#damn this red suits him so fucking well

[omg-hellgirl]

Keith Richards at the Altamont Free Concert on December 6, 1969.

[no-144444]

the grid reacts: getting caught making out!

featuring: Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Daniel Riccardo, George Russell, Alex Albon, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Lando Norris

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

Oscar Piastri 

It was just meant to be a small peck, but then he wrapped his arms around you, and it escalated. It had all started with a tiny peck, just before you left his driver’s room to leave him time alone before the race, but Oscar had very persuasive lips (and a very persuasive tongue). He lifted you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he deepened the kiss, holding you impossibly close. Then he sat down on his physio table, making you straddle him as you got as turned on as he was. You two had time, right? His hands grabbed anywhere and everywhere, exploring your body, despite knowing it so well. You whimpered into his mouth as he squeezed your ass, making you jolt forward. He smirked as you pulled back, throwing him a look of annoyance. 

“Let me kiss it better?” he smirked and you playfully hit his chest, and he pulled you back in for another kiss. "I love you."

“Oscar! We’ve been calling you for-” Lando’s voice rang out as you scrambled to get off of him, but Lando had already seen. You buried your head in your hands, embarrassed and trying not to laugh as Oscar pulled his cap off of his head and covered his bulge. Lando burst out laughing, nearly falling to the floor as he realised what he’d walked in on, and you got up to leave, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and giving Lando a kick on your way out. 

You: We are never doing that again. Top 10 most embarrassing moments of my life. 

Oscar: Ok WatchMojo. 

You: Sassy man apocalypse. 

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

Charles Leclerc

Charles was a horny man after races. No matter how tired he was, he had to have you. That’s how you ended up in his driver’s room with his lips on yours. He was intoxicating. His sounds, his lips, his tongue. Everything. 

“Mon coeur,” he bit down softly on your collarbone. “Tu es trop belle pour être vraie-” (you are too beautiful to be true)

“Shut the fuck up and fuck me Charles,” you said, out of breath. He had a habit of trying to take things slowly, especially in risky places. You were almost sure he had a thing for doing it in public. He smirked down at you and pressed his lips to your again, using one hand to start to undo your trousers. 

Suddenly the door flew open and you both sat up, hitting your head off of the other’s head, both of you groaning out in pain. 

“Connerie,” he hissed, holding his forehead. 

“Motherfuck!” you groaned as Arthur stared at the two of you dumbfounded, his cheeks red. 

“I’ll just… come back later,” he said, then closed the door behind him. 

“We’ve just traumatised your little brother,” you sighed, hiding your face in the nape of his neck. 

“He will survive,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Too bad my pride didn’t,” you added, making him laugh. God, you loved his laugh. 

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

Daniel Riccardo 

He was a slick bastard. One ‘I need help with my suit babe’  and there you were in his driver’s room, your shirt being pulled off and new hickies being left over the fading ones. It had been 2 weeks since you’d seen Daniel, too busy to come to the last race, and then you were travelling for a friend’s wedding. Now you were back, and Daniel was planning on showing you just how much he missed you, 40 minutes before the race started, aka, when he was already supposed to be in the damn car. 

“Daniel, we should stop just-” You started, thinking about someone walking in on you two. Sadly RB didn’t give their driver’s fucking locks on their doors, probably because of Baku 2018… yeah, you and Daniel weren’t exactly quiet, and he wasn’t exactly happy after that race. “Slow down.”

He pulled back, smirking up at you. “Baby, come on, we have a bunch of time, and I haven’t seen you in 2 whole weeks, who’s going to walk in?”

You nodded and pressed your lips to his again, allowing your conscience to fall away with the way he was kissing you. Kissing Daniel was like nothing else. Everything else fell away, there was only him. 

But who would walk in? Yuki, probably. 

“Daniel- WOAH! LOCK THE DOOR!” he screamed, alerting the entire motorhome of your actions. You quickly pulled your shirt back over your head as he ran out. As Daniel laughed for a solid minute, you tried to get over your loss of dignity. Yuki sure did make things interesting.

“I have no lock arsehole!” Daniel laughed. 

“You do! It’s the weird thing above the handle!” One of the mechanics shouted back. You walked over to the door, turning the thing above the handle, and the door locked. Daniel laughed even harder. 

Once you finally stopped Daniel from laughing, you both walked out to the whole team clapping and whooping. 

Yeah, not your finest moment. 

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

George Russell

His stupid dumb pretty face. He just looked so kissable, and you couldn’t help yourself. He was covered in champagne, and he was supposed to be using these 5 minutes to shower and change, but you had other plans. You ran him to his driver’s room, started kissing him, and didn’t stop. He didn’t seem to mind, even if it meant he wouldn’t get to shower and he’d just be champagne-y all night. He pushed you against the wall, his hands on your waist as you ran your fingers through his hair. His soft, gorgeous hair. 

His hands travelled up, taking your top with them and you smirked. 

“Getting handsy?” You smirked. 

“Never,” he shook his head and pulled your top off, beginning his assault on your neck. 

“George! Get out of the fucking shower, you can condition later- OH FUCK OFF!” Aleix, his trainer shouted and ran back out the door. George did the gentlemanly thing and covered you, but not without laughter. 

“George!” you hissed as he laughed. “Give me my top!” 

He handed you your top and quickly changed into a new suit, spraying himself in deodorant. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek with one last chuckle. “It's a good story for the grandkids,” he shrugged, leaving you with a smile as he went off to do interviews.

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

Alex Albon

Alex had finished in the points again, and you were just so proud of him. Since he’d gotten out of the car you’d kissed him many a thousand times, but he wasn’t complaining. Actually he’d started making out with you about 3 minutes ago, and something in his kisses told you he wasn’t planning on stopping.

“Your mom will be here any minute,” you reminded him, pulling away. He rolled his eyes. 

“Did you seriously just mention my mom while I had a semi?”

“Had?”

“You mentioned my mom!” 

You chuckled and pressed another kiss to his perfect lips. He pulled you back in, kissing you deeply as his hands ran through your hair, messing it up, but you didn’t care. It felt too good, he felt too good. He nipped at your lips, coaxing them open so he could push his tongue into your mouth. His hands slowly went further down, dangerously close to where your top zipped. 

“Alex,” You warned, breathless. 

He smirked up at you. “For a minute?” 

“Alex-”

“Alex? Are you in here?” George asked, walking in. The Brit was stopped in his tracks when he saw you on his lap, hiding your face in his neck as you tried to contain your embarrassment. He hadn’t even seen anything, but your cheek heated and you wanted the floor to swallow you up.  “Oh, sorry for cockblocking, chat later.”

You both started laughing when he left. 

“We need to start locking the door,” he sighed. 

“I think I’m in shock, I thought that was your mom!” you cried, your breath finally going back to normal as Alex laughed at you. 

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

Lewis Hamilton

It wasn’t fair how good he looked in his media day outfits, and he knew it too. He knew you’d pull him to the side and tell him to meet you in his driver’s room, he knew he’d come, and he knew he’d get to fuck you. 

So there you were, in his driver’s room, his lips on yours as you both desperately pulled each other’s clothes off. 

Too bad you forgot to lock the door. 

“Lewis have you- HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK MY EYES!” Lando immediately covered his eyes, turning around as you dressed yourselves. Did you feel guilty? Yes. Did you care at all? Not really. As soon as he left, would you two continue? Probably. “HAVE SOME SHAME AND HUMILITY PLEASE?”

Lewis laughed. “What do you need now?” 

“Bleach for my eyes, maybe!” Lando’s voice cracked and he turned back, his cheeks red. “I need an extra ice pack if you have one.” 

Lewis nodded and got one of his ice packs out of the freezer in the corner of his room. “Here.”

Lando took it and left without another word. You looked at Lewis, shaking your head. 

“I thought you locked the door,” you smirked, allowing him to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss up your neck. 

“That’s funny, I thought you did,” he smirked. 

“You’re going to get us caught,” you whispered. 

“I don’t really care.”

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

Max Verstappen 

He’d won (again), and he was horny afterwards (again). As soon as he was done with the podium and the main interviews, he ran to his driver’s room and called you to meet him there, needing some ‘support’.

“Max,” you hissed as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand, kissing down your neck. 

“Yes?”  he answered innocently, pressing his lips to yours again. 

“You have interviews-” 

“Fuck the media,” he whispered. “I want you.”

“Max this is a bad idea-” 

Just then, the door swung open to reveal Daniel, holding a camera. 

“You two need to keep it down, we can hear you down at RB!” he laughed as MAx started blushing, pushing his friend out of the room. They fought for a moment, but Daniel eventually left you two alone. Max sat beside you, letting you lean into him. 

“He’s going to post that, isn’t he?”  You asked. 

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You’d never have a day of peace with him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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

Lando Norris

He was a sly bitch. It started as small pecks on your neck and the top of your head, then it was kisses on the lips, and now he had his tongue down your throat as you ground down on him, even though you both knew he was needed elsewhere.

"That's it," he whispered, loosing himself in the feeling of the both of you. "Feels so good."

You nodded, in pure ecstasy as you felt his hands and lips on you. "So good Lan."

His hands pulled you closer (if that was even possible) and you smiled into the kiss. This was the perfect moment-

"LAN!" Zak brown's voice pulled you both out of it, and you scrambled to get up.

Lando sighed as you left his lap and groaned out a simple "What?"

"We need you for a marketing thing, come on, chop chop!" Zak was as oblivious and cheery as ever and you could barely contain your laughter at Lando's 'annoyed teenager' face, as you and Oscar had started calling it.

"Bye baby," you pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he fought back the urge to ignore his duties and just go back to the hotel and spend the rest of the day with you.

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

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[nativegirltapes]

outer banks — drew starkey

pairing , drew starkey x angel!reader (younger!reader)

summary , basically just drew trying to be mean during sex but he’s too nice for that and you’re just too pretty for that. supposed to just kinda be a cute little funny moment between the two :)

warnings/notes , fingering. why am i nervous to post this. i literally just hate how i write smut cuz i literally don’t know how to write it 🍰 feedback is appreciated. <33

after much persuasion, drew agreed to watch outer banks with you. not only did he hate seeing himself on his own living room tv, but he hated how much commentary you always had to add while watching it together. although your little jokes and remarks always made him laugh, he always got embarrassed watching you watch him do his job. but you thought he looked so good, how could he be embarrassed when he looked that hot?

you were cuddled up next to drew, now on season 3 of outer banks, and to be honest you were only really paying attention when rafe came on the screen. you'd be lying if you said you didn't have a little crush on drew's character.

"how do you think rafe fucks?" you broke the silence, looking up at drew, still nuzzled in his chest.

"what?" he looked at you super confused. mentally asking himself if he just asked what he thought you did.

"how do you think rafe fucks?" you asked again, this time with an even more serious expression on your face. you were determined to get an answer.

realizing you were actually curious, drew spat out a boring and not well thought out response. "i dont know. mean probably."

"you should fuck me the way you think rafe would fuck me."

drew's eyes went super wide, you were never this bold. ever. for the first six months of dating drew you'd literally get so nervous everytime you guys were about to have sex he'd have to calm you down. but he wasn't complaining about this bolder side of you. he thought it was hot.

"you want me," drew collected his thoughts one last time, making sure he heard what you actually said. "you want me to fuck you how i think rafe would fuck you?"

"yes."

ᡣ𐭩˙⋆.˚ 🐻

it was a few days after you and drew had your little outer banks rerun binge when you both came home from a fancy dinner, both having drunk too much wine at the restaurant, especially you.

you'd been all over drew the minute you both got back to his place. "you look so yummy." you clung to his arm as he walked you both to his bedroom. you could still feel his huge bicep through the suit he was wearing. "i want you drew." you took a seat on the edge of his bed, looking up at him with your red watery drunken eyes and pouty lips. mentally praying that he'd make the next move so you didn't have to. you felt needy enough already.

"what do you want?" drew stepped closer to you on the bed, his knees meeting yours while standing in front of you on his bed.

"i want you." usually drew got exactly what that meant the first time you'd say it; you wanted some dick. but it felt like tonight he was making you really ask for it.

"lay down." drew's voice was demanding, not in any way he'd ever been before. it was kind of hot.

of course you listened, about willing to do anything for him to just fuck you already.

you watched as drew took off his suit and made his way towards you on the bed. you had a big grin on your face.

before you could even question him he connected his lips to yours. the kiss was rough and full of desperation. usually drew started out with soft slow kisses, which turned into more rough kisses.

in between drew's sloppy kisses, his fingers found their way between your thighs, already sliding in your panties. "damn, that fuckin' wet already?" drew shoved two fingers in without any warning. you squealed at the sudden movement. it was unlike him, but you were too horny too address it.

"drew." you moaned out, but it came out as kind of a whisper.

you wondered where this side of drew was coming from, was he really that horny too? either way you weren't complaining.

"so fuckin' tight." drew watched your face as he added another finger. "letting me finger you right after a fancy dinner? you're so nasty."

you giggled at drew's words. it all clicked in your head, you went back a few nights to when you told drew that he should fuck you the way he thinks rafe would.

your giggling distracted drew, making him let out a little chuckle himself. "what're you laughing for?"

"is this your impression of rafe?" you giggled again, lifting your head up to look at him, laughing again at the realization. you didn't think drew would actually listen. part of you thought it was sweet though, he just wanted you to give you what you wanted.

"maybe," drew got a little flustered, nervous that maybe you didn't like it. "do you like it?"

"i dont know. i kind of miss you just complimenting me."

"okay." drew said with his fingers literally still inside of you.

"that doesn't mean stop."

"sorry baby." drew picked up his pace again, going back to complimenting you rather than trying to degrade you. he liked it better that way too. you were too pretty to be mean to.

[thevoidstaredback]

"If I turn around and there's a hero, vigilante, anti hero, villain, anything or anyone related in anyway to the Justice League, I'm going to fucking lose."

It was quiet for a second, then, "Don't turn around?"

Red fucking Robin. "What did I just say?" Phantom turned on his heel to face the young vigilante.

The kid threw his hands up, "I told you not to turn around!"

"And yet here we are," he crossed his arms. "The hell do you want?"

"You seem awfully snippy today."

"Seeing as you and everyone under the sun has been stalking me, trying to get answers to questions I'm not going to answer, I think you can excuse my attitude."

With a huff, Red Robin also crossed his arms. "How do you know what I'm going to ask if no one else has been able to talk to you?"

"Because living beings are all the same. Curiosity of the unknown drags you around by your ear." Phantom turned back to continue walking away, "Now go away."

The kid matched his pace. "No way,"

His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. "I have a meeting soon, kid. You can't come along." That was a total lie. He had nothing going on that demanded his attention now that Constantine had ditched him after getting the demon under control. Maybe he could drop by Fawcett and visit Billy?

"No you don't." This damn kid-! "You've been wandering aimlessly for the past hour."

Phantom turned again to face the vigilante. "First of all, stalking people is hella creepy. Second of all, my schedule is none of your damn business."

"Careful there, kid," Red Robin smirked, "You'll get scolded for having a potty mouth."

"I'm thirty-fucking-eight!"

"You're literally fourteen."

Phantom closed his eyes. "Nocturn give me patience," he then looked Red Robin directly in the eye, "We've had this conversation. I'm dead. I don't physically age. That doesn't change the fact that I have walked this planted for thirty-eight years. Is that simple enough for you to understand or do I need to dumb it down for you?"

Red Robin blinked, his mouth agape. What? Did he just- The nerve! The audacity! "I'll have you know," he huffed, "I'm smarter than Batman."

"He tell you that himself?"

"Yes." It was one of the only times Batman had ever praised him, so that interaction was held particularly close.

Phantom looked Red Robin up and down, his expression reading both 'are-you-serious' and 'what-do-want?-a-medal?' Without a word, he turned back to his path and began his march anew. Any attempts at conversation from Red Robin was ignored, much to the younger's chagrin. Maybe he'd go away if he ignored him long enough.

Phantom and Red Robin wandered for the better part of an hour, not so much as a word passing between them. Neither stopped for any reason, and neither broke the set pace. It could almost be considered a friendly stroll through the city, if one ignored the slight apprehension surrounding the two.

Red Robin took this time to observe Phantom. He'd never spent too much time around anyone from the JLD who wasn't Raven, so he took the opportunity to get to know another on the team.

Phantom insisted that he was thirty-eight, not fourteen, and that the reason he looks as young as he does is because he looks like he did when he died. Not a comforting thought in the slightest. He knew that, though, when B had briefed him on all the members of or associated with the Justice League.

His powerset was almost completely unknown. They'd all seen him use a flight/levitation ability, as well as some form of density shifting and a healing factor, but Red Robin was more than sre that Phantom had more up his sleeve than that. He worked as a part of the JLD team, so he had to have some magical understanding or capabilities. But Raven wouldn't tell him if she knew, no matter how much he pestered her.

Looking at the kid now, Red Robin seriously wondered if Phantom had a civilian disguise. Ether white hair, toxic green eyes, the glow he seems to give off, and the contrasting bright white and vantablack suit and gloves he wore could not be easy to hide.

There was also a slight sense of unease Red Robin felt when looking at or being around Phantom for a long time. He hadn't noticed it before, but now it was as obvious as a neon sign. It was a strange mix of Uncanny Valley and sinking horror. Why was he feeling like this?

Phantom stopped in his tracks in a dead end alley. Without turning around he said, "Alright, spit it out. What do you want to ask?"

Red Robin hesitated for a moment. Surely it couldn't be that easy? Was Phantom really going to answer his questions? He shook his head to snap himself out of it.

"Come on, kid," Phantom pulled a piece of chalk from his front pocket. "I don't have all day."

Red Robin wanted to scoff because he most certainly did have all day. But, he pushed it aside. He was about to get answers that not even the Justice League could get! He decided to start of easy. "When did you die?"

"Try again." was the growled response.

"What?"

"I said 'Try again'."

Okay, okay. Touchy. "Why'd you join the Justice League?"

"I was bored." It was clipped. Phantom's on edge. Why?

"What're the rest of your powers? I know you have more than what you've shown everyone."

Phantom walked to the wall and started to draw a door on it with the chalk. "Next question."

Red Robin rolled his eyes. "Fine. How did you die?"

Every movement from Phantom froze. Every minute, involuntary twitch, even the telling signs of breathing. For a long minute, nothing happened and Red Robin had the dawning sense that he'd just asked something he really shouldn't have.

Phantom drew a circle in the rectangle he'd drawn on the wall, completing the door. "I'm going to give you a piece of advice that you seem to have completely glossed over." The piece of chalk was hidden away as he gripped the now 3D door handle. "If you value your life, don't ask the dead how they died." He opened the door and stepped through before looking back at the red clad vigilante. "They won't be so nice about it." Then, the door closed and the chalk erased itself.

Part 6 Part 8

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[buckyalpine]

Soft subby reader jealous stroking bucky

CEO Bucky x Jealous Secretary reader - slutty thot - making dom Bucky a needy slut for you.

Imagine being the soft, quiet little secretary of the very handsome James Barnes. What started off as a professional relationship quickly turned into something else once the sun had set and everyone left the office. No one know about the way he love the toy with your body to his liking, about how well you responded to him once the doors were locked.

James Barnes who had to stuff his tie in your mouth to keep your moans quiet, shoving his fingers deep down your throat while he railed you with his cock. His warm tongue would lick up your tears while you milked him dry with your needy, tight cunt. No one would ever guess such a shy little quiet thing would be a cockdrunk bunny on the inside, practically humping yourself on his thigh once his meetings were over, drooling and nursing off his cock under his desk when he was on calls.

****

You took another long sip from your drink, watching a red head trace a long, sharp manicured nail up Bucky's chest, giving him a flirty smile which he smirked back to. She was a prospective investor, one of the few people on the VIP list in attendance for the yearly company gala. Bucky threw her a charming laugh, clinking his glass with hers to something she said, the red head now resting her hand higher, stroking the expensive fabric of his suit.

This was the James Barnes who would pick you up from your desk and throw you over his shoulder when things didn't go his way, fucking his frustrations out with his hand slapped over your mouth, jaw clenched with his heavy balls slapping your clit with each thrust. James Barnes who would fill you up with so much cum, it would drip and make a mess on your skirt, making it impossible to stand up once he plopped you back onto your chair. James Barnes who loves what a secret little slut his secretary is. Such a quiet, sweet kitten who was too innocent for her own good.

The very James Barnes everyone wants and he damn well knows it.

And loves it.

So here he was, biting his lip and cocking his brow suggestively while the woman stood tall with poise, leaning over to whisper in his ear, making your cheeks grow hotter with each passing minute. You weren't aware making business deals with new partners involved wanting to eye fuck them in the process.

You downed another glass of bitter liquid, no longer able to ignore the surges of jealously that pulsed through you. You had no business being jealous or possessive but you couldn't help it, seeing him pull the same charm he used with you, even if the context was different. You missed the way his eyes glanced over to you each time you looked away; he grinned on the inside with the soft flare of your nostrils and the clench of your jaw.

The last straw for you was when he whispered something in her ear, her eyes growing wide in response, a crimson flush covering her face.

"Sir" You strode over, rolling your shoulders back, ignoring the woman, only keeping your eyes on him, "There's a call for you in the office, its urgent"

It was clearly a lie, he knew it, as did you but you didn't care. Bucky smirked at you, cocking his head to the side curiously while you continued to stare at him, waiting for him to follow you. The woman coughed, hoping to break the tension between you both, unamused at the way Bucky's attention was completely on you.

"Aren't you the secretary, shouldn't you cover the calls-

You didn't bother letting her finish, slipping your hand into Bucky's and pulling him away towards the large elevators, the brunette letting you take him wherever you so well pleased, curious about what you'd do. You were just a soft little bunny.

"What is it kitten" Bucky smirked at the scowl that tugged your lips.

"I didn't know your business ventures required flirting with new partners" you kept your voice steady, fighting against the alcohol that was coursing through your body.

"Are you jealous" he smirked, letting you drag him away from the crowd, shoving him into the elevator.

"What's there to be jealous of" you shot back, the fire in your belly growing stronger the more he taunted you. Bucky's cock grew harder and the change of your demeanor, your possessiveness making his tip weep.

"No need to be angry bunny, look at you acting so needy" Bucky tsked while the elevator doors opened to the top floor. The grip you had on his hand tightened as you both went into his large office which overlooked New York. You clicked, while he leaned against the doors with a cocky smile, arms crossed against his chest. His cockiness took a hit when you glanced down at the way his length strained against the fabric of his pants, just as needy as you were, if not more.

"You were acting like a whore, sir" You shrugged while letting your finger trace over the outline of his erection, pressing where the tip leaked through his slacks.

"Don't tease m-

"Please" You caught him off guard, grabbing his tie and tightening it around his neck just enough to make his breaths heavier, "Now tell me what you want"

"Play with my cock" Bucky swallowed thickly, his control slipping when you unbuckled his pants, his cock springing free, begging to be touched. You took a step back, humming at the sight of him; not a single wrinkle on his pristine suit, not a hair out of place, his beard trimmed, lustful eyes boring back at you. He looked so pretty with his cock out, waiting for you to do something, his dominant side faltering in confusion.

"Why don't you ask her to play with it, sir" you cocked your head to the side like he did, waiting for him to answer, his cheeks flushing. "Hm?"

"Want you to play with it" His voice was a whisper pushing his hips forward, showing you exactly where he needed you.

"You want me to play with your cock baby, it that it?" You cooed, tapping the tip with your index finger and pulling away slowly, letting the string of precum stretch before popping your finger into your mouth. "You're so wet" You hummed at his taste, stating the words he'd always throw at you before tracing circles onto his sensitive head again, smearing his arousal around without actually stroking him.

"Fuck" Bucky hissed, nearly slumping again the door while you teased him, biting back the moans that were lodged in the back of his throat. You wrapped your hand around his thick length without actually moving, squeezing the base of his cock.

"What is it kitten" you sneered, mimicking his words from earlier, smirking at the way his cock throbbed in your hand in response. "Look at you" you whispered, "Oh sweet boy" You cooed again, this time moving your hand to cup his full, heavy balls, rolling them in your palm, "They've so heavy, does it hurt?"

"Hurts so bad" He moaned when you tugged them and squeezed them while nipping his neck. You lazily wrapped around his length again, giving him long languid strokes, watching his face twist with desperation for more. Bucky felt like a teenage boy, thrusting into your hand, struggling not to blow while you continued to jerk his cock, his hips rolling to fuck your fist. He felt like he'd never been touched before, this being the first time someone had ever taken control over him and it was something else, especially when it was you.

"Mmmph" He whined, confused and aroused at the same time, desperate for more of your delicious torture, his dom side slipping even more. He tried to regain his bearings, standing straight up again, sucking in a breath, "So jealous-

"So desperate" You tutted, smacking his cheek for opening his mouth while rubbing and stroking his shaft, ignoring his tip completely.

"C'mon bunny, touch me" He was breathless, chasing your hand each time he got close to getting the tip into your palm, groaning when you moved away.

"I am touching you, aren't' I?"

God, he loved you like this.

"The tip- please, need you there, c'mon, please"

A wicked idea sparked in your mind, pulling him by his tie to stand in front of the floor to ceiling high windows that overlooked the city. The same windows he'd fucked you against countless of times, letting the world see you fall apart. Now it was your turn.

Bucky could feel his heart hammer against his chest standing in front of the window, the city twinkling below him while you stood behind him, your hand coming around his waist to grasp his cock. Bucky's hands flew to the window, splayed wide to hold himself up, fucking his cock into your hand, hardly in control of his movements.

He pulled back enough so the head of his cock would rub against your palm before pushing forward again, chasing his orgasm, unable to take his eyes off the way his fat cock slipped in and out of you smaller hand.

"S'good to me bunny, need you ta' squeeze my cock harder, c'mon, need you bunny, I need you" He practically whimpered for you, balling his hands into fists when you complied with a hum, moving your hand with his movement, adding more pressure, feeling his cock grow harder.

"Gonn'a c-cum" Bucky stuttered out while you kissed his neck, letting him continue to fuck your hand, his tip nearly touching the cool glass with how fast he was moving. "Oh God-"

"Such a pretty, fat cock, you're making a mess baby, are you gonna cum in front of everyone and show everyone who you really belong to?" You whispered, only getting a slutty, guttural moan back in response. "Go a head baby, make yourself cum, show everyone you're mine"

"OH FUCKKKK" Your words tossed him over the edge, a pornographic moan slipped past his pink lips as he started to paint the windows with thick spurts of his cum. His body trembled, shivers running down his spine as his balls seized against his body, still feeling full as ever.

"Oh god, I can't stop" Bucky wrapped his hand on top of yours, jerking himself off faster, working up to a second orgasm, angling his hips to shoot at the window again, his head thrown back, nearly falling onto his knees. "C'mon, make me cum again, pleaseplease-

You pushed him back onto his large chair, pulling your dress up and panties to the side, impaling yourself onto his overstimulated cock, crying out when he gripped your hips and started to thrust up, not giving you any control. You clung onto him while he drilled up into you, dribbles of cum still pouring from the tip.

"You're mine sir, mine"

"M'all yours bunny, all fuckin' yours, use me, oh fuck, use me" You grasped onto his shoulders, riding him till tears streaked his face, taking everything you gave him while you pulled a third orgasm from him. And a fourth.

"I-I can't cum anymore, please, cock hurts bunny, I can't-

He was begging but he didn't want you to stop, his hips continuing to thrust up while he slammed your ass down on him sloppily, eyes rolled back while chasing your peaked nipples. He pulled you forward so he could suckle onto them while

"Your cock hurts baby boy?" you stroked his cheek, the new term of endearment making him hard all over again, a sob escaping him.

"It hurts so much, make it go away, m'still so hard, why's your pussy so good bunny"

"One more baby boy?"

"O-one more bunny"

By the end of the night, he was milked dry, holding onto you while you were tucked into his chest, his soft cock still buried deep in your pussy. His neck was littered with dark bruises you marked him with, trailing down to his chest. He cuddled you for a few more minutes before you both had to make your way back down, his hand not leaving yours.

"How was the call - oh-" the red head's eyes grew wide seeing the red and purple hues that peaked under Bucky's collar a proud smirk on his face while he put his arm around your waist.

"It went well. Closed a new deal, if you must know" He stated before pressing a kiss onto your cheek, grinning at the way you melted into him, his soft little bunny.

sorry, this was longer than i intended.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Girls Night Out

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut!!!

For the past three years, your weekends have mostly been spent following your fiance's races all over the world, and on his free weekends, you usually rest in front of the TV cuddled up to each other enjoying every moment of his free time you get to spend together.

But this Saturday night was yours and it meant only one thing - girls night out. Your best friend was celebrating her birthday, so you decided to go out to dinner and a few drinks with a close circle of friends. Girls only.

And you were really excited about that. It's not that you didn't like spending time with Lando, quite the opposite actually, lately you haven't really been interested in anything other than being in his arms, but every now and then a little change comes in handy.

As for tonight's outfit, since you just got your period, you opted for black wide-leg suit pants and a black corset top that accentuated and hugged your breasts beautifully. You looked hot, not in a vulgar way, but you were going to turn heads for sure.

"Lan, I'm about to head out" You said fixing your hair and entering the living room where your fiance was lying on the couch in front of the TV.

His gaze moved from the screen to you measuring you from head to toe with raised eyebrows.

"What?" You asked.

"That's a nice neckline you got there" He commented clearly displeased with your choice of outfit for a night out where he wouldn't be there.

"Thank you" You smiled rolling your eyes at him. "I like it too"

"You couldn't choose something else to wear? Like a turtleneck or something?" He asked making you laugh.

"And what's wrong with this? Please, do tell me"

"That cleavage of yours is begging for attention, that's what's wrong with it" He says, his expression serious and his eyes stuck on yours.

"Oh wow. I don't know what you would do if tonight I wore a dress like the one I wore for your birthday dinner" You said remembering the short cherry red dress that Lando tore off of you the second you got home from his birthday dinner celebration.

"You most certainly wouldn't leave the house wearing something like that without me let me tell you that" He says confidently making you roll your eyes at his comment once again although you secretly kinda liked that he was ever so jealous. You liked playing with his head a little from time to time.

"Where is your ring?" He asks about the big oval diamond ring he knelt before you with, even though he knows damn well you never take it off your finger.

"On my finger, of course, every day for a year now, where else would it be?"

"Let me see" You sigh moving closer to stand in front of him and hold your left hand out in front of him. He takes the opportunity to pull you by the hand and make you fall on top of him making you squeal as your chest hit his.

"Lando! Are you crazy?"

"I think you know answer to that question" He smirks grabbing your cheek and pressing his lips against yours.

"Yeah, I think I do. You're gonna ruin my makeup" You whine trying to pull away, but he ignores you pulling you in for another more heated kiss forcing his tongue inside your mouth.

"Lando.." You warn him trying to break the kiss. "Are you nervous that I'm going out without you?"

"No, I just don't want others to look at what's mine. Fuck, I don't want them even thinking about looking"

"Well, like you just said, I'm yours and yours only and you've known that for a long time now" You say pressing assuring kiss to his lips.

"Well.." His hand escapes between your thighs gently squeezing one of them. "Maybe I do need a little bit of reminding" His mouth find your neck leaving a trail of wet kisses all over it.

"Even if I wanted to, we can't, because I got my period this morning."

"I know you did. But you could use your pretty little mouth. That would convince me pretty well." His thumb traces over your bottom lip tugging it down.

"Lando..I have to leave soon"

"Baby, you can't leave me like this." He whines determined to get what he wants and you knew you wouldn't leave the house until he got it. "Touch it.. I got so hard just by looking at you." He takes your hand into his placing it over the tent in his pants. "I need you to take care of it" He whispers making you shiver and rub your palm against him.

"You better be quick" You say quietly before you drop off the couch onto the floor between his legs.

"Oh trust me, it'll take seconds" He sighs removing his pants along with his boxers and tossing them to the side. Leaning down he gives you a brief kiss before leaning back against the couch with his hands holding your cheeks.

You start by leaving sloppy slow kisses around his erected length holding your hands on his thighs. Your tongue runs lightly over his balls making him moan in response. You cup them in your hand gently massaging them while your tongue follows the line of the vein on his cock.

"Baby, put it in your mouth, please"

"Impatient, aren't we?" You tease wrapping your hand around him giving him a few strokes up and down. Your thumb crosses over his red swollen tip before attaching your lips to it and sucking on it.

He hisses at the sensation collecting your hair into a ponytail and tilts his head to the side to get a better look at you.

"Fuck baby, yes, yes, just like that -ahh" Praising you, you moan around him sending vibrations through his rock hard cock.

"You don't know what I would do to you right now if you weren't on your period"

"What, baby? Tell me." You ask taking your mouth off him and stroking him in your hand spreading the precum all over his tip.

"I'd fuck you until you begged me to stop" He moans and you squeeze your thighs together trying to get any kind of friction to reduce the ache between your legs.

"You're doing it so good. Sucking me off so good, fuck" You pick up the pace of bobbing your head up and down his cock opening your eyes for a second to look at his chest heavily rising and falling, his head thrown back and lips parted.

You loved the sight of him in front of you - he was so helpless, completely at your mercy, the sounds that he was making, moans of your name escaping from his lips were enough for you to know that he was fully under your control.

You loved the way his hand rested on the back of your head guiding it, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth.

"You love choking on me don't you? Yeah you do. Fuck I love watching the bulge in your throat when I fuck it." His hips bucked up as he started thrusting himself deep until his tip hit the back of your throat making you gag around him and reflexively pull back, teary-eyed, gasping for air.

"You're okay, baby, you're okay c'mon, take it" Gently caressing your cheek he tapped his tip against your lips before forcing himself back into your mouth. You continued working him up and down taking all of him in while your hand found his balls again making him a weak mess of a man.

"Fuck, baby I'm close." You felt him starting to tense under your touch as his hand replaced the work of your mouth. He took his cock in one hand and with the other he took your chin between his fingers.

"You gonna cum in my mouth, love?"

"Ahh, yes, fuck. You gonna swallow it?"

"Mhm, all of it" You nodded innocently sending him over the edge, his loud groaning broke through the room, the rhythm of his hand slowed down putting his cock back into your mouth as he reached his climax spilling his cum into your mouth.

He stayed like that in semi lying position trying to regain his strength back. You wiped your mouth with your fingers before he pulled you to him into a hug leaving a long kiss on your temple.

"Convinced?"

"I'd say so"

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt5

Danny groggily propped himself up as he heard the loud bang of his door being thrown open

"DANIEL VLADIMIR FENTON!"

Blinking a few times to get the sleep out of his eyes, Danny glared at Tucker, "Middle name? Really?" He hated it, so very much, hated that he thought it was cool when he was a kid, and hated it so much more after the portal incident, it wasn't enough for his parents to have Vlad be his godfather, Danny's middle name had to be that fruitloops as well.

Damn his parents for being such caring friends.

Tucker met Danny's glare as he crossed his arms in the doorway into Danny's room

He would cut an intimidating figure if Danny didn't know him, suit and tie perfectly pressed with a PDA held in one hand.

"I know you said that you got the Bats at the diner place thingy you are working at now last night, but did you have to call them out? Red Robin and Oracle have been trying to track you for the last 5 hours, I have had to summon Technus in the WE employee bathrooms! Thank God Mr Wayne included baby changing stations in each stall or I would have had to carve a sigil into the fucking wall! And I think *he* bricked the Batcomputor!" Tucker screeched as he paced the clear area of Danny's messy room

Scrubbing at his eyes, Danny sat up fully, more awake than he was a minute ago, "S-sorry? Didn't really think about them being sore bitches about it, I tagged them like once and set it online, they probably get hundreds of tags an hour. How was is supposed to know that they would read it?"

Tucker snarled, holding out his PDA for Danny to see "Not just Nightwing and Red Robin, half the God damn Young Justice team, The Titans are all over Nightwing, and all the rest of the bats are laughing their asses off! Look!"

<@Superboy_(the_hot_one)

[@not-that-red-robin.real wow Rob, if I knew u were broke I would have have asked Lexie to give u some cash]

<@Beep-Beep!_(official-Impluse)

[ @not-that-red-robin.real that's not very lit fam Gucci of u RR not very rizztastic and definitely isn't skibidi

@living-legend(Yes_that_wondergirl)

<@not-that-red-robin.real for fucking shame Red Themyscira has laws for bitches like you comere I am gonna cut off your thumbs.

Letting out a laugh, Danny was grinning as he scrolled through to Nightwings part.

<@theonetrueblueborg

[@.realwing: it's giving "my daddys rich and will take the bill" wing]

<@veggiemonster

[@.realwing: bro

:BRO

:Broooooooooooo]

<@Goth (Taylor's version)

[@.realwing: shame.]

Danny was full on laughing now, ad from what he could see through tears, so was Tucker, standing up with a weaze, "O-oh my Ancients....ugh t-that is just great"

Letting out a few more chuckles, Danny handded the PDA over to his friend, "I am sorry about getting the Bats aware of me, but I am not sorry for calling them toxic thinks."

Tucker sighed, running his forehead but still had a smile on his face, "You do know #NightwingsAssIsCancelled is trending right now?"

Danny couldn't hold back the cackle that shot through him at that.

---

Tim held his head in his hands, above him was his laptop, cycling through rebooting and then crashing, it had been five minutes so far, and if the last cycle had told him anything it would be up to that for another five minutes.

Groaning, Tim dragged himself up, he hadn't slept much last night, spending most of it trying (and failing) to get any information on the employee of Big C's, Danny nolastname he could find.

That was part of the problem, anytime he got even a smidgen close, it was like someone bitchsmacked him away. Even Babs was having trouble, she got a single thing before getting locked out of her own systems with baby shark playing on loop through her speakers.

He didn't know what to feel, humiliated that he was being actively cock blocked for information or excited since this is the first time in a while something was so difficult! The bear fact that he was being blocked so hard meant that there was something to block with this kid!

Stumbling down to the dining room, Tim didnt spare the table of his family a glance until he had gotten the pre-made cup of coffee from Alfred, letting the bitter drink wake him fully.

Finally turning to the family at large, he saw Bruce doing his best impression of a stone statue (Normal Damian was openingly glaring at him (slightly less normal), Dick was face down in a bowl of cereal (vaugly normal) and Cass was giggling while putting clips and sparkling things into Dicks hair (okay back to normal again)

Sitting in his spot across from Damian, Tim sighed, which seemed to be enough for Damian to go off on him.

"Are we paupers Drake? Has the CEO position at WE pay so little? And what of your own company? I was unaware that Drake Industries has fallen on such hard times!" Damians words rolled out like a lazy river, smooth and uncaringly cold.

"Oh my God, I am already planning on going back tonight and settling the fucking tab Dami, lay off it." Getting the expected "language" statement from both Bruce and Alfred, Tim drained his coffee cup, not so slamming it down but close to it before Damian could respond.

Eyes shooting to Bruce he huffed, "Meeting. Vlad Masters. One ish hours away."

Bruce's eyes shot to Alfred who only raised a brow at the two and Bruce stiffened "We can speak later in my Study Tim, eat something other than coffee and we can go do that." Getting a nod from Alfred, Bruce seemed to deflate with a sigh.

Grumbling, Tim picked at the plate of food Alfred placed in front of him, before forcing himself to eat, he would need energy more than coffee.

After managing to finish half his plate, Tim stood, "Come on, I need yo clue you in to somethings I was researching last night B..."

---

Bruce stayed silent as he sat down in his office, a tablet on his lap as he went through the test results once again.

"...are you saying me and Dick had Lazarus water laden food last night?" Tim said with frigid calmness

Biting back the urge to clam up and try and keep his son from worrying, Bruce nodded, "Trace amounts yes, I am unsure of its origins, the samples I was able to pull were much more pure than we are used to. How are you feeling?"

He watched as Tim held his face in his hands, massaging his temples before speaking, "Fine really? A little tired, appetite isn't there but that's normal...been feeling a strange sensation in my side but that is just likely phantom pain."

Noting everything down, Bruce nodded slowly, "Dick mentioned that he was still full feeling after a night's sleep and that some old wounds were feeling strange, I can only assume you are feeling your splenectomy scar?"

Sighing at Tim's agreement, Bruce noted a few more things down, making holding the last line to ask Damian if he had any knowledge on eating food effected by the pits, and another one not to tell Jason about this all in case it triggers something in him

"Putting that aside, B, what about Masters? Vladco makes medical stuff right? Shady business practices?" Bruce gave a grunt, switching the tabs on his pad to show him thr information on Vladimir Masters.

"Age 48, male, standing 6'1, weighs about 180, doctorate in theoretical quantum mechanics, had a lab incident preparing for a theise that left him hospitalized for some time, after he recovered and graduated is when his suspected criminal activities began, since then he has had several business owners simply sign their lively hoods to him...I suspect he is Meta with some sort of mind control abilities, the lab accident would make sense in awakening his Mets gene."

Bruce spoke as he handed the tablet over to Tim, "He sponsors several scientists with various types of study, two that stick out are Doctors Fenton and CADMUS."

Tim pulled a face as he followed along through the tabs of research "CADMUS? Really? So we are looking at some Midwestern millionaire that is totally not a supervillian in the making...what's up with the Fentons?" Handing the tablet back Tim flopped down into the chair opposite to Bruce.

"I am trying to figure that out, so far I know they went to school with Masters, and were there with him during the lab accident, the continual funding Masters is giving them makes me suspect they are just as involved in what ever Masters is to to..." Bruce was going to continue when there was a knock on the study door, and Alfred poked his head in.

"If you wish to be on time to your meeting, I would suggest Master Timothy get dressed now so you both might be in the car while I drive it to Wanye Towers."

Bruce frowned, but nodded, giving time a small smirk as the teen begins to realize he is just in a winkled t shirt that Bruce was 95% sure was Conners, and a pair of shorts that Bruce was very sure were Barts.

[bluetimeombre]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐨L 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢e

Deadpool and Wolverine but your lady pool and an absolute SLUT for Wolverine.

[this is a complete self insert with just everything I was thinking about during the movie and since then I’ve watched it three times. It gets better every time. Snippets of the movie, will probably do a part two. SPOILERS!]

part two

Warning/disclaimer: femreaderxwolverine, sexual content, sexual language, offensive language, just being a whore the man, cursing, repeat daddy issues, never proof-read.

After digging up Logan and expecting to find a shirtless and oiled-up Hugh Jackman, you were a little more than disappointed to find the bones and metal. 'Damn it! Shit! Fuck! They Les Mis'd him!'

Eventually, you settled down next to the remains, against the same log that had impaled him. 'That was weird,' you chuckled. 'I'm much calmer now. Look, I'm not a woman in stem but you seem incredibly dead to me. Oh, you sexy lump of bones and metal. I would have let you slide them into me any day.'

'But it's good to see you,' you pat his knee. 'I gotta be honest, I've always wanted to ride you, Logan. Oh, whoops, I meant with you. Ha! Who am I kidding, no I didn't. Just you and me, getting into it. And I mean into it. Every style. Doggy. Sixty-nine. On the kitchen counter to the bathroom. Till my back broke. Yea, we'd have been good together.' You ranted, fantasies flying across your mind too quick to focus on one.

With your red-gloved hand, you jerk the chin. 'G'day mate, there's nothing that'll bring me back to life faster than a big bag of Marvel cash. Ha- I hear you, Hugh. But no, no, no, no you had to go and get all noble and die for real. I could really use your help right now. And a massage. Your big manly hands just rubbing all over me-'

Just as you were about to go into further detail about what you want him to do to you, the sound of portals opening and heavy boots stomping closer alerted you.

Quickly, you pulled the skeleton down on top of you.

'There are two hundred and six bones in the body. Two hundred and seven if i'm watching Van Helsing.'

Que the fucking montage.

You have a mission. Find a Logan to take back with you. First up you end up in a bar, catching an axe as it was thrown at you. 'Logan! I'm gonna need you to come with me.'

The Logan sitting at the bar slowly turned to you. 'Who's asking? ' He slipped from the bar stool to reveal a 5'3 Logan.

You coo. 'Well, who's this little ankle biter. Did you stick the landing little guy? Yes you did, comic-accurate short king. Such a cute little Wolvie.'

The little guy started stalking toward you.

'Que the fucking montage.'

You found a Wolverine for the seventies, or eighties, something close enough to that, one hand missing. 'Oh yea, sexy, you have anchor being written all over you.'

You found patch Logan. 'Oh hello, Patch. Should've worn my white suit.'

You found another old man Logan, sitting solemnly on his front porch. 'Howdy! Oh, I see, you're the daddy issues one. Good to see god has answered my prayers. So soldier, do I need to be a bad girl so you put me over your knee, daddy?'

Another was tied to a cross with red bloody skulls acting as a floor.

One was dressed in a tight yellow and brown suit, walking through the woods. 'Hubba hubba. Classic! Now, you fought the Hulk in this suit, right?' as he snicked his claws out, the green of the beast reflected from behind you. 'I am Marvel Jesus you dull creature and I will not be-'

One, your favourite, was working on a bike in a tight white vest and dark pants. You drooled. 'That's the whole goddamn package right there. You know from behind you look a bit- holy Shit!' he turned, and everything about him was Wolverine. Except for the fact he was Henry fucking Cavil. 'The Cavalry has arrived. The prophecy has been fulfilled. Can I say, sir, sorry, daddy- on behalf of all of humanity, this just feels right! We will treat you so much better than those shit fucks down the street!'

He took the cigar from his mouth, stalking to you. You had never been so aroused in your life. 'You were just leaving'

Giggling and twirling your hair, you hold a hand out, ghosting over his chest. 'Can I just, one- one touch. Oh my god! You're like Superman or something.'

He punched you right into the Logan you needed. Thank you Cavil.

'You two gonna fuck or fight?' asked the bartender. 'Both if i'm lucky,' you said.'

'Oh look at those sexy little jammies, that only took twenty fucking years!'

The trash heap was the last place you wanted to end up, but when you woke to Logan looming over you, a snarl on his face, you sighed in relief.

'Well, hello sexiest man alive, 2008. Wanna give me a hand? Or head?'

He sniked his claws out.

'Kinky! That's new for Disney!'

He dug his claws into your ribs and dragged you up with them. 'Where the fuck are we?'

'I dunno, but it looks a bit mad maxxy to me. But that would be IP infringement right?'

'Fucking jokes,' Logan uttered. He threw you over his leg, your back breaking.

'Till my back breaks, Wolvie!' you yelled out, quickly rolling yourself back up and shaking it off. 'Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm a big fan. How about we strip off our suits, take a tumble in the sand, get to know one another you know. Personally, I'm more of a cowgirl fan but I'm willing to do whatever you want baby.'

'You're unbelievable,' he grumbled. It was still sexy. He turned his back to you.

'Oh, I see, is that what you did when your world went to shit!'

He paused, his head slowly turning to you. 'Say again, bub?'

'Oh, I am so horny right now.'

The two of you engaged in a fight, and not the sexy stradling fight that would happen later, but the guns firing, swords slashing kind of fight. that was only interrupted by a familiar voice.

The only other voice that could have you dropping your panties as quick as Wolverine. He was hooded, hidden, but you knew him from your sex dreams.

'Dear god almighty, it's him.'

'Who?' growled Logan.

'Don't be jealous baby, I have two holes for a reason. Don't worry gorgeous, you're gonna encounter some delicate language, a smidge of ass play but we've been prohibited from using cocaine, at least on page.'

He raised a hand. 'They're coming.'

'Who's they?'

The three of you watch cars and trucks drive through the waste, keeping you trapped. There were familiar faces, Pyro, Toad. And Sabertooth.

The mysterious figure jumped down and mastered the superhero landing that had you clapping your hands and jumping up and down.

'Oh my god! Oh my god!' you held onto Logan's shoulder as you jumped while he just glared at you.

'I've got this,' the man takes down his hood, showing the beautiful, hot, strong, handsome, hubba-hubba worthy, Chris Evans.

'Oh yes, you do sexiest man alive, 2022!' you cheer.

'Stay close,' Chris- or Steve- called back to you.

You stalk over to him. 'Aye aye, Captain.' you wrap your arms around his stomach, fingers trailing over his abs. He removes you and you groan, sulking. You walk back to Wolverine and jump onto the side of his hip.

Instinctively he holds your ass which makes you giddy before he realises his mistake and drops you.

'You're not gonna love what happens next,' shouted the captain.

Your jaw dropped from behind the mask. 'Holy shit, omg! No way, he's gonna say it! He's gonna say it!' you flick one of your swords that was still poking out of Wolverine's chest. 'Avengers-'

'Flame on!' Steve- no, Johnny- yelled and took to the skies in a ball of fire.

It was sort of stupid in hind sight as Pyro lifted a hand and extinguished him, causing him to fall from the skies and go crotch first into a billboard.

'No!' you screamed, rushing to him and rolling onto his back to get a look at him. 'No, no baby, stay with me. Let me take a look!' you tried to pull down his pants but Logan literally pulled you off him.

You were tied up with Wolverine on the front side of you and Johnny on the back. When you woke, you giggled. 'Woah, just like my dreams.'

Johnny woke to, lifting his head from your shoulder. 'How long was I out?'

You smirk under the mask, looking back to him. 'Not all of you was asleep, say Cap, is that a Glock in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

'Is that Chuck? Hey Chuck, over here! Hope it's you young, god, we got James Macovy in this?' you yelled as a wheelchair rolled out as you entered the thing that was apparently large Paul Rudd.

'Cassandra Nova. Charles's twin,' the villain introduced herself.

'Holy shit,' said Logan.

'How was anal birth?' you asked.

Cassandra smirked. 'You two are cute. I have a good feeling about this.'

'Right!' you cheered. 'Just wait till this ends, the smut is off the charts!'

She took the chain from around the two of you but you wrapped yourself around Logan's arm, he only grunted at you. He only pushed you off when you started to go off and off about what Johnny said about Cassandra. 'People think i'm a shit talker but this guy-' you chef's kiss. 'Next level!'

Cassandra, with a flick of her hand, shed the skin from him as he fell in a heap of bones and blood and skin,

You cried out, holding onto Logan for dear life. 'My favourite Chris!'

'You silly little bitch, you just got him fucking killed!' yelled Logan.

'Fine, spank me then! P.S. Do you know what he was doing to the budget!'

You were brought to Ultimatum with Cassadra, Oliath or the other British villain, but all you wanted was to save your world, bang Wolvy and go home.

'I didn't want it to come to this, either you help us or my boyfriend here is gonna perform the whole of Greatest Showman as a one-man show,' you warn.

'I'm not her boyfriend,' Logan grumbled.

Cassandra went on a trauma dump that had you groaning. 'Couldn't you just turn into accomplishment like the rest of us?'

But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together.'

'Sorry lady, he's taken!'

'Not for long,' Cassandra smirked and as Logan attacked, she sent him in the ground and away from you. You only whined at his disappearance, a whine that turned into a groan when Cassandra's fingers entered you in the worst way possible. Through your head.

'What can I see here?' she asked. Cassandra gasped. 'Oh, you are a whore.'

Oh yes, she saw the million filthy things you wanted to do to Logan.

The two of you made it out and to the diner where Logan was intent on finding food and taking rubbing alcohol shots. When he sat across from you, chucking a tin of spam at you, you pulled of your mask.

Logan stilled, looking at you with finally something a little different than anger.

'What?' you asked.

'I thought you'd be ugly under there.'

'No- no, that's the Deadpool. I'm better, and a self-insert.'

The two of you took to walking through the rather nicer side of the waste. You had his hand in yours, swinging it happily like you were a couple before he threatened to chop your hand off.

'You said Logan was a hero, what happened?' he asked.

'You died. Technically you were chest fucked by a tree, but really you just ran out of batteries trying to save this girl- a kid really. Always wanted a man who's good with kids. The shit heels who grew her in a lab called her x-23, but she was just a kid. A smaller, cute and mean version of you. Yep, you saved her, very hero, very demure.'

The two of you were interrupted when a bark sounded over the hill and the BEST DOG EVER ran out to you, ears flapping in the wind, tongue out as it always was. The little boots. The collar. It was Dogpool.

You threw off your mask and picked her up, cuddling her close. 'She's coming with us.'

'No she's not!' he argued.

'Yes, she is!'

'No!'

You pulled out your puppy dog eyes and lifted the dog to your face and slowly the resolve in his face slipped.

'Sorry!' another man ran out, chasing after the dog.

'Fucking shit bag!' you cursed.

It was another dead pool, a good-looking one with long hair.

'What's Ryan Reynolds actually doing here, I thought I replaced him?' you said.

'In here everyone calls me Nicepool.'

'Can we have your dog?' you asked immediately.

He laughed. 'over my dead body!'

You nod, thinking about it but Logan holds out his arm before you can even move.

Whatever Nicepool was saying was you didn't care as you cooed and hugged the dog closer and Logan watched.

Fuck, he was paying attention to you.

'Why are you so nice?' you asked eventually.

'It costs nothing to be kind,' he said.

'Shutting the fuck up is also free,' said Logan.

You bite your lip in his direction. 'God I am so attracted to you right now. This is Logan, he's usually shirtless but he's let himself go since the divorce.'

Finally, the Nicepool took you to his ride to get you and Logan and the dog to the borderlands.

It was a honda fucking odyssey.

Logan wasn't willing to listen to your complaints. 'Get in the fucking car.'

'Make me, Daddy,' you said.

He took one step closer to you and you backed away with the dog. 'No, we're running away!'

Logan forced her from your arms and handed him back to the Nicepool.

'The corn was to dense girl!' you called after her, pouting.

Logan shoves you into the passenger seat while he takes the wheel.

You pull of your mask, hair falling around you like you were in an advert. 'So, what shall we do to pass the time...'

Honda Odyssey coming soon, that my friends, is called edging.

[sanguineterrain]

restroom attendant | jason todd

Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.

A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)

the divider

Tonight sucks. 

With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years. 

Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.

You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you. 

You’re starting to think this city is cursed.

The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.

A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily. 

Yep. Definitely cursed.

"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."

He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress. 

"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor. 

"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”

“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”

“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"

Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs. 

"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."

Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper. 

Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.

“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”

“No,” you say, voice shaky.

His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”

Red Hood gives the room a onceover. 

“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails. 

“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” 

“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse. 

“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”

Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet. 

“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”

“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask. 

Hood jerks, turning back to you.

“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”

You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”

He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers. 

“How come?” Hood asks.

You shake your head. “It's nothing.”

“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”

“I'm not in danger. I…”

You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.

What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry. 

“I got dumped,” you say. 

“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”

Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.

You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”

You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.

“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”

“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling. 

“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach. 

“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.

Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”

You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles. 

Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”

You catch your breath and wave your hand. 

“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”

“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”

You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.

“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”

You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”

“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”

“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face. 

“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”

Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.

“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”

You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”

“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”

You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”

“You’d win that bet. But I—”

The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you. 

“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”

Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.” 

He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”

Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”

He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit. 

You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you. 

Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.

“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.

“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”

“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”

He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper. 

“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”

Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.

“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”

Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes. 

Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in. 

You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.

“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu. 

“I didn’t order this,” you say.

“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.” 

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.

[iluvloganhowlett]

I HATE YOU .𖥔 ݁ ˖

in which logan leaves for a mission unexpectedly for almost a year and still expects to be welcomed home upon return

warnings: angst, no happy ending (oops!), a little violence, mutant!reader, that’s it fr

reader has same powers as logan bc they were both experiments at the same time

i also switched up the timeline slightly so pretend logan isn’t a grumpy old man and is more so how he was in x-men (2000)

i also saw some other story that was kinda like this one but i couldn’t remember who’s it was so if anyb knows drop it so i can credit

part 2

“why are we here again?” wade questioned, stuffing a handful of cheetos he stole from a vending machine a while back.

logan only glared at him, “because. i left her for 9 months, the least i can do is come home and show her that im alive.”

wade shrugs, “who even is this ‘she?’ is she hot?”

in seconds, wade finds himself pinned against the wall of the hallway, logan’s claws only centimeters from his neck. “she’s my girl, you don’t get to talk about her being hot,” logan growls, retracting his claws and releasing wade.

“well damn wolvie! don’t get your panties in a bunch, im not stealing your girl! unless the charm is just too much for her then-“

“do you ever stop fucking talking outta your ass?”

wade only sighed, halting to a stop as logan did the same. “137,” logan muttered, looking up at the 137 sitting next to your door.

as logan rose his hand to knock, the door was swung open. logan’s eyes widened. he thought he’d gotten himself back into the right headspace to see you again, clearly he’d been mistaken.

the way your low-set brows rose up at the corners in anger, your long lashes drawing his eyes straight to your deep brown ones. your plush lips curled in slightly and your hair flowed down your back smoother than water.

wade whistled, “hey hot stuff-“ before he was cut of with a punch to the nose, dragging him down to the floor.

logan still had yet to say anything, admiring all the parts of you he’d missed.

however he was cut off with a groan, looking down at your claws that had made their way through his abdomen and back out, retracing back into your forearms.

“what the hell are you doing back here? and who’s the red sex-toy lookin’ thing that i j punched?”

as much as logan wanted to laugh at your dig at wade, he knew how to read the room. and frankly, he was still to stunned. “y/n? baby?”

“don’t call me that,” logan’s eyes widened, “you don’t get to call me that after disappearing for 9 months without notice, lo!”

logan couldn’t help but admire your use of his nickname you created even though you’re pissed at him.

“listen. i know, okay? i know and im sorry but if you let me in,” logan stepped closer, “i can expl- ah fuck!”

you’d stabbed him again in the same spot, pushing his body against the hall with your claws. “no you listen to me, logan. and you listen to me good. i’m not letting you come into my- our house after going awol for fucking forever and coming back with some random gay in a red suit,” you pulled your claws out of him but didn’t put them away this time.

your face softens, eyes moving rapidly between logan’s. he knew you better than anyone, he could see the way your eyes shifted from angry to vulnerable and the way your eyebrows lifted; you were a mini him, despite you being the same age.

“i thought you died, lo. i spent the past months thinking the only person i had and loved was fucking dead,” your eyes welled up as you backed away from logan, putting your claws away alas.

“i’m sorry, doll. im so sorry you have no idea,” logan’s calloused hands grazed your forearms, thumbs tracing the spot where your claws rested.

you sighed, holding back the urge to give in and hold onto him as long as you could.

“but you dont understand-“ you looked away, only for logan to lift a hand and cup your face in it, forcing your glossy eyes to meet his.

“you’re right, james! i don’t understand! so jesus fucking christ enlighten me.”

logan was taken back at your use of his real name, lip parting slightly. his heart ached more and more every time he watched your bottom lip quiver. he knew you were trying to keep up your strong facade, but were beginning to fail.

“i had a mission to go on. i had to save the world, baby!” your brows curled back into anger, and logan knew you thought he was bullshitting. “cmon, angel, stay with me. the asshat over there in the red, he dragged me into this. so if you’re gonna kill anyone for this, have it be him. i just- i need you to let me in.”

you shook your head. “lo- just-“ you stuttered, scavenging for words. “but why didn’t you say anything? you couldn’t have called? sent a letter? hell, baby i would’ve been happy with a fucking pigeon!”

“i didn’t have access to that shit.”

“for 9 months?”

he took a deep sigh, “yes, for nine months.” his tone grew louder. “because if i hadn’t left you for those 9 months there would be no more you for me to come back home to!”

“get out of my damn building, logan.”

“what?”

“leave! i want you and that goddamn red thing to get as far away from me as you fucking can and stay there.”

“y/n-“

“bye logan!”

you slammed the door in his face, leaving him standing there in utter disbelief.

logan’s claws retracted, “FUCK!” he screamed through the hall, leaving a giant claw park across your door.

he looked down at wade, who was watching from a safe distance on the floor. he put his claws away, grabbing wade by the fabric of his suit and dragging him onto his feet.

“get up, you heard the girl; let’s get the fuck away from her.”

logan was breathing heavy, more than ever before. it was like his heart couldn’t catch up to everything he was feeling in the moment. the last thing he wanted to be doing right now was walking out of your apartment building and leaving you, but he was weighed down by so much anger and hurt that he wasn’t exactly in control of himself at the moment.

“well,” wade started, “you handled that well.”

and before he knew it, wade was stabbed into a wall. “ow?”

logan growled, “i’m coming back for her.”

wade only let out a long laugh, stopping logan in his tracks.

“what the fuck are you laughing at? you should’ve heard the joke she made about you! she said you look like a sex toy-“

“i’m not laughing at that, you ape. i’m laughing at the fact that you’re coming back to her! look how it turned out the last time you ‘came back.’ “

“you don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. i’m coming back, whether she likes it or not. i’m not losing the love of my life after all i did to make sure i wouldn’t lose her.”

“i-“ “and next time im here, you won’t be.”

so! should i make a part 2 WITH a happy ending when he does come back??? 🫣🫣

♯ taglist! ∿

@spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @velvrei

[inkdrinkerworld]

hey there <3 I can’t find whether your requests are open so ignore this if you’re not accepting!!

I am on my knees asking for more of your bfb!remus… I need it, the world needs it. moony finally giving in after years of denying the reader for james’ sake 😫 this dynamic is everything

You're Jamies' baby sister and Remus can't believe he's got the fattest crush on you.

You're three years younger than him which isn't the thing that bothers Remus. What bothers him is the reaction James might have.

Remus should've never said yes to this damn vacation. You're all at the Potter's summer house, a life of dipping in the pool and then hitting the beach soon after.

Right now you're at the beach, and while James and Sirius are wrestling each other in the water, Remus can't pull his eyes off you as you build sandcastles and decorate them with shells that you'd found along the shore.

You can feel his eyes on you every now and then, and hide a smirk. You're pretty sure everyone knows you and Remus are head over heels for each other, he just never takes your advances as advances- much to your disappointment.

You shake your head a little, pieces of hair coming undone before you set your trap.

"Remmy, will you come help me?" You look up at him and the hair that had been braided back as all loosened and fallen in your face. You look like an angel of destruction like this- specifically his destruction.

"I'm not sure how well I can braid, dove. You know that's Jamie's strong suit." His knees crack as he stands and sets his book down before making his way over to you.

"Doesn't have to look pretty Rem, just need it out of my face so I can finish this castle."

Remus' hands are gentle as they pull the hair tie off, "Tell me if I'm pulling too hard."

You take a chance, "I can handle a little bit of pain, Rem." His breath hitches and you smile.

"Are you on the shore for me Remus? Because I'm a big girl now, you can go wrestle in the water with the boys."

Remus rolls his eyes, "I know you are, but why would I willingly let Sirius and James hold me under water?"

Remus' braid doesn't look as good as yours had, but it's swept all the hair out of your face. You turn to face him as he ties the braid off, a wide smile on your face.

"Remus I have an important question." you lean back on your palms and Remus can feel the back of his neck on fire. Your stupid little belly ring is a constant torment in his mind, always dangling over your tummy and making his brain short circuit.

"I'll answer if I can, dove." He's nervous, anything can come out of your mouth, no filter. He thinks it's sweet that you never censor yourself, Euphemia and Fleamont had ensured that their kids were never insecure about that.

You take a deep breath and Remus looks away from your glittery red bikini top. You smile and hide it quickly, "Are you scared to kiss me because of James?"

Remus looks over his shoulder, James and Sirius body surfing now. He leans in, sandy brown hair and hazel eyes all you can see- not that you mind.

"Or do you not like me anymore?" You know that's not true, but if Remus doesn't kiss you by tonight, you're going to go insane.

"Not like you?" Remus chuckles, his hand reaching for your cheek. "Dove, you don't ask silly questions." You really don't. "Of course I like you, I like you so much sometimes I can't look at you because I want to kiss you stupid."

It's your turn for your breath to hitch. "Then why haven't you kissed me yet?" Remus smiles, you sound so petulant and pouty, so unlike yourself that he leans in a little more.

Your nose brushes his, lips just barely touching and you frown. "Remus."

He groans, and pulls you closer, lips locking and you melt into him. It's a gentle kiss, experimental and slow. Your hands comb through his hair and pull him a little closer, making him deepen the kiss.

You hear whopping and hollering, "Fucking finally Moony!" It's your brother and the shock causes you both to pull away.

You heart is racing and Remus chases your lips for a second kiss. "Took you long enough." you whisper and he shakes his head.

"Did that kiss magically make you mouthy, pretty girl?" You nod, smiling like a giddy fool as Remus stares down at you.

"Moony, you couldn't wait till the end of the trip? Now I have to do the washing up for the rest of the week." Sirius moans as he and James meet you at your sandcastle fortress.

"No, I really couldn't." he's looking directly in your eyes as he says it.

[fhrlclln]

miguel o’hara x assistant!fem! reader pt. 1

SPOILERS ??!!

now we all know this man has some serious anger issues lmao but who wouldn’t love a grumpy man having this deep unspoken sexual tension between the two of you, right!? right. and along with that, SMUT! such a beautiful combo. but mild smut for now.

but here is some mild miguel smut for y’alls horny ass (and mine) <3

here’s part 2 !!

mild smut under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

spiderman 2099. miguel. miguel motherfucking o’hara.

leader of the spider-society, an elite crew of various spider people from all across the multiverse, their mission to protect the multiverse from any threat that may come. sure, knowing how crazy it sounds that the multiverse is real and that— there are more variations of the spiderman you knew since all before this shitshow happened.

and to say, your relationship with the leader wasn’t all that bright in fact.

you’re not a spider person yourself but sometimes you wish you are seeing how fucking cool spider-woman, jessica drew, a fellow member, along with other members coming in are (hobie, gwen, pavitr and so on.) but no radioactive spider ever bit you sadly. you are human, human as ever working under miguel o’hara as his assistant (more of a manager really) even though he has lyla, the virtual sweetheart, you still had some things you can do which are a big help in all the management for the spider-society.

miguel, as a boss, well— he’s a fucking menace sometimes as you grit your teeth to yourself, walking swiftly into the familiar hallways you always passed through, captured anomalies around your vision until you arrive at the fairly narrow one, meaning you were almost close. all the people knew how fucking grumpy he was, always snapping out of nowhere, sharp comments and unnecessary hurtful ones too when he’s super mad. you’ve dealt with all of that since the foundation was found— and he’s kinda a loner. you sigh, knowing from the looks of what has happened today regarding miles morales, things weren’t looking so great. and you had to ask him somehow about the situation and see how it goes, well not or not.

your feet echoed through the vast space of his lab, his platform was up high as always and you can hear him grumbling a top, watching every scenario of what happened. your heels clicked as you stopped, looking up, blue light restricting your vision as you coughed for his attention. cringing already inside as you heard the audios pause.

then silence.

silence….

more silence….

silenceeeeeeeeeeeeeee-

“what?” he asks from above in a clip manner.

“heard from lyla.” you merely quip back, shrugging your shoulders.

“and?” he grunts, resuming his work as the platform above descends down. ah, sassy. you think, usual miguel— not the mad one, real lifesaver for whatever you’re gonna say right now.

“nothing.” you say, waiting for the damn platform to come down faster. “i may have a few questions where this leads-“

“what questions?” he asks, the platform finally stops at the usual height, making miguel who’s back is turned from you visible.

“about the situation. miles morales.”

“ask lyla about that.” he dismisses you again, tone a little sharper. the back of his muscles flex, super suit clinging tight, his mask the only one that was removed. tousled dark hair seen as he clicks away on his screen, the voices of miles and gwen emitting. you gulp, sighing as you tried for one more.

“it’s more of a personal question for you-“

“has it ever occurred that i don’t answer those kind of questions?” he cuts you off, the footage he was watching paused as he slowly turned around to finally face you. your eyes meet his, familiar red ones looking down at you, face scrunched a bit as if he was annoyed already,

“i know.” you slowly say as he crosses his arms. muscle bulging, making you avert from his gaze for a moment, which embarrassed you. “but all i’m saying or asking is that are you going to make it easy for the kid?”

something in his eyes snap at your question. he jumps down, landing swiftly in front of you as he stands up, towering your frame. you roll your eyes, his shadow blocking the light from you as his hands were situated on his waist, meaning he was ready to argue. but you can’t argue how eager you feel seeing how close he is. heat radiating from him, the way he never leaves his eyes off you and his overall presence.

“what is easy in all this, really, huh?” he harshly spits out. “the faith of the multiverse is in danger. and who’s responsible to fix that? me! so no, i’m gonna make it easy for the kid. he was the one who started all of this if you can remember.”

“oh, i remember and i remember clearly telling you how all of this— this is happening is very much-“

“no, no, no. that is completely out of the logical reason for why this happening. not the reason at all.” he says, his brow scrunching together as you too became fairly annoyed that he was cutting you off. an ass really.

“out of the reason? maybe it is the reason if you think about it!” you retort back, huffing out a sigh as he shakes his head turning away from you.

“miguel.” you call out to him. “miguel, for once, try and see through this. through miles.”

“i have a lot of things to do, y/n. arguing with you is not one.” he commands, as your shoulders sink, the familiar feeling of disappointment washing over you from his words.

“maybe if you could listen to me, we wouldn’t be arguing.” you stared at him with hard eyes, he tensed, looking to the side before he swiftly walks towards you again.

“why would i, huh?” he glares at you. “do you know everything i know enough to make everything right in the multiverse?” he stalks over to you, intent to make you listen clearly as you back away a bit from him but he doesn’t stop. “no. so no, there is no point in listening to you.” he growls the last sentence, the lump in your throat bitter as you two stared down at each other before he utters his last insults. the buzz of something blooms between you both. you could feel it, he could feel it. the two of you were just contemplating in the inside as miguel steps a bit closer to whisper it.

“you’re my assistant, know your place.”

your eyes widened at his words. but you could not shake the fact how deep he said it, the rumble in his voice making your brain go haywire at all the emotions you are feeling right now for him. the breaking point of your patience at its peak as you glared at him harshly, his face close to yours as you cursed at him.

“fuck you, miguel.” you spit out. his face suddenly changed as he fucking smirked. smirked! you stare at him as he opens his mouth to spit something out as well in retaliation for your insult.

“really? that’s all you got? i thought you were better at this, churri.” his smirk widens as you shy away, suddenly flustered at how fast he can make you embarrassed. you could feel his chest close to yours as you avert his hard gaze, making the said man snap something inside of him seeing you all crumpled beneath him.

“you’re all bark but no bite, sweetheart.” he whispers as you didn’t look at him. “look at me.”

the subtle growl in his voice caused you to obey him. you look up to meet his eyes again, seeing them red as ever, red with that low gaze that makes your thighs clench hard. the slow breaths between the two of you are only heard as miguel leans down, face closer to yours now.

“what’s making you shy, huh?” he asks, the argument from earlier clearly out of his head as he focuses on you. his one hand creeping up to gently caress yours, urging you to say it.

“miguel, please, stop playing with me.” you grumbled, ashamed how you liked how he was acting now. “it’s not funny.”

“i’m not joking around, am i?” he sasses but you held your hard gaze on him which he surrenders. “alright, i’m sorry.”

“no you’re not.” you sighed, knowing there will never be a genuine sorry from him which leaves you utterly defeated, more upset how you know he’s toying with your emotions right now. “i’ll take my leave.”

“y/n, don’t…”

“please stop.” you raise your hand for him to stop.

“i’m sorry.” he genuinely says, gripping your hand gently back down, squeezing it softly. his big gloved hand envelops yours as you studied his face to make sure he wasn’t fucking around. miguel practically knew what’s going on between the two of you, which of course why he liked arguing with you. the way your eyes would dilate all the time and beat of your heart racing whenever he gets super close to your personal space. addicting yet a dick move he was doing because in all, he very much likes you. and this time, this time it all snaps at the pinnacle seeing you shamelessly stare at his lips.

“thank you.” you softly say, glancing at his lips, the fangs subtly showing behind them as miguel swiftly dips forward to finally kiss you with such fervor.

your eyes widened as you gripped his broad shoulders, toes tip toeing, heart pounding as his arms wrapped around your waist. you moan out on his lips as you kissed him back the same passion. months of ignoring the unspoken tension between the two of you and at this moment it happened! you think that this all sinks in because of the situation, and you are right in your head. all of this should happen.

“miguel.” you pant breathily between his lips as he shushed you with another one, too lost in the moment.

“miguel please.” you begged for more as his hands dip down to squeeze your ass, lifting you up effortlessly with his spidey strength as your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips.

“i know.” he kisses your chin down to your neck, slowly walking to the desk nearby. your breasts squished together with his hard chest as you grind down, feeling the evident bulge underneath you.

“you’re an ass, ya know?” you mumbled in his ear as he sits you down on the desk, objects scattering at the impact. he continues his ministrations, the things he was supposed to do are far long gone in his head as his hand dip down to where your legs were open for him.

“that i certainly know.” he admits, you giggle suddenly knowing how defensive he is when people point that out.

“but right now, i’m being very nice, amor. very nice.” he whispers, nipping your ear as his gloved hand touches you there, the pencil skirt you were wearing scrunched up above your knees. you gasp, clutching his shoulders again as he chuckles lowly, feeling the wetness as his eyes stared at you with this animosity as he kneels down, kissing your thighs before he sharply opens your thighs wide. your covered cunt staring right before him, begging to be eaten and he sure will be. he looks up to see you, this wild look in your eyes as you nodded for approval which makes him genuinely smile.

“i’m feeling generous today. it’s a once in a lifetime scenario, huh? so you better feel lucky today.”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

I HOPE I DIDN’T MAKE MIGUEL OOC CUZ I ONLY WATCHED THE MOVIE ONCE. ANYWAYS PART 2? <3

[meowmeowriley]

Ghoap Actor AU but 'Ghost' is the stage name used by a a mysterious man who takes "faceless" rolls. Rolls that require pounds of makeup, tons of prosthetics, huge armor suits and feats of puppeteering. No one knows what he looks like, or his real name, and he likes it that way.

Sorry, it got kinda long lol, ficlet after the cut.

Johnny is a new face but damn is he winning hearts quickly. He loves fantasy and sci-fy rolls, and for him getting cast as the heart throb muscle-bound hero is as easy as smiling. A smile which sweeps any and all off their feet, straightness be damned.

Working next to The Ghost is as much a dream come true as it is fucking terrifying. His list of rolls is as long as Johnny is tall, the man is a legend.

Said legend stalks into the catering tent in full makeup, extras scattering because the man is honestly pretty intimidating. Ridges and bumps, red skin and horns, all work to completely dehumanize his features and frighten away any potential lunch buddies. After grabbing his food he stalks back out wordlessly.

They hadn't shot any scenes together yet, but the schedule called for the two of them to be working together nearly every hour of the next week, and John was determined to make a good impression. He grabbed his own food and swiped some fancy wrapped chocolates, perhaps to share and make friends, and scampered out after Ghost.

The man was seated alone, at a table under a tree. He'd popped his fake fangs out and sat them on his tray, and was digging into his sandwich. Red hands tipped in wicked red claws expertly avoided spearing and shredding his food.

Johnny plopped down across from him.

"Cannae be comfortable, wearin' all 'o that all day." Best to get the whole 'being Scottish' thing out if the way immediately, he often had to hid his accent for rolls and this was no exception. Opening his mouth and speaking naturally always garnered a huge reaction, generally glee, from his co-stars. Though, if Ghost was surprised by it, he made no comment.

"Been doin' it for years, 'm used to it." John found himself the one surprised, he hadn't expected the man's voice to be so lovely. Nor had he expected the man to be a fuckin' brit. Clearly he'd also been masking his accent. Shame, Hollywood always loved an evil Brit.

Delighted by this new discovery, Johnny launched into introducing himself, gushing about the rolls he'd seen Ghost in and how he'd loved his performances. Ghost didn't respond much, but slitted pupils with gold and red irises never left him, and even through the makeup a small smile played at the corner of his bright red lips.

Ghost didn't participate much, throwing out a hum or a nod, an occasional quip, but Johnny quickly realized the man was simply quiet, as every time he stopped he'd receive a few words, a gentle nudge to keep going. All was well until Johnny finished his meal and started in on his chocolates.

He'd held one out to Ghost, who took it, and wordlessly sat it on his tray, mirth dancing in his eyes, amplified to a mildly animalistic predatory level by his contacts.

Johnny had rolled with it, assuming the man was just happy about the sweet, and popped his own in his mouth. Only to spit it back out immediately after crunching down.

"Ach, that is VILE, the fuck is wrong with this chocolate?" Johnny stuffed his fingers into his mouth, attempting to scrape the bits that had secured themselves in and between his teeth.

A deep rumbling belly laugh enveloped him, the sound coated his body, every last inch of him, and locked it into place. Fingers still stuffed into his mouth and crouched over like a golem, Johnny watched wide eyed as Ghost leaned back, shoulders heaving and a clawed hand over his brow as he laughed uncontrollably at John's plight. "It's not chocolate," the man gasped out, "it's bloody hand soap!"

Johnny groaned and spat out his fingers as well as a few bubbles. He'd grabbed them from beside the hand washing station, but hadn't thought anything of it. Why the fuck were they wrapped all fancy like?!

Ghost stood, and clapped a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "I look forward to working with you, Johnny." He sighed between fits of laughter. He grinned and popped his fangs back in. "Keep up, Soap."

Johnny turned and watched Ghost stalk back into the catering tent to return his tray, silicone tail swishing side to side, really lending itself to Ghost's jolly demeanor as he left, still chuckling. Johnny felt his face flush, knew he must be as red as Ghost's makeup, in embarrassment, knowing he was gonna be stuck with a ridiculous nickname, but also from realizing he was still bent over and staring at Ghost's ass. Was his ass really that nice, or were those heels, designed to look like hooves, just working absolute wonders?

Thus began Soap's insane crush on a man he knew nothing about, not even how he looked.

[qveerthe0ry]

Your Ride, Best Trip

Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time

Marcus Pike is perfect. 

He’s your dream man. 

He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.

He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place. 

He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees. 

He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally. 

See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit. 

How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own. 

So you asked him what was up, and he told you.

Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it. 

You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.

After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.

You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too. 

And then he finally kissed you.

It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight. 

You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things. 

But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.

You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him. 

It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt. 

You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing. 

His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow. 

When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore. 

You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training. 

“Sweetheart—”

His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager. 

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated. 

But it’s fine. He’s so worth it. 

You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed. 

“What do you want?” 

His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in. 

“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.” 

But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine. 

“You’re lying.” 

You sigh and close your eyes. 

“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.” 

You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty. 

“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers. 

It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—

“I have a small dick.” 

His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.

He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment. 

“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?” 

He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction. 

“Marcus…”

“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“

“Marcus.”

You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.

“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?” 

He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little. 

“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs. 

You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation. 

Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not. 

“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him. 

He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his. 

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”

“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?” 

He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead. 

“Everyone?” 

You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you. 

He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up. 

“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”

He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at. 

“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?

All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”

He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you? 

“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.” 

There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze. 

“Really?”

You scoff. 

“Really really.”

A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth. 

“Why?”

“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”

His face flushes, but he lets you continue.

“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”

You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine. 

“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah… For one, your hands.”

“My hands?”

He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment. 

“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”

He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back. 

“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”

He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.

“And I love to give head.”

“Jesus.”

“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.” 

“Sweetheart—”

“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”

He says your name again, this time with a warning tone. 

You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted. 

“You’re not lying.”

His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again. 

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs. 

“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.” 

That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth. 

His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you. 

You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction. 

You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long. 

Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs. 

You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt. 

Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking. 

But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved. 

He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice. 

“I think about you, too. All the time.” 

You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest. 

“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?” 

Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter. 

“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”

Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod. 

He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience. 

His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt. 

“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?” 

The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss. 

“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”

You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head. 

He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you. 

He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before. 

“Marcus—”

“I know, I know.”

His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers. 

“Can I?”

You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch. 

“Oh, are you that sensitive?”

His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck. 

“It’s just you.” 

And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief. 

And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans. 

“So sweet, huh?”

You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess. 

He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips. 

“That’s all for me?” 

There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.

But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again. 

He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip. 

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?” 

The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you. 

“Yes, please.”

He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes. 

Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs. 

You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face. 

It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control. 

“You sure you’re ready?”

You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.

“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”

He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him. 

The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest. 

He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels. 

His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.

“You’re soaked.” 

His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest. 

The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure. 

Oh, he’s fucking good at this. 

There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else. 

You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding. 

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers. 

“You have no idea.”

He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face. 

“I think I do,” he mumbles.

He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side. 

You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles. 

All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself. 

You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together. 

Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing. 

But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids. 

You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours. 

“That’s it. This what you needed?”

A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.

He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder. 

“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?” 

You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs. 

You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction. 

He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants. 

“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.” 

You huff. 

You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it. 

Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours. 

“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe. 

He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.

He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs. 

He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out. 

All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation. 

The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again. 

Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you. 

All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold. 

Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs. 

A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever. 

His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.” 

You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust. 

His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there. 

It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake. 

“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.” 

To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping. 

All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue. 

As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him. 

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him. 

He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach. 

Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers. 

His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that. 

And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is. 

You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him. 

Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat. 

“So… How’d it compare?” 

Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question. 

“Pardon?”

But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them. 

“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?” 

You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up. 

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are. 

He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs. 

You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs. 

“Better,” you whisper. 

You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back. 

And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver. 

You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips. 

You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants. 

He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension. 

His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. 

So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little. 

But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard. 

But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up. 

“Will you let me suck it?” 

All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods. 

“Please.” 

It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction. 

He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants. 

You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough. 

So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go. 

Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you. 

You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel. 

He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock. 

His little cock. 

It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess. 

And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing. 

You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.

When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this. 

You’ll make him look, one way or another. 

For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention. 

He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head. 

And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth. 

It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him. 

You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show. 

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to. 

Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more. 

You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool. 

It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere. 

You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock. 

“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself. 

He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds. 

He says your name. 

You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls. 

He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked. 

“Sweetheart, stop, please.”

You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face. 

“Are you okay?”

He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face. 

“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”

“Marcus.” 

His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.

“Do you want to fuck me?” 

You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question. 

“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”

He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face. 

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”

His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe. 

“Yeah? You still want it?” 

His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. 

“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.” 

You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away. 

“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?” 

You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of  amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later. 

For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.

The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body. 

He’s so hot. 

It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed. 

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit. 

“Are you ready?”

You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling. 

You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time. 

You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.

“Oh fuck.”

You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense. 

“Fuck, Marcus, please.”

You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you. 

He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him. 

But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles. 

And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm. 

“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out. 

Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh. 

“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”

A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”

You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display. 

“Yes ma’am.”

Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up. 

He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist. 

His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you. 

But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them. 

His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.

Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.

“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?” 

Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit. 

“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”

His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight. 

Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy. 

There’s screaming. 

You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts. 

“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”

“In me.”

Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene. 

His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks. 

He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps. 

His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair. 

“Jesus,” he says.

Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again. 

“Huh?” 

God, how are you ever going to move again? 

“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”

Christ, why is he using such big words? 

“What are you talking about?” 

He clears his throat. 

“You like— You squirted?”

You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly. 

“I what?”

You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright. 

“Yeah, like, a lot.”

He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out. 

You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.

“What?” 

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver. 

“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”

He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees. 

He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you. 

You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body. 

He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.

It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high. 

Both of your breathing seems even, when you part. 

“That was—”

“It’s never—”

You both chuckle. 

“Ladies first.”

You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach. 

“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do. 

“It’s never been that good.”

A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest. 

It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?

You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth. 

“When can we go again?”

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Omg pleeeease I need a dark/angsty Tommy fic where he ends up hurting the reader? Like an argument gets too heated and he ends up slapping her or something. Like maybe she was flirting and dancing a bit too much with someone at a party they’re hosting and he gets jealous and drags her to their room, then they start arguing and he gets so enraged that he basically sees red and absolutely slaps the hell out of her (some non con/dub con smut after as well???). Just need some heavy, dark, possessive, violent, scary/mean Tommy Shelby 😫 The darker the better lol

Warnings: noncon, p in v + anal, physical abuse, degradation, threats with a gun, some blood play, misogyny, name calling

Hope you enjoy! Thank you!

Tommy watched from afar, seeing you and Ada drunk, giggling like a bunch of school girls at a table filled with men. He may not be able to control his sister but his wife was another subject. People were beginning to stare, especially the men Tommy needed on his good side for now. The dress you were wearing was skin tight, your panties just barely showing through the thin black fabric. 

Tonight was a prestige dinner with delegates that Shelby Limited was in talks for business deals. The plan was too conversate, find weak spots, understand the patterns of movements, but the only thing Tommy was focused on was you, a long with every other man.

Even Arthur made a remark, a statement that angered Tommy even more. “Y/N’s quite the appeal tonight isn’t she?” Arthur chuckled, taking someone’s glass of whiskey and finishing it himself.

“What are you talking about?”

“Look at her, need to cherish her better brother before another man makes a move.” That was it, that was enough. When Tommy slammed his glass down and started to walk away Arthur pulled him back, pleading and convincing Tommy to just allow you to have fun for a night but he wouldn’t listen. Frowning, Arthur returned to the table, grabbing another drink whilst Tommy tried to keep his compusure. Greeting and checking in with the guests before approaching your flailing, inebriated body.

Three tradesman of London were in attendance, the blatant look of disgust from where they stood at the bookcase, giving your husband a look of disapproval before carrying on in conversation.

“Tommy! My husband, come here!” When you attempted to pull him down by the sleeve of his expensive suit, he pulled back, tucking his hands in his pockets, giving you a stern expression that told you to follow him.

Pouting, you crossed your arms, rolling your eyes annoyed, picking up a bottle of champagne before walking away with him, making flirtatious remarks to random men as you wobbled away until you were in the master bedroom.

Closing the door, you fell onto the floor laughing in a disarray of emotions, your vision blurry and your eyes dilated. Tommy pulled the nearly empty bottle from your hands, tossing it into the corner of the room before grabbing your wrist forcing you up onto your feet.

“What the fuck are you doing, eh? Are you stupid, is that it? You know how important tonight is and you go and fucking wreck it, bidding yourself off to other men when you are a married, taken woman.”

“Relax Tommy, we’re just having fun. What the boys can do whatever they damn well please but because of what’s between my legs I’m expected to just be formal, elegant?” Tommy looked at you with expecting eyes, not understanding where the confusion is. There were important men here tonight and seeing you galavanting around like some whore and being incoherently drunk made his blood boil. 

Biting dowm on his tongue and locking his jaw, he pointed with dictation, sapphire eyes raging with fire as he seethed out the following words.

“Yes. It’s that fucking simple. You can’t even fucking stand up straight.” Scoffing, you tiptoed around the room, holding onto the dresser to keep your warm, sweating body from falling. The room was spinning but that didn’t change the anger from the double standard that was always set against you. You hadn’t thought before speaking, the words simply sputtering out what you’ve held in.

“You should be thanking me for flirting with them, without me you’d have nothing. I’m simply the means to an end to the shit deals you can’t make on your own.”

Tommy cut you off with the back of his hand slapping across your cheek ferociously, silencing you for good. Grabbing for the bruising skin, you looked back at your husband in shock and fear. He’s never, ever layed a hand on you.

When you ran for the door, he was faster, shoving the wooden object closed with his hand and yanking you back by the strands of your hair, pushing you carelessly onto the bed.

His hands tightened around your wrists as he shoved his hardened member upward against your mound.

“I’d have nothing eh? I’ll show you what it’s like to be treated like you’re nothing.” 

Screaming hysterically, you wept as Tommy ripped the expensive gown, exposing the bare, delicate skin of your thighs. Hitting and fighting against his chest to push him away, he simply lifted his hand, slapping you harshly once more to stop the whining. 

You pressed your hand gently against your temple, a headache forming in the core of your mind from the impactful blow. 

Hearing the buckle of his belt, you panicked but were too weak to defend yourself from the man who claimed to be your husband.

“Maybe if you had just listened and weren’t a fucking whore tonight we wouldn’t be in this postion. Someone’s forgotten their place eh?” Pushing the thin laced fabric of your panties aside, he thrusted upward, letting his thick length penetrate you without any lube. Writhing and seething in pain below him, tears prickled at your eyes, not recognizing who was staring at you anymore.

Spitting at his face, he smiled slyly, a dark twisted grin bellowing at what you had done.

Returning the favor he spat back, hitting you once more with a forceful, strong slap that echoed through the room and knocked out your hearing in one ear.

“Don’t forget sweetheart. I own you, you’re my property.” Wrapping his hands around your throat, you struggled for air as he drilled into your dry cunt, shredding open the sensitive skin like a grater would cheese. Blood slowly leaked out from your pussy, the ability to scream non existent as your airway was constricted, bruising as his nails dug into your skin.

When your hands reached up to try to push him away from your neck, desperate for air, he shed himself of his tie, wrapping the fabric around your wrists tightly to the headboard and shoved his underwear in your mouth. 

Slapping your cunt repeatedly, he mocked your whimpers, feeling your walls slowly start to produce your sweet syrup against your will.

“How pathetic, is this what you wanted? Someone likes me cock, who knew my wife was a little fucking whore.” Screeching beneath the makeshift gag, your skin seethed in pain, wanting nothing more for this to be over.

His hands grasped at your breasts, tugging and pulling at your nipples, smitten by how easily your body gave in to him. 

Flipping you over onto your stomach, he spread your ass cheeks, pulling the fatty skin apart finding that tight, untouched hole you’d been denying him for so many years, now he was going to take it for himself.

There was nowhere for you to go, your eyes searched, panicked looking for anything to get you out of these bindings, but there was nothing. 

Aligning himself with your taint, you could feel the rounded head of his shaft resting at your virgin entrance. Every bone and muscle in your violated body tensed when his head pushed through your strained, congested walls. You screamed in agony as he wasted no time burying himself balls deep in your taint.

“Oh fuck…Didn’t know you could feel this good love. My little slave, that ass devouring me cock. About time I reminded you of your place. Nothing but a slut, a mere stupid little bitch.” He moaned in between thrusts as he fucked your anus, pounding your ass up and down on his shaft while holding the cheeks of your ass roughly. The sporadic pain was different than your pussy, far more intensified. It didn’t feel like stinging anymore, the size of his penis sent flames of fire through your hole.  

When he buried his neck into the crook of your neck while he continued to pump relentlessly into you. You fumbled with the bindings while he wasn’t paying attention. 

Realessing a choked sob, you were on the verge of being free, fidgeting with the tight knot with a tremendous effort, working over the fabric through the tears and painful agony, but you weren’t as smooth as you thought. Tommy’s hand shot up, slamming down on yours and pulled you arms behind your back, causing the gag to fall out in the process.

“Help! Help! Ah-“ Striking you in the back of your waeay head, he shoved his fingers between your lips, invading your mouth and pulling at the sides of your lips.

“Shut the fuck up. Listen to me, are you listening sweetheart?” You whimpered through his fingers, nodding your head, squeezing your eyes closed in a pained expression when he thrusted his cock violently with a force of strength and dominance.

“No one is coming to your rescue, you belong to me, and I have the right to use and abuse my property all I want and you will listen, or suffer the consequences as you are right now. Get up.” Tommy pulled you onto his lap, reinserting his lengthy shaft into your soaking wet walls. You mewled from the discomfort, struggling to make eye contact with Tommy. 

His lips connected to your hardened nipples, biting down on the flesh harshly, aiming to draw blood. Slapping you across the face once again, your head whipped to the other side fiercly.

“Ride me. Go on, you claim to be so great in bed to those men out there. Can’t treat your husband the same?” Another backhand, before his hand gripped the fat of your ass cheeks, slamming you up and down on his cock, an immense joy curdling within him from seeing your pathetic tears.

Then an idea struck you, if you’r just get him off surely he’d let you go. A satisfied grin spread across his face when you began to rotate your hips, staring slowly at first before picking up speeding. 

“Ah, fuck, that’s it love. Show me what that worthless cunt can do.” You continued to whine and whimper as you rode his cock, your ass landing on his thighs with each powerful bounce, your breasts flying up and down for his amusement.

You could feel him begin to pulsate, he was close, very close.

Arching your back, Tommy focused in on your pussy devouring his lengthy member with each pivotal motion of your hips. Your walls tightened, constricting his length, and within seconds his seed was filling your tortured void, flooding into your ovaries.

At that moment you moved as fast as lightning, taking the lamp and smashing it over his head to try to escape his bitter soul. Rushing to put clothes on, you ran to the door, thinking that someone would help you but Tommy wasn’t weak and you were nowhere nearly as strong as him. He was quick to recover, but not as quick as you. Throwing on a nightshirt and slipping on the closest thing to work as underwear, you opened the door just nearly out when Tommy pulled on his pants, rolling over the bed and running, rushing toward you, slamming the door closed once again. 

You punched the door in defeat, frightened to turn around until he forced you to, pulling out something you’d never thought he’d use as a threat to you.

“If you think I am playing some sort of sick game, you are sadly mistaken sweetheart. Now get back on the fucking bed, you’ve done enough tonight.” Removing the safety, he pointed the gun directly on the middle of your forehead, the cool metal barrel sending chills down your spine. Is this what your marriage had come to? How were you supposed to move forward from this catastrophic night? Surely people would notice the bruises but then again, no one ever questioned Tommy Shelby, not anyone that gave a shit about their life.

Surrendering you rose your arms, the shaking of your trembling hands visible. The man facing you, you no longer recognized. There was no guilt, or shame, or any type of love present in those venomous, frigid eyes, he really wasn’t joking. Making your way back to the bed, you tucked your head onto the pillow, weeping relentlessly into the case of the feathered object. Tommy layed the gun down on the table, taking a seat beside you. You flinched away from his cold, heartless touch, terrified of what was to come next.

“I need to go back and entertain our guests. You stay here and be good. Can you do that?” He twisted your labia, pinching the sensitive skin, causing you a tremendous amount of pain, reminding you what could happen if you don’t listen.

Nodding with fearful, tired eyes, you watched as Tommy dressed himself, and stayed in your fragile position on the soiled sheets, eventually crying yourself to sleep in the dark room.

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 15- Miguel x Reader (Breeding Kink)

*Requested by several readers ;) *

        It all started with just a simple phrase. Just one little thing that you did not think anything of. Two little words that you always said whenever you were stressed out. Who would have thought that your five seconds of brain rot would be what made Miguel finally snap. The man that you had been lusting over was finally making his move and you were not sure if it was a good thing. Who were you kidding, you fucking loved it.

        Backtrack to earlier that day. Miguel had called on you for a quick anomaly capture that you were more than eager to join. You had been at the Spider Society for a few months now and tried your very best. You wanted to make an impression. At least to Miguel. He was handsome and just your type. Especially when he spoke Spanish to you. Oh, you could feel a puddle form between your legs. The man was quick to turn you into putty every time he looked at you with those piercing red eyes of his.

And his fangs?!

        Oh, when you first saw him smile with those fangs, your imagination went wild. Miguel was built and tall. Who knows what he packed under that suit. You wanted to find out, but you had to do it the right way. You first needed to confess to him, then hopefully date him, then from there on...well, you never got past the confession part. You always felt the words catch at your throat whenever you thought about telling Miguel you liked him.

        Anyway, you quickly returned to your mission, wanting to please Miguel. He was waiting for you with this capture and the report. This was going to be your chance to confess...again...

----------

        Miguel stood on his platform, working on some other reports for the spider society. He stopped for a moment to watch you on the cameras. He eyes focused from your determined expression to your curves. That suit was tight against your skin. Skin he wanted to touch. Miguel sighed heavily as he tried to look away. You were just perfect. Miguel had a hard time talking to you because all he wanted to do was ravish you. You were the perfect woman for him. The perfect woman for him to fill with his cum.

"Maldita sea, otra vez. (Damn it, again.)" He groaned under his breathe as his cock harden at the thought.

        Miguel could smell your arousal whenever you spoke to him. He always had to find a way for you to leave. He had no choice. He wanted to fuck you dumb. To make you his. To keep you from putting yourself in danger. Miguel knew that these thoughts were animalistic, but to be fair, he was half Spider. Miguel groaned as he stroked his cock, thoughts of breeding you flooded his mind. 

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

        You cheered as you successfully completed your mission. You dropped off the anomaly and went to find a quiet spot to work on your report. You hummed to yourself, seeing how late it was getting. Hopefully Miguel was still in office by the time you finished. Just thinking about Miguel made your pussy clench. You wanted him bad. Hell, if he told you to get on your back right now, you'd fold.

-----------

        Miguel groaned lowly as he looked at the time. He needed to go home. He needed some sleep, but he was waiting. Waiting for you. He'd make up any excuse for why he was still there, just for you. Miguel watched you on the cameras as you made your way to his office. His daily dose of you and your aroma. He just needed to be in your presence for just a little bit in order for him to fuck himself later. Just so that he can listen to your sweet voice.

"Sorry I'm late, I may have dozed off." You lied, hurrying into his office.

        Miguel inhaled deeply to your voice. Dozed off? He could smell how strong your arousal was. Miguel approached you, reaching for the paperwork. He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand towards his lips. He was acting on instinct while you watched in horror. Your face turned bright red as Miguel casually licked your fingers.

"¿Por qué me haces esto, muñeca? (Why do you do this to me, doll?)" His voice was low as he groaned. 

Ohhhh, you were folding.

"S-Sorry, what did you say?" You stuttered, knowing full well that Miguel could smell the fact that you just masturbated.

"I'm not dumb,"

"Fuck me," You whispered ever so lowly, "I-I wasn't think-"

"Que? (What?)" Miguel's eyes widen as he pulled you closer, "Don't say something you'll regret."

        You gasped as Miguel dragged you to his desk, pinning you with his hips. He hungrily attacked your neck while his hands roamed your body. This wasn't how you planned things to go, but fuck it. This was one way to get with Miguel. Who would have thought that his senses were that strong? At least you knew that Miguel liked you back.

"Me aseguraré de que no te arrepientas de esas palabras, muñeca. Voy a follarte tan jodidamente bien. Llenarte. (I'm going to make sure you don't regret those words, doll. Going to fuck you so damn good. Fill you.)" Miguel groaned as he rubbed his growing erection against your soaked suit.

"M-Miguel...You know I don't-"

"I know, but you get so wet when I do." Miguel licked your lips as he ripped the bottom half of your suit with his talons, "So I'm going to keep talking to you in Spanish, whether you understand me or not."

        You whimpered lowly as the cold air hit your wet pussy. Miguel groaned at the sight, watching your lips twitch, waiting to be filled. He removed the suit around his cock, letting it free. Just the sight of his cock near your pussy was making him drunk. Miguel captured your lips against in a feverish kiss as he held your hips in place. You spread your legs, moaning into him as you felt his cock starting to enter your folds. It was a good thing you masterbated beforehand.

"Tan apretado, pero tan bueno. Mírate esperando que te folle, qué buena chica eres para mí. (So tight, yet so good. Look at you just waiting for me to fuck you, what a good fucking girl you are to me.)"

        You threw your head back, moaning loudly as Miguel kept shoving his cock into you. Your walls were sucking him in as he stretched you out. His tip just rubbing against your cervix, making you cry. You tried to look at him, but Miguel started to thrust deeply into you. Your body arched as you moaned his name. He pressed your legs against him, holding your waist so that he kept his hard, deep thrusts into you.

"Un ajuste perfecto. Eres tan jodidamente perfecta, muñeca. Voy a follar este coño hasta que se llene de mi semen. Voy a hacerte mía. (A perfect fit. You're so fucking perfect, doll. Going to fuck this pussy until it's filled with my cum. Going to make you mine." Miguel moaned lowly, drunk off your pussy.

"M-Miguel~" You cried out, reaching your orgasm.

"Así es. Ábrete a mí. Tu cuerpo quiere que te dé un bebé, ¿no? (That's right. Open yourself to me. Your body wants me to give you a baby, don't you?)"

        You gasped as Miguel placed you in mating position. You bit your lower lip, never experiencing such pleasure. You could have sworn that you heard something about a baby, but at this point, you didn't care. Miguel was fucking you so good that you didn't care if he got you pregnant. You just wanted him to keep fucking you.

"(Y-Y/n), I'm....fuck...gonna fill you up..." Miguel groaned, slamming his cock into you at a more brutal pace.

        Your eyes nearly rolled backwards as you felt his cock bruise your cervix. His balls slapping so hard against your skin that it was making your legs and pussy numb. Once he slowed down, you trembled, feeling his hot semen flow into your womb. His cock was still twitching inside you as you milked him dry. Trying to come back to your senses, you breathed heavily, facing Miguel.

"We can count this as a first date," You joked, catching your breathe. Miguel's pupils were blown as he captured your lips in another harsh kiss,

"I'm not done with you, muñeca (doll.)" He pulled out slowly before slamming his cock back into you, pushing his cum back inside, "Puedo follar durante horas, cariño. Deberías haber pensado en venir aquí oliendo tan caliente. Voy a poner un bebé dentro de ti, y si no esta noche, mañana. (I can fuck for hours, sweetheart. You should have thought about coming in here smelling so horny. I'm going to put a baby inside of you, and if not tonight, then tomorrow.)" 

        You moaned as Miguel kept his pace. Tears formed from the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation. You could feel another pool of heat forming. Trying to reach for him, you let out a whine as Miguel grabbed your hands instead. He brought his fangs to your neck while his hips snapped into yours. Miguel groaned, relishing in the sounds the two of you were making. He wanted to make sure he planted a baby inside of you. Trailing his fangs against your neck, Miguel enjoyed watching you tremble,

"Así es, corre para mí. Deja que tu cuerpo se entregue a mí. (That's right, cum for me. Let your body give itself to me.)"

"Miguel!" You cried out, reaching another orgasm. Miguel hummed lowly, holding your hips against,

"Good girl." He smirked before fasting his pace to fill you once more, "Puedes darme otro, verdad? (You can give me another one, right?)

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

        You weren't sure how long Miguel kept you in his office. When you woke up, you were in Miguel's home with cum still dripping down your legs. Miguel came to check on you, apologizing for being too rough. When you told him it was fine, he started to give you light kisses. Those kisses then turned into his cock drilling you from behind with you head pressed into the mattress.

"Impresionante, ¿tu cuerpo me extrañó después de unas pocas horas? Mira cuanto semen salió, tengo que rellenarte. No puedo permitir que desperdicies mi preciosa semilla. (Awe, your body missed me after just a few hours? Look how much cum came out, I have to refill you. Can't have you wasting my precious seed.)" Miguel teased.

"M-Mig....I...I gotta-"

"Hm? Gotta what?" Miguel held your hips closer, destroying your poor cunt, "Gotta get pregnant, right? That's what my good girl wants, right?"

"Mhm...Y-Yes~" You moaned out, feeling yourself about to cum, "G-Gimme...P-Please..."

"Así es. Tu cuerpo quiere mi semen. Serías perfecto para mi bebé. Hazme padre. (That's right. Your body wants my cum. You'd be perfect for my baby. Make me a father.)" 

        You gripped the bed sheets under you, moaning into the pillow as Miguel kept his rough thrusts. At this point, you didn't care if he got you pregnant. His cock drilling your pussy was too good. You got what you wanted and shared your feelings with him, sort of. You just skipped a few steps and found out last minute that he was a breeding kink. That wasn't the worst thing.

"Mhm~" You trembled as you felt Miguel fuck you as he cummed inside your womb.

"Miguel, your assistance is needed on a mission." Lyla appeared for two seconds before vanishing. Miguel cussed lowly, holding your hips as he tried to pull one more orgasm from both you and him,

"I'll be back later, don't waste a single drop, mi vida (my world). If you do, then I'll have no choice but to fill you back up, understood?" Miguel hummed lowly, successfully making you cum again,

"Y-Yes!" You cried out. Miguel chuckled lowly, slamming his cock as deep as he could, giving you one last fill,

"Good."