#i love dressing him up like a paper doll!

[whatdudtheysay]

Context - You're on a boring 'date' with the duke of the north. But a certain someone keeps catching your eye...

Tw - slight nsfw but nothing major.

Note - this series will have switching povs to show inner thoughts of both main leads <3 - might include other important characters.

Credit - @cafekitsune

You sighed softly as you woke up in your large bed, stretching with a light moan.

Another day of pretending to be poised and demure. You got out of bed and stretched once more before heading over to the long and big rope bell in your room.

You shook it tiredly and only 0.5 seconds passed before five different maids entered, two carrying hot buckets of water and three empty handed.

They all curtsied in sync, smiling at you warmly.

"good morning, your highness."

"good morning." You greeted back.

The two with the water moved into your ensuite to prepare your bath while the others went to your huge closet, holding out different dresses until you decided to choose a simple light blue dress. They nodded, offering comments like "excellent choice" and "you'll look amazing in this dress, your highness."

But you've heard it all before. You were then ushered into the bathroom for a bath, the maids helping you undress before helping you into the warm water, their hands helping wash your hair.

It was nice of them to do but you thought it would stop when you were 16. However, your mother insisted.

Luckily, time passed quickly and you were out of the bath. luckily, after you 'kindly' told them to excuse you to dress yourself, they did.

After they left, you laid back on your bed, your towel slightly slipping off. You were dreading today. A date with a duke? He's probably been divorced 4 times and has 7 children.

You were dreading it. But it wasn't like you had a choice. You sat up quickly and pulled on some underwear, your stockings, then your dress and then your jewellery.

After a long thirty minutes of doing your hair and drowning yourself in rose perfume, you finally got up and headed downstairs.

There, you entered the dining room and saw your father at the head of the table, smoking a fat cigar and reading the royale newspaper as usual, your mother beside him, drinking some tea.

"good morning." You greeted before taking a seat opposite your mother.

"Morning, sweetness. Are you prepared?" Your father asked.

"Prepared?" You feigned ignorance, staring at the window as the maids served you breakfast.

"do not play dumb, y/n. It isn't befitting-"

"-of a Princess. I know, mother." You cut her off gently. "But do I have to go on this outing? I know you all want what's best for me but a duke?"

"you rejected 30 princes, 5 imperial knights and an earl. This is for your own good since you love being stubborn." Your dad sighed, turning the page of his paper. "I'm guessing you got that from your mother."

Your mother gave your father a glare before she refocused on her breakfast.

You wanted to argue further but you knew that they'd make the situation worse for you. You hated how your parents acted when it came to your life...

It was your only chance at living and yet you weren't in control. You were just a doll to them... And then you'd be a doll to your future husband. The cycle wouldn't end.

"Very well, then. I shall prepare." You grit out before getting up and leaving your breakfast untouched.

You were walking. You didn't know where but you were angry and you just needed to walk it off before you got yourself in more trouble.

You continued to mumble to yourself, ignoring the different palace helps who stopped to greet you. After almost five minutes, you looked up and realised you were in a deeper end of the palace.

Unsure, you glanced around. Despite living here since you were born, you'd never explored this much. You weren't allowed to. Funny.

You continued going deeper. At least if you got lost it would give you an excuse to hold off on the date with the duke. Eventually, you found a room at the end of the hall and pushed it open, revealing a large hall.

"woah." You audibly mumbled. It was so big. A bit smaller than the main... You guessed it was a spare....

Hesitantly, you stepped inside and noticed a lot of portraits around. So this was where your childhood ones went. One of you as a baby, a child, then the most recent was from your 18th, just a few months ago.

You were about to let your hand gently brush against the golden frame when-

"A beautiful portrait."

You gasped and turned around to see.... Him...

Lieutenant Fushiguro.

"Lieutenant- what're you doing here?" You asked. Did he follow you? You hadn't noticed... Or heard him.

"forgive me for starting you." He bowed. "The king wants me to guard your date with the Duke...I tried to find you but the maids said you stormed off in this direction."

Oh.... That made sense....

You somewhat calmed down and nodded. "I see. Sorry...I didn't mean to waste time..."

It was a lie. You did.

But you couldn't deny, the view was... Delectable. The view of him in that tight dark blue and cream royal guard attire... The brooches on his blazer, his hair that was slicked back yet somewhat messy...

It was hard to ignore that delicious shiver that kept tingling down your spine.

"It isn't a problem...besides, I'm sure you are...dreading the meeting?" Toji supposed.

You sighed in relief. It felt like he was the only one who wasn't lobotomized around here.

"Finally! Someone who isn't brain-dead. Uh, no offense." You huffed.

He chuckled deeply in a way that made molten heat pool in your lower stomach.

"I'm not sure a woman such as yourself should settle for anyone you find below your standard." Toji shrugged simply, taking a few steps between you, eating up the distance.

You found yourself nodding to his words almost eagerly. How did a stranger manage to see it and say exactly what your heart wanted while your parents believed the complete opposite?

"I'm glad someone understands." You mumbled, glancing back at your portrait.

"Well sometimes you need a change of perspective." He spoke calmly, his voice a lot closer than before.

You glanced over your shoulder, swallowing thickly when you noticed he was merely a step away from you.

Before either of you could speak up, the doors suddenly opened and your father entered. You glanced at toji, then your father, noticing the stare off they were currently having.

"Y/n. Down to the main hall. The duke is waiting for you." Was all your father said.

But he said it in that voice. The voice he used when you were two ticks away from trouble. So, you moved around Toji awkwardly and quickly left the hall, your father closing the door behind you. Curiously, you pressed your ear against the door, overhearing some muffled words but nothing coherent.

"my lady."

You almost screamed at the sudden voice, whirling around to see your lady's maid and friend, Nobara.

"Gosh! Nobara, I told you not to sneak up on me anymore!" You lightly chastised, moving to interlink your arms, hoping your father hadn't realised you'd been eavesdropping.

She laughed softly. "Sorry. But I was told you'd be going out today?"

"yes... Just got a while. I hope." You sighed, remembering your 'date.'

"in that case, should I tell the emperor you'll see him next week?" She asked.

You raised a brow. Satoru wanted to see you? But why?

"I guess so. I'll probably be tired after the outing." You nodded. Now you wished you didn't have to go.

Satoru was your childhood friend before he inherited the Gojo empire. You barely ever saw him because it was situated in the far north and snow was fun until you got frostbite.

But you had to face reality... Before you got yourself into more trouble.

As you walked ahead, you took one last glance at the hall. The bigger part of you hoped you hadn't gotten Toji in any trouble...

ㅤㅤㅤ⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭ ⊹────⊹

(TOJI'S POV)

Fuck, it was hot. He was in the carriage with you, staring out of the windows, alert as usual.

But he was also discreetly staring at you. The heat was no match for a royal either. You were lightly fanning yourself, a bead of sweat moving down your collarbone, settling between the deep line of your cleavage.

Fuck. He had already ensured your father biting his head off about being near you earlier and now he was staring at those pretty tits eyes of yours. You kept glancing out of the window and then to your lap. Your fidgeting was making him nervous at this time.

"You alright, princess?" He asked, causing you to look up quickly.

You huffed, fanning yourself more. "Of course I am! I'm just... Thinking about my wonderful future wedding with the duke."

Toji chuckled, causing her to shyly avoid his gaze.

"I'm sure you'll receive many blessings of wealth and fertility." Toji hummed, making you gag.

"Ew, Ew, Ew! Don't!" You huffed, becoming more worried.

Toji sighed slightly. He could tell you didn't want to be bound to some random man and pop out more babies for him. Besides, who knew what the duke would make of the kingdom when your future husband took over.

Sadly, the ride slowed to a stop and toji helped you out of the carriage. He glanced around the large estate. It was....clean, kept...nice. befitting of a royal.

A woman came out, short and she had blonde hair.

"Good morning, I hope the the ride wasn't too eventful." She smiled, mostly at you than Toji.

"Oh, it was smooth, thank you." You replied with a smile as you had been accustomed to.

She led you up the path, Toji tailing behind, ensuring to keep an eye on the surroundings just in case...

They finally got into the estate, moving into the parlour which was thankfully, a lot cooler than the summer heat outside.

But then you suddenly stopped. Toji was a lot taller so he looked over your head and noticed a man sat, waiting...staring deeply into you.

Short silky blonde hair, regal robes and two different brightly coloured eyes. He had a wry smirk upon his lips and an odd look in his eyes as you stared at each other.

Naoya...the duke of the northern region.

Tags ღ - @blobkvna , @byerno6 , @iseeyouuu , @iloveaustinelvisandmannymore , @aloserprobably , @tojislittleprincesss , @meforpr3sident , @someonejasjsj

A/n - by changing povs I mean the story will focus more on one person than another just to lyk <3

Please don't steal or copy my work. None of the art in my works are mine 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

[sjsmith56]

A Better Man, Part 1 - Preparation

Summary: Bucky Barnes, a shy general contractor with a shady background, offers to help a single mother get her inherited house renovated. It should be simple.

Length: 4.9 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, named OCC, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson.

Warnings: Bucky’s awkwardness, trust issues, teasing, practical jokes, association with criminals.

Author notes: This is primarily a romance between two people who have been hurt in the past. There will be moments of angst and even some darker memories and events but this Bucky is a soft and sweet guy.

Part 1

All three of the men stood outside the building, waiting, just like they did every Tuesday for the past month.  Bucky Barnes, the man who owned the building, where his general contracting business was located, pulled out a package of cigarettes, offering one to the other two, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson.  Both declined. 

"She doesn't like cigarettes," said Steve, pulling out a package of gum instead, offering one to Sam, who took a stick, sliding it out of the foil paper before inserting it in his mouth.  "Says it's not good for the baby."

Bucky put his cigarette back in the package, then stuck his hand out for a piece of gum instead, making Steve and Sam grin.  He had it bad if he was willing to chew gum for her.  To be fair, the other two gave up smoking around her themselves, after meeting her for the first time 5 weeks before.

"Here she comes," said Sam, nodding his head towards the end of the block.  "Best part of the week, right there."

The "she" they referred to was Andrea Hart, a single mother who moved into the neighbourhood over a year before but only started walking past their building in the past month and a bit.  They watched as she pushed the baby stroller towards them, her long hair softly bouncing in the light breeze, smiling at other people who saw her walk this way every Tuesday at 3 pm, enjoying the way she radiated something good in every step that brought her closer. 

"Good afternoon," she called out, as she approached the three men.  "Were you all waiting for me to walk by?"

"Yes," said Sam and Steve simultaneously, just as Bucky said the opposite.

Bucky glared at the two men, but he smiled back at Andrea.  "We were taking a break and enjoying the sunshine when we saw you coming so we decided to wait."

"How's baby girl this afternoon?" asked Sam, peeking into the stroller.

"Wide awake for once," answered her mother.  "Would you like to hold Lily?"

Sam grinned.  "Yes ma'am.  I've held a baby before.  My sister has two boys, and I looked after them when they were little."

She reached into the stroller, then lifted out the cutest doll of a baby girl, dressed in a bright yellow romper.  Sam expertly cradled Lily in his arms, smiling down at the baby with a look that the other two men had never seen before.  It obviously worked as Lily gurgled happily at him.  Steve leaned over and poked his finger into Lily's chubby little hand, grinning when she grasped it tight.

"I think she's adorable," he said, in an admiring voice.  "She must bring you such joy."

"She does," smiled Andrea.  "I just wish her dad thought the same way."

"He still not helping you?" asked Bucky.  "We know people who could talk to him.  Just give us his name."

"No, please leave him alone," she answered, the light within her dimming a little.  "I appreciate the offer but he's a lost cause.  Just as well, because then he would have to be part of our lives, and I don't want that.  We're better off on our own."  With a shrug, she smiled again.  "Well, we better be going.  I have to pick some things up at the grocery store."

Sam reluctantly gave Lily back to her mother.  Bucky watched Andrea's face as she laid the baby back inside the stroller, her face soft and full of love for her little girl.  The guy who got her pregnant must be a real asshole for not wanting to be part of their lives.  What he wouldn't give for someone like her to be waiting for him at the end of a workday.  With another smile and a quick wave Andrea left and they watched her walk away until she was out of sight.

"It's not right," said Sam.  "That lovely lady and that sweet baby deserve the best."  He looked at Bucky.  "We are going to talk to the father, aren't we?  He needs to at least be financially responsible."

"You heard her," replied Bucky, taking the gum out of his mouth, and dropping it into the bucket of sand outside the door of his building.  He pulled a cigarette out and lit it, taking several long drags and blowing the smoke out forcefully.  "Find out who and where he is and whether he can afford to support that baby.  Don't do anything to him.  I just want information."

Two days later they met in Bucky's office.  Sam turned on the Smart TV and sent the photos he had on his phone to the big screen.  It was obvious with the first one who the baby's father was.  The first picture of him handing off a shipment to a local drug dealer was all that the three men needed to know that he was bad news.

"Shit," muttered Bucky.  "Brock Rumlow."

"Hydra Contracting," said Sam.  "He doesn't usually handle deliveries but their usual guy, Walker, got himself arrested for beating someone up.  The new ADA is making an example of him, although Pierce is trying to get the charges dropped or reduced."

"How the hell did she get mixed up with him?" asked Bucky, his frown threatening to leave a permanent crease between his eyebrows. 

"Flat tire," said Steve.  "Right in front of one of their chop shops.  He changed it for her, asked her out then swept her off her feet.  When he got tired of her, he left her high and dry."  He looked at Sam, who shrugged.  "Bucky, Hydra has been associated with a baby trafficking ring.  I'm not saying Rumlow would do that to his own daughter but ...."

"If he's not willing to acknowledge her as his daughter then he might not care," stated the dark-haired man.  "Do we have anyone in their organization who can keep an eye on him?"

"Yeah, Quill has been working as security at the strip club.  Rumlow's there most nights.  Do you want someone watching her during the day?"

There was no answer for Sam for a long time, then Bucky sighed.  "She's not working, is she?"

"No, she's on leave.  She seems to have a bit of money from an inheritance, but she'll likely have to go back to work before Lily is a year old.  She was a teacher."

He stubbed the cigarette out and rubbed his face with his hands.  Of all the men to become involved with, Rumlow was one of the worst.

"Do we have anyone on the city payroll who can be doing work near her place?"

Steve flipped through a list on his phone.

"Mrs. Parker's nephew," he said.  "He's in the general landscaping department as a labourer.  Could be trimming some trees that are on public property near her place."

"Arrange it," said Bucky, glancing through the door where May Parker, his receptionist, was on the phone.  "I want to know her other walking routes as well.  Might as well get people staked out on them."

Sam and Steve glanced at each other.  "That might leave us a bit thin," said Steve.  "Unless I spring for more who are on the city payroll."

"Do it," ordered his boss.  "I don't want her to walk anywhere without eyes on her."  He looked up at them.  "Yes, I like her.  I just want her and her little girl to be safe.  It's not like I have plans to ask her out."

With a grin at each other, the two men left, and Bucky sat back, resting his head on the back of his chair, then closing his eyes.  Unable to help it, he thought of Andrea, like he had every day since he first wondered why Sam and Steve waited outside the office at the same time on Tuesdays, starting five weeks ago.  It was two weeks later when he joined them and saw her for the first time.  Sam, who had always been friendly to the ladies, greeted her; commenting on what a fine day it was for a walk.  Then he asked about the baby as if they had known each other for some time.  The jerk had even inquired about the baby's first tooth coming in then shared what his sister used for teething issues.  Andrea had been so grateful for the advice.  Bucky tried to remain indifferent but since that day he couldn't help but wonder if someone like her would ever be interested in someone like him.  With a sigh, he opened his eyes and stood up.  It was no use hoping for someone like Andrea.  Considering the type of work he had to take on, no decent woman should come within 20 feet of him.  He grabbed his jacket and told Mrs. Parker he was going for lunch. 

Half an hour later, he found himself in line at a hot dog vendor, ordering a chili dog and coffee.  Taking it with him, he sat on a bench in a nearby park, taking the first bite.  Watching the people milling about he didn't notice that someone was approaching him until the woman spoke.

"Chili dogs, huh?  I didn't see you for a hot dog guy."

He looked to his right, surprised to see Andrea, by herself.  His first reaction was to stand up, with his chili dog still in his hand, which made her grin, then he gestured to the bench, waiting for her to sit down before he did. 

"Where's Lily?" he asked, after he finished chewing the bite he was in the middle of.

"My friend is watching her," she said.  "I had an appointment with the bank."  He raised his eyebrows.  "Just some things to do with my house.  I inherited it and it needs some work, so I have to get a loan to pay for the renovations."  She looked away for a moment.  When she turned back, he noticed her eyes were glassy.  "They turned me down, so I might have to sell it."

"Why did they turn you down?" asked Bucky.

"Because I'm on maternity leave, and technically not working," she sighed.  "I'm living on the money I inherited but it's not considered income.  It's enough for me and Lily but not enough to pay for the improvements."

"I'm sorry," he frowned, noticing that he was still holding his partially eaten chili dog.  Standing up, he tossed it into a nearby garbage can, then sat back down with her.  "Maybe I can help."

She smiled wanly then looked away.  "That's nice of you but we barely know each other and only to say hi."

It came out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think about what he was saying.

"Go out with me," he said.  "We can become better acquainted."

Andrea seemed amused by that.

"You're not serious.  I have a six-month-old baby that I'm nursing.  I can only go out for a few hours."

"Then have me over for dinner," he said.  "I can look at your place and see for myself what you need doing.  I know lots of tradespeople who would give you a good rate on any necessary renovations if I asked."

It seemed to take forever for Andrea to answer and for a moment, Bucky thought she was going to turn him down.  Then she breathed out noticeably and looked at him.

"Alright," she said.  "Tomorrow, 6:30.  Let me give you my address and phone number.  Don't dress up and don't bring alcohol as I can't drink while I'm nursing."

He grinned, handing her his unlocked phone for her to put her information into his contacts.  Before she handed it back, she called herself and answered the call on her phone, saving his information in her contacts.  Then she stood up and walked backwards away from him.

"Don't be late," she said, before she turned forward as he watched her until she was out of sight, followed discreetly by one of his men.

By the time he got back to the office, Sam and Steve already knew he was seen with her.  Then he told them about getting an invitation to her place for dinner.

"You did what?" asked Steve, while Sam looked at Bucky, not believing what he just told them.

"I asked her out, but it's hard with a baby so I invited myself for dinner at her place instead," he replied.  "She needs work done on her house and I said I could look at what needs to be done and recommend tradespeople who could do it for a good rate."

"I hope you're not thinking of some questionable tradespeople," said Sam, "who sometimes use stolen materials or cut corners."

"Not for this job.  I would insist on quality work."  They still looked askance at him.  "I can assess her security situation as well.  It was a spur of the moment thing.  It's not like I'm going to ask her to be my girlfriend, or anything."

"Bucky, she's a single mother," said Sam.  "You don't want to mess with her heart.  That would be cruel.  Considering your track record ...."

He sighed.  What did they think he was?  He wasn't a slimy lothario preying on a lonely woman.  He was a slightly shady businessman, who was doing something kind for a nice lady who had been taken advantage of by an asshole.  Dinner with her was just being friendly, nothing more.  He sent the pair of them off, telling them to make themselves busy and leave him alone.  They did, but not without making jokes about him getting soft and gooey inside. 

They were even worse the next day, asking him every hour if he was psyched up about dinner with Andrea.  He finally had enough before lunch time and left, heading out in his car.  He didn't even know where he was going then was shocked when he found himself parking outside his mother's condo building.  Taking it as a sign he headed inside, going up in the elevator as it went up to the 27th floor.  The elevator doors opened, and he walked down the hallway towards her door, slowing down as he got closer.  Just as he decided to turn around the door opened and his mother, Winnifred Barnes, gestured to him.

"You made it this far," she said.  "You might as well come all the way in.  Mrs. Parker said you left the office."

With a sigh, he stepped in, following her to where she had lunch already set up for the two of them.  Whenever he needed to talk seriously about something he often showed up at her place for lunch.  He sat at one of the empty chairs, taking the napkin and spreading it across his lap, as Winnifred had raised him with manners.  Then he waited while she served herself first.  Placing some food on his plate, he took a bite, chewed it well, and looked at her.

"So, tell me about her," said Winnifred.  "She must be something if she's got you this bothered."

"How do you even know about her?" he asked.

"Darling, I'm your mother," she smiled.  "Plus, Sam and Steve report to me on any woman who draws your attention.  Don't even try to get them to stop.  I have dirt on them."

"She's a single mother of a six-month-old baby girl," he answered.  "Teacher, living off an inheritance while she's on maternity leave.  The baby's father is a douchebag."  She frowned at him.  "Sorry, he's an associate of one of our rivals.  Swept her off her feet then abandoned her when he found out she was pregnant."

"I already know that."  She took a bite of her salad, then a drink of water.  "What is she like?"

"I hardly know her, but she makes me want to be a better man."  He took another bite of food.  "Her parents basically threw her out and even though she has every right to be angry at her situation, she's so full of light and joy.  The look she has for her baby is a look ... it's a look I want to feel on me.  I would give it all up for her if she felt for me what I feel for her.  I would go legit."  He looked his mother in the eye.  "Is that what you wanted to know?"

She put her cutlery down and placed her hand on his.  "That's what I wanted to know.  Does she know what you really do?" 

"I think she suspects but no, I haven't said anything to her.  I'm having dinner at her house tonight.  She needs some renovations done on her home and I offered to assess them.  Figured I could point some of my more honest subcontractors towards her and give her a good deal."

She sighed.  "You know, I was in your shoes when I met George.  My father didn't have any sons, so I took control of the business after he died, then I met your dad, and he was drawn into my world."  She smiled.  "He could handle it, being a veteran.  Could she handle it if you stayed in?"

For a long interval Bucky didn't answer, then he shook his head.  "I don't want her involved in it.  It would dim her inner light.  Plus, it would make her and her daughter targets.  She doesn't deserve that."  He sighed.  "I don't even know if she thinks of me in the same way."

"Well," she smiled and patted his hand.  "Until you find that out, it's something that you don't really have to worry about, is it?  No matter how it turns out, just make sure that she's protected.  Even just showing up at her place for dinner can make some of your rivals take notice of her."

He nodded.  "I know.  I've already put people on watching her.  I won't let anyone hurt her."

She smiled indulgently at him, then changed the subject to something more trivial.  By the time Bucky left he felt more confident about the dinner.  His mother must have phoned Sam and Steve because when he went back to the office, they didn't make any jokes about him and Andrea.  That lasted until he was ready to go home and change.  He grabbed his jacket, reaching inside a pocket for his car keys, but pulling out several condom packages instead.  Coming out of his office he heard them both snickering and just shook his head at them, before storming out of the main door without a word.  He didn't see the disapproving look Mrs. Parker gave the pair.

When he got to his condo, he showered, shaved, applied some cologne, brushed his teeth well, and put on some dark wash jeans, a button up shirt and a sports jacket.  He looked at the small pile of condoms on his dresser and shook his head again.  Animals: those two were so crude.  It only took 20 minutes to get to Andrea's place which would make him early, so he kept driving until he found a florist, and bought some flowers for her.  She said not to bring alcohol but didn't say anything about flowers.  It wasn't until he was almost at her place again before he wondered if they were appropriate.  When he parked, he looked up lavender roses and groaned at the symbolism behind them; love at first sight.  If he went to get different flowers, he would be late, and she distinctly said not to be late.  With a shake of his head, he grabbed the bouquet and walked up the steps of the three-story brownstone to the door, pressing the doorbell.  Andrea appeared moments later, opening the door.  She looked great, wearing a top and jeans that hugged her in all the right places. 

"Right on time.  Come on in."

He followed her to the kitchen, handing her the flowers.

"These are for you."

She smiled a full smile that made her face light up in a way that made Bucky dizzy.

"They're lovely, thank you!" 

Putting them on the counter she reached for a vase but even on her tiptoes she couldn't grasp one, so Bucky reached over her and put it on the counter.  Quickly, she filled the vase with water, then cut the bottoms of the stems.

"You didn't have to buy me flowers, you know."

"I didn't want to come empty-handed," he answered.  "Where's Lily?"

"I fed her and put her down.  She should be out for several hours.  How have you been?"

Bucky shrugged.  "Honestly?  Nervous about coming over.  I don't go out much."

"A handsome man like you?  I don't believe that."  She arranged the flowers.  "I was nervous, too.  I think I've changed my clothes about three times.  Mind you, the first time was because I leaked."

He frowned at her in confusion, then she pointed to her chest.  It couldn't be helped, as her gesture made him look right there, at a pair of beautiful, full breasts.  Swallowing hard, he forced himself to look in her eyes instead.

"Ah, right.  That must be embarrassing if it happens at the wrong time."

"Tell me about it."  She grimaced, then placed the flowers on the table, which was nicely set for two.  It reminded him of how his mother always set the table for them to eat together.  "Can I ask you something?"  He nodded.  "What exactly do you do?  I noticed your building doesn't have a sign."

"Shit," he thought, then he breathed.  "I can do this." He smiled at her.  "I'm a general contractor.  That's why I know a lot of tradespeople.  What about you?  You said you're on maternity leave."

"Teacher," she replied.  "Elementary school.  They weren't exactly happy that a single teacher got pregnant.  Not the best role model."  Bucky tried to look sympathetic.  "Anyways, why don't you stay here, and I'll bring supper out."

"I can help," he offered.

"It's okay.  I've got it."

She brought lasagna, then went back for salad and garlic bread.  For him, she offered soda but poured herself some milk.  Deferring to her to serve herself first, Bucky waited to help himself.  The first bite of lasagna was good; more than good.  It was really good, and he told her so.  That brilliant smile displaying her inner light came out again and he felt his heart beating against his chest wall, wanting to see it more.  They talked about all sorts of things, laughing and joking about people they worked with.  He shared some funny stories about Sam and Steve, while she told him about her grandmother, who lived alone in the house, then invited her to live there after she found out she was pregnant.

"She died when Lily was just a month old but at least she saw her only great grandchild.  Excuse me."

He could hear her crying in the kitchen and got up from his chair, approaching her, then gently pulling her into his arms. 

"You must miss her a lot," he murmured, as he rubbed her back, not believing how good it felt to hold her, but wondering what else he could do to comfort her.

Andrea nodded, then pulled away and reached for a tissue.  "Sorry to lose it like that," she sniffed.  "My parents weren't happy with me, but she just took me in, no questions asked.  I think my parents are also angry that she left me the house.  I got the feeling they were counting on it to fund their retirement dreams."

"Why don't I help you clean up and you can show me what needs to be done," he suggested. 

She agreed and they cleaned up the dishes together, then she took him to the third floor, showing him the water stains on the ceiling, an indication that the roof needed replacing.  From there, they walked down to the next level, and she showed him a bedroom with water damage around the windows, which looked original.  He took a good look at them, reluctantly noting that they needed replacing.  The main floor, where the living room, kitchen and dining room were, seemed to be in good shape but she pointed out that there were water stains on the ceiling in the living room.

"The bathroom is right above this corner, so there must be a leak," she said.

"Might be that," he stated.  "I would have to open that ceiling up to be sure.  There might be an opening in the brick façade there that's letting water in.  Not the easiest thing to fix without tearing something apart."

She stopped in front of a door.  "This is the worst part," she said, as she opened it, then turned on the light that lit up the stair well.  He followed her into the bottom floor, where she turned on another light then showed him the electrical panel.  "This isn't good, is it?"

He looked at the mass of different wiring that snaked out of the panel, giving out a long, ominous breath.

"No, it's not.  You have aluminum and copper wiring mixed together in there and that's dangerous.  It's a fire hazard.  Fixing this would be a priority and it won't be cheap because they'll have to rewire the entire house.  That means they have to open walls and ceilings up, replace the junction boxes.  It's a big job, will cost a lot of money, and will take a while.  You wouldn't be able to live here while it's being done."

"Shit," she swore, then she started crying again.  "I knew it.  I had another contractor in here and he said none of it was a big deal.  I went to the bank for the money based on what he quoted me.  I should have known he was stringing me along."

"May I ask who you talked to?" asked Bucky, concerned it was one of his guys.

"Sitwell Renovations," she said.  He felt relieved that it wasn't one of his.  "Do you know them?"

"Yeah, they're sleazy," he replied.  "Do you have someone you can live with?"

She shook her head.  "No.  My closest friend is in a one-bedroom flat, and my parents won't even answer my calls.  There's no one else I know well enough to ask."

Just then the overhead light went out and they were caught in darkness.  Bucky felt her hands on his chest and placed his on her arms to steady her.  As their vision adjusted to the darkness, he could make out her face in the faint glow from the light in the stairwell.  She was so beautiful in the dim light.  Her pupils were dilated, and she looked up at him in a way that made him feel like a teenager again.  He really wanted to kiss her but instead he pulled his cell phone out and turned on the flashlight, aiming it at the floor.

"Smart idea," she said.  "I should get a new light bulb in there."

He shook his head.  "Honestly, you need to move out of here until you get the wiring redone.  I'm serious about it being dangerous.  The longer that mess is channeling electricity the bigger the risk of an electrical fire."

"I have nowhere to go." 

Her hands were still on his chest, and she was looking at him in a way that made him feel something he never felt before.  There was a rushing sound in his ears, but he felt like he could hear both of their heartbeats at that moment.

"Move in with me," he offered.  "I have a three-bedroom apartment.  It's in a secure building, with in-suite laundry.  You can take Lily's furniture with you, but it's fully furnished so you don't need to bring anything else.  I'm working everyday but I can be the general contractor for this job, get it all done the way you want, with all the proper permits and qualified tradespeople.  We can work something out for payment because I'm doing alright so I don't need it up front or all at once."

She stepped away from him.  "Why would you do that?  You hardly know me."

He swallowed and looked down before looking at her again.  Tell her the truth.

"I like you, a lot.  You've been dealt a bad hand, and I can help you.  I don't expect anything from you ... you know, nothing like that."  He ran his one hand through his hair.  "I think you need a break and maybe a friend."

While he spoke, she moved away a little bit more.  Her face had changed, become harder and less trusting.  No, I'm not being a creep here.  Please, let me help you.

"I think you should go," she said, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper.  "Please, just go."

It felt like he had just been doused with a bucket of cold water.  Reluctantly, he nodded his head and moved forward, waiting while she stepped aside to let him pass.  Without a word, he went up the stairs then to the front door, looking back at where she stood at the doorway to the basement.

"I'm sorry if I offended you.  My offer is genuine.  If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

He opened the door and stepped out into the night air, taking a deep breath.  Then he unlocked his car with his remote and got inside, looking at her brownstone for several moments before starting his car up and driving away.

Part 2>>

Series Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[halbrd]

No, bratan, no need for that. You and I are bratannoi — brothers. Brothers fight. But when they're done fighting, you know what they do? They party. They fucking party!

[fiendishartist2]

hes consuming every part of my brain

[tired-beholding-bitch]

jonathan sims in a turtleneck that’s it that’s the post

[roturo]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ OH! SO YOU'RE INTO OLDER MEN?

˚₊·➳❥ JJK MEN SHOWING YOU HOW A REAL MEN FUCKS! satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro ✧˚ · .

tags: afab!reader, reader is mentioned as a female, use of nicknames (baby, princess, doll, slut, whore), cheating, degradation, caught cheating, getting caught, unprotected sex, blowjob, pussy slapping, mating press, breeding, age-gaps, virginity loss [...] rbs are appreciated!

satoru gojo (Daddy’s girl)

well, that’s the word he used for the little girl you're babysitting right now. he’s a great dad and husband. there’s just this tiny whiny little thing he couldn’t do right– and that’s loving his wife as he should.

like– it’s not that he doesn’t feel guilty, it’s just… well, you looked really cute in that mini dress, he and his wife have been fighting lately anddd– he could tell his daughter liked you more than her fatality of mother she has these days. she even called you mommy by accident once! and that was the last water drop gojo needed for the glass to break.

“Oh- I bet you’d love to be full of me right now.” His thrusts became messier each time he pounded on you, “Mhh, fill you up ‘n make me a daddy again– you’d like that princess?” you couldn’t even talk anymore with how good he’s making you feel– he had your legs pressed on the bed thanks to his arms, almost bending you in half, he was making sure that mating press works.

“Ffffuckk- You feel s’good baby” He felt your walls clenching again, no matter how many times he made you come, he’s making sure you’re coming again after he does. A not ending cycle for him. “Such a slut for me hm? Coming all nice and pretty to this house just to be ruined at night–” his words made you feel dirty, but the euphoria of it was stronger, “such” slap, “a nasty” slap, “slut” slap– “and all f’me” with those last thrusts your body couldn’t take it anymore, spasming and trembling while your poor hole was filled up again. gojo’s wife didn’t even bothered to break your little encounter, she suspected it long time ago.

all that was left was a wide grinning gojo satoru and some divorce papers.

suguru geto (Daddy’s best-friend)

you didn’t intend this to happen… you always knew your dad’s best-friend was hot. he’s geto, ‘cmon. he brings a new girl every weekend whispering in your dad’s ear swearing she’s the one this time.

he saw you grow up, turn into this beautiful and strong woman. so how he couldn’t love you? you were like a doll for him, so beautiful and radiant in every way. a porcelain doll he needed to protect, he couldn’t lose you to any dangerous or stupid man, he swears he would beat the shit out of the guy who breaks your heart first.

“Shhiiiitt– Heh– I can tell how tight your pussy is princess–” His cock was stretching the living shit out of you, touching places never in a thousand years you could imagine you would feel. “what d’ya think daddy would say if he saw his little girl being fucked by his best-friend huh?” your brain was a fuzzy mess, you couldn’t make coherent words to say, and just feel how good geto is making you feel. you couldn’t remember how many times he had made you cum with his toungue and he’s just starting to fuck your pussy.

“ ‘m such a lucky guy if i'm the first you’re giving this pussy to, don’t ya think so doll? marking it as mine, baby I swear you’ll need no man to ever fuck this pussy of yours again– shit I won’t need another woman for myself, you’re the one baby” those words filled your heart of a tingly feeling, making more butterflies roam around your tummy, touching yourself you could sense geto’s cock coming and leaving with every thrust, your brain full of air and in need of more of his cock.

he couldn’t resist himself anymore when he was next to you, his cock would get hard the minute he enters your house, and thankfully he has a pretty doll to release himself with.

kento nanami (Big Boss)

Nanami thinks he’s a good and mature guy– At least for his wife and kids… He has this aura of a serious and mature guy but inside every time he’s just this close to breaking it, just to say what he really thinks or feels.

the first time he saw you at work with your tiny skirts and tight blouses he didn’t mind any type of attention to it, you were another cute worker, that’s all. One of another– he can think other women are pretty too right? maybe even prettier than his wife… and nicer, and cuter, and more homely feeling to be a mom. but he wouldn't do anything he would later regret right?...

“You’re s’pretty baby, such a dirty whore for my cock mhm?” he had you pounding from behind, his desk becoming even messier than it was before, one of his hands keeping you laid down on the desk arching your back like if he’s trying to break it– a sudden ringing brought you back from your unconsciousness of nanami’s cock– he answered the call, not a single sing of him trying to stop thrusting into you.

“Yeah?” his voice was out of breath, almost sounding like a sigh when he answered the call, “Where am I? Huh– I’m at the office r-right now…?” he wasn’t even sure if he could keep this act, losing himself more in the feeling of your pussy clenching on his cock– “Oh yeah- I’m okay, uhh- the kids? yyeah, yeah, they’re with my mom right now–” the feeling of keeping up a call with his wife while fucking you made his cock twitch inside of you, feeling like a teenager kissing their crush for the first time. it was no surprise for him that his wife was cheating, but he wanted to keep it like that for the sanity of his kids. 

“Quit the act Kento– I know you’re fucking somebody else right now. See ya at home.”

toji fushiguro (Step-Daddy)

you hated when your mother started dating new guys. they just kept breaking her heart– but you just stopped telling her that it's okay to live without a partner, that she had you by her side, but well… this new man was something else i guess and you didn’t say anything for the sake of your own good mother.

you didn’t like him, but for the sake of your mother you pretended like you do– and let’s be honest, toji doesn’t like children, so when he first met you he wasn’t as social as others… your mom was just too good to simply let go– but the way you moved, talked, dressed caught his attention, and as time passes and he spends more time with your mom– he's no longer drawn to your house just to see your mother, but to see you. 

“Sshhiit- You’re making me feel s’good baby” the lack of air was making you feel giddy, but the way his cock twitched inside your mouth made your core get even wetter. “C’mon baby, ride my shoe,” you wasted no time before your hips started moving, trying to gain some friction and release that tingly feeling coming from your core. 

“D’ya think your mother would like to see her daughter being full of his step-daddy’s cum?” he gets one of his arms behind himself trying to gain some support while his other free hand caresses your cheeks while you continue sucking– this same hand moves out your head and frees his cock out of your mouth, a small strand of saliva connecting your mouth with it–

“Fuck– guess i choose the wrong out of you two”

[warnersister]

Personal Space (two Bradshaws like it now)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: A sequel in which you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space. Even more so now you’ve had a baby, apparently.

Can be read as a part 2, but doesn’t have to be. Read Personal Space here

You really didn’t know when it all happened, when you and Bradley became a thing. At first he was just an annoying crew member you couldn’t shake off your tail. Then he was your wingman. Then you got accidentally placed into marriage accommodation and the two of you played it off so you could get better housing. Then you actually bought a house. And then somewhere along the way you got married.

“Where shall we have the wedding?” Bradley asked and you raised a brow “register office” you shrug “what you don’t want a wedding?” He asks, hand on his chest as he feigns offence. “You do?” You ask and he nods vigorously. You huff. “Fine” “so shall we do it on the beach?” He asks “okay” you just go along with it, hardly even entertaining the idea at all.

“So? What do you think?” Nat asks as she makes you pivot in a white gown “I think I look like a roll of toilet paper” you said, crossing your arms “maybe it’s just not the dress for you?” She reasons and you shake your head “just not really into the whole idea of this wedding. I kinda thought we’d just sign papers and get on with it” you said “well you picked Bradshaw, he’s a drama queen at the best of times” she says and you him in agreement; your consultant leading you back to the fitting rooms “let’s try another”.

You’d left with a sleeved dress; hating the idea of having a low cut dress, and begging Nat to just let you leave. Sure, you loved the dress - but you loved the idea of getting out of that suffocating shop more.

“Hey honey” Bradley had said, hearing you walk into the house and set your keys on the kitchen counter. “Hi” you reply shortly, moving to fill your cup with water from the sink. “How was your day?” He asked, moving to rest his head on your shoulder and holding you from behind. “Good. Bought a wedding dress” you say simply “you did what?!”

Then on your wedding day, you’d stared at yourself in the mirror far too long. “You look gorgeous” Penny whispers, squeezing your shoulders comfortingly “I look like a fucking pin up doll” you huff, not necessarily believing yourself - just not used to being such a central perspective of attention. “Wow” your dad says, walking into the room “you look gorgeous” he whispers “is there an echo in here?” You mumble, but smile at him “thank you” you say, wiping the tears from under his eyes. “C’mon, Bradley’s nearly about to come get you himself”

You showed up to the beach-front wedding right on time, completely dead against the idea of being in any way, shape, or form late. Your father gave you away, Bradley in floods of tears at the end of the isle by the time you’d gotten there. “You look incredible” he whispers, lips quivering as he stares at you “shut up you’re going to make me cry.” You grumble, but smile. “It’s okay to cry.” He says, as the ceremony begins. “You may now kiss your bride” and Bradley dipped you and kissed you sweetly, drowning out the cheers of those around you. “I love you, Bradshaw.” You say, smally, “I love you more, sweetheart” he says and kisses your forehead “you’re crying” he points out “shut up”

And then you looked at the two lines on the pregnancy test two years later. You hummed “okay” and looked at yourself in the mirror, knowing nothing else other than the fact that you had to tell Bradley right that second. You marched downstairs, where he was sat playing with some keys on the piano you’d bought him last Christmas, stopping next to him. “Hey baby, y’alright?” He asked, and you just held out the stick to him. “What’s this?” He asks, taking it from you and looking over it once. “You serious?” He asked, looking at you; smile growing from ear to ear “you’re pregnant?” He almost whispers “unless the other four lied.” you say and he jumps up and pulls you into his arms, kissing all over your face until you shouted at him to stop.

He knelt down and looked at your stomach, kissing it gently then moving to put his ear against it “uh huh” he hummed “Bradley what are you-” “shush I’m talking to em” he says and you stand, unimpressed, but let him nonetheless. “Oh yeah baby, I’m excited to meet you too” he coos “yeah, yeah, I’m your dad” and you audibly giggle. He looks up at you, eyes wide “you done?” You ask and he nods “yeah little one was done talking” he smiles, and hugs you close again. “I need to get the baby clothes out of the attic” he mumbles, kissing your temple “the what?” You ask “I bought them when we started renting the house!” He says, dragging you excitedly up the stairs “but we own the house, Brad” you him “no, no, the one we had during the mission!” He says and you gasp internally, realising how long the two of you had been together without even noticing it.

“Hey dad” you say, as you and Bradley head into the hangar he and you owned “hey honey, hey Brad” your dad greets, wiping the oil from his hands to come over and talk to the two of you. He kissed your forehead and hugged you, then your husband before walking back over to the aircraft he was working on. “Thought you needed a new picture for your pinboard” you hum “oh? I just added the wedding photo!” He says, excitedly, showing you the filled gap. “Okay, guess you don’t want the sonogram of your grandchild.” You say, turning to head out before Bradley hurriedly grabbed you and turned you back into the situation, pulling the strip of photos from his breast pocket. Your dad stood with his jaw wide open “you’re-” he breathes “you’re really pregnant?” He asks as his eyes well with tears “well I wouldn’t lie-” you say but he just pulls you into a big bear hug, pinning Baby Bradshaw’s picture onto his board.

You head to go look at the part of the engine your dad couldn’t quite fix while Bradley held back with Maverick. He turns to him and shakes his hand “your dad would’ve been so proud.” He says, smiling at Bradley “I know you are.” Rooster smiles, wordlessly being pulled into a hug with his father-in-law.

Then one evening you were sat up in bed, Bradley sound asleep beside you as you look down at the barely visible bump. Bradley had sort of a sixth sense, somehow knowing you weren’t asleep beside him. “Hey, baby what’s up?” He croaks, immediately moving to sit up with you when he sees his senses were correct. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Bradley.” You say, staring ahead at the wall “what do you mean?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I mean I’m a fighter pilot, I was raised by a single father, I never had that maternal instinct, what am I doing?” You whisper, and when Bradley managed to finally pull your face towards him you were crying “oh sweetheart” he hums, pulling you into him gently “you’re gonna be the best momma ever, and the fact that you worry proves that. I love you, okay?” He comforts “I know. I love you too.”

You were stubborn the whole pregnancy. You thought it was ridiculous that people just stopped when they were pregnant, and Bradley was trailing you trying anything to get you to just relax. “Hen, please!” He begs as you head out for your morning run “I’m three months pregnant, Bradley. I’m not incompetent.” You snap, as he begrudgingly pulls on his running shoes and follows you out the door. He pulled you back anytime you went quicker than a 10 minute mile “Bradley, if you slow me down one more time I’m going to pull your arm out of your socket” you snap and he holds his hands up “message received.”

Then one day, at around the sixth month mark you walked into the house and slammed the door so hard it rattled. “What’s up?” Bradley asked, as you practically threw your stuff on the floor. “They’re putting me on the desk.” You grumble, anger evident in your eyes while his soften “oh baby we knew that was gonna happen” he soothes, rubbing your arm reassuringly “no! No we didn’t! I was perfectly fine hiding the bump, but no!” You huff “I’m Bradley Bradshaw and all of California has to know my wife’s pregnant!” You imitate him but he just smirks “oh I’m so sorry that everyone needs to know you’re taken and carrying my baby” he says, smugly. “Don’t you smile at me Bradley-” you wag an accusatory finger at him, but he heaves you over his shoulder, and towards the stairs “c’mon, let’s help you blow off some steam” he reasons “y’know it’s possible to get pregnant while pregnant, right?” You ask and he cheers “woohoo! Two for one deal, sounds great!” He says and you can’t help but smile.

Then came your maternity leave, Bradley picked you up in his bronco. You were quick to head outside, and he kinda hated how well you hid the bump. “I’m done.” You huff, settling into the seat beside him “if that bitch from accounting asks me one more time if I want her herbal teas I’m going to knock her teeth out” you complain and Bradley chuckles “well, just me, you and Baby Bradshaw now” he says and you hum in agreement.

But when you approached your street, you rolled straight past your house and straight to the Hard Deck ‘congratulations on your baby’ banners plastered all over “welcome to our baby shower!” Bradley grins as you pull up “is this really necessary? They aren’t even here yet.” You tell him and he shrugs “thought it might take your mind off maternity leave” you smile at him “thanks, Brad”

And at one point in the evening, you sat Natasha and Bob down separately. “Hey Phoenix, can we borrow you?” Brad asked, pulling her away from her conversation “yeah of course guys!” You took a seat at a table and Bradley forced you to elevate your feet against your will. “What’s up?” She asks “how’d you like to be godmother to little Bradshaw?” Her eyes lit up when Bradley asked and she leant over the table to hug the two of you “oh I’d love too!” She announces, excitedly.

Then you head over to Bob, but Phoenix holds Rooster back “they have a special connection, let her do this”. You sit on the stool next to Bob and he offers you some peanuts which you refuse, and you stay sat in silence for a minute. “Bob can I ask you something?” You ask, as he pulls your calves up to rest in his lap “of course, hen” he says, brushing some crumbs off his top “what’s up?” “Well, the job we’re in isn’t an old job” you say and he laughs and agrees “it’s also dangerous” you say, and again - he nods. “So if anything happens to me and Brad, can you be there for little Bradshaw?” His eyes widen and start to swell with tears “will you be our godfather?” You ask and he nods, moving to miss your cheek “of course I will, hen. I’d be honoured.”

Bradley and you had started putting together your hospital bag at the 8 month mark. You were both premature so had a bit of superstition, especially with only being a few weeks off of the 40 mark. You’d placed the bag by the front door, along with a baby carrier in the middle seat of his Bronco.

It was week 38 when you were both putting together the crib beside your bed, two spare bedrooms and still you only wanted your baby beside you. “Okay all done, baby” your husband said “okay. My water broke three minutes ago” you say as calmly as he had, he nods, then whips his head back round “your water broke?” He asks and looks down, and indeed, your water had broken “oh my god your water broke?!” He announced, picking you up bridal style and carrying you out to the bronco, picking the hospital bag up on the way. “Ready to have a baby?” He asks, giddily. “Am I supposed to be?” You ask and he shakes his head with a smile “no”

You were dead silent during birth and it scared the shit out of Bradley. “Do you want an epidural, honey? They’ve offered-” “no.” “Can I get you more ice?” “No.” And he tried everything, even when it was time to push. You held his hand and your mouth was zipped shut. “Is she supposed to be this quiet?” He asked the doctor who just looked at him nonchalantly “it’s normal, all mothers react differently to birth” he said. “I’m a fighter pilot Bradley. I’ve had worse.” You grit. “Breathe baby” he tells you “I think you need to.” You say “stop being dramatic” you say as you push again “honey-” “either shut up or get out.” You tell him and he glues his mouth shut, at least until the baby comes.

Bradley cuts the chord and they hand you your baby, and your eyes widen as you stare at the baby on your chest “welcome to the world Nick Bradshaw” you coo at the baby and Bradley raised his brows “Nick?” He asks, voice cracking “what? Got a problem with that? You and your stupid dick” you grumble and Bradley laughs and shakes his head, kissing your forehead.

“Hey mom, shall we take baby so you can get some rest?” The nurse asked, leaning to take Nick from your arms “excuse me?” You asked, pulling your baby closer. “So you can sleep?” She suggests “I’ve carried him for nine months and now he’s here you’re taking him away?” You ask “well, some mothers like to sleep” “I can sleep when I’m dead.” You deadpan, and she realised that Nick wouldn’t have been pried from your hands even if you were dead, so she left you all alone.

“Taking you away from mommy? Who does she think she is?” You whisper to baby Nick. “Welcome back to the world, Bradshaw.” You say and Bradley can only smile and hold the two of you close.

You’re going to be just fine in this mommy role.

——————————

Part 2-ish? I know it was really well liked and I enjoyed writing it so hope you enjoy this one too!

-> @rosiahills22 here’s another one!

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ ⌇ DRESS UP DOLL. featuring s. gojo.

↻ satoru gojo loves two things ; money, and playing dress up with his favourite girl.

tags : lingerie, daddy kink, light praise, creampie, possessive behaviour, spanking, light choking, hickeys, overstimulation (if you squint) // wc. 0.8k

author’s note : the first event work !! thank you for all the love you gave to the masterlist post, and i really hope n pray none of these works disappoint. love you all, notes n reblogs are appreciated <3

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

GOJO loves playing dress up. he has a whole wardrobe in his penthouse apartment filled to the brim with pretty dresses and matching designer purses, along with classy two piece suits and a shoe collection costing a decade’s worth of the minimum wage salary.

he’s proud of his clothing collection, but he’s more proud of the beautiful girl who gets to experience this lush and lavish collection of expensive designer clothing, his own dress up doll who he makes sure looks nice and pretty just for him.

tonight, he’s decided he won’t take you out for a date in the city. he could’ve called his driver, had you dressed in his favourite silk bodycon and sat in a tri-michelin star restaurant in under an hour, but satoru gojo doesn’t feel like sharing his special doll with the eyes of the commonfolk. no, tonight, he’s had you stay in, and he’s still managed to play dress up all the same, but this particular outfit is reserved for his eyes only.

“turn around for me, doll. wanna see that cute little ass of yours in that thong.” you turn yourself on his king size bed and bend over forwards, teeth digging into your bottom lip as he runs a slender finger just along the hem of your lace panties and under the elastic garter. “you like this set?”

“yes, daddy,” you respond, back arching and hips swaying when he snaps the elastic back onto your thigh. “it’s my favourite.”

gojo smiles. “you said this about the one I bought you last week, angel. maybe you just like spending my money.” he doesn’t take offence to the fact that so much of his funds are spent on you. in fact, he’s happy that he’s the one that gets to spoil you rotten, because no other common guy out there could give you even half of what he has.

“i want you to keep this on, okay?” his voice lowers to a soft croon, his large hands scoping the planes of your soft flesh before coming down hard, leaving slightly reddened palm marks against your skin. you nod shakily, and he smiles, toying with the belt on his pants before finally pulling them down to his thighs, along with his boxers to reveal his erect length.

even as he pushes the seat of your panties aside and teases your dripping hole with his tip, gojo can’t help but lament on how god damn pretty you are. your face being buried in the pillows causes your back to arch deliciously, and the way you groan when he slides all the way in has him fighting the urge to cum right then and there.

“you’re killin’ me, doll,” he groans, large hands moving from your ass to your hips, pulling you back on his length. “so fuckin’ pretty, and all mine, right?” you nod helplessly, fingers curling in the sheets when you feel his tip press up against your cervix.

“ ‘n you look so gorgeous in this set, doll. almost like it was made for me to buy it for you, huh?” he wants to ruin you. he wants to tear the lace right off of your back, leave it in tatters on the floor like a child tossing away wrapping paper on christmas day. but he won’t, because it cost him a sweet buck, and he actually likes the way you look in it.

from his position behind you, gojo drinks in the view of the bra clasp straining against your back, and the sight of your breasts pressing against the mattress through the lace, no doubt providing your nipples with delicious friction. his hand slides up to your shoulder and around your neck, pulling you up against his chest.

“mine,” he borderline growls in your ear, hips snapping brutally against your ass repeatedly. “you’re mine, doll. who do you belong to?”

“you, daddy!” tears stream from your eyes as his lips latch onto your neck, teeth grazing your pulse as you feel an all too familiar warm fluid being pumped into your spent cunt. your walls tighten, and suddenly you’re falling over the edge too, twitching in gojo’s grasp as you finally find your climax.

in your lust-drunken haze, you flop back onto the mattress, ass still up and folds leaking with cum as you huff into the pillows. gojo finally slides out, a low whistle sounding from his lips at the sight of you, still clad in your expensive lace as his release drips between your thighs. before it can reach the garter strap, he swipes it up with his fingers and pushes it back inside, smiling when he feels you begin to tremble.

“don’t worry, doll. i just wanted to make sure we don’t get my new favourite set dirty.”

PREVIOUS : N/A NEXT : SHARING IS CARING ft. toji fushiguro + shiu kong

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[lovegasmic]

  ִֶָ casualties ↪ part two of mafia boss sukuna.

⋆ mdni. semi public ( public place but no people around ) unprotected sex, mentions of guns and bribes, keep in mind he is literally a gangster, none of his behaviors are ‘normal’, mirror sex, slight stalking ( sending people to investigate you ), breeding kink and creampies, pet names used: princess, doll, my girl/love, sweetheart.

after your first encounter, it only took the man a flick of his wrist and your whole life was settled in a stack of papers on his coffee table, smirk tugging on the corner of his lip and a cigarette tightly held on his free hand. your address was the easiest part, with your father being an important member of the mafia, it was only normal for his men to get the direction in the blink of an eye, perfectly in time for Sukuna to start sending large bouquets of flowers with an unknown sender, although his scent was present on each petal, just for you to admire and your father to frown.

it was not too much work either to find your birthday, friends and places you often visit, after all you were a public figure as well, —that and a couple of bribes to your acquaintances it’s all it took.

the store of a luxury clothing brand stood in front of his car, tinted glasses concealing Sukuna’s half hooded eyes and knowing smirk, of course the princess would only shop at the most expensive places, perhaps using daddy’s black card. it’d be a lie if Sukuna said his cock didn’t throb at the idea of you using his black card next, to your heart’s content.

the pink haired man was not one to follow his impulses, to him everything was premeditated, carefully studied so things went smoothly like the fat wad of bills slipping into the retail’s clerk pocket, and much similar to the subtleness in his men’s loaded guns pressed against your bodyguards sides, who trembled in fear, so pathetic.

“tsk” Sukuna thinks, “i should get better guards for my girl” with a swift movement he fixes his cuffs, straightening the jacket suit and matching black half buttoned shirt underneath, allowing his tattoos to be seen.

and it takes his whole self control in not opening the dressing room door where he knows, you’re in, and sloppily make out with you, pants tightening at the memory of your fucked out and dizzy expression. fuck, he’s so hard already. but instead optes to sit on the large leather couch in the middle of the VIP space, his eyes scanning the quietness and luxury in ceiling high mirrors and marble floors.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, finally stepping out of from behind the wooden door and attempting not to let your surprise be seen, but considering the slight twitch in Sukuna’s lip, your attempts probably failed.

“it’s good to see you too, doll.” he almost purrs, eyes drifting up and down the sight of your body in a tight dress, “won’t you turn around for me?” he teases, licking his lips.

yet you remain still, raising a brow and crossing your arms, taking a peek at the now empty room.

“come on, sweetheart, just one turn, for me?” Sukuna grins, sliding a thumb over his bottom lip, “i’ll answer all your questions later” and you’re pliant enough to comply, twirling around with a slight burn in your face, questioning him once again.

his grin never falters, only increasing with your cute actions, deciding to stand up and calmly walk towards the clothing rack, humming in delight at the beautiful garments that would look absolutely stunning on his bedroom floor, “can’t a man shop freely now?” he teases, handing you a matching skirt and top set in an oddly similar color to his hair.

“yeah? i had no idea you liked to shop at an all women’s store” you tease back, allowing for Sukuna to rest his hand on your waist, his whole self made you weak in the knees, a whiff of his cologne and you wanted more.

he chuckles, deeply and rumbling on his chest, making you bite back a whine as his hand guides you to the dressing room, his voice dropping to an intimate level, yet he still bends down to breath against your ear, “then, would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you?” Sukuna whispers, pressing his lips against your nape; you’re not certain of what moment he made you get into the room and close the door softly behind him, only your reflection in the mirror bringing you back to reality, “you’re awfully hard to find, sweetheart” hands trail down your sides, squeezing the sides of your breasts just slightly, “has your daddy been keeping you away from me? did he find out about the lewd things I did to his precious daughter?”

you can’t help the soft moan off your lips at the sensation of the man’s bulge pressing on your lower back, the sight of his large, filled with rings and tattooed hands cupping your body made you dizzy, Sukuna having to bend down to easily nip on your nape, and gently brush your hair out of the way.

“he doesn’t know”

“he doesn’t?, that’s a pity, i’d love to see his reaction when he finds out i’m the one making you this wet and pliant” he chuckles, fingers dancing around the slit on the dress, so sensually your knees bucked, threatening to make you fall if it weren’t because of his arm around your waist.

you whine, “don’t... say that”

“it’s the truth, princess, there’s nothing else I want than having the world know you’re mine” Sukuna groans, raising the hem of your dress and maintaining it tightly under his arm, his other free hand gently cupping your jaw, tilting your head up so you meet his gaze through the mirror, “eyes on me, watch who’s making you feel this good”

with a last nibble on your neck, Sukuna roughly pushes your panties down, not wasting any time in sliding his digits through your drenched slit, coating your clit in your own scent. he’s rock hard at this point, breath coming out ragged in sheer desperation to be buried in your cunt, besides from the lewd picture you paint in the mirror, eyes glossy, lips parted and letting out the cutest sounds he has ever heard.

another trait of Sukuna, is that he’s not patient, in the slightest, so when a finger urgently slips inside your warm walls you shudder in response, hips bucking, almost flopping forward by the tremble in your legs, “good girl, so wet for me” he rasps, licking a fat strip down your neck and towards your shoulder, maintaining eye contact like his life depends on it.

“more...” you beg and his resolve crumbles, his initial plan of making you shiver and beg quickly by wanting to give you what you need, you make him go dizzy, you make him want to give you whoever you ask for, kiss the floor where you step.

“my greedy girl” Sukuna groans, rubbing his cheek with yours as another finger plunges in, messily fucking your hole that drips slick down his wrist, then another until your nails dig in his arm, “you’re ready for me, aren't you?” his voice is low and raspy, hidden lust behind each gasp. Sukuna is quick to undo his pants, cock bobbing in arousal, already dripping with precum as he guides the tip to your pussy, slowly sinking in with his breath hitching, “there we go”

if you weren’t looking at him, Sukuna would be very certain his rolls could have rolled back at the wetness and tightness of your cunt swallowing him inch by inch, his cock pulsing, “fuck, princess, it’s as good as I remember” he licks his lips, tightening his grip on your waist and slightly bending you further in the air.

“your body is begging for it, I can feel your count spasming around me” he smiles, thrusting in deeper, harder, making you take more of his incredible length until his heavy and full balls are nestled on your ass.

“’Kuna...!” you mewl, eyes hooded, threatening to fall shut but the explicit sight of Sukuna filling your hole made you resist, only fueling your desire and lust.

“yes, sweetheart, that’s right, it’s Sukuna the one making your pussy feel so good” he groans, hands grazing your sides in a tight grip before pulling back and forcefully slamming his cock inside, heart racing at the sound of your moans and sticky pussy squelching around his girth.

“o—ohh! fuck!” you moan, half scream at the rough pace Sukuna sets, forcing your body to jolt back and forth, tits about to fall from the low neckline of the expensive dress you tried on, you definitely had to buy it now, “too deep!

he groans in return, “the deeper the better” voice is slightly shaky, “i can reach your cervix properly” it’s a promise, to fill your fertile womb once again like he did weeks ago.

there’s sobs and moans echoing in the room, mixed with the sounds of your mixed juices, and Sukuna is only fueled by them, his hips pounding faster, most definitely leaving your ass sore from the brutal way his balls and hips slam against your soft skin. he holds no respect for your possible future uncomfortableness, only thinking of claiming your cunt.

“i’m close” Sukuna groans, sliding a hand between your drenched legs, pressing two fingers against your clit and messily rubbing in desperate circles, slightly embarrassed of the fact you’re going to make him cum so much and so soon, but how can you blame him when your pussy squeezes him like a tight grip, as if begging him for more.

leaning down he claims your lips, it’s as sloppy as his thrusts and wet as your slick dripping down his cock, “need you to cum with me” he murmurs.

“close!” you manage to cry out against his mouth, only for a brief second before his tongue plunges into your mouth again, swallowing your sounds but allowing the noise of your pussy to resonate, “oh, S-sukuna! i’m cumming” you cry, and there’s the precious and slutty expression he loves so much, eyes crossed as you shudder on his cock, trembling so much he would have been afraid you’d fall, but Sukuna is quicker, selfishly keeping you up to shoot his thick sperm deep in your willing pussy, a deep growl rumbling on the walls as he pumps you, a couple of times so he’s sure his cum would take.

“so gorgeous” he rasps, breathless, meeting your hazy eyes through the mirror while mindlessly rubbing your belly, “i’ll take care of you, my love, i’ll give you whatever your heart desires..., but in return, I just ask for one thing” he murmurs, “let me creampie your tight pussy every single day.”

that’s certainly Sukuna’s own way of asking you out.

🔖𖹭 @yuujispinkhair @valleydoli @hyeinwluv85s @sadmonke @ryomance @inzanekillian @emilymikado @r-ryuko09

[millerscoffee]

Hello!! 🤍 I was wondering if you could write something where Joel is the reader’s college professor, and then Prof. Miller INSISTS that reader comes over to his home for tutoring assistance, (because of failed tests or bad essays), and then finally coaxes her into letting him have his way with her.

hi nonnie! here it is! i hope you enjoy 💖

extra credit

6.2k | joel miller x afab!reader (professor!joel au)

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: professor!joel au, age gap (joel is 46, reader is 21), soft!dom joel, pining, consensual sex, pet names (darlin', doll, baby), oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, piv (unprotected, wrap it folks), squirting, joel spitting over the reader's ass for 0.5 seconds (OOPS IDK???), a pretty dress with easy access, hints of after care, spoiler: honestly prof. miller could've told reader to just do the paper in a different format but – that's the point 🤭

When you picked your major, English was a necessary credit needed to achieve your goals.  It wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t one to quit just because you were bad at it.  So far you were coasting through, getting a mix of good and bad grades in your English Lit class when the last essay before finals was presented.

Among the crowd in Professor Miller’s lecture hall, you typically sat in the front.  He hands out papers, hovering by your desk.  Giving you a look of disapproval, he places the grade face down.  You peel the pages in anticipation, a sense of dread falling over you when you scan the big, red mark of failings.  “Shit,” you say to yourself.  That was it.  That was the grade that was the defining factor of whether or not you had to retake this course.  You use the side of your hand to wipe sneaky tears in falling.  You failed.  Doing your best to keep it together, you’re not sure you even heard the rest of the lecture from the possibilities running through your mind.  What were you to do?  How would you recover?

Class was over before you knew it.  The sounds of bags zipping and feet stepping, you stayed seated until you were able to look over to Professor Miller.  Dressed in black slacks, a brown button-up with leather shoes.  His hair was slick, the slightest bit of salt and pepper patched at his sideburns.  He looked like he had it all figured out, and that struck a nerve.  A feeling of jealousy that he knew what he was doing, and you obviously did not.

Professor Miller calls your name when the class is emptied, and you sniffle, standing up to straighten your skirt.  Your manicured nails pick up your essay as you walk over in an attempt to hand it to him.  “I guess you want this back,” you hold your full bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you read the material?”  Professor Miller inquires, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  His voice is so dark and honied in comparison to his scowl.  Proving not to judge a book by its cover.  The irony.

“Well, I did, but… I struggle with this stuff.  Predicates and imagery?  I’d rather be learning about biology.  But I need this course, you know.  And I…,” you swallow hard.  God, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of your teacher.  He doesn’t know you, out of the hundreds of people he teaches – how could he possibly even remember your name?

“Hey,”  Professor Miller takes his glasses off, putting them on the table.  He looks as concerned as you are over it and crosses his arms.  Keeps his distance.  “It happens, you know.  There are things we can do to accommodate.  You’re very bright, I’d hate to see you fail.  You have options.  I can’t let you rewrite the paper, but I could tutor you for your final.  Another option is getting a student tutor, but it’s rare.  You know the workload of this university.  Not a lot of people are willing to sacrifice their precious time.”

“And you are?”  You look up at him with grateful, bright eyes and he loves it.  The praise just from your stare alone is cause for him to clear his throat.

“Listen, for someone like you, I believe it is important to help.  You just need a little more time understanding what you’re doing, is all.  I’m not in my office for the rest of the weekend, though.  You’d have to come by my house…,”  he watches those pretty eyes widen again, and that makes a smirk fall over his greying features, “if that’s okay, of course.  If it’s not, we could work something else out.”

You think about it.  You’ve never had a teacher invite you over, much less someone who looked the way he did.  Though, that was neither here nor there.  His lips formed words you couldn’t even pay attention half the time in hearing.  Maybe that was part of the reason why you were failing in the first place.  But you needed to pass, and if he could help you – and was so kind enough to do it in the first place, you should jump at the first opportunity.

“Okay.  Is there a particular time you’d like me to be there?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

What the fuck. That makes your heart race.  Tonight?  Tonight?!  Ton–

“Tonight… tonight is good.”  How did you even form the words?

“Perfect,” he started, bending down to write his address on a sticky note – his cologne wafts in your direction, and you clamp your legs shut reflexively.  “Here’s my address.  7 o’clock.”

“Seven.  Okay… thank you, Professor Miller.”

“Please, call me Joel.”  His teeth gleamed in a smile, and his personality shined through it.

A personality you didn’t get to see too often from your position behind a desk.

Shit.

---

According to your phone, he didn’t live very far from campus, and you were able to walk to his house without breaking too much of a sweat.  You decided on a black dress, although it was a casual one, that paired nicely with your sneakers.  It had buttons down the front with a relaxed collar.  Your bag slung over your shoulder when you knocked on his door, a nervousness fluttering in your stomach.  It was such a weird thing, meeting your professor in his home.  Much less having him request you call him by his first name.

Your knees all but buckled when you saw him on the other side of the door.

He looks… young in his jeans.  His t-shirt stretched over the broadness of his shoulders, but it’s still loose enough that it doesn’t look ill-fitted.  His stomach, soft at the bottom.  You flash him a smile, but internally you’re reeling over how casual he looks.  You’d never seen him like this, not even during those school meetings that were informal.

“Hey, you,” he’s bright, too.  Charismatic as he invites you into his home.  Takes your bag, lets you take your shoes off until you’re in your socks.  His words hit your stomach, how easy it is for him to talk to you like you’re the brightest sunflower.  What’d you even do to deserve it?

“Hi, Prof– uh, Joel,” you titter, taking in the curated decor of his home.  It was sophisticated, yet a little cheesy at the same time.  His alumni cover his walls and a mix of pictures.  Some with a couple of young girls you assumed were his children.  He has children, you swallow.

“Wasn’t too hard to find this place, right?  When I moved here, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too far – not much of a mornin’ person,” Joel laughs and you do, too.  Fuck, this feels so easy.  But it’s nothing – it’s nothing.

What you don’t pick up on right away is his open body language.  He places your bag on his couch and you follow him like a puppy – he likes that.  You look so soft under the sienna hue of his lights, your hair falling into place naturally.  Plump and ripe for the taking.  Of course, he meant it when he said he’d tutor you, but the air got thick the moment the door was shut behind the two of you.  What were you doing to him?

Joel’s large frame walks over to his bar cart, turning on his heel to face you, “Interested?”

“Huh?” You blink and he laughs again at your deer caught in the headlights expression.  You’re cute.

“Do you drink?”

“Oh, uh… water would be nice.”

“Water it is,” Joel’s pleasant, gesturing his hand for you to follow him.  And you do – that puppy he was coming to know, right to his kitchen.  You study the marble countertops, the farmhouse style kitchen sink.

“So, tutoring,” he starts, taking a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with filtered water before handing it to you – you thank him with a nod, “I was thinking we could look at your paper, and then go over how to fix things in the future?”  When you take the water from him, your fingers graze.  The first sign of contact, your head continues to nod unthinkingly, but all that scorches your mind is how his skin feels.

“That sounds good,” you overcompensate, shoving the ideas from your mind.  He was your teacher, and it was easy to get back into the mode of why you were here.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change much, still the same grin with hooded eyes and wrinkles at his forehead.  The two lines between his brow.  “Alright, well I have it on the coffee table.  Let’s get settled on the couch, and we’ll get started, okay?”

So you agree.  You take your glass of water and follow him back to the couch where everything was set up – your paper, his laptop.  All of the correction marks in your face as you sit down.  You take another sip of water before placing it down on the coaster.  You dread it, you really do.  Going over your failures?  You scrunch your nose up to yourself, but Joel notices when you’re both settled on the cushions.

“You know, Voltaire said, ‘perfect is the enemy of good’,”  Joel bends his knee on the couch, thigh pressing into the cushion to turn to you and it causes the couch to shift.  The quote makes you giggle a little to yourself, and you shake your head.  “What?” His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.

“Voltaire also popularised the story of Newton’s apple, doesn’t make it true.”

“Huh…,” Joel trailed off, keeping his eye on you – his tongue skating over his bottom lip in thought.  You were so quick all he could really do was laugh, and that made your shoulders relax.  Makes you feel more in control and comfortable to laugh at yourself.  “You got an answer for everything?”

“Not everything.  See this,” you pick up your paper, thumbing over the ink of corrections the man on the couch made and you shrug, “I don’t really understand why this got marked wrong.”  Joel’s gaze flashes over your mouth when your teeth press into the plushness of your bottom lip – he should be given some damn award for having so much self control around you.

“Wrong format.  This citation works for your research papers, right?”  He nods with you before leaning in closer, that damn cologne coming back in full force just like earlier in the day.  You all but freeze when his warm touch graces you again – this time, fingers tracing over where you’re holding the paper.  “Oh,” your voice is soft, a bit of disappointment pangs at your ribs.  You were so busy you didn’t even realise that was the majority of the issues you had.

“So… it’s not really what I wrote, it’s how I wrote it?  You asked if I read the material?”

“Exactly.  If you read the syllabus, you’d see the required format.  Listen, there are some ways for extra credit, I do think this is salvageable.”

You suddenly feel silly.

You did all that work, Professor Miller was kind enough to let you into his home, and it was all for some redundant formatting.  An open palm curls over your chin as you look at the paper in deep contemplation.

“I really fucked up,” you say, hushed in the space.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” you manage an exhale of amusement at the sound of your teacher curse.  You shift your gaze to look at him.  The curls at the nape of his neck, the way his t-shirt dropped enough so you could see his neck, his chest.  The freckles that splayed over his aged skin.  “You just needed someone to tell you what to do.”

That was the loaded statement.  And a pointed one, it seems.  Someone to tell you what to do.  And Joel wanted to be that person?  Your eyebrows raise for a flash, thumbing over the paper.

“That would be too easy,” you scratch at your neck idly before going for the glass of water, sipping in contemplation. “...I mean, I should’ve known better.”

Joel takes the glass from you, offering himself a sip of your water and it stuns you speechless, doing your best not to convey it.  Maybe he did that just because this was his house.  That must’ve been it.  He was comfortable, but goddamn – the eye contact he gave you when he swallowed the liquid.

It felt intentional.

He watches your features, vague as they were, in what to do next.  He honestly wasn’t so sure what he was doing either.  What?  I know how to give you extra credit, sweetheart.  Too forward, too boastful, too… cheap.  You deserved better than that.  He saw you in class, how hard you were on yourself.  He talked to your other teachers, how well you were doing in your other classes.  He felt for you.  And he was a bit lost in your eyes.  You were all too pretty, too brilliant to be dimmed down to a fuck for extra credit.  Joel could see that.  He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, you had him distracted.  You threw him off without even trying.  The plight within him grew stronger as he handed back the glass.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Joel straightens up, his hand cups over your forearm in a way that’s understanding, but also makes goosebumps rise.  You look down to see where you connect and he pulls away slightly.  “Sorry, I–,” “No, it’s okay,” you agree, “It’s okay.  You’re right.”

“It’s just, I see hundreds of bright, beautiful young people every year, but none of them have stood out to me like you.”  He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.  The candor, the nerve.  A filthy old man, that’s all he was in the eyes of someone as sweet and innocent as you were.  Even if you happened to be experienced – god, what was he thinking?!

Joel clears his throat, shifting a bit in his seat, but he sees the way your lips part, but your eyes don’t show an ounce of shock or distain.  They look soft, and… willing.  You know that is because the pull at your core feels too strong to think of anything else.  You look down at his left hand, making sure you’re not dreaming.  He’s not married?  You’d casually look at his hands from time to time during class and ignored the ache it gave you, but this?  So close?  Backed by the glow of his house?  It was so different from the boys you were used to.  In their dorms or disgusting apartments.  It smelled as nice as it looked.  You realise you’re not speaking, but the way you lean into him says more than you really ever could.

“I don’t know what to say,” shyly, you touch your knuckles to your cheek, “you should teach the guys that go here how to chat with someone.”

It’s a mutter, but not to yourself.  You drink one more mouthful of what you were offered before putting it back on the coaster.  Honestly, any distraction was welcome to defer from the ever-present density in the room.

“Those guys don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyway.  I know I didn’t at that age.”

There.  The topic right in front of both of your faces.

“How old at you, anyway?”  You inquire, thumb mindlessly circling over your knee.  Joel tracks it, licking over his lips as he answers.  “Forty-six.  You?”

“Twenty-one.”

Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.

There’s this standstill, as if you’re both in the air together looking at each other in slow motion.  How will this land?  What are you both even doing here like this?

“I’m sure your boyfriend takes good care of you,” Joel’s eyes, round and bright brown, get lost in yours – the way your breath hitches, the shift of your thighs on his sofa.  He wondered what you tasted like, what sounds you make when these boys who don’t know what they’re doing with their tongue attempt to eat you out.  Do you fake it?  Do you give it to them straight?  Neither of you had a drink from that bar cart in the corner of the room, but somehow you’ve become closer – and more intoxicated.

“Don’t have one,” you respond softly, orbs flickering to the set of plush lips that grow more red the longer you let the tension build, “what about you?  N-no partner?”

Your attempt in confidence wavering the longer he stares at you.  It’s like staring back into the sun and you have your brows knit together until the tug of muscle makes your forehead hurt – smoothing them apart with the twitch of muscle fibers.

“No partner,” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh and you can’t hold it back; you gasp.  But you do something he doesn’t anticipate, or well, you don’t do something: you don’t pull away.

How did you two get to the topic, anyhow?

How did you end up straddling his lap, for that matter?

It’s within six eager seconds that his hand, hot and rough, touches your soft skin, and you – green, you – fervent, throw all inhibitions aside and lunge.  It’s more fluid than you realise, and his hands (both now) grip the backs of your bare thighs and you whimper at the sensation of him squeezing you.  Your wetness against your cotton panties grows from the kneading alone.  No, absolutely not, the boys back in the dorms didn’t know how to do this.

It takes an even shorter time for your mouths to meet.  He’s first to kiss, and he tastes like coffee and his dinner, and the faintness of a cigarette – maybe early in the day?  You couldn’t tell, your head was swimming too deep in now to come back from.

And although his calloused fingers roll patterns into your soft skin, he’s just as willing.  Just as desireful and you can feel it beg to be set free at the seam of his jeans.  His tongue skirts against yours, hips rolling up the second yours tempt to roll down; causing you both to moan in each other’s mouths.

It gets feverish after that.  All teeth, tongue, bite.

You don’t want to stop, you don’t want to take a moment to breathe because fuck, that could stop things.  That could make him realise what is happening.

But that only is another item to your list of naivety.

Because Joel, he’s ready.  His masculine arms wrap around your frame to lift you up just enough so he can get out of his fucking jeans that he now regrets wearing.  Shoulda been wearin’ sweats, but it’s effortless… eventually.  He hurriedly pushes the thick fabric down until they hit at his thighs and you’re pushed down onto his boxers that – holy fucking shit – leave nothing to the imagination.  “Joel, J-,” you pant between kisses, fingernails digging into the base of his neck, he pauses.  Pulls away, gets a good look at your face.

“Y’want this?” And goddamn, you can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look just as fucked out as he does.  On the cusp of every little fantasy he’s had about you from the moment you sat down behind that desk.

“I want this,” you repeat.  You weren’t sure exactly when the nerves subsided, maybe because all of the blood is now rushed at the apex of your thighs, but you mean it.

You want this.  You want Professor Miller.

“You got me,” his breath dances over your lips before guiding you back a bit, “here… I’m going to lie back, I want you to– I’ll show you.”  Your lips quirk up at the fact he’s so flushed he can’t even finish his sentence.

But that soon turns to you flushing when you realise his request.  “I – what?”

“No?”  Joel sits up on his elbows, looking over to you and you’re worried you’ve killed the mood.  It’s just, straddling his face?  Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“I’ve never done that… What if it’s bad?”  His eyes, reassuring, but a deep shade of black now beckons you.

“Darlin’, I think you’ll be a natural.  But I can teach you, if that’s what you want.”

You swallow, straddling his knees somewhere at the bottom of the couch and you think about it.

Joel, on the other hand, was living in a fantasy of teaching you things in and out of school.  Showing you how to make yourself feel good on his mouth – make you forget all about the essay that caused you grief today.  He leans over, pushing it under the couch out of view for good measure.

“Okay,” you agree, though nerves still flood you.  “Okay, you wanna take your panties off?”  You lick your lips at that, biting back another whimper that brought you to this predicament in the first place.  And you did – you wanted nothing more than to slip your underwear off and give into your pleasures.  His voice was deep, graveled with the prospect of him fucking you senseless on his couch and who were you to deny him that?

Who were you to deny yourself that, more importantly.

“Yeah,” doing as you say, you slip off your lace-trimmed undies and abandon them somewhere on your Professor’s floor.  “Fuck,” you mutter.  This was naughty.

“Already so good for me,” you weren’t even sure that Joel’s voice could get deeper, or more inviting, but it does.  You bite your lip and oblige when he pats his chest.  Going over to him, you straddle just above his broad shoulders, and he’s almost out of view with him like this – somehow making it easier to just feel what he could do to you.

Joel on the other hand?  All he can do is see the outline of your glistening core from the shadowed tent you’ve made of your dress and his groans are muffled slightly from the fabric, “Fuckin’ Christ,” he wants to devour you, but he takes his time instead.

Peppers kisses along your thighs that make you claw the armrest, causes you shiver at the contact and you can’t believe this is happening.  “J-Joel,” you hesitate, but his hands are wrapped around your hips now, fingers digging into the breadth of your ass.

“Sit.”  Joel commands.

Oh, fuck.

You’re almost certain you’ll break skin at your lips from biting down so hard, but you do as you’re told.  Anchoring down, it’s subtle at first – the brushing of his facial hair against your folds, his chin prying you apart.  Then, it’s incredibly palpable.  His lips are the first thing you feel as they press and kiss over your middle and as you shudder it only makes your muscles sink deeper on him.  You’re the first to moan, and then Joel, and his mouth is open when he invites you inside it.

“Oh, my god,” thighs shaking, Joel flattens his tongue under the hood of your clit, a body part you were certain hadn’t been touched by anyone else but yourself.  There was no time to compare, the white hot pleasure coursed through your veins and he took his time with it, too.  Made sure he was teasing you, his tongue dipping inside your entrance, as sloppy as it felt.  “Hmmn,” you can’t speak, forearms resting on the armrest now as your head hangs between your shoulders and his fingers make pliable work of your asscheeks.  Pushing you down, using your hips to move back and forth against his mouth – like he’s using you while you use him.

The air is thick under your dress, sticky and humid, as Joel swirls this tip of his devilish tongue in the most astonishing circles you’ve ever experienced, and you know it’s because he has more experience than you do.  Has so much to teach you, if you let him.  Your mouth hangs open as you try to inhale, but it’s just too much.  Especially with the way he thumbs into your stomach, then your pubic bone – lifting it just slightly to expose your clit to him.  An angle, not even you have found yourself.

It almost feels like too much.  It’s intentional, the way his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves right at the top of your cunt.  Delicious, deliberate.  Two fingers greet your entrance and it startles you, the way he’s rubbing your hole with his two fingers in slow circles before pressing them where you want them most.

“Tell me you want it,” you hear, muffled and fucked, and you shiver at the slightest bit of lack of contact.

“I want it, I want your fingers – please!”

And that seems to send him over the edge of how much he’s willing to hold back because he’s exactly where he was.  Mouth on your clit, but fingers skillfully pressing inside of you and you don’t know how long you’ll last.  Not with the pads of his fingers tapping in the perfect tempo against the ridged spot inside you.

That’s when a weird sensation comes over you.  A pressure, you felt like you had to pee and your insides pulled in more trying to keep it all contained.  “I–,” you start, but it happens so suddenly.  Your orgasm rushes through you, convulsing and almost falling over the edge of the couch, you dig your fingernails into the upholstery.  Your eyes roll back, and fuck, so are your hips.  Unable to stop yourself using Joel’s mouth to keep you exactly right there.  Pleasure pricks your skin, it feels like every cell is ignited – but you jump when you feel a rush of fluid come out of you.  The pressure rebounding out, then rippling pleasure back inside you.  Joel fucks you with his tongue and fingers until he feels you calm down.

“W-what, what… did I do?” You pant, and Joel is groaning, too.  He lifts your hips to get lungfuls of oxygen, so dizzy on you and you notice how soaked his pair of fingers feel on your skin.  Sits you down on his chest and you can see his face finally.  Can see his mouth parting, gasping as his eyes are hooded and so gone.  Curls stick to his forehead, his shirt a dampened colour at the collar.  You blush heavily, embarrassed because you aren’t even sure what that was.  Did he hate that, was that weird?

“C’mere,” he growls with gritted teeth and sits up, the tables turning instantly.  Joel’s stripping his shirt off, kicking every last bit of the bottom half he had on to be abandoned on the floor.  His fingers remove the buttons, but he can’t really get them – those fingers too big for the buttons.  “Here,” you whisper, an intense feeling of lust falling over any self-conscious self talk you had.  You undo the top of your dress one button at a time until your breasts are released from your bra – you moan when he has no problem spilling your tits from the satin, nipples in stiff peaks from your orgasm.  And everything else.

“You know what you did?”  Joel asks, taking both of your nipples between his fingers from each hand.  You moan, lifting your hips and he bites his lip when he sees your cunt front under your dress.  “What was it?”  You ask, curiously.  Innocently.

“You squirted f’me, baby,” he slurs, thumbing over your clit now as he gets a good look at you and he’s drunk on you.  His cock throbbing against your thigh, he taps it against your skin before realising what he needed.

 “Fuck,” Joel mutters and you can tell by the tone it’s not just at your appearance.  “What is it?”  You inquire, eyebrows knit.

“Gotta get a condom,” you hear him mutter, getting onto one foot and you stop him.  “No.  No.  I want to feel you.  It’s okay, I don’t get pregnant–” well that sentence isn’t exactly how you mean for it to come out, but your mind is mush, your body feels boneless underneath him, and he chuckles at that.  At how gone your brain is.  Here he was, thinking he was the only one.  “Okay, okay, darlin’.  I believe ya.”

And really, maybe he should be using more discretion.  But he can’t get the feeling of you out of his head.  You were everywhere.  His mouth, his glistening chest and beard.  He takes you by the hips then, sitting back to flip you on your hands and knees with your help and you moan at the sensation.  Joel looks down at you, groaning of your ass in the air, pushing back for his cock.  “Such a needy little thing, now,”  it’s as if someone else is talking.  This isn’t the Professor Miller you know.  This man has layers and you’re first in line to know exactly what that entails.

Joel takes the base of his cock, bobbing it as it throbs alive in his hand and runs through your slick with the head of it.  “So fucking wet.  Beginning to think you’ve been wanting this for as long as I have.”

You bite a whine and he can see the back of your head nodding as you crane your neck back enough to make eye contact, but his eyes fall down to your ass pressing eagerly on his cock.  Doing your best to press him inside yourself.

“Go ahead,” he slaps his cock on your folds and you mewl at the wet sounds coming from it.  “Take my cock.”

And take, you do.  Joel holds it out for you, keeps it steady and you push back slow on his cock.  Clenching around the head and he growls at that.  “You dirty thing.  This how you fuck all your teachers?”  It burns your skin, pushing your face into your arm and you shake your head.

“Words.” He warns.

“Just you!  Just you, Joel!”

“Just me,” he parrots, hissing when you shift back and you both twitch and groan when you take him to the hilt of you.  It was so thick, stretching you out until you felt split apart from him.  “Just me, show me then.  Show me how you fuck me.”

You bite into your arm then, choking on a sob as you push your ass back over and over.  Your cunt taking him deep like this, it almost feels like too much and not enough at once.  Torturously slow against the spongy spot again

 It felt so amazing taking him yourself, but it was like an itch you couldn’t scratch on your own.  The tapping of his balls against your clit was too far apart in tempo, his cock speared inside you at a pace that didn’t have quite the same leverage as Joel did behind you.

His hands busied themselves on your ass, peeling the muscle apart – pressing his digits to leave bruises and just when you think it’s too much to take, he gives you something else.  His spit falling from his lips right to the velvet of your asshole.  You shudder and flutter around him when it falls to where you’re connected.  Your fingertips grip the other armrest now, cheek resting atop of your hand and you can’t do it yourself anymore.  “Fuck me, Joel!  Professor Miller, please!”

“Shit – you know where to push, don’t you?”  Joel’s wide hands slide up your sides, keeping them locked in place as he pulls your hips to him at first.  Using your whole lower body, your head hands doing your best to keep yourself up but you’re so close when he uses you like this.  When he picks up the pace and you let your head fall on his throw pillow – your screams of desire are targeted into the plush cushion.

Joel is bound up in amazement behind you.  How you feel around him, your gorgeous figure in front of him as he gives you every bit of power he can now.  His hips hammering into you, but with the right amount of speed – not too fast, not too slow.  The sound of his balls slapping against your clit is faster now, and the difference is what you focus on.  The way it sounds.  Joel feels you tighten, pulse around his own pulse and he has to say something to you.  Has to talk you through it, even if he’s not sure you’ll like it.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he drapes his body over your back, huffing into your ear as the controlled weight of him pushes your ass down just enough to make your thighs shake.  You are soaked, sticky against his abdomen, between your thighs.  Over your own stomach.  You move your face so you can feel his skin closer against your.  His lips staying on your cheekbone, he grunts and nods.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take it.  I know you can take it.  Those shaky fuckin’ thighs better hold on.”

You feel yourself coil and he is quick to sooth over your hips with his palms.

“Relax, baby.  That’s it, that’s good, darlin’.  Shh, easy.  Do you feel that heat?”

You nod hopelessly, the buildup was so strong you couldn’t do anything but curl your fingers into fists and whimper repeatedly.

“Give into that heat.  Come for me, I know you can be so good for me.  Good for – fuck – fuck.  Good for my cock,” Joel groaning in your ear makes you flutter uncontrollably, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your front, rolling quick circles at the split of your cunt, right at your clit.  “Milkin’ my fuckin’ cock like that, don’t stop.  Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he grits, and you’re gasping.

Clawing at the pillow, head craning up and back as you come.  Mouth gaped, Joel takes advantage – pouring his tongue into it, swirling and drinking you while his cock bottoms into you repeatedly until he can’t take it anymore.  You feel too good.  Perfect, even.

“Joel!” Your whine is high, as your wet folds take his merciless shoves.  “You feel so good, youfeelsogood!”  Your lip quivers, jerking in aftershocks that feel a lot like multiple orgasms.  You aren’t even sure how you feel, but he knows he has to pull out.  So he tells you, rough and pained against your ear.  He doesn’t want to any more than you do.  But as soon as he does, that reward feels just as sweet.

He exhales roughly through his nose, a popping sound filling the room when he pulls out.  Not even needing to touch himself to spill himself over the small of your back.

“Fuck,” he’s out of breath, grunting, and doing his best not to collide into you.  You’re still, the nape of your neck dews with sweat and you can feel it stick to your dress instantly.

“Stay there,” Joel pulls away, and you sit up on your elbows now that you’re fully flat and study his frame walk into the kitchen.

The back of him is just as irresistible as the front.

You hum hungrily at the landscape of his back.  But you do as you say, you don’t move a muscle.  When he comes back, you take note of the splotches of his chest, his neck red and sheened with sweat, too.  He’s just as disheveled.  The paper towel he comes back with is rough against your lower back, but tickles more than anything else.

Makes you wriggle and laugh.

“What did I say?”  He threatens, but his voice is much more smoother and tender.  More playful.  More like what you’re used to.

“Tickles!”

“You must endure it if you know what’s good for you.”  he’s finished enough for you to roll over.  You pull your tits back into your bra with another low laugh, but to yourself at how exposed and a mess you’re sure you look on your professor’s couch.

“I think I like that threat.”

“No more,” and that makes your heart drop.  He must be able to see the disappointed look on your face, so he rephrases his sentence in an instant.  “No more tonight.”

“Maybe I should be teaching you the importance of ambiguity.”

“Next lesson.”

Your heart soars just as fast as it dropped.

---

While you slip on your sneakers, you turn your heel to him – bag in tow.  “Listen, I don’t want this to be why I passed.”

“It’s not – it won’t be,”  Joel chews up the space between you – his hand pressing against the doorframe that your delicate hand adorns at the knob, fully dressed himself, now.  “You will pass by your own volition.  I meant it – you are bright.  You won’t let anybody take that from you, will you?” You knew that wasn’t a question as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you still swayed your head ‘no’.

“Not even me.”  He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before dropping his arm – allowing you to leave.  And that’s exactly what he’ll let you believe.

“Especially not you.”  You smile, leaning up to kiss his lips – your flavour lingers over his facial hair and tongue.  Your panties in his pocket.

“Goodnight, Professor Miller.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

taglist: @cool-iguana – comment to be added!

[pit-and-the-pen]

Greedy Little Thing

Requested:

Hii just saw your blog for the first time and I'm in love😭😭. Also saw your asks are open and I strongly believe that the needy Az fic deserves a part two with needyyyy reader (begging) please please pleaseeee. We know Az will be brilliant at thissss.

This was so much fun to write. This is really just pure filth.

Technically a part 2 to this request but it’s not required!

Warnings: so much teasing, oral (f receiving), edging/ orgasm denial, some implied cum eating, creampie, p in v sex (18+), dirty talk, praise, Azriel being a little shit.

WC:3.1K

You very rarely got to see your mate dressed up. So used to seeing him in his training leathers that seeing him in anything else had you practically drooling. But seeing him in dress clothes was enough to bring you to your knees, black button down rolled up to his elbows, black dress pants that showed off his glorious thighs and ass. Your mate was hot, more than hot, he was built like a god. 

“Did you need something, doll?” He spoke. You realized you had come into the room for something. You were going to tell him something but all thoughts eddied out of your brain the moment you saw him. 

“You.” The world tumbled out of your mouth without you thinking. He chuckled lightly as he noticed your stare. And just to tease you, he flexed his arms making the veins pop ever so slightly. You imagined running your tongue over them and heat pooled deep in your belly. 

“It seems you’ve forgotten that we have plans tonight.” He was suddenly right in front of you. His finger hooking under your chin to make you look up at him. 

“We do?” Your voice was breathless, needy and whiny as you tried to recall where exactly you had to be that would keep you from climbing Azriel like a tree. 

“Cassian’s birthday party?” He asked more than spoke. Shit. That was what you had come here for. You needed to know where the wrapping paper went. The fancy thick ones that even Cassian had trouble tearing into. 

“What time does it start?” You broke your eyes away from him to peer at the clock on your nightstand. It was just a little past 5.

“Six. And you still need to get dressed.” You felt a pout rise on your face and Azriel’s thumb popped your bottom lip. He leaned down and gave you a chaste kiss. Well it was supposed  to be chaste but you got your arms around his neck before he could pull away. Teeth instantly sink into his bottom lip. He groaned and trailed his hands over your waist. He used his grip to pull you away from him, stepping back until your arms were fully extended around his shoulders. 

“Keep that up, princess, and we won’t go at all.”

‘Is that a bad thing?” 

“Nesta will come get us herself with how much planning she’s done.” You sighed heavily as he stepped out of your hold, your body instantly missing his warmth. 

“Go get ready and I’ll finish wrapping his present. Since that’s what you came in here looking for.” The bastard knew the whole time but had wanted to rile you up. Fine. Two can play that game. You spun on your heel and stomped over to the closet.

The dress you picked was one you had just gotten. Intricately cut patterns of fabric that covered just enough to be decent. It wasn’t your usual color, opting to not get it in your favorite sapphire blue but instead a red so dark it was almost purple. It matched your skin tone so wonderfully and brought out the color of your eyes. You left your hair down, letting it flow naturally over your shoulder, covering the exposed skin the dress left. Grabbing the matching heels, you slipped out of the closet and headed to grab the set of bracelets Azriel had recently gotten you. 

You struggled to clasp them, holding the delicate chain as it continued to slip out of your grasp. You gave a frustrated noise after the third attempt and went to go find your mate to help you. 

“Az.” You called into the house. Not knowing where he was. 

“In here.” He answered from his study. The door was opened so you walked in, still holding the bracelet to your wrist. You held it out for him, not even looking up. 

“I need your help.” You finally looked at him when you didn’t get a response and felt the surge of lust down the bond. His eyes hungirly roved over your figure. The tight dress clinging to the plush of your breast, your stomach and thighs. He licked his lips as he walked over to you. Azriel took your outstretched wrist with a careful hand and managed to clasp the silver bracelet. 

He placed a soft kiss to your pulse point before pulling you against him. A soft grunt leaving you as you crashed against his chest. His free hand rested on the skin of your back, left open with the low cut of the dress. 

“I know what you’re doing, sweetheart.” He said against the shell of your ear. You fought back a shiver as his breath tickled your neck. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You asked me to get ready.” Your words would have been convincing if it wasn’t for the smell of your arousal in the air. Azriel peeled his hand away from you to catch a glimpse of the watch on his wrist. 

“Ten minutes.” Was all he said before he knelt down in front of you. Your hands followed him down, clutching onto him and settling on his shoulders. He was quick to sling your leg over his shoulder. Opening you up to him. He ran the tip of his nose along the center of your underwear, drinking in your scent. 

“You’re drenched for me, sweetheart.” 

“Az-” You mewled as he reached up to tug your panties to the side. Your hands slid into his hair as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit. Teasing the bundle of nerves with feather-light strokes. Your nails dug into his scalp, focusing on the hints of pleasure he was giving you. A breathy “please” leaving your mouth was all it took for him to unleash himself. His pace was merciless, the sounds of his lips on your mingling perfectly with your loud cries. Your legs wobbled slightly and he wrapped an arm around you. Giving you leverage to ride his face, your hips bucking in time with his tongue. 

He had you rapidly approaching your peak. Broken version of his name falling over your lips. 

“Az I’m gonna-” And right as you felt that clench deep in your stomach, he was pulling away. 

A loud cry of outrage left you as you stared down at him. Chest heaving as he placed your foot back down on the ground and stood up to his full height again. He smoothed your dress back into place on your hips, squeezing lightly as he did. 

You felt hot all over, pulse thrumming across your skin. Words failed you as Azriel licked his lips, cleaning your glistening arousal off of his face. 

“I-I was so close.” You whined, closing your eyes as if trying to will the feeling to come back. 

“And maybe now you’ll listen to me when I tell you to wait and not try to tease me like a brat.” He tapped your cheek, a silent request for you to open your eyes. “Now you can be frustrated all night while I decide if I’m going to let you cum.” 

Your eyes widened at his words. “Please. I’ll be good. Please let me cum.” 

He placed a small kiss on your forehead before looking at his watch again. He picked up the present and held an arm out for you. You didn’t hesitate, although a little pouty, to grab it as he winnowed you to the venue Nesta had picked out. 

The girls had spared no expense, and it was obvious as you looked around. Cassian normally wasn’t one for big parties but the century birthdays were always a big deal. Nesta had turned the club into an almost intimate setting but the music thumping through the sound system had your pulse skyrocketing again. You felt it everywhere, still so worked up with not being able to cum. Azriel rubbed small circles into your back, encouraging you to relax. 

“I’ll get us drinks.” He said as he placed another kiss to the top of your head. 

The club was still open to the public tonight, Nesta had just reserved the top floor for Cassian’s party. He would still want to dance with Nesta and she was fully aware of that. You looked around the room for the rest of your friends and quickly spotted them. Cassian's wings sticking out among the crowd. He already had Nesta pulled tight against him. You caught her eye and she pulled away from him with a cat-like smile before she focused on you. You extended the present out to her and she took it to add to the growing pile on one of the tables. 

“You made it.” She gave you a smirk that let you know you must not have been as composed as you thought you were. “I’m surprised with you wearing…that.” She covered her laugh as you rolled your eyes. 

“Azriel was very insistent on being here on time.” As you looked for your other friends you felt your anger rising. No one else had shown up yet, you and Az being the first other couple here. Frustration overrode the lust still buzzing below your skin until you felt Azriel join your side. 

He handed you your drink, suddenly very grateful for the cool glass against your hand. 

“How did you convince them to let you decorate?” Azriel asked Nesta who merely shrugged in response. 

“I’m persuasive.” She responded and you felt the urge to laugh at the image of her storming into the club managers office and demanding them to let her essentially redo half of the club. You took a deep sip of your drink as the rest of your family slowly started to arrive. Feyre and Rhys first, with a small mountain of gifts. Mor, Emerie and Gwen arrive next. Elain and Lucien after, and even Amren. 

Eventually rounds of shots were poured as everyone started to get started for the night. Cassian was glowing with happiness as he danced with Nesta, then Feyre and eventually you. He spun you in a large circle as you tipped your head back laughing. He had gotten better at dancing since being with Nesta, a fact she was very proud of. He had two left feet and no rhythm before he met her. 

The song faded into the next and you excused yourself from the dance floor to get another drink. Azriel was right behind you, hands seeming to gravitate towards your waist and back. He had left teasing touches all over skin the entire night and it was enough to have your thighs clenching together as your mind drifted to the unfinished events in his office. 

“You seem tense, sweetheart.” His hands going to rest on your shoulders, fingers rubbing at the tight muscles around your neck. You leaned into his touch, biting back a moan at the feeling of him touching you so intimately. He chuckled as he pulled away, a deep frown on your face. He was still riling you up, hours after and it was working perfectly. Your thighs were sticking with your arousal. 

“Az, please.” You plead, not entirely sure what you were begging for. For him to stop, for him to pull you into the bathroom of the club and finally finish what he started. 

“Behave.” Was all he said as he pulled you to the center of the dance floor, you drink still waiting on the bar top. 

He pulled you tight against him as the song shifted to something slower, something more sensual. His hips dug into yours perfectly, meeting you beat for beat. Your hands were digging into the front of his shirt, clutching onto the fabric to stop yourself from melting into a pool at his feet. His hands ghosting along your waist, over your sides, brushing every inch of exposed skin had you panting against him. You pulled him down to meet your lips, a sigh escaping both of you as you did. His hands went to rest on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. His tongue parted your lips and he licked into your mouth. Demanding every bit of your attention. 

You didn’t realize he had backed you into a corner until you felt the wall behind you. It gave you leverage to grind your hips against him. A small part of you was satisfied as you felt his rock hard length through his pants. He pulled away from the kiss, eyes dark and pupils blown. He was matching your breathing, chest rising and falling as he fought to catch his breath. 

You reached your hand down before he caught your wrist and pulled you away from his waistband. 

“I told you to behave.” He growled in your ear. The sound was so perfect it made you want to cry out in frustration. You felt it everywhere. Your toes curl in your heels as you whine. 

“Az. You proved your point. I’ll listen.” Your voice is high pitched. 

“Look at you, so needy for me. I bet you would let me fuck you right here?” Your breath hitched in your throat at the thought. He laughed darkly at your response. “You would, wouldn’t you. My little slut, so needy for my cock she’d let me fuck her in a room full of strangers.” He bit the junction between your neck and shoulders had a loud moan falling from your lips. 

“Az-” He silenced you with a kiss. Hips driving into yours, pinning you against the wall. You wrapped a leg around his waist, exposing your dripping core to him. He growled low in his chest and you felt the world moving around you. 

Next thing you felt was the plush of your large bed underneath you. 

“You want me that badly, princess?” He was already unbuttoning his shirt, his toned chest slowly becoming visible. You nodded, your throat suddenly feeling dry. A small slap to the inside of your thigh had you crying out a yes. 

He leaned over you, arms caging in each side of your head. He eyed you up, a smirk plastered on his face as you panted under him. He reached out and flipped you over so you were in his lap. Straddling his hips, your heels hanging off the edge of the bed. Your hand slipped behind you to take them off but his words stopped you. 

“Keep them on.” Was all he said before he started trailing kisses over your collarbone, down to the space between your breasts. You wanted the dress off, wiggling your hips to tell him as much. Azriel didn’t hesitate. Hands coming up the zipper of the dress and pulling it down excruciatingly slow. He pulled away long enough to slip the scrap of fabric over your head, you arms raising and falling against his chest with a loud smack. He leaned back on his elbows, drinking in your figure. Your skin flushed with need, eyes wide and wild. You leaned down and started placing open mouth kisses on his exposed chest. You went to slide off of his lap before a firm hand stopped you. 

“As much as I would love to see your pretty mouth wrapped around me. I want to be inside of you.” You could have cried with relief at the words. But you should have known there would be a catch. He didn’t waste another second before he was slipping inside of you. Hours worth of teasing making it almost too easy for him to fill you. You sniffled as you sunk down completely. Already drunk off the feeling of him. 

His hands found themselves on either side of your hips, urging you to move at the pace he set. You own arms hooking around his neck as you pull yourself closer to his chest. YOur head rolled back until you were looking at the ceiling, body bouncing with each thrust as you could do nothing but take everything he gave you. 

You felt that coil tightening again in your stomach. Your thighs clenching around his waist, trying to take him deeper. 

“You’re taking my cock so well, sweetheart. Look at how pretty you are.” 

You could do nothing but cling to him tighter, your moans mingling with his own groans. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding. The bed shook across the floor as he continued to drive his hips against yours, again and again. Your whole body clenched as you were about to tip over the edge and right as you went to cry out for him. He pulled out, flipping you over so you were suddenly under him. You cried out again. 

“Az. Please.” He kissed your cheek, trying to sooth you as you reached out for him. He waited a few heartbeats before he lined himself back up with your entrance and pushed in. 

“Are you gonna be good?” He asked. You would have said yes to whatever he wanted, anything to let you cum for him. You were nodding, voice horse from the pitch of your moans. 

He grabbed your ankles and pushed your thighs up to meet your shoulders, driving his hips with his whole body. You felt every wonderful inch of him this way, could feel how tight your walls were pulling him in. His skin was dewey as a layer of sweat clung to both of you. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as your legs started to shake. Your body so exhausted already as you tried to lift your hips up to meet him. 

“Cum for me, my sweet, beautiful, girl.” He pressed his nose into your shoulder, biting down right as you hit your high. You shuddered in his arms, which tightened around you. Letting you ride out your high as his hips slowed down, grinding against you. It was only a few more moments before he was growling into your ear. HIs hips stilling as he pumped you full of his release. You stayed wrapped around him, basking in the afterglow of one of the best orgasms you had ever had. Body finally relaxing against him. He pulled out of you slowly, your releases spilling out and running down your thigh. Azriel’s eyes went right to the mess between your legs and you saw that glint of hunger that told you the night was only beginning. 

He started to trail kisses down your stomach until he laid flat against the bed. 

“I think I owe you more than one, princess.” And brought his lips to your folds for the second time tonight.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

I’m just thinking about Bucky denying that he doesn’t feel well because I’m a super solider, I can’t get sick!

So he goes and tells Dr. Raynor what’s going on during his next session. As it would turn out, super soldiers are immune to many physical things, but they aren’t immune to anxiety attacks.

While he’s gone to his session, Reader finds an old recipe book with a handwritten soup recipe inside of it. It’s probably as old as Bucky is, if not older— but it’s very well-preserved. She makes some of the soup for when Bucky returns, because no matter what, soup is an exemplary comfort food.

Bucky comes back and he could swear he smells something that he hasn’t smelled in decades, since he was a kid. He smells his grandmother’s soup recipe— but that can’t be right, right? His body’s lying to him, there’s no way it’s there, a century later.

As he walks into the kitchen, the scent gets stronger. Reader made soup just for him. His anxiety starts to evaporate like the steam from the soup.

After all: it’s made with the secret ingredient.

Made With Love » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes home from therapy to find out that you made his grandma’s soup recipe.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mention of Anxiety, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

“Are you sure you’re ok, baby?” You asked while sitting on the bed and watching Bucky get dressed.

“Yes, I’m fine, doll.” Bucky answers.

You frowned. He sounds different. He doesn’t sound like his normal self. It worried you. You got off of the bed and walked over to Bucky.

“I hope you’re not getting sick.” You say worriedly, putting your hand on his forehead to make sure he doesn’t have a fever.

“I can’t get sick, doll.” He gently took your hand off his forehead and kissed the back of it. “I’m a Super Soldier, remember?” He says.

You pouted up at your boyfriend, knowing that something’s off about him, but you can’t figure out what it is.

“I have to go to therapy.” He sighs. “I’ll see you later, ok?” He says.

“Ok.” You sighed. “I love you.” You say, standing on your tippy toes to kiss his lips.

“I love you too, babydoll.” He says softly.

You watched him walk out of the bedroom and listened for the door to the apartment to close. You looked down at the basket of clean clothes that needs to be folded and hung up. You sighed loudly, not wanting to do it, but it needs to be done.

You grabbed the clothes that need to be hung up in the closet and took them in there, hanging them up. Your foot bumped an old box and knocked it over. You crouched down and picked up what fell out of it. You came across an old recipe book. You picked it up and opened it. The inside of the front cover was signed “Grandma Barnes”. That was enough to tell you that the recipe book once belonged to Bucky’s grandma.

You found a piece of paper with a handwritten recipe on it. You read the ingredients on it, seeing that it’s a recipe for soup. You got to thinking… if you make this for Bucky, he’ll feel better compared to how he felt this morning. Everyone loves soup, right? It’s comforting.

You wrote the ingredients down on a different piece of paper, making a grocery list. You put the recipe book on the kitchen counter and went to the grocery store to buy the ingredients for the soup. Meanwhile, Bucky was at his therapy session, not wanting to be there.

“How are you?” Dr. Raynor asks Bucky.

“I’m ok I guess.” Bucky answers and shrugs.

“What do you mean you guess?” She asks.

“I been feeling off for the past couple of days and I don’t know what it is.” He tells her. “My girlfriend thought I was getting sick, but I can’t get sick. Super Soldiers are immune to everything.” He says.

Dr. Raynor wrote what Bucky said down in her notebook, making him roll his eyes. He hates that fucking notebook.

“I think you’ve been experiencing Anxiety.” She tells him. “Are you still having those nightmares?” She asks.

“Not lately.” He answers honestly.

Dr. Raynor looked at Bucky for a few seconds, making sure he’s not lying before writing it down in her notebook.

“You’re just having some Anxiety.” She closed her notebook. “Like you said, Super Soldiers are immune to everything, but they’re not immune to Anxiety.” She explains. “Try talking about how you’re feeling with your girlfriend and you might feel better.” She says.

Bucky nods before leaving her office. He got his phone out of his pocket and texted you.

Bucky: I’m on my way home

Doll🩷: Ok see you in a little bit😘

Bucky smiles at your text before shutting his phone off and put it back in his pocket, making his way home.

Bucky sighs contently when he walks inside of yours and his apartment, closing the door behind him. He stops in his tracks when he smells something all too familiar. He knows that smell. It’s something he hasn’t smelt since he was a kid. He made his way to the kitchen to see a pot on the stove. He walked to the stove to look inside of the pot, seeing the soup his grandma made when he was a kid. He seen her recipe book and soup recipe a few inches away from the stove, which confirmed it for him.

“Baby, you’re home!” You smiled. “How was therapy? Did Dr. Raynor help you figure out why you haven’t been feeling good the past couple of days?” You asked.

“It was- I umm-” Bucky was too speechless to answer you.

He turned around so he was facing you. You looked at him, waiting for him to say something.

“Did you make this?” He asks, referring to the soup.

“Yes!” You answered. “You weren’t feeling good the past couple of days so I made you something comforting. I also found what I think is your grandma’s recipe book in our bedroom closet when I was putting away laundry.” You tell him.

“It is my grandma’s recipe book.” He says, picking the book up.

You stood there, watching him look at his grandma’s recipe book. You couldn’t tell if he was happy or you accidentally did something wrong.

“I overstepped, didn’t I?” You asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I thought you might want something from your childhood and-” Bucky kissed you before you could finish your sentence.

Bucky kissed you with so much passion that it took your breath away.

“You didn’t overstep in any way, babydoll. I’m just speechless, because I haven’t eaten this since I was a kid.” He explains. “I could marry you right now.” He says happily.

You smiled widely. You stood up on your tippy toes and kissed him sweetly.

“To answer your question, Dr. Raynor said I’ve been having Anxiety and talking to you about how I’m feeling might help.” He says, finally answering your question from a couple minutes ago.

“Is she going to give you medicine for it or something?” You asked curiously.

“No.” He answers. “Why would I need to take medicine when I have the most gorgeous girlfriend in the world?” He says.

You blushed when he called you gorgeous. Bucky kisses you passionately again.

“I love you more than anything in this world, doll.” Bucky whispers, looking deep in your eyes.

“I love you too, baby.” You say softly.

You kissed him once more before getting him a bowl of soup. He took a bite of it, savoring the taste of it.

“I think I just fell in love with you again.” Bucky says.

“Is it good?” You asked. “I know it’s probably not as good as how your grandma made it.” You say.

“It’s amazing! You made it just right.” He says.

“I also made it with everyone’s favorite special ingredient.” You tell him with a smile.

Bucky smiles widely, already knowing that special ingredient is love. You got yourself a bowl of soup and tried it. You savored the taste too.

“This is amazing.” You say, agreeing with Bucky.

“I told you.” He says with a smile.

There was a moment of silence while you two ate. Bucky looked at you with the look of love and adoration on his face. He reached over and gently put your hand in his.

“My grandma would’ve loved you.” He says softly with a smile.

“I bet she would’ve.” You say, smiling back.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

[lilaccmilk]

If you think I'm pretty, lay your hands on me.

(know you can't stop thinkin' 'bout it)

rich vampire bf! goes feral after you ask his opinion while lingerie shopping; contains: smut obv, vampire stuff(blood drinking, fangs), mention of aphrodisiac

You were out shopping. After shopping for the clothes and all, you decided to buy lingerie. Confused on which one buy, you decided to send pictures of you in both lingeries to your boyfriend who was at work; asking him for his opinion.

First mistake.

He texted you to buy them both. “But it’s expensive babe” you said to the man monster. He scoffed and asked you to buy them both using his card. “Fine then. I’ll be sure to show everything that I bought to you tonight!! Like a fashion show!” you exclaimed.

Second mistake.

Your boyfriend encouraged you to buy more but you shot down that idea. “Lemme continue shopping now, bye, love you” you hung up the phone.

Returning home, you took a bath and wore your boyfriend’s hoodie.

Third mistake.

He loved seeing you in his clothes, liking how they were oversized on you. You being covered in his scent was another thing that calmed the beast inside of him. You hear the opening of door and rushed to greet your boyfriend. He said nothing but just inhaled your scent, pulling you closer.

“Go freshen up!! Have to show you the dresses” you excitedly said, “Hm sure, start with the lingerie f’me yeah?” He spoke in a strained voice, as if holding himself back.

A while later, he was sitting on the bed, waiting patiently. You tried on the flimsy clothing—as if it could be called that. You laughed to yourself. You had sent a picture of you in a different coloured one, but as a surprise you got it in your boyfriend’s favourite colour — royal blue. You stepped out in front of him and looked at him expectantly. “How is it?” You give him a twirl.

Fourth and final mistake. All of these mistakes now tumble down from the edge upon you and you’ve got the consequence, in the form of your vampire lover.

You barely turn to face him again, before a snarl rips put of his throat and in an instant he’s picking you up and throwing you on the bed, with a sense of utter urgency.

“Fucking hell, been teasing me all day, sending pictures of you dolled up and pretty while I’m at work” he grunts out staring at you with eyes darkened by lust. For a moment he looks more like an incubus than a vampire. But when he leans to kiss your neck, marking you as his, his sharp fangs grazing your skin, clear all your doubts. He sinks them into your neck, drinking your blood. The aphrodisiac in his fangs enter your bloodstream, making your mind hazy and overcome with clouds of lust.

He gets out of his clothes, resuming the assault on his neck. You writhe in pleasure and —rip!

You gasp as the lace fabric tears open like paper in the hands of your boyfriend. “That was expensive” you say in shock. “I’ll buy you ten more.” He grits out, “Focus on me.”

He runs his finger through your clit, “Haven’t even done anything and you’re so wet f’me?” He muses and brings his cock in line with your cunt. He slowly slides himself in you, letting out a low hiss and the tightness and warmth.

Without waiting for you to adjust, he starts thrusting himself at a brutal pace. “What were you thinking princess? That you can rile me up and be left unmarked?—hah!” He pants out between thrusts.

“Didn’t -hngg-mean to rile you up-ah” you pant out pathetically. All your thoughts leaking out of you and onto his cock. “But you did my love” he growled. He loved you sure, but right now he was fucking you like he doesn’t.

He looks like he is in a trance, watching his cock piston in and out, in and out, in–

“You.” Thrust. “Are.” Thrust. “Mine.” He ‘s got you in a mating press, your knees all the way over to your chest. You feel flames of pleasure lick up your insides, trying to bring you over the edge. It doesn’t help that the words from your boyfriend make you feel lewd.

“This pussy was –hah– made to be mine. You were made to be mine.” One last thrust and pleasure washes over you in overwhelming waves. Thick ropes of cum fill your pussy. You pant heavily, feeling tired.

By the time you think that he is done with you, you look like you’ve been thrown to the wolves. But no— he is a vampire— a creature of the night. And the night has only just begun. You riled up the beast and now you have to deal with the consequences.

my ancestors must be feeling real proud of me rn 😌

[cherryredstars]

omg hi cherry!!! yay yay yay I'm so excited requests are open! I love your writings ❤❤❤

Mkay so I was wondering if you would be into writing something more fluffy (I mean you can put smut if you want, lord knows I'm not gonna complain 🤭). I was thinking maybe reader is a teacher, and Gabriella is in her class at school, so she meets Miguel that way. And like over time he just keeps making excuses to see her, even though Gabriella's grades are actually totally fine— he's just so down bad lmao

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reder

Warnings: Fluff, Last Line is Suggestive

A/N: Hi, lovie! Thank you!!!

Unedited

You're fucking stunning.

Standing there in a pretty little dress, skin glowy from summer vacation. Got one hell of a smile on you, too. It has Miguel antsy as he waits in line to drop Gabi off for her first day, his hands tightening around his daughter's book bag as his eyes study every little move you make. Eyes zeroing in on how the wind plasters the back of your dress to your legs, your hands catching the front of it to prevent the fabric from flying too high up. He's nothing but a lovesick puppy by the time he reaches you, nodding dumbly to your introduction as he marvels over the softness of your hand in his, and eyes dropping to the glossy tint of your lips. He has to stop myself from making a noise when you bend down to talk to Gabi, complementing her outfit and gushing about how excited you are to be her teacher this year. The sight is so fucking domestic and he has to stop the fantasies popping up in his head. He takes it as a god-given sign that you're meant to be his when you start to get up, only to grab onto Miguel's shoulder as two little kids come running and bumping into you from behind. He'd be one hell of a lousy man if he didn't jump at the opportunity to grab at your waist and pull you closer to him to 'help steady you'.

Any day that Gabi comes homes with a little paper asking for parent help at a school event for her class is one hell of a lucky day for Miguel. Instantly jumping at the opportunity, signing up the seconds he reads it. Can't miss out on a single opportunity to see how you treat Gabi like she's your own kid or be close to you. Fucking loves how flustered you are every time he takes something off your hands, encouraging you to leave all the heavy duty labor to him so you can focus on the kids. He's always offering to do something for you. Something in the classroom is broken and the school's maintenance is taking too long to fix it? Oh cariño, why didn't you say something sooner to him or Gabi? He'll come in during your lunch break to fix it up while the kids are at recess. Sweet little thing needs help putting up decorations around the classroom? Oh baby, what do you think big, large men are meant for? He'll stay after school Friday and put everything up, just sit and be pretty as you help Gabi with her math homework. Sad that you need to buy new supplies for the classroom but they don't fit into your budget and you feel bad having to ask the parents to donate supplies again? Oh doll, send him a list of anything and everything you want and it's yours, pretty ladies like you don't deserve to worry about things like that. He'll even give you his number so he can buy you lunch.

And when you blink up at him with your sparkly doe eyes and ask, "What can I do to repay you, Mr. O'Hara?"

Fuck.

If you aren't careful, he might just have to buy you a pretty little ring. And, by next school year, you'll be introducing yourself as Mrs. O'Hara.

Maybe he'll even give you a kid of your own while he's at it; Gabi's been bothering him about a baby brother, anyways.

[francixoxoxo]

.𖥔˚ Lay Back, Relax ୨ৎ

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐗 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞!!

• 𝐓𝐖: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭/𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠) •

Coriolanus strived to be the best husband. He was expecting his marriage to be arranged, and not exactly a loving one at that. He resigned himself to that. There were more important things at hand.

Well, that’s what he thought until you practically fell in his lap. Intelligent, kind, thoughtful. Undeniably and classically beautiful. His true match. It wasn’t just that you were perfect for public image, that mattered less to him that he would have thought. But you were perfect for him, you two fit and complimented each other like dolls in a set.

Coriolanus was sitting at his desk, flipping through a few important political documents and letters. You didn’t mind that he was busy, you were content to lay across the chaise against the wall of his office. You were flipping through a fashion magazine a bit absentmindedly. Your heels were strewn across the floor, your feet up beside you on the red velvet chaise, fashionable dress-shirt unbuttoned and rolled over your forearms to try and get comfortable after a long day.

Your husband didn’t seem to have that privilege. He rubbed his deeply furrowed temple, nostrils flaring as he stuck his silver letter-opener into a new envelope to tear it open. He was in the beginnings of his presidential campaign, rapidly moving up the ranks and leaving only one seat in Panem’s government left to achieve. You knew how passionate he was about his work, and you had to admit you were thrilled by the idea of being the First Lady. But it was taking a toll on your poor Coryo.

You did what you could as his wife to soothe him. Even now, you could see the empty cup of chamomile you’d given him earlier— hidden behind the mountain of unread papers. You knew that this work would pay off in the long run.

Though it didn’t pull at your heart any less when Coriolanus slipped into bed sometimes hours after you retired, pulling you close only after he was sure you were already awake, murmuring weary apologizes and promises.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Coryo would groan into the crook of your neck, holding you loosely and sighing. He’d press a faint kiss to your collarbone, “I got caught up…”

You’d snake your hand around to thread your fingers through his mussed blonde curls, loose just how you liked them. You’d give his scalp a gently scratch, humming groggily, “You deserve some rest.”

He’d grumble affirmatively in reply, but every night became a late one regardless.

Your eyes flicker up to him now, taking a quick break from reading a document to scribble down notes for his reply, which he’d probably write tonight. Coryo could never put things off for the next day, that was his downfall. With a heavy heart, you resigned to the thought that he’d stay up until the latest hours of the night, only coming to lay beside you when his eyes were too bleary to read the print.

The clock was already at eleven, and you couldn’t stand by and Coriolanus stay in this office until it ticked to midnight. Perhaps he felt your concerned eyes peering at him over the magazine, because he lifted his own azure gaze. He let out a sigh through his nose, offering you a weary smile. You returned it silently, watching him look back to his work with a disapproving purse of his lips. You had no choice! You pushed yourself off the chaise, padding barefoot to his desk and standing behind his rolling chair. Coryo lifted his head to look at you, brows furrowed above sleepy eyes. “Darling?”

You draped yourself over the back of the red leather chair, your cheek to his temple and your arms wrapping around his chest. Coryo smiled softly, a large hand coming to rest over your forearm. “It’s late, Coryo.” You cooed, lips ghosting the shell of his ear.

He nodded reluctantly, that smile falling into a dark expression. He sighed through his nose. “I know.”

“Come to bed.” You murmured, nosing his temple and pressing a kiss to his cheekbone. You were grateful you hadn’t washed off your day’s makeup off yet, the red lipstick stain on his milky skin satisfying. Filling you with a kind of possessive pride. Not to mention that it was hot, having your shade of lip color on his face as proof that he’d let you stain it.

Coryo protested with a grunt, shaking his head a bit. “No, no… Darling, I have my work cut out for me.” But your lips peppering kisses across his face was breaking his resolve as you stepped beside him, grabbing the armrest of his chair and turning him to face you.

“It’ll still be on your desk tomorrow,” you reminded your husband as you slipped into his lap, legs straddling his hips. Your red acrylic nails (which he paid to have done, of course) threading through the back of his platinum blonde curls as you pressed lipstick stains over his cheeks and forehead, nose and chin. He was wonderfully oblivious.

“Just another hour, and I’ll be done.” Coriolanus protested, though his hands were resting over your hips. He tried to give passing kisses to you, but the task was a bit difficult with the way you kept shifting focus. He craned his neck to allow you access to his neck when you nosed his jawline.

You groaned in frustration, gently scratching his scalp with the hand behind his head. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Exhausted.” He admitted after a moments internal debate. His eyelids had long fluttered shut.

“Poor thing, you’ll stress yourself silver.” You cooed, finally pulling away from him. You examined a few strands of blonde hair for grays.

Coryo only snorted and opened his bright, icy eyes. He stared up at you fondly, a reverent smile on playing at his lips. “I doubt I could. Not a spot on me yet.”

You mirrored his smirk, but shook your head. “Point is, you’re overworked.” Coryo didn’t disagree nor agree, he just gently smoothed a palm over your thigh as you went on. “I think I have just the thing to help you unwind.”

Coriolanus’ eyebrows furrowed, he shook his head a bit. “I don’t think two cups of tea in an hour is very healthy, my darling.” You couldn’t help the giggle bubbling from your lips.

You pushed yourself off his lap, only causing his confused expression to deepen. His hands rested on your hips still. You press a sweet little kiss to his plush lips, though it was only chaste for a few moments before it deepened and his tongue slid past yours. All too soon, you broke the kiss. But only to replace it with something better.

“Darling..“ Coryo protested, his hand moving to your shoulder. “I know you’re tired, you don’t—“

“Let me.” You cut him off, turning your cheek to press a kiss to his wedding band. He was a thoughtful man. He knew that if you got him started, there wasn’t any stopping. But who was he to assume you didn’t want him?

Coriolanus’ eyes were hungry, fixed on you as you sunk to your knees between his lazily spread legs. Slowly, but not hesitantly, you reached for his zipper. “You don’t have to. Say the word, my love, and you can go on to bed.” He cooed, his tone agonizingly gentle, but you heard the strain. Looking up at his handsome features, eyes dark with lust, you knew he was desperate for this.

“I want to.” You replied, hooking your fingers under his waistband and pulling the quality fabric down, along with his suit pants, to his knees. His mouth-watering length sprang out as you did, catching your attention. He was easily seven or eight inches. You carefully but not hesitantly reached for him, wrapping a soft hand around the base of his cock.

Coriolanus inhaled sharply at that, his hips shifting ever so slightly. You couldn’t fight the smirk slipping over your face as you stroked your fist up and he exhaled harshly through his nose. Glancing up at your husband’s expression, his jaw was clenched and his blue eyes already so hazy. It had been too long (maybe a week, far too long for Coriolanus’ standards).

“How often have you thought of this?” You grinned, swiping your thumb over his flushed tip to spread the precum beading there. Coryo is white-knuckling the armrests of his chair, his fingernails divoting the red, upholstered leather. You can tell that he’s stifling any sound.

“You have no idea.” Coryo grunts, tipping his head back against his chair and staring down at you, lips parting. You feel satisfaction knowing these attempts at aloofness will be moot in a few moments.

You leaned forward to press a little kiss to his leaking head, batting those doe eyes up at him and making the heat rise up his neck, goosebumps erupting over his exposed forearms. A low groan escaped his lips, his muscles tense. “Lay back and relax.” You reminded.

Coryo’s hand slipped into your hair as you licked a long stripe up the underside of his shaft, he let out a soft sigh. His hips shifted a bit under your touch. You watched his face carefully, noting every little detail. His long lashes against his cheeks, the slight furrow of his brows, the set of his mouth. Everything you knew and loved.

When you closed your lips around him, lowering your head until your gag reflex protested, you were sure to catch Coriolanus’ moan as it left his lips. The weight of him on your tongue was familiar, warm. He was practically throbbing already— one week and he’s already so desperate for you. His eyes fluttered open, the icy blue of them focused on you. his nails gently scratched your scalp as an encouragement. “You’re so damn pretty.” He mumbled softly, relishing in the sight of you with his cock in your mouth. You hummed, gratified.

Coryo looked like he wanted to say more, but the way you began sucking shut him up. The warm wetness of your mouth and tongue on him was electrifying, it wasn’t long before he was clutching the armrest again. His hips bucked up to your mouth involuntarily and he was tempted to apologize, but the whimper that brought from your lips only made him harder. You were so beautiful from where he was sitting, doe-eyed and all for him.

You were taking it languid, using your hand to reach the inches your mouth couldn’t. It was too slow for his liking, it wasn’t very long until his hand tightened in your hair and he began thrusting his cock upward with purpose. “Fuck, your mouth.. Feel fuckin’ amazing.” Coryo grunted, his own mouth falling open in a gasp.

He wasn’t too rough with you, but enough to show you exactly who was in charge. Enough for you to enjoy it. Your throat burned, tears pricking your eyes and your whines filling his office, mixed with the obscene, wet sound of your saliva mixed with his precome. After hardly a minute of shoving his dick down your throat and grunting praise that didn’t match his actions in the least, Coryo lets out a guttural moan. “Shit, such a good fucking girl. Let me come in your mouth, baby, please— fuck,” You managed to hum affirmatively around his cock, your hand on his thigh squeezing.

With a low and masculine groan, his seed spurted down your throat, hips slowing their jerking into your mouth. His fingers tightened in your hair, though not too painfully. When he finally came down from the high, his head tipping back against the back of his chair and his hand smoothing down your hair he had mussed, your lips left him with a wet pop!

“You’re too good to me.” Coriolanus breathed, his eyes half-lidded and grin lazy when you rose to your feet. You leaned over him with a knee on the chair beside his thigh, kissing his cheek.

“You were supposed to relax and let me do the work.” You giggled, leaving him no choice but to turn his face and capture your lips. He could taste himself on your tongue, though he didn’t mind. He nose bumped yours as he pulled away.

“Mmm, you shouldn’t have to lift a finger, my love.” Coryo cooed, eyes sleepy and adoring. Certainly de-stressed. Whether he was ready for bed was another matter. His large hand moved to your hip, kneading the softness there.

“Let me return the favor.”

[jarofstyles]

Teenage Dirtbag 5

Here we go again! I decided to bring back Fratrry in the rotation. For those of you who didn’t read them yet (or forgot) check out the series masterlist. These updates are shorter so I can get them out somewhat frequently instead of making you wait hehe.

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Teenage Dirtbag Masterlist

WC- 1.5k

Warnings- asshole H, angst, Y/N putting him in his place as usual

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Harry knew he should be a bit more cautious when it came to Y/N but… god, how could he not try and push the envelope if it meant her maybe giving into it again? 

The reality of it was that Y/N, a girl who hated his guys most likely, had been the best fuck he’d ever had. She had blown his mind in the literal and metaphorical sense, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Fate had a funny way of working, sure, but he couldn’t be too mad considering he knew their chemistry was too good to push away completely. 

H: what do ya want from the cafe, baby doll? 

Y/N: nothing that you’ve touched. 

Harry smirked at his phone. So predictable, already back with the snarky responses. It worked him up a bit, thinking about how this snarky girl had pleaded for more, kissed him sloppily as his balls smacked against her ass and dragged her nails down his scalp. Such a sweet thing for him that night had gone right to being sour as soon as she left. 

H: ok, so you want me to lick your cake pop. Got it. 

H: it isn’t like we haven’t shared saliva before ;) 

Y/N: yeah, lick on it and then choke . Let me know how that goes so I can cancel our session this afternoon. 

The hope was to bring the sessions here one day. As much as Y/N had disdain towards him, the sparks had flown during sex. She had loved it just as much as he did- he’ll, during their last round she had pushed him on the bed and rode his cock until he was sensitive, her nail marks left on his chest for days. 

H: I’ve got something else you can choke on, baby

Y/N: I will quite literally not show up today, your grades be damned. 

His lips puffed in a pout. He was pushing it, but it was so fun to rile her up. Eventually, he hoped she would give in and like him. See the fun parts of him like other people did- but for now, he would play this game. Cat and mouse… though he wasn’t quite sure which one he was. 

H: fineeee. I’ll be good. 

For now. 

Y/N: please do. It was a mistake and we don’t need to keep bringing it up. 

It was a mistake he very much wanted to repeat, over and over again. 

H: yes, maam. I’ll see you at 2 🫡

Y/N: don’t be late, I’m serious. I have something afterwards and I can’t be late 

H: oooo, a hot date? 

Y/N: yes, actually. So don’t fuck this up or you aren’t getting your full hour. 

His smirk quickly fell. 

She was going on a date? With fucking who? 

That wasn’t in his plans. For some reason, guiltily, he hadn’t anticipated the idea of someone else making a move on the girl he wanted to fuck. Let alone her accepting. She seemed like such an ice queen with him that it led him to forget just how sweet she was to literally everyone else.

It was slightly infuriating, how everyone had nothing but good things to say about her. She was nice and she helped out this person when they moved, she helped plan this persons birthday party, she spotted this person 5 when they went to get coffee… there was no denying everyone else got the sweet parts while all the sourness was reserved for him. 

And yet, he still pushed her. Still played this game and taunted her because how the fuck else was he supposed to get her attention? He was going to have to kick it up a notch.  

——

“Who’s the date with?” He asked in the middle of their session, ignoring the paper in front of him as he looked at her. She was way more dressed up than he’d seen her at a tutoring meet before, a little skirt that brushed her thighs and a little button up tucked into it giving it a sweet but sexy combination that made him a little twitchy. 

In all honesty it had been hard to focus since he seen her today. All he could think about was how those pretty lips had been bitten and swollen from his kisses, how they’d curled around his name so fucking sweetly that it had his cock stirring at the memory. Her perfume was seemingly freshly applied and it was interfering with his brain chemistry or something, because all he wanted to do was throw the books to the side and pull her up to straddle his lap. 

He imagined her hands knocking off his SnapBack, tangling in his hair as she rode his cock right in the secluded part of the library. His hands under her skirt and gripping her plush ass yet again, unbuttoning that little shirt and leaving more marks on her skin. 

Marks he caught a glimpse of as she suddenly looked up at him. 

“His name is Derek.” She cleared her throat. “He asked me out on Monday so I decided to say yes. He’s really nice.” For some reason she looked embarrassed by the information she had divulged, like she hadn’t meant to say all of that. 

That sneaky little minx. 

“Uh huh…” he let his eyes linger on the bruising that was fading but not quite covered by the collar of her shirt. “And what is Derek going to think of this pretty little thing?” 

It was gentle, his knuckle lightly brushing over the mark he remembered sucking during the first round. He knew he had caused some nice little lovebites but that one was still healing, so it was probably a dark one. Fuck, it probably looked hot as fuck when it was first developing. “Suits you, y’know. My marks on your skin. I could put some more there, If you want.” 

He was pushing it and he knew it, getting closer to her as his nose brushed her cheek. She wasn’t pushing him away, so he counted that as a good sign. “I could take you back to my place and I could give you quite a few more. A refresher course because… I highly doubt this guy is gonna be able to make you squirt all over his dick. Which you did with me, twice.” He hummed, letting his fingers fall a bit deeper down the collar of her shirt. “I don’t think he’s going to give you what you need, princess. We already did it once and so we’ll… it would just make sense to do it again. I think we have gotten well enough acquainted that I could do the job.”

He hadn’t seen the cold drink coming. Poured all over his lap and seeping through his shorts, he yelped as the icy liquid  hit his skin. “Oi! What the fuck?” 

“I told you, last time was a one and done for this particular reason, Styles.” She snarled, grabbing her books and hurrying to shove them into her bag. “Because you’d be a fucking pig and see me as a sex object instead of a human being. I’m not some fucking challenge, I’m a girl with feelings and I- I told you, I wasn’t doing it again and it meant it!” 

“Babe- no, I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I’d never say that shit.” He tried to fight, unsure how it had gone south so fast. Apparently, he was shit at reading her cues. Worse than he originally thought. 

“You don’t have to say it. You suggest it. You don’t respect what I say. This is why I was never going to go and do anything with you. Who gives a fuck how hot you are if you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t get his head out of his own ass to see exactly why people don’t like you.” Slinging her bag across her shoulder, she scowled at him. “This isn’t going to work. I’ll find you another tutor. I can deal with your stupid flirting, but throwing what we did in my face? Absolutely the fuck not.”

Harry didn’t have a chance to defend himself, feeling incredibly confused as she ran off. Any call of her name went ignored, the librarian hushing him as he made his way out of the doors but it was too late. She was god knows where. 

Who knew those legs could run so fast?

He was a little pissed that she was assuming he thought of her as some sort of object. He didn’t mean to make her feel any sort of way about it all, not thinking he was throwing it in her face, but apparently she thought so. 

H: Y/N can you please come back???

H: I didn’t mean to upset you 

H: I know I can be a dick and that’s part of our thing but I never thought of you as a sex object and I never would 

H: I didn’t think I was throwing it in your face 

H: can you answer me please????

H: I don’t want a new tutor, I want you :( 

H: y/n, cmon 

H: alright, I’ll try again tomorrow. But we need to talk. Please.