#order that boi around (lovingly)

[doromoni]

Off Time | LN4

Ships : Lando Norris x F1 Presenter! Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Subtags : She fell first; He fell harder, Misunderstanding, Mutual Pinning

A/N: Bruh this is so self indulgent! FYI~ I made this during my internship time (I was literally doing nothing). So heree enjoyyy ig?

Summary : You have pursued Lando’s affection, yet he doesn’t seem interested. Till your patience wavers and Lando realizes it too late. Will there be a right time for the two of you?

Masterlist

Part 2

It was another season of Formula 1 on the Silverstone track, the paddock was buzzing with excitement and cameras flashing as the drivers arrived one by one.

You were patiently waiting by the entrance of the paddock club eagerly looking for the family that loved you like their own. You promised them that you’ll see and spend time with the Norrises first before your busy schedule fully takes over and renders you unavailable for the rest of the weekend. It was expected considering that your line of work requires you with a mic and a camera on you at all times.

You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, probably your boss Mia giving you orders on your next driver interview, and as you checked — you were right. Oh! It was at Mercedes with George. You were in the middle of replying to your boss when you suddenly felt arms wrap around your waist with force enough to make the both of you stumble for balance.

“Y/N! I missed you~ did you bring my stroopwaffles?” You were suddenly engulfed and bombarded by the youngest Norris sibling.

“Yes, Flo . Its at the hotel and I missed you too. Babe, I saw the horse show on video. You were amazing!” you exclaimed proudly as you hugged the younger girl back.

Your eyes then softened as you gazed at Adam and Cisca. They were smiling from ear to ear waiting for their turn for a hug.

“Hi, guys!” You finally said as Flo released you from her clutches and the Elder Norrises hugged you in one big group hug.

“Hi, darling. It’s so nice to see you again. Don’t get me wrong dear you’re amazing on TV — I just prefer to see you in person” Cisca comes at you as she pushes her husband aside to gather you alone in her arms; squeezing you.

“ Honey, let the poor girl breathe.” Adam Norris lovingly reprimanded his wife as he placed his hand on your head and messed with your hair.

You giggled at the family’s antics. Your eyes wandered around the area and you couldn’t help but look, hoping to see Lando’s presence nearby— hoping to have a chat or something.

The Elder Norris couple saw you looking around, probably looking for their son and they couldn’t help but feel awful for you.

“I’m sorry sweetie, Lando said that he’s running a bit late. We should go on ahead”

“Oh, yes of course. Shall we? I need to show you my office, I just got promoted!” You said trying to hide your disappointment with the achievement you got.

They knew that you liked their boy, and they were so happy about it. They would do anything to have you in the family. They just hoped that their son would finally clean his act up and see the amazing girl that was in front of him before it was too late.

As you walked through the paddock with Flo’s arm draped around yours, you couldn’t stop thinking about the British McLaren Driver.

He didn’t hate you, he didn’t hold anything against you— he just was… indifferent. Lando Norris didn’t like you the way that you did. Lando wasn’t interested, not in a romantic relationship type of way anyway. Or that’s what you concluded considering that for the past months of trying to shoot your shot, you were always turned down by the English Mclaren Driver.

His fellow drivers and best mates had always supported your attempts to pursue Lando. They said that you would be good for him, that you and Lando made sense. They knew that you would make him happy.

You met his family by chance and it bloomed when you saved them from being hounded by the press during the race where their son crashed; this resulted in a thank-you dinner and the rest was history.

His dad had loved you and wanted you in the family — so much that you were invited to intimate family gatherings and outings. His mom cherished your times together inside the kitchen, bonding over shared recipes and coffee dates. While his younger sister ran to you for comfort and advice. You were practically a Norris at this point.

However, the Norris sibling that held your fancy wanted nothing to do with you. To him, you were the family friend and the commentator from Sky F1. You were just a distant friend at best and for you that was enough.

Your mind was preoccupied with dazzling green eyes, the head of full curly hair, and now a blemish on his nose from a cut that you found most attractive on him. Your thoughts were fully circling Lando Norris and you didn’t realize that it was time to say goodbye to Adam, Cisca, and Flo.

“Ok guys, I need to work. I’ll find you when I can, alright?” You sulked as you dropped the Norrises off in front of Mclaren’s Motorhome. They said their goodbyes with hugs and cheek kisses. As you were leaving and them stepping inside the doors of McLaren — you were so sure that you saw the mop of curly hair that belonged to Lando Norris.

And you knew deep down that Lando was there the entire time and he just didn’t want to talk to you if not necessary. Knowing that information hurt you tremendously, but you continued to smile nevertheless.

***

Inside the McLaren Motorhome, just as you left, there stood Lando Norris clad in a black hoodie and sweats waiting for his family to enter. Yet his eyes lingered on the girl who seemed to catch his family’s affection like a bear to honey.

“Mum, Dad, Flo! How have you been?” Lando exclaimed as he hugged his family one by one.

“What is it, mum?” Lando asked his mother as soon as he spotted the disapproval on her face

“You said that you’ll be late, why are you inside the motorhome then?” Cisca’s eyes narrowed at her son.

Lando’s eyes shifted away from his mum, he didn’t like to lie to his parents. Rather to be quiet than lie.

“You know why, plus I’m thinking of dating someone else so please stop pushing Y/N to me,” Lando said somewhat indignantly.

“Son, Y/N is an amazing girl. Anyone would be lucky to have her. We just don’t want you to regret anything” His father explained pointedly however still gentle.

“Listen, I know that you love having her around. But, I just don’t fancy her like that. “ Lando languidly explained to his family his feelings for the commentator for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“Lando, I love you, but you’re being stupid. Maybe Y/N could be better off with someone other than you” Flo mutters with her lips pouted out as she pulls her parents further into the motorhome, not bothering to wait for what seems to be a frozen Lando.

Lando knew to himself that he didn’t like you. He was sure of it. Then why does the thought of you with someone else make his stomach churn and his blood boil?

He pictured you aiming your beautiful smile towards another man. Lando imagined you riding in another man’s car and being your attentive and caring self. A memory of you doing the same to him came to his mind.

You were seated in the passenger seat of his Mclaren, the sound of the Japanese house’s “Sunshine Baby” slowly playing in the background as the three of you cruised through the streets of Bristol, while Flo was dozing off in the backseat. Everything was peaceful and calm as Lando drummed his hand to the beat. The drizzle of rain slowly pelted on the windshield, adding to the calmness.

“What song is this?” Lando suddenly asked you, catching you off guard. His eyes then met yours and held your gaze.

“Oh! It’s Sunshine Baby by the Japanese House. You like it?” You asked back, reluctance was evident in your voice.

“Mhmm, It’s very calming. I mostly listen to house music and EDM… something calm is great. Do have other recommendations?” Lando conversed with a smile on his face, his eyes meeting yours once again before looking back to the road.

“I have an entire playlist! Give me your phone” You showed Lando your palm gesturing for his phone.

As Lando hands his phone to you, Flo wakes from her sleep and demands food on the way.

“Lando I want food. Y/N please buy me food” The younger Norris pouted at you and his brother.

“What do you want to eat, Babe?” You asked Flo when you saw Lando nod in approval.

“Fish and Chips!” Flo exclaimed with enthusiasm. You saw the look of apprehension of the British Driver but he didn’t say anything— only silently drove to the nearest fry shop instead.

“I’ll be back with food.” You spoke as you went to grab your wallet. Lando was handing his card, but you only grinned at the driver then sticking your tongue out as you exited the vehicle.

“I got this covered London boy!” You teased, earning a laugh from both the Norris siblings.

The food didn’t take too long and before you knew it you were back inside the slick Mclaren as the smell of grease and salt wafting the air.

“Ohhhh, that smells amazing~ did you get us all Fish and Chips, Y/N?” Flo asked as she moved to get her food.

“Babe, Your brother doesn’t like fish. So I bought Chicken and Chips for him instead. While you and I get fish” You replied as you gave Flo her food and drink.

“You got me food too and it’s not fish?” Lando asked you with a look of both admiration and a bit of confusion.

“Mhm, you hate fish, right? So chicken it is!” You smiled at the McLaren Driver as you popped the straw in his diet soda and handed it to him.

You were always thoughtful and sweet to everyone, but Lando saw that you were especially so with Him and his family —you remembered every detail.

An uncomfortable sensation settled on his chest as Lando saw in his mind you sharing the bond you had with his family with the family of your other half.

“Lando! Come on” His train of thought was disturbed by the shouts of his dad. However, the feeling of stuffiness remained.

***

You were walking through the paddock towards Ferrari when you walked into Alexandra and Rebecca along the way. The two wags were sweet and inviting, despite their lives of luxury and glamour; their humility shined especially Charles’ girlfriend.

While you were friendly with Rebecca — you didn’t have anything that connected you other than Carlos Sainz. You always felt a bit of tension with the girl, on her part of course. Maybe because of your close relationship with Carlos, jealousy was a feeling you understood well, so you didn’t hold it against the girl. However, with Alex, Alex just like Flo has found solace in your presence in the paddock. You were the first of the few who welcomed her with smiles and open arms when she first started appearing in races; solidifying your bond with the art graduate.

And so Alexandra was the very first to advise you on the news that ultimately breaks your heart.

“Y/N, I heard from Kika that Lando has been going on dates with a girl named Magui for a couple of weeks now and she says that the girl would be coming to the races in the very near future” Alex gently said as she clutched your arms tighter around hers— offering comfort.

Your breath was caught in your throat and you didn’t know how to reply without bursting into tears.

You thought after Luisinha you had a chance or at least to be closer with the driver. But with rumors swimming around about him dating this Portuguese model with a checkered dating past, your chances grow slimmer and slimmer.

Maybe you were kidding yourself for hoping for Lando to reciprocate your feelings. Maybe you were being overly optimistic when everyone said that Lando would come around. Maybe the best was just to give up.

Maybe it was time to truly let go of Lando Norris.

***

It was impossible to miss each other in the paddock, one way or another Lando and Y/N crossed paths.

It was almost routine for Lando to hear your voice calling out his name as you waved your hand in greeting. A sweet smile was always ready for him.

That’s why shock and bewilderment overcame Lando as you walked past him as if he wasn’t even there. No greeting, no smile, not even a brief eye contact.

You went past the driver as if he weren’t there. As you continued to walk away, Lando couldn’t help but look at your retreating form with hurt— he looked wounded by your indifference.

He then heard your sweet voice calling out a name, but this time it wasn’t his— it was his teammates' name. “Oscar!” You bellowed at the Australian Driver; with a smile that Lando wished was directed at him.

***

It has been a month with Y/N’s interactions with Lando at a standstill. And at this point Lando cannot deny that it drove him mad, that you drove him mad.

He was no longer in denial about his feelings for you. He fully accepted it and he wanted you back. Lando Norris liked you the way you did.

[milswrites]

Happy Ending

Based on this request

Pairing: Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel's brothers remind him that he deserves happiness too.

Warnings: An equal amount of fluff and angst.

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: I wrote this while in a massive slump so I’m scared to post this lol. Consider this my advanced apology in case this isn’t very good.

Azriel was spellbound; the male finding himself unable to do anything but bask in the majesty of your ethereal form. Admiration pooling in the shadowsinger's eyes as he absorbed the enchanting glow of your sun-kissed skin.

He watched you.

Mouth parting in awe as his hazel eyes lingered over your soft figure as you rose from the picnic blanket. Your beauty likening that of the Mother herself as the radiant light of the afternoon sun encircled the crown of your head like a lucent halo.

He watched you.

His usually stoic lips upturned into a gentle smile as a giggling Nyx ran into your waiting arms. Heart fluttering uncontrollably as he watched the young boy place a loving kiss onto your cheek before you reciprocated the gesture with a beaming grin.

He watched you.

Because if he didn't, then he was sure to wake; with you only the object of his wildest dreams.

~~~

"You're staring again," Cassian chimed, a wicked smirk crossing his face as he propped himself up from the blanket he was laying on in order to face a flustered Azriel, "It's starting to get a little creepy."

"I am not staring!" Azriel hissed through clenched teeth. And yet, despite having been called out for it by his brother, Azriel's eyes failed to leave your glowing form as you walked away from where the males were sat to head towards the river's edge alongside Feyre and Nesta.

"Did you know your wings twitch when you're lying brother?" Cassian teased, chuckling as he ducked his head in order to dodge the cushion a disgruntled Azriel had thrown his way. The shadowsinger managing to tear his eyes from you for long enough to send a menacing glare in his brother's direction.

"I mean, can you really blame her for not acknowledging you, Az?" Rhysand asked with a snigger, violet eyes dancing with mirth as he playfully nudged Azriel's shoulder with his own, "it's not your fault that the heir of the Night Court is just as charming as his father."

Unimpressed by Rhysand's egocentric comment, Azriel and Cassian shifted their gaze from where the group of females were playing with Nyx down by the river to look towards each other. Their apathetic brows raising in union before the two males proceeded to launch their cushions at Rhysand's face.

Scoffing at the shrill cry which followed, Azriel shook his head as he turned his attention back to you. The ghost of a smile working its way onto the shadowsinger's lips as he watched you hold on to Nyx's hands in order to steady the child as he paddled in the shallows. His heart swelling at the dulcet sound of your cheery laughter as the squealing boy playfully splashed the flowing water towards you.

Unfortunately Azriel's watchful admiration didn't last for long, Cassian's tentative voice once more breaking the silence of an otherwise peaceful afternoon, "Az ?. . ."

"Don't push me Cass," Azriel warned, eyes rolling as they briefly flickered towards the general in disapproval, "or cauldron help me, that stone Nyx is throwing won't be the only thing sinking to the bottom of the river."

"Oh sure, my lips are sealed," Cassian shrugged dismissively as he moved to lay back down, voice laced with amusement as he offhandedly added, "I won't even mention the fact that your shadows have taken a little trip down to the river to visit a certain someone."

Azriel's attention snapped back towards the body of water where - just as Cassian had noted - two rogue shadows had taken it upon themselves to curl around not only the tiny heir, but also you. The shadowsinger's heart sinking to his stomach as his wide eyes took in the disobedient shadow which had lovingly snaked its way around the curve of your waist.

A sputtering Azriel worked to tug the insubordinate shadow away from you, cursing as it refused to budge from where it was comfortably resting. The smoky tendril seeming to have a mind of its own as it stubbornly ignored its master's fretful call.

This movement didn't go unnoticed by you. Your curious gaze dropping to the shadow which was tenderly embracing your waist, a soft smile gracing your lips as you lifted your bright eyes to meet Azriel's own panicked ones. The bashful male blushing a deep shade of red as you cheerfully waved in his direction.

Azriel sheepishly waved back, a crooked smile stretching across his reddened face as he nervously uttered under his breath, "Cauldron boil me."

"I don't get it," Rhysand started, brows knitting together in confusion as he observed Azriel's failed efforts of trying to reign in his unruly shadows, "you obviously like her, and it's clear your shadows do too . . . So why haven't you done anything?"

"It's never come up," Azriel justified with a shrug, clearing his throat in a poor attempt of acting casual, "we're both busy people, sometimes it's just easier to stay friends."

Cassian snorted at Azriel's words, lips curling into a devilish grin as he chided his brother, "Liar. Your wings are twitching again."

Azriel rolled his eyes, wings curling in defense as he reasoned, "Look I don't even know if she's interested in -"

"Bullshit" Rhysand interjected, scoffing at the inaccuracy of Azriel's traitorous thoughts.

"Rhys-"

"Az, she is totally in love with you."

"But how do you even-"

"Azriel!" Rhysand exclaimed, resting a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder in order to ground him, "only a fool would look at the way she looks at you and think that she doesn't feel the same."

A shaky breath rattled in Azriel's chest, his dejected hazel eyes looking up to meet the violet irises of his brother's concerned stare, "It doesn't matter. Even if she does like me . . . I'm not good enough for her."

"Not good enough?" Cassian questioned with an uncertain laugh, pulling Azriel's attention from Rhysand to himself, "Az, you're a six-foot-four Illyrian with immense power and an - admittedly - impressive wingspan. I think it's safe to say that you're good enough for anyone."

Azriel released a sad laugh at Cassian's misunderstanding, the shadowsinger taking a moment to close his eyes and inhale deeply before speaking, "Thanks Cass, but that's not what I meant. I just . . . I think she deserves someone who is worthy of her love."

"You think you're unworthy?" Cassian asked in surprise, while, in the same breath, Rhysand reassured, "But you are worthy, Az."

"No," Azriel disagreed with a low shake of his head, his sorrowful eyes returning to where you were wading through the water with Nyx safely held between your arms, "she's everything good about the world and I won't ruin that - I can't . . . Sometimes perfect things are better left untouched."

"Az, why would you even think like that?" Cassian pressed in disbelief, hurt crossing his features as he listened to the shadowsinger's deprecating words.

Azriel's brows pulled together in shame, expression forlorn as he began to explain, "The things I've done? . . . The things I'm capable of doing? She doesn't need to be exposed to that life. Cass, she deserves better than me."

Rhysand guffawed at Azriel's remark, his head thrown back in glee as he clutched at his chest. Even Cassian found humor in the situation, the male hiding his deep chuckle behind a half-hearted cough, wiping faux tears from his eyes as the High Lord stated, "That Az, is the stupidest thing I have ever heard."

"I'm glad you guys find my insecurities amusing."

"We hear you Az - really, we do," Rhysand consoled his brother, the male's laughter simmering into a supportive smile as he rested a comforting hand on Azriel's knee, "I mean, you don't really think that it was easy for us did you?"

His words peaked Azriel's interest, the shadowsinger's pained expression morphing into one of surprised curiosity as he quirked a questioning brow at his brother, "Really? But I thought-"

"Come on Az, be serious. Do you think a day goes by where I truly believe I'm worthy of Feyre?" Rhysand asks, his wistful gaze moving down to the river where a beaming Feyre was teaching an excitable Nyx how to skip stones, "But that doesn't stop me from working my damn ass off every day to try and be the mate that she deserves."

"Yeah, just look at Nesta and I. We're far from perfect," Cassian commented, tears of joy lining the general's eyes upon seeing Nesta's glowing smile as she cheered their nephew on from the river's bank, "we fight like animals half of the time, admittedly it's mostly down to me saying things that I don't mean to say . . ."

As if sensing her mate's loving stare, Nesta's eyes moved to meet his own. The female sending a playful wink Cassian's way, earning a soft chuckle from the male, "but she always makes sure to tell me when I'm out of line, just as she expects me to do the same for her."

Azriel nodded in understanding, the self-placed shame he had once felt due to his lack of self-worth was now directed towards the fact he had never known what obstacles his brother's have had to overcome on their quest for happiness. Guilt swimming in the shadowsinger's eyes as he confessed, "I never knew you guys felt the same way."

Cassian smiled fondly at his brother, a strong arm moving to wrap around Azriel's shoulders as he gave the male a comforting squeeze, "Relationships aren't about one person being more deserving than the other Az, they're about balance . . . They're about loving someone so deeply that you want to make yourself a better person for them."

"You'll get there" Rhysand promised, his confident gaze working to uplift Azriel's spirit, "you just have to believe that you deserve happiness too."

"That sounds easier said than done" Azriel remarked flatly. And yet, despite his words, the shadowsinger was unable to hide the way in which his lips had started to twitch into a hopeful smile.

"It's not when you've found the person worth taking the risk for," Rhysand answered, his eyes shimmering with sincerity as he gestured towards you with his head, "And I think you've already got that bit covered."

A light blush dusted Azriel's cheeks, a timid laugh slipping from the male's lips as his adoring gaze turned back to you, "She is pretty great isn't she?"

"Pretty great?" Cassian asked with a snort, a teasing grin working its way onto the general's face, "Az if you don't ask her out soon, Nesta and I would be more than willing to steal her from you."

Azriel scowled at his brother, eyes narrowing as he opened his mouth to spit back a retort. Yet you beat him to it, the shadowsinger's words catching on the tip of his tongue as your soft voice called out to the group of males, "Are you guys just going to sit there gossiping all afternoon or are you going to come and join us?"

Cassian readily jumped to his feet, the male wasting no time in eagerly setting off in your direction. Lips pulled into a scheming smirk as he yelled back to you, "Be right over sunshi-"

Unable to finish his sentence, a strangled yelp fell from Cassian's mouth. The male clumsily tumbling to the ground as a rogue shadow slipped away from the general's ankle unnoticed. Azriel chuckling merrily as he passed the downed male with a grin, "Graceful as always, Cass."

~~~

Azriel had never seen a siren before. But here, sat on the bank as he watched you elegantly glide through the river as though it was second nature, the male was certain that your beauty - even in the water- was unmatched.

And just when Azriel thought you couldn't get any more radiant, he found himself enraptured by your celestial grace. His hazel eyes drawn to the delicate droplets of water which glistened on your plush lips thanks to the sun's amber rays.

You were beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Rhysand had picked the most beautiful spot on the continent for your outing today, and yet even the breathtaking scenery of the lush surroundings paled in comparison to you.

"Hey Az?" your gentle voice drew the male from his stupor, the lovesick fog in his affectionate gaze clearing just enough for Azriel to see your expectant eyes looking up at him from where you were swaying in the water, "Are you going to come in?"

Azriel's eyes grew wide at your question, cheeks burning red as the male searched for a suitable answer, "Oh, uh . . . you want me to -?"

A low groan of frustration sounded next to Azriel, an exasperated Rhysand roughly pushing the shadowsinger to stand as he whispered with a hiss, "Az, just get in the damn water."

Shrinking under the anticipatory stares of his family, Azriel swiftly removed his boots before awkwardly shuffling towards the river's edge. Cautious, he dipped a tentative toe into the flowing water before pulling back with an alarmed cry, wings curling in shock at the frigid temperature of the river, "I don't know if I ca-"

"Oh for cauldron's sake" Cassian huffed behind Azriel, a heavy hand falling onto the male's shoulder before he shoved the shadowsinger in.

Azriel had no time to react, a panicked shriek slipping from his lips as he forcefully crashed into the freezing water. Limbs flailing uselessly as he worked to make his way towards the surface, the shadowsinger's control slipping as the current worked against his feeble actions.

Relief was delivered in the form of your tender touch, your gentle hands moving to support the male as he gathered his wits and acclimated to the - somewhat - soothing chill of the river. Azriel's eyes blinking open only for him to be greeted by your warming smile looking back at him.

"Hi" you whispered, softly giggling at Azriel's uneasy expression. Eyes shining with adoration as you gently moved to wrap your arms around Azriel's shoulders in order to steady the fumbling male, "thank you for joining me."

"Hi" Azriel replied breathlessly, his cheeks still burning with a heated blush despite the cooling nature of the water which surrounded him. Noticing your close proximity, the shadowsinger gulped nervously. The male helpless in resisting his shadows control as they worked to pull his slightly trembling hands to rest against the curve of your waist.

Azriel now safe within your hold, the two of you happily bobbed along with the current. All thoughts of your watchful friends long forgotten as you allowed yourselves to become lost within the moment. Azriel's heart beating wildly as your ardent gaze never failed to leave his flustered face.

And it was here, tenderly wrapped within your comforting embrace, that Azriel allowed himself to wonder if Rhysand had been right all along about your supposed affections. The shadowsinger realizing that perhaps he needn't have worried about whether you would be able to love him - because maybe you already did.

"Hey sunshine!" Cassian's startling shout broke the silence which had comfortably settled between the pair of you, the general's voice filled with mischief as he teasingly called, "Az has something he wanted to ask you!"

Stunned, Azriel blanched at his words. A string of expletives falling from the shadowsinger's lips as he turned his anxious gaze towards you. The unsteady beating of his heart thundered in his ears at the daunting sound of your encouraging hum.

"Uh . . . um, I just wanted to . . ." Azriel's apprehensive gaze shifted towards his brother who was waiting on the bank with his head hung into the palm of his hand, panic building in his chest as the male found himself lost for words, "I was just wondering if you wanted . . . uh-"

"Yes Azriel," you beamed, softly nodding along to Azriel's garbled speech, "The answer is yes. I would love to go on a date with you."

Wasting no time, you sealed your lips against his own. Using the arms you had tightly wrapped around his shoulders to pull the flustered male closer towards you. Smiling into the kiss as Azriel's lips began to tentatively move against your own.

The shadowsinger clutched onto you as though you were his lifeline, fingers firmly pressed into your waist as he held you flush against him - lips chasing after yours as though he would surely drown without your sweetened kiss.

Yet the kiss was only fleeting, you having pulled away at the sound of your friend's ecstatic cheers. Azriel released a laugh of disbelief as you moved to rest your forehead against his own, your eyes bright and full of love as you breathlessly whispered, "Finally. I was wondering how long it would take you to ask me that."

"What?" Azriel asked in astonishment, his swollen lips parting in surprise, "You've been waiting for . . . me?"

"You're beautiful, Az" you exclaimed as though it was obvious, a soft gasp escaping from the male's lips at your words, "So unbelievably beautiful."

"But I- I'm . . ."

You hushed the male with a swift peck to his lips, "Just kiss me again, Az."

"With pleasure" Azriel answered with a smile, bringing his lips to meet your own.

[l-uminescent]

˚⁀➷｡˚GOD OF OLD VALYRIA ━━━ DAERON TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

synopsis: cregan stark's sister (reader) is sent to king's landing in order to find a suitable marriage arrangement. after a year however, you start to lose hope at finding a betrothed. that is, until the king announces the arrival of his youngest son daeron targaryen.

notes: hello! i have yet to see many daeron one shots or fics so i’ve decided to try. and as usual, i have aged him up to about 19/20. requests are also welcome bc i’m running out of ideas 😭

warnings: don’t think there is any apart from my rusty writing bc i have not written anything in years and most likely some spelling mistakes

word count: 1.8k

BEING CREGAN STARK'S YOUNGER SISTER PROVED ITSELF TO BE BOTH A BLESSING AND A CURSE. with the death of his wife arra, and being left with a son to raise by himself cregan struggled to find the time to find a suitable suitor to have as your lord husband as you came of age. the result of this, meant you being sent off to king's landing in hopes that the queen  consort, could provide help with finding you a husband. it's not like you minded being sent off to the capital, you were keen to explore the south after having lived in the north for the entirety of your life. but after being in the red keep for almost a year, you were becoming less and less confident at the queen's promise to your brother that she would find you a betrothed.

however, that was all soon to change with the arrival of daeron targaryen from oldtown.

it was his elder brother aemond, who informed you of daeron's arrival from oldtown after having been sent away years ago to squire for the hightower family. despite aemond's  intimidating aura and the obvious anger he holds within, you two often found solace with each other in the library as it appeared neither of you had many friends around the castle. tucked away, reading books on the history of the north, and that of the previous targaryen kings and queens, aemond often sat near, as he too enjoyed your presence as much you he.

today, he explained that there was to be a feast held in the throne room, at daeron's arrival as he had not been in the red keep for quite some time. your presence was to be required at the feast for some reason unbeknownst to you (but not to aemond's, who was aware of his mother's plotting).

rushing back to your chambers after waving your friend goodbye and thanking him for the information he told, your stomach began to knot as the feeling of nervousness took hold. you had heard stories of the youngest targaryen, of his beauty, how his silver hair fell shorter than his brothers, barely covering his eyes. you often heard gossip that the price frequently made the girls of the realm swoon if they were to ever encounter the boy in oldtown. if the rumours that circled around the red keep were to be believed, than it was also said that daeron targaryen was the most popular of the king and queen's sons. as well as his beauty, you had heard that he was an outspoken and witty boy, a skilled swordsman and returned the kindness that was given to him.

brushing away these thoughts, you began to wash  and paint you face with many creams and serums, until doting yourself as presentable to the targaryen family. you called on a maid to help you with your hair and dress. no matter the time you spent in the south, you were never one to forget your northern roots which often reflected in the clothes you wore and the hairstyle that adorned your head. black dire wolves, were subtly sewn onto your grey dress, a direct nod at your stark lineage, showing how proud you were of it and your hair was twisted and braided until it reflected that of what you so commonly wore in winterfell.

as the maid finished helping you ready, the nervous feeling once again made home in the pit of your stomach. deciding it was time to make your  way to the feast, your hands found themselves fidgeting with the rings on your fingers that were lovingly gifted to you by your mother father and brother, (family heirlooms that once again showed your pride of the north) in an attempt to calm your anxiety.

you still could not fathom where this sudden wave of nervousness came from. you had met the other two targaryen boys, even the three velayrons that had moved away to dragonstone a mere week after your arrival,  and this skittish demeanour was nowhere to be found back then.

taking a deep shaky breath and swallowing, willing your hands to stop fidgeting you walked through the doors to where the feast was to be held, making a beeline straight to where you usually sat. ignoring the piercing glare of a pair of indigo eyes that you were unused to, you bowed to the king and queen before taking your seat, still refusing to meet  the eyes that looked upon you intently.

"it is my greatest pleasure to announce the return of my youngest son daeron" king viserys announced. even in his sickly state the pride he had for his youngest son was not mistaken, making it painstakingly obvious who the favourite child was (second to rhaeynra of course.)

as he continued, you could not help but notice the soft look alicent had gave you. you had heard the rumours of how unkind the woman was before your arrival yet, she did everything in her power to make you feel comfortable during your stay. almost as if this was her second shot at motherhood.

you did not need to wonder for long what she had meant by the look this time before viserys continued his speech. "and to announce his betrothal to the lady of house stark."

at that moment you did not care if the shock in your face was evident  as your mind raced at a hundred miles an hour at the news. feeling your heart pump faster, a bright crimson appear on your cheeks as the entire table had turned to look at you. the  embarrassment at the attention you faced had soon turned to rage at the thought of your brother cregan not warning you of the news to have allowed yourself to mentally prepare. you cursed your brother for that. yet it soon faded and was once again replaced with anxiety as you remembered the boy beside you was the man you were now betrothed to.

you could not help the thought of this being failing marriage, one that was doomed from the start. your northern customs differed heavily from that of the royals in the south and you were afraid that it would offend your betrothed. you barely knew the man, there was no telling that he was as kind as you had heard, for all you knew one simple argument and he could feed you to his beloved dragon tessarion.

willing yourself to calm down, you took a shaky breathe before twisting your head to the side, finally allowing yourself to look at the boy that had been the cause for your nerves the past few hours. you had to hand it to the gossips of the court, the boy was handsome. with a sharp jawline and piercing indigo eyes staring into your plain ones you felt your face heat as his eyes continued to hold yours. taking in his features you noted that his hair, fell perfectly to his eyebrows, and a small scar ran down the left side of his lip. he was absolutely mesmerising. you had always been skeptical at the idea of targaryen's being closer to gods than men, but in that moment you believed.

daeron targaryen looked as if he was a god from old, straight from valyria.

you found the knot in your stomach grow and tension find it's home in your shoulders at this revelation as you struggled for words to say to your betrothed,  feeling unworthy in the presence of true targaryen beauty. your belief of the old gods wavering in favour of the valyrian ones, every time your eyes caught his.

you only prayed he was as kind as he was good looking.

━━━━━━━━━━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━━━━━

"mother, i will accompany lady stark back to her room." it wasn't until the meal had ended when you had heard his voice for the first time. if you weren't nervous before than by the  gods you were now. with your heart rate elevated your fingers found the rings adorning your hands again, fiddling with them as you stood to be guided back to your chambers by the youngest prince. his voice perfectly matching the god like features of his face, melting like honey as every syllable reached you ear. you were truly enamoured with the targaryen boy.

with a bow to both the king and queen you and daeron had left, an awkward silence following as the words you wanted to say dying on your tongue every time you glanced out the corner of your eye at him. once again, blood rushed to your cheeks as the boy turned to you. "you don't have to be scared of me you know, my lady." he smirked. by the love of the gods, you prayed the answer that left your mouth did not make the embarrassment you felt worsen.

"i believe i have a right to my fear, my prince, seeing as your dragon lays only a hill away from where we stand."

at this, daeron let out a laugh, wondering where the shyness from the feast had gone. "well my lady, tessarion isn't as scary as she seems. maybe one day we shall go out riding."

"i would like that indeed my prince." you returned, smiling at the thought of him allowing you to meet his most precious creature. you had always wondered what a dragon had looked like up close, let alone to ride. the mere suggestion of it showed that maybe this marriage wasn't doomed after all. "well here is my chambers. thank you for walking me back."

the two of you turned to face each other now, allowing you to take in the entirety of his face. and by gods you were even more starstruck than before. in the torch lit corridor of the red keep, he seemed even prettier — truly a god of old valyria.

"goodnight my lady." daeron breathed out, seemingly as entranced as you were with him. the piercing indigo roaming about your entire face as he believed you would disappear if he even for a moment looks away. he had encountered many beautiful strangers in his time at oldtown, had read many history books that described creatures as beautiful as gods and angels. yet no matter how many detailed accounts he had read of valyria, how enchanting those who had lived before the doom were, and how he had inherited this fairness from his ancestors , in that moment he swore he had never met anyone as more beautiful as you. how you took pride in where you came from with the northern rings and stitching on your dress. how your hair was held with clips that were clearly heirlooms of the stark family. he was in awe.

"goodnight my prince." you whispered, pressing a small tender kiss to the side of his porcelain skin before turning to your chambers.

to daeron targaryen, you too were a god of old valyria

[ickadori]

𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐋

[cws] none. gn reader.

-

“If I couldn’t use magic, would you still love me?”

You trace the dark lines on Orter’s face as you curl into his side, his bare chest steadily rising and falling with his breaths.

“What notion gave you the idea that I loved you?”

“Well, we’re married for starters.” You move to his hair next, smoothing the sweat-dampened locks out of his face.

“Marriages of convenience are not uncommon.”

You give him a bland look, one which he can’t see due to his closed eyes, and flick your fingers against his nose before moving to get out of the bed. His arms slither around your waist and pull you back against him, the both of you now on your sides and staring into each others eyes. “I was joking.”

“Your jokes are terribly unfunny.” A ghost of a smile settles on his lips.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t marry me for my humor then, isn’t it?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

You’ve always wondered if Orter’s love for you was conditional on if you could use magic or not. If you had been born without the blessing from the Gods, the very thing that was revered throughout this world, would he have still fallen for you? Would he have declared his love for you in a murky, dust-ridden library in a hushed whisper before kissing you behind the cover of a book? Would he have held you so tenderly, embraced you so lovingly, loved you like this if not?

“If it were the other way around,” you start, “I’d still love you.” And it’s the truth - you would love Orter through it all. If he were to lose his magic as well as everything to his name tomorrow, he’d still have you and your love.

He sighs out through his nose, one big hand settling on your waist, his skin hot against yours. “I abhor any and everything that threatens the current order of things - you know this. While I acknowledge that boy’s strength and contributions to keep this world safe…I would not hesitate to do away with him solely due to his lack of magic.” His gaze doesn’t falter, and you feel the corners of your mouth downturn as you try to bat away your disappointment.

It was a silly question, one you knew you wouldn’t like the answer to, and yet you had still asked. I have no right to be upset.

“With that being said, I can’t imagine myself feeling anything but love and adoration for you.”

“Orter..”

“Me hating you is simply unfathomable - if you were to wake up tomorrow and realize you could do exponentially better than me, I would still love you. If you were to drive a knife through my heart and smile as you did it, I would still love you. If you were to lose every drop of magic in your body, I would still love you. I’m aware that me saying that makes me a hypocrite, but there are worse things to be in this life.”

His hand moves to cup your cheek, and he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before going to pull away, only to be stopped by your arms winding around his neck as you deepen the kiss, unable to stop the blinding smile that takes over your face.

“I love you,” you say in between kisses, and Orter maneuvers the both of you so he’s flat on his back with you straddling his hips. His hands settle on your waist and you push yourself up, your own hands splayed across his chest as you look down at him. “Even if you do look silly without your glasses.”

“…please disregard my earlier sentiments.”

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[3:11 pm]

(cw: f!reader, pregnant reader)

"Hi everyone!" You smile at the camera you've propped up, "Jae and I did some shopping today and we want to do a little unboxing."

Jaehyun rests his chin on your shoulder, watching as you bring the collection of small boxes into the view of the camera. "We were supposed to go baby shopping, but this one got distracted by these weird little toys so we got some," he grumbles, bringing a soft hand to the bottom of your bump.

"We did do baby shopping! We got some clothes and burp clothes and some little socks! We even ordered the crib today!" You counter while turning to look at him. You smile at the camera, "but I've been seeing these all over social media so I wanted to get a couple boxes of each one. We have some Sonny Angels and some Smiskis."

You grab one of the boxes and hand another to Jaehyun. His eyes scan the box, looking at the options on the side. He hears you say, "I want either the pineapple or the peach for my peach boy."

He blushes as you press your lips to his cheek lovingly, "I want the strawberry since you've been eating them nonstop since you got pregnant."

You both open the boxes and pull out the foil bags, he opens his first and frowns, "what the hell is this thing? Why is it spiky?"

Your laugh rings out, "awwww, I think it's a durian. It's cute, honey. Ok, well I got..." You rip open the bag and cheer excitedly, "awww, I got the strawberry!"

"Baby, why are they naked?" he questions with his brows furrowed.

You shrug your shoulders while handing him another box, "I don't make them, Jaehyun. Look at the little faces though, oh my god, I want a hundred more of them. Alright, sorry, these are the Smiskis."

"They look like boogers with faces," Jaehyun mumbles while he turns the box in his hands.

You snort, "these are from the living series. I want... I want the one with the pillow. Which one do you want, honey?"

"I kinda like the one with the flute," Jaehyun replies while opening the box.

This time you open yours first, you smile and coo at the little figure with a cat. You set it up beside the two Sonny Angels while Jaehyun opens his bag. He makes a noise of confusion when he sees the mini figurine, "this one wasn't an option, what is this?"

He holds up the green toy, with its arm out and a flower head. Your eyes scan over the side of the package, "it's not even an option- wait, I think you got the secret one."

"You have weird taste in toys, baby. I mean these two are naked with fruit heads and these two look like messed up boogers," Jaehyun shakes his head, rubbing the swell of your stomach over the soft cotton of your shirt.

You roll your eyes, "whatever, I think we should get more. Thanks for watching!" You reach to stop the video and turn to Jaehyun with a pout. You bat your lashes up at him, "can we go back?"

"We got home an hour ago!" Jaehyun laughs loudly, pressing a kiss to your forehead through his smile.

"Don't you love me? Don't you want me to be happy? The baby wants more toys, are you going to deny your daughter a toy? Before she's even born?" You ask him in an accusatory tone.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head back. His hand gently massages your lower back as you lean into him, pressing your chin into his chest. If you had him wrapped around your pretty finger he couldn't imagine how much his daughter would get away with when she was born.

"Different boxes this time?" he asks tiredly. Your happy dance and excited cheers are enough to have him feeling reenergized as he guides you to the couch to rest, with a bowl of strawberries, before he grabs his keys and makes his way out again.

[itaipava]

— little things about a relationship with f1 boys.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

playfully pushing each other’s buttons simply because you can. feigning forgetting important days to surprise you later. falling asleep together to the sound of the rain. sports, video games, boardgames because a couple that plays together, stays together. laughing so hard you can’t breathe. unpredictable hugs.  encouraging each others’ hobbies and interests. inside jokes. lots of it. so many couple selfies. wearing his hoodies and shirts. going on double dates. constantly doing movie marathons. saying “love you” at the end of every phone call.

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO

lunch dates. living your best life together. laughing and singing freely. sweet little texts throughout the day to check in on you. “how was your day?” subconsciously pulling you closer in his sleep. lovingly looking at each other just because. sharing umbrella in the rain/sun. taking photos for each other. “goodbye” and “hello” kisses. road trips - sometimes spontaneous and sometimes carefully planned for weeks prior. running hands through each other’s hair. cooking and doing the dishes together afterwards. little foot massages. never forgetting to say “thank you” for the little things.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

him looking at you when you’re not looking and the soft, comfortable eye contact when you catch him looking and neither looking away as you giddily smile at each other. him saving extra treats like chocolate or candy for you and slipping them in your pocket as a little surprise. him subconsciously sniffing your hair or neck before hugging you even tighter. tracing your features with his fingertips during afternoon cuddles by the window because he finds you so beautiful. always looking at each other first when you find something funny. conversations at midnight, at 3 a.m, at early in the morning, evening, afternoon. it’s falling a little more in love with each inner thought and idea shared. flirty and cheesy words exchanged just because. smiling and laughing till your faces and stomachs hurt.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

stolen gazes in public that become stolen smiles then stolen kisses in the dark. even when surrounded by other people, his eyes always find you and yours him. loving each other’s company so much that you lose track of time; sitting at a corner table in a quaint little café — that later becomes your spot — talking about your ideas and thoughts and dreams for hours and hours until the waiter interrupts, asking you to order again or to leave. him instinctively putting his hand on your knee or on your waist when someone tries to flirt with you. surprise back hugs and soft kisses on the shoulder. innocent neck kisses in an attempt to tickle the other.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

already acting like a married couple as well as best-friends. saying “honey, i’m home.” breakfast in bed. taking long walks together. watching tv while cuddling. soft laughter. him doing your manicures. soaking in the warm tub together. little glances at each other when in public, in your own little world. slow kisses. slow dances. fancy and traditional dinner dates. “we’re in this together.” taking things slow. giving each other fashion advice. going shopping together. trying on clothes and posing for each other. late night phone calls. wanting to be around each other so much that you make up excuses to have more time together before the date or the hang-out ends. him adoringly looking at you when you’re not looking. matching jewelry

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

being each other’s home and safe haven. casual pda; the hand-holding; having his arm slung over your shoulder; clinging onto his side while walking. leaning closer to each other to whisper inside jokes in public. secrets exchanged at 3 a.m under the covers, facing each other, fingers absentmindedly trailing on one another’s skin. knowing what the other is trying to say with just a look. looking at each other in public, not touching but feeling close. him adoringly watching you from the bed while you do your skincare in front of the vanity table; locking gazes in the mirror, playful smirks forming on your faces. innocent neck kisses. taking plenty of couple selfies/mirror selfies together. unintentionally matching outfits and laughing about it.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

it’s acting like an old married couple. enjoying doing the mundane things together. making bad jokes then staring at each other and your faces breaking out in grins and soft laughter. saying one thing but meaning the complete opposite: it’s ‘i hate you’s with loving smiles. accepting each other’s flaws and falling even more in love for them. him giving you his hoodie so that you can wear it when you’re cold or use it as a makeshift blanket. him poking your sides at the most random moments and giving you a mischievous, teasing half-smile when you tell him to stop. facetime calls at night for ‘a few minutes’ that end up lasting for hours with you falling asleep on call and him taking screenshots of it to tease you later but also end up staring at your peaceful, sleeping face with the softest smile.

[ariestrxsh]

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⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, fluff, sneaking around, getting caught, oral, risky sex

📝 author's note: 📝 this is the final part of a piece of my writing, and it's not necessary you read the other parts but if you'd like to you'll just have more context and more of a build up :) here is part one, and here is part two 💖

✍️ Summary: ✍️ After a few days of sneaking around with Chris and doing naughty things with him while on a vacation with him and his brothers, you guys plan to have sex for the first time, but the biggest obstacle is hiding it from Nick and Matt.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

road trippin' part three

Once we got out to the lobby, our faces lit up. The glorious aroma of various breakfast foods filled the air. There was coffee, orange juice, sausage, bacon, eggs, potatoes, biscuits and gravy, muffins, hot cereal, any breakfast food we could ever dream of really. We got ourselves plates full of our favorite foods and sat down to eat. We were laughing and smiling, feeding each other, and cracking jokes. I loved being around Chris. Our energies flowed so easily when we were alone together.

Soon, Nick and Matt came down to join us. "Wow, you're up early, Chris," Matt commented. I was normally happy to see the other brothers, but I associated them with having to police myself. Of course I could look at Chris, and laugh at his jokes, but I couldn't stare lovingly into his eyes or get lost in his smile with them around, so I made sure not to let my gaze or my touch linger too long on Chris when we interacted. I realllly did like sneaking around, though. I found myself wondering what Nick or Matt would do if they caught us, or what they would think if they knew their brother had me cumming all over his fingers the night before and cumming all over his tongue this morning. I didn't know why, but the idea of having a little secret and getting found out just made the whole situation that much hotter.

But there was another part of me that didn't want to hide. There was a part of me who wanted to hold his hand and kiss him, and not have to worry about it all being a secret. All four of us spent the day together, mostly hanging out around the hotel, and Chris and I secretly texted back and forth. "Fake sick tonight when Matt and Nick go out for dinner. I'll order us something, and we'll hang out just the two of us for our last night in town," Chris' text read.

Later that night, I put on the oscar-winning performance, Nick and Matt totally bought it. "You know, I think someone should stay here to look after her. She seems pretty sick," Chris said to his brothers. "That's really nice of you, Chris," Nick said, volunteering Chris, which was his plan anyway. Matt shot Chris a look like he knew he was up to something. But they still went out, leaving Chris and me alone.

Food that Chris ordered arrived shortly after the two boys left. Chris and I sat on my bed, feeding each other french fries, drinking our milkshakes, and talking about how we didn't want to leave the next day.

After us talking about our favorite things about the trip and finishing our food, we started kissing, rolling around the bed, messing up all the sheets, and removing our clothes. "I wanna see it," I said, pinching my lip between my teeth while I was straddling Chris. "Yeah, I guess you couldn't see much last night in the dark," Chris said, biting his lip back at me while I fiddled with the waistband of his pajama pants. I climbed off of him so he could take them off. He was already hard, his mushroom tip engorged, and it curved slightly to the left. He curled his fingers around his veiny shaft and started slowly moving it up and down. "Do you like it?" He asked, capturing my attention with the pre-cum glimmering as it slowly formed on the tip. I looked into his dreamy, glazed-over eyes and nodded.

I leaned down and slurped up his juices, and he let out a soft moan. I continued making soft circles with my tongue around the head, and I watched as he tossed his head back, his expression overcome by ecstasy. I wrapped my lips around it and took what I could into my mouth, and stroked the rest with my hand. He lowered his gaze to my mouth and the way I was hungrily taking in so much of him. "Fuck I love watching you do that," Chris whimpered, licking his lips. I loved watching him and the way his face was so expressive about how he was feeling. I focused my attention on the head, licking that sweet spot on the back of his cock where it meets the shaft, and I listened as his delicious sounds filled the room. I created some suction while my tongue danced across all his sensitive areas, and he peered down at me with a look of desperation and desire, his features softening while he started to come undone.

I loved how we didn't have to be quiet, unlike this morning and the night before. I loved experiencing his pleasure vicariously through him, through his sweet little noises and the way his eyebrows furrowed into a tightened expression while I brought him to the edge. I felt his sticky white fluid spurt across my tongue while he throbbed inside of my mouth and let out a final whimper. "Oh my god," Chris uttered breathlessly after he came. I noticed he was way less dominant this time and basically let me have my way with him however I wanted and let me be in complete control of the blowjob, which really turned me on. And I loved leaving him satisfied.

"Please let me ride you," I whispered to Chris after he started to recover from his climax. "Listen, I really want to, but we only have like ten minutes before my brothers walk through that door," Chris said checking his phone, "and honestly I just wanna hold you until then." This made me smile. "Maybe I can ride you tonight after the boys fall asleep," I said, putting my clothes back on and making my bed. "I would fucking love that," Chris said, holding out his arms for me to embrace him. And we cuddled in my bed until Matt's car pulled into the parking lot.

When they walked in, Chris and I were on our own separate beds, ignoring each other. "You feeling any better?" Matt inquired when he saw me. "What? Oh, I mean, a little bit. I think I have a stomach bug," I responded. "A stomach bug, huh? But you were feeling fine enough to eat a burger and fries from Five Guys?" Matt said, examining the trash we hadn't thrown out yet. I shot a look at Chris, unsure what to say. "I ate all that food, idiot. I just got her a milkshake," Chris said, not even looking up at Matt. "Yup. Haven't thrown it up yet," I said, smiling at Matt. He made a disgusted face at us both. I was worried he was onto us or at least suspecting something.

And I didn't want Chris to know, but I was falling for him. And we hadn't had the "what are we" conversation. We hadn't even discussed if this was something that was going to continue after our roadtrip was over and we were back in Boston, and because of that, I was dreading it coming to an end. Being on vacation with Chris felt like a fairytale that I never wanted to come to a close.

I went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, but I saw Chris behind me in the mirror when I came up from splashing cold water on my face. He slid his arms around my waist, nestled his smile into my neck and whispered, "I can't wait to fuck you silly tonight." I felt his erection on my back as he did this. Despite having cum like five times in the last 24 hours, he had me needing more. As soon as we both heard footsteps coming closer to the bathroom, Chris released his grip on me and picked up his toothbrush. When Matt walked up on us in the bathroom, we were both nonchalantly brushing our teeth, standing a few feet apart. Matt stood between us and grabbed his own toothbrush. "Listen, I don't know what the fuck you guys are hiding, but I'm gonna find out," Matt said sternly. Chris and I both got wide-eyed and I nearly choked as I tried to spit into the sink. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I responded in a hushed voice, so Nick wouldn't hear. "I know you guys are up to no good," Matt responded. "The way you both stayed back while we got food last night, the way you guys were looking at each other while we were eating, texting back and forth all day, the way you just faked sick on our last night and both had an excuse to hang back again?" Fuck, well when he put it like that, it seemed like we were really bad at sneaking around. We both stayed silent. "See? Neither one of you are denying it. And I don't know what the hell you guys have cooked up, but just know I'm one step ahead of you, and I'm gonna figure out whatever prank it is you're trying to pull on me," Matt said pointing sternly at us both. I felt a sigh of relief come over both Chris and me. Oh, thank god. Matt's just being paranoid about us fucking with him. At least he doesn't know we're fucking with each other instead. "Oh my god Matt, you're so paranoid. Why would we prank you?" Chris said, a smile creeping across his face as he look at me in the mirror, feeding into Matt's suspicions. "See? I knew it! Watch yourselves. You guys think you're slick, but I see everything," Matt threatened. And he started brushing his teeth. I rolled my eyes and made my way to my bed that Chris had I had done unspeakable things to each other in earlier. I was relieved that Matt didn't immediately jump to the correct conclusion, which was that Chris and I were sneaking around and getting each other off any chance we could get, but he was picking up on the energy between Chris and me, which made me nervous. He knew we were being sneaky, and I also knew Matt was going to be paying extra attention to the way Chris and I were interacting. We had to be extra careful from here on out. But that wasn't exactly gonna start tonight, because I still hadn't gotten to fuck Chris, and it was our last night before we pack up and go back home. Who knows? Tonight might be the only chance. Once I got into my bed, I texted Chris, "Make extra sure Matt is asleep before you come over to my bed tonight."

A few hours later, both Nick and Matt were asleep. Once Chris came over to my bed, he kissed me deeply. He immediately shoved his hand down the front of my panties. "Mmm already wet, I see?" He quietly cooed. I blushed, but he couldn't tell in the dark room. I didn't say anything. I just started taking his clothes off, and I pushed him up against the wall behind the head of the bed, and I straddled him. "I need you," he whispered into my ear as he moved my panties to the side.

I slowly lowered myself onto him, and I savored every inch as it slowly filled me. We both softly exhaled once he was all way inside. It didn't take long for me to get used to him, it didn't take long before it was getting difficult to stay at a slow pace to keep from waking the brothers. "Mmm so tight," Chris purred into my ear, in which I responded by riding a little faster. He pulled up my t-shirt and started running his hands over my breasts, taking one of them into his mouth. I was overwhelmed by how incredible all the stimulation felt. I tried to stay quiet, but I found obscenities and Chris' name flowing from my lips while I pleasured myself on Chris' cock. "Shhh are you trying to get us caught?" Chris laughed at me, knowing I couldn't help it and slipped a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. Sex with Chris was incredible, and having to be quiet almost made it harder to be. "Okay, darling, I need you to be quiet on your own okay? I need both hands for this," he smirked as he lifted me up by my hips and started thrusting.

At first, I was really good at holding back my whimpers, but it didn't take long before we were both approaching our climax, and our moans and panting definitely got out of hand. "Chris, what the fuck!?" We both heard Matt waking up and realizing what was going on, but it was too late. We were both teetering on an orgasm, and no matter how humiliated we both were, we couldn't stop.

I felt myself snap as Matt got up and turned on the light, and he definitely got a full view of me convulsing on Chris' cock as he finished me off with a few last strokes. Just then, Chris lifted me off of him, his dick coated in a layer of my fluids, and Matt couldn't help but to watch as Chris came into his hand while he rolled his eyes back and let out a loud "fuck," most likely a response to both the incredible pleasure coursing through his body and the fact that Matt had just witnessed the final seconds of it all. "Oh my god, I thought if I turned on the light, you sick fucks would stop!" Matt yelled. "Yeah, and I thought if you woke up while we were fucking, you'd pretend you didn't and go back to sleep, idiot." Chris said, covering himself with whatever piece of clothing was closest to him.

"What's happening?" Nick asked, poking his head over the couch and rubbing his eyes. I buried my face in my hands. "Oh, you know, they're just fucking in the bed next to me, that's all," Matt responded, rolling his eyes. "What the fuck? You two?" Nick pointed at us wide-eyed with his jaw on the floor. "Dude, I'm sorry, you don't understand how close I was when you turned on the light, I couldn't stop if I wanted to," Chris said, flustered, avoiding eye contact with everyone. "Yeah, trust me, I know. I was there," Matt gave his brother attitude. "Okay, let's not make this a whole thing. Can we just act like this never happened and go to bed?" Chris snapped back. "Yeah, but you're not sleeping in my bed with me," Matt snorted. "Wasn't planning on it, jackass. Now turn off the light," Chris told him. "Okay, but if you guys start getting it on again, I'm going downstairs and getting my own hotel room for the night," Matt responded. "Yeah, I'll be joining you Matt," Nick chimed in.

Matt turned off the light, everyone returned to their beds, but Chris stayed in mine. I had a million thoughts racing through my head. I was embarrassed, kind of turned on that we got caught like that, and ultimately confused as to why I had that reaction to the whole situation and what it meant going forward. I finally fell asleep in Chris' arms.

The next morning, when Chris and I woke up beside each other, we both smiled, and he kissed me. "Good morning, beautiful." My god, his morning voice was to die for. "Good morning," I smiled back. "I can't believe we got caught last night. Is it bad that I find it sort of hot?" I asked Chris.

"You guys make me sick," Matt said, turning over in his bed, apparently awake again. I blushed. "So what does this mean? You guys dating now?" Matt groggily asked, checking his phone. "Actually we hadn't gotten a chance to talk about it, Matt, but thanks for ruining the moment, because I was literally right about to ask," Chris said, turning to me, "do you wanna be my girlfriend?" I stared at him in silence for a few seconds. "You know, unless you were just fooling around and having fun, then I get that," Chris said, looking away and fidgeting with his hair. "No, I mean yes. I mean, no, it wasn't just fooling around to me, and yes, I do wanna be your girlfriend," I said, grinning. "Okay, good," Chris leaned in to kiss me. "Awh how cute," Matt said sarcastically, "now get the fuck up and help me pack." Chris leaned in and kissed me again, "I think I love you," he whispered, looking into my eyes. "I think I love you too."

[arminsumi]

Hi! I hope ur having a good time. Sorry, for the phrasing, English is not my first language hehe (｡>\\<) btw i really like ur writing! u keep them in character and also ur amazing at writing fluff ♡(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ can I please ask for a gojo fluff where he realizes reader always wanted to have a small boyfriend to like call him baby boy to sit on her lap and spoil him and stuff and then gojo goes apeshit like trying to sit on her with his long ass limbs trying to be a babyboy idk hehehe anyways tysm

"I'm your baby boy, right?"

GOJO さとる + fem!reader

Satoru thinks he's smaller than he actually is, and tries curl up on you like a cat.

Note : hey hey! srry i took so long to write this omggg it got lost in my drafts. but!! it's such a sweet idea thank u for sending it in!! big beefy satoru trying to make himself ur small boy is a thought that gave me life 💗😖 and thank u so much for ur kind words it means a lot!!

Satoru tries to curl up on you as if he's a little cat.

But he's not.

Ah, but he really thinks he is sometimes.

And he wants to be a little cat to you, not a big burly man or a strong intimidating menace but just a small, soft, delicate thing to be held and touched and pampered with love and care.

It makes you laugh, as you listen to him grunting and struggling to position himself on your lap and get those long limbs in order — it's one of the funniest sights; a big boy trying to box himself up like he's not 6'3 with broad-shoulders 'n thick arms 'n long spider-like legs.

"Do you think you're a cat or something?"

"Yes." he grins dumbly, balancing precariously on you as you sit. Then he sees your smile and slips off. "—oopsfuck!" he falls, gets up, acts it off, then tries again.

In bed, he wiggles down the sheets so his head is level with your chest. He wraps his arms around your middle, arches his back, and encases you between his legs. He clings to your body on his side like that, and snuggles his cheek on your chest as if it's his rightful pillow, the place where he belongs.

"Play with my hair, please?" he mumbles with pouty lips.

He smiles to himself when you fulfil his request.

Feeling both your warmth and your fingers stroking lovingly through his hair makes him drowsy. And when he's drowsy, he mumbles mental notes like "we need to buy orange juice tomorrow..." as he falls asleep.

His grip slackens as he falls asleep. In the middle of the night, he'll wake up and look at you with that puffy pouty sleepy face of his and stare for a moment, appreciating you, before tightening his embrace on your body and returning to slumber.

When he wakes up the next morning with you, he makes the same request; "Play with my hair." but with a raspy voice.

While you do so, he groaningly complains about having had nightmares all night.

"I keep dreamin' about saving the world 'n failing... but it's fine. I wake up and you're right here. So nothin' to worry about. Doesn't matter if I fail if I still have you."

He's so happy to be getting spoiled and pampered by you while curling his body up as small as possible. Happy that he has someone he doesn't have to be big and strong around. Someone who he can be a baby boy around.

Sometimes he's resting on your chest in the mornings in silence, when suddenly he rears his head up and asks "I'm your baby boy, right? Say it, please."

"Mhm. You're my baby boy, Satoru. Don't worry."

"Mm yay." he smiles to himself and resumes resting on you, his white hair tickling under your chin. "Say it again, please. Just keep saying it."

So you do, you say it repeatedly and it sounds like a soft lullaby to him. He falls back asleep with his ear pressed to your heartbeat, and feels a safe warmness in his chest.

"Oh." he startles out of his shallow sleep, "We need to buy orange juice, don't we?"

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[bunnys-kisses]

simon riley custard tart sparkling water pretty please 🥺

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there's tons of things avaliable! i love getting your suggestions, so please, keep 'em coming! as for this lovely anon, i see what you're cooking up there! a nice gentle smut fic but, i chose to make it inexperienced!simon who wants to make sure that his girl is taken care of! so thank you!

custard tart ('i've never done this before") + sparkling water (gentle sex) served by simon "ghost" riley (call of duty)!!

cw: smut/pwp, first time, virgin!simon, gentle sex, size kink, cowgirl position

simon knew he was a big man. an ugly, big man, who could easily crush you. if it was his hands around your throat or even press to hard of his weight onto your body.

he was a solid mass and the last thing he wanted was to harm the love of his life. so his hugs were loose and his kisses were soft. and even after six months of dating, you still haven't had sex together. you did everything else together,

it wasn't until you asked him simply, "si, why have you not fucked me yet?"

he swallowed and replied, "afraid of hurtin' ya... never been with someone before." he hunched his shoulders a little.

that was when you knew that you'd have to take control if you wanted to have sexual intimacy with simon. you promised him that you'd control the pace and that you'd make sure that you didn't get hurt.

when simon felt comfortable with the idea of having sex with you. he placed a large hand between your shoulder blades and said, "it hurts, you stop. i ain't tearin' up my woman."

and you kissed the scar on his chin, "si, i promise. and we'll have a lot of fun." then took him by the hand to lead him to the bedroom.

he sighed, "'i've never done this before, i'm sorry, love." he sat on the edge of the bed once you got into the bedroom. he watched you with those big brown eyes of his as you got out of your baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. he caught sight of your cute nude coloured bra and leaned a little forward, "i'm sorry i can't be more help, love."

you chuckled, "well i guess that means i can teach you everything. there's nothing to be ashamed about, si." you reached him and pulled him close, his head against your chest. you combed your fingers through his short hair, "thank you for trusting me enough to want to have sex with me."

he chuckled a little, "i'd trust ya to do my open heart surgery." he looked up at you, his chin dug into your chest. those beautiful brown eyes gazed at you with such love that you felt your stomach do a flip. oh, he was amazing.

you then pulled at the shoulders of his t-shirt before you took it off his back, exposing his broad, scarred chest to you. you admired him and smiled a little but, "painfully handsome."

he shook his head, "no way. you're the nice looking one. i got an ugly mug." he chuckled before he was laid on his back by you. he got fully onto the bed and started to work at his sweatpants. he felt an intense anticipation.

"are you okay?" you asked as you got naked and onto the bed. your hands trailed across his chest lovingly, "we can stop."

he shook his head, "nah, nah, love. i trust ya, i want to make ya feel good. i just don't want ya to over do it."

you replied, "don't worry, si. i'll be gentle, for both of us." then helped him get out of his underwear. you straddled his waist and with a little help from him, you sank down his cock.

you exhaled deeply, you knew it looked big. but to have it inside of you felt so different. it was a bit of a stretch but eventually you got yourself seated fully on him.

you asked softly as you splayed your hands across his chest, "is it okay that i had more sexual partners than you, si? i know some guys can be weird about it."

he replied, "i ain't a boy, love. i'm a man. a man can handle a woman who has slept with other men before. i wasn't expectin' ya to wait for me." he chuckled. he placed his hands on your hips softly and rolled his hips a little.

you moaned, "yeah, like that."

simon melted a little at your touch. he let you ride his cock with vigor as he felt the pleasure swarm in his gut. it was all so hot in his body. his heart raced in a good way as he let you take total control.

"you feel so good." you panted, "please, fuck. i love you, si."

"i love you too, doll." he said softly, "i love ya more than anything." his pants were heavy as he watched you control to ride him.

you worked his cock and felt it hot in your body. your pulse raced as you rode him. the feeling was so much for the both of you. you whined into the open air of the bedroom.

simon fell more in love with you as you moved. you were perfect.

you clutched onto his shoulders and really worked his cock. you panted heavily and moaned loudly when you climaxed around his cock. but, that didn't stop your pace as you rode him to his climax.

he hissed through his teeth and felt the warmth in his body as he spurted cum into your sweet cunt. he had to clutch onto the covers under him as to not bruise your hips under his grasp. his breathing was heavy as he felt the rush of pleasure through his body.

you both relaxed and your pace slowed down. you panted heavily as you rested your face against his chest. his cock still inside of you. you gave a few more soft thrusts and simon moaned a little.

"how was that?" you asked as you looked up at him. you smiled at him.

he then reached fro your face and pulled you in for a sweet kiss. he relaxed visibly and said, "perfect. thank you. are you hurt?"

you shook your head, "no, no. i'm a-okay. it all feels so good." you got off his cock and he tucked you into his side. he kissed the top of your head and you said, "i love you."

"i love you too, angel." he said softly and he placed soft kisses on your face. it was sweet, intimate. that if simon was going to trust anyone with such intimacy, it was going to be you. <3

[the-californicationist]

Let's get you to 100, new gif addition and prompt ask!

Reader likes being controlled, even as she chafes against it, but there's only 1 person she wants to have that privilege.

You decide who, have fun writing lovely 😏

heyyy!! im backkkkkkk 😘 sorry for the wait! had to go on a bit of a hiatus, so thanks for being patient. and thank you so much for the ask!! sexy as hell babes omg. hope you like it. i went a little overboard on the word count sorry 🫣

TW: light bdsm and contol themes, rough sex

Soft Reins

His voice followed you down the wet sidewalk as you made your escape, striding in long reaching steps to put more distance between yourself and your apartment. 

“C’mon, bonnie! Ye cannae walk in this shite. It’s pissin’ down. Bonnie!”

You waved and smiled up at Soap as he hung over the balcony of your shared space, a deep frown pasted across his mouth as he tried to dodge the raindrops. 

Living with the boys, as you lovingly called them, was full of challenges. For one, they seemed to be oblivious to deep cleaning of any kind, and if you didn’t have the primary school style chore chart hanging on the fridge, your whole house would descend into chaos. The only exception was their captain, and his standards were thankfully on par with your own. 

But, even worse, they were nosey. They seemed to love to be in your business, always making excuses to join you on nights out, standing in an all-too-intimidating pack when you brought home dates from said outings. Even Price was not above casually bullying an unsuspecting potential someone. It was enough to drive a girl mad.

You never got a call back. Any bloke brave enough to follow you back to your place, flanked by your surly entourage, was only as courageous as he needed to be to get his dick wet. After that, he’d ghost you. There were plenty of eligible partners who had much less intimidating roommates. 

In the past year, the longest relationship you had was with a man who didn’t make it over to your house for nearly four months. You had gone through all sorts of trouble to keep the boys from finding out about him, and you guarded his address like it was the nuclear launch codes. You thought you were in the clear when the team had to leave for another deployment, but one morning — when you were wearing only your boyfriend’s tee shirt — they decided to come tromping back in, totally unannounced. 

It was all over, then. Back to the drawing board. 

Gaz was the worst offender by far. Once, when you had planned a spa date for yourself, you’d been treated to all sorts of services that you didn’t order. The staff kept insisting that it was complimentary, but you knew in your heart that it wasn’t. By the end of the visit, you were left fretting about the bill. But, when you walked up to the counter, you discovered that it had already been paid. 

 “Oh! Your mister called it in. Already paid.” The clerk’s smile was blinding in only the way a clerk’s smile could be.

“And who is the mister?” You smiled to yourself, not with much joy, shoving your credit card back into your wallet.

“Well, he said he was your mister. A Mr. Garrick?”

Of course. 

You had only to turn around to see his shining red Beamer revved and waiting to take you to lunch. Gaz’s sunglasses gleamed in the daylight as he grinned down at you, standing over his car, his elbows resting on the roof, smug as could be.

You met him in the parking lot, bags and bags of essential oils and spa creams, heavy in your hands.

“Kyle,” you said curtly, “What did you do?”

“Nothin’, babes. Get in. We’ve got a table at that sushi joint you like.”

You complained that Gaz was overstepping. You moaned about Soap being heavy-handed. You lost your temper when you found the fourteenth Air Tag that Ghost had sewn into the bottom of your trainers. It was too much. You hated feeling trapped, and you thrived in your independence. But, living with these men meant that your desire for freedom was directly at odds with their desire for control. 

It wasn’t their fault, really. That was who they were. They were good at their high-profile special operation world-saving careers because they were good at control. It was what made them great soldiers. 

But, one of them was far better at it than the others. 

Captain John Price didn’t follow you down the street. He didn’t chase you in his shadowy, blacked-out Evija. And he certainly didn’t need to hide trackers in your clothes. No; his control was insidious. It made your blood boil, and it had you questioning your every move. He had a way of making you think that what he wanted was what you wanted, and when you ultimately discovered his plans, you could only blame yourself. Price was the king of control, but that wasn’t the worst part. 

The worst part was that you liked it. 

You hadn’t been home for the holidays in years. Ever since lockdown, and your huge workload at your office, you just couldn’t find the time to make it back. International flights were hard to plan, expensive, and it seemed like something always came up. When you mentioned it off-handedly to Price, he’d comforted you, 

“Tha’s alright, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ll find the time this year.”

That was in June. By December, your boss had mysteriously found out that you had a full week of extra paid time off that you needed to take, and your credit card called you to let you know that your airline mileage points had doubled. It was as if everything in the universe had aligned so that you could make it back to your family. 

You’d told the boys over dinner one night, and they celebrated with you, happy for you to be able to finally live your dream. Then, Price had grabbed your phone, reading the email and going over the fine print. 

It grated on you, but you needed to learn how to pick your battles in this house. So, you waited for his approval, tight-lipped. 

“Double miles… ah, there’s a catch,” his voice rumbled in his chest, low and even. 

“What catch?” You panicked. Nothing could upset this perfect balance you’d achieved.

He pointed down to the conditions, and you read it for yourself as he told you,

“Says here they granted double miles for two tickets purchased.”

“Two? Who the fuck am I going to get to come to Saskatoon in December?” You sighed, head in your hands, trying to figure out how you were going to make it work.

“Well, the boys are heading up to check on MacTavish’s mum, but Kate’s got me on a leash. I can ask her to make me remote on this project, if you want.”

His tone wasn’t sly. It didn’t sound like he was hiding something. If anything, he sounded earnest, and it was such a kind gesture of friendship that he would be willing to join you in order to help you see your folks. 

But, that’s what wormed its way under your skin. You knew it was him. You just couldn’t prove it. Months of God knows what kind of backdoor, black-market dealing and manipulation, all orchestrated just to…

Just to what? Make you happy?

Inwardly, you struggled against your bindings, the invisible ropes he’d so carefully weaved just to have you come to him of your own free will, bent on your hands and knees, obedient and eager for your reward.

“Jonathan…” You started to resist, to rebel. Every time you started your sentence, you were stopped in your tracks by the cold, hard truth: He didn’t force you to do anything. You’d done it all of your own free will. 

That was how it had started. But, holy fuck had it escalated. 

Price was the perfect gentleman on your flight over, mysteriously charming his way into business class seats. He downloaded some of your favorite movies onto his iPad, even though you didn’t remember ever telling him that they were your favorites. He even snuck his way back to the flight attendants’ galley, laughing and joking with them, procuring you two extra desserts from the carts since you were such a fan. 

Then, he met your family, and he fit in perfectly. It was as if he was the missing member, a long lost kin, just waiting to be reunited into the fold. Your mother couldn’t figure out what had you so bothered. 

“About time you brought a good one home. Even your Uncle Billy likes him, and Billy —”

You rolled your eyes, 

“And Billy doesn’t like anyone, I know. I know.”

“Honey,” your mother looked at you with a sternness that she didn’t often muster, peering at you over her rose-rimmed glasses, “Why can’t you just let someone take care of you for a change? He’s a good man.”

A good man. 

John Price was a killer. No, he was worse. He was a CIA-funded, black ops, government-overthrowing war machine, capable of literal atrocities. You hadn’t heard much, but you’d heard enough. If any of these people knew how quickly he could turn a crowded room into an empty one, none of them would be looking so fondly at the way he snuggled with the dog or complimented your dad’s knife collection. 

But, that wasn’t why you protested, was it? If you were really being honest with yourself, the reason why you were so against letting Jonathan War Machine Price run your life was that it was yours to run. You didn’t need anyone’s help.

You didn’t need it.  

You could handle things on your own. 

You liked being able to spread your wings, fly your own path…

You were nobody’s puppet.

But, you were starting to like the way he was pulling your strings. When he would take the pressure of choice away from you, after you’d already been making a million other decisions at the end of a long day, it eased something inside of you in a way that nothing else could. It was like he was using those huge, rough palms to massage the hurt out of your head, to show you that it didn’t need to be such a battle, you didn’t need to keep fighting. He would do the fighting for you, and he was determined to show you that he was good at it. 

Even now, as you stomped through the rain, you knew what you were running from. You told yourself you were avoiding John, that you wouldn’t let him see you struggling to hold yourself together. After a much needed switch into a different position at work, the stress of your own expectations weighed heavy on you. But, you wanted them to. You wanted to know that you could still make it alone. You didn’t need John Price. 

But, you’re wearing the slicker he bought for you when yours got left in a cab.

So?

But, you smell like oud, saffron, and bergamot; the perfume oils he found for you at that local boutique you love. The same one he always compliments when he smells you wearing it. 

So?

But, you’re tired and wet and cold, and all you want is for him to tell you what you want.

So?! 

The soft, amber glow of a cigar stopped you in your tracks. A man was sitting on your bus stop bench, his arm slung over the back of the seat, his legs spread wide, taking up as much space as he liked. He was smoking slowly, enjoying every breath, savoring the flavors. Flavors you knew all too well: vanilla, licorice, sweet cedar, and whiskey. 

His sharp, blue eyes only met yours when you let out a labored sigh.

“What are you doing here, John?”

He took another drag, letting the ashes smolder, their warm glow making him look more and more like the Devil, a fallen man bathed in the light of a fire he lit all by himself. And damn proud of the blaze, too. 

“Just waitin’ for my ride,” he smiled in the way that a cat must smile at a mouse under its paw, “Do you wanna sit down, sweetheart?”

“No! I don’t wanna sit down,” you threw up your hands, “I want you to stop meddling in my life. You’re not allowed to keep making me feel like… like I need someone… some — Like I need someone’s fucking help. I don’t need anyone but me.”

His tone shifted in a sudden heat, like a flash in the pan, unexpected,

“Do you think I have any bloody help?”

Price let the question sink in before standing in front of you, his gaze never leaving your eyes. His voice was soft and gravelly, thick with smoke, and yet each and every word cut into you as sharp as a blade,

“Do you think anyone comes to help me when I’m deep in some bullshit, fuckin’ around in Rammaza? Just me, is it? By myself?”

“I don’t… no, I don’t know…” You hated how small your voice sounded in this tiny bus stop hut, the pounding rain drowning out your words. 

John looked at you as if he was waiting on you to find another answer, and then his face softened. He flung the cigar onto the pavement and crushed it out under his boot, smashing the tobacco into the cement without mercy. The object of his affection, once consumed, now snuffed out under his own power. 

His hands wrapped around your shoulders, caging you in, warm and safe from the wind blocked by his broad back. He sighed, his mouth drawing a tight line across his face, 

“Of course I need fuckin’ help. I have my men, and they have me. And I keep you here,” he jammed a finger hard into his chest, “Deep inside me, remindin’ me what I need to come home to. I’m not… meddling in your life, love. I’m trying to put you in mine. I thought…” 

He pulled away, sitting back down, looking up at you with a unique look on his face, 

“I thought that’s what you wanted. If I’m wrong,” he let out a dark, bitter chuff, “You need to tell me right now. ‘Cause all my plans have you in them.”

The rain made the plexiglass roof sound like it was shattering, over and over, the concussive slam of the storm created an oppressive din. He was waiting there, looking at you, asking for your next move. What was your plan?

“Am I wrong, sweetheart?”

You waited, trying to see how many steps ahead he was in front of you. If you said yes, if you said no; what decisions had already been made for you? Did he know what you were going to say before you did? And the real question: Why were you fighting so hard against something you wanted so badly?

You shook your head back and forth, just enough for him to see. HIs eyes lit up with hope and energy, a renewed flame.

“Then, come home with me. Quit bein’ so bloody hard on yourself. Let’s get you dry, love. C’mon.”

So, you obeyed. 

Nothing was more humbling than climbing into a squat little sports car when you were drenched to the bone. You curled yourself right into his cage, feeling silly for ever wanting to escape from it. Why were you pulling so hard against such soft reins? Couldn’t you see that he wanted to take care of you? To remove all of your barriers, to clear your path? You would be more powerful under his wing, soaring far beyond what you were capable of on your own. Why deny yourself a bite of the apple? It was ripe, the snake had promised, and sweet. 

He helped you up the stairs to your flat, walking you past his men as they gathered together in the kitchen, speechless, for once. None of them dared question their captain’s choices, and he had chosen you. More than that, it was clear that you had chosen him. 

Once you were in his room, behind a locked door, he held up a hand and stopped you in the entryway, shivering and dripping by the door. 

“Wait here.”

You waited. 

You waited some more. 

Just when you thought you would turn around and take yourself to bed, he returned dressed in a dry tee and a pair of running shorts. He carried two large, fluffy towels, and his face was set into a serious mask. All business. 

“Take off your clothes.”

You hesitated, looking at him to make sure you heard him correctly. 

He met your gaze, standing so close to you that you could feel his breath against your cheek. His chest was inches from your face, and you had to look up in order to meet his eyes.

“Take.”

He grabbed your phone out of your hand and dropped it on his entry table.

“Off.”

He rucked the jacket off of your back, peeling it down your arms and letting it fall to the ground with a wet slap.

“Your.” 

His fingers pulled the tie out of your ruined braid, letting the elastic roll onto his wrist. 

“Clothes.”

His hands went back to his side. It was up to you to do the rest. He wasn’t here to do everything for you. You were not his plaything. You had to choose to obey him. He wanted to watch you choose to follow his orders, not because you needed to, but because you wanted to.

Slowly, and a bit unsure, you began to shed your layers. You started with your shirt, almost knocking into him with your elbows since he was towering over you, standing in your space. Then, you writhed out of your jeans, peeling them off of your legs, kicking away your shoes in the process, stepping gingerly out of your socks, needing to hold onto his thick trunk for balance. 

Now, in just your bra and panties, you waited, hoping he’d hand you a towel. 

“What did I say?” He asked in a hushed tone, the timbre containing just enough warning to make your cheeks hot. 

“No, John. The boys are here in the kitchen!” You protested, whispering in a low hiss. 

This was beyond what you expected from him. You’d been keeping him at arm’s length, despite his constant pressure to be in your life. Sure, there had been moments of weakness. You’d shared a kiss, and you had let his hands wander when you watched a movie together on the sofa last weekend, but that was as far as things had gone. Stripping naked in the bright light of his apartment suite was something else entirely. Not to mention what sort of noises would seep out under his doorway if things got out of hand. 

“Stop,” he grabbed you by your face with both hands, making you look at him, “Stop fighting me. I am in this. All the way. The only time I wanna hear you tell me no is when you really mean it. If you say stop, I will immediately stop. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded. He released you and put his hands on his hips, impatient. 

So, you slid out of your bra, slowly letting the cups pull away from your breasts, the lace cold and damp on your skin as it joined your outfit on the floor. As you rolled your panties off of your hips, stepping out of them and shoving them under your jacket with your toe, you felt more than just naked. You felt vulnerable and a little scared. 

What would he say? What did he plan to do? You realized, with a chilly shudder, that you didn’t even know his personal preferences. He’d never even given you a cursory glance into his mind, and reading his thoughts was impossible with that serious poker face. Most men wore their thoughts right across their eyes, or some (like Soap) even muttered them aloud, unconcerned about any judgment or scrutiny. If a man wanted you, you’d know. They were an open book. 

But the captain was very hard to read. 

Suddenly, as you stood back up, warring with your own mind, you were surrounded in fuzzy, comforting warmth. He was drying you off, wiping your arms and legs with reverent care, squeezing the rain out of your hair, using the corner of the cloth to wipe your face, holding you in his arms when you felt weak, off-balance, exhausted. 

It seemed as if the more you relaxed into him, the more power you gave up, the more it began to stoke his fire. While you became soft and pliant, he shifted into a fierce protector, covering you with his hands, bracing you with his heavy bones.

Price wrapped your hair into a high bun with an unexpected level of skill, and he carefully stretched your hair tie around it. When he turned to face you, you caught him staring at your body, raking his eyes over your breasts and studying the curve of your mons. It was as if he was groping you with his eyes, and each swipe of his gaze felt like a lick from his warm tongue. It was enough of an invasion that you wanted to put your hands in front of yourself, to hide out of some sort of shame.  

But when you made a move to cover yourself, the look in his eyes was enough to make you stand with your hands at your sides, allowing yourself to be on full display for him and that ravenous glare. He hadn’t even needed to chastise you. His mere desire was enough of a correction. 

Then, almost like a reward, he wrapped the towel around you, letting you hold it tight to your chest. 

“Tell me what’s goin’ on inside that pretty head,” he commanded you, his voice quiet but firm. It was just a simple question, but you knew it was loaded. So, you brushed him off, tossing out cheap bait, wrapping the towel a little tighter around yourself, hoping he’d drop it. You shrugged,

“Just cold.”

His jaw set with a click, and that soft purr became a warning growl,

“That’s one,” he held up his finger, “The next lie will cost you that towel, pretty girl.”

You stared at him blankly, trying to find a way through this labyrinth he had — apparently — custom built for you, sending you down twists and turns and dead ends as if he knew exactly how you’d try to steal back some control. But every way out seemed like a worse fate than simply allowing yourself to trust him. Nevertheless, you tried again. 

“I am cold, and I’m tired. It’s been a long day, John,” you sighed, shifting towards him, trying your best to take back the lead to his strange dance, “C’mon, don’t you wanna take me to bed?”

You reached out a hand and snaked it under the hem of his shirt, exploring untouched skin, letting your nails scrape through a dark patch of thick hair, right above his waistband. Your fingers got as far as his navel before he snapped. 

The cold absence of him ripping the towel away from you felt worse than you expected it to. In fact, you hadn’t actually taken him seriously. You protested, indignant,

“Hey! What —-“

“You think this is the same game you’ve always played,” he snarled, throwing the towel away and shoving you to your knees, his hold crushing and cruel on the nape of your neck, “You think, because those lads will eat any scraps you throw to them,” he nodded behind you, gesturing toward his men only a thin wall away, “That I’ll be satisfied with a taste, hm?”

His tone was mocking, and there was an undercurrent of darkness that lingered between each word like a warning, like the red of a poisonous berry that shouldn’t be picked and yet sagged ripe and ready on its stem. 

“You always get your way with them, don’cha? You know that a bit of skin and a little attention will keep them on you for days. And they reward you for it. They text you at all hours of the fuckin’ night, beggin’ you for just one more look, one more bite,” his mouth was right next to your ear, bending over you, casting his shadows across your face, and all you could do was kneel there, fully under his control, unable to move against his immense strength, “But, that’s not what I want.”

Your eyes dared to slant over to the growing monster that pressed its warm body against his shorts, hanging heavy and stretching the fabric, and you dared to hiss at him, even in your compromised position, using his title like a knife, aiming to scrape him with it,

“Seems like you do, Captain.”

He smirked, you could feel his smile against the sensitive skin of your earlobe, and you could see his almost infernal expression out of the corner of your eye. Even though you were trying to get under his skin, it made you feel like you were playing right into his hand yet again, helpless to his will. 

He stood up, never letting go of his grip on your neck, pinching the muscle like you were a caught rabbit, his writhing prey. Then, with a force that made your stomach drop, Price shoved your cheek into the crotch of his shorts, bringing you face to face with the outline his swelling shaft. Your nose was buried in the fabric, and you could smell the soap of his detergent as well as the musk of his sex that throbbed underneath. 

Then, he rucked down his waistband to show himself to you, pressing his length along your cheek, the softness of his skin surprising you just as much as the size of his thick, hefty prick. 

He held your neck in one hand and his cock in the other as he began to stroke himself up and down, letting your temple  and cheekbone feel the slip of his velvet foreskin. You could hear soft, wet clicking sounds as he coated himself in his own fluid, using the clear, dripping pearls as lube. 

You tried to move your jaw to taste him, eager to know if the heady, intoxicating smell of his skin matched his precome, hungry for his reaction to your mouth. But he stopped you, tightening his grip and scolding you like a naughty pet,

“My body wants your body, love. I’ll admit that,” he chuckled, not halting his lurid, jerking pulls, using your cheek for friction, “But I want more. I don’t want a taste. Or a bite. I won’t be satisfied.”

He frowned a bit, shrugging off his confession before he continued, 

“I want you to trust me. Trust that I’ll be here for you, that I’ll always be here. So,” he tugged on your flesh, forcing you to meet his fiery gaze, “Tell me what you thought.”

What were you supposed to say? That you were insecure about your looks? That you weren’t sure if he’d approve? That you were either too much or not enough and you weren’t sure which?

You turned your mouth as much as you could, trying to at least lick along the warm underbelly of his rod, aching to taste him, but he jerked you back into place, laughing at the disappointment on your face,

“Lips to yourself, love. Only good girls get fed.”

You rolled your eyes up to him, and you knew you had to make a choice. He was joking, but it was a façade. He was using it like a shield, waiting to see if you would actually relinquish your control or if you’d cut and run like you did with everyone else. 

So, you decided to trust him, giving him what he wanted, a full confessional on burning, bent knees, eyes cast up at your new master, praying for his communion, your tongue eager for his body and his blood and his love.

You made sure his eyes were locked on yours as you spoke softly, unflinching in your resolve,

“I was worried you wouldn’t like what you saw. I needed you to want me. I was afraid.”

The relief that washed over him was nearly palpable. His whole body responded to your admission, all of that tightly-wound uncertainty melting away in the heat of your submission to him. 

“That’s it. Good,” his voice was heavy with his relief, and he almost seemed like he was slipping into a trance, rubbing himself in steady, long strokes, shuddering against your cheek, “And what now, hm? You want me to let you go? Let you free? Or are you gonna let me in?”

You didn’t break your eye contact with him, but you wavered, sure of your decision but overwhelmed when you had to say it out loud. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the slick mess he was forging between them, trying to find some comfort. You took a breath and told him,

“I’ll let you in, John.”

His throat held back a long, low groan, the pleasure of your surrender or the pleasure of his hand forcing it from his chest. You weren’t sure which. 

His grip loosened on your neck, but he didn’t let go. His voice was barely above a whisper as he told you his rules in hushed, broken phrases, holding himself back from the edge,

“You belong to me, now, sweetheart. You might be in charge at your bloody job, but everything else is mine. Do you hear me?”

You were going to answer him, you’d even planned to tack on a cheeky little yes, sir, just to show him you were playing along, but he had other plans. Always a step ahead. Before you could even breathe to speak, he pressed the tender head of his cock between your lips and deep into the warm hollow of your mouth, his wide form forcing your jaw to fall open to let him inside of you. It shocked you to be taken that way, not roughly but so certainly, with such surety, as if there was no other choice but for him to take you. You shifted, but with his knuckles tight against the base of your skull, you couldn’t retreat. Other than lolling your tongue along the body of his shaft, or swallowing against its drooling tip, you were powerless. 

His face twisted into a hungry sort of smear full of teeth and lips, grimacing at the feeling of being surrounded by you. Every inch that he drove himself deeper, his breathing would halt until at last, as he buried himself into your clenching throat, his lungs had emptied, and he was sighing with a ragged, guttural cry. 

“When you’re with me…” He continued his dark promises to you, the words choppy and broken, only threaded loosely together between panting gasps, “Even when I’m a fuckin’ world away, I promise that I will take care of you,” he pet your cheek with the softest affection, admiring you like a work of art, “All of you. You will sleep when I say. You will eat when I say. You will come when I say,” he smiled a little more cruelly at that, watching your eyes widen. And, as you began to wish for air, planting your palms against his firm, muscular thighs, ready to push away, he looked down at you with a lurid satisfaction, “You will breathe when I say.”

You were choking. You could hear yourself in the quiet of his room, your throat gurgling, full of your own viscous drool, escaping where it could along the stretched line of your mouth, running down your chin and neck. You felt the flare of panic rise up within you, and you tried to pull away in earnest, writhing against his grip, trying to escape from him and failing, turning your body in shameful futility. 

Price bent his face toward you, folding himself to whisper his lustful words, making sure your eyes met his, pressing your nose into his soft pubic hair,

“You. Breathe. When. I. Say.”

He kept himself contorted like that, keeping his face low to watch your eyes, to witness your struggle, and you felt hot tears burn down your face, the effort overcoming you. But, you wanted to show him that you could obey. You wanted to trust him, to show him that you were willing to give him your freedom, knowing that only he was worthy of such a gift. So, you swallowed deeply, watching as it made his eyes flutter, and again, and again. Over and over, you closed your throat around his steel-hard length, choking when it became too much. 

Still, he kept you there. As brave as you’d been with partners in the past, even those moments were fully eclipsed by this one. You had never even thought that you might be capable of holding your breath for so long. 

You were sobbing wholeheartedly now, your eyes reflecting your desperation, tears pooling and spilling across your face. He was watching you cry, whispering breathless nothings, soft words of encouragement,

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You’re so fuckin’ good. My good girl.”

Just as purple and blue spots began to obscure your vision, he pulled himself out of you in a terrible, wet departure, leaving you clutching his hips, sobbing into his belly, watching his hard cock pounding, swaying at full height, swollen with blood and eager for its finish. You could feel those same soft, dark hairs matting down as your tears soaked into them. He ran his fingers through your hair, keeping the fallen strands out of your face, still holding you at your nape, but just to comfort you. 

You imagined him letting go, and you felt… sad, somehow. He would have to release you at some point, but you were in such a submissive state, just the idea of him leaving you without his guiding hand was too much to bear. 

Your cries turned to a twisted kind of grief, and when he heard your tone change, he dropped to the floor with you, holding you to his chest, rocking you back and forth, shushing you and talking to you in a hushed voice,

“Shh, baby. Tell me to stop. Tell me…”

You grasped at him wildly, uncontrolled, holding onto whatever part of him you could, shaking your head,

“No, no. Don’t — don’t let me go. Please, I can’t… I need… I need you to touch me.”

You planted one of your hands across his, covering the one that gripped your neck, pressing it like a plaster, like it was keeping a wound healed, like it was a dam in front of your frothing, vengeful river; it was a lifeline and you were adrift. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, “I’m not gonna let you go. I’m right here. Shh. Shh. It’s alright. I’m here. C’mon. Come with me.”

He lifted you, helping you walk on sore, shaking legs, your nerves sparking across your skin. Then, with his hand still firmly planted against your neck, he led you like a shepherd with his lamb, marching you to his bedroom. As you approached the bedframe, your thighs hit the mattress, and Price guided you forward until your body lay flat against it. The duvet was cool and smooth against your belly and breasts, and you tucked your arms into yourself, looking for warmth. 

You felt John plant gentle kisses across your back, trailing them down your spine, and after the overstimulation you had just gone through, even his lightest touch was electric. 

Your tears had stopped, but still you panted, sniffling, trembling from the shock of his careful kisses, waiting for whatever would come next. 

You felt his hips press against your exposed ass cheeks, his shorts now missing, and all you could sense was his warm, furry skin. You sighed into it, happy for the connection. 

“Spread your legs,” he commanded.

You complied immediately, all of your tortured resistance gone from you now, ready to trust him to take care of you. 

The unknown was what made your belly swarm with butterflies, and as you waited for his next move, your mind raced with possibilities. 

Would he be cruel? Would he punish you for your lying when he had first taken you in? His hand might strike your tender flesh, slapping your ass and leaving red, angry marks. 

Would he be lustful? Your mind fed you imaginary moments where he would press his cock into your pussy, skipping any foreplay, simply using you like his warm, wet toy. You thought that he wanted more, something more intimate, but if not, you would let him. You were his to use. At this point, you were so pliant, so open to his will, he could use you over and over and you would take him. It was a dark confidence you had never known until now. 

Perhaps he would simply stop. Maybe he perceived you as weak, as if you couldn’t take what he wanted to give you. He would simply comfort you, pitying you for your wrecked state. It was this thought that turned your stomach. Surely, he knew you better than that. John Price was not the pitying type. 

As the base of his cock lay nestled in the cleft of your ass, still as hard as a stone, his long shaft was shoved up against his lower abdomen, pulsing with unslaked desire. Then, as he settled himself, pleased with your spread display, John began to slip the very tips of his fingers into your pussy. He was just feeling your softness, plucking at your petals, laying them open with his hand, using your own wetness to paint your lips and the tight muscle of your hole, preparing you for more. 

His voice broke the trance that his touch had put you in, 

“It kills me when I have watch you putting yourself through hell. You are so strong, but you deserve to have everything you want. Everything you need, I’ll make sure you have it. I promise.”

He was so sincere, and his voice sounded so sure. It was like he was sharing an old memory, something he knew by heart. 

“John, please…” You whispered, feeling yourself slipping, slowly becoming untangled by his touch. You needed more, but you had no words. You could barely concentrate, and your mind was swimming in a liminal space, trapped in a loop of mounting bliss. 

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you felt your tears return, and although you were desperate for something, you couldn’t find the answer. 

“Shh, shh, shh. You’re alright,” John rubbed your back with his free hand, smoothing your skin with his warm touch, “Does my pretty girl need to come?”

You nodded, daring to glance over your shoulder at him as he worked on you, his finger now sinking deeper into you, gently prodding your walls in long, aching circles. His other fingers were cradling your folds, slipping between them with each undulating thrust, brushing beside the swelling body of your clit and making you throb with need. 

He felt it, and you saw a warm smile spread across his face,

“I can feel you needin’ me. So wet for me. Fightin’ me so bloody hard. Thought I’d be wantin’ you forever. Do you know how many nights I’ve dreamed of havin’ you under me like this? Fuck, I need you so badly, baby.”

You felt his grip tighten on your neck again as he pressed you deeper into the soft mattress, his prying hand picking up the pace. His thick finger finally slipped down to the knuckle of his fist. As he fucked you on his hand, you could hear your body’s slick as it softened for him, submitting to his power just as you had done, your body at peace with your mind. 

He pressed a second finger beside his first, twisting them together, curling the tips to rub you from the inside, making you feel the deep ache of your orgasm building within your belly. 

You tried to find more friction, rocking your hips against the bed, squeezing your legs together, needing more but completely helpless to his pace and pressure. 

Price stopped, pushing his fingers right into the tender flesh of your neck as a warning,

“Open,” he shoved your foot away, spreading them for you, “You keep fighting and fighting… fine. I’ll give you something to fight for, hm?”

You tried to twist your knees together again, but his legs stood apart, holding you open. Then, you felt his threat. He put the head of his heavy prick against your greedy hole, dipping it into your wetness like a seal into warm, melting wax.

“C’mon,” he squeezed your nape hard, once, just enough to get your attention, “You wanna drive? Fuckin’ drive, love. You think you can fuck yourself better than I can fuck you? Prove it.”

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at him, watching the muscles ripple and pop in his forearm that held you down, unwilling to give you full control, and yet allowing you to set the pace. You saw his other hand rub the curve of your hip, dropping lower to grope your ass, egging you on. 

Unwilling to beg, you thrust yourself down onto his shaft, gasping from his girth, only managing to fit half of him inside of you, physically unable to go any deeper on your own. But, you tried again, lifting away, sinking back, repeating your movements and reaching between your legs to rub your clit as you fucked him.

But, it wasn’t enough. You felt so close to the edge, and yet you couldn’t tumble over it, losing your rhythm, chasing it down, too weak to reach the peak you knew was right within your grasp. 

You grunted in frustration, and his cruel laugh made you turn back towards him again. 

He shrugged,

“I thought you wanted to be in charge. Does it feel good, sweetheart?”

“Fuck!” You gasped, trying to catch your pleasure and feeling it slip from you yet again, humping your hips against the bed shameless and desperate. 

“Tch,” Price gripped the inside of your ass cheek, shaking it and rolling your soft flesh in his hand, “Too bad, love. I wanted to give it to you. Shame, really.”

“John! Please,” you caved, sobbing out a short moan, begging him impatiently. 

“Please, what?” His question came just as he decided to press himself deeper into your body than you had been able to go, sinking into you like a hand into a glove, a tight, all-encompassing fit. 

You whined, rolling your fingers over your clit faster, feverish, ready for relief, 

“Please make me come.”

“You will come…” He stretched you, giving you no warning, the sharp feeling of his invasion making you catch your breath, “When I bloody tell you to.”

Then, as if to prove it to you, he stuffed his length into your pussy, never pulling back very far, choosing instead to massage you with his cock, using his base to stretch you wide before rolling away. The sensation overwhelmed you, and his size made your mind go blank. Any words that formed in your mind turned to whining cries of pleasure on your tongue.

There were no sounds of lewd pounding of flesh on flesh. All of Price’s work was deep and wet, churning inside of you like a volcanic sea, hot and untamed. He, however, made plenty of noise, praising you in every way he knew how, speaking in half-clipped phrases, losing his sentence to a groan of relief as he fed himself to you, filling your pussy like a hungry mouth. 

You felt yourself getting closer by the moment. Each grinding thrust was pushing you ever nearer to that gleaming, crackling fuse. He had lifted you, unintentionally, unable to understand the effect of his strength, and your toes could barely scrape the floor. You could feel your sacral core clenching around him like a delicate vice, grabbing for his cock, trying to hold him within your belly, some twisting grip of nature used to ensure that his creamy come ended up where it belonged, soaking into your womb.

Your clenching made him pause, which, in turn, caused you to cry out to him, wordlessly babbling, begging for him to return, to keep his pace. 

“Don’t you dare, sweetheart. Don’t you dare come,” his voice was like rattling brimstone, smoky and burning within his throat. 

“Please…” You whispered, unable to lift your raspy, keening voice. 

With shallow, teasing thrusts, Price used his cockhead to softly pop in and out of your soaked hole, swollen from being well-fucked. Just hearing a vibrator would have sent you over the edge at that point, and you fought him, trying to get any sort of power at all, rolling your body like a caught snake. 

“Stop,” he said curtly, “Stop fighting. Be still.”

You quieted yourself down, breathing heavy, sweating into his sheets, shivering like you had a fever, burning up from the inside out. 

For the first time, you felt his hand leave your neck, and his fingers twisted themselves into your hair at the base of your skull. Slowly, carefully, he lifted you by your head, forcing your back into a vicious arch, letting your breasts hang freely, your arms trying to balance you, mostly worthless since Price had full control of your torso in this position. 

His free hand slid around your front, groping you wildly, plucking your nipples and filling his palms with the meat of your breast. Then, he replaced your fingers with his own, pressing beside your sensitive clit, rolling it softly in long, firm strokes. 

You heard yourself make a new sound, one you’d never made, an animal’s grunting, something reckless and feral. 

Then, Price took up his stretching rhythm again, fully in charge of everything you were sensing. To you, he may as well have been in control of your mind. It was no use to you; you were at his mercy and it was everything you’d ever wanted. 

“Do you trust me?”

Your thoughts swam, unable to even consider anything but the truth, and amongst all of your vocalized ecstasy, you managed to reply,

“Yes.”

“Don’t come. Keep it. Just like that.”

“J-John!”

“Wait, wait, wait… good girl. Good.”

“Ohhh, fuck…”

His next words seemed barely human, snarled at you through bared teeth,

“Now. Come for me. Come f— fuck! Holy fuck.”

When you felt him spill into you, you had almost no control left over your own orgasm. Your heart felt like it had leapt into your throat, and all you could experience was your shining, explosive finish. You heard no sound, and your eyes went white, rolling back into your head. You couldn’t breathe, or scream, and if it wasn’t for John’s immense body holding you tight, you would have crashed into his bed, all used up.

His orgasm was as long as yours was, and he finished in slow, fearsome thrusts, burying his head into you as deep as he could reach, smearing your lips with your mixed fluids, caring nothing for the mess. 

“C’mere, love. Come to me,” Price held you to his chest, finally pulling himself from you, holding you as close as he could, laying beside you in a sweaty, spent tangle of arms and legs. 

You lay your head on his chest, catching your breath, only to tumble into a dreamless sleep with him, your body exhausted from your effort. 

When you woke up the next day, you could feel him all over you. He had left you alone in the bed, and yet your skin and bones kept his imprints. You could feel the ghost of his fingertips on your neck, and you were sore in places you weren’t sure how you could be. Everything was a wet mess, and just when you worried about how you’d cross the apartment without yesterday’s outfit, you saw that John had left you a note. 

Training day on base. I'll be back tonight. Dinner on me. Wear this. xx

Under the note, Price had laid out his favorite dress of yours, a blue satin slip of a thing, and (with the tags still on) you found a matching lace set of bra and panties in the same pretty color, just your size. You couldn’t see the price, but when you searched for the brand online, you couldn’t help but blush. He'd spent more than just a pretty penny on this outfit. You couldn't help but notice that the delicate lace would show through the thin fabric of the dress, making little raised ridges where your nipples would be.

Whatever you’d just agreed to when you said you’d let John Price into your life was about to get very, very interesting. 

AO3 Link

[puripurin]

[Zephyr Intro]

— You moaned out in a hoarse voice from overstimulation from the pleasure you were receiving. At this point, you came several times whilst you could only count on one had the number of times Zephyr, his name was condesed into a english sounding name because you couldn't prounced it, came.

"Ah... we've reached hour six, so we must take a break in order for your body to not be destroyed. I shall give you a 7 hour break. You need sleep in order not to pass out because I want you to feel every single inch of the pleasure my cock gives so that even if you run away—" You lazily covered your ears so you can try to block out his rant even though you were exhausted. You glanced at your body was in shock by how many bite marks there were.

"Ah- you want to see the marks better! How lewd!" Zephyr teasingly grinned as he ran his hand in between your thighs. He chuckled as he looked at your exhausted yet flushed face. He then fixed you in a position where you could see yourself in the mirror that was hooked on the wall.

Not a single area besides your face was free from his lovebites— most of which were bleeding because of his sharp teeth— but the areas that had the most amount of bites were your chest, neck and your inner thighs. You could see how messed up your hair was, which was going to be a pain to comb out. Behind you, you could see how lovingly Zephyr stared at your face before kissing you on the forehead.

"My reigham, are you that infatuated with my looks and how I've abused your body? Come on, human bodies are weak. Go to sleep before I really start to think that you don't want your 7 hours of sleep." Your eyes widened in shock before pulling the stained sheets over your body.

"I'm asleep now!!" You shouted before you got lulled to sleep by the comforting pillows and sheets.

Zephyr watched your sleeping body before slipping under the sheets and slipping his cock back inside of you before wrapping his arms around your body.

"You will never leave... This scent of yours must never leave my vicinity, or I might turn into a tyrant... The things I would do to and for you..." He kissed your neck before snuggling deeper into the bed and into a slumber.

Hahaha. Yes i did rush this down in one day because r thirsty, so i only partially made this smut but its mostly fluff. Plus i saw some of yall wanted interactions with the kids, so ill make that later, then the yan omega and bunny boy special, then the monster father then some more artist yan because GAH DAYUM, 2k notes for that??? Plus ppl req. Yall got me workin over timee.

[bobluvbot]

sweet nothing

pairing: remus lupin x f!reader  summary: you thrive in filling everyone’s cup. remus makes sure your cup gets filled too. wc: 2k cw: descriptions of food, eating a/n: written after a long writing break pls be nice heheh p.s. thank you for all the love for my sirius angst fic!!! i saw yalls comments and messages and appreciate them sm!! i don't have plans at the moment to write a sequel/pt. 2 sorry :'( someday when i get inspiration i probably will but for now it's a standalone <3

The pesto pizza was a big hit.

The news of the heatwave came a month early so it gave ample time for James to rein in the necessary house improvement tasks: yard weeding and tidying, adding small stone steps for the toddler, and ordering the inflatable slip and slide pool for the sweltering summer days. And he was adamant to do it all by hand, no magic, so he “could get the full experience”. Lily likens it to being married to a professional landscaper and contractor at once, thankful that her decision to go on a date with James Potter during seventh year continues to be a great lifelong investment. 

You can still recall Remus’ early morning grumbles when james calls him over for help. It came to a point where he’d beg you to pretend to be mad at the setup, reasoning that “ james is taking him away from his lovely pretty girl” when his best friend calls him at 6am to start the day mowing the lawn. 

James would roll his eyes at excuses falling off of Remus’ lips, but he’d sincerely take your concerns to heart. Lovingly, you’d wave Remus off and give him pecks on both freckled cheeks, encouraging him to go and learn how to tackle on house repairs so he’d be well prepared when it’s your turn to build a family home. 

This usually gets him going, Remus’ secret lover boy tendencies kicking in, but not without grumbling and frowns thrown haphazardly (easily treated with touching and kisses). 

Sirius was off travelling the world for most of the month, much to Remus’ dismay, as he was then promoted as the first-in-line friend in James’ contacts. He did however send over a fancy outdoor pizza oven in lieu of his absence, and it completed the space. 

On the days where you finish work early, you’d join Lily as she picks up her little boy from nursery and take a leisure walk around their quiet neighborhood, a babbling toddler in tow. Then you walk into the perfect setting: the gentle hum of the AC, sunrays reflecting on the white marble countertops, a nicely prepared spread of afternoon snacks for the three of you, and the floor to ceiling glass wall separating the living area from the backyard offering a glorious view of two sunkissed shirtless men doing hard manual labor. Lily nudges you, handing a bowl of pistachios. “A snack for the show.” You return her glance, eyes both twinkling with playful mischief. Maybe the summer days aren’t as bad as it seemed.

But then the first draining day of the heatwave hit. There were minor adjustments to be made still, like some scaffolding to be tidied and hedges to be trimmed, but the heat had a special way to beat down the morale of any living thing exposed to it for a while, and it finally hit James. Early on a Saturday morning, you decided to accompany a still groggy Remus on his usual Potter house renovation shift to make him feel a bit better that you were also losing sleep with him. To both your surprise, James comes from the garden to meet you, looking worn out but wears a proud grin. “It’s all done,” he claims, clapping his hands together and you see him holding the wooden culprit that magically finished hours of yard work in a few minutes. So much for no magic. 

“Get some sleep and come back in the afternoon for the party.” Remus grabs your hand and apparates back home in record time, before James gets a chance to recant his words. 

Completing a full 8 hour sleep cycle does wonders to the mind and soul. A well-rested Remus was filled with high spirits, doting on you as you both get ready for the party. He showers you with compliments the moment you step out of your closet, giving him a twirl. Once the bashfulness sets in, you run to him and try to nuzzle your heated cheeks on his chest, anywhere to escape his lovely sappy gaze. He sits on the bed so you can’t hide, and looks up at you like you hung up the moon. It was maddening.  

“You look stunning, my love,” he says, hands on the back of your knees, sliding up under the hem to meet the soft skin of your thighs and resting them even higher. It took immense strength not to buckle down and fall into him. You’d foreseen this response the moment you decided to wear that white babydoll dress, but actually going through it is a terrible nightmare. As much as the idea of bailing on the summer party and letting Remus do whatever he pleases with you in this dress sounds very appealing right now, you had promised Lily that you’ll help with the cooking and food, and ghosting your best friend for a dick appointment sounds very juvenile. So against your questionable judgment, you grab your boyfriend’s face, give him a chaste kiss, and murmur against his lips, “james and lily will kill us if we ditch.” 

Even though it was an intimate gathering of close friends to celebrate the finished yard, you forgot to account for the amount of kids, partners, and pets that your friends have accumulated since graduation. James had to transfigure the already long dinner table even longer and double the number of chairs to accommodate everyone. The slip and slide also was transfigured into an actual waterpark, complete with a lazy river that kids seemed to enjoy after going on the slides. 

While it was definitely chaotic, it didn’t feel suffocating like packed events usually make you feel. It’s likely because of the familiar faces wherever you look, the ease of conversation just flows. Remus was anchored to your side until he wasn’t, whisked away by both James and Sirius as they announce to everyone who’s listening how his valiant efforts in renovation has resulted in the beautiful yard they were in today. You giggle at the endearing sight of your boyfriend furiously flushing pink while his loud best friends continue to brag about him. It’s just how the marauders would be back in Hogwarts, with you watching their shenanigans from afar whilst nursing a terrible, terrible crush on Remus. Only difference now is that you get to take him home. 

You eventually get whisked away too, thankful that Lily came right on time as you were starting to melt in the heat. The inside of the home smells and feels like heaven, as the chilly air from the AC carries the scent of freshly prepared ingredients and whatever concoction Lily’s currently tending to in a pot. Careful not to disrupt the comfortable quiet, you give her a back hug, a silent thanks for fixing up everything you’ll be needing for the pizza you vowed to make, before getting to work. 

You’ve gone over the recipe and prep so many times that you could do this with eyes closed. The pesto sauce was freshly made a day prior, a delicious result of your raid in your aunt Molly’s garden and fridge. Before you knew it, the only thing left to do was place the pizza into the oven, to which Sirius was very happy to do so he could flex his expensive purchase. 

The chatter didn’t die off even when the dishes started rolling out of the kitchen, everyone now raving of how good Lily’s cooking have been, James not helping by proclaiming, “'m pretty sure my heart isn't the only thing she's stolen—she's got everyone's taste buds wrapped around her finger with her cooking too.” Making his wife flush pink and hit his arm playfully. 

When it was time for your dish, the stakes were quite high and you were feeling a bit nervous. At home, Remus practically inhales everything you make which provides you a good ego boost, knowing that you don’t need to be the best, as long as you don’t accidentally poison someone from your cooking. 

Soon enough, the scent of freshly baked pizza filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. You stand by the head of the table, hands deftly making slices enough for everyone, continuing to scan the crowd, ensuring that everyone is being taken care of.

"Here you go, aunt Effie,” you smile, handing her a generous slice. “Here’s a bunch for you, Fred, careful not to spill and please share with your brothers!" you try to say quickly, but only see a spur of red hair and small hands before they run back to the water slide. 

You soon get a groove going and start to move down the line of smiling guests and waiting plates. Too distracted that you jump a little when you feel a warm presence at your side. Without ever needing to look, you knew it was Remus, who’s now carrying a plate with a slice you don’t even remember handing him. 

Without a word, he picks up the steaming slice and brings it to your lips. You welcome the taste, finally understanding the praise everyone seems to be throwing at your wake. You make a mental note to thank your aunt for lending you her recipe. Remus has his free hand cupped near your chin, ready to catch any crumbs or drippings that might stain your pretty white dress. 

Butterflies in your stomach erupt and fight for space, your entire body vibrating with giddiness and affection for your lovely boyfriend. That distracted look in his eyes as he feeds you in between your efforts in feeding everyone makes the warm fuzzy feeling worse, because you know he’s doing this without much thought, like second nature. That it’s just common sense. That it just goes without saying that his love knows you, fills the needs you don’t even realize were there in the first place.

You wonder through the afternoon then early evening what you’ve done in your past life to receive this love. Maybe you saved a cat from a burning building, or watered a dying plant that had magical powers to heal serious illness, or stars aligning just right to have you exist in the same timeline as Remus. 

You find yourself buried in blankets and clad in a worn sweater, twenty something minutes in a romcom movie in the comforts of your tiny apartment. Remus slides in beside you with a bowl of steaming buttery popcorn and another can of your favorite sparkling water (which he hates with a passion). Your eyes drift to your opened one on the side table, now seeing that it’s almost empty, a few sips left. 

Remus snorts at an obscure joke one of the characters says in passing, and you snuggle up to him, maybe hugging his arm a little tighter than usual, afraid that a love this gentle can vanish between your fingers. He turns and recognizes the look on your face, returning the soft gaze. His free hand brushes a stray hair away, fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“Thank you,” you find yourself murmuring. “For taking care of me.”

You had this conversation long time ago when you first started dating. Having been in some relationships and situationships before Remus, you thought you’ve seen it all. Known the twists and turns, what to ask for and when to keep quiet, what you owe and don’t. But he comes and does things that drove your mind haywire, body screaming foreign! unknown! when he leaves sweet and short scribbles on post-its and sticks it to random places that you’re bound to see somehow, your favorite fruits magically appearing on the basket after finishing the last piece yesterday, being able to count on one hand times where you had to touch the wheel and drive. Its all natural, unprompted, again like second nature. as much as you hated to admit, you’re a control freak. but it's easier this way when you know what comes and goes, what happens and what doesn’t, what won’t happen if you don’t do anything to get it. being with Remus and knowing his love is a shock as it is a clean slate. to unlearn roughness and rigid and know to be soft and vulnerable. 

you’d thanked him. when he gave you a confuddled look, like he didn’t just make your heart grow two sizes bigger in one day. you then started enumerating things he did that made you feel appreciated and loved. you were expecting him to be happy that you see and celebrate his effort, any reaction honestly but a frown. “you don’t need to thank me for those things,” he had said, holding your hand and gently rubbing circles when he sensed that his reaction scared you. “That’s how I show my respect and care for you. ‘s nothing special, just what’s right.” You couldn’t stop the ugly sobs that came after that, when you realized that yes, this was the bare minimum of a healthy relationship, but you made space for less because that’s all you’ve ever gotten, even when you’d ask. 

This time however, maybe because its near midnight and you’re both worn out for the day, Remus lets you. “Always.”

[m3talmunson]

It started with babes. Babes is completely platonic right? Nothing out of the ordinary there. Eddie was known for being over dramatic, why would nicknames -or in this case, pet names- be any different?

Babes wasn't even that over the top, so why was Steve blushing like a school girl after it was said in passing?

Steve definitely knew why, although, he was going to pretend he didn't. But he knew, about himself, about Eddie. A couple months after spring break '86 Steve had a very enlightening talk with Robin about his feelings. Towards Munson. Those completely and totally platonic feelings.

And a couple weeks later, as though Eddie was so in tune with Steve's discovery, Eddie came out to Steve at a campfire with Robin and Nance. Those two had wandered off, Eddie made some comment about "Good for Robs," before realizing his mistake. That was, until Steve said "Yeah, good for Robs," and Eddie just had to ask.

"You know about her? Y'know..."

"What? Eddie? Of course! She's my best friend."

"And you're ok with it?" Eddie was kind of shocked. Great 'King' Steve wasn't going to sick the dogs on Hawkins Local Lesbian? And it seemed like he had known longer than Eddie?

"Yeah, when you survive hell and back enough it's pretty hard to hate anyone for being gay." Steve left off the part where he was also into guys. He knew Eddie was ok with that, clearly ok with Robin, but Eddie might not be ok with being the guy Steve was into.

"Oh. Well," Eddie didn't know if it was the couple beers he had downed, or his newfound safety with this big ol' group of misfits, but he was comfortable asking Steve, "What if I was like Robin too?"

"Are you?" Steve asked. He wasn't going to get his hopes up over hypotheticals, but he could admit he had feelings for the older boy. He wasn't sure what feelings to be honest,but he was figuring that out as he went. He just knew they were more than platonic.

"Well, technically I'm the opposite of Robin, y'know. Not attracted to women. But yeah, I am." Eddie stared into the camp fire, torn between hoping that it would eat him alive, or that it would simply stare back.

"Okay, thanks for trusting me." Steve responded, plain as day.

He had asked Robin, if someone were to come out to him (granted they were not just drugged by Russians), what would she have wanted to hear. And he finally got the chance to use it, seeing the way Eddie's shoulders dropped in relief.

"So you're like actually ok with it?"

"Like I said, been to hell and back with you, who you love doesn't mean a thing over that."

" Yeah," Eddie said,"But most straight guys don't like it when gay guys flirt relentlessly with them."

"We'll keep that one between us then, won't we?" Steve wasn't entirely ready to correct Eddie on the straight thing, so he just didn't acknowledge that part. He chose to ignore the blush rise on his face, blaming it internally on the heat of the fire.

He also tried to ignore that at that point, the nicknames picked up.

It started with babes. Then baby, which made Steve's brain flutter. Then sweetheart. Eddie only used that one when he wanted something, and yet Steve still loved it. Stevie was one of the fan favorites. Not really a pet name, but used just as lovingly as one. Sometimes Eddie held out the end, in a sing-song voice. Made Steve weak in the knees. Eddie knew what he was doing.

It was babe that made Steve do something about it. Eddie used sweetheart, baby, Stevie, around everyone. In front of the kids, on his various trips to Family Video (whether to buy or annoy, who knew). But babe. Babe was just for Steve and Steve alone.

So of course, the only logical order of events was for Steve to start using them back.

It started with babe, the obvious choice. Fight fire with fire, or whatever. The meaningless pet names ended with babes too.

Because after Eddie kissed Steve to shut him up, they suddenly had meaning.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Babysitter (42)- Flour Fights

MILF Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 42- W/c 5.8k

Flour Fights

Wiping the counter top down, you ensured that marble top was clean of the small amount of coffee a customer had spilt before turning around to continue your conversation with Peter and Gamora, a playful expression on both yours and Gamora’s face as you teased the brunette, his head shaking at your antics.

“I should report you both to the manager for bullying,” he grumbles in a joking manner as he expertly pours the milk into the drink to create a beautiful piece of art in the liquid, the way he effortlessly completes the task making you a little jealous as you had been trying to learn how to do latte art for a while and had failed miserably. “Oh wait, I am the manager,” his tone is laced with a hint of theatrics as he turned to his girlfriend before looking at you, raising his brow in faux warning. “Stop bullying your co-worker or I’ll put both of your shifts on rush hour,” Peter threatens with little conviction, knowing he wouldn’t be able to as all the shifts had been arranged specifically to fit around the last of the summer holidays, the man complaining less than an hour ago about how long it took and how he never wanted to plan shifts again. His words simply earnt a roll of Gamora’s eyes and a small smile from you at her reaction, the two of you trying your hardest not to tease him again when the bell at the front door rang, signalling a new customer.

At the sight of a familiar set of auburn locks and two very energetic boys, the corner of your lips lifted at the sight of them as Wanda’s eyes flickered around your place of work for a table, quickly spotting a nice booth to sit in before ushering the twins into it. A motherly look appeared on her face, the familiar sight endearing for you to see as her hands fixed Tommy’s hair as he sat down before caressing Billy’s shoulder in an affectionate way, the older woman murmuring something to them before making her way over, a mischievous smile on her face as her alluring green caught yours, heat instantly rising to your cheeks.

“I’ll get this one,” you murmur to Gamora as she approached the countertop to take Wanda’s order, her brow raising at you suspiciously at the pink tinting your face and that enamoured look in your eyes before letting you take the customer, moving further back to join Peter at the coffee machines, the two of them keeping their eyes on you as Drax, Rocket and Mantis returned from their break, preparing to serve the other customers entering the café.

“Hi, what can I get you?” You asked, putting on your ‘work’ voice for the older woman whilst trying your hardest to not smile at her like an idiot in love, your heart fluttering at the way her hands glide across the freshly cleaned countertop, fingers tapping indecisively as she looked at the boards with the menu on it.

“Can I get two small hot chocolates with whipped cream and extra marshmallows on them,” her tone shows how she is unable to hide her happiness as she ordered for the twins, the older woman smiling at you lovingly as she hadn’t seen you properly today due to how early your shift had started, part of her like a teenager in love as she felt almost giddy in your presence. It shocked her at how you could still cause so many feelings to bubble inside her, the way a simple look could ignite a warmth to wrap around her heart effortlessly and she adored every single minute of it, having always wanted to love someone like she loved you and be loved the way you passionately loved her.

Your smile grew even wider at her order for the twins, the emphasis on extra marshmallows not being missed by you as you knew how much they loved them on their drinks, your finger tapping on the screen to write down her order as you glance up at her, noticing the way her teeth subtly bite down on her lower lip to not grin at you. You blushed a little under her gaze as she met your eyes, her enticing green hypnotising you as you let the look linger, the sound of a coffee machine beeping snapping you back to reality as you waited for her to continue with the order.

“Can I also have…” she started, trailing off as she skim reads the rest of the menu, part of you already knowing what she was about to order as your finger hovered over the screen, ready to tap, “A flat white espresso.” You smiled to yourself as you entered in the item, oblivious to how Peter lingered nearby to see how you were doing with the customer, Gamora hiding near the coffee machine and eavesdropping too, your co-workers unaware that this was Wanda, having never actually met her before.

“Is there anything else?” You ask once you had logged everything you needed to, watching the way Wanda’s fingers tapped against the countertop, her smile tugging up in a mischievous manner as her gaze flickered up to meet yours, a hint of mirth in them at her next words.

“Is your number an option?” She teased with a charming smile, your eyes widening at her words before you went along with her joke, a small, shy laugh escaping you as you felt heat rise to your cheeks, her captivating smile and stare making you flustered.

“That depends, are you single or am I going to get in trouble?” Your tone signals your amusement as you murmur the words, letting your gaze switch between the pools of green and her plump lips, admiring her angelic features as you wait for her to respond.

“You won’t get into trouble, I won’t let you,” she rasps out, purposely letting her voice drop an octave and her accent seep into it, knowing you couldn’t resist the way her words gracefully fell from her lips when she did so, her smile widening at the way your pupils dilated noticeably, your mouth parting a little bit as she leaves you speechless for a moment until you can compose yourself.

“I’ll uh, bring your order over to you when it’s ready,” you stammer out in response, avoiding her gaze as you could tell she was humoured by how easily she could fluster you, an infectious laugh briefly escaping her as she chuckles at your adorable form, quickly paying for the drinks before putting you out of your misery and walking away.

You can’t help but watch as she walks away, the older woman seeming to know you were staring and looking over her shoulder at you, winking playfully before moving to sit next to Billy so she could continue to watch you work, smiling at the way your co workers quickly move over to you after your interaction.

“What are you doing?” Peter’s tone is slightly raised as confusion laces his voice whilst you turn around to face him, his wide eyes and tone puzzling you as your brows furrow, your hand stilling the way you were writing your number on the cup, his fingers slipping the item out of your hand. “You can’t just flirt with customers like that, what about Wanda?” It clicks in your mind when he mentions the other woman, a laugh escaping you as your gaze flickers between Gamora and Peter’s concerned gaze, neither of them wanting you to ruin what you had with your girlfriend as they had heard such amazing things.

“That is Wanda,” you say after a moment, unable to stop chuckling to yourself at their reactions, part of you grateful for their intervention as it just showed how much they cared about you. You watch entertained at the way their faces drop from worry to confusion, to disbelief and shock, Gamora’s gaze moving to where the twins and Wanda’s were sitting whilst Peter just looks at you, bewildered.

“How?” Is all that leaves his lips before Gamora’s hand smacks the back of his head, shooting him a warning look as he rubs the spot his girlfriend just hit, his cheeks turning a little red in embarrassment. It wasn’t that he didn’t think you weren’t beautiful or an amazing person because you were, everyone around you knew that you were, it was more the fact that Wanda looked like a goddess among people, something about her just making her all the more radiant. “I mean, how… come we have never met Wanda?” He sheepishly mutters out, grimacing himself at how poor his recovery of the situation was, your brow raised at him as Mantis overhears the conversation, excitement swirling in her eyes at the mention of the older woman, your friend eager to meet her.

“Wanda’s here? Where is she?” Her voice conveys her giddiness as you smile at her reaction, the two of you growing closer over the last couple weeks as your shifts were on at the same time, the black haired woman taking an interest in your love life as she could tell how smitten you were. Before you could respond, Rocket spoke up, the casual man leaning against the countertop on his phone, clearly pretending as though he was busy with work stuff, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Who’s Wanda? Does she need her order taken over?” His voice lacked any real conviction as to find out who she was, simply acting as though he was contributing to team as he messaged Lyla on his phone, your head shaking as you made the two small hot chocolates, making sure to swirl the whipped cream perfectly and add as many marshmallows as you were allowed to.

“Why are we talking about Wanda again?” Drax asks from your side, making you jump a little as you hadn’t realised he was standing there, his body so still it was as though he was invisible.

“She’s here,” Mantis emphatically answered him, the man seeming to be just as disinterested as Rocket as he was only interested in relationships and love when it meant he could tease someone, his eyes following to where Mantis was looking before flickering his gaze back to you, a laugh escaping him.

“Yeah right,” he chuckled out, a look of shock forming on your face at his dismissal that it was Wanda, your features pulling into a look of offence as he smiled in disbelief at you, a glint of determination appearing in your eyes as you wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face.

“I’ll prove it,” you muttered out to the man, his smile widening as he refused to believe you, his arms crossing over his chest nonchalantly as he leaned against the countertop, watching you in amusement as you carried over the order to the booth they were sitting at, looking at Wanda with a shy but mischievous look before turning your head to make sure your co workers were watching, in particular Drax.

“Two hot chocolates and a flat white,” you say with a polite voice, the slight change to your tone amusing the twins as they mimic your voice to each other, making you playfully stick your tongue out at them for their teasing you as Wanda shakes her head at your antics, biting down on her lower lip as she admires you in your work uniform as you hand the twins their drinks, marshmallows overspilling from the cups. Your gaze flickers over to her appreciative stare when the twins become distracted by the sugary treat, the older woman loving the way your tied apron exaggerates your curves as she eventually lifts her gaze to your face, an enamoured look evident in her eyes as she can’t stop thinking about how adorable you look right now, the slightly shy smile on your face as her green has your heart pounding in your chest, warmth wrapping cosily around it.

Smiling a little to yourself, your tear your eyes away from hers to break the lingering gaze to focus on her drink sitting on the tray in your hands, moving to pass her the drink when her fingers brush yours on purpose, the older woman innocently smirking up at you as steals the drink from you, revelling in the way you seem to blush a little in embarrassment at the effect she has on you.

“Thank you,” she murmurs out whilst taking a sip of the drink, making sure to keep eye contact with you to further torment you, her lips tugging up into a smile around the mug as you linger nearby, trying to figure out how to prove to Drax you were with her without making it obvious to Wanda that you wanted a kiss.

“Is there any chance my service deserves a tip?” You ask with a hint of cheek seeping into your words as you offer her a charming smile, her brow raising at your words as you still play along with the joke from earlier, excitement appearing on her features.

“What did you have in mind?” She murmurs out, letting her gaze drift over to the counter where your friends were not so discreetly watching the interaction, the older woman trying her hardest to not roll her eyes as she could tell you had made some sort of bet at the way they were so interested in what was happening, that look in your eyes only Wanda could notice also giving it away as she could easily read your body language.

“Something that might get me in...trouble,” you whisper out, Wanda letting out a small chuckle before shaking her head lightly at your actions, her hand moving to your collarbone, sliding against the fabric of your shirt teasingly before grabbing the collar of your button up blouse, pulling you down to meet her lips.

The kiss was tender and loving to keep it appropriate for the setting, the two of you instantly smiling into it when you hear a contrast of reactions, the twins as usual pretending to be grossed out by the action whilst a small, elated noise could be heard from where Mantis was, her body buzzing with joy as she just loved seeing people happy, her smile practically reaching her ears at the way you shyly pulled back from the kiss.

You couldn’t stop the way love and adoration swarmed through you when Wanda softly waved towards your co-workers before sitting back in her seat, relaxing with her drink in her hand as you simply stood there, admiring the woman you loved.

“You might want to stop staring Detka,” she teases after a moment, “You’ve still got twenty minutes of your shift left,” she gently reminds, prompting you to pick up the forgotten tray from the table and return back to work after telling her you would meet her back here when you had finished your shift.

The prominent blush on your cheeks was engraved there as Peter and Gamora offer you suggestive looks as you returned to the counter, Drax’s arms dropping as he simply stood there with his mouth parted, somehow lost for words, not a single teasing remark lingering on his tongue which seemed to be a first.

“You should have put money on it,” Rocket teased as he patted Drax’s shoulder, joking with the man who still remained frozen and confused as to what had happened, your head shaking at the other man before letting your gaze inevitably drift back over to the table where she was, catching her curious stare. You watched intently as she placed her drink down and lifted her hand, the smile growing on your face fading when she motioned for you to turn around and stop staring at her, your eyes rolling theatrically at her before you did as she said, returning to cleaning the machines as the last twenty minutes of your shift dragged on.

***

Untying your hair, a deep sigh left your lips at the relief of returning home, the promise of having another family night exciting you as it was a time to unwind and simply enjoy being with the twins and Wanda, the bag of ingredients in Wanda’s hands intriguing you as she hadn’t told you what her and the twins had planned for tonight.

You made a beeline for the kitchen as that was where she had wandered to, walking past the framed photo of her on the ride at Asgard with a smug smile before your eyes searched for her auburn hair as you leaned against the doorframe, taking a moment to observe her. Her fingers rummaged through the plastic bag for various items as she stayed oblivious to your presence, her back to you as you continued to watch her, unable to stop the love coursing through your veins at the domestic sight of her expertly and swiftly moving around the kitchen, her green eventually catching your figure at the door.

The corner of your lips instinctively  lifted at the simple look before you pushed yourself off the frame to slowly walk over to her, your body tired after your long shift at the café, wanting to feel the comfort of her body against yours as you have been deprived of her touch for far too long in your opinion. You practically melted into her body as your arms snaked around her middle, your head resting against her shoulder as you placed a kiss to the fabric of her jumper, expressing your love to her silently.

The two of you adored the fact you could easily show your care and affection for each other without having to explicitly say ‘I love you’, your actions, looks, and kindness enough for one another. You purposely let your hands squeeze her body gently, encouraging her to lean back further into your embrace, knowing she cherished being hugged from behind and listened out for the satisfied sigh that would spill from her lips when you would do so.

You smiled against her sweater when you heard the familiar sound, the older woman stilling in your arms as she relaxed, a soft, tender expression gracing her features as you both savoured the moment before the twins would eventually come running downstairs, ready to start the fun family night.

“Can I have another kiss or is that going to get me in trouble with your girlfriend?” you tease, breaking the brief silence, your words slightly muffled by her shoulder as you mumbled against her, the corner of her lips tugging up at your playfulness whilst her head shook lightly before she turned around in your arms, mirth clear in her eyes.

“I don’t know, that might get you into trouble,” she rasps out whilst you move one of your hands to tuck the stray strand of her hair behind her ear, a tenderness wrapping around you both comfortably as you joke with each other.

“That’s a shame, it was such a good kiss,” you murmur out, tilting your head so that your lips ghosted hers, the feeling of her lips briefly brushing yours intoxicating, the thought of pressing them together consuming your mind and sending a heat throughout your body.

“Yeah?” she hums out, sliding her hands further around your waist, the pads of her fingers toying with the hem of your shirt and grazing your warm skin. “Maybe one more wouldn’t hurt after all,” she husks out with a smirk, lowering her head at a tantalising pace as you await the delicate feeling of her plump lips slotting over yours, your body craving the feeling again as you wait what feels like an eternity before her lips finally claim yours.

Much to your dismay though, the sound of footsteps interrupts the kiss, breaking off the affectionate moment far sooner than you wanted, a small groan leaving you as you sink into her embrace, your face hiding at the crook of her neck, basking in the warmth and safety it provided for a moment.

“You’re such a tease,” you mumble against her skin, earning a gentle chuckle as her fingers run up and down your back, the twins storming into the room after having cleaned their rooms, knowing they had to finish that chore off before the fun could begin.

“You’re the one who started it,” she whispers tauntingly before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, sliding her body away from yours to check their rooms were done properly before starting the activities planned for tonight, your dumbfounded figure left to watch her walk away, still thinking of the feeling of her lips.

***

A baking competition.

That’s what family night was for this evening, a look of shock, confusion and excitement appearing on your features as it was everyone versus everyone on who could make the best cookies, the thought of the twins trying to make their own worrying you a little bit as their version of baking cookies meant eating as many chocolate chips as possible before you would notice, too busy doing the actual work involved.

“Are we sure we don’t want to have teams?” you ask once more as you sit on the chair at the kitchen island, your head leaning against your palm as you stare at Wanda who was sorting out all the ingredients into an efficient system, her face pulling a look that suggested she wanted to agree with you, Tommy speaking up instead.

“No teams!” he exclaims, clearly excited about doing it all himself as Billy nodded along with him, the twins adamant that they could make them themselves, assuming it was much easier than it was. “Unless you want to team up with Mom because you’re scared you’re going to lose,” he teases, making your jaw drop, Wanda failing the stifle her laugh in time as your bewildered expression meets her humoured one, her smile soft as she bites down on her lip to stop herself giggling at her son’s words.

“I make good cookies,” you mutter in response, thinking about all the times you and the twins had made various types of cookies and the way they’d absolutely devour them, your mind then soon replaying the way they’d run across the house to get their mothers, the older woman’s skills in the kitchen superior to yours.

“Not as good as mine though,” Wanda whispers as she moves around to stand behind you, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple to help comfort you at the fact your abilities had been undermined, her head leaning against yours as your hand reached out for hers, letting your thumb brush over the back of her hand as the twins decided on the rules and how the winner would be decided before you could start.

Eventually, the four of you were ready to start measuring out everything needed to make the signature Maximoff family recipe of chocolate chip cookies, Billy fighting with the bag of flour you and him were going to share whilst Wanda effortlessly opened hers and Tommy’s, a look of sympathy growing on your face as he struggled. He wanted to remain independent during the entire baking process so you offered him a reassuring smile as you could understand how frustrating it was to open packets like that, something deep inside you hating bags of flour after the many times they had split open on you. The packaging was just always so impractical, white powder inevitably getting everywhere as soon as you tore it open, your gaze watching as he put a little more force into trying to tear it open, a grimace forming on your face as you could predict what was about to happen.

“Let me try-” your words were cut off by the bag tearing open vigorously, flour puffing out of the bag and all over the countertop as well as yours and Billy’s hands, a cloud of it filling the air around you two as Wanda sighed, her smile still present on her face though.

After a sheepish look in the older woman’s direction, you turned your gaze back to the pile of flour now on the marble top, your hand coming up to your forehead as you try to figure out the best way to deal with the situation, not realising the amount of flour coating your hand.

A humoured expression grew on everyone else's face as you managed to have a streak of flour across your head, the twins trying their hardest to not laugh and give it away, wanting you to continue looking silly, whilst Wanda seemed to pause, a nostalgic look in her eyes.

Her mind recalled the memory of when she came home from work to see you baking with the twins whilst you were babysitting them, the way warmth spread throughout her at the adorable sight of you with a similar streak of flour on your face. She remembered fondly the way you seemed to grow flustered as she gently wiped the mark away, her heart fluttering in her chest as she realised how far the two of you have come, how you have managed to change her life for the better.

“What?” you chuckle out as you notice her staring at you with love overflowing from her enchanting green, Billy helping get the remainder of the flour into a bowl to weigh it out.

“I love you,” she whispers, your brows furrowing a little bit at the emotion underlying the words, the concern quickly dissipating as she comes closer to you, her fingers gently holding your chin like she did that day, tilting your head up as she grabbed a cloth to wipe the flour away, a hint of deja vu flowing through you both. “But sometimes I think you’re just as messy as the twins,” she mutters playfully, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes at her words as she loses herself in admiring you, unaware of how your hand was moving near the table.

“I’m not messy” you whisper innocently whilst moving your hand up to cup her cheek, her face morphing into shock at the feeling of flour being smeared against her skin, an infectious laugh escaping you and the twins as they watch the scenes unfold, revenge swirling in the older woman’s eyes.

Before you know it, the kitchen turns into a mini warzone, flour flying everywhere as you all try to cover each other in it, the food fight amusing to everyone as laughter bounced off all the walls, a small scream leaving Tommy as you wrap your arm around his body, sprinkling flour all over him and wiping a streak on his cheek to mimic the face paintings warriors have. To torment the boy even more, you tickled his side, watching as he tries to squirm his way out of your grip, his giggles echoing around the room as Billy dodges his mother’s flour attacks, the woman giving up chasing after one of her sons as he was too quick, deciding to save her other one instead.

A squeal practically leaves you when Wanda steals you away, pulling you into her body so that her front is flush against your back, your body trying to fight her strong grip but failing, laughter constantly spilling from your lips as you feel the remainder of the flour being wiped across your face. Her fingers friskily remained on your face, tormenting you further as you could hear her chuckling behind you, your hand trying to stop her from drawing random shapes of flour on your forehead as you gripped her forearm, amused at the way her sleeve had a massive streak of white across it.

The core memory engraved itself into all of your minds, the sheer joy and happiness radiating through you all as Wanda eventually let her head rest at the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your sweet perfume as your giggles eventually died down, your ragged breaths filling the room. The four of you panted after the intense battle, Wanda’s arm unwrapping from around your middle, freeing you of her grasp so you could turn around to send her a mini glare, the expression never coming onto your face as you were too busy grinning at her, an avalanche of affection and warmth enveloping you at the sight of her. Flour sat on the edge of her nose almost comically, a couple light dusts also tainting the pink visible on her cheeks whilst your eyes travelled up to look at her hair, chuckling in amusement at the massive white streak in her auburn locks.

A teasing comment about her age was on the tip of your tongue, the older woman seeming to sense where your thoughts were heading as she tilted her head almost warningly, daring you to make the joke as you smirked up at her, your composure crumbling a little at the hint of dominance swirling in her eyes. Deciding it would be better to not be a brat, you stayed silent instead, a triumphant look flashing on her features before she let her gaze flicker away from you to around the room, taking in the mess you had all managed to create, her eyes widening a little bit at how far the four of you had gone.

“I’m not even sure we’ll have enough flour to make cookies anymore,” she said sceptically as she checked the remains of a bags of flour, noticing how there was only just about two cups left in one of them and maybe just under one cup in the other bag , the twin’s faces almost turning as white as the flour at the idea of not having any cookies, the two of them running to check the bag their mother was looking at before checking the bowls that previously had measured out flour in them.

You watched curiously as they tried to pile together as much of the leftover flour as possible in hopes there'd be enough, your head shaking softly as you decided to wipe your face, cleaning yourself up whilst the boys remained running about with the ingredient in their hair, seeming to make the mess worse as they kept moving about. Wanda copied you and started trying to clean herself up, observing the twins as you were before speaking up, deciding she didn’t want to clean any more mess than she had to, part of her wishing she had the powers Billy had given her in his drawings so she could just magic all the mess away.

“How about this,” she starts off, gaining everyone’s attention. “You two can go and have a shower now, making sure to get rid of all the flour in your hair,” she said, making a point as she ruffled Tommy’s hair, showing how white his locks had turned, “And when you come down there might be some cookies nearly ready to eat." Bright smiles stretched across their lips as they nodded emphatically to agree with their mother’s plan, the two of them wiping as much of the mess in their hair off in the kitchen before being allowed to sprint up stairs to shower, your brow raising as her gaze then met yours, an innocent smile growing on her lips which could only mean one thing- she was about to torture you.

“And what am I supposed to do?” you ask in a hum, leaning against the countertop in front of her after she had just measured the flour out, a small amount still left in the bag behind your body that you were oblivious to. At the suggestive tone to your voice, her hands move to rest on the marble behind you, bracing her body above yours as she trapped you against the island, her head lowering a little bit, encouraging you to chase her teasing and alluring lips. 

Just as you think she’s about to kiss you on the lips, your eyes fluttering shut, she moves slightly behind you, the action going unnoticed as her lips pressed against the corner of your mouth, driving you insane with the thought of her as warmth wraps around your heart and also travels down your body towards you core, the feeling of her smirking against your lips clouding your mind. 

“You can help clean,” she murmurs in a seductive voice, a groan leaving you at her addictive tone and her words, the false hope annoying but equally amusing as she pulls back to see your eyes gradually opening, your darkened pupils showing how excited her actions had made you.

“Have I ever told you how cruel you are?” you grumble whilst stealing a quick kiss from her, the older woman letting you after her tease, her fingers wrapping around something behind you, her right arm moving slightly to your side as you focus on pouting at her, trying to get her to feel sorry for you and kiss you again and again until you couldn’t remember why you were pretending to be so annoyed. You thought it was working at the way her head lowered once more, your tongue subconsciously swiping across your lips to wet them, ready to lose yourself to the arousal steadily corrupting your thoughts. 

“Just a few times,” she chuckles out, smirking at you in a mischievous way as you search her green, confused as to why her smile seemed to grow that little bit wider, your brows furrowing until your felt flour being poured over your head, your vision being covered by the powder spilling down your face. You simply stood still as the bag emptied above your head, unable to stop a shocked but also impressed smile tugging at your lips, your laughter light and contagious as Wanda couldn't help but laugh along with you as you fell for her plan. Shaking your head vigorously, your hands shot out to hold onto her waist to keep her close, keeping her in the firing line as the two of you acted like fools in love for the rest of the night.

The two of you were only just about able to make the cookies and clean the mountain of mess in time for the twins, care and adoration underlying all you actions as the rest of the night breezed by, the happiness of spending the night together as a family consuming you entirely.

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [9]

pet!au part 9 | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list

apologies

cw: non-con, alcohol, threats of violence, blood, dark content dead dove do not eat

Summer nights are brutal. 

Stuffy, stagnant air hangs thick around you. Its fingers curl around the back of your neck, between your thighs, along your chest, leaving nothing but perspiration in its wake. The window is open but you’re caught in a doldrum. It’s still. No wind to tickle the leaves of the trees; it’s painfully quiet. So much so that the football game blaring on the TV seems ten times louder than normal. It shakes your eardrums, rattles them until your brain turns to mush. 

Man United is playing against Liverpool, and Simon has been cursing profanities for the last half hour as he sips on a glass of whiskey. It’s the same brand he ordered the night he hunted you in the bar. You hate that you recognize it. Spiced aroma wafts through the still air — too familiar, like a faded scar. 

You despise being around Simon more than you do Johnny these days. Of course you still dream of a day when both their blood soaks the mattress in the bedroom, fresh corpses acting as the keys to undo your bindings and set you free. But there is something rancid about Simon that grows more foul each day. His eyes are darker, mouth set firmer; he looks at you not like a toy to be played with, but a dog to be trained. One he wants to bend and snap until you’re curled up at his feet just like Johnny; mindless and unknowingly cruel. 

His sweet Johnny boy has been overly kind lately; saccharine. Sometimes, he almost seems more human than mutt, kind words lulling you into the safety of the chair in his study where you curl and hide like a feral cat. He watches you — you know he does — studying you as he commits your likeness to paper. You’ve seen the drawings. He always shows you with glee, like a child proud of their primary school art project. Elegant and lovingly, he captures your essence like you’re more flesh and blood than a rubber toy. 

You do not mind it. It’s easier for him to devour you with his eyes than with teeth and claws. 

Still, there are times where he grates your nerves. Greedy hands paw at you from your spot on the couch, mindlessly trailing over the meat of your thigh as his eyes stay locked on the screen in front of you. He’s the whole reason you’re sitting there watching this stupid game. Dragged you by the hand with boyish excitement the moment he heard the announcers. He talks about his time as a kid playing football with his cousin. Goalkeeper was his favorite position, which has been reflected in him poking fun at Liverpool’s inability at blocking shots.

You attempt to get the name of his cousin, but he stays silent. You suspect he might not even remember. 

“Bleedin’ christ,” Johnny curses, fingers squeezing your upper thigh. “How’d ye miss that one?” 

Another failed save by Liverpool. Simon grunts in satisfaction, reveling in his home team's success so far. You tried not to care about the game. Thought that disconnecting yourself from the situation would make it easier on yourself. Instead, you find the game a nice distraction to Johnny’s aimless wandering of your body. You watch the dancing feet maneuvering tricky shots and passes. Annoyed, twisted facial expressions as things don’t go the players way. 

Though, as usual, it only gets worse. 

He stretches, arm leaving your knee in favor of wrapping around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. Warmth radiates off of him like a space heater, and you find yourself grimacing at the sweat that coats your side at the mere contact of him, but it’s nothing compared to the way his hand now paws at your chest. It’s aimless; uncoordinated. You try to ignore the intrusion as his other hand joins in, mindlessly squeezing between your thighs. 

One lesson you’ve learned well is that no matter how much you pray, it always gets worse. Testosterone rises high in Johnny’s blood, and you feel the change in his body as his groping becomes more firm, as if he’s just made sense of the fresh meat in his hands. You see the flash of his blue eyes in your periphery, and you attempt to will it away. Starve an animal of attention, and it’ll get bored  — but Johnny never gets bored. 

The tip of his nose rubs against your temple, and the cheering of the crowd mixes with the harsh sound of his inhale as he breathes you in. Eyes fluttering shut, you try to keep your breath steady as he places a kiss on your cheek. It’s sweet, but barely restrained — he quickly takes more as he turns your head to face him, mouth wasting no time crashing against your lips. 

With a muffled grunt, you place your hands on his chest and push against him. You should know by now that it’s no use. Johnny only unlatches himself from you when he’s had his fill. Otherwise, he sinks his claws in deep and refuses to let go. 

“Johnny,” you mumble against his lips. He hums as if you saying his name, even obstructed, is the most mellifluous sound he’s ever heard, and he offers you reprieve from his assault on your lips. “Should… Shouldn’t we be watching the game?” 

Gentle redirection. It’s the only thing you can think to do when he’s this hungry. You might as well be offering dry kibble to a dog — why would he trade the bone in front of him for that? 

“The game?” he repeats. “Ah dinnae care about the game. Nae when a've got something so soft 'n pretty right here in front of me.” 

There’s no time to argue with him. There never is. He’s smart and quick, and he’s already got you sitting in his lap by the time you even come up with a response. Teeth knocking against yours, hands pawing at your back; he nearly growls. Gently moaning into your mouth as his fingers tear you to shreds at an excruciating pace. Shirt bunched up, breasts hitting the warm air, your nipples perk against your will as he tugs on them. He stimulates them until they’re hardened, and he chuckles. 

“Gettin’ excited for me, Bonnie?” he teases. 

You squirm. Writhe like a worm while you’re finally able to breathe without a tongue down your throat. Unwavering esurient hands continue to paw at you while your brain attempts to scrounge up words that might allow Johnny to show pity on you. Babbling, you press against his chest, legs twisting, feet flailing — you have been so good at making yourself behave. Numbing the fear in favor of your torment being swift. Yet now, some latent terror licks its unforgiving flames along your skin, burning you alive until you melt in the palm of his hands. 

“I just, uhm, wanna watch the-”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon barks. 

His words silent you with a mean yap and a violent shove of your legs. Having been so caught up in your attempted escape, you were left unaware of the way your body so disgustingly desecrated Simon’s space. As you yelp and cling to Johnny — the very creature you’re trying to flee from — Simon glares at you with so much rancor you feel the acidity of it scar before the wound is even made. 

“If you’re gonna fuck the bitch, do it on the floor,” he grumbles before pressing the tight neck of his beer bottle against his lips. 

While Johnny looks at him in disbelief, the bile boils in your stomach. Thick bubbles sting like vinegar against your vocal chords, terribly sore and overused with pitiful begging. This is the precipice you’ve been dragged towards. Nothing but sharp jagged rocks await. 

“Really?” Johnny asks. He can’t be too sure if this is real. If his dreams and wants are finally coming to fruition. “Ye mean it?”

Simon huffs. “Just stay quiet so I can watch the game.” 

But you’ve known this the whole time, haven’t you? 

Announcers drone on about the game on the screen as Johnny lays you on your back. He shucks your shirt off, then everything else, peeling you apart like sweet maize. You allow him without protest, your pacifism turning you into a victim, and it isn’t long before he’s bare and hovering over you, an incessant insect lured by the sweet aroma of fear that permeates your skin. 

The restiveness that haunts Johnny finally seems to be satiated once he’s got you like this. Ignoring the cursing gaze of your eyes, he knows that he’s finally got what he’s been wanting this whole time. He’s too insatiable to take his time. To savor the taste of you as his teeth drag along your stomach. Impatient fingers prod against your cunt and you jolt, skin rippling as muscles tense and flex. There is no arousal for him to collect, yet he grins like a jackal all the same. 

“Look at ye,” he croons. A weight settles on your abdomen, hot and needy. Your eyes flutter shut, heart tensing to the point you feel it tear in the cavern of your chest. Mistaking your disgust for adoration, Johnny slides back, pressing the tip of his cock against your reluctant hole, before blanketing your body with his once more. “So pretty. Mah sweet angel. Ah told you. Ah promised you, right? Always keep mah promises.” 

When he presses into you, you’re reminded of the papercuts you used to get as a kid. Obsessed with arts and crafts, they’d litter your fingers in little lines, like railroad tracks. Sometimes, you’d pull the severed skin apart. Watch the blood pool between shredded cells. You don’t know why you did it. 

As Johnny presses further, splitting you apart, skin searing with the burn as it stretches further than it should, you start to think you did it because it was proof you were alive. A reminder — just as it is now as he bottoms out and groans against your ear. You are alive on that hardwood floor. You are alive even as you tear, even as you’re bifurcated. 

You are alive because Simon wills it, and Johnny wants it. 

So you lie there and take it. Despite the pain. Despite how much you want to flee. It’s the only reason you continue to draw breath, even if it’s staggered with silent sobs as Johnny gives you everything he promised he would. You wonder if he can feel you dirl. 

Once Johnny finds his rhythm, the pain becomes nearly unbearable. The friction is too strong, shredding your skin off layer by layer, but if it’s uncomfortable for him he says nothing of it. Just continues to mutter praise as he pistons himself between your legs with no regard for the way your hands press against his shoulder — desperate waves against unmoving rock. 

“Johnny, please,” you choke out. Your plea is hardly heard over the announcers droning on the television. “T-That hurts.” 

He offers you little reprieve, a gentle slowing in his pace before he grunts and continues his assault like he’s already forgotten. He says something to you, but you don’t understand it. It’s the same mindless muttering he’s spewed since he’s sunk himself into you, but it’s drowned out by the audio of the game. Someone’s scored another goal — Manchester, judging by Simon’s grunt in approval — and everyone cheers. They cheer and scream and shout, smothering your attempts of mercy. 

They mock you. Players running across the field with their fists pumped high in the air, reveling in their accolades, in the love, all while you’re torn apart by a dog on the floor. Skin from bone. Sinew off muscle. It should be one of them here, ravaged by a beast. Bad things aren’t supposed to happen to you. But they do. And they continue to cheer as Johnny gets rougher, and they laugh as nails trace the curves of your body, and they enjoy their drinks and meals as the cameras zoom in — as they enjoy the show in front of them. 

Something inside of you snaps as the tip of Johnny’s cock butts against your cervix. It sends a shock throughout your body, synapses jittering, limbs flailing, throat shredding as you cry out. There is nothing you can do to control the way your arms jerk any more than you can control anything else that’s happened to you in the last few weeks. They snap violently before seizing tight against your chest, clinging close to your body as if you can comfort yourself in the midst of such violence. 

Johnny stops with a curse as something warm dribbles on your stomach, pooling just above your womb. You grimace as it adheres to your skin, sliding along as it dribbles down your hip and onto the floor. It isn’t until you get your eyes to focus that you realize it’s blood. Brilliant coccineous blood, and it’s dripping from Johnny’s nose despite the way he presses his fingers to the bridge. 

“Ah, christ…” he mutters. He slides out of you as he leans back on his haunches, ichor spewing in a haphazard mess. 

It isn’t until Simon’s feet hit the ground that you fully realize what you’ve done. Eyes widening, your hands cover your mouth as you watch him loom behind Johnny, gaze fixed on you as he takes in the bloody evidence staining your skin. 

“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to,” you sputter. 

No apology reaches Simon’s ears. He stomps around Johnny, knees colliding in the floor as his fingers hook underneath your collar. It takes little effort for him to yank you up, back jumping off the floor as your hands hold onto his wrist for support. Hot breath fans across your face and the stench of alcohol has your eyes watering. Or maybe you only want to think that because you don’t want to admit you’re crying out of fear. 

“Which hand?” he asks. 

Throat growing dry, your head shakes. “What?” 

“Which fuckin’ hand did you use to hit him?” he repeats, voice cutting. Keeping his fingers firmly locked underneath your collar, he grabs your right hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. It almost feels kind, but it’s falsely saccharine. “C’mon Bonnie, need to know which hand to break.” 

Fat, hot tears seep from your eyes as Johnny groans, still trying to get his nose to stop bleeding. Simon’s head tilts as his grip grows more firm. You feel your tendons shift. Metacarpals strain underneath his strength, and you sob, snotty and pathetic as you shake your head. 

“I’m sorry!” you cry out, a broken record that can do nothing more than apologize. 

“Doesn’t answer my question. Think you can hurt my boy and get away with it? I’ll break ‘em both if I have to,” he threatens. 

“Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it was an accident! I didn’t mean to, I swear,” you babble. 

Hardly containing the enmity in his eyes, Simon pauses. His thumb continues to rub across your knuckles, relishing in the way you tremble beneath him, craving to feel the bones splinter and crack. 

“Sorry?” he repeats, voice terrifyingly void of emotion. “Sorry enough to make it up to him? Gonna lay back down like a good girl then? Gonna let him fuck ya ‘till he’s had his fill?” 

Mustering as much feigned enthusiasm as you can, you nod and it seals your fate. Contemplating for a moment, Simon stares at you before he drops your hand and drags you by your collar. You squeak as his hands twist you, contorting you until you’re on your hands and knees. The floor digs into your palms, but it gets worse as he pushes your head down where he keeps you pinned. 

“Keep that arse up,” he warns. “This is your apology, remember?” 

Penance. Apology. Punishment. You sob throughout it all after Johnny’s able to get the bleeding to stop and he continues. Blood stained hands grip your hips as he pushes himself back into you, and it hurts. That ache burrows deeper, stretching far into your stomach until you’re sapped of every breath you attempt to inhale. 

Pressure builds on the side of your head as Simon keeps you pinned, cheek squished against the floor as your tears soak into the wood. He talks Johnny through it with a low voice but you refuse to hear it. Refuse to listen to him praise his favorite dog for tearing you apart. 

He’s faster at this angle. Hits deeper. Unrelenting. Grunts and snarls echo against your back as he leans over you, lips brushing against your spine. You wish he’d bite down. Snap his jaw through your spinal cord and end the suffering they subjugate you to. 

“Ah, fuck,” Johnny groans. “A’m gonna come.” 

“Go on, then,” Simon urges. “She’s not good for anythin’ else.” 

Johnny continues for a little while longer before his hips stutter and cease. Thick seed spills into you with the vibrant pulse of his cock and your body betrays the disgusted feeling inside of you with relief. He pumps into you a few more pathetic times before holding himself inside you, refusing to waste a drop as he pants and heaves. There was nothing you could have done to outrun this. Your only reason for being here has been to satisfy this insatiable mutt, and it’s finally over with a strained grunt and gentle curse. 

It’s over for now. 

Once Johnny’s able to pull himself from the supple softness of your cunt, Simon barks at him to go wait in the bathroom so he can clean him up. The poor boy reaches for you, fingertips bruising against the crux of your ass, but you do not respond. He slinks out of the living room with careful steps, leaving you and Simon alone. The monster’s lips brush against the shell of your ear as he leans down, voice low and quiet as if he’s telling you a secret. 

“If you ever hurt my boy like that again, I’ll break every bone in your goddamn body before killing you,” he growls. “You understand?” 

The muscles in your neck tense as if to nod, but he’s trained you to know better than that by now. “I understand.” 

He gives you no response or praise as he stands, towering over you like you’re nothing but a miserable insect, and he does not linger. Heavy footsteps wander off out of the living room, making way to the bathroom before the door shuts closed behind him. 

Cheering erupts on the television just as you allow your body to twist and fall sideways, giving your knees the break they so desperately need from the unforgiving ground. Bloody fingerprints stain your body as if calling you out for the hot sin you committed tonight. It crusts and chips like cheap paint. Bleary eyes focus on the screen just as confetti trickles over the football field like fat flakes of snow. Players sprint across the field, enveloping one another in hugs as camera men storm the field. 

The game is over. Man United is triumphant. Water begins to run in the bathroom. You continue to rot on the floor.

[snzuu]

Imagine using miguel as your personal toy, but being sweet with it. riding him while calling him endearing terms. “You like that, bonito,hm?” “that's a good boy, my good boy right?” only whimpering out in response. He loves when you use him, grinding on his dick as he’s on cloud nine. you don’t even know if he can hear you right now as his eyes roll back to the back of his fucking head. God, he wants to touch you too, but you forbade him not too. All you have to do is order him around and he will obey, not having to use any restraints. And man, he’s trying so hard not to thrust up into your warm cunt that has him in a trance.

“You still with me, querido?” You brush his cheek lovingly. He doesn’t respond while you give him a sweet kiss on his cute puckered lips, and that was sure to bring him out of a daze, kissing you back with such eagerness.

“mami voy a-” “come?” you finish his sentence. “Go on pretty, do it, give me everything me good pretty boy. Love you so much.”

His back arches, tears falling down his cheeks as he comes not only by your request but your sweet words.

“So good for me. What did I do to deserve you huh?”