#he'd look so good in the white dress i tell you

[dazed-and-confused23]

Act Naturally

Summary: Lucy has always had a crush on her dad's favorite actor, Cooper Howard. So imagine her surprise when the Western actor ends up as her new husband.

Pairings: Pre-War Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean

Warnings: None yet? I just really wanted to see Prewar Cooper with Lucy. Let's pretend and have fun. ❤️

Cooper doesn't remember how he signed up to be put inside a big ass freezer, or how being frozen constituted being a "good" vault as his late wife once put it. But he was here now, and the actor would do his best to make the best of it.

After "moving" from Vault 31 to Vault 32, Cooper had little time to settle in before he was being summoned to the overseer's office and being informed that he'd been selected to partake in Vaults 32 and 33's arranged marriage program. He would be paired with a young woman named Lucy Maclean and would be expected to help "rehabilitate" America when the time came.

Cooper thought it all sounded like a load of horse shit, but he sighed and went along with it. He didn't have the will to fight against it right now, not when it still felt he was trying to wake up from the longest nap in his life. So, he waited at the back of the line of other vault dwellers for the massive cog door to spin open so that he could meet his new wife.

He doesn't pay much attention to what his overseer is saying. His gaze has already been caught by the dark-haired beauty that stands just behind Vault 33's overseer. She's pale with big brown eyes and in a classic wedding dress and cute white heels. He watches her rock back and forth on them, a nervous blush painting her cheeks pink.

"So um. Who am I marrying?" She blurts at some point, and Cooper already feels endearment curl in his chest. She was adorable.

He takes that as his cue to step out into the light, a friendly smile on his face as he stands before Lucy. He isn't expecting the young woman's face to explode in a blush, her eyes going wide and a hand slapping over her mouth as if she can't believe what she's seeing. Cooper raises a brow, confused, and looks down to see if he's got something on his suit.

"You didn't tell me I'd be marrying Cooper Howard, Dad," Lucy hisses, tone dripping in accusation.

*notes* just something short and cute I couldn't stop thinking about. They'll be another part eventually 😄*

[ponury-grajek]

selfportrait

[meidiary]

( 📁 ) THEM ACTING OVERLY JEALOUS

synopsis: the monster trio and how they act when they're way too jealous for their own good...

characters: luffy, sanji & zoro!

warnings: a teeny tinyyy amount of swearing [:

a/n: first time writing for them so i'm pretty nervous!!! , hope you enjoy!! banner is made by me, inspired by the lovely @sixosix and the layout is inspired by the lovely @luckyscribbles <3

it was his fault! it really was.. he was the sole reason you were entertaining this way too confident guy- because he told you you were out of his league! can you believe that?! and now ZORO is throwing daggers at the poor man just with his piercing gaze alone..

ignoring zoro's needy angry glares he's sending you two, you continue charming your ... acquauntance, growing his already far too stretched ego. "oh darling, how i could melt in those beautiful emerald colored eyes of yours~" and with that sanji cringe-worthy comment you got him babbling on about himself... again.

you're getting progressively more annoyed the longer you hear him try to flirt with you. nonetheless you don't move an inch, because you know he's watching your every move; waiting for you to come moping to him about the guy. he'd feel a sense pride because you came back to him. and that pride, the face he makes whenever he turns out to be right about something, albeit it's a very handsome one, is the last thing you want to witness right now.

so you keep yourself from throwing this guy's drink in his face and telling him his cologne is absolutely murdering your sense of smelling.

you look up as you suddenly stop hearing the random guy talk about some castle garden of his. he gulps hesistantly whilst zoro stands before you, hands in his pockets. "we're leaving." no you're not! "oh zoro~ i barely-" "now." you stand up and turn to leave, but quickly turn back around and give the stranger a kiss on his cheek before leaving with zoro, causing his cheeks to change to a red-shade.

"miss! will i ever see you again?!" he asks before backing up seeing zoro's death glare. "my love, if we are meant to be we will definitely meet again!" what's up with you and these shakespear lines?

zoro gives you a slight shove with his shoulder as he rolld his eyes for what seems like the millionth time this hour. "i think i found my soulmate zoro!" you sang while you interlocked you arm with his. you were met with yet another eye-roll.

"you were the one that said he's out of my league, remember?" zoro huffs annoyed. "shit- that was a joke damn it!" "if anything you're out of his fucking league, dumbass" you lean onto him as you two continue making your way back to the going merry.

"maybe i exaggerated a bit too.." you slowly admit before hearing his usual chuckle. "just don't go flirting with some stranger again, ever. shit could've gone wrong real fast y'know?" you smile sheepishly and nod. "good thing you were there huh?"

and you could've sworn you say his cheeks turn into a rose color before he swiftly turned his head to the side, greeting sanji and nami. was he blushing..?

SANJI was this close.. this close to absolutely losing it and slicing this daring man up with zoro's swords. who does he think he is? flirtingly, charmingly speaking with his lover?! well truth be told.. you two weren't official, far from it actually;

you two were so close to finally having the months-due talk about the classic, what are we-question. but of course sanji had to hit on the waitress that casually passed your table. that was your final straw. if he couldn't stop his antics for one night, you would resume yours for good.

and oh how it made him clench his fists so hard they became white, how it made him ignore all the beautiful ladies surrounding him, for what felt like the first time ever, how he saw you with your pretty dress on, that he bought for you because it reminded him of you, sat on some navy's lap, entertaining the bastard not worhty of a single enchanting smile of yours. yet there you were smiling, no laughing at something the navy said, all while you were supposed to be with sanji. laughing at something he said, playing with his hair, sat on his lap.

he was this close to exploding and increasing his bounty a good amount by punching this navy untill his fists fell off. "sanji, don't you fucking dare." nami warned him, glaring at him from the other side of the table, not in the mood to be on the run again after finally being able to relax for a day.

sanji heard nami, he did! but the minute he saw the disgusting navy's hand run up your thigh causing you to jump off of him, he finally lost it. "keep your fucking hands off her you sewer rat!" he jumped up sprinting at the navy, his snow-white fists ready to release all the pent up anger he held.

but before sanji got to the navy he was stopped by you. your soft, slightly cold hands holding back one of his clenched fists. causing him to slowly unclench it. you tried to push sanji back, knowing his uproar would bring about another navy chasing. "you alright, love?" it's as if all his previous anger vanished the moment he felt your soft touch, smelled you sweet perfume, the moment you felt like his again. "y-yeah i'm good.. but we should get goi-"

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!" the navy man roared causing the others to swiftly join the yelling. "hey aren't those those strawhat pirates with a bounty?!" from the other side of the room it felt like you could hear nami's long sigh. "see what you've done?! grab zoro, usopp and i will take luffy!" everyone complied and assumed their role.

sanji lifted his leg up ready to kick zoro awake right before you pushed him slightly making him stand on two feet again. "not doing that sanji!" he playfully rolls his eyes at your statement.

waking up zoro and running to the ship in a hurry, with a good 3 dozen navy soldiers running behind you calling you names, was the usual. but what surprised you was sanji holding your hand tightly the whole way, not letting go for a second.

once on the ship, back to sailing on the waters, while everyone was catching their breath, sanji took you aside, he interlocked your hands with his while he locked your gazes, still breathless he looks at you earnestly. his eyes illuminating the moon's glow. "i'll stop the flirting my darling, i promise. the only woman i'll charm will be you.. so you better not grow tired of it." he chuckled still a little breathless. you smiled, leaning your body onto his. "you better sanji.."

"i'm all yours sweetheart. all yours"

LUFFY felt weird. he had never met this man before, yet he suddenly has the urge to gum gum bazooka him for the rest of the day. why is he feeling this way right now? is it because he hadn't eaten yet? no that can't be it.. he just had a very good meal with you; you two had split up from the rest of the crew to have your lunch at some fancy looking restaurant on the beach.

luffy furrows his eyebrows once again because of this feeling. he figures, after a while to be completely honest, that the reason he wants to kick this man off the island is that he's taking way too long speaking with you. he's been occupying you for a good 10 minutes now.

how could he? how did he dare to take you from him so carelessly? you two were enjoying your meals, yes you were chatting about the dumbest subjects known to the world, but you were enjoying it. and then some buff man comes and dares to ask you for directions?! it would've been fine if he had left after receiving them, but no, he had to keep talking to you!

luffy was starting to see red at this point. he gets it he does, you're a beautiful woman, you're smart yet very funny, energetic and enjoyable! but you're his. even though you don't know that, even though he never told you that, you are his. and no buff, tall, slick back haired guy was going to change that one bit.

luffy dropped his food and started to walk towards the two of you, angrily eyeing the bold man who was about to get bazooka-d to some far-away island. luffy started stretching his arms, getting ready to send him off.

you notice right away and block luffy's path to the man. trying to laugh it off, you said your goodbyes to the fella and dragged luffy back to the restaurant. "what were you thinking, luff! that could've ended up horribly!" you whisper-yelled, not wanting to attract any more unwanted gazes.

"he took you from me for 10 minutes! how was I supposed to endure any longer!" luffy childishly pouts as he resumes eating. "you could've just said so! no need to bazooka anyone anywhere luf'!" his furrowed eyebrows soften as he hears his nickname.

the first time you called him that he truly hated it. "it sounds like a dog's name!" he complained. but over time, that nickname became apart of him, it was apart of his daily routine; he'd wake up to it, adventure the world with it, buy groceries with it, hear scolds with it. he became one with that silly nickname you gave him, and he wouldn't give that three-letter name up for the world. he wouldn't be able to go a day anymore without hearing you talking about how "the seashells here are so pretty luf'!", or how "i just love it when it's only you and i, luf'," and let's not forget you waking him up with the usual "luf'! sanji finished breakfast, get up already!".

"you can't go off with weird men. i won't let you.. you shouldn't leave my side for some guy that doesn't even know where he's headed!" you chuckle at his remarks. "i wouldn't leave you for anyone luf'! just.. don't bazooka someone next time.. just talk to me."

"you're mine y'know.." luffy tells you while he's munching on some of his cold meat. your eyes widen at his sudden words. "w-what?" "i said you're mine!" he says louder, a little annoyed thinking you hadn't heard him the first time. "you never said that before.."

"never needed to," he takes another bite. "but you are, so don't forget that!" he furrows his eyebrows again while saying that earning a chuckle from you. "i won't.. don't you worry"

NOTE: and that's for my first one piece ficcccc!!!

[ddejavvu]

For Hotch, would he send Jack with your group of ladies when buying your wedding dress so he could get details? He’s a traditionalist so he refuses to see it but he needs to know. However he forgot that his precious son may be the worst spy ever and fails to give Aaron any details about the dress you got.

"Okay, buddy." Aaron sits his son down across the kitchen table from him, his eyes stern and inquisitive as he regards the little boy, "What did Mommy's dress look like?"

"It was pretty," Jack informs him, though the information's not quite what Aaron is looking for, "I really liked it."

"That's nice. What did it look like, though? What else?"

"Um, it was white," Jack stalls, "And..."

"And?"

"And really pretty." He nods, "You're gonna like it, Daddy."

None of that is news to Aaron. He'd known you were looking for a white dress, and he'd also known that it would be pretty no matter the design, shape, or fit. Because you could pull off the couch cushion covers, and Aaron's sure the wedding dress is even more beautiful than those.

"Okay, it's pretty, and it's white. That's good. What shape was it?" Aaron pries, though his son's attention is already waning, "Did it go out at the bottom, or was it kind of tight around her legs?"

"Um," Jack thinks, brows furrowed, "I don't remember."

"You don't remember?" Aaron verifies after a beat of silence, and Jack shakes his head.

"She tried on bunches," He tells his dad, "Like, a whooole stack. And some of them goed out at the bottom, and some of them were tight."

"Went out," Aaron corrects his son's grammar sullenly, any hope of wedding dress intel that he'd had prior to this conversation snuffed out now, "Some of them went out at the bottom. Did any of them have lace?"

Jack tilts his head to the side. "What's lace?"

Aaron swallows, blinking twice at his son.

"Nevermind, buddy." He tries keeping his tone gentle, because it's really not his son's fault that he's seven and that his dad is insufferably nosy, "Just- go play, okay? Thanks for being my little spy."

Jack rushes off to his room without qualms, and when Aaron asks later why his lips are tinged red, he doesn't tell his dad that you'd bribed him with candy to play dumb about the dress you'd chosen.

[bi-writes]

huhhhhh more bestfriend!roommate!simon x fem!reader because i want them to touch

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 4/?)

cw: nsfw (18+), suggestive language and content, mature language and content, kissing over the mask, simon "my girl cums first" riley, fem!receiving touching, praise kink, size kink, simon's thicc thighs need a warning, simon "the mask doesn't come off" riley

simon had a bad habit.

a nose-scrunching habit, a oddly pretty habit, a clouding habit.

you shut the door behind you, locking it. you dropped your keys by the door, slipping your sneakers off and hanging your jacket up. you had the day shift today, so simon let you walk home on your own. but he didn't know when you were coming home, and you suspect that's why he was outside on the balcony, a cigarette between his index and middle finger as he leaned against the wall.

you come up to the sliding door, narrowing your eyes before knocking on the glass. simon didn't move immediately, but you saw him turn his face away, tossing the cigarette onto the floor and stubbing it out with the toe of his combat boot. when he turned to look at you, his mask was on, and there was a little apprehension in those dark eyes.

you gripped the handle of the door, sliding it open. he moved to stand in front of you, taking up the entirety of the doorway, broad shoulders taking up the width of the space.

"luv--"

"shut the fuck up, simon," you snapped. you reached over and gripped the front of his hoodie, yanking him inside. he had to maneuver his shoulders to slip inside, and you brought him right up against you so you could glare right up at him. "you know, it's one thing to come back from your boys' nights smelling like it, but in our home?! simon! how many times do i have to tell you that those things will kill you?!"

he sighed, shaking his head a little.

"trust me, luv," he murmured. "this isn't what'll kill me."

"you shut up," you reached up and gripped his masked chin, forcing his eyes on yours. your eyes were a little watery, and your bottom lip trembled. "don't say things like that. don't you dare."

the air was a little stiff. simon was a bit ashamed, averting his gaze. you leaned up and put both hands on his cheeks, putting his eyes on yours again.

"look at me, simon," you said lowly. "i...i cant tell you what to do. i'm not your mother. but i don't like it. its not good for you. i..." you looked down. "i'm sorry. i'm not trying to...i'm not trying to control you, i just--"

"its alright, luv," he quieted you. "it's alright, i know."

you sighed, dropping your hands to rest on his chest. your splayed your palms there, feeling the warmth of him. you held back a smile when you noticed him puffing out his chest a bit, flexing the muscles under your palms as you pressed against solid flesh.

"big, bad lieutenant riley..." you hummed lowly. "nothing can kill you, is that it?"

simon narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side as he grunted.

"dunno what'll kill me, luv, but it won't be a bloody smoke."

you smiled wide finally, your eyes sparkling as you looked towards the kitchen.

"what do you want for dinner, simon? did you go shopping like i asked?"

"'f course i did," he said quickly, his tone nearly offended for even a hint that he you had doubted that he would do ask you asked. you let go of him, making your way to the kitchen. simon let his eyes wander. you were still wearing your uniform from the diner, pretty white and red stripes in the most adorable dress he'd ever seen. he'd curse the man who'd made you wear it the day he saw it the first time; his gaze that couldn't help but follow the valley of your breasts, the way the skirt fell over the curve of your ass--he felt like a teenager fawning over something so trivial about you, so physical and seemingly superficial, but you looked fantastic in it. his beautiful girl, the one he had known since she was only 17, how she grew and blossomed and before he knew, there was no other woman who could take up as much space in his mind as you.

simon had been to many dark places. the dark edges of torture, the narrow walls of being cornered by an enemy, the hot places where hell was just right over the cliff--he was a machine of order and sheer will, he had killed the parts of himself that never quite suited him for war, but somehow, this place with you stayed the same. it was the one constant he knew, the one constant that just never, ever changed, and for that, he was grateful.

you don't think simon riley believes in god. but he believes in you.

simon had been around the world. he had seen the worst of humanity, ripped his own right out of his chest, but none of it mattered as he sat down on the couch he had picked out with you. he remembered when you sent him the pictures of it, your voice on the other line of the phone as you told him how much you liked the pieces. he had been on deployment, and while he could care fuck all about what color the couch in your shared living room was, it was important to you so it was important to him.

"simon?"

your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"simon, could you open that bottle of wine? i need it for the stew."

domestic. fuck, this was too domestic, it was simple, it was calm. simon never flinched, not even when a bullet would hit the wall by his head, but fuck, the sight of you stirring vegetables in a pot in the kitchen of your shared apartment was making his head spin.

simon riley never missed his target. he set his sights on what he wanted, and with the ease and practice of a lieutenant, he crossed another name off his list.

and one could say that his pretty, little roommate, the woman who had been there before the scars and loved him even after them, was another target. your figure was in his sight, but fuck, his hand was shaking.

when the pot was simmering, you poured yourself a glass of wine and came towards him on the couch. simon was sitting, legs spread a little wide, his hands on his thighs as his eyes were fixed on the low hum of the television. you took a seat beside him after setting aside your glass, putting your feet up underneath you and leaning up against his arm.

"simon? everything alright?"

he turned to face you. a low shadow hung over his face, the hood of his jacket making his face appear even darker despite the mask he wore. you reached over under the hood and brushed a few strands of his hair off his forehead, tracing a small scar against his hairline. you smiled at him, running your knuckles down his temple. in the low light, you could barely see even his eyes, but simon spoke so much with just his eyes. they were beautiful. they were alive, had so much emotion, and you wondered always if maybe simon had learned to speak with them knowing it was the only part of him truly visible.

you lowered your gaze as he pressed his forehead to yours. his skin was warm, and you put a hand on his thigh to steady yourself. you swallowed, noticing how much smaller your hand looked next to his. he wore gloves, like always, but it didn't hide the size of him.

lieutenant simon riley. your simon. built like a fucking bear, a mind of impenetrable steel, eyes that had seen the nine circles of hell and wouldn't spill any of their secrets, simon riley who died and a ghost who brought him back and the woman that he dreamed about when they had taken everything from him except his goddamn memories--

he was kissing you. not in the way other men had kissed you, but in the way that simon riley would kiss you. the front of his mask met your lips, a touch of fabric that was warm and soft and melted your insides with a thousand unspoken words. he whispered your name against your lips, a quiet thing that felt like prayer. and maybe it was a sort of prayer, one that only he could make real, one that only he could make sound like faith and all the ugly, sorry truths that it brought with it.

but there was nothing ugly about this kind of prayer. it held no malice. it was pretty and soft and the only kind of word that ever brought him memories and not nightmares.

you were the one to press your lips to his. even through the fabric, it was like kissing someone for the first time. but not just anyone, simon. simon--simon who kissed your tears when you got stood up at a school dance. simon who promised into your hair that he would come back when you discovered the letters about his deployment overseas. simon who beat the manager at the first bar you ever worked at for following you home one night after your shift. simon who died when his family did and then came back, but only within the walls of your shared apartment and nowhere else.

simon, simon, simon--

his hand was under your dress. one gloved palm slipped up the back of your skirt, caressing one side of your ass as he guided you into his lap.

"simon--"

you choked on his name when you felt bare fingers slide over the edge of your panties. you reached up and cupped both sides of his face, whining as he moved his fingers under the fabric. your cunt was wet and glossy, and he pressed his face into the palm of your hand when he realized just how much time he had wasted being anything other than yours. and he had always been yours, but fuck, why hadn't he ever told you?

"youre so pretty, luv..." he smoothed his other hand up your back, tangling his fingers in your hair and tugging just enough to make you moan. "so pretty...so bloody wet...have you always been like this?"

you nod, unable to speak. his fingers spread your puffy folds apart, a soft wet sound that makes you cry. you want him to put those fingers inside of you, to make you ride his hand until you see nothing but white, but you just cant seem to form any words.

"oh, luv...youre a bloody mess..." he chuckled a bit. "fuckin' hell...let me see you--"

he picked up the skirt of your dress, his dark eyes flickering down. he cursed his breath, fisting the lace of your panties and ripping them right off. you whimpered as he tossed them onto the floor.

"christ, luv, can't believe i ever let this cunt be with another man. look at ya. it's fuckin' christmas mornin', aye?"

"you hate christmas--"

"dunno. could be more inclined if i got to have you in the mornin'."

"fuck you--"

"not yet, sweetheart."

simon never really thought you were much of a singer. but the crying and the begging and the moaning was music--and he was learning how to play you just right.

fingers teasing your cunt, he can feel the way your body aches for something more--something big and eager and warm, something that needs you badly, but fuck--you're so pretty with his name in your mouth and your cum on his fingers.

mine, mine, mine--

he grunted when you gripped his wrist, steadying his fingers enough so you could sink down on them. he groaned lowly, watching you tilt your head back and ride his fingers. sinking those gorgeous hips down again and again, putting his hand to use in a way that felt wrong up until now. fuck holding a sniper rifle and putting bad men to sleep--his hand was made to please you, that much was clear to him now.

you were so tight. grinding slow against him, dripping down his fingers, crying out when his thumb moved a gentle circle over your clit and his fingers slipped up enough to graze a pretty spot inside of you.

"nnngghhh--simon--"

"that's it, luv...'s it..."

you laid your forehead against his, nodding along to his words but your thoughts were only on the feeling of him. one finger, a second finger, a third--fucking up into you and feeling the squeezing of your soft walls and touching you in every way that made you dizzy and warm and cock-drunk--

"fuck, fuck, fuck--!"

you sobbed against his covered mouth as you came over his hand, a cloud of euphoria and pleasure and the soft thoughts of him that seemed to string together in some wonderful, hazy picture of him. simon was all hard lines, rough edges, the cut of broken glass or the wrong end of a gun, but it never mattered to you.

simon was the beginning and the end, of what, you weren't sure, but he was the beginning of something and definitely the end of it.

his eyes were on yours, dark, beautiful eyes that never lost their gentleness even when they should've been permanently black with his rage. simon was not angry. simon was not bent on revenge or eager to kill or smiling the face of death.

no, simon was in love. simon was so fucking in love.

[biteofcherry]

Does mafia!Steve's Reader ever get jealous? Maybe there's a businesswoman or mafia related one that Steve has to have meetings with and reader gets jealous?

Nesting

Not an inch away

mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings for the part below: some angst; soft!dark Steve Rogers; mafia!Steve Rogers; possessive behavior; arranged/forced relationship;

~ * ~

You shouldn't care. You really shouldn't, you tell yourself as you watch Steve open the restaurant door for that other woman to enter.

A woman that looks stunning in a body-clinging white dress and killer heels, not a single thing out of place in her confident persona.

She tilts her head and smiles at Steve, who reciprocates with one of his most charming smiles - one that gets you weak in the knees when he flashes it at you.

He told you he'd be home late because he has boring business meetings to attend to, so you talked your bodyguards slash enablers - Natasha and Yelena - to go to the movies and for some greasy food afterwards.

It's pure coincidence that the spot you picked for your snacking was opposite of a fancy restaurant to which Steve took this woman.

You know plenty of women have successful businesses, but you don't think a mob boss of Steve's caliber would actually do any business with one of them. In a romantic restaurant at that.

Natasha's face is perfectly impassive at the sight, but Yelena cringes as if she feels bad for you for seeing this.

You tell yourself that it shouldn't matter. This whole arrangement, one practically forced upon you after Steve found out about your pregnancy, is one you wanted out of at first, right?

The elegant, shiny ring on your finger, which you grew to love and often looked at with a fond smile, now reminded you of the cage Steve trapped you in. Gold, pretty cage.

With how intense and dotting Steve was, you actually believed the cage could become a warm house, with a faithful, loving husband.

Seemed you were going to become a cliche, instead. A wife to produce heirs to a mafia king, while he fucked around with whomever he desired.

Perhaps you should walk into the restaurant, make a scene, throw a drink in Steve's face. Throw it at that woman's white dress.

But you only clench your hands on the paper bag with takeout you bought to eat at home (your pregnancy is turning you into a bottomless pit). You straighten your back and keep your head up high as you march to the car and get inside, Natasha and Yelena slipping inside soundlessly.

Yelena tries to say something, explain Steve's actions, but you tell her you're not interested.

"I don't care." You announce as coldly as you can, quite proud that your voice doesn't crack with how hurt you feel inside.

At home you devour your food. And some chocolate muffins that you baked in the morning. Each bite as delicious as heavy, your stomach revolting with the bitter jealousy and anger at the thought of what Steve was up to.

Are they having a romantic dinner and smiling at each other across the table? Is he sliding his hand up her thigh and under her dress? Does he make her come silently in front of all the patrons?

Will he take her to a hotel room, or one of his apartments that he owns all around the city, and fuck her into a screaming mess?

Will he fuck her better than he did you last night... yanking a fistful of your hair as he wrecked you into a dripping mess and praised you, A good little wife, taking all of me so well.

Ripping apart another muffin, you decide on your next step. You know running away wouldn't work. For one, you have two guards, who may be friendly, but still were loyal to Steve and what he said triumphed over whatever you wanted.

Secondly, even if you managed to slip out, Steve would find you. And he'd drag you back into the cage and the life he builds with you beside him.

You can't leave the penthouse, but you can make yourself a safe space in one of the free guest rooms.

Since Steve's dipping his dick in other woman's cunt, he doesn't need you sleeping beside him.

You definitely don't want to touch him when he reeks of other woman's perfume. You don't even want to see him.

So after you drag most of your stuff from the main bedroom and hastily put it in the closet in your new room, you close the door. Just in time, because less than ten minutes later the echo of firm footsteps resounds.

You flip a book open, trying to focus on the printed words and not on the way your heart hammers in your chest as you hear Steve's footsteps aiming for the main bedroom.

A vicious part of you hopes that he is a shocked, seeing that you're not there.

Not in the huge bed, naked under soft covers, waiting for your husband lord and master to throw you a crumb of his attention.

The emotionally heaving part of you shudders in sobs at the image of Steve simply not minding that you're not there.

Maybe he's only a little surprised, but brushes it off and simply takes a shower to wash off the remnants of that woman's arousal and his own sweat. Then he'll get into bed and fall asleep sated, uncaring for your state as long as you obediently stayed inside.

You rub at your eyes, cursing the tears away. You shake your head and try once again to focus on the words you're reading.

But then, after a long stretch of silence, footsteps sound through the space. A creaking of door being open. Then another. Slowly moving towards where you are hidden.

Your heart rate increases, fingers trembling against the paper pages of your book.

You take a breath, willing yourself to remain calm and not show Steve how hurt you are. Play it the way mob bosses wives in movies and tv shows do it - cold and indifferent, an armor around you, so nothing can prickle you.

The door to your claimed room opens and Steve stands there in the doorway in all his stormy glory.

He frowns, seeing you sitting stiffly on the bed.

He walks inside. Sleeves of his suit jacket are pushed up, showing his forearms and twirls of tattoos. He braces his hands on his hips and gives you a look that's a combination of concern and blatant anger.

"Can you explain what's the meaning of all this?" Steve's voice is thick and raspy.

You swallow, but shrug nonchalantly as if his heated gaze isn't bothering you.

"I thought it's better to leave the main bedroom, in case you brought your companion home for the night." You say and return your gaze to the book, fighting the urge to wave him away with a dismissive gesture.

"What?" Steve's frown deepens, actual confusion showing on his face.

"I'm not sure your mistress would like seeing me there. Might ruin the mood." You lift your head and sneer at him. "So I simply made it easier for you."

"I have a mistress now?" Steve raises a single brow, remaining calm while everything inside of you was boiling.

You snap your book closed and slam in onto the bedside table. With a little huff you get off the bed and stomp over to Steve.

"No need to lie." You scoff. "I saw you. With her. Didn't know mob business meant taking beautiful women to expensive restaurants."

You push at his chest in anger, but Steve's strong, muscled body doesn't even sway at your outburst. So you push at him again, unsuccessfully, but at least you get to unleash some of your fury.

"Just do me a favor and don't bring any of your whores home once the baby is here. Stay in one of your apartments, or allow me to move into one."

You can't hold off tears anymore and as some pour out, trickling down your cheeks, you clench your hands into fists and slam them against Steve's chest.

Steve's fingers wrap around your wrists, a tight, almost painful hold that keeps your hands bound to his chest.

"You are not going away from me." He declares, a definite order.

His eyes darken, a flash of lethal danger he rarely directed at you.

"In any form." He ads, obviously meaning you switching bedrooms.

Slowly, Steve's face lightens up. Twinkles appear in his eyes and it makes another wave of annoyance surge through you.

He keeps your wrists locked in one of his hands as he uses the other hand to cup your cheek.

"Any moving you're going to do is along with me." He says and tries to lean his forehead against yours, but you pull your head back.

Steve sighs.

"Which is why," he forces you to maintain eye contact with him, "I had a meeting with Camilla. She's a real estate agent who works for me on renovating a house that I bought for us. For our family."

His words make you speechless. A house? Someplace where you'd feel more free and where your kids could run in glee.

Still, you remain suspicious. You want to assume it's just a crafty lie, you're sure Steve's good at those.

"The Infinite is a rather romantic place to talk construction." You narrow your eyes.

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. He lets go of your wrists to wrap both his arms around you, pulling you close to him despite your attempt to squirm away.

"Jealous little bird." He hums and slides one of his hands up to grip the back of your neck.

"In my line of work-" Steve leans closer, his nose tracing the line of your jaw, hot breath tickling your skin making you shiver-

"I manipulate people. Some with threats, some with sugar. And some, like Camilla, with never voiced promise of something they wish for."

Steve's soft snicker puffs across your cheek at your sneer. His lips travel toward your lips. You close your eyes at the intensity of his blue irises and the way your body reacts to the touch of his mouth against yours.

"A restaurant dinner gave her that little spark that will make her work her ass off to grand me all my wishes regarding our house. Even though not once have I even brushed an inch of her body with my fingers."

"It also happens-" the tip of Steve's tongue licks over your bottom lip, his hand starts pulling up the hem of your nightgown- "that I know how to manipulate my wife's body, so she sweats out all that jealousy and anger while she creams on my cock."

Your tiny, needy whimper makes him chuckle in dark victory.

"That what you need, huh?" He grips your buttock and kneads it. "Should I fuck you braindead every day, so that your mind doesn't come up with silly ideas?"

"It wasn't silly." You try to defend your earlier outburst, but it comes out breathy and weak.

"Thinking I could be interested in anyone else when I have your sweet, ripe body at my disposal. Absolutely ridiculous." Steve flashes you a wolfish grin.

He lifts you up suddenly, forcing your arms and legs to wrap around him. His fingers slide from your ass to dip between your thighs as he turns around and walks out of the room.

"You're coming back to our bedroom." He growls a command.

"I'm going to keep you naked and full of cum for the next few days, so it really sinks in that neither of us is stepping away from this marriage. Ever."

[astroboots]

omg tbh grumpy bored Miguel just having to sit, wait, hand over his credit card and then carry bags from lingerie store to lingerie store is so important to me and my daydreaming lmaoo. Punishment fits the crime imo!!

I also love the idea of him going solo and buying lingerie he likes and leaving her little presents because A) if she likes the pieces then perfect!! or B) if it’s not her taste then it’s perfectly okay for him to rip them of her and she doesn’t even get mad 😏😏

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

When you had asked him to come with you to go shopping for lingerie, he had been thrilled.

Why wouldn't he be.

It had sounded like a great way to spend a few hours of on a lazy weekend together.

In his mind, it'd be you half naked, parading in scanty underwear for his eyes only.

A private fashion show, except sexy, instead of boring, where you'd be wearing a lacy piece that would barely cover your ass cheeks for him. A sheer peer of white panties that would leave nothing to the imagination. A frilly pair that was begging for him to rip them off right then and there, in the changing room.

He hadn't know then that it would be like this.

That apparently, in lingerie stores, men aren't allowed in the changing rooms. That he'd be banished in the lounging area, sat in a pink velvet armchair so tiny, it must be made for dolls that he can barely squeeze his ass into.

He's sitting here, exiled to this depressingly sad space of other bored husbands and boyfriends, who are half dozing off or staring at their phones like dreary zombies. Meanwhile he's hunched in on himself like a shocking elephant trying to fit in a goddamned teacup.

Not for the first time since he arrived in this world, the thought strikes Miguel that your world is a dystopia.

Because what other way is there to describe a world where one is supposed to sit sit mere feet away from their partner, while they get undressed and he's not allowed to look. Not allowed to touch. Not allowed to...

Shock.

This is torture. Why is he left out here like some abandoned dog out in the streets, forced to imagine what you look like in that tiny dressing room.

Forced to imagine you naked, with nothing on but a bra as you look at yourself in the mirror, and nothing he can do about it. Except sit here, as his dick stirs between his legs at the thought of it. Nothing to do but be tortured at the thought of you and your hands cupping your breasts as you try to decide if it's a good fit.

At the way you'd spin in front of your own reflection, and the way those sheer lacy panties he picked for you to try, that splits in the middle, would part as you move.

His fangs itch in his mouth at the thought of it. Fingers gripping into the arms of the armchair, as he resists every instinct to rush to his feet and break into your dressing room. Press you up against the wall until you're flat against it. Every inch of him pressed along yours, your legs wrapped around his waist, spreading you wide open as he --

"Miggy."

He breaks out of his reverie. Blinking up to see your face gaze down at him.

"I'm done," you tell him, showcasing the big shopping bag like a treasure.

Reaching over, he takes it from you. "What did you get in the end?"

"All of them. You've ripped so many I don't have anything nice to wear anymore except my old granny panties, so I figured I needed a whole new collection," you say a little pointedly as you serve him a side eye and steer him out of the shop.

He shakes the bag to peer inside, and the familiar white cotton and cherry patterns of the panties you wore this morning peeks out from the other wrapped items.

"Are those the panties you wore here?"

"Mhmm," you hum absentmindedly as you continue to steer the two of you towards the exit of the mall.

It's probably not easy for you to do, cause Miguel is larger than you, and the place is crowded, but he's too distracted to be more helpful to you in this moment.

Images of you flit through his mind. Of the cute sheer panties you'd picked up earlier hugging your hips even as you're walking next to him in this moment.

"Which one are you wearing now?" He has to swallow down the saliva flooding his tongue so he can ask the question.

Training his eyes on the bag, he tries to sneak another peek, even though every other piece has been carefully wrapped in pink tissue paper. "Is it the pink one? or the red ones?"

You cock your head slightly to the side and observe him with an amused smile lingering on your lips.

"Nope," you tell him, still with that casual smile.

"The sheer lacy one then?"

"No, not that one either."

"The baby blue?"

You shake your head and he frowns. This game of 20 questions is getting a bit too drawn out for his liking. And he doesn't quite get why you won't just give him the answer. Still there's only two more guesses left.

"The black satin?"

"No."

"So the--"

"I'm not wearing that one either," you finish before he even can point out the final option.

His eyebrow quirks in question. "What do you mean?

The gears in his heads are turning but not fully comprehending what you mean by that. He saw the ones you wore this morning in the shopping bag, and if you didn't wear any of the ones you bought then--

"I'm not wearing anything."

... Shock.

Dedication & Credits: To my most beloved @thirstworldproblemss for always having the patience to listen to my unhinged thoughts. She had the most delicious thots about what happens minutes after this.

How Miguel would be too impatient to wait until you made it back home. How Miguel would have you pinned against the wall in a semi-secluded area, all: “don’t worry about it, nena. I’ll know if anyone’s coming, and we’ll be long gone before they get here.” But then being so distracted by you and the feeling of you wrapped around his cock that you nearly get caught anyway, and it’s only because you notice in the last second before discovery and tap him in alarm that makes him manage to haul you out of sight before you got caught.

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[willowser]

HMMMMMM interesting to think about arranged marriage with prince shouto...............

i think he wouldn't know. what to expect with you. i think he'd have an idea, as in, what his father, the king, has taught him; the duties of a wife, where your importance ranks in relation to his duties. what he's not meant to discuss with you, like politics and matters at court and foreign relations. how you will speak to him. what to buy in the event that you become...unhappy. a nuisance.

("and she will," enji had muttered, briefly glancing up from the parchment on his desk to fix shouto with a look he didn't understand. "they always do.")

you don't meet until the royal wedding, when you're coming down the long aisle of the grand cathedral, dressed up in a swathe of silk and lace. a thin, gossamer veil hides you from him, but he can feel the ardor in your eyes, the intensity burning through the material. it doesn't seem real until your bare face is only a breath from his own, until he has to see the earnestness in your stare, too.

your kiss is simple and chaste, nothing spectacular, something that leaves his mind as soon as it's over. ever a todoroki, a hundred other things enter his mind, all regarding his now iron-laid obligations: it's vital he meet with advisor keigo to reiterate the plan to establish his authority among the council; general aizawa is in attendance to the wedding, and shouto has not yet received word on his opinion of the new king's ideas to modernize their armed forces; midoriya is somewhere, no doubt wanting to go over state affairs again.

truthfully, shouto doesn't spend long "celebrating". there's already too much that's required of him, hardly enough time to even scarf down a few bites of the banquet laid out before he's being chartered off into discussions on foreign relations and infrastructure development. maybe once or twice does he look back to check on you, chatting pleasantly with his mother and sister at the front of the great hall, and that's satisfying enough.

it's not until much later that he sees you again; freshly bathed and wearing something sheer and long and white, atop his bed.

or his marriage bed, he must remind himself.

enji didn't spend long going over consummation, with him or either of his brothers—natsuo, red-faced and annoyed at the very subject, always storming off, and touya had seemed well-aware of the process, at the time (back before he'd been ex-communicated). it had sounded simple: strip off your dress, get his cock out and into you, and only retreat once he was sure his seed had been spilled.

—so he's not exactly sure what to do or think or how to feel, when you're laid bare and reaching up to hold his face.

it's so startling that he sits back on his knees, to frown where he's looming over you.

you stare at him quietly, like you're expecting him to say something, and he only has a moment to wonder if this is you becoming an unhappy nuisance—what had been the answer, to solve this, anyway?—before you let out a soft laugh.

"c'mere," you tell him, sitting up, too, when he keeps his distance. "i want you to kiss me."

"i already have."

"yes," you laugh again, amusement glowing in your eyes, like the warmth off the fireplace, as you reach for the ties on his trousers. "but you're meant to do it again."

and up until then, he'd felt confident in his achievements, his executions; he'd managed a lot today, in one evening, and he had a lifetime to manage more. it was a good a start as any, he'd thought, but now—

shouto almost can't get the words out when he feels your hands ghosting up the inside of his shirt, nails tickling over his ribs. "a-am i?"

you wrap your arms around his waist in what could be a hug, scooting forward to look up at him with your chin against his chest. "yes," you smile and—it's familiar in a way, how touya would whenever he was teasing. "you're my husband, you're meant to kiss me whenever i want."

that—was not something his father had ever said, he was sure, and it was a too-rare exchange between his own parents. now that he thinks about it—and he does, then, because he's faced with the reality that he doesn't know as much as he should—he's not sure the former king and queen even sleep in the same room, much less the same bed.

much less hug and touch and even smile, the way you do now.

there's no argument he can make against it, aside from finding keigo to find his father to verify the truth to such a statement, and he's only meant to retreat from this bed on one condition.

and if this is what it takes to meet that—then shouto supposes he'll have to do it, for now. he's a brand new king, after all, and it would seem he still has much to learn.

[spideyhexx]

mdni

Coriolanus abandoned his desk, which was strewn with papers. Work that needed to get done as he just stepped into a new political position. It was serious to him, of course it was. But you had come over. You, his best friend since childhood, and while he'd never admit it to your face, he truly missed seeing you after all this time.

It's not that he wanted to go without seeing you, but he buried himself in his work. Right out of the University, Coriolanus' schedule was taken up, day and night. You would hear little from him. He'd stop by for some tea instead of a full lunch, but that was the most you would've been seeing him.

Until this night when you unceremoniously showed up at his doorstep after dinner and Coriolanus simply could not deny you entry. It was clear you had some sort of dinner party, your dress fancier than your usual attire, but you had already discarded your jewelry and makeup and hairpins.

"You can stay, but I need to finish some things up," Coriolanus tells you, gesturing to the small couch in the study as he goes back to his desk. But he doesn't even make it all the way into his plush chair. He grips the back of it and turns to watch you, ever so gracefully sitting on his couch, relaxing, a small glint in your eyes.

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts of taking a break with you and he sits in his chair. Coriolanus probably works for a good ten minutes before he walks over to join you on the couch.

You raise a brow, watching him, "Don't you have to work, politician?"

He laughs, albeit mockingly, there's still a smile on his lips as he plops down on the couch next to you. Coriolanus had taken off his waistcoat, leaving him in a pristine white button down and you dare a look at his arms as he starts rolling the sleeves up.

"I should, but I want to give you my attention," and that smile turns into something darker that you can't yet read.

"Are you getting soft on me?" Coriolanus freezes for just a moment but he regains his composure, leaning back into the couch opposite of you.

"Not at all." You hum at him, shaking your head, "So are you still all cold and mean?"

He scoffs, but he's still smiling. Coriolanus hates that he can't wipe the grin off of his face, but it comes so naturally with you. And the look in your eyes isn't making this any easier. He's been trying to read you since you arrived. You both always did that with one another, eyes searching eyes as you tried to decipher what the other may be thinking.

"Yes, I'm still cold and mean, if that's what you wanna call it," he replies, and he catches the slight shrug you give him.

"Do you not believe me?" He lets out a half chuckle, eyes narrowing as you feel him begin his search into your head. You were prepared for this though.

"I don't." You give him the sweetest smile you can, looking down at your fingers and picking off some of the polish.

Coriolanus cocks his head to the side, his own gaze dropping to your hands for a moment. "Do I need to prove it to you?"

You look back up at him, shrugging, "maybe." Your uninterested look was already starting to ignite a bit of fire within him, but he was in control right now. That's what he tells himself. He looks at your hands again. He knows how cold they always are. It almost makes him want to warm them with his own. They're pretty too, despite your polish being chipped, he knows already that your hands are soft and his mind wanders to how they'd feel and look around his-

You stand, breaking him from his thoughts. Coriolanus watches you walk over to his desk. You lean down a little, eyes skimming over the papers all over his desk.

Coriolanus makes no move to get up, instead just too curious about what you're up to. Your fingers tap the papers, standing in front of his desk, nudging the chair a bit so you can look, "Important work here, hm?"

"Very," he replies and Coriolanus was dying at the urge to get up. He knows you and he knows you've got something up your sleeve but he just can't crack it and it's driving him insane. It's as though his lips are completely numb and he's stuck there on the couch, watching you near his precious work.

You lean over the desk, grabbing one of his pens. Once the cap is off, you lean to write something on one of his papers.

While your eyes aren't on Coriolanus, you hear the scuffle of his shoes as he stands and stalks over to you, grabbing the pen right from your hand.

And you giggle. A fucking giggle comes out of your mouth and Coriolanus doesn't know how to take it.

"I was fixing a spelling error, Mr. Snow." He lets out a huff, his lips parting for a moment before he shakes his head.

"Don't call me that," he mutters, and you raise your brow at him like you're asking for the challenge. It's clear to you that you've struck some cord. You've missed this. It wasn't uncommon for you to annoy Coriolanus to death, but it's been so long and this new him was so easy.

"Why's that, Mr. Snow?"

"You're getting on my last nerve," he mumbles, setting the pen down and haphazardly trying to fix the mess of papers on the desk.

"Am I? Little me getting on your nerves, Mr. Politician?" You don't back down from him, keeping your stance at the front of his desk, him right next to you.

Despite the anger flaring in him already, Coriolanus can't help but smirk. He's no idiot and you've shown your cards now.

"I don't like you," he says and he wishes he could let himself smile at the way you laugh.

"Yes, you do. And you, my friend have made a spelling error on an important government paper," you point your finger to the mistake written on the document.

He grits his teeth, his head down cause he feels like if he looks at you, he'll break his composure. "Don't touch my work again, got it?"

You move your hand from the paper, but lean it against the desk, pressing closer to him, enough that you can see his jaw clench.

"Why? You gonna do something about it, Mr. Snow?" He dares to look at you and your lips play at the prettiest smirk he's ever seen.

"Don't test me," he sneers, taking a step closer to you and you stand up straight to peer up into his eyes.

"Am I doing that? I am so sorry," you say, but you know it's not genuine and so does Coriolanus. He can't even speak as he studies your features and the way you never break his eye contact. It scared him that you were never terrified of him.

"Cat got your tongue?" Coriolanus grabs your wrist and tugs you to stand closer to him, you with his desk behind you and his jaw clenched so tight, you were sure he was grinding his teeth.

"So you got some bite? How scary," you mock and you feel his grip on your wrist tighten. His hand was warm, but rough, holding onto you like he really wouldn't ever let you go.

"You're a fucking brat," he scolds you, and he thinks he's holding your wrist this tight more for his own sanity than to keep you in line.

"You like that I'm a brat," your voice drops to a whisper, almost surprising him but Coriolanus does not want to give in to your little game.

"You know I can shut you up, right?" He looms over you, shifting on his feet, clearly trying to intimidate you, but you haven't let yourself falter. Even though he's so close to you.

"Oh, do please shut me up, Mr. Snow. Who knows, maybe if you don't, I'll tell some of our...peers about how loud you are when you jerk off."

Knowing this was coming out of nowhere for Coriolanus, you still give him your usual smile as his cheeks redden and his grip on your wrist loosens for a mere moment. "H-How do you k-know-"

"I came by the other day. For tea. I suppose I came over...too early," you whisper to him, standing taller, your chest almost pressed to his if it weren't for him gripping your wrist in front of you. "You were quite loud, Coriolanus. And it was just you! By yourself! Moaning about wanting pussy so bad. It's a bit funny isn't it?"

"You wouldn't embarrass me like that," he mumbles, any sense of domineering he originally felt was diminishing and he hated it. He hated it so much.

"Would I?" You tilt your head slightly to the side and Coriolanus really isn't sure if you would. He racks his brain to find something to say, something to catch you off your guard.

"I could bend you over this desk, would that shut you up?" Your smile grows and he sighs in frustration immediately recognizing he failed again to crack you.

"Would that shut my mouth up?" You tried to lay it out for him and you knew he must have been on the same wavelength as you, but it was imperative to hear it from him in his beautiful voice.

"If I kissed you, you would shut up," he finally says and he returns a smirk as his mind drifts to the feeling of your lips on his. Coriolanus watches them part to say something.

"Perhaps. Yes." But he makes no move to do it. It's quite frustrating. Watching him stand so close you can almost feel the heat between his thighs and his grip on your wrist tightening even more. You would not give in and make the first move to kiss him or pull him closer. But he was doing nothing. He feels you search his eyes.

"If you don't shut me up, I suppose I can embarrass you in front of the Capitol elite with your masturbation habits, but I will say-"

His lips lock onto yours before you can finish the sentence, but you aren't one to complain now. Coriolanus let go of your wrist to grab your hips. His lips were chapped, rough against your own but it felt so unreal you couldn't stop. He presses his body against yours completely, almost begging you to jump on his desk, which you do, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

Coriolanus pushes you tight against him so you can feel the strain of the bulge in his pants. He hates the way you smile into the kiss at this. Your hands push up into his hair and although it was so neat beforehand, you loved the fact you were completely messing it up now as his tongue licks at your lip, his teeth biting down on the skin.

His eyes drip with a dark desire you've never seen from Coriolanus as he pulls away, teeth tugging on your lip once more before pulling away from the kiss. You two stare at each other for a few moments, breathing heavily. His clothed hard cock presses to your clothed heat and you can feel the wetness now that you're sitting atop the desk.

Coriolanus cannot stop looking at you, he lets go of your hip to fist and then flexes his fingers before he grabs you again, harder than before, which makes you gasp. He chuckles, leaning closer to nip at your bottom lip again, "Cat got your tongue?"

You roll your eyes at him and Coriolanus vows to himself to make you do that at least ten times a day, "Can you keep shutting me up?"

Coriolanus' mouth finds itself back on yours in an instant.

let's chat about coryo, here :)

[ghouljams]

I am begging on hands and knees please write something about knight Ghost being sick and princess reader taking care of him.

PLEASE

OOOOOH ok maybe not sick, but how about injured?

Ghost hisses as you pull your thread tight, your needle held between deft, if shaking, fingers. You've read about wound treatment, even seen Ghost stitch himself up, but you've never had to deal with it yourself. He hardly looks at you, eyes glued to the pull of your needle through the skin on his side. His arm raised out of your way gives you a clear canvas to stitch, even as the wide expanse of his ribs expands and contracts with every loop. Your fingers are coated in his blood.

He's so firm under your hands. Well built and maintained muscle covers every inch of him. It's a shame to count the scars that litter his torso, or it should be. You have to keep yourself from running your fingers over the soft white scars that cover him like constellations of a life lived dangerously. It's too bad that this is your only moment of pleasure(small as it is) in this whole excursion, and it's coming at Ghost's expense.

"I'm sorry," You tell him for the hundredth time. This whole trip has been a nightmare. Diplomatic your ass, the next time someone needed to visit a warring neighbor you weren't volunteering. And now Ghost is hurt because you were wearing what was supposed to protect him.

"Don't be," He tells you, also for the hundredth time, "it was a lucky shot, won't happen again." You nod and tie off the last stitch. Ghost grunts, letting out a pained breath as you snip the thread, and tries to lower his arm. You stop him.

"I need to bandage it," You remind him.

"Beggars can't be choosers Princess, we gotta get moving." He pushes himself up onto his knees, and you wince watching his skin tug at your stitching, his wound oozing between the looped thread. You're quick to grab the hem of your dress as he stands, finding one of the seams and ripping it. Ghost freezes at the noise, looking down at you from his half stance.

He sits heavily back on the ground to watch you tear a length of cloth off your skirt. Almost curious, his eye heavy on you. He raises his arm again when you reach to loop the expensive fabric around his middle. The blood on your fingers hardly seems to make a dent in it when you see the way it clings to his wound, already soaking dark with his blood. You wrap a few more layers of it and tie off the makeshift bandage.

You stand when you've finished, Ghost's arm dropping back to his side as you enjoy the sway of your much shorter skirt as you do. This is nice, more ladies should wear their skirts at their knees. Ghost keeps his eyes on yours as you stand, unwilling to look at your immodesty. His hand however... His hand grips the back of your calf, slides up behind your knee, rough calloused fingers just grazing the back of your thigh so improperly far up your skirt. Well, up your usual skirt, here it seems he's just dipped above the ripped hem.

"I'm sorry," He rasps. His hand squeezes your soft flesh, enjoying the give of your skin the same way you enjoy the heated drag of his fingers.

"Don't be," You breathe. You keep your hands to yourself, though you ache to touch him. You don't want to sully your precious knight with any more blood than has already been shed. Ghost's hand moves from your leg to hold the tattered hem of your dress. He bows his head to kiss it, his eyes hot on yours. You feel a pang go through your heart, he looks good on his knees like this.

You do your best to control your breathing, school the heat on your cheeks, as he pushes himself to stand again. He leans carefully to grab his undershirt from the ground, and you watch the interlocked planes of muscle over his chest work as he pulls it over his head. His pain is quieter now, short breaths when he moves too quickly. Beautiful, you think as you watch him move.

"There's a stream nearby," He grunts, pulling his bloodied longsword from where he'd thrust it into the earth, "let's see if we can't get you cleaned up."

"I'm alright," You insist, your heart clenching tight at his care. How can he think of you when he's the one that's hurt?

"Got more of my blood on you than I do," He chuckles, holding out a hand for you. You hesitate to take it and his expression softens. "Come on sweetheart," He entreats, "A little blood won't scare me off."

He must be delirious, you tell yourself taking his hand. To call you something so affectionate so casually, as if he's called you that his whole life. You tuck it away in your heart to touch later when you're feeling especially masochistic. For now you let him lead you through the forest towards running water, so you can wash your hands of him before continuing your journey.

[roosterforme]

Playing From the Rough | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley agrees to play in a charitable golf tournament as long as you tag along. When he tells off a professional golfer for being rude and then beats him at his own game, Bradley braces himself for the consequences. But it's you the professional decides to take it out on. Guess he didn't get the memo: don't mess with the Bradshaws.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, mentions of smut, mentions of blood, non consensual touching

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Beautiful banner by @mak-32

"Come on, Rooster. We need a fourth golfer," Bob coaxed, handing Bradley another beer at the Hard Deck. "It's a foursome, not a threesome. And it's for charity."

Bradley sipped the drink and thought about how he'd have to spend a whole weekend day away from you, and he really just wasn't feeling it. The two of you were enjoying that newlywed bubble you'd been living in. Recently, Saturdays had been reserved for sleeping in late, walking the dog, and fucking. 

"Wow, I guess Bradshaw just hates charitable events for children's hospitals," Jake drawled, sipping on his glass of bourbon. "Come on. Be a sport. Payback and Fanboy are deployed. We need one more to make a team."

Bradley sighed. "Let me check with my wife."

"Bring her," Coyote said, lining up a shot at the pool table. "We get two extra tickets. She can drive a golf cart and drink beers all day if she wants."

Bradley cocked his head to the side before he turned to look at you and Nat taking shots up at the bar. "Who else would come?" he asked the guys. "With the other extra ticket?"

But Coyote had followed his gaze. "Give it to Nat. They'd have fun."

"They can be our cheerleaders," Jake said with a smirk.

Bradley snorted. "Don't hold your breath. I think drinking, heckling, and hitting us with the golf carts would be more their speed."

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

"Roo."

Bradley woke up to you pushing your fingers back through his hair, and he groaned. It was just before six in the morning, and you were rubbing yourself against his leg and kissing his neck. He realized he had an erection before he could even remember what day it was, and then he groaned louder.

You and he had to be at the gold course for the charitable fundraiser in about an hour. Bradley wrapped his hands around your waist. "We need to get up, Baby Girl."

"No," you whispered. "You need to fuck me. I'm so horny."

"Shit," he sighed, glancing at the time on his phone. "We can't. We'll be late."

"Roo!" you whined, thoroughly unaccustomed to being told no when it came to anything, but especially when it was something you wanted in bed. Bradley was weak for you in that way.

"I'll make it up to you later, after I'm all sweaty and you've had even more time to get wound up," he promised, squeezing your ass. 

You moaned softly next to his ear. "You better. I want it twice."

"Three times," he replied with a smirk as he got out of bed. He watched you get dressed in a little tropical print pleated skirt and a sleeveless white golf shirt. And nothing else. "Are you planning on wearing any underwear?" he asked, following you into the bathroom.

"No," you told him casually, bending over at the sink to wash your face. He could see your bare pussy. You were doing this intentionally to mess with him. This is what he got for telling you no sex. "Fuck."

When he came up behind you, clearly having a change of heart, you stepped away from him and said, "We don't want to be late." He watched you walk back into the bedroom with your chin in the air. Oh, he'd get you good later.

Once you were holding two travel mugs of coffee and Bradley had his golf bag, he followed you out to the Bronco. He tossed his clubs in the back and then buckled your seatbelt. He let his palm rest on your thigh as he leaned in to kiss you. 

"You're going to look so pretty sitting in the golf cart and cheering for me," he said, trying not to laugh. 

"If anything, you're my trophy husband," you replied with a laugh as you kissed his scarred cheek. 

"I love you," he promised before closing the passenger door and heading out. 

The weather was perfect, the sky was blue, and when you and Bradley arrived at the golf course, the others were already there. The four of them were wearing matching golf shirts emblazoned with Top Gun on the back along with white pants. Bradley wasn't the best golfer by any stretch of the imagination. He usually just tagged along because it was fun, and today was no different. They were raising money for a local children's hospital, and some of the kids were present. 

Bradley smiled at the children who were waving to them after they got checked in. "They'd probably love some pictures with you guys," you whispered, running your hand up Bradley's bicep. 

"Nah," Bradley replied. "There are some TV stars and musicians here. I don't think they care about us."

But you pushed him and Jake toward the kids, and their little faces lit up. Soon Bob was handing out some pins with wings that said Top Gun, and you took pictures while the kids asked questions about aviation.

Bradley ended up sitting with a little girl named Abigail who asked him a million questions about his Super Hornet, but he didn't mind. He loved kids. But it was almost time to get started, so he stood and gave her a high five. And he posed for one more photo that you took before he headed to one of the golf carts. 

"That was sweet of you to pose for pictures with the kids," you told him as you slipped into the driver's seat. 

"It was sweet of you to take all the photos," he replied, sitting next to you and kissing your cheek. 

"Ready?" Coyote asked, taking a seat in the back. Bradley watched Nat tear off in the other cart with Bob and Jake barely hanging on. You followed them to the first tee at a much slower pace, and Bradley was happy to see that there were more kids among the spectators. 

He played the first few holes pretty well. Surprisingly, he was keeping up with Javy and Jake. You and Nat were half watching and half laughing with some drinks in your hands, but Bradley just wanted you to have a good time. 

And you were definitely making sure he was having a good time. Whenever he met your gaze, you ran your fingers up your bare thigh or licked your lips. He was probably playing so well because he knew what was in store for him later. Probably a blowjob to start, but you'd definitely let him finish in your pussy. When he checked the time on his phone, he saw a text from you.

Baby Girl Bradshaw: I'm really horny.

He groaned. You were hot for him and texting him from twenty feet away. He texted you back before tucking his phone away so he could tee off.

Behave, or I'll spank you.

Bradley thought he could hear you moan from the golf cart. But that sweet sound was soon drowned out by someone else.

"Jesus Christ. I told him to fuck off! He doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about. And his golf swing looks like a piece of shit, too." 

It was a guy about his age, swearing up a storm in front of all the kids. Bradley clenched and unclenched his fist in his glove. Sure, he could appreciate the subtle art of the f-word, but not in front of families with kids representing the charity! There was a time and a place. Like bullshitting at the bar or whispering dirty stuff in your wife's ear.

"Rooster, you're up," Javy called, and Bradley rolled his shoulders and walked away.

But this prick was still running his mouth at the next hole. Bradley didn't know how he got unlucky enough to have to play next to this idiot, but he couldn't take much more. And when he looked up and saw Abigail and her parents, he decided that was enough. 

"Hey man, do you mind?" Bradley asked him, and then he was met with cold, gray eyes. 

"I'm sorry, but who the fuck are you?" the prick responded, sizing Bradley up.

"Someone who's sick of listening to your mouth," Bradley replied without hesitation. This guy was handsome and smug, and Bradley couldn't stand him. "This is an event for children. There are kids everywhere. Cut it out with the foul language."

Bradley turned and walked back toward the golf cart where you were laughing with Nat when Jake jogged up next to him. "Dude, what did you just say to Hunter King?"

"Who?"

"You were just talking to Hunter King. He's a super famous pro golfer!"

Bradley turned back to see that he was still being glared at. "I told him to shut his mouth and stop swearing in front of all the kids," he told Jake.

"But that's Hunter King," Jake insisted with wide eyes. 

Bradley shrugged and said, "I don't care who he is. He's being rude." Then he took a quick sip of the beer you were holding before handing it back to you with a kiss to your forehead. 

"Ready to go to the next hole?" you asked, brushing the hem of your skirt a little higher. 

"I'm ready to take you home," Bradley replied, squeezing your perfect thigh. 

"Gross," Nat complained, climbing out of the cart and heading to the other one. You and she drove the four of them to the next hole, and Bradley saw that Hunter King was right there as well. 

"Go get a hole in one, Roo," you told him, rubbing high up on his thigh and brushing his cock. 

"Baby Girl, I'm gonna teach you a lesson later."

"Ohh," you crooned. "Will you teach me how to hold your club?"

"If you're good," he replied, climbing out of the cart with a shake of his head. Bradley watched Hunter King play par on the hole, and then it was his turn. Bradley drove the ball with a nearly perfect swing, and the ball landed on the green.

You and Nat were both cheering for him, and the kids in the area all looked delighted as well. Nat drove Bradley over to the green to putt while you waited with Bob and Jake. And to Bradley's surprise, he came in at one stroke under par for the hole. He just did better than a professional golfer. And now Hunter King looked even more pissed off.

"Good," Bradley muttered to himself, bending to get his ball out of the hole. "That's what you get."

And then Bradley beat him on the next hole. And the one after that. 

"Wow, Rooster," Nat said, rubbing his shoulder. "I had no idea you'd be this good. Jake tells everyone how terrible you are."

Bradley rolled his eyes as you walked over and wrapped your arms around his waist. "You're doing better than Javy, Bob and Jake," you informed him, clearly impressed. 

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "It's just for charity." But he was still shocked when he finished in third place overall. Hunter King finished in fourth. 

Bradley went over to congratulate the first and second place finishers, but he was cut off by Hunter. "Good game," Bradley managed through clenched teeth, holding out his hand. But the other man didn't shake it. Instead he smiled in such a way that made Bradley feel very uneasy. 

"Are you married?" Hunter asked him.

Bradley's brow scrunched up. "Yeah," he replied.

"Which one's your wife?" Hunter was nodding to where you and Nat were standing in the sunlight. You looked beautiful, the golden glow illuminating your skin as you shifted weight from one foot to the other. With one hand planted on your hip you tossed your head back and laughed. You were his wife. His perfect wife. 

"You know what?" Hunter replied. "It doesn't matter. I'll take real good care of both of them."

"What?" Bradley asked, but as soon as Hunter headed your way, someone was trying to pull him aside for a photo with the other winners. When he turned back, all he saw was you and Nat being led away with Hunter's hand on your lower back.

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

"Ladies."

You looked up into a pair of soft, gray eyes and were met with a brilliant smile. "My name's Hunter, and I'd love to take you on a tour of the VIP tent."

"Sounds swanky," Nat replied, smiling at him.

"Oh. It is. I promise," he said with another charming smile. "Let's go."

You looked back to see that Bradley was absorbed with a photography crew and some of the kids associated with the charity. You tried to wave to get his attention, but you supposed it didn't really matter. You wouldn't be gone long enough to even need to grab you phone from the golf cart. 

Then Hunter's hand came to rest just above the swell of your butt, and you thought your eyes were going to bug out. As he nodded at the security guard watching the entrance to the VIP tent, you slipped out of his grasp. 

"Welcome, Mr. King," the guard said with a smirk. "Two guests with you?"

"That's right," he replied with a laugh. He was annoying, but the inside of the tent was incredible. It looked more like a small arena inside. There were people checking out golf simulators and waiters walking around with drinks. You watched Hunter grab two bottles of champagne from a large ice bucket. 

"This way, ladies," he said, and you took Nat by the hand before she could wander over to the simulators. Hunter looked at your joined hands as you both followed him, and he muttered, "That works for me, too."

You pulled Nat a little closer as the three of you ended up in a secluded area. After he popped the first bottle of champagne, he handed it to Nat. "A whole bottle?" she asked. "Thanks, Hunter."

Then he popped the second one and gave it to you. "Drink up."

His fingers lingered on yours as you said, "I love pink champagne. My husband buys it for me all the time."

Hunter's eyes appraised you, lingering on your lips and chest. You were suddenly very aware of your lack of underwear and peaked nipples. "Oh, you're married?" he asked casually. "Was he the one who finished in the top three?"

"Yes! He placed third," you told him before taking a sip of the expensive champagne. It was delicious, and Nat had already finished half of her bottle. You kind of wanted to share your bottle with Bradley, but you also kind of wanted to ditch it and leave. 

"You like to play golf?" Hunter asked, completely focused on you now. 

You shrugged. "I haven't played much. I usually just hang out in the golf cart when I go."

"Your husband won't let you play?"

You rolled your eyes. "I can assure you that I do whatever I want."

"I love to hear that," he laughed with a smile. "And I think you want to try out one of the simulators." 

You noticed that Nat had already wandered away to one of the booths. "Just for a minute," you agreed.

Then you listened to him explain how the simulator worked. It was a small booth, and you would wear a virtual reality mask. It looked just like you were really on a golf course. 

"Let me close the door for you," Hunter murmured next to your ear. "So you can get started."

He closed the booth, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was still in there with you. Because when you bent a little at the waist, you bumped into him with your butt. 

"You need a little help with your posture?" he asked, wrapping his hands around your hips from behind. In an instant, you knew you were rubbing against the zipper of his pants, and his left hand was skimming over your skirt right where your little rooster tattoo was covered by the thin fabric. 

You gasped when his hands slid a little lower. You had no underwear on, because your main goal of the day had been to tease Bradley. But now Hunter was the one almost touching your bare skin. 

"What the hell?" you shouted in the small space, whipping off the mask covering your eyes and spinning around. "What the hell is your problem?" You watched his face as you pulled your right hand back. He looked alarmed, eyes wide and hands held up in surrender as your palm made contact with his face.

"Ow! Fuck!" he screamed. Somehow you managed to slap his cheek and also hit his nose with the heel of your hand at the same time. It started gushing blood onto his pale blue shirt, and he tried to pinch the bridge of his nose to get it to slow down. 

"I'm married, and you're creepy!" you informed him loudly, shoving past him to get out of the simulation booth. "Come on, Nat," you called, taking her hand again.

"Why are we leaving? I didn't finish my champagne!" she complained. So when you walked back past the ice bucket, you gabbed a new bottle for her and a second one for yourself.

"Hunter is a creep," you informed her as you made your way to the tent exit. But Hunter was hot on your heels and reaching out for you.

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

Bradley saw you go inside the VIP area, but he got pulled aside for some group photos. He knew the kids, including Abigail, were waiting for more photos as well, but he quickly excused himself to head after you.

"That son of a bitch," he muttered to himself as he approached the security guard. Hunter King was mad that he told him to shut his mouth, and beating a professional at his own game really hadn't helped Bradley's cause. And he just knew Hunter was going to try to take it out on you and Nat. 

He started sweating. You were all horny and wound up, and you had skipped underwear to mess with him. And now the guy who was pissed off at Bradley was probably inside pawing at you. And you weren't answering your phone. 

"Whoa, hang on," the guard said, sliding into place in front of the entrance just as Bradley got there. "This area is off limits for you."

Bradley grunted. "My wife is in there."

"Good for her," he replied with a shrug of his enormous shoulders. 

"You don't understand. She's with Hunter King."

The guard had the audacity to smirk at him. "One of those two attractive women? I'm sure she's having a great time with Mr. King."

What was that supposed to mean? Bradley had to close his eyes and silently count to ten. "I just need to pop in there, and then I'll be right back out."

"Absolutely not."

Bradley ground his molars together before he managed a very insincere sounding, "Please?"

Then the security guard laughed at him, and Bradley contemplated trying to shove this guy out of his way. He had about a hundred pounds and four inches on Bradley, but it would be worth the pounding to make sure you and Nat were okay. Just as he was working himself up to do it, he caught sight of you heading his way, dragging Nat along. You emerged from the tent looking unscathed.

"Hi, Roo," you said sweetly, gripping a bottle of pink champagne for some reason. You wrapped your arms around him, the cold condensation from the bottle pressing to the back of his neck. 

"What's going on, Baby Girl?" he asked, still completely bewildered as you kissed him. "Where's Hunter King?" He was pulling you a little closer, waiting for some sort of explanation. 

But Nat started laughing. "You don't need to worry about your wife. Cheers," she said, holding up a second bottle of champagne before popping the cork.

You whispered, "I love you," against Bradley's lips just as he saw Hunter come storming to the tent entrance with blood all over his shirt.

Bradley took your face in his hands. "What happened? Why is he covered in blood? Did he try to hurt you? Or Nat? This is all my fault for telling him to stop swearing and then beating his score." Bradley could feel his pulse quicken, feel his brow crease in concern, but you were smiling.

"He's a creep. I told him I was married, and he still tried to touch me, but I'm pretty sure I broke his nose."

Bradley shoved you gently away from him, ready to beat the ever living shit out of both the security guard and Hunter King. He watched Hunter's eye grow wide as he clenched both hands into fists, but then you were in front of him again. 

"Roo! It's okay!" you promised, pressing the champagne bottle to his chest and pushing him back. 

"It is not okay," he growled, letting you push him a little further away from the tent. "I'll rip him in half."

"Roo! Right before I saw you, he tried to grab me again. I told him I'd call the cops if he didn't match the donation that was being made to the children's hospital." 

"Match the donation? That's like four hundred thousand dollars," he replied, looking at you with surprise. "You just got Hunter King to make a personal donation of four hundred thousand dollars?"

"Yep!" you replied, pressing yourself to the front of him. "I sure did. And I got him to say it in front of one of the charity's coordinators. I also insinuated to that coordinator that perhaps Mr. King shouldn't be allowed to spend any time alone with women in the VIP tents in the future. And that maybe he should be removed from the circuit. Now let's go home, pop this delicious bottle of pink champagne, and celebrate your third place victory!"

Bradley was still gaping at you before he scooped you up into his arms. He was careful to keep your butt covered with one big hand as you kissed his face while he glared past you at Hunter King until the other man slinked back into the shadows where he belonged. 

"You're such a badass," he told you suddenly. "I'm so impressed by you all the time, Sweetheart. You don't even need me."

"No, I don't," you agreed with him, kissing his cheek and trailing your lips back to his ear. "But I really, really want you."

"Let's go home," he grunted, carrying you to one of the golf carts. "I just want my bed, my wife, and the expensive champagne she stole from the VIP tent."

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

Don't mess with the Bradshaws! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[grimesthinker]

Stepdad!rick getting all jealous when you have a boy over and you have to try your hardest to bite back your smile at his attitude.

nsfw ˑ ੈ ♡‧₊˚ edging, fingering, condescending rick (kinda)

"you expectin' someone?" rick lifts a brow as he makes his way down the stairs, gesturing to the way you keep biting your lip and peeking out of the window.

"maybe." you smooth out your dress and turn to him. "i invited a boy over for dinner. hope you don't mind." your tone is sweet, polite. but rick knows you better than that. he can see through the princess exterior and can tell when you're taunting him.

he makes a face and you can tell he's fighting the urge to say more. if your mother wasn't standing in the kitchen chopping vegetables, he'd tell you to drop the attitude. his eyes drop down to your pretty, white, ruffly dress. it stops just above your knees. he remembers you trading a girl at hilltop for it, giving her a few seeds in return. he tears his eyes from your body, and goes to make conversation with your mother.

a few moments later, a knock comes at the door, and your eyes light up as you answer it. a bright eyed boy your age stands there, and you smile and invite him in. he hasn't been in alexandria long, so you politely introduce him to your mother and rick.

"this is my mom," she smiles politely. "and this is my... step father." rick bites back a chuckle at that.

"rick." he sticks his calloused hand out and the boy nervously takes it. rick grips too hard and the boy winces. rick smiles. what an ass.

dinner goes well. that is, if you don't count the way rick makes a face and fights the urge to roll his eyes at everything the boy says. although he was sweet and talkative enough, your attention wasn't even on him. it was on rick and his hands. and his jaw. and his eyes. he grips his glass a bit too hard when the boy says something about how pretty your dress is, and you squeeze your thighs together. you snap out of your thoughts, the ones about how good rick's big fingers would feel inside of you right now, and smile kindly.

the boy thanks your mother for dinner and you silently scold yourself for not being as into him as you should be. he's kind, really. but you're bored. as he prepares to go home himself, you speak by the door and say your goodbyes. you know rick is watching. that's why you place a sweet, simple kiss on the boy's lips.

a moment later, your mother says she has a headache and goes to bed early. you tell her you'll finish cleaning up. she kisses her boyfriend goodnight and goes upstairs. you turn the hot water on and begin to rinse a plate off. now that you're alone with rick, your breaths are shallow and you don't even dare to look back at him.

"he was nice, huh?" his voice isn't sincere. you know that. he takes a plate and gently places it in the sink. you don't even look at him. he doesn't like that, clearly, because he turns off the water and stands close to you now, nearly towering over you.

"look at me." you don't dare to disobey anymore than you already have. you turn your head and look up at him. your eyelashes flutter. you chew on your bottom lip.

"had so much attitude earlier, princess. what happened?" his hand gently smooths your hair from your face. his thumb traces your bottom lip.

"i.....well...." you stammer. he grips your hips and turns you around so you're pressed against the kitchen sink. your eyes widen. a deer caught in headlights.

"you think he'd treat you like this?" he whispers into your ear. he traps you against the counter, his hand running up your thigh. you don't answer. his hand forcefully spreads your legs and he traces a finger along your already soaked panties. you whimper. "you think he could make you come like i can?" he laughs. it makes you shudder. "answer me, doll."

"no..i'm sorry..i...." you stumble and he lifts your hips so your ass is on the counter. he swiftly moves your panties to the side and slips two fingers inside your cunt, making you gasp. you're so wet already, he hisses through his teeth. you always do this. taunt him when others are around and then immediately succumb to him once you're alone. you can't help it. sure, you can be a brat. you both know that. but then he gets like this, and you want nothing more than to be a good girl for him.

you become a teary eyed, whimpering mess as his fingers fuck you. he watches the way your pretty lips part and hips buck slightly. "shut up." he whispers against your lips. tears stream down your face at that. "sweetheart," he coos and kisses your wobbly lips. "don't wanna wake her up, do we?"

you shake your head and tension builds in your tummy. your breath catches and when you're about to shakily ask for permission to come, he pulls out. you cry out at the loss of contact and he grips your thigh hard. "you should've thought about that when you invited that little boy over."

[kuni-is-daddy]

Switch!Wanderer x Female Reader

Birthday Special

Ft: Mentions of nahida. Word Count: 1.32k

|Scaraficlist!|ScaraNSFWAlphabet

:// Spoilers for his lore if your not updated. Use of Darling, Good girl, Soft wanderer, subtle grinding. Kuni tries to be dom. Aftercare

CW: Minors do NOT interact past the cut! This is a NSFW POST!!

Wanderer was bored. So he decided to go to the sanctuary of Surasthana while you we're 'busy running errands at the akademiya'. Or, that was the story you went with. "Errands?" Nahida was sitting on her swing while flicking through the pages of a colorful animal book. Slimes, Whopper flowers and even vishamps were all printed in bold along the pages with pictures and definitions in the corner. "Hm.. But I thought she was getting ready for the surpri-" Nahida stuttered and bit her tongue. Wanderer noticed. "What is it?"

he insisted and she nervously closed her book. "Well Uhm.. I know your stance has changed, But shouldn't you take some time off to compose yourself? Its your-" "My birthday." He said sarcastically. "I don't celebrate that Irrelevant holiday; it wouldn't even apply to me as I wasn't even given a concrete date of birth. Who cares, It's just a waste of time when I could be doing other things." Nahida got up. " Well, if you're comfortable, maybe you can give a gift to someone else? Someone you care about! You know.. your thes-" Wanderer groaned. "Yes buer. I know my thesis is due. Youve reminded me. SEVERAL. Times." She smiled, now that Wanderer was attending lectures and studied at vahumana, the little archon was eager to read out his findings. Nahida then waved him off as he turned away. 'A gift..' He immediately thought of you. What would you like this time? Make-up, Clothes, should he take you out on another date? He didnt have much mora on him at the moment, But didnt care since it was for you. Wanderer sighed, He'd just have to go off his own idea.

Wanderer fumbled with his keys. You probably still weren't home anyway. He thought. He did tell you how he felt about his birthday. For all he knew his existence was just a hinderance. His mother, Niwa's suffering… The deaths in the clans…. Wait. Is that why you stayed in the akademiya for so long? A pit began to swirl in his chest and eyebrows furrowed at the thought. Nahida was obviously holding out on something when she referenced you. He tsk'd then turned the doorknob "Y/n?" and was greeted to your shared house covered in decorations. Wanderer fell completely quiet as he looked around the house, there we're teal and white decorations along the walls, A feast on the table, then gifts neatly tied in a bow. He took off his kasa hat, hanging it up by the door. Many gifts we're lined up along the hallway. Two we're in sparkling green wrap. 'From Nahida, To hatguy' Was written on the tag. While 3 other gifts we're from you. He Opened the door to his room; Light came from underneath. "Y/n. Darling? Are you-" "SURPRISE!!!!!!" You yelled and jumped off his bed, Kuni blinked as he heard a pop and watched shreds of confetti fall onto his head, one on his nose that he blew away a bit annoyed. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!" you ran up to hug him, practically jumping into his arms as you hugged him tightly.

You then pulled away as he looked you up and down. You wore a f/c dress, Stockings and a blue bowstring tied on your right wrist. He grinned and tugged you by his arm, pulling you closer and into his grasp. Before you could react his arm was already wrapped around your waist. "Hm. So all I have to do is indulge in this stupid holiday to have you wrapped up for me like this?" Kuni's gazed stayed focused on your now flustered expression with your body pressed against his, He trailed his free hand down to the hymn of your dress, Rubbing his fingertips along your clothed thigh. "Well..it is your birthday so I thought id-ah-give you~ something~" A small moan escaped your lips as he rubbed his hand along your ass, He scoffed a bit when he felt the latex of your stockings. "Oh? And what was that? This perfect body of yours that I can have whenever I want?" You nodded and stumbled in his touch, "Fuck.." Kuni let out a raspy breath. Your knee pressed against the forming tent in his pants. "If your done playing around, Im going to unwrap my gift now."

---

Kuni scooped you up properly, then placed you onto the bed. You looked at him eagerly as his pupils began to glow a fainter purple. He hastily took off his open chested kimono and bodysuit, discarding his vision as it dangled off the side of the bed. "Lay down for me." Kuni ordered. You complied and got comfortable, kicking off your flats and laying on the middle of the bed. He sunk his face into your neck and bit along your shoulder before leaving petals of kisses along your neck. You moaned softly into his ear and pressed your knee up a bit further, Stimulating him through his pants. "You- mn Slut. Rutting against me like this." Kuni bit harder, Sucking on your neck and creating red patches along your skin. He pulled away from your neck and smashed his lips against yours, His tongue eagerly intertwined with yours, Your lipbalm softly smeared against his own lips in friction as you moaned into his mouth. Kuni's hands shifted down towards your breasts, Cupping them harshly through your dress cloth. His member began throbbing through his pants, You wanted more. Touching him like this wasnt enough. Kuni pulled away and you whined. "Shh shh..Be patient my love." Your heart rate increased at his sudden sweet nickname, And as you we're distracted he pulled you near the edge of the bed and spread your legs. "K-kuni- wait! my stock-"

He tugged at the cloth and ripped it, Holes formed in the stitching near your thigh. Kuni's eyes widened a bit, You also had lacey lingerie on underneath. "Shit..You've been plotting this all day huh? To have me fuck you with these on?" His fingers pressed on the cotton, and slowly pulled your lingerie off as well. Your pussy was already glistening from his remarks and Kuni bit his lip. "God..I need to taste you right now darling, You look so good for me~ My perfect gift." Kuni leaned down in between your legs and licked along your folds. He was going to drag this out as long as he could. He took more short licks along your clit, Occasionally Licking at your bud while gripping you closer. Your legs twitched from his teasing. "Kuni..Please~ More~! I need it~!" You pleaded and kuni finally inserted his warm tongue inside your pussy. "Mn You taste s' good darling~" kuni's tongue licked along your walls and You bucked your hips a bit softly into his tongue. He then sunk farther in-between your legs, giving you a hazy sight of him pulling his bangs out of view and rubbing your clit against his lips. "K-kuni! wait your tongue~! Its-" "Loudher slut~ Mm-let me hear how good im making you feel~" You moaned into your hand while gripping tightly onto the bedsheets. Out of desperation to chase your high you pressed his head in between your thighs, Suffocating him in your taste. Kuni was so used to training himself how to breathe he forgot he was a puppet; He felt a bit lightheaded but couldnt help it as his length began throbbing so hard in his pants he felt as if he was going to cum untouched while rubbing your clit as you moaned out his name.

A coil snapped and you came undone, Letting out a muffled cry as you coaxed his lower face and tongue in your Juices, Squeezing your thigh one more time as your high subsided. The deafening silence blinked you out your daze as kuni got up from in-between your legs, Panting and his hair completely messy. "I- Kuni Im so sorry! Are you okay I didnt-" As you looked further down you noticed the wet stains coming from his shorts, He pulled the string and slid down his shorts and boxers, finally freeing his aching shaft. "Mmm..Fuck..You really are my slut arent you. My Pretty cocksleeve~" Kuni pulled up your dress finally over your head, frazzling your hair slightly and he panned your locks back in place with his thumb. "Spread your legs again for me.. darling And dont you dare-Hah..Get quiet again. Okay?" He said between panted breathes, you nodded and parted your legs again then held them up a bit until his tip grazed softly against your wet entrance, The puppet was already twitching from the contact and his precum smeared along your clit. Kuni looked up at you again, "Are you ready doll?" You hummed and he immediately plunged himself inside you, Moaning and groaning at your warmth.

"Ah~ F-fuck y/n." He bucked his hips up and down slowly. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer as he kissed under your neck with your head rested on his pillow. Kuni let out heavy pleasured sighs in sync with your moans as you chased your second orgasm. With his face dug into your neck he searched for your hand, gripping at the bow then intertwining his hand in yours. Your body arched further as his bed began to creak from his quickening pace. His ornament and kimono fell off the bed with a slight clink, But kuni was in a daze from your walls clenching around his cock. "Y-your so tight y/n i- im fuck~! Gonna cum~!" Kuni tilted his head up, biting harder into your neck while your nails dug into his shoulders. You quickly came again, shuddering from your second orgasm as you coated his cock. Kuni soon came after, bucking himself balls deep into you with a harsh thrust, Ropes of his Cum gushed into your womb, Painting your walls the color of his seed.

Wanderer panted into your chest, The only sounds coming from him we're soft sighs of relief from his pent-up orgasm. He tried getting up, slowly pulling himself out of your stuffed pussy and fetching a towel. He then held your hand softly, gracing you up as he wiped any sweat or fluids off your body. He was deafly quiet and focused on cleaning you up. He sighed and got up until you gripped tightly on his hand. "Stay with me kuni…Please~?" Your eye lashes fluttered, Blinking out the small dry tears. The puppet stared at you as you held his hand. He was never showered with this much affection. Nonetheless for his birthday, He didn't know whether to get emotional or frustrated. And chuckled to himself at another one of his fatal flaws that he couldn't understand. "Heh. So needy arent you? Fine. I'll stay." Kuni then laid down with you ontop of him, planting a kiss on the crown of your head while you rested on his chest.

The next morning you woke up limp with your knees wobbling. You stumbled out the bed, noticing a pair of clothes sitting by the edge with a small note attached. "Not bad, I guess cooking is another thing Your reliable on. Lessor lord Kusanali is having me attend another Boring lecture, She says its 'important' But I don't really care. Ps. Check my desk when your done, Then meet me at the Akademiya. Hurry up."

On his desk was a bouquet of flowers….And another note. 'Thank you for the birthday gift darling.'

A/N: I Havent wrote in like...WEEKS omg :( Ty all so much for your patience and HAPPY NEW YEAR!. Thank you for reading!!!

[svgvru]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑?

creds to @y-yearning : PUSSYHAVER OLDER DILFIE GOJO ND MID-TWENTIES OR TWENTIES READER FUCKING GOJO REFUCKINGBLOG OPPELASLELEKJBRHFVG I NEED IT.

YOU ALWAYS ADORED YOUR NEIGHBOR. satoru gojo was a sweet man, albeit one with a shit ton of personality. he was much older than you, you estimate around double your age, but he didn't look old, at least from your yard. in fact, he was quite musclar, the white stuble on on his jaw, and the small streaks of grey in his hair were the only indicators of his age. but when you first came into the neighborhood, fresh out of college and a newer home owner, he showed you the ropes. he really was nice, and prettier upfront.

satoru gojo also had kids. he a husband of his own, seemingly settled down and happy. although, that wasn't exactly true. you had no way of knowing, but satoru's arranged marriage wasn't exactly a thing he was happy about.

but when the adorable smile of yours was directed his way in the mornings, he couldn't help but be just a little happier.

this older neighbor of yours give you tips to keep your lawn neat, listen to your random array of hobbies--he'd even indulge in them so you were lonely, he'd happily accept whatever sweets you'd get him, and he'd listen to all of your problems. he spent more bonding time with his younger neighbor, than with his husband.

one problem he listened to in particular, was money. as someone built from old money he has plently.

"why don't you come babysit for my kids? me and my husband are going out this weekend, we could use someone to watch them." once he stated his price you immediately nodded, eager to receive such a large amount of money per hour. plus, you had never been inside of his house, you wondered what his style was. "gladly!"

and when the day came, you were quite nervous. they were going to be out pretty late, so you brought clothes to sleep in and any necessities you needed.

satoru opened the door with his warm dimpled smile when you knocked. "glad to see you! and welcome to my home," he stepped back and allowed you through the door. you looked in awe as your eyes scanned the interior. the house looks bigger on the inside, and it was beautifully furnished. "your house is beautiful, i don't want to step inside," you chuckle lightly, feeling as if you might ruin the rich air of it if you fully stepped inside. satoru laughs, "c'mon."

when you step inside, he closes the door before calling two names. you see two little kids run towards him. the bigger one, likely around five, seemed to have a lot of energy. "this is saori," satoru puts his hand on her head. she had long straight white hair with a few black streaks in them.

"this is five-year-old i warned you about," satoru starts, the girl interrupts him with a frown, "hey!" satoru chuckles, "she has a lot of energy."

the smaller kid trotts up to him. "this is shiro," satoru picks up the kid, holding him gently in his arms. the kid looks exactly like him, bright blue eyes, dimpled smile, and fluffy white hair alike. "this is the three-year-old. he's a lot calmer than saori."

the kids looked pretty nice, it didn't seem like you were going to have any problems. satoru explains the rules, telling you their schedules and anything else. "come on, suguru! i'm ready to go!" a man with straight black hair walks down stairs dressed in a matching suit with satoru. "i'm here, damn."

they soon leave, satoru waving goodbye, and now you're left with the kids.

"let's have a good afternoon, yeah?"

you yawned and checked the clock, nestled comfortably on the couch. it was pretty late, and the kids had been gone to sleep. your eyes drifted shut, only opening when you hear the large slam of the front door. you shoot up, looking worried before you realize it's satoru. yet, he looks visibly pissed off. "wha- oh. you could've slept in the guest room y'know," satoru mumbles, carding his hand through his hair. he visibly relaxes when he sees you aswell.

"what's wrong? if you don't mind me asking," you ask him, tilting your head. you slowly get up off of the couch and walk towards him.

"just a fight, nothing to worry about," satoru pinches the bridge of his nose. "you look pretty upset, i think is something to worry about . . . just a little." your hand gently grabs his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. and even in the darkness of the room, you could tell his eyes were watering.

it felt wrong how close you were, but you couldn't let him be so sad. his smile was one of the things you loved most about him, you hated when you saw it disappear.

when your hand cupped his cheek, you felt as if you crossed a line, but it also felt so right. "gojo—" his lips smash against yours, interrupting your words. it was wrong, but you couldn't help but kiss him back, parting your lips and entangling your tongue with his. "satoru," he whispers, sepreating your lips only to put them back to together. "call me satoru."

the man is taller than you, his arms wrap around your neck as you kiss, feet drifting closer and closer to the couch.

"mm, fuck--" he whispers into your lips, falling back on the comfortable cushion of the couch, pulling you down on top of him. it was adorable how desprate he was, perhaps something was really wrong with his marriage. but that was a thought for after this. your current thoughts are consumed by the older man below you.

satoru whimpers, diamond eyes glossy as he looks up at you. fuck--he sounded sweet. and he looked the part too.

his thigh rubs at your growing buldge, the look in his eyes full of desire. "goj- satoru, are you sure-" satoru's trembling lip interrupts you, "please." please? you never thought he was the type to plead. you nod, "okay."

your hands messily undress him, tearing off his suit until you get to his boxers with confusion. "oh! i- i forgot to tell you," satoru chews on his bottom lip, hands covering the large damp spot on his boxers. although his face turns red when he sees the glint in your eyes. "is- is that fine?" your eyes flicker to his, almost angry he would assume you wouldn't think it was fine.

slipping off his boxers, your mouth watering at the sight. satoru gojo's pussy puffy and hairy, in your face.

your face dips between his legs, your lips mouthing at his pussy. you spread his pussy with your thumbs, licking and sucking at him. "a-ah!" satoru whines, legs twitching as you make out with his cunt. "oh fuck! you're so good, so much--fuck!" his eyes roll and cross, hands entangled in your hair. "oh! 'm cumming! 'm cumming!"

his legs clamp around your head as he squirts in your face. your neighbor, just squirted in your face.

you lift your head from your legs, panting and licking your lips. satoru's eyes flutter, looking up at you with a shaky smile. sitting up, you smile at his throbbing clit. "didn't know you could-" satoru yelps when you lift up his lower half to your face. your lips attach to his clit, sucking and licking on his pink clit. satoru laughs, "you're so energetic! that because your young?"

your eyes look down and lock with his. "i just like your body," you mumble into his pussy, "so good."

satoru whines as you eat him out. "gunna squirt in m'face again?" you whisper, closing your eyes at his taste. satoru doesn't answer, although you can guess why his legs shut around your head again. strings of moans and your name leaves his lips. "pleasepleasepleeease," he whispers.

his legs tremble as he squirts with a yell again. satoru's legs fall slack in your hold before you set his lower half down. satoru looks up at you with low eyes, seeing his release all over your lips and chin.

"need you do that again. just on m'cock this time," you whisper pushing down your grey sweats, staring down at him with lustful eyes. satoru smiles, spreading his glistening thighs for you.

all thoughts or awareness of anything else are thrown from his head when his eyes lock onto your cock, when he fills the tip push between his puffy and red folds, when you sink into him and fill him to the brim. fuck- you're bigger than suguru. "mmph! f-fu . . . hah," satoru swallows when your cock stretches his cunt perfectly, like you were made for him.

you lean down, pushing his flexing thighs with you. his calves rest on your shoulders and you interwine his fingers with yours, holding them above his head.

"f-fuck! you feel s'good," you moan, focusing on the wet sound of his cunt taking your cock. and clearly the squelching and the wet skin slapping was turning him on as his walls squeeze you as if not wanting to leave. you lean and press your lips to his, smiling at how his eyes were unfocused and cross. your tongues messily tangible, saliva dripping down the corner of his lips.

"ngh—! a-ah . . . AHnNg!" no thoughts were in the older man's head when he felt your cum shoot into him, the warmth making him smile as he milks your cock, cumming himself.

his awareness and judgement had long been thrown into the dark depths of his mind. him nor you even noticed suguru watching you with a boner straining at his pants. then again, how could he focus? his pussy felt a bit too good, better than he's felt in a while simply because of work interference.

saori always wanted a little sister.

𝗗𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗕𝗘 𝗔𝗡 𝗘𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗬𝗘𝗘? JOIN?

current employees: @pulpbeing @flimsyichigo @honeybleed @icaruien @banquetlord @whiteholesun

<3 this is took me 4ever, but i've going thru a writer's block, i feel proud of myself lol. i don't know if anyone is going to like this, but this is what popped in my head. y'all have also thoroughly convinced me that satoru is a squirter... btw i was thinking about this image while making this. don't even ask where i got it from :D

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (x) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7 p8 p9

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : after three resentful weeks apart, only matt and y/n could find themselves more fond of each other.

warnings : angst, fluffy, mentions of alcohol and weed, sort of proofread

mickey speaks : THANK U FOR UR PATIENCE SWEET ANGELS HERE’S THE 10TH PART FOR YOU!!! tgwtt is already in double digits 🥹 only like 8 more parts to go

THIS IS PART TEN GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST PLEASE!!!

"COME on y/n we'll have so much fun!"

you haven't had a night out in weeks.

following matt's party, you swore off alcohol until your own birthday in mid-september, afraid of the amount you'd allow yourself to consume now that you're feelings are supremely hurt and bitterness coated your tongue.

it was difficult to turn down the first week, despite the smell and taste of any drink making your stomach turn you craved the drunken effect and secretly wanted to run into matt- just to see what he'd have the nerve to say to you. but the mature, wiser part of your brain knows there is nothing good to come from spiteful drinking. so you've declined every weekend.

you know in your heart that your friends only want you to feel good and have fun with them. it's the only reason you've tolerated this current conversation for so long.

"i believe you! but i'm just saying i'll have just as much fun with this bowl of strawberries and my bed," you reach into a cabinet for one of the many off-white glass bowls.

"baby you haven't been out with us in so long, we miss you!" remi beams kicking her legs as she sits atop your counter, fully dressed and decorated for her night out (contrasting the bare face, oversized tee, and panties you wear).

you sigh and look over to the three girls huddled in your kitchen, "no, you guys know 'm not drinking right now," you shake your head and push off of the counter heading towards the fridge in search of your berries.

"i'm just confused on why you're suddenly so strict on drinking? and regardless of the drinking you could have fun without it if you loosen up a bit..." erin replies while resting her body against the wall next to remi's spot.

you roll your eyes while your face is still in your fridge before shutting it back, "i don't understand what's not clicking erin, i don't want to go out at all! i want to stay at home and be away from drunk people and watch something brainless and then i wanna go take a fucking bath. i'm so tired of having to explain and repeat myself. please go, please have a good time, and please- respectfully, mind your business."

you run water over your strawberries and andrea's eyes widen as she turns back towards the counter to pour herself another shot.

"alright, whatever.” erin shakes her head, “dre, remi, i'm gonna go wait outside this is annoying. she can stay bitter," she walks out and whispers, "bitch," under her breath before shutting the door.

it's silent for a second as you begin to harshly cut the stems off of the fruit, remi comes behind you and wraps a caring arm over your shoulder for a hug, "are you okay?"

"yes, i'm fine, you can go have fun..." you turn to face her and offer a strawberry.

"i really do miss you,” you kisses your shoulder and bites into the strawberry, “love you," she reminds you as she grabs her bag and dismisses herself to check with erin. you nod your head and continue to stare blankly as you repeatedly cut.

andrea speaks up after hearing the door fully shut. she breathes heavily as she stares down at her hands on the counter, "cariña ("honey"), you’re not a bitch.”

“i know…” your voice is small.

“i know you do. i also know something’s hurting you badly right now and i selfishly wish you’d fucking tell me so i could help.” she licks her glossed lips, “but as long as you’re being kind to yourself, i can deal with you keeping this to yourself.”

your eyes brim with salty tears and when you let out a broken sniffle she's immediately by your side. "nooo don’t cry, i’m already pre-drunk! you know i will too!" you try to continue preparing your fruit but andrea turns your body to make room for a warm hug. you're quick to tuck your face into her perfumed neck and let out your feelings through cry's.

you had always thought that what andrea (or anyone) didn't know about your sex life with matt wouldn't kill her, but quite frankly it's killing you. you want to tell her everything he’s ever made you feel- for all andrea knows matt was once a silly crush and currently a little less than a friend to you.

but at the same time you just know she would tell you to stop seeing him if she knew everything. she would remind you that at your core you are far too caring and attached to handle recurring casual sex with him in the first place.

"i'm so sorry, drea. i really wanna tell you but i’m not ready." you croak pitifully.

not ready to accept the embarrassment of wanting him to like you this bad.

and for someone as willingly vulnerable as you, you’re especially not ready to hear her scold you a little for somehow hurting your own feelings and putting your friendship with erin on a thin line over some guy.

your words only confuse her brain more, but she can only continue to rub circles into your back and silently pray you didn’t do something illegal or, like, morally cruel.

౨ৎ

matt would love to say he hasn’t thought about you since you bitched out on him the night of his birthday, but he could never just blatantly lie.

he can say he has gone the past few weeks without reaching out to you- which mostly speaks to both of your stubbornness and pride.

in fact, you’re part of his reason for having his own night in tonight- though it’s far less sadistic of a reason than yours. he’s simply grown bored of the repetitive night life he and his friends have.

you were always there for him to tease and secretly fuck around with whenever your friend groups would combine for the night. but as of late he’s left sitting at the bar swigging down beers and scrolling on his phone (sometimes he’d get irrationally irritated at you for not posting on your instagram or snapchat stories, feeling a as if it was a direct punishment to remove him from knowing any details about your life) or until the rest of the group throw the towel in.

on the worst and most irritating of nights he’ll take an uber home by himself. and those were the nights he would get so close to being irrational- showing up to your house and confronting you was oh so enticing. but he’d talk himself out of it and go home to fuck his fist like you’d probably tell him to do.

and on the most horny and pathetic of nights he'd end up in the backseat of his car finger-fucking erin with her tongue in his mouth. it ended at that though, matt's skin started to crawl thinking of when you rode him in the front seat not too long ago. he had pinched his eyes shut and pulled erin's hands away from his zipper, swaying her with some sweet "i just wanted to make you feel good s’all" and a kiss before she left and he awkwardly drove himself home- pondering how little self control he had to be desperate enough to do even get that far.

so, he didn’t even bother to go out tonight. when chris and nick asked him through his closed door, he told them he’ll stay in for some “peace and quiet.” really, he just couldn’t stand to be disappointed by the guaranteed lack of you being there.

he sits in his desk chair, legs spread casually, and sketchbook held against his thigh as he scribbles around to formulate a few rough outlines for upcoming clients. somewhere in the mix he begins to sketch out a familiar cartoon cat, which only irritates him and makes him close the book abruptly, shoving it into his desk’s drawer.

matt rubs his hands over his face a few times and lifts himself from the chair, heading straight for his bedside table. he bites at his lips while digging through the drawer, eventually finding the pretty red hot blunt you rolled and gifted him.

he makes his way out to the patio, not bothering to turn the outdoor lights on; blunt, lighter, and phone in tow. he slouches into one of the many chairs near the glass door and places the blunt between his lips, shuffling as he digs in his back pocket for his lighter.

the spark of the bright flame highlights his focused face for only a few seconds while he pricks the end of the misshapen yet smoothly rolled blunt. he breathes in the smoke immediately, throwing the lighter onto a table nearby. he tilts his backwards to blow out swirls of smoke above him.

matt initially wants to wait to call you until he feels high enough, mostly to give him an excuse for calling in the first place because he knows you’ll be expecting one. but he can't fucking wait, he wants to know what you're doing right now.

matt continues to effortlessly inhale and exhale several hits as he searches his phone for your contact.

his thumb hovers over the dull button that would change a lot for him. calling you means looking like a dumbass, as if he can't handle not knowing you (apparently he can’t but he wouldn’t admit to it). calling you means he’s breaking this implied break up- for complete lack of better terms.

but who’s to say you’ll even answer and give him a chance to do any of that? and suddenly his phone is vibrating in his hand as he raises it to his ear.

it takes four rings for you to answer, though you're completely silent on the other end. he waits and you wait. he truly didn’t think this far ahead. you only give him a few extra seconds to be silent before you hang up all together.

matt kisses his teeth and redials. when you eventually answer again he speaks through the smoke in his lungs, "hi. why'd you hang up?"

"matt, don't call my phone and expect me to speak to you first." your voice has a bite to it that still surprises matt a little. it's so infrequent for you to be harsh or upset (as long as matt has known you, you've been nothing but cheerful and well… sunny) that it's oddly pleasant to see how you handle negative emotions- it reminds him that you’re not always good, something he’d always weirdly envied about you.

he releases more smoke in the air around him, "my bad, sweetheart."

"just tell me why you’re calling. are you drunk or ...?"

"no. i just wanted to know what you're doing."

you sigh heavily, "why does that concern you...?"

his eyes pinch as he stares out into the dark backyard, "why're you bein' so difficult? 'm just trying t-"

"matt. get there, please." you rush, though you secretly are enjoying hearing his voice and the romanticized idea that he must care a little if he’s reaching out again.

“yeah.” he takes a breath, “i don’t know. i’m just, like, here…by myself, and i wanted to remember what you sounded like.”

you smirk to yourself but drop it immediately, “okay…well, this is what i sound like.”

“yes, so soothing, i could fall asleep right here,” you can hear him audibly stretch.

“oh, i’m putting you to sleep?” you tease.

“yeah, i need you to come over and wake me up,” he inhales once more.

you’re silent and he breathes out again, “fuck was that too much- i’m sorry.”

“definitely. i need you to calm down, sir.”

“oh i’m so calm, baby,” he moans out playfully.

“matt, i’ll hang up-”

“woah! let’s not make such rash decisions?!”

“okay then.”

“thank you for answering,” his voice is muffled, “you could’ve blocked me- i talked to you so crazy that night and i do feel bad about, i want you to know.” he pauses and you silently process as he continues to compliment you, “you’re the only woman besides, like, my mother, who is just classy as fuck and way too kind to everyone whether they deserve it or not.”

you could never have expected to hear any words of admiration from matt in regards to you. “oh my god, are you near a couple of trees right now? how’d you get so sappy all of a sudden?”

matt takes a second to register your joke before his entire face crinkles and he shakes his head, giggling, “bad joke. such a bad joke.”

you let yourself laugh a little as well before pulling together, “thank you for apologizing, i honestly didn’t expect that from you.”

“well i don’t hand them out like that so i guess you’re lucky or something.”

“i guess i am…” you smile into your words a little.

“what have you been doing?”

“like the past few weeks or right now?”

“i was talking about right now but you can say both.”

“just was checking! i don’t want to talk to much, i know you’d hate to listen to it.”

“heyyy! really? throwin’ some shit i just told you i didn’t mean right in my face like that?”

“i’m sorry i had to!”

“you were holding on to that one, huh?”

“just a little.”

“okay, tell me everything and i’ll listen.”

“i know i made it seem like i’ve been doing a lot but i’ve honestly just been working a bunch. it’s not as much of a nightmare as it sounds though- working long shifts has helped me fall asleep quicker. i’ve also started cooking a lot more whenever im bored which andrea looooves. and… um, right now i’m taking a bath.”

matt’s eyes widen and he chuckles, “dammit! i knew i should’ve facetimed instead!”

you bite your lip to hold back a laugh yourself, “what are you doing, matt?”

“guess.”

“i mean, i know you’re smoking but you could be in a random bedroom at a party or like, at some other bitch’s house…i don’t know, i’m just guessing!”

“never that,” he laughs- which you can’t decipher as a sarcastic or genuine one -and explains further, “‘m at home, outside with that perfect little blunt you made.”

“oh, for real?”

“uh huh, she’s treating me real good.”

“i’m glad. can you finish telling me how you’ve been?”

“yeah, um-”

“mattttt!” a very drunk nick suddenly yells while sliding open the glass door.

matt literally jumps and is immediately annoyed, you can hear it in his voice despite it being muffled now, “dude, you scared the shit out of me! what do you need?”

“hello to you too, ugh, i forgot you’re all moody right now. what are you even doing it’s all dark and shit?” nick hangs on the door has he peeks outside.

matt gets up to close the door again, “mind your business, nick. move, you’re in the way.”

“hmm, you are so weird.” nick squints his eyes and turns away yelling chris’ name in a blood curdling scream (for absolutely no reason besides the fact that he thought it’d be funny to see chris drunkenly run into the living room).

“hey, you still there?”

“mhm, yes”

“nick and chris just got back from the bar so i’ll have to help them chill out, um, yeah. i wanna hang out again. not even just to fuck if you aren’t cool with that yet, if we can be friends around our friends we can be friends by ourselves.”

friends? you and matt? hm. “that’d be nice, do you wanna just come over like usual?”

“i mean i could but we can do whatever you want, seems like you’ve been home a lot so, you know.” his voice gets more distracted as he speaks

“okay, i’ll let you know. good night.”

“sounds good, sweetheart.”

౨ৎ

MATT - 6:30 PM

Are you done yet?

Y/N - 6:52 PM

yes i’m coming now

-

“i’m sorry again for keeping you so late y/n, you really didn’t have to stay and help me close!” your coworker, angela, beams as she follows you out of the back door with a trash bag.

“don’t worry about it,” you smile to her as you walk with her to the large dumpster on the side of the building.

she throws a bag the size of her torso into the bin with a mumble of ‘ew’ before turning to you, “don’t say that! i know you have that date thing tonight, i don’t want you to be late.”

“i told you it’s not a date! we’re hanging out as friends.”

she rolls her eyes while putting her travel sized hand sanitizer back into her purse, “y/n don’t start with that…it’s totally a date from what you’ve told me.”

you both continue to walk towards the back parking lot,“trust me, he’s made it clear he’s not that kind of guy.”

“then why waste your time?”

right when you go to defend yourself you hear a car door shut, drawing your attention to the man of the hour, who’s locking the doors of his sleek black suv as his jaw works a minty piece of gum.

his black tee exposes his tattoos and his jean shorts are held up with his favorite black belt. you can see his light eyes are squinted due to the sun’s undying brightness from where you stand.

angela turns to you with a full smirk and softly slaps your arm, whispering and giggling, “girl, he’s hot!”

“oh my god!” you have an uncontrollable smile as you look at her, “stop it!” you look over again and this time matt is leaning against his car, ready to catch your eye and send you a wave of his fingers with his eyebrows raised.

you wave back then turn away once more, “‘kay i should probably go but i’ll see you wednesday, right?” you lean in for a hug.

“yes i’ll be here,” she smiles into the embrace as you kiss into the air to the side of her head, “you’ll have to give me all the deets!”

“mhm,” you hum as you both part ways, “bye ang!”

you approach matt without any rush and he takes the time to gaze over your complexion (far more radiant than the last time he’d seen you) and the way your mini jean skirt compliments the blushed red top you’re wearing. “hi sunny,” he grins and reaches a hand out to bring you into a hug, only for you to set the handle of your small purse in it. he kisses his teeth playfully, “it’s still like that, huh?”

“like what?” you condescendingly look up at him.

“alright, girl,” he dismisses, “where are we goin?“

“it’s a surprise for a reason matt!”

“okay… then i’m assuming you’ll drive?”

“not exactly..” you spin on your heel and walk away from him as a hint to follow you.

he wraps an arm around your shoulder as the two of you walk down the busy sidewalk, he gives a couple of glances down at your phone while also navigating the two of you. “metro?” he reads aloud.

“mhm,” you reply and smile to yourself while adding the tickets to your apple wallet.

“wow, you really planned this shit out.”

“i’ve never half-assed something in my life,” you say as you both stop at a cross walk.

“never? you have a brother, right?” he asks and you nod, “i’m sure he’d be able to come up with something.”

“probably,” you shrug and grab his wrist when the walking sign lights. “we’re gonna make it just in time, the bus comes at 7:10.”

౨ৎ

the seating on the bus is comfortably squished; you sit in the window seat and matt next to you, moving his limbs inward to give room to those walking in the isle.

you reapply a faded shade of red, black cherry to your lips while using your phone camera. matt watches with his lips pursed in awe. “that shade looks nice on you,” he says softly.

you’re already feeling giddy internally and he’s forcing you to blow your unbothered cover at this point, “thank you,” you smile and turn to see him already close to your face, looking at your eyes then lips. you just have to close the space by giving him a small kiss, mumbling, “it looks good on you too, see,” you move your phone so that he can see his lips outlined with the stain of you.

he laughs and pouts his lips while checking himself out in your camera, making the risky move to take a photo of himself, before giving your cheek a kiss.

౨ৎ

“jesus, for forty fucking minutes you better have brought me to an all inclusive resort!” matt complains while dramatically stretching his back.

the sun was now peeking down and the flashing lights of santa monica pier were extra enticing. “stop, we’re gonna have so much fun! look!” you point at the energetic strip with a childish grin.

“alright, let’s go then,” he tilts his head towards the fair.

౨ৎ

“definitely could have gone without that last ride- wayyy too many dips,” matt holds his stomach dramatically.

“i could tell, you were screamin’ like crazy,” you smirk as the two of you stand in the line at one of the many food trucks. two hours into being there and you’ve rode almost all of the rides, it was expected for matt to ask to stop for some sort of food eventually.

“barely.” he rolls his eyes, “what do you want?”

“i’ll have a water and one of those bomb pops,” you tell him.

“that’s not really food, are you gonna be good with that for right now?” he clarifies.

“yes, matt. thank you,” you smile and matt waves you off as he approaches the tall window to order.

“hey, what’s up man? i’ll just have a water, one of those fourth of july a bomb pops, medium fry and a modelo in a can please,” he flashes a smile and pays quickly.

you thank him and the cashier as you take hold of the items you asked for. “can we go walk on the beach?” you ask him.

“yeah, it’ll be dark as shit, but yeah,” he responds lightly and shoves a few fries into his mouth.

౨ৎ

“when i was younger my mom would bring me and my brother to the pier every summer since i was seven maybe?” the waves crash softly in the background as matt lays between your legs, despite the scratchy denim of your skirt. “when i was eleven my brother would want to go off with his friends in high school and my mom wasn’t a fan of the rides, so she would bring me to walk on the beach with her instead.” you recall out loud after matt had asked what made you want to come here today.

“mmm, reminds me of east coast beaches when i was a kid. we’d make a whole day out of it and pack up my mom’s minivan.” you stretch his scalp hypnotically, “just being rowdy and annoying as hell on the ride there and sleeping on the way back. being a kid is, like, the best and we never realize it when we’re there.”

“isn’t it kind of sweet that we don’t? kids don’t even understand the concept of missing childhood or being nostalgic until they’re older. if eight year old me were constantly dwelling on what’s passed i know she’d go insane. i mean, even now, everyone is always chasing previous feelings and never fully in tune with the one present.” you look out at the waves that softly build up and crash repeatedly.

matt licks his lips and opens his eyes, sitting up from your lap, “holy shit, sunny,” he kisses you and pulls away to laugh, “you just made me sound like a dumbass.”

he keeps a hold of your face, “matt you’re not dumb, everyone is nostalgic for something,” you kiss him again to seal your words.

matt pulls away and you stands up and begin to remove your shirt leaving you in a lacy bra, “come on,” you tilt your head and matt immediately stands up to cover you.

“the fuck do you mean, ‘come on’?” he starts to laugh while looking around for anyone around.

you roll your eyes at his protection and unbutton your skirt, “take a dip with me.”

“no?! y/n, that water is freezing...”

you pull down your pants to reveal a small pair of matching lacy panties that matt can barely see in the dark but he just knows would send him over the edge.

“matttt,” you pout and bring his hands to your exposed ass, lifting his chin to capture his lips in your own, “please?” you look up at him.

he pinched his eyes shut, “baby, put your clothes back on…”

“alright be lame,” you take his hands off of you and run into the empty beach with a freeing laugh.

matt stands there, not wanting to yell and draw attention to you both, but also not wanting to freeze to death.

“matt! the water’s not even that cold, come here!” you exclaim, wading in the shallow water.

“no, i’ll just wait here until you’re done cooling off…”

“matt, please! what if i-” you pretend to fall backwards and start to fake a drowning scene that has him undressing to his boxers quickly.

he ignores the rush in his blood from the surprise of the water’s temperature in favor of getting you out of there. he calls your name over and over, the pitch black look of the ocean doing absolutely nothing to help.

he’s pretty freaked out when you come back up and jump on his back yelling, “you saved me! you saved me!” with a cackle.

matt immediately groans and slaps the water, “fuck you, why would you ever do some shit like that?!”

you giggle and he throws you off his back easily, turning around to be face to face with you as you wipe your eyes, “oh my god matt, my mascara’s gonna run!”

“maybe we should think of these things before running into the ocean?”

you stop wiping underneath your eyes to forcefully push him under the water, giggling at the sound of the crash and his “don’t-!” right before.

“no more,” he spits out water and scolds you when he comes back up, inching closer to you and holding you by your hips as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“okay,” you agree and go to kiss his wet face just as he quickly unhooks you and throws you back under.

“matt!” you squeal as you resurface to hear him laughing, “dude, i’m gonna kill you.”

“truce, truce, truce!” he repeats and backs away from you.

“yeah, you better run,” you threaten.

౨ৎ

“your eyelashes are like sooo long when they’re wet,” you compliment as you stare at matt under the moon’s light.

he pulls you closer him to stop his mouth from chattering due to the cold, “i’ll give you my lash routine,” he jokes.

“i realized something when we got off the phone the other day,” you bring up, as your eyes run over each of his facial features.

“tell me,” he rolls his icy lips into his mouth.

“i never said sorry for being nasty to you on your birthday.”

matt’s eyes squint, “it’s fine, i’m not hung up on that shit. we said we’re good, right?”

“yes, but-”

“alright then,” he shrugs and squeezes your ass in reassurance.

a smile graces your face and and you let your head fall to his shoulder, whispering, “matt…i’m cold now.”

“i’ve been waiting for you to say that, oh my god!”

౨ৎ

you both suffer as you put your clothes back on over your wet skin. you’re both chattering messes and simply cannot stop laughing about it as you make your way back to the boardwalk’s strip of raging bright lights.

you don’t get far before you’re begging matt to win you an oversized faux fur leopard print coat, “it’s just what i need, please!”

and he’s spent almost two twenties replaying this stupid game over and over again. you’re a pretty good cheerleader though.

“come on matt, you got it this time! no pressure! it’s only like i’m dying of hypothermia!” he deadpans as he looks over to you, “what?”

it was a simple game of ring toss- that was most definitely rigged, but besides you reminding him this and saying you didn’t need the coat that much, the stand runner’s comments doubting matt was enough to fuel him to continue playing until he wins.

and somehow he tosses the perfect ring, watching it land and swivel around the bottle in victory. you both outwardly celebrate with screams and a very public kiss, that the two of you just can’t stop sharing today.

“congratulations,” the employee boredly says.

“thank you sir, thank you.” matt then obnoxiously turns around and yells out a speech to the random passersby “i wanna thank my mother, my grandmother, brothers, dog, and you people for giving me this opportunity to win something so grand for my sweet sunshine!” you stop giggling to give a royal wave to the many people judging the two of you, “thank you santa monica!” he blows a kiss and you both spin around to claim your prize.

“you two are like cartoon characters,” the stand runner says. and as soon as you start to grin at him he corrects, “that wasn’t a compliment.”

“whatever man, just give the pretty girl the fucking coat,” matt blinks at him. as the man walks away to grab the fluff off of the rack a few people stop by the table and matt warns them, “if i were you i’d keep walkin’, this guy’s a first-class hater.”

you drag matt by his arm back over to you, “did you take your socially-overbearing pills today?!”

“i have no clue, i think im too cold for my brain to process embarrassment anymore.”

“here’s that coat,” the man hands you it with a shake of his head.

“thank you, sir!” you exclaim and immediately fit your arms from the sleeves, “this is everything i’ve ever wanted!” you say as your jaw goes slack.

“you look good,” matt agrees, “you also look warm, so now i’m jealous.”

“let’s go get you something warm, baby.”

౨ৎ

after a trip to a random gift shop for a hoodie, matt whined about needing real food so bad.

so the two of you stand at the hostess stand in a small mexican restaurant on the strip.

“for two?”

“yes, thank you.”

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, okay?” matt speaks close to your ear and you simply nod and watch him walk off.

you wait a few moments before the hostess offers to take you to your table, “did you want to go sit now or wait for your boyfriend?” she asks kindly.

you try not to make it so apparent that you enjoy the idea of you being matt’s girlfriend, “yeah, i can sit now, he’ll find me.”

౨ৎ

“i’ll have the chicken burrito please with extra rice,” matt orders as he sits across from you.

“and i’ll have the four birria tacos please,” you hand her the menu kindly.

you both are bundled up ridiculously with frizzy hair and barely-dry clothes, you’re surprised anyone agreed to serve you.

“alright, that should be out shortly!”

when she walks away matt asks, “why didn’t you get a drink? i’m just curious.”

“i swore off drinking until my birthday,” you shrug and fall back into the plush of the booth.

“mm, not smoking either?” he sips his water.

“i mean i haven’t smoked since early august but no i didn’t purposely stop.”

matt nods, “well if you were to drink, what are you ordering? i usually go for a corona but i wanna try something different.”

“oh strawberry margarita, a hundred percent. hits everytime.”

“i’ve never had a margarita so i’ll try it.”

your jaw drops, “hell yeah you’re gonna try it, i can’t believe you!”

“what can i say?” matt shrugs.

౨ৎ

matt plays with the toothpick in his mouth as you both sit in your spots for the bus ride home. he got to enjoy his first margarita and you took multiple pictures to document it, he bought you churros to go, and now you both are the most tired you’ve been in a while.

you quietly respond to texts that andrea sent you hours ago, asking what you’re doing and if you’ll be home soon, while matt lays his head on your shoulder sleepily.

eventually you shut your phone off and calmly rest your head against the chilled window for the rest of the ride.

•

[shootingmorningstar]

Was inspired by bambygourl’s fanart and a TikTok I saw. Dressing up as Roger and Jessica Rabbit for a costume party with Lucifer. I think he’d be all pouty and grumpy about dressing up as such a silly character and not a suave charming character. Especially since he’d take a look at the white button up, red trousers with suspenders, and blue bow tie with yellow polka-dots and see it as a fashion nightmare XD. And don’t get him started on the bunny ears and tail. Tho his mood is sufficiently uplifted when he sees the reader dressed up as Jessica Rabbit. Low cut red dress with a slit and all. Just imagine pulling on his suspenders or bow tie for a kiss, getting lipstick on his mouth and face, and cooing over how adorable and handsome her honey-bunny is.

I've been meaning to get to this request ever since I saw it because it is just so good. I'm definitely biased for anything Lucifer related but god this is just so cute. Anon, your brain is outstanding. I love pouty Lucifer. If you still have that tiktok on hand or ever come across it again, do you think you could send it my way .ᐣ

You didn't include what kind of request you wanted though, and my default is HCs -- but I couldn't help but throw in a little drabble based on them, too. Or, at least I intended it to be a drabble .ᐣ It got away from me, haha.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀Lucifer and Female Reader Dressing

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Up As Roger and Jessica Rabbit ~

Lucifer is initially thrilled when you bring up wanting to attend a famous yearly costume party in Pride with him. A chance to show you off sounds amazing, and he's great with costumes. Just the thought of you two matching is enough to get him excited.

You seemed just as excited as he was -- in fact, he was even more excited when you told him you'd already had something in mind .ᐟ He's pestering you to tell him just what the costumes were as soon as the plan leaves your lips, but much to his displeasure, you refuse, saying you want to keep it a surprise.

You'd even managed to resist the very strongest puppy-dog eyes and pout. Impressive. He usually succeeds in getting his way with that one -- who could ever say no to that face .ᐣ Having exhausted his options, he sighs his defeat.

Well, nearly exhausted his options. He was entirely too ready to pretend that you'd won and snoop through your closet the second you walked away. Apparently his quick glance at said closet had given him away though, and with a quick deadpan stare alongside a scary sounding ❛ don't you dare. ❜ has his feet rooted to the floor.

Did his poker face really suck so bad .ᐣ He's definitely practicing it in the mirror later.

Ultimately, though, he trusts you completely and your choice in matching outfits is no exception, so he allows it to drop for now. There's still a few more days until the party, but that time could be spent much more productively by your side rather than whining about clothing.

That is, until the day of the party comes around and you bring out his outfit. You'd never seen Lucifer's jaw drop quite like that before and it takes iron will to stop yourself from giggling at his present state.

He doesn't understand the reference. Lucifer regrets his past decision to give humanity free will. It's obvious, even if he never seems to say it outright. He had given out such a precious gift and so much of humanity chose to abuse it, to be nothing but cruel. Looking at sinners and by extension humanity is just a terrible reminder of what he'd done, so he prefers to avoid it whenever possible. This quite often includes the media of the living realm -- he's never even heard about the movie, forget seeing it.

So without the full context, all he knows is that you've just handed him an absolutely atrocious outfit -- and to make it worse, you expect him to go out in it .ᐣ Seriously, he whinges, red overalls with a blue bow .ᐣ Rabbit ears .ᐣ And to make it worse, you won't even show him your outfit until he gets dressed .ᐟ He can't believe you're laughing.

He sounds completely and totally ridiculous, in your defense. Seriously, has he seen his regular outfit .ᐣ He looks absolutely stunning, sure -- but he also looks like he walked right out of a circus.

It says a lot, though, that despite the complete and total pity party he's currently throwing himself, he's beginning to shuffle into the costume anyway. He's grumbling the whole way, but the fact that he just doesn't have it in him to say no to you warms your heart.

You had been so, so eager about this party, and the way your eyes had shined like stars when you told him had long since burned itself into his heart.

wc ; 1.2k

His seemingly endless complaints had tapered off ever so slightly when you shimmied his grasp off of the ruby red suspenders sagging unbuttoned over his chest. By the time you take the fabric into your own hands his protests faded to little more than a mumble under his breath, and with the very first snap of a button in place under your gentle touch he'd quieted completely. Where a look of exasperation had reflected off his face seconds prior, in its place now is that of silent awe, his gaze trained on your every action. The gesture of intimacy is enough to leave Lucifer somewhat choked up, his heart still not used to receiving such acts of adoration and kindness. You tie the cornflower blue fabric adorned with tiny yellow spots into a bow to accentuate the costume and cover his hands briefly with your own as you slip the gloves onto his fingers.

Not twenty minutes had passed, and he finds his attitude regarding the ensemble shifting with every second you take to assist him into it. Each and every part of it looks ridiculous at best, but the thought of you picking it out solely for him has him warming up to the idea.

Declaring your work complete, you raise your grasp ever so slightly, palms holding each of his cheeks close, your thumbs rubbing soft little circles below his eyes. Your affections are sufficient only when finished with a kiss placed on his forehead. ❛ I'm going to go get dressed, okay .ᐣ No peeking. I promise I'll be right back. ❜

The way his wrists on instinct dart out to catch yours to bring you close to him again as you pull back nearly got you. He's extended his lips in a pout once more. You hate to leave him quite so sad looking but you know he'll appreciate what you have planned enough for it to be worth it.

Bathroom door shutting closed behind you, there's the smallest bit of lingering regret that he can't help you to get dressed like you had for him. The outfit itself takes you barely a few moments to slip into -- it's the makeup that requires precision, time and effort. His pacing around the bedroom is audible, impatient steps sounding into stomps, the sounds causing you to choke on a laugh. You need a steady hand for your eyeshadow and that's hard to maintain during an act quite as cute as this.

Nonetheless, your look is finished within half an hour and therefore Lucifer is put out of his misery. It's not a second after the door clicks open that his attention is caught, snapped to the light peaking out of the doorway. Stepping into the small hallway, your eyes are met with his own -- and the way his pupils widen as soon as he gets a glance of your dress makes both your efforts and his complaining worthwhile. His gaze takes you in from top to bottom, each detail enchanting him further. The dress so perfectly hugging your curves is crimson to match him and absolutely breathtaking -- and are you walking towards him .ᐣ Your strut does well to accentuate the slit stitched into the leg, your thigh tantalizing in its display.

Finally reclaiming your place beside him, one of your fingers reaches out, finding purchase under his chin -- and when you tilt his head up you swear you saw his eyes flash red. ❛ Hello, my darling husband, ❜ you coo, sending his already overloaded brain into a frenzy. Husband . . .ᐣ You wanted . . .ᐣ With him, really . . .ᐣ And although he's beginning to put the pieces together and clue in that such a term of endearment was part of your match, you seemed so happy to say it. He snaps his focus back onto just how stunning you look tonight, but the idea has firmly implanted itself into the depths of his mind.

Back into the present time, his hands have begun to roam -- he wants to commit every detail of you to memory, and that includes the feeling of your dresses fabric under his fingertips. His grasp is met with your own, for it's not long before you're pulling the straps of his suspenders, tugging him forward into a kiss. By the time he's recovered from his surprise enough to reciprocate, though, you're already beginning to pull away. He chases your lips with a whine but you've already moved on, pressing a kiss first to his cheek and then to his forehead. It's only when you offer him a small compact mirror does he understand -- each of your kisses has left behind a little bit of the lipstick you oh so painstakingly applied. Your marks on his face have left him entranced, desperately craving more.

A gasp rips itself from those same cherry red lips in surprise -- you weren't expecting him to summon forth his tail, much less wrap it around your midsection and use it to bring you closer. ❛ Kiss me again, ❜ He pleads, desperate and breathy. ❛ Anything for my honey bunny, ❜ you chime, matching the mark on his left cheek with one on the right. ❛ You just look so cute, ❜ between each kiss is another offering of praise and compliments, the blush left in your wake matching excellently. ❛ Who's my handsome bunny .ᐣ ❜

Your multitude of kisses has left Lucifer stunned and looking nothing short of angelic -- even more so than usual. You're fully intending on giving him several more, leaning in to do just that when the wall mounted clock besides you chimes a new hours arrival, alerting you to the time. ❛ Oh, dear. I'm very sorry, Mr. Rabbit, but I'm afraid we simply must be going. We don't want to be late, do we .ᐣ ❜

Fixing your lipstick takes all of a few seconds, leaving you free to grab a makeup wipe off the pouch resting atop your vanity and wipe all of the stains you'd adorned his face with away. A snap of his wrist catches yours just inches from his face, however, halting your plans in their tracks. Confused, you look to him for an explanation, a soft ❛ leave them. please .ᐣ ❜ being all he offers you. ❛ You're going to go to the party like this, love .ᐣ ❜ to which he nods sagely. He can't bear to part with them -- not when the lipstick marks are yours, not when they declare proudly that he is yours.

❛ If you say so, honey. ❜ You can't deny that the prospect leaves your heart fluttering. A grand, golden portal appears with a simple snap of his fingers and he takes your arm, now linked with his own in an attempt to usher you forward. He can't wait to show you off, to watch as other demons eyes glow green as they stare his way. You stay still, though, prompting him to look back at you with an air of confusion. It's then that you lean close, whispering ❛ be a good bunny and there will be more where that came from. too bad we'll have to wait until we come home, hmm .ᐣ ❜

Suddenly Lucifer can't wait for this party to be over.

I still can't believe I'd originally intended this to be 100 words and it ended up over a thousand. I can't help it, I'm so weak for anything Lucifer related. I'm half tempted to write an absolutely filthy post party part 2. If there's enough demand for it .ᐣ I just might.

As always, let me know what you think .ᐣ Hearing back from you guys keeps me motivated ~