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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 years

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MW2 Reaction to You Calling Them Submissive and Breedable

Warnings: 18+, Implications of Smut, Implied Dominant Reader, Implied Submissive Reader, Some Submissive MW2 Characters, Some Dominant MW2 Characters, No Pronouns used for Reader Except for ‘You’, Gendered Spanish Terms of Endearment (Fem-Leaning), Petnames, etc.

Ghost

“Careful, Darlin’,” he says, slowly, lowly, almost hushed. He has you backed against the counter, his hands flat atop it, thick, bulging arms caging you.

He presses his front against yours, his bulge catching you in just the right place.

“Pretty little mouth like that’ll send a man wild.” His breath is hot against your lips, with his just shy of yours. Ready to silence.

“And I won’t be held responsible for what happens when I lose control.”

König

“My, my,” he says, his voice heavy, eyes half-lidded. All the while, he’s approaching you, slowly.

“My little maus is being rather brave today, aren’t you?” He’s condescending. Deceptively so.

With a growl, he pounces, wrestling you down onto the bed, his weight both an unstoppable force and an immovable object as he bunches your hands in one of his, his other at the base of your throat. A warning. He grinds against you, his panting breath quivering at the friction. All the while he’s making dead eye contact with you.

He brings his mouth down beside your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “There won’t be an inch left of you that isn’t mine by the time I’m through with you.”

Soap

“Don’t tempt me, Dolly,” he whines, giving you a pleading look.

When you continue to tease him, to mess with the bull, he gives you his horns.

He pins your arms above your head, a rabid tint in his eye. Feral.

“I warned you,” he breathes, his grip tightening. “Whatever happens now is on your head.” His tone is as serious as death. “And my terms.”

Valeria

She won’t give you the chance to even finish the sentence before she has you pinned against a wall, her chest to your back and a hand around your throat.

“Don’t fuck with me, Querida,” she says, her voice low and hissing. You can feel the darkness settling over her eyes, feel the simmering, bubbling concoction of lust and rage overflow in the way she rocks her hips into the back of yours.

“Because you know I’ll fuck you twice as hard.”

Needless to say, she’s not letting you go until you are perfectly aware that it is you who is the submissive one in this relationship.

Price

“Is that so, Love?” Price’s voice carries, aromatic. His eyes crease and trail your silhouette as he hands you a smile. Throws you a bone. Gives you a chance.

His arms are folded over his chest, the image of strength, resilience, and resolve.

“You sure you don’t wanna take that back?” he says, voice lowering. His head tilts, and his smile begins to retract into a smirk. There’s a hunger to his demeanour. His voice husks.

“Before I make you.”

Horangi

Initially flabbergasted. Then, abashed. Though, he doesn’t want you to know that.

“Negative. A baseless accusation.” He says, humourless. Though, that is his effort to try and hold back the storm, to fortify the floodgates. To keep the excitement in his chest from boiling over.

He stands toe to toe with you, his eyes sharp, dark and unwavering. A look of reproach, though he was from far above it with the thoughts racing through his mind right now.

“And I’d suggest you keep them to yourself,” his hand slithers up your side, takes your shoulder, mock reassurance in his grip. “Before someone decides to punish you for your transgressions.”

Alejandro

“Oh?” His tone is playful as he turns to face you, leaning against the countertop, his arms folded and his smile a signature upon his face.

“Well, then, you’ll have to come and dominate me.” His grin is a disguise. “Only, of course,” he pushes off, walking towards you, intent in his gait. He’s before you now, his chest touching yours. “If you can get me to behave.”

His hand wraps around your hip and squeezes you. His smile is sly. “Else, you’re just a dog whose bark is bigger than its bite.”

“And I can assure you,” his other hand slides around your shoulders, pulls you closer. “That my bite is bigger.”

Rodolfo

“I have no doubt about it, Mi Amor,” he tells you, still carefully crafting you the sandwich you requested. When finished, he passes you the creation, the lack of double-sidedness to his words reassuring. Or inviting. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Little did you know that beneath his butterscotch exterior lay the heart of a lovingly maniacal masochist who, after your little conversation, took to trying to poke the bear, to feed the lion between the bars of the cage.

And you repaid him in kind by giving in to his trap and straddling him, late into the evening, pinning his arms above his head, making vibrant conversation of the obscenities you were going to perform on him.

And he didn’t resist once, instead soaking up every ounce of love you had to give.

Graves

“Sure thing, Doll Face,” he says, blasé. Dismissive. He doesn’t even turn to face you, instead making a mild hand gesture, looking down at his documents.

“Though, let’s be honest,” he flips through his papers. “There’s nothing I can’t make you do for the right sum.” The tinge in his voice is equally as void as before, as if he were stating a fact.

Graves’ fetish for finance (and its many persuasive effects) did little to protect him from your wrath.

And you told him as much – that “No amount can save you now,” before wrecking him.

Truer words were never spoken; especially now as he sat at his desk, his body and pride sore after the fact. Though, he can’t help but crack a smile at the memory. Perhaps he’ll invoke your dominant side more often…

Gaz

“Oh, really?” he says, almost challengingly. He hands you a skeptical look, smiling all the while. Practically chuckling.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Regardless of how capable Gaz is in physical training, he truly is powerless against your advances. That much is proven when he’s pinned beneath you, breathless and whining and clawing at your thighs.

He never challenged you again after that... Well, except when he wanted to.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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fanaticsnail · 2 months

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Seat Number Four

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 4,500+

Synopsis: You are stuck on an eight hour flight between two gentlemen you have never met before. Unaware of their prior history and dislike for one another, you attempt to relax and watch a new series your friend recommended. The series was a little more raunchy than you had anticipated, and you become a little uncomfortable in your seat between the two attractive men. Doflamingo reassures you your need is nothing to be ashamed of, and he would be more than willing to help you out if you allowed him to teach the younger blonde how to best please you.

Warnings: Doflamingo x cisfem!reader x Sanji, gendered terms used, Vinsmoke name used, modern au, NSFW, smut, MDNI, 18+, threesome, public sex, fingering, finger sucking, penetration, oral, (dub con masturbation by a guest appearance), Spanish Doflamingo, French Sanji, not very much plot, praise (reader receiving), degradation (Sanji receiving), bisexuality hinted (subtle Sanji x Doffy), Dom Doffy, Sub Sanji, switch reader, voyeurism.

Notes: based on this post by @/shamblespirate (I don't know if they'd like to read this or not, so I thought I'd spare them the debauchery) and the encouragement of @physics-of-one-piece. Sitting between Doffy and Sanji, two unhinged blondes on an 8 hour flight? What could go wrong?

Stumbling through the boarding gates and checking your luggage at the last minute should've been the sign that this eight hour flight was not going to go the way you expected.

This simple trip you needed to take for work was booked at the worst time. The only warning you received from your boss was a quick email stating the fact that you needed to pack your bags to attend a week long conference. No further context, no meetings, no chance for rebuttal, and simply no time.

What made matters worse is the fact that you were meant to be situated on the window seat of the last row of the plane. Closest to the bathroom, furthest from the food, and caged by the bodies of two complete strangers.

However, these strangers seemed to know each other, both sitting in pregnant silence as steam seemed to rise from the younger blonde’s ears in simmering rage. That same younger blonde, who seemed to take your absence from the final call for boarding as your consent, to sit in your assigned seat.

Not one to cause a fuss, you stored your carry on above the taller, tanned blonde in the aisle. His glasses did very little to conceal the heavy eye contact he made with your breasts as you had no choice but to bury him in the chasms of your chest as you stuffed your bag above him.

The first few hours of your early afternoon flight was filled with tension. While the taller man seemed to antagonize the younger blonde in Spanish, the younger would curse at him in French beneath his breath.

Blocking them both out with your headphones, you opened your traveling laptop as soon as the signs indicated it was safe to do so, and listened to music while finishing off your final projects for your boss. Each time you made to adjust your arms more comfortably, you would inadvertently brush your body against either of the two men. Uttering your apologies beneath your breath each time, you were not made privy to the conversation that was being made regarding your persons.

“She looks rather pent up, rubio. Do you think she'd appreciate my fingers stuffing her pretty cunt full-?” the snickers of Doflamingo were cut short by the younger blonde.

“-That is no way to treat a lady!” the hushed tone flew through the air like a kick to the chin, only seeming to draw up the older blonde’s smile wider. Looming over your shoulder as you commenced the beginning of a series, Doflamingo looked through the base of his glasses at you before looking over the rim at Sanji.

“You were the one to take her seat, mi pequeño. How’s that for treating a lady?” Sanji glared at him, offering no retort for the theft of your seat. It's true, he stole it from you the moment he noticed the close proximity to the Don of Quixote. Being an heir to the Vinsmoke dukedom had them both in similar social circles, and each time they met, Doflamingo would tease and torment him regarding his obsession with serving women.

Treating women with respect was a foreign concept for the other heirs, and Doflamingo seemed to enjoy tormenting him about it. In actuality, he admired that in him. Doflamingo loved his mother, and he often thought of her fondly. Sanji made those soirees entertaining and bearable, and Doflamingo wanted to return the favor.

“I think this lady would allow us both to treat her, if you catch my meaning,” Doflamingo chuckled, prompting Sanji to snap his head over at him. Before the younger could speak, Doflamingo halted him with an observation, “The series she seems to be watching has had a fair amount of love scenes and nudity. I don't think she was anticipating that in this series. Just look at her, sitting there all flustered.”

Slowly shifting his eyes over your form in a manner to not startle you, he noticed how flustered your face was. Eyes wide, heat radiating from your face, and slinking your body down into the seat, surely enough, you were fully fixed on the series. Although the screen was darkened, Sanji could clearly make out the shapes of two men and a woman indulging in intimacy on the screen.

Your breathing seemed to both slow and quicken with the elevation of your heartbeat, prompting Sanji’s eyes to darken on your blissfully ignorant form. Doflamingo's grin widened as he gained Sanji’s attention back onto him.

“Once the rest of the aircraft vessel falls asleep, I would love to teach you how to really treat a lady, Vinsmoke,” Doflamingo intentionally brushed his chest against your shoulder as he learnt closer to Sanji, “If she's willing, of course.” Hastily darting his eyes down to you and back up to Doflamingo, Sanji reluctantly gave his nod of understanding.

“Only if she's willing. I don't want to make her uncomfortable,” he uttered strictly. Noticing the soft shudder in your form as Doflamingo held himself against you, Sanji felt this wave of protection swirl in the pit of his stomach. As soon as he made to make a move to rally to your defense, you made yourself comfortable in the shroud of Doflamingo’s embrace.

“I think she'll be more than willing,” Doflamingo eyes you dangerously before reaching down to unplug your headphones from your ear. Snapping your head over to him, he hushed you with his voice dripping in smarmy sweetness.

“Easy now, mi querida,” he smiled genuinely, “The dining cart will be by shortly. Just making sure you didn't miss out on a choice.”

“Oh!” You smiled at him reaching down to the bags you stored beneath the seat for your wallet. “Thank you, mister…?”

“Doflamingo,” he gave you a polite nod of his head while closing his eyes at you. Gesturing with his chin, he drew your attention to the younger blonde, “The Frenchy is Sanji.” You turn your smile to the younger one, noticing his fluster seemed to grow and litter his cheeks in a soft blush.

“We couldn't help but notice the series you were watching,” Doflamingo continued, his fingers hooked beneath your chin and turning you to face his much taller body, “And I thought you should know, we're both very interested in seeing how it plays out. Care to remove the headphones from the port so we can hear too?”

“Oh, uh-...” a wave of bashfulness overcomes you at the knowledge that they were both witnessing a particularly graphic depiction of love making over your shoulder, “...a friend recommended the series. I didn't know what to expect, and they absolutely didn't warn me about the content.” Both Doflamingo and Sanji chuckled at you in their own ways, enjoying your company and getting a better read on your character.

“I don't think either of us mind a bit of graphic content in with our plot, do we pequeño,” Doflamingo asked Sanji, his smile quirking up at the corner, “You could use a few pointers on how to please a woman anyhow.”

“Speak for yourself, le vieillard,” Sanji retorted at him in a hastened quip, “I know how to please a woman just fine.” You shook your head and chuckled at the way they balanced one another. As the dining cart approached, Doflamingo placed his order and offered to pay for both yours and Sanji’s in synchrony. Both of you expressed your gratitude, enjoying being treated by the older man.

As the night wore on, your meals lay firstly improved by the younger blonde before consumed. You learnt they were both in high social circles, the younger had aspirations of becoming a chef as depicted in his satchel of spices. The older gentleman was from a reputable family that sold their fortune off to investors without his consent. He had to claw his way back up to the top, leading to an empire he molded for himself.

While they truly should've been in first or business class, both of them seemed to find entertainment in regular seating. You were grateful for their attention and company, and enjoyed being doted and treated by two blonde men who were eager to please in their own ways.

Once under the cover of nightfall, the meal trays left collected and napkins discarded, and the raunchy series had finished, you all spoke in hushed tones and gossiped about the characters. Talks of: “She deserved to find happiness,” or, “The way they filmed that was exceptional. Tasteful nudity with a hint of wanting. Simply beautiful,” and “She could've had both men if she played her cards right.”

Doflamingo’s larger form swooped ever closer, the shroud of his pink, feathered cloak caging your body in your seat as he leant in closer. Asking permission with his eyes, you nodded your head as you felt him press his lips against yours. Tongues darting out, Doflamingo reached forward and grasped at Sanji, tugging his wrists and placing them on your thighs first. Guiding Sanji's chin up to your neck, you felt the younger man latch and lick at your pulse as Doflamingo stole your breath from your lungs with his kiss.

Tilting your chin with his hand, Doflamingo made a trail with his digits down your neck and through the hem of your shirt to grip at your breast. Noseying through the material of your bra, he began softly rolling and lightly pinching your nipples beneath the cups. Consuming your soft gasps needily, he guided one of Sanji's hands to reach beneath your shirt to cup at your other breast.

Hands, lips, tongues and teeth overwhelmed you. Everything was too little and too much all at once. You felt your arousal soak through your panties as both men toyed at your thighs and hemline to your stomach. Simply no longer caring about professionalism and giving into their touch, you allowed them to push aside the material and undo your pants.

Breaking away from the kiss, Doflamingo’s hands brushed over your mound and down to toy at your glistening folds. A gasp was strangled in your throat as you attempted to stifle it. The heavy snores and breathing from the seats in front and beside you indicated you didn't disturb anyone of their slumber, but you didn't want to take the risk of being too loud.

Lowering himself down into your ear Doflamingo purred at you, “I am going to teach Sanji how to please you. I am going to have you cum on my fingers a few times before I let him try.” You gulped back a mouthful of nervous saliva as Sanji shot his attention between you both, “Is that okay with you, mi amor?” You couldn't pull your eyes away from the older man, nodding almost dumbly as if hypnotized by the promise of the pleasure to cum. Chuckling, Doflamingo presses a kiss to your jaw before licking a stripe up to your ear possessively.

“If you can't help yourself from moaning, I'll have Sanji stuff your mouth full of his fingers for you to suck on. Do you want them straight away, or do you want to wait?” He offered you Sanji’s hand raised to your lips, pressing the pads of his digits at your lips just as he sank his own further down to tease at your arousal. Whimpering, you immediately took Sanji’s fingertips in your mouth and swirled your tongue around them.

Sanji gasped, his own moans choking in his throat as he became caught up in the moment. Doflamingo shoots him a warning look, growling out a low order at him.

“And if you can't help but moan at the feeling,” Doflamingo gestured with his chin to your breasts, “Make your mouth useful and flick that silver tongue over her nipples. Let her feel that frenulum piercing you think your daddy hasn't noticed.” Sanji’s eyes went wide, the tension once again rising between them.

“I am not calling you daddy, le vieillard,” Sanji barked in a harsh whisper, prompting Doflamingo to chuckle as he began toying with the border and hood of your clit with his middle and unity fingers.

“I was referring to your biological father, niño. However,” he leans over your shoulder and scrunched his nose at the younger man playfully, “If the mood arises, I prefer ‘Papi’.” Tugging your body flush against his chest, hidden by the shroud of his cloak and broad shoulders, Doflamingo snaked his hand around your waist after drawing up the armrest between the seats.

Sanji pushed up your shirt, physically unable to contain the moan that flew from his lips the moment he noticed the ripple of your breasts bouncing free beneath the fabric. Immediately surging forward, Sanji latched onto your left nipple, swirling and mouthing at your puckered nipple and romancing it with his kisses. Doflamingo chuckled as you offered the same enthusiasm mirrored back to him.

Without further warning, Doflamingo prodded and pressed at your entrance with his fingers, curling and grinding them against your glistening arousal and collecting your slick over his fingers. Stifling your pretty mewls on Sanji’s fingers, Doflamingo curled his digits in you, using the pad of his thumb to roll against your clit as he began beckoning his hooked fingers slowly. Stimulating your clit and your g-spot with his hand, he leaned down to be in earshot of both you and Sanji.

“Look at you both. Both my sweet little ones are doing so well,” Doflamingo purred lightly, “Is mi reina sucking your fingers good, mi príncipe? Is she using her tongue like a good little reina, hm?” You bit back your moan, opening your mouth and demonstrating to Doflamingo how your tongue swirls and grinds against Sanji’s fingers. Sanji couldn't help himself, Stradling your thighs as you were tucked in Doflamingo's lap. Slowly rolling his hips against you, you felt how hard the young blonde was as he bucked his clothed cock into your thigh.

Chuckling, Doflamingo doubled down on his efforts to make you squirm. Holding you flush against his chest, he continued coaxing out soft mewls muffled by Sanji’s fingers in your mouth.

“Stop your petulant rocking, Vinsmoke,” Doflamingo whispered his soft tease down at the younger blonde, “This was about pleasing her. You think she wants your precum soaking her pretty thighs through your pants? How's that pleasing her?” Sanji gasped, the cool intake of air causing your body to tremble at the harsh cold. Switching to the other breast, Sanji whimpers against you as he attempts his hardest to not rock his steely cock on your legs. His eyes dart down to where Doflamingo’s larger hands pry open your walls and scissor his fingers in your pussy with expert precision. Doflamingo leans down and nudges Sanji’s fingers away with his forehead before swallowing your moans with his lips covering your own.

Hastening the pace of his fingers and thumb, perfectly coaxing and beckoning your orgasm from you, your body explodes in the quickened lightning of your ecstacy. It felt almost out of the blue, unprompted but not at all unwelcome. The scream from your throat was captured and muffled by Doflamingo’s lips as he chuckled into your mouth. Unintentionally bucking your hips up into his hand, Sanji whimpered as your thigh brushed with his cock. The vibration of his moan shot through your nipple and down to pool more of your glistening arousal over Doflamingo’s palm.

“My, my. That was a big one, mi amor. Is there another? Another one for me?” he uttered against your lips, prompting you to shake your head hastily to not have him stimulate you further. He clicked his tongue in a curt ‘tsk,’ before removing his hand from your pussy. Your walls contracted in the final pulses of your bliss in a bid to keep his digits within you as he pulled out.

“Aw, but she wants more,” Doflamingo purred at you, referring to your cunt twitching and throbbing after coming down from your orgasm. Sanji couldn't help himself, he hastily pushed Doflamingo’s face away from yours with his chin before meeting his lips with your own. He greedily dominated your lips, his desperation coming out in soft pants and barely audible whispers.

“Please. Please, I need you. Please?” Sanji attempted to relay, not entirely certain as to what he was asking. All he knew is that he wanted it, and the ‘it’ in question was ‘you’. Peeling back the button of his pants, the rosy tip of his pretty flushed cock immediately sprung forth. You had never seen such a beautiful cock before: all shiny and throbbing with need, the pearls of precum coating the small slit over the blunt tip. The slender shaft had several veins prompting the swell in desire, your own immediately rising just by his need alone.

He did not set out a plan in motion to fuck you in front of Doflamingo, but he was too far gone to not clothe his cock in the heat of your cunt after witnessing how truly beautiful you looked while keening in bliss. Doflamingo moved to chastise the younger boy, only halting as he witnessed you push your pants over your hips and down to your knees. Rolling onto your stomach to face your enshrouded breasts to Doflamingo, you arched your back and whispered to Sanji.

“Let me sit in your lap like this, sweety?” you moved your ass to sit with your back facing Sanji’s chest. His cock found its home between your legs, the tip brushing with your clit as he rocked into your firmly shut thighs. Each soft drag of his cock prompted him to sign out little gasps of pleasure. Doflamingo arched his brow as he witnessed you huff on Sanji’s lap as a wave of fresh desire swelled within you. Displeasure and unamusement grew over his face the longer you paid attention to the younger blonde.

Turning back your attention to Doflamingo, you motioned with your arms for him to come closer to you. Doing as you asked you reached up and gripped the open collar of his shirt and tug him into you. Lips finding his once more, your tongue sought out his own to perform against it in a sultry dance. Grinding the muscle over his own, you lifted your hips and lined up your slit with Sanji's knob. Just as you were sinking yourself down onto him, you halted your motion and tore your lips away from Doflamingo's.

“Can I suck your cock?” you asked the larger man, “It'll keep me quiet, I promise. Please? I want to please you too. Let me, Mister Doflamingo?” Doflamingo could barely contain the shudder that ran through his spine. With the soft quiver of his jaw, he gulped emphatically before popping open the front of his leather pants.

“And how is that going to keep the one you're sitting on quiet? Or me, for that matter?” he asked you with his brow quirked up. You aided him in releasing his cock from the confines of his pants by fishing it out with your hands. Taking the velvety shaft into your hands, your eyes bulged as you witnessed the sheer size of him. He was a lot larger than you in both height, and the girth of his cock. You were ever grateful that you opted to fuck the younger man as opposed to the giant in front of you.

Circling your hand at the base and peeling back his foreskin, you whispered up at him, “You're smart, I'm sure you'll think of something.”

Doflamingo physically gasped the moment he felt your breath hover over his cock, briefly meeting his eyes over Sanji as you sank your pussy and your mouth over both of them in unison. Sanji’s gaze was focussed on your ass as it rippled in gentle rocks down onto his shaft, while Doflamingo focussed his eyes on Sanji while trying not to give away how truly unraveled he was becoming by your lips.

Pressing soft, kitten licks over his blushing tip, you cleaned away Doflamingo’s first dews of pearlescent precum before swirling your tongue over the sensitive surface. Doflamingo choked on a soft gasp, snapping out of his hypnosis to clap his hand over Sanji's lips as he bottomed out into your gummy walls. The younger blonde couldn't help but moan, the larger hand stifling the majority of it to silence him with a frown.

“Listen, Vinsmoke. I know she feels-... f-fuck…” Doflamingo started, halting as he felt you take more of him into your lips. “...Fuck, mi amor, you take me so well,” he whispered his praise down at you before turning back his attention to Sanji, “You need to keep quiet. Need I remind you, Trafalgar and Eustass are sleeping in front of you? You want to wake them up by whining like a stag in rutt?”

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Sanji snapped his eyes over at Doflamingo, glaring up at him through his lengthy blonde eyelashes. Instead of biting back or insulting the larger blonde, Sanji couldn't help but roll his eyes in his skull as you began to bob on his cock. Simply unable to control his moans, Doflamingo shook his head at Sanji before huffing out in agitation while plunging his middle and index fingers into the younger blonde's mouth.

An accusatory glare first flew from Sanji to Doflamingo before Sanji used the older man’s fingers as a gag to muffle his whimpers into it. Gently bobbing your ass up and down over Sanji’s lap, the Frenchman's hands grabbed needily at your hips and ass as he bucked up to match your quickened pace. With fistfuls of your ass clutched into his greedy hands, Sanji bounced you with eager and desperate thrusts as he began to chase his high with you on his lap.

Doflamingo arched his brow high at the young Vinsmoke boy, noticing how well he was licking and sucking around his fingers before his attention immediately snapped down to you. Circling your hand at the base of his cock, your fingers expertly began to massage his heavy balls while gently bobbing and sucking his large cock. Flattening your tongue over his frenulum, your saliva pooled from your lips and began to drip down onto his shaft and the chasm between his balls. Using the added lubrication, you kneaded and fisted at the length you couldn't take in your mouth, while drawing up your lips over his cock.

Meeting your eyes with Doflamingo's, you smiled at him while removing your mouth from his cock and using your tongue to rake over him. Doflamingo’s breath shuddered, his nipples hardening beneath the open shirt as he shielded as much of himself as he could from the slumbering Nico Robin and the flight attendants.

“Oh, fuck. Look at you making me blush. Just like that, senorita,” he reached down with his unoccupied hand and cradled and caressed your cheek. Guiding your lips back down to cover his tip and swallow his cock, he began slowly rocking his hips up to meet your pace.

Sanji's thrusts were getting erratic, his rapidly approaching orgasm bound it's way tightly in his stomach. He could barely take the amount of pleasure coursing through his veins. The added suspense of getting caught had his nerves shot and heart skittish, but the sound of your drooling cunt taking his cock so well drowned out any hindrances. He snapped his eyes open, looking panicked at Doflamingo as he felt his balls suck into his stomach, the pucker of his ass warning him that he was nearly past the point of pulling out.

Doflamingo arched his brow at the young man, slowly leaning down to you and whispering, “I think Sanji wants to cum, pretty thing. Can he cum in that beautiful pussy of yours?” Making eye contact with Doflamingo, you nodded while speeding up your bobbing and sucking over the larger man’s throbbing hardness. Giving you a soft wink, Doflamingo sighed out to Sanji.

“If you need to cum, cum, pequeño. But you make sure she does too, you hear me?” Doflamingo pressed his fingers down on Sanji’s tongue to serve as a soft punishment and warning, Sanji gagging over his fingers while chasing his high faster. Nodding, Sanji reached one of his hands down to find your clit and began teasing it with his middle finger. With the added hooking motion of Sanji’s beckoning fingers, you felt yourself whimper on Doflamingo’s cock as he zeroed in on your pleasure.

Gripping the back of your neck, Doflamingo began rocking himself more firmly into your mouth and feeling his own approach tease at the corner of his mind. Soft gasps fell from his lips when he felt you focus more on his cock rather than Sanji's, the blonde behind you using his hands to both lift you and tease at your clit while he fucked you on his lap.

A strangled groan muffled itself onto Doflamingo's hands while Sanji's ecstacy spurted from his cock in pretty ribbons of translucent white. Painting your insides the pearlescent color of his bliss, Sanji bit on Doflamingo’s hand to stifle more of his keening moans. Doflamingo hissed at the pain before his jaw fell slack, eyes rolling back and whispering curses in Spanish under his breath. Without warning, his cum spilled itself in hot waves over your tongue and down your throat. Swallowing through hollowed cheeks, you took his entire release down your throat, which caused Doflamingo to double down in softly singing to your praises.

At the arrival of both of the blonde men’s cum, your walls contracted and milked Sanji's cock of the final waves of his bliss. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave made to capsize a ship, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you buried your throat beneath the girth of Doflamingo’s cock to stifle your cries of pleasure. Doflamingo rode your face through overstimulation, grinding his fingers in and out of Sanji’s mouth while Sanji’s eyes weeped through the intensity of his ecstasy.

“G-Good, mi amor. So good, look at you. F-Fuck, just like that, senorita,” Doflamingo praised you beneath his breath. “F-Fuck, you're such a pretty fuck. So beautiful, baby.” You continued to ride through the waves of your orgasm as Sanji spat Doflamingo's fingers from his mouth to double over and slump over onto your back.

Tilting his head to the side and gazing from the corner of his eyes at the seat in front of him, a shift in movement caught his immediate attention. The rise and fall of an arm over their front, a soft bitten back moan clenched and stifled by the clamp of their teeth, the redheaded Eustass Kid couldn't help but spill his own orgasm into a pre-opened tissue in hot spurts at the knowledge of what was happening behind him.

Only glimpsing over for a moment, and seeing Doflamingo's hand dip beneath the waistband of your pants, was all Captain Kid needed to see before his own hand began to fish out his cock in front of the sleeping Trafalgar Law. Setting up a mirror to witness the situation behind him was easy enough, and rocking his hips to the rhythm you set fucking Sanji was enough to have his eyes darken and jaw shudder. Leaning forward after Kid scrunched up the paper, Doflamingo tapped at his shoulder to bring his attention around.

“Got any spare tissue paper, red head?” Eustass Kid froze in his seat, “I don't particularly want to wake the attendants, and it's the least you could do for enjoying the show.”

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alesandraelin · 3 months

Text

𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚘 - 𝙾𝚗𝚊 𝙱𝚊𝚝𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚘𝚗𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Description: Y/n Bonmati and Ona Batlle have just moved back to Barcelona after their stints in opposite sides of Manchester, can they keep their relationship hidden?

*google translated spanish*

The summer sun bathed Barcelona in a golden glow as Y/n Bonmati stepped onto the lush green pitch of the Barcelona training grounds. It had been a whirlwind few weeks since she and her girlfriend Ona Batlle had returned to FC Barcelona Femeni, their beloved home club where their football journeys began. Y/n, who had made her name at Manchester City, and Ona, a star at Manchester United, had decided to come back to Barcelona.

"Finally back." Y/n breathed the Catalan air in deeply as her head fell onto Ona's shoulder as they watched the sun set over the pitch they hadn't trained on in years but loved so much.

"Finally home." Ona smiled as y/n's head fell comfortably onto her shoulder, she pressed a kiss into her girlfriend's temple as they sat on the turf.

Their love had blossomed quietly over the years, starting with shared glances on the field and late-night conversations after tough matches. It had been a secret kept tightly between them, not out of shame but out of a desire for privacy in a world where their every move was scrutinized. Now, back in Barcelona, they hoped to breathe freely again.

But old habits die hard, and the fear of judgment lingered. Especially from Y/n’s older sister, Aitana Bonmati. The midfielder had been the main pillar of support in Y/n’s life from when she just began at a grass roots club to when she joined La Masia, the Barcelona B team and then when she went to Manchester for experience. Aitana was perceptive, her eyes sharp and her intuition keen. Y/n feared her sister’s reaction the most, worried that their revelation might strain their close bond.

Their first few days back were a whirlwind of training sessions and team bonding activities. Y/n and Ona stole glances and brief touches whenever they could, their love simmering just beneath the surface as they navigated the watchful eyes of their teammates. The couple had made the decisions to have two apartments close enough to each other they could walk over at any point and stay there so that team mates and family who came over wouldn't question them living together, let alone sharing a bed.

The team decided that it should be Ona who would host team bonding night, Alexia really just wanted to see if the apartment hadn't been destroyed already. Y/n was already sitting on Ona's couch in an old Manchester city tracksuit when the rest of their teammates started making their way through the door to the apartment, loudly disrupting the young girls attempt to sleep.

"It is not time to sleep pequeña, we are here to have fun." Y/n was startled as Patri creeped behind and grabbed her shoulders.

"You only get louder Patricia." Y/n huffs, giving her friend a playful frown before pulling her down into a hug. "Missed you amiga."

"Good to have you back chica." Patri let her go and sat on a seat next to Pina.

The loud laughs of the older girls talking to Ona had Y/n turning her head. "Are you sure you haven't broken or burnt down something yet Oni? The place looks to... clean." Alexia questions Ona with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

Y/n engages in many conversations with the girls she grew up with in the academy as well as the girls she had never met throughout the night. She met Mapi's girlfriend Ingrid, who was super tall by the way and Ingrid's good friend Frido who was even taller. She caught up with her big sister who was currently the favourite to win the ballon d'or after her performance last season and during the World Cup the sister won together.

As it got later, the girls started to say their goodbyes and go back home. Aitana approached her little sister offering to take her back home. "It is alright Tana, I'm staying overnight with Ona, it's tradition to sleep over before we start the season remember." Y/n makes the excuse, reminding the older sister of the times y/n and Ona slept over at each others houses before the seasons began when in the youth teams.

"Only if you are sure hermana, te amo." Aitana said slightly suspicious but still said her goodbyes to her sister and Ona before heading home.

As all their guests had left, y/n let out a dramatic sigh and sat back down on the couch tiredly. Ona quickly joined her girlfriend, pulling y/n's legs over her lap before pressing a kiss to y/n's lips which she returned. "Come on amor, we have training tomorrow, bed time now."

"Yes please." Y/n replied, her girlfriend picking her up and taking them to bed to replenish before their first training session back with the team.

The next morning, under the bright Catalan sun, the team gathered for a rigorous training session. Jonatan gave instructions with his usual blend of authority and encouragement, setting the tone for the day’s drills. Y/n and Ona found themselves on the same team during a scrimmage, giving each other a smirk as they grabbed their bibs.

The scrimmage began the play went back and forth, Ona intercepting passes and y/n attempting to build forward on the wings. One mistake from Salma gave Ona the ball, she spotted y/n with wide space, the rest of the players being marked, she expertly delivered y/n the ball and the other team's defenders scrambled to keep up withy y/n. Y/n was one on one with Sandra who was that light bit off her line giving her the opportunity. She brang her foot back and gave the ball a powerful strike, ending in the back of the net.

Ona instantly came up to her girlfriend and pressed a kiss to her head and patted her back as the game continued. The interaction raised the eyebrows of Alexia, Patri, Mapi, Ingrid and Marta. Aitana's eyebrows furrowed slightly as she saw the kiss but brushed it off, the couple were nothing more than best friends in her eyes, they had always been that way.

Later that afternoon, during a break in training, Y/n and Ona found a quiet spot by the sidelines. Ona leaned against the fence, catching her breath, while Y/n stood beside her, a smile playing on her lips.

“You were brilliant out there,” Y/n complimented, brushing a stray lock of hair from Ona’s forehead.

Ona grinned, her eyes sparkling with pride. “You weren’t bad yourself, Bonmati. You always know how to surprise me.”

Y/n chuckled softly, leaning closer. “It’s all part of my plan to keep you on your toes.”

Ona’s laughter mingled with the sounds of the training ground, a melody that echoed the joy they felt in each other’s presence. She reached for Y/n’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m glad we’re back here,” Ona confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” Y/n admitted, her gaze softening as she met Ona’s eyes. “It feels like we’re finally where we belong.” Their moment was interrupted by the approach of their teammates, laughter and banter filling the air. Y/n and Ona reluctantly let go of each other’s hands.

The whistle blew, marking the end of a thrilling match at Estadi Johan Cruyff. FC Barcelona Femeni had secured a decisive victory against Levante, thanks in part to Y/n Bonmati’s stellar performance – a goal scored and a perfectly executed assist to Caro that sealed the win. The stadium erupted in applause, fans chanting their names as the players made their way off the field.

Amidst the jubilation, Y/n and Ona Batlle lingered on the sidelines, caught up in the adrenaline rush of the game and the sweet taste of victory. Ona’s eyes sparkled with pride as she watched Y/n interact with their teammates, her heart swelling with admiration for the woman beside her.

"You played so well amor, it's like we never left." Ona said in y/n's ear, her mouth against her ear and her hands around the winger's waist.

"You did too cariño, so good to be back." y/n replied as she melted into the older girl's touch. "Let's go back to the dressing room." The two walked down the tunnel with Ona's arm around her shoulder and y/n's wrapped around Ona's torso.

Ona, her eyes glowing with pride and affection, couldn't resist pulling Y/n into a passionate kiss, unable to contain her joy and love for the woman who had just shone so brightly on the pitch.

Their lips met in a tender embrace, the taste of victory mingling with the sweetness of their love. They lost themselves in each other, oblivious to the world outside the dressing room, their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of their shared passion

Unbeknownst to them, Marta and Alexia had returned early from their post-match interviews. They rounded the corner into the dressing room, laughter dying on their lips as they caught sight of Y/n and Ona locked in a tender kiss.

Marta's eyes widened in surprise, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Alexia stood frozen in place, her gaze alternating between the couple and the doorway, unsure of what to do next. The air crackled with tension as Y/n and Ona slowly pulled apart, their cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and affection.

"Marta, Alexia," Y/n stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "We... um..."

"I think we know what's happening pequeña." Alexia laughed slightly as Ona scratched the back of her head embarrassed. Marta stifling her laughter.

"I knew it, Caro owes me 10 euros." Marta laughed triumphantly. "We had a feeling," Marta admitted, her voice gentle yet firm. "But seeing you both like this... It's clear how much you mean to each other."

Alexia nodded in agreement, her expression softening. "You don't have to explain yourselves, Y/n, Ona. We're happy for you."

Before Y/n could respond, the locker room door swung open, revealing the rest of the team. The players filed in, their voices mingling with the echoes of celebration from outside. Asisat and Caroline exchanged knowing glances, while Pina and Patri whispered excitedly to each other.

Mariona, always one for drama, gasped dramatically. "Well, well, well! What do we have here?"

Y/n and Ona exchanged a sheepish look, their cheeks burning with embarrassment. Aitana, standing beside Keira, smirked at her sister's red face.

“You’re together,” Aitana stated, her voice a mixture of surprise and understanding.

Y/n nodded, her gaze steady. “Yes, Aitana. Ona and I are together.”

A silence settled over them, broken only by the distant sounds of celebration from the stadium outside. Aitana studied her sister’s face, searching for any hint of doubt or hesitation. Instead, she found only a quiet resolve and a love that radiated from Y/n’s eyes.

After a moment that stretched into eternity, Aitana’s expression softened. She stepped forward, enveloping Y/n and Ona in a warm embrace. Tears pricked at the corners of Y/n’s eyes as relief flooded through her, the weight of secrecy finally lifted from her shoulders.

“I’m so happy for you both,” Aitana whispered, her voice filled with genuine joy. “You deserve every happiness hermana.” Aitana told her sister before looking to Ona. "And you, treat her good or else." Aitana tried to be intimidating as she looked up to Ona who stood a few inches taller.

"Don't worry Aita, she's mi amor, I will never hurt her." Ona laughed at her girlfriend's sister.

As the two lovers were left as the rest of the team changed out of their kits, they remained seated on the bench, arms wrapped around each other. "Te amo mucho Oni." Y/n whispered in Ona's ear.

Ona brought her head down to peck y/n's lips. "Te amo mucho más, cariño".

#woso x reader #woso #ona batlle #fcb femení #barcelona femeni #aitana bonmati #alexia putellas

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meazalykov · 14 days

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heart of gold

aitana bonmati x WAG!reader

summary: there's a big reason why you've fallen in love with her

warnings: angst, bronze medal match

a/n: the winner of the vote was this fic, here you go <3

the roar of the crowd around you faded into the background as the final whistle blew. germany had secured the bronze medal, and spain was left with nothing.

your stomach churned as you watched the spanish players slump to the ground, faces etched with exhaustion and disappointment. but your eyes were fixed on aitana.

there she was, the ballon d’or winner, the heart of the team, standing tall amid the wreckage. even as the loss sank in, she was comforting her younger teammates, cradling their heads against her chest as they sobbed.

aitana wasn’t breaking — not yet, at least. that’s who she was. selfless, grounded, the strength for everyone else.

you watched as laura, laura freigang, asked aitana to swap shirts shortly after. the blonde wondered if it was too early to ask, but aitana gave her reassurance as she took the german shirt and gave laura the red spanish one.

your hands gripped your camera, not sure if you should even take any pictures at this moment.

your job as a sports photographer had brought you to moments like this, but this time was different.

this time, it was personal. you’d met aitana through your work, and somewhere between the flashes of your camera and the interviews, you’d fallen in love with her. it wasn’t just her skill on the pitch that drew you in, though. it was the way she treated everyone — humble, kind, always thinking of others first.

but right now, all you wanted was for your girlfriend to think about herself, to let herself feel what she was bottling up. your chest tightened, wishing there was something you could do to take away the hurt she was surely feeling inside.

you glanced over at the germans celebrating. you’d worked with a few of them too, knew their faces, their stories.

you were happy for them, but that happiness was muted by the pain you felt for aitana. she deserved something — something to show for the blood, sweat, and tears she’d put into this tournament.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, aitana’s gaze found yours. her eyes softened when she saw you, though she still wore that brave face for her team.

she gave you a small nod, as if to say she was okay. but you knew better.

she finished speaking with her teammates and made her way over to you, the weight of the match clinging to her like a shadow. when she reached you, her shoulders were slumped, her walls still up.

“i’m sorry,” she said in english, voice low and strained.

“you don’t need to apologize, aitana. not for this.” you shook your head immediately, stepping closer, your hand gently brushing her arm.

“it feels like i should,” she muttered, her voice trembling slightly.

“i should’ve done more. i should’ve—”

“aitana, no,” you interrupted, squeezing her hand.

“you did everything. you were incredible out there, like always. no one can take that away from you.”

“but it wasn’t enough. there is no medal.” her eyes flicked away, as if she couldn’t believe your words, as if the loss had clouded her judgment.

“that’s not true,” you said firmly, lifting your hand to gently cradle her cheek, guiding her gaze back to yours.

“you’ve done so much more than you realize. yes, the result sucks, but look at what you’ve accomplished. ballon d’or, you guys are the current world champions, and today, you were the one holding everyone together with alexia. you kept going, even when the team was falling apart. that’s worth more than any medal.”

aitana’s lips quirked into a small, sad smile, but the frustration was still there, simmering just below the surface.

“i wanted something for them,” she whispered. “for the younger ones. i wanted them to have something to show for this.”

your heart ached as you saw the selflessness in her eyes. even now, she wasn’t thinking about herself.

“they’ll have you to look up to, aitana,” you said softly. “you’re their role model. they’ll remember how you were there for them today, how you helped them through this. that’s something they’ll carry with them forever.”

finally, aitana’s shoulders slumped, the tension easing slightly as she let out a long, shaky breath. “i don’t know if that’s enough.”

“it is,” you assured her, your thumb brushing over her cheek. “you’re enough. always. not just to them, but for me.”

her eyes searched yours, and for the first time since the match ended, her walls began to crumble.

the brave facade she’d been holding up for her teammates fell away, and you saw the hurt, the exhaustion, the vulnerability she’d been hiding.

“i just— i hate feeling like i failed,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close, her head resting against your shoulder.

“you didn’t fail. you’re not capable of failing. you’ve given everything to this sport, aitana, and it shows. maybe not today, but in the way you play, the way you lead, the way you care.”

she was quiet for a moment, her arms slowly wrapping around you in return. “you make it sound so easy,” she murmured, her breath warm against your neck.

“it’s not easy,” you said, running your fingers through her hair. “but it’s the truth. you are incredible, not just because of your awards. you’re incredible because you’ve got the biggest heart, aitana. you’ve always put others first, even when you didn’t have to.”

she pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“it’s okay,” you whispered, brushing your thumb across her cheek. “feel everything right now. but when you’re ready, remember what you’ve accomplished. remember how much you’ve given. and remember that, no matter what, you’re still the woman i fell in love with because of who you are, not what you’ve won.”

aitana finally let the tears fall, and you held her as she cried, her grip on you tightening.

you didn’t care that you were still in the middle of the stadium, that people might be watching or snapping pictures. none of that mattered right now. what mattered was aitana, and being there for her the way she always was for everyone else.

“thank you,” she whispered after a while, her voice hoarse.

“always,” you replied softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “i’m so proud of you. and i always will be.”

she gave you a small, grateful smile, her eyes still red but softer now. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out,” you teased gently, earning a quiet laugh from her.

aitana leaned into you again. you smiled knowing that she still had a bright future ahead of her.

you’ve always admired aitana and her heart of gold, you will never stop admiring it. its a big reason why you've fallen in love with her.

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

#aitana bonmati #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #la roja #laura freigang #olympics

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lotusbxtch · 3 months

Text

The Best Ride In The Galaxy - Pt. 2

Pairing: brat-tamer!Poe Dameron x afab!Reader Rating: M - 18+, MDNI! Summary: You and Poe play bedroom games, but who comes out the winner? Word count: 4732

Warnings: smut with barely plot, language, name-calling (bitch, asshole, cockslut, slut) but you’re both into it, pet names (my Poe speaks Spanish which is not canon but it’s my fic damnit), brat-tamer!Poe, D/S dynamics, safeword usage, physical restraints (handcuffs), mild humiliation, “she” pronouns in reference to vagina, very brief mild physical bullying, brief light slap to the face, panty sniffing, one (1) love bite, oral (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex (be smart, be safe!), rough sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, squirting, brief fainting, creampie, established relationship, no use of y/n

a/n: I didn’t intend on writing a part 2 to my one-shot, but Poe said otherwise. Thank you to my dear sweet @for-a-longlongtime for beta reading! If you like my work, please comment and reblog! It would mean the world.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Sometimes you don’t even know why you do it.

Maybe it’s the smirk he sports when he reads your mind, knows you better than himself. Maybe it’s that self-assured confidence and cockiness that gets him into trouble but is also the reason why he’s co-general of the Resistance. Or maybe it’s just because he does the exact same thing to you – pokes at you, annoys you, until you snap and he gets to play with fire.

You can’t remember how it got started, but that simmer of irritation was already burbling under the surface when he told you that he had to do a hands-on demonstration of advanced defensive maneuvers to the novice pilots in the squadrons.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh really? You just have to? Or is it because you, Poe Dameron, cannot pass up a single opportunity to show off?”

Poe huffed and shook his head, a small smile blooming on his face. “You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?”

“It’s because you know I’m right, you idiot,” you retorted, folding your arms across your chest. The move unintentionally pressed your breasts together, enhancing your cleavage, and you saw Poe’s eyes dart to them.

“Oh, sure, it’s not your fault that you have correct opinions and great tits, isn’t that what you always say?” he chortled.

“Fuck right off, Dameron,” you groused as you dropped your arms immediately. “Come back when you’ve stopped being a dick.” You turned on your heels and walked away, not even knowing why you’re giving him an attitude.

“At least you know I’m not unintentionally lying this time about when I’ll actually be back, baby,” he yelled in your direction as you stomped off. “I love you, you brat!”

Without turning around, you flipped him off. “Love you too, you fucking asshole! Come back in one piece!” You didn’t see him shaking his head and chuckling as you rounded the corner out of sight.

Two days later, Poe returns, right on schedule. By then, you’d spent enough time out of his presence to actually miss him unironically. You’d been going about your normal duties on base but sleeping in his empty bed at night, his scent still clinging to his sheets and helping you fall asleep without the warmth of his body next to you. When his pod door slides open, you lift your head from where you lounge on the bed.

“Hi baby!” you greet him, a warm smile on your face. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, hopping to your feet wearing nothing but one of his shirts and your lacy underwear. Those two nights had also been spent with nothing but your own fingers and toys to sate your sex drive, and much to your chagrin, it couldn’t compare to the way Poe was able to make you fall apart.

When he walks through the pod door, you feel desire flare up warm in your belly. He’s still wearing his flight suit. He knows how crazy it makes you.

Poe tracks your movements with warm chocolate eyes as you saunter over to him, putting an extra swirl in your hips to entice him. But as soon as you get close enough to feel the heat of his body, he doesn't let you go further.

“Uh-uh, bebita,” Poe says as he puts a hand out. “You were being a brat before I left for whatever reason, so you don’t get what you want so easily this time.” You pout, but don’t press the issue. He wasn’t wrong; you had been absolutely insufferable for no reason.

Shaking your head slightly, you bite your lip and let out a huff of air from your nose. “That’s funny. Judging by that tent in your flight suit, I’d say what I want also seems like what you want, flyboy,” you retort, smirking at the obvious erection at Poe’s crotch.

“Oh, you sweet thing,” he purrs, keeping his hand on your chest. “You forget that out of the two of us, I have far more patience than you.”

“Hmm, that’s not what I remember about three nights ago,” you mock-thoughtfully muse. “If memory serves me correctly, I think you were begging? Something like, ‘oh Maker, please, baby, please let me fuck your –”

“That’s fucking it,” Poe suddenly growls and grabs your hips, crushing your lips to his. Moaning, you lean into the kiss, smiling quietly to yourself that you broke his resolve.

That is, until you hear a smooth metallic shick behind you and feel your wrists suddenly encased.

You pull away from him, eyes wide. Wriggling against the restraints, you realize that he’s –

“Handcuffed you? Yes, baby,” Poe confirms to you with a smirk. “You want to be a brat? Fine, but I’ll treat you like one then.” He leans into your ear, whispering, “If you want to come, you’ll have to be my good girl.”

You scowl at him in response, but simultaneously a shudder ripples involuntarily through your body. Poe’s smirk widens at your conflicting non-verbal messages. “That’s right, honey,” Poe teases, voice syrup-sweet and thick with amusement. “You like to play-pretend that you hate being made to behave, but your pussy says otherwise.” With that, he shoves his hand up your - his - shirt, immediately coming into contact with your drenched panties.

Poe tuts mockingly. “Already so wet for me, bebita? What a little cockslut you are. Couldn’t handle seeing me in your favorite outfit and you immediately wanted me to fuck you, huh?” He slips his fingers under the elastic of your panties, smearing the tips with your slick.

“Fuck you, asshole,” you grit out, trying desperately to not grind down on his fingers, needing to chase even the slightest friction to ease the ache between your legs.

Poe chuckles darkly, a wicked smile gracing his lips. “Later, baby,” he rumbles, “only if you do what I say.” He pulls his hand back out from under the hem and slips his glistening fingers into his mouth, locking his eyes on yours as he groans at your taste. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet. Can never get enough of you,” Poe murmurs. That infuriating smirk returns to his face.

You huff. “If you like it so much, why don’t you use your mouth for something other than sweet nothings?”

Poe’s eyes darken in a flash. “You’re gonna regret that.” He rips your panties off, the sound ricocheting around the room.

“Maker-damnit, Poe, those were my favorite ones,” you pout. They cost you more credits than you usually spend on frilly underthings, but the thought evaporates from your mind when you notice Poe bringing the lacy scraps to his nose and inhaling deeply, eyes closed. A whine snakes its way out of your chest.

His eyes flutter open. “What was that, sweet thing?” Poe croons, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you.

“You’re fucking filthy,” you manage to squeak out. He drops to his knees, pulling your right leg over his shoulder, lining up your dripping slit with his mouth as he drinks in the sight of you.

“Oh honey, I’ll show you filthy if you let me,” Poe whispers. “But right now you have to do what I ask you to, okay? Because if you don’t, you won’t like what happens.”

Your chin juts upwards defiantly. “Do your worst, Dameron.”

Poe smirks. “Stay quiet for me. Not a peep until I tell you that you can make noise. And if you start moving your hips against me, I’ll stop.” You nod, but you know it’ll be a challenge. He knows exactly what to do to make you squirm.

“Do you remember our safe word?” he asks.

“Mandalorian,” you respond. He nods affirmatively.

“Let’s see what you can take, baby,” Poe rumbles, moving to trail kisses up and down your legs and thighs. You breathe in and out slowly, trying to control the nerves he’s currently setting on fire. He drags the tip of his tongue slowly in decorative little swirls across your inner thighs, locking eyes with you. Slick continues to pool in your entrance.

“How does that feel?” Poe murmurs, biting your thigh softly. You press your lips into a line, shuttering any words or noises rising in your throat. You knew better than to disobey him — the retribution would be hard and swift.

Poe chuckles. “Oh, it seems like my little slut is following directions for once. I’ll grant you a reward.” Suddenly he licks a slow, thick stripe through the very center of your soaked core, from twitching pussy to swollen clit. You swallow a whine, biting your lip. Poe’s smile turns predatory. He sucks your clit into his mouth with a lewd slurping sound, and the sudden firing of thousands of nerve endings forces your eyes closed. Poe bites your thigh in warning.

“Look at me while I lick your pussy,” he commands. You lock to his gaze immediately. “If you close your eyes again when my mouth is on you, you’ll be punished.”

You nod and Poe dips his head back down to your center, holding you up with his hands on your upper thighs, his grip firm. He licks, sucks, nuzzles, and gently nips at you, coaxing more slick to slowly drip from you as you fly closer and closer to your orgasm. Just before you can reach your crest, however, he backs off, nearly making you whine with frustration.

Poe continues to torment you like this for what feels like hours. After a particularly delicious swirl of his tongue, your eyes involuntarily roll to the back of your head and you let out the tiniest moan. Your eyes pop open just as Poe lets go of your thighs and allows your balance to waver. You feel your body lurch side to side as you desperately realize you can’t use your arms to counteract your body’s momentum, and almost fall over, but he grabs you just as you tilt dangerously sideways.

“I wasn’t joking, bebita,” Poe says menacingly. “I’ll have no problem letting your pretty little ass fall over if you refuse to follow directions.”

Nearly out of your mind with arousal and anger, you spit out, “I wouldn’t have such a problem if you would just put your fucking cock in me already like we both know you want to do!”

You both stare at each other in silence for a few moments, your face flushed pink with exertion from all of the botched orgasms, and a storm of emotions flickering across his face. Suddenly Poe gets up and drags you with him to the bed.

“You want my cock that badly, huh, you little slut?” Poe grits out, gently shoving you towards the bed. You stumble and fall sideways toward the mattress, your upper body and face bouncing off the surface humiliatingly since you have no ability to brace with your hands. You stumble back up, mouth ajar in shock. Poe’s never been this mean; you must have really pissed him off before he left for his trip. And for whatever reason, it’s making you even more wanton for him.

“Get on the fucking bed and kneel. Now.” Poe rumbles, his voice deep and authoritative. You stumble a bit to climb up without hands, having to shimmy to move your body. You kneel, sitting on your heels, your shins pressing into the soft surface as you wait for your next instructions.

Poe slowly, teasingly, walks towards the bed, stripping out of his flight suit slowly. The obnoxiously orange suit drops away, his shoes and socks long gone, and he’s left in nothing but his undershirt and boxers. He lifts the hem of the undershirt up as his biceps ripple while pulling the piece of clothing off his broad chest. He stops when his thighs hit the bed, cock lined up with your torso, and looks down at you.

“Take them off with your teeth,” he orders. You quickly comply, gripping the waistband of his boxers with your teeth and lips, pulling them down his body carefully. They peel off slowly, the task made more difficult without the use of your hands. After having to nearly fold yourself in half to get the boxers down, Poe’s cock finally springs free, achingly hard. The tip is red and angry looking, coated in a sheen of precum. You lick your lips and open wide, moving towards it. Suddenly, a warm palm is pushed into your forehead, blocking your advance. You actually growl and look up at the man holding you back.

“You think I’d give you my cock to suck as a reward for being such a demanding brat? Try again,” Poe mutters, pulling his cock away from you. You whine, your mouth watering embarrassingly.

Poe shoves the rest of his boxers down his legs and gets onto the bed. Sitting with his back against the headboard, he grabs your hips and yanks you over, forcing you to straddle his lap, his hard dick pulsing under your dripping slit.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Poe warns. Then he starts to lower you down, and your mind gets hazy the closer his cock is to making contact with you. When you feel the tip of him brush against your labia, you let out a breathy moan and try to sink down onto it. Poe grabs your hips and pulls up while pushing his down into the mattress, evading you. His smirk widens.

“Are you seriously going to make me chase your cock, Poe?” you pant, trying to force your hips down onto his to no avail.

“Brats don’t get to decide when they get what they want,” he says, “or if they even get it at all.”

He teases your drenched entrance like this another two times. After the third, you let out a frustrated huff. “Stop fucking around, Dameron, just give me your –”

Your sentence ends in a scream as Poe grips your hips and shoves harshly up, bottoming out nearly immediately. A wave of pleasurable pain hits your body like a freight train.

“I said, be careful what you wish for,” Poe grits out, his eyes flashing nearly black with desire. You whine, words unable to form in your mouth, your cunt stretched and stinging from the sudden intrusion. Poe usually warms you up by making you come at least once before fucking you, and the fact that he fucked into you without warning is also new. You eye him, your vision swimming with arousal and wariness. He keeps his hands on your hips, letting you adjust to his thick girth inside of you.

“Now, as punishment, we’re going to play a little game,” Poe explains. “You’re going to sit on my cock, and neither of us are going to move besides breathing. I can’t thrust up, and you can’t clench down. Whoever moves first, comes last.”

Your eyes flick to the ceiling as you take a deep breath. Maker, he’s going to kill you like this.

“Are you fucking serious, Poe?” you say, trying to egg him on. “You won’t ever shut up about how good it feels to be in my pussy, you’re not going to last 30 seconds before you start thrusting.”

“Are you game or not?” he snaps. “Or I could just pull out of you and leave you here high and dry.”

“Stars, you’re so sensitive today,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Fine, I’ll play your silly game even though I know I’m going to win.”

“Oh-ho-ho, bebita,” Poe chuckles. “Little do you know, some friends of mine just taught me a new technique I’m gonna try out. They said it helps them tune into The Force, but that it’ll help me from getting distracted.” You peer at him questioningly.

“Since when did you turn into a believer?” you scoff. “You know what? Game on, flyboy.”

And with that, the cockwarming games begin.

At first, it’s relatively easy. The lack of movement allows the burn from his intrusion to fade away, and the fullness is comforting. Your eyes are closed, your breathing slow. The seconds tick by. Then minutes.

Eventually curiosity gets the better of you, so you open your eyes. Poe’s handsome face comes into view, and at first you think you’re seeing things. He sits, eyelids shut softly, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. You don’t believe it, so you count his breaths to confirm your suspicions. 4 seconds in, 4 seconds holding, 4 seconds out.

Poe motherfucking Dameron is meditating.

No fucking way could the impulsive, cocky, impatient Poe Dameron actually have learned meditation and well enough to allow him to win this game. So you sit there, pussy wrapped around his cock, and wait for him to crack.

Except he fucking doesn’t. The silence and stillness begins to get to you; you feel the impending sense of doom of losing the game crawl up your back and across your collarbones. You wrack your brain to try to find a loophole… and then you do.

“Poe, baby,” you croon at him. Poe keeps his eyes closed, but murmurs an “Mhm?” in response.

“There wasn’t any rule against talking, was there?” You bat your eyes innocently.

Poe opens his eyes suspiciously. “No, but now I’m thinking I may be regretting that. What are you planning, hmm?”

You sigh, doing your best to keep your pussy from fluttering while you weave your web of entrapment. “Oh, nothing. Do you want to know what I was doing while you were gone?”

“Let me guess,” Poe responds. “Did you think of a thousand new ways to torture me or provoke me?”

“Stars, no,” you say, falsely shocked. “I was just laying in your bed, because it smelled like you, and I missed you.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Poe says warily. “What are you trying to do?”

“What do you mean?” you play along. “I’m just telling you about how my last couple of days have been and what I did to fill my time… since you weren’t around to fill me.” Still maintaining the innocent facade, you meet Poe’s eyes. He already looks wrecked. A wicked smile blooms on your face.

“Oh fuck you,” Poe grits out.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking about while I laid spread open in your bed, baby,” you whisper, staring him down. “My pussy was so fucking wet imagining you with me, your head between my legs, lapping at me like you love to do.” You hear a strangled groan escape Poe’s mouth, and you know you have him hooked.

“I was tracing my fingers gently around my clit,” you continued, “teasing it just like you do, and then rubbing it in circles. Didn’t feel as good as your tongue does though.” You let out a little moan but hold your muscles in place, pleading with your cunt to stay still. It obeys, but the slick starts seeping out of you, pooling around the base of Poe’s cock. He moans at the feeling, looking like he wants to fuck you or kill you, but unsure of which.

“I had to stuff myself 3 fingers full, fucking them hard and fast, to even get close to what you make me feel,” you whine to Poe. “I came, but it was just a little flutter, not like when you give me one.”

You look down at where your bodies are joined, and then back up into Poe’s eyes through your eyelashes coquettishly and smirk. “But you said just cockwarming tonight. So I guess I’ll just have to sit here, drenching your dick, and not rock against you, massaging you with my pussy.”

Poe’s face looks blank, and then suddenly his eyes darken. Your pulse quickens because you might have just won the game, but you also might be in danger.

“You fucking unfair little minx,” Poe growls and suddenly grips your hips hard enough to bruise. That smirk is wiped off your face a split second later as Poe lifts you slightly and then thrusts into you with all of his strength, spearing your cunt on his cock.

“You wanna play unfair? Fine. But you get to suffer the fucking consequences, you insatiable little bitch,” he sneers, fucking into you deep on the last word. Your mouth pops open in a silent scream. Of course this is what you wanted, but now? Now it’s brutal and all consuming.

Poe starts pounding up into you with no mercy, lifting your hips and slamming you back onto his lap as his cock keeps parting your channel, making you feel as if he’s splitting you in half. When you finally catch your breath, a ragged moan comes screaming out of your throat, and you throw your head back in ecstasy.

“Is this what my little slut wanted?” Poe asks rhetorically, never slowing his pace. “Needed to get this pussy pounded ‘til I rendered you stupid? Listen, baby, she’s so fucking wet, feels like she’s crying for me.” You do your best to listen to the obscene squelching and slapping sounds swirling around the room. No words leave your lips, just another loud and pathetic moan.

“Aww, poor baby can’t even say words now,” Poe chides mockingly. “Can’t tell me how good I’m making this pussy feel.” He rams in even deeper, feeling like he’s in your throat. Your cunt clenches as he hits your g-spot, sending you further into orbit. All you can utter are high pitched little mewls as he drags you kicking and screaming towards your orgasm.

“Do you feel me deep in you, baby?” Poe grits out, his thrusts continuing to devastate you. “I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard that you’re gonna pass out. You’re gonna take what I give you and you’re going to say thank you.” He punctuates the last two words with sharp thrusts that punch your cervix, adding a twinge of pain amongst the pleasure. Your head spins and your breath stutters, right on the edge.

“Please, Poe,” you beg without telling him what you need. But he knows. He drags his calloused thumb over your swollen, hard clit, drawing all of your muscles tight around him. His other hand remains tightly gripping your hip.

“Come for me. Right now,” Poe grunts, and you come with a long, whining scream. Your orgasm explodes in your core, shimmering out through your extremities, your face flushing immediately. You feel yourself creaming all over Poe’s cock. The sensation rips a growl out of his throat. “That’s fucking right, sweetness.”

You lean against his chest, sated, eyes closed. His thrusts slow down, and he moves his hands from your hips to your shoulders. Bringing you upright once again, Poe trails kisses across your face, and then suddenly, he spears his cock deep into you again. A surprised moan rattles from your chest.

“Poe!” you exclaim, abruptly pulled from your post-orgasmic haze. He continues to sink into you over and over again, hard as steel.

“You thought I’d stop at one?” Poe tuts, lip curling as he punches his dick into you particularly harshly. “No way. You’re going to give me two more before I let you rest, since you were so hungry for this cock.”

“Oh Maker, Poe,” you slur, his slick-coated shaft stretching your walls. You try to rest your forehead against his, but he smacks your cheek gently to get your attention.

“Hey, uh-uh baby,” Poe chastises. “Keep your eyes open. Who's giving you the cock you so desperately needed, huh?”

“You, Poe. Only you,” you half-sob, mind dizzy with pleasure feeling another wave begin to build inside your belly. He continues to work you open, the squelching sound of your pussy around him filling the room. Your breath comes faster and shallower as you approach your second crest, shattering into a million pieces with a squeal. Poe groans at your wet release, but he doesn’t stop hammering into you.

Tears slide down your cheeks as you struggle to keep your eyes on Poe, the pleasure nearly unbearable. Swaying slightly, your head lolls to the side. Suddenly the world is shifting as Poe flips you off of his lap and onto your back, your hands still shackled together against your back. The position puts a bit of strain on your shoulders, but you hardly care. You’re barely conscious of Poe rearranging your legs on the bed, spreading you wide before shifting you up onto his kneeling lap and sliding home once again. Low moans escape your mouth as he pushes in, hitting that soft spot deep in you that only he’s been able to find. You clench down, slightly pained.

“I can’t, baby,” you whine, Poe unrelenting in his rhythm. He looks down at you with the cockiest smirk.

“Do you need to use your safeword?” Poe asks softly, pressing deep and holding himself there. You gasp and meet his eyes. Brows furrowed, you answer, “No.”

“Okay, then hush,” he responds with a chuckle, resuming his motions. Against your belief, you feel your body working itself into a knot again with an approaching third orgasm. But this one feels different.

“Poe…” you whimper. His thrusts speed up, the opposite of what you were going to ask. “No, Poe, I think… I think —” He looks down at you with concern crossing his face, then presses down on your belly, right above your pubic bone. You squeal, feeling the pressure mounting. His smile darkens.

“Is my baby afraid of wetting the bed?” Poe teases in a singsong voice. You nod rapidly.

“Are you going to use your safeword?” He waits for a response. You just keep staring at him with wide eyes. His smile widens. “That’s what I thought. Shut the fuck up and take it.”

You keen over and over again as he keeps pounding into you. Poe slips his other hand down to your clit, thumbing it once again. His breathing is getting harsher, his thrusts sloppier. Pushing your limits creates a potent, arousing cocktail for his brain, and he rockets towards his finish.

“I’m gonna make you squirt all over yourself when you come, and then I’m going to fill up that pussy with my cum instead of the inside of my fucking flight suit,” he grits.

The filthy dialogue pushes you over the edge, and Poe feels your pussy clamp down on his cock as a strangled scream escapes your open mouth. As he pulls his cock out, you gush milky fluid all over yourself, the bed, and Poe’s lap. He hastily shoves himself back in and out, pushing another release of liquid from you each time. Poe suddenly shouts, burying himself against your cervix and painting the inside of your cunt with his cum as the world goes dark for a few moments, your hearing narrowing as if you’re in a tunnel, your breaths loud against the inside of your ears.

You come to as Poe is shaking you gently, his brows knitted together with worry. When you blink your eyes open, a sigh of relief leaves his lips. He presses soft kisses across your face, stroking your jaw with his thumbs. Rotating your wrists, you notice he freed you from your restraints.

“You did so well, bebita,” Poe croons. “Such a good girl, coming so hard for me.” You smile gently, your mind still hazy.

“I guess you didn’t reneg on your promise this time, Dameron,” you murmur cheekily. Poe huffs, a tiny smirk on his face. “You really did fuck me ‘til I passed out.”

“And you liked it, huh?” Poe teases. You nod your head. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his body. You sigh happily, burrowing your face into his sweaty chest. Legs intertwining, the two of you share breaths as you come down from your highs.

“Do you even remember why you were being a brat?” Poe suddenly asks. You look up at him and shake your head, laughing.

“No, I fucking do not,” you giggle, “but if it gets you to fuck me this hard again, I might have to be irrationally grumpy with you another time.” Poe rolls his eyes and starts tickling your sides, causing you to shriek and wiggle away, and his cum to seep out of your pussy deliciously.

Now you remember why you act up with Poe for no reason.

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#poe dameron #oscar isaac #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x f!reader #star wars smut #oscar isaac character fanfic #oscar isaac characters

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thirstworldproblemss · 1 year

Text

Fic: Closer

cowritten with @astroboots

Fandom: Moon Knight Pairing: Jake Lockley x F reader (x Steven, x Marc) Length: 5.6k words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings: This fic contains explicit sexual content including dirty talk, spitting, anal play, and anal sex. (That's it. That's the fic.)

Summary: Jake checks an item off his bucket list, and you both thoroughly enjoy yourselves.

Notes: Many thanks to @guruan who fixed our my extremely questionable Spanish (any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault) and whose deliciously debauched art is a never-ending source of inspiration. More thanks (and uh... oh god, sorry 🙈) to the poor anon who submitted the prompt that spawned this to Cici last Kinktober and had to wait a whole year to see the damn thing. And, of course, ALL my love to my darling cowriter and 🤡💖🤡 sister, @astroboots, who always makes writing a joy, and without whom this never would have been started, finished, or posted at all.

[ twp’s Masterlist | boots' Masterlist ]

Jake hasn’t spent a lot of time in the driver’s seat over the years. For a long time he only fronted on rare occasions. Life or death situations mostly. Those hair-trigger moments when the body is in critical danger and a moment’s hesitation is all it’d take for all three of them to wind up dead.

Those times when things are too much for Marc or Steven to be able to handle? That’s when it’s Jake’s turn at the wheel.

It’s why normally the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, in command of the body, is the source of imminent danger:

The face of the man who has a knife pressed against the collar of his military uniform in the middle of a desert.

A panoramic view through the windshield of a truck that is seconds from veering off a winding cliff-side road.

A long-haired Jim Jones wannabe staring down at him along a glowing walking stick protruding from his own chest.

But things have been different lately. For one thing, he’s been spending a lot more time fronting, and not just in dangerous situations.

For another, he’s learning that there’s so much more world out there than he’d ever imagined. There’s Ben & Jerry’s peanut popcorn flavored ice cream, Saturday karaoke nights, Derby Girls and you.

Always you.

You were just Steven’s girl first, and then somehow against all odds Marc got involved too, and now that Jake’s been allowed a taste, he's never letting you go. You’re his guide to the wide world, the road map keeping him on the right route, the safe resting place when he’s tired. Su alma, his soul.

And right now you look exhausted. Your thighs shaky and trembling, matted hair glued to your forehead, all of you dripping with sweat and other things. Steven must have really worn you out before he ceded the front.

Sweet, shy little Steven—Mr. Sunshine—who just fucked you seemingly within an inch of your life before he remembered that he needs to share.

And Marc thinks Jake is the unhinged one.

The punch of adrenaline that always comes with fronting is still running through his veins, and he’s already hardening at the sight of you on your stomach, ass up in the air on display for him, Steven’s come just beginning to drip out of you. It doesn’t matter that the body just came, it’s Jake’s turn now.

He slides his rapidly stiffening cock through your slippery folds, nudging the head against your clit, you and him both slick and sloppy with Steven's come and your own wetness.

“Aaah – Jake,” you gasp sharply into the pillow.

You know it’s him. He doesn’t know how. You haven’t even turned around to look at him, but somehow you just know. You always know. It’s an uncanny magic trick that impresses the hell out of him every time.

Jake grips one side of your ass in his free hand, squeezing hard. You’re all smooth skin and soft flesh under his finger, your cute little asshole peeking up at him. You’d kill him if he’d called it that out loud. So he doesn’t. He bites his tongue, swallowing down the groan that’s simmering in his throat at the sight of you.

He can't resist sliding his thumb over that little pucker. He barely even brushes over you when you let out a pretty gasp for him. His cock is fully hard now, and it jerks against you at the sound, so he does it again, just to see if you’ll make the same noise twice. You do.

Then you moan, sharp and keen, and he has to pull back, hand sliding over his slick length once before he leans in and replaces his thumb with the head of his cock. Taking his time, he slides it along the curve of your ass before nestling himself snugly between your cheeks. He makes an absolute mess as he goes, smearing the shiny slick left by Steven all over your bare skin until everything is a glistening sheen under the dim light as he begins to thrust forward, sliding his cock between the valley of your cheeks.

Jake's dreamed of taking you here. He wants to take every fucking hole you have, fill you up and cover you with his come until it's dripping off of–out of every inch of your body.

Mierda. Even just the thought of it has heat climbing his spine, and his cock jerks in his fist and spitting even more precome into the mess already covering your spine and the rounded curves of your ass.

He thrusts against you again, fucking himself between your cheeks, and you mewl quietly, pressing back against him. Maybe he won’t even fuck your pussy this time. Maybe he’ll just stay right here and rub his cock on your gorgeous ass until he comes all over it. Add to Steven’s mess with one of his own. He’ll do it. And reach around and rub your clit so you come too.

Maybe if he can get you used to the idea of his cock rubbing against your ass, maybe one day you’ll let him put it inside too.

"You can, you know," you mumble out into the pillows, and Jake freezes, heat streaking down to his balls, and he has to grip himself hard at the base to avoid painting your ass with his come right then and there.

Shit, did he say that out loud? He’s pretty sure he didn’t. He must have heard you wrong. Or he misunderstood. You can't possibly be offering what he thinks you are.

"You can try putting it in. I might ask you to stop if I don't like it, but..." you your knees slightly, and the move has your ass practically wiggling at him in temptation, "It feels good right now."

Jake's brain stalls out. His body flashes hot all over. The back of his neck is tingling. He squeezes the base of his cock so hard he thinks he might be in danger of doing permanent damage, but he'll be damned if he comes on your ass right now when he’s just been told he might get to come in it.

Gritting his teeth, Jake breathes through his body’s urge to come, pushing down the near-overwhelming need to shove his cock into your tight little asshole immediately. He knows he has to prep you if there's going to be any chance of you enjoying this, and he needs you to enjoy it because he wants to be able to do it again (and again and again and...)

Shit. He needs to get on with it, or he's going to finish before he even makes it inside.

Jake makes himself let go of his aching cock, leaves it bobbing and dripping in midair, and turns his focus on you.

Leaning closer, he uses both hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, and just looks at you for a minute, watching your body clench around nothing.

"You want me to fuck you here, sweetheart?" he demands, sticky thumb sliding down through the mess of your slick and Steven’s come to circle your puckered hole, almost but not quite touching it, "Gonna let me put my cock inside this tight little hole and fill it up with my come?"

You whine, your whole body shivering under him, and he grins, satisfaction buzzing in his veins when your hips cant further up, trying to get him to touch you.

It’s fucking adorable is what it is. He is starting to understand why Marc likes to edge you now. How could he not? You’re always so reactive and needy when you’re denied. You make it so fun to tease.

Sliding his thumb down, he slicks it around and around, just to watch you whine and shiver and shift, hips chasing his touch. His dick jerks with every noise you make and every time your body visibly clenches.

As fun as this is, a bright delight humming in his chest at your every little reaction, Jake doesn’t have the patience to tease you for long.

He’s not like Marc. El Jefe seems to have infinite patience when it comes to this, but it’s only a minute or two before Jake can’t wait any longer. He feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin if he doesn’t get inside you one way or another. So he stops, holding his hand still to let you “catch” him.

When you do, he sucks in harsh breath, heat punching through him as he watches you rub yourself against his thumb, heart rate spiking as you lean back, the tip of his thumb pushing inside just a little.

It's barely anything, but the feeling of you parting to let his his thumb slips inside, then squeezing him back out is addictive. He presses harder, wanting more. His thumb slides a bare inch inside, and his groan barely covers the strangled sound you make, body tensing under him.

Sweat breaks out on his forehead along with the realization that he cannot fuck this up.

"Alright, mi alma?" he asks, trying to sound sweet and gentle, but his voice, low and eager, betrays him. A starving wolf in a sloppy sheep disguise. He’s not fooling anyone, not himself and certainly not you.

Reigning himself in as best as he can, his fingers close into a fist with tight tension blaring in every nerve. Then he unfurls his palm to pet his hand over your back and down your side to give your ass a gentle squeeze.

“Do you need me to stop?"

"N-no," comes the shaky answer, and Jake thanks any gods who might be listening, "It feels a bit odd, but..." you squeeze around his thumb, hot and unbelievably tight, and Jake swears under his breath, "It’s a good odd, I think. Just– just give me a moment."

You shift slightly, clenching again, and his cock jerks and throbs like the nerves of his thumb have somehow been reattached directly to his aching length. He really fucking doesn’t want to come before he even gets inside you, but right now he’s not sure if that’s in the cards for him.

Then you push back against him, and his thumb slides in another half inch, and both of you gasp. He pulls out slightly and risks a small thrust back inside. He's rewarded by another gasp and a small moan, so he does it again, a little further this time, and this time the moan is louder.

Fuck, you look so good like this, ass all slick and slippery. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jake leans forward, spitting onto the curve of your ass right above where his thumb is inside you.

You jerk when it lands on your skin, and he likes that. Likes that even though he’s done it before it always seems to take you by surprise. Likes how his spit looks on your skin too, shiny and slick as it slides down the crack of your ass to join the rest of the mess he’s smeared there. Likes that when he pushes it into your tight little asshole, it’s one more way that he can be inside you, make you a little bit more his in a way that will linger after he’s no longer with you.

You whine as he pulls his thumb all the way out, he spits again, hitting his target, directly on your pretty little asshole, then he presses in again, shoving more of his spit into you.

Like most things when it comes to how he feels about you, Jake doesn’t entirely understand why he likes this so much. It’s primal, somehow, a deep-seated need to mark you with himself–his spit, his scent, his come.

His cock is aching, throbbing in time with the way you clench every time he pushes his thumb into you. Jake can't stand it, has to wrap his free hand around himself, gripping as hard as he dares, and stroking slowly. He grits his teeth against how good it feels, red hot pleasure searing up his spine as he leans in to slide the head of his overwrought, leaking cock along your ass, right next to where his thumb is shoved inside.

"You feel how hard you make me?" he demands, pressing himself against you, relishing the way you shift and moan again, body still squeezing around his thumb, but loosening with every passing moment as you relax. It also has the added benefit of his precome dripping down to lubricate things even more as he thrusts into you a little deeper each time. "Fuck, I can't wait to get inside this tight little hole. You gonna let me in, mi alma?"

"Yes, yes, Jake! Please!" you cry out, only partially muffled where your face is pressed into the pillows, and he damn near loses it again. Has to press his cock against you hard, almost to the point of pain as fire licks out along his nerves, threatening to send him over the edge.

"You want this cock in your ass right now?" he grits out, vaguely aware that he should probably spend more time prepping you, stretching you so you can take him easier, but he can't wait another fucking second.

He pulls back, pulls his thumb out, and you whine out his name Jake, Jake, Jake as you push your ass up and back, chasing his touch.

He looks down to see a blur of movement between your legs, and realizes that at some point you shoved a hand underneath yourself to rub at your clit.

It’s pure impulse. He doesn’t think. Before he even realizes what he's about to do, Jake’s hand flashes out, coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends your flesh jiggling in an all-too-appealing way.

You cry out, sharp and high-pitched, but Jake knows from experience that it's a cry of shock, not of pain, and he quickly follows up on his advantage.

"Naughty naughty, sweetheart,” he scolds, “Who said you could touch yourself?"

You freeze, obviously caught, and several seconds tick by where he watches approvingly as the mark left on your supple skin from the impact of his hand shades into a darker hue before you whine again, "Please, Jake. I need– I need–"

That's more like it.

"Pobrecita," he croons to you, enjoying the way you relax at his gentle tone, "Do you need more?"

You nod into the pillow.

He leans in and smacks his cock against the same place his hand struck. You jolt, letting out the hottest fucking sound, so he does it again, and has to grit his teeth against the noise that wants to escape him at the sensation.

"You want this cock, mi alma?" he demands, voice harsh, "You want me fuck your ass with it right now?"

"Yes. Yes, Jake. Fuck, please. YES!" you pant out, sounding as desperate as he feels. You’re pressing back against him, hips shifting so you can press that pretty little hole right against the tip of him, acting for all the world like you're going to fuck yourself back onto his cock if he doesn't give it to you fast enough.

It's a heady feeling, to hear you beg for him, and part of him wants to hear you do it again, and again and again. To leave you there, begging for him as you struggle to fuck yourself on him. Lucky for you, he is nothing like Marc.

"All you had to do was ask, mi alma," he grates out as he begins a slow press forward, "All you ever have to do is ask, and I'll give you the world."

Your body yields to him, the head of his cock slipping inside, and he has no more words. Only a strangled groan to match your whine as you clamp down hot and impossibly tight around him.

A sparkling clarity descends, time dilating, stretching out the way it does when he's in the middle of a fight, and he can only be grateful because he's barely clinging to his composure by the tips of his fingers here.

One truth stands out above everything else: he can't hurt you.

He has to go slow, keep control, make it good for you.

Jake wraps an arm around you, fingers tangling with yours to rub desperate circles around your clit, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you relax slightly under and around him. Still he doesn't move, not sure if he can without losing it and pumping you full of his come right then and there.

It's only when your hips start to move, hitching forward against his fingers, and then back to fuck yourself a little farther onto his aching cock that he dares draw in another breath, dares to meet your movements with small thrusts of his own, fucking in a little further each time.

And you take him just like that, little by little. One slow press, one torturous inch at a time, until he's buried as deep in you as he can go.

"Fuck. Jake," you gasp out, clenching hard around him, and he groans.

He makes the mistake of looking down at where you’re stretched tight around the base of his cock, taking every fucking inch he has to give, and the sight hits him like a punch to the gut. His hips stutter forward involuntarily, and somehow you take him even deeper.

You make a strangled sound, clamping down so tight it borders on the painful, and he freezes, shuddering behind you.

"¡Mierda! ¿Estás bien?" he demands, has to stop and mentally scramble for the words before he can ask again in English, "You okay, mi alma? Shit, did I hurt you?"

"N-no. I'm okay," you pants out in response, "You can– You can move, Jake. Please. Need you to mo–"

Before you even finish the sentence, he’s already pulling out and easing back in. It’s a tight fit, your body hugging him so snugly that nothing else would fit.

Lento, he reminds himself, gently. Not too fast. Gritting his teeth against the demands of his body, he presses himself in and out of you as slowly and carefully as he can manage, and he tries to keep his fingers moving on your clit. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in until he’s sure it must be painful, but he can't make himself let go.

You whine, writhing under him as he inches back into you.

"Jake," you pant out, nearly sobbing his name, "Jake, Jake," and he slows further, worried that it's too much.

"No!" you cry out suddenly, and Jake freezes on instinct, holding still as you prop yourself up on one elbow, turning your upper body sharply to one side so you can glare at him over your shoulder, "Don't bloody stop. I want you to fuck me."

The words hit him like a blow, knocking the air out of him, and the determined look on your face stabs him right in the heart, his whole chest pulling tight.

"You've been so patient, Jake,” you cajole him, “and it's good. Better than I thought it would be. I want you to stop holding back. Fuck my ass for real. Let go, Jake."

Fuck, he loves you so fucking much. The feeling is so big, he doesn't know how his body can contain it. He wants to move mountains, conquer the fucking world just so he can lay it at your feet. He'd give you anything.

But the only thing you're asking for right now is his cock, and that he’s just as desperate to give you as you are to take it.

He pulls out slowly, one… last… controlled… withdrawal, then he slams into you so hard it drives you forward across the bed away from him. Digging both hands into your hips, he yanks you back to him, back onto his cock.

"Like this?" he asks as he pulls out and slams into you again, "You want it hard? Like this, mi alma?"

"Yes– Fuck– Yes–" you gasp out between harsh thrusts, "Ja-Jake!"

His name breaking on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard in his entire life, and it severs the last threads of Jake's control. He lurches forward with a roar, driving himself into your tight little ass over and over again, as hard and fast as he can go.

The force of it knocks you off your elbows, flattening you into the bed, but Jake just yanks you back, repositioning his knees as your hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.

Every thrust is deep and relentless, burying himself inside you as deep as your body will let him, giving you as much of him as you can take. Until his hip bones are pressed flush against your ass, until his cock is buried inside you to the root, until every inch of him is enveloped by you.

He's so lost in the feel of you, he doesn't realize he’s fucked you all the way across the bed until you're precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.

Your knee goes first, slipping sideways off the bed mid-thrust, and it's enough to pull him off balance and send you both tumbling to the floor.

Instinct takes over, and before Jake even has a chance to consciously register what’s happening, he’s already twisting, shielding your body so that he takes the brunt of the fall. He winds up hitting the hardwood ass-first before coming to rest with his head against the nightstand and you in his lap.

Miraculously, you’re still connected, the force of the fall shoving you down on his cock farther than ever before, the feeling of being lodged so far inside your tight ass more than enough to overwhelm the slight pain in his tailbone from the fall.

There's a moment of stunned silence, then you start shaking, trembling in his arms, shoulders vibrating against him. He has half a second to worry that he’s fucked up badly enough to make you cry before a loud, bright sound rings out in the room.

You’re laughing. Oh thank fuck.

"Oh my god, Jake! You just fucked me off the bed, quite literally. That's definitely a first!" you exclaim, twisting around to giggle down at him, eyes crinkled with amusement, mouth curved in an open, full-toothed smile. Jake has a handful of seconds to marvel at how beautiful you are before you shift in his lap, your body clamping down around him, and any last lingering shreds of control he might have been clinging to are gone.

Jake lifts his hips, fucking up into you, and watches your eyes go wide, a gasp falling from your lips.

It's not enough.

He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh and rolls to his knees, and your gorgeous laughter dissolves into a broken cry of surprise as he drags you with him. The sound melts into a long drawn out moan that has the tip of his ears tingling. He can’t think, all he can do is keep going as he fucks forward into you again, his chest tight against your back as he forces you down onto all fours so he can keep fucking you.

Fuck. The wood floor is hard and uncomfortable under his knees, digging into his kneecaps. He knows it must be worse for you with his weight bearing down on you, but he can't make himself stop.

He's been dreaming about taking you this way for so long, and now he finally gets to. He knows, he knows he should stop and check on you, should move the two of you back up onto the bed where you'll be more comfortable, but that pretty little ass is stretched around him so perfectly, tight and hot around him, and his need is riding him hard.

Heat prickles from the tip of his fingers, spreading along the nerve endings along every patch of skin, fuck. It’s everywhere, expanding across the span of his chest, pooling in his abdomen, gripping into his lungs. He can’t breathe. Can’t stop. Can’t–

"Lo siento," he stutters out. "I'm sorry, mi alma. I can't– I have to–" Words leave him, and all he can do is pant against your neck as his hips jerk into you with increasingly sloppy thrusts.

His end is approaching fast, whether he wants it to or not, and he barely has the presence of mind to shove a hand underneath you, rubbing desperate circles over your clit with fingers gone clumsy with need.

He has to make it good for you. He has to. He has to–

Por fortuna, it only takes a minute for you to tense underneath him, sobbing out his name and tightening around him so forcefully that he can't keep thrusting, his cock locked in place by the tight clench of your body.

The lack of movement is enough to stave off his own orgasm, but just barely, the pleasure is overwhelming, teasing at the tip of his tongue as you shudder underneath him and you flutter rhythmically around his cock. It's so similar to being inside your pussy when you come, but it's different too. The pulse of your pleasure there squeezing him so tight it's nearly painful, but its so, so fucking good.

He breathes through it, pressing open-mouthed, panting kisses against the skin of your back. Does his best to keep his fingers moving on your clit, trying to prolong the moment for you, to draw you pleasure out as long as he can. He wishes he could see your face.

Next time, he promises himself. Face-to-face next time, so he can watch every expression you make as he fucks you full of himself and see the pleasure break across your face when you come with his cock lodged deep inside.

All too soon, you're collapsing forward onto one elbow, your other hand shoving at his where it's buried between your legs, and he lets you push his hand away, planting his palm on the ground next to your head.

You turn weakly to look up at him, pulling partially off of his dick as your body sags like you can’t keep yourself up.

"Are you ready, mi alma?" he grits out, dimly aware that he's shaking as he braces himself above you, "Ready for me to fuck this tight little ass full of my come?"

"Mmm," you hum, sweet and contented under him, "yes, please."

That's all Jake needs to hear.

He slams his hips forward into yours, and the force of the first thrust knocks you forward off your elbow, your chest meeting the ground as you half-collapse under him.

Jake follows you down without stopping, fucking into you hard. You sink a little further towards the floor with each thrust until you're flat on your stomach, but Jake still doesn't stop. He can’t, though he's sure he must be flattening you. Doesn't think he could stop if his life depended on it

He's grinding into you now with increasingly sloppy thrusts, burning heat burrowing into the base of his spine as he holds back his orgasm by sheer will, slurring out endearments against the back of your shoulder.

“Mi alma. Mi vida. Reina de mi corazón.”

And you are. His soul. His life. The queen of his heart. You are all of that and more. His gorgeous, perfect love, taking him, all of him, exactly as he is.

"Do it," you say from underneath him, and reality seems to recede, his vision tunneling in on your lips as they shape the words that just might kill him.

"Fill my ass up with your come. Fuck it into me as deep as you can. I'm yours, Jake."

Jake's orgasm crashes into him like an unexpected switch. Like a bomb going off. Like a knife sliding between his ribs, sharp and sudden. Pleasure sears though every inch of the body that has never felt more like his than it does at this moment, his forehead pressing against the warm skin of your back as he empties himself inside you in pulse after pulse of aching release.

By the time the last shuddering spasm subsides, Jake feels wrung out like a bloody rag. He barely manages to avoid collapsing on top of you, mustering just enough strength to roll the two of you to the side so that he’s no longer squishing you. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he carefully pulls out, then pulls you back against his chest, curving his body around yours, and the two of you lay cuddled together like that for a long moment.

Eventually, his strength returns, along with the awareness that the floor he’s holding you on is both hard and probably not all that clean given Steven’s penchant for pouring sand all over. You deserve better. He gets up first, and carefully helps you rise to standing, waiting a moment to be sure you’re steady on your feet, before guiding you gently into the bathroom.

When he flips on the bathroom light, the shadow of his reflection in the small round mirror transforms into a flushed, wide-eyed Steven who mumbles, “That was… God, that was… ”

He doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. Jake’s not sure he could either, but Mr Sunshine doesn’t need to know that, so he just shoots the mirror a smug smile and tips an imaginary cap in that direction before he moves to turn on the shower.

You shiver a little when he steps away from you, so once the water is running, he wraps both arms around you, encouraging you to lean against him while you wait for it to get warm. You do, wrapping one arm around his waist in return and curling into his chest like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Jake just watches you. Tilting his head back and slightly to the side to get a better angle, he lets his eyes roam over your face, taking in the soft curve of your cheek, the eyelashes feathered against the soft skin there nod that your eyes have fluttered closed, the hand you’ve settled against his chest, right over his heart, the way your lips curve up into a slight content smile.

You’re beautiful.

You always are, but right now, something about this moment makes Jake’s chest tight. It steals his breath as surely as if there were hands wrapped tight around his neck, choking the life out of him. But instead of stealing his life, it’s as if you’re giving him more of it, pumping him full of its essence, filling his chest until he doesn’t know how his body can contain the feelings you inspire in him.

The bathroom is getting warmer, steam starting to form on the mirror, but Jake is loath to relinquish his hold on you. You seem equally uninterested in leaving him. You’re snuggled contentedly into his chest, but the way you slump lower and looser with each passing second tells him that he needs to get you moving fast, before you fall asleep standing up. “Water’s warm,” he tells you, and you hum sleepily against his chest. It’s so, so tempting just to carry you back to bed, but he knows you’ll be happier if you’re clean.

“C’mon, mi alma. Into the shower. Vamos.” He herds you gently backwards until you’re standing under the spray.

You hum sleepily up at him without opening your eyes, and he’s worried for a moment that he’s lost you to sleep already, but you stay standing when he cautiously releases you.

Reaching for your soap, he quickly lathers up a washcloth. The smell of the soap—the smell of you—quickly permeates the small space, and he breathes deep, letting the familiar scent wash over him. He runs the cloth gently over your shoulders, taking extra care with the still-visible bite mark one of them left there, then down over your chest. The skin of your breasts is soft and warm under his fingertips, and he’s half tempted to try for another round, but he feels strangely protective of your soft sleepiness.

Instead he dutifully rinses you off, letting the water cascade over your body.

You blink your eyes open long enough to shoot him another warm, sleepy smile, and the contentment in his chest seems to expand, taking root and spreading with every breath until it feels almost too large for the small space of the shower.

He steps out, reaching for a towel, and drys you off gently, before doing the same to himself with much less care.

Then he carries you back to bed and tucks you in, doing his best to straighten out the wrinkly covers before pulling them up over both of you. Curling his body around yours, he holds you tightly to him. There are a lot of things in this world Jake can do without, has done without. But this– you are no longer on that list.

In the cozy warmth of the bed with your body pressed against his, his eyes feel heavy. Jake never used to fight to stay in the driver’s seat, not once the excitement was over. But he clings to consciousness now. He wants to prolong this moment when his vision is filled, not with yet another threat to body, life or limb, but with something altogether perfect: the sight of you drifting off to sleep, your head nuzzling into the pillow, a slight smile on your face… safe.

It’s the last thing he sees as he falls into a deep, restful sleep. .

Thanks for reading!

—

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monzamash · 2 years

Text

not in the mood — carlos sainz

carlos sainz x you (femreader) | 1.9k summary – grumpy uncle Carlos is struggling on the extended family holiday and you will do anything to shake him from his bad mood. rating – 18+ (sex, language, google translated spanish) a/n – i’ve decided to collate the sentence starters i got for each driver so that we can get a bit juicer and i can do a little more plot with the smut lol masterlist

You could tell from the moment Carlos stepped off his father’s sailboat that he wasn’t happy. It was a look you’d seen before – typically after a bad race or when the vintage car he’d been working on in his workshop wouldn’t start; infuriated and overtired, two emotions he wasn’t capable of controlling. The vein bulging on his forehead told you to keep your distance while he cooled off, leaving him alone with his own thoughts. Hopefully simmering down.

“Is tio angry at us, tia?” Little Edgar asked, tugging on your long sundress as he watched his uncle storm off towards the resort without a word.

“He’d never be mad at you, cariño…” You replied quietly and brushed the young boys curls from his face, encouraging him to go play with his siblings in the water. But the question had to be asked.

“What happened out there?”

Carlos’ father simply shrugged and threw the cooler filled with bait onto the sand beside his wife, “He gets so worked up over nothing – frustrated with me, frustrated with the little ones. Desagradecida,” He muttered under his breath.

Carlos never got upset over “nothing”. Sure, he was competitive and easily annoyed by small things, pouting to you that something wasn’t right in his mind but storming off a boat after what was supposed to be a nice afternoon with his father and nephews? That wasn’t your Carlos and you stayed silent, not agreeing with Papa on this one.

“Well whatever happened, I’m sure he’ll be over it by dinner.” You sighed, willing your words into reality for the sake of the holiday.

His mother nodded in agreement, knowing that her son was never upset for long. Thankfully she changed the subject and sent her husband on a mission to get her another cocktail from the beach bar. You took the break in conversation to return to your suite where you assumed your husband was brooding alone, probably grumbling to himself in the otherwise silent room.

And you were right. As soon as you clicked the door open, you heard it. The unintelligible Spanish that he always used when he was angry – quietly cursing whoever was coming to ruin his peace and quiet. But you didn’t care if he was annoyed by your presence; you’d been together for long enough to sense what the other needed, especially if something was upsetting them.

He would've done the same for you.

“Don’t throw a pillow at me. I come in peace,” You said, rounding the corner and surrendering your power with your hands up beside your face.

He looked exactly as you expected; propped up against the bed head, thick black rimmed reading glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and his eyes trained on the book you’d gotten him from the market that morning. At first he ignored you, pretending to be completely immersed in the book he was reading.

But the quick glance up in your direction was enough to make you smirk. The pout he had on his face when he breezed past you on the beach a few minutes ago was still there, shoulders tensed around his strong neck. The only difference now was that he was shirtless, gloriously tanned and looking painfully beautiful lying on the white linen sheets. You always compared him to a flawlessly chiselled statue, mouth-wateringly perfect in every way.

“You didn’t need to come at all.”

Okay, so maybe not perfect all the time.

“Well I came up because the boys were worried that they’d made you angry but I can’t imagine any scenario where that would be true…”

Carlos’ eyes snapped up to yours, his pout now a frown as he listened to your words. He felt a pang of guilt shoot to his heart as you sat down on the end of the bed, watching his brain tick over and finally realise the effect he had on the people he loved, his little carbon copies. He was Tio Carlos, after all. Their hero.

“Ay, they didn’t think I was mad at them?” He asked more as a question than a statement and you nodded – not to make him feel bad but because it was the truth. The bitter truth from the way his face dropped again, now sadder than before.

“Meirde,” Carlos mumbled under his breath, “I wasn’t angry at them – it was my father. He was shouting at them like he did to me when I was a boy… making them feel stupid so I told him to fuck off and he was not happy about that…” He trailed off, rolling his eyes with a huff.

“I’ll go down and see the boys soon but I just can’t be around him like this,” Carlos added and you understood. He was clearly fired up, fight or flight mode activated with the former winning out.

There weren’t many things that really got under Carlos’ skin but those kids meant more to him than anything. He was protective of them and seeing them being bullied like he was as a young boy triggered him – made him see red and although he was close to his father now, there was a lot of underlying problems that had never been resolved.

Obviously this was one of them but it would be a shame to let all of that pent up anger and aggression go to waste, you thought.

“Fair enough, honey,” You whispered and stood up, smoothing your long sundress out as Carlos went back to his book, “I’ll give you some space but I’m not wearing any underwear right now… Just thought you should know that.”

In true Carlos fashion, he didn’t even flinch at your words, not even a glance nor did he stop you from leaving at first. It wasn’t until your hand was gripping the door handle that you heard him yell out from the bedroom, “And where do you think you’re going then?”

His voice sounded hoarse, deep and tantalisingly sexy as you trotted back to where he was, now sprawled out on the bed and waiting for your return. The book he was seemingly so enthralled in when you left was still open but discarded as you crawled up beside it with a smirk, merely imitating the expression on his face as he watched you.

Eyes forever trained on yours, tempting you up onto his lap that he was patting. Your fingernails dragged along the exposed skin on his thighs that the short shorts weren’t covering, tanned and hairy. Strong and muscular, mind reeling from the things they could do.

Carlos was pouting when you leaned in closer to his face, telepathically sending signals for you to kiss him. It had been a rough afternoon but having you to take his mind of it well and truly made up for it. You smiled and pressed your lips to his, arms snaking around his neck as you settled onto his lap, letting the weight of the day melt into his touch.

His hands crept around your waist and naturally dropped lower to your backside that he was always mesmerised by. There was hardly ever a moment when you were alone that he wasn’t either touching it or gawking at it and you loved it. The attention, the physically touch – he had you wrapped around his finger, and him yours.

“Let your frustration out on me, baby.”

Your permission ignited something deep inside Carlos. A little spark in his eyes catching on as you pulled back and captured his stare, aroused by the darkness and the steeliness as he tugged you into his chest. He was groaning under his breath as you moved above him, stirring that feeling he couldn’t ignore and that you could feel between your thighs.

“Te quiero con todo mi corazón,” Carlos whispered as you reached up and removed the reading glasses from his beautiful face, peppering kisses all over his cheeks.

“I think you look so sexy in these but I don’t want to break them,” You confessed and he simply smirked as he lifted your hips up and pulled his shorts down, freeing himself from the tight material.

“I know you do, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and licked your palm before grasping his growing stiffness in your hand, delicately rolling your wrist to get him to where you needed him. It never took long and with all of the kissing and teasing you’d done to him all morning; Carlos was pretty much hard on sight. But you loved how big he felt in your hand and the way his eyebrows scrunched together when you gripped him a little too tight, a hiss slipping from his lips every time.

“Actually you look sexier like this,” You smiled and kissed him again as he started bunching up your dress, moaning as you continued to pleasure him, tease him. But he got you back, sliding his fingers through your slick and pushing two fingers into you without warning, jerking you forward over his shoulder.

“Oh my god!” You shouted, both hands now gripping the back of his head as he fucked you, knuckle deep and revelling in the fact that you were now on the receiving end of his pleasure.

“Shh, I can hear people in the other room, cariño,” Carlos whispered facetiously, voice taunting and secretly wanting everyone to know that he was the reason for your screams.

“Well don’t shove your fingers inside of me without warning and I would be quiet,” You snapped back before he hit that sweet spot, causing you to return to crook of his neck with a whimpering moan.

“Asshole.”

Carlos snickered at you waving your metaphorical white flag. He loved you taking control and that’s what you did once you sunk down on him, taking his thick cock all the way until you bottomed out. A low, raspy moan slipped from your throat when you felt him twitch inside you, hips snapping up in an attempt to get you to move.

“Don’t rush me, baby. You feel so fucking big… God, why do you feel so big?”

“Because I am huge,” Carlos shamelessly retorted, head titled back and watching squirming on top of him. You rolled your eyes and straightened your back; now feeling like you had a point to prove.

As you sat up, you pressed your hands to his chest, hips rolling achingly slow and taking full advantage of your position.

“Okay, with that kind of arrogance and the way you’ve been moping around all day, you’ve lost your touching rights, my love.”

You slapped his hands off your thighs and watched his eyes glaze over with lust, “Hands off.”

Carlos pouted and reached out with his grabby hands, “Ay, no, please. I have to touch you.”

There was a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he pleaded with you, and you could see right through his façade. Even with his unbelievably thick cock filling you to the brim, brushing against that spot deep inside you that would usually have you unravelling in a matter of seconds, you didn’t crack. Not even a little.

“Hands. Off.”

And with those stern words, Carlos simply laid back on the pillows and tucked his hands behind his head, watching as you gave him a show. He couldn’t have loved you any more than he did in that moment – for making him feel like his entire body was on fire and for remedying his bad mood.

You really were a miracle worker. And you were all his.

a//n – ayyyy, the first of the monzamash special! i'm so glad people sent in requests for carlos – he's so fun to write. the next one will either be charles or daniel so let me know if you have preference! and thank you all again for 700 followers x masterlist | askbox

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 smut #the monzamash special #monzamashmasterlist #mmrequested #carlos sainz fanfic #not in the mood fic

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starryhutcherson · 5 months

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hii, hru?

i have an idea for another clapton davis one shot:)

what if the reader is an spanish girl and she help clapton with his spanish homework but one thing led to another and yk it ends in smut

- 🫧

━━ NO HABLO ESPAÑOL

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: clapton davis x spanish-speaking!reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (m!recieving), come swallowing, mentions of p in v, swearing, google translated spanish word count: 3300+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Clapton’s bedroom is drowned in the drowsiness of a late-afternoon heat; the sunshine bleeds against his scattered memorabilia, stretching beams across the floor and illuminating the entire space in a picturesque light. It’s hot, too hot — sweat settles on your starfished body as you lie sprawled atop his carpet, surrounded by stationery and permanently tainted with a subtle flush of rose.

Initially, he’d intended for this to be no more than a harmless study session — he was god awful at spanish, and you were a fluent speaker. You just happened to be unfathomably drop-dead gorgeous. It was pure coincidence, of course it was.

He’d erupted in an animated grin when you’d agreed to help him, teeth gleaming in a wide display of genuine gratitude – he wasn’t entirely sure of the appeal of helping your friendly-but-not-a-friend classmate with their spanish homework, especially due to his apparent lack of intelligence — but you agreed all the same. You had your reasons, even if he didn’t know them.

What he does know is that he’s struggling. With the Spanish, sure, though that wasn’t much of a surprise — he’s also struggling not to seize hold of you, hands splayed against your skin, taking you right here on this fucking carpet. The eye contact you’re maintaining is dangerous; that damn cloying smile, those saccharine sentences – the impact it has on Clapton is enough to shatter bullet proof glass and he’s not sure he'll be able to rope his caveman brain out of the gutter. Your voice is so sweet he swears it’ll give him cavities.

“Alright, translate this one. Tomé al autobús.”

His forehead creases with concentration, trying to focus on the meaning of your words, and not the simmering spike of dry heat that spirals in his throat and his crotch. He narrows his eyes, inhaling a breath as if about to answer, but after a delayed moment all that escapes is a dejected huff.

“I got nothing.”

You tut at him disappointedly. “C’mon. We just did this one.”

He tries to think back, but it’s hard to cast his mind to one single moment with you, because every minute seems to blur hopelessly into the next one. Concentration is impossible when you’re this close to him, when he can hear every breath of yours like they’re his own, when his head is full of filthy fabrications in which your velveteen voice screeches while he slams into your g-spot with lethal precision.

Get a grip. He swallows around the presence of nothing and tries to hold the crumbling pieces of his facade together.

It isn’t working.

“Uh, no we didn’t,” he teases slyly, attempting to reach for your own sheet, which is already full with all the answers. You snatch it away from his desperate hand, swatting his palm for emphasis. The desultory touch shouldn’t mean as much as it does.

“Yes. We did. C’mon. I’ll give you a hint— bus.”

He does light up with a fraction of recognition. “Oh, shit, yeah. I got it, it’s uh— I’m gonna take the bus?”

You let out another dissatisfied hum. “Not quite. It’s I took the bus. Past tense.”

He rolls over onto his back with a tediously drawn out groan. “That’s like, the exact same thing, c’mon.”

“Uh, no it isn't. If someone asked you how you got home, you’d say “I took the bus,” not, “I’m taking the bus.” You taunt, a mocking twinkle in your eye that renders his body weak with desire.

“Uh, actually I wouldn’t say either, because I get home by car.”

With mild amusement you roll your eyes, and Clapton’s head wanders yet again, to venereal visions where that eye roll is taken far out of context — right now, spanish isn’t the only thing that’s hard.

“These entire sentences are too hard to translate. Just gimme some words.”

You scoff at his swift abandon, but you do oblige, reaching across yourself to grab the standard textbook for the grade, idly flipping through a few pages before finding something you deem to be his level.

It’s a basic configuration of nouns, English situated on one side of the page and Spanish on the other; the lists are out of order and the goal is to match up each pair with the correct translation. You figure with a bit of your help, it’ll be easy enough.

“Here,” you say, handing him the textbook. He hauls himself back to his prior position on his stomach, snatching a pen, examining the page, and then staring back up at you blankly.

“C’mon, what am I, a kindergartener?”

You snort, shuffling marginally closer to him so that your shoulders just barely collide. The contact is faint, sure, but it’s enough to make his mind warp. Maybe his desire for you isn’t so one-dimensional.

“I know it looks easy, but it’s about the words, Clapton, not the activity.”

“Well it’s dumb. I liked the other stuff better.”

“You asked for this. Start matching.”

He glares at you through narrow eyes, a semblance of their hazel hue present through the gap in his lowered eyelids — the irritation doesn’t last long. Not when his gaze meets yours and he can feel the gentle wash of your breath against his lips, dainty and dangerous simultaneously. He’d swallow it if he could; preserve the very flavor of your exhales straight from your lips to his.

An obvious spill of crimson fragments blossoms against the dermis of his cheeks, every moment he spends around you is like being bathed in incandescence, like being roasted from the inside out. He’s a moth and you are a painfully hot flame.

His eyes stray downwards in a weak attempt to hide his blush, grumbling to himself before beginning the work. He makes it through one and a half questions before he inevitably gives up for the second time.

“This is too hard,” he admits.

"Thought it was for kindergartners." You chuckle, to which he mumbles a low, "Shut up."

A measly moment passes before he's hit with an idea. "Let me test you."

"Seriously? You know I'm fluent. That'd be like me testing you on English."

He chuckles to himself, the smug sound leeches to the atmosphere and sends a fresh swarm of butterflies to thrash amidst your stomach lining. He’s too tantalizing for his own good, he’s your forbidden fruit. You’d love a taste.

“Pretty confident then, huh?”

The delicate development of his smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you; it’s hot, the way his bottom teeth are just partially visible by the action, the way his eyes glitter with the promise of a challenge and his demeanor is altered from defeated to determined in one brief snapshot of a moment.

“Seeing as I’ve grown up speaking Spanish, uh, yeah. I’d say I’ve probably got this in the bag.”

His grin flourishes exponentially. “We’ll see about that.”

✩‧₊˚

Four minutes later, Clapton’s master plan at veering the pair of you away from doing the work is proven to be pointless — his assumption in which he could find some big word to stump you was dismissed after witnessing your effortless answers.

“Sun?” “Are you kidding? Sol.”

He glances up from the textbook, where all of the answers are, huffing a little and searching for something more difficult.

“Gimme something harder.” He can think of something harder.

“Okay, okay. Uh… dance?”

“Bailar,” you say, rolling the ‘r’ with a tantalizing flick of your tongue and he’s sure that by now the tightness in his jeans is obnoxiously prominent. “Seriously, these are so easy.”

“Okay, full sentence: “I’m gonna buy a coffee.”

“Hmmm… let me think,” you say mockingly, and he almost believes he’s got you until you answer with a mirthless chuckle: “Voy a comprar un cafe.”

A dull ache burns in his pants, even the most mundane sentences sound sultry when you use that tone. That fucking tone. He’s still minutely annoyed that you answered his questions with ease, but what did he expect, really? This was your language.

“These are the simplest questions ever. You really underestimate me.”

He snorts at this. It was impossible to underestimate somebody like you. He knows that much.

“I don’t. Trust me.”

A sideways glance, a furrowed brow. You seem to dismiss the comment – it looks that way to him, at least. He’s unaware of the internal screams that loop in your head, cacophonous to the drill of your pounding heartbeat. He really knows how to throw you off your game, after all.

He clears his throat at the lack of response, endearing albeit the awkwardness. “What even are these words anyway? They don’t even sound anything like the Engish version. I mean— Patio-day-jaygoes?” He flicks his eyes over some of the words in the textbook; his over emphasized, americanized interpretation of the syllables makes you chuckle.

“Patio de juegos. It means playground— and I already told you that ‘j’ in spanish is pronounced like ‘h’ in english. Y’know. Heart. Hat. Hole.”

“Doesn’t make any fucking sense. Like, look at this– Zapaytoes?”

“Zapatos. Shoes.”

“Days-fil-e?”

“Desfile. Parade. You really do suck at this.” He scoffs, but you can see the humor buried beneath his irritated disposition. “I told you that like a thousand times. Bay-so?”

“Beso. Kiss.”

Shit. He can feel the color prick his cheeks before your words even truly compute with him. There shouldn’t be any meaning behind them; just a simple definition. No hidden feeling lurking beneath your shallow translation.

Right?

Wrong.

He has an idea. He wants to be cocky. Every single splintered thought is you, you, you, and he feels like if an opportunity presents itself he’d be an idiot not to take it. He wasn’t going to be an idiot. Not today. Not with you.

“Oh. So… just out of, y’know, curiosity… how would you say, ‘I want a kiss?’”

His ulterior motives soar above your head – you’re so ingrained in helping him that you fail to recognise his confident grin.

“Puedo tener un beso.” You reply, eyes combing through the familiar words etched against the textbook pages, completely oblivious. A beat of silence falls, a second of hesitation, before he goes in for it.

“Si, si. Uh… si puedes. ” Yes you can. He grins, clearly a little proud of himself.

If you’re being honest, it’s pretty cheesy, what with his eager eyes and butchered pronunciation. At least he’s trying — scraping together his kindergarten-level dialogue to form a simple sentence, and it’s sort of sweet, you think.

“Was that a sincere offer?”

No harm in asking, right?

“Was it a sincere question?” He fires back instantaneously.

And oh, he knows it wasn’t. You were merely answering a question, following the sound of his voice and the way it rose and fell like pebbled leather – but his taunting is tantalizing. Your desire is hungry and he offers to feed it – and why would you refuse?

He tastes sweet. Barely a moment of brevity was able to pass before your lips cradled his, sucking and soaking the flavor of lingering soda straight off his teeth. His tongue is his weapon of choice, breathlessly exploring the cave of your mouth, trying to mold himself right into your gums.

His hands roam, up and down your figure, eventually settling on either side of your waist and thumbing circles into your hip bones, it’s sexy. Just as he is.

You crook your head to alter the angle and he moans, completely unabashed, the sound passes through his mouth and into yours, and you know his mind is following the same dirty pathway as yours.

You tear away from him, reveling in the way he pants like a wounded dog, the way he struggles to leave your lips as if he’s magnetized to them.

“I think I know how to help your spanish…”

“Mmm?” He tries to sound like he’s in control but it’s a vain and vacuous attempt. It’s cute.

You don’t offer a response, but your fingers traipse lower, beyond the region of his shirt’s hem and dipping beneath his waistband. You glance at him, eyes seeking consent. He nods, words failing him as your fingers find his buttons and begin to tug.

When his denim restrictions pool around his ankles, you guide him to sit on the edge of his bed – his thighs are quivering in anticipation and a saturated spill has soaked his boxers, where the defined shape of his dick has begun to show.

You grab the spanish textbook from beside you before spreading his legs with your hands. Your pace is agonizing.

“C’mon, you’re killing me,” he croaks, eyes struggling to stay on you with the weight of this moment heavy on his shoulders.

You have a spark in your eyes, one that’s ignited and waiting to devour – your thumb encircles his clothed tip and a shudder licks at the base of his spine. His twitching hands come to rest in your hair, interlacing with a grip that stings like rope burn – you’re not opposed to the pain. It’s proof of his lack of control over himself, and the thought itself is enough to make you, in turn, shudder as well.

“You— fuck. You’re totally evil.”

A few painful moments of you tracing him through the fabric and he’s getting a little bit frenzied – his jaw is uncomfortably taunt and his hold on your hair is only growing tighter. You decide to indulge his whispered pleas.

Your hands shift from their position splayed on his thighs and delve into his boxers, making a show of drawing them down his legs until they join his jeans at his feet. His cock’s hard, weeping as he writhes with want. He thinks if you don’t do something, he’ll actually die. Just something.

“Can you— ah– just do something?” His voice sounds scratchy, punctured by his longing.

“Ask me in spanish.”

“What?” He’s maybe a little delirious, what with all the blood leaving his head.

“I’m here to teach you, Clapton.” Your devious grin sends him reeling— his cock shivers with him as he scrambles to open the textbook, trying to find some stupid page that’ll give you what you want.

He thinks it’s cruel, dangling yourself in front of him like this, mocking him every minute that those decadent lips aren’t wrapped around him. He wonders what Spanish would sound like when it’s muffled by his cock.

Your hands, callous-free and creamy with the vestige of vanilla lotion, inch gradually upwards along his thighs, enjoying the way their feather-light touches cause tension to erupt across his nerves. He’s trembling in the mid-may heat.

“Uh— fuck— por– por fay– por-far-vor pay-paydo tenarlo?” You can barely understand the massacred words, and when you do— por favor puedo tenerlo— you deem it to be a little vague. But at least he’s trying. He just needed some motivation.

When you finally allow him solace in the comfort of your mouth, he goes a little dumb. His jaw slackens with an audible sound as his tongue falls from the roof of his mouth — he was previously rolling it around to try and find any remaining taste of you. He was unsuccessful, of course, but it didn’t matter anymore.

Not when his cock was buried in the narrow channel of your throat, not when you’re groaning against him as his weight settles against your lapping tongue, not when your teeth graze along his shaft and his hips wildly buck off his bed. It’s so filthy, but it’s everything he needs.

“Shit— shit, that’s good, yeah, just like that. Fuck that’s— ah!”

His English is nearly as bad as his Spanish right now, and can you blame him? With every trembling buck forwards he’s thrown deeper into your mouth, your trachea, all accompanied by that greedy glint of lust in your eyes that’s damn near tangible.

His eyes are rolling backwards, up into the depths of his skull so all you can see are the alabaster parts of his sclera. Your own eyes are misty; soaked with spills of tears that taste like a reward, a reminder of your efforts. He’s breaking and it’s all because of you.

“Holy fuck,” he rasps, his hands still settled in the roots of your hair. This might not be his first blowjob, but it’s certainly his best one.

His length prods deeper, bruising at the palate of your mouth, drooling pre-cum around your gums, sousing them in his salty scent. You fall into a rhythm and he falls into you, teetering on the brink of bliss with every prolonged suck that you give him.

By the time his edge is impending, his cheeks are kissed with stains of vivid cherry red, hair is tousled and slick with sweat, and he’s managed to regain control of his rolling eyes, keeping them trained on your figure with a bout of concentration. Good.

Your lips leave him, just for a moment, matching your previous pace with your hand and ignoring the desperate whine he emits from the action.

“You gonna come?”

He looks almost ashamed, as if the prospect of it occurring so early is anything but what you wanted.

“Well – yeah. Yeah– fuck— if you, if you keep going like that, then yeah.”

His voice cracks like distant thunder and his body bites back another pitchy whimper.

“You gotta ask nicely.”

The words sound a little foreign as you spit them from your mouth, but you’re too stuck into the experience to care. Your hand chafes against him with the dry friction, and he yearns for your lips once more. In this sticky-sweet moment, he thinks he’d do anything for them back.

“Please. Please– please, I gotta, you gotta just–”

You interrupt him with a tut. “In spanish.”

En español.

He fumbles for the book, his hands sliding from your hair with a begrudging expression – he can’t stay infuriated for long though, not when you're subtly slinking your head back to nuzzle his tip. Fuck.

“Por— por favor.”

His docility is almost pathetic.

“Por f– fuck, do I really gotta– ah– do this?”

When your hand threatens to leave his cock completely, the panic he exudes is nearly comical. He’s been wanting this for so long, he’s not losing it now.

“Okay, okay! Por favor, por— shit– por favor. P– yeah, that’s it, you’re so good, so hot, shit—”

His endeavor is ultimately scrambled when your mouth makes its return around him, and you know the moment his eyes begin to lose their focus that he’s gone. You let his consciousness leave, with every desperate thrust into your throat, with every dulcet whimper – your hands extend to fondle his balls and ultimately he’s nudged off into the void of blissful oblivion, by you and you alone.

His wail is weak but encouraging as he comes, polluting your throat with opalescent ribbons, he tastes like seaside salt and everything you’ve been missing. Indulgent. His shattered voice is the most gratifying sound, incomprehensible praises clotting between his lips and washing over you, and you bask in it.

You're battered and probably bruised, your jaw aches and your knees are raw, but it was all for a good cause. Seeing him like this, quaking with the pleasure that you carved into him— maybe it’s the orgasmic haze but Clapton swears you’re glistening in the afternoon sun. An angel on Earth.

Un ángel en la tierra.

You don’t end up leaving his house that night — instead you lie against the quiet ebb of his heartbeat, tangled in his sheets and woven into his arms where you rightfully belong. His homework still isn’t done, his room carries the scent of sex and sweat and all things filthy, but neither of you have the cognitive ability to worry about it.

So, you sleep; rocked into exhaustion and sharing a pillow. Your flesh sears as his gentle hands stroke it, he can feel your smile as it forms against his chest.

Aquí es donde usted pertenece.

reminder, my requests are always open

masterlist

✩‧₊

#clapton davis x reader #clapton davis smut #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson x you #clapton davis x you #clapton davis iamgine #clapton davis fluff #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt smut #derek danforth smut #detention 2011

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plasmafruittree · 3 months

Text

NEW SIMBLR !

Sul sul everyone! Let's say this is my introductory post in the SIMBLR world. I already had a simblr a few years ago but I lost the password and I don't even remember the @ anymore, so technically I'm not new here but this account is. I've been lurking around simblr for a while now and finally decided to make one again ! My name is Aza (she/her) and I'm 29 years old (although I'm closer to 30). I speak Spanish and English (but my English isn't very good, please be patient with me). I've been playing since The Sims was released, but I started playing a lot more when The Sims 2 was released.

This simblr is for TS4 and TS3, but mostly TS4 ! :)

I love making sims, I can spend hours making them and I find it much more fun than playing (but I also play). I'm here because I want to post edits, lookbooks, stories, participate in other simmers' stories with my sims, meet other simmers, get excited about other simmers' stories, blablabláh. Feel free to reblog and follow ! <3 Thanks for reading this far.

#new simblr #simblr #ts4 #ts4 simmer #ts4 simblr #ts4 community #sims4 community #new simblr alert #sims 4 #simblr intro #the sims 4 #sims community #sims 4 community

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uselesssomebody · 1 year

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Oooooo wondering if I request a miguel o'hara x platonic(maybe) shy reader who’s a popular superhero spider person who bonded with venom and has an infant son who’s a mommy boy with her boyfriend Miguel of her dimension. Miguel sees the reader reminded of his dead wife reader of his dimension. Pretty cute her infant son and Mayday Parker having play dates, she’s the godmother of Mayday and Peter is the godfather 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

'𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕜𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜' 𝕕𝕒𝕪 - dad!miguel o'hara x mom!reader

(or astv's spider society x platonic!reader)

complete masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

words || 𝟛𝕜

summary || in which the reader and peter b. have a 'bring your kid to work' day at the spider society

a/n || i have been frothing at the mouth to write dad!miguel so here

➵ anon i'm actually kneeling at your feet for this request; it's so *chef's kiss* unfortunately, i know 0 things about venom, and i forgot about the 'shy' aspect of reader, but otherwise, i tried to nail this request. if you want a shy reader x miguel specifically, just send me another req, and i will have it done.

➵ lemme talk about the spanish real quick: a lot of it in this one thanks to the lovely @spookyanamurdock. quite a bit of spanglish as well, translations are next to the spanish bits

➵ also miguel (both of him) is the only one to speak any spanish. reader is not coded as being able to speak spanish or necessarily being from a spanish-speaking country, but she can understand what miguel is saying.

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff

it'd been nine months since she'd had a full night's rest.

guess how old her infant was.

she was jolted awake to the sound of wails and cries and she quickly rubs her hands over her face as she sits up. she looks behind her to see her husband roll in his sleep at the sound, and she smiles, getting up more quickly so that she can handle their child before he wakes up.

she steps into the next room, where their son is rocking in his cradle, evidently upset. she pouts a little at the sight of his chubby cheeks pinched into a scowl, and his gummy mouth open and ignorant to how loud he was being.

"what's woken you up, baby?" she mumbles, quiet and rhetoric, as she immediately takes him in her arms, rocking him softly on one side while using her free arm to gently pat for where he was feeling discomfort. noticing none, and recognizing his cry wasn't that of hunger, she lifts him up gently, looking in his adorable, curious eyes.

she notices his cries have simmered, a more satisfied and sleepy expression on his features, and she smiles, "did you just want mama to hold you for a bit?" she muses, as she lovingly tucks his head back into her shoulder, quietly pacing the room with him. in another couple moments, he's out like a light once more, and she chuckles to herself as she lays him back down in his cradle, momentarily forgetting her annoyance at losing sleep as she traces a soft finger over his features, beaming at his adorableness, "goodnight, gabe." she murmurs softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, before she slips back out of the room, and into her bedroom. the clock by her bed reads 3:07, and she sighs, her exhaustion overtaking her once more. she smiles at the sight of her husband, still knocked out in the same position. she lays back down next to him, wrapping her arms tightly around him, as she revels in his large stature and radiating heat, falling asleep next to him almost immediately.

she was a little shocked when she'd gotten a call in for work the next morning. well 'work' is a better way of putting it, as you can't exactly put 'multiverse-hopping for the spider society' on a resume.

she'd worked with the gajillion other spiders in nueva york for a little over 3 years before she'd had to take maternity leave for the little baby she was currently heating up a bottle of milk for. on the other side of the kitchen, her husband was allowing gabe to sit on his shoulders and play with his hair as he tried to clean dishes, and she suppresses a laugh at the sight, plucking gabe off his shoulders. "enough of that, baby." she muses, "you'll mess up daddy's hair," she sets him into his high chair, gently sticking the bottle in his mouth, as her husband comes and sits next to her. she gently runs her hand through his hair, straightening it out where gabe messed it up.

"miguel?" she starts, and he nods, his eyes looking up at hers, "i've gotta go in today." he furrows his brow a little, before realizing what she was talking about.

"¿cuándo regresarías?” (when’ll you be back?) he mumbles, still a little sleepy from the hectic morning. she shakes her head.

"no clue yet. think we can get a sitter for him?" she cocks her head to gabe, who was happily enjoying his bottle himself. miguel sighs, rubbing his eyes a little.

"no creo, cariño" (i don't think so, sweetheart.) he looked stressed, and she looked at him sympathetically, so she shakes her head.

"that's okay, hun." she rubs his knuckles a little, "i'll just take him with me." miguel's eyes widen in worry, and she chuckles.

"it's just a consultation, don't worry." she smiles, "we'll not move an inch from the headquarters." his shoulders relax a little, and a smile finally falls over his tired face.

"uhm, claro. si, suena bien, sure." (right. yeah, that sounds good, sure.) he pauses for a moment, "uh, will the big guy be okay with it?" she looks at him confused, before she bursts out in laughter, making gabe jump a little, dropping his bottle. she winces a little, picking it up for him and mumbling a quick 'sorry'

"are you talking about other-miguel?" she teases, and he groans with a smile.

other-miguel was her boss, the person in charge of the spider society. it'd been an... experience when she'd first met him.

originally, her recruitment was overseen by spiderwoman - jessica, her lovely friend who she was now coaching through her own pregnancy. because jessica brought her in, she'd not actually met other-miguel until nearly 2 months in.

the first time she'd seen him had been when jessica was at home - or her home universe - and she'd instead had to discuss her next mission with him. she'd gone up to his office, ready with a quip about how he had the same name as her long-term boyfriend - but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw her boyfriend's back in front of her. her eyes widen, and her greeting catches in her throat. other-miguel looks back at her, and he's got a similarly surprised look in his eyes.

"¿cariño?" (sweetheart?) he asks in his familiar, gruff voice. it was tinged in slightly more exhaustion.

"hon - honey?" she stutters out, finally able to clear her throat enough to talk, "what are you doing here?" he blinks in shock, before he sighs deeply, realizing what had happened.

"no - no, no soy…" (i'm not) he inhales, "you're seeing a miguel o'hara?" she blinks.

"honey, what are you-"

"no-" he cuts her off, "i'm not your miguel." her eyes narrow, before it dawns on her.

in the entirety of the spider society, there were countless versions of 'peter parker', a handful of 'miles morales's, and more than a few 'gwen stacy's and plenty of 'm.j.'s. it would be, in fact, more shocking that there wasn't more than one miguel o'hara in the multiverse.

"oh." she mumbles, "oh." a beat passes, "do you - you know someone like me too?"

his face is downcast. it's a touchy subject.

"si. así es." (yeah. that’s right.) there's a silence that passes over them, before his face becomes stern again, and he begins explaining the mission.

it took 3 more missions for other-miguel to open up about the woman she reminded him off, and she, in turn, would point out the differences between him and her boyfriend. they had a strange bond, something that was difficult to properly explain to anyone else, but they felt no obligation to.

she knows miguel found it hard to be around her at first. every time he'd look at her, his face would flash in a pain that she only came to know about later, and one she hoped to never understand. similarly, it made her feel weird to be seeing and hearing her boyfriend, yet having to adamantly remember that it wasn't him. it became better after a while, as it was easier to notice the differences between her miguel and other-miguel.

now, she was good friends with him - at least, as friendly as anyone could be with him.

"yeah, he won't mind," she continues, talking to her boyfriend, "besides, peter brings his little one in constantly. it'll be fine." she smiles, and her husband seems to calm a little.

"perfecto." he rises slowly, pressing a kiss to gabe's forehead, and then her lips, "¿te vere ésta noche?" (i'll see you tonight?) she nods with a small smile.

"yeah, honey." she waves him off as he heads to work, before she picks up gabe, "you ready for some misadventure, baby?" she teases, pressing a kiss to his nose. he coos in response, and she takes it as a yes, pulling out her watch.

after a couple minutes, a multicolored portal opens in her kitchen, and jessica walks in, waddling a little with the large weight in her stomach. she grins wide at the sight of the mother and son, cooing at the adorable child.

"i haven't seen you in ages!" jessica drawls, taking her into a hug, before plucking gabe up, and playing with his little baby hands, "have you grown, gabe? you're so big now!" he giggles in response, as though he's taken the compliment, and jessica laughs, handing him back to his mother.

"how've you been, jess? how's the tummy?" she asks, rocking gabe slowly. jess rubs her stomach, pouting a little.

"they're kickin' and screamin' to get out." they both laugh at the comment, before jessica pulls out a small, baby-sized watch, a visitor pass for baby gabe, "here." she slips it over his small wrist, "don't want you glitching out, do we?" jessica steps back, before looking back at her, "ready?"

she nods, clutching gabe a bit tighter.

"baby's first." jessica jokes, leading her forward. she adjusts gabe on her hip and the watch on my wrist, stepping in. gabe coos in interest at the colors of the portal, and he has to blink a few times when he realizes that the actual h.q. is significantly *less* interesting. he fidgets a little, brows furrowing in confusion, which causes her to soothe him with a hand running along his back.

"it's okay, baby." she whispers in his ear, glancing around at the familiar building and familiar spider-people milling about. a couple of them nod or wave in recognition, and she greets a few, before jessica pulls her along.

"c'mon, miguel and peter b. need us." she nods at jess's statement, tucking gabe's head in her shoulder and following the woman up to miguel's office.

as soon as they walk in, she see miguel and peter, stood on his suspended platform, look back at them, and 4 youngins on the floor look back too. they're a diverse group, teenagers and just older, and of course, she knew hobie and pav. immediately, the two of them come up to greet her, excited to see her after so long.

"you're back?" pav says excitably, and she laughs.

"no - no, not yet, sorry, guys." she clarifies, and gabe's head pops up at the noise. pav and hobie's eyes widen.

"you've go' a kid now?" hobie's accent, strong as ever, shines through. she rolls her eyes playfully.

"why'd you think i left? for fun?" peter's come down to join them at this point, and he engulfs her in a side hug, before taking gabe off her.

"and how is my little godson doing?" he coos, playing with the baby. she smiles at the interaction, before looking around him.

"where's my goddaughter, pete?" she asks curiously, wondering where may's head of vibrant red is. peter cocks his head in miguel's direction, making her look back up to see the infant crawling around on his giant, familiar shoulders. she laughs, and miguel finally comes down to join them. she sees the other two teenagers' faces scrunch in confusion, and it's suddenly evident to her that they're newbies, and they don't yet know that miguel's slow descent is nothing but a fear tactic and, more often than not, he'd use the faster setting to get to the floor in seconds. he comes up to her, a gruff expression on his face, and the teenagers' seem concerned. until, he dons the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. he nods his head in greeting, and she salutes him, and small grin on her face, as may practically slides down from his arm and into her chest, making her catch the baby with an exaggerated stumble and 'oomph!', "aw, you've grown, haven't you, may-be?" she smiles, having given her goddaughter an adjacent nickname to her own child, "what trouble have you been getting into?"

meanwhile, pav and hobie - uncharacteristically - were cooing over gabe in pete's arms. i turn to the teenagers, and jessica introduces me.

"gwen, and miles - visitor." jess clarifies, pointing at both respectively.

"nice to meet you guys." she nods back, looking between them and may, trying to crawl on her shoulders.

after a couple more moments of catch-up, miguel and pete pulled her up to the panel, along with may and gabe, and jessica pulls the other 4 out. miguel begins explaining the reasoning for the call-in.

"so, these 4 are being assigned to an anomaly. the girl's only been here a month - this is her first real mission - and the guy's here to prove himself." she quirks a brow.

"so he's been here less than a month and he's already on a mission?" it's not common - even she'd had to dredge through a month and a half of training sessions and simulations before going on her first mission - and even that was with jessica. miguel shrugs in response to her question, and peter interrupts.

"i vouch for him. he's a - he's a good kid. mentored him myself. we stopped a multiversal collapse together before." he says casually, so casually that she can't help but giggle. it'd been a year since she'd heard about things like 'multiversal collapses', and she still wasn't used to it.

"okay, where do i come in?" she asks, pulling gabe off of a monitor he wanted to play with.

"you can sit right here and just guide them. peter también va a estar aquí, solo, guialos ¿está bien?" (peter's gonna be here too. just... coach them, you know?) miguel explains, and she nods.

"right... sure. yeah, that works." peter smiles, and miguel points to a monitor.

"your station, m'lady." peter jokes, making her laugh. she sits down, gabe on her lap, slipping an earpiece in her ear and beginning to read the data file on the anomaly the 4 were looking to contain. after a couple minutes, she hears the crackle of a girl's voice - gwen - through the ear piece.

"hey! we've just arrived in the universe." she nods at the confirmation.

"perfect. you guys ready?"

the mission was relatively quick to finish, and she had celebrated with peter once hobie's voice had crackled through, saying the anomaly was captured. he stayed behind to monitor it while the three teens headed back, and she sighed in relief, finally picking gabe up from his place crawling on the floor with may.

while her and peter were tensely trying to ensure the kids were safe and everything went to plan, the two infants had been having the time of their life playing with each other. gabe would find it tremendously entertaining whenever may would begin climbing on walls, and he had tried a few times too, only getting as far as a meter up before his mother pulled him off out of her worry. nonetheless, he absolutely was determined to climb onto a monitor, which resulted in a slight hassle when peter lost audio for a moment.

by the time the mission was over and gabe was back in his mother's arms, he was out like a light, exhausted by his long day in the spider society.

after miles, pav and gwen had made it back, peter was sure celebrations would be in order, something that miguel seemed to be staunchly against, and something she had to reluctantly decline.

"sorry, guys, i should get back home. the little guy's already sleepy, and miguel should be back home by now." the sentence confused gwen and miles, as they looked between her and the intimidating boss of the spider society. she smiles at their confusion, but opts to let jessica explain, as she says her goodbyes and heads out. may, distraught at the thought of not being able to play with gabe anymore, makes a daring attempt to escape with him and his mom, only foiled at the last moment because of an attentive miguel. she smiles at the sight, petting her hair and letting may wave one final time at gabe's sleeping form - moving his hand to mimic a wave back - before heading to the portals.

when she tries to hand back gabe's visitor's pass to jessica, it's fruitless, as the other woman insists she keeps it, a certain knowing look in her eyes. she tries to ignore it, smiling in thanks, as the two head back.

correct to her belief, miguel - her miguel - was changing out of his work attire when they arrived and, upon hearing his greeting to her, gabe's eyes shoot open, excited at the thought of seeing his dad after the long day apart. it makes her laugh, and she sets the infant down on the couch to take off his wristband.

"¿qué tal todo?" (how was it?) comes miguel's - maybe perpetually - sleepy voice from behind her as she fiddles with the closing mechanism of the band.

"good. gabe tried climbing on a few walls, met his godsister - if that's a thing - met other-miguel and his godfather. got to meet the kids too." she lists off quickly, taking off the band and placing it to the side, not realizing that miguel is right behind her now.

he wraps his large arms around her, warmth encircling her body as she squeak in slight shock, making gabe laugh.

"and how was it for you, mi amor?" (my love) he asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek, making her smile.

"well, we saved the day. so it was very good." miguel nods, not letting her go.

"muy bien, muy bien," (good, good.) he whispers, seemingly now less interested in the answer to his question and more interested in the fact that he could hold her after his grueling day.

as soon as the hug lasts a little too long, though, they hear an indignant whine of disapproval, making them both laugh after a moment of shock. miguel detaches from her, and she reaches down to sit with gabe, before pulling him into her lap. his face immediately breaks into a smile, and miguel settles next to them.

"¿qué pasa, bebé? (what is this, baby?) you won't let me hug your mom anymore?" he says in playful upset. gabe frowns at his words, settling farther in his mom's arms.

"i think he's a little jealous." she teases, running her hands through gabe's thin head of hair.

"¡increible! (unbelievable!) i knew her first, amigo." the joking annoyance makes her laugh, as she places a big kiss to gabe's cheek and then to miguel.

"boys, boys. there's enough love for me to share." as if hearing her, gabe whines in annoyance again, making her and miguel look at each other with wide eyes.

"o - okay, it's all for you, gabe." she reassures, letting him rest his head on my shoulder. she looks up at miguel. "please don't start whining, now." she teases. he laughs quietly.

"no te prometo nada." (no promises.)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #dad!miguel o'hara #mom!reader #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #'bring your kid to work' day #oscar isaac

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tgmsunmontue · 2 months

Text

Season to Taste - 1/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE

~2001…

He hadn’t thought about where. Hadn’t cared. Away. As far away as he could. Getting on a plane seemed like a good idea, and he had the money and a passport and hadn’t really thought about it further than that. He’d arrived at LAX and walked up to the ticket counter and asked about the next flight and then asked if he wanted to be put on standby. He has no idea what that means but next thing he knew he was on a flight to Rome. He hadn’t had a visa, but he’d applied for one when he arrived.

He’d hadn’t considered money until he paid for a month in a backpackers and then realized he still needed to feed himself. And he was on a tourist visa, eighteen years old and no skills to speak of. He’d found the restaurant, the price of the margherita pizza the most appealing thing on the menu. He’d returned daily because not only was it was the best damned pizza he’d ever had, the waitress, Silvia, seemed to appreciate his fumbling attempts in Italian and would ask him questions, forcing him to practice. It also made him feel a little less lonely.

He hadn’t expected to feel so homesick, anger simmering away but for there to also be the deep-seated ache for home. Then there had been a knife, used to beckon him into the kitchen and a severe looking man called Leandro who put Bradley to work washing dishes. Then he’d been fed food more substantial than pizza and realized that maybe the looks he was getting from both Silvia and Leandro were of concern. He’d been thoroughly enveloped into the Gallo family. Taught how to make pasta by Leandro’s mother, then sauces, breads, desserts, dishes that made his mouth sing.

He hadn’t thought that they would care about what had happened to him, but been quickly disabused of the notion when Ice had walked in not even two months in and he’d seen the relief on his face, the grip of his arms around him hard and bruising. The shame he’d felt when Leandro and Silvia realized his family didn’t know he was alive and well. They’d let their displeasure be known, making him do all the prep for the restaurant and then some. Ice had left after two weeks with the promise of regular postcards and monthly phone calls.

He hadn’t realized that the languages he’d studied so diligently, hopeful that he’d one day get sent to foreign destinations where he’d be able to use them, would suddenly become useful. Helped tourists from all over with his rudimentary Italian, Spanish and French until it was no longer rudimentary. Silvia and Leandro switching between French and Italian whenever they think he’s getting too comfortable. He finds joy in creating new dishes, not afraid to try different things which make Silvia roll her eyes but surprise Leandro, who starts giving him more and more freedom, keeps pushing him to be better.

He hadn’t ever thought he could have a different dream.

… … …

~2008

Bradley doesn’t get nights off very often, but the peak tourist season is over. He’s more than earnt the pleasure of not having to cook or wait on tables or, for a very brief period there, act as translator for a film crew travelling with some British celebrity who was trying authentic cuisines throughout Europe. He wants to go dancing, cut loose a little and then head back to his little studio apartment and crash, knowing he doesn’t need to get up early in the morning. Dressed in his skinny black jeans and black t-shirt he isn’t dressed for anything fancy. Not looking for it tonight. He heads toward the club he likes the most, because it’s difficult to find and they generally don’t let in tourists, so he won’t feel bad pretending he doesn’t speak a word of English, can just be one of the crowd.

Of course his plan is completely out the window as soon as he steps inside, it’s after eleven, but that’s still early hours yet, the club doesn’t open before ten so it’s only the very keen or people like himself who potentially want an earlier night. However there is a guy standing by the bar and he can tell they’re not fucking local simply by the way they’re standing and they way they’re dressed, far too stiff for a start and far too formally. And from Giacomo’s expression they’re trying to talk to him in English. Which he knows Giacomo understands but he’s also a bit of an asshole. He catches Bradley’s eye and by the curl of his lip he knows he’s likely an American tourist and Giacomo is going to make him Bradley’s problem. Great.

“Leonardo,” Giacomo greets, and Bradley tips his head in greeting, grins at the name because it’s an inside joke now after years of it being used. Giacomo slides his eyes to the man he’s clearly begrudgingly served a beer to. Bradley rolls his eyes and shakes his head, he’s not going to take responsibility for drunken tourists of any nationality tonight. It’s his fucking night off and he wants to make the most of it. Then the guy turns to him and Bradley swiftly reconsiders his stance. The guy is cute, hair cut in a buzz, smile easy and wide and looking at Bradley like he’s maybe interested in… something.

“Hi…”

“Hi.”

“You speak English?”

“Yeah. I do. Enough.” He ignores the snort from Giacomo.

“I’m Jake. Dance?”

“Leonardo,” Bradley offers, because he’s not getting into the explanation of why everyone calls him Leonardo when his name is Bradley. Or the fact that’s he’s a fellow American because this guy’s Texan accent is thick and broad and unmistakable. “Sure.”

He watches as Jake throws back his bottle of beer, wonders if Jake was a member of some frat where they had been beer chugging competitions. He’s been getting lessons on wine from one of Leandro’s cousins and has started enjoying it, although it’s still not his first choice. Then he’s following Jake onto the dance floor and the lights are almost non-existent over the space, some strobing flashing lights and making it difficult to focus on anything that isn’t directly in front of you. Even then…

Jake’s fingers hook into the loops of jeans and for all his stiffness when he’d been standing at the bar Jake moves like he loves dancing, in time and responsive to Bradley’s own body movements. The beat is loud and pulsing, filling him with the energy to just let his body go and he lets his hands rest around Jake’s neck, brushing over the spiky-soft hair with his finger tips and they tingle a little. There isn’t much space between them, not meant to be with Jake’s hands effectively resting on his hips as they move. The DJ changes the song and Bradley’s head shoots up, catches Lara’s eye and she laughs at him, the sound not at all audible over the sound of the music. He gives her the finger but continues dancing, because there is no way that Jake is going to know what this song is called or why his friend has just decided to put it on.

More people join the dance floor and the press of bodies and heat increases, the space between the decreases though, each of them with thigh between their own, grinding against each other easily. His cock has grown heavy under the ongoing pressure and movement and the fact that the guy in his arms is cute as hell and keeps staring at his lips like he wants Bradley to kiss him but is too polite to ask or take.

So he kisses him, feels Jake smile against his lips and then he’s kissing back and they’re making out more than dancing, he can feel Jake’s fingers digging into his ass and he lets one of his own hands come to rest on Jake’s ass, palm a handful and sucks his bottom lip and nips it lightly. Savors the sudden shift of air against his face, a little gasp that Jake makes; wishes he could hear anything other that the pumping base of the club music. Wants to ask if Jake wants to come back to his little studio apartment and maybe spend some time doing a similar activity sans clothes… Jake is pulling away, eyes a little wide and alarmed.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a curfew. Shit. Sorry.”

He presses his lips against Bradley’s again, his expression apologetic and Bradley wonders if Jake thinks he didn’t understand what he just said. It feels like a Cinderella moment, the guy disappearing into the night and him standing there staring after him.

CHAPTER ONE

#Season to taste #Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #AU

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