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witchywithwhiskey · 29 days ago

Text

can't get enough

pairing: congressman!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you're woken up by bucky being called away for some congressional business, but you don't want him to go. as you're making the most of the time you have together, he reminds you of the night before, when you celebrated him coming home after a few weeks away.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), there are no spoilers for thunderbolts*, smut, light angst, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, vaginal fisting, double vaginal penetration, inappropriate use of bucky's metal arm, rough sex, pussy spanking, painful sex/painplay, bdsm elements (mostly check-ins, bucky briefly restrains reader's wrists with his hands), biting, finger sucking, come play, dirty talk, praise kink, light degradation, pet names (little one, baby), referenced edging using sex toys, aftercare, established relationship, lots of feelings

word count: 8.3k

a/n: ok so i originally wrote this fic back when the first Thunderbolts* trailer dropped, and we saw Bucky's metal arm in the dishwasher, but i just never got around to editing it 🫣 and it was a bit of a struggle, i honestly had no idea how to end this fic! also, i'm pretty sure a congressman wouldn't travel so much, but it was necessary for the fic so we're gonna ignore those inaccuracies! anyway, this is pretty much just pure smut with some feelings, so i hope y'all enjoy ♡

The loud, incessant buzzing of a phone on the table beside your bed dragged you mercilessly from sleep. With a muffled groan, you rolled over, the sheets smooth against your bare skin as you sought the warmth of Bucky Barnes.

He’d already shifted onto his side to answer the phone, and you burrowed your face between his shoulder blades, nose nudging the bumps of his spine, smile pressing into his skin when you felt his deep, sleep-roughened voice while he spoke.

“Yes?”

There was a pause filled by the tinny sound of someone on the other end speaking. Though you couldn’t hear their words, you got the gist. Bucky was being called away on some sort of official congressional business—or the unofficial business that had him investigating Valentina Allegra de Fontaine.

Either way, it only meant one thing, and it had the corners of your mouth pulling down in an unhappy frown.

“Alright, gimme an hour.”

Bucky’s sigh was drowned out by the wooden thunk of him tossing his phone back on the bedside table. Then he was rolling onto his back, his arm digging beneath your waist and pulling you into his warm body until you were half sprawled on top of him.

So much of your bare skin was pressed to his, and you hummed contentedly, sleep still nipping at the corners of your consciousness and urging you to return to its comforting embrace. But then you remembered the call and what it meant.

“Noooo,” you whined, curling your arms around Bucky’s shoulders and wrapping your legs around his thigh, holding on tight and trying to prevent him from leaving the bed.

You knew it was pointless—he was a super-soldier, and even though he wasn’t wearing his metal arm, he could easily extract himself from your hold. Or carry you as he got out of bed, which you would mind less.

A low, reluctant chuckle rumbled in Bucky’s chest and he brushed a kiss to your forehead, to the spot where your brows were furrowed in a frown, his scruffy jaw making you shiver.

“I have to go in,” he said, stating what you’d already surmised. “And you need the rest, little one.” His voice dropped to a playful growl that had you laughing even as you pouted.

“I do not,” you grumbled, burying your face in Bucky’s bare chest, delighting in the way the soft hair dusting his skin tickled your cheeks. Your words were muffled by the way your mouth was pressed into the layer of softness atop the packed muscle of Bucky’s chest, but you knew he heard you fine.

“Oh yeah?” he challenged, his warm hand ghosting down your spine and smoothing over your bare ass. His fingers dug into your soft flesh, just enough to make you mewl softly and squirm on top of him.

You were distracted from his question by Bucky’s groping hand, your legs falling open instinctively and your head tipping to the side to let out a soft moan. Bucky’s laughter rumbled in his chest, teasing your nipples to aching points while his hand slipped between your thighs.

His fingers explored the soft, swollen folds of your pussy, his darkened blue eyes watching your face carefully, as if checking your body for tenderness. When you merely sighed happily, your muscles loosening and relaxing until you were little more than a warm puddle on his chest, Bucky brushed a kiss to the top of your forehead.

Then, without warning, he pulled his fingers away and used the flat of them to deliver a light swat to your well-used, puffy pussy.

The gentle sting had you whining sharply and writhing on top of Bucky’s chest, arching your back and presenting your cunt in a way that you hoped enticed him to give you more—you didn’t care if it was more light spanks or thrusting his fingers inside your dripping hole.

“Greedy girl,” Bucky rumbled, a hint of admonishment in his tone, but his voice was so washed in warmth, it was hard to take the scolding seriously. Especially when he indulged your needy sounds and spanked your pussy again, a little harder that time.

Despite Bucky’s examination, you were still a little sensitive and sore from the previous night, and you trembled beneath the firm swat to your puffy pussy, letting out a pathetic whimper at the sting of pain, even as tingles of pleasure swirled deliciously through your core.

There was an ache in your muscles, and an exhaustion deep in your bones, that was coaxing you to fall back to sleep. But the knowledge that Bucky was leaving, and you weren’t sure when he’d be back, had you fighting against it.

Instead, you sank into the pleasure of Bucky’s hand, writhing lazily against him, your thigh brushing against his thickening cock. Your fingers trailed down Bucky’s side until they bumped against the tip, then you danced them down his shaft, enjoying the feeling of his hard length twitching against your touch.

Before you could get too distracted by Bucky’s cock, though, he delivered another, sharper, spank to your pussy. You keened loudly, your back arching, ass lifting in the air as you begged for him to stop tormenting you.

“Please,” you gasped, spreading your legs wider, inviting him to give you more.

“Still hungry for me, little one?” Bucky teased, his voice a delicious, sleep-roughened rasp that danced along your spine and settled heavily between your thighs, making your clit throb with need. “Even after everything I gave you last night?”

His fingers rubbed your puffy pussy, making a mess of the wetness that was already leaking from your slit. When he spanked you lightly again, it made an obscene wet sound that had you squirming and keening pitifully.

“Bucky, please,” you mewled, sliding your hands up Bucky’s chest to curl over his shoulders and brace against his broad body to rock your hips back against his teasing fingers. “Need you—I’ll always need you,” you whined raggedly.

Moving on instinct, you slid your leg across his hips until you were straddling him. The hard line of his cock was a heavy, delicious ridge between your thighs and your hips worked, grinding down on him, your clit bumping against all the veins of his shaft and drawing a needy whimper from your lips.

“Please.”

“Greedy, insatiable girl,” Bucky murmured, the words sounding more like praise than admonishment in his deep, rasping voice.

You could do little more than purr your happiness before he was ducking his head and capturing your mouth in a kiss. Your mind went blissfully blank as his lips tasted yours, his hand shifting to your hip, fingers rubbing your own wetness into your skin as he dug into your soft flesh.

Bucky used his grip to urge you to grind against his thick cock, all while he swallowed your whimpers and moans like a hungry beast, his own pleasure rumbling deep in his chest.

Your need ratcheted higher with every sweep of his tongue between your lips, and your hips humped desperately, feeling every throb and twitch of his hardness between your slick, swollen folds.

Truthfully, there was a slight ache in your core, but you ignored it. You were too ravenous for Bucky to even think about stopping your hips from working and coating his cock in your desire.

When the blunt tip of him caught in your thoroughly used hole and threatened to slide into your puffy pussy, Bucky stilled beneath you, his hand gripping the soft curve of your hip so hard that you came to a rest with a protesting whine.

You were panting with need, your mouth open, lips brushing against Bucky’s as you breathed each other’s air. But as you retreated enough to see what had made him stop, you caught the flash of concern in his darkened blue eyes.

“Little one,” Bucky rumbled, a strained warning in his tone, like it killed him to have to stop you.

If it had been any other morning, you might’ve given in to Bucky’s urging that you rest—but that was because he would’ve been there to take care of you. He would’ve cuddled up with you under a blanket and gotten you everything you needed so you could keep relaxing.

But he was leaving in an hour—less than, since it had already been a few blissful minutes since he’d hung up the phone—and so the gluttonous hunger churning in the depths of your body would not be ignored. No matter how concerned Bucky was for you, you needed him.

“Bucky, please,” you begged, urgent desperation in your sleepy, husky voice. Your hips were already pushing against his hold on your body, a pitiful whine rising in your throat when he kept you pinned with his super-soldier strength.

For a long moment, Bucky’s eyes raked over your face, taking in the pout on your lips and the pleading expression in your gaze. Finally, his hand loosened on your hip and you pushed back, impaling yourself on the tip of Bucky’s cock.

A breathy moan slipped from your lips, and you tipped your head back, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you felt his hard cock drag against your sensitive inner walls. It felt so good to have him inside you, filling you up in the most perfect, delicious way only he could, that your mind went blank with pleasure.

Time stretched exquisitely, and all you could do was feel. Your head spun as your body moved slowly, your hips sinking further and further down on Bucky’s cock. It was exactly what you needed—every throbbing inch of his length sliding deeper into your tight hole as you stretched around his thick shaft.

When you were fully seated on his cock, Bucky’s hand wrapped around the nape of your neck, fingers digging into your skin and dragging you close to hold you pinned to his broad chest. Your nipples rubbed against his hard muscles and the soft hair dusting across his pecs, teasing them deliciously.

“Greedy girl,” Bucky growled, tipping your face toward his until your lips brushed against his, but he didn’t kiss you. He just breathed heavily while you panted into his mouth. “You can’t get enough of me, huh?” he asked, a teasing thread in his tone.

It was on the tip of your tongue to cry out ‘no, never’, but just then, Bucky shoved his hips up roughly, fucking so deep into your body, you could’ve sworn you felt him deep in your belly. A sob wrenched free from your throat at the pleasure, which was edged in just enough pain to make to make it sharper, more intense.

“Can’t get enough of my cock, even after everything I gave you last night?” Bucky went on, his harsh breaths spilling past your parted lips as he fucked you. “Good. I want you to feel me in your greedy cunt even while I’m gone—I want you thinking about everything I did to you this morning—and especially last night—so you know what I’m going to do to you when I get home.”

At his words, memories of the night before flooded your mind…

Bucky Barnes had been gone for weeks. He was meeting with businesses and local community leaders in his home district of Brooklyn, New York, while you were left alone in the Washington D.C. apartment you shared together.

You knew being a congressman gave Bucky a purpose, something he hadn’t had in a while, but did he really need to be gone for weeks?

In your opinion, Bucky being gone for weeks was too long.

Sure, he did what he could to keep in touch even amidst his busy schedule. He made a point to call you at least once a day, and though you’d had phone sex a handful of times, nothing compared to having him with you—his warmth in your bed, his arms around your body, his cock buried deep between your thighs.

You’d taken to wearing his starched, white button-up shirts whenever you were home at night, breathing in the scent of him as much as you could. You’d lay in the bed you shared, with nothing on except that shirt.

When he got home on the night he was due back, that was how he found you, clad in his white shirt, only a few of the buttons done up, giving him teasing glimpses of your tits and pussy while you squirmed excitedly on the bed. Hunger darkened his blue eyes and a wolfish smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Then, Bucky fell on you like a starving man, his metal hand sliding between the plackets of the shirt and tearing it open like it was little more than tissue paper—and you were the present he was eager to unwrap.

His heated gaze swept down your bared body, a ravenous look in his eyes, before his larger form covered yours and his mouth captured your lips in a searing kiss.

Bucky kissed you like it was the first and last time, his mouth greedy as he devoured every sound you made and every breath you exhaled. In turn, you kissed him selfishly, your fingers curling around the nape of his neck and holding him close, stealing all the air from his lungs while he pinned you to the bed with his heavy body.

“Missed me?” Bucky asked teasingly on the first opportunity to come up for air. He shot you a smirk that was dripping with male satisfaction and humor—both of which made the need in your belly burn even hotter.

Your hands slid down the sides of his neck, palms skimming over the stubble beneath his jaw and dug your nails into his skin. Without grace, you yanked Bucky back down on top of you, your shoulders lifting off the bed to meet him as your mouths collided again.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you growled into his mouth.

At that, Bucky chuckled, slipping his tongue obligingly between your lips, but you were merciless. You wrapped your lips around his tongue and sucked on him so ravenously, he groaned loudly into your mouth.

Reflexively, his hips jerked, digging deeper between your thighs until his bulge was grinding against your bare pussy, your legs squeezing his hips and humping against his cock.

“Bucky,” you whined, throwing your head back and nearly knocking your chin into his nose while you writhed beneath him, desperately seeking your pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re needy tonight,” Bucky cursed on a sharp exhale, trying to sit up on his knees so he could strip off his clothes.

But you were clinging to him too tightly, and he ended up dragging you with him, so you sat spread across his thick thighs. Your arms tightened around his shoulders, your legs around his waist, your mouth pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to his stubbled jaw.

Bucky laughed huskily, and murmured, “Little one,” with an edge of admonishment in his tone that didn’t do anything to dislodge you. In fact, you barely heard it.

You were too busy dragging the blunt edges of your teeth over Bucky’s scruffy cheek, licking his bristly jaw and making obscene little moans when you tasted the salt on his skin and the musk of his sweat. Your mouth found the spot on Bucky’s neck that made him shiver, and you bit down—hard.

His whole body wracked with a shudder, nearly making you lose your hold and fall back to the bed. But you were too determined to stay close to him, so you clung on, feeling the shiver vibrate through your body, whimpering when it teased your aching nipples and your desperate, leaking cunt.

“Fucking christ—you need me that bad, huh?” Bucky huffed, his words accompanied by the sound of rending fabric and his zipper being ripped open. His fingers brushed your thighs and then the thick head of his cock was pressed to your weeping entrance. “Hope you’re ready for me, little one,” he growled, rubbing the tip of his cock through your drenched folds, teasing your hole.

A needy, pitiful sob burst from your lips as you tried to use what little leverage you had to lower yourself on Bucky’s cock, but his metal hand held you right where he wanted you, poised above his hard length. Another desperate whine spilled from you as tears of frustration splashed onto your cheeks.

“Bucky, ‘m so wet and empty, you could shove your whole fist inside me and I’d still beg for more,” you rasped against his neck, feeling his pulse pumping under your lips. “I missed you—god, I missed you so much, Bucky, I need you so bad.”

You barely knew what you were babbling, your head filled with hazy need. Your body felt like one big nerve ending that was throbbing to the beat of Bucky’s heart and begging to be filled.

Bucky made a rough, tortured sound low in his throat, something between a groan and a roar. It sank deep into your core and you felt even more wetness drip from your pussy onto his cock, coating him in your desire.

In the next breath, he yanked you down on his hard length, splitting you open so suddenly and so harshly, the immediate pleasure wrenched a scream from your lungs. The sound tore from your throat in a piercing wail, bouncing off the walls of your bedroom while Bucky gripped you so hard, you knew he’d leave bruises.

“That’s it, scream for me, little one,” Bucky rumbled, leaning forward and laying you down on the soft bed. The movement had his cock pressing so deep inside you, right to the end of you, that you felt like he was imprinting himself on your body.

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the bed on either side of your head, pulling his hips back and snapping forward, fucking you so hard and fast, all you could do was lay there and take it. You screamed and wailed until your throat was raw and your cheeks were damp with tears of pleasure.

“You think I didn’t miss you, too, little one?” he demanded, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside your body as it slammed into you. “You think my cock hasn’t been aching to sink into this tight cunt since the day I left?”

It felt so good, to have him everywhere—his body covering yours, his shirt teasing your aching nipples as he hunched over you on the bed, his damp forehead pressed to yours, his harsh breaths slipping between your lips, his hips cradled between your thighs, his cock buried to the root inside your pussy.

He pounded into you, punctuating his words with deep thrusts that sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body and making you nearly erupt in euphoria. You knew then that it wouldn’t be long before you came, and a part of you was devastated you’d come so quickly—even as you knew it wouldn’t be enough.

A whole night with Bucky, after he’d been gone for weeks, was never going to be enough.

“God, I missed this,” Bucky growled against your mouth. “I missed you—I missed you so fucking much, little one, I thought about you every moment I was gone.”

Bubbles of happiness burst in your chest to hear Bucky’s rough words of devotion. They swirled with the pleasure rising like a tide in the center of your being, leaving you to sob his name, chanting it like a prayer—like a plea, “Bucky, Bucky, Bucky!”

“Fuck—fuck, I can feel how close you are,” he bit out, his thrusts turning wild and erratic as he chased his own pleasure in your body. “Come for me, little one, come all over my cock—show me how much you missed me, baby.”

Bucky shoved deep inside you, pausing to grind his hips into your cunt and rubbing your clit until the pleasure building inside you reached its crest. You tumbled over the edge with a sharp cry, every muscle in your body pulling taut for one breathless moment, spine arching off the bed and wrists fighting against Bucky’s unbreakable hold.

Stars popped and crackled behind your eyes as you screamed Bucky’s name, overwhelming pleasure crashing through you in waves that swept you away to another plane of existence, leaving behind the bed and the room—leaving only you and Bucky, who still moved over you, his throat working as he growled in your ear.

“Good girl, such a good girl, baby,” his deliciously deep voice rumbled, tethering you to reality. “Can feel your sweet cunt gripping me so good, sucking me deeper, begging for my come. D’you want it, little one, want my come?”

“Yuh huh, yuh huh,” you babbled, unable to form proper words, but it didn’t matter because Bucky understood your meaning.

His mouth captured yours in a searing kiss while he rutted into you, and a moment latter, he was groaning through his own release.

Bucky’s hips pressed flush against your center, his cock twitching deep in your cunt as he spilled his seed against your cervix, loud sounds of pleasure slipping from his lips. You drank them down greedily, just as hungry for his pleasure as he’d been for yours.

In the haze of his release, you managed to tug your wrists free from his hold and you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s shoulders, fingers carding through his soft brown hair, your legs hugging his hips tightly while you felt him throbbing deep in your body.

As the overwhelming pleasure receded for both of you, the kiss shifted, slowing and becoming sweeter, more reverent. Your lips moved against each other adoringly, savoring the other and taking the time neither of you had been patient enough for earlier.

“In case it wasn’t clear,” you began, pulling back and kissing Bucky’s nose, then each of his cheeks and finally pressing a kiss between his brows, smoothing away the near-constant furrow. “I really missed you, Bucky.”

“Mm, I noticed,” Bucky rumbled, pressing his smile to your mouth before giving you a quick kiss. “I really missed you, too, baby,” he promised, his voice warm and satisfied even as he rolled his hips, wringing a soft gasp from your lips.

Laughing softly, he swallowed the sound with a kiss that devolved into long, languorous moments of making out. When Bucky finally pulled away to let you get some air, he propped himself up on his arms and glanced down at you with a hint of concern.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, his warm hand skimming down your side as if checking for injury. His hand slid between your bodies, easing his still half-hard cock from your pussy, his gaze watching your expression closely.

There was a little twinge of an ache, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he seemed to be expecting. Your lips curved in a naughty smile as you shook your head, holding his gaze. “I edged for a couple hours before you got home—put the dildo you got me to good use,” you explained.

You winked up at him, enjoying the way Bucky’s eyebrows raised in surprise, then lowered as his eyes darkened. Renewed hunger burned in his gaze, and he ducked down so his mouth was close to yours. Your breaths were coming a little faster, matching the harshness of his.

“No wonder you were desperate for me,” he murmured on a chuckle, before giving you a long, heated kiss. When his tongue licked into your mouth, you swore you could feel it between your thighs, your core heating with desire all over again.

“Y’know,” Bucky began when he pulled away, the corners of his mouth curving in an impish smirk. “You say the damndest things when you’re desperate.”

“Hmm?” you asked, burying your face beneath Bucky’s jaw and nuzzling into his stubbled skin. He smelled like leather and musk, and you breathed deeply, letting his comforting scent fill your head with fluffy clouds of bliss.

All memories of what you’d said in the heat of the moment got lost in those clouds, but Bucky was determined to remind you.

He shifted his big body out from between your thighs, quietly shushing the soft whine you let out by petting his warm palm over your belly and slipping it between your thighs. His fingers gently stroked the folds of your puffy pussy.

“You said something about me shoving my fist in your pussy,” Bucky said gruffly, gliding the tips of his fingers through your wetness. He gathered his come, which had been dripping down to your ass, and gently pressed it back into your hole with three fingers, while the other two teased your entrance. “What did ya mean by that, little one?”

“B-Bucky, oh m’god,” you stammered breathlessly, eyes flying open and finding Bucky’s darkened blue gaze fixed firmly on your face while he slowly, torturously withdrew his fingers and pushed them back inside as deep as they’d go. “You know what I meant,” you forced out, gasping when Bucky’s little finger slipped into your pussy to join the others.

Hovering above you, Bucky’s mouth was curved into a devious, delicious smirk, which only deepened when he took note of the delight and excitement dancing across your face. You were certain he could see the eagerness deep in your gaze, and it made his smile turn wolfish.

“You want my fist, little one?”

Bucky’s voice was sweet as he asked you one of the filthiest, most debauched questioned you’d ever heard him utter. His gentle tone contrasted with his obscene words and the slick sound of his fingers working your drenched pussy. You could feel yourself clench around him, your body greedily sucking him deeper.

A pleased grin stole across Bucky’s handsome face. “Since I’ve been gone, I’ve only had my fist to fuck,” he rumbled, thumb teasing the edge of your hole while he fucked you with four fingers. “Now that I’m home, you want that for yourself, huh?” His eyes flashed with something even dirtier and more perverted. “Should we see if I can fit both my fist and my cock inside you?”

Your hips jerked reflexively at Bucky’s question, pressing down on his fingers and taking them deeper, your inner walls pulsing with a desperation to be filled. Your answer tumbled past your lips with a reckless desire you only felt safe enough with Bucky to indulge.

“Yes—god, yes, Bucky, give it to me, please, gimme your fist and your cock. I want to be stuffed so full of you, I’ll feel you for days.”

“That’s my girl,” Bucky growled, beginning to push his thumb into your warm, dripping hole.

For a second, your mind whited out, but then your fingers were wrapping around his wrist and you were tugging him to a stop. He caught your gaze, a concerned frown on his lips. There was a question in his eyes as you shook your head.

“I want the other fist, Bucky—the metal one. Please,” you begged in a soft, pleading voice. You weren’t sure if he’d grant your request, but you held your breath, hoping.

Bucky looked stunned for a moment, his features slack with surprise. But then a grin was curving the edges of his mouth and his vibranium hand was wrapping around the back of your neck, hauling you up from the bed for a searing, soul-consuming kiss.

When he finally pulled away, leaving you breathless, he gave you only a moment to gasp for air before he was shoving his warm fingers, dripping with your desire, past your lips. Bucky ordered you to clean them, his gaze going inky dark as he watched.

Once you were done, drool coating your chin after he’d fucked your mouth with his fingers, Bucky stood and made quick work of removing his clothes—leaving his dress shirt, ruined pants and all the rest in a pile on the floor.

Before rejoining you in the bed, Bucky grabbed a bottle of lube from where you’d left it on the bedside table, and he settled between your thighs. Skimming his hands lovingly along your thighs, he shifted you into the position he wanted, your back flat on the bed, knees hiked up and spread wide, putting your pussy on display.

“God, I missed this,” he murmured distractedly, his black and gold metal fingers delicately tracing the puffy lips of your pussy. His eyes were fixed on your swollen folds, reverence etched into his expression.

Still, you couldn’t help but giggle, a little breathlessly. “You missed my pussy that bad, huh?” Your voice was husky from your earlier screaming, and it seemed to draw Bucky from the trance he’d fallen into.

A rakish smile pulled across his handsome face, making your heart flip in your chest. “No, baby, I missed being with you, I missed trying something new with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the earnestness in Bucky’s low rumble, and the intensity in his blue eyes. Emotion flooded your chest and you knew it was written all over your face by the way a fire lit within his gaze.

You reached for him, but he was already leaning down and pressing a kiss to your pouty mouth, slipping his tongue between your lips in a teasing lick.

He kissed you slowly, like you had all the time in the world, and didn’t move away until you were squirming and whimpering into his mouth with need. Then, Bucky sat back on his haunches between your thighs and popped the top on the bottle of lub.

Bucky was thorough as he coated his metal hand generously in lube—all while muttering to himself about how he hoped it didn’t fuck up the machinery because he didn’t want to explain this to the Wakandans. But you reminded him it was water-based lube and if he could swim, it would be fine.

That comment had earned you a raised eyebrow and a wry smirk, and you’d stifled a giggle behind your palms, excitement dancing in your eyes as you watched Bucky prepare himself.

When he decided he was ready, he asked you again if you were sure, and you nodded eagerly, telling him again you wanted this—you wanted him to fuck you with his metal fist.

It took longer than you would’ve expected for Bucky to work you open, especially since you’d thought you’d been close enough to taking his other fist earlier. But the unrelenting metal of Bucky’s hand, and his determination to make sure he didn’t hurt you meant it was a slow process.

Then, when he finally pushed the widest part of his hand inside your pussy, the rest slid in all at once, a sharp cry springing from your lips as you were suddenly so full. It was such a strange sensation, to have Bucky’s hand buried deep in your cunt, but, you realized with stunning clarity, it felt good.

Bucky had gone deathly still when you’d cried out, as if he hadn’t known how to interpret the sound, whether it was pain or pleasure. But when you relaxed, softening around his wrist and hand, he let out heavy exhale, like he’d been holding his breath.

“Are ya alright, little one?” Bucky asked softly, catching your knee in his warm hand and pressing a kiss to the inside.

Your thighs were quivering under the onslaught of pleasure rippling out from the center of your body, where you were impaled on Bucky’s fist, his knuckles pressing against your sensitive inner walls and hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. You felt like your entire body was throbbing, and one move would make the pleasure detonate inside you.

“Uh hmm,” you murmured, nodding your head distractedly as you basked in the sensations flooding your body. Your arms and legs were trembling, the feeling of having something so large and unyielding inside you, stretching you, unlike anything you’d ever experienced. And you loved it.

Wiggling your hips experimentally, you felt Bucky’s metal fist shift infinitesimally inside you. His fingertips brushed against a spot that had you gasping, your body clenching down hard on his hand, before the sound devolved into an obscene, debauched moan.

Your eyes fluttered open with effort, and you sought Bucky, finding him partly hovering above you, watching your face like it was a wondrous thing. He was smiling down at you, his expression half fond, half feral.

“You’re so fucking filthy, little one—you’re taking my whole fist like such a filthy, perfect slut,” Bucky rumbled, shifting up the bed to capture your lips in a quick kiss.

The movement had him moving inside you, and you cried out, hips writhing as your body sough friction to add to the pleasure of being so full. Bucky swallowed the sound with a groan of his own, pulling his hand free before shoving it in again, a little rougher.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well for me, baby,” Bucky said in between kisses. Then he sat back and watched his hand disappear inside you over and over again. “You’re taking my fist so well, such a good fucking girl.”

“Bucky, please,” you cried, rolling your hips up off the bed to fuck yourself on his hand. You looked at him, desperation in your eyes, fingers clawing at the blankets of the bed. Your voice was raspy and raw as you begged, “I need more, please!”

The grin that pulled across Bucky’s face was so feral and hungry, it would’ve stolen the breath from your lungs if you had any to spare. He held your gaze while he fucked you with his fist—going slow at first, then increasing the speed of his hand plunging into your cunt until you were a crying, quivering mess.

And still, it wasn’t enough to push you over the edge. All because Bucky wouldn’t touch your clit.

He wouldn’t let you go near it either, batting your hands away whenever your fingers fumbled for the aching bud. You would’ve sobbed your frustration, but the pleasure pounding through your body was too much to voice the words to beg him to make you come.

“Ready for more, little one?” Bucky asked when you were teetering on the edge of your release again, unable to tumble over without the stimulation to your clit.

There was a growing wet spot beneath your body, and your thighs were practically drenched in your desire. Near-constant tremors were shuddering through your body, leaving you helpless and shaking beneath Bucky’s bigger body. It wasn’t until Bucky repeated his question, that you even understood his words.

When you nodded, Bucky tutted. “Gonna need words, baby, d’you want more or d’you want to come like this, on my fist?”

Deep in your mind, you knew there was only one answer to give. Once Bucky had put it in your head that you could have his cock and his fist inside you—that you could be so full of him—it was the only thing you’d wanted. You wanted all of him.

He was finally home, after being gone for so long, and you wanted to be connected to him in every way possible. If it had been possible to physically fuse yourselves together more permanently, in that moment you would’ve begged for it.

Your answer to Bucky’s question was wrenched from your throat like a divine supplication. “More!”

With a grunt of acknowledgement, Bucky moved as quickly as he could, shifting onto his knees and getting into position between your thighs. Slowly, he worked his cock into your body alongside his hand, stretching you so much you felt a tiny twinge of pain, but it was quickly replaced by blinding pleasure.

The noises leaving your mouth were unintelligible, a babbling litany of Bucky’s name, moans of pleasure and sobs of “please, please, please,” even if you didn’t fully know what you were begging him for. It all mixed with the wet sounds of Bucky fucking you, pumping into your slick, swollen cunt while his fist remained buried deep.

“Oh fuck, ‘m not gonna last,” Bucky muttered somewhere above you.

It was the only warning before the thumb of his warm hand found your clit and he rubbed it, hard and fast. The second he touched your aching bud, you knew you were done for. There was nothing stopping you from tumbling off the ledge and falling into endless pleasure.

Your release burned through you like a streak of lightning, pleasure so blinding it blurred the edge of pain, filling your body and mind with so much sensation, you hung suspended in time. For a long moment, all you could do was feel—the zinging pleasure of your release, and the place where you and Bucky were connected.

Then you crashed back into your body, and sucked in a breath. Blackness receded from the edges of your vision and you caught sight of Bucky just in time to watch him succumb to his own pleasure, his jaw gritting with a groan as his cock throbbed inside you.

Your pussy was still pulsing, greedily sucking Bucky’s come deeper into your body, when he slipped his softening cock from your hole. He was even more gentle as he eased his hand from your pussy than he’d been when he’d worked it inside you.

After he finally pulled free, you huffed a little sigh of relief and, at Bucky’s murmured encouragement, gave in to the exhaustion weighing you down.

You remembered flashes of Bucky cleaning you up, tucking you into an armchair while he changed the sheets, putting his arm in the dishwasher before padding back to bed and slipping beneath the blankets. You remembered him tucking you in against his chest, his body finally settling in with yours.

Then, there was nothing but blissful, restful sleep…

“Can’t believe you feel so tight after taking my fist and my cock last night, little one,” Bucky growled as he fucked up into you while you lay across his chest, your aching nipples rubbing teasingly against the hair dusted across his pecs.

With just one arm, Bucky had you pinned to his body, your face buried in the scruff of his jaw while he bounced you on his cock and you mewled pitiful sounds of helpless pleasure. It was too much, too good, stealing the words “please” and “more” from your lips.

“Can’t believe you still wanted me to fuck this puffy pussy after all I gave you last night—such a greedy, insatiable girl,” Bucky rumbled, his tone drenched in delicious teasing that had your cunt squeezing around his cock.

You were overwhelmed by the feeling of Bucky pounding into your thoroughly used hole, the ache of soreness in your core only making the pleasure feel all the more exquisite. You wanted all of it, the pleasure and the pain. You wanted it all as a reminder of Bucky when he was gone for who knew how long.

Bucky seemed to sense your desperation and need, and he tightened his arm around your lower back, anchoring you to his body while he slowed down his pace. His strokes turned long and deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every upward thrust of his hips, making you clench tight around him and moan in his ear.

“Ya like that, little one? Ya like feeling my cock deep in your cunt—where my fist was last night?” he murmured teasingly, his mouth dragging over the apple of your cheek. It wasn’t quite a kiss, since you could feel the self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

“Yesss,” you answered on another moan, your hands diving into Bucky’s hair at the back of his head and clinging to him. Your thighs were shaking, your body boneless with exhaustion as you lay across his chest, all you could focus on was staying on top of him while he bounced you on his cock.

Bucky’s heavy arm was braced around your lower back like an immovable force, ensuring you couldn’t move even if you’d had the energy to.

All you could do was lay there and take him, your tits crushed to his chest, your body pressed into the layer of softness padding his hard muscles. So much of your warm skin was touching his and it drove you wild.

“Want more, Bucky—want you to fuck me so hard, I’ll be feeling you for days,” you whispered, soft, pleading cries rising in your throat and slipping from your lips. “Can’t get enough of you, can never get enough.”

“Fuck—that’s my girl,” Bucky rumbled, so much warmth in his voice you swore you could feel it. Then he picked up his pace again, fucking you hard and fast.

It was exactly what you needed. Lifting your head, you let him see the pleasure contort your face, your eyes screwing shut and your mouth dropping open as sounds of pleasure spilled from you unbidden.

He was driving you closer and closer to the edge, and you had no doubt he could feel your puffy pussy fluttering around his cock, your moans and mewls becoming more desperate.

“Come for me, little one,” Bucky growled, capturing your mouth so he could kiss you breathless. “Want to remember the feeling of you coming on my cock while I’m gone—want to dream about coming home to you.”

His hand slid to your lower back and he pushed your hips down so your legs spread wider, allowing his cock to sink even deeper into your pussy. You could feel him everywhere, from where he throbbed inside you to where your lips brushed as you both gasped for air.

You whined into Bucky’s mouth, your fingers clinging to the edges of his jaw, while he rocked your hips together. The base of his cock was grinding against your puffy clit, sending zinging sparks and delicious tingles through your entire body.

“Oh god, Bucky,” you cried, his movements pushing you over the edge. Your body pulled taut for one breathless moment, like it was holding all the pleasure inside, and then all you felt was an explosion of euphoric sensation.

A long, loud moan fell from your lips, and Bucky’s hand skimmed up your spine to wrap around the back of your neck, holding your mouth against his while he drowned in the sounds of your pleasure.

Moments later, he grunted, his cock twitching inside you as he came right after you. He buried himself to the root, spilling his seed deep in your cunt, some of it leaking out around his shaft and making a mess of your thighs.

Your bodies writhed together, basking in the pleasure for long, luxurious moments. The desperate, needy kisses of your releases turned sweet and playful, taking on a sleepy edge.

Exhaustion was tugging at the corners of your mind again, urging you to slip back into the comfortable embrace of sleep, but you fought it. You didn’t want Bucky to leave while you were asleep. You wanted to be with him until the last possible second before he had to leave.

“My sweet, greedy, insatiable girl,” Bucky rumbled when your mouths broke apart, a smile in his voice. But you pouted about the end of the kiss, and nipped at his lower lip, dragging him in for another.

It was a long while before you allowed Bucky to extricate himself from you—long enough that you both knew he was going to be late, but neither of you mentioned it.

Before he got up, Bucky rolled you onto your back and hovered above you, staring down at you like he was committing the sight to memory. The sheets were tangled around your body, and you were mussed from sleep and sex, but he looked at you like the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and your heart warmed in your chest.

Bucky ducked his head for one last kiss, murmuring, “Rest, little one,” before he stood from the bed and trudged to the bathroom.

You turned your face into his pillow and muffled a sigh of disappointment. You knew he had to leave, you’d just hoped he’d get a couple days off after being gone on such a long trip to Brooklyn.

Without Bucky beside you, you fell into a light sleep, lulled by the sound of the shower running and the muffled noises of him getting dressed. It was only when he left the bedroom and headed into the kitchen that you roused, a frown marring your face with the knowledge he’d be leaving soon.

Wrapping the sheet around your body, you dragged yourself out of bed, wincing slightly at the sting between your thighs. You knew you’d have to take it easy for the rest of the day, but it was worth it to have a reminder of Bucky nestled deep in your body, especially as his come dripped down your thighs.

You took a moment to clean up a little in the bathroom, then padded out to the kitchen. You paused, watching Bucky pull his vibranium arm from the dishwasher, a naughty smirk tugging at your lips as memories of the night before flitted across your mind again.

“You should be in bed, little one,” Bucky grumbled, fitting his arm into the socket and snapping it into place. A grimace passed over his features, and your feet were moving before you even knew what you were doing.

Moving around the kitchen island, you pressed yourself against Bucky’s back, brushing butterfly kisses to his skin between the edge of his undershirt and the socket for his arm. Your hands looped around his front, fingers digging lightly into the softness around his waist that you loved so much.

“How long will you be gone this time?” you asked in between kisses, ignoring his complaint about you getting out of bed.

Bucky braced his hands against the edge of the counter, letting out a sigh. You could feel his body relaxing, tension draining from his muscles the more you kissed his bare skin. So you kept it up, brushing your lips against the back of his neck beneath his slicked-back hair.

“Just a few days,” he muttered. His warm hand moved from the counter, laying over yours on his stomach and squeezing lightly. “I don’t like being gone so much.”

“I don’t like it either,” you whispered into his shoulder blade. “Even if the sex when you get back is phenomenal,” you added, trying to lighten the mood.

A chuckle rumbled in Bucky’s chest, but it sounded forced and you hugged him tighter.

“How about you take some vacation time after this trip,” you suggested in between more kisses to his shoulder. “We don’t have to go anywhere, we can just stay in bed the whole time.”

“If that’s what it takes to make sure you get the rest you need,” Bucky began, turning in your hold and wrapping his arms around your waist, hauling you against his chest. “Then it’s a plan.”

There was a ghost of a smirk on his face and you leaned in to kiss the corner of it. You felt his mouth curve deeper against your lips, which was your only warning before, in the next moment, he stooped down and grabbed you around your waist, tossing you over his shoulder.

You screeched in surprise and kicked your legs until Bucky’s metal arm banded around the backs of your thighs, pinning you to him—bedsheet and all—while he carried you back to the bedroom. There, he tossed you down on the bed and pointed a finger at you.

“Stay, and rest, little one,” he commanded sternly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine,” you pouted as you sat up, letting the sheet fall open and giving Bucky an eyeful of your naked body. You crossed your arms under your tits, pushing them up for good measure. “But when you get home, you’re burying your cock in me and not moving until I say so.”

Bucky shook his head a little exasperatedly, but there was an affectionate smile on his face when he bent down and grabbed your chin tight. He gave you one last kiss. “Greedy, insatiable girl,” he growled against your lips.

“Your greedy, insatiable girl,” you shot back with a sweet smile. “And it’s not my fault I can’t get enough of you, you’re just so wonderful.”

The teasing in your tone made Bucky chuckle and he pressed one final kiss to your lips before pulling away. You watched him walk out of the room with a sad smile on your face, holding tight to the lingering feeling of him between your thighs to get you through the next few days while he was gone.

True to his word, Bucky Barnes returned home a few days later, his congressional office well aware he was taking a two-week vacation, during which he was not to be interrupted.

In those two weeks, you spent all your time together. Some of it was spent resting in bed or on the couch, some of it was spent going out for food, or cooking in the kitchen together.

But most of Bucky’s time off was spent with his cock—or his fingers, or his fist—buried deep inside your body. You both craved being connected as much as possible, and with nowhere to go, there was no reason not to indulge yourselves.

You couldn’t get enough of each other, and for once, you didn’t have to worry. You could just enjoy it. You could just enjoy everything about being with Bucky Barnes. So that’s what you did.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan characters #witchywithwhiskeywork #established relationship

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witherby · 6 months ago

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i need more damian x mer!reader plssss😞😞😞 im literally OBSESSED with it

YOU'RE ALL SUCH SWEETIES!!! Ok gang, just for you 🩷

⚠️ HEADS UP: this part features conflict. There's blood, some unintentional self harm, language barriers, and general chaos! ⚠️

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader Part 4

Click to read parts 1, 2, and 3 here!

There's another rock sitting on the lip of the tank — one of the painted, water-safe ones they let you have — when Damian and Bruce arrive for dinner.

It's the weekend, meaning the aquarium is closed, and it takes a little more smacking on the surface of the water than usual for you to pop up. You shoot Bruce a disinterested glance, his presence vaguely familiar, then chirp sleepily at Damian, evidently having been awoken from a nap.

"Hey, Pr—" Damian catches himself and fakes a cough, then addresses you by your actual name. You furrow your brow, irritated, but still reach forward to take the offered bucket.

Holding it carefully in one arm, your other, webbed hand nudges the rock into Damian's lap. Damian pockets it with an easy nod, signing Thank You. Delighted, you offer him some crab after splitting the shell open with your teeth. He declines. Oh well; more for you!

Eating in front of Damian is little issue, but having Bruce stare at you so intently makes you turn away, hugging the food to your chest and rumbling quietly. Conversation floats in the air behind you.

" — might already be bonded. How often...swim together?"

"At least twice a....insisted it wasn't harming...wouldn't if I realized...promise."

Hmm. Your mate-to-be sounds upset. You dislike that greatly. You spit a half-chewed carp back into the bucket.

"Damian, I know...not mad at you for...unprecedented, you understand that, right? This...to a wild animal...vastly unintelligent..."

You growled and spun back around, tail swishing around fast enough to make the surface of the tank slightly choppy. Unintelligent?! Who was unintelligent? You learned every stupid spin, squeak, and trick you'd been taught! And your Damian was the brightest, kindest, most special caretaker in this whole place!

Bruce looks at you in confusion. Damian looks at you with awe, because he knows you're smart enough to pick up on the gist of most things, like the conversation they're having with each other. English is not your mother tongue, but you are learning, slowly and steadily. Because you are not unintelligent!

You bare your teeth, snapping them twice at Bruce, and firmly push the half-empty bucket over the lip of the tank. It clatters to the floor, the metal twang echoing around the room loud enough to make your head-fins flatten. Both land creatures jump back to avoid getting fish guts all over their legs (a word you learned recently, because you're very smart!), but Damian comes back to the edge of the tank to soothe you quickly.

"Easy, Princess," he mutters, the nickname slipping out this time. You preen and rest your chin on his extended palm, blinking up at his beautiful, green eyes. Your tail stops swishing as hard, and he seems to ease up at the same time you do. Reading your physical cues and responding accordingly is one of the reasons Damian quickly became your favorite, and this demonstration only hits that nail on the head. "Everything is just fine. Father and I are simply talking." He gestures to your discarded dinner. "Do you want any more?"

You huff and turn your face away. Damian takes your dismissal for what it really is and looks at Bruce next.

"You should apologize."

His father's eyes widen. "For what? I didn't throw a bucket on the ground."

"For the slight regarding their cognitive ability. You hurt their feelings." Damian sounds offended on your behalf. It makes something in your chest thrum pleasantly. "I'll fetch a broom for the mess while you say you're sorry."

"I can grab the broom —" one sharp look from his son quiets Bruce down immediately. You and he both watch Damian leave the room, then the human regards you warily while you regard him with a scowl.

Bruce tries to approach the tank. You bare your teeth and he stops. Good human. Good, rude human. Do not approach. You are very scary and fearsome. You might just use your teeth for something more than food if sufficiently provoked.

"You really can understand me, can't you?" He asks, almost rhetorically. The flat look you give him makes his cheeks flush with color. "You can. That's...fascinating. I've skimmed your file of course — I co-run the aquarium, I have to be knowledgeable of all the animals — but I obviously don't know you like my son does."

Ugh. This land creature uses small words. Damian uses big words, which helps you learn faster even if it's more difficult to latch onto what he's talking about.

Bruce calls your name again, and your eyes snap to his. He looks less embarrassed and more curious. More like he's recognizing you as a being capable of proper thought and not some dumb, prey animal in a big play pen. Something in you becomes less tense.

"I'm sorry," he finally says. "Really. I'm coming from a place of concern, is all. I never intended to hurt your feelings. You mean a lot to my son, and the feeling seems to be mutual. My concern is just...the extent of the feeling. Damian doesn't have many human friends, and hiring him on to help manage the aquarium hasn't encouraged him in that regard. I just don't...I just want him to..."

He trails off and sighs. This time, when Bruce tries to take a step closer, you keep your teeth hidden behind your lips. He perches on the lip of the tank to look at you, blue eyes taking in all your aquatic features. They're pretty, reminding you of the water, but not as pretty as Damian's.

Just for fun, you puff up and flare out all of your fins just to see him flinch back. Your chirping laughter makes Bruce crack his own smile, and he shakes his head.

"I understand why he adores you," he mutters, something fond in his tone. You sway back and forth in the water with a prideful trill. Obviously you adore him back. That's why you gave him your scales, to prove your devotion. As soon as Damian gives you something valuable back, you'll be life-mates! You're so excited!

"I think... I think that's the biggest reason why I have to separate you two."

You freeze when your brain processes what he just said. Damian reenters the room at that moment, carrying a broom and dust pan to sweep up your abandoned meal.

"Those imbecilic interns moved the cleaning supplies again," he scowls, taking care of the food with a shake of his head. "I swear, father, no one knows how to put anything back in this facility. Some days it feels like Tim and I are the only competent people here."

"And your old man, right?" Says Bruce, rising to his feet. Damian doesn't answer that. "Oh, ouch." His teasing tone shifts, becomes earnest and quiet. "You know I only want what's best for you, right, Tadpole?"

"I know," the boy sighs, dumping the food into a nearby garbage can. He turns to face you, smiling, until he sees the fear on your face. "Something wrong?"

You click your tongue and whistle imploringly, lifting a hand out of the water to beckon him closer. Damian moves to comply, but Bruce's hand curling around his arm impedes his progress. You immediately whistle again, more insistent. More distressed.

"Father, let go, they're upset by something. Let me —"

"I can't do that, kiddo," Bruce frowns, firmly but not unkindly. "I'm reassigning them a new primary caretaker. The emotional attachment to you is too detrimental to their life here."

Damian's eyes widen. "You're not serious."

He tries to yank his arm out of Bruce's grip, but the man is taller and stronger than his son. He wraps his other arm around Damian's waist, guiding him towards the doors.

"Father, let go of me! This is not — everything is fine! I-I won't swim in the tank anymore, I won't physically touch them anymore, I promise! Don't do this!"

Your trilling becomes sharper as you note the distress in your beloved's voice. You throw your arms up to the edge of the tank and try to hoist yourself over, but you've never done it without the help of a caretaker, and you slip back into the water with a rough splash. Undeterred, you flick your tail to give you more momentum, scrabbling against the smooth, concrete edge and crooning for Damian.

You see his vibrant, green eyes, focused on you and glittering like your scales. They've never looked so shiny. Instinctively, you know this isn't a positive trait for a land creature to have.

"Stop, please stop! Look at them, they'll get hurt if you take me away," Damian insists, thrashing against his dad. Bruce hangs on tighter, almost dragging him at this point. "Don't — don't, Baba, please, I'm not hurting them at all, I'll figure out how to break off the engagement, I'll do whatever you want!"

"Calm down, Damian," Bruce murmurs, "please, we're gonna talk about this, I promise, but right now you need to —"

Both of them startle when you finally jump out of the tank, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. The hard surface scrapes against your skin and scales in a distinctly uncomfortable way, but you ignore it and start dragging your body towards Damian. Your arms buckle under the strain of maneuvering yourself out of the water, and the flopping of your long, heavy tail isn't helping as much as you'd hoped.

Bruce yanks Damian behind him protectively and pulls a radio off his hip. You hiss and snarl, offended that he would dare think you'd hurt him. Damian tries to duck out from under him, calling to you with obvious concern.

You croon back, the sound low and warbly in your anger, and lunge for him. Scales get scraped painfully off of your tail, leaving a trail of red that you pay no mind. Bruce dodges your clumsy attempts and hoists Damian up by the waist so he doesn't break away either. More of your caretakers burst through the doors, one of them holding a funny, shiny contraption, and there's lots more yelling. They all look as panicked and distressed as you feel.

Good. They should know how much pain they're causing by taking away your precious Damian.

One of the caretakers — named Clark, you think; he comes around mostly to do your health checkups — crouches low and flashes his palms in a show of no ill intent. You reach out with your own palm and lurch forward again, shoving him out of your way. He will not impede you. None of them will.

More scales litter the concrete, stained red with blood. The shiny contraption held in another person's hands — Dick, the loud one you remember — makes a sharp popping noise, and you feel something stab your shoulder.

You flinch back momentarily, palming at it. Damian's distressed yelling reaches a crescendo, and you feel compelled to meet it.

Your jaw clicks from stretching your mouth open so wide. Instinct and rage guide you to draw breath, deeper than you ever have, and bellow.

The resulting sound is a haunting wail, piercing the air around you and making the water in the tank ripple, making the land creatures cry and cover their ears, making the windows rattle and warp. You wail and cry and scream at the injustice, at the audacity of these people to take from you what is yours. You want it back. You want him back. You want Damian!

You see Clark buckle and clutch at his head. You see Dick drop the shiny device that hurt you. You see Bruce grit his teeth and cover one ear, the other busy holding onto Damian.

You see Damian pressing his hands to his ears. You see water running down his face. You see him looking at you with a mixture of fear and upset.

Your mouth falls closed with a snap of your teeth, startled and ashamed. You had hurt Damian. You hurt him and he was scared of you now.

That was not supposed to happen. You didn't mean it.

What have you done?

There's movement in your periphery you pay no mind to. Your back lights up with pain in two more places, and the world slowly starts to spin and lose focus. You stop resisting and slump to the floor, eyes drooping as you continue to look forlornly at Damian.

Damian, who looks back as more tears run down his face. Damian, who is screaming again. Damian, who vanishes through the doors that Bruce finally drags him off to.

You warble miserably and close your eyes, letting the sedatives take you away into a fitful slumber.

#batfam x reader #damian wayne x reader #mermaid au #damian wayne #damian x reader

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karikarasuno · 3 months ago

Text

part one | part two | part three | part four

law is a grown man. with a hard job. a tiring one. exhausting even.

so he shouldn’t be embarrassed that he fell asleep on your couch watching your favorite movie like an old fucking man. nor should he be embarrassed that you woke him up mid snore with sleepy eyes and an amused grin.

“you sleeping over, sleepyhead or should i send you home?”

his mouth is dry and he’s comfortably full. and was having the best dreamless sleep. the best sleep he’s had in a while, really.

“I should go home,” he mutters, his voice hoarse from lack of use. he stretches and his spine cracks. you chuckle and smack him on the shoulder lightly before standing up and holding out your hands to help him up. he slaps his palms against yours, doing most of the work getting up but putting enough weight on you so that you think you’re helping.

“i guess this is goodbye,” you say, fingers toying with law’s expectantly. but law is still a little high. and more than a little sleepy. so when he looks back at this moment he can’t help but cringe.

he should have kissed you. you wanted him to kiss you. he wanted to kiss you. but he hugged you instead. one-armed and a touch awkward.

“oh! ok,” you muffle it into his hoodie, but he doesn’t remember responding. not until the next morning when he’s showering away the grogginess before work.

oh, he’s an idiot.

so yeah maybe over the last few days he’s been avoiding you. but he also has been busy. he had multiple surgeries. all very difficult to do. all successful. he shouldn’t beat himself over a kiss. or lack thereof.

he hasn’t been home for more than an hour before there’s a knock on his door. he's expecting company so he doesn't think twice before swinging the door open. but he expects cora to be standing there or even his sister. neither of which are taking up the space in front of his open door. instead you stand there with your hands on your hips and a very determined look on your face.

"you're avoiding me," you say rather bluntly. no hi or hello or how are you doing.

"i'm not," he argues, even though he is.

"you totally are," you point an accusatory finger at him, but he can't tell if you're actually upset with him or not.

"no, i've been busy this week," he shrugs trying his hardest to be nonchalant.

"oh so this has nothing to do with us making out in my kitchen or the fact that you thanked me for it when you left?"

he cringes again. what possessed him to thank you he'd never know. all he knows is that he's slightly mortified that he did. so fine, he's been avoiding you.

"you know, we don't have to make this weird," you continue, talking animatedly with your hands. "i mean we were really starting to become friends so if us kissing made things awkward then we don't have to do it anymore."

anymore. as if the two of you have been kissing this whole time.

"like really, we can forget it ever happened. but if the kiss was bad and that's why you're ignoring me just lie because then i'd have to start avoiding you and it will turn into this whole fucking thing."

he never realized how much you rambled. words are falling from your lips so quickly that he can only get the gist of what you're saying, but even that registers as ridiculous to him. of course the kiss wasn't bad.

"if you didn't like that kiss it would be such a huge blow to my ego because if i'm being honest that was such a great kiss for me, but if you hated it-"

"stop," he interrupts because at no point does it sound like you're going to run out of air. "i didn't hate the kiss. it was a good kiss."

"so then why...?"

"just come inside," he says, annoyed that his ac is being wasted by the open door.

and he doesn't register the way your eyes widen and your jaw drops when he closes the door behind you and pushes you against it. he's just trying to gather his thoughts. he's not trying to make a move. not really anyway. but with his hand splayed out across your stomach and your back firmly against the wood, he notices that you've finally stopped talking.

he sighs with relief.

"i don't regret what we did. i just have been feeling weird about what i said," he admits, almost wishing that he didn't.

"it was sweet," you grin, head tilting to the side.

"it was..." he trails off, electing not to even finish the sentence. "anyway i enjoyed the kiss so you can stop freaking out over it."

"how much?" your grin is growing smug and he hates how attractive he finds it.

"what?"

"how much did you enjoy the kiss?" now your grin is absolutely shit-eating.

"enough to do it again," he confesses. he sees the way your eyes light up, hell he feels the way your excitement builds when you adjust beneath his hand. the hand that he should’ve moved but decided subconsciously not to because he also enjoys the way you feel against him.

“so what are you waiting for then?” your heads cocks to the side and you look up at him with flirty eyes as your tongue swipes across your bottom lip.

“is that what you want?” he steps closer to you, his socked feet touching the toe of your shoes. his hand presses more firmly against your stomach and he watches the way your head thuds against his door.

everything was normal two seconds ago. there was no heat in his home. no tension pulling his muscles taut. but now he’s drawn to you in unexplainable ways. he’s going to kiss you. he has the choice but the way you’re looking at him makes him question if the decision really was ever his.

“come on then,” you whisper, hands sliding up his arms until your hands lock behind his neck, “kiss me.”

you don’t tug him down. you try to but law decides its easier to lift you off the floor so that you come nose to nose with each other. he likes the way you gasp when he uses his body to press you against the door again. he especially likes the way he can feel the exhale of your shock tickle his lips.

“fine,” he says just before his lips meet yours. he remembers kissing you the first time but because of his high everything was a little muddy. the memory tinged with just a bit of fog. like an overcast day.

this kiss though is going to be seared into his mind. you whimper when he kisses you. did you do that last time?

your hands are so insistent as you tug him closer. his tongue is already in your mouth so he doesn’t know how much closer he can really be. but you’re kinda desperate. for him.

it makes his head reel. and when you tug on his hair, the pressure on his scalp makes him groan. fuck, he really wants you. how you could ever think he didn’t like kissing you was beyond him. he’s already hard for christ’s sake.

“we should go to my room.” he hopes you agree. prays for it. because if you keep kissing him like this his knees will eventually give out.

“ok,” you respond with your lips still touching his. “i’d like that.”

he knows you expect him to put you down with the way your legs start to unhook from around him, but he tightens his hold on your hips. reluctant to let you go.

it’s been a while since law was able to touch and be touched like this. so the idea of letting you go now, when you were already so willing to be in his arms, will actually devastate him. a feeling he will have to reevaluate later.

instead he carries you off to his bedroom, not giving you the time or space to look around. not that there’s much to see given how painfully boring his home is. he’s a victim of millennial grey.

he tosses you onto his bed and he watches you bounce slightly before he’s climbing over you. his lips find your neck where he starts to place open mouthed kisses across sensitive skin. you arch into him and he really likes the way your breasts press into him as you do.

“you have a four poster bed?” the question rattles in his brain uselessly until he pulls away to see you gazing up at his bed frame.

“yeah… it was my parents before they decided to upgrade their bedroom furniture,” he says like it’s obvious before moving back down to kiss your neck again, this time trailing wet kisses across your collarbone.

“it would be so pretty if you draped those white thin curtains over it. you know the ones?”

he’s growing frustrated when he looks back up at you and you’re still looking at frame. almost as if you’re already envisioning it.

he tilts your head back towards him by pressing his pointer finger to your chin. your eyes slide over to him and he can tell you’re a little dazed. but he’s not sure if it’s because of him or his fucking bed frame.

“can you focus?” he grits out, eyes glaring into yours. you blink up at him, lips stretching into a salacious smile.

“on you?” you ask, very clearly knowing the answer but taunting him anyway.

“on me, exactly.” but law refuses to wait for an answer from you. he’s hard and his hands are finally on you and he can still taste the remnants of cranberry juice on your tongue. you’re driving him crazy.

he kisses you hard with purpose. the purpose to mostly shut you up. but to also keep your attention on him. he craves your attention. maybe he’s deprived.

none of it matters though because you whine into his mouth when he sucks your tongue. your hands come up to fist his t-shirt and your hips start seeking friction against the thigh he placed between your legs.

his hands push your top over your breasts, the fabric bunching beneath your chin, and exposing the poor excuse of a bra you have on. it’s just thin lace that does nothing to conceal how hard your nipples are. but it still decorates your chest in a way that has him salivating.

law dips his head down to press a kiss to your sternum, dragging his lips across your chest until his lips hover over one of your nipples. you wiggle relentlessly when he doesn’t do anything, instead he rests his nose against the top of your breast and he inhales the smell of your skin.

“don’t tease me,” you complain, nails dragging through his hair in an attempt to get him to do something.

“i’m not teasing,” he replies, his lips ghosting over your hard peak and smiling to himself when your hips stutter where you’re grinding against his leg.

“you are,” you whine, and when he glances up at you your head is thrown back and you’re trying to take measured breaths through your mouth. good, he needs you focused only on him.

“no,” his lips wrap around your nipple and you moan out so pretty for him. his dick twitches.

“i’m savoring,” he emphasizes before sucking your nipple into his mouth and dampening the transparent fabric with his spit. you moan out his name and his skin goosebumps at the sound. he’s thought of this more times than he’d care to admit but it dulls in comparison to the reality.

you’re clingy. and he short circuits at the realization. for all your quippy little comments and playful mocking you have little to no resolve right now. you’re putty in his hands. and your body is positively begging for him not to stop.

“law,” your voice is wispy and distant. your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are parted and you want him. need him. he can just tell.

he moves down your body and your hands follow. always touching him. he can’t get enough. he takes off your shoes rougher than he intends but you’re eager. so eager you start working your pants down your thighs.

“it matches,” he exhales after you kick off your pants and try reaching for him again.

“huh?” you scoot closer to the edge of the mattress where he’s standing, seeking him out again. his hand drifts between your thighs, fingers carefully dragging across your covered center. the lace of your panties is the same as your bra. the hair on his arms bristle when it occurs to him that you did this on purpose.

your hand finds his shirt, intent on pulling him towards you again, but instead he drops to his knees. law spreads your legs wide, massaging your thighs as he tosses your calves over his shoulders.

he kisses the inside of each knee, luxuriating in the feel of your skin against his lips. it really has been too long. when he looks up at you, you’re propped on your elbows staring down at him. your pupils are blown out and your shirt is still tucked beneath your chin and you look so expectant.

he doesn’t miss the way your hands ball up his comforter as he kisses down your thighs. or the way you bite your lip when his breath fans over your pussy.

law’s grip tightens on your thighs the closer his lips get to tasting you. he’s trying so hard to be normal but he finds it difficult when he can see how wet you are through your panties.

he slips his fingers beneath the edge of your underwear, sliding it off to the side. he groans at the sight. unintentionally. he takes two fingers and spreads you apart, the contact has your hips rolling into him.

you’re so responsive. especially when he dips two fingers into your entrance and drags your slick over your clit. he does that a few more times, watching as you clench around nothing every time he pulls them out.

“you say you’re not a tease,” you start, whispering because your voice is all breath at this point, “but it’s really starting to feel like you’re lying.”

he chuckles against your inner thigh, entertained. “i’d apologize but this view is too pretty not to appreciate.”

“i think you’d appreciate it better if you actually did something,” you breathe, voicing ticking up with impatience.

“and what would that something be?” he asks, fingertips resting at your entrance but refusing to go in further. he’s having fun. more fun than he’s had in a long time.

“something like this,” you say, reaching between your own thighs to move his fingers out of the way. it’s the last thing he expects you to do. to finger yourself right in front of his face. but he stares as you pump your fingers in and out with practice. they’re considerably smaller than his yet you still roll your hips as you meet each gentle thrust. you still moan in relief. you still sigh his name.

“move,” now he’s the impatient one. he can’t bear the sight anymore. he needs to satisfy you. so badly he swears his skin starts vibrating.

he removes your hand like it’s nothing, slipping your fingers into his mouth to clean them off. you gasp in surprise but he’s not really thinking anymore. it’s all just instinct.

he licks between your folds, groaning at your taste. you’re so wet, impossibly so. his eyes fall shut and he truly does savor you. he swallows you down over and over, his lips wrapping around your clit as your hips begin to circle.

“oh, law, you’re so good at that,” your hand finds his hair and a moan of surprise slinks up his throat at your praise. he needs to hear you say it again.

law returns his fingers to you. not toying with you this time. he hooks his fingers exactly the way you did a few moments ago. and you cry out, fingers curling in his hair.

“mmm just like that.” you’re still propped up on your elbows but your chin is resting against your chest and you can barely keep your eyes open as you watch him. your voice is soft and whiny and your movements start to become frantic.

“shit shit shit.” he’s pretty sure he’s leaking into his boxers. he speeds up and your noises increase in response.

your mouth is absolutely filthy. you beg and swear and ramble. it washes over him in waves, molten lust coursing through his veins.

“m’gonna cum, oh my-.” you collapse onto his bed as you come around his fingers and into his mouth. your thighs snap around his head and it muffles your pleas. but he doesn’t stop. not until he feels you go boneless around him. your walls the only thing still tremoring around his fingers as your breaths leave your lungs in satisfied wheezes.

he’s so hard it hurts, yet seeing you like this almost makes him feel like he got off too. he kisses his way back up your body. his lips soaked in your orgasm.

your hands are weak and shaky as you loop your fingers through his belt loops. somehow still wanting more from him.

“let’s take a second,” he gently wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you as he pecks your neck and cheek.

he would stay in this syrupy afterglow with you forever. he could keep you in these sheets for hours. that’s what he wants. it’s what he craves. but just like everything in his life nothing is ever convenient.

“kiss me again,” you plead.

but his lips never touch yours. there’s three loud knocks on his door. cora’s voice slips through the cracks.

“no,” he jumps off of you, searching his pockets for his phone. “fuck, i forgot my siblings were coming over.”

“what?!” you recover quickly, covering yourself with your hands as if you got caught by them. “that’s not something you forget!”

you’re scolding him. “you distracted me!” he retaliates and your mouth opens and then promptly shuts.

“that’s fair,” you ultimately reply.

he pulls his phone from his back pocket and opens his doorbell camera app.

“why are my parents here?” his voice is cold, drenched in his shock.

“oh my god, i cannot meet your parents like this! your brother was one thing,” you shuffle off the bed and onto the floor. “what do we do?”

“get dressed,” he tosses you your pants as he quickly adjusts himself in his. “i just have to think of something to say.”

“i came over for a cup of sugar?” you offer as you stick your legs into bottoms.

“ok no,” he rolls his eyes, “firstly that doesn’t happen in real life-,”

“it totally does.”

“and second, they’re never gonna believe that.”

“why not?” and you pout.

“because the likelihood of me owning sugar is very low,” he answers tearing his eyes away from your bottom lip. you’re starting to become a real problem for him.

“jeez, no smoking, no sugar. what are you? Mormon?” you try to fix your hair but you only kind of make it worse.

“yes,” he says, monotone and staring blankly at you.

“really?”

“no.” he laughs to himself.

“jerk,” you push him but not hard enough for him to budge.

“let’s just go,” he tries to tug you out of his room once your decent.

“no way, i am just gonna sneak out the back and cut across our lawns.”

“you can’t be serious.” he doesn’t see the problem.

“law, i refuse to meet your entire freaking family in pajamas and having just come all over your face. you really expect me to greet your mom like that?!”

well now that he thinks about it. he can still smell you on his face. and all he can think about when he looks at you is how pretty you look freshly fucked. maybe you should sneak out the back.

“i’m too old for this shit,” he shakes his head and unlocks the sliding glass door in his bedroom.

“i promise I’ll make it up to you.” you lean up to kiss him chastely but not wasting much time before you slip out the door and dart across his lanai.

the doorbell rings out loud and sharp. he doesn’t have the time to watch you go unfortunately.

“one second!” he yells out running to his bathroom to splash water on his face and wash his hands before jogging to the front door.

“what took you so long?” cora eyes him like he knows exactly what took him so long. but that’s impossible. his brother is just a menace.

“i was in the bathroom,” he lies. his sister bullies her way inside first, headphones on and texting furiously. next his parents walk in holding bags for dinner. it looks like enough food to feed ten families if he’s being honest.

“hi, sweetie.” his mom taps his cheek with her hand and he internally cringes.

“son,” his dad nods and claps him on the shoulder.

cora lingers though. he sizes law up before stepping over the threshold, leaning in close as he says “i saw her run out the back.”

law side eyes him, but says nothing.

“you scoundrel.”

part five

#they will never have sex if i have anything to do with it #just kidding #this was fun tho #lots of dialogue #trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #shortnspicy🌶️

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chososcamgirl · 5 months ago

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(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: pride & ego

masterlist

cw: crude humour, swearing, suggestive

backstage!

• panda lives at taco bell truther. put that on my gravestone.

• FUCK HOZIER FUCK HOZIER FUCK FUCK FUCK (sorry ree)

• some of these tweets are just from my spam account story this is so self indulgent oops

• yeah so timeskip 2/3 weeks since THE fight. it’s been a lot. a lot of crying (on both ynmegumi’s behalf’s) a lot of fighting. a lot of yearning etc etc you get the gist

• alexa is actually the name of my fake account i made back in 2021 to stalk my ex situationship & then love bomb him. #womaninmendominatedfields

• i still regularly use it like daily too

• panda downloaded xiaohongshu and people started calling him “sister” now he cant stop saying it around the house

• they have a sister jar now

• that one friend who likes attention 😂😂😂 (rest in peace mitch… 🪦💔🪦)

• yuji thought everybody was mad at him because the whole house has been quiet for the past 2 weeks

• it was because megumi was in mourning.

• thank you babaganoush ree for the idea

• yn keeps unblocking & blocking megumi just to see what he has messaged her from the past several days… Tea? 🍵

• omg me cameo!!!!!! 🤯🤯🤯🤯 i’m so famous only took me 23 chapters to do!!!! can you tell my relationship with my parents is rocky rn.

• ok tmi .

a/n: hey yall…. so a LOT happened in the span over a month a bit i see. happy birthday megumi!!! happy birthday gojo!!! merry christmas!!! happy birthday toji!! happy new year!!! i’ve been busy as fuck and don’t want to put out stuff i’m not proud of. but anyways here’s the long awaited new chapter!! hope yall liked it. a little fast paced i think. hope u guys still think i’m funny… some reeferences dabbled in here & there. can you tell who i’ve been spending my holidays with… i’ve been having an #identitycrisis. LOVE AND BLESSINGS!

taglist: @shokosbunny @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @burnishingbagels @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @standcom @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @ichcocat @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefromberry @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @sluttkuna @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm @syxoki

*if i can’t tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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robiinurheart33 · 7 months ago

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Ok ok Johnny but he can’t accept the fact that people love him?

First girlfriend. Went south real fast and realised he was gay.

First boyfriend. Was bi-curious. First heartbreak too.

Second boyfriend. Only wanted him for his body. Self explanatory.

Third boyfriend. Way too emotionally unavailable, felt like they weren’t even dating at a point. Turns out he already has a partner.

You get the gist.

At a very young age, Johnny was aware of his unfortunate personality. School fights, family scoldings, bedroom sobbing, it’s all just a blur to him now. It’s not like he had the worst life out there, no. But he can’t shake the fact that he can’t really remember anything about his childhood. The trauma stuck though, unfortunately.

He could never really seem to shake off that “unloveable” blanket on his shoulders.

It’s not that bad, in retrospect. His friends like him, sure. They tolerate him. He knows he’s loud, he knows he’s brash, he’s a lot to deal with! He understands. So every once in a while, he’ll just…back off. Leave everyone alone and just spend some time alone. The horrors do get to him when he’s alone in his room, clutching the fabric of his shirt and trying to get ahold of his breathing, but it’s basically nothing to what everyone else has to endure! He’s selfish, he knows it already, always needy, always wanting. This is the least he can do to make sure that his loved ones aren’t tipped over the boiling point and actually leave him for good.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself at times.

Then he meets ghost.

Powerful, strong, admirable Ghost. He blew his fucking lid. He’s even bigger than the rumours suggest. He’s professional, clean. He’s everything that Soap wishes to be.

He’s jealous right off the bat. How could he not be?

Honestly, he feels a bit bad for the guy at the start. Soap’s laying it on thick with the touching and the questions. He’s obviously fucking with him a bit, bit to be fair he’s not really doing much to stop him either. As time goes on, it becomes a weird sort of admiration/jealousy thing. He still is jealous of Ghost, but not to an extreme extent that he could be.

Ghost is another very peculiar case, one that Soap doesn’t seem to mind prodding. After a few missions together, he could see why he was so infamous. But still, Ghost wasn’t pushing back. Has anyone done this to him before? Why was he just letting this happen? Ghost might find him weird, sure, but he’s the most curious disturbing motherfucker soap’s ever met.

The army isn’t exactly a place to find someone to get their dick wet, homophobes around the corner at every turn. Soap’s just accepted it as part of life now, not really wanting to think much on it but having that fact lurk at the back of his mind. It’s a bit depressing, sure, to not have anyone get to know his actual self, but then again he was sure that anyone who truly got to know him wouldn’t talk to him ever again. If it’s not the gay thing, it’s the army thing. If its not the army thing, it the personality thing. Whatever. John’s gotten used to it.

However, though some unexplainable force (the SAS and Price), Soap and Ghost had become some sort of dynamic duo now. They’d fought together, lost together, gone through some of the most horrific weathers known to man, and they’d both survived under some miracle. Well, soap survived. He never doubted ghost would.

He got very close though. Way too close for Soap’s liking. They were in some fuck-ass country upside down the earth, down to his last mag and ghost clipped in the shoulder. They were hauling ass just- away. They didn’t know when exfil would get there, or where. Their main objective was just to survive. Ghost was making a very vulnerable wheezing sound from his throat and Soap’s gun was overheating, burning though his gloves.

“Soap- Sargent.” Ghost whispered, somehow always remaining calm in the most chaotic situation Soap’s been in so far. Either that, or he’s just really fuckin tired.

“No’ now, L.T, tryna get us to safety.”

“Soap, leave me behind.”

“What? Listen, I’ve got no time for your stupid heroism crap, okay? Just- shut up.”

“MacTavish, im serious. I have nothing waiting for me. I’ll be okay. Just go. Stay safe.”

“Whot the hell did i just say?” He snapped, turning towards him. “I’ve go’ no time for this. You’re coming wit me whether you like it or not.” Soap jabs a finger into his chest, leaning in close until he’s sure Ghost can see the faintest scar on his right eyebrow from screwing around with a razor with his friends, trying to give himself a eyebrow slit.

“You’ve got me, haven’t ya? You’ve got Price, and the people on your team are counting on you. I’m counting on you. So you can die somewhere else, in the bumfuck a’ nowhere, but you’re not allowed to die today, now. Ya hear me?”

Like this, gunpowder and dust making his nose itchy, looking intensely at Ghost to make sure his point is drive home, there’s a look in his eyes that soap thinks he’s never seen before. He- he kinda looks like-

How Soap looks at Ghost.

With admiration.

Oh.

So, yeah. They ran out of there on the air of their asses, Soap laughing as the final hits of adrenaline pulses his heart, Ghost leaning against him with the same look in his eye, and they’ve never exactly been the same after that.

Soap chalked it off as it being in the heat of the moment kinda thing, but he’s been consistently catching Ghost’s eye staring at him from a distance away, just staring, with that strange look in his eye. Not always with the same emotion, Soap guesses, but still. It’s close enough. He doesnt know what’s happening, or what he did, but something changed. And it’s driving him insane. It’s not that Ghost wasn’t already friendly in his own weird ghost way, but now he’s being friendly in a normal way.

It’s so weird.

He’ll be waiting at the gun range for Soap like he knows he’d appear there, toss him an apple when he feels peckish, slap his hand away when he needs to change bandages muttering something about him not doing it properly. It’s weird, and it’s nice, and it’s making soap feel all itchy and hot. he can’t even scratch himself anymore as a soothing tick, Ghost will just slap his hand away and grumble a “stop that.”

It’s weird, and soap can’t help but enjoy it.

He feels a bit selfish, feeling like he’s somehow taking advantage of ghost’s kindness, but for what? He’s feeling guilty but what exactly is he being selfish about? Maybe a mental checkup is in order, he’s losing his mind a bit. They’re friends, that’s all. It’s not…that unheard of that ghost would have friends, isn’t it? He should feel honoured to be his…fist? Again, Soap doesn’t know a lot about him.

Time passes. He dips his toes in guerrilla warfare for the first time, can’t say he’s a fan. Been backstabbed, shot, and survived. Hes earned his nickname, and sticks by it. (Hah) Though thick and thin, Ghost’s been there throughout it all. An angel guiding him to the churches, a leader who he would follow to the pits of hell, a friend when he needed one. After all that, the questions just never seemed to slow down. About his family, himself, his hobbies… to keep him awake, to pass the time, just whenever. Mostly Soap would get grumbles and short answers, proper sentences if he’s in the mood (which is all the time) or drunk enough. He’s flustered under all the attention and he knows it, itching beneath the helmet and the layers of armour. Soap is brash, and loud, and a little bit of a pyromaniac. He knows it. He’s fine with it. All jagged edges, no slowing down in sight. He doesnt know what to do with the change coming. He does the only thing he knows to do. He runs. After all of it is said and done, with makarov in the streets now, not much is to be done other than waiting for further instruction.

Applies leave for a few days, rented a airbnb online, have some alone time. Reset. Easy. Simple. Hes done this all his life. But when he was just about to slip out, Ghost suddenly appeared right in front of him.

“Gah- Jesus, fuck, ghost. What’s wrong?”

“You’re leaving.”

“Yeah, I am. You signed off on the papers.”

“Why?”

“Just…some time. To myself.”

“Is that it?”

“…yeah?” What else does he want me to say?

Ghost looks like he.. squirms a bit, which is weird. Ghost doesn’t squirm.

“Just… the countryside. And stuff.” This is the worst casual conversation he’s ever had with Ghost.

“Um… i got you something.” Then he’s holding something out.

“Huh? Really- this is a rock.” What the fuck.

“It’s a rock from Las Almas.”

“You… kept a rock. From Las Almas. What, you couldn’t have stopped by an actual gift shop just around the corner? I think i saw one right around where i found your knife lodged into-”

“-You done yet?” He snaps.

“Apparently not, sir. You wanna explain the rock?” Soap’s being a bitch.

“Just that… you’re going to be alone… and. Makarov.”

“It’s a legitimate place, ghost. you wont find anyone there.”

“Not just that, it’s like-” He groans slightly and scratches the back of his head. “You’re going to be alone, and the last time you were alone..”

Oh.

“It’s just a reminder that like, I wasn’t going to give it to you this soon but, i was there. With you. You weren’t truly alone, johnny. And.. you’re going to be alone now. Actually alone. And i just….its. I’m here. At Redhill. I’m going to be here. You know where to find me.”

You’ve got me, haven’t ya?

Oh shit.

Soap doesn’t know what to say. He can feel the tip of his ears burning, pricking down his cheeks and flush down his neck. He doesnt know how to stand properly, what to say, how to think. Because everything he;s thinking right now should not be applied to his lieutenant.

This doesn’t mean anything, right? It doesn’t change anything. It’s still the same. Soap knows that Ghost cares about him. He’s his Sargent. He’s his Sargent. But not in that way. They’re friends. The rock from Las Almas. He’s fine. They’re fine. It’s just like the rock is a physical manifestation and real evidence that Ghost may or may not like him. Jesus, he shouldn’t think like that. He’s too quiet. He should say something. His lips twitch.

“Thank you.” THAT’S IT?? SAY MORE.

“I’ll know where to look, then.” Soap gives the most half flustered, half assed smile he’s ever given to anyone. He cant even begin to imagine how he looks right now. His heart pulls. Ghost looks away. He feels like he’s going to be swept off his feet in a bad (good) way.

“Right then.” He clears his throat, disappearing down the corner of the hallway. Soap gapes as he stares after him. What was that? What was him? What? He looks down at the heavier-than-it should-look rock in his sweaty palms, and swallows.

This doesn’t change anything. They’re still working together. They’re the lieutenant and Sargent of the 141 Taskforce. He’s fine. They’re fine.

Everything is okay.

#PLS READ UNTIL THE END I SWEAR ITS WORTH IT #did yall catch that tv girl reference #me winging this entire thing and pulling the plot straight from my ass #can you tell I’ve been studying other people’s writing styles #anyways this draft was from… (blows dust) Jesus July??#wow #sure glad that’s gone huh #pointedly ignores the 12 other drafts #robs ramblings #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #ghostsoap

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muwapsturniolo · 7 months ago

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𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐟💨 Matt sturniolo

“ did you just?”

✗ Awkward asf but realistic, NSFW, sex, mentions of queefing, secondhand embarrassment, that’s it me thinks.

You wanted the world to swallow you whole, you wanted to disappear.

You knew it was a semi-normal thing to happen, yet you were still embarrassed. It happened to most girls when having sex, although you never thought it would happen to you - It’s never happened to you until now.

Your legs were spread wide open, a pair of rough hands pushing the back of your knees on either side of your head - You were in heaven. “O-oh fuck Matt,'' he groaned in retaliation, his hips driving into you harder, the squelching of your essence filling the room.

Every once in a while, you noticed Matt would make a face, his hips stuttering. You didn’t know why, you figured he was just struggling not to cum quickly and paint your insides that shade of white that you both love.

You didn't think much of it, he always made faces when you two were having sex.

He was very expressive.

You were so lost in the pleasure Matt was providing you, you missed a specific sound that came from your body. When Matt suddenly stopped all movement, you were confused.

Why did he stop?

Did he cum already?

Why is he staring at you with wide eyes?

Did you accidentally call him daddy again?

All you two could do was stare at each other for a solid minute or so, before you finally spoke up.

“W-why did you stop?”

“I uh…d-did you just…”

Your brows furrow in confusion, did you what? What is he talking about?

“Did I what Matt?”

He stares at you silently, the only sound in the room being the both of you breathing harshly from the sexual escapades that had come to a halt.

“N-nothing, never mind.” He shakes his head as he tries to dismiss whatever he was talking about. You didn’t have the chance to interrogate him further, his hips resuming their actions.

However, he only got about five more pumps in before you finally heard it.

You were mortified, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you stare at him with wide eyes. He met your gaze, his eyes equally as big as his actions halted once more.

“Did you just far-No!” You quickly cut him off, your cheeks hot and your heart beating fast.

“It’s ok if you did…I mean, it doesn’t smell - Plus, I know you had dairy, and you’re lactose intolerant, so it makes sense.”

You could not believe the words coming out of his mouth, you couldn’t believe this is happening to you out of all people.

“Matt, I didn’t -'' you wave your hands around, hoping he would get the gist of what you were saying.

You didn’t know why you hated the word fart, maybe it was because your parents raised you to say ‘passed gas’, and the word fart was too cringy for you.

“You didn’t? Then what the hell was that?”

“I-I think I queefed I-I don’t know!" Matt could tell you were flustered, your tone becoming defensive. “Ok, ok! Just calm down!” He lowers your legs and rubs at your thighs for comfort, attempting to calm you down as he remains inside you.

After a few minutes of silence, he speaks up. “D-did you want me to keep going or…?” He trails off, unsure of what you want.

To be honest, the mood for both of you was somewhat ruined. He wouldn't be shocked if you told him to stop. Hell, he was sure you probably would hold off on having sex for a while after this as well.

Much to his surprise, you nodded.

“Y-yeah, yeah you can keep going.” You try to push the awkward tension away, hoping, praying, begging that you wouldn’t queef again.

He nods and begins to thrust softly once more. You were tense, anxious your body would do it again, but it didn’t. You allow yourself to relax, to feel the pleasure once more.

Matt sees this and picks up the pace, drawing out soft moans and mewls from you. Despite your orgasm dwindling from the first two times he had stopped his ministrations, it was quickly rebuilding itself.

Matt could tell, and he was determined to push you over the edge.

He grabs your leg and throws it over his shoulder, planting his hands on both sides of your head as he drives his cock deeper into your aching cunt. The sexual energy in the room was potent, the previous moment long forgotten as you both explored each other's bodies.

"Oh fuck m'close. Come on ba-"

It happened....Again.

“Ok ok stop!” You basically yell out. He stumbles back as you push him, his cock slipping out of you with a small pop, followed by even more air being released.

It sounded like a deflating balloon, almost like Donald Duck was in the room himself.

You were on the verge of tears, this was too embarrassing. It didn't help that Matt was smirking, biting his lip as he held back laughter.

"D-don't you dare say anything!" Matt raises his hands in surrender, backing up even more and moving to the other side of the room. You sigh and sit up slowly, hoping you wouldn't release anymore more air from your vaginal canal.

It didn't work.

You could feel the air passing through your folds, creating that wet farting noise - thanks to the bodily fluids you secreted- and making your folds ripple softly.

A soft snicker is heard, making your head dart to Matt. "Shut up! Don't laugh, it's not funny!" You shout as you throw a pillow at him. He cackles loudly, dodging the pillow at the same time.

"I'm sorry but it's funny! She's speaking to me!"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "Mmcht, you're such a fucking boy." You mumble. You want to stand up and rush to the bathroom, but you didn't know if you could handle Matt's laughter at your excessive queefing.

"Get out."

"What? Baby come on, I'm sorry for laughing!"

"No, you're not. Now shut up and get out so I can go to the bathroom!" He holds back another round of laughter and slips on his boxers and sweatpants, quickly leaving the room and leaving you alone.

You waddle awkwardly to the bathroom, cringing every time another gush of air escapes you. As you stand in the bathroom, you quickly search up "How to get rid of queefs."

All you could find were multiple sources telling you there wasn't a way.

"Absolutely not, fuck this."

You try another search, " How to get rid of air down there."

Thankfully, you found an answer.

"Squatting down, especially while peeing, can help trapped air escape."

"This is great, but how the hell do you squat over a toilet without getting pee everywhere?" You mumble to yourself. You won't even deny it, your eyes dart over to the tub but you quickly dismiss that thought.

No way were you going to pop a squat and pee in your boyfriend's tub. You wouldn't hear the end of it.

You end up sitting backward on the toilet, your chest facing the lid as you do your best to squat.

Sure enough, you could feel the excess air release, echoing in the bathroom.

You finish up quickly, making sure to wipe and wash your hands before exiting the bathroom. As you walk out of the bathroom, you see Matt back in the room, sitting on his bed.

"Did you get that.... situated?" You roll your eyes and throw on your pajamas, laying back down on the bed. "You shut your damn mouth...And yes." He snickers softly and begins to situate himself between your legs, just as he always does.

The both of you sit in silence before he looks down at your clothed mound.

"So since you can speak, how do you fee-OW!" He winces as your hand comes down on the back of his head. He watches as you climb off the bed.

"Wait, where are you going?!"

"To Nick's room! At least he won't try to talk to my vagina as if it could talk back!"

He watches as you walk out the room, slamming the door in the process. He lays back down and chuckles to himself,

"I'm definitely changing her name in my phone to queef queen...maybe donald duck."

purrrrr im making this an awkward series! send in stuff that you would want to see!!!

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x you

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gay-dorito-dust · 7 months ago

Note

Ok, it was basically a request where the batboys brought their significant other as their date to a gala for the first time, they leave for a second (to get drinks or go to the bathroom or something to that end) and when they come back the see their S/O being harassed by a group of socialite women that keep talking about how they can’t believe someone like the batboy is with such a plain little nobody. That was the gist of it. Sorry 😣

I kinda made Tim’s as bit different than requested, but I couldn’t help but see him grill an entire household and their business ventures. Then again I kinda took creative liberties with all of them.

Dick

Is the type to put on an extremely strained smile across his face as he puts his arm over your shoulders.

‘What’s wrong my love, why the saddened face?’ He asks you sweetly, intentionally ignoring the rich and powerful in front of you both.

‘Oh don’t worry yourself with…that thing dear Richard, they’re too emotional to be in a room with people they could only dream of being in the presence of. I wouldn’t get so close to it if I were you, you might catch their filth.’ One of them sneered and Dick’s jaw tensed in agitation as his eyes remained on you.

‘Do you wanna leave?’ He says in a whisper as he wipes a tear away from your cheek, lightly pinching it in hopes of seeing you smile at him.

‘Yes please, I want to go home and be with Hayley.’ You whispered back, griping his arms tightly, thankful that his body blocked out the rich people that were berating you. Dick’s face softened as he kissed the top of your head, hoping of giving you some form of comfort in your time of distress, before looking back at the rich people with a faux grin.

‘If you please excuse us, my lovely sweetheart, my beloved cutie and my forever lover wishes to leave this drab place and who am I to deny my love of her wishes, for I shall wait on them hand and for forever if it pleases them so because between you and me?’ He then leans close to them. ‘You don’t have the heart to sacrifice everything for the one you love, if you even have hearts in the first place. You posses no freedom and no personality whatsoever for anyone to love nor adore, them however?’ He points towards you as you look at him with a small smile, a smile so sweet that Dick couldn’t help but smile back.

‘They are my everything. I couldn’t think about living without them, not when they’ve don’t nothing but be kind and respectful of me and my time. I don’t deserve them but neither does this city, they’re an angel in human skin that I wish to worship as long as they’ll let me.’ You could feel your cheeks burn at his words as your smiles widened at the twinkle of love within his gorgeous eyes. Dick had a way with words unlike any other and despite being on the receiving end of them for a while now, you still find yourself becoming alight with emotions because of him.

‘So if you’ll excuse me kindly.’ Dick says as he takes your hand and walks you both out of the door where he stops to look at you with concern.

‘I am so sorry you had to deal with them, apparently money makes someone feel entitled to speaking on someone else’s relationship.’ Dick spat as he glared at the grand double doors and you touched his cheek, making him melt into your touch, kissing your palm.

‘It’s okay Dickie bird, let’s just forget this night and go home, get out of these clothes and into some comfy pyjamas and cuddle on the couch as we watch soaps.’ You say as you attempt to calm him down from his passionate outburst and declaration of love, which seems to work as Dick’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

‘Can we wear the matching pyjamas that I got us and Hayley?’ He asks and you couldn’t help but kiss his lip, finding him too adorable in this moment in time, which is something of a occurrence as you’d soon find as you reflect back on your relationship. ‘Of course my sweetie, of course we can wear matching pyjamas.’ You replied and Dick cheered as he leaned to kiss you fully on the lip, his happiness having been contagious as you smiled into the kiss.

Damian

Wishes Bruce didn’t confiscate the sword from him.

He’s the type who can silence anyone with a single fucking glare. So when he sees that you, his beloved, was being harassed by the elitist snobs.

He’s quick to step in and start berating them himself, all dignity and respect has gone out the window for these cretins don’t deserve an ounce of it as far as he was aware. ‘I don’t believe that my relationships are your concern,’ he begins, ‘you’re not kin and thus should’ve learned at an early age that not every topic of interest requires your out of touch input.’

‘Wha-‘ they tried to say but Damian was back on them with another verbal assault.

‘Also I could hear you from across the room, didn’t your parents or paid teacher teach you about volume control? or did they get paid extra to not say a thing in fear your fragile little ego gets crushed under the harsh truth?’ Damian then spits out as he feels you clinging onto his back, which only fuels his need to berate these vile people as karma.

Damian would be their karma if it was the last thing he did.

The rich people chocked on air, not knowing what to say as it was hard to do so when Damian was staring them down, wanting them to say something, anything so that he could verbally beat them down until they submit. He lives for a verbal spat but unfortunately the people whom he’s up against have never had to fight for their honour and dignity, they just paid people to shut up or have people who encourage their pathetic, self entitled behaviour.

‘Enough, don’t hurt yourself trying to think with whatever’s behind those pompous eyes of yours.’ Damian sneered as he looks to you with a soft look. ‘Let’s go my beloved, I have already informed my father of the situation and has Alfred come pick us up to take us back to the manor.’ He says softly as he takes your hand in his as you both began walking away form the group of gobsmacked rich folks, a sight to behold truly as those entitled Individuals love nothing more then the sound of their own voice.

‘Why’d you do that?’ You asked and Damian looked at you as though you grew a second head.

‘Do what? Defend your honour, is that not what a lover is meant to do?’ He says with a raised brow and you couldn’t help but feel a little silly, of course Damian would defend your honour to the death but still insecurities tend to make you forget his undying loyalty.

‘You’re right I’m sorry, I’m just being a little stupid.’ You replied as you downcast your eyes to the floor and Damian stopped to lift your head up by your chin as his emerald eyes glint with concern. ‘Do not heed their words my treasure, for they lack a love that isn’t in due to money. Ours is genuine, if there’s anyone who has to fear for our relationship it is me for I am not the easiest to deal with at times.’ Damian admits as he lets go of your chin.

‘That’s not true.’ You retorted, holding his cheek in your free hand, caressing his cheek. ‘You’re perfect the way you are! A work in progress in being even more beautiful than before and I’m happy to be by your side and watch you grow into an amazing person dami.’ You add as you kiss his cheek, making him smile softly as he rubs against your hand.

‘See, this is what I’m talking about.’ Damian says softly. ‘You are perfection, a being beyond words and I’d be a fool if I didn’t treasure you entirely.’

Jason

That’s it, you’re leaving.

Jason tried to be civil but it’s hard to be civil with out of touch, tone deaf, Botox having, plastic surgery abusing, elite snobs that couldn’t fucking lace their own shoes because their filthy money had that be someone else’s job.

He’s not fucking staying and neither are you to deal with verbal abuse by people who single handedly have run Gotham into the ground with their shady tactics, personally funding the corrupt police officers, police officers that dare spout words like ‘protect and serve’ as though they know the meaning of the fucking word.

He’s marching over to you and grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers together as he’s walking you both out of the room, leaving the elites to talk amongst themselves as he guided you outside where thankfully no elite snob can eavesdrop on either of you.

‘Are you okay?’ He asks you as he holds your face between his hands.

‘No… I want to go home.’ You admitted, their words cutting deeper than you’d ever think imaginable.

Jason felt anger flowing through his veins but he knew that you needed him more then ever at this moment, so shouting at some elite snobs can wait for another day, you were his highest priority as he brought you into his chest and kissing your head. ‘Then we’re going home.’ He says with certainty.

‘What about Bruce?’ You asked, looking at him with tearful eyes, not wanting their relationship to fracture just as it was slowly starting to mend.

Jason shrugged, uncaring of what the old man would think, you got insulted and he wasn’t going to let it slide in the slightest. ‘Fuck Bruce, you’re what matters to me.’ Jason says as he kisses your nose, cheeks and lips softly before resting his head against yours. ‘Now let’s ditch this place and go get ourselves some burgers, how does that sound chipmunk?’

You chuckled. ‘Can we get some fries too.’

‘Of course we can, whatever my sweetheart desires.’ Jason replies as he takes your hand again, this time leading you both out of the grand building in a quest to satiate your feelings with the most greasiest of foods.

Tim

Has the most dirt on the elite in my eyes.

Every scandal, every controversy, every crime they’ve committed and gotten away with by covering it up. He has a file as thick as a book on them and he’s not afraid to use it.

And needless to say that the idea to destroy their reputation was more then tempting then ever when he sees that your being harassed. So when he confronts them on their behaviour, he gets really cryptic about how much he actually knows about these people to such an intimate level.

‘I know what you did.’ He’d say.

‘What are you on about?’ They’d ask, thinking this was all a bit to make them laugh.

‘Friday 12th, 12:55am. The incident that cost workers their lives, families whom of which you’ve failed to compensate for who are now threatening to take you to court before you dealt with them in hush money. All just so it doesn’t leak to the press that you knew what you were dealing with was highly unstable and willingly let those workers in unstable and dangerous working conditions.m Tim watches as their faces drop, preparation visible on their foreheads and he continues on, feeling you squeeze his arm.

‘Only to end up illegally selling the product to unground crime syndicates to make ends meet in due to how much money you’ve initially lost.’ Tim then says in response, watched as their faces become unsettlingly pale as they excuse themselves while exiting the room.

He’ll say or this or just say ‘they are after what they’re owed.’ And leave it at that.

Once he’s satisfied that he’s silenced them and damaged their egos, he looks to you with concerned eyes. ‘Are you okay lovely?’ He asks you as he sees just how small you’ve made yourself because of them.

‘I’m fine Tim thanks to you.’ You said as you hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek as he pats your back before rubbing it soothingly. ‘ I thought they wouldn’t shut up, or follow me whether I went just to degrade me for walking or whether else they could degrade me for.’ You add as you burrowed your head into his neck, wanting to forget this had ever happened.

‘All you need to remember is that they’re more flawed and easier to expose, you however,’ Tim kisses your temple, tightening his hold, ‘are more then they could ever comprehend and have more heart and soul then they do and I couldn’t be prouder to be your partner. Thank you for choosing me.’ He finished.

‘I’d choose you every time Tim.’ You replied.

‘Then expect me to do the same bedside there’s no one else I’d rather have them you.’ Tim promised as you stayed in this embrace for a good while before deciding to leave and watch your favourite show on his laptop for comfort.

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uki01 · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! Hope you’re doing ok!

Anyway, I thought of a cute romantic prompt for movie!Sonic, Shadow, and Knuckles, if you do the movie-verse, that is. We know that they’re the only ones who give off chaos energy (that we know of) and it’s especially tied to their emotions. It makes me think of them getting flustered by their crush/partner to the point they shoot out sparks of chaos energy and some sort of shenanigans ensue.

Damn. It actually makes me wonder if that’s why movie!Shadow is so stoic. He probably doesn’t want to hurt people by accident and tries his hardest to keep his emotions in check. The poor baby 🥺.

Anyway, it’s only these three since it’s the movie-verse and they’re the only ones so far who use chaos energy. Thank you so much, and be sure to rest when you need to and have fun doing what you do 💖💕

“Love Is Chaos.”

Movie!Sonic The Hedgehog, Movie!Shadow The Hedgehog and Movie!Knuckles The Echidna x Reader

Author’s Note: This sounds so cute! Thanks for the request!

Movie!Sonic The Hedgehog

You and Sonic met after the events of the 1st movie.

This guy was like puppy love for him.

He’s never fallen in love or felt romantic feelings so this is all new to him.

He’s told Maddie and she got excited, explaining what he’s feeling towards you.

He goes all out on trying to impress you with his tricks, cool adventures and badass speed.

It ends with a big ol fail, but you find it entertaining at least.

During the events of the 2nd movie when he first turned Super, you were mesmerised by the sight.

Soon as he was still himself, you hugged him tightly, grateful that he was okay.

Sonic feeling his face flush red, got to excited as he hugged you back, he accidentally caused a spark between you two.

Shocking you a bit.

Sonic was scared and apologised quickly but you laughed it off, he sighed of relieved.

He think this was the start of something beautiful.

And deep down, you were ready for it too.

Movie!Knuckles The Echidna

Knuckles has met you after the events of the second movie.

This was the first time Knuckles ever felt romantic feelings.

First he felt very confused, so he went to Sonic.

Sonic who teases Knuckles for his crush on you which Knuckles, of course, doesn’t understand.

”What do you mean I have a crush on Y/N? I don’t want to crush them, they will be deceased by my strength.”

”No no knucklehead, it means you have romantic feelings for them.”

”I don’t get what you mean hedgehog.”

”Ugh… it means you love them in a way Maddie and Tom love each other, like lovers.”

”Ah, so I see.”

After that, he awkwardly tries to make conversation and give subtle hints of his love towards you, you think this is just him trying to get to know more about earth.

Which is partially true in a way.

When he does show you his super form, you are in love with how he glows.

As you two start doing silly shenanigans whiles in his super form.

When he gets way too excited he accidentally sparks you it knocked you back down.

This worried Knuckles a lot as he runs up and checks on you.

But he just finds you laughing at this, saying how cool and badass he looks.

Knuckles face begins to feel red but still stands tall and confident.

He can get use to your cute and funny laughter.

Movie!Shadow The Hedgehog

Shadow met you after the events of the third movie and joined the Wachowski family.

You were intrigued by his nature while so was he with you.

You reminded him a lot like Maria with your kindness.

Like her, you never saw him as a freak and was always comforting him whenever he had his upsetting moments.

This caused Shadow to gain some romantic feelings for you.

But he has no idea what any of this means or is which frustrates and confuses him.

He goes to ask Sonic what this is.

Like Knuckles, doesn’t get the gist but understands more since he felt love with Maria (platonic love though).

”Ooh looks like someone has a crush on Y/NNN~”

”Crush? Why would I want to crush them? I would knock them out in one go, I don’t want to do that.”

”No dude, it means you feel loving feelings for her, you know Maria? It’s like that but in Tom and Maddie’s way, you feel what Tom feels about Maddie.”

”Hm..”

He took this information and started working on getting to know you more.

This confused you since you knew Shadow wasn’t the type to make connections.

Not after his best friend and eldest sister’s death.

But this made you happy knowing he was trying his best.

Soon as he revealed his Super form, you were amazed by it and was telling Shadow how cool and amazing he looked.

Shadow smiled at this.

Soon as he got a bit excited, sparks came out of him hitting you.

This immediately worried Shadow but faded away after hearing your laughter.

Saying that felt funny and tickled a bit, still complimenting him how badass he looks.

This made Shadow smile even more.

He was going to love this, as much as he didn’t admit it.

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoyed this request!

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snoowpee · 1 year ago

Text

comfortable - p.js

Pairing ⇾ boyfriend!jay x girlfriend!reader

Genre ⇾ smut

Warnings ⇾ unprotected sex (don’t make stupid decisions!), fingering, teasing, marking, oral (both giving & receiving), hair pulling, cum eating, overstimulation, squirting, dacryphilia, name calling (whore, cockslut), spanking, slight praise kink, size kink, attempted cockwarming, jay asks reader if she wants to use her safe word. I might’ve missed something but that’s the gist of it, enjoy!

Summary ⇾ your boyfriend is being really clingy while you try to watch your favorite show.

Word count ⇾ 2.0k words

Playlist ⇾ H.E.R. - Comfortable.

Your relationship with Jay has its share of being touchy, it may be intentional or unintentional, but it was fairly touchy overall. So when he comes over and sees you binge watching your favorite show, Money Heist, all he does is engulf you in a hug. Though with Jay being touchy comes the need to be comfortable, very comfortable. Leading you to your current position, on his lap with his arms wrapped around you. You weren’t gonna lie, when it comes to this whole being comfortable shit, Jay knows what he’s doing.

After a few more episodes, you felt one of his large hands crawl up underneath your shirt. You didn’t mind it though, knowing Jay has developed this habit of fondling or playing with your breasts whilst you’re sitting on his lap. You felt his lips touch the skin of your neck, and again you didn’t mind.

“Babe, I wanna lay down.” Jay whispered, lips touching your right ear.

“Wait, give me like two minutes, shit’s about to go down.” You say, too indulged. Jay laughs at your eagerness to finish the episode you’re currently watching. He begins to fondle with your breasts again, busying himself with his phone as he scrolls through it, patiently waiting for you.

“Ok, done.” You turn around to face him, he pecks your lips, making the both of you smile. You get off his lap, laying down on your back.

Jay follows ensuite, positioning his head to lay on top of your breast, wrapping his arms around your torso. You wrap your legs around his upper body, liking the position you’re in. “You smell good,” Jay says, lifting up your shirt to press a kiss on your stomach.

“Thanks, babe,” you say.

The two of you stayed in that position for a while, with you watching your favorite show, playing with Jay’s hair absentmindedly. You were on season four thinking Jay was fast asleep, when you felt him lift your shirt up, kissing the top of your shorts’ waistband. It was an innocent gesture at first, but when he pulled it down a little to reveal your cotton underwear, you knew he was up to something.

“What are you doing?” You pull on the strands of Jay’s hair. He groaned at the action, meeting your gaze. Combing through the strands of his hair, you trace his jaw and ask again, “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, he dips his hand inside of your underwear, cold fingers making contact with your folds, causing a stir of arousal within you. He smirked just as you inhaled deeply.

“I don’t know, you tell me. What am I doing?” He moves his fingers slowly, teasing you.

“God, you’re driving me insane.” You wrapped your fingers around his throat, feeling him pull off your shorts with your underwear. He then parts your lower lips, leaning in to lick a stripe through your folds up to your clit.

“Hands up,” he orders, getting rid of your shirt, leaving you completely bare. Jay positions himself in between your legs, kissing your inner thighs in the process.

As soon as he is settled between your legs, he grips your thighs apart, holding you in place as he continues licking your folds. Your hand moves to grip on the strands of his hair, letting out a soft sweet moan, causing his pants to tighten as you continue your small whimpers.

Jay’s gaze stays on you, watching your face contort into pleasure as he eats you out like a starved man. Your knuckles turn white as you harshly grip his hair, leaving him groaning against your core.

“Jay…” you moan out immediately after he slips a finger into your cunt, your wetness coating his finger from how wet you were. You let out a deep breath when he starts to move his finger.

He adds a second finger in when you eventually adjust to the stretch, gaining speed with every moan you let out.

“Babe…” you voiced out, the pitch of your voice higher than usual at the feeling of his tongue flicking against your clit. The knot in your stomach tightens, when Jay adds a third finger in. “Baby…’m c-close!” You attempt to close your legs around him, but the grip he has on you stops the action.

“Cum, baby,” Jay pumps his fingers faster, helping the knot in your stomach come undone. He doesn’t stop his actions, fingering you through your orgasm.

Jay pulls his cum coated fingers out of your cunt, licking them clean. You felt your core throb as he shamelessly moaned at the taste of you.

“You taste really sweet, babe.” You gasped as you felt his tongue circle around your hole again, barely dipping in. He pulls away, only to do the same thing again, barely licking your hole and then pulling away. Again and again.

Once you had enough of his teasing, you tugged his hair, pulling him closer, his tongue flat against the heat of your cunt. You grind against it, basking in the pleasure, squirming against Jay’s touch, bucking your hips up with how good you’re feeling. As you rode his tongue, your thighs began to shake again, releasing your arousal all over him after a while.

You breathlessly tried to move away from Jay when he stopped you.

“Stop moving,” he says against your cunt. His big hands cup your hips, pushing it down harshly to hold you in place. “Give me another one,” he sternly orders, you quiver under his hold, moaning helplessly when he starts eating you out again.

“W-What! No!” You choked out, a tear escaping your eye at the immense amount of pleasure. “B-Baby…please! Stop! J-Jay…” your mouth hung open, moans pouring out.

“Say the safe word if you really mean it, babe,” Jay waited.

He waited but he didn’t stop.

He didn’t stop because you did not say it.

You feel him smirk against your cunt, but you were too overwhelmed with the pleasure his tongue was giving you to care.

“Too much,” you stuttered out, eyes rolling at the back of your head. Suddenly, a gush of fluid came out of you, squirting your arousal all over Jay’s tongue.

“Holy shit,” Jay looks at you, dumbfounded. Once he regains his senses, he starts lapping up your releases, to ‘clean’ you up, careful not to waste a single drop.

You winced as he kissed your sensitive clit. Jay chuckled, finding your reaction cute. “My whore enjoying herself?” He raises an eyebrow, smirking. You only nodded, too exhausted to be coherent.

“Now…” Jay begins, hands reaching for his back, to pull off his shirt by the neckline, “…you’ve had your fun…” he got a hold on the fabric of his shirt, pulling it off, throwing it to the side right after, joining the pile of your disregarded clothes. “…it’s time to have mine,” he leans in, arms on either side of your body, caging you.

Jay nibbles on the sensitive part of your neck, “Yeah?”

It was a rhetorical question, of course, but you couldn’t help but nod. Jay sat up again, pulling the drawstrings of his gray sweats, standing up, getting rid of his bottoms altogether. You can’t help but admire him; melanin skin, toned abs, messy hair all on full display, with his angry veiny leaking cock standing tall and proud. Your mouth watered at the sight. He looked so scrumptious.

“J-Jay…want to suck you off,” you try to sit up with the remaining energy you have left, crawling slowly to the foot of the bed.

You stay on your hands and knees when you come face to face with Jay’s cock. He runs a hand through your hair till it reaches the back of your head, gripping it.

“Open wide,” he said, tugging on your hair, before thrusting his cock inside your mouth.

Jay groaned when he felt his tip reach the back of your throat. You tried fitting all of him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, breathing through your nose, licking the underside of his cock. His hand harshly comes down on the skin of your ass, making you whimper as he slaps your ass repeatedly.

“What a little cockslut,” he lets out another deep moan.

“You’re my little cockslut, aren’t you?”

You tried to nod despite having your mouth full of his cock. Jay shoves his cock further down your throat, making you gag around him, feeling his dick throb against your tongue. You know the way you sputter and drool around him turns him on, especially when you’re all messy and fucked up for him.

“Fuck baby, you’re driving me crazy,” Jay continues his harsh thrusts.

When you feel his cock twitch, you hollow your cheeks and suck even harder, wanting to feel his cum on your tongue. To your dismay, Jay pulls you off of his cock by your hair.

“Keep your mouth open,” he said. You were quick to oblige, sticking your tongue out, drool dripping down your chin, while gazing up at your boyfriend. “God, you’re so hot,” Jay muttered, lost in his thoughts.

Your lips curve upward into a smile at his compliment.

In front of you, he pumped his cock faster, the tip hitting your tongue a couple of times. He loudly moaned when he finally released all over your tongue. You swallowed satisfied, not missing the chance to lick him ‘clean’ after.

“Good job, baby,” he kisses your neck, manhandling you to lay on your back. “Can you give me one more?” He pecked your lips, the act seeming innocent in contrast to the actions he’s planning to do to you.

What?

“Are you serious?” You respond with heavy eyelids, you glanced at his half hard cock. You can’t be serious. You sighed.

“Cockwarming?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, his chest meeting yours.

“Until you can go again?” He asked and you nod as a response, it was hard to talk with the way your throat is hurting. “Yeah?” Jay pecked your lips again, aligning his cock with your entrance.

You both let out a synchronized moan when he seethes in.

“Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good around me,” he peppers your face with kisses. You giggled as you wrap your legs around him so he can go in deeper.

You see Jay look down at your tummy with a smile on his face, “look how deep I can go in you.”

You only understood what he meant when you saw his cock bulging out of your stomach. Oh, fuck.

“Fuck that’s hot,” you said, voice below whisper.

Jay moves in and out of you slowly, looking at you for confirmation. You give him a small nod as a response, so he continues moving his hips. Jay slips a hand between your bodies, his large hands cupping your tummy, pushing it down.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “baby, I can feel you so deep! Keep doing that!” you moan out louder.

Jay grabs onto the headboard, using it as leverage to pound into you, his hips snapping onto yours in an inhumane speed. Tears trail down your cheeks as your eyes roll at the back of your head.

Your nails unintentionally scratch Jay’s back, while he leaves hickies at the valley of your breasts.

Jay’s hands cupped your breasts, thumb tracing each of your nipples. He playfully bites your left nipple causing you to gasp loudly.

He fondled your breasts for a while, swirling his tongue around it whilst playfully nibbling it, switching to your other breast to give it the same attention as the other one. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” you breathlessly said.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to reach your highs with the way Jay is pounding into you. After a few more thrusts, he pulls out of you to release his load all over your cunt.

“You’re amazing,” Jay kisses your lips, you smile into the kiss feeling proud and happy at his compliment. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He leaves a kiss on the top of your head, carrying you to the bathroom, to run you a warm bath.

When you take a hold of his cock, he looks at you.

“My baby wants to go again?”

#enhypen smut #jay smut #jongseong smut #park jongseong smut #jay x reader smut #jay x reader #jongseong x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction

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bring-forth-his-sac · 17 days ago

Text

Stained: The Dinner Party

summary: you made Negan a promise and now it's time to deliver... if you can get some time alone with him

word count: 9.5k

tags: ! NSFW ! dad's best friend trope, pre-apocalypse, cheating, blowjob, face fucking, cum eating, facials, swearing & crude language, vaginal fingering, degrading names (slut, whore), semi-public kinda public secret sexual acts in front of others? Idk how to word that one but you get the gist

you can find part 1 here!!

“Hey everybody, welcome back to my channel! Here are my top tips for giving some gluck gluck before you fuck fuck!”.

You can’t believe you’ve reached this point and yet here you are. “Shit,” you mutter to yourself, turning down the volume on your phone. The last thing you need is for one of your parents to walk past and hear that introduction.

It’s been a month. One long month since you had your romp with Negan. You were supposed to see him sooner, your parents having arranged another dinner, but the Smith’s had to cancel due to Negan having Summer exams and assessments to get through.

“Ok, first tip for when you’re slobbering on some man meat. Just because your mouth is the main focus doesn’t mean you can’t use your hands too!”.

You let the video you found online play in the background as you try to tame your hair. You have one thing on your mind tonight. The last time you saw Negan, after he gave you a fucking of a lifetime, you made him a promise. The next one of your parent’s dinner parties that he attends, you’ll suck him off. And damn right you plan on keeping that promise.

Pulling out your clothes, you dump your options on to the bed. You have to be strategic about this. Slutty but not too slutty. Modest but in a sexy secretary way, not like a nun.

“Make eye contact! And no, I don’t mean with his third eye! Guys love it when you got their… y’know… haha! …God, I hope this doesn’t get demonized but y’know, their sausage in your mouth and you look up at them”.

You cringe at the fake laughing the video is filled with. The only reason you’re watching this is to make sure you give Negan the best blowjob of his life. Where, you’re not sure yet. Under the table sounds hot but isn’t practical. Dragging him to your bedroom is way too suspicious.

The video continues as you think.

“And don’t forget, be enthusiastic! Take charge! Just because he’s the one getting off doesn’t mean he needs to have complete control… although that can be fun too. Huh, maybe I should do a video on not gagging next”.

Your attention shifts to a long-sleeved top. It doesn’t show much cleavage but it’s snug enough to stir the imagination. Pairing it with a skirt is non-negotiable. You already know a skirt is a must, especially if you want to give Negan easy access.

With a sigh, you reach over and turn off the video. Useless. The advice wasn’t wrong but it wasn’t the almighty best blowjob of his life material you were hoping for.

You glance at the outfit laid out on the bed. You slip them on, smoothing the fabric over your hips as you turn towards the mirror.

Not bad.

You had planned to try a few other looks, maybe something a little more casual in case this one didn’t feel right. But before you can assemble the second outfit, a cacophony of voices creeps under your door.

They’re here.

You freeze for a second. The moment’s no longer theoretical. Negan’s in your house… and so is his wife. Your name rings out, your mother’s voice carrying it. “Come say hi” she calls, her voice already in host mode. You take one last look in the mirror, fix a stray hair and open the door.

The hallway is buzzing with life. Negan stands near the entryway, his presence commanding but relaxed in that way only he can pull off. He barely glances your way, offering a polite nod before turning his attention back to your dad, who’s already launching into something about cars.

Lucille, on the other hand, pulls you straight into a hug the second you’re within reach. “Look at you, gorgeous! All dolled up!” she says, bracelets clinking on her wrists. You manage a smile and hug her back, slightly overwhelmed.

Everyone starts moving deeper into the house, your dad talks Negan’s ear off and your mom is caught in a flurry of Lucille’s questions about what’s for dinner. Overlapping voices bounce off the walls. You try to hang back for a second but you’re forced to move along with the chaotic current.

And then you feel it. A hand brushes against your waist and gives a brief, deliberate squeeze. It’s fleeting but you know it’s him.

The second Negan saw you, he knew the night was going to be trouble. That outfit didn’t have him fooled. The way that top hugs you, the sway of your skirt. He barely let his eyes linger as you’re swept into the kitchen with the other ladies. Tonight, you’re a woman on a mission and damn if he didn’t respect the hell out of that.

“Honey,” your mom blindly shoves a fistful of cutlery in your direction, not bothering to look up from her work on the kitchen counter. Even with the whole day to prepare, she’s somehow behind schedule and only whipping up the batter for dessert now.

“Help set the table,” she politely orders. You know there’s no room for debate, taking the array of forks and blunt knives.

You don’t mind helping out, especially when you see Negan and your dad in the dining room already. Where Lucille has wandered to, you’re unsure. Maybe the bathroom, or maybe she entered the kitchen a few moments after you left, barely missing each other. It’s like there’s a constant rotation in and out of each room. As if to prove your point, when you enter the dining room, you almost bump into your dad as he leaves.

You don’t waste your opportunity, not knowing any many times you’ll get to be alone with Negan tonight. “Your sweatshirt is inside my bedroom, by the door, in a bag,” you keep your voice low as you set the table “I can get it if you’d like to put it in your truck”.

You figured he’d appreciate the gesture. Straight to helping sort this shit out. Not trying to get in his pants straight away or acting as if nothing happened. Simply being practical.

Negan gives a soft scoff but you can’t quite tell if it’s amusement or annoyance. “That’s all I get?” you almost melt as the smirk he gives you as he whispers “No hi, how are you? How’s your dick doing?”.

A mischievous smile plays at your lips. You shrug casually “Well, since you asked… how is it?”.

“Missing you” Negan answers, not missing a beat.

You try to ignore the flutter in your stomach. “I haven’t forgotten about my promise,” you mention, watching out of the corner of your eye as Negan rounds the table to you.

“Neither have I” he practically growls, crowding behind you. “The other morning, I woke up with my dick about to explode just thinking about it,” he nuzzles against you, pressing a light kiss to the side of your neck.

Despite needing to stay alert, your eyes slowly shut. You savor his scruff against your neck, making the sensitive skin tingle.

Negan isn't as aggressive as he was that night at the bar but he isn’t very soft either. It’s like he has a natural roughness to him, the way he kisses, the way he fucks. All of which you know a little too well.

Bringing your comfort to an end, you hear your mother laugh, probably at something Lucille is saying. Negan must know it too as his lips leave you.

“My sweatshirt is in your room?” He repeats.

You nod immediately “In a Target bag, yeah”.

Negan moves away from you, back to his casual position at the other side of the table as you hurriedly finish setting the cutlery. He goes to speak again but before Negan can get a word out, your mother is bustling into the room with a hot bowl of mashed potatoes.

“New recipe!” She announces to Lucille, who trails in after her. You try not to catch her eye.

“Instead of the usual spices, I tried being more adventurous with my potatoes” Your mother rambles.

Lucille simply nods along, her eyes studying you instead. You barely said hi to her when she first got here, despite how friendly she was to you. All Lucille got was a smile she can only describe as pitiful and now you won’t even look at her.

She goes to examine Negan’s body language next but when Lucille turns, she’s met with empty space. Like a ghost, he’s vanished.

“And I actually listened to the recipe this time and put honey in with the carrots!” Your mother prides herself on her skills “Carrots… oh shoot, the carrots!”. Much to your horror, your mother darts out of the room and back to the kitchen, leaving you and Lucille alone.

A beat of silence.

Another.

It’s only when the silence stretches a little too long do you finally lift your eyes to meet hers. She’s smiling.

“I like your skirt,” she says, her voice soft and strangely warm. “I used to wear things like that all the time when I was your age”.

You offer a small shrug “Thanks. Honestly, I kinda forgot I had it”.

She lets out a light laugh, as if you’ve both been part of some unspoken mischief. Well, maybe you both are but if Lucille found that out, you don’t think she’d be laughing.

“It’s a bold choice for daylight,” she says “I almost wore a dress that short today, but I came to my senses before stepping out the door”.

You're not sure whether to laugh with her or lob the nearest utensil across the table. Something about how she talks feels like both an invitation and insult.

“Negan liked it though,” she adds, her lips curling into a teasing smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

The comment lands too precisely. It’s enough to make you wonder if Lucille knows or if everything she says now feels like an interrogation thanks to your own guilty conscience. You force a smile, lips pressed into a thin line and you offer a silent ‘thank you’ to the universe when your mother’s voice floats in from the kitchen, calling your name.

Lucille’s smile lingers, soft and undisturbed, as you retreat. She doesn’t so much as blink. The image must remain untouched: the perfect wife with the perfect life, part of a marriage that still radiates that golden glow of first love. At least, that’s what she tells herself. Now, if only she could track down her damn husband to complete the illusion.

Lucille moves with practiced grace, her heels silent on the floor as she slips out of the dining room. She skirts the kitchen without a glance, already knowing if Negan were in there, she’d have heard his laugh by now, booming and obnoxious as always when he's trying to charm someone. Either you or your mother. The uncertainty around which one makes her queasy.

The bathroom door hangs open. No voices float down the hall. No telltale murmur of sports stats or banter with your dad. Her brow twitches. Where the hell did he go? As she passes the front window, something outside catches her eye. A flash of movement. Bingo.

Negan shuts the car door with a thud, leaving the bag with his sweatshirt on the back seat. Thankfully, he’s already decided to grab the opportunity to have a cigarette while outside, giving himself the perfect alibi as Lucille steps out the front door.

“Hey” she plainly says, walking down the porch steps.

“Hey yourself,” Negan mutters, flicking his lighter to life. The cigarette catches and he takes a long drag, eyes half-lidded as if this were the most peaceful moment he’d had all day.

Lucille doesn’t return the ease. “You already need a smoke break?”.

Negan lets out a dry laugh that doesn’t quite make it past his throat. “Nope. Just figured I’d come out here and take a shit on their lawn” he answers sarcastically.

Lucille doesn’t suppress any part of her reaction. The breath she exhales is sharp. Her arms fold across her chest, shoulders drawn tight. The eye roll is textbook. And none of it is subtle.

“Can you not for, like… the two hours we’ll be here? That’s all I ask” she snips back. She pauses for a moment, sniffs and then sighs “Now you’re going to stink”.

He shrugs, glancing toward the house with vague disinterest. “The place already smells like someone cremated a vegetable patch. I doubt my cigarette’s gonna make the top ten list of offences”.

Whatever fantasy Lucille has been holding onto, the white-picket fences and synchronized laughter, begins to waver and fray around the edges. Her lips press into a tight line.

“Just put it out and get back inside,” she says, already turning on her heels.

She doesn’t wait for his reply. If she stays out here any longer, she’ll lose whatever thread of control she has left. The door swings shut behind her.

Negan watches the smoke curl up from his cigarette, then exhales a slow stream of it through his nose. The evening has already been a pain in the ass. Now, it’s worse. If he had been thinking about dragging you somewhere quiet before, that thought’s locked in now.

Guilt doesn't hit as hard when all he gets from his wife are barbed jabs and a cold shoulder. Maybe he’s not innocent either. He knows his jokes have a way of biting back but hell, lately it feels like even breathing wrong is a crime.

They’re fucked, really. Negan knows it and deep down and he assumes Lucille does too. But how can either one of them back out of the marriage now when they’ve sunken so much into it? A mortgage, a house, loans, debts. Damn, Negan really needs your sweet mouth around him now. The perfect distraction from the hole he’s dug himself.

You try not to be obvious as you look for Negan. He’s not with your dad or in the dining room. You haven’t seen Lucille either which gives you an odd feeling of dread, knowing they’ve both disappeared. But before you have to worry for long, your mother calls for everyone to get seated for dinner.

You settle into your seat, subtly ensuring the chair next to you remains vacant. You're not confident (or stupid) enough to give a Negan a handy while everyone is having dinner but a little touching here and there shouldn’t hurt, right?

Even when your mother sits at one side of you, you still have some hope as Negan and Lucille enter. You don’t let it interfere with your plans, the empty space on your other side holding your hope. His eyes meet yours and you feel like a tween going through puberty as you instantly smile. But that’s when the free chair beside you scrapes against the floor.

Like a bewildered animal, your head snaps in that direction to see another smile. Lucille. Again.

… Great.

“This seat taken?” she asks, already sitting down.

Like some sick nightmare, Negan has to sit in front of the two women in his life: you and his wife. He tries not to be awkward about it, selfishly not meeting your eyes as Lucille badgers you with questions.

"Got a boyfriend yet? I’m sure there’s a line of them after you,” she compliments “When I was your age, it was boys, parties, always out with friends. Life never slowed down”.

She barely takes a breath before continuing.

“Have you thought about moving out? Getting your own place? I did it around your age, had a place with a few girlfriends. It was wild. Eventually it felt like home, like it was really mine. Maybe it’s time you tried that too. Not just yet, I guess, but hopefully soon, right?".

You spear a forkful of greens and chew with exaggerated focus, nodding along as if Lucille’s barrage of personal questions hasn’t just lit your cheeks on fire. Sure, because still living with your parents is something you want to be quizzed about!

Thankfully, or maybe unfortunately, Lucille moves the conversation on to your mother instead. “How would you feel about it? Think you would get empty nest syndrome?” she asks.

Negan tries not to wince as he eavesdrops, pretending to listen to your dad shittalking his co-workers. People say Negan’s the brash and direct one but goddamn, he knows Lucille can come straight out with it sometimes.

He sees it happen, so slow and subtle, and yet the most obvious thing in the room. Your posture, once open and lively, now folding in on itself like a page being creased. The spark behind your eyes has dulled, replaced by that quiet look people wear when they’re trying not to feel too much. You’re retreating and something about it twists in his chest in a way he didn’t expect.

Negan hates it. Hates that look on you. Hates that Lucille’s running her mouth without a clue, and that he’s just sitting here, watching it happen.

Without thinking, he shifts in his seat and slides his foot across the floor under the table. Just a small nudge. A silent gesture. He hopes it lands gently against your ankle, enough to catch your attention without making a scene.

His way of saying ‘I see you, baby’.

But the contact he makes isn’t with your foot.

Across from him, Lucille doesn’t say a word. Her smile doesn't change, and her tone stays light as she continues chatting with your mother. Negan feels the light pressure in return. A slow and smooth, gentle graze up the side of his calf. He exhales, just a little, the knot in his chest loosening.

In his mind, this is your way of answering him. A quiet ‘I’m okay’.

He doesn’t look at you directly. Just a small, sweeping glance. But what he sees only deepens that warmth: the way you're acting completely natural, your face still quiet but softer now, as if you feel it too.

Negan doesn’t realize that it’s not your foot gently stroking his leg under the table. Nor does he see the barely there smile playing at the corners of Lucille’s mouth as she continues her conversation, pretending nothing is happening. Her leg remains where it is, answering a call Negan isn’t actually posing her.

Remaining completely oblivious, you chew mundanely on your food. You pray you’ll get a chance alone with Negan, trying to come up with different excuses or scenarios that would allow it. Unable to help himself, Negan steals another glance your way. His gaze is gentle but full of something far too close to longing.

He doesn’t even realize the softness in his expression, the unguarded affection carved into his features. It’s the kind of look no one gives their wife after years of a marriage built more on duty than desire. It’s the look of a man who’s found something he thought was long gone. Hope. Lust. Yearning.

And Lucille sees it.

At first, she’s still convinced the foot under the table means what she wants it to mean. Her leg lingers against his, her smile patient and waiting for him to respond. Anything. A smirk or a quick look her way to confirm the game she thinks they’re playing. But when she follows the direction of his gaze and sees who it’s truly meant for, something shifts in her.

The realization comes slow. She watches the way Negan looks at you and her stomach turns. There’s no flirtation in his eyes when they land on you. No coyness. Just a quiet ache of something raw, real and undeniably not meant for her.

Her smile falters. It’s small, almost imperceptible but it’s there. The first crack in the polished exterior. She blinks, refocuses on her plate, and subtly draws her leg back under the table, leaving a space between her and Negan where, for a brief moment, she thought something still lived.

Negan still hasn’t noticed. His eyes going from you to the occasional nod and look in your father’s direction as he pretends to pay attention.

You only look up because the scrap of your fork against your plate feels too loud. The hum of overlapping conversations blurs into the background as your gaze lifts, landing on him. Negan. Goddamnit maybe dropping your fork and getting under the table wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

At this point, any apprehension you felt about sucking him off is long gone. Now you just want to unzip his pants and get it out.

The rest of dinner unfolds in a muted haze. Your mother and Lucille carry most of the conversation, chatting about mutual friends and upcoming functions, their voices a constant thread weaving through the meal.

Across the table, Negan and your father exchange low, obligatory small talk. Work, sports, something about the grill. You mostly keep to yourself, quietly eating while nodding politely whenever your mother or Lucille pulls you into the flow of conversation.

After the plates are clean of any food, the table begins to empty. Your father claps Negan on the back and steers him toward the living room, already launching into some half-hearted commentary about the game that’s on. Negan goes with him, disappearing into the living room as your dad shuts the door.

Your mother, ever the hostess, is already stacking plates, humming to herself as she bustles into the kitchen. You follow with a handful of glasses and Lucille trails behind, offering to help put things away. You nod along, moving through the motions of cleanup while the conversation floats around you.

But you’re not done yet. You still have a dick appointment you’re determined to get to. You catch a moment and begin to meander towards the hall when your mother notices your slow edging towards the door.

“Honey? Where are you off to?” she questions but thankfully doesn’t give you enough time to answer, already continuing the conversation on her own “Just leave the boys alone, ok? You know what they’re like when it comes to sport”.

She turns to Lucille, having already lost interest in you. “They act like they’re in their own personal conclave! And I don’t mind it, it gives us some peace and quiet but do they always have to hog the tv?”.

You slip out before Lucille replies to her. Unfortunately, you know your mother is right. Going into the men while they’re in sports mode won’t achieve anything. Actually, all that will do is make you more horny since you’ll be in his presence again. So instead, you haunt the hall, hovering so you’ll hear any movement. Maybe then you can coax him into your room.

In the living room, your father leans back into the couch with a low grunt, beer in hand, eyes on the muted game on the television. Negan sits beside him, feigning interest. His gaze drifts towards the door. Negan can feel himself getting antsy but he knows he has a role to play.

“Jesus, you see that throw?” he commentates on the game, chuckling “Kid’s got an arm like a rocket launcher but that defense makes me think he has shit for brains”.

Your dad laughs, and the two keep the steady rhythm of back-and-forth, Negan tossing in his usual sarcastic jabs and colourful commentary.

But every few minutes, his eyes stray toward the door again. Negan knows he needs to see you, to feel you. Being as casual as possible, he stands with a stretch.

“Alright,” Negan says “Think I’ll go see what the ladies are up to, ask how long ‘til dessert’s ready”. Your dad waves him off, paying more attention to the game than Negan slipping out.

When Negan goes out to the quiet hallway, he breathes a silent sigh of relief. He needs a moment to slip away, to ease the itch under his skin with a quick smoke and silence. Laughter can be heard behind the closed kitchen door. It’s the kind of sound that should feel warm but only makes him feel out of place.

He slides a hand into his pocket, fingertips brushing the worn edge of his lighter when he hears you.

“Hi,” is all you say, almost shyly.

That’s already enough to make Negan want to scoff. You’re a lot of things but as you displayed the last time he saw you, you ain’t shy.

“Tonight’s not really going how I expected” you admit.

Negan assesses you carefully. “So you weren’t expecting dinner and a headache?” he says, voice low and a little rough. He doesn’t have to glance toward the kitchen for you to catch his meaning. The nattering, the laughter, neither wife has let up.

You shrug, the slow curl of your shoulder borders on playful. “I mean, I was expecting a headache,” you murmur “just not from them”.

A faint ghost of a smirk graces his face. “Not exactly the easiest place for a… quiet moment,” he mutters.

You huff a soft laugh through your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “A few minutes of privacy is all we’d need” you reply in a teasing tone.

That brings out his smirk unapologetically. “Just a few minutes? Someone’s confident in their abilities” Negan muses.

A few minutes. It doesn’t sound like a big ask but apparently it is. With your dad planted on the couch and the kitchen full of wine-soaked commentary and stories that won’t end, every chance keeps slipping through your fingers.

You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting someone to call your name. Instead, you notice something at the end of the hallway.

The bathroom door cracked open.

You look back at Negan, a spark lighting behind your eyes. “What about in there?” you ask, tilting your head towards it. Your voice is just above a whisper now, conspiratorial.

His eyes follow your line of sight, then return to yours. For the first time all evening, it feels like maybe the night isn’t a complete loss.

That glint in his eyes sharpens, like he’s been waiting for the green light that he didn’t think would actually come. “You serious?” he questions, already angling his body toward the door like gravity’s working in your favor now.

You don’t answer, the flash of a promiscuous look being enough. Turning on your heels, you hear Negan already moving behind you, both of you making a b-line for the bathroom.

A hand brushes against your lower back to urge you forward, or maybe to steady himself from the thrill of it. A burst of laughter echoing from the kitchen makes you almost break into a run. Negan must feel the pump of adrenaline too as he nudges you along.

You slide inside first, turning quickly to pull him in behind you. He catches the handle just before it clicks too loud, easing it shut with the care of someone defusing a bomb. Then the lock turns with a soft yet satisfying snap.

Your heart flutters and you try to convince yourself it’s the adrenaline and not the nerves of giving a bad blowjob. But you don’t let it deter you. This isn’t the time to get hesitant and coy.

Like that video said, be enthusiastic! Time to put your money where your mouth is… well, put his dick where your mouth is actually.

Negan took charge the last time and so you do what you can to set yourself up as the one controlling things this time. Getting down on your knees, your hands latch on to his belt as you look up at him.

“I’ve been waiting for my dessert,” you purr, slowly tracing a hand down to his bulge.

Negan sucks in through his teeth, back hitting off the wall. He can see you’re eager, that’s for sure. And so he keeps his hands by his side, letting you have your fun first.

He groans at the pressure of your hand giving his bulge a small squeeze. “Fuck me…” he whispers, trying to compose himself already. With a deep breath, he asks “You sure you wanna do this?”.

“I made a promise, didn’t I?” You reply with a smile, slowly unbuckling his belt.

“Fuck yeah you did,” he keeps his voice low, hands twitching to bury into your hair.

Popping open the button of his jeans, you tug down the zip. There’s a nervous excitement in your stomach as you unwrap your present, the tips from the horrendous video linger in the back of your mind.

Pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough, you free his stiffening cock. Negan can feel his lust dulling his inhibitions. All signs say to stop and yet he can’t help himself growling out a command to you.

“Suck”.

Slowly, you bring your mouth to the tip. You remember to use your hands, holding the base as you lick the smooth head. "Sweet Jesus..." he hisses through clenched teeth, watching as your tongue teases the sensitive tip.

"Baby," Negan groans, hips shifting forward slightly "Less teasing, more sucking. Time's a-tickin'.”

As much as he loves this, he knows your time together is limited. His hands can’t help themselves anymore, going to your hair as if there’s a magnetic pull.

You take the tip and just a bit more into your mouth. You suck gently, applying light pressure as you pull back, letting the head slip out of your mouth with an audible pop. You repeat this motion slowly, taking as much as you can into your mouth.

Negan watches as you try to take him deeper, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck. He's too big for you to deepthroat but he loves how your lips stretch around him.

When you tighten your grip, wrapping your hands around what you can’t get into your mouth as you bob your head up and down, Negan thinks you might suck whatever measly soul he has straight out of his dick.

His eyes roll back slightly, enjoying the sight of you working him. "That's it," he encourages, hips instinctively moving in sync with your mouth "just like that". He groans, his hand guiding your head gently. You gag, more of him having gone into you than you anticipated. With a slight splutter, you pull back and breathe.

“Sorry” you quickly wipe away some spit threatening to dribble out of your mouth. "Shh, it's okay," he whispers "but fuck sweetheart, I'm gonna cum in your mouth if you keep doing that”.

You give a smirk, regaining your breathing. Holding his cock, you lick up the underside, feeling Negan’s hands tighten in your hair.

“But you promised me a facial” you pretend to pout before focusing on sucking the tip again.

"Fuck I know..." He watches hungrily as you suck the head, his balls tightening. His grip in your hair starts to guide you faster as he yearns to cum and paint that pretty face of yours.

"Suck harder, I know you can… where’s the fuckin’ slut from before gone, eh?" Negan pants, that degrading man you met at the bar starting to come out.

You give a small moan, staring up at him. His cock goes further back your throat again but this time you try not to gag, concentrating on sucking him off.

You’re a walking contradiction and Negan loves it. Big innocent eyes looking up at him, but with the eager mouth of a whore that just got a hundred bucks.

"You look like you should be on your knees taking communion, not sucking dick,” his voice drops an octave, watching your lips stretch around him "Choke on it?".

You blink for a moment, tears almost running down your face as you take in his request. Going as far down as you can, his cock fills your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. You feel your throat convulse but you hold position.

A strangled noise leaves you but it only makes his dick throb. “Y’could be a world class slut, you know that?” With lust taking over, Negan’s hands pull your head down further.

Drool pools in your mouth, overflowing down your chin. Despite your brain hardly functioning, you gently cup his balls with your hands, trying to do as much as possible for him. Holding position for a few seconds, you pull back, spit following you as you catch your breath again.

"You’re killing me..." Negan groans as you pull back, letting you catch your breath before diving back in. His hands guide your head, setting a pace that's fast but shallow.

"Keep looking up at me like that,” he orders “wanna see you take it”.

As you concentrate not gagging, you can feel the wet warmth between your own legs building. Each shallow thrust of his hips, each taste of pre-cum, makes your core ache with desire. Your panties become damp as your arousal grows and you can't help but press your thighs together.

"Fucking beautiful," he says, his voice thick with lust. It’s like Negan can’t decide what he wants. One moment he’s pushing your head further down his dick but the next he’s pulling your head back so he can see your tear-streaked face better. You don’t mind though, trying to catch a breath whenever you can.

You don’t hear every word he says, the noises coming from your own mouth distracting you. " …pathetic slut..." you hear him say, before he corrects himself “... my pathetic slut“.

The words only encourage you. Your hands work in tandem with your mouth, knowing you can’t possibly have much more time with him alone. Surely someone will come looking for one of you soon. Or someone will need to use the bathroom.

He grabs a handful of your hair, forcing your head down harder onto his dick “Open your fucking mouth wider”. You try to do so but you gag around him.

"Take it, baby, I know you can" he growls, pushing your head down further despite your gagging. His hips start moving, fucking your mouth roughly. Each thrust resonates through your entire body. Thankfully, your gagging eases but you can still feel your reflex attempt to trigger with each thrust of his dick.

"Shit..." Negan sees the mess he’s making of you. The spit. The tears that naturally come with gagging so much. And he can only fantasize about the mess in your panties.

Pulling your head back sharply, his length slaps against your cheek. You give a small whine as he does, having little time to process what’s happening as you follow his orders.

"Open," He grunts, fisting his length tightly “Wanna see how much I get in”.

Your mouth stays open, tongue out and ready to catch his cum. You don’t have to wait long until you feel the ropes of warm cum landing, but not just on your tongue. Negan paints your face.

Cheeks. Nose. Chin. Lips.

“That’s it” He approves, giving a few final strokes before squeezing out the last drops onto your tongue.

You don’t need a mirror to know you look a mess and the laugh Negan let’s out seems to confirm your thoughts. "You look like a damn porno" he says.

Letting go of your hair, he brings a hand around to your face, spreading the cum by your mouth around your lips. You take the opportunity to suck his thumb, licking the cum off and swallowing all he had given you.

You let it go with a small pop, mimicking the same treatment his dick got. “Was it good?” You ask, your hoarse voice surprising you.

"Was it good?" He repeats, chuckling deeply as he stuffs his softening dick back into his pants. "You're fucking kidding me, right? Look at you. You're a goddamn mess” He gestures to your cum-covered face, a smug grin on his face.

You're unsure whether or not that answers your question, or if any of it is a good thing. Negan sees the cogs turning in your head. ”You took that like a pro, sweetheart" he assures you, gently helping you up onto your feet.

Not done teasing yet, you gather other spurts of cum from your cheeks and lick that off your fingers next.

“Thanks” you shrug, playing off how relieved you are.

Negan grins widely, impressed by your dedication. “You’re a fuckin’ keeper, you know that?” He drawls, reaching a hand out to ruffle your already messed up hair. It’s strange to feel such a platonic action after he’s just fucked your face but that’s who Negan is, you suppose.

One minute you’re being chastised for wearing provocative clothing. The next, Negan is tearing your dress off in a public bathroom. One minute you’re slut or whore, the next you’re ‘sweetheart’ again.

The only constant so far is bathrooms. That makes you pause for a moment before saying “We have to stop doing this by a toilet. It’s weird”.

He barks out a laugh at that, quickly covering his mouth. Negan waits a moment, waiting for someone to come see what’s going on. But when no one interrupts, he continues “You stay at, uh… what’s that friend of yours name again? The one you lied to your folks about being with the last time?”.

“Lydia,” you answer, turning on the sink tap. Catching a look of yourself, you’re surprised you don’t look half bad. Maybe stained looks good on you.

“Right, you sleep over at hers often?” He asks, taking his time as he buckles his belt.

You carefully splash some on your face “I guess, yeah… why?”.

“So if you told them you were staying at hers some night, they’d believe it?” Negan asks “No questions asked?”.

You nod, eyes meeting his and you try to manage your hair. The smirk says it all.

“Huh… all I’d need to do is feed Lucille some shit and we could have a night away somewhere, finally get you alone without sneaking around”.

Your body screams at the idea but you try not to show your excitement. “You’d have to pay for the hotel room though,” you say snarkily “I think that’s the least you could do”.

He laughs again, lower this time. “Careful baby,” he gives you ass a firm smack as he passes for the door. The sting makes you jolt, half from the hit but half from the way he’s already slipping away.

You always knew your time with him came in fleeting, stolen slices. But that doesn’t make it any less confusing. Or any easier.

“Wait,” you blurt out, the word catching before it’s fully formed. Negan freezes, one hand resting on the lock. Slowly, he turns his head back to you.

“What about me?” you ask, voice quieter now. He doesn’t answer straight away. Letting it linger for a moment, the anticipation builds.

Negan lets out a low whistle. “Oh, sweetcheeks,” he drawls, voice dripping with that infuriating charm “You know I wanna eat that pussy like it’s my last meal but…”. He clicks his tongue, mock sympathy curling in his tone. “Time just ain’t on our side, honey.”

And just like that, he slips out the door with maddening ease, leaving behind a whole lot of unfinished business. You let out a huff.

He called you a whore but at least they get paid. All you got for your efforts was a smack on the ass and a bare face, most of your make-up having washed away with his cum.

Negan knows your type, knows you’d probably jump him if he didn’t leave the bathroom. One taste of dick and you’ll be wet all day. The thought alone makes his dick throb again, already missing your mouth.

Going back into the sitting room, your dad is like a statue, in the same position as before. Negan gives a grimacing tight lipped smile, as if he got caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Sitting back down on his spot on the couch, Negan apologizes “Sorry if I smell like smoke”.

He’d rather your dad think he was having a cigarette outside rather than face fucking the man’s daughter. Your dad waves off Negan’s faux concern, mumbling the moments of the game he missed. Negan sinks into the couch comfortably, knowing that as long as you don’t make it obvious, you’ve both gotten away with another escapade.

Still in the bathroom, cool water runs over your wrists as you try to bring your heart rate back down. You smooth a hand down your top but thankfully everything looks fine. Small mercies there’s not drops of Negan splattered all over your outfit.

The click of the doorknob spins your stomach before your brain can catch up. The door swings open and your mother steps in, mid-sentence on about wine refills when he sees you.

“Jesus!” she yelps, hand flying to her chest “You scared me half to death!”.

You whip around, just as startled. “Sorry! I—sorry, I mustn’t have locked it” you blabber.

She narrows her gaze, scanning your face like she's the Terminator instead of your mother. Subtle, trained and looking for anything out of the ordinary.

“You okay?” she asks.

You nod quickly. “Yeah, I just needed a minute. I’m feeling a little weird” You gesture vaguely toward the sink as if it can be your alibi.

She frowns, but not suspiciously. You thank whatever higher power there is when her tone seems more concerned. “You feeling sick?” she presses.

“No, no. I’m fine,” You say too fast before shrugging, deciding that maybe you shouldn’t deny a good excuse “I mean, maybe, I just feel kinda strange y’know?”.

She studies you for a moment longer. You’re fully dressed, your hair’s in place, and nothing smells like guilt or sex. Just a hint of soap and whatever dignity you managed to salvage.

“Well,” she sighs, brushing past you to grab a hairpin from the vanity. “Don’t lurk in here too long. I was about to serve dessert if you’re up for it”.

You nod again, giving a sheepish smile you hope might look weak in a sickly way. “Yeah, I think I can muster up having some cake”.

She gives you one last glance and then steps out, leaving the door open this time. Giving yourself a quick look, you silently tell yourself to keep it together.

You’re glad to see how refreshed you look. Maybe slightly breathless. And looking sort of flustered. With your panties sticking to your pussy with how wet you are. But you’re still holding it together!

…Barely.

Squaring your shoulders, you walk out of the bathroom as if you’re going up to the frontlines of a war. Voices and clinking dishes subconsciously call for you from the dining room.

It feels a little weird to walk, your pussy practically dripping and making each step feel like another ride down the slip and slide between your legs. But you carry on nonetheless, ready to act as boring and normal as humanly possible.

The moment you round the corner, you spot an empty chair at the table and (more importantly) who’s beside it. Negan sits back in his seat, fingers curled loosely around a can of soda.

He’s laughing at something Lucille just said as she stands with a knife in hand. Whether he’s laughing because she’s actually funny or he’s fearing for his life, you can’t tell.

Even if Negan is a little affected by what happened five minutes ago, it doesn’t show. Not in the way his mouth curves lazily around the rim of his can, or how he only glances your way without missing a beat.

You slide into the seat next to him, carefully letting your leg brush his under the table. Lucille gives you a slight look but you can’t tell if it’s because you sat next to her husband or if you look more flushed than you initially thought. Well, if she wanted the seat, she should’ve moved faster instead of just standing there. You snooze, you lose.

Your mother bustles in from the kitchen, wearing oven mitts and holding a tray that sends waves of warm sugariness through the room.

“Hot out of the oven,” she announces proudly, placing the cake in the center of the table “Chocolate, just like old times”.

Lucille lights up as she passes the knife, letting your mother do the honors. Once she’s sat down across from you both, she starts to gush “God, remember when you used to make this every weekend? I’ve been dreaming about this!”.

Your mom beams, already cutting thick slices while steam curls up from the soft centre. Your father’s voice calls faintly from the other room, a low rumble over the TV. “Pass on dessert! Game’s getting good!”. Typical.

Your mom rolls her eyes affectionately. “He’s glued to that couch,” she mutters, placing a plate in front of you.

You thank her, then glance sidelong at Negan. He finally meets your eye. Just for a second. You get no smile. No words. Just that look. That quiet, smoldering acknowledgment of what no one else knows. You lower your gaze and pick up your fork.

The cake is warm and melts on Negan’s tongue. Still, it’s not the sweetest thing he’s wanted to taste tonight.

He chews like it‘s delicious, nods appreciatively at your mother’s proud smile as she tells them about how she found the recipe somewhere. Negan isn’t sure where though, he was too busy thinking about your pussy when your mom said that part of the story.

He doesn’t look at you much. Negan knows it’s ridiculous but he’s sure Lucille can smell it off of him. The lies. Deception. She’s like a goddamn cadaver dog when she picks up the scent of something being awry.

Every now and then, he risks a glance your way, just to see the way your lips part around the fork in a way he knows all too well. He clears his throat and takes another sip of his drink, hoping the fizz will ground him. It doesn’t.

As delusional as it sounds, Negan was hoping to fuck you again. Now he sees that was just a wet dream. You both had your moment in the sun, where you turned his world upside down and gagged around him like there’s no tomorrow.

He shifts in his seat, trying to play it off his own dirty thoughts. He adds a lazy comment to the conversation, a dry “Mmhmm,” and “Yeah, taste’s great”. Lucille nods along and Negan hopes he’s doing enough to convince her he’s listening.

But no matter how much he tries, his mind isn’t on the cake. It’s on the bathroom and on what he didn’t get enough of.

Lucille dabs the corner of her mouth and launches into a story from years ago. Negan nods at the right moments, even chuckles once or twice. But under the table, his hand edges across to your soft thigh.

His fingers splay out and spread across your thigh possessively. You shove a piece of cake into your mouth to stop yourself from smirking. You may have it bad for Negan, but it certainly feels like he can’t get enough of you either.

Trying to act natural, you slowly open your thighs under the table. It’s difficult to look bored above the table, while below you're trying to angle your body in such a position that gives Negan access to everything.

His thumb draws circles on your inner thigh, inching closer to what he really wants. He keeps his focus on your mom, conversing normally as his hand inches dangerously close to your panties.

Nodding your head, you add “Yeah, I remember hearing about that”. Although neither your mother or Lucille directly acknowledge your participation, already jumping to some other old memory.

Negan acknowledges you though, under the table. His middle finger nudges its way around your damp panties and smoothly slides down your folds. You eat your cake casually, lowering your head so neither woman will see the pleasure in your expression.

Like a man on a mission, the finger glides through your obvious wetness until it reaches your entrance. The finger teases your hole, pressing gently before slowly sliding inside. He enters you effortlessly, your wet pussy eagerly greeting him. His finger curls slightly, hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you.

Both of you look like the definition of calm, neither one of you letting on what’s happening. Negan keeps his arm low, making sure all the action occurs below the table cloth so that the others can’t tell his arm is angling towards you.

His finger moves with agonizing slowness, barely withdrawing before pushing back in deeper each time. He's not fingering you aggressively or quickly like he might if you were alone; instead, he's drawing out each stroke deliberately slow and shallow to torture you silently.

He snaps you out of your quiet tranquility with a compliment. "I have to say, this cake is fucking amazing,” he looks directly at your mother, a wide grin on his face as if he doesn’t have his finger in her daughter.

She waves away his compliments before Lucille steals her attention “You’ll have to give me the recipe”. It acts as the perfect distraction for Negan to add another finger inside you, stretching you out.

“Anyways, dinner has been great but we should really get going soon” Lucille glances Negan’s way before showing off her sympathetic smile to your mom.

But your mom doesn’t catch the smile. Instead, her eyes land on you. Breathless with your mouth slightly agape. And worst of all… hardly eating your slice of cake!

"Are you feeling okay?" she asks concernedly.

Negan’s movements stifle but just for a second as you come up with a reply “Yeah— I think I’m just feeling a little flushed”.

His finger suddenly shifts upwards, finding your swollen clit and applying pressure. You have to fight to keep your breathing steady as pleasure shoots through you. Your eyes flutter briefly closed before you regain composure, trying not to squirm visibly in your seat.

Your core tightens with impending release. With aching thighs, you do the one thing your body is begging you not to. You move your legs away from Negan and abruptly stand up, nearly knocking your chair back. The movement forces Negan’s hand to fall away, loosely dropping to his side. Your skirt whooshes slightly but it looks as though that’s been caused by your abrupt movement and not Negan’s hand.

“Actually, I think I might lay down for a while,” you announce, eyes darting to each person “I don’t feel so good”.

Your mom simply nods, taking your excuse at face value. “Ok, I can save you some cake for later” she assures. Her eyes follow you out, giving Negan the perfect opportunity to bring his hand up to the table.

His fingers are coated with your wetness but before the others can notice, he uses his hand to pick up his last piece of cake on his plate and pop it into his mouth. He deliberately licks each finger, letting out an exaggerated groan of approval as you leave.

That asshole. Surely he wasn’t trying to make you cum. He knew you’d pull away in the end. That you’d be the one to disrupt your own pleasure. As if you had a choice.

You’re only in your bedroom a few minutes when you hear the goodbyes begin.

“We’ll have to do this again soon!”.

“Next time, I’ll make brownies!”.

“Just make sure the next time it’s not on the same day as the game, ok?”.

You’re not called to say goodbye. After all, you’re too ‘sick’ or ‘faint‘ or whatever excuse is most believable to your mother. With a huff, you flop on to your bed. Your panties are still sticking to you but now all you have is yourself to fix that problem. Rolling over on to your side, you mutter “Fucking asshole…”.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Lucille doesn’t start talking until they’re nearly home. Negan doesn’t press her. He can feel the weight of whatever she’s building up to and figures it’s only a matter of time before she lets it out.

“She looks at you weird”.

Negan makes a low sound in his throat. It’s not quite agreement, more like he’s trying to figure out where she’s going with this. He silently hopes the next name she mentions is your mom but of course, it’s your name that leaves her lips.

“It’s like she just… watches. Everything. But especially you” Lucille explains “You haven’t noticed that?”.

Negan raises an eyebrow. “So she’s the one doing all the watching but somehow you’re catching every second of it? Sounds like you’re doing a fair bit of eyeballing yourself”. He gives a short laugh, hoping to deflect her unease with a joke. It doesn’t work. She responds with a scoff, all sharp edges.

“I’m being serious”.

“Yeah and I am too,” he lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug, eyes still on the road “so she’s not a chatterbox. Whatever”.

Lucille quietly stews for a few moments. Negan hopes he’s almost in the clear when he turns down onto their street, but peace is a fickle thing.

“I bet she’s got a thing for you.”

He rolls his eyes instinctively. “Nice to know you think I’ve still got universal appeal, honey,” he replies dryly as if it doesn’t stroke his ego.

He pulls into their driveway. Their little house, slightly run-down but comfortably familiar, greets him with its tilted porch steps and overgrown lawn. Never has crooked suburbia looked so inviting.

He tries to use Lucille’s next stewing period of silence to make his escape out of the car, swiftly turning off the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Do you know the last time I went to theirs, she came back from her friend's place wearing your sweatshirt,” Lucille watches his movements pause at that revelation. “Wouldn’t know how she got that, would you?” she questions.

Negan looks to her, tongue running along the backs of his teeth as he thinks.

“I gave it to her as a souvenir after I fucked her, is that what you want to hear?” he shoots back “Jesus fucking Christ, Lucille, is this going to be it now? Is she the next woman I must be fucking?”.

It’s shitty, he knows. But Negan also knows the best form of defense is attack. Or, at least it’s always worked out for him that way.

Lucille physically shudders at the idea of that, her voice raising as she argues back “Well, you were definitely eye-fucking her tonight at the table. Right in front of me!”.

Negan snorts. “Before or after you tried to embarrass her in front of everyone?” his tone is sharper now “Because what you call eye-fucking, I call trying to make sure she didn’t burst into tears in the mashed potatoes.”

Negan hopes none of the neighbors are passing by. Even with the two of them still in the car, he’s sure anyone passing by would be able to hear their raised voices.

“You really think I didn’t just toss her that sweatshirt the last time they came over here for dinner? Maybe when I was showing her shit in the garage? That ever cross your mind?” His voice tightens as he adds, “Or was I fucking her in the back of the car then too, Lucille? You tell me since you apparently know everything”.

“You're twisting my words!” She argues “All I’m saying is she obviously has the hots for you and you being friendly will give her the wrong idea”.

To Negan, this feels like a win. A messy, backhanded one but still a win nonetheless. Lucille has shifted from accusing him directly to blaming it all on you, like she’s just trying to warn him of your supposed crush.

“Fuck, it’s like I can’t even talk to you anymore,” Lucille mutters, rubbing a hand down her face, not caring whether it smears her makeup.

“Not without accusing me of fucking somebody” Negan jabs back.

That’s enough for Lucille, undoing her seatbelt carelessly and kicking open the car door.

Ding!

Negan feels his balls tighten when his phone dings with a message. But if his balls are telling him one thing, it’s to lean into the mess.

“Want to check that?” Negan pulls his phone out of his pocket, waggling it as Lucille gets out of the car “Could be her, maybe she’s sending me a nude”.

Lucille doesn’t dignify that with a response. Just slams the car door hard enough to rattle the windows and throws a middle finger over her shoulder as she storms towards the house.

Negan watches her go, expression flat. He knows he’s going to be in the shitter for the night but when he opens up the notification, he thinks it might be worth it. There to greet him is a text he assumes must be you.

“Got number from dad’s phone. Book that hotel room asap”.

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