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floral-force · 1 year

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Of Brown Eyes and Desert Skies

cowboy!din djarin x f!reader - old west/western au oneshot

summary: When a new man storms into the saloon you work at, you're instantly terrified--and captivated. But as he lingers in town and stirs up trouble with every step, you question who the brown-eyed man is underneath the poncho, and if he really is just a bounty killer at his core.

words: 10.7k+

warnings/tags: EXPLICIT. 18+ ONLY. smut (rough, fingering, oral, riding, doggy style, spitting, spanking), period-typical violence (not graphic) and sexism (not from din), the helmet hat comes off, din is morally gray and not always nice, barmaid!reader

a/n: This is heavily inspired by Sergio Leone's Dollars Trilogy and the Man with No Name. Please mind the tags.

read on ao3 | masterlist

When he stormed into the saloon, you knew he was trouble. You had an eye for these things, a sixth sense for danger.

A hush fell over the crowd of people when the swinging doors opened. The stranger’s eyes narrowed under his black Stetson hat, and a cloth covered his face below them, the plain beige fabric laying over the earthy green poncho draped over broad shoulders. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over the few inches of exposed skin. You nearly dropped the glass you were drying when he started to walk over to you in those stiff, dark denim pants, the bottom of a brown leather holster bouncing on his thick right thigh, heavy with a hidden weight.

Something within you stirred, scorching your skin. He sat down on a stool right in front of where you worked and conversation within the saloon picked up again. His severe gaze burned a hole through you, and you took a step back, suddenly conscious of the sweat on the back of your neck and the heat coiling low in your gut. The sweat starting to dot your forehead certainly wasn’t from the heat of high noon, the sun hanging in a cloudless blue sky.

“Can I get you somethin’, sir?”

“Whiskey,” he said, his voice gravelly but smooth at the same time. Seductive and sultry.

You nodded and turned around, pulling a bottle of amber liquid off the bar shelf and grabbing a low glass. You could feel him staring at you as you poured, heat prickling your ears. You told him the price and he shifted to the side, digging money out of his pocket.

“Keep the change.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You gave him a smile and walked over to the register, entering the sale. You stashed the change in the jar you kept next to it, happy to see it slowly getting filled to the brim. You didn’t make too much here, but you had no other choice. It wasn’t a bad job, but it came with its problems—drunk men getting handsy or bold being the overwhelming one. When you’d arrived here all those years ago, it was either working as a barmaid or a laundress. You chose the former, and you didn’t regret it. It just meant you ran into interesting people, and this man was no exception—he’d made that clear when his brown boots stomped across the old wooden floor.

“‘Scuse me, miss?”

The man called out to you, and you quickly walked over to him, spreading your arms out and leaning forward. He was swirling his glass in a lightly tanned hand, a blue cuff settled over his wrist. You wondered if his hands felt rough, how they’d feel on the soft skin of your waist.

You swallowed thickly. “Yes, sir?”

“You know if the sheriff here has any bounties out?”

Oh, shit. He was one of them. “Mm-mm.” You shook your head. “I haven’t heard or seen anythin’.”

He nodded and set his glass down, leaning forward and staring into your eyes, his brow set. He was close enough for you to see the sweat under his eyes, staring you down, making your heart thrum in your chest and throat go dry. The chestnut eyes gave you a once-over, slowly trailing down your body and stopping where the bar top hid the rest of you from sight. They jumped back up to your widened ones, and the corners crinkled with a hidden smirk.

“That’s a damn shame, ‘cause suddenly, I find myself wantin’ to stay a bit longer,” he husked, pulling the cloth away from his face and slugging the rest of the whiskey back. You caught a glimpse of his jawline as he tilted his head back and noticed the scruff covering it.

You raised an eyebrow and innocently asked, “Oh, really? How come?”

“Found myself somethin’ a bit better than a money,” he said, tipping his hat back slightly. “And she’s standin’ right in front’a me.”

His smooth compliment nearly made you forget he was a bounty hunter. The way he eyed you up and down almost covered up and dulled what your head was telling you. This man was trouble through and through, and you’d known it from the moment he swaggered through the doors. He’d caught your eye like no other man just passing through ever had. You wanted desperately to comb your fingers through the dark brown curls peeking out under his hat, to kiss the lips hidden under the cloth, to know him like nobody ever had.

You must’ve been staring a bit too long because you heard a low chuckle and felt a finger tap your forearm. You shook your head and chuckled nervously.

“I’m sorry, sir, just thinkin’ too much.”

He hummed. “I like a woman who thinks too much. Makes it even better when I make her go quiet.”

The purred innuendo made your lips part and eyes go wide. You wanted that. And he knew it. The clever cowboy was already playing you and pressing all the right keys; it was as if he’d already snuck under your skirt and made you go limp.

He looked over his shoulder at the stairs climbing up the back wall facing the doors. “You stay around here?”

“Up-upstairs,” you stuttered. “I got my own room.”

“Good.”

“It-it doesn’t hide noise all that well.”

He stared at you and snickered. “Darlin’, you really think I give a shit?”

And he really didn’t. He had you howling as he rammed into you, completely unforgiving as his cock filled you to the brim. The man growled and grunted your name as he fucked you from behind, rough hands gripping your ass and spreading your round cheeks. He burned like sand at noon, more punishing than the summer heat. You gave in to him, letting him burn you as much as he wanted.

You were drooling into your worn mattress with tears in your eyes. The man held your wrists behind your back in one large hand. The other was kneading the fat on your hip as it recoiled with each slam of his hips.

“This th’best pussy I ever had, darlin’, god damn,” he rasped.

“G-good,” you panted between his brutal thrusts.

“Listen t’yourself.” He laughed, the sound mirthful and deadly. “Can barely fuckin’ speak. Told you I’d fuck ya til you couldn’t speak, darlin’.”

Your eyes squeezed shut and you moaned at his dirty words. You should have never doubted that he’d have your mouth going dry, feeling his cock dig deep inside of you and choke something in your throat. He humbled and punished you for doubting him with his unforgiving pace. His tongue lavished you with dirty praise and raspy groans, the sounds making your cunt throb and suck him in deeper even as your walls started to get raw from his roughness.

He’d proven his tongue was filthy only moments ago as he licked circles around the sensitive bud between your legs. You were entirely naked—garments in a heap on the floor—but he still wore all his clothes except for the poncho and cloth. Even his worn denim shirt was still on, only the first four buttons undone—his hands were too busy yanking your clothes off to be bothered with his. The man was impatient and hungry, and you didn’t dare deny him.

He still wore the black hat as he worked his mouth on your sex, tonguing between your folds and teasing your slick hole. But you didn’t mind it, not when he moaned into your cunt with each broad lick of his tongue. He gave in to your whiny pleas for his thick fingers, obliging you with two right away. The digits stretched you open, made you throw your head back and clamp your legs around his head, the brim of his hat bending into your shins.

He clicked his tongue and placed his free hand on one of your knees, gently pushing it down as he muttered, “Spread those legs for me, baby. Need ‘em open for me.” You did as told and he hummed in approval. “Atta girl.”

He praised you by sucking your clit and rubbing his fingers against a soft spot within you. You were twitching and mumbling nonsense, an utter mess for the scoundrel between your shaking thighs. Your cunt pulsed around him, your peak suddenly rising with the motion.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he’d coaxed as you panted and gripped the sheets. “Need to get you nice’n ready for my cock.”

It only took a few more moments before you came with a sharp cry, legs shaking and a foot twitching. A fire blazed within you, one he had started and intended to keep burning. He worked you through it, sucking in a breath as he felt you pulse around his fingers.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned. Then, he flipped you over, not even giving you time to recover from your high.

He’d barely tugged his pants down, only undoing his belt and dropping his holster to the floor. He growled and grabbed your ass, lifting it into the air and forcing you to arch your back. When he pushed into you with a groan, you felt the fabric scratch against you as he sheathed himself in your still-sensitive cunt.

You hissed and squirmed and cried out “Fuck, I’m—I’m still sens—”

“Don’ care,” he grunted. “I fuckin’ need you, darlin’.”

You nodded and moaned at his harsh affection. You were ashamed that you loved it, that it made you throb. A sharp slap on your ass made you jump, the tingling sensation left behind sent your head spinning. He rubbed it and soothed the tender skin, rough hands suddenly soft.

And now, he fucked you without mercy. Any trace of tenderness was gone with the wind. The man with brown eyes filled you more than anyone ever had, made you see stars when others had only made you see specks. When you begged him to spit on himself, that your cunt was getting raw, he pressed his sweaty chest against your back and gently tapped your cheek with his knuckles.

You opened your eyes and saw his open hand in front of them.

“Spit.”

Your pussy ached at his demand and you opened your mouth for the brown-eyed man, lifting your head as much as you could. Saliva dripped off your tongue and landed on his calloused palm. He took his hand back and you set your head back down, taking a deep breath when he pulled himself out of you to stroke his cock. His free hand grabbed the meat of one of your cheeks, his thumb kneading close to the tight ring of muscle hidden between them. The wet sound of him stroking his cock with your spit made you smile and shudder.

There was something satisfying about this cowboy using you. All rough edges and dry desert heat. He was as ruthless and unyielding as the western terrain you called home. You nearly screamed when he rammed himself back inside of your aching hole, silencing yourself by burying your face into the mattress. The man carved a canyon through you with brute, relentless force and praised your wild howls and whines with a slap on your ass and one slow rock of his hips. He teased you over and over, quickly learning where to drag the fat head of his cock to make you shiver and shake.

“P-please,” you begged, your eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t fuckin’ stop!”

The man chuckled at your desperate cry. You felt yourself shiver when he ran his hands up your thighs before kneading your plump cheeks again. Any pride you felt at hypnotizing him with your ass was quickly washed away when he landed a sharp smack against your right cheek, immediately following it with one on your left, another landing back on your right. You arched your back even more for him and wiggled one of your hands down to rub sloppy circles on your clit. The thick member filling you to the brim was driving you to the edge, and the added sparks of pleasure from your sensitive nub was pushing you even closer.

He started fucking you with something even more feral than before, his groans loud and strained. Your moans melted into his with each burning stroke and every needy rub against your clit.

“God, I can feel you fuckin’ pulsin’ around me, baby,” he growled.

“Y-you feel so fucking good,” you answered, mouth open so your hoarse moans could slip into the air.

“Yeah? This th’best cock you ever had?”

He stole your answer with a punishing slam of his hips. Your free hand clawed at the sheets, and you tried to squirm up away from him. There was a low growl as you were yanked back, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips. The man chuckled mirthfully when you gasped, impaled on his cock yet again.

“Don’t try to run from a bounty killer, darlin’,” he rasped, his thrusts getting needier, reaching deeper and lingering longer within your quivering hole. “’Specially when your cunt feels this fuckin’ good.”

His breathing began to match your frenzied pants, the pace of his thrusts as frantic as your fingers on your sensitive clit.

“I’ll ask ya again,” he gave you a sharp thrust, keeping you in place with his strong hands. “Is this the best cock you ever fuckin’ had?”

“Fuck—yes, baby, yes!” You howled into the mattress as you felt your walls start to spasm, a sudden heat starting to take over you.

“C’mon, darlin’, that’s—fuck—that’s it.” The brown-eyed man’s hips slapped against your ass, the sound echoing, and he started growling—the feral and primal bounty killer finally taking over. “Fuckin’ c-come for me—fuck, I feel it—good fuckin’ girl—”

You came around his length with a scream, your legs shaking with the force of your orgasm. A white-hot fire burned from your aching, quivering hole to your fuck-drunk head. You couldn’t feel anything other than your walls clenching around his cock, couldn’t hear anything other than your desperate whines.

“F-fuckin’ come for me, you fuckin’ scoundrel,” you growled, voice shaking as you continued to ride the crest of your climax. You drunkenly smiled when you heard a low groan and whined when the head of his cock kissed something deep within you, leaving its mark on you forever, guaranteeing you’d never feel this good ever again.

“Fuckin’ God—darlin’, I could bury m’self in your delicious cunt forever—fuck!”

The brown-eyed man gave your spent hole one final, cruel thrust. He pulled out of you with a groan, and you hissed at the feel of him leaving you; he left you raw and empty and gaping. You quickly forgave him when you heard the squelch of his fist jerking himself to completion with your juices. You smiled and sighed as he covered your ass in hot ropes of his seed, reveling in how fucking needy he sounded when he reached his peak. He sucked in air through his teeth, slowly loosening his grip on your hip. You jumped when he slapped your ass, shaking your head when he smugly chuckled.

You scooted forward and dropped your aching legs to the mattress with a groan. You didn’t care about the cum he left behind; right now, you needed to catch your breath after the divine beating he’d just given your pussy. The floor creaked under his boots as he started rustling around—probably putting that poncho back on—and humming to himself. You jumped when something wet stroked across your painted ass, quieted by a low hush.

“Just cleanin’ up my mess,” he rumbled. “I may be a scoundrel—” he mocked your voice— "but my mama taught me manners.”

You chuckled and turned your head to the side, eyes fluttering open to stare at the wall and your two measly pillows. “You’re a true gentleman.”

He shrugged, then gave the tender spots on your cheeks a soft massage with his fingers and then tapped your hips and helped you roll onto your back. You melted into the mattress with a blissful sigh, not bothering to think too long about how someone so brutal could be so tender.

“I wouldn’ call myself that, darlin’.”

His eyes met yours and you bit your lip. Even though the cloth was covering his face again, you had a hunch that what hid underneath it was handsome. You could see the corners of his eyes gently crease with the whisper of a smile as he stared down at you, running a warm, calloused hand up and down your sweaty skin.

“I’m just as rotten as the rest of ‘em.”

The next day, the owner was with you, standing behind the bar all the way down on your left and chatting with an old regular. Mr. Daniels was middle-aged, stout and balding, with skin as leathery as a saddlebag and always dressed in a white shirt. He was constantly mentioning his wife and daughters and boasted about them to anyone who would listen; he seemed to extend that fatherly protection your way sometimes. He was a kind enough man—letting you live in the attic above the saloon for free, paying you a decent wage—and you had no complaints.

You weren’t surprised to see the brown-eyed man slamming into the saloon the next day, the patrons a little less rattled by his presence than they were yesterday. When he stomped over to where you stood, Mr. Daniels gave you a quick glance, and you responded with a smile and tilt of your head—I’m alright.

“What’ll it be, sir?” you asked.

You could feel your sore hole throb when he looked up at you under that wide-brimmed hat, a ray of sun lighting up his golden skin and making his chestnut eyes glow. He leaned against the bar, resting a bent arm on it. Relaxed and certain of his place in the small saloon, not a hint of fear in his posture.

“I think you already know, darlin’.”

He winked at you, and you felt heat rush to your cheeks. You turned and grabbed the whiskey you’d poured him yesterday with a nod. His eyes looked you up and down as you grabbed a glass and poured out his drink with a coy smile on your face.

He handed you money for the drink and said, “Thanks, darlin’. Keep the change.”

You smiled. “You’re too kind, sir.”

He tipped his hat. You walked over to the register, entered the sale, and dropped the change into your jar. As you moved back to where you’d been standing, the man straightened and walked down the bar to where Mr. Daniels and the old man were talking. You watched as he pulled a scroll of yellowed parchment out from under his poncho and spread it on the dark wood counter. Out of curiosity, you took a few small steps in that direction, acting busy with organizing the liquor shelves.

“You seen this man?” he inquired.

“No, ‘fraid not,” the old man replied with a smack of his lips.

You turned around and picked up a glass and a cloth, drying it and looking around the saloon. At table in the far corner, two men sat playing cards, smoke curling out of their mouths, the brims of their hats tipped down and hiding their faces from prying eyes. A few other tables were scattered around the small saloon, more hatted men nursing their drinks at them. Their soft chatter filled the air and was speckled with the occasional sounds of a horse trotting down the road. It was a slow afternoon, but you didn’t mind if it meant you kept yourself occupied with eavesdropping.

“And you?”

“Can’t say I have,” Mr. Daniels responded.

The man hummed and started to roll the yellowed paper up. You squinted, trying to see what was printed on it. You swallowed when you read the word “WANTED” in big black letters before he rolled the edge back up. The man leaned back and shoved it back under the poncho, nodding. He knocked the rest of his drink back and set the glass on the bar top and turned to look at you with narrowed eyes before pushing it down your way. Something vicious lurked within those brown eyes, keeping itself hidden under the brim of his hat and only revealed now that the afternoon sun didn’t reach them.

You extended your arm to reach and pick the glass up, immediately bending over and dunking it in the bucket of soapy water at your feet. You bit your cheek, ashamed that you felt heat pulse between your legs at his darkened stare. Being the target of his gaze was either thrilling or terrifying; right now, you weren’t sure what it was for you. It made you wonder how he had looked at you while he was ramming his cock into you. Ultimately, whatever his gaze was didn’t matter if it made you burn just from the thought of it.

The sound of someone cursing and a stool being pushed across the floor made you snap up to stand again; your eyes widened when you saw the man’s fist wrapped in the fabric of Mr. Daniels’ shirt, pulling him against the bar with only one arm. The old man was standing back a few feet away on the poncho-clad man’s right, his long gray eyebrows knitted together.

“You sure?” He growled.

The cantina had gone silent, all eyes focused on the man and his hold on Mr. Daniels. You were staring too, your heart racing in your chest and threatening to break your ribs.

“Even if I did,” Mr. Daniels said through gritted teeth, “I wouldn’t know where to find him.”

He glanced over at you, eyes lingering before meeting the man’s stare again.

The man tilted his head. “You wouldn’t know?”

Mr. Daniels shook his head again. “I told you, I just wouldn’t—” his eyes landed on you— “know where—” back to the man—“to look.”

You took a step back when Mr. Daniels looked at you one last time, then back at the man. His brow was set, but you glanced down and saw his hand shaking below the bar. The man let go of him with a push and conversation in the saloon resumed as he started to stalk towards you. His dark eyes were stormy as he set his sights on you and squinted, the spurs on his boots jingling menacingly with each step. You braced yourself for impact; muscles tensing, heart racing, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, fingers curling into your palms and nails digging in.

The collision never came. His poncho swept past you and he came to stand at one of the two small square windows at the front of the saloon. You doubted he could see much with how dirty the glass was; the sun must’ve scorched the dust and grime into the aged panes before you’d even blown into town. Frankly, you were relieved that you weren’t on the receiving end of his threatening, squinting stare.

However, you couldn’t deny the way something in your gut fluttered when you thought you’d be the one pulled against the bar by his leather-rough hands, his fingers catching the low neckline of your blouse and skimming over your hot skin, your shallow pants gently waving his bandana. But you reckoned that the haunting flutters were probably just lusty leftovers from your tryst the other night.

He looked over his shoulder at you, still squinting and heavy with frustration. Your lips parted when he held your wide eyes with his stare, the flutters growing into a rumble and shaking you from within. Or maybe that sensation was just his heavy footfalls across the floor echoing under your skin as he turned to the left and stomped out the doors. You watched him with eager eyes as he walked to the inn across the street, beige dust kicked up with every sinister step. Before he unleashed his storm on the inn, he turned over his shoulder to look at the saloon.

You squinted, moving closer to peer out of the windows. No, he wasn’t looking at the weather-worn building—he had his burning gaze focused on you.

With a tip of his hat, he slid inside, and you leaned back. You placed a hand on your chest and felt your heart beating hard and fast underneath it.

Mr. Daniels clicked his tongue, announcing his arrival at your side. You looked back at him, the man’s stare set on the inn.

“Some fuckin’ fella,” he grumbled, ivory face red with anger.

You nodded slowly and walked back to the soap water bucket, picking up the forgotten whiskey glass and shaking it off before drying it with a rag. You pursed your lips and tried to forget how his suntanned hands had dwarfed the glass, and tried to wipe away the memory of them digging into the meat of your thighs as he slurped up your juices with a deep moan. Despite your best efforts, they didn’t fade away, and neither did a smudge on the glass.

Everything in this town was filthy, you figured, shoving the glass to the very back of the cupboard so it could be forgotten. Even the drifters that passed through were coated in grime.

The brown-eyed man was lucky your boss needed business, because the look Mr. Daniels gave him when he walked into the saloon the next evening could scorch anything within ten miles. He skulked through the doors at dusk, eyeing up the loud crowd before making a path to where you stood pouring out four shots of whiskey. Of course you’d instantly noticed him—you’d felt the air become charged as if it were about to storm as soon as he’d arrived. The men you served paid you with paper bills and winks, knocking back the shots as you walked over to where the man stood. Without a word, you turned and grabbed a glass; you didn’t need to ask what he or any other man in a hat wanted to drink tonight. As you avoided his eyes, he stared you down. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a golden hand already pushing coins and a paper bill your way as the amber liquid gurgled into the glass.

You finished and gave him a practiced smile, scooping the money into your hand as he told you to keep the change yet again. The bottle was nearly empty, but you still placed it back on the shelf before walking to the register. You avoided looking in his direction at all costs; the most you allowed yourself to see was the brim of his hat and the poncho fabric that fell over his left arm. Instead, you gave your best performance to the other patrons—chatting with the town regulars and smiling at the men passing through—and got caught up in the large crowd, the early purple of the night still settling over town.

You heard a few raps on the wood above the chatter and lively piano. When you looked up at the man, you choked on your breath.

“Long time, no see, sweet thing,” he drawled, a cigarillo in the corner of his leering mouth. Blue eyes pierced you and his fair cheeks were tinted with a whiskey-induced blush.

You cleared your throat, smoothing your plain black skirt. “Can I get you somethin’?”

“Other than your ass in my bed? Whiskey.”

You brushed off the lewd remark, thankful there was a clean glass and whiskey on the bartender’s counter you’d must’ve forgotten to put back earlier. John, your old beau, kept his icy gaze fixed on you and puffed smoke to the side. Blond hair coated his head underneath the beige high-crowned hat, and you fought back a wince at remembering the times you shared with him. You told him the cost and he made a slow show of placing the money in your waiting hand, pressing his palm against your fingers and closing them around the money. You guessed you did a poor job of hiding a shudder, because he gave you a mirthful chuckle.

“What, sugar? You missin’ the way I’d fuck ya?”

You didn’t acknowledge his vulgar comment. You’d never been spoken to like that, even from the drunkest of men. It was just understood that men didn’t curse in conversation with ladies; even the gnarliest and dirtiest of them knew that. You could smell the liquor on John’s breath and had no interest in indulging his drunken idiocy. Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek, shoved the money in your waist apron’s pocket, turned to the left and walked a few steps down the bar, plastering a smile on your face as you greeted a new patron. The brown-eyed man still stood where you’d served him, and you caught him pulling the cloth covering his face back with pinched fingers as his other hand lifted his almost-empty glass.

After you’d finished serving a gray-mustached man, thanking him for the tip as he walked away, your red-faced old flame slapped his palms against the wood and leaned into your space, blue eyes hazy.

“I was talkin’ to you,” he hissed. “An’ I ain’t done yet.”

Your heart sped up and you gulped, your mouth dry and body cold. He’d only been like this with you once before—when you’d ended things with him back in your old town the day before you left. It was a cruel twist of fate that he happened to be passing through your new town a few years later. He obviously hadn’t forgotten about you, much to your dismay.

“Is there a problem here?”

The brown-eyed man was looming behind John, his eyes narrowed. You hadn’t even noticed him move; he was like a shadow. John turned his head over his shoulder, keeping his hands planted on the counter as he eyed the man up. He scoffed and curled his fingers under his palms.

“Ain’t your business, saddle bum,” he snarled.

The man slowly stepped forward and came to stand in front of John, sweeping the front of his poncho over his right shoulder. Your eyes widened when you saw his chestnut-colored leather belt, the holster heavy with a pistol.

“It is now.”

John’s head swiveled back to you, his face smug and eyes cloudy. “I don’ remember talkin’ ‘bout this fella. Do you, sugar?”

You didn’t respond, opting to look over his shoulder and watch as the man turned John around by his shoulder. He pushed John against the edge of the counter, chestnut eyes fiery. From where you stood, it was hard to tell if he was using more force now than he had yesterday with Mr. Daniels; your gut told you he was. Something was different tonight, and it wasn’t the whiskey.

“Keep talkin’ and see what happens,” the man threatened, his voice low.

John laughed and shook his head. “What, did’ya have this soiled dove?” he asked loudly, drawing the attention of those who hadn’t noticed the stranger’s physical threat.

The derogatory term made you gasp and take a step back, your skin hot under your off-shoulder blouse. The man’s eyes flicked over to you for only a second before squinting at John again. He shook his head, his beige cloth covering shifting slightly with the movement.

“Don’t do it,” the brown-eyed man warned.

You could barely see John toss the butt of his cigarillo on the floor, but you did see his head turn to the right and heard him spit. The people around them had moved back and gone silent, turning their backs to avoid being dragged into a fight that didn’t concern them. You didn’t blame them—you wouldn’t want to be in the path of this desert storm either.

There was a low growl and then the poncho-clad man was dragging John across the floor to the doors, tossing him out of them. There was a heavy thud when his body hit the ground, and you watched the man push the doors open and tilt his head down to look at the ground, presumably where the drunkard still sat. His hands gripped the tops of the doors, his stance wide and menacing. He shook his head, and you fought your better judgment, running to the end of the bar at the windows and then pushing through the patrons. They let you pass and then you were standing behind the cowboy at the doors, your blood cold but skin hot at the same time.

Night had fallen, and the two yellow lanterns mounted outside the saloon cast a weak glow on the porch. John was scrambling to his feet and backing away, abandoning his hat and stumbling down the two wooden steps, almost falling on the dirt road. The man looked back at you; the side of his face visible to you darkened from the lack of light. You could only see the whites of his eyes; for once, he wasn’t squinting. Your breaths were shallow, and you pulled at your fingers.

“This bum bothering you, ma’am?” His voice was softer now, the edges smoothed, so unlike the threatening tones you’d heard only moments prior.

You swallowed thickly, but you caught John starting to rush at the stranger and you shouted, “Look out!” instead.

He wasted no time, immediately taking a step forward out of the doorway and planting his back foot before throwing a punch, his fist connecting with the bone of John’s nose. A sickening crack elicited a cry from you and a few of the other saloon girls that had seen or heard it. John dropped to the wooden porch again with a howl.

You cautiously pushed the doors open and let them hit you on your way out. A sick pleasure filled your chest when the man kicked John down to the dirt road, his spurs jingling.

“Go to the inn and leave her alone,” he enunciated. “I’m not gonna tell you again.”

His voice and words were clearer than you’d ever heard them before. A part of you thought you heard something protective underscoring his firm warning, but it was just a delusion. It had absolutely nothing to do with you; the man clearly just didn’t want to have a scrap with John. It wasn’t because he couldn’t do it—he was obviously capable if he was a bounty hunter—but because he didn’t want to waste his time with it.

There was a dark, sardonic laugh. “Oh, she got you real good, didn’ she?”

You stiffened, covering your quivering lips with a hand, and the pair of brown eyes met your wide ones. His targeted vulgarity was starting to get to you, and it was becoming hard to hide. You felt embarrassed to be tearing up in front of the mysterious man, but you heard a sharp exhale as his eyes searched yours, the blast of air disturbing the cloth on his face. It was as if he was looking at you for permission, awaiting your orders and at your command—your own personal soldier, a bounty hunter tied only to you and the open land ahead of him.

“I don’ blame ya,” John sneered. “Best whore I ever had.”

Silence fell across the crowd; any lingering conversations had gone cold after that. You choked back a cry, your eyes flitting between John rising to his feet and the hunter in front of you. You noticed his fists clench before he finally took his eyes off you and stormed down into the street. He cut off the drunken cackles that filled the air with a swift punch, and you could barely see his knuckles connect with John’s jaw. He stayed upright this time and tried to swing at the man, but John’s sloppy form left him open to a punch in the gut that knocked him a foot backward. You stepped further out onto the porch, the sun-bleached wood creaking underneath your feet as you watched the stranger give John another kick before bending over to yank him up by the collar with both of his hands.

“You say one more goddamn word and I’m sendin’ you into that desert and tossin’ your canteen,” he seethed between gritted teeth.

John’s eyes landed on you, and he laughed. “That slut ain’ wor—”

He was cut off with a growl and a punch, falling to the ground. John was limp and unresponsive when the stranger nudged him with the toe of his boot. The man spat on him, then turned around to face the stunned crowd. Tears were streaming down your face, both of your hands over your nose and mouth.

“Which horse is his?” he asked, his voice deep and loud.

Only a few seconds later, he nodded; someone must’ve pointed it out. You watched him stalk over to a brown horse on his right, rifling through John’s belongings and pocketing cash and valuables he found. The man found his canteen and tossed it to the ground, then walked back over to John and dragged him to the horse. He heaved John up on his shoulder and tossed him over the saddle, then took the reins off the horse to loosely tie John’s feet together and then lead it under the horse’s belly to bind his hands together, making sure to keep the makeshift restraint taut. Finally, he led the horse to the right and out of sight; there was a shout and a whinny, then the frantic sound of hoofbeats as the horse galloped away.

The man came back into view as he approached the saloon again. The only sound filling the nighttime air was the jangling of his spurs and your sniffs as you calmed down. He made his way up to the porch, standing in front of you, his poncho still over his shoulder and revealing his brown leather vest and faded denim shirt. His eyes looked you over, lingering on your wet cheeks.

He had just sent a drunk, unconscious man into the desert without water on a spooked horse at night. It was one of the cruelest things a man could do. And yet, here he was, his eyes soft under a furrowed brow. The yellow lamplight showed that the storms in his eyes had settled, but his forehead would bear the evidence of it in deepened lines.

“You alright, darlin’?”

The term of endearment didn’t make you squirm. Coupled with the gentle, low rumble of his voice, it made you feel…comfortable. “Comfortable” certainly wasn’t something you should feel around a man like him, and yet, you found yourself wanting to fall into his chest and let his arms support you and his warm hands sink into your flesh.

But all you could do right now was nod and wipe the backs of your hands over your wet cheeks. You gave him a weak smile. “I’m rattled, but I’ll live.”

You paused, looking down and then meeting his strangely soft eyes again. You wished you could see the rest of his face and not just imagine it based on how it had felt between your legs.

“Thanks,” you said meekly. You shakily exhaled and repeated yourself. “Thank you, Brown Eyes.”

You swore you saw a smile creasing the corners of his eyes at the nickname. He waved off your thanks, tipped the black brim of his hat, and turned around to walk over to the inn. The shadow slunk back into the night.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your boss yelled and dispersed the crowd, then called your name. Mr. Daniels stood in front of you, his face worried as he looked you over, thick fingers gripping your biceps. The concerned and protective father inside of him was taking over, and you found it to be quite comforting and nice; you never complained when he treated you like one of his daughters. He asked you a dozen questions at once but trailed off after noticing your voice waver and bottom lip quiver. Mr. Daniels guided you to the stairs in the back of the saloon and told you to take the rest of the night off despite your protests—he’d hear none of it.

All you could think of as you lay in bed curled up under your thin blankets was the mysterious, brown-eyed stranger. How could a man so violent have such kind eyes? It just wasn’t fair, you thought to yourself as your eyes fluttered close and you drifted to sleep, the lively chatter of the saloon below a background to the memories of the stranger’s dulcet voice.

You thought that would be the last of Brown Eyes. You thought he’d be gone without a trace, a shadow haunting conversations for a while, another dusty drifter wandering the desert as if he were Moses. Just another man as wild as the terrain he traversed. You hadn’t expected to see him again unless it was in your dreams. He’d kick up dust there, then vanish with it when you opened your eyes.

You really, truly thought his stunt last night would be the last one he performed in this town, and part of you wished it had been when he threw his shadow into the saloon the next afternoon, the sun at his back.

He leisurely strolled over to a table nestled in the back-right corner of the saloon. Three men sitting around its circular wood top playing cards. The jangle of his spurs accompanying each cocksure step of his boots alerted them to his approach, the decorative threads on the edge of his poncho fluttering gently. Finally, Brown Eyes stood with his back to you at the right side of one of the men, his black hat tilting slightly to look down at him. The other two men leaned forward and glanced at each other.

You took a few steps to the right and angled your head a bit to see what was going on. You caught the two men slowly placing their cards on the table and trailing their hands to the edge of the circular table. The man looking up at Brown Eyes was red in the face and spoke quietly enough for his words to slip underneath other conversations in the saloon and go undetected by your ears. Your eyebrows knitted together as you watched the interaction from afar, then raised when the cowboy’s poncho flew over his shoulder.

“Christ almighty,” you murmured as his hand twitched at his thigh.

You looked over to the left at Mr. Daniels, and he gave you a sideways glance. He and the regular in front of him were focused on the altercation; a few of the patrons in the bustling afternoon crowd had noticed as well. Despite the attention, you knew that nobody would intervene. This wasn’t anyone’s business except for the men in the corner.

As you watched one of the seated men reach for his pistol, you swore under your breath. Out of instinct, you dropped to your feet, crouching behind the bar just as the sound of gunshots pierced the air. The sharp blasts made you cover your ears, and then they suddenly stopped. Instead, a wounded groan filled the air, then the crack of a fist against bone and the thump of a body hitting the wooden floor to punctuate the statement. There was a curt jingle of spurs and an oof, signals of a sharp kick.

“Alive or dead, your choice,” a familiar gravelly voice stated.

It was flat and indifferent, so unlike the man who had come to your aid and who had cleaned you up after ruining you with the relentless thrusts of his hips. Yes, he’d been violent last night, but there was something gentle in his eyes hidden within their storm clouds. It almost made your heart ache, but then you remembered what he’d done to Mr. Daniels and how he’d sentenced a man to death without a second thought. You remembered who Brown Eyes was at his core, and the warm ache in your chest withered away.

“You son of a bitch!” A man yelled. “I’ll fuckin’ strangle you!”

A mirthful chuckle. “I’d like to see you try.”

There was shuffling, a shout, a gunshot, then silence. The bounty killer had won again.

When your boss stood, you followed suit, your heart racing. You knew that the customers you served weren’t all honest people with honest jobs. Hell, it was naïve to think that about anyone you met out on the frontier. You’d just never experienced a gunfight inside the saloon. You’d seen a few unfold on the dusty main road splitting the town in half, but no bullets had ever blown holes through the saloon’s grimy windows; the sharp smell of gunpowder had never tainted its air. You took a few deep breaths and tried to steady your shaking hands. Even after all these years out west, you still had wild experiences waiting to shock you.

Brown Eyes holstered his revolver with a flourish, then walked to the bar.

“Here, for the trouble.” He placed a few bills and some coins down in front of a glaring Mr. Daniels, then tipped his hat at you. “Apologies, miss.”

He walked back over to the dead man then crouched down and lifted the body over his left shoulder. You heard him mumble under his breath and turn towards the doors to leave. You caught his eyes and swallowed when you saw how dark they were under his hat’s black brim. He silently left the saloon, the doors swinging and clacking behind him. All that remained were two dead men splayed out in their chairs, arms out and hats tipped back.

You looked at Mr. Daniels. He shook his head and sighed.

“And that, my dear, is why God destined some men to be carpenters.”

He wiped off his hands with a frayed cloth and tossed it on the counter. Mr. Daniels shuffled behind you and down the bar with a huff as the patrons’ chatter began again. He quickly walked to the saloon doors and gave them a sharp push, stepping into the hot afternoon sun.

“’M leavin’ at dawn t’morrow,” Brown Eyes said into your cunt.

A hot lick of his tongue made your hips buck. He swiped it side to side over your clit as he planted his hands on your hips and forced them into the mattress. You clawed at the sheets underneath you, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Another obscene slurp and moan from the bounty hunter sent you reeling and added to the growing tension in your belly. You forced yourself up to recline on your forearms, looking down at the hatless man hungrily eating you out as if it were his first meal in weeks.

You choked out a breath when the tip of his tongue swirled itself around your hole and then pushed inside of it. Lusty eyes met yours, and you felt his lips curl into a smile against your spit and slick-drenched center. He held your gaze and sucked on the hardened nub, squeezing the meat of your hips when you moaned.

“You like that, darlin’?” he asked, gently sucking again and chuckling at your gasp.

You nodded emphatically. “Fuck, yes, I do, Brown Eyes,” you panted, the muscles in your gut tightening when he groaned at the nickname, your legs starting to tense. “I really, really do.”

When you closed your eyes and let your head fall back with a whine, he shook his head and nipped at the sensitive bud, making you jump and look back down at him. He was staring up at you, something menacing in his eyes. It made your walls flutter, it thrilled you, it made your heart race even more. He was reminding you that even though he was serving you, he was still in control—he was always in control, no matter where he was.

He licked a slow, broad stripe up your cunt, then pulled back. You groaned in frustration at the cruel loss of contact, the heat and tension within you backing away from the glorious peak he’d gotten so close to pushing them over.

“You’re so mean,” you whined.

You heard him suck in a breath between his teeth. “You’re breakin’ my heart, baby.”

His room at the inn had a few lamps to combat the dark desert night, but only one was lit. The lamp on the bedside table to his right cast a little light on him, but the curve of your thigh and the bend of your knee had shrouded him in black shadows while he knelt on the floor and ravished you with his tongue. Now that your legs had dropped to rest and bend over the edge of the mattress, you could see the corners of his brown eyes creased with a smile that he hid behind your dripping cunt. He dipped one thick finger inside of you and snickered when you gasped and startled. Your pussy was still throbbing and aching for release, and it wouldn’t stop until he pushed you over that heavenly edge.

Warm hands massaged your flesh and trailed down to grip the underside of your thighs. His fingers dug in and lifted them a little bit so he could turn his head and press wet kisses on your inner thighs. You felt the ridge of his nose as his lips worked. Delicate eyelashes fluttered against tan cheeks. Brown Eyes gave you one last kiss and a playful nip that made you giggle.

“See, darlin’?” he murmured into your sensitive skin, opening his eyes again. “I can be nice.”

When you raised your eyebrow, he dramatically rolled his eyes. He turned around and stood up with a grunt that made you bite back a chuckle. Yellow light flickered on his bare back and revealed a few scarred splotches; you’d convinced him to take off his shirt and vest earlier, and now it was time for the rest. You swung up to sit on your knees as Brown Eyes hummed and took off his dark denim pants and underdrawers in one motion.

He walked over to the chair next to a short dresser beside the door, meticulously folding the clothing and setting it underneath his folded shirt. His poncho and vest were draped over the back of the tiny chair, his hat resting on top of the shirt, a beige cloth peeking out beneath it. Dusty brown boots waited on the floor. The brown leather holster weighed down the poncho. A rifle leaned against the dresser—“A Winchester 73, m’favorite”—to finish the cowboy’s closet.

Brown Eyes cleared his throat and ran a large hand over the back of his head, fingers teasing his soft brown curls. He turned around to face you, striding over, his thick cock hard and bouncing with each step. It nearly distracted you from his face—his bare face, the handsome one he’d been hiding all this time.

He lifted your chin with two fingers and you nearly melted into the mattress. Your eyes wandered all over his features, greedy for every detail. You were finally seeing the curved nose you’d felt against your thighs and folds. A neat mustache lay above the pink lips that had brought you to shambles. Scruff lined the jaw you’d stolen a look at a few days ago and crept up his cheeks. You noticed a bare patch in the scruff to the right of his chin, and your eyes traced the thin canyons on his forehead left behind from years of erosion and desert sun.

“My mama told me it’s rude to stare,” Brown Eyes chastised, the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit.

“I didn’t think it was rude to stare at art,” you quipped back, leaning forward a bit more when he brushed his thumb over your lips and massaged one of your breasts in his hand.

Your heart sped up when he bent down, his face only inches from yours. You could feel his steady exhales heat the air you inhaled through parted lips, his handsome face stealing every bit of sense from your head and making you weak.

He clicked his tongue. “She also told me lyin’ is bad.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “Why would I lie to someone like you? I’ve seen what happens. I’ve seen what you can do, Brown Eyes.”

You trailed off, biting your lip when he sharply inhaled. Damn, he sure loved when you called him that. He hooked his thumb into the corner of your mouth, his lust-blown eyes watching it as he swept it across your lower lip and your cunt ached with want.

“You’re right, darlin’,” he acquiesced. “Didn’ take you for the lyin’ type anyway.”

He gave you a soft smile you didn’t think bounty killers were capable of and you simpered. Brown Eyes pinched your chin before sitting next to you and laying back, pumping his cock in his fist. You adjusted yourself so you could trail your hands across his hot skin, explore its ridges and softness, soak in its warmth. Your hands graced across it until they cupped his jaw, startling him with a sensation he probably hadn’t experienced in years.

You bent down with half-lidded eyes and gently parted lips. Chestnut eyes locked with yours right before you crashed your lips into his and let one of your hands reach and grasp his cock. The interruption made him moan into your mouth, the sound desperate and low in his throat. You shared a whine with Brown Eyes when his right hand forced itself between your thighs and shuddered when his fingertips stroked up and down the seam of your folds. He smiled against your lips when you began rolling your hips to steal more of his scalding touch.

He pulled back from your lips and whispered, “You wanna go for a ride, darlin’?”

You bit your lip and nodded. Brown Eyes grinned at you—this man was full of surprises tonight—and turned himself to lay in the center of the mattress. You moved and knelt between his slightly spread legs, your feet touching the wooden footboard as you stared down at him. He was biting his lip and let them part when you massaged your tits before bending over, making sure to arch your back, your lips hovering near the fat head of his cock. You looked back up at him coquettishly—you were in control now, teasing him with hot exhales and smiling after he gave you a few needy groans.

When you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, you felt him tug the sheets with a hiss. A lick from the base to the tip made him swear; he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine. You planted your hands on his hips and held his gaze for a few more seconds before closing your eyes and wrapping your lips around him, slowly bobbing up and down, working lower and lower as you went. Your brow furrowed, spit starting to dribble down your chin, and you opened your eyes just in time to see him throw his head back and curse.

“Fuck, baby, god damn,” Brown Eyes rasped, groaning when you pressed your tongue against him as you slid back up again before twisting your head back down, just over halfway down his throbbing length.

He choked when you took every inch of him, your spit-covered lips pressing against the curls at the base. You could only hold it for a moment—his girth and length pushed you to the limit—and then you bobbed back up and swirled your tongue around the bulging head before releasing him from your mouth with a wet pop. He looked down at you as you licked up a few beads of liquid leaking from his cock, wrapping a hand around his shaft before sucking him back into your mouth, wildly working your tongue around the head as you stroked. Your pussy throbbed when he whined, one of his hands coming to clasp your forearm as you snaked your free hand up his torso, splaying your fingers out for stability.

He’d grown even harder somehow, and your hand trailed down to give his balls a quick, light squeeze, eliciting an even louder whine; you hoped that nobody occupied the room next to his. Your hand went back to work his shaft, but he tugged your forearm and his other hand held your cheek. You looked up at him and slowly let his cock fall out of your mouth, watching his eyes scrunch closed and eyebrows knit together, his plush pink lips falling open. His chestnut eyes opened again as you straddled his torso, your ass bumping against the leaking length, making him hiss and smile.

“Baby, if you kept that up, I would’a come down your throat.” He panted and shook his head. “But I wanna see you painted in it.”

You giggled when his large palms clapped on your cheeks, grabbing the meat of them and spreading them.

“Go ‘head, darlin’,” he urged. “Ride this cowboy’s cock.”

“Don’ have to tell me twice,” you chuckled, giving him a kiss before sitting back on your knees.

You started to slowly lower yourself onto his cock, lips parting as his fat head notched inside of your slick and needy hole, already splitting you open. His hands traveled up the curve of your ass and over your hips to rest on your thighs, low groans coaxing you further down. You planted your hands next to his ears and stared into his eyes as you slammed your ass against him, hissing as he filled you to the brim. His eyes squeezed shut and he whined, hands moving back to your ass.

“You take me so well, darlin’, fuck,” he growled. His eyes bore deep into yours, and he gently squeezed your cheeks. “Now, c’mon, baby girl. Move those gorgeous hips.”

You slowly rolled your hips back a few times, feeling your ass shake and letting your cunt adjust to his size. When you started to speed up, the man nodded and grunted along with your pants. The tension inside of you had returned with a vengeance, your walls already fluttering after only a few minutes of riding him. You picked up the pace and added another movement, sliding up and down, hammering back down with a filthy, wet sound. You threw your head back and shifted to rest on your knees, sinking down to the base and holding his gaze as he groaned. You began massaging your breasts and circled your hips, remaining fully seated on his cock.

“F-fuck, feels amazing, Brown Eyes,” you moaned, your index and middle fingers landing on your clit and rubbing small circles around it.

You lifted your head to look at him when he swatted your fingers away. Brown Eyes gave you a sly smile. “Allow me, darlin’. You keep on ridin’, and don’ stop ‘til I say so.”

You nodded and then moaned when he pressed his thumb against the sensitive nub. You fell forward and planted your hands next to his ears again, your face twisted in ecstasy as he pushed you to the peak he’d denied you earlier. You kept pounding your ass back, picking up the pace when his pants began to grow louder, riding towards his own climax along with you.

“Oh, fuck—fuck—Brown Eyes, I’m gonna come,” you gasped, something white hot threatening to scorch you from the inside out.

“Do it, darlin’, come for me,” he growled, his thumb working your clit frantically as the roll of your hips became erratic. “Clench my cock, soak me—”

You cut off his encouragement with a cry of pleasure, your entire body shaking and burning, your cunt pulsing around him and drenching him in your juices. You slumped forward to rest on your forearms, and he went to work, thrusting his hips up into you, grunting and growling into your ear. You stared at him, your head heavy as you basked in the afterglow of your white-hot climax. When you sloppily kissed his lips, spit still wet on your chin, Brown Eyes growled and pushed you onto your back, bending your sweaty legs and forcing your knees towards your ears as much as they could. You whimpered when he fucked into you with feral grunts and growls, your slick-coated walls letting the head of him push deep inside of you. The force was pushing you towards the footboard, and he placed his large hand on the top of your head to shield you from it and hold you in place for his cock.

“Fuck—your pussy feels fuckin’ incredible,” he opened his eyes, and there was a familiar dark storm brewing in them, his pupils blown as he gritted his teeth and increased his pace.

“Come on me,” you whispered, still drunk with pleasure, eyes brimming with tears from his brutal strokes. You reached your hand up and cupped his jaw with pleading eyes.

Your touch sent him over the edge, and he pulled out of you with a moan. You let your arms fall back and bend behind your head, watching him give his cock one final pump before thick ropes of his spend painted your body. You closed your eyes and smiled listening to his choked moans, then opened them again to see his head thrown back and cock throbbing as his body started to come down from his climax.

Brown Eyes stared back down at you and smiled, eyes trailing up your torso from your hips to your breasts. You blissfully sighed and smiled, and he flopped down at your right side with a huff. You looked over at him, his head propped up on his hand, his handsome face and body masked by a little darkness with the light behind his back.

“You look mighty lovely covered in my come, darlin’.” He gave you a gentle kiss and smiled against your lips. “Prettiest thing I ever seen.”

“Surely I can’t be prettier than a bunch of money in your hand for a bounty,” you half-teased.

He pulled back and furrowed his brow, shaking his head. Your eyes fluttered close when his hand cupped your cheek—it was trembling against your skin—and you leaned into his warm touch.

“Darlin’,” he said sternly. You opened your eyes to meet his again, the storm in them suddenly gone. “Didn’ I tell you my first day here that I’d found somethin’ better than money?”

You furrowed your brow. “I..I think so,” you responded hesitantly.

“I know I did, darlin’,” he confirmed, brushing his thumb across the apple of your cheek. “An’ didn’ I tell ya I’m not a liar?” You nodded and he pressed a kiss against your sweaty forehead, then pulled back and murmured, “You’re lovelier than any sunset I ever seen.”

The compliment made you shyly smile and giggle, but it quickly faded as you stared into his eyes. A question weighed on your chest, and you worried your lip between your teeth. You’d covered it up and hid it, and now you couldn’t hold it back any longer—especially since he was leaving town tomorrow.

“Brown Eyes, will you ever come back?” you asked meekly. You quickly added, “Here, I mean. To the town. Not to me.” Your skin warmed with embarrassment.

He hesitated, glancing at the sheets before looking back into your eyes. “Well, you want me to?”

Did you really want him to, even after all he’d done since he stormed into town and held it—and you—captive in his fury? The man with a revolver on his hip and a Winchester 73 and a belt of bullets? The one who’d sent John to his death, who’d threatened Mr. Daniels, who’d killed three men without blinking? Did you really want the bounty killer to return and shroud you in his stormy shadow again?

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I want that.”

He smiled against your lips as he kissed you, and you wondered if he ever smiled after killing a bounty as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

masterlist a/n: whew! thank you for reading all of this! it really ran away from me. please let me know what you think with comments and reblogs !!

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

Text

Plead the Fifth

Summary: A little white lie lands you in hot water with your husband. Andy Barber x Black!Reader

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Cursing, Spanking, Light Fingering, Light Smut, Spiders, Marital Threats, Minors DNI

A/N: This is one of the stories I wrote in treatment. I hope you enjoy. Part of my Growing Pains Series. I look forward to everyone's feedback if you feel like giving it. All mistakes are my own.

___

You’re in the middle of moving clothes from the washer to the dryer when you feel two brawny arms wrap themselves around your waist. God, your husband always smelled so good. Smiling, you pause your work so you can relax and rest your head against his chest.

“Well hello there, Mr. Barber.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Barber.” He whispers, his warm breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“You missed bedtime. I had to promise the kiddos that you’d read them two books each tomorrow to make up for not being able to tuck them in tonight. And trust me when I say that our little monsters are gonna hold you to it.” Turning yourself in his arms, you go to place your hands on his broad shoulders.

“Good deal.” Andy responds as he leans down to sweetly peck your mouth, which only serves to make you pout. You wanted more from your man, needed it even.

“Hey!” You playfully tug on the front of his shirt. “Gimme more kisses, damn it.” Instead of doing as you ask, his thumb goes to caress your lower lip.

“In a moment, baby. But first I need to know something.” His big hand moves to cup your cheek. You close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Was it worth it?”

“Was what worth it, Big Man?”

“Lying to me.” Your eyes fly open at his words.

“Whaa –? I didn’t lie to you!”

“Oh yeah?” You suddenly find yourself pinned against a nearby wall. “Then how about you go and grab the receipt from Monday’s visit to the dealership. You know, the one with a detailed printout of all the maintenance performed on your car. I’ll wait right here for you, sweetheart.”

You stare him down as your mind works overtime to conjure up some kind of plausible excuse to buy yourself some time. “Um, I’m not really sure what I did with it, but I bet I can call and have them, like, email me a copy or something…”

“Really, baby girl? Another lie?” Andy asks through narrowed eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly. “Look, I know it’s been a while, but you can’t have forgotten the consequences for lying to Daddy like this.” His sharp teeth go to nip at your pulse point as a hand trails its way down your spine to grab a healthy chunk of your ass.

Aww shit.

“So let’s try this again, shall we? Or do I need to play the voicemail I received from Jared at Newsome Lexus?” His other hand holds up his phone.

Fuck! You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t forgotten to call them back and reschedule your appointment when you’d decided to ditch your responsibilities.

“I plead the fifth.” You mutter.

“I’m afraid pleading the fifth isn’t an option in Andy’s Barber’s court, little girl. Now, either go get the paperwork or tell me the truth. And fair warning, Y/N, I’ve had a long day so the longer you keep this up, the shorter my patience gets.” Your husband gruffly informs you.

“Argh! Fine!” You huff. “I canceled the appointment the other day because I needed some “me time”, okay?” Andy’s blue gaze strays to mouth as the words leave your lips.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” You shove at his chest. He grunts before grabbing your hands and holding them above your head, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes.

“That wasn’t very nice, baby. Now, explain.”

“Oh my God, Andy! I’ll reschedule the appointment, I swear!” You whine. All you wanted to do was finish this load of laundry and maybe watch a movie, preferably with your husband.

Assuming his grumpy ass was amenable to the idea. But with the way he was looking at you know, you were leaning towards probably not.

“You’re damned right you will. Because when I last looked, your check engine light was on, you probably need at least two new tires, and you’re past due for an oil change. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes.” You respond, feeling agitated, which prompts the big man in front of you to raise one impatient brow.

“Yes what, Y/N?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You grumble, knowing full well what was coming next.

“Good girl.” Andy leans down to peck your lips again. “Finish up here and then meet me in my study so that we can finish this conversation. Please don’t keep me waiting.” And with that, he turns and disappears from sight.

Great. You think to yourself. Just fucking great.

Wanting to get the whole thing over with, you hurriedly throw the rest of the clothes in the dryer before following your husband down the hall, pausing once you’re standing outside his door.

“Come on in, Y/N.” He says when he notices you hovering. “Don’t be shy, baby girl. You know how this works with Daddy.”

Yes, you did. After almost fifteen years together you knew exactly how all this worked.

Nodding, you shut the door while Andy moves to pour himself a glass of scotch. And then you turn the lock so as to ensure that you would not be disturbed. Nodding, he takes a sip of his drink before motioning for you to turn and strip.

“I want you naked. After the day I’ve had, I think I deserve to look at a little beauty. Don’t you agree, sweet girl?” You suppress a shiver at his deep baritone.

Giving him your back, you pull off your shirt and sports bra before bending at the waist to bare your ass and slightly quivering pussy to your man’s heated gaze.

“Fucking gorgeous, baby.” Andy rasps, his intoxicating blue eyes unabashedly roving over every inch of your body. “Now c’mere. Come to Daddy.” He takes another sip of his bourbon and pats his lap.

“Can’t we please just skip this part and discuss it?”

“We can discuss this all you want once you’re over my knee. I can’t wait to hear all about my naughty little wife’s trip to the movies.”

You’re just about to get into position when his words register in your brain. “Wait. How did you know that I –”

“That you went to the movies instead of taking the car in for maintenance? I saw the charge when I was reviewing the Discover Card statement.” Your husband winks at you and then proceeds to tug you down so that you’re finally laying across his lap, his hard cock resting firmly against your belly. “What’d you go see?” He asks as one of his large hands begins to caress your curves.

“On the Devil’s Doorstep.” You reply, silently wishing that he would just get on with it.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Your “me time”, I mean. Because you deserved it.”

Huh?

“I know how hard you work, taking care of me and the kids and the house. And then there’s the PTA and soccer practices, the freelancing when you can, and a ton of other shit. I see you, Y/N, and I’m grateful, but I can’t abide by the lying. So, you’re going to count these out for me and then tomorrow you and I are going to drop your car off at the shop. And –”

“But the kids –”

“Baby girl, I wasn’t finished.” Your upturned ass receives a sharp smack. “As I was saying, we’re taking the car to the shop, the kids are going to grandma’s, and when we’re through, you and I are gonna grab a bite to eat followed by a couple’s massage at The Lotus Flower.”

“But I thought I was in trouble?” One of your man’s talented hands slips between your thighs to briefly toy with your pussy. His fingers strum over your aching clit with expert precision, making you squirm.

“Oh, you are. But not because you went to the movies. You’re in trouble because you lied to me about the car. And that’s a big “no no”.” You can’t help but let out a whine when removes his fingers all together. Andy lets out a soft groan as he sucks the wet digits into his mouth. “So, you’re going to count these out for me, all twenty of ‘em. Miss one and I start over, you understand me little girl?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. I – ouch!”

Smack!

Andy’s hard palm comes down hard three times on your unprotected bottom.

“I mean yes, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl for you and count, okay?”

And when you were through here, you were gonna dig out that bag of plastic spiders you’d been saving for Halloween and dump them all over his side of the bed. Your man’s panicked screams wouldn’t take the sting out of your ass, but they would make your soul smile.

“I’m glad. But you know, something is telling me that I might need to go back to spanking you more often, you cheeky little brat. What do you think?” He asks as he gently rubs your heated backside.

Spiders. All of the spiders were coming for Andrew Barber.

“No, thank you, Sir.”

“Alright, well, let’s see how well you take your punishment, hmm?”

Smack!

“Ungh! One!”

Another slap.

“Oooh! Two!” You feel your legs kick out.

One more smack. And then another.

“Three!” Aww fuck! “Four!” You eek out through gritted teeth.

“Ow! Ow! Five!”

“There we go, baby girl. Keep counting nice and loud for me.”

“Shit! Six!” You can feel the tears burning behind your eyes as they threaten to spill over.

Crack! Smack! Slap!

Yep. When this was all said and done, you were going to run to the nearest party supply store and buy every kind of fake spider they had. Then you’d hide them around the house so you could guarantee that your man would have a tiny heart attack everyday for the rest of the month. Fucking heavy handed, overbearing ogre.

Smack!

“Ten!”

Oh, yes. Spiders. All of the spiders were coming for Andrew Barber.

END

411 notes · View notes

kiridarling · 3 years

Text

"𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒."

izuku midoriya | friends older brother!izuku + college student!reader + f!reader + squirting + size kink + more! minors dni! does this count? as dark content?

— 2.4k words

"It's simple: I'll stuff you full with two fingers, but they only do what simon says. Understand?"

“[Y/N?]”

“Uh, hey Izuku!” You smile, grip tightening around the strap to your bag. Izuku fills the doorway, broad shoulders kissing both sides of the frame, and you can’t help but feel minuscule in comparison. “Kota around?”

Izuku shakes his head, peering over his shoulder for a second before returning his attention to you with a click of his tongue. "Uh, no I think he's out with Eri. They should be back soon though...it's been a few hours."

"Shit," you curse under your breath. Your friend's older brother smiles in apology, biceps straining under his white tee.

"You need something?"

"Yeah," you nod, forcing your eyes back onto his, instead of the broad chest presented at eye-level. "Just my precalc book."

Izuku waits a second, thinking, before his palm claps against the doorframe and he's walking deeper into the house. "Come on in, then! I'm sure he won't mind."

You step into the house after him, and it's...weird. Weird being with your Kota's older brother without Kota there, because despite the thousands of times you've been in your best friend's house and as well as you know the greenette, you and Izuku have never been alone.

"Find it?"

You've been rummaging through Kota's room for a solid ten minutes and somehow still empty-handed, moving slowly in fear you'll see something you can't unsee. And hey, with Kota and Eri dating, anything's possible.

"No," you sigh, ready to give up rather than find a strap-on. "It's fine. I can just come to get it tomorrow or something."

"How soon do you need it?" The greenette asks, his forearms leaning against his younger brother's dresser. You take a seat on Kota's comforter instead, silently hoping you'll find your book by accidentally breaking your tailbone against the damn thing; you're a little disappointed when all your ass comes in contact with is a plush mattress.

"Like, tonight," you grieve, knowing that tomorrow morning, your math grade will suffer severely. "'S fine though. There's always another test."

Izuku snorts at that, crossing the room to take a seat next to you. The bed whines under his weight but doesn't collapse, and you feel a little bad to say you're surprised. Voice full of reminiscence, he sighs, "Ah, the college days."

You giggle, "You act like they're lightyears behind you."

"They might as well be," the greenette shrugs, before reaching behind your waist to steal a pillow. "Couldn't tell you a thing I learned."

You shrug trying to remember the last time you’ve felt prepared for a test, “Neither can I.”

Izuku chuckles and nods, though you’re convinced it’s because he has nothing to say. An awkward silence takes possession of the room by the neck, and you shift awkwardly, unsure of what to say that could give you an excuse to leave, or at least redirect his strange yet heavy gaze. As Izuku licks his lips, you notice how close you two actually are, as he's big to the point where your shoulders almost brush, but not quite.

"How um, hows your boyfriend?"

You scoff at that, but you suppose it's been a while since you and the greenette have talked one on one—and the last time you had, you weren't single.

"Oh uh, he's fine, I guess," you brush it off with a shrug and a wave, cringing at the thought of how that ended. "I don't know. We broke up a while ago, so."

"Oh sorry!" Izuku flushes and throws a hand over his mouth, and you giggle.

"You're fine. He was an asshole anyway," you chuck a laugh, but it's not really that funny. Frankly, he's left too many emotional scars to count, along with the ones healing from past exes. "I...don't have a good reputation when it comes to picking boyfriends."

“So, I’ve heard—no offense,” he says sheepishly, though you don't blame him. You've definitely had a few surprise visits caused by a nasty break-up or two, knowing this is the place you'll probably find both of your best friends hiding out. When Izuku speaks again, it’s borderline awkward as his eyes dart around the room, cheeks puffed and lips pursed in apprehension. “Found...anyone new?”

You frown, “Anyone new.”

“Yeah!” Izuku exclaims, and it’s almost encouraging. “Like a new boyfriend.”

“Oh,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Um, no. Like I said, I don’t have much luck with that type of stuff.”

Izuku snorts, rolling his eyes before he’s adjusting himself to lay on the pillow, half of his body upright. “I bet you do. You might not realize it, but you do.”

Now it’s your turn to snort and roll your eyes, leaning back on your hands with a huff. "You're just being nice, Izuku."

"No, seriously!" He props himself higher so you can see he really is serious, evergreen eyes locked and deadset, "Like—okay, and this might be a TMI or something, but how do they, y'know, and then be dicks, y'know?"

"They don't."

"They don't...what?"

"They don't...make me cum," you heave with great depression, despite the seemingly surface-level complaint. With wrists tightening around your ankles, you hate uncomfortably in the silence, and watch Izuku's mouth open and close, before it opens and closes again.

"Like...never?"

"No." You give him a weird look.

"But what about your last boyfriend? I thought he—"

"I don't know what you're looking for, Izuku," you chuckle, shaking your head. The greenette seems more pained than he is shocked, eyes wide with a big fat pout in place of a neutral face. "It's not like I haven't had an orgasm before. Just...not with someone else."

"That's not the same!" Izuku defends, slowly becoming more animated than you've ever seen him. "It's like...more passionate with another person, you know? And that makes everything a whole lot hotter."

"Thanks," you huff, mood souring more than it already has. Izuku's mouth stills once he realizes what he's essentially bragging, guilt clouding his face. As you exhale out of your nose, you can't escape feeling bad for snapping. "Look. I'm perfectly fine with being the only person to be able to make myself cum. It's not that deep."

"You sound like you expect no one to be able to," Izuku snorts with a raised eyebrow, shoulders bumping against yours. "You've just...had bad boyfriend luck. That doesn't mean no one's capable of doing it."

"Well," you click your tongue bitterly, because you've heard all of this before, and you're utterly tired of hearing it. "They've been able to make all their exes orgasm. And it's not like it even matters, relationships aren't abou—"

"I could do it."

"I—" you blink, shaking your head at the pure audacity of his request? Suggestion? Comment? Whatever the fuck. "Excuse me?"

"I—wait, listen," Izuku rushes like you're getting ready to book it the fuck out of there, sitting upright so his body is turned to yours. "You're...it's...I've been told I'm good with my fingers, right?"

And what a way to start a story.

"Izuku, in the nicest way, every guy is like this," you scoff, "He thinks he's all that just because a chick or two said you made her feel really good. I don't need to fake another orgasm."

"You won't have to," Izuku purrs cockily, leaning forwards on his hands and making you wonder where all of this is coming from. "Let's play a game of simon says, yeah?"

"Simon—" your chest collapses with a giggle of pure disbelief, "I'm not that much younger than you, you know."

"I wouldn't be offering if you were," the greenette reasons, eyes growing dark slowly, if any. "Yes or no?"

"What's the catch?" You bargain and Izuku huffs a laugh. You can feel it on your face.

"No catch, Pretty," he hums, and you can feel the vibrations in your fingers. "It's simple: I'll stuff you full with two fingers, but they only do what simon says. Understand?"

You gulp as Izuku lifts a hand—and a very large one, at that—and it's jagged and rough with scars and bulky knuckles. His free hand makes you grab his wrist and you're fingertips barely touch, but you’re pulling his hand south by your own volition.

“Gotta take your pants off first,” he chuckles, and you flush red. That would be helpful, yes.

It doesn't take long before they're off though, flung towards a corner somewhere—and this is when you realize that maybe, you shouldn't do this on Kota's bed.

"Izuku maybe we shoul—"

But before you can say anything else, he's pushing your panties to the side and shoving both fingers into you at once, eyebrows folding as he groans under his breath from the sensation.

"So wet already? Clearly, someone likes this more than they let on."

"I—what the fuck happened to simon says!" You yelp, but his fingers don't move. Izuku just beams like the deceptive asshole he is.

"Game starts now," is all he says, and you're huffing, propping yourself up on your elbows. Izuku's fingers might as well have knocked the wind out of you, lungs struggling to find room to breathe as he curls his fingers to tap directly onto your g-spot with worrying precision.

"Simon says um, move please," you grunt out. Izuku's fingers stay still, and you frown, kicking him in the thigh. "Hey, I sai—"

"You gotta be more specific than that, Pretty,” he says with a grin. You snarl. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"I..." you start, but it's fucking embarrassing, and you know Izuku feels you twitch around him when you say: "Can you um, fuck me with your fingers."

He doesn't move.

"Simon says fuck me with your fingers, asshole," you grunt with narrowed eyes, though they widen when he starts to pump his fingers in and out, chuckling when you shiver from the dexterity.

Except, his fingers move painfully slow, and you find yourself gritting your teeth at the speed when he doesn't make an effort to go any faster. You click your tongue—he's really going to make you request everything, isn't he?

"Simon says faster," you growl with a challenge burning in your eyes, and Izuku meets them with equal fire, fingers finally forgetting their torturous pace for a much quicker one. Finally.

"Fuck! Simo—simon says right t-there," your legs spread wider and Izuku makes more room for himself in between. He hums with dark eyes as you whimper and whine his name, writhing in his younger brother's sheets like they belong to him—like you belong to him.

"I wanna touch you all the time, you know," Izuku grunts before cursing at the sight of your wetness around his fingers. "Make you feel good, make you mine. I don't think Kota would approve, though."

"We don—" you wheeze and he places a hand next to your head, towering over you. The angle only gets better, your hands digging into the sheets as Izuku's fingers curl just right. "We don't have to tell him."

Izuku chuckles at that, chest rumbling as he leans in closer to the point where your noses nearly touch. "You dirty fucking girl."

You moan at that, hips bucking into his hand. You're so close and yet you need more, something else to push you over the edge for good. With a whimper behind a bitten lip, you say, "S-Simon says rub my clit."

Izuku's thumb falls upon your clit and you squeal from the amount of initial pressure, thighs jolting from the white-hot waves that pump through your bloodstream as his thumb moves in small, ever-quickening circles that have you gripping for Kota's comforter for dear life.

"Iz—Izuku I'm gonna—g-gonna cum," you pant, and he's ripping his hands away before you can even reach a hint of the edge. You glare at him out of pure and utter betrayal, and he beams.

"Simon didn't say, did he?"

Your mouth flies open before your brain has time to process it all, "Simon says make me cum, p-please, I need to—fuck!"

Izuku's stuffing you full with his fingers in an instant and his thumb returns to its rightful place.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, Pretty?" His hands somehow find the energy to speed up to the point where the clap of his palm against your pussy fills the room, slowly being replaced by a lewd squelch as you tighten around him. He chuckles when all you can do is whimper, grappling for his big shoulders as he says, "Oh, yes she is. So fucking close I can feel it."

You let out a broken moan and in a blink you're squirting, body buzzing as you make a big wet mess of Kota's sheets. It doesn't even register how screwed you two are because you're too busy wading waist-deep in the sea of Izuku's eyes, chest heaving in time with his as he gives you a look of pure awe. Not at what you've done, per se, but at you, and that's when you understand it—the passion.

"We should uh, probably clean up," Izuku flushes as he chuckles, cheeks pressing into the crescents of his face, and you find yourself smiling along with him. With a final click, he pulls his fingers out, gesturing to a circular wet spot on his now see-through shirt. "You made quite a mess."

Fuck the passion.

You shove your fists into his chest and Izuku laughs, pushing your hands away with his one dry free hand, wiping the wet one on Kota's sheets.

"Izuku!" You gasp, looking at the new and improved addition to your mess. The greenette shrugs.

"What? We're going to have to clean it anyway," he shrugs before assuming the dry spot to your right and nestling his forearms in the pillow to peck you on the forehead. Then he freezes.

"I uh...am I allowed to do that?"

You roll your eyes, grabbing him by his squirt-soaked shirt to pull him into a kiss. Izuku hums at that, suppressing the urge to smile as his big hands find their way to your waist. He's an annoyingly good kisser

"No, you're not," you say with swollen lips once you pull away. Izuku grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip as his eyes flutter to yours for a moment, before they're staring into your soul again.

"I like you," he boldly states, albeit quietly, like he's talking to your eyes and nothing else. "Like, a lot."

"I—" You start, but you're interrupted by a click of a lock and the sound of the front door opening. Shit.

"Oi! We're home, Izuku!"

#— 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 #deku smut #izuku smut #midoriya smut #bnha smut #bnha imagines

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hoes4dylanobrien · 2 years

Text

Don’t Make It Weird

The Birthday Girl

It wasn’t like you had planned it that way.

To sleep with your best friend.

It just...well, sort of happened.

The crowd cheered on Dylan who shotgun’ed an entire beer can along with his friends: you, Sam, Matt, and Danny. Olivia sat this one out, instead dancing with a guy you hadn’t seen before but one she’d been vibing with all night.

Dylan won, the rest of you finishing at later stages. You felt queasy but then burped, really loudly, drawing laughter. Dylan cupped your waist. “You doing OK?”

You raised your hand, doing the ‘A-OK’ sign. He chuckled, boozy breath and spicy aftershave hitting your face. “Good. Going to hit the John and then we’re doing another round.”

“Of what?”

“Whatever the fuck you want. It’s your birthday, baby.” The deep octave whispered in your ear sent pleasant shivers down your spine.

Afterwards, you grabbed him afterwards in the hallway.

“Dylan,” you said, completely drunk out of your mind. “Yeah?” He responded, not as wasted, but getting there.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“Something I’ve wanted to say for a long time, but thought it would be weird.”

He laughed, starting to sway. “Who gives a shit?”

“Okay, but you can’t tell anyone.”

He shrugged.

“Promise me!” You shook his broad shoulders.

“Okay, okay. I promise. Jesus,” he giggled. Yes, giggle. It was your kryptonite. Such a weird little sound, but attractive nonetheless.

You leaned in to whisper:

“I want you to fuck me.”

He laughed at you. Just laughed.

When you didn’t react, he sobered up. “What? You’re serious? What the fuck, y/n?”

“Why not? You’re hot, I’m obviously hot — I mean, look at me.” You gestured to your tight minidress, which very little to the imagination. “I’m also horny. Why the fuck not?”

“Because,” he said, fumbling for words, eyes narrowed in concentration. “I think you’d be pissed at me tomorrow, and I’d definitely be pissed at myself. You’re also way younger than me. Shouldn’t you save it for someone who matters to you?” “You matter to me.” You pointed out.

“Not like that. You know what I mean. A boyfriend, a lover. . .”

“You did not just say the word ‘lover’,” you finally cracked a grin, laughing.

He stared at you seriously.

“You’re just fucked up right now. You won’t want this tomorrow. Trust me.”

You sidled up to him, running a hand down his chest, over the small chest hair peeking out of his black tee. It was manly. Sexy. God, you wanted your best friend.

“I hear a whole lot of what I won’t want and less what you want.” You looked up to stare deeply into his brown orbs. “What do you want, Dylan?” His Adam’s apple bowed, cupid’s bow mouth parting.

Sam, Matt, and Danny were calling you. It was time for you to blow out your birthday candles.

“Think about it,” you said, leaving.

As everyone called out to you to make a wish, you closed your eyes and blew out the candles. When you opened them, Dylan stood before you. Unreadable, hypnotizing. You had to physically drag your gaze from his when someone engaged you in conversation.

Dancing came next.

Old R&B songs played alongside newer pop and a combination folksie/indie music. Everyone made the best of the living room space. You were a terrible dancer, and you were in good company, but you all had a lot of fun.

Some guy who’s eye you caught more than once that night finally had the courage to walk up to you. You chatted a little, but mostly stuck to your bodies speaking for you. It was kind of nice until he pressed his front to your back and started trying to grind on you. There was only one person you wanted to feel against your ass and he wasn’t it.

“See you can handle yourself,” Dylan said, joining you. “Did you ever doubt it?” He smiled endearingly, shaking his head. “Nah. Know you’re capable. Jersey girl after my own heart.”

You returned his smile.

“Thought more about what I said?” You raised a brow.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” You felt it then. A hardness over your tailbone in a telltale outline of his designer shorts. Heat blossomed in your pelvic region.

“Sounds like a ‘yes’ to me,” you flirted back, grinding against the package to his pained delight.

“What if you change your mind?”

“I won’t.”

“What if things. . . get weird? Between us?”

“Easy. Just don’t make it weird.” You winked. And then you kissed him for the first time.

#dylan o'brien fanfiction #au #smut #bestfriends #unrequitedrequited #birthday #friends #drinking #parties #dylanchesthair

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volleychumps · 4 years

Note

omg omg omg ive been waiting for open requests!! okay so, is it okay if i ask for a stuck in the locker scenario with iwa, tsuki, kuroo, and akaashi?? thank you sooo much! ur blog is one of the only ones i check daily cuz the content is just 💓💓💓💓

Getting Stuck in the Locker Room w/ Iwaizumi, Tsukishima, Kuroo, and Akaashi (slight tsundere! reader)

ahah for the sake of it let’s make them enemies who come out as friends (maybe more?)

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

Iwaizumi

“Oi. Lemme have a go at it.”

“Oh, my apologies! Allow me to make way for the manly man to come and magically unlock the door with his brute strength.” You quip sarcastically, Iwaizumi rolling his eyes as he takes your place in front of the door to tug at the handle, frowning when it doesn’t budge. He tilts his head, towel around his neck tilting with it.

“It won’t open.”

“Thank you, no really- you’re too helpful.”

You sigh, doing what you originally came here for as you slip Kindaichi’s knee pads into his locker, your cousin accidentally leaving them in his classroom before pleading with you to bring them. Your original plan of getting in and out had obviously been severely tarnished, leaving you with the one guy you-

“Ah. So that’s why you’re in here.”

You flinch at the sound of Iwaizumi’s deep voice sounding behind you, much closer than you expected before you turn, not being able to mask the scarlet that tinges your cheeks at Iwa’s exposed broad chest.

“Would it kill you to wear a shirt, perv?”

“Says the girl in the boy’s locker room.” Iwa takes another step towards you casually, a hand slipping into the sweats he had just changed to as you swallow tightly, looking away as your back touches the lockers. Iwaizumi’s face remains stoic, save for the slight arch of his eyebrow that signals his amusement.

“Who’s the real perv here?”

“Just put on a shirt and stop teasing me...please.” You mumble, embarassed as a small smirk overtakes Iwa’s lips as he opens up the door two lockers down from Kindaichi’s, pulling a white short-sleeve over his head that highlighted his arms quite nicely-

You shake your head of such thoughts before running a hand through your hair, sitting down on one of the nearby benches as an awkward silence fills the room.

“Can’t you call Oikawa or someone to come un-jam the door?”

“Nope. That shithead’s in practice with the rest of ‘em, and I left my bag in the gym.” Iwa replies shortly, taking a seat on the opposite end of the bench before opening his water bottle. “I was supposed to be excused today, but I ended up stuck here with my favorite person.”

“My luck is immense right now.” You retort with a sarcastic chuckle, eyes widening when Iwa scoots down the bench so his muscular thigh is just touching yours.

“Well, on the bright side: I have you cornered to ask why you don’t like me and avoid me like I’m some kind of sickness.” Iwa shrugs, offering you his water bottle before lowering it at your deadpan stare. You hesitate before sighing, allowing him an inch of the truth.

“I don’t not like you. You’re just mean- do you know how many times Kindaichi comes to me with tears in his eyes?”

“Hm.”

You huff, wanting to go hit on the door to catch someone’s attention before Iwa moves to crouch in front of you, causing your breath to hitch at the proximity and a involuntary heart beat to sound in your ears.

“I can be a lot meaner.”

“Stop joking around.”

“Am I joking?” You bite your lip when Iwa’s face nears even closer, his head tilting as you panic, grabbing the towel he had been drying his hair with and throwing it over his head. He frowns, wondering if he had actually made you uncomfortable with his little prank, before deciding to back off-

Iwaizumi scoffs, lifting the white material only for onyx eyes to widen at the sight of your flushed cheeks and furrowed brows, expression one of-

“Y/N-! oh. Oh crap-am I interrupting?”

The sound of Kindaichi’s voice had you pushing off the bench to race past your cousin and out the door, Iwaizumi still blinking at the spot where you had sat before he rises to his feet, lips twitching into a hint of an amused half-grin.

He ignores Kindaichi’s inquiries of what happened as he throws the towel over his shoulder, the sight of your flushed cheeks filling his mind as he huffs through his nose in disbelief at what he had discovered.

“Oi Kindaichi.”

“Y-Yes, senpai?”

“Give me your cousin’s number, will ya?”

Kuroo

“This is not happening-”

“Y/N-”

“Out of all people! It had to be you-”

“First of all, rude-”

“God, why couldn’t it have been Kenma? I’m going to kill Lev for making me come in here to get his shitty shoes-”

“Kitten-”

“Don’t kitten me!” You stop pulling on the door to turn on an amused Kuroo, who whistles lowly as he adjusts the towel around his waist. He runs a hand through his slightly damp hair as he opens one of the locker doors, turning his head to offer you a lazy grin as he does so, arm resting on top of the door.

“Relax. We’re not stuck in here, someone’s bound to come eventually.” He takes out a shirt and his school pants, glancing at you with a glint in his feral eyes. “And I’m gonna get dressed, so stop acting like the world is ending, sweetheart. You can watch if you-”

“Pass.” You turn to face the wall with heat in your cheeks, Kuroo’s chuckle annoying in your ears as you resist the urge to groan. You touch the wall with your forehead as a steady beat sounds in your chest, wondering why it had to be him.

“That wall isn’t the cleanest, babe.”

You flinch at the whisper that tickles your ear, Kuroo stepping back on instinct when you turn on him with that same smug look that you-

“Why do you hate me again? Just because Lev tells you I’m a little mean-”

“An absolute monster.” You correct, glaring at him as you put an arm out to distance yourself.

Kuroo’s grin only widens, hand reaching out to rest on the wall-space next to your head as he leans a little closer.

“Oh? And why does this pretty kitty believe him?”

“I...” You stand your ground, not breaking eye-contact as you pray he can’t see the heat tickling your cheeks and ears as your arm wavers. “I don’t. Stop flirting with me like all the others-”

“You think I pay attention to the other girls?” Kuroo’s eyebrows rise in amusement at your words as you blink in surprise, lips beginning to tremble.

“T-Then you’re trying to tell me I’m the only girl you pay attention to?”

“Would it be that big of a surprise?” Kuroo leans a little closer until his lips are by your ear, causing you to involuntarily shudder as your body betrays you. “It’s hard not to, you know?”

“Shut up.” You find strength in your legs and voice again as you shove him lightly, Kuroo merely catching one of your wrists as he grins at the fact that you seemed to be responding to his advances well. The blush on your cheeks only making him continue as his hazel eyes brim with seriousness.

“Kitten, do I have to spell it out for you?” Kuroo’s grip on your wrist tightens ever so slightly as the clean scent of him fills your nose, hazel eyes glinting as he takes in your now embarrassed expression from mere inches away.

“You’re always the prettiest one in the room.”

Your arm falls to your side completely as Kuroo takes the opportunity to rest a hand on your waist, his other hand going to cup your jaw as his breath ghosts over your lips-

“Y/N I CAME TO RESCUE YOU-!”

Lev stumbles through the jammed door dramatically, and you shove Kuroo away as you glare at the captain heatedly, gritting your teeth at the fact that you almost fell for it.

“Please don’t mess with my head, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo’s calls for you to come back fall on deaf ears as Lev looks between his captain and your retreating figure in wonderment, wondering what the hell was going on before a sinister-sounding chuckle fills the damp locker room.

“S-stop bullying my little cousin-!”

“Lev.” Kuroo turns his head as a shiver runs down his junior’s spine, Kuroo running a hand through his hair in an agitated manner as all teasing tendencies from before washed away. “Go. Make sure she gets home okay.”

The captain sighs as his own forehead touches the wall where yours had, a soft disbelieving scoff slipping his lips as the sound of Lev’s steps fade down the hall.

“I wasn’t messing with your pretty little head, Y/N.”

Tsukishima

“I feel like you did this on purpose.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You bite back as Tsukishima scoffs from behind you, and you turn slightly to cast a slight glare to the laid back blonde as Tsukishima scratches the back of his neck boredly. “Would it kill you to help me?”

“It’s locked. What can we do? You’re wasting strength.”

“Right, we have to use my upper body strength because I forgot you don’t have any.” You smile sweetly before breaking into a yawn, Tsukishima narrowing his eyes at you before pushing you slightly to the side.

“Move. I’ll be the one to open this damn door.”

“For someone who seems really calm you get riled up really easily.” You grin through slightly teary eyes from your yawn as Tsukishima makes the smallest effort at tugging the handle before turning to you.

“We’re stuck.”

“Oh are we?”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes as you take a comfortable seat against the lockers, sitting on the floor before groaning. “I can’t believe neither of us have our phones.”

“You’re a teenage girl, why are you without it?”

“Very good observation, Tsukki!”

“Don’t call me-”

“Anyways, Tsukki.” You cut him off, mock-cheeriness filling your voice as you bring your knees to your chest. “I came here to drop off Kageyama’s books for his homework tonight, so I left my phone in my classroom.”

“Funny way of saying you wanted to see me shower. That floor’s disgusting, by the way.”

“Bite me.” You yawn again, causing the blonde to lean against the jammed door while glancing at you, rubbing his fogged eyeglasses with the bottom of his practice shirt.

“Why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”

“Stop pretending to act like you’re interested.” You mumble, leaning your head on your crossed arms that rested on your knees. “But if you must know, I had exams today and ran soley on caffeine to get through them. I think the crash is hitting me.”

“Don’t die on our locker room floor, that’d be a pain to clean up.”

“Awe, your concern for me is the sweetest.” You quip, fighting the urge to close your eyes. “Just wake me when someone comes, will you?”

Tsukishima says nothing as he sees you beginning to nod off, cursing when you almost fall too far forward, his legs jutting out to cover your forehead and keep you steady when you’re fast asleep.

“Troublesome woman.” The blonde’s eyes narrow as he takes a seat next to you, carefully setting your head down on his shoulder as he rolls his eyes at the obvious heartbeat in his ears.

“Why did it have be you, anyways?” He whispers, brushing some hair out of your face before leaning his head back against the locker. Had it been anybody else, he would have been on the other side of the locker room, maybe even waiting it out in the showers-

so why did it have to be you?

“Tsukki.” You shift in your sleep, still halfway out of it as he merely hums in response, still acting disinterested until you cuddle your cheek into his shoulder, causing the blonde to tense up at the contact.

“You’re not a total bastard.”

Tsukishima can’t help the small smirk that overtakes his lips as he finds himself forgetting that every day seemed to be a challenge of who would confess first, praying that your even breaths signalled you were asleep again as he allows a ghost of a smile to grace his lips.

His hand slips into his sweats pocket as he wonders if he should feel guilty, taking his phone out as the screen lights up.

“And I suppose you’re not the worst choice of girl to like.”

Akaashi

“You’ve been at it for fifteen minutes.”

“Okay first of all- you’re creepy for keeping track.” You respond to the setter as Akaashi continues to absent-mindedly dry his hair with a towel, watching evenly as you finally give up before leaning your back against the jammed door.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck in here with someone you don’t like.” Akaashi mentions as he sets the damp towel down, frowning as he keeps a safe distance away from you. You bite your lip, guilt flooding your system as you mentally curse at how things turned out: Akaashi Keiji assuming you hated him and you having to go along with it to save face.

“I-It’s not just that.” You mumble, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t do well in confined spaces.”

“Is...is there anything I can do?”

“As if you could help.” You laugh a little sarcastically, chest panging when Akaashi backs down quietly, and you mentally wish that you hadn’t taken Konoha’s request of coming into the boy’s locker room to grab his forgotten gym bag.

“I don’t hate you.” The words rush out before you can stop them, and you curse that you weren’t able to handle Akaashi’s dejected expression.

But you feared if he knew the real reason-

“Then...why do you always leave the room when I enter it?” Akaashi stands, and you gulp when he begins to approach you. “I respect your space, but how come you told Bokuto that you can’t stand being around me?”

“Why do you care?” You manage to laugh. “I’m a nobody to you, Akaashi.”

Before the setter could respond, you begin to have trouble controlling your breathing, Akaashi just managing to catch you before you could collapse as blue-green eyes widen when you stumble to regain your balance.

“I-I’m fine-!”

“You’re not.” Akaashi scolds, carefully setting you down on the floor gently as you take deep breaths in through the nose and exhaling through the mouth. “What can I do-?”

“Stop! Just quit being so damn nice all the time!” The words burst out before you can realize them, putting some distance between the two of you as the confinement of the locker room makes you laugh a little hysterically.

“You make me have all these damn feelings for you when you’re just nice to everyone. That’s just who you are.” Your eyes brim with unshed tears. “That’s why I can’t be your friend, Akaashi! Not when I’m in-”

“Sh.” Akaashi tugs on your wrist as your eyes widen when he pulls you into his chest. The dark-haired boy digs his face into your neck, holding you tightly as the confinement of the room suddenly begins to fade away, the tightness in your chest relieving to allow a new emotion to take place.

“You were never a nobody to me, Y/N. When you stopped being my friend I wondered for days why you would just suddenly hate me...”

His hold tightened as a few tears slip your widened eyes, his voice falling to a hush in your neck.

“I’m sorry I never noticed. I’m sorry, so just be with me from now on, okay?”

“I-I already told you-”

“Not as my friend.” Akaashi cuts you off, thumb wiping at your eyes kindly as he pulls back gently to brush your nose with his. “Be with me as someone more than that.”

Akaashi smiles softly as your breathing evens out, tugging you into his chest even more as you smile as a new kind of tear runs down your cheek.

“I missed you, Keiji.”

Unbeknowst to the two of you, Konoha and Bokuto touch knuckles from just outside the door, Konoha trying to be silent as possible as he twists the key to unlock the lock.

“I told you we should meddle!”

“Akaashi would absolutely kill us if he found out, Bokuto-”

The two stiffen as said setter flings the door open with your giggling form behind his back, darkness cascading the setter’s face as Bokuto chukcles nervously, Konoha whistling as he looks off to the side while throwing the key a good distance away.

“Funny seeing you here, Akaashi!”

“Whaaaat Y/N, what are you doing in there-”

“I hate both of you.”

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

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @savemesteeb @yams046

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bestiesenpai · 4 years

Text

Perfect Student - Geto Suguru

I love slimy Geto :) although i’m not sure how slimy he actually is here lol femme reader, 3k words

TW: manipulation, abuse of power(?), dubcon, biting(not a lot), spanking

You weren’t the best university student, you were willing to admit. A few classes skipped than deemed appropriate, a couple missed assignments you’d rather not think about again, and some test scores that were down right abysmal.

But you shouldn’t be failing your class completely! A string of low grades on your last few assignments was worrying you. You understood the course material just fine, yet your work was apparently not reflecting it. Making an appointment with your professor, you could only hope he’d shed some light onto the situation.

“Mr. Geto?” Knocking on his office door, you found it swung open with ease. It was late afternoon, no need for any lights to be on in his office as the large window to the side got plenty of light from the slowly setting sun.

“Ah, you’re here.” He smiled at you from behind his desk, his hair in that familiar half bun he sports. The sleeves of the button up he’d had on during class are pushed up past his elbows, revealing his taut forearms. “Take a seat.” He makes a sweeping gesture to the swanky brown leather armchair on the other side of the desk.

“Thanks.” You said quietly, stiffly sitting in the chair and avoiding his narrowed eyes looking you over. You weren’t usually so nervous, you talked up a bit in class if you knew the answer, but being here with the warmth of the sun heating half your face and your admittedly very attractive teacher staring at you, it made your heart thump harder.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Geto leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

“Well sir, I’ve noticed my grades haven’t been the best recently on some of the work I’ve turned in?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question and it makes your cheeks burn. “A-and I understand the material for this lesson pretty well, so I- so I, uh…” Losing your train of thought, you glance at Geto’s unreadable expression.

“So you came to get a better grade? Let me pull up your grades on the computer and see.” Turning to the monitor sitting on the desk corner, Geto types away. With his focus not on you, you can finally breathe a little easier. “Oh (Y/N)...” Geto tsks and it makes you worry.

“What?” Wide eyed, you lean forward to try and see what he sees.

“I’m just looking at your past grades and you’ve got quite a bit of missing work.”

“Y-yes I know but-”

“But nothing.” He says it softly but it still manages to shut you up. “Care to explain why that happened?”

Truthfully, you had no reason other than laziness. You’d missed one, then it spiraled into two, three- you’d managed to catch up before it got too bad, though, or at least so you thought. You stayed silent, eyes tracing the wood grains in the desk.

“Hm, no answer. That’s a shame.” Clicking a few things, Geto ticked a brow upwards. “Looking at your recent work, I don’t know if there’s anything you can do.”

“What?” That makes your head snap up in fear. It was only the middle of the term, surely your grade wasn’t that far gone? “Mr. Geto, what-”

“Call me Suguru, please. It’s just us here, we aren’t in class.” He cuts you off with a raise of his hand and an easy smile.

“Suguru…” You say it slowly, worrying your lip briefly. “My grade can’t be that bad already that there’s nothing I can do.”

“Take a look for yourself.” Turning the monitor towards you, Suguru’s smile got bigger seeing your devastated face. Your grade was beyond horrible, the number on the top of the screen making your stomach churn.

“But I...I just checked it for myself not too long ago. How could it have changed like that?” Leaning back in your chair in shock, thoughts spiraled in your head. Lost in your own world, you didn’t pay any attention to your teacher.

He stood up slowly, brushing down the front of his shirt as he tucked in his chair. Shuffling a few things on his desk to the side, he smoothed his hand on the empty space he created as he rounded the corner, leaning against it as he stood in front of you.

“What can I do to fix my grade?” Looking up at him, Suguru nearly cooed at the pitiful look in your eyes.

“What’re you willing to do?” His voice is staggeringly low, a mere rumble in his chest and throat. He barely speaks them properly, they just tumble forth and into your lap. You take a pause, sizing up the way your teacher takes up so much space in front of you, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

“What do you mean?” You know exactly what he means, you can see the slightest bulge forming in the front of his pants.

“I think you’re smart enough to figure it out.” Suguru chuckles, letting his hair out of it’s bun and draping it across his shoulders. Licking your lips nervously you stare at him, throat tightening the longer you look at the sunkissed beauty.

“Okay.” Whispering quietly, you shuffle your bag out of your lap, you begin to fiddle with your bottoms.

“Hold on, where’s the rush? We should savor this moment, hm?” Grabbing your hands, Suguru pulls you up to standing. Wrapping an arm around your waist he grabs your chin and tilts your face toward him.

He kisses you gently, getting a feel for your demeanor. The hand around your waist grips you tighter, his fingers digging in painfully and making you squirm closer to him to try and get away. Your hands clamp down onto his shoulders to steady yourself, a muffled whimper coming from you.

Suguru slips his tongue into your mouth with ease, slotting his mouth together with yours and overtaking your senses. Even with your eyes squeezed shut, you’re surrounded by his presence and overwhelmed with the energy he has just below the surface.

“S-sugu-” Your voice breaks when he leaves the kiss and moves onto your neck, nipping at the column of your throat and behind your ear.

“Sugu? That’s cute.” He chuckles while tugging the collar of your shirt down. Kissing the new skin before him, Suguru wastes no time in biting down. A sharp cry leaves you at the sudden pain, hands flying to try and push him away. “Calm down.” It’s all the warning Suguru gives you and then he’s biting you again, higher up on your neck.

Suguru sucks harshly on your neck, his teeth digging into the flesh with no remorse. Tugging on his hair, you’re worried about the marks that’ll be left behind, the ones you’ll have to explain to your friends after this meeting with your teacher.

“Take this off.” Tugging at the bottom of your top, Suguru releases you from his hold. “That too.” He mumbles when you make no move to take your bra off as well.

“Sir…” Crossing your arms over your chest, embarrassment washes over you. It was fine when you were just kissing him, but now clothes were coming off and- and did you really want to do this? Taking a look back at the monitor however, you knew this was the only option. There wasn’t any other teacher for this subject, and if you backed out now there would only be more headaches later.

“No need to be shy, little one.” Suguru chuckles and pushes away from the desk. Putting his hands on your shoulders, he guides you to take his spot, pushing you to sit on the empty space he made. Curling his fingers around your wrist, Suguru is gentle as he holds both your arms away from you.

Craning your head away, you can’t stand to see the lustful look in his eyes as they roam over your topless body. Suguru bites his lip, letting out a low whistle as he lets go of one of your arms to cup your breast.

“You’re so pretty.” He says, eyes focused on the way your nipple pebbles under his thumb. Tugging on it, Suguru chuckles when you whimper and his eyes dart up to your face. “What a nice little noise.” Standing between your legs, Suguru puts your arm around his shoulders and leans in, kissing your neck on the other side while he plays with your breasts.

Twirling the ends of his hair with your fingers, the feeling of his fingers going over your nipples makes an ashamed heat settle between your legs. Unable to clench your thighs together to relieve the building pressure, you settle for squirming on his desk.

Pushing you back to lean on your hand, Suguru takes a nipple into his mouth. He flicks it a few times with his tongue before nibbling softly, scraping his teeth against the bud as his other hands makes work with the neglected breast.

“S-sugu, please-” Vocalizing what you wanted was near impossible, especially since you shouldn’t be wanting it in the first place. But the heat between your legs was killing you, and a few tugs to the ends of his hair wrapped between your fingers got him to stand up a little straighter.

“Getting antsy?” Suguru teases with a light pink flush on his cheeks. You nod, lip caught between your teeth as your eyes go down to his now prominent bulge.

“I want it.”

“Show me what you want.” He challenges immediately, a sick grin on his face. Nodding again, the hand on his shoulder drops down to run along his chest and down to it. As you work on unbuttoning his slacks, Suguru undoes a few buttons on his shirt, exposing smooth skin that’s slightly damp with sweat.

Pulling his hard cock out, it’s hot and heavy in your palm. Pumping it slowly, the veins that run up and down the length pulse beneath your fingertips, blood rushing straight to the head of his cock where it leaks precum straight onto the floor.

Suguru is pulling your bottoms and underwear down as you stroke his cock, his nails scraping against your skin from his eagerness to have you completely bare before him. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him pocket your underwear, but you don’t bring it up. You know you won’t be getting it back anyway.

“Look at this pretty fucking pussy.” Spreading your legs wide, Suguru practically salivates at the sight of your glistening cunt. “What a shame my pretty little student was hiding this from me for so long! I should mark you down just for that!”

“Sorry.” Chuckling bashfully, you let his cock go as Suguru tugs you closer to him, your ass beginning to hang off the edge of the desk.

“You’ll make it up to me, right?” He laughs lightly as well, grabbing your legs and putting them around his waist. “Good girl.” He hums when you nod obediently, head clouded with lust and a desire to please him.

The tip of his cock presses into you with ease, the smear of his precum and your arousal making an easy entrance. Your arms wrap around his shoulders to keep you steady as he bottoms out, a shiver running up both of your spines at the feeling.

“Fuck-” Suguru barks suddenly, drawing his hips back. “You’re milking me already, I can barely pull out.” Snapping his hips forward again, Suguru delights in the wet slap that comes from it. Beginning to rock into you, he can see the fabric of his pants staining darker from your juices, a wet patch surely forming on his desk under you as well.

Planting a hand next to you, Suguru’s back curves against his shirt as he fucks you. He had wanted to take it slow, this was only the thing he’d been working towards since classes started, but the drag of his cock against your walls was demolishing that plan.

“Sugu!” You cried, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Your breath fanning over him added to the heat washing over him, more sweat accumulating under his clothes and sticking to your face.

Hearing you moan and whine beneath him drove Suguru wild and he couldn’t help the way his other hand pulled up from your thigh and slapped back down, making you jump and tighten around him.

“My slutty little student- how naughty you are.” Slapping your thigh a few more times, Suguru pushes his hand between you and finds your clit with his thumb, rubbing it in tight circles. Choked moans came from your lips and you squeezed him tighter.

“Sugu- sir- ah, fuck-” The wet slapping sound gets louder, your slick gushing out of you at this point and coating Suguru. Lifting your heavy head, you kiss him, teeth knocking together and accidentally biting his lip as you try to slide your tongue into his mouth.

Suguru leans forward to kiss you harder, nearly making you fall over from the weight. His finger moves faster on your clit, desperate to have you cum on his cock. His orgasm is coming faster than he would have liked and he doesn’t want to cum without feeling you fall apart around him.

He ends up leaning so far forward, you really do fall back, lips breaking apart as you crumple onto the desk. Suguru pulls you forward by your hips, your ass now nearly completely off the desk as he fucks you.

“Fucking little slut- gonna make me cum-” His bottom lip is between his teeth, clamping down so hard it just might draw blood if he keeps going. Suguru’s hair tickles your skin as he moves, cascading down around you and sticking briefly to your skin.

“Please, please-” Your voice catches in your throat as you cum. No sound comes out of you, your back arching high off the desk as the pleasure finally comes to a peak.

“Fucking beautiful!” Suguru smiles like a madman, his fingers moving even faster on your clit as you rhythmically tighten around him. He kisses your slack mouth, swallows the forced gasps and moans that come from yours chest as your lungs burn for oxygen.

Slapping your ass a few times, Suguru cums inside you. Pushing his cock in as deep as possible he grinds himself against you, pushing a long, low groan into your mouth as he does. The hand on your cunt drops away, wrapping wet and sticky fingers around your thigh as he moves away from your mouth to breathe.

“What a...what a good student I have.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he catches his breath. Letting your legs fall slack, Suguru pushes a hand on your bladder to feel himself slide out of you.

As his cock leaves you, there’s a dribble of his cum that follows, staining your cunt white and dripping down between the crack of your ass and to the floor. Rubbing a hand on your thigh, Suguru gathers the cum dripping out and pushes it back in.

“Shouldn’t waste any now.” He hums, tracing his fingers up and down your cunt.

“T-too much.” You whine pathetically, trying in vain to grab his hand and stop him. Catching your hand in his, Suguru relents and threads his fingers through yours. The gesture is sweet, even more so when he kisses the back of your hand.

“Such a sweet student I have, wanting to hold my hand.” You giggle at the sentiment, cheeks getting warmer the longer he looks at you with that smile on his face. “Let’s hope you can keep this up for the rest of the term, and maybe I won’t fail you.”

Of course this wouldn’t be a one time thing. Suguru intended to milk this opportunity for all he could, already planning on having you stay after his lesson so he can play with your cunt before his next class.

“Go ahead and get dressed.” Helping you sit up, Suguru untangled himself from you and grabbed a few tissues, putting them in your hand as he started fixing himself up. The sun had gone down even farther during your little escapade, no longer baking the room in warm orange light. It left only a dim, cool glow now, and the heat it provided you was quickly leaving your body along with the sweat evaporating on your skin.

“If you want to keep your grade up, I think we should keep meeting regularly to discuss your progress.” Suguru had his teaching voice on now that he was leading you out of his office ten minutes later, your panties stuffed into his back pocket. There were a few other people passing by in the hall, some giving quick waves to the two of you as they saw you.

“Okay, Mr. Geto.” You knew to play the part well, not wanting to arouse suspicion by calling him by his first name. No one in your class called him Suguru, and especially not Sugu.

“Glad you understand.” He patted your shoulder quickly, giving you a cheeky wink when no one was looking. “I look forward to seeing you in class tomorrow, (Y/N).” Giving your arm a brief squeeze, he sent you on your way. Turning back to his office, he closed the door and locked it, going back to his desk and laying your panties across his lap.

Pulling out his phone, he snapped a few pictures of your underwear, sniffing it briefly before putting it back in his pocket.

“Professor Satoru is gonna love this.”

#jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Note

hi angel 🥺 i’ve had some time to think of what i want to request and i’ve finally come up with something ;-;

do you think you could write something comforting (doesn’t have to be long!) where maxwell is caring for a reader who is a little tipsy or drunk? the reader is the kind of drunk who’s giggly and playful. and he’s super sweet and gentle with her. maybe they already have a pre-established relationship? maybe some slimy guy is hitting on her and he gets all protective and takes her home? and i’d neverrrrr object to smut either. but i’m leaving it up to you to write whatever you think works the best. i just miss reading soft and protective maxwell yanno ;-;

Overdoing It (Maxwell Lord x f!Reader)

W/C: 1.5k

Warnings: alcohol obviously, sexual innuendo, Maxwell lifts reader so I know some ppl aren’t comfy with that

A/N: RACH MY LOVE I’m sorry this took so long but I’m glad I finally did it bc I love how it turned out! ALSO HAPPY WW84 DAY (July fourth) SO WHAT WONDERFUL TIMING!

You certainly had not intended to imbibe to the level you had tonight. The problem was Maxwell, really, although in the best possible way.

The man has a high tolerance; you, admittedly, have one considerably lower than his. You love seeing Maxwell when he’s tipsy. It’s rare that you get to see it and remember it. The times that he’s tipsy are the times where you’re next to vomiting.

But tonight was a celebration, and Maxwell spared no expense. You’d finally received a position in a job you’d dreamed of, one that caused the two of you to spend hours poring over applications and perfecting cover letters. It was a success for the both of you, you said, but Maxwell insisted that it was all you.

You’d said that takeout was just fine with you, so long as Maxwell was there, but he insisted that a bigger celebration was in order. You didn’t really mind; you love getting dressed up to go out. Max made a reservation at a nice place in downtown D.C. and kept the specific place a surprise from you until now.

As you walked inside, the gorgeous atmosphere made you lose your breath for a moment. Your eyes nearly watered as you looked at Maxwell, and he simply kissed your forehead. “You deserve it, my love. I’m so proud of you.”

The words aren’t exactly rare from Maxwell, but they mean the world to you. Having someone tell you that they love you is one thing, but having someone say they’re proud of you is a completely different one. “I love you,” you grinned and followed him to your table, lacing your fingers through his.

Dinner was wonderful, unsurprisingly. Maxwell had scanned the menu the last time he came here, with business cohorts, and been certain you would like it. The delight on your face as you scanned the menu confirmed it, and Maxwell mentally gave himself a little pat on the back.

You’d ordered appetizers and drinks, then more drinks with the main course (two to accompany the meal, to be exact), and then more with dessert. By then, you were starting to feel a little tipsy, but nothing you couldn’t handle. Slowly, as you left the restaurant, the alcohol sunk in. The drinks were stronger than they’d seemed.

Luckily, Maxwell has a chauffeur. He’d had as many drinks as you, but the man’s tolerance is quite high. He seems barely affected, if not slightly looser and more carefree. The two of you made your way outside, Maxwell holding his arm around your waist to ensure that you didn't stumble; just in case, he reminded you, but you didn’t believe him.

In the car, you snuggle into Maxwell’s side happily, resting your head on his shoulder. “Buckle please, love,” he insists and wraps an arm around you.

“No,” you whine, kissing the soft cologned skin of his neck. “You’re too cozy.”

Maxwell laughs and nestles into you. “I’ll excuse it this once, only because I trust Jeeves,” he teases you. “How are you feeling, love?”

“So happy,” you smile up at him, dazed but content. The alcohol has brought you to a state of bliss now; love for Maxwell, a full stomach from the wonderful dinner, pride in your achievement.

Maxwell nods. “Of course you are,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

“Ooh, do we have wine at home?” You ask, sitting up and looking at him. “You need a few more.”

“No, no more drinks,” he chuckles and pulls you back into his side. “I think we’re both done for the night, don’t you?” His hands slide over your shoulders, smoothing the bare skin that’s cold to the touch.

You pout at him and Maxwell turns his face away, smiling. “No, I can’t look at that. I won’t be able to say no.”

“Please, baby?” You plead with big eyes.

“We have wine at home,” Maxwell tells you, even though he’s unsure whether or not it’s true. Either way, he won’t be allowing you to drink any of it.

Sighing, you snuggle into his side, shivering. “Car’s cold,” you murmur.

Maxwell removes his suit jacket and drapes it around your shoulders, kissing your head and smiling down at you warmly. “How’s that?”

“Smells like your cologne,” you practically purr like a satisfied cat as you wrap yourself in the expensive fabric. “I love you so much, Maxie-poo.”

“I love you too, darling,” he chuckles. The chauffeur brings you to his house not long after, and Maxwell offers you a hand when you get out of the car.

Sitting in the seat, you frown up at him. “I’m fine, Max.” Standing in your high heels, your wobbly legs thanks to the alcohol send you falling into Maxwell, who catches you.

“Fine, yes,” he chuckles and lifts you back to standing. “Take off your shoes and let me help you inside.”

Sighing and crossing your arms, you step out of your shoes, calves screaming a thank you for removing them from those torture devices. He reaches down and picks them up, ass straining in his suit, and you can’t help but give it a smack, giggling.

“Oh, no, little miss,” Maxwell playfully chides and grabs your arm. “Let’s get you inside, tiger.”

Your legs lead your brain without any thought, drunkenly stumbling your way inside. Maxwell’s arms are your support, really the only thing to keep you from falling. He purposely steers you away from the path leading to the kitchen, knowing you’ll ask for more alcohol should you see it. When you reach the foot of the stairs, you groan and look at Maxwell with puppy eyes. You know his back has been bad lately, his joints ache when the humidity rises, but you can’t do this without him. “Can you carry me? Please?” You ask him.

Maxwell chuckles and kisses your head tenderly. “I suppose. Climb on my back.” He stands with his palms the wall, squatting for you to jump up on him.

The formal dress makes it difficult, but you hop up, both of you groaning as you latch onto him. “I love you so goddamn much,” you babble happily, kissing along the skin behind his ears.

“You’re lucky I love you too,” he grunts as he makes his way up the stairs, his knees aching from the weight of carrying absolutely anything on his back.

When he reaches the top, you get down and sigh, kissing him sloppily. “You’re the best.”

“I’m wonderful,” he sighs and rolls his eyes, leading you to the bedroom and letting you plop down on his plush California king bed.

You strip off his suit jacket and toss it at him, and he catches it without even looking. “Don’t even think about seducing me tonight, darling. You’re too far gone,” he chuckles.

His words make you frown and stop in the middle of unzipping your dress slowly. “I wasn’t gonna,” you grumble and stand, slipping out of the dress and getting under the thick covers of the bed.

“Sure,” Maxwell smiles and retreats into his large closet. He returns in pajama pants and the white tee he wore under his button-up.

He looks so soft like this, and even drunk, you recognize what a privilege it is to see him like this. His large suits hide his frame, but you can see the soft curve of his tummy, his broad shoulders and narrow torso. “We should get married,” you blurt to him, your heart-eyes penetrating through to his center.

“You’re drunk,” he shakes his head as he wanders to the bathroom. He returns with his thick-rimmed glasses on, and it completes the look, his highlighted hair messy and beginning to curl.

He sits on his side of the bed and hands you a glass of water and some painkillers. “You’re going to feel like shit in the morning, and you’re not allowed to blame me.”

“I won’t,” you pout and take the pills, rolling onto your side to face him. His legs are beneath the covers, and one of yours snakes to his and wraps your ankle around his.

Max smiles softly at the gesture. He recognizes it. You need his touch, want to snuggle tonight rather than keep to your own in his spacious bed. He lies down and you quickly scoot over to him, resting your head and a palm on his chest.

“I love you, dear,” he murmurs and kisses your forehead, his hand stroking your back lovingly. “You sleep now. Please.”

“I want to cuddle a little longer,” you frown and look up at him, face barely peeking out from the covers.

Max laughs. “Of course. We’ll stay like this, but at least make an effort to fall asleep. Your headache in the morning will be better if you sleep more.”

“Fine,” you sigh and scoot your body as close to his as possible, kissing his chest through the plain white t-shirt. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he repeats and sets his glasses to the side, letting himself sink into the squishy bed. He’ll surely have to care for you in the morning too, but he doesn’t mind. It’s worth it.

taglist:

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#maxwell lord ww84 #maxwell lorenzano x reader #maxwell lorenzano #maxwell lord x you #maxwell lord headcanons #maxwell lord fanfic #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #ww1984 #ww84 #ww84 fanfiction #wonder woman 84 #wonder woman 1984

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silens-oro · 2 years

Note

f-o-t for the fanfic asks please!! 💋

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

This is a snippet from a Jim Hopper x Reader fic I wrote on my main writing blog @mishficsx titled Wild Horses. If you’re in the mood for something a lil sad, I’d recommend it 🫠

The fic itself is super emotional, and I was going through a pretty rough time personally when I wrote it, so it was very therapeutic. The snippet is a memory within the fic that contrasts to the cold reality that the reader was facing in the present.

“It’s my turn to pick the music!” Jim’s shirtless, hulking body was shielding the record player from Y/N’s grabby hands. “Jim!” He shook his head, his hair wild from the massive case of bedhead he had going on. The couple spent the whole day inside, on the couch -and occasionally in the bed- watching television. El was out with her friends, Hopper and Y/N both had the day off, and they were taking full advantage of how the stars had somehow perfectly aligned.

“I can’t listen to Bonnie Tyler again, Y/N! I can’t do it! And most importantly, I won’t do it.” A cigarette was hanging limply in his lips, making the whole sight even more comical.

“It was one time!” Y/N tried to reason. Jim shook his head.

“One time too many. That woman is not welcome in this house.”

“I think you’re being just a little overdramatic, Jim.” Y/N wrapped her arms around Jim’s waist, her fingers toying with the band of his gray sweatpants.

“No, overdramatic would be me throwing that record outside,”

“In that case, thank god you’re being reasonable,” Y/N rolled her eyes and shifted herself to look up at him. Y/N’s hands rubbed Hopper’s back, making him look at her suspiciously. Her hands eventually made their way back to the front and hung on his broad shoulders. “How about-“ Hopper rolled his eyes playfully.

“Here we go,”

“-A compromise,” Y/N finished, giving him the stink-eye. “Unless you want to stay right here, dinnerless, and in a very vulnerable position,” Jim seemed to think it over before biting at the bait being offered.

“What’s on the table?” He cautiously asked.

“I get to pick-“

“No,” Jim said as he stubbed the cigarette out on the ashtray that sat next to the record player.

“Let me finish, you oaf! I get to pick the music we listen to while I get dinner ready. Once that’s in the oven, we can go take a nice, hot shower. How does that sound?” Jim’s big arms wrapped themselves around Y/N’s waist, pulling her flush against him.

“That depends on what constitutes as music because we both know that what you think is music and what I know is music are two very different things,”

“Abba,” Y/N opened up the bidding, knowing that if she started high, she could come down to something that she’d like.

“Abba-solutely not,” He said with a grin, thinking he was so cleaver. “Otis Redding.”

“I can’t cook to Otis,” Y/N complained, “Dolly,”

“Baby-dolly, you have absolutely no negotiation skills. Jim Croce.”

“You can’t listen to the same album for the rest of your life, Jim. Broaden your horizons. Rolling Stones.” Y/N played with the short, curly hairs at the nape of his neck. This counter-offer made Jim narrow his eyes. He pursed his lips in faux thought before looking down at Y/N.

“That offer is…agreeable,”

“Agreeable,” Y/N echoed.

“Yes, I find it…satisfactory,” Jim’s arms tightened around Y/N, making her laugh.

Alright, you goon. Throw on ‘Sticky Fingers’. El should be back soon.”

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?

My brain typically comes up with a tiny plot point or scenario and I build around it. Writing my stories from the middle out gives me a lot of wiggle room for the beginning and the end.

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

I don’t enjoy the “take you back after you’ve done something very terrible” trope, if that makes sense? Especially if it is within a x reader fic because I personally would rather cut off both of my legs Saw style with a rusty hacksaw than let someone whose done something like cheat on me back into my life like nothing happened. I don’t care how hot Jake Seresin is. If he cheats, his ass is KICKED to the curb. Literally.

#fanfic ask meme #fanfic ask game #ask #Jim hopper x reader

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viking-raider · 4 years

Text

Quarantine: Warm Water *Cotton Candy Goodness!*

Summary: Henry’s sore from his Witcher workout, so you take care of him.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 2,225

Warnings: NONE - Cotton Candy Goodness (Yes, More cavities) Fluff, Kal, Very Small Angst, Domestic Kink

Inspiration: A one-shot by @the-soot-sprite! and I’m just really feeling the small, sweet and domestic things a couple does for each other and together.

A/N: This is really starting to turn into a mini Series xD

When you returned from your run to the store, you found Henry lying stretched out on the couch, softly snoring, his arm slung over his eyes to shade them from the dying afternoon sun. You smiled at him, knowing he must have really worn himself out.

Even though you guys were still in quarantine, Henry was still doing his tough workouts for the Witcher. So, you let him rest and put all the groceries away. But, once that was finished, Henry was still sound asleep. You couldn't help, but tiptoe up to his prone body and gingerly fold up the hem of his blue tank top. You grinned impishly, carefully maneuvering yourself between his long legs and gently lowered your head to brush your lips against his flat stomach. Henry half moaned and half chuckled, in his sleep. He had some of the most sensitive skin you had ever encountered on a man before, and you sometimes loved torturing him about it.

Grinning, you pressed your lips to his belly and took a deep breath through your nose, before pushing it out past your lips, blowing a big raspberry against his stomach, just above his naval.

The muscles in Henry's stomach tensed against your lips, his abs becoming defined under the light dusting of hair that covered his torso, and he busted out laughing, a moment before he was even completely awake from his nap. He squirmed and thrashed as you blew another raspberry against his side and several other locations on his tummy, melting him into a flowing stream of laughter, his hands moving from trying to guard his stomach to gripping your shoulders.

“Babe!” Henry panted and giggled, a huge smile on his tired face. “Ba-Baby, p-pleasse!” He begged you, his feet kicking under your mouth's assault on his stomach. “Oh, fuck! Babe, I'm sore!” He gasped, out of breath.

You sat up, your own grin melting down into a frown, suddenly feeling bad. “I'm sorry, Puppy.” You whispered, gently rubbing away the wet spots on his stomach. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” You sighed, rubbing your palms up and down his torso, now feeling the tight knots from his hardcore workout.

“It's all right, baby.” Henry sighed, catching his breath and stared up at the ceiling. “You didn't know.” He added, softly.

You frowned harder at him, then pressed an extra gentle kiss to his tummy and got up off the couch, then climbed the stairs to your shared bedroom and into the master bathroom. You stood there for a moment, reconsidering the thought of starting a nice warm shower for Henry to step into, so he could ease his sore Witcher muscles.

“Hm.”

Pulling out a nice fluffy towel and laying it out on the counter, you hummed to yourself as you plugged the drain to the huge tub and started the tap. Smiling to yourself, you reached under the sink and pulled out two round objects and padded back downstairs to where Henry was now sitting up on the couch, trying to find something on the television.

“Which one?” You asked, holding out two different types of bath bombs to him.

“Um.” Henry frowned, brows drawing together as he looked at them, before picking the one in your right hand. “That one.” He said, blinking up at you.

“Okay.” You smiled, and went back up stairs, turning off the tap of the now full tub.

You took out a washcloth and set it on the edge of the tub, put Henry's two-in-one, Cypress and Cedar scented soap next to it, with the Chamomile and Lavender bath bomb. You even lit several candles, situating them around the rim of the sink and the shelf above the toilet. Satisfied, you removed your clothing and went back downstairs, knowing that being naked would instantly entice Henry into listening to you.

“What's going on, Babe?” Henry asked slowly, his eyes wide as he took in your naked beauty.

“Come upstairs with me, Hen.” You replied, in a silky voice and turned away from him.

Henry blindly turned the tv off and followed after you, like leading an animal back to their pen. “What's this, Nugget?” He asked, as you both entered the candle lit bathroom.

“We're going to take a bath.” You smiled at him, curling your fingers around the hem of his tank top.

Chuckling, Henry lifted his arms and let you take his tank top off. Setting his tank top aside, you gently pulled open the ties of his sweat pants and tugged them down his thick thighs, followed by his boxers. You rubbed your palms up and down his sides, pushing up on your toes to peck him on the lips, then moved away from him.

“In you go.” You told him, with a playful pat on the bum.

Giving you a sly smirk, Henry carefully stepped into the tub, moaning as he lowered his large frame into the hot water. He leaned back and stretched his legs out, opening them, so you could take your usual bath time spot between them.

But, you shook your head at him.

“Nope, you're the little duck in this rub-a-dub-tub.” You chuckled at him; he always referred to you as the 'little duck', when the two of you took a bath together, making him, of course, 'the big duck'.

Henry narrowed his eyes at you, but moved forward, so you could move in behind him, hugging your legs around his waist and wrapped your arms around his upper body to reach out and drop the bath bomb he picked into the water. Henry laughed, finally putting together all the puzzle pieces as he watched the bath bomb spin, bob and fizz out its fragrance and turned the water a purple color.

“You drew me a bath, to relax.” He sighed, looking over his shoulder at you.

“I did.” You smiled, hugging your arms around his torso and pressed your lips to the very base of his neck. “You need to relax and your muscles are sore, cause you're a hard worker, and you deserve to relax and not have to always work so hard.” You told him, rubbing your palms up and down his chest, gently kneading as you did.

“Thanks, love.” He whispered, touched and warmed at your effort to make him feel better.

Smiling softly at him and kissed his shoulder, you sat there like that with him, for several long minutes, cuddling in the hot and steamy purple water, the pleasing and relaxing scent of Lavender and Chamomile permeating in the warm mist around you. Grabbing a small cup, you had also set out while prepping Henry's bath, and filling it with the bath water, you carefully nudged Henry forward, so he could rest against you and tip his head back. You cupped your free hand against his forehead to keep the water out of his eyes and face, and carefully poured the cupful of water into his dark curls.

Pouring another cup of water into his hair, you let Henry sit back up and grabbed his shampoo, squeezing it into your hand, then gently started working the shampoo into his hair and scalp, going extra slow and massaging his scalp and head as you did. Henry moaned loudly as your fingers scrubbed deep into his hair, it almost felt like you were scrubbing and massaging his brain. He slowly melted, like the bath bomb bobbing between his bent knees; hunching forward and nodding off.

You smiled softly, hearing the change in his breathing. Gently leaning him back against you again, Henry barely stirred as you methodically rinsed out the shampoo, then grabbed the wash cloth, using the soap to lather it up and pushed him forward again, careful he didn't go completely forward. You used the soapy cloth to rub and massage Henry's neck and shoulders, spending several long minutes working at each location to untangle the knots his workout and regular stress had caused, then moved over the broad expanse of his back, dipping into the water to knead his hips, before moving on to his heavy arms.

You washed and massaged every inch of Henry's body you could reach, before rinsing the soap away, then leaned back, allowing his body to comfortably rest back against you. Your fingers trailing up and down his chest and nearly falling asleep yourself. Henry took a deep breath, his blue eyes blinking around the bathroom, the cooling water lapping at his chest as he shifted against you, sitting up.

“How long was I out?” He asked, blinking and glancing at the clock.

“Oh, about twenty minutes.” You chuckled and rested forward against his back, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. “Sleeping like a baby.” You teased him, kissing the side of his neck.

“It's like you bewitched me.” Henry chuckled back.

“Let's get out.” You whispered, feeling him struggle to keep his eyes open.

“Hmm.”

Was his reply, sluggishly standing up and stepping out of the tub, while you pulled the plug on the water and stepped out with him.

“Here.” You smirked, watching him fumbled with the towel. “You're one relaxed and sleepy, Puppy.” You cooed at him, taking the towel from him, unfolded it and started rubbing him dry.

“I feel like I've been drugged.” Henry lazily smiled back, his large body wavering for a moment, causing him to grab the edge of the sink, to stay upright.

“The wonders of hot water, a clean body and a solid massage.” You replied, rubbing the towel over his side as you moved around to his back.

“You know, what would make it a million times better?” He asked, yawning sleepily.

“Tell me.” You replied, maneuvering him yourself, so he sat down on the closed toilet lid.

“A snuggle, in a warm bed with the love of my life.” He mumbled and hummed, as you draped the towel over his head and stated to dry his dripping curls, like you were polishing something.

“I'll get you in bed with Kal, then.” You quipped, smirking as you finished drying his hair.

“It's going to get messed up.” He protested, as you started brushing his wild and fluffed up curls.

“Hush your face and enjoy it.” You tutted at him, taming his curls. “Arms up!” You sang out, picking up his spray on deodorant.

“I can't pick my eyelids up, and she wants me to put up my arms, Kal.” Henry commented to the Akita, who had come into the bathroom during his nap in the tub.

You giggled and grabbed the wrist of Henry's left arm and lifted it, then sprayed his armpit with the deodorant, before giving his right armpit the same treatment. “I love you to death, dearly and truly, but you're brushing your own teeth, yourself.” You told him, drying yourself off.

“Oh gosh, gone from the Witcher to the invalid with one bath.” You huffed playfully, at his whine. “I'll wet your toothbrush.” You said, taking the electric toothbrush from the cup it was stored in, wet it under the sink tap and put a dab of his Oral-B, charcoal toothpaste on it.

“That's all you're getting out of me, sir.” You told him, turning the toothbrush on and handing it to him. “Well, almost.” You poured a capful of mouthwash for him.

Both of you bathed, dried, hair tamed and teeth brushed, you directed your zombie-like boyfriend to his side of the bed and sat him down, then returned to the bathroom to blow out all the candles. You chuckled, finding Henry hunched over again, having dozed off in the minute it took you to blow the candles out. Shaking your head, you pulled down the blankets and gently pushed Henry over, to lay down on the bed.

“Ssshh.” You cooed at his sleepy whimper, then covered him up.

“Babe.” Henry mumbled, not even really awake.

“What, honey?” You whispered quietly back, not wanting to bother him, in case he was just mumbling in his sleep.

“I don't wanna snuggle with Kal.” He murmured, his brow creasing. “I wanna snuggle with you.”

A smile instantly spread across your face, he had been so tired and relaxed, that your Bear of a boyfriend, had completely missed your humor. “Okay.” You said softly, gently brushing your fingers over his wrinkled brow, smoothing the crease away. “I'll let him know, he has to get out of my spot.” You assured him.

“Okay.” He let out in a soft sigh, his entire body going slack against the mattress.

“Sorry, Bear.” You whispered to Kal, who sat at the foot of the bed.

You turned the lights out and crawled into bed with Henry, gliding your hand up his arm and kissed his cheek as he rolled over at your touch, wrapping his arm around your waist and hugged you against his body, tucking you beneath him as he pillowed his heavy head on your breast. You pulled the blankets over you both and carded your fingers through his damp hair, massaged the back of his neck and caressed the space between his shoulder-blades; slowly falling asleep yourself.

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.

Day 1: The Case Of The Mysterious Shrinking Sweater.

Warnings: Bad Language words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this all came about as myself, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @jennmurawski13 saw a post about Ransom doing everyday things…and yeah, it kinda spiralled. The series will consists of one-shots and drabbles, all light hearted…and the occasional little bit of smut thrown in for your pleasure and we hope a nice countdown to Christmas after what has been an utter shit-show of a year.

We will be taking it in turns to alternate posting so keep your eyes peeled for the next instalments as they arrive. I’ll be re-blogging and tagging my list.

Series Masterlist.

People say that being pregnant was an enjoyable experience, that you glowed and bloomed. But right now the only thing blooming was the feeling of nausea in the pit of your stomach. You lay still, hoping that it would go away, but as usual it didn’t. Swinging your legs off the side of your huge bed, you hurried barefoot over the plush carpet of the bedroom you shared with your husband before dropping with a thud to the floor of the en-suite, emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl of the toilet. You repeated the motion again and again until you were retching dry air, your eyes watering, throat stinging and you let out a little sob.

At almost 22 weeks pregnant, this was ridiculous. The whole morning sickness was supposed to have eased off by now, but not for you. Oh no. Mind you, what else were you to expect given that you were expecting his baby.

The spawn of Satan…

“Y/N?” your husband’s deep baritone hit your ears and you turned to look up at him as he stood in the doorway, clad only in his boxers. Strong thighs gave way to a tapered waist, a flat yet slightly soft stomach ran into the hard planes of chest muscle and sculpted arms from years of playing polo (God forbid the asshole do any other form of manual exercise, well apart from the obvious one that got you into this mess in the first place that is). Broad shoulders stretched either side of a strong neck which supported that damningly handsome face with the jawline that could cut glass and those deep blue eyes that had ruined your panties the first time you’d seen them.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale was a beautiful bastard. And he knew it.

“You ok?” he asked. You narrowed your eyes before a fresh wave of nausea hit you and you retched once more.

“Do I look ok?” you shot back, sinking back onto your heels, wiping at your face. You felt Ransom move from the doorway and then heard the tap running.

“Here.” One hand settled between your shoulder-blades, the other handed you a glass of water as Ransom knelt besides you, his blue eyes bearing the warmth that he reserved only for you. You took the drink without a thanks, the usual sarcasm he would display at such an action remained unsaid as you drained the glass and passed it back. “Can I do anything else?”

“Fast forward to January next year so the baby’s here?” you grumbled “I can’t take another damned 4 months or whatever of this, Ransom!”

“Sorry Princess.” He chuckled, “I can’t help you there.” “I hate you.”

“So you keep saying.” He shrugged “But the fact you’re pregnant with my son…kinda proves that you don’t.”

“We were drunk. Besides, hate fucking is a thing.”

“Is hate marrying?”

“Yup.” You nodded. “I only married you so I could divorce you for your money.”

“Well that was almost 2 years ago so why you still here?” he drawled back and you looked at him, snorting as a smirk spread across his face before he tossed his head slightly to throw back the strands of his hair that had fallen forward over his forehead “Thought so.”

“Asshole.”

With a roll of his eyes Ransom helped you to your feet, glancing down at your chest, your swollen breasts visible down the front of your camisole top. His eyebrow arched a little as he raised his head to meet your eyes and you snorted.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh come on baby!” he whined, his hands falling to your hips, pushing up the silk of the top you were wearing, his thumbs skating over the curve of your bump “You know what seeing you like this does to me.”

“Seeing me like what? Red faced with puke in my hair?”

“Yeah the puke not so much.” He wrinkled his face, “But I can think of an arrangement here that could potentially eliminate that particular issue.”

“You’re not fucking me in the shower.” You shook your head.

“But…”

“No buts Ransom.” You looked at him as he glared back, his face now wearing the usual petulant expression he bore when he didn’t get his own way “Stop being a brat. I’m up now and I got stuff to do.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he folded his arms. You gave a groan of exasperation.

“I have a conference call with my boss at midday…”

“It’s a Saturday.”

“I know that, but we have a big case…”

“You don’t need to work, tell him to fuck off.”

As usual you ignored Ransom’s dig about your job. He could never understand why you insisted on keeping your role as a Legal Secretary, but then again what was to be expected from the trust fund Man-Baby who had never worked a day in his life. “And there’s a pile of laundry to do.”

“I don’t know why you won’t let me hire a maid….”

“I don’t WANT A FUCKING MAID!” you exploded. Ransom’s eyebrows shooting upwards slightly was the only reaction to your shouting that he gave. “This is our home...”

“Well with the baby on the way, maybe you might want to reconsider that stance.”

“Or maybe you could start pulling your weight.” You jabbed him in his chest. He glanced down at your finger, his eyebrow arched as he looked back at you.

“Pulling my weight?”

“Yes.”

“Exactly how?”

“I dunno…how about you start performing those little real life tasks that normal people do Ransom? You know, the laundry, cleaning the bathroom, loading the dishwasher, making the bed, cooking breakfast or dinner…”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He scoffed and you groaned “You know I can’t cook.”

“How do you think I learned?” you shook your head, before rubbing at your temple. “I practiced.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen Princess.”

“What a surprise” you shrugged “God forbid Hugh Ransom Drysdale get his hands dirty.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He snapped and you snorted. Of all the names you called him, it was his actual name that riled him so much. It was ridiculous, but also too good an opportunity to pass up. He was an asshole at times, and you took none of his shit. You never had done, not since that fateful day you met in that lecture hall at Harvard some 10 years or so ago. Truth be told, he’d often admitted it was the fact you gave him nothing but shit, called him out and basically ignored him for 6 months, despite the fact that you desperately wanted him to do very rude things to you. Your ambivalence provided him with a challenge and he pursued you with a dogged determination which you eventually gave in to towards the end of your first year of Study.

“Why not?” you shrugged, deciding to poke the bear a little more because, well, you could…that and you kind of enjoyed watching that vein pop in his neck when he was pissed “Isn’t that what the help call you? I mean I might as well be your help all things considered.”

“You’re my fucking wife.” Ransom spoke through grit teeth, his jaw set, neck strained (ah, there was that vein!)

“Well here’s a novel idea.” You smiled up at him “Why don’t you start acting like I am instead of some glorified housekeeper that you fuck and keep in your bed.”

“Ok, I’m gonna let that slide due to hormones.” Ransom’s hands fell to his hips.

“You’re gonna let it slide?” you scoffed

“Yes.”

“Whatever.” You took a deep breath “Now get out I need a shower.”

“So….just so we’re on the same page, you don’t want me to-“

“NO RANSOM!” you growled, shoving his chest. He sniggered, stepped back with his hands up, palms open as he backed out of the door, closing it behind him.

*****

Ransom could hear Y/N’s voice as it drifted softly through the closed door of the study into the hallway and he rolled his eyes. Her boss was a jerk, making her call in at midday on a fucking weekend, all because he was too incompetent to cope himself. She should be curled up on the sofa, watching junk, eating crap, wearing nothing but one of his sweaters. She’d been looking for her favourite one before, cursing when she’d realised it was in the laundry hamper and mumbling about how she’d pop it into the machine later.

“How about you start performing those little real life tasks that normal people do Ransom? You know, do the laundry…”

Ransom paused by the stairs, before he smirked a little. “Oh you’re gonna eat your words, Princess.” He mumbled, before he bolted upstairs and into their bedroom, through to the en-suite. Tipping the hamper up on its side he looked down at the pile of clothes and frowned. Y/N normally sorted them into separate piles, but he wasn’t sure how…or why now he thought about it.

Fuck it, there was nothing google couldn’t solve.

He soon found out, thank you Housewives Online, that they needed to be sorted according to colours. Whites, brights and darks. So, as his sweater was blue it could go in the colours pile. He nudged the other two piles to the side of the room with his foot before he gathered the one he wanted in his arms, wrinkling his nose at the fact he actually had dirty clothes in his hands and made his way downstairs. He wandered through the kitchen and into the utility room at the back, before he stuffed the items into the machine and then looked around for the detergent. He found it on a shelf over the back of the room along with the fabric softener. Grabbing them both he then paused as he realised he didn’t actually know where it went.

Okay, so this had to be a process of elimination. He pulled open the little drawer on the front and smirked as he noticed the sections were labelled.

“Piece of cake.” He poured in what he deemed enough of each and then shut it, before he looked at the digital dials on the front.

“For fucks sake…” he grumbled, punching a few buttons. Eventually the display kicked in, offering him a one hour-thirty hot wash.

“Well, who washes clothes in cold water?” he shrugged, pressing the green button. As he stood back the machine kicked into life and Ransom nodded, congratulating himself, before he decided he’d earned himself a beer.

****

“Son of a…” you heard the curse as you opened the door to the study and frowned. Whilst your call had lasted a little longer than it should have, surely Ransom couldn’t have gotten himself into that much trouble in the space of two hours. You followed his string of expletives down the hall, through the kitchen and into the laundry room to find Ransom holding what looked like a smaller version of his sweater in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“Singing a duet with Beyonce, what does it look like I’m doing?” he snapped.

“It looks like you’re doing laundry.” You ignored his shitty comment and arched an eyebrow, one hand falling to your small bump.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Where did you get that little…” you trailed off as you realised that it wasn’t a smaller version of his gorgeous navy blue, soft woolly number in his hands, it WAS his gorgeous navy blue, soft woolly number “You shrunk your sweater?” He glared at you as you started to laugh “Oh my god, you dumbass!”

“It wasn’t me it was that fucking shitty machine.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the machine.”

“Well why did it shrink then?”

“What programme did you put it on?”

“Programme?” he frowned “I just turned it on.”

With a sigh you rubbed at your temple “There are different settings depending on what you’re washing.” You stated “That’s wool. It should have been on a cool cycle.”

Ransom looked at the item in his hand and you watched as his shoulders sagged a little. “I wanted it to be nice and clean for you to wear later.” He sighed as he peeked up at you, a strand of hair falling over to his brow. Your heart instantly melted, little gestures like this from him meant the world as it was his way of showing he cared. He could buy you all the expensive shit in the world but these were the little things you craved.

“Oh baby!” you chuckled as you stepped forward, leaning up to kiss his cheeks. “It was a nice thought…” you took the sweater off him and looked at it “But even I don’t think I’ll fit into that. It’s tiny.”

Ransom looked at it before his face suddenly curled into a smile “Baby boy tiny?”

You let out a laugh “Maybe not baby boy tiny, but little child boy tiny, sure.”

“We’ll save it for him then.” He said, tossing it down into the basket of wet items that needed to be dried. “His first hand-me-down.”

You smiled as his hands dropped to your hips and pulled you closer. “You’re a big softy really, aint you?” you reached up to brush that stubborn strand of hair back of his forehead and he shrugged before he grinned, rocking his pelvis forward.

“I won’t be soft for long.” His head dropped and he nipped at your ear “Let me show you what Husband chore I’m actually good at.”

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic

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vennilavee · 4 years

Text

pink matter

pairing: levi x reader- grad school/boxer au (set in 2:58 AM//bare knuckles universe) summary: it’s levi’s birthday and you’re his present. word count: 4052 warnings: smoking (shisha), smut in the form of: oral (f receiving), fingering, grinding, oc is lowkey a pillow princess, oc cries (bc levi’s stroke game is too good), edging, spitting (dont @ me). 18+ !!!! a/n: ummm what can i say other than...happy birthday to my mans. and yes i listened to pink matter by frank ocean on repeat while writing this

Levi and birthdays were a tricky thing- he stubbornly refused to do anything over the top every year that you’d known him. His birthday celebrations have almost always been something that his friends have planned, or for the past few years, they’ve been celebrations that you have planned. His birthday fell during winter break, but this year neither of you were heading home. He was staying on campus for his internship and you were staying on campus to apply for jobs and give Levi company.

Besides, your family’s home wasn’t far from campus anyway.

He had had a boxing match earlier in the week, and had come out relatively unscathed with a few still healing bruises and welts over his knuckles. Despite your many attempts to dissuade him from underground boxing, none of them worked. He was good at it, great even, and he made more money underground boxing than he could ever hope to make at his internship. Besides, he had promised you that he was almost ready to quit.

You refused to let him splurge on you the way you knew he wanted to. If he was going to hurt himself to save up money for his mother, then every penny of his boxing money would go towards that.

Levi could splurge on you later, as you often reminded him when it was late at night and he would voice to you how you deserve more. You scoffed at him, telling him that he knew you better than that. Besides, his kisses, his touch, his time was worth more than anything. Him coming back to you unscathed was worth more than a pretty piece of jewelry.

That didn’t stop him from getting you a beautiful gold necklace for your birthday. He needed to get you at least one thing for you to show off. You had protested immediately- you were both struggling for money, to make ends meet as graduate students. But he had silenced you- “Let me treat you just this once.”

And you couldn’t argue with that.

So today, you choose to keep Levi’s birthday lowkey, just how he prefers it. Just you and him. He’s spending most of the day at his internship, and then will be meeting Erwin and Hange for a quick drink. And then he’ll be having dinner with you.

He had asked you several times if you had wanted to join him for drinks, but you waved him off. Telling him to spend time with his friends, and that you’d go to his apartment once he came back.

Levi had kissed you goodbye in the morning, letting you linger over his chapped lips for a few minutes longer.

You’re satisfied in letting him leave in the morning, as you had woken him up early with a birthday blowjob. The rest can wait until after he comes home.

You had given instructions to Erwin and Hange to keep Levi with them for as long as they could. After all, you had to finish baking the mini lemon tarts you wanted to make for Levi, make dinner, and get ready.

You were going to wear your baby pink satin-y dress. The one with thin straps. The one that Levi loved on you.

Anticipation floods through you as minutes tick by. You were multitasking- rolling dough, chopping meat, green chilis and vegetables up for the jiaozi and noodles that you wanted to make for dinner while checking the oven. Levi had given you his mother’s recipe for jiaozi, and you were eager to try it out.

Hopefully it came out as good as his mom’s.

You'd told Levi you’d be heading back to your own place to tidy up and fix up your resume, but really you had just snuck back into his apartment to start cooking with the spare key he had given you.

His kitchen smells wonderful and spicy mixed with sweet. A thin layer of sweat pools over your brow as you make sure that the broth is just right and the tarts aren’t too overdone. You’d even bought wine and whiskey- the wine mainly for you, and the whiskey for him.

Once the dough has rested for long enough, you add soy sauce, rice wine, salt and pepper to the meat and mix it. Then, you cut the dough into thin slices and add the meat filling to it. Before wetting the dough and folding the edges, you pull the tarts out of the oven.

Maybe you had prepared the tarts too early. Oh well, that’s okay.

You cook the jiaozi and pan-fry them, satisfied at the golden brown, crispy texture of them.

You make several servings of spicy Szechuan chili garlic noodles, to save as leftovers for tomorrow. You love noodles, and chili garlic noodles are one of Levi’s favorites.

Perfect. You still have around forty minutes left to get ready. If you move quickly, that’s all you’d need.

The small dining table in Levi’s extended kitchen is set with two plates, a glass of whiskey for Levi and a glass of red wine for you. You had strung more pink fairy lights around his living room and kitchen, giving the walls a faint, romantic glow.

Not that Levi knows what’s awaiting him. He’s not even expecting you in his apartment, but when he fumbles with the keys and sees the pink glow washing over his walls he knows you’ve been by.

But then he sees you sitting on the couch in his favorite baby pink dress with your legs crossed and a soft smile. You swirl your glass of wine at him expectantly, before setting it on the coffee table and greeting him at the door.

“Hey,” You murmur, smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt with your hands, “Welcome home.”

Levi can’t take his eyes off of the red of your lips. He plants his hands over your hips, drawing you in closer to him. He traces over the curve of your jaw, eyeing the necklace sitting nice and pretty at the base of your throat. Levi dips his head to kiss your clavicle easily.

“Hey,” Levi drawls, “You all pretty for me?”

“No,” You roll your eyes, “‘M all pretty for me. You’re just an added bonus.”

“Even on my birthday?”

“Shut up,” You laugh, swatting his shoulder, “Go wash up. I made you something.”

Levi palms and smacks your ass generously, swallowing your soft sigh with his lips before ducking out to wash his hands. You watch him walk away from you, enjoying the way his dress shirt clings to his narrow waist and his broad shoulders. You ring your own hands in slight nervousness, hoping that he enjoys the food you prepared for him.

You know he will. But still, you like compliments and you’re not above admitting that.

You refill your wine glass, nearly jumping when Levi wraps his arms around your waist. His hands are warm against your belly, sending a bolt of desire through your spine.

“Started drinkin’ without me?” He murmurs, voice low in your ear.

“No,” You shake your head, “I had a glass as I was cooking. That doesn’t count.”

Levi’s hand slips up the slit of your dress, squeezing your thighs and trailing up your leg. “You made us dinner?”

“And dessert,” You mumble with a nod, turning in his arms and gesturing to the dinner table. Levi’s eyes soften when he sees the set up of the dinner table- two neatly prepared plates with steaming food. How had he not smelled it when he walked in?

Probably because he was too taken with the scent of your perfume.

“It’s not much,” You mumble shyly, “But-”

Levi cuts your words off with a searing kiss, pulling you into his chest and cradling your neck. “It’s everything, angel,” Levi says, pressing his forehead to yours, “You’re everything.”

Your painted lips split into a bashful smile, and you push his hair out of his eyes to press a kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

Levi kisses you again in gratitude, soft and chaste. His hands are rough over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He takes your hand and seats you in his lap in one swift movement, shifting you until you fit within the crevices of his chest.

You reach over for your plate and glass of wine, waiting for him to take the first bite of jiaozi. His eyes widen in appreciation, a soft hum coming from his chest.

“Tastes so good,” Levi murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder.

“Really?” You perk up, turning to look at him, “It was my first time, I wasn’t sure if I got them quite right-”

“Really,” Levi says, “Thank you for this.”

“Just wanted to do somethin’ nice for you,” You shrug, unable to stop the smile from spreading, “You deserve it, baby.”

Levi hooks his chin over your shoulder, patting your thigh to wordlessly tell you to eat with him. After a few bites, you admit-

“You’re right, I did do a good job,” You giggle, the noise almost high pitched with the addition of wine. Levi tugs your hand into his, admiring the soft lilac color of your nails as he takes a generous sip of his whiskey.

“You did,” Levi trails off flatly, nosing at your neck. You both finish your plates quietly with gratuitous sips of wine and whiskey in between respectively. The soft material of your dress is always within Levi’s touch- he loves this dress on you because it only just ghosts over the nearly hidden lines and curves of your body.

He thinks it makes you look ethereal.

By the time you finish your plates off, you’re feeling the effects of wine curling in your limbs. Making you a little more affectionate than normal, not wanting to let go of Levi’s hand. Always touching him, somehow.

Levi puts your plates away and washes them quickly as you box up the food for leftovers for tomorrow. “Hey, guess what,” You murmur, “I packed the bowl for us-”

You gesture to the living room, where your pink and purple hookah sits tall and pretty next to the coffee table. Your hookah has been your trusty friend for the last few years, and you had even introduced Levi to it. Your hookah has now made a home in Levi’s apartment as well. Even though you had taught him how to use it, he had slowly become the one to pack the shisha into the bowl whenever you both wanted to smoke and clean the water out.

You claimed that the shisha would stain your nails. He had rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. You were such a princess, but you were his princess.

“Oh wow, is it a special occasion?” He says dryly, with the arch of his eyebrow.

“It’s just some guy’s birthday,” You reply without missing a beat, earning yourself a squeeze of your ass. You sit next to him on the couch, legs tucked under you and give him the hookah pipe to take the first pull.

He blows the soft tuft of smoke above your head before taking a deeper pull. A larger cloud of smoke floats out of his mouth. You’re mesmerized by the shape of his lips and the way he holds the clear plastic pink pipe in between his long fingers.

Levi wordlessly hands you the pipe after a few pulls. You lean against his shoulder and thread your fingers through his as you take a few generous pulls. Smoking from your hookah has become something of a stress relief for both of you- sometimes you ended your nights with a nice pack and just sat with each other. It was a good way to wind down after long days and long nights.

It was a habit you knew you might be growing too old for, but you’ll deal with that later.

You start to feel a little lightheaded, a little tipsy and give Levi the pipe back. “Did you have a good day today?” You ask softly, cradling his cheek with your hand.

He hums, “Wish they were paying me more at the internship. But I’m here now.”

You understand his unspoken words- I’m happy to be here now.

“We’ll be okay soon, Levi,” You promise, “We’ll be outta here soon, baby.”

But for tonight, he only wants to think about you. Levi only wants to think about you, you in this pretty dress, you all pretty in his arms. So he puts the pipe on the table and drops the coal from the bowl, ignoring your noise of protest. Levi pulls you into his lap hastily, hands tight over your hips and wandering down to your ass.

“You should suck my cock,” Levi says bluntly, “It’s my birthday, after all.”

He’s only joking- really, he likes seeing the way you pout and protest at him. Like the princess that you are. “Levi,” You whine, “I did this morning, and I can’t get on my knees in this dress…”

“You’re right,” Levi muses, fingers tracing your sides, “This dress is too nice for you to ruin.”

“It’s your favorite dress,” You say. You’re proud of yourself and Levi finds it endearing. Levi draws you even closer and lays you over the couch with your back flat. He clasps the hem of the tight skirt of your dress and hikes it up to your waist and allows his fingers to graze the softness of your inner thighs.

Fingers instantly thread through his dark, silky hair, tugging at his scalp. He groans into your skin, eyes fluttering at the feeling. Levi draws himself up over your body, slipping the thin, pink straps of your dress off of your shoulders and dropping kisses along the column of your neck. You tilt your neck to the side in your hazy stupor, giving him an eyeful of your glowing skin.

You’re so pretty.

Levi kisses the spot behind your ear, the spot that never fails to make you sigh his name airily. He’s intoxicated by you, the sweet smell of your perfume mixed with his cologne clinging to your skin and wrapping you both in a pink bubble. Levi cradles your face with his hand, drawing your eyes towards him.

You leave him a little breathless- far more breathless than after a difficult boxing match. None of that has anything on the way you blink at him with hearts dotted in your eyes, or the way your lips are swollen from his kisses. And especially not the way you trace the hard planes of his chest with gentle calls of his name.

His eyes are blazing, adoration stamped in his grey irises. Levi ducks his head for a sharp kiss, drawing a loud whimper out of you when he puts a little pressure over your neck. He squeezes a little harder when you whine impatiently and lock your legs around his narrow waist.

His angel in pink is just full of surprises.

Levi could kiss you for hours, the soft, wet feel of your red lips against his is something he wants to drown in. He’s certain your red lipstick stains his skin, but he pays it no mind. He knows you’ll get a kick out of it, but right now, you’re only focused on peeling him out of his shirt. You toss his dress shirt on the other side of the couch, where it lands on the armchair unassumingly.

Levi hisses when your lips brush over freshly healed bruises on his chest, but he doesn’t mind the slight sting. Levi firmly pushes you back towards the couch, an excited gasp ripping from your throat.

You like it when he shows off his strength for you. Specifically, when he manhandles you a little bit.

“Be good,” Levi murmurs raspily, taking your curious hands in his, “You gonna be my good girl? It’s my birthday…”

You nod instantly, eager to please, “Y-yes. ‘M your good girl…”

“Then keep your hands to yourself, angel,” Levi says and you pout at him. But you listen, struggling not to touch him.

Levi pushes the top of your dress down and unclasps your lacy black bra in quick succession, your tits spilling out easily. Your entire body pulses when his lips plaster over your chest, his lips sucking and tongue soothing as he slides down your body.

He looks up at you from in between your legs, pleased when your eyes are hooded. You’re doing your best to listen to him, to not touch him. Just because he said so and you want to be good for him. Levi hooks his hands around your hips, pulling you flush against his face.

You buck your hips towards him and hope he doesn’t notice. He does, but says nothing, only pushing the skirt of your dress higher up on your waist. Leaving your legs bare and your clothed pussy in front of him for him to devour. Levi dots your thighs in kisses before his head disappears in between your legs and rubs his thumb over your clothed clit. He presses a kiss there and you shudder, wanting to run your hands through his hair.

But you keep your hands to yourself.

Levi hums when he finally peels your panties off and puts them in the pocket of his pants, not wanting them to get dirty. You choke at the action, feeling your face heat up. Levi spreads your legs apart, hiking them over his shoulders and licks your core teasingly. His tongue is so wet and warm that you can’t help but buck your hips for more with a whine. You tighten your thighs around his head as he gathers your wetness with his thumb and circles your clit in the same motion.

You grip the sofa cushions in an attempt to ground yourself. Your thighs tremble at the first swipe of his tongue over your folds and when he continues to circle your clit. Levi sucks your clit and pushes a finger into your dripping pussy, and you let out a strangled sort of noise. He pumps you a few strokes, your walls already clenching around his finger.

And then he just stops. You whine in annoyance, your brow furrowed and your lips pursed together in a pout. He only smirks at you wickedly, adding another finger into you and holding still. You try to fuck yourself on his fingers, but he won’t have that.

“Thought you were gonna be my good girl,” Levi murmurs, palm flat against your hip.

“Mmm-please, baby,” You mumble, eyes beginning to fill with unshed tears, “I love you, please touch me-”

“Alright, angel,” Levi acquiesces easily. He only wants to please you, wants to maybe see you cry on his cock, come apart with his hand wrapped around your pretty throat. “You know I love you.”

Your eyes light up at that, pout dissolving into a soft smile. Levi kisses your thigh once more and dips his head in between your legs. You move your foot so it’s flat against Levi’s back for more leverage, letting out a loud moan when his tongue presses into your pussy. You rock your hips into his face, nearly choking at the sight of his dark hair in between your legs.

You don’t even realize how lewdly you’re calling his name, as he grinds his tongue into you as if you’re the sweetest honey he’s ever had.

Which you are. Because you’re his angel. You do well with being obedient, not allowing your hands to graze any part of him. So he looks up from in between your legs, your wetness dribbling down his chin and gives you a look that makes your pussy flutter.

“Good girl,” Levi murmurs and ducks his head down once more. The soft praise shoots straight down your spine and Levi tastes it. He threads his fingers through yours and you gasp at his touch, squeezing greedily.

“You feel so good, Levi,” You babble, “Love you, I love you so much-”

You cut yourself off with a wretched moan when Levi presses his tongue flat against your pussy and strokes you with two long fingers in you. Levi knows when you’re close, when your thighs begin to tremble and when you start babbling to him as you are now.

He pumps you slowly, alternating between slow and fast as you gush for him on his tongue. Levi groans in between your legs, the sound reverberating through you and he eagerly laps up another wave of wetness.

“Look at you, angel,” Levi murmurs, pulling his tongue away to play with your clit as he presses kisses on your inner thighs.

“Yours, ‘m yours,” You slur, “Please, baby, make me cum, I’m so close…”

And since you asked so nicely, the lilt of your voice coated with silky adoration for him and him only, he presses his tongue to your pussy once more. Your back arches instantly, thighs beginning to quiver when he sucks your clit and presses two fingers into you again.

“Levi, baby, please,” You beg with tears gathering in the corner of your eyes and dropping down your cheeks, “Love your mouth, love you so much. Wanna be with you always, wanna give you everything…”

God, he loves you so much. The way your eyes water when you’re close, the way you wrap around him perfectly like this. There’s nothing that can compare to your softness meshing with all of his rough edges.

“Cum, baby,” Levi murmurs hoarsely, scissoring his fingers inside of you. He shifts so that he’s over your frame, his fingers still inside of you and kisses you harshly. You taste yourself on his lips, moaning into his mouth. You don’t have the strength to pull away as your orgasm is within reach once more. You clench desperately around his fingers before he’s about to slide down your body again but you stop him.

“N-no,” You mumble, “Kiss me, want you to kiss me.” You yank him down to you, pushing your lips to his impatiently as you rock into his fingers. You look up at him with your lips parted and with heated cheeks, as he rubs your clit with his thumb.

“C’mon angel, cum for me,” Levi says, a soft demand. The headiness of his voice and his blown out eyes make your toes curl. With another few rubs of your clit with his thumb, stars explode behind your eyelids, your heart is about to beat right out of your chest and Levi holds you steady as you ride out your high.

Levi slides down your body to lap up your wetness and you close your legs instinctively from oversensitivity. Your thighs jump at his sudden touch over your clit and you try to shove him away but he pulls off of you himself, hovering above you and settling in your arms.

You give him a dazed, happy smile. Levi licks his lips, letting saliva gather on his tongue and presses his thumb to your chin.

“Open, angel,” He breathes. When you part your lips eagerly, red lipstick long smudged, he drops a ball of spit onto your waiting tongue and watches the bob of your throat as you swallow eagerly. Levi kisses you, coating your bottom lip with spit, just the way you like.

You grin at him, a little messy, a little in love. Levi’s cock jumps as he looks at you below him.

“You’re messy,” Levi says fondly, cradling your cheek.

“You like me messy,” You wink at him and wrap your legs around his waist to push him down to your chest. He rests his weight on top of you and you can feel the hard press of his cock against your thigh. You grind into him teasingly, lightly scratching at his undercut.

“I made dessert for you,” You say forlornly, “Made lemon tarts. With blackberries on top.”

“Lemme have you on top and then we’ll eat your tarts,” Levi says, earning himself a smack to the chest.

Levi carries you to his bedroom after that, and you don’t end up eating the lemon tarts until most of the city has fallen asleep and flurries begin to come down from the sky.

tags: @simpingmaize @captainchrisstan @alrightberries @bbygrgu @phen0l

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x you #snk x reader #aot x reader

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

Text

Surprising Finds

Summary- 1.7k. Ransom Drysdale x You. Bucky Barnes x You. Ransom said you could do whatever you want. So you decided you wanted to go antiquing much to his dismay. Warnings- probably a word or two. But honestly its fluff. Divider made by @firefly-graphics

A/N- I found out @sagechanoafterdark‘s birthday is coming up. As its a surprise, I didn't ask but I did take some inspiration from her personal series Held For Ransom and All Good Things. Both fantastic series and should be checked out. I hope you have a wonderful day Sage and thank you for reading all my rambles in your DM’s.

Ransom perched his sunglasses on the end of his nose as he peered over the frames to the quaint storefront you had him stop at. There was a couple tables displaying some nice dishes and other kitchen appliances, above them in the awning were hanging baskets of morning glories lifting to the morning sunlight and giving the whole store a welcoming feeling. “Here? This is where you wanted to stop Y/N? It looks abandoned.”

You were digging in your purse and pulling out a few bills to stuff in your pocket before pushing your bag to the floorboard and under the passenger side car seat. “It does not look abandoned. There is an open sign right in the door.”

“Is that even a legit sign? It looks like something someone plastered it there to draw in unsuspecting tourists so they can trap them and torture them. There is a Saks just another hour away we will be passing. You can find whatever you want there.” He tried reasoning with you, about to turn the car back on when you reached over and slipped the keys from the ignition and smirked at him.

“Nice try Ransom, but today was about what I wanted to do.” You slipped out of the car, leaving him there huffing at you and pushing his sunglasses back up his nose and following you. He did agree this morning to those terms. Of course you might have coerced him with playful kisses on his chest while straddling him, giving him the look.

That look.

The cursed look you could pull off whenever you caught him off guard. Fuck it Drysdale, you should have known better.

“Well if I had known you were going to drag me to the middle of some bum fuck town in the middle of nowhere to look at other people's junk, I would have planned out a trip for us instead.” He complained in a slightly accusing tone as you shrugged while pushing open the door with some effort, blinking in the sudden dim lighting that accompanied antique stores typically.

“Stay in the car then Hugh, you can't ruin this for me.” Almost flippant sounding, not caring. Oh that tone could drive him nuts.

“Don't call me that.” he snapped.

“Then quit acting like I'm forcing you to come with me against your will.” You shot back with a smirk, knowing that you could so easily get under his skin. Peering around now that your eyes adjusted. So far no one had come from the counter to greet them, so you just wandered into the building. Ransom was not far behind, picking up random things and rolling it in his hands before setting them back down. You hummed happily while lifting box covers and pulling out old records, reading titles and sifting through a few piles of magazines and books littering the shelves. “See, it's not so bad.”

Ransom, who was currently glancing in a glass case with some fine gold jewelry and coins yanked his sunglasses off and perched them atop his head. “It's okay, but it's still full of junk.” He made a pointed glance at a gaudy relic of a mime painting leaning against a wall.

“Sure, you have to seek out the treasures in here.” You countered while sidling up towards him, loping your arm around his waist while looking in the case before moving towards the painting he had so adamantly pointed out. “What do you say, we could always gift this to Linda?” You teased and Ransom moved beyond the glass case to stand in front of it, laughing.

“Are you saying my mother would enjoy that?” Ransom quirked a brow as you made a move to stand a bit away, holding it out at arms length and making you giggle.

“Hell I know she would hate it, but how funny would it be to see her attempt to say thank you while we are offering to hang it on her wall?”

“She wouldn't even try. She would flat out say hell no.” Ransom shook his head and pulled out the painting behind it, grimacing at the next one. Some portrait of a man, looking stoic in the portrait, it actually reminded Ransom of his Harlen's portrait that he was sure Marta still had hanging in memory of his grandfather. “Besides, it's probably haunted or some shit.”

You were about to point out why it was an even better gift then to torture Linda with when a male’s voice interrupted them. You both turned at the same time to see someone come out the back room.

Coffee colored hair framed around a warm face, dog tags bouncing off his chest as he grunted with effort dropping off a heavy looking box behind the cash register. “I can assure you it is not haunted. Not that piece at least.” The man brushed the dust off his hands as he came around to greet them. “But I'm afraid I can't tell you the story behind it. I'm just helping today. The store owner happens to be at an estate sale. But anything you have an interest in, I can have her call you. My name is Bucky, if you need any other kind of help.” He smiled warmly, holding his hand out which you shook, then Ransom afterwards, introducing yourselves as well.

You had to admit he had caught you by surprise. Your breath hitched a bit and you felt Ransom stiffen next to you, having heard it as well. “We are just here to look around, not for anything in particular. But thanks for the offer.” You mention while Ransom wraps an arm over your shoulder, you could feel him posturing slightly, a puff to his chest, a rumble of a “We are fine, thanks.”

Bucky retreated back to his project after you two moved away further into the store, looking over old knick knacks and vases that you had an interest in. Ransom loosened up once you two were alone again.

“What was that about?” You asked while moving to a clothes rack, picking up an extravagant hat and perching it on your head.

“What was what about?” he asked, grabbing a scarf and draping it around your neck, pulling you closer. A signature smirk on perfect pink lips upturned slightly. “You look dashing by the way.”

You narrow your gaze as he drops his head to nip at your lips, pressing your hands to firm pecs under his shirt. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” you whispered while he continued to tease you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulled away.

“I heard that gasp of yours.” He pulled the scarf off while you did the same with the hat, moving into another section of the store. “You think he’s cute.”

You paw through some random box of items, picking through mugs and utensils. “So what if I did?”

Ransom curled the tip of his nose at your response and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, seeing a moment of self doubt that you knew he dealt with, although you two have brushed on the subject a few times, you knew it lingered. You roll your eyes to yourself with a half smile and turn back to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Sure hes cute, but does he drive me insane and fuck me so good I’m screaming his name? Or bring me my morning coffee in bed? Do I wear his favorite sweater around the house to tease him? That's a hell no, only you get that Ransom.”

“You are a menace.” Ransom shook his head, that doubt melting from his eyes and turning sharp again with your statement.

“Hell, calling the kettle black their Drysdale.” You grin while taking his hand and leading him to the next table. Ransom was about to follow when he pulled up short, picking up a decanter made from cut crystal.

“Okay this I want.” He let go of your hand, admiring the rest of the set. You folded your arms over your chest, smirking at him.

“See, complain the whole time and look who’s the first one to find something they just had to have.”

You stood at your kitchen counter mixing together some dried tea leaves to pack into a tea ball when you felt a pair of arms circle around your waist and a broad chest press against your back. “Welcome home Doll.” came the Brooklyn accent that made you smile, looking over your shoulder with a quick peck to his lips.

“It's good to be back. I got some really nice items so that once they are cleaned up they will look excellent displayed in the front there. Did you have any customers?” You turned back to your tea, dipping it in a cup and pouring the steaming water over it. Soon the calming aroma of lavender wafted over you two while Bucky and you retreated towards the living room. He settled first and you curled into his side.

His fingers smoothed along your thigh while he recounted the day to you. A few small sales, some of the vintage dresses that so many loved finding in good condition, a rather nice dresser you had hoped would find a good home and collectible teddy bears that you guessed would go quickly.

“... then a younger couple came in. They had a whole mess of stuff they took with them. That decanter set you had laying around went. And the woman found herself a “I’m The Boss” mug she insisted on much to his dismay.” Bucky chuckled softly recalling the expressions. “They were looking at the paintings in the corner. Assuming that mime one was haunted, it is kind of creepy.”

You giggled while sipping your tea. “It is, I hate that thing, but people are really into that shit. Good thing they didn't take that one behind it. That one actually does have a spirit attached to it.”

“The old man portrait?”

You nodded while tugging a blanket off the back of the couch and cuddling into it, wrapping the two of you up while reaching for the remote. “Oh yes, he's been with that thing for years. Harmless really, you can catch him when you smell cigar smoke. He just likes to hang out. I offered to move him on, but he insists he's happy right where he is.”

Bucky was quiet a moment and tugged you in closer. “I can understand that.”

#amber writes #sweater writes #ransom drysdale au #bucky barnes au #happy birthday #knives out au

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afeb · 4 years

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Draco Malfoy - Detest

I walked aimlessly around the garden, brushing my hands over bushes and flowers. The sky was a light blue, the sun just peeping over the horizon before it dipped down completely. I came to a large fountain, a tall snake coming out the middle of the circular pond, water spouting out of its mouth.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” I turned around to see Draco standing where I had come from, hands deeply shoved in his pocket.

I rolled my eyes and sat on the edge. “A bit obvious, don’t you think?”

He chuckled and slowly began to stroll around the fountain. “Maybe, but still pretty.” He said. “Why aren’t you in the house?”

I straightened my back. “I detest this place,” I grumbled. “I only come here because my father makes me, I think he hopes I’ll join your side one day.”

Draco nodded along. “Do you think you will?”

“I’d rather die.”

“We could arrange that.”

My eyes narrowed on his before I got up, Draco following as I walked deeper into the garden. “Why aren’t you in the house?” I asked, stopping to admire a large rose bush.

He came up behind me, leaning across to gently touch the petals, chest brushing my back. “Fresh air,” he deeply breathed in, nose bumping the back of my head. “Particularly sweet today.”

“Don’t be a creep.” I scoffed as I moved on, walking along the cobbled path to a small gathering of trees.

“I’m not being a creep.” He defended, still following behind me. “So you wouldn’t join us?”

“I don’t know how else to say it.” I snapped. “I’d never join you.”

“I suppose you love Harry Potter and muggles then, do you?” He teasingly asked, rounding to stand in front of me, blocking my way.

I crossed my arms. “And what if I did?”

I kept still as he took two large steps, heading dipping down to peer into my eyes. “One night with me, Little Girl, and I’d make you forget about him soon enough.”

My mouth fell a little. “Y/N! Dear, where are you?”

I stumbled back at the sound of my fathers voice, hurrying past Draco and back to the house. He followed behind me again, humming a small in innocent tune as we went.

“Yes father?” I asked as I approached him on the grand steps outside the mansion.

“Dear, Lucius has kindly invited us to stay the night.” My father happily said, stroking my hair.

I groaned. “But father I don’t have anything to wear to bed.”

His fist tightened in my hair. “Did I ask if you wanted to stay?” He lowly asked.

I peered at my feet. “No.”

I was aware Draco was watching us. “Very well then.”

My father left, a blush creeping on my cheeks as I turned to look at Draco. Rather than a smirk I was expecting to see, he had a deep set frown on his face. He slowly climbed the stairs, his hand stroking the same part of hair my father had.

“I’m sure we have something you can wear.” He soothed.

I nodded and moved away, making my way into the mansion. Dinner was quiet, my father and Lucius talking up a storm as my mother and Narcissa were caught up in their own conversation. Draco didn’t speak to me much, simply watched me from the corner of his eye as I slowly ate the extravagant meal that had been prepared.

“Y/N,” Lucius grabbed my attention. “I’m sure a lovely girl like you had many men asking for her eyes.”

I cleared my throat. “I don’t pay attention to any of that.” I sweetly smiled.

He frowned. “Why?”

I shrugged and warily looked at my father. “There are more important things in this world than a man.”

I saw Draco smirk. “I’m sure you’ll change your mind when you meet the right person.” Lucius said. “My boy Draco here isn’t seeing anyone.”

“Nice.” I awkwardly said.

Lucius simply eyed the two of us with a small smile and went back to talking to my father. “He’s not wrong.” Draco whispered in my ear.

I turned to glare at him. “I’d rather date Lord Voldemort than you.” I snapped back.

Dracos eyes flicked down to my lips. “Sure.”

As soon as I was able to left the table, Kreatcher showing my room for the night. It was large, a fire place and four poster bed the most notable things in the room. There was a desk and chair, small sofa and expensive looking rug on the floor. It was cold and impersonal, no paintings or photos anywhere.

I sighed and sat on the bed. The door knocked. “Come in!”

My mother popped her head round. “You seemed quiet at dinner,” she noted, coming to sit beside me on the bed. “That horrible boy isn’t being nasty to you is he?”

I shook my head. “I just want to go home.”

She coaxed my hesd to rest on her shoulder, arm wrapping warmly around me. “I know, my lovely. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“I hate it here.”

“You could make friends with that boy.” She suggested. “Might be less lonely.”

“I’d rather play in that fireplace than that.” I scoffed, to which she laughed.

“It’s only one night, you’ll survive.” A swift kiss on my forehead and she was gone.

I stayed tucked away most of the night, finding and interesting book on the history of witchcraft. Kreatcher came in to drop off an old looking nightgown. It was porcelain white and came to just above my knee, the silky material feeling nice against my skin. The sun had long set, my mother coming in again to bid me goodnight before shutting the door.

I waited a couple more hours before sneaking down the desalte hallway. I gazed up at the paintings of the Malfoy and Lestrange family. All of them looked cold and uninviting. I trembled as I looked at Bellatrix before quickly going down the stairs.

I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for as my bare feet padded across the hardwood floors, just anything to occupy the time until I could lay in my own bed. The halls seemed never ending as I wandered for what felt like hours, looking over old relics and paintings that scattered the house. I found myself back in the main dining room, gazing out of the floor to ceiling windows.

“Snooping, are we?” I jumped and turned to see Draco. He was only wearing pyjama bottoms slung low on his hips, broad chest out bare.

“I couldn’t sleep.” I mumbled back as I looked out the window again, gazing at the moon.

“Why’s that?” He strolled over to me.

“I don’t trust anyone in this house.” I shortly said back.

“Believe me, I know the feeling.” He was closer now, but I didn’t dare turn to see where he was.

I jumped as a hand landed on my waist, tugging me back into his body. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to have you alone?” He darkly whispered in my ear. “And not to mention in something to revealing.”

He daintly fiddled with the thin strap of the nightgown, inching it down my arm and sponging a kiss to my bare skin. My arms remained crossed over my chest as my breathing grew heavy.

“Do you want this?” He asked lowly in my ear. When I didn’t respond he nipped my lobe. “Answer when I speak to you.”

“Yes.” I sighed, mind cloudy from the lack of sleep and Dracos voice.

He spun me around and gently cupped my face, smiling down at me before pressing his lips to mine. My hands landed on his waist as his tongue dominated mine. He led us over to the table, pressing me against it and kissing down my neck.

“Get on the table.” He ordered.

I pulled myself up and blushed as he spread my thighs, standing between them.

He hummed in my ear, I frowned as he took a seat in front of me. “Lay back and put your feet on the table.”

I did as I was told and leant back, my legs still tightly pressed together. I gasped as he pried them apart, putting me on display for his.

“Good girl,” he hummed. “No underwear.”

He simply looked at me for a moment before slowly moving in, letting his hot breath fan over me. Small, chaste kisses were pressed against my thighs, his hands still holding them apart. His tongue darted out and wet the crease between my thighs and where I wanted him.

Suddenly, he licked a bold stripe up my centre. My hand clamped round my mouth as my eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to contain my moans. Dracos skilful tongue lightly flicked over my bundle of nerves before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. My free hand moved down to gently tug his hair, bucking my hips up to meet his lips.

He moaned against me and pinched my thighs. “God you taste better than I imagined.” He pulled away and stood, peering down at me with a glint in his eye. “Sit up.”

I looped my arms around his neck as I kissed him, tasting myself on his tongue. My hand skimmed down and rubbed over the tent that had formed in his trousers, Dracos low moan bouncing off of the walls.

“That’s is, take care of Daddy.” He said, pulling himself out and guiding my hand to stroke him.

I flicked my wrist slowly, looking at him. His eyes were squeezed closed, jaw tensing occasionally as he started to breath heavy. His hands were flexing on my waist, leaving deep indents in my skin. His eyes flicked open as his mouth gaped, lips slowly tugging into a smirk.

“I want to be inside you.” He growled, tugging my hand away.

He pulled me to the edge of the table, spreading my legs again. He pinned my arms above my head.

“Don’t move.” He warned.

I nodded and gasped as he sunk into me, moaning along with Draco. His hand came to wrap around my neck, ring offering something cool against my hot skin. My hands remained above my head, Draco moving his hips at a bruising pace.

“You like the way I fuck you, Little Girl?” He asked, squeezing my neck. I nodded. “This is my little cunt isn’t it? I get to abuse it whenever I want.”

“Daddy!” I moaned, hand breaking from where they were meant to be and wrapping around his forearm.

He chuckled darkly. “That’s it, let everyone know who your Daddy is.” He moaned. “Go on baby.”

“You’re my Daddy, Draco.” I sobbed.

“Fucking right I am.” He strained, wrapping his other hand around my neck as well. “I’m gonna cum inside you Little Girl, I’m gonna empty myself inside you.”

“Please.” I begged, his cock tipping me over the edge as I came with a small shout.

His hips stuttered, hands loosening around my neck as a deep groan left his lips. His mouth fell open as hot ropes of cum leaked into me, filling me up. He fell, head resting on my chest as he breathed deeply. My hands soothingly combed through his hair, his long arms wrapping around my middle and pulling me up to his chest.

“Merlin.” He whispered. “We definitely should have done that sooner.”

“Definitely.” I giggled.

He peered down at me with a smile, thumbs running over my lips. “Do you detest this house so much now?”

I blushed. “A certain someone made it better.”

#draco #malfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #Tom #Felton #tom felton angst #tom felton fluff #Tom Felton smut #harry potter #draco malfoy fanfic #harry #potter

411 notes · View notes

ppersonna · 4 years

Text

kiss it better - ksj | m

been waiting on that sunshine boy, i think i need that back. can't do it like that. no one else gonna get it like that. - kiss it better, rihanna

↳ summary- your best friend Kim Seokjin makes you an offer you can’t refuse

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 3.7k

↳ pairing- seokjin x reader

↳ genre- smut, comedy, fluff

↳ warnings- oral sex (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, dirty talk, daddy kink, jin making really bad jokes at bad times.

↳ a/n- well hello there! i hope you enjoy this! this fic is a collab with @kookiesjoonies all about bad hookups being saved by BTS. make sure you check out her yoongi fic HERE! i hope you enjoy this little piece! i love the visual of jin....well.... you get the idea HNNNGGG *vibrates in thot*. feel free to message me, send me an ask, comment, throw a rock at me, whatever u wanna do i wanna engage w/ UUUUU. LOVE YOU ALL! -lindy

If you had to pinpoint a moment where it all started, where everything changed, it was the night you came home after another bad hook up left you nearly crying in your shared 2 bedroom apartment.

Jin found you pouring an excessive amount of wine into a mug, on the verge of tears.

“Terrible date?” Your roommate asks as he leans against the door of the kitchen and motions with his head towards the gallon of alcohol you’re about to drink like it’s coffee.

“You can fucking say that again,” you grumble. You will not cry—you’re forcing that mantra through your brain at whiplash speeds.

“Jeez, how bad could it have been to make you wanna pound a keg of wine?” He jokes. Your eyes level with his and he can see you’re not in the mood for comedy. Another time, he supposes.

“Men,” you laugh with mirth. “You and your stupid fucking dicks and no brains and all you care about is getting off.” You’re fuming with anger, which given the situation is probably more than what is called for but you’re sure if the next hook up you manage doesn’t care to get you off, you will go absolutely wild.

“I’m still not grasping what’s wrong here,” he folds his arms over his chest and relaxes against the wood. You’re clutching the wine glass—mug—but still not drinking it.

“I haven’t gotten off!” You exclaim with enough gusto that some wine spills out. Jin rushes towards you and grabs a rag. He knows you’re lethal in the kitchen. Sticky for days.

“You haven’t gotten off? Like they don’t make you cum?” He asks as he wipes up the harsh red liquid on the counter. Your eyes watch his hands and for a second, a split second, you admire the tendons and veins moving under his skin as he cleans up your mess.

“Exactly. It’s a one and done, get out of my bed sort of thing,” you huff. “I’m not asking to be cuddled or whatever. But can’t a girl at least get some oral?”

Jin stifles a laugh and wrings the rag out in the sink. “How long has it been since someone made you cum?”

A wave of shame courses over you, but you’re not sure why. Jin’s someone you trust. It’s not like he thinks any less of you for fucking guys who don’t have a shred of decency.

“I mean, I can make myself cum every night in my room,” Jin’s ears turn a slight shade of pink at this and you’re suddenly curious. “But with a guy? Fuck, probably a year. Looks like I pick the real winners.”

He’s silent, and it makes you feel nervous. You can’t explain it—or rather you refuse to accept what you’ve been avoiding for a while. That your eyes linger on your roommate’s form as he exits the shower with a towel around his waist, the broad expanse of his bare shoulders with water still running down his back. The way he pushes his hair back when he’s tired. That you’ve had more than one night of slipping your hands down your body with the image of him in mind.

It feels wrong. It feels dirty to think of your best friend in such a way. And yet, it thrills you even more.

“I hope you don’t—... feel like I’m sleazy or something,” you murmur, buried in your newfound self-consciousness.

He smiles up at you and leans over the counter, resting his head on his hands and watches you curiously.

“I could make you cum,” he offers. It sounds like he’s offering to run errands for you, buy your lunch when you forget your wallet.

It’s so simple that you’re stunned into silence. Your brain skids to a halt to process what just escaped the mouth of your longtime best friend, roommate, confidant.

He chuckles as he watches the gears try to turn in your mind. “I’ve been told I’m great at oral. Not to brag. Just what I’ve heard.” The smirk on his lips definitely tells you he means to brag.

“You want--... to eat me out?” You ask incredulously. He’s still staring at you like it’s no big deal, just another everyday event. Best friends getting each other off. You wash the dishes, he dries, then he’s buried tongue deep in your cunt? Is that how it works?

“You seem really upset, and as your friend, if I have the tools to fix it, why would I hold back?” He postulates. You can’t help but agree with his theory. Your heart is thumping soundly in your chest. Is it just a friendly thing? Is he offering out of the goodness of his heart or is there something more? Are you willing to let your pussy win out and get the pleasure at the sake of getting your heart broken?

It doesn’t take long to decide.

Fuck yes you are.

“Okay,” you agree. “Are we going to fuck too?” You ask as you wash your hands of any remaining wine. You haven’t drunk a sip and you still feel tipsy and lightheaded.

“Do you want to fuck?” He narrows his eyes at you in playful suspicion.

It makes you blush. “I—I’d like to…” you’re suddenly shy and you can tell it thrills Jin to see you thrown off your game.

“Then let’s fuck, baby girl,” he smirks as he pushes up from the counter top he rested on moments ago.

“Your place or mine?” His joke is stupid, but it makes you laugh, anyway.

“Knowing your disgusting ass, your bed is covered in god know’s what. Mine, please.”

He tuts and walks behind you down the hallway, hand resting gently at your back.

“Is that any way to talk to your best friend? The one who’s going to eat you out until you’re crying for more?” His words send a shiver down your spine, and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Well, fuck—when you put it that way…” you trail off.

Your bedroom has never felt more foreign to you in your life. It’s the same as it always is. Queen-size bed, photos on the wall, messy laundry in the corner spilling out of the hamper. But now you’re in it with Jin. You’re in it with Jin because he’s promised you at least one orgasm and you’re sure he will try for more, knowing his ego.

“Welcome,” you gesture nervously as you sit on the bed.

He rolls his eyes. “Stop acting weird,” he chides. “It’s me, you don’t have to be weird around me.” He’s pressing you down towards the pillows to relax.

You want to retort it’s exactly why you’re acting weird. The man you play drunk Monopoly at 3 am with is pressing into you now like he wants to eat you for hours. He’s seen you crying, held your hair back while you puked, heard or witnessed your most embarrassing moments. And now he’s about to fuck you stupid.

You allow your body to relax against all the sirens in your brain telling you this is weird, this is fucked up, you’ll regret it. The blood is rushing out of your frontal cortex and towards your lower half, making your pussy drunk on anything Seokjin can give you.

He smiles as he sees your body relax into the comforter on your bed and he places a hand on your cheek.

“See? Easy peasy.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles. You want to comment, tell him he’s a fucking idiot like you always do when he says something cheesy, but he beats you to the punch and presses his lips against yours gently.

You’ve always wondered what his lips would feel like against your own. He tastes like peppermint. Idly, you realize you’ve always associated Jin with the taste of warm, smoky vanilla, but now that you’re here with your tongue swirling around his, the peppermint makes sense. It suits him.

He kisses you tenderly. It’s not the rushed kiss of a quick hookup. It’s not the passionate kiss of long-lost lovers. It’s the sweet, compassionate kiss—the kind that wants to make you feel like nothing is wrong in the world. Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat as he cups a cheek in his embrace and rubs the delicate skin there with a thumb.

The kiss is finished too soon for your liking. He’s pulling away and smiling down at you. His eyes sparkle with something you can’t quite put your finger on but it makes you feel lit up like Christmas.

“I hear I’m an excellent kisser too,” he smirks down at you and the moment is lost. “Would you agree?”

You roll your eyes. “God, I can’t believe you,” you sigh. “You’re hopeless.”

He tugs on the hem of your shirt, indicating he means to take it off. You tense for a moment. It seems you’ve stupidly forgotten you should be naked for this act. You’re about to be naked and laid bare in front of your best friend who you’ve harbored an inkling of a crush on. He’s about to see your most vulnerable side. Could you trust him? What if he mentioned the freckle above your ass? What if he pointed out something wrong with your body? A wave of uncertainty washes over you.

Jin pulls your shirt off easily and gently. He tosses it toward your ever-growing laundry pile and turns his attention back to you. You’re still in a nice, pretty bra from the hookup and Jin’s eyes are captivated. The cocky smirk is wiped off his lips, and instead he gapes. Your breasts are encased in creamy red satin and he sits up straighter and can’t break his gaze.

“Wow,” he breathes, and it makes your cheeks heat.

“Sorry, I know it’s too much, I can just—,”

He cuts you off with a finger to your lips.

“I always knew you were pretty but, fuck—.. you’re a vision. You’re gorgeous.”

You’re heating. The way your core clenches around nothing as Jin compliments you with all sincerity and no sense of humor like he does has your blood rushing.

“Can I—,” he swallows as he attempts to steel himself. “Can I take it off?”

You nod, too shy to impart any dialogue and assist him by lifting your back slightly to allow his hands space to un-clasp the lingerie.

It falls away easily and you close your eyes as your full globes come free. You hear Jin’s breath catch and it’s silent. A few beats pass and you’re ready to end everything now, it’s too awkward, when a hand gently cups one and a thumb rubs over the nipple. It makes your spine tingle.

You crack your eyes open and see Jin staring intently at your chest, following his thumb as it drags back and forth against the hardening nipple.

“I think you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You want to argue and tell him he’s just saying that to be nice, but the retort dries up in your throat as he leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. He tugs on it with the suction of his mouth and licks stripes against the bud. You moan loudly. It feels like he’s praising you with his mouth.

Jin takes his time. You can tell he’s in no rush. He suckles and presses kisses to your breasts with the same attention to detail he gives his culinary creations. He massages each globe in his hands and alternates his lips back and forth between nipples. He draws sweet sighs and moans from your lips and your fingers thread through his thick hair.

After his careful ministrations, he pulls up and smiles at you.

“I’m not going to lie,” he starts. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

You feel like you’ve been slapped. Kim Seokjin, your roommate and best friend, has wanted you? As much as you have wanted him?

He can see you’re faltering for words and he shrugs.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. It doesn’t have to change anything.”

His immediate dejection spurs you into action.

“I’ve wanted it for a long time too,” you reply. “Jin, why would I agree to have sex with you if I wasn’t interested in being with you?”

He smirks a little and you know you’re in for a witty one-liner.

“You wanted to take a ride on this wild stal-Jin.”

His grin is cocky, as it usually is, and as annoying as his jokes are, it loosens a knot of nerves inside you. You had somehow convinced yourself Jin would be a completely unfamiliar person after this. It seems that wouldn’t be the case.

“Oh my god,” you groan.

His hands and mouth are roaming your chest and stomach, peppering the skin with kisses. He teases at your navel with his tongue and any irritation you felt at his terrible pun flies out the window as you feel a surge rush through your veins straight to your cunt.

He fiddles with the button and fly on your jeans, the ones that hug your curves just perfectly.

“Your ass looks good in these jeans,” he comments as he tugs them down. “Almost a shame to take them off. But I’d rather get a full uncensored view.”

You blush and lift your hips to allow him to pull your jeans off. Long legs are spread on the bed and a thong barely protects your modesty. It’s already soaked, there’s no denying it when Jin steals a glance and cocks a coy smile.

“Naughty,” he tsks jokingly. “Someone’s excited to get sucked by the Seok-master.”

“Jesus Christ, Jin,” you sigh. “I hate you.”

“I’d like you to try to say that again when I’m three fingers deep inside you with my tongue.”

His words roll over you like a trail of fire. It clenches at your throat and sizzles down to your core. You can’t help but let a moan out and arch your back.

“I thought so,” he smirks. He fingers at the straps of your thong for a moment and then trails a finger down your slit. It’s wet and warm, and he bites a lip.

“Bet you’re real pretty here too. I think about what your pussy looks like a lot.”

It’s sending you into an unfamiliar state of consciousness to hear Kim Seokjin say such illicit things about you—things you thought to be off-limits.

“Bet it looks even prettier with your face buried in there.” A sly smile spreads on your own features, and Jin looks pleased.

“That’s my fucking girl.”

He tugs the black thong down and it joins the chaos on your bedroom floor.

He’s here now. It’s real. It’s happening. His eyes are glued to your cunt, and a finger is tracing the outline of the lips there.

“No one has ever made you cum from oral?” He asks again. He’s mystified by your center and he hasn’t even seen the full thing yet.

A shuddering breath escapes you as you confirm. “No, no one ever has.”

He sucks his teeth for a moment and remains silent. His fingers slowly slide in to spread you open lewdly, displaying your clit like the grand prize behind the curtain.

“I’ll make sure you get off every single night,” he promises. “No more hooking up with assholes. All mine, okay? Just like you always should have been.”

It’s hard to breathe as you feel his fingers achingly close to your clit and you’re sure your channel is weeping with desire.

“Okay, Jinnie,” you murmur.

“It’s daddy, now, baby.”

It feels like the world stops and you whimper with need.

“Please, daddy,” you cry. “I need you.”

“I can tell, baby. Your poor little pussy hasn’t been shown the love it deserves, hm?” He asks. He still refuses to move any closer to where you need. “You need daddy, don’t you? You need someone who will worship this cunt.”

The air in your lungs is sucked out with vacuum-like force.

He lowers himself to lie between your legs, face close to your center. He spreads your legs further, almost on the verge of discomfort, and wraps his arms under your thighs and grips at the tops to keep you spread.

Suddenly, he’s pressing his face into you and a tongue darts into your channel and laves around. Your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling.

He’s testing the waters, per se, and getting a taste of you. He wants to know what spots drive you crazy. Are you solely a clitoral stimulation girl or do you need the feeling of something filling you tight and deep too? He hopes to learn every single aspect about your cunt before the night is over.

He watches your facial expression as he licks from your walls and up to your clit. Your face contorts in ecstasy as the tip of his tongue flicks quickly on the nub. You’re gasping with desperation, singing his praises as he suckles and rub at your button with his tongue.

You taste delicious; he notes. Earthy, but still sweet like nectar. He thinks maybe your body was tuned to be his.

He spends time there, and it drives you mad. He’s sucking and flicking and dipping his tongue inside you and you feel a sense of euphoria no man has given you. Jin’s pillowy plush lips apply just the right pressure to your clit, kiss it so sweetly you might cry as he then inserts himself to lap up your juices. He drinks as if he’s dehydrated of you, only you, and if he doesn’t get more, he’ll perish.

“Jin—.. daddy, fuck,” you correct your mistake and it makes him chuckle against you.

“Good girl,” he coos. He pulls an arm out from between your thighs and sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, a disgusting display for you that has you nearly cumming right there.

After he determines you tortured and his fingers slicked enough, he moves forward again and slides said fingers up into you. Your back arches again and Jin smirks. You’re a penetration girl just as much as you are a clit girl, and Jin knows he has you hook, line and sinker. He’s unlocked your formula and plans to see it to your very end.

“Look at you,” he murmurs adoringly as he fucks in and out of you. “So nice and wet for daddy. Getting my fingers so slick.” He groans. His cock is hardening rapidly, and he moves his hips on the bed for some stimulation. “I can’t wait to fuck this sweet little hole. I’m going to be the only one who ever makes you cum, and I will always make sure you fucking cum.” He promises.

You’re whimpering with a pleasant mixture of need and satisfaction as he thrusts his digits into you. Jin’s taking his time, which leaves you breathless, gasping for more and more. You want to be greedy and tell him to take you now, so hard and fast, but you want to make this last forever. Your pussy has never felt so alive and vibrant with desire as it does right now.

Jin returns to his post, mouth firmly attached to your clit as he picks up a pace with his fingers. He’s suckling again at your nub and you find it’s the perfect amount of pressure that has your vision darkening around the edges. An impossible tight string is winding so tightly inside you and you feel it threaten to collapse your entire body.

You allow your waning attention to focus on Jin for a moment, and you realize how he truly looks in his element. It looks as if Jin should have been the one between your thighs this whole time. You thought maybe this would feel wrong and perverse. Instead, it feels as if you two have finally slipped together and fit into the picture perfectly, instead of trying to jam into spots not meant for either of you.

It’s heady to think of him like this, your best friend who knows everything about you. It makes sense now—it was always meant to be him in your life. You’ve always wanted him to be the one who simultaneously makes you laugh and cum. He was always meant to be the one for you; it just took until now to really understand it.

Jin picks up the pace again, and it washes away your thoughts as you feel him increase the speed and pressure of his tongue in time with his fingers. His eyes are closed and he’s focused on this like it’s his destiny. Your legs quiver in anticipation as the tightness pulls more, pulls harder and your cunt tightens around his fingers.

It snaps the string inside you and your mental capacity. All you feel is bliss as your body unravels at his hand. Your channel pulses around him and he grins as he feels the clenching and hears your sweet and agonized moans. You’re incapable of any coherent thought except Jin, Jin, Jin and how deliciously sweet he has made you feel and the ecstasy he has wrought out of you.

He allows you a moment to settle down from your high and pulls his fingers from you. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit which makes you squeak at the over stimulation.

As you come back to life, panting breath slowing, he sits up on his knees and smiles at you.

“So, are all the rumors true? Am I good?” He looks smug and as much as you want to slap it off him, you can’t when he’s covered in your slick and looking incredibly sexy while doing so.

“Yeah, you’re good,” you breathe. He grins back at you and moves to lay next to you on the bed. You snuggle up beside him and throw your arm and leg over him. It feels as if you’ve been doing this for years, as if this isn’t the first time you’re being intimate with your best friend of two decades.

After your breath settles completely, he looks over at you with a smile.

“You ready for round two?” He asks.

You’re moving and straddling his hips, rubbing against the hard length in his jeans.

“You know it, daddy.”

His hands quickly move to unbutton his jeans and shove them down and off his body.

“Well,” he quips with his signature grin. “We better get down to Jin’s-ness.”

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