the small of your back, and you reached back to grab his hand and unwrap his arms from your body.

“…To this mystery restaurant,” you said. “‘Cause I’m really freakin’ hungry.”

You flashed him a smile and slipped between him and the front door. You tossed him your house keys so he could lock it. As you walked down the driveway toward the Impala, you felt his disbelief, a lance of annoyance, but also his amusement. And a hot flare of desire while he watched you walk away from him.

You crossed your arms again and leaned against the passenger door of the Impala while you waited for Dean. He locked the front door and returned to the Impala while pointing a finger at you.

“You play too much,” he said. Your smile deepened.

As it turned out, he didn’t take you to the most expensive restaurant in town, or just to the local diner either. It was a nice Columbian steakhouse that ended up being the perfect place for both of you: a cozy atmosphere with Latin music, a historically Columbian-owned restaurant, and an interesting culture of food for you to enjoy—and a series of revolving smoked meats for Dean.

You noticed though, that while your boyfriend was enthusiastic about the food, he still seemed off somehow. His smiles didn’t always meet his eyes, and while he looked great, he also looked tired. He didn’t have 100% of his usual swagger going on, and that was enough cause for concern. From what Sam had told you, Dean had been doing better in working through their father’s death.

“Dean.” You laid a hand on his knee while he put yet another cheese bun into his mouth. You earned his attention regardless. “You okay? You seem…I don’t know. Tired.”

He shook his head and thankfully answered after he swallowed. “Nah, just a long drive. What, you’re not having fun?”

You smiled. “No, I am. I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”

Dean smiled back. “I’m good, baby.”

But you could tell he was hiding something—from the bond, and from you. You frowned at him.

“Dean, we’ve been over this,” you said in a quiet, but firm voice. “You don’t have to lie to me. Whatever it is, I can handle it. You can trust me.”

After a moment, Dean’s pleasant expression faded. A more genuine, rueful smile overtook his features. He took your hand from his knee and pressed it to his lips. He looked down for a few seconds, just thinking, and you gave him the time he needed to do it.

He appreciated that about you. Though you were a curious person by nature, and stubborn about it, in moments like this you never rushed him. You gave him room to breathe.

“Do you know what a djinn is?” he asked.

You blinked at him in curiosity. That wasn’t at all what you’d expected him to say.

“Yeah. I mean, djinn, genies—they’re all over Middle Eastern mythology,” you said, and with a more teasing smile, “And not just in Aladdin.”

Dean inclined his head. “Very good, Professor.”

“I’m guessing they’re real too?” you asked.

“Yeah, nasty sombitches,” he confirmed. He explained that with just one touch, a djinn could propel you into a fantasy of your own making. A dream world, where you can have the life you’ve always dreamed of—at the price of getting your blood sucked dry in the real world.

You grimaced. “Ech. Sounds like a party.”

“Yeah, it’s freakin’ Disneyland,” Dean quipped.

“I’m assuming you and Sam ran into a djinn?” you said.

Dean nodded. His gaze fell away from you as his thoughts drifted back to that world. That place where his family was more or less whole. Where his mom was still alive, and his family had never been sucked into hunting. Where Dean had met you while on a road trip with his dad and married you a year later. Where his little brother had become a lawyer and Dean a firefighter.

His father had died too soon in that world too, but it hadn’t been a gruesome, lonely death caused by a demon. The only real obstacle in that perfect world had been that he’d drifted away from his little brother. They didn’t have a great relationship in that world, but it wasn’t anything that they couldn’t overcome with a few beers and a couple of heart-to-hearts in the Impala.

But it hadn’t been real.

Dean explained all of this to you over dessert, and you listened with rapt attention. You felt all the emotions he couldn’t readily express.

“I saw what my life could’ve been like,” he admitted. “And I wanted it, more than anything.”

“But this is what’s real, and you chose it,” you said. “That’s what matters.”

Dean didn’t look convinced. You were grateful that he shared this with you, but you could also tell that this had been plaguing his mind. You also didn’t want him to have to wallow in it anymore. What you wanted was to help perk him up, or distract him somehow…

So when he dipped his spoon into the large chocolate brownie in front of him, you parried his spoon with yours and stole his scoop. He looked up at you with raised, incredulous brows.

“What just happened here?” he asked.

You shrugged, smiling as you licked your spoon clean. Dean’s lips pressed together, but in the name of keeping the night pleasant, he decided to let it go.

Once again, he delved into the brownie. And once again, you took his piece with your own spoon, even taking a bit of vanilla ice cream with it.

“This is really good,” you said, humming in delight. “You should try some.”

Dean quirked his head at you. He didn’t know whether to be irritated or amused.

“I’m tryin’,” he wryly replied. With a purposeful hand, he wielded his spoon and took a nice corner piece. Sure enough, your spoon came in to intercept him. But his left hand closed around your wrist. His gaze flicked up to yours.

“You’re playin’ with fire here, sweetheart,” he warned. You went for your glass of wine with your free hand and took a sip.

“Am I?” you asked. “I thought we agreed to share.”

He leaned in close, until there were mere inches between your faces. “I don’t share food.”

You took his challenge for what it was, and you leaned in until your lips were nearly brushing his.

“Fine,” you said. Then you sat back and sipped at your wine again. You seemed to have no further interest in dessert, so Dean nodded to himself and raised the corner piece of brownie to his lips.

Only to have you snatch his spoon from his hand and take the bite yourself. You washed it down with some water this time. While Dean sat back in shock, you offered him a smile.

“This’s a great place. We should definitely come back here,” you said.

For a moment, all Dean could do was stare at his damn-near empty plate. When he gathered himself, he looked over at you and smiled dangerously.

“Yeah, we should,” he agreed.

You finished your wine while Dean paid for the meal. He wouldn’t accept your money even though you offered to pay half. He asked you out, so he should pay, he reasoned. (He also ordered an extra brownie to-go.)

Anticipation ran down your spine the longer it took to get back to the car. You could feel his silent simmer, but also his patience. You knew he wasn’t going to let you get away with teasing him, but you also knew he was waiting for the right moment. Most likely when you two had some real privacy.

But before you could open the passenger side door of the Impala, Dean’s hand stopped you. You let him maneuver you around and press you against the door, and you held onto his jacket for balance. You grinned when he bent down and claimed your lips with his own, demanding, sensuous, and greedy.

You clung to his arms as he basically devoured you in the restaurant’s parking lot. His hands were hot on your hips, then kneading your butt, pulling you flush against him as your fingers curled into his hair.

You hadn’t taken Dean for a PDA kind of guy; he was very private about who knew you were together. But then again, it wasn’t too often that you two went out in public, considering this was the first proper date you and Dean had ever been on.

“You’re in so much trouble,” he said against your lips, but the effect was kind of lost when you could feel his amusement and searing desire. You giggled against him.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I can deal with that.”

He pinched your butt, making you yelp and tighten your hand in his hair on reflex. He groaned into your mouth.

“Take me home,” you said. Dean nodded, but he was reluctant to let go of you. Eventually he withdrew his hands and opened the passenger side door for you.

First, you smoothed down his jacket and wiped away some of the lipstick from his mouth and chin with your thumb. His charming, full-watt Dean grin was back, and it warmed you up from the inside out.

That night, in your bed, you and Dean made up for months of separation. You were starved for his touch, and Dean realized that with no small measure of guilt.

He tried to focus on being here with you, but in the back of his mind, he still felt like he was somehow taking something from you when he made love to you. Like that hit and run you once accused him of.

This is what Dad warned me about, he couldn’t help but think.

You both laid on your bed together afterwards, dewy with sweat and a hand on your chest to calm your racing heart. But as great as it had been for you, you knew that Dean was distracted again.

The moment you heard him think about his father, it brought you back to that day in the hospital.

“I’m sorry I told you not to go after her a few years ago,” John had said.

But why? You sat up against the headboard, bringing the sheets up to cover yourself. Meanwhile, Dean was coming back from freshening up in the bathroom. He then started tinkering with your iPod and speaker on your nightstand. But he frowned while scrolling through most of the songs.

Ugh. Avril Lavigne. Really? You heard him think to himself. A smile threatened to curve your lips as he continued to grumble at your playlist. But eventually he settled on “Going to California” by Led Zeppelin. That was neutral ground you could both agree on.

“Dean,” you found yourself saying, before you could think about it. He joined you back in bed, sitting beside you.

“When I was fourteen, I remember it snowed the day of my mom’s funeral,” you continued. “I was standing there in the cemetery when it started. I was…well, a wreck. I looked up at the flurries, and I heard something.”

It’s not fair!

“I didn’t realize it then, but I think I was hearing you for the first time.” You looked over at Dean, and he met your gaze.

“Sam and I were carted off to Bobby’s a few times when we were kids,” he admitted. “It’s possible.”

You gathered your courage, and you asked the question you had been holding onto for almost a year.

“Did you ever…hear me? Before last year.”

Dean sensed that this was a leading question. You already knew something, or at least thought you did. He sighed.

You sat up straighter and faced him.

“Talk to me,” you implored. Dean hesitated, but after a moment, he answered.

“It was around seven…eight years ago now. I was working a case with my dad near your school. That university.”

You thought back, and it must’ve been when you were getting your bachelor’s degree. Dean explained that he was about twenty-three, making you twenty at the time. And he started to feel you, hear you. It freaked him the hell out.

“A killer dog nearly took my head off because…anyway, the point is, I figured out what it was,” he said.

“But you left,” you said, both hurt and angry. “Why the hell didn’t you reach out to me?”

“My dad told me something,” Dean said. “He said I shouldn’t bring you into my life if I couldn’t hang up my gun. You know what…he was right.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. “How can you say that?”

“Look at what’s happening,” he said. “I’m on the road with Sam tryin’ to hunt this demon, pulling you away from your job with research, dragging you out in the middle of the night because I’m on death’s door. It’s enough!”

You didn’t like the sharpness in his tone, or the stubborn look in his eyes. That was another thing you’d learned about Dean. When he got an idea of something in his head, a conviction, he wasn’t going to let it go in a hurry.

Too frustrated to remain in bed, Dean got up and started dressing. You watched him put on his underwear and jeans in disbelief. But you stole his gray dress shirt before he could put it on. He wasn’t about to leave you like this.

So you put on the shirt yourself and stood in his way.

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” he told you.

“Who says?” you challenged. “We’re doing what works for us.”

“That’s my point. It’s not working. And it’s not fair to you.”

“When have I ever asked for fair?” You wanted to know. You had never complained, never asked anything of him except for two things: to keep in touch with you, and not to lie to you.

“This WiFi connection goes both ways, remember?” he countered. “You can try hiding it all you want, but you hate this long-distance crap. Pretty soon you’re gonna start hating me…and shit. I wouldn’t blame you.”

You didn’t know what to make of that resigned look on his face, but it struck at your heart.

You hefted a sharp sigh. “Didn’t you say that this was just temporary? That after you and Sam killed the Yellow Eyed demon, then you could come home?”

“It took Dad our whole lives just to track Yellow Eyes down,” Dean said. “Then it killed him.”

So he was saying this could take his whole life too. Part of you knew that, but you didn’t want to accept the reality that you could be living half a life with him forever.

You didn’t realize it then, but Dean took your silence as a sign.

“Look, I get it,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not like we can just…cut the cord here. But I’d understand if you don’t want to keep doing this.”

For a moment, you stared at him uncomprehendingly. But if he’d just taken half a second to look at your face—to read the truth in your roiling emotions, he wouldn’t have kept running his mouth.

“Truth is, you deserve better than what I got to give,” he said. His hand raised to card through his hair, an anxious gesture. You knew in the way his eyes shifted away.

A tremor of disbelief and dismay coursed through you.

What he had to give.

A man who'd first offered his protection while barely even knowing you. Who comforted you when you needed him, and celebrated your achievements instead of belittling them. Who believed in you when you told him about working yourself up at the museum. Who empowered you to hold your ground, and speak up for yourself.

A man who'd rather be alone than keep hurting you.

“Baby,” you tried, grasping his arm. Still, he didn’t quite meet your gaze.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said.

You pushed him back with both hands on his bare chest when he tried to get around you. “Stop!”

He said your name in a sharp warning. You shook your head stubbornly.

“Do you want me out of your life?” you asked. “Is that really what you want?”

Dean finally looked down at you, his mouth pressed in a firm line, his brows crunched over his eyes…but he couldn’t answer you.

“Then stop it!” you said. “Just fucking stop it. I’m tired of hearing you think that you’re not good enough.”

Dean’s expression slackened.

“Stop lying to yourself,” you said sternly. “I don’t care what you think I want. Whatever ‘together’ means for us is what we’re going to do. Because you are worth it.”

That was your conviction. He'd been fighting for his family his entire life. And now for you, in a way. So the least you could do was fight for him.

“Yeah, it’s really fucking hard right now. On both of us,” you said with a nod. “But if you think I’m going to let go just because of that, then you don’t know me at all yet, Dean.”

Your frown solidified into a look of determination.

“But goddamn it, you’re gonna learn.”

His mouth fell open a bit, and his soft surprise gave way to shock when you rocked forward, taking his face between your hands. He accepted your hard kiss, the uncharacteristic way you demanded from him, claimed his lips and his tongue, and the frustrated pace of removing each other’s clothes again.

For once, you took control and pushed Dean down to the bed. He let you do it too. It was an electrifying turn on—to have your hands be firm instead of gentle, but still purposeful in how you touched him.

And you did. You straddled his lap, and between fierce kisses, you mapped out his body with your hands. He held you by your hips, but you soon pushed him down onto the bed. With wet, nipping kisses, you burned a path from his neck, down his chest and sternum, down the defined “V” between his hips.

His breathing deepened the further you went, because Christ had it been a long time since anyone but himself had touched him. He supposed you weren’t the only one starving.

Your lips grazed and nipped the inside of his thigh, getting ever closer to where you knew he wanted you. His hand raised to tangle in your hair, but you moved his hand away and trapped it onto the bed. Your challenging gaze met his, and Dean raised his brows.

No touching, unless I say so, you said through the bond. A smirk raised the corner of his lips.

Yes, ma’am, he replied, making you smile. You then renewed your attention to the task at hand. You settled between his legs lowered down, where the object of your focus was standing perfectly at attention. You let your lips graze his dick. Careful touches, and really, a bit teasing. Dean sucked in a breath when your hands joined your lips, just soft caresses along its length, underneath, over its sensitive head. It was both exactly what he wanted and nowhere near enough.

His hand fisted into the pillow behind his head and the comforter underneath him. Your name fell from his lips—both a prayer and a plea. He felt the shape of your smile in a kiss, pressed against his thigh.

I’ve got you, baby, you said. Finally, your lips descended on him and you took as much of his dick as you could into your mouth. Something between a moan and a grunt fell from Dean’s lips as you worked him over, with your hands joining your warm, wet mouth. He itched to touch you, but you were relentless and held his wrist down onto the bed.

With his free hand, he grabbed onto the headboard as his back arched involuntarily, but there was nowhere to go. You had him trapped, and he was exactly where he wanted to be.

But just when he felt that crest of pleasure nearing and thought he was going to see black on the edges of his vision, you let him go with a soft pop. You leaned your arms on his raised knees and wiped your mouth. You looked down at his incredulous face with a mischievous little smile.

Dean made a sound of both shock and frustration as he tried to catch his breath. His head hit the pillow while his hand went to his wildly beating heart.

“Well, that’s just rude,” he uttered. When he was able to speak, that is. You stifled a laugh and moved up to cover that hand on his chest with yours. He flinched, but you were able to offer apologetic kisses. He reluctantly accepted them.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you whispered against his lips. You took his hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his palm, then brought it to your cheek. Despite the playful, annoyed suspicion in his eyes, he stroked your cheek with affection. He saw your game, and he begrudgingly admired it—and you.

Smiling, you sat back on his bare thighs and brought both of his hands to your body, grazing down your neck to cup your breasts. You sighed as his thumbs brushed over your pert nipples and kneaded the soft flesh.

“Is this for me, or for you?” he teased. You shot him a playful glare. For that, you lowered his hands further down your body and guided his hand to the very wet folds between your legs.

“I’m letting you touch me now,” was your cheeky reply.

Dean smirked, but he sat up and obliged, gathering your wetness with his fingers and stroking your clit with deliberate movements. You shuddered a breath as he slipped a long finger inside you, followed closely by another. All the while, his thumb drew wet circles around your sensitive clit and brought you to the edge of your release.

From that very first night together so long ago, he’d been learning how to play you like a five-string guitar. Tonight was no different, and despite how you’d edged him earlier, he had no qualms about making you come all over his hand.

Your fingers delved into his hair, and you mentally praised him while you caught your breath, resting your forehead on his shoulder. He held you to him as you shook. But after a few moments, he leaned back to look into your eyes.

Through your connection, you felt his playfulness grow and you just knew he was about to say something smartass. But right now, you were still in control. So you stopped his smart mouth with yours and claimed his lips with another deep kiss.

You slipped a hand between your bodies, and this time you took a firmer hold of his dick. It was still a bit wet from your earlier treatment, and you stroked him a few times. His grateful moans sounded in your ear as he gripped your arms tight. You closed your eyes for a second, inwardly preparing yourself, before you sheathed him inside you. You both breathed hard as you adjusted and settled on top of him.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair. “Fuck, baby—”

You nodded, soothing down his back. “I know. Damn, you feel so good.”

You pushed him back down again so you could find the right angle that would serve both of you. Then you started to move over him. Dean dropped his head hard against the bed. To help him out, you gave him something to grab onto and guided his hand to your hip. He squeezed the flesh there, hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises later, you were sure. But the brief pain was a good motivator—it let you know when he was close to his breaking point.

You reached down with your fingers to further part your folds and rub hot circles around your already sensitive clit again. You felt a flutter in your lower belly as that familiar, inexplicable thread of energy within you stuttered; the part of your soul that recognized its equal, its match. The bond hummed and grew hot and pulsing.

Finally, its warmth washed over you.

You gasped and grabbed ahold of Dean’s arms as you almost got lightheaded at the feeling. Dean was going through the same tumble of sensations as he uttered a strangled sound, spilling inside you.

But he had good reflexes; he steadied you, with his arms wrapping around your frame and holding you to him. He eased you over back onto the bed, and then slid out of you.

For a little while, neither of you spoke. The frenzy of your earlier argument had fueled what just happened, but now that tension had dissolved into a hard-won peace.

When he was able to move, Dean reached out to hold the side of your face. He tucked a loose, sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. Your smile for him was soft. You sensed he was thinking, searching for what he wanted to say. So again, you waited, slipping a discarded blanket over your naked body.

“Okay, I think I hear you,” Dean said. “I love you, you know that?”

Your smile grew. He’d repeated the words you confessed to him when he was in the hospital all those months ago. And it was the first time he’d said what he felt for you.

You held a hand by your ear. “What was that?”

Dean’s lips raised into a smirk, but his eyes were soft. He slid an arm underneath you to pull you against his side.

“I love you,” he said, “so damn much.”

“I love you too,” you replied, but not without some exasperation. All this craziness, just to finally get on the same page. You grabbed his face with one hand and squeezed his cheeks. “That's my point.”

You made a sound of frustration before you released him. Dean laughed a bit, closing his eyes. You enjoyed his more carefree smile as you rested against his chest.

This man, you thought, is damn lucky he’s adorable.

He cut into your thoughts dryly, Pretty sure that’s my line, sweetheart.

You rolled your eyes.

At least we made it through our first real fight, you said. In spectacular fashion, I might add.

Yeah, but you played dirty, said Dean.

You just smiled.

The next morning, you and Dean woke up after your dad had presumably left for work. You were grateful. It spared you from the awkwardness of a “morning after” in your father’s presence.

I really need to get my own place.

So you made coffee while Dean made some toast and eggs for breakfast. But he got a call just as he was plating the eggs.

“Yeah, Bobby,” he answered. The more your uncle spoke, the more serious Dean’s expression got. You sensed a flare of his panic and you turned to him in concern. The plate in his hand hit the table with a clatter.

“Where?” Dean said. His tone was sharp and worried. “I’m comin’ now.”

Dean ended the call and abandoned the food to grab his jacket. He explained before you could ask the predictable question.

“Sam went missing this morning on a coffee run,” Dean said. “When Bobby got to the diner to check on him, the whole place had been cleared out, except for the bodies of the brunch crowd.”

You gasped and raised a hand to your mouth in shock. “What happened to Sam?”

Dean’s face became grim and angry as he grabbed his wallet and keys.

“Bobby found sulfur all over the place. He thinks Yellow Eyes took him,” he said. “…I’ve gotta go.”

It was late fall, so you grabbed a coat from the rack and your purse. “I’m going with you.”

Dean halted at the doorway, and that stopped you short behind him. He turned around and gave you a firm look.

“No you’re not, damn it!” he said. “You’re staying here.”

“Are you kidding me?” you said. “The last time you faced this thing, it almost killed you!”

“You’ve got a job, remember?” he pointed out. You shook your head.

“It’s Saturday. I don’t have to be back to work until Monday, upon which I’ll take a couple of sick days if I need to.” Your words were both a warning and a promise. “Just let me help you find Sam. I’m handy with research. You know I can help!”

Dean didn’t like it. He had half a mind to keep arguing with you, but he really didn’t have time for this. He made a sound of aggravation and rubbed a hand over his face.

He then levied a finger at you. “You’re staying in the car. When we get there, you don’t argue with me. You do as I say, got it?”

You nodded. Normally you would take issue with being ordered by your boyfriend, but in the world of dark and evil things, you would follow Dean’s lead.

So you hid a triumphant smile as you locked up your house, then followed him to the Impala.

AN: Whew! Well, then lol. The reader finally gave Dean a piece of her mind (among other things). How'd you like their first date? 😉

Dean definitely gives me Joey vibes from Friends when it comes to sharing food. 😂

But as the chapter title implies, we also dug in a bit on how Dean sees himself vs. how his soulmate sees him.

So a lot of drama this time, but ending on another good ol' cliffhanger. AKA: Where the hell is Sam?

Next up, some action! Heading into 2.21: All Hell Breaks Loose (Pt. 1).

To keep reading: PART 11

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