#he lost his parrot and his leg :(

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki bakugou hates a lot of things

he hates people who walk slow, he hates people who chew loudly or people who talk loud in places they know damn well they shouldn’t.

he hates when people walk on the back of his shoe and he hates idiots like kaminari who talk during movies.

but most of all, katsuki bakugou hates seeing you cry.

it sparks something in him, something red, hot and so angry when he finds you in your dorm. tears running down your cheeks that show no sign of stopping. he hates it even more when you make eye contact and you curl into yourself even more from where you’re sitting on the floor.

katsuki immediately decides this is the thing he hates the most.

he’s on you in seconds, kneeling in front of you, searching around to get a peek of your face hidden in your knees. he places his hands on top of yours where they’re wrapped around your legs and his chest tightens when you flinch a little.

“ who was it ? who did this to you ?” he can’t recognize his own voice, his words come out so fast he barely registers what he’s saying.

you try to speak but nothing but more broken sobs and shaky breaths come out as you desperately try to catch your breath and katsuki realizes that you talking isn’t a priority right now.

his eyebrows are furrowed and he almost looks angry but he’s so, so worried. if anything, he’s angry at himself for being so helpless, for not being able to help you in a time where you clearly need it.

he grabs your shoulder softly and the weight his chest lightens slightly when you lean a little closer to him, before letting him pull you tightly into his arms

“breathe for me.” he utters softly, voice gruff and gravelly. he never actually talks this softly unless he’s around you, the difference is so stark it surprises him a little bit but he’s got more important things to think about. praise spills from him occasionally, muttering a “you got it. i got you” into your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple.

katsuki’s never really had to comfort anyone, he’s never felt the need to, but you’re not just anyone. your different, you’re his. his love his everything and he’ll be damned if he didn’t try his hardest for you.

you’ve calmed down a little bit, he noticed. you’re breathings calmed down a little and your sobs have been reduced to snivels. the tightness in his lungs is still there, but it’s less now.

“what’s goin’ on with you, hm ?” you’re grip tightens on his arm and you shove your head deeper into his chest. he moves his head away from your shoulder so he can place two small kisses on the top of your head

“talk to me, baby. needa know what’s up with you.” he pleads into the crown of your head. you sigh before speaking up.

“ i don’t know what’s up with me i just- it’s nothing bad i’m—” you’re desperately searching for the right words to use so what you’re about to say makes sense. “i just don’t—feel like myself today. i don’t know why, i just feel really bad today.” you let out a humorless chuckle and your voice dies out when you finish “m’sorry if i worried you” you sniffle.

he shushes you, his grip on you tightens when he hears you whimper “don’t..don’t fuckin’ apologize to me, got no reason to.” he spits. he sounds angry, and he is, why should you ever feel the need to apologize for feeling some type of way around him ?

“s’okay for you to feel that way..i do too, sometimes, you know ?” he knows you do. he knows you do because there are times where he comes to your room in tears, shaking and panicked. completely and utterly lost from the nightmares that had plagued him minutes before but knowing he had to come see you. you were there for him every time, gently soothing him and assuring him that he’d be okay. he owed it to you to do the same for you.

“s’okay to feel like shit sometimes, happens to the best of us.” he whispers “ but you can always come to me when you do, can deal with it together. an’ don’t go thinkin’ yer ‘bothering’ me either.” he says, parroting what you had just told him. “we’re together for a reason, dummy.” he’s soft spoken and his voice is so mellow despite his harsh little nickname for you, you could’ve missed it if he wasn’t sitting so close to you, it makes you a little dizzy and a little weaker in you’re already mushy knees.

he grabs your shoulders gently to get your eyes on him. they’re still a little glossy but they’re a little less dull when he looks at you “ we’re in this together, always have been, always will be, got it ? “ he asserts, waiting for your response. and then you smile at him, it’s faint but it’s there and katsuki feels like he can breathe again. he smiles back softly at you when you respond with a soft “okay.”

you suddenly grab onto him and pull him into you tightly, locking him in a tight embrace and squeezing like you’re pressing a lemon. it throws him off for a second before he’s squeezing you just as hard, pressing your body against his.

“thank you, katsuki. you’re the best” you hum. he presses a long lingering kiss to your temple as response, before squeezing around your waist “ course i am.” he gloats. the smirk on his lips grows when you snort in response “what’re you laughing about, hah? don’t think so? don’t think i’m the best ?” he jests, using this as an opportunity to tickle you mercilessly. you kick and squirm but it’s no use, katsuki doesn’t stop until you’re a heaving , giggling mess. tears in your eyes as you plead and beg for him to stop but he doesn’t let up even when you’re laying on the ground with him on top of you.

“ i ain’t hearing what i wanna hear, you know what i want from you, baby.” he chuckles at the way you desperately gasp for breath, choking on your own spit in the process.

“y-you’re the ! the best, ‘suki ! the b-bestest of the best !” you gasp out, pushing blindly at his face to get him away from you and he finally let’s you go. “felt nice enough to let you off with a warning, won’t end well for ya if you try me again.” is what he says, playfully warning you and waving his finger around in your face. you’re completely out of breath, there are tears in your eyes again but they’re happy tears this time and you still can’t stop smiling and giggling as you try to bite at his finger and katsuki is more than happy with this.

because katsuki’s favorite thing is your smile.

[kingkatsuki]

— lipstick kisses

Tsubaki and you like to kiss— it doesn’t matter where, or who’s watching.

Pairing: Tsubakino Tasuku x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, suggestive making out, dry humping, voyeurism, exhibitionism, intoxication, lipstick stains.

Word Count: 1.5k.

It wasn’t unusual for you and Tsubaki to kiss, but this time it was different. His warm palms splayed against your hips as he held you against him, lips brushing against your ear in a drunken giggle as you could smell the sugary sweetness of pomegranate soju on his breath.

“They’re all watching.”

You glanced to the side to see Tsubaki was right. The men in the room seemed to surround you like they were watching a fight, drinks clenched in tight fists as they stared at the two of you at the side of the room. Even Hiragi had stopped his conversation with Kaji to watch over the rim of his beer bottle, taking a long swig as he focused on your face as your lips curled into a coy smile.

“Let them.” You hummed, alcohol flowing through your veins and lowering your inhibitions as you reached up to throw your arms over Tsubaki’s shoulders, standing on tiptoes to try and bridge the gap as you felt your body begin to heat up under the gaze of every man in the room.

“You’re so pretty like this.” He cooed, pressing his lips against the corner of your mouth. Leaving a pretty crimson lip stain in his wake, pulling back with a satisfied grin at the sight of you trying to chase his lips, desperate to have them elsewhere.

“Not as pretty as you.” You parroted back, using your grip on his shoulders to pull him down into a sultry kiss.

Tsubaki always enjoyed putting on a show, and these parties were no different. Constantly gravitating towards each other so you could both see just how riled up you could make every man in the room. His hand started at the curve of your neck, holding you so tenderly to initiate the kiss before travelling lower. Making a scene of palming your breast through your top as he travelled lower, grasping both your hips in tender palms as he held you against him.

It was as though you’d stolen the air from the room as you heard Sakura break out into a surprised gasp somewhere to the left of you, only knowing it was him when Suo asked if he was alright. The twins should’ve been more accustom to your antics, and yet even they seemed to hold a smouldered focus on the pair of you right now.

Tsubaki’s tongue brushed against your pouty lips to deepen the kiss, taking the silent invitation as you allowed him to delve deeper. Tilting your head to the side as his tongue grazed your teeth before brushing against the roof of your mouth. Slow jams continued flowing through the speakers as you followed their rhythm, with no sense of urgency as you melted into the kiss. Tsubaki’s hands smoothed along your sides, the hem of your shirt riding up to expose your midriff as his thumbs came to rest beneath the curve of your breasts. Thumbing the underside of your bra as you moaned gently, the sound lost inside his mouth as his lips curled into a satisfied smile at your reaction.

You almost forgot about the audience as you found yourself falling deeper when Tsubaki slot a muscular thigh between your legs, pulling you impossibly closer as he pressed the flat of it against your clothed cunt. The sensation had you whining as you involuntarily ground yourself against it to try to alleviate the throb between your thighs, your poor neglected clit begging for attention as you felt your panties begin to dampen from the friction.

It was like being at one of Tsubaki’s shows— while you’d watch him spin around the pole to do his routine as you’d think about all the illicit things you wanted to do to him. Squeezing your legs together to try and pacify your concupiscence, a flurry of debased thoughts orbiting your mind as you wished for nothing more than to bury your head between his thighs.

It was then you were given an indication that people in the room were still watching as a choked gasp that came out of Sakura’s lips at the sight, as Seiryu tried to disguise a muttered “damn” beneath his breath when your skirt began to ride up from the position.

It was like you were putting on your very own show for a very different audience. It had a delicious ache in your pelvis as you imagined all the nasty things you could do with Tsubaki in front of them, the things he could do to you—

You wondered if they could see your panties from this position, see how soaked the fabric had become from the lightest of touches as Tsubaki’s lips continued to meld against yours, your tongues dancing lazily as though there was no sense of urgency as you tasted the honeyed sweetness of liquor in his mouth. Wondering how many men were hard, or palming themselves because of the lewd sight of you.

“You’re so wet.” He hummed against your mouth as your lips smacked noisily, enough to let everyone else in the room hear how messy the kiss was. Tsubaki raised a heeled foot to grind against your slit with more pressure, feeling you respond by dragging your cunt against his thigh with a shameless roll of your hips. Swallowing your whines on his tongue as you sought out much-needed friction against your neglected puffy clit, “You’re gonna make a mess of my thigh.”

Your fingers weaved through his messy locks, gliding through black strands as your nails scratched his scalp. Threading hair between your fingers as you tugged roughly, eliciting a debauched low groan from the back of his throat as you broke the kiss with a satisfied smirk. Your fingers still curled into his hair as you held his head tight at the base of his skull, watching the way his thick black lashes fluttered as he showed you the whites of his eyes. His lips bruised and kiss stained as his usually perfect crimson lipstick was now smeared across his cheeks and chin, mixed with the colour of your lipstick as the two blended together. If Tsubaki looked this fucked you wondered how you must look right now, wishing you could find a mirror to see—

“Do you want to cum, baby?” He rasped, and it had your body responding before your consciousness. Your empty cunt fluttered around nothing as your clit pulsed harshly, your hips deliberately rolled against his muscular thigh as your lips parted in a salacious whine.

“Yeah.” You panted, trying to regain your breath as he bared his teeth. Giving you a coy smile as your cunt continued to drool beneath your panties, the soaked crotch now virtually pressed between your folds as you tried to increase the friction.

“Anything for you, pretty girl.” You could feel Tsubaki’s need pressed against your hip, desperate enough to reach beneath his skirt to take what you wanted right now even with an audience as shame was shelved for the desperate desire that burned a fiery inferno inside your pelvis. Removing every rational thought and replacing it with the insatiable urge to touch him.

Just as you were about to act upon those urges, your hands stroking along his clavicle to follow a path down his chest until you reached the short hem of his skirt. Barely grazing his bare thighs as they moved to disappear beneath it, thumbs pressed into the muscle of his inner thighs before Tsubaki was pulling away. Lips curled into a coy smile as he turned back to look at the men in the room, the men who didn’t even bother trying to disguise their voyeurism as they all stared at you both.

Hiragi looked worse for wear, as he tried to shift his hips as his cock throbbed beneath tight leather pants. Umemiya’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his fist tightened around his beer bottle, showing the whites of his knuckles as he tried to cross his legs to hide the prominent bulge beneath his slacks. Sakura’s cheeks were as flushed as Tsubaki’s lipstick as you weren’t sure whether he might explode at any second, Suo had a darkened look in the eye you could see, and poor Nirei looked as though he’d cum in his pants.

Tsubaki reached out with gentle fingers, cupping your jaw as he smoothed his thumb over your chin to try and wipe away the lipstick stains he’d left there. A glazed smoulder on his face as he watched your lips curl into a pout as you kissed the pad of his thumb when it grazed your lips, your tongue escaping just enough to lap at the pad of it as he tried to stop a depraved groan from vibrating at the back of his throat as he imagined how your lips would feel on another part of his body. His cock pulsed with desire as he let you suck the freshly manicured digit between your pouty lips as you sucked gently before pulling away, dragging your bottom lip down in the process as he watched it flip back into place.

“I think I need another drink,” He murmured, deep and low as he raised an eyebrow, “Do you?”

[hey-august]

Your Captain Knows Best

Word count: ~5.2k (hello to the longest one-shot I think I've written) Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, humiliation, degradation, praise, oral - reader receiving, insertion sex, spit as lube, creampie, cum eating A/N: This comes from this wonderful request! Anon, I hope you like! 🩷 Also, shoutout to @be-not-afraid-gg for getting me on the right track with this fic! ✨

Taglist: @rorywritesjunk

“Spit on it.”

You paused mid-swipe, processing what he said. You must have taken too long to think about the three words, because Buggy pressed his boot against your shoulder. Allowing him to ease you back, you shifted your weight to rest more on your feet than your knees, and looked up at your captain.

“I know you heard me. If you don’t want to do that, then you can always lick my boots clean.”

Fuck. How did he always make such disgusting things sound so good?

Reaching up, you brought Buggy’s foot back down to rest your lap. The grit of dried saltwater, gunpowder, and other debris caught on your fingertips. You weren’t going to lick his boots (not this time, at least), but you would gladly do what your captain asked for.

As a frothy glob settled onto the leather and waited for you to spread it around, a crewmember stopped by to review the plans for tonight’s show. A heat crept up your face. They had to have seen you struggle to collect enough saliva to clean the filthy boot. You focused on the task at hand, smearing the liquid with a rag.

“Right, and cut this act. It’s not happening tonight.”

The other pirate repeated your name to confirm the act. A nudge against your lap signaled that it was your turn to join the conversation.

Looking up, you gave a small smile. An understanding smile. 

“The captain knows what’s best.” Another nudge. “Besides, I’m really not that good. I would make everyone else look bad.” Another nudge. “And I don’t want to ruin the crew’s reputation by making a mistake.”

The grin on Buggy’s face grew with each comment you parroted from your training sessions. He had spent countless hours trying to get you to meet your marks and not make obvious fuck-ups, but that attention was a double-edged sword.

Just as his rare praise had your heart pounding, Buggy’s ‘motivational speeches’ during practice sessions made your knees weak. Every pause to keep your balance when your legs threatened to give way, every moment trying to catch your breath, every second lost in your sordid thoughts, everything resulted in errors that you couldn’t hide from a seasoned performer. No matter how subtle. And each blunder was followed with hissed complaints that made your knees shake.

Even when Buggy resorted to other motivational measures, they didn’t have the effect he intended. The burning shame of spending a day with ‘fuck up’ written on the back of your hands, or ‘I make stupid mistakes’ scrawled down your arm was not as strong as the heat that pooled in your body when Buggy held you tight enough to leave bruises while writing those incentives. Even if everyone could see what a failure you were, you felt proud of earning those marks, written by your captain.

Both unfortunately and fortunately for you, Buggy caught on. He noticed the way you were almost too eager to offer your body for his inspiring writings. Dark pupils overtaking the color in your eyes became obvious, despite your attempts to avoid his gaze. The breath you’d hold when he was close and when he touched you, all to hide the sounds that you’d only release when you were alone in bed with a hand between your legs. But an echo of those needy sounds carried through when you’d sigh in relief (or maybe frustration) when he pulled away.

At the end of one particular long pointless practice, Buggy was fed up with your failures. He was irritated with how much time he spent on you, while getting nothing in return. But the moment he snarled out, “attention whore,” your wide-eyed expression and stammers became the bow on a gift that he realized was his to unwrap. 

He tugged at the packaging by asking you if that’s what he should write today. If you wanted him to label you as an ‘attention whore’ for everyone to see. Shit, you couldn’t disagree with the truth. You couldn’t lie. Not at this moment. You felt yourself unravel, feeling exposed as you nodded rapidly and rushed to comment about how the captain knows best.

Boosted by the compliment, Buggy also had your costume changed. The stack of folded clothing was handed over at the end of a meeting. What was once more form fitting and flexible was replaced with items that were baggy and woven - ultimately more constricting than what you previously wore. You waited until the crew began to disperse before approaching Buggy. 

“Captain, I think I got the wrong costume.”

A quick glance was all he needed to confirm. “No, that’s the right one. Go change.”

“But Captain-”

“Do you think you know better than me?” The sharp question slipped from a tight grin. Buggy tilted his head and waited for an answer.

The question caught the attention of the few pirates in the area, whose conversations shifted in the wake of this discussion. Subtly wasn’t a strength among the crew, but eavesdropping apparently was.

“No, it’s just- It’s not what I’m used to wearing,” you explained nervously.

“Oh, you prefer your old costume?” The smile on Buggy’s face finally reached his eyes with a glint.

You nodded.

“So you like showing off your body.” It wasn’t a question. “See, I think that’s why you keep fucking up. You like the attention. You want people to watch you.”

A familiar heat was coursing through your body, already setting your face alight. Yes, you liked the attention, but from only one particular person. The person who leaned closer to continue his monologue. 

Buggy hooked a finger under your chin and continued, “I’m right, aren’t I? Or are you such a greedy attention whore that you need to have your body on display all the time?”

Buggy’s low voice stoked the fire that was consuming you, combining the flames of embarrassment and desire into a raging inferno.

“No, Captain.” The words came out in a whisper as light as ash.

“Remember what you said - Your captain knows what’s best.” Moving his hand from beneath your chin, Buggy cupped your cheek. He winked when you nodded against his touch and broke away with a pat that bordered on a light smack.

You were pulled back from those memories when a second boot dropped into your lap, the heel digging into your leg.

“Spit.”

---

The show went off without any issues. Mostly. You stayed backstage doing simple tasks to help each act progress smoothly. Making sure there was fresh water for the performers, cutting lemons for the demanding divas, and grabbing accessories and props that were forgotten until the last minute. You also stood in the wings, ready to compliment and praise those who came off stage with pissed off expressions, spewing anger about the lack of excitement from the captive audience.

Although you weren’t performing, you wore the new costume. At this point it was more of a daily uniform, due to the disapproving looks Buggy would shoot your way whenever you wore something else. Any substitutions or adjustments were guaranteed to be met with raised eyebrows, sneers, and shakes of his head that would cause his blue hair to dance with disappointment. But the worst was the silent treatment. The moments his eyes would glaze when they drifted past you, when he willfully ignored your presence like a petulant child. But the spark in his eyes made up for all the trade-offs that accompanied your new uniform. 

As you ran laps to hit different dressing rooms, the green room, various prop bins, plus the kitchen to refill water pitchers and chop citrus fruits, a heat started building up under your clothes. A big number on set created a lull backstage, which you took as a moment to find an empty corner, lean against a storage barrel, and relax. 

You tugged at your woven top to let fresh air waft in, but the humid feeling returned the moment you stopped. In need of something longer lasting, you started to unbutton the shirt. Freeing two of the shell buttons was just enough for better circulation. 

“That’s not how you’re supposed to dress.” The remark was flat, weighed down by disappointment. 

Shit.

You expected Buggy to be clowning around and schmoozing with the audience, not skulking around backstage like you.

“I just- I needed to cool down,” you explained, pulling at the chest of your shirt as if the demonstration would excuse the faux pas.

Buggy watched, his eyes lingering on your glistening chest. You felt bare, like the two buttons revealed far too much. Reaching up to fix yet another mistake, you were stopped by a pair of disembodied gloved hands. The tight grip rolled your knuckles against each other and large thumbs dug until the meat of your palms.

“By exposing yourself?”

The accusation struck a sweaty nerve. “It’s not a lot! It’s just two buttons,” you spat. “I’m still dressed. It’s not like you can actually see anything.”

“Ahh, so you do want to be seen? You like when people stare at you? I mean, I figured that’s why you’re such a fuck up on stage. I didn’t know stripping was an option, though. We could work that into the next show.”

“No! That’s not-”

“I thought I knew best,” Buggy cut you off with a sing-song voice.

The swell of muffled music seeping into the back areas matched the anxiety surging in your body. Thoughts of taking off your clothes, piece by piece, while Buggy watched, danced in your mind. They traipsed and tumbled to the truth - that you did want to be seen. That you liked it when he stared at you. When Buggy paid attention to you. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“...you do. You’re right, Captain. I wasn’t wearing my costume correctly, I’m sorry.” Hopefully this acknowledgement would distract him from the other accurate observations.

Maybe it was a trick in the dim lighting, but it looked like Buggy’s eyes sparkled at your response.

“Good, I’m right. So you’ll be in the next show. We could end with a flashy number…” Buggy’s hands released yours and started gesturing in the air as he turned away with his grandiose planning.

“Wait!” You lunged forwards to pull back the one-sided agreement. Desperate fingertips grazed against his heavy coat but were unable to take hold.

“Hm, you have a good point,” Buggy said, splitting and spinning his top half to face you. “Maybe we should wait. You might be terrible at this too. I know - we’ll have an audition.”

With that, he twirled and reassembled in time with a crescendo of music that ended with a lion’s roar and strained applause.

“My room, after the show.”

---

You stood in the middle of the captain’s quarters on an island of discarded clothes and covered only in goosebumps. The muffled sounds of a raging afterparty weren’t enough to cover your shallow breathing or the scratch of pen on paper as Buggy wrote down notes about the night’s show. He hardly spared you a look after telling you to get undressed. Although you removed the clothes slowly, your half-assed, untalented striptease went unnoticed. Eventually you stood in the same spot, entirely exposed.

Every little shift you made to adjust to the rolling waves, or to keep your thoughts anchored, went unnoticed. You were able to watch Buggy from the corner of your eye and see how immersed he was in the paperwork.

His bushy brows furrowed as he chewed on the thumb of his glove in between scribbles. Papers were shuffled and unnecessary pages slammed back on the desk. This wasn’t performative - he was actually working. And it was captivating. Both because he was deeply invested in the work, but also because you didn’t know how to interrupt. Or if you even should.

That possibility was taken away from you by a flurry of knocks on the wooden door. Your heart sped up to match the pace of each rap from the unknown visitor. Was the door locked? What if they came in and saw you like this? You turned to stare at Buggy, who still didn’t look at you.

“What?” Buggy groaned loudly, throwing his head to the ceiling and leaning back in his chair.

“Captain, we’re running low on refreshments.” The words slurred their way through the door.

“Okay, and…?” The question trailed off into a pause. A heavy pause that rang in your head.

The doorknob rattled. And turned. It wasn’t fucking locked. He didn’t lock the fucking door. There wasn’t much you could do to improve this predicament. You could hold your clothes to your body and try to preserve some of your dignity. Then again, how much was left at this point? Hiding behind furniture was a terrible option - you weren’t going to play a messed up version of naked hide-and-seek.

Faster than you could consider other options, a gloved hand whizzed forwards and held the door shut. The few centimeters it creaked open were pushed back and met with a drunken grunt.

“I’m busy,” Buggy said loudly and slowly, his voice soaked with annoyance. “Exactly what do you need me for?”

“We’re running out of drinks, cap’n.”

“You already said that.” Buggy rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Can-” The sloshed pirate must have pressed his lips against the edge of the door before continuing. “Can we open more barrels?”

The request slid around the door, entering the room with clarity that sent anxiety and adrenaline surging through your body. Although you knew he was on the other side of the door, knowing someone else was so close sent tingles down the back of your head and spine before reaching around to prick your bare chest. As the conversation continued without you, the turbulent waves gave way to softer swells and your thoughts started to drift. Sure, you were still being ignored and you were still naked, but there was a strange feeling of safety.  

The discussion ended with a threat of bathroom duty if anything more than four barrels and a case of wine was opened. The door lock clicked and stillness returned to the room. Your mind came back to your body, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the condition it was in. Of the growing tension and sensitivity. Of the warmth that started to collect down low. Each sensation was amplified when you realized that you were no longer being ignored.

Buggy remained at his desk, head cocked to the side and resting on a gloved hand. The aqua color of his eyes poured over your exposed skin, ice cold and boiling hot at the same time.

“I think we’re just going to strip you of all performance duties. It wasn’t flashy enough,” he finally said.

“You barely even watched! You weren’t paying attention to m-” Shit. The words started flowing before you could even register what order they were in and you slapped your mouth shut too late.

The grin on Buggy’s face nearly put his painted smile to shame. “Say that again. Tell me what you really wanted to say.”

You didn’t want to. You wanted to put your clothes back on, go back to your room, curl up, and pretend none of this happened.

“C’mon, I want to hear you tell your captain that he’s right,” Buggy coaxed through that devastating smile. How could he make those words sound so soft and so dangerous? So enticing?

“I wanted-”

“I can’t hear you.”

Your hand fell from your mouth at the flat interruption

“I wanted you to pay attention to me, Captain.”

He nodded along to your words and into the silence after you finished speaking. You weren’t done.

“I…I like it.”

“Because?” Buggy pushed you to keep going, rather than continuing to drag each word from your pretty lips. Lips that you licked nervously before giving Buggy what he wanted. 

“Because I’m an attention whore,” you confessed.

“Again.”

“I’m an attention whore.” 

Fuck, yes you were. Everytime he made you say these words, you felt like you were stripping again - removing your sense of self and exposing who you really were inside. Someone who would do near anything in hopes of capturing his eyes and his mind. Anything he asked of you, no matter how ridiculous or humiliating, just to hear your name on his tongue.

“Louder.”

Buggy was a cat who finally caught a scrumptious canary, holding it between his paws. He was enjoying this game. And so were you, but you were ready to take it to the next level and this was your chance.

“I’m your whore, Captain!”

For once, the smarmy look on Buggy’s face flickered. Eyebrows raised slightly in surprise and the corners of his smile fell before transforming into a wolfish grin. Leaning back in his chair, the captain beckoned you closer with a tantalizing curl of two fingers.

As you walked forwards, Buggy reclined and spread his legs into an indecently dominant pose. Another twitch from his finger told you to lower yourself. You were more than glad to kneel before your captain. Trapped between his body heat and your desire, you barely noticed the rough wood floor digging into your bare knees.

A gloved hand floated over and cupped your chin. The leather from his performance gloves was rich and velvety. Softening into his touch, you felt a twinge of worry that you might melt completely. Meeting his watchful gaze, the worry dissipated. Now you wanted nothing more than to dissolve, to fall apart because of him.

The hold was replaced with a nudge against your lips. The silent request quickly changed into a demand as two fingers slid into your barely open mouth. You accepted the intrusion, dropping your jaw to accommodate the thick digits and welcome them into the back of your throat. With your bottom lip resting against the leather on the palm of his hand, Buggy’s fingers began to wiggle and flex, becoming acquainted with your insides and testing your limits. 

You were given a moment of respite, just enough time to fill your lungs with fresh air, before Buggy began pumping his hand into your waiting mouth. Your tongue lolled out with the movement, turning into an escape route for the excess drool that couldn’t soak into his glove. Whenever your eyebrows furrowed a little too tightly, you were given the briefest second to catch your breath. 

Eventually satisfied with fingerfucking your throat, Buggy recalled his hand. You could both see the discoloration from your spit. Buggy flexed his fingers to admire the handiwork before removing his gloves. Then he unbuckled his belt, the sound of which nearly had you drooling again. You wiped your mouth, just in case.

“Undo my pants. You need to see what you do to me,” Buggy said in a low voice.

The lunge of your greedy hands was stopped by an addendum.

“Ah-ah, no hands.” Buggy licked his painted lips and pursed them into a little kiss that fluttered down to you and settled in your stomach.

Oh, that’s what he meant. Dropping your hands, you leaned forwards and used your nose to push away the hem of his shirt. It wasn’t slippery material, but you struggled to move it enough to reach the hardware on his pants. Buggy took pity (or maybe he was too horny to watch you struggle for long) and pulled up his shirt, exposing a patch of blue hair trailing down to the treasure you were desperate to reach.

Another hand found a resting spot on the back of your head. It followed your movement as you twisted and turned, tilted and tugged, bit and nibbled. Sometimes his hold would work against you, causing you to slip and bump into his erection. Each press against his twitching member gave you motivation to keep trying until you were finally able to unbutton his pants and pull at them enough to undo the zipper.

“Good job,” Buggy groaned, delighted that you made it this far.

He pressed your face against his cock, which was still hidden beneath his underwear. Buggy made sure to rub your lips against the wet spot of precum. It was a little salty and more than delicious. You wanted more. Needed more. You wrapped your lips around his head and sucked on the soggy fabric, surprising Buggy. His fingers tightened in your hair as a strained groan escaped his mouth.

Spurred by the reaction, you licked along the underside of his clothed erection. You moved slowly and let your spit pave the way. Every pulsing throb that pressed against your tongue whetted your appetite. It added to the hunger in your body and soul until you were aching, so painfully full of desire that had no escape. Regretfully, you pulled back. The hand on the back of your head shook slightly at the break in contact.

“What? Are you done?” he asked between breaths.

You shook your head, mesmerized. Buggy’s eyes were hazy. Fogged up and unfocused. His face was sprinkled with a pink blush and beads of sweat. His chest was heaving. And he looked so damn good.

“Use your words, fuck. W-why’d you stop?” Fingers twitched in your hair.

“More… I want more. Please, I need y-!!” 

The rushing stream was stalled by a yelp when Buggy’s hands hoisted you on top of his desk. From your new height, you watched your captain lower himself before you, claiming the space between your legs as his. Suddenly, his mouth was on you. His tongue touching you. Fingers digging into your thighs.

Everything left you in that moment. Every thought, the air in your chest, the ability to hold yourself upright, all of it taken away in one fell swoop. Worried about falling backwards and losing sight of Buggy indulging in a feast, you reached for him. Your hands fumbled, unable to find purchase with his hat or that damn bandana. Knocking both out of the way, your fingers found what they needed in his blue hair. A growl rumbled through his throat and ripped through your body at the desperation in your grip. 

Buggy came at you with increased ferocity. With a wildness that had you crying out in excitement and fear. That damn mouth of his wasn’t just talented at turning phrases. Fuck. You felt like Buggy would swallow you down in one gulp if he could. 

He ate and ate, consuming you like he had been consuming your thoughts for as long as you’ve been on the ship. With each lick, nibble, suck, reverberating groan, and mumbled nothings against your skin, you responded. Your toes curled. Your legs shook. Your fingers tightened and released. His name poured from your lips on repeat, becoming a jumble of syllables in your ears.

You could see stars, they were within reach. Swollen and ready to explode. But before they could shower you in their delicious warmth, they disappeared.

“Is that the best you can do?” The question wasn’t said with lips against your skin. You looked down, bleary eyed and confused. “I’m giving you all of this attention and you’re quieter than a mouse’s fart.”

What the fuck. Your head was swirling, mourning the loss of those sweet stars. His name lingered on your tongue, the full-bodied taste leaving behind an emptiness. What more could he want?

“Are you afraid everyone will hear you? Don’t you want to show me what a good job I’m doing?”

Your eyes fluttered, the stars returning to the edge of your vision. You nodded, promising to do a better job. Promising that you wouldn’t fuck up, like you usually do.

Buggy stood up and rushed to pull down his pants, clanging his belt against the wooden desk in his excitement. His pants and underwear caught around his knees, but he didn’t move to shimmy them lower. Now the focus was on his thick cock, dripping with precum that begged to be spread and smeared. 

It looked so heavy. So fucking thick and heavy. Buggy’s smile twitched at your reaction, caught between embarrassment and pride.

“C’mere, show me what a whore you are,” Buggy said, interrupting your assessment. “Show me you can take it.”

Your movement forwards was aided by his bare hands on your ass. Rough calluses on soft skin. Fingers digging into supple flesh. Buggy’s touch was searing hot, etching his hold on your body so that you felt it even when he let go. He lined himself up, stopping just as his body kissed your entrance. A passionate kiss that he continued with his lips against yours.

“Spit on it,” he murmured around your bottom lip, which was trapped between his teeth.

Buggy just barely missed getting headbutted as you pitched forwards, more impatient than eager. You wanted to see his cock again. You wanted to coat it. To feel it. To have it inside. You wanted it so badly. Gifting him a mouthful to use as lubricant, you hoped that he would give you what you craved in return.

And he did. You watched as Buggy pushed inside, slowly. So tantalizingly slow. It seemed impossible that he’d fit, especially if he wasn’t going to shove it in. But it did. Your body stretched to accommodate Buggy’s wonderfully thick cock. You whined and hissed through the intrusion, relishing the pleasure and pain he brought.

“It- it fits,” you gasped.

“Uh-huh, I knew you could do it. Such a good fucking whore for your captain.” Buggy paused with his hips slotted against yours, shoulders rising and falling with each restrained breath he took. “A tight one…m’gonna change that.”

Your eyes fluttered and rolled as he pulled back and began fucking you as promised. You felt entirely at his mercy, caged by his body and stretched to your limit. Your nails dragged across his clothed shoulders, catching on ripples in the fabric, rather than scratching his skin and muscles. Tight muscles. All of Buggy was hard and tight.

“I can take it,” you urged. “Please, just fuck me. Use me.” 

The steady tempo turned into a staccato at your words. “That’s it, that’s my good whore,” Buggy said, his voice dripping with pleasure. “Keep that fucking mouth open, I need to hear you take it.”

He slammed into you, little lights exploding behind your eyelids. A little taste of the stars that you knew were coming. Slack jawed, you let your moans fall in time with his thrusts. Moans and cries of delight echoed off of him as you clung loosely to his body. You barely heard Buggy’s demand before his teeth were digging into your shoulder. A loud shout met his demand and raised the level of the sounds that fell from your mouth.

Fingers in your hair tilted your head to the side. “Louder. Don’t tell me you’re afraid they’ll hear you being fucked by your captain,” Buggy growled against your ear. A bite on your earlobe brought another increase in volume and tears to your eyes.

You shook your head and called out his name. Another nip. Another nibble. You cried out louder. Your hands began shaking. You pleaded, crying Buggy’s name on repeat against his shoulder. Arms wrapped around your back and held you closer, pressing you harder against his mean thrusts.

“C’mon, you can do it…”

That was it. That was all you needed. Even if you couldn’t put on a good performance for the circus, you certainly could do this. You could take this. You could take a rough fuck from your captain. You could cry his name to the heavens, to the stars that would explode with you. 

Moans stretched into screams that scratched your throat. His name stretched into high-pitched cries that hurt your ears. Incoherent pleas took all your breath and made your lips numb. Yet, with all the cacophony you created, all you could hear was your captain’s sweet, sweet praise.

“Come on my cock like a good whore,” he rasped, clearly struggling to hold back his own orgasm.

“I can-I can do i- I’m cu-” The words were choked out of you. The immense pressure that built up was too much, but it kept growing, taking all the space left in your body. Carrying you away until everything exploded. Until starlight and shimmers filled your vision. 

For a moment, you were gone. You hardly existed. Everything wiped clean. And then you were back in your body. Back to feeling all sorts of sinful things. Your body was still struggling against all the pressure that had built up. Trying but failing to squeeze against Buggy’s thick intrusion, which was still ravaging your body. The bright cries that ripped through you were now edging into dry sobs of pleasure.

Your performance was finally rewarded. Buggy’s own sounds were strangled as he came, depositing a hot load of cum deep in your body. He fucked through each pulsing shot, your tension milking him until his balls were drained and you were full. Uncomfortably full.

Buggy’s orgasm ended with a groaning sigh as he nearly collapsed against you. One arm was still holding you close, while the other rested on the desk, propping you both up.

The room felt stuffy, yet empty. Full of everything that just happened, but the sounds of passion were replaced with the dim soundtrack of the ship’s party. After a few minutes reveling in this atmosphere, Buggy peeled himself off your sticky body. He raked a hand through his hair, dragging the loose strands stuck to his forehead back into place. A casual movement that was so… He winced as your body clenched around him, an appreciation for the view.

“So needy,” he said through a crooked smile. A weary but pleased grin.

Arms on your knees kept your legs spread, as Buggy pulled out. Disconnected hands were right there, thumbs on either side of your used hole to keep it open. Gaping. Drooling white cum. 

A shiver tore through your body at the feeling of his heavy load sliding down and out. A shiver that was frozen in place when a finger scooped up some and brought it to your lips. A moan traded places with the offering, exiting your mouth as Buggy’s coated finger entered. The mingled taste was wonderful, so fucking tasty. And his cum was such a soothing texture on your aching throat.

---

You woke up feeling almost hungover - not because of alcohol though. Your body throbbed and your head was spinning, but it was pleasant. A weight on your chest kept you pinned to the bed. Buggy was haphazardly draped across your body, his head and arm resting on your torso, and a leg hooked around yours. He was still sound asleep. Closed eyes tracked his dreams and his snoring breath skated across your skin. 

Gently, you brought over an arm to push some hair from his face. He looked so beautiful in the moonlight. The snores quieted for a moment.  Then they were replaced by a heavy sigh and a tighter embrace. Tucking his arm around you more and curling his leg to hug yours, Buggy snuggled against you and fell back into his deep slumber. As his breaths crinkled back into snores, they carried you back to sleep.

A sweet, comforting sleep, well-earned after a performance that you didn’t fuck up for once. All because your captain knows best.

[sapchat]

A Fucking Rat

Simon Riley x GN Reader

For GPD's May CoD writing challenge Prompt 42

Simon Riley Pet sits for Reader      Prompt #42

I have head cannons for each of them on what type of pet I think their SO would have. Simon’s significant other would have a ferret. I’m sorry but he screams ferret boyfriend.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN Reader     Fluff <3         Words: 1.4k

Warnings: Might be a bit of ooc Simon. Just some cussing, gender-neutral terms used. Ferret blasphemy

It started as a simple question. One Simon figured he’d be able to complete. “Can you watch Darrel for me?” Easy. That’s all that was requested of him by his… relationship? He thinks you’re dating, granted he also doesn’t want to ask 6 months into whatever it is y’all are. You stated you weren't much for 'labels'.

The issue is, he just assumed that Darrel is a cat. Or a dog. He didn’t expect you to own a fucking ferret. So, tell him why he is now trying to find where it’s gone, as he’s on the phone telling you it's doing great! Ferret is 100% okay and definitely not lost in your apartment.

“But you found the food for him, right?” You had asked him over the phone, Simon had you on speaker on the counter beside the cage.

“Yeah, found that pretty quickly, right where you said it’d be. How’s the trip going?” He’s moving the couch cushions around trying to figure out where the little shits ran off to. Opened the cage door just to turn around and put the food in and out came the wiggly little bastard.

“It’s going okay, wish I was home though, I hate being away whilst you’re back from deployment. Also, why do you sound so far away? What’re you doing?” Shit. You heard him.

“I just misplaced the remote. Think it fell in between the cushions. Nothing happening.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. Darrel. Shooting across the living room. So, Simon follows as quietly as he can, being 6’5. And yet he misses him by seconds.

“Check behind the cushions, usually with you they don’t fall between them, but slip behind you towards the back.” You remind him, as this has been an occurrence before.

“Where the fuck…” It’s muttered, Simon hopes you can’t hear him trying to find your beloved pet.

“What’s that noise? You got a cold?” Simon hears you ask, which makes him turn to see Darrel on the phone. So, Simon does the only thing he can think of and grabs the blanket to toss it over everything.

Covering the counter, phone, and ferret all in one swoop. The issue? Darrel squeals. Which tips you off.

“Simon! What’s happening?” You panic, hear the squealing and the scuffle, but then you hear something else.

“Got you, you fuck.” It’s Simon finally getting him cornered and caught.

“Simon, what the hell is happening?” You hear him cuss, then the noises of Darrel making little noises you refer to as ‘happy dook’. And as you get annoyed at the fact you don’t get a response, you tap the ‘Facetime’ button on the screen. Waiting for Simon to accept the call the first thing you see when he does, is Darrel, mouth open with Simon holding his scruff.

“Little slimy bastard is what he is,” Simon informs holding the little terror.

He hears and sees you laughing at his statement, “He slipped past you didn’t he?”

“Why do you have to own a rat of all things? Why not a cat, or shit a parrot?” It’s said in a grumble, as he fixes his hold on the ferret, massive hands moving to hold under his legs. Then sticking him back in his cage to eat.

“When I got the apartment the landlord's rules were ‘pet either had to be in a cage or tank’. So, I got a ferret. Birds are… I don’t know I think they’re messy.” You inform, doing a little finger wave to the pet.

“So, you got a rat. Not a fish?”

“Simon, leave your adoptive son alone,” You tell him, then move your attention back to Simon. “How’d he slip past you Mr. SAS Lieutenant?”

“He slipped past as I was grabbing his food. Ran around the room, he’s coming on next deployment with how he gets in and out of places though.”

A laugh sounds out, and Simon can see your nose crinkled as you do, “Don’t send our son to war. He’d never make it past basic.”

Simon lets out a small chuckle, “Just give him to Johnny to deal with. He’ll get ‘em through.”

“Johnny would lose him instantly. Would probably try strapping a knife to him and send him through the halls.” You laugh as you say the second part, and Simon knows you’re picturing the Scot strapping a knife to the little weasel. “God Price would probably put rat traps out.”

There’s a gruff laugh in response, “Wouldn’t allow it.”

You just hum in response, “Well, just remember you’re free to stay there whilst I’m gone. Don’t care if you do or don’t. Just let Darrel run around for a few hours, he’ll make his way back to the cage when he’s done.”

“You let the rat run around unsupervised?”

“He’s not a rat. He’s a ferret. Weasel family. You should know that. Also, yes, I do, he’s usually free roaming whenever I’m home, but I won’t make ya do that.” You tell him, then add, “Oh watch your toes. He’ll bite ‘em if he can. OH, and your keys. Actually, just anything that might have a bit of a shine. If you notice anything is missing, just check that cubby under the TV. He’ll have stuff stashed there.”

“Great, so he’ll steal my keys, bite my feet. Anything else I should worry about?”  He questions.

“Nah, that’s just for if you decide to let him roam about. Are you up to date on shots?”

It’s stated bluntly as if you’re going to add something else, and it makes Simon turn in the direction of your face on the screen.

“This little rat has a disease?”

“Simon, he’s not a rat. Also, no I’m just fucking with ya. But if I come back from this trip and my child is dead, I’m coming for your kneecaps, Simon Riley. Nothing will hide you from me.” It’s blunt, meant to be a threat, but coming over Facetime, doesn’t make it too scary. Simon’s had worst threats made against him.

“He’ll be alive when you get back,” Simon grunted out, reassuring you of the fact. “Any plans for tomorrow?” He asked, changing the subject from the rat. Weasel.

“Not really, did that hike today, I’ll send some photos from it. Want any souvenirs?” Simon wants to roll his eyes at that but knows that some people do enjoy traveling. His being in the military makes it lackluster.

“Skyros is known for what again? Crafting?”

“Close, known for ceramics, woodcarving, embroidery. The classics,” You inform.

Simon seems to hum in thought, “Grab me something you think I’ll use. Or think I need.” He tells, knowing you’d find him something you think ‘screams Simon.’

“Will do, got Price a mug, which seems like I’m trying to find a gift for my father but anyway, Johnny a Scottish flag burned into some wood. Gaz took longer but found him this book of poems, some of which are claimed to be originals but there were like 5 other copies of the same book. Buy the book you get an original coin from like 400 BC, which is real. Can add it to his coin collections he’s found through your guys' travels.”

Simon knows then that is one of his favorite things about you. How you’ve accepted the team as a family, don’t see them as anything else. Buy them little trinkets when things remind you of them all.

“They’ll all enjoy them. But you know you don’t have to buy them anything. They’ll say the same.”

“I know they will. But they’re the boys.” You smile, then say, “If you won’t be nice to them then I gotta.” It’s said with a laugh. The tease coming through the phone.

Simon huffs a laugh, “Because I’m so rude. Should watch out, might replace me with you.”

“Only if little Darrel comes with.” He watches your smile through the phone screen, wishing you were here instead on some Greek island. The mention of the pet makes him look back at the cage across the room seeing the ferret’s beady little eyes staring at him.

Simon sighs, shaking his head and just states, “A fucking rat for a pet.”

“He’s not a rat!”

Gaz's s/o would have a horse. Seems like the type of guy who would love coming out and seeing you ride your horse. Soap's s/o has a cat, a little wriggly bastard who's always getting into shit. Like Soap. Price's s/o would have a dog. I picture a little (ethically bred where it can fucking breath, like og. or maybe adopted) French bulldog. Price would be the type of guy who would be like 'I'm not being seen with this thing.' cut to 3 weeks later he's dressing it in bows. And of course, Simon with his little weasel child.

@glitterypirateduck

[hyewka]

having beomgyu sit on your lap all docile and pretty, long legs over yours, spreading wide like the slut he is—hard clothed dick building a tent down there you find it so endearing how quick he turns putty under your gaze, proved by the already a small blob of wet stain on his pants growing slowly but gradually, yet he has the audacity to act shy and bashful. his eyes are squeezed shut, nuzzling his nose in your chest to avoid the mirror in front of you— he should know by now this takes out all the fun for you.

“gyu, look at the mirror for like 30 seconds at least come on baby,” you whine trying to catch his face, trying to appeal to him with a nickname youve learnt he quite enjoys.

it doesnt work, he just nuzzles further in your clothes.

“god no, do you know how embarrassing this is?” he groans, “just—just touch me please. i need you so bad, been waiting for so long.” he mumbles, shifting on your leg impatiently.

you roll your eyes. typical beomgyu, he always expects princess treatment without working for it. its like you spoilt him too much with too many toys. its clear as day that thats exactly the case because at your silence he doesnt take the hint and blindly searches for your hand, and when he quickly finds it, has the double audacity of grabbing it and trying to push it down his pants like a fucking sex addict, and for a moment he gets the satisfaction of your warm hands, sighing of relief, whimpering, as you process just how bratty he is.

you gasp when it dawns on you, feeling the stickiness of his precum, retracting your hand from his weak hold easily. and really, where did he learn to be so entitled? “fuck, have you lost your mind? is the only thing on your mind getting off your small dick? whos the one in control here?” he has anything but a small dick, but if you need to get beomgyu under you properly you need to attack something he prides

he mumbles something and you tut at him. “speak up, youre a big boy.”

“it’s not small,” he parrots again, all with his eyes still screwed shut like a fucking baby.

of course thats what he focuses on.

“whos the one in control?” you ask again with more conviction in your voice, hand travelling to scratch gently in his inner thighs. this drives him crazy, you know how it usually goes.

you stare at the mirror, the way his adam apple bobs up and down, shifting his head to lean back on your shoulder, his breathing fanning against your neck, increasingly by the minute getting more frantic and unrhythmically fast like a dog in heat. and you get more bruising with the act, getting crazily close to where he wants you to touch.

he breaks.

he always does.

and its even better watching it happen, reflecting it back to you.

the way he spasms, hair over his eyes, mouth hung open as he spills filth.

“touch me, touch me please, fuck, touch me! y-you’re in control, im your whore, i’m yours, i’m your everything baby, please just t-touch my dick please please! haa—t-t—” moaning mess, the neighbours could probably hear with how loud he is. you break into a grin, looking at him through the mirror. “poor baby wants me to touch his dick sooo bad.”

“yes! yes! please, yes!” he blabbers, reaching out for your hand again, struggling to get it this time because youve placed them conveniently behind you, knowing hed try to pull that shit again. he really only thinks with his dick huh?

“open your eyes then, look at yourself. look at how i touch you gyu.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Can we get cherry jks reaction when Mc finally shows her tattoo to jk😊 thanks

A/N: Warnings for sexual tension

"So." He grins.

"..So." You parrot back, though not as confident.

You're both sitting on his couch again, facing each other. Suddenly, you feel odd. What if he's disappointed by your body? What if he thinks you're a lot prettier than you actually are? And what if he thinks your tattoo is stupid, badly made, or doesn't suit you?

"Do you wanna.. take it off yourself, or..?" He wonders casually, leaning his head a bit to the side.

"..you." You point towards him, unable to really bring yourself to undress. It's not even all that bad- he's gonna be able to see the tattoo without you taking off your bra anyways. You're not gonna have to get naked.

But you kind of want to be, just to see what he thinks of you.

He's clearly scanning your face and rest of you for any sign of discomfort as he scoots closer to you, fingers pulling your shirt out from where you had it tucked into your shorts, before he slowly lifts it up, your hands lift to make it easier for him to pull it over your head.

Of course your underwear would be cute- lace rim sitting snug against your skin, little bows placed right where the straps begin, one singular one right in between the two cups that hold your tits all securely inside.

He actually thought about what they maybe look like. He didn't think they'd look this pretty.

"Can I touch you?" He wonders, and you shrug, before nodding, his hands surprisingly warm as he smiles, before he leans in a little closer. "Lay back for me a little, yeah?" He asks, voice lower than before, less clear, a lot more breathy. You nod, letting him help you lay back down as he sits right over your legs, knees digging into the couch below so that he doesn't put his weight on you.

He pushes up the hem under your bra, but you notice he's struggling a little not to go too far-

so you move your hands and unhook the back of your bra, catching him off guard as his hands leave you, eyes wide open before he laughs, face resting on your stomach, exhale from his nose tickling your skin.

"God damnit woman, give a man a warning!" He scolds, looking back up at you. "I thought I broke it!" He complains, causing you to laugh as well now.

"Sorry." You apologize, and he shakes his head, before he looks back at you. "You can take it off too." You approve, and he licks his lips, gaze now darkening quite a bit at the prospect of being allowed to do something like that.

He looks almost concentrated as he rids you off your underwear, leaving it to hang over the backrest of the couch to not get lost.

"That's, without exaggeration-" He says, leaning back a bit to look at you. "-the best pair of tits I've ever seen." He nods, playfully acting impressed, like an art-critic looking at a painting revealed. "Like, I know I'm supposed to look at the tattoo but wow.. can I touch them?" He wonders, and you nod- his entire demeanor making you feel awfully comfortable.

His palms immediately take the place of your bra earlier, and he personally thinks his hands are a way better fit and sight than the undergarment.

But maybe that's just him.

The moment he finds the tattoo however, he's interested. Fine lines, some already quite faded, no shadowing whatsoever. It's a simple flower design, very pretty, doesn't need any bold colors or more additions to it.

It's fine as it is. Fits you perfectly.

"I could re-trace those lines here. They're almost invisible- which happens a lot with fine line artworks.." He mumbles, before he notices your thighs move together.

Oh?

One look up reveals your flushed face, and only now does he notice the way his fingers must've continuously brushed over your by now hardened nipples. "But maybe I gotta get more familiar with... the client first." he purrs, hands moving as his body moves to lay lower, now his chin touching your stomach. "Hm?" He wonders, and you whine, unsure what to ask for.

How far does he want to even go? Does he want full on sex, or is he still only teasing you?

"Did you know that some girls can cum from only getting their tits touched?" He asks you boldly, and you shake your head, making him grin, before he runs his thumbs over your sensitive buds, a kiss placed right up onto the lowest part of your sternum.

"Wanna see if you're one of them?"

[marvellous1917]

Icarus Falling Far From.

(Part 4)

Pairing: mob!bucky x tattoo artist!female!reader

Summary: Bucky comes face to face with the ones fucking his shit up, he’s all stressed and the reader just wants to make out.

Warnings: mentions of crime (guns,drugs,murder [he’s a mobster babes]), swearing, guns, reader being threatened with a gun (oops), threat of violence, talking about feelings (ew), think that’s it-if I’m missing any let me know.

Word count: 3.9k ish

A/n: hey guys, hope you enjoy this shit lmao, I truly have absolutely no idea where I’m going with this.

(This is not beta’d we die like men.)

Part 3 : Icarus Falling Far

Masterlist

————

Bucky’s thoughts in italics

Readers thoughts in bold

————

Fuck.

Fuucckk.

“It’s you.” Bucky states, his voice steady, hiding the confusion running through his head.

“It’s us,” Frank responds, “gotta be honest, we’ve had a lot of fun fucking up your shit.”

Frank stood with a smug smirk on his face, while the man with the buzz cut, and with scars covering his face, the light outside casting a grim portrait, stands with a big grin - both completely unaffected by the gun being pointed at them.

“Does she know?” Bucky asks, years of being screwed by people he trusted rearing back and kicking his trust issues into his gear.

Please say no, please tell me she’s not a part of this.

No. Not her.

“Y/n? Bet it break your cold heart if we said yes, huh?” Billy quips, with that stupid grin now a permanent fixture on his face. “That sweet pretty girl you though actually liked you, was actually just getting us this in, see we have proposition for- ”

“DOES SHE KNOW?” Bucky lets his voice rise, tired of the games the other men were playing.

“No, and we are gonna keep it that way you hear me, don’t drag that kind girl into this cruel world.” Curtis states, stepping forward as if to cut Billy off from responding.

Shit, I can’t let you look down and see me waving a gun in your friends faces.

“She doesn’t need to know. She’s not made for this world, not like us. So how about you put the gun away before she starts looking out that window.” Frank says, eyes flicking to your window to make sure you’re not witnessing this tense conversation.

Bucky slowly lowers the gun into his pocket, but keeps his hand tight on the weapon, just as a precaution.

Please be true, to whatever bastard higher power up there, please be true.

“Not like us?” Bucky says, parroting the other man’s words, “in what world are we the same?”

“Well I mean you and Curtis probably share the most similar physicality,” Billy states, chuckling a little at his own joke.

Bucky’s eyes flit to the quiet man on the left, recalling his earlier thoughts.

“What Bill means to say is that I know what’s it’s like to loose a limb in combat-”

“I didn’t loose my arm in combat.” His voice was deep and unwavering, even while the horrid memories came to the front of his mind, “you have no idea what I went through.”

“We know some. Rumors fly in the military.” Franks states, “we were all Marines together, and after Curtis lost his leg, I became a Navy Seal and Bill here became a Scout Sniper for the Marine Corps Reconnaissance. We’ve had our fair share of being screwed over by those in authority.”

“Am I supposed to give a shit? All that crap is behind me, what I care about is my business now, the same business that you three have been fucking up for the past week. So what the fuck do you want and what the fuck does Y/n have to do with it?” Bucky growls out, his patience slipping.

“We mean no harm, not to you, and especially not to Y/n-”

“I’m supposed to believe that, you used her to get to me right? If you cared about her you wouldn’t have done that-” Bucky begins before he gets cut off.

“Don’t you dare say that we don’t care about her!” Billy almost shouts stepping forward before stopping when Bucky brings the gun out of his pocket and lets it rest by his side.

“Y/n is one of the few things in this world we care about, she’s family okay, and we would never hurt her-” Curtis says

“Really, then how would you say she’s gonna feel if I go back to her apartment and tell her all about this, huh?” Bucky calls back

“You’re not gonna do that though, are ya? Because you know if you did, it’d break her heart, and you don’t wanna do that do ya Buck? Not when ya like her so much?” The words come from Billy, the annoying grin back in his face.

“What make you think I care that much?” Bucky says, even though his thoughts state the opposite.

I do. I do care.

“If you didn’t you would have shot us already.” Frank responds with a very valid point.

That makes Bucky clench his jaw and tense his gun wielding hand.

“All we want is a business meeting okay, talk about a potential partnership.” Frank stars crossing his arms, staring unklinking at Bucky.

“A partnership? It’s gonna take more than you fucking up a few things for me to even think about considering that. And what the hell would I get out of a partnership with you three?” Brucky responds, seriously considering just shooting the three men dead on the street.

“Well that’s something we can talk about later, but just so you know we have our hands in some business ourselves and more than enough bodies to keep our shit going, but we’d all be a hell of a lot richer if we worked together” Curtis states, shifting his weight onto his good leg.

“Plus just think about how happy our girl will be if we all got on.” Billy chimes in with a quick wink.

Our girl. OUR girl? God I wanna shoot these assholes.

Bucky keeps his calm facade up, unwilling to show the man that his words affected him.

“Fine. Be at the Comandos bar at 8 pm tomorrow, just you three, no weapons.” Bucky responds, wanting this conversation to be over.

The three men share quick look’s between themselves, and then Frank steps forward with his hand out towards Bucky and says “We’ll be there.”

Bucky doesn’t even look at them before turning quickly and walking back into the building, pulling out his phone to call Steve.

Frank chuckles, puts his hand down and turns to get in the car.

“Think he’ll tell her?” Curtis asks.

“Nah. He likes her too much.” Billy replies, while opening the door and getting in.

—————

What the hell is taking him so long? God I hope the boys didn’t catch him and give the whole ‘if you hurt her we’ll kill you’ talk. The boys are scary but Bucky’s a damn mobster.

The heavy knock on the door stops your pacing, and cause you to run to the door and pull it open to see the aforementioned mobster.

He doesn’t even say anything before barging in, kicking the door closed behind him while his hands go straight to the sides of your face, pulling your lips to his. His grip is gentle, but his mouth is bruising, his teeth nipping your bottom lip.

You pull back to catch your breath, leaning your forehead on his and catching your breath.

“Not even a hello? You missed me that much?” You flirt quietly, whispering into his mouth, hand clutching his waist through his coat.

“More than you know darlin’ I needed to see you…and touch you,” Bucky responds, silently thinking I needed to make sure you were okay.

Oh please do.

“All I’m hearing is the big bad mobster saying he needs me” you tease, praying he didn’t take offence, yeah he’s sweet and lovely but I’ve only gotten a tiny glimpse at the other side of him.

“Is that how you see me?” He leans back to his full height, staring down into your eyes, dropping his hands to his sides.

Shit.

Bucky grips your wrists and takes your hands off his body, moving them into his metal hand, the surface cold on your skin. You scramble to respond, wanting to tell him you thought the opposite, but his flesh hand moves to his pocket before you can talk.

“Big bad mobster huh? Oh doll you have no idea,” he says with an indiscernible look on his face, pulling out his glock.

Oh fuck, I was only teasing.

“Wait Buck-“ you start before he cuts you off.

“Y/n…Are you scared of me?” He asks, his grip on your wrists loose enough that you could get out of his grip if you wanted to.

You didn’t move. Looking into his eyes, an overwhelming feeling of calm takes over, the blue of his eyes the same as the sky after a storm.

“…no. I’m not.” I probably should be but apparently I’m crazy.

“Do you think I’m bad?” He asks.

All the stories, all the rumours, the memory of your first meeting, and the call he took in the shop come flooding to the forefront of your mind. That he’s a man with no mercy, cares for nothing and no one - except money, sex, and violence.

“…not to me.” You answer.

He pulls his arm up, holding the glock in between your faces, showing it to you. The bottom of his tattoo- your tattoo- sticks out from under his sleeve.

A normal person without a broken brain would take this as a threat. Why am I attracted to this?

He makes eye contact with you over the barrel, turning his hand and resting the muzzle on your cheek, but there is no fear in you, you can see his trigger finger resting on the side of the barrel.

“Do you trust me Y/N?” Bucky asks, his eyes not moving from yours.

You take a second to think about it.

The man is a fucking mobster for Christs’ sake. He’s a criminal, a gun runner, a drug trafficker, and not to mention a killer. His kills have hit the news before, no evidence proving it was his organisation, but everyone knows. It doesn’t matter if it was Bucky that pulled the trigger, held the knife, planted the bomb, nothing happened that wasn’t on his order. Can I really trust a man like that?

Your hesitation to answer has an effect on Bucky. He moves the gun, dragging it down your neck and resting the muzzle in the dip of your collar bone. You look down at his hand, finger still nowhere near he trigger.

“Y/n.” He calls quietly. Your eyes jump back to his and he speaks again, “do you think I would ever hurt you?”

That question has an answer you don’t have to think about.

“Not unless I did something to deserve it.” Your attempt at humour was immediately seen to be the wrong answer.

He sticks the gun back in your face, muzzle pushing between you lips, scratching your teeth. The movement causes your eyes to go wide, fear slipping onto your face.

“Did you do something to deserve it? Have you fucked me over Y/n?” His voice is tense, deadly serious, an unstable look in his eyes, his metal hand tightening on your wrists.

You lean back a little to answer, “…no, no of course not Buck. What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

He stares at you for what feels like hours, his face perfectly still, not giving anything away.

She doesn’t know. She truly has no idea. Thank fuck.

He drops the gun and lets go of your wrists, taking a few steps back, giving you space.

“I’m sorry doll, I’ve just had very hard day, some new information was given to me and it’s fucked me up a bit. I’m sorry Y/n, truly I am, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” His hands run through his hair, pulling at it harshly. “Shit darlin’, what the hell was I doing?” He mumbles the last bit to himself.

“Buck..Bucky, hey calm down, it’s okay-” you start before he talks again.

“It’s not okay! I just put a fucking gun in your face.” He keeps rambling, seeming like a whole other person than he was a minute ago.

“Buck! Stop, stop jabbering,” you grab his wrists, taking his hands from his hair and pulling him towards you.

He stops talking, and stares at your hands in his, the metal of his prosthetic shining a stark contrast against your skin.

You take a second to look at him, eyes studying his face. He looks worried, and a little scared.

Huh, didn’t know a mobster could get scared. Is he’s scared of me and what I’m gonna say… or is he scared of himself?

“You don’t scare me Buck…you probably should, but you don’t. ‘Cos you’ve been nothing but good to me, even a minute ago when you were acting weird, I knew you weren’t gonna do anything-”

“How? How did you trust me to not hurt you, when I was waving my glock in your face?”

“You had your finger on the barrel”

He’s silent for a few seconds, thinking over what you said. He takes a deep breath, meeting your eyes.

“I don’t know what to say,” Bucky responds.

“Then don’t say anything.” You say, the imagine of him with a gun in his hand fresh in your mind.

That whole episode should not have been as hot as it was. Shit I’m fucked up.

Bucky stares at you (he does that a-lot), unsure of his next move.

“Kiss me, dumbass.”

He moves before you can blink, his hands gently grabbing your face and pulling you to him. His kiss takes your breath away, gentle but firm. Your hands grip his elbows, encouraging him to keep going.

He takes the hint (thank fuck) and splits your lips with his tongue, his nose pressed hard against your cheek. He moves his hands down to your hips, gripping hard. Your hands grip the back of his head, fingers playing with his hair, tugging at it slightly when he completely deepens the kiss, your tongues tangling together. He lets out a quiet groan at the feeling, taking his left hand off your hip and tensing it by his side. You break the kiss when you feel the loss of his touch.

You take a second to catch your breath, Bucky leaning his head against yours.

“Why did you take your hand off me?” You ask.

“What?” He responds, the small dazed look on his face making you chuckle a little.

“Your hand, I liked it where it was.”

“Oh..that. It’s uh..it’s pretty strong, I can’t tell how hard I’m holding something, I can’t feel it so I tend to hold things a bit too hard… I broke like 5 cups in the past week-” he answers, stuttering his way through the sentence.

“Stop talking Buck, and you say I ramble,” You say, putting your finger to his lips. He stops talking, and you continue, “I trust you Buck, I’ll tell you if you’re holding me too hard. Plus I like it a little rough.” You finish with a wink at him, pulling his hand back to your waist.

He drops his head back, eyes closed and takes a deep breath in. He mumbles under his breath something that sounds like ‘god you’re perfect’, then he crashes his lips back into yours, both hands tightening on your hips.

He moves faster now, more intense with his kiss, his teeth scraping yours slightly and he presses you backwards, walking with you until you bump into the wall, his flesh hand stopping your head from hitting it.

Aww how sweet. The thought is thrown from your head when Bucky drops his head and presses kisses to your jaw, his hand curling in your hair to pull your head back, exposing your neck to him.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, as he licks a long stripe up your neck, nipping at the pulse points he finds. Your hands drop to his hips and pull him flush to you, groaning when you feel how much you’ve affected him. He kisses his way back to your lips, his metal hand moving to rest on the side of your neck, thumb resting in the front of your neck. Bucky gives you a long hard kiss then pulls back breathing hard.

“God girl, you are gonna be the death of me,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours as he talks.

“Fuck I hope not,” you respond, pulling his hips tighter against yours making him choke back a groan at the feeling.

His phone starts to ring.

Fuck off.

You pull him to you again, lips trailing across his jaw.

“Shit doll, wait a second baby-” he starts before you cut him off.

“Wait? Wait for what Buck, you don’t want me?” You tease, brushing your nose along his.

He crashes his lips against yours, his ringtone fading as his kiss overtakes your mind. Bucky pulls back after a few seconds, growling softly before stepping back to pull his phone out of his pocket.

“Are you seriously gonna answer that?” You ask, incredulous to his action.

“I have to darlin, could be an emergency,” he answers, taping the screen to answer. He puts the phone to his ear and says, “talk to me.”

You ignore his conversation, grabbing his metal hand to inspect it. The plates shift as you turn it over to look at the palm.

What an incredible feat of engineering, I wonder how it works. And how it feels-

Your dirty thoughts are cut short as he pulls his hand out of your grip, turning and taking a few steps away from you. His voice is quiet, probably to keep you from hearing whatever illegal shit they were discussing.

You jump when he shouts.

“THE FUCK? Rogers you get them to find more information on those shitheads, or I swear to fuck I will rip their fucking hearts out. I don’t care anymore, this shit needs to stop right the fuck now!” He stops his tirade and listens to ‘Rogers’ on the other side for a few second before he starts up again, “I know that asshole…one of the fuckers is married, find the wife… I have no idea if she’s involved man, I doubt it but she’d be good leverage… and get me some more information on their business so I’m not going into this shit show unprepared.”

That gets your full attention. Find the wife? Leverage? And do what? Threaten her? Hurt her? …kill her?

A shiver rips its way down your spine at that thought.

Would he do that? If she’s not a part of the issue, would he still hurt her? He already proved he’d hurt anyone that fucked him over, proved that when he stuck his gun in my mouth.

“Yeah…I know, get Stark on it, send Talia and Barton out too, see if they can get any news on the street… tell Barton to keep his cool, I don’t need anymore shit right now” Bucky says, switching the phone to his metal hand, using his flesh one to pull at his hair again.

His back is still turned to you, his coat stretches over his shoulder, the back rising with his hand in his hair.

He has a gun in his waistband.

Your eyes flit to the glock he drop on the floor earlier, and back to the one tucked in his waistband.

Is two guns really necessary?

Your answer comes with his next sentence.

“Fuck Steve I know that…you think I got this far without any personal protection? I’m good if anything happens man but I don’t think it will, they seemed pretty insistent on the fact they meant no harm..”

He continues to talk for a minute until he ends the call with a quick “get it done Steve, or we’re all fucked.” He places the phone back in his pocket, takes a few deep breaths and turns back to you with a tense look on his face. He takes another deep breath and steps towards you. Without meaning to you take a step back, hitting the wall behind you. Bucky stops as soon as he sees your movement.

“Sorry about that sweetheart, didn’t mean to upset ya.” He says, his voice quiet and calm, as if he was talking to a injured dog.

You let the silence linger for a second, deciding whether or not to ask the question that was begging to be said.

Fuck it.

“What are you going to do to her?”

He tilts his head at the question, unsure of what you’re talking about.

You take pity on his confusion.

“The wife? What are you going to do when you find her?”

Something settles in his eyes, his mouth twisting into a grim line.

“Nothing…unless I have to.” Bucky responds.

His answer does nothing to calm your pounding heart.

“You mean you won’t do anything unless you find out she’s involved?”

“Yes.”

“So you won’t do anything if she’s not a part of …whatever it is?” You ask.

“That’s right.” He nods with his answer.

“Except use her as leverage?”

He’s silent for a moment, and sighs as he rolls his left shoulder. He doesn’t break eye contact, and he’s completely resigned to whatever his answer is about to be.

“If I have to.” There is no lie in his voice, no guilt or remorse in his eyes.

Holy fuck. There’s the soldier again, the man with no mercy, does whatever he needs to come out on top.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

He wouldn’t hurt me. Would he?

He answers like he heard your thought.

“It’s business doll, we do what we have to do. Sometimes it’s rough and bad and awful and yes, people get hurt. Sometimes even innocent people get hurt. But I will never apologise for being the one that does the hurting, me and mine have had our fair share of getting hurt, and I’d rather hurt and use some people I don’t care about, than watch my people, my family, get hurt. I will not allow that to happen, not when I can to something about it.” He stands straight, like a soldier. The conviction in his voice actually makes you feel calmer.

Assuming I’m someone he cares about, I should be fine, right?

It slips off your tongue before you can catch it.

“Do you care about me?” You shift your weight as you talk, unsure if you actually want to hear the answer.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” He states, his tone steady.

“Say it properly,” you demand, crossing your arms over your chest, a subconscious way of protecting yourself, “I need you to say it properly Bucky.”

He shifts his weight now, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Yes… I do care about you,” he answers, clearing his throat in the middle of his statement, “do you care about me?”

You were unprepared for him to flip it back on you.

“I need you to answer truthfully Y/n. Do you care about me, as I am? The ‘big bad mobster’” he says, taking a step closer to you, and taking another when you don’t move away from him.

“The man who broke into your flat to threaten your roommate who owes me? The one who was going to shoot your friends dead on the street? The one who stuck a gun in your face? I’m a killer Y/n, a fucking mobster, and I’m not changing any time soon. Do you care about me as I am?” He asks, reminding you of the shit he’s done since you met him, not even counting the things you haven’t heard about.

You take a second to consider his questions.

I think I do, how fucked am I that I do?

You finally clock what he said.

“You were going to shoot who dead on the street?!”

————

hehehehe I feel like an evil mastermind.

If you are not tagged here- I either will tag you in a separate post- or I cannot tag you for some reason.

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[strangelittlestories]

“What entertainment do you bring before me today?” Squawked Augustine, the king of the birds. “Have the mockingbird players returned from their tour of the provinces? Or maybe that prattling parrot will reprise its human impressions?”

“Alas, milord.” Replied the king’s seneschal, a somewhat fussy flamingo. “You had the parrot killed for excessive repetitions and hesitations.”

“So I did!” The king spread his majestic tail feathers proudly, reliving the happy fuzz of murder. “Well, they knew the rules. Or, at least, *I* knew the rules and they probably should have inferred them.”

“One can never argue with your execution of the law.” Said the long-suffering seneschal, keenly aware that the wrong answer could result in his suffering moving from *long* to *short*. “Or with the law of your executions, for that matter…”

“Speaking of executions,” Said the king, whose mind was never truly far from state-sanctioned violence, “Do we have any on the docket for today?”

“Your majesty, I’m afraid the dungeons are quite empty.”

“What, no traitors left?”

“No, sire.”

“No criminals of any kind? No thieves or fraudsters or comedians who are overly reliant on props?”

“All thoroughly and legally murked, milord.”

“Well, I suppose send in my jester, then. I’m so dreadfully bored.”

At this command, the jester fluttered into the room, wearing a jaunty cap made out of a McDonald’s wrapper with a small lost key jangling from it in place of a bell.

The king and seneschal looked at the jester - the air was heavy with the potential for further royal atrocities. The seneschal crossed his talons.

“Coo.” Said the pigeon jester, hilariously.

A pause. A silence.

“Coo.” Said the pigeon jester again, making unblinking eye contact with the king.

The silence stretched on further. (Surely it could not keep on stretching or it would pull something…)

“Coo.” Said the pigeon jester, tragically.

And at this, the king finally burst into laughter. Uproarious, over-the-top, gut-busting laughter.

Which was just the distraction the seneschal needed. The elaborate flamingo costume was abandoned; the false wooden legs clattered to the floor and the fake neck - a painted length of hose pipe - flopped grotesquely back and forth.

From the costume burst forth a small army of truly tiny owls, which set about tying up the king while he was still prostrate from the laughter.

“What is the meaning of this?” Wailed the king.

“Coup.” Said the pigeon jester, accurately.

“Your reign of terror is at an end, vile tyrant!” Chirped an Elf Owl, puffing up its chest. “Revolution is here and your foul murderous regime will fall. In its place will rise a majestic and fair government! Vive la republic of feathers!”

“This is a conspiracy!” Cried the king.

“No,” Said the Elf Owl. “A conspiracy is ravens.”

“Owls are…” It donned a tiny pair of sunglasses. “...a Parliament.”

[teyums]

hiii would you be able to do a smut of like a bratty/spoiled reader waking Neteyam up in the middle of the night bc she's h*rny and can't sleep? pretty pleaseee (if you want to ofc!)

F*ck Me to Sleep ✽ Neteyam Sully

a/n: only cause you said please 😌 your wish is my command anon

wc: 1.8k pairing: (aged up) neteyam x fem! na’vi reader contains: p in v, spanking? (literally one time), pet names, language, description of events, the works, etc. it’s smut lol do the math warnings: nsfw. mdni, i understand i can’t ensure you actually click off and don’t read so if you’re a minor please do not interact. thank you <3

Your eyes snapped open and did a brief once over of the room, realization setting in that darkness still shrouded the village and, with that, an exasperated groan followed. This would be your fifth time trying to force yourself to fall asleep, and your fifth time in failing to do so.

You sat up a bit to see where the moon’s shadow had fell, the barely altered position telling you that it had only been thirty minutes since you last shut your eyes. Trying to force yourself to sleep proved to be useless, you were never going to get any sleep that way.

Your head turned to see Neteyam asleep on his back next to you, soundly and peacefully. Your usual night routine with him included cuddling, and him rubbing your back until you fell asleep or helping tire you out in other ways. But tonight, exhaustion lingered from his hunt and he came home, laid down and fell asleep immediately. You chewed your lip, feeling bad for wanting to wake him up but remembering how he always told you if you needed help, you could.

Mentally cursing yourself with a sigh, you sat up all the way before leaning towards him. You climbed over, sleepily throwing a leg over his body and settling yourself onto his lap so you were straddling him. Smoothing your hands over his shoulders, you nudged them gently to wake him up. “Neteyam,” your voice merely a whisper, eyes hopefully watching him stir after a few more calls of his name.

He inhaled through his nose, scrunching it slightly as he started to come out of his slumber. “Hmn,” He responded groggily, eyes still closed. “What is it, my love?” He felt the skin of your thighs against his sides, slithering his large hand up your leg to caress the plush of your hip.

Your cheeks flushed at his touch and the raspiness of his voice, neither helping to soothe your current situation. In fact, it was actually doing the opposite. “I can’t sleep… And I need your help.” You pressed your heat down onto his lap and wriggled a bit in hopes he would understand what you were referring to.

He hummed in response, folding a muscular arm behind his head and giving the side of your thigh an encouraging pat. “Go ahead, love. You know how to help yourself.” He breathed out, lifting his hips below you and into yours slightly.

“No, I…” You bit your lip at the feeling of him under you and hushed what would have been a moan, shaking your head before continuing. “I want you to do it.” You mumbled, skin growing hot along with your need for him.

His eyes peeled open, half-lidded amber orbs staring at you with an exhausted expression. He raised a brow, gaze traveling over your slender body illuminated by sheer blue rays of the moon before coming back up to meet your face. “You want me to do it?” He parroted, voice laced with just a hint of irritation.

You nodded sheepishly, shrinking under the power of his stare. “Y-yes.” You swallowed, tacking on a ‘please’ at the end for good measure.

The corner of his lips quirked up into a small smirk at your shy demeanor, tilting his head against the pillow under it and feigning confusion. “Forgive me, I’m a bit lost. What exactly is it that you want from me? I’m not sure what ‘it’ is, sweetheart.” He appeared amused now, one of his fingers slipping under the string of your loincloth but stopping there. He knew exactly what ‘it’ was.

“Please, Nete,” You whined in response which usually halted his interrogating, but this time he stood firm. He was teasing you, and with how incessantly the growing ache throbbed between your legs you were starting to get impatient.

You shifted on top of him, his hand tightly gripping your hip to stop you with a stern look. “Uh uh. Please, what? Use your words, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me to sleep. Please.”

You watched his eyes glint, almost like a switch had flipped at the sound of those vulgar words rolling off your tongue. He tsked at you and licked his bottom lip, his hand traveling up to the small of your back and pushing you to lean forward— now laying down with your chest against his, all your weight put onto him. “So needy.”

You couldn’t help the excitement flowing through your veins, lifting your hips to aid him in sliding your loincloth off from under you. His warm hands travelled behind you to grip your ass, palming it and rocking you back and forth against his growing bulge beneath you.

You whimpered at the friction against your clit and grinded on top of him with a need for more, resulting in him bringing a hand down onto the skin of your bottom with a swift smack and earning a yelp from you. “Stop fuckin’ doing that,” He growled in your ear and you hid your face in the crook of his neck, blabbering out an array of ‘i’m sorry’s. “You asked me to do it for you, so let me do it for you. Move like that again and you’re not getting anything.”

You gave a quick head nod and a stuttered breath as agreement to his terms, the insatiable desire traveling through your body hadn’t allowed you to realize that he was now bare under you, skin to skin.

He reached an arm down and grabbed his hard cock, stroking it a few times before pressing the tip to your sopping folds. “You’re a spoiled little brat, y’know that?” He whispered against your hair, the heat of his breath tickling your ear making it flick attentively. Your breath hitched, parted lips pressed to his broad shoulder as he coaxed his tip along the opening of your tight entrance. This alone was enough to make you drool.

“Wakin’ me up in the middle of the night, all because you wanna get fucked?” He smirked when your body shuddered, pushing your lower half down onto him and sinking into you at a painfully slow rate. You moaned loudly into his skin as he stretched you, chest heaving while you tried your best not to move. “This is what you wanted, right?” He suddenly stopped only halfway, a deep chuckle vibrating from his throat when you whimpered in frustration.

“P-please, I need all of you, Neteyam! Please,” You cried out. He loved to hear you beg.

He groaned at the warmth of you, throwing his head back before returning to the task at hand. He wrapped his muscular arms around your middle, harshly thrusting his hips upwards and pulling you down onto him to meet him halfway.

He fucked into you languidly, skin slapping against skin as you stifled your throaty noises of ecstasy into the crook of his neck. You moaned his name like a prayer, the mere sound of it making him rut into you harder.

You instinctively arched your back, body begging for him to sink deeper into you as the wet squelching of your cunt permeated the room. Your skin is hot against his and the way his tip hits the same spongy spot over and over deep in your core makes you shiver in delight, the feeling of him inside you rendering you so delirious you don’t even realize he’s talking you through it.

Placing open mouthed kisses against your shoulder while he rolls his hips under yours, he uses his firm grip on your ass to pull you up and slam you back down each time. “You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you, princess?” A low grunt followed his words, your slicked walls tightening on his cock as a response to his question. “Yeah? There’s my good girl.” He chuckled breathlessly, his girth twitching inside you indicating he wasn’t far behind.

Lust clouded your senses and you disregarded what he previously told you, placing your hands on his chest to raise yourself up. The new angle forced him into you completely, his tensed balls grazing the soft skin of your spread lips. You gasped when Neteyam’s hand came up and grabbed your throat, propping himself up on his elbow and pulling you forward to crash his lips against yours. You moaned into his mouth, enticing him to push his tongue past your lips and taste one of his favorite parts of you.

Your shoulders slumped and you began to struggle to return his efforts, mouth falling slack while he used your body for his own pleasure. He pulled away and impatiently pressed wet kisses on your jawline, leaning on one hand behind him while the other held your hip, fingertips indenting into your soft skin as he roughly dragged you back and forth against the base of his cock.

Arms desperately wrapped around his neck and you gasped for air between choked sobs of pleasure. The feeling of your sensitive nub rubbing against his lower abdomen was just what you needed to push you over the edge and have you coming undone.

He used his fangs to nip at your neck when you came around him and hungrily trailed his tongue over the small wound, holding your convulsing body flush against his as you shamelessly bucked your hips to ride out your wave of euphoria.

“Cum in me, Nete,” You panted out, although it sounded more like a whine when you brought a hand up to hold the back of his head in place while he marked your neck. The feeling of you squeezing his shaft was driving him mad and he battled to keep his composure, the muscles of his back flexing, his heated breaths matching yours.

His hand balled into a fist, knuckles paling from how tightly he was gripping the light sheet below the two of you. “F-fuck,” Was all he managed to mutter out before hot spurts of his seed filled your womb. Velvety, guttural groans from your mate flooded your ears, making you moan in sync and your nails carve crescent marks into his back while he struggled to continue moving you against him.

He exhaled sharply, dropping his head forward and trying to catch his breath as you fell into his chest, spent and exhausted. “Goddamn, baby.” He breathed out, shaking his head in disbelief with a soft laugh and running a hand through his braids.

You kept your arms looped around his neck loosely, soft baby hairs sticking to your misted forehead. He shifted underneath your trembling thighs, gently using an arm to raise you and you whimpered at the feeling of overstimulation creeping. “Mawey,” He cooed, lifting you just enough for his length to slip out of you with a shaky sigh from both parties.

He brought his head back a bit to look down at you, gently stroking your hair and pressing a light kiss to your warm temple. “Are you ready to go to sleep now?” He rubbed slow circles into your back, smiling when your eyes fluttered to a close unbeknownst to you.

“Mhm, thank you…” You gave a tired nod and snuggled closer to him, more than grateful that the promise of a deep sleep finally began to wash over you.

.

.

.

a/n: chile i enjoyed writing this a lil too much and MY SMUT SKILLS ARE SUPER SHAKY PLS GO EASY ON ME LMAOO

[comatosebunny09]

mine | leon k.

genre(s): romance, modern au (?)

warning(s): possessive!leon, jealous!leon, oblivious!reader, short!reader, female!reader, suggestive, language

notes: influenced by a scene i read by an anonymous writer on ao3 (it’s a dead dove fic, but i still happily ate it). hope you enjoy!

music: yours - alina baraz

Firm believer that Leon gets high-key jealous when anyone flirts with you.

But, poor, poor baby—you’re so oblivious. So goddamn cute. Look at you, standing on tippy-toe, straining your fingers for your favorite box of cereal on the top shelf at the supermarket. Leon would smile if not for a shock of black disrupting the intimacy of the scene.

Some sleaze-ball sidles up beside you, a broad hand at the small of your back whilst the other reaches overhead to pluck said box from the shelf for you. That quiet little smile you give as thanks makes Leon squeeze the handle of the buggy until his knuckles pale. And, is he bristling?

The nerve of this guy, flaunting all 32 of his teeth in a sinister beam, towering over you whilst he seduces you with idle chatter.

You’re none the wiser of the man’s motives. Smiling and giggling, animatedly flailing your arms about. Figure he’s a kind stranger, helping another in need. But he keeps touching you—a chaste brush of fingers, stirring the fine hairs of your flesh to life. Inching closer, much to Leon’s chagrin. He can hear the gears in this guy’s head turning as he sketches a triangle between your pretty, full lips and the rise of your chest.

Leon blames himself for leaving you defenseless. Had stepped away earlier to grab some ice cream at your behest. He grinds his teeth, the tendons of his neck flexing. Isn’t really thinking as the wheels of the shopping cart screech, and Leon rushes to your aid, subconsciously grabbing for your arm, tucking you into his side.

“There you are, honey,” Leon rumbles against the question your gaze poses, his voice stippled with venom beneath the honey flow of it, an arm draped across your middle. He squeezes your side—a silent reminder that you are his—and fixes the stranger with a pointed look. And if looks could kill, Leon would’ve murdered this stranger a thousand times over.

“I’ve been looking all over for you. Whaddya say we get checked out, hmm?” Leon adds with a deceptively innocent smile, ocean blues gazing down at you. Doesn’t wait for your answer, instead ushering you between the hard press of his body and the cool steel of the cart, out of the aisle.

“Leon?” you query, realizing he—in fact—is not leading you to self-checkout. Instead, he shepherds you into a dark corner near the restrooms, your buggy abandoned, and your back pressed against the wall in the blind spot of the half-dome safety mirror.

You’ve barely any time to gather your wits before Leon’s mouth fastens to yours. A lip-lock as possessive as it is desperate, teeth gnashing and tongues entangling, and no matter how much you try, you just can’t breathe.

You take little sips of air in between. Instinctively bury your fingers in his hair, free hand roaming the expanse of his back, trying to feel as much rippling muscle as you can. Your leg languidly slides up his calf and thigh to wind about Leon’s hip, and his hand slinks beneath your doughy quad to keep you there. His thumb skates over the sensitive skin of your neck as if coaxing your mouth to open wider.

He parts from the hot suction of your lips after you mewl softly into his. Breaths merge into one whilst he meshes your foreheads together, painting a sluggish line between your eyes and parted lips.

“Mine,” he whispers through the haze. Through the flurry of your thoughts and the sway of your body. Gathers your cheek into his palm when he feels you slipping down the wall, a knee pressed between your thighs to keep you both afloat. Feels the heat radiating through the seam of your pants, and his chest swells with satisfaction. “Mine,” parroted again as if to solidify things.

You nod drunkenly, lost in the slothful stir of his eyes. He takes cruel satisfaction in teasing you like this a little longer. Taunts you with the promise of another kiss, his lips hovering over yours as you try for his bottom lip.

“Say it,” he rasps into the space between your mouths. The intimacy of it all weakens your knees. Makes your head spin, your gaze and mind filled only with Leon Leon Leon. He watches your mouth form around words, stroking your lips apart with the calluses of his thumb.

“Yours. Always.”

“Good, good girl,” Leon drawls, sending a bolt of white lightning straight to your apex. You don’t protest as he drags you from the alcove, a smirk dusting his lips. An unheard promise of things to come wafting in the lively air of the supermarket.

[mistiell]

Summer of '91

Summary: Eddie teaches your four year old daughter, Thea, how to swim.

Pairing: Dad! Eddie x Mom! Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Thank you to this ask for inspiring this! I meant for this to be a blurb but I got a little carried away lol

---

The summer sun beats down on you from where you're strewn across a sun lounger, beads of condensation weeping off your iced tea where it sits on a little table next to you. Indiana is in the middle of a heatwave, and while the temperatures aren’t quite record breaking, Steve’s been kind enough to offer up his pool to the whole party for the summer.

“Wh– Hey! Keep that shit to yourself!”

A decision he looks like he’s beginning to regret as he defends himself from Dustin and Mike, who are all but beating him with thick pool noodles.

Eddie doesn’t help the situation when he smacks him on the back of the head with his own noodle as he walks towards you, your daughter on his hip and a devious grin lighting up his face, “Language, Harrington. Child on deck.”

The kids (Teenagers now, but they’ll always be kids to you) are quick to gang up on him after that in a chorus of, “yeah, Steve”’s that make Thea giggle, her little cheeks dimpling with her smile.

“Yeah, Steve!” She parrots with her four-and-a-half year old sass that makes you all laugh.

Steve scoffs, but he’s smiling as he gestures toward her, scolding the two boys, “See what you’ve done? You turned her against me!”

Eddie brings his attention to you, grin softening into something less devious, more saccharine as he makes his way over. He bends as much as he's able with Thea in his arms to peck your temple, “Hey, sweet thing.” “Hi, handsome.” You smile, pulling your legs up to sit cross legged and give him space to sit. Your gaze slides over his form, alabaster skin and lean muscle on full display in his black swim trunks. He catches you staring and winks before Thea squirms in his arms, eager hands reaching for you. You’re quick to hook your hands under her armpits and help her onto your lap, “And how are you, Theebie?” “Good! Daddy’s gonna tea-me to swim!” She beams, a few syllables getting lost in her excitement.

“Yeah?” You glance at Eddie, trying to telepathically ask him if he thinks maybe she’s still a little too young. Thankfully, he clocks your apprehension, “Don’t worry, we’re just practicing off the steps first. Right, babes?” 

Thea huffs, looking rather displeased as she nods, “Yes, daddy.”

His smile looks relieved. You think there might have been a bit of a dispute inside while he was getting her into her swimsuit. Like her father, she tends to be rather impatient when learning new things, eager to throw herself into the fun stuff without paying much mind to the basics. Or safety. It’s the latter that tends to get the both of them in trouble.

“You wanna join us?” Eddie asks, palm finding your calf and giving it a squeeze, “Cool off a little?”

Idly running your hand up and down the length of Thea’s arm, you smile, “I’m happy here in the sun.”

His face contorts in exaggerated distaste, “What are you, a lizard? It’s boiling out here.”

You scrunch your nose and stick your tongue out with a little hiss, making them both laugh.

He flicks your knee, “Weirdo.” You scoff and narrow your eyes at him, “If I’m a weirdo, you’re a weirder weirdo for marrying me.” 

His grin is blinding, “The weirdest.”

Having had her fill of affection and chatter, Thea wriggles out of your arms. Sliding off the side of the lounger, her sandaled feet meet the concrete before she takes Eddie’s hand in both of hers and tries to tug him up with all her might, “Come on, daddy! Swim time!” He sighs dramatically and mock-faints, his head landing just shy of your shin as he presses the back of his hand to his forehead. His hair tickles your skin, “I just don’t think I have the strength!”

Thea — half amused, half annoyed — laughs as she continues to tug at his hand, “Get up, daddy! Up!”

“Perhaps,” He starts, all theatrics. Peeking an eye open, he grins at you mischievously, “True love’s kiss will save me.”

You snort and roll your eyes. You’re sure the smile you’re giving him is lovesick, “You’re such a dork.”

“Kiss him, mommy! Re-live him!”

You don’t bother correcting her this time, finding her dedication to this bit too cute. With a great, heaving sigh, you relent, “Fine. I guess I can spare him.” Taking his face in your hands, you bend at the waist to kiss him chastely. You chuckle as you pull back, jostling his head back and forth gently, “Now go! Your daughter’s waiting.”

“Yes, I'm waiting!” She exclaims as he finally lets her pull him up from the lounge chair.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” You blow him a kiss as they walk towards the pool. He pretends to catch it and kisses his palm.

Eddie jumps into the water and Thea squeals when the water sloshes over the edge and chills her toes. He wades over to the steps to help her down the first three steps until the water is at her waist before backing up, making sure he’s still close enough that he’ll be able to hoist her up if needed. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you guess Eddie’s telling her what to do based on the way he’s miming the breaststroke in the air.

You can’t help but smile at the determined set of her brows, as if this is the most important thing she’ll ever do. Eddie opens his arms and beckons her forward, lips moving in what you assume is words of encouragement. She hesitates for a moment, before throwing herself towards him, kicking her little legs as hard as she can. She stays afloat for a moment before kicking turns to flailing and Eddie has to come to her rescue. He sets her back on the third step and wades backward again.

It goes on like that for awhile, each time Thea manages to stay above the water just a little longer.

“She’s doing pretty well, huh?” Steve comments, walking over to recline on the lounger next to yours. 

You hum, taking your eyes off your husband and daughter for a moment to look at him, “She’s been looking forward to this, you know. Been asking to swim in uncle Steve’s pool since the weather got warm enough.”

He tries not to, but he preens, smiling, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You smile back.

“If I’d known, I would’ve invited you over sooner.” 

“I know. I didn’t tell you ‘cause I knew you’d bend over backwards to please her.” You chuckle and he laughs along with you. You both know it’s true. The two of you have been best friends for years, and since the moment he saw Thea after she was born, you knew he’d spoil her rotten if given the chance.

“Mommy! Mom!”

You nearly crick your neck with the speed at which you turn your head toward her, heart lodging in your throat until you see she’s fine, just excited. “What, lovely?” You call back. “Watch!” She turns back to Eddie, who you just now notice is a little further away from her and absolutely glowing with pride.

She practically dives forward, lacking any of the hesitation she’d had only two hours ago. Her movements are a little clumsy, and she doesn’t go very fast, but you watch with bated breath as she swims into her father’s arms, giggling breathlessly when he picks her up and smothers her cheek with kisses. The others cheer for her as Eddie helps her out of the water.

“Oh my gosh, baby, I’m so proud of you!” You beam, opening your arms to her as she rushes towards you. She soaks your own swimsuit when she barrels into you and you lift her up onto your lap, peppering a smattering of kisses over her other cheek.

“Our girl can swim!” Eddie grins as he plops down next to you, roughing up her still damp hair.

“You’re a good teacher.” You nudge his shoulder with yours gently.

He nudges you back and looks back at Thea, “I had a great student.”

She beams, looking very proud of herself.

“Can I have a paw-sicle now?” She asks innocently, and you quirk a brow at a suddenly guilty looking Eddie before turning back to her. “Before dinner?”

“Daddy said he’ll give me a paw-sicle if I try off the steps ‘nd not the side.” She explains

“Popsicle, baby. Not Paw-sicle.” You correct gently.

“Ohh. Popsicle.”

“There you go.” You smile. Eddie simpers when you turn to ask him incredulously, “You bribed your daughter with a popsicle?”

His voice raises half an octave as he shrugs, “Maybe?” 

You half sigh, half laugh as you shake your head at him. 

“Can I have one now?” Thea asks again, growing more impatient by the minute.

You shoot one last half-hearted glare in his direction before nodding, “Okay. Just one, though, alright?” She lights up like a christmas tree and slides off your lap, “Okay! Come on, Daddy!”

He mouths, “Sorry” as she pulls him up off the lounger. Shaking your head, you mouth back, “It’s okay”.

You watch them walk into the house hand in hand with a smile on your face.

[ellecdc]

OH OH NO. i mean like actual pets… like dog.. cat…

😮‍💨😅 ok ok thanks

original ask: the boys + lily and their favorite pet?

James: I could see him liking dogs and cats equally (he just loves love); the kind of dude who has the nastiest most feral cat who hates everyone and scratches the shit out of him but he's just like "awe no he's okay, he's just scared but he deserves love too". probably has some weird animals too (picks the ugliest/sickliest pets from the shelter), a dog with 3 legs, a cat in a wheelchair, a cat with no eyes, a dog that needs medication morning noon and night. mornings take him like 7 years because of the detailed feeding regiment he has for everyone

Remus: I see him as a cat person; dogs might be too much energy for him and require him to go outside?? on walks??? gross. he'd rather stay inside and read with his cat on his lap tyvm

Sirius: dog person, duh. though I could totally see Sirius having exotic birds?? like he casually walks around his flat with a giant ass parrot on his shoulder - he definitely taught it to swear and all the words to his favourite rock songs... trained it to say "get lost wanker" every time Regulus comes over

Regulus: cats, obviously. I think he'd find most other animals gross and exhausting

Barty: all of them. every animal. the scarier/larger/grosser the better. the kind of guy that people come over just for a tour of his basement that is floor to ceiling terrariums of various snakes, reptiles, spiders, tropical fish etc etc. might even have wild/exotics (random monkey in a diaper swinging from his four poster bed, a savannah cat, wolf dog, all of it). sometimes says he can't make it to friends events because feeding/caring is such an ordeal (but if we don't want him to be crazy/chaotic - this dude loves reptiles and snakes)

Evan: one very large exotic bred cat (like a savannah etc) and one scary ass well behaved giant regal dog breed that just stares at everyone always (like a doberman)

Lily: cats, I love that the potters had a large fluffy cat canonically. she'd be the kind that would train the cat to come for car rides and go camping with the family/harness train it (same). also could see her with a bunny (they are not for the faint of heart, she'd be such a dutiful bunny owner)

[kinglivv]

Hi!

I love your Kate Stewart fics! I'm so glad she's getting the attention she deserves.

I have an idea for a Kate x fem reader

(Older woman x younger woman)

Prompt:

Reader is colonel Ibrahim's younger sister and pops in to UNIT to annoy her older brother as they have a very childish dynamic. It's become routine that Kate knows exactly when to expect her and looks forward to these little moments with reader . Little does she know reader has the hots for her older brothers boss .

Forbidden fruit trope kind of thing .

Forbidden Fruit

Kate Lethbridge-Stewart x f!reader

Summary: As Colonel Ibrahim’s younger sister, it would be completely inappropriate for you to date his boss. But what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him… surely?

Warnings: Mentions of grief, gun violence

A/N: I’ve been working on this all month on and off between various commitments! Enjoy

Contrary to what you believe, Christofer sees it first. He sees it from the moment you and Kate initially lock eyes.

It had been in the UNIT boxing gym. You didn’t work for his beloved organisation, but you’d freelanced once for them on their lower levels and were making the most of the free amenities before your clearance ran out. You and him had been boxing partners since your parents died, training each other being a way to harness your shared grief.

“Come on,” he teases you from across the ring, “you can do better than that!”

You make a swipe at him, but he’s quick on his feet and you almost lose your balance.

“Footworks getting sloppy, Y/N.”

“Shut up Chris,” you wait for the second he glances somewhere other than you, and then you take his legs out from under him and pin him to the floor.

“Hey-“ he says as he hits the mat with an oof, “that’s playing dirty.”

“Colonel?”

The voice rings out across the gym and you look up from your position hovering over your brother to see a blonde woman stood in the doorway. Christofer watches your face, and sees that look cross it, that look you used to direct at your ex-girlfriend when your relationship was in its honeymoon stage. Sharp suit, long legs, big brown eyes - just your type. He should have known.

“Y/N,” he says from his rather undignified position on the floor, “this is Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, my boss.”

“Nice to meet you Kate Lethbridge-Stewart,” you parrot with a smirk.

She gives you a curt nod, and then looks back to Christofer.

“Bit of a situation upstairs. Could use your assistance.”

He nods, and then realising you’re still staring at the woman, uses your momentary distraction to throw you off him. You’re tossed to the side with a shriek and he dusts himself off. He trails out of the room after Kate but when he glances back at you, it’s not him your staring after.

It escalates when they bring you in on a job.

You’re a mathematician by trade, and a code breaker by hobby. You were the smartest person Christofer knew, and so when a difficult Sontaran dialect is picked up and seemingly un-translatable, he suggests they draft you in. You’d already assisted UNIT in an advisory capacity before, what’s a little desk work?

Kate begrudgingly accepts the suggestion, more because she has an undying faith in his judgement and so few options left, and you turn up at the office that evening, clad in an expensive dress you wear to your real job, handbag in hand.

“We’ve had a dozen experts look at it,” Kate explains. “No one can figure out what the hieroglyphics mean.”

You’re staring up at the screen they’re projected onto. Christofer watches as you chew on the end of your pencil, lost in thought, and standing entirely too close to his boss.

“Can I get some paper?” You ask. “And a desk?”

Kate blinks.

“Sure. Use mine.”

She shows you to your desk and you start scribbling on a notepad. She raises and eyebrow at Christofer, who merely shrugs. Two minutes later, you hold up the paper, triumphant.

“It’s not hieroglyphics,” you announce, “or even a dialect. It’s a chemical composition. See these symbols? They represent different elements. And then these lines? Isotopes. You’ve got yourself an incredibly rare Earth element here.”

Kate comes round the desk, places a hand on the back of your chair and leans over your shoulder.

“You’re right…” she confirms, momentarily rendered speechless.

“But what does that tell us?” Christofer asks.

“You said rare?” Kate asks, already on the scent like a bloodhound.

“Yeah,” you drum your fingers on the desk. “Only occurs in North East America. Just the right climate.”

“North East America…” Christofer ponders, and then at the exact same moment it clicks.

“That’s the target!” You chorus with him.

Kate slaps the back of the chair. “Of course!”

As Christofer begins to relay this information through his radio, he doesn’t miss Kate leaning down next to you, hears her murmur “Just when I thought I was pushing my luck with one genius Ibrahim, you come along.”

He doesn’t miss your smirk, either.

He makes a mental note to tell you to quit it. He’s familiar with your antics - how couldn’t he be after the steady stream of girls you’d had in and out the house throughout university? He’d never minded before, but this thing you had for his boss absolutely has to stop. Naturally, Kate offers you a job, but to her surprise you’re not interested. When Chris asks you why, you teasingly tell him you’re not giving in without being chased. He can’t quite tell if you’re joking or not.

He’s most certainly not ready for when Kate begins to express an interest. She starts to ask about you in passing, when they’re in the lift or stood by the water cooler. She takes an interest in your freelance work. She drafts you in on a couple more jobs. When he raises tbus to you, all he gets in response is a cheeky “your boss has the hots for me Chris, what about it?”

At some point to his horror, you get her number. He wouldn’t have known had you not left your phone on the kitchen counter and a text from “KLS” had popped up. It was a sweet “yeah of course, pick you up at 9? Xx” and so entirely out of step with how he perceived his boss that he didn’t quite believe it was her. When he asks where you went that evening, why you got back at 1am, he gets some vague answer about being with friends.

When he next asks you about Kate, there’s no flirty remark, no teasing joke, you clam up completely. You brush it off, deflect in a similar way to what he’s been taught in interrogation training. Kate ceases to ask after you at work, almost as if she already knows exactly how you are.

The next time you turn up at UNIT, it’s to drop off the lunch he’d accidentally left at home. A terribly domestic gesture, but that’s not what takes him aback. Rather, it’s the fact you hadn’t requested clearance from him to get in the building.

“Who let you in?” He asks, feigning casual interest as he takes the lunch from you. He doesn’t miss the way you glance guiltily at Kate’s empty desk.

“Dunno,” you lie, “they must recognise me.”

As if a military unit would ever let someone past security just because they were a friendly face.

You wave him a goodbye and disappear down a corridor. It’s then that he decides he’s quite like to get the bottom of this and naturally follows you… all the way to Kate’s office.

“Hey,” he hears you say softly as you knock and enter without waiting for approval.

“What a lovely surprise this is.” The sound of Kate’s chair creaking.

“You say that as if you didn’t just call down to security to let me in,” you laugh.

“Yeah well, maybe I,” a sentence punctuated with a kiss, “just really wanted to see you,”

Christofer is holding his breath. He can’t quite believe what he’s hearing and he can’t stop himself from creeping closer, just peaking in the window on the door to make sure it’s true. There, sure enough, you’re wrapped up in each other’s arms.

He walks away rather stiffly.

The next time any of this surfaces, it’s weeks later and after a bad shoot out. A shoot out that ends with him in hospital, barely conscious for a whole week. A doctor tells him that had the bullet been half an inch to the right, he’d be dead.

Naturally, you’re in and out every day, not leaving his side during visiting hours. Sometimes he’s awake, sometimes he’s not, but nonetheless you read to him and play music and tell him about your day. You tell him you want him to find a new job, a safer one, one that doesn’t make you fear his life will end like your parents.

Kate visits a few times, brings him chocolates and looks generally guilty. The third time she visits, he’s two weeks into recovery and you’re already sat by his bedside. He shuts his eyes tight and pretends to be asleep - this is the first valuable piece of entertainment he’s had in weeks.

“Hey,” you look up at her from the bed.

Kate glances at Christofer and judges him - incorrectly - to be asleep. “How are you holding up?”

“As well as can be expected,” you shrug. “Roses for my brother? Should I be jealous?”

“They’re for you, darling,” there’s a rustle as she hands over what he can only assume to be a bouquet, “figured you might be feeling just as awful as him right now.”

“Oh,” you say. “Thank you,”

There’s the unfamiliar sound of his Commander shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Kate,” you say cautiously, “I’ve told Chris I want him to find a new job.”

A pause.

“He’s my best Colonel.”

“He’s all I’ve got left,” you say shortly.

“Does he get a say in this?”

“You know he’ll do whatever I ask.”

“That’s hardly fair.”

“I’m not losing him and our parents.”

“What would that mean for us?” Kate’s voice is slightly choked.

“It wouldn’t change a thing Kate,” your tone softens, “I just can’t live like this, worrying everyday that the two people I love are going to end up dead. At least I can get him out of it.”

“Love?”

“What?”

“You said you love me.”

He hears you stand up and leave his side, pulling Kate into you, pressing a kiss to her lips. It’s then he decides to peak an eye open.

“Ha!” He exclaims, “Knew I’d catch you at some point.”

Your heads jump apart and turn to look at him in such exact sync it’s almost comical. He raises an eyebrow at the sight before him - your hand curled in her lapel, the roses squished between you and Kate’s hair rather mussed.

“You - you knew?” You squeak.

“I’m an intelligence soldier, of course I know.”

“You’re not angry?” Kate asks. It’s the first time it strikes him that she might be worried about his reaction. That she might have worried she’d broken their valuable trust.

“No,”

“Right.” You swallow, and your hand drops from her blazer, pulling away from her. “I’m going to the vending machine then.”

“Y/N…” there’s a hint of whining desperation in Kate’s tone as you abandon her to a room alone with your brother. She turns to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” she manages.

“Why?”

“I lied to you,” she states, “Carried on with your sister behind your back, undermined the trust we have in each other. I’ve put our working relationship at risk -“

“Kate,” he stops her, “she’s been happier this last month than I’ve known her in years.”

A blush forms across her cheeks.

“She makes me very happy,” Kate confesses. “Promise I won’t hurt her.”

“You better not,” he quips back, and although his tone is teasing, Kate knows he’s deadly serious. The Ibrahim family, clearly, were not one to be crossed. “You should tell her.”

“That I won’t hurt her?”

“No. That you love her too.”

The pink in her cheeks increases ten-fold.

“I will.”

[fantasylandloser]

Protector

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: Idk Reader saves JJ

Warnings: gun, gun shot, fight, JJ thinking he doesn't deserve to be protected

A/N: Was thinking about this when I woke up

******

JJ was a protector to the pogues. It was one of the things you loved liked about him. That protective trait only multiplied when he got that gun, but it was always there. When you first met him and the other pogues you didn’t talk much, and you didn’t stand up for yourself either. So, when JJ saw Rafe harassing you at a party you both were working at, he promptly spilled an entire pitcher of water on Rafe. Then he grabbed your hand and ran. You both lost your jobs but it didn't really matter, because that was the first time you felt like you were in safe hands. He’d been your best friend since then.

But because JJ was always protecting everyone it didn’t really seem like he had anyone protecting him. Even though he was the one that needed it the most. 

So when that fight broke out at the movie night and Kie had jumped on Topper to save Pope, and you saw that JJ was alone, struggling to breathe, something in you snapped. You hated guns, swore to yourself that you would never touch one, but you picked up his like it was second nature. You don’t remember shooting it, you don’t even hear the loud curses or Rafe saying that you would pay for that. You just remembered JJ panting to get air back in his lungs, a dumbfounded look on his face as he made his way to you.

You didn’t realize you were shaking, not until JJ took the gun from you, tucking it into his shorts and whispering that it's okay. You remember the look in his eyes, like he couldn’t believe that you would do that for him. But then Kie screamed for the two of you to come on, so he grabbed your still shaking hand and the two of you took off behind them.

It had been about two days since then and JJ was being weird. You kept catching him staring at you. Or he would just linger around you and you could tell he had something he wanted to say and you wish more than anything that he would just say it. 

You were never one for confrontation but this was JJ. You needed to know what he was thinking and why he was acting so strange, so when he went outside to smoke you followed him out, much to your nervousness.

“A penny for your thoughts?” You ask sitting beside him, legs dangling off the porch. 

JJ blew smoke out his mouth letting a small grin settle. “I got no thoughts when I’m with this girl.” He says gesturing to the joint. He tries to laugh at his little joke, trying to be casual but you see through it.

“What happened to no secrets between pogues?” You ask softly, knowing it was his favorite rule to use against you, when you wouldn’t open up about something. He chuckled softly at you parroting him but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“You don’t like guns.” He states. You’re a bit confused but you nod in agreement. “I don’t.” 

“You actually hate them. You don’t want to be around them. You didn’t even want to touch it when I first got it.” He tells you. You knew all that though. 

“Right.” You agree again, unsure of where this was going.

“So, why?” He’s looking at you now, his eyes all soft and confused.

“Why, what?” You ask. Confusion muddling your thoughts now too.

“You know what. Why did you save me from Rafe? He wouldn’t have actually killed me. We all know that.” He tells you, but you definitely did not know that, because in the moment that seemed like exactly what he was trying to do. 

“How is that even a question JJ?” You ask, sounding and looking appalled and almost sad that he asked. “You weren’t breathing.” You ignored the way your voice cracked. “You’re always protecting us, and putting yourself on the line. We see that.” You reassure him. “I’d rather die before I didn’t do the same.”

JJ didn’t like the sound of that. But he also loved it. “Look, I’m gonna be in the cut for the rest of my life, but you guys have a chance to be something-’” You had heard this from him before and you didn’t like it.

“You don’t get to blow your life saving us all the time, and then not expect us to do the same.” You interrupt. “At the very least  you should expect me to do the same. ‘Cause I will, at every turn.” 

JJ is holding back tears now. You see it, but you don’t point it out. “I’m supposed to protect you.” He says, his voice rising slightly out of frustration.

“And someone is supposed to protect you too. Lucky for you, you get me.” You intertwine your fingers with his. “For life. Okay?” You tell him.

His grasp on your fingers tighten and he looks away from you. You see a tear slip but you still don’t point it out. “For life.” He whispers back. 

[arcanarix]

The Right Way, Ch. 3: Toji Fushiguro/FEM!Reader

AO3 (+previous chapter)

To Toji, you must have given the impression of being inexperienced, but that was so not true at all.

Some time ago, you’ve sworn off relationships. Completely cold-turkey.

You already found it hard to define your own worth, so sifting through a relationship that might end up not working out in the long run became such a turn-off for you. Why go through such tremendous effort only to end up in the same place you were before you began? Why inconvenience yourself with people who would rather waste your time than seek an opportunity to grow and to change?

Most people proved they weren’t worth the effort, either… yet for some reason, you could understand that their worth was separate from what they offered in a relationship with someone, so why couldn’t you do that with yourself?

Why not ever offer yourself the same grace you did for other people? What made you the special exception?

“Don’t get too lost in your head, baby,” Toji drawled, finger pads tapping along your inner thighs as he tried to coax you into relaxing. “It takes you away from appreciating this moment.”

Toji Fushiguro might be the death of you, and Toji Fushiguro might be the first man in a long time who might change your mind about a lot of things.

“Toji,” you breathed, eyes fluttering down to see the beautiful man between your thighs, with that smoldering look on his face as if communicating to you that if there was any way he’d like to go from this world, it’d be crushed between your thighs.

“You’re such a menace,” you finished, your eyes hypnotized by his dragon-like green eyes.

“Moi?” he parroted your earlier comeback, and you bit back a laugh.

He trailed kisses along your thighs. “I think I like you too much. More than appropriate for a first date, I think…”

“Says the man currently between my thighs…”

“Touché,” he chuckled, breath fanning against the sensitive skin of your intimates.

You bit harder down on your lip. Sheesh, you couldn’t remember the last time a man was between your legs, let alone a man this fucking beautiful, comparable to a Greek God, and he didn’t kid himself about taking his sweet time because the wait was so goddamn agonizing you were contemplating switching gears and riding his face instead.

But hell, why not let someone else take the wheel and drive for once? Toji may not be Jesus or something, but he was here to save you from yourself.

A wet, thick muscle swiped between your folds and you reflexively tightened your legs around his shoulders.

“To…jiiiii,” you murmured. “So mean…”

Toji shushed you as he continued his ministrations, a large finger or two joining his tongue. You swore under your breath as he didn’t break eye contact with you the entire time. Even as your hips arched, even as you shrieked his name, panting and heaving like you’d just ran five marathons non-stop. Toji seemed way too pleased with himself once your arousal splattered all over his face which he wiped off with his free hand and licked off of his fingers like it was some delicious, tantalizingly sweet sauce you get paired with at any meal that made you want to come back for more.

“Mean, you say? I thought I was following through on my promise of giving you the fuck of your life.”

He wasn’t finished here. Far from it. You saw from that mischievous twinkle in his eyes that he was not letting you off the hook any time soon, diving back into your nethers but his mouth found somewhere else to cover with his mouth.

“AH!” You flushed a deep scarlet as you felt his tongue rim your ass. “Toji! So mean!”

His laugh rang through your mind like wind chimes as he continued his assault on your ass this time, pushing his tongue in and curling the muscle, laughing as you squirmed and whined and thrashed about from the foreign intrusion.

Such a goddamn menace!

What a fucking goddamn menace!

Your eyes rolled back as he coaxed another orgasm out of you, licking his lips as his grin remained plastered on his face, impressed with himself but far from satisfied.

You pouted. He was so mean. You had to get him back.

You dug your heel into his pelvis, where you felt his erection straining through his sweatpants, smirking as he let out the deepest, guttural groan from contact.

“Fuck, baby. Now look who’s being cruel…” In response he yanked you by your ankle and dragged you closer, until your eyes met.

“You fucking beautiful brat,” he growled as something in him snapped, and he pulled his cock out of his pants. Your eyes widened, thinking there was no way that was ever going to fit inside you, but you were still way too turned on to even worry too hard about that because he was in the middle of lubing himself up before lining his tip to your waiting entrance.

He still didn’t break eye contact with you as he slowly inched himself inside, that signature wolfish grin on his face as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, whispering sweet nothings to you and coaxing you to breathe and to relax as he completely filled you up.

“Are you with me?” he murmured, and you nodded, eyes transfixed on his electric green eyes. A hand came to grasp your neck, thumb pressing into your throat as he bucked once. You choked on a gasp, your body already convulsing. Your eyes still never left his as he purred your name, bucking into you again before picking up a gentle rhythm.

“Fuck, your pussy fits around my cock like the perfect sleeve,” he said, eyes glazed with lust. You whined as you felt his cock rub your walls in all the right ways and reflexively gripped onto his shoulders for some support. He shifted his pace, hips snapping with each thrust and you swore you ascended, braindead and forgetting where you were for a moment because all you could focus on was how deep he could go inside you and how well he hit that right spot again, and again, and again—

“—Toji!” you cried his name again as your walls clamped around his cock, and he didn’t bother to stop pistoning his cock into you and riding out your orgasm through the aftershocks. Your body trembled and twitched, your body kept arching into his and you could tell he loved how needy you were for him.

You couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful he looked above you, tearing you apart, bit by agonizing bit. His muscles flexed with each languid movement, and your hands found life again after a moment of delirium from quite frankly the most intense orgasm of your life, just as he promised. Your hands traced every contour and curve, his taut lines, resting on his strong, firm pecs.

Fuck, man. You didn’t think the universe was going to gift you with this five course meal and dessert of a man, but hell! You were glad you were as patient as a fucking saint.

He remained in you for some time, peppering kisses along your stomach until he stopped at your breasts, kissing between them. His touch felt so tender and soft, so unlike his overall demeanor and look. He gave off that tough guy act but maybe that was just a front. You knew a thing or two about that. You were only making guesses, though; you didn’t really know much of anything else about Toji just yet and you were looking forward to this being an exclusive thing.

“Keeping my cock nice and warm for the next round,” he purred into your flesh, mesmerized by your perfectly squishy, soft mounds. Taking a nipple into his mouth, he suckled gently before delivering the same treatment to the other. He took a hand and fiddled with your free nipple until it hardened again.

You couldn’t even think straight.

This man may very well end you.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, meeting your eyes again. He pressed a kiss to your nose, and then captured your lips. Feathery light and fleeting, but you didn’t mind.

“Toji,” you purred, grinding your body into him and whining as he pulled himself out for a moment. Grumbling a string of curses to yourself, you shifted gears and grasped his cock.

“What are you doing, you brat?” he purred, though he knew exactly what you were planning (it didn’t take a genius), brushing his fingers through your hair before gripping it tight. You smirked at him before closing your lips around his tip, inching as much of his girth and length as you could. He moaned, bucking gently into your mouth.

“Keep doing that and we’ll just have to see if you can handle me fucking your throat.”

Your eyes lit up at the prospect, glancing up at him with those needy eyes gave him all the reason to crack.

“You little brat,” he growled as his grip on your hair tightened, inching more of his cock deep into your throat but slowly at first, to get you to adjust to the feeling. “Are you alright?”

You managed to nod, tears building in the corners of your eyes because holy Hell, he was bigger than any guy you’d ever fucked. But you loved every minute of worshipping his cock, just like he loved every minute of worshipping you.

He began at a slow pace, growling and purring at the sensation of your perfect mouth around his cock. He sang you praises as you gradually adjusted, and once he deemed you were prepared, doubled his speed and intensity, hitting the back of your throat to chase his release and once he did, he came hard down your throat, filling your mouth to the brim.

He slowly pulled out, cupping your face as his thumb brushed some of his arousal across your lips.

“Can you swallow?”

You nodded eagerly, obliging and swallowing as much of his arousal as you could manage.

“Fuck, good girl,” he growled, capturing you in another kiss. You purred as he tasted his own arousal on your tongue, flushing hard again as he hummed in satisfaction when he pulled away. 

You were about to shift gears but he stopped you in your tracks, arms securing your waist as he nipped into the back of your neck.

“I’m not done,” he warned, pulling you into his lap and spreading apart your legs. “We’re not done until I say we’re done, beautiful.”

A hand slid to your cunt, inserting two fingers as he cradled your face with his other hand, holding your gaze as he fucked them into you, seeking something. He grinned as he could feel you coming close, eyes lighting up with glee as your arousal spilled everywhere like rain.

“Toji,” you gasped, “Can’t, please, I…”

“Oh you absolutely can, gorgeous,” he assured you as his fingers continued to drill into you in place of his cock. “Trust me.”

Up until this point, you thought multiple orgasms were a myth.

But it seemed Toji was willing to challenge every single one of your beliefs.

More of your arousal spilled from your pussy and you weren’t sure if you’ve ever done this in the past. You couldn’t even think straight though, not with the way Toji remained locked and loaded on ensuring he followed through with his vow.

“Toji!” you cried, trying to grasp his wrist to get him to slow down, but he wasn’t relenting. He kissed the crown of your head, his attention on you completely undivided. He was completely devoted to this, making you succumb to him and his touch, making you lose your goddamn mind which you thought you had some time ago but apparently some sanity was still left before you met Toji.

“Toji, please! Can't come anymore--!" 

But you were proven wrong yet again, spilling all over his hand, and he just watched you like this was a casual thing for him, amused, pleased.

“I told you so,” he chuckled, caging you in his arms protectively. “You can handle it.”

You whacked his chest. “I don’t think I can feel my legs.”

He laughed heartedly at that comment. “That was kind of the goal. Now you can stay here for a few more nights, so I can take care of you.”

“Oh, you fucking menace.”

“Those are allegations I cannot deny,” he quipped. You laughed with him, shaking you rhead at how he could even humor such nonsense, but you nuzzled into his chest, your breathing syncing with his as you caught his earthy, musky, citrusy notes again.

Yeah, you thought, I could definitely get used to this.

[gretavanlace]

Call and Response

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, pet names, dirty talk, language, orgasm denial, fingering, idk probably some others I missed

This is just something quick to get this delicious ask outta my head. It was so good, beautiful anon, SO GOOD!!

“Come on now, gorgeous...” Jake’s voice is velvet syrup dripping over you. “Spread those pretty thighs for me. Open up.”

You’re pressed back against the kitchen island, legs trembling, heart thrumming a wild beat in your chest, cunt pounding and aching right along with it.

His breath is warm against your lips and you swear you can taste whiskey on it. It makes you want to lick into his mouth, tongue curling, and lapping, and savoring…not so much a kiss, but a tasting. You want to be lost in a vineyard; he, the wine.

“Jake…” you sigh, whining his name in a tone that makes you feel inexplicably ashamed.

“Baby,” he whines back, mocking you softly. “What’s wrong, kitten? Tell me.”

His hand has wedged its way against your center, but he holds it still, waiting patiently for you to rock yourself against his knuckles.

“Not here…your brothers are right out there and…”

“My brothers are too drunk to stand. We’re good, baby…we’re so good. Now, open up. Let me in.”

Your body submits to him without thought and soon his fingers are tucked inside your panties, teasing over your clit with your skirt shoved up around your waist into a wrinkled disaster.

A shaky gasp puffs out of your mouth, airy and full of need, and he immediately echoes it back to you, pitching himself higher to mimic your tone.

“Whiny little thing.” He teases, coaxing your chin up with the tip of his nose to clear the way for him to suckle at your throat.

“Jake, fuck…please…”

“Please, Jake,” he whimpers back softly. “Please what? Use all those big words you know. You’re so smart, let’s exercise that beautiful vocabulary…you know it makes my cock throb.”

“Baby…” you moan, nearly ashamed by your inability to think.

He’s rubbing faster now. Quick, slick circles that make you long to bite down onto something…anything.

“Baby…” he sing-songs back to you as, at last, he sinks his fingers inside your cunt, instantly curling into that perfect spot.

“OH…” your legs nearly give out. “Right there, Jakey…please…”

“Yeah?” He taunts like a condescending fuck, “That’s it right there? That’s the spot? That’s where you want it?”

His lips are fighting a smirk as they ghost over your mouth while you nod desperately.

“Yes, don’t stop…” your hand flies down to grip his wrist urgently trying to keep him in place as the knob of a kitchen drawer digs into the small of your back. “Gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum, she says.” A gentle laugh trots out of him, like you’re a pretty little joke.

Your body begins to squirm on its own volition, you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

That is, until he hoists you up onto the island “C’mon. Sit nice for me.”

He phrases it like a request, but you know it’s an order, and you respond accordingly, and without thought. “That’s my good girl.” He praises, a hard edge still teasing at his words.

Your legs spread wider in reply, and his fingers dip right back in as you quiver around him. “Jacob, fuck…”

“Jacob?” He raises his brow and fucks his fingers into you a little faster.

“I need it..” moans begin to tumble out of you, somersaulting and chasing after one another.

He lifts his voice - octaves climbing until he sounds soft and feminine - and repeats each one back. Parroting you in the most delectable way.

His eyes never leave your face, fingers never abandon your soaking, squeezing cunt. Not for a second. It betrays how much he’s truly enjoying unraveling you like a common whore in his kitchen with his inebriated brothers loudly talking over each other in the next room.

“You just can’t shut up, can you?” He hums into your mouth, licking at your tongue in punctuation.

“Jakey…” you don’t mean for it to sound as pitiful as it does.

“Jakey…” he whimpers right back.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” His growls against your throat just before sucking a bruise into it while finger fucking you just a bit harder.

“Making fun of me.” You pant, thrusting against his hand.

“Stop making fun of me…” he calls back, bullying you decadently.

“Shut up…” a soft moan cuts you off.

“Shut up, uhhhh.” Now his beautiful mouth is pressed up against the shell of your ear. You know he’s merely kicking your own sounds back to you, but that little noise flitting off his tongue sets you wild.

“I hate you.” You gasp, fucking yourself against his talented hand faster.

“Liar.” He bites down on your earlobe and then sucks the pain away.

“M’so close…” you mumble, lost in the static vibration of pleasure now.

“Yeah?” He teases, verbally poking at you like a schoolyard enemy. “Are you just so close? Dirty little girl’s getting ready to cum all over my fingers even though we aren’t even really alone?”

“I told you to stop.” You’re panting and writhing just like the whore in the picture he is currently painting.

“Tell me to stop right now.” He presses, tucking his fingers in deeper as you clench and gush around him. “Since you’re so virtuous and pure. C’mon, then.”

“No.” You choke. Fuck, it just feels so perfect.

“No?” You can hear the smug grin on his lips even though your eyes are screwed shut. “Why, kitten? If you want me to stop so badly, just say so.”

You shake your head violently, but he slows his fingers anyway, just to garner a reaction.

“Jakey, please baby, please…” you’re fucking yourself on his hand as best you can, fighting to keep your euphoric release within reach.

“Please…” he calls back softly. “Such a pretty beggar.”

“I hate you.”

“You keep saying that,” he sounds delighted with your torment. “But I don’t think you do. I think you love me. I think you love this.”

Your acquiescent nod falls short as he begins to fuck his fingers into you once again. Searching and stroking and curling and fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Make me cum…” you implore, practically praying to him.

“Make you cum?” He sounds inquisitive, as if he’s surprised by your request, as if he thought this was something else entirely. “Is that what my little kitten wants? To be spoiled like the prettiest baby girl? Loved on like a princess?”

“Jake!” His name bites out through your teeth as you grind them in frustration.

“Hmm?” He purposely casts a distracted air, simply to wind you up even further.

“Stop teasing me.” Tears have begun slipping down your cheeks. “Do it right…I need…fuck, please…”

“You’re not making any sense.” His lips drag delicately over your cheek as he kisses at your tears. “Do it right…I need…poor baby has lost her sweet head.”

“That’s it,” you hiss, shoving his hand away, perhaps a bit more aggressively than you should. “I’ll do it myself.”

He shoves back at you with just as much fervor. “You absolutely will fucking not. Hands off what’s mine.”

“Then please,” you sob quietly, “Please, jakey…please please please…”

Your hands have found their way into his hair. Burying into his perpetually windswept waves. They are so soft, so tangled, so him.

“There’s my angel. Asking so nicely. Please please please. So pretty.” He kisses a sweet trail in a circle at your temple as his hand, mercifully, begins working at you again.

“Don’t stop,” it’s half a demand, half an anguished plea…you’re so close again already.

“Don’t stop?” He asks, that condescending fucking lilt out to play once more. “Why? Are you gonna cum?”

“Jake.” It’s a warning, nails digging crescent moons into his warm skin.

“Oh, she’s serious.” He laughs softly. “Baby wants to cum. Does she deserve it?”

“Yes,” fresh tears race each other down to your chin. “I’ve been so good.”

“She’s been so good,” He mocks, then hums in contemplation, perfect fingers circling up inside of you just right. “I think you’re right, kitten. You do deserve it. You go ahead, gorgeous. You can cum.”

It explodes through you like your body was awaiting his go ahead even more so than your blurry mind. His free hand is there suddenly, covering your mouth to quiet the cries you hadn’t even registered.

“Oh, there it is.” Still, he remains smug and arrogant in the sexiest way. “Pretty little kitten got her way. Shh…don’t let them hear you.”

When it fades, drifting back like a serene tide you hate to see retreat from shore, he slips his fingers into his mouth and then wipes his palm across his shirt.

“Jake!” You scold like a fucked out schoolmarm.

“Fuck it,” he grins, helping you off the counter to straighten your skirt. “Who’s gonna know? Messy girl.”

Your cheeks burn hot “Well, at least wash your hands.”

“No.” he admires his dominant hand, wiggling his skilled fingers, “No, I don’t think I will.”

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