#Edge Dressing WIP

[madstronaut]

WIP WRITES RIGHTS NOW! I SAID WIP WRITES RIGHTS NOW

blahblahmaster rant list link blahblah dont look at me

PSA when you only just discover a moot is a prolific writer you run to read all her writing and comment in excruciating detail cc: @gemmahale

blorbo x named oc fans, this one’s for you (it’s me, im talking about me)

please see below a random and incomprehensive ramblelist of my stream of consciousness as I sampled from gemma's works:

Feylands WIP

I find the content warning tags extremely titillating (also I have not seen such a prolifically well organized tag list AND color coordinated to boot like gemma’s blog???? putting my outlook inbox/work docs/excel sheets to shame!!!) and I don’t even read/like fae stories (yes I never read ACOTAR and I don’t plan to anytime soon, I missed that booktok ship, most likely cos im not on the tikky tokky as the children like to say, i watch the reposts on instagram like a proper mlllenial)

Josephine’s heart pitter-pattered at the compliment, heat climbing up her cheeks as she mumbled a thanks, their eyes locking again. 

🥰🥰🥰NOT THE PITTER PATTER

my inquisitive ass is already like “what’s gary’s real name” and “hearing aid = soap b/c of all the damn bombs he blows up?” “but i headcanon gaz with freckles, maybe it’s gaz? gaz = gary?” “or maybe ghost = gary?” GEMMA GIVE US WIPS I MEAN HINTS PUT ME OUTTA MY MISERY

Call of the Wild WIP

I love the little note gemma included about this being inspired by @deadbranch (shoutout to branchy btw my beloved) - honestly floored at all the beautiful fic/headcanon/drabbles/askfills ive read that are the brainchilds birthed from love for other creators’ brainchildren

also equally floored at how many of writers here are like “this incredibly layered/moving/tender/spicy/nasty fic came to me in a dream”

also SUBVERTED TROPES SUBVERTED TROPES SUBVERTED TROPESSSSS

Kyle cleared his throat, shifting his stance. “She prefers to be called a wolf.”

AHAHAHAHAHAHA GODDDD THIS WAS A ZINGER

“Please!” Kyle called back, face half covered in shaving cream.

i need fanart of this right fucking now let me, i mean shannon, sorry oops but haha..unless? finishing shaving you bby

and FUCKING ROACH IS IN THIS FIC HOLD ME BACK OR YOU *WILL* GET CAUGHT IN THE CROSSFIRE OF ME TEARING APART THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE BECAUSE MY BRIEF HYPERFIXATION ON ROACH IS BACK WITH A VENGEANCE FROM THIS SMALL SNIPPET AND IN THIS 500 PG DISSERTATION I WILL-

also THAT PROLOGUE APPETIZER SLAYED ME

“The way I see it, you’re fucked either way. You don’t make it out of here, you’re fucked. You become mine, you’re fucked - but in the good way.”

this + the mention of bulge + damp cheek definitely brought a visceral IRL memory for me (affectionate/horny)

also sidenote: it’s the little things that matter and gemma i see you gurl and salute you - incorporating things like hearing aids, mentioning roach is HoH/using sign language, shannon using a shower cap for her curly hair - 😘👌

Corporal Distraction WIP

holy MOTHER OF FUCK THIS SHORT LITTLE EXCHANGE IS FUCKING HOOOOOOOOOT

The captain moved closer to her, gently lifting her chin up with his finger. “So you’re the bird that’s got my sergeant distracted.”

“Sir?”

“Been trying to figure out what’s got Gaz so twisted up lately. Figured it was a partner, didn’t think it was a Corporal under him.” He didn’t release her chin, now holding it between his thumb and finger. “Has good taste, at least,” he muttered, eyes shifting to the Lieutenant, who only huffed in response.

any premise that fucks with/frustrates/sleep-deprives soap has my heart 🥰

Flowers From My Love WIP

the bit where they discuss the casserole perfectly encapsulates each of the boys imho - price grunting out a response, soap eagerly asking about the food (such youngest of the group/im baby vibes), gaz picking up on the note and name/# left, ghost grumbling and ofc he fucking HAS to bring up manchester- 

and the MOODBOARD!!!! God I fucking love when writers flesh out a bit of their worldbuilding with related art, moodboards, face claims, etc etc etc i WILL lick up every crumb from the floor like a starving doggo- fun fact, one of my first interactions in cod fandom was requesting a moodboard from @the-californicationist (also shoutout to cali my beloved)

and PEPPER THE SERVICE DOG OH MY LORD PLEASE GOD IF THE 141 MEN CAN’T BE REAL LET PEPPSY BE REAL PLEASE GOD IF I HAD TO ASK FOR ONE THING FROM THIS CURSED HELLSITE-

Palace Hallways WIP

my mind blacked out at artificer soap and knight kyle and druid ghost - I also just finished a campaign with my homegroup IRL not too long ago and we’re taking a long break before the next game while our DM preps and this is making me miss playing with them ;-;

Edge Dressing WIP

KATE KATE KATE KATE KATE KATE that’s it that’s the tweet

“She did, did she?” Kate murmured, scratching at Letty’s scalp and smirking as the woman went boneless against her.

yes only natural, i too would also go boneless if laswell was scratching my scalp and giving me a massage mommy? sorry. mommy. sorry? mommy. sorry?

Embroidered Secret WIP

if someone told me a year ago when I wasn’t into regency shows/fics that reading some COD AUs - yes fucking CALL OF DUTY, the military propaganda first person shooter video game - would change my mind - well id be more shocked than if someone flashed some ankle at my victorian pearl clutching ass

also please i love every single trope listed here

141 Studios WIP

“Our sweet soft girl Samantha (plus size rep ftw!) finds her niche quickly as the resident camgirl - creating a new set of films called "Tip of The Tongue", where she (and others) commentate on the scenes being filmed in a behind the scenes way.”

fuck i would read an entire multiseries for this premise alone???

Crew scramble around to clean up the sweat and cum streaked across the couch to reset for another scene.

fun fact - i briefly interned as a PA in college and one of the producers i worked with mentioned offhand that he once rolled up to a set that was cleaning up after a porn shoot and claimed they were rolling away literal barrels of lube 👀

“You the new girl?” His voice was deep, rumbling like stones cascading down a mountain.

NEW GIRL, OLD MAN, BLUE BIRD, CLOWN WITH A BUCKET HAT, I WILL BE ANYTHING FOR YOU PS!SIMON

A Protege’s Trust WIP

The most titillating tag of all..an empty one! lol jk im just messin with ya gemmy but actually yes i don’t see any posts with this tag

Museum Muse WIP

ahem you already know my rabid thoughts on this but noticed this new post re: multiple timelines and tbh do I know what’s going on? absolutely not - do I want to dive into this museum muse multiverse regardless? absolutely yes

Brix WIP

Re: “If it’s a story about learning to be loved again after a series of devastating losses, can that story then end on another loss? (And should the epilogue soften that loss by allowing them some sort of reprieve?)”

YES! i need to be in a certain mood to read angst but GOD WHEN I AM IN THE MOOD DOES IT HIT THE SPOT/FEEL SO CATHARTIC

also re: these comments - “Also, a bit of catharsis for my shitty experience working in the orchard industry.”

“It's less of a love story and more of a healing story. It's also a bit of a middle finger to the orchard that nearly hospitalized me. 🙃 (It's healing not only for the characters lol.)”

i find these types of fics are some of the best ive read when the writers have IRL experiences bleed into their writing - just has a certain je ne sais quoi about em

also i could be knee deep in sewage sludge and if i sensed soap within a 1 mile radius i would throw myself at him, brb busy handforging a trophy for annabeth for having enough willpower to continue working while JOHN SOAP MACATAVISH WHINES ABOUT WANTING TO COP A FEEL

Squeamish Stitches WIP

✨GLITz!!!! ✨fucking love this name

“God, I’d die here a happy man,” he grumbles into your thigh as you adjust your balance. 

His hands wrap around your calves, grunting as the treads dig into his shoulders. “No, between your legs.”

Ghost interrupts. “Keep it tactical, Sergeants.”

THE FUCKING BANTER? GHOST COCKBLOCKING GAZ? FUCKIGN SCREAMINNG

Useful Girl WIP

you had me at “we gonna get nast-ay kink-ay” and also got strong “secretary” with maggie gyllenhaal + james spader vibes 

also i had to look up ‘brown bottle flu’ as i’ve never heard that term before! ✨i learn somethng new with fanfic daily✨

She felt the breeze as the door opened behind her, the whiff of cigar smoke and cologne causing her to shift in her seat and sit up straighter.

if you’ve ever smelled/heard someone before you saw them it is *quite* the experience

“It's the prickle of the mountain's oncoming storm. It's the flapping of the flag in the howling wind. It's the explosion of lightning hitting a tree, splitting it open, part charred and part living - two states diametrically opposed to each other. It's the sigh of relief when the clouds finally part and the rain pours out. It's the breath of fresh air when the storm dissipates and everything is left clean.

It's yearning so hard for something that it leaves one fundamentally changed when they achieve it.

...I really ought to make moodboards for this fic. 😅”

this was an incredible fucking paragraph to read, fucking poetry right here, also incredibly erotic? though that might just be leftover brainworms in my head from watching shogun and a scene where one of the main charas describes an orgasm as “clouds parting after rain” 

Highland Tartans WIP

She reached her hand into his wool, petting him. “He comes from a good line and all, he’s just young.”

MacTavish laughed, sliding his hands to rest on his waist. “Aye, young and dumb. I know the type.” 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

PLEASE GOD GEMMA

I CANNOT CHOOSE FAVORITES BUT SPARE A THOUGHT FOR MY FREE TIME AND WORK HOURS WHEN YOU POST MORE OF THESE AND AT LEAST SPREAD THEM OUT SO I CAN KEEP MY JOB AND PAY MY BILLS INSTEAD OF GORGING ON YOUR WRITING

anyway to sum up i am fully convinced the multiverse lives inside of gemma’s brain because goddamn i am convinced once day some god-tier epic space opera multiseries is gonna spring out fully formed like athena from the gemmamind (yes I compared you to zeus, a mythical god, deal with it)

[gemmahale]

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare (Reboot) - Works In Progress

I'm always happy to answer questions and share progress on any of these! My Ask Box is always open. Links lead to the tag for that WIP.

All WIPs are 18+. Minors, please don't.

John 'Bravo 6' Price

#Useful Girl WIP - A retrospective that takes John Price from Pompous Playboy Lieutenant to Suave Dominant Captain with a woman that makes his head spin and his pants tight. BDSM, D/s, boot blacking and similar kinks. John Price x OFC Scarlett Morgan

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

#Call of The Wild WIP - When his werewolf girlfriend goes missing, Kyle Garrick must set his feelings aside in order to save her from a hybrid trafficking ring. Kyle Garrick x OFC Shannon Porter Shifter AU

#The Contract WIP - In a fit of frustration, Rosalind Henderson makes a deal with a demon. When he comes to collect, they're taken aback by how normal he is. Or is there more to this contract she didn't know about when they signed? Kyle Garrick x OC Rosalind 'Rosie'/'Lin' Henderson Demon AU; Collab with @pfhwrittes

#Corporal Distraction WIP - Sgt. Kyle Garrick has been seeing Corporal Anna Gibson in secret. His teammates have had enough of their late night shenanigans and decide to take matters into their own hands. Kyle Garrick x OFC Anna Gibson; John MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC Anna Gibson

#Embroidered Secret WIP - Kyle Garrick meets Lucille Fitzroy at one of the many balls. Follow their courtship with a lost and found trinket, a realization of love, and lots of witty banter and stolen moments. He fell first, she fell harder trope. Kyle Garrick x OFC Lucille Fitzroy Regency AU; Collab with @ofdivinity01

#Flowers from My Love WIP - Johanna Hawkins, disabled flower farmer, meets the Taskforce 141 and becomes smitten with Kyle Garrick when they occupy the neighbor's house. When a farmer's market event is attacked, she has to trust her new friends to be able to get her out of the precarious situation she's found herself in. Kyle Garrick x OFC Johanna Hawkins

#A Protégé's Trust WIP - Laswell's CIA Operative Lisa 'Badger' Compton manages to get under Kyle's skin every which way he turns. It's infuriating how much she bothers him. Her silky voice over comms, her voluptuous curves handing him information, the twinkle of her painted fingernail on her firearm's trigger - one of these days, he's going to lose it over this woman. Kyle Garrick x OFC Lisa 'Badger' Compton. Collab with @pfhwrittes

#Squeamish Stitches WIP - When Gaz is injuried on a recon mission, it's up to Jen 'Glitz' O'Dolan to get him patched up. One catch: her last visit to med bay resulted in her fainting at the sight of blood. Squeamish or not, his life rests in her hands while Ghost secures the safehouse. Aka: the Triple G Crew Kyle Garrick x OFC Jen 'Glitz' O'Dolan; Simon Riley & OFC Glitz

#Palace Hallways WIP - It's not awful being the newly crowned Queen's lady-in-waiting. What is awful is the attention you've unintentionally garnered from Sir Garrick. What's even worse, is the Royal Artificer and Royal Druid seem to be paying you the same kind of attention. You're a mess, and no one will do anything about it. Fantasy AU Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC 'Petal'

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

#Brix WIP - Orchard manager Annabeth Turner deals with becoming a safehouse for a clandestine task force. The Scot on the team can't seem to help himself and continues to get in the way. Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x OFC Annabeth Turner

#Highland Tartans WIP - John MacTavish and Holly Duncan, of neighboring Scottish clans, are set to be wed. Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x OFC Holly Duncan Historic Scottish Highlands AU (historical accuracy is questionable)

#Museum Muse WIP - Johnny meets an art model while on leave and a relationship blossoms. BDSM, D/s dynamic, puppy play Johnny 'Soap' MacTavis x OFC Darlene 'Daisy' Houghton

#Corporal Distraction WIP - Sgt. Kyle Garrick has been seeing Corporal Anna Gibson in secret. His teammates have had enough of their late night shenanigans and decide to take matters into their own hands. Kyle Garrick x OFC Anna Gibson; John MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC Anna Gibson

#Palace Hallways WIP - It's not awful being the newly crowned Queen's lady-in-waiting. What is awful is the attention you've unintentionally garnered from Sir Garrick. What's even worse, is the Royal Artificer and Royal Druid seem to be paying you the same kind of attention. You're a mess, and no one will do anything about it. Fantasy AU Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC 'Petal'

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

#Palace Hallways WIP - It's not awful being the newly crowned Queen's lady-in-waiting. What is awful is the attention you've unintentionally garnered from Sir Garrick. What's even worse, is the Royal Artificer and Royal Druid seem to be paying you the same kind of attention. You're a mess, and no one will do anything about it. Fantasy AU Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC 'Petal'

#Squeamish Stitches WIP - When Gaz is injuried on a recon mission, it's up to Jen 'Glitz' O'Dolan to get him patched up. One catch: her last visit to med bay resulted in her fainting at the sight of blood. Squeamish or not, his life rests in her hands while Ghost secures the safehouse. Aka: the Triple G Crew Kyle Garrick x OFC Jen 'Glitz' O'Dolan; Simon Riley & OFC 'Glitz'

#Corporal Distraction WIP - Sgt. Kyle Garrick has been seeing Corporal Anna Gibson in secret. His teammates have had enough of their late night shenanigans and decide to take matters into their own hands. Kyle Garrick x OFC Anna Gibson; John MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC Anna Gibson

Kate Laswell

#Edge Dressing WIP - Kate is roped into a bootblacking demonstration by her wife Letty. A curious voyeur learns more about the art than they expected. Kate Laswell x OFC Letty Laswell x OC (TBD)

Task Force 141 - Price, Ghost, Gaz, Soap (May Include other MW characters)

#Feylands WIP - The Court of Maevonia have been in search of a human for their court plaything for a while. Josephine Kaplan fits the description of what they want. But when she accidentally shows up unannounced just as a war with a neighboring kingdom is kicking off, it seems like things might work out differently. Can Josie work with the Court to save not only Maevonia, but also Earth from the Penumbra and it’s Shadow Bringers? Fey AU OFC Josephine ‘Josie’ Kaplan x Gary 'Roach’ Sanderson; + Task Force 141, Kate Laswell, Wife Laswell, Alex Keller, Farah Karim

#141 Studio WIP - Samantha West, stage name Poppy, interviews for a position with Studio 141 - one of the most elite, ethical and diverse porn studios. With her hiring comes a whirlwind of changes - mostly for the better. But when trouble comes knocking, will Poppy have the answer on the 'Tip Of The Tongue'? Porn Studio AU. AKA: Kinky Bullshit. Gemma needed a sandbox for gratuitous porn, pro sex-worker. Task Force 141 + Friends x OFC Samantha 'Poppy' West

#7 Sins Bookstore WIP - Seven Sins Bookstore and Cafe is warm and cozy inside - a maze of bookshelves filled with tomes and little reading nooks tucked throughout on one side, and on the other, a bustling cafe with delicious food, hot beverages, wine tastings and room for groups to congregate. But in the basement, beyond an unassuming office door, lies the real purpose of the institution. That’s where the real deals are made, where blood is ordered to be spilled, and pacts signed in indelible hemoglobin ink. Vampire Mobster AU Task Force 141 x OC's - Journalist, Researcher, Barista Manager/Author, Regular Customer

#Horizon Mirages WIP - With an increase in bandit activity in the area around the small town of Whisperdale, recently elected Sheriff John Price and his deputies - Simon Riley, Johnny MacTavish, and Kyle Garrick - are pressured to ease tensions between cattlemen, homesteaders and townsfolk alike. Western AU Task Force 141 x OCs - Seamstress, Shepherdess, Saloon Co-Owner, General Store Manager

Glitter Background in Header: 1tamara2 from Pixabay Text Divider: @saradika-graphics Last Updated: 5/28/2024

[identityquest]

lizzie get two wolves 👍

[runa-falls]

sleepy lovers

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

rating: explicit 18+

cw: smut, somnophilia elements, oral (f), piv, not finished--

summary: i'm a sleepy girl so i'm always thinking about how soft miguel would be if his girlfriend was dozing off as he eats her out. the second part is with sleepy!miguel!

a/n: this is a wip that i'm posting bc i hate myself -- anyway

---

he gets in late. very late. she was planning on waiting up for him, wanting to see him after being apart for his work trip, but when he arrives, she's already asleep on the couch, her body curled in on itself with her head propped uncomfortably on the arm of the couch.

miguel quietly walks over to her, watching her shoulders move with slow, deep breaths. he picks her up, cradling her body easily in his arms, and walks up the stairs to their bedroom.

she's dressed in an adorable nightgown, one he's sure she was wanting to show off when he arrived. the neckline is modest, but it's quite short, showing off her legs and hinting at lies underneath. and it's soft to the touch, fabric almost thin enough to tear with his bare hands.

he looks down at the girl in his arms, eyes exploring how the gown rides up to the tops of her thighs. his hands unconsciously tighten around her figure as he feels heat rush towards his center. he doesn't soften his hold until he feels her shift in his hold.

"mig...?" her groggy voice calls out for him as he places her gently on the bed.

"sorry, cariño..." she nuzzles against his hand as he sweeps her hair away from her face. "didn't mean to wake you."

she yawns sleepily, "it's ok." he watches hungrily as she stretches, pushing her arms above her and arching her back.

"you look real pretty tonight." she squirms under his gaze, heat rushing to her cheeks. miguel's eyes glow red, drinking in her bashful smile. even with the minimal light in the house, he can see everything, and he's never been so thankful for his powers.

she hides her face in her hands, "really?"

"mhm..." miguel takes a hold of her wrists before pinning them to either side of her head, "don't hide from me, baby."

her breathing labors as he slowly crawls onto the bed, caging her in between himself and the mattress. he first kisses her sweetly, gently caressing her lips with his and drinking in her gasps and moans, before placing hot kisses down her neck and over her covered chest.

"how pretty?"

"mm..." his large hands shove the skirt of her nightgown up to her hips, revealing her bare cunt to the cool air of the room. "...pretty enough to eat."

he dips his head between her thighs, forcing her legs apart with his broad shoulders, wasting no time to taste her. he gently circles his tongue around her clit, teasingly applying minimal stimulation until she whining for more.

"please--please, more, i need--"

she lets out a squeak when he sucks the sensitive bud into his hot mouth, expertly flicking against it. he moans as fingers quickly thread into his hair, gripping and tugging him closer as his tongue has her shaking against him.

her hips begin to rut against his mouth, desperate to reach her already rapidly approaching orgasm, but just as she's at the cusp of her climax, he pulls back and she nearly weeps at the loss.

dark eyes watch as her exhausted body teeters on the edge of the euphoric end she was seeking.

"w-what, wait, please...?"

"patience, cariño." he's so close to her that his lips move against her pulsing clit as he speaks. "i'm not done with you yet." she whimpers softly when he pushes closer, slowly laving his tongue against her wet heat. she's never felt so sensitive, yet hungry for more.

he keeps the slow pace and sweet pleasure makes the world turn into a blur around her. her legs are sprawled over his shoulders as he methodically licks and nuzzles against her, constantly bringing her to the edge but never letting her cum.

at some point she's delirious with pleasure, eye lulled and shiny with unshed tears of exhaustion. he whispers comforting praises in that low voice of his as she whimpers at the intense sensation of coming down from the edge.

she has no idea what time it is when he actually lets her cum, but it rushes over her like a tidal wave. all those edged orgasms collapse and pool at her center and miguel has to hold her down as she writhes under him.

at the end of the night he holds her close, wrapping his arms around her torso, listening to her soft breathes.

(rushed end but :/ i'm done)

--

very SHORT SECOND PART

(changes to 2nd person POV)

when miguel is sleepy and exhausted from work, he usually comes home and immediately scoops you up to come cuddle with him until he falls into a deep slumber.

he's like a bear when he's curled around you, an arm splayed over your body to hold you close and protectively.

but sometimes his baby is needy, especially when his work takes him away for long periods of time.

in those cases, miguel is more than happy to cater to your needs.

he's a hardworking man and you acknowledge that, so you're always hesitant to make a move and wake him up again.

but he knows you.

he knows those soft nuzzles you make against his neck, those quiet sighs that you think he can't hear, or that feeling of your hand running over his chest in want.

"what is it, mi vida?"

you shake your head as you lie next to him, not wanting him to worry about you.

"nothing."

he hums unconvinced but too tired to coax it out of you. instead, he tugs you against him, letting his hands roam over your curves until he drifts over your center. you gasp when he cups you with a warm hand, right where you want him.

"this what you want?" he's gruff behind you, voice foggy with exhaustion. "are you so needy that you need to keep me warm while i sleep?"

you whine as he presses against your more insistently and you can feel his growing hardness twitch against the small of your back.

"yes..." you shift next to him, arching your back to feel him flush against you. "please."

without another word, your sleep shorts are yanked down and you hear rustling fabric behind you. silky warmth nudges against your dripping hole, pushing until he enters your heat.

he groans against your ear as he slowly stretches you from the back.

[spdrwdw]

Could you possibly do a dbf (dads best friend) miguel.? nsfw Ty!😋

Ps. I love your stories

While I am okay with doing age gaps, both parties must be of legal age. I hope headcanons are okay! I had too many ideas and couldn’t narrow it down lol

♡DBF!Miguel Headcanons♡

Warnings: 18+ content, MDNI, age gap, smut, nsfw

A/N: If any other writers out there are interested in using any of my headcanons for a fic, please let me know! I wouldn’t mind as long as you credit me. I would turn this to a fic myself, but I already got my hands full with other wips. ❤️

DBF!Miguel who you met for the first time at your dad's country club. You couldn't help but to steal glances over his way, and unbeknownst to you, he was doing the same.

DBF! Miguel who went to your house one day to hang out with your dad, they were going to watch a game on tv. While your dad was outside firing the grill, Miguel couldn't help but stare at you as you lounged around by the pool in your swimsuit, soaking up some sun. You could see him staring at you through your sunglasses, a slight smirk lifting your lips. DBF! Miguel who came over to your house one day while your parents were away to fix something for your dad. You were upstairs in your room studying for your college exams when he passed by, seeing you in nothing but a tank-top and panties as you laid sprawled out on the bed. You turned around and noticed him just staring at your by the doorway before he quickly left. This made you want to make him notice you more. So, you started wearing the most revealing pieces of clothing you had.

DBF! Miguel who came over again for another game night with your dad. You did your hair and makeup and wore the most revealing dress you had, making your way downstairs over to the kitchen. You swayed your ass as you walked, making you he would notice you, and he did. That was the first time he had made his way into your room. DBF! Miguel who would come over more often while your parents weren't home, and not because he was going to fix something. At first it was a little awkward between the two of you when you were along with him, but, he was always gentle with you. It was rather sweet. However, as your private encounters occurred more frequently, you wanted him to not be as gentle with you.

DBF! Miguel who would by laying on your bed, his large frame taking over the majority of the bed, his legs dangling over the edge because of how big he was. He would help you with any homework that you may have, even help you study for tests. After you were done, he'd eat your pussy out as a reward. His tongue practically swallowed your folds, he usually didn't even need to use his fingers to get you undone, but when he did, your body would be quivering and flailing as you begged him for release, which he always gladly awarded you. DBF! Miguel who's cock was just so big that the first time you had intercourse, you honestly thought he was going to break you. But, he didn't. He filled you up rather nicely and after that, you had gotten addicted to him stretching you and pounding into you, filling you with his cum. Of course, he'd ask if you were on any form of birth control first. DBF! Miguel who will shoot you a pointed look whenever you tease him from under the table. You'll be sitting across from him and slip off your shoe, reaching over and rub his crotch with your foot. He would have to bite his lip from letting out a groan, and you could feel his cock growing hard underneath his pants.

DBF! Miguel who would give you a lift to and from your University, sporting his shiny sports car. The some car in which he would fuck you senseless in while parked in some secluded area. The windows would be tinted so no one could see what was going on inside. DBF! Miguel who'd call you a 'good girl' whenever you take his cock into your mouth and suck him off. He loved it when he came in your mouth and would see streams of his cum drooling from the corners of your mouth because it was just too much for you to swallow it all.

DBF! Miguel who secretly loves it when you call him ‘daddy’ while he rails you. It puts him on edge and he knows it won’t be long until he is spilling himself inside you. DBF! Miguel would you let you ride him on your bed. He's be surrounded by your plushies, which was actually pretty humorous to you. Here was a big man getting fucked by you while surrounded by all of your cutesy plushies.

DBF! Miguel who would low-key be your sugar-daddy because he would always be buying you things, no matter how expensive it was. He would take you on his yacht and fuck you either in the cabin or out on the deck.

[sepherinaspoppies]

hunger - michael gavey x reader

summary: the things Michael does for a crunchie bar.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of oral m receiving, oral f receiving, fingering, overstimulation, f squirting.

wc: 2,366

masterlist

notes: my first time writing for Michael lol. yes I did watch the movie and im still appalled by it (too much dick). like all of us, I wish Ewan had more screen time on this cause I felt pretty bad for Michael. he just wanted a friend 😩. I plan on writing another fic about him but when? idk I have too many wips

She uses the pad of her thumb to collect the line of cum that had trickled down the corners of her lips. Bringing the digit back into her mouth to suck off the pearly white liquid, all while seductively gazing at the disheveled boy that sat on the edge of her bed. 

Michael let out a breathy moan, feeling his softened cock rousing back to life as he watched her throat swallow every bit of him again. She hums at the taste, salty with a hint of caramel from all those fucking crunchy bars he devours everyday when she’d seem him in class. 

She brings herself up from the floor, her knees starting to recuperate from the carpet digging amongst her skin. Standing, she begins to thread her fingers through Michael’s soft sandy hair, appreciating the silkyness of it and the faintest little whines that emitted from his lips before tugging his head back rather abruptly. 

“Would you like a taste of me, Gavey?” She asks, even though she knows the answer. It was why they were here, settled at her dorm. 

Michael nods zestfully, his eyes trailing to her covered core as if he was already undressing her with his eyes. She grabs his hand and doesn’t fail to notice it was a bit clammy with nerves, and it almost made her feel slightly bad about continuing but the way his blue eyes darkened when she directed his hand toward the hem of her floral dress, made her think differently. 

His fingers work at lifting up her dress. A deep shade of crimson floods his perfectly sculpted cheeks as he awkwardly and neatly folded her dress on the side of her nightstand. She giggled at his adorableness, she wasn’t as gentle as he was with her clothing. After, when they made their deal about what they wanted from each other, she clawed out his clothes and scattered them somewhere across her room, having no regard for them.  

Once she made quick work at getting rid of her bra, Michael’s eyes widened in amazement as if had just received the perfect gift he always wanted. His fingers twitched, longing to touch what was right in front of him but she knew deep down he was holding himself back. 

“I-um- I don’t know what to do” he admits sheepishly. 

She knows this, having it heard and confirmed by Felix and Oliver when they were at the pub with a group of their friends. 

She gives him a reassuring smile before straddling his lap, “I’ll teach you” 

Michael’s face reddened even more if it was possible. His gaze lingered on her lips, then a back up to her eyes giving her a silent look for permission to kiss her lips to which she nodded fervently. 

He wastes no time to crash his lips to hers, leaning his head forward to deepen the kiss. She moans, unsure if Michael knew how to kiss but even then she was willing to teach him if it need be. She moves her knees to get closer to Michael, her bare breasts scraping tightly against his chest as she wraps her arms around his neck desperately needing him to be closer than they already were. 

She whines softly into the kiss as she swipes her tongue over Michael’s bottom lip. Michael moans in response, parting his lips open to let her gain access and she seizes the opportunity to dance her tongue against his own. Michael furrows his brows in concentration, taking mental notes on how exactly she liked to be kissed by the way he strokes his tongue synchronously with hers and the soft little moans that follow out of her lips. 

She pulls away, a hint of chocolate and mint lingering on her lips, as she yearns for more of him between her legs. She almost wants to continue kissing him as she watches Michael’s blue eyes slowly flutter open and his lower lip curling into a pout, mewling at the loss of contact. 

“We can kiss more after, if you want. Right now, I need you to return the favor” She pants, out of breath. Michael mends his pout into an eager smile that makes her chuckle. For such an arrogant know-it-all he sure had a way of being cute. 

She lifts herself up by the help of Michael’s shoulders, crawling over the middle of her bed to rest her back against the duvet. “Ready?” She asks, wiggling her brows enthusiastically, already feeling giddy deep in her stomach. 

Michael nods as he slowly adjusted to sit between her legs, his curious eyes never leaving her damp covered center, his pink tongue sweeping over his lips quickly practically already tasting her. 

“Take of my panties, Gavey” 

She hears Michael audibly whimper as his quivering fingers hook to the waistband of her underwear, sliding it off and causing her to release a shudder over the coolness of his fingertips. 

Michael brushed his fingers against the garment of her underwear, studying it before he brought it to his nose, deeply inhaling the juices that were caused by being in the mere presence of him, from having him inside her mouth, around her hands, his kiss…

There was something so hot and erotic about it, seeing the guy who always picks on her for not being as smart as he was, sniffing her juices like he was a starved man. She moaned at his actions even more so when he quickly bent over the bed and stuffed her underwear into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts, probably saving it for later. 

She bites back a protest. Those were her favorite pair but she supposes she can spare them for now. 

Michael resumed his previous position in between her thighs. This time his face laid just centimeters away from her glistening core. She can feel his hot ragged breath fanning over the little patch of curls above her cunt, and very faintly she can hear Michael murmur “christ” under his breath. 

She props herself on her elbows, “Give me your hand” Michael releases another shaky breath before he allows her to direct his hand to cup her mound. 

“Do you feel how wet I am for you, Michael?” 

Michael groans, desperate for some friction he grinds his cock on the bed. He can feel it. He can feel his hand soaked with her arousal. Michael wants to pull back and lick everybit clean off his hand. 

“That’s- that’s my clit” She informs Michael with a strain voice as she runs his index finger through her folds. Michael stares at her engorged bud, having remembered studying it from his anatomy class and how it brought him great curiosity. Now, he was face to face with it and nothing could prepare how much excitement it brought him. 

“The clit is very important. It’s where most of our pleasure comes from. Just pay adequate attention to it and gently circle it-” 

She isn’t sure of the noises that leave her mouth, only feeling Michael beginning to circle her bud in a manner where not even most guys she’s been with have done so. It’s unhurried, unsure and gentle but it’s enough for her to feel waves of pleasure up her spine and her toes curling against the duvet. 

“Oh! Michael” She moans, arching her back and unintentionally caging Michael’s head between her thighs. 

Michael pulls his finger quickly like lightning away from her bud, his face showing a bit of concern. “What? What’s wrong? Was this not to your liking? I can try-” 

“No, no. You’re doing great, really. I-I just, well, I like it and I meant it in a good way” She reassures him with a smile, a slight warmth shoots to her cheeks. 

God, was she blushing at Michael fucking Gavey? Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan or the agreement! 

“Oh, I see” Michael smirks before lowering his head, “Can I use my tongue?” She almost wants to desperately scream ‘YES’ and grind herself against his face but she instead nods and that was enough of a response for Michael as he flattens the tip of his tongue where her clit was.  

Her back arches again, instinctively, feeling Michael’s tongue circle her bud and sweep through her folds all while he keeps his lustful gaze on her, watching the way her face contorts into different forms of pleasure and the audible moans and gasps he hears when he flicks his tongue in a rhythm he notes she likes. 

Michael soon also finds himself moaning at the way she tastes. It was a flavor so sweet. Sweeter than the chocolate of his crunchy bars he so religiously ate. How could he ever tire of her taste? 

Her chest begins to heave, her stomach feeling fuzzy and tight. She was nearing her first orgasm in weeks. 

But then suddenly something unexpected happens. Michael hooks her thighs under his arms, bringing her cunt closer to his face. His red and swollen lips closed in around her clit, tenderly sucking. His actions along with the vibrations of his moans, sends hot shocks of pleasure that she feels the band in her stomach about to snap. 

“Michaelllll. I’m about to-to cum” She cries, feeling orgasm seconds away from releasing. 

“Really?” Michael mumbles with an exciting look in his eyes. She hums, her hands no longer fisting the duvet but instead gripping Michael’s hair. 

Michael continues to lap at her core at the same rhythm he notices she likes, working his tongue quicker until he feels the meaty flesh of her thighs close in on his head and tremble. 

“Michael! Yes! Yes!!!” She chants so loudly that both her and Michael know everyone in the dorm floor would listen. She couldn’t bring herself to care about everyone listening. The genius math nerd in all of Oxford just gave her the best head in the world. 

Michael drinks in her release and this time he is able to pinpoint what flavor she reminds him of. 

Honey. 

She mewls softly. Her body feels weak and tired like she had just ran the longest marathon in her life. “So good, Michael. You did such a good job” She praises, giving the cunt-drunk man between her thighs a lazy smile as she brushes the damp hair away from his face. 

A blush creeps into Michael’s cheeks, a sense of pride fills his senses. He knows he wants more now that she let him taste her. Michael supposes she could give him another taste to satisfy his hunger. She was right there for the taking. Why not? 

“What are you doing?” She curiously asks, peering over as Michael dips his head again making her eyes widen in amazement.

“Michael, wait. We agreed just… Oh fuck!” Her back arches, hands gripping her breasts and a series of gasps leave her lips as Michael redoubles his efforts and works his tongue at an incredible speed that makes tears leave the corners of her eyes over the sensitivity. 

Michael was getting skilled at this. Too skilled with tongue. 

The thin metal of Michael’s glasses dug at her thighs, his face tightly pressed at her core as he growled devotedly. Had she just accidentally created a feral animal? Fuck. 

This time she feels herself ascending closer to her peak more than usual. Her legs involuntarily begin to tremble and her mind feels fuzzy as she has no more strength to fight the waves of pleasure Michael was awarding. 

“Michael” She cries, unsure why. 

Michael, however, lost in his pleasure instinctively comes up with an idea. He unhooks one of his hands around her thigh and brings one of his fingers toward her entrance, plunging inside her walls in and out and curses at the way she clenches around his finger. 

“No, no, no. Stay” Michael mumbles as her hips buckle away from his ministrations. 

This was all getting too much for her. But she does what she’s told and stays and her body violently trembles one last time until she feels the pressure deep in her belly explode and her vision going absolutely blank. 

Has she died and gone to heaven? Cause fuck!

She doesn’t seem to remember how to breathe or pick up the surprise yelps from Michael. She was absolutely drained and spent. 

“Are-are you okay down there?” She asks, panting, gathering whatever strength she had left to peer down between her thighs. Michael’s round blue eyes look up at her in shock. His face, coated with much of her juices. Even his glasses had not been spared. A palm sized wet patch soaked her bedding. 

Did Michael fucking Gavey make me squirt? 

“I’m sorry that's the first time that ever happened to me. Wait here, let me get a towel to clean you up” She stammers as she begins to crawl out of her bed but Michael’s hand wraps around her ankle, preventing her. 

“No need. I quite liked it” He blinks as cleans his face with his fingers, licking away her arousal like the embarrassing thing she did not happen. 

He plops himself next to her on the bed, landing with a heavy thud. “So” Michael trails with a smirk, his head resting on his elbow. “Did I earn my reward?” 

She scoffs playfully. How could she forget their deal? 

She was walking to her class earlier on the day when she spotted Michael pouding and cursing at a vending machine for eating the last cash he had on him. She evilly laughed at him before she nonchalantly walked over to the vending machine and purchased the last two crunchy bars while waving it on his face. Truthfully, she did not find chocolate as pleasing as he did. Michael had scoffed before he followed her like a lost puppy, telling her he’d pay her back the next day. A wicked plan forged inside her head in a way he could pay her back. 

“Here” She slams the two golden bars against his chest after she retrieved them from her bag. Michael smiles and mutters a ‘thanks’ as he unwraps his treat and brings her body to rest against his chest. 

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @smayhem @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @imsoshygirl

empty is who I couldn't tag sorry :/

if you'd like to be tag on my general taglist click here

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: I hope you all enjoy this random idea.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

One hand guides the fabric as the other turns the wheel. Your work is slow but steady, every stitch perfect, every seam precise. Your fare may be modest and your product simple, but its quality cannot be contested. Your labour as yourself is honest and plain.

The noise of the machine is your only company. The one-room shop nestled behind the butcher’s rarely sees a customer through its door. Instead, the orders are sent from the factories, returned with the printed adverts you disperse outside their doors. The writs are sent along with an envelope of pence and shilling and you complete each with equal diligence before sending them back bundled in paper and twine.

The operation isn’t especially fruitful but the profit is enough to subsist. Enough to guarantee your independence; a small apartment just above and a pot of stew to last you through each week. This humble existence is preferable to any marriage you’ve witnessed. 

The letters from your sisters reaffirm your spinster’s fate. You’d rather a hand wheel and a needle than a brood and broken back. A husband seems to provide several jobs at once, you’ll happily settle for one.

As your hands work from memory and your head wanders from tedium, the bell above the door gives a single sharp toll. You ease the wheel to a halt and leave the seam unfinished. You peer up above the black iron machine, reminding yourself to fix your hunch as a client enters. You can’t but wonder if he may have come to the wrong shop.

By his attire, he is a class above the factory women who require gray skirts and simple stays. His waistcoat is embroidered and his jacket is pressed and clean. He is tall, locks part tidily so his curls lay gracefully. His face is fresh-shaven, square jaw with a cleft, and shoulders broad and strong. He does not share the same sinewy gauntness as the labourers with the coal-dusted noses.

He carries a fine leather bag. Another clue to his status. His shoes, another. Polished and without creases.

You stand to greet him, “good afternoon, sir. Might I help you with something?”

His answer is not prompt. He takes in the finished dresses hung by the east wall and turns to examine the rolls of wool and cotton. At last, he returns his attention to you.

“Afternoon,” his deep timbre fills the small space, “you are the dressmaker.”

It isn’t a question, but you answer, “I am.”

He narrows his eyes as he approaches your desk, the sole fixture in the space. From without, the shop is just as bare. The blackened windows offer not insight into the business, its only suggestion the sign hung above the door, though the paint requires a fresh coat.

“And the shop owner?”

“That is me as well, sir,” you assert. The presumption is not uncommon.

“Ah,” he accepts your explanation without comment, “so, you will have sewn this.”

He puts his bag on the desk, nearly knocking your shears from the corner. You try not to flinch as they teeter near the edge and he pulls open the top of the leather bag. He pulls out a swath of grey. You recognise it and he rolls the cuff to show your initials sewn within.

“Sir,” you say precariously, “is there some issue with it? Is it your wife’s dress?”

“Wife? No, no,” he dismisses, feeling the fabric between his fingers, “rather I am in search of the dress’s owner. The initial must belong to them, yes? So you would have a name for the buyer.”

“Mm, no, those are mine,” you point at the letters, “as it is my handiwork.”

“That makes sense,” he frowns in disappointment. “So you wouldn’t know who would wear it?”

You rub your chapped lips together. You find your tongue sliding over them often when you work, turning them raw with the habit. The man’s lips are rosy and smooth, as well-kempt as the rest of him. He is no factory worker’s husband.

“I might… would you take it out?” You ask.

He obliges as you pluck up the metal cylinder from your desk and unfurl the tape measure from within. He shakes out the dress, holding it by the shoulders to reveal salt stains along the skirts and unleashing a dingy smell in the shop. You wiggle your nose at the stench but worse roils in from the butcher’s on hot days.

You take the measure of the sleeves and the waist, then to the hem. You scribble the numbers on a scrap and take that to compare with your ledger. The measurements are in now way defining but might narrow it down. He keeps the dress aloft and you return to him to check the thread along the seams. A few months ago, you changed the thickness as the factory workers complained of splits under the arms.

“Hm, it is a recent purchase,” you assure him and return to the ledge. 

He lowers the dress and approaches. You snap the book closed and turn your face up to consider him once more, “why do you need to know, if it is not your wife?”

“You are very discerning,” he remarks as he folds the dress and drapes it over his bag, “I’m certain then you can surmise the woman who wore this dress did not meet a kind fate.” He tugs up the hem and shows a tear trimmed in scarlet, the colour not obvious from a distance. “Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. I’m a detective and I’m trying to identify a poor woman found not far from here. I believe it is in your own interest that I discover her assailant.”

“I cannot say for certain which she is,” you turn over the scrap and re-open the ledger. You write down three names which match the measurements and hold the paper out to him. He takes it, his thick fingertips brushing yours. “Those are the ones which align with the dress.”

“Mm,” he hums as he tucks the paper into his chest pocket, “and your name? I couldn’t make it out on the sign.”

You recite your name flatly, “it isn’t on the sign.”

“It requires new paint,” he admonishes, “I could hardly find you.”

“I am aware,” you reply. “Thank you for noting.”

He’s quiet, “being a detective, however, I did indeed put together the clues.”

Is he making a joke? You cannot tell. He folds up the dress completely and puts it back in the leather bag. The smell persists.

“What are you prices?” He asks abruptly.

“Sir, I sew dresses for factory women, sometimes a few communion pieces, but I’m afraid I don’t do much suit work.”

“My sister requires a dress,” he sniffs, “as simple as it is, I can see your work is fine.”

“I have only wools and cottons,” you counter.

“Do you always turn away business?” He challenges.

“I wasn’t, sir, I’m only clarifying what I currently do. My prices are set for those fabrics,” you explain.

“I will pay for the muslin and velvet,” he waves his hand staunchly, “you will be paid for your labour. Can you sew with more than wool and cotton?”

“I can, sir, but you could find a ready-made dress in a market boutique if the dress is required promptly.”

“I can afford the time and coin,” he insists. “You are not a talented advertiser, are you?”

You’re taken aback by his bluntness. Often, his ilk have that demeanour. It’s why you’d rather the factory workers and the fish sellers’ wives.

“I suppose not,” you agree, “I would need measurements before I begin. You may send the numbers along with the fabric, then. And I would require a style. Perhaps your sister is a purveyor of fashion magazines?”

“I will send a messenger,” he shrugs. “Thank you for your time. I shan't get in your way any longer.”

“Good day, sir.”

“Good day to you,” he takes the bag from your desk and the shears fall to the floor with a clatter.

You skirt around to grab them as he bends and swipes them up first. You recoil as he closes the blades with a snap. He examines them before placing them back on the desk.

“Apologies,” he says, “and miss,” he looks at you, “take to heart what I’ve told you today. Keep away from the allies and perhaps you may consider locking your door.”

“Thank you, sir, your concern is appreciated.”

“Rather you might just keep those close, eh,” he points to the shears and his cheek dimples.

Again, you can’t be certain of his humour. You keep a placid expression, neither smiling nor scowling. He clears his throat and runs his hand down his jacket, gripping the lapel.

“Very well then, I’ll be off.”

He turns on his heel and marches to the door. You stay by the desk as the bell rings with his departure. Once the door closes, you cross the shop. You turn the lock into place, his foreboding lingering with the stale scent of dirty water.

🪡

Despite the unusual visit, your days roll on like a hand on a clock. The thought of the woman’s tragic fate looms like a shadow but fades. You have too much stitching to do to fret over that man and his ominous words. You assume his interest in your work thereafter was wholly feigned as he does not return.

That day, you pass off six parcels to Eustace, the driver who takes them down to the stacks to hand off to the floor bosses who will parse them out to the women they’ve been cut for. You pay him his toll before he climbs back into the seat of his cart, his horse kicking impatiently.

“Excuse me, sir,” another driver clops up along the other side of the street, a narrow squeeze between the slanting buildings. “I’m in search of a dressmaker. I believe the store is tucked behind the butcher’s and…” the man’s voice drifts off as his eyes flit to the meat sellers marquee.

“Right here, good sir,” Eustace responds, “wouldn’t ya know, she’s right here.”

You lift your chin to see past the cart and spy the driver. He removes his cap as his gaze meets yours. Eustache dips his chin as he adjusts his own hat and snaps his old mare into a canter. As you're left alone with the carriage driver, a vehicle rather lofty for a block like this, you fold your hands behind you.

“Sir, you hardly look in need of a work woman’s dress,” you say.

“Miss,” he ties the reins off and jumps down from his seat, “I am sent for you, not a dress.”

“For me?” You echo.

“Mr. Holmes has sent,” he crosses the muck and nearly slips. “He said he made an appointment for a seamstress.”

“An appointment? I wasn’t informed of the time,” you rebuff. “I’ve a shop to run, orders paid for. I can’t simply leave.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Holmes made mention of a fee,” the man feels around his striped coat, “he said a deposit would be needed.”

He takes out a brown envelope and hands it over. You take it, a small weight within. You look at the driver before you pull back the flap and peek inside. A large gold sovereign sits in the corner of the paper; a whole pound. That’s at least three days work.

You hold your breath, trying to maintain some composure. If that’s the deposit, what is he offering for the rest? You slip out the folded paper within, a page torn from a fashion journal. The dress is elegant if not extravagant. You don’t often do off-the-shoulder or ruffles like that but it isn’t beyond your skill.

You fold the flap closed again and lift your chin to face the driver, “I must lock up, you see?”

“Take your time, miss,” he says kindly. “Mr. Holmes isn’t expecting you to hurry.”

“Thank you, sir,” you bow your head and turn away.

You measure your steps along the facade of the butcher’s shop and curl around to the alleyway. You let yourself into your shop and tuck the envelope into your apron pocket. You take your sewing bag from under the desk and shake off the dust. You don’t often have reason to use it.

You open it up and pack away your shears, a measuring tape, pins with a cushion, your notebook, and a few other bits and bobs. Just in case. You grab a role of linen from against the wall. It’s heavy but you can manage.

You take the key from your desk drawer and switch off the overhead light. You lock the door and continue back out to the street. The driver puffs smoke from a pipe as he waits.

“Miss, allow me,” he snuffs out the pipe and puts it in his pocket. He nears and reaches for the roll of linen.

“It’s quite alright, sir,” you say.

“I insist, miss, can’t have a lady doing all that,” he takes it, not forcefully, and you let him.

As he goes to the carriage and opens the door, you give pause. You don’t know if you should be so easily swayed on a gold coin. Mr. Holmes hadn’t been entirely pleasant and you do prefer your simple work. Still, you can hardly turn your nose up at a pound. Not with the summer fizzling to a finale.

You lift your skirts and cross the street to the open carriage, “sir, might I have a name?”

“Gavin,” he answers, “and I have yours. Mr. Holmes made sure of it.”

“Yes, very good,” you say as you approach, another sliver of doubt trickling through. Mr. Holmes claimed to be a detective but is that really the reason he was strolling around with a dead woman’s dress? You gulp and look at Gavin then the carriage, “might I keep the window open?”

“Surely you can,” he agrees amiably. “Mr. Holmes lives quite a ways, shouldn’t mind the air. I’ll be certain to stay away from the stacks.”

“Thank you, sir,” you accept his proffered hand and he helps you up into the carriage. 

You settle on the bench as the door shuts and you open the window from within. You lean back, your hand grasping the top of your bag. You unclasp it as you feel Gavin climb up on the driver’s seat. You dip your hand inside and clutch your long shears.

You don’t forget all of what Mr. Holmes said.

[my313]

wedding gift 💍 choi beomgyu [wip preview]

mdni 18+ only / cw: degradation, mentions of collaring, implied filming and photographing, humiliation, husband!beomgyu, dom!beomgyu, wife!reader

lmk if anyone wants to be tagged for the full thing!!

with beomgyu fully-dressed and lounging comfortably on the vanity chair, twisting the strap of his camera on one hand and drinking in the most vulnerable sight of you — you’re like prey handed over prettily on a silver platter, for him to pick apart and devour. 

“crawl to me.” 

“w-what?” an absurd request. something that should have rung the alarm bells in your mind and have your gears turning the other way around. instead, your thighs clench together in effort to hide your growing arousal. you’re washed over with both desire and shame

the corner of beomgyu’s lip quirks up seeing your face contort into nothing shy of a pet being scolded by its owner—bashful, blushing, quivering—in spite of doing nothing but talking down on you.

beomgyu throws his head back, throat deliciously protruding for your viewing as his laugh resonates in the gap between you two.

the sight of you shrinking into yourself, embarrassed to admit that you enjoy his orders, all his humiliating demands, has him throbbing painfully in his slacks. if you weren’t so adamant on avoiding your husband’s watchful gaze, you’d have noticed his own arousal by now. he tries to appear as controlled as he could, trying to ignore how constricting his underwear felt against his length, or the mess threatening to ruin his dress pants.

“maybe we should’ve brought the collar,” another tsk. your unmoving figure has beomgyu moving to the edge of the cushioned seat, legs spread and foot tapping expectantly. “did my baby want to be dragged crying instead? you like being a bitch on a leash, sweet thing?” pressing your buttons as he probes further. 

his lips purse mockingly, brows scrunched and eyes squinted in disagreement. “aw, don’t get all shy on me now!” his pitch goes up, exaggerating reactions in favour of seeing you crumble. “be a good little wife..” he flicks his chin towards you, gesturing for you to move.

“..and crawl.”

[lazyjellyfish300]

Dad's "Best" Friend Peter B. comes to Dinner🍝🍷

DBF!Peter B. Parker x Fem shy less experienced!Reader

Synopsis: Your dad's new friend from work comes over for dinner and he's a lot cuter than you were expecting. 💋 Word count 5.8k

A/N: Giving my man Miguel a damn break for once LMAO. Jk, it won't be for long, I just have like 6 wips with him at the moment and can't decide which one to work on. 😩 Then I had a dream about Peter B. and so now let me get this out of my system. I was gonna let us f*ck but then I got to 5k words so part 2?! Lmk.

TW: MINORS DNI, LEGAL AGE GAP: PETER B. IS 38, READER IS IN LATE TWENTIES, SMUT (69, ORAL SEX F AND M RECEIVING, READER HASN'T HAD AN ORGASM BEFORE/LESS EXPERIENCED, FINGERING, HANDJOB, ORGASM) IMPLIED DIFFICULT RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR DAD, READER IS SHY WITH SOCIAL ANXIETY

------

"Dad...."

"You're not burning the meat, are you?"

"It's literally the same spaghetti sauce I always make! Out."

Your dad shoves a spoon into the pan of bubbling red tomato sauce and steals a taste, huffing frantically like a dragon at the hot temperature.

"It's not ready yet! Jesus..."

You shoo your dad out of the kitchen for the umpteenth time with a roll of your eyes. Normally, you couldn't give two shits about making dinner, particularly when your dad almost always found something to complain about whenever you cooked, leading you to take a semi-permanent hiatus.

However, you found out he was inviting his new friend from work, and you quickly realized you'd rather die than subject an innocent stranger to the atrocity that was your dad's cooking skills.

Instead you let him handle dessert, easily solved with a frozen ice cream cake from the store. You looked at the clock nervously that was creeping up on 7 pm. The guest would be due to arrive at any time.

You didn't worry about dressing up too much since you were running around all evening, wearing one of your college crew neck sweaters and favorite leggings. At least you cared to match your fuzzy socks this time with your hair just the way you liked to wear it and a freshly done face with the level of makeup you'd flaunt for special occasions.

At the sound of a small knock from the door, your dad grumbles, saying he'll answer it and he shuffles towards it with a burnt tongue. You resume anxiously tending to the sauce, mentally preparing yourself to socially mask for the next two hours.

You hear a man's voice. It's mellow and humble, turning down your dad's overbearing insistence on waiting on him hand and foot, meekly asserting he can hang his own suit jacket and graciously thanking him for inviting him over.

At the sound of their approaching footsteps in the kitchen, you turn, offering your most gorgeous smile to the new stranger, your dad's new so-called "best friend" (a title easily acquired by anyone who let him mindlessly yap about world governments for longer than five minutes), and extend your hand to him.

You feel your pupils dilate when you're greeted with a firm yet soft grip that contains almost a fraction of the warmth as the silken chestnut brown of his eyes.

He looks younger than your dad, somewhere in his late thirties. He's tall, about 6'2 with a lean muscular build that's highlighted in the way his white button down shirt hugs his arms, the bottom of which is tucked into gray slacks that sit on his narrow waist. He wears a pleasant smile with dazzling teeth.

His tone of voice is soothing, almost innocent with an edge of allure in the way he said certain phrases that you can't quite put your finger on, kind of like how he said...

"You must be my friend's daughter. He didn't mention how lovely you are..." Making your cheeks nearly hotter than the spaghetti you prepared.

"Ah, well, she gets it from her old man!" Your dad cuts in. You can't help but sigh and turn your attention back to the food, not knowing that Peter's eyes wouldn't leave you the rest of the evening.

At dinner, you politely dish up both men a healthy serving of buttery spaghetti and the rich, homemade sauce. A medley of sweet tomatoes and fresh garlic fills your belly as you all silently eat. The gentle sounds of your metal forks tapping against the porcelain of your plates and the hollow sound of wine being sipped from a glass.

Your dad blabs and practically monopolizes the majority of the dinner conversation. You tune in only to the part where he introduces Peter B. a little further, a small smile playing on your lips as you nod and listen intently as he tells his story.

He's Peter Benjamin Parker, a 38 year-old divorcee with a nearly four year old daughter who works in finance alongside your dad.

They bonded over similar interests and your dad loudly cuts in and says since Peter was one of the only people at work who truly recognized his potential for what it was, he'd told him he'd repay him one of these days with a homemade dinner and glass of wine at his place, to which he simply couldn't say no.

Your dad goes to butt in and steer the conversation back to his isolated ramblings but Peter politely cuts him off,

"I'd like to hear more about you," he says with a smile. The twinkle in his eye throws off your train of thought as you struggle to form an answer with some semblance of clarity.

You tell him you're in your late twenties, trying to balance college and work while living with your dad in hopes of getting your own place when you graduate. He nods solemnly and seriously as you describe your dreams and ambitions for the future, occasionally validating you with a gentle hum or a "go on," with the ghost of a smile on his lips as he listens intently, none of the other topics of the evening seized his attention quite so strongly as you are now.

Your dad seems to accept defeat at his failure to reclaim the conversation and shifts all his attention to the food in front of him, stuffing his face as you converse with Peter. You find your cheeks start to hurt towards the end of dinner from all the smiles he's drawing out of you with his questions and his silly quips that you can't help but beam at, even if they would sound atrocious coming from anyone else.

Somehow, this new friend of your dad's fell out of the handsome tree and managed to knock every single branch on his way down of things you found yourself wildly attracted to, the wine in your glass pushing you closer to him by the time dinner ended.

At your dad's suggestion, you played a few rounds of a card game called Thirty-One, the smirk on Peter's face widening even more in silent admiration as you won hand after hand. A smile breaking across your lips when Peter let out an exasperated laugh at your knocking for a close 30 right after he just got done dealing. He touched your hand, his soft fingertips lingering on your knuckles as he joked with your dad that you had to have sabotaged the deck when he wasn't looking as your dad threw his cards on the table with a shake of his head and a loud yawn at his pitiful 15 and Peter's sad 23.

You watched Peter as he skillfully shuffled and stacked the cards away into a neat pile. Those long, gentle fingers of his expertly bending and handling the cards, making them all fall perfectly in a flawless cascade against his palms, your heart nearly coming to a dead stop in your chest when you feel the top of his knee momentarily press against yours underneath the table.

Soon after dessert and one or two more red wine glasses, your dad is waddling towards his room down the hall scratching his back, teasing you two not to stay up too late and telling Peter he's welcome to whatever leftovers he wants in the fridge and the guest bedroom next to his in case he's unable to drive. You nod and mutter goodnight, the air flooded with awkward tension as his door clicks softly behind him.

You shyly stand up, and tell Peter you should probably do the dishes, to which Peter offers to help. You shake your head but he doesn't take no for an answer, the dimple in his smile growing as he rolls up his sleeves over his forearms, striding towards the kitchen before you can utter one more word in protest. Soon, you're rinsing the dishes as he scrubs, he'll pause every so often and turn down the volume of the water coming from the sink so he can hear you a little better, modest whiffs of his cologne coming from his neck that make you a little weak in the knees as he seems to get closer and closer to you on your side of the sink, an entire colony of butterflies soaring in your tummy every time his hand brushes against yours as he hands you a new dish.

You humbly suggest a movie afterwards before you call it a night as you take turns drying your hands on the dish rag. He smiles and follows you to the couch, sitting next to you. You feel your face heat up and you try to find something to watch, making a busy, quiet clicking noise with your teeth to fill the gaps of silence between you two.

You know you're not at the point that you can just turn on one of your cheesy chick flicks with him, so, you randomly suggest a scary movie, knowing damn well that you're a huge chicken when it came to watching them.

The corner of Peter's mouth twitches a little. Scary movies, the oldest trick in the book. Neither of you were born yesterday. A guy and a girl with obvious tension between the two of them, sitting late at night on a couch all alone, with a scary movie playing that would inevitably make the space between them very, very thin. You know it, and he knows it, but he nods his head.

"You sure you wanna watch a scary one?"

You shrug innocently, and respond in an overly optimistic manner. "Yeah, I mean, they're not too bad. I might need to close my eyes for certain parts but I can handle it."

Peter smirks. "Okay...if you say so."

You select the movie, and as the screen loads, Peter says to you in a lower tone, "You know, at any point in time, you can pause it and put on something else."

You shake your head. "Nahhh. I'll be fine," shooting him an overconfident smile.

A few jump scares in, the blanket on your lap is tickling the bottom of your nose as you hold it to your face, occasionally bringing it up over your forehead with a few small whimpers.

Peter's doing his best to play it cool as well, but he finds himself also jumping at some of the more intense scenes, mostly because of how reactive you are, your elbow occasionally bumping his, making him shudder in alarm at parts that weren't even that scary, your nervous energy feeding onto him.

At one point, it's obvious that another big scare is coming up as the main character starts to walk down a dark hall, the unsettling hum of the chilling music blasting from the speakers, both of you holding your breath.

You look to your left and Peter looks to his right, your faces meeting in the middle. You both giggle as you look at each other, neither of you brave enough to turn your attention back to the screen.

"What's happening?" you whisper playfully to him.

He chuckles and whispers back, "I don't know."

"Just look and tell me if that one scary guy is about to come on."

Peter smiles and shakes his head, "No, you do it."

"Peter! For fuck's sake, pleaseee..." you hiss giving him a playful nudge with your elbow.

Peter sighs and slowly turns back towards the screen, then he pauses the movie. Your head is still turned to him, your cheek pressed against the back of the couch in an effort to hide your gaze from whatever spooky image is on screen.

"You can look, there's nothing there, I paused it." Peter whispers.

You turn, and bam, the demon's face is frozen perfectly in a menacing look, taking up the entire frame. You let out a little scream and immediately clap your hands to your mouth as Peter cracks up. You reach out and smack him, both of your hands alternating as Peter playfully tries to weakly defend himself with his own.

"You...bastard! I'm gonna kill you Peter!" You say through clenched teeth, throwing a spare pillow into his chest.

Peter catches one of your hands and the smile fades from both of your faces as you feel your hands fully touch for the first time. His palm gently smooths over yours, interlacing his fingers.

You feel your stomach flutter, and his does the same. He pulls you a little closer and he smirks down at you when you fall against his chest.

"Hi...", he whispers, his eyes getting lost in yours.

"Hey..." you answer softly. You're about to dive headfirst into those sweet brown eyes when you realize:

Shit-your dad.

Your heart hammers in your chest a little as you turn your head quickly to the side, sitting up and peering over the couch to see any signs of activity coming from his bedroom down the hall.

"Shit...he might have woken up." You murmur.

"Nah...I don't hear anything." Peter cranes his neck as well, his chin lightly brushing the top of your head as he pulls you even closer so his arm is around you on the back of the couch.

"I could've sworn I heard something," you murmur. Your heart rate has sped up tremendously, you can feel him right there, on the side of your face. If you turn and look at him, it's over.

Peter smiles softly, his eyes on you while you're still focused on the back of the hall. The top of his pointer finger gently grazes the outline of your jaw, pausing just on the corner of your chin. He presses it a little harder, gently guiding your gaze to look at him.

You feel your cheeks utterly burn as you face him fully, hyper aware of the minimal distance between your noses. Your breath catches in your throat as you see his eyelids droop, and then eventually close as he leans in to kiss you.

You wet your lips, leaning in as well, then finally meet his in a soft, delicate first kiss. Peter gently draws in air through his nose, releasing the breath in the form of a soft moan into your mouth as he moves his lips again, this time perfectly sandwiching them between his. Your lashes flutter at the tantalizing sensation as you allow your lips to dance with his, your stomach practically flying away when you feel his free hand gently press against the side of your neck.

He scoops you in closer with his arm that was laying on the back of the sofa, then bringing it to cup your face also. He holds your face tenderly in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks as he makes out with you on the sofa, his tongue gently gliding over your lips, coating them in the wet warmness of his mouth.

The sweetness of the tomatoes, and the dark red wine laced on his tongue bring you even closer, the heat between your bodies almost becoming too much for your respective places from where you sit, begging to be transferred onto the other's skin.

Peter pulls you into his lap and you take it a step further, straddling him with one leg on either side of his lap, your hands tangling themselves in his sandy brown hair, weaving between those light grey streaks with a soft, high pitched moan.

"Fuck..." Peter groans at your noises. He gently turns your head to the side for better access and his lips start attacking your neck. Soft and messy, he blazes a trail of wetness all along your collarbone, his fingers gently tugging at the neckline of your sweater. You indulge him and slip it off, leaving him breathless as you sit there straddling his lap in your bra. "Look at you..."

You bite your lip with a smile and lean back, freeing your breasts, allowing the soft globes to spill out from over the top of the cups.

Peter lets out a breathy moan at the sight, "Beautiful...mmm..." and leans forward, eagerly locking his lips around your left breast, while gently rolling the nipple of your right. You moan and slowly tilt your head back, your breaths shaky as you let Peter enjoy your body, feeling the soft, wet pad of his tongue swiftly swirl around your nipple, leaving the bud nice and perky as his lips suck and release it with a tiny plop. The chilly air around it makes goosebumps appear all across your chest, and Peter switches sides, taking your right breast in his mouth. He lets his tongue trace circle after circle around the delicate areola, moaning at the taste of your skin, making you suck in air between your teeth as he hollows his cheeks, beginning to lightly suck your breast as though he were trying to make you cum from the motion alone.

Your breaths are growing higher and higher in pitch. Your brow furrows as your mind is ripped between two directions of trying to relax and focus on all the pleasure he's giving you while controlling the volume of your moans.

Your lips fall open as you feel Peter gently start rolling his hips underneath you, the fabric of his pants straining against his raging erection. You start humping your pussy against him, and he closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh as he moans your name.

"Yeah, Peter....?" you answer breathlessly as you gently roll your hips in a circle.

Peter can barely speak at this point, his mouth wide open as he leans back, his hands rubbing your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze before they snake behind your back, unclasping your bra.

"Shit..." He breaths out as he sets your breasts free with a little bounce and your entire upper torso is now exposed to him. He tosses your bra onto the couch next to him, biting his lip as his hands run and caress all over every square inch of your body. "How're you so perfect...come closer, beautiful..."

You gasp a little as you feel his hand grab you around the back of your neck, forcing your lips a little more intensely against his this time. You moan, sucking and biting his lip, not minding the bit of stubble from his face pricking your cheeks, allowing your soft giggles to escape into his mouth.

"Mmm....what's so funny, cutie?" Peter smirks his lips against yours, one of his hands tugging at your leggings. Your breathing speeds up, a sharp, high pitched moan leaving your lips when you feel his hand cup your clothed pussy.

Peter smiles devilishly, biting his lip as well as he holds you in his hand, his hand gently pulsing and applying more pressure against your throbbing cunt. "This feels good?"

"Peter..."

"What, baby?" He teases, cocking his head a little at you, the heel of his palm pressing against your clothed clit.

"I need you...fuck, I need you.." you whine.

"Need me how, baby?" He whispers, this time pressing a wet, loving kiss to your lips. "Hmmm, baby... tell me?"

"I...w-want you to fuck me..."

Peter gives a low groan, continuing to fondle your pussy outside of your clothes, driving you mad.

"Yeah, pretty girl...?"

"Yes Peter....please baby...?"

Peter lets out a little chuckle and presses a soft kiss to your lips. "I will, sweetheart...just be patient for me." He shifts underneath you, pulling you off his lap. You catch your breath, panting as you watch him pull up a couch pillow and prop it behind you.

Peter catches the back of your head with his hand, leaning in to press another kiss to your lips as he gently lays you backwards, your hair spread out on the pillow, groaning at the sight of the beautiful half naked goddess laid out for him.

"You're absolutely perfect..."

You bite your lip and reach up, one of your fingers teasing the buttons of his shirt. "Your turn to show me..."

His cheeks burn pink but he flashes you a little smile as he unbuttons it completely and lets the flaps fall away from his body, giving you a delicious view of his chest and stomach, the dark brown hair decorating his pecks and the lean muscle underneath, from the slightest pudge of his belly at the bottom, making your mouth water. His shoulder muscles ripple faintly as he removes his shirt altogether and sets it to the side, returning to running his hands up and down your thighs.

Those big beautiful brown eyes stay locked with yours as he presses a kiss to your sternum. You giggle and tangle a hand in his hair as he moves down your tummy, the low tones of his voice vibrating against your body, and traveling straight to your pussy.

He kisses your stomach one more time and gently hooks his fingers underneath your panties and leggings. You lift your hips for him in silent obedience, your lips falling open as you watch his face utterly burn with lust as he pulls them off of you.

Peter lets out a low groan, licking his lips as he lets his eyes roam all over your naked body. Those brown eyes find yours again, taking note of your labored breaths. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, his thumb smoothing along the shape of your bottom lip. "You doing okay, beautiful?" He asks in a low tone, slightly rubbing his nose against yours.

You nod slowly, your face burning. "It's just, Peter I-"

"Yes, sweetheart?" His eyes search you with concern, the gray five o'clock shadow of his face highlighted in the soft yellow glow coming from the lone reading lamp on the other side of the room by the TV. He's unbelievably handsome, this caring man who was only a stranger hours ago, looking at you as though his gaze alone could somehow convey the degree of worship he felt you deserved, somehow managing to show greater care and tenderness to your body than any other man you dealt with before. You'd let him do this every day if it meant you'd never get used to this intoxicating feeling.

"I've never um..."

"Mhmm?"

"I've never had a..."

"You're a virgin?" He asks softly, stroking your cheek.

"No I mean, I've just never finished before..."

"You haven't had an orgasm before...?" he asks you quietly. You nod in shy affirmation, a new heat wave making itself apparent underneath your cheeks.

Peter nods in quiet understanding, the backs of his knuckles stroking your face in silent reassurance. He leans in, kissing you once more. You hum into the kiss, and you feel his soft tongue prodding the tip of your lips again. You feel another shot of arousal wet itself between your thighs as his tongue pushes into your mouth, bringing the kiss to that deep state of passion from before. You start making out with him again, the grip on his hair tightening as you feel him gently lower his body weight onto you.

He eventually pulls away, leaving a fresh trail of kisses down your neck, pausing once more to suckle on your perky tits, leaving your nipples hard and pointy in his wake. He worships your tummy, licking a stripe down the plush middle, pausing at the top of your sex where he draws a circle with his tongue, causing you to buck your hips.

"I could be your first..." He murmurs, inhaling deeply, his fingers curling around your hips as he looks up at you with his deep brown eyes. "I'll make you cum tonight..."

You let out a soft whine, stroking his cheek and he leans affectionately into your touch. "Peter..."

"Do you want that baby...hmmm?" He comes up closer to your face, caging your body underneath him as he looks lovingly down into your eyes. "Tell me you want it sweetheart, and I'll do that for you tonight."

He purrs, leaning down to pepper more messy kisses to your neck, leading you to whimper. "I want it...I want you, Peter..."

"Want me to what, pretty girl?" He murmurs from your neck. "I need to be sure you're okay with it, darling. Tell me what you want me to do to you tonight..."

"Make me cum..."

Peter's face gets hot. He brings his face from your neck, looking at you as he starts to slide down your body towards your pussy. "Okay, sweetheart...you got it."

He gives you another devilish smile as he locks his arms around your thighs, "It's okay, baby..." He presses a kiss to your clit, making you shudder with anticipation. "We don't wanna wake up your dad, remember?"

You nod, your fingers coming down to tangle themselves in his mop of sandy brown hair once again. "Peter..."

"I've got you, baby...I'll go nice and slow..."

Your back arches and your pretty lips fall open when you feel Peter's thick tongue massage the folds of your pussy. You feel him let out a low groan, his soft murmurs being swallowed up by the plushness of your thighs around his head.

He humps his aching cock against the sofa as he continues to eat your pussy, his tongue gliding up and down your lips for several more moments before he dips inside, exploring the velvet of your walls as he lets his tongue indulge, steadily fucking you, working his tongue in a steady rhythm as he prods it in and out of your weeping cunt. Your hands come to play with your tits for more stimulation, one of his hands coming up to join yours as he rolls your tender nipple between his fingers.

Never in your life did you think sex could feel this fucking good, the way he's so gloriously eating you out, not caring and groaning at the very sight of you, swallowing every drop of your pussy like it's water and he's a parched man in the desert, plunging his face into that sweet oasis between your thighs. You whimper and move your hips up and down in tandem with his tongue. He greedily digs his nails into the backs of your thighs and ass, shoving your pussy against his face as he buries himself nose deep.

"Mmm.... you're driving me crazy, sweetheart...might have to eat you all night."

Peter pulls away, he can feel himself about to cum in his pants. He lays back on the couch and takes you by the hand, guiding your dripping pussy over his equally glistening face, brown eyes blown wide with lust as he pulls you closer.

You bite your lip at the sexy sight of your arousal smeared all over his gorgeous face, lowering yourself onto him slowly, moaning when you feel his tongue moving inside you again, his hands seizing your hips, slamming you down onto his nose.

"That's better..." Peter groans and continues dining on your pussy, his hips humping the air, his fingers becoming more gentle as they press into your hips, rocking you on his tongue. Your mouth waters at the outline of his cock and you reach forward, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, taking his hard cock out from his boxers, your eyes fluttering at its generous length and slightly pink tip, brimming with precum.

Peter chuckles from underneath you, "Mmmm, haha....baby, what are you-ah!"

He groans and lets his head flop back onto the pillow with his eyes shut when he feels you take him in your mouth, the slick inside of your cheeks caressing the length of his cock as you take him as deep as you can. He holds his breath, only releasing a long groan of pleasure as you begin bobbing your head, softly using your mouth as a fleshlight as you passionately suck him off.

"Baby....ah, baby....fuck..."

He groans loudly.

"Shh..." you coo sweetly, pressing sloppy kisses onto his sensitive tip. "Don't wanna wake him up, remember."

"Mmmnnhhh....." Peter groans loudly again, thrusting his cock a little deeper in your mouth. "Baby...you're perfect." He bites his lip, letting himself ride the wave of pleasure you're sending all throughout his body for another lengthy moment before he starts softly licking, then pushing his tongue back inside the soft plush of your pussy.

The room is a quiet, sloppy mess with gentle moans and playful shushes bouncing off the walls as you pleasure each other in the 69 position. This is by far the filthiest thing you've ever done. Fucking this sweet man who was older than you but treated you and ate you like a goddess. This tall, lean rugged man with a kind voice and big brown eyes. Your dad's friend, a stranger, letting the beautiful daughter of his new friend suck his cock in his living room while the house was asleep.

You clench your teeth, pausing from sucking Peter's cock as you feel yourself inching towards an unfamiliar, tingly feeling building on itself deep in your body.

The feeling is better than just good. It's surpassed good at this point. It's absolutely euphoric. The way this man is making you ride his face and wiggling his tongue against every spot inside of you that sets your core on fire.

"I'm gonna cum, Peter..."

A switch goes off in his brain and you feel him amp up the flicker of his tongue, this time directly over your tender clit, you clench and seize involuntarily but to no avail as his arms lock you over his face.

"Peter...Peter please..." You moans turn to pathetic to pleas but they fall on deaf ears. Peter continues drowning in your pussy, his wet tongue pressed against your clit, pressing and pulsing, prodding you closer to the edge you've never met, that sweet peak of ecstasy you've only heard and read about.

"Cum for me beautiful...all over my face..."

The blissful end Peter is bringing lovingly, rapidly to your whole body, a smug smile on his face as he watches your desperate reaction, fighting against every natural urge in your body to scream as you come undone. Peter closes his eyes with a loud groan as you cum all over his face, littering tiny kisses all over your thighs as he sucks each droplet onto his tongue.

---

Peter's cleaning himself up with a spare towel you fetched from the hall closet, not minding the simmering ache in his cock with all his bottled up cum, giving you that rugged, dimpled smile as you plant a soft kiss on his cheek in affectionate gratitude, his button down shirt now hanging off your body in a simple display of aftercare.

It would have to do for now. Had this little encounter occured at his place, he'd already have you in a warm bath, only to likely give in to his quieted inhibitions before he fucked you once more, your breathy squeals reverberating against his bathroom tile.

A soft thump from down the hall sends you both reeling, you become a basketball star on the spot as you aim and hurtle the cum rag through the air, launching it into your open bedroom door and onto your darkened bed, yanking the large blanket over both of you on the couch, gulping when you hear your dad's muffled footsteps getting increasingly louder, then tapering off as they disappear inside the bathroom with a noisy grunt.

Peter's hand finds yours underneath the blanket. The sheer comfort of his soft palm sending waves of warmth up your arm and across your chest. Peter looks over the edge of the couch to find your dad disappearing inside his room with a quiet latch of his door, pulling you against his chest once more, weaving little kisses into your hair.

"That was a close one..." you murmur, nuzzling a little closer against his bare chest.

He chuckles quietly. "Can't let him know I'm completely crazy about his pretty daughter..."

You giggle and bring his fingers to your lips, a quiet spark in his chest that threatens to fan into an uncontrolled burn once again as you softly kiss his fingertips, his lips gently parting as he purrs contentedly under your touch.

"You never fucked me like you said you would."

Peter smiles, biting his lip as he teases one of his fingers into your mouth. "I didn't, did I..."

You hum, swirling your tongue around his finger just like you were doing to his cock. Peter groans at the erotic memory.

"How about I take you on a real date first..."

"Really?" You smile, which he can't help but blush too at your excitement.

"Yes, really. As much as I'd like to go to your room and take you right now, I want our first time together to be special."

He gently toys with your lips, not removing his eyes from them in an intimate stare. "I'd want to have all the time in the world with you. No interruptions...no sneaky dads down the hallway..." He teases, to which your cheeks burn as you look away.

"Just all night with you and me, sweetheart. But only after I buy you whatever food your heart desires. Sounds good?"

Your smile nearly breaks your cheeks as you melt at his romantic proposition. "Sounds perfect to me," you answer softly.

"Good..." He flashes a dazzling smile back at you, cradling your face in his hands.

The heat from his skin pressed against your bare cheek deliberately makes your mind go fuzzy, your eyes seized by a delayed wave of tiredness as your body realizes the late hour.

Peter senses it too, doing his best to lay you back on the couch so you can sleep undisturbed but you pull him closer,

"Just a little longer, Peter?"

"Haha...awh, baby. If you say so. Just a little longer."

He hugs you close against his chest, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, fighting off sleep just a bit more so he can cuddle his new beautiful girlfriend while her dad stayed clueless in dreamland down the hall, trying to figure out what flowers he'd present you with at dinner, maybe a little bracelet or locket to go with it to mark you as his.

He sighs and strokes your shoulder but doesn't dare to close his eyes as he bids you quiet goodnight with a kiss on your sleeping lips, stealing a spare t-shirt from your dad from the laundry basket and his suit jacket off the coat rack on the way out. His white button down with his scent enveloping you in restful sleep on the couch.

----

@huniedeux @mrsoharaa @reverieblondie @slushycoookie @monarchberrysblog @gltzpzy I know you wanna read it Alicia lol 😁🤭

[himbeereule]

Орлёнок (Eaglet)

Орлёнок (Eaglet) is an interactive story set in a country similar to 1910s-1920s Russia. You're a member of the overthrown Imperial Family, shaping the future of the Empire by virtue of arms.

It aims to be equal parts role-playing, dress-up and strategy game, with an emphasis on romance.

Although there will be no explicit nsfw scenes, it does include graphic descriptions of the horrors of war as well as personal tragedies, so please refer to the content warnings at the end of this post.

(as the project is still a wip, this overview is somewhat incomplete and will be gradually updated in tandem with the progress of writing)

DEMO: here (v0.0.2a, 21.06.2024)

Forum post: here

Number Spelling Function (IF writer resource): here

Secondary project: @a-dying-wish-if Tertiary (mini-)project: @perceptron-failure-if Quaternary project: [redacted]

The Empire of Nevetskiya - old, proud, and utterly dilapidated. While the Industrial Revolution has enabled other Monarchies - after a few quickly suppressed workers' uprisings - to become modern colonialist superpowers, exerting their influence all over the world, Nevetskiya is still overwhelmingly agrarian, and barely holding onto its outlying territories acquired in golden times long past.

Your Father Emperor, while ruling with an iron fist and unquestionable authority over the common people, is completely dependent on the shaky loyalty of the High Nobility, who frustrate any attempt to modernize the economy or administration, out of fear upstart merchants might, in time, replace the old Aristocracy.

When a sloppily executed coup d'etat eventually leaves your family dead and you a refugee, it becomes time you grab the reins of your destiny and amass an army to liberate and rebuild the country in the way you envision.

(this is meant to be a concise overview - a more exiting and detailed description of features can be found in the offical Interest Check Thread post)

extensive character customization

extensive army customization - both in a strategy and in a dress-up game sense

focus on story over stats - success is determined on the battlefield, not by your character's personality

five distinct regions with a wide cast of characters

complex personality system - for example, how your character actually feels and what they show to the world are separate things

several ways to rule - will you become a traditional Monarch, a Military Dictator, a democratically elected Head-of-State, or maybe proclaim yourself a Living Saint?

choose how much modernization is needed - will you allow women to bear arms, at the cost of offending the traditionalist nobles? Introduce tanks at the cost of foreign powers gaining influence?

how far will you go for victory? A political police, mass executions and the use of special types of weaponry might give you an edge, but is your vision really worth it?

a total of ten romanceable characters

(this naturally might contain slight spoilers)

The ROs

★ Yakov Tymofiyevich Sokolovskiy / Liliya Tymofiyevna Sokolovskaya ★

The Intelligence Director (gender-selectable)

One of your four original companions. As a member of the High Nobility, you've met them before - maybe you've even been childhood friends?

But even if you know them, it's hard to tell what they're truly like, as they seem to switch personalities effortlessly depending on the situation.

Their work is a mystery to seemingly everyone, but they always get results: as long as you let them act freely, no enemy agent has any chance to harm you or your cause.

Age: mid-20s

★ Semyon Ivanovich Orlov / Selena Ivanovna Orlova ★

The Cavalry Officer (gender-selectable)

One of your four original companions. A war hero and renowned expert when it comes to horses, the only reason they were not yet promoted to a lofty position in the War Ministry is their pragmatic approach to new developments, which hasn't mixed well with the typically very traditionalist views of the old Imperial officer corps.

Possessing a subdued but strong charisma and deeply respected by their soldiers as a wise parent figure, they are a solid pillar of support to you, and will reliably get things done - though some people might consider the cost for that too high sometimes.

Age: early 30s

★ Mikhail Pavlovich Voronin / Marina Pavlovna Voronina ★

The Young Visionary (gender-selectable)

One of your four original companions. They shot up through the ranks by impressing the War Ministry with bold new ideas for utilizing modern technologies and are hailed as a genius by many - though the older officers dismiss them as a dreamer at best and incompetent fool at worst.

With you, they hope to have found someone who'll appreciate their visions for the future - plus, their relative eccentrism has left them in dire need of a friend.

Their technical expertise might just prove to be the key to your success - if you can secure the foreign support needed to get the modern equipment needed to utilize it.

Age: early 20s

★ Leon Isayev / Leah Isayeva ★

The Noble Academic (gender-selectable)

One of your four original companions. Born to wealthy nobles, they graduated the Imperial Officer Academy with perfect grades, and feel honour-bound to your family.

They were the one to gather your initial force of loyalists and act as your primary advisor. But their loyalty is to the Imperial system, with you just a symbolic representative - can you convince them that you and your vision deserve their loyalty beyond that?

Age: late 20s

★ 'Little' Semyon/Selena Shvets ★

The Hero (gender-selectable)

A young cavalry officer and leader of your Southern Forces. A protegé of the "other" Semyon/Selena, they lack their cynical pragmatism, but make up for it with a firm belief in the triumph of a better world.

Some may call their optimism naive, and their personality has been mockingly compared to a Golden Retriever, but they have proven time and time again that underestimating them on the battlefield results in a crushing defeat.

Age: early 20s

★ Nikola ★

The Rebel (nb)

Leading an anti-authoritarian peasant uprising in the West, Nikola is more likely to be your enemy than your ally - but they don't seem to care enough about politics to refrain from flirting with you, so... there might be a basis of mutual understanding there?

Their personality is pretty sweet, at least - if you ignore the fact they'll cheerfully gun down prisoners if they feel like it.

Age: mid-20s

★ Rakhmil/Rakhilya Feldman ★

The Logistician (gender-selectable)

A member of the Western Rebel Army and best friend of Nikola's adoptive sibling, they've poured their soul (and countless nights without any sleep) into somehow maintaining the rebels' supply network in the face of their rapidly swelling numbers.

Unhappy with Nikola's carefree attitude, they might end up aligning with you instead in order to save their cause.

Age: late 20s

★ Arseniy Matveyevich Lebedev / Amaliya Matveyevna Lebedeva ★

The Enemy (gender-selectable)

Grand Duke Lebedev, the main leader of the Aristocrat faction, stood by and watched when your family was executed. Arseniy/Amaliya is their younger sibling, and serves as military commander of his personal forces that aid several warlords in their efforts to establish their own petty kingdoms.

But they're already uncomfortable with their brother's methods, and if you can convince them that you're not actually "an incompetent little puppet who's trying to ruin the country out of arrogant delusions", they might become a very valuable ally.

Age: mid-20s

★ Lyudmila Demyanovna Naumova ★ (f)

A minor noble who reluctantly turned into a Warlord in order to protect her territory and her people. All she wants is peace - but she'll not hesitate to fight if she believes it necessary.

Unfortunately, you can't just ignore her - all must choose a side in this war - but you have options how to deal with her. Will you subdue her by force? Or fall back on the age-old option of political marriage to secure an alliance?

Age: late 20s

★ Jan/Jana Novotný ★ (gender-selectable, under certain circumstances)

A member of your Personal Guard who has distinguished themself and eventually rises to become its commander. Others might betray or doubt you, but Novotný only cares about one thing - your continued, unharmed existence.

And they will go to any lengths to guarantee it.

Age: mid-20s

CONTENT WARNINGS

...will be added as they become relevant in the demo.

[milfsloverblog]

How Eve Felt (NSFW)

Jane Murdstone x Fem!reader

A/N: Listen, this is just pure filth. 1500 words of porn without plot. Nothing but Jane Murdstone smut. I started this WIP months ago and thought I’d never publish it but a few of you liked the snippet I shared, so... Anyway, enjoy <3

tw: spit kink, mention of Christianity related stuff (this is how I deal with my religious trauma)

✨ AO3 LINK IN TITLE ✨

You always tried your best to keep your eyes away from your lady’s flesh when you undressed her. That night had been no different as you only looked at your fingers working on the lacing of her corset.

Jane stayed quiet for a while, her eyes never leaving your reflection in the mirror as you worked behind her.

“You did say this was your first time working as a lady’s maid, didn’t you?” She asked, her voice as stern as it usually was.

“Yes, Miss Murdstone.” You nodded and carefully peeled the corset from her, folding it before placing it by her dress on the chair.

“In that case,” She said as she turned around to face you, cocking her head a little. “I cannot help but wonder where on earth you have learnt how to undress a woman so swiftly.”

You swallowed thickly. Your eyes had caught sight of the swell of her small breasts under her chemise and it instantly made your throat go dry.

What were you supposed to tell her? Oh, well, I have undressed my fair share of women, right before laying with them.

“Well?” She insisted. “Cat got your tongue?!”

You knew then by the smirk on her face that Miss Murdstone probably had a good idea of how you’d become an expert at undressing the fairer sex.

“I suppose I'm a quick learner, my lady.” You simply answered, hoping it would satisfy the tall woman’s curiosity.

Jane narrowed her eyes, silently looking at you for a moment while the gears turned in her head.

“Take my chemise off.” She eventually ordered in a bark.

It felt like she was testing you. Sure, this was part of what a lady’s maid had to do but the way she said it, it did feel like she was testing you.

You ended up doing as you were told, silently thanking your hands for not shaking too much when you grabbed the hem of her chemise and pulled the garment over her head.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Do not look.

“Look at me.” Jane demanded, your eyes immediately snapping from your hands to her face.

“I am looking at you, Miss Murdstone.”

“Look at me the way you really wish to.” She smirked again and you were sure your thumping heartbeat could be heard throughout the whole household.

You exhaled shakily and eventually moved your gaze from her eyes to her nose, then down to her mouth. What would it be like to kiss her? To lick over the scar on her lip? To have her tongue push into your mouth?

You spent a few seconds on the length of her neck, watching her pulse point steadily move up and down. From the look of it, she didn’t seem nervous about what was happening, at least not as much as you were.

Her shoulders were next, pulling a smile from your lips. It was a funny thing, really, for a cold and metallic woman like Jane to have such an inviting freckled skin.

Your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes landed on her chest, her nipples visibly hardening as you took in her pert breasts.

“Miss Murdstone, we should not-“ You were cut off by Jane’s hand roughly grabbing hold of your face, her fingertips digging almost painfully into your cheeks.

“And who decides on what we should or should not do, hm?” She asked, using a honey-dripping voice as if she wasn’t holding you with a vice-like grip.

“You, Miss Murdstone.” You whispered barely audibly, nearly letting a whine out when she let go of your jaw.

“Good.” She gave a slight nod and sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes widened when you noticed that she was slowly spreading her legs. Her lips pulled in a devilish smirk seeing how your face twitched as you tried your best to keep your eyes locked on hers, knowing full well the sight that would be waiting for you if you allowed yourself to look down at her crotchless bloomers.

Jane had to admit that she was impressed by your self-restraint, many girls would have run for the door while some, fewer, would have touched her already.

“Kneel.” She barked, delighting in the way you slightly jumped at the unexpected order.

Your legs wobbled and you fell to your knees like a devotee praying at the altar. Your gaze inevitably fell on the wet pink flesh between her legs, your mouth watering at how inviting it looked.

“Well, do come closer!” Jane spoke as if she was in a hurry and for a split second you wondered if she was eager to feel you on her.

You did as you were told, crawling closer until you were kneeling between her legs and tentatively placed your hands on her covered knees. Jane raised an eyebrow at the boldness of your move but decided she would allow it.

“I assume you have done this before, haven’t you?” The woman asked, her chin never lowering as she looked down at you, making her appear even more condescending.

“Have I ever found myself between a woman’s legs? Yes. Have I ever knelt before one? No.” But I don’t mind kneeling for you. I don’t mind praying at your altar. I would spend the rest of my life on my knees if you asked me to. I do want to worship you.

“Let us make it a memorable first time, shall we?” Jane purred and her fingers took hold of your face again, gentler than they did before.

She tilted your head back as far as it would go and pried your jaws open, chuckling when you stuck your tongue out instinctively.

“Aren’t you a well-trained slut?” Jane cooed, gathering the saliva in her mouth and slowly letting it fall on your tongue, a wave of arousal coating her sex when your pupils dilated.

The older woman raised an eyebrow and, knowing exactly what was expected of you, you closed your eyes and swallowed. You couldn’t help but be reminded of your first Holy Communion when, kneeling before the priest, the sacred host had been placed on your tongue.

You almost let an Amen slip from your lips when Jane suddenly grabbed a handful of your hair and your eyes snapped back open.

“How many women have you laid with?”

“Plenty.” You admitted in a whisper, wondering how many Jane had shared her bed with.

“Prove it.” She smirked, bringing your face closer to her cunt.

You didn’t waste any more time and dipped your thumbs into the warmth between Jane’s legs, brushing the tip of one thumb over her clit to watch the way her whole body responded. Jane jerked, hips canting forward, and you hid your grin by placing a soft kiss on the milky skin of her inner thigh. The woman’s breath hitched and you wondered if it was caused by her not expecting any softness from you (or anyone else).

Keeping your fingers holding Jane open, you leaned in closer, blowing lightly over her cunt before burying your face in it. You wrapped your lips around the woman’s clit and sucked sharply, Jane’s body jolting above you as a moan tore itself from the back of her throat.

The woman opened her mouth to speak but cut herself off as you sucked harder, drawing tight circles around her clit. Moving one hand from where you had it braced around Jane’s thigh, you pushed your thumb into her entrance, tugging at her opening and massaging inside of her. The streak of moans that escaped your lady’s lips made your whole body shudder.

Then suddenly her hand snaked back in your hair, holding tightly and so close to your scalp that you felt your skin burn. Jane pressed you so deep into herself you could hardly breathe. She had taken back control of herself, and of you as well. You fisted the material of Jane’s drawers and squeezed your eyes shut as your tongue was ridden, your lady grinding herself into your mouth exactly how she wanted, how she needed.

Feverish shivers ran down your spine, your knees slowly sliding open on the wood flooring. You wished you had tucked a pillow between your legs before this began so you could ride out your own pleasure as you dripped from having your face fucked. But your lady wouldn’t have allowed it, you were quite certain she enjoyed having you squirm helplessly.

Jane’s movements became erratic, her chest quickly heaving up and down as she desperately chased her release. And then you felt it. You felt her come. You felt the cruelest woman you knew come into your mouth, her clit throbbing against your tongue as she let a single loud guttural moan out.

As the hand on the back of your head loosened its grip, you slumped against the older woman’s thigh. And as you knelt there, half of your face slick and chin dripping with Jane’s essence, you wondered - is this how Eve felt, taking the first bite of the forbidden fruit, as pomegranate juice dripped on her naked breasts from her open lips?

————————————————————————

tag list: @mysteriouslysapphic @opheliauniverse @yourlocaldisneyvillain @notinmyvocab @h-doodles @teeniegreeniebeanie @katie-bennet @willowshadenox @bikergurl5 @renravens

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 1

I looked away from my other WIPs for only a second and vomited this up. Thanks.

Simon Riley/John MacTavish/female reader 1.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, M/M/F, angst, explicit sex, DP, everyone is bad at feelings (or are they), men are gross and touch you without consent, protectiveness, bar fights, mentions of injury and violence, polyamory, probably could be considered toxic. You should have gotten out.

It was always them, and then you. You, on the outside looking in. Them, on the inside looking at each other. It felt like you lived somewhere different, a place that you weren’t even sure existed. You were a body in the middle of a big bed, empty for weeks and months at a time during assignments, phone silent, dinner table set for one.

It had been your mistake, of course. Because how could it not? They existed, before you, and they would still exist after you, this you were sure of. And of course, you should have known that it would be a problem. That this snarling, festering, rot of feelings would take shape into something that was bad for all three of you. Still, you tried to scratch and claw it away because you didn’t want to accept the truth.

You should have gotten out, long before it had changed from middle of the night entanglements to phone calls and text messages, dinner plans and grocery shopping, mild pillow talk about the future.

You should have gotten out the morning you made pancakes for breakfast, when you and Johnny sat in the window and tried to keep your voices from waking Simon. You had been on your third cup of coffee by the time you noticed his shadow, standing in the dark of the hall, the small smile tugging at his lips just barely illuminated by the kitchen light.

“Did we wake you?” They only just got in yesterday, their sleep schedules still askew and their eyes still heavy. Your fingers tapped anxiously against the mug as he sat between the two of you, large hand pulling the hot liquid from your grip. 

“No, love.” He sipped your coffee, face twisting into regret before setting it aside and pulling you by your ankle towards him. “But no more coffee. Makes you all jittery, yeah?” Johnny chuckled, folding Simon into his arms easily, and rested his face across the dirty blonde mop of hair under his chin. His eyes said something to you that you couldn’t understand.

You should have gotten out the first time they called you Darling. When Johnny had his face in between your legs, lazily lapping at your cunt and Simon fucked him open.

“Darling.” He hissed, the vowels long on his tongue, fingers intertwined with yours. The cramp of muscles in your lower belly tensing with each stroke of his tongue, your body moving in time with his, his moving in time with Simon’s. The dip of his spine arching like a bridge between the three of you, connecting you, pulling you into the water with them, deeper and deeper until you couldn’t swim anymore, until you had no choice but to rely on them to keep you afloat. 

 You should have gotten out the night you and Johnny went to the bar. The night you wore that dress, dark but dotted with little flowers, small ties looped in a knot across your chest. It swung at your hips, easy in the breeze, the hot summer wind snaking across the skin of your legs, cooling the sweat that collected on the back of your neck. Johnny liked it, he had told you once, and you never forgot. It was nice, and felt good, and hid the raw edges of your open nerves. You had felt like a predator. You looked like prey.

The pool stick was slick in your hand, the buzz of the vodka in your system cocooning you in fuzzy softness, your body lax against Johnny’s so he could position you correctly. 

“Now, hit it here…” 

“Like this?” 

“Aye, that’s it.” You struck the ball with the cue, knocking another into a pocket, Johnny’s thrilled whoop lighting you up with heat and butterflies. “Well done love.” He pressed the palm of his hand against your back, teasing his lips across your cheek. 

“Give me a real one.” You whispered next to his ear, and he obliged you easily, the two of you pliant and undemanding against one another. 

“Go for another round?” he shook his empty beer bottle with the question. 

“Sure.” You placed yourself on a stool while you waited, but the line at the bar was too long, and it wasn’t a minute before there were two others, standing at your side, asking you questions and tracing their foul fingers across your exposed knee. 

“I’m with someone.” 

“Who, don’t see nobody.” Johnny’s back was to you, head bobbing as he spoke with the bartender. 

“He’s over there.” You pointed, but it didn’t matter. The finger moved higher. Your own curled into a fist and slammed into skin and bone. A jaw, maybe. Or a nose. You weren’t sure. But your shout was loud enough, and you could see the turn of Johnny’s body, felt the relief of knowing he saw you. Your victim yelled, and in a second later and a flurry of appendages, Johnny smashed a bottle over his head.

When the two of you got home, Simon was irate. But it wasn’t the kind of red vision rage that you had heard whispers of, but something darker, something more distraught. His eyes were tight when he pressed an ice pack to your knuckles, visible discomfort shifting into sympathy when you hissed in pain. 

“Poor darling.” He murmured, lips on your forehead. He was silent for the rest of the night, fingers constantly feeling for you, for Johnny, until the three of you fell into bed together, your back pressed to his chest, Johnny’s arms around you both.

You should have gotten out the first time Simon said the words our girl, the first time you took them both, with your chest pressed to his, his cock sunk to the hilt in your cunt and his fingers spreading your ass open, the cool kiss of lube making you shudder.

You drew a breath, and the bed sunk beneath the weight of Johnny’s knees when he positioned himself behind you. 

“Take it easy.” Simon murmured, hand reaching somewhere you couldn't see, little grunts falling from Johnny's lips until you felt him pressing the head of his cock to your ass, and pushing inside.  It was so much, the pressure making your head spin, the feeling of taking them both forcing gasps of air from your lungs, your face cradled between two giant palms, thumbs stroking your cheeks. 

“Jus’ relax. That’s our girl.” Simon soothed, eyes flicking up to Johnny’s face, heavy conversation transpiring without words, just over your head. 

“F-fuck.” You hissed, the burn and stretch and sting crushing together until you were babbling nonsense, while Johnny fucked you deep and Simon lazily jerked his hips up into you, over and over. When you fell into your orgasm, you dragged them down with you, and your bodies were limp against one another for hours afterwards.

You should have gotten out, the day you fell asleep on the couch with Simon, curled against his body like you fit there, hand stroking patterns into his forearm. You slept for hours, and when you woke up, the sun had set, apartment dark and quiet.

“What time is it?” you blinked blearily and sat up, groping into the dim light for your phone.

“Just past seven.” He’s still in the same position from three hours ago. 

“Oh my god. Why didn’t you wake me? We’re going to miss the-“ he pulled you back into his chest without a word, thumb pressing to your bottom lip to silence you. 

“Didn’t want to. Rather just lay here with you.” Something broke after that, some part of the protection you had built inside yourself crumbled, and you rolled into him, content to be there until Johnny got home and forced the two of you up for pad thai, his lips ghosting along yours and then Simon’s until you were both fully awake.

You should have got out, but you didn’t. You held onto the hot pan too long, let it sear your skin, let it mark you deep and leave a nasty scar. You let yourself sleep in the big empty bed, worry gnawing you alive on the inside, phone silent as you waited for the ‘touched down’ texts or calls, too eager, too invested. You let yourself think, believe, want, something that wasn’t real. It was always them, and then you, after all.

So, this is how you found yourself with two bags by the front door, key sitting alone on the kitchen island, a four-sentence email sitting in your drafts. Waiting to be sent.

Hey,

I’m sorry. I left. The key is on the island. I locked the front door.

-Darling.

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Everything has been appropriately labeled, please do not read the ones marked 18+ if you are a minor

Multi-Chapter Series:

HEART OF THE FAE: The forest is full of mythical creatures, and you unwisely trespass on their territory. What happens when you become the ward of a handsome, blond, high Fae? Teaser Chapter 1 - The Forest

SECOND CHANCE SORCERER: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape? Chapter 1 - Phantom Tokyo Chapter 2 - A Message

One-Shots/Scenarios

Snapped (13+) Villain!Salaryman!Nanami. In the midst of a layoff, your boyfriend Nanami snaps at his own office, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. My Batter Half (E) Written for the Foodies and Goodies Challenge by @/ tsukimefuku . Reader goes about a long process to make a batter to cook Nanami some good food. Hell Hath No Fury (18+ #bhmf event) A night of lost tempers leads to Nanami contemplating certain (sexy) choices. Braiding Nanami's Chest Hair (13+) Basically the title. Fluff. Lipstick Test(18+) Reader gets creative when showing Nanami her different lip products. Vacation (18+) Nanami and a balcony in Paris. When The Cat's Away(18+) The mice do not come out to play as the reader patiently waits for Nanami to come home and relieve her from his previous edging. Can't stay away from you (13+) Ask box prompt. You can't stay away from him, no matter what. Lazy Saturday Mornings (18+) Morning sex with Nanami. Nanami's Baby Photos (E) Reader and Nanami are moving in and she finds a cute surprise when she opens one of the boxes. Promise Me (13+) Teen! Nanami. Reader is Nanami's high school sweetheart. When faced with a solo mission, she contemplates her life and choices as a Jujutsu sorceress. Angsty, fluffy. Nanami x Clueless Virgin Reader(18+) Ask box request. Shy!Virgin!Fem!Reader. Nanami introduces her to first orgasm. Secure In Your Lap (13+) Implied Desi!Asian!Reader, but good for anyone with difficult family dynamics. When reader gets an unwanted phone call from her mother, she's reminded of all the ways Nanami has made her feel loved and secure. Bridal Shop (18+) A final dress fitting leads to something else when the bridal shop owner, Nanami Kento, takes over your appointment. I’m Never Too Tired For That…( 18+) Fem!Reader. Reader is frustrated when her husband keeps coming home too tired for intimate activity. His Perfect Girl (18+) Fem!Reader. You'll do anything to be his perfect girl. Slight praise kink. A Little Jealousy (18+) Fem!Reader. You find out what happens when Nanami gets jealous.

Thoughts/Headcanons:

Nanami-chan! Giving Nanami Head (18+) Nanami Secretly Dances Teen Nanami's Favorite Songs Fae! Nanami Nanami Needs Advance Notice Me Flirting With Nanami as a Barbie Doll Nanami as a minion Nanami Loves it When You Annoy Him Laughing During Sex Nanami is Bad at Showing Interest Nanami Hates Libraries Me Flirting With Nanami as a Biotechnologist Nanami as a kid Nanami is a polite lover Nanami's housewife or an independent sorceress Nanami Soft Lover Original Post Nanami and boobs ask box Nanami X Desi Reader Nanami Kento Headcanons(partially MDNI) Random Nanami NSFW Thoughts Pt 1 If I was dating Nanami 1 If I was dating Nanami 2

Drabbles:

Easter Egg Prompt (E) Berry Red Prompt (E) Nature Prompt (E) Art Supplies Prompt (E) Dessert Prompt (13+) Dates Prompt (E) Mushroom Prompt (E)

Ask Box/Conversations/Misc:

Bring Nanami Back Calling Nanami a Dumb Blond Nanami MBTI Ask Nanami is Nurturing Nanami's Lap Nanami Soft Lover Ask Box

WIPS/Requests:

Fae! Nanami collab with @actuallysaiyan (multi-chapter)

Entry for @/ bleach-your-panties Blondes Have More Fun writing event

Second Chance Sorcerer Chapter 2

Nanami somno (ask box request)

Husband Nanami fluff/smut

Reader getting attacked by a Taylor Swift curse now can't stop singing her lyrics (include Shake It off)

[zwedexx]

Cloé Lacasse x canwnt!reader

Summary: You are really tired and jetlagged from you flight and all you want to do is sleep, so Cloé takes care of you.

TW: slightly suggestive.

WC: 800

A/N: Im back. I actually wrote something. Idk how long this bout of inspiration lasts but ill try to get some other works done. Also ik this wasn't on my WIP but I just got sudden inspiration and needed to write it.

As the wheels of the taxi screech to a halt, you could feel the jet lag creeping up on you. Stepping out into the crisp night air, you're met not only by the familiar facade of the hotel but also by the trio of media personnel you've come to know well.

Usually, you'd engage in some light banter or pose for a quick photo, but tonight, all you can think about is collapsing into the welcoming embrace of the hotel bed. Despite their understanding glances, you can't help but feel guilty for not giving them the attention they deserve. Your mind races ahead, already craving the comfort of Cloé's presence, her touch, her soothing voice. 

Entering the room, you find Cloé waiting for you, a soft smile on her lips. Without a word, she wraps you in a tight but soothing hug and you don't let go.

"Hey there." she murmurs, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet room.

You melt into her touch, finding solace in her familiar scent and the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat.

"Hey," you reply softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I missed you."

Cloé brushes a tender kiss against your forehead. "I missed you too, love”

Her fingers gently trace circles along your back, and you feel her warm breath against your neck. "But maybe we could make the most of our time together, hmm?" she murmurs, her voice laced with a hint of suggestion.

Despite your fatigue, you can't help but be inticed. You lean into her touch, allowing her lips to meet yours in a passionate kiss.

As the kiss deepens, Cloé's lips trail down to your jaw, where she nibbles gently, teasing and tempting. Your heart flutters, the familiar sensation sending a jolt of desire coursing through your veins.

But as exhaustion threatens to pull you under, you reluctantly pull back, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "I... I don't know, Cloé. I'm just so tired tonight."

Her movements falter for a moment before she pulls back, concern etched on her features. "Oh, love, I'm sorry. I didn't realize how exhausted you were." Before you can respond, she brushes a strand of hair from your face and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Wrapped in the cocoon of her embrace, she leads you to the edge of the bed, her touch gentle as she eases you down onto the soft mattress. As you sink into the pillows, Cloé's hands linger on your skin, trailing feather-light caresses along your arms and shoulders.

With practiced care, Cloé starts by gently peeling away the layers of your exhaustion, her touch as soft as a whisper against your skin. She begins with the zipper of your tracksuit, her fingers moving with a delicate precision as she unfastens it, revealing the fabric beneath.

As the tracksuit falls away, the cool air of the room brushes against your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Cloé notices, and she pauses, her hand coming up to brush away the goosebumps that have risen on your arms. Her touch is warm and reassuring, a gentle reminder that you're safe and cared for in her embrace.

Next, she turns her attention to the black t-shirt you're wearing, her fingers trailing along the fabric as she lifts it away from your body. With each inch of skin that is revealed, she plants soft kisses.

Once you're finally bare before her, Cloé's gaze lingers on you, her eyes filled with adoration and a soft smile playing on her lips. Without a word, she retrieves a soft t-shirt and a pair of shorts from her suitcase.

She helps you into the t-shirt, carrying with it the faint scent of Cloé's perfume. Next, she guides you into the shorts, her touch tender as she pulls them up over your hips. Once you're dressed in her t-shirt and shorts, she pulls you close, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. 

Carefully, Cloé climbs in beside you as she pulls the covers up around both of you. As you nestle closer to her, you feel Cloé's arms wrap around you, drawing you into her embrace. With a soft sigh, you rest your head against her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath your ear. Cloé's fingers weave through your hair, her touch gentle and soothing as she plays with the strands while you fall asleep.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: weekends aren't for rest, they're for being sick and anxious so Monday will be a treat.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you enter, you try your best not to make too much noise. You set the bags down lightly and ease the inner door shut. You can hear your dad and the soft sound of puzzle pieces meeting the table.

“Ya know, thirty years almost, but I can see her just like yesterday,” he says.

Your heart clutches. You never heard him talk about your mom. When you were a kid and didn’t know better, he just ignored all your questions about her. When you got older, you stopped asking. You figured it’s easier for both of you to pretend she never was.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Leslie comforts, “you know, in my line of work, I’ve seen it over and over. It’s a wound you can’t heal.”

“Oh yeah,” he grits, “yeah, I’d say…”

You swallow and lean back on your foot, crinkling the bags behind you. You cringe as you hear sudden movement. You turn and work to slip off the white loafers. You pretend like you weren’t listening as Leslie’s shadow looms from the archway.

“You’re home,” she proclaims, “we didn’t think you’d be so early.”

“Me either,” you say as you face her. 

Her lashes flick and her mouth opens, “oh my, you look so good! Weren’t you working today?”

“Uh, did some work,” you lie, “I got a few hours off so I… did some running around.”

“Oh, gosh, come on, you have to show your dad,” she takes you by the wrist and tugs you around, “Charles, look at your girl.”

She presents you with her hands on your shoulders. You can’t even look at your dad as the couch creaks and he grunts at your appearance. He snorts and pushes another piece into the puzzle.

“What am I looking at?” He sneers.

“Charles, don’t be like that. Look at her hair, and this dress,” she touches your hips, “must be a nice job, huh?”

“It’s alright,” you shimmy out of her grasp, “I just… needed something more presentable–”

“Something shorter,” your father scoffs, “so when she’s bending to tidy the floors you can see right up.”

“Charles, that’s gross,” Leslie reprimands.

“Truth can be like that,” he snickers, “think some man’s buying her fancy clothes so she can sweep? We both know how she pays for you.”

“No… it’s not…” you shrug and give up, “I’m gonna put my stuff away and start dinner. If you want, you can head off early too.”

“Oh, I don’t mind sticking around,” Leslie says as she once more sits beside your dad, “let me know if you need any help with dinner. Don’t wanna get anything on that nice little dress.”

You nod and hesitate. You can’t tell what she means by that. For as much as she can call out your father, she often speaks with an edge of her own. Just like the cigarettes, she must assume his insults are your fault.

You leave the room and grab the bags. You carry them up the stairs to your room. You shut the door and sit on the end of the bed. You bend and cradle your head, trying to set it straight after the dizzying day.

👠

The bus provides a momentary break from your hostile world. There is no safe place for you. Home is barely that and work is… confusing. Your only escape is to focus on your tasks and get through them. Get through Mr. Laufeyson’s list then come home and the chores left untouched. 

Your look at the time on your phone and black the screen. You get a glimpse of your reflection off the glass as you do. You didn't do too bad with the makeup. It looks okay. You tried not to use too much as you recalled Eliana's instructions.

You shake off your doubts and airy feeling around your legs. You're not use to the skirt or the pretty fabrics. You feel overdressed and out-of-place, but the latter is so new to you.

Through the gate and along the edge of the drive, you hear your name flutter in the air. You stop short as you see Frigga strolling along the hedges, caressing the petals of a rose. She draws away and strides towards you, an ivory skirt paired with a golden brown blouse and nude heels.

“You do start early, don’t you?” She approaches and takes your hand, “come, let’s have tea.”

“Oh, uh, I…” you let her tug you along the walkway towards the front door, “the carpenter is coming today–”

“Ah yes, Loki mentioned you were working on restoring the gazebo. That’s lovely. We used to have tea there, me and… his wife. She was a laugh.”

“Mm,” you hum. Whoever this woman was, she must’ve been very special. You imagine a beautiful woman with silky hair and long legs like Frigga. She must’ve fit right in.

“I suppose if it was meant to be, it would be. I only hope my son can find happiness again,” she squeezes your hand before she lets you go. 

She opens the door and waves you in ahead of her. You slip out of your flats much easier than your usual lace-up sneakers. She steps out of her heels and sighs.

“That’s his problem, you know? He’s lonely but too proud to admit it,” she sidles around you and leads you down to the kitchen. You follow and watch as she goes to the counter and pours from the waiting teapot. “Though I haven’t seen him today. I suppose he’s sleeping in, it is the weekend.”

You tilt your head but don’t comment. For as long as you’ve worked for him, not very long at all, he’s never slept past your arrival. Well, not so far as you know.

“I do love this skirt,” she comes back around the counter and touches the tweed, “wonderful pairing,” she touches the blouse with the petal shaped cutouts around the high-collar, “you’re learning.”

“Um, yeah, all the clothes are so pretty,” you say.

“Please, have your tea. I’m sure you have time before the carpenter,” she urges.

“Right, er, I’ll just take my bag upstairs first,” you say, “out of the way.”

“Sure,” she accepts with a kind smile, “how about I take this out to the patio, we can enjoy the sun?”

“Alright,” you agree and hike up your bag, “thank you.”

You quickly flit off and head upstairs. You weren’t expecting her to be there. You just hadn’t thought of it. You only dreaded facing your unbendable boss and his persistent stare.

You go into the library and tuck your bag under the writing desk. You double check the schedule in your phone; Ronan, 10. You have an hour before he arrives.

Your mind is already on the gazebo as you scurry back into the hall. As you shut the door gently, you hear a groan. You peer down towards the unusual noise and blink at the slightly ajar door. The main bedroom. Mr. Laufeyson’s. It rises again before a drawn out exhale, his timbre rumbling low.

You quickly set back to your path and flee downstairs. Maybe he’s talking in his sleep, or more likely, stretching out a few kinks. Your curiosity quickly dissipates as you pass through the dining room and out into the patio.

Frigga sits with large pointed sunglasses over her eyes. She tilts her face up to the sunlight as you sit before the other cup of tea. You pull it close and look out at the yard. A streak of green catches your gaze.

You watch the hummingbird hover over fuchsia petals. You stare dreamily, lulled by the peace of the moment as Frigga merely sips and basks. This isn’t so bad. The bird zips between flowers before disappearing behind a tree. In his stead, the skittish chipmunk scrambles along the railing of the patio. You smile at his fluffy tail.

“I’ll be off tomorrow,” Frigga states, “my husband will be expecting me. Oh, but I’ll miss you, darling.”

“Is it very far?” You wonder.

“Four or five hours,” she answers, “not very far but enough. It’s so lovely up where we are. I wish you could see. Perhaps one day. When things are better.”

Before you can answer, there’s a subtle click behind you.

“Morning,” Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is unleashed onto the scene as the patio door swings inward, “mother,” he pauses before he enunciates your name, “beautiful day out.”

Your shoulders stiffen and nearly touch your ears as you sit straight. He pulls out the chair at your other elbow and sets down another teacup with a clink. He sits and smooths back his dark hair, tucking the spiralled ends behind his ears.

“Late morning,” his mother remarks, “any tea left?”

“Some, shall I–”

He puts his hands flat, moving to stand but she shoos him as she’s quicker to rise, “I’ll get it myself. And you darling,” she dips her chin in your direction, “more?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m still… working on mine. Thank you, Frigga,” you say, mindful of each syllable.

She leaves and the door clicks shut behind her. You stare at the brim of your cup, turning it slowly between your hands as Laufeyson raises his own to his lips. He drinks carefully before putting it down again.

He’s quiet. He shifts and plants an elbow on the table. He turns his attention to the yard and watches. You dare to look up as well, the chipmunk poking his head out from the bush where he hides. He ran away at Mr. Laufeyson’s arrival.

“Cute little fellow,” he remarks as he faces you again. You quickly lower your eyes.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Mmm,” he drones and taps his fingers on the porcelain teacup, “you… that’s a nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” you lift your cup and drain most of it, gulping painfully as you put it back down, “I should go start. Ronan will be here shortly–”

“The carpenter?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I have him penned in–” You explain.

“And? He is a carpenter, he knows what he’s doing. I doubt he needs you watching over his shoulder.”

“I know, uh, but I should be there to let him in,” you slide your cup off the table.

“You’re not even done your tea.”

“I’ll finish on my way in–”

“You’re avoiding me,” he accused and you wince.

“What?”

“You’re running away? Why?” He challenges.

“I’m not, I– I have work to do.”

“Work I give you. I’m your boss, you may sit and finish. I’ll permit it.”

You falter and set the cup on the table. You lower yourself back to the seat and fold your hands. You look at your lap and push your shoulders back. He is back to his haughty demands, you find that part of him easier to handle.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I wasn't running away.”

He scoffs thinly and his nostrils flare as he stares off at the hedges that edge the patio, “I wonder why you can be so quick to flee me when you sat and let my brother feel you up.”

“Huh?” You blanch, stuck by the accusation. “Mr. Laufeyson, I–”

“I know him well and I’m not as blind as my mother. I saw it. You didn’t say a word. You just let him do it,” he clucks, “why?”

Your eyes round and you bat your lashes. You nearly choke, the acidic flavour of the tea drying on your tongue. Was it that bad? You tried not to think about it, to let it affect you, even as the memories flashed in your head, you just tried not to feel anything about it.

“I didn’t… well… he’s your brother, Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t want to assume… to offend–” you stammer.

“So you let him do what he wants?” He snarlss as he turns his sights on you, a brow arch tritely. “You do not work for him, you work for me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do,” you sputter, confused by his anger. “I tried to…”

Your voice trails off. No, you didn’t try. You were too afraid too. He’s right, you let Thor keep touching you and you didn’t say anything, you didn’t move, you just froze up.

“It makes me wonder,” he cups his chin, leaning on his elbow, “how far would you let him get, hm?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you whimper, “I’m sorry–”

“Did you like how he touched you?”

“N-no, Mr. Laufeyson, no, of course not,” you plead.

“You do not want him to touch you?” He prompts.

“No, I… didn’t know how to say—”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, lifting his chin from his hand and pressing his finger to his lips. He pulls his hand away to point at you, “I’ve a better question…” He reaches towards you and you flinch. You quiver as he traces the cutout along the top of your blouse, “how far would you let me go?”

You squirm as he hooks his finger inside the teardrop window in the fabric. His fingertip brushes you as he gives a slight tug, looming closer as he draws you towards him. He smirks as you stare dumbfounded. What is he doing?

“My brother will not touch you again,” his voice is low and rocky, “I will make sure of it.” He tickles you slightly and rescinds his hand, “and you will make sure to remember who you belong to.”

He sits back and hooks his fingers in the handle of the porcelain mug. As if on cue, the french doors open behind you and Frigga trills as she emerges, “oh, just enough tea,” she announces, “I added a dash of honey this time.”

She places the cup by her empty chair but does not sit. She twirls and paces around the patio, going to the flower boxes along the rail. She leans in to examine them.

“Perhaps the carpenter could have a look here, it’s crooked,” she declares. “And I dare say the guest room has a loose floorboard right near the bed.”

“Mm, perhaps, mother,” Laufeyson drawls as he once more raises his cup, his eyes stuck on you, “my house manager will be sure to ask, won’t she?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you wisp out through your constricted throat, barely registering his command. 

You can only hear his previous words echoing, over and over; remember who you belong to. Belong to… No, you only work for him.

[raya-hunter01]

WIP Wednesday-Bad Habit pt. 2

WIP Wednesday Continued....

While on vacation after his WrestleMania loss, Roman comes to Smackdown looking to talk to Savannah, who he hasn’t heard from in three weeks. Upon arrival, he sees Carmelo at the show with Savannah and makes a point to remind her just who has her heart.

Three Weeks Later

Roman’s Pov

“I can’t believe she is here with his ass,” I hissed watching Savannah and Carmelo backstage.

“Well, he is her man, what do you expect? I’d be around too if my lady’s ex was still tryin’ to get with her,” Jimmy said as I shot him a look.

“Ain’t no tryin’ to get wit her, Savannah knows what time it is and I have no problem reminding her,” I said confidently watching the couple walk over to talk to Paul.

“You know he’s getting drafted to smackdown with us,” Sefa said as I frowned at him.

“Excuse me? What the hell you talkin’ bout?”

“You heard me, Savannah told me they were drafting him to smackdown. So, when you come back from this well needed vacation, be an adult,” Sefa said a little bolder.

 I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the so-called happy couple and it made my blood boil.

Now, I gotta deal with seeing this motherfucka every week following Savannah around like a lap dog.

“I ain’t gotta do shit but get my girl back,” I said looking at the photo on my phone of Savannah and I.

“Uce, you had your girl, but you were chasing something else.” Jimmy said as I growled.

“I wasn’t ready then and we both agreed to the breakup. I mean we stayed friends,” I said as Sefa rolled his eyes.

“Oh, so you ready to be in a relationship with Savannah now?” Jey asked as I nodded.

“Yea, I am. I know what I want and that’s Savannah, it’s always been her.”

I heard Savannah’s laugh and looked back and saw Carmelo kissing her on the neck, making her blush as our boss looked on in amusement.

“Melo! Stop,” I heard Savannah laugh he scooped her up in his arms stealing a kiss as she caressed his face.

What the fuck in she is doing with this clown? There is no way he is pleasing her like I can.

 I felt disrespected watching them, I mean a couple weeks ago she was in my bed, screaming my name at the top of her lungs.

“Aye, we gotta get ready for the show, stay outta trouble,” Jimmy said as I smiled.

“Oh, I’m good fam… I’m about to head to my dressing room to watch the show,” I said still eying Carmelo and Savannah.

“We’ll see about this shit,” I muttered pulling out my phone shooting Savannah a text.

Savannah’s POV

“It’s really good to have you on board,” Paul said as Carmelo smiled, completely on cloud nine that he was finally on the main roster.

“I just want to say thank you for the opportunity and I won’t let you down,” Carmelo said as my text alerts went off, the familiar tone letting me know Roman was near.

“Who is it bae?” he asked as I nervously cleared my throat, quickly responding to Roman's message, with a question of my own that he didn't take it too kindly.

“Uh, just Trin letting me know she would be home tomorrow, and we could go shopping,” I said feeling horrible about the white lie I just told.

I mean Trin did text me that about thirty minutes ago, so it wasn’t a complete lie.

“I’m up soon so I’m going to go get my mind right,” Carmelo said as I smiled truly proud of him but those texts from Roman had me on edge.

I almost felt guilty for Kissing Carmelo before he went off into gorilla to prepare for his match.

Knowing I was playing with fire, I started toward my office ignoring Roman’s request.

Just as I tried to open the door, Roman wrapped me up in his arms holding me close, dropping a tender kiss on my neck.

 Damn him….

"What are you doing?" I hissed as he chuckled at my attempt to flee from his arms.

“You just refuse to follow directions, don’t you?” Roman whispered as I looked around to see if anyone was watching us as he caressed my stomach.

“Roman, why are you following me? Someone might see you,” I said in a panic removing his arms from around my waist as he shrugged.

“I don’t give a damn what people think Savannah, but how you gon’ ignore my text and sneak off,” Roman said as I ignored him and went into my office, hoping he would get the hint but to no avail.

“I’m not doing this here with you Roman,” I whispered as he followed me into my office, slamming the door and locking it.

“You have been avoiding me for three weeks. Your gonna talk to me, 'cause this shit is getting stupid now.”

“Don’t be slammin’ my damn door! I told you I’m not doing this with you here, I’m working! I hissed as he scoffed.

“Oh, but we are doing this here.  You can’t talk to me, the man you love, but you really like out here in front of our coworkers, and family with this motherfucka.

“Don’t do that..... Acting like I’m doing something to you or I broke your heart. You ended it, not me!” I screamed losing my cool.

“So to punish me you paradin’ him around, throwin’ it in my face, letting him kiss all on you n shit,” Roman hissed as I threw my hands up in the air in frustration.

“I didn’t parade nobody around; he has a match tonight!” I hissed pissed off at his assumptions and the pure nerve.

“Stop playin’ with me Savannah, dump the pretty boy, and let's start over. This shit has gone on long enough, I’m sorry, ok.”

“I don’t belong to you Roman; you can’t tell me what to do. We aren’t toge-” his lips crashing against mine stopping my rant.

“You do, and I belong to you,” he panted as we clawed at each other’s clothes.

It has been three weeks since we’d seen each other and we both were feenin’…..Bad.

“I’mma show you who you belong too and it ain’t him,” Roman growled, wrapping my legs around his waist, and carrying me to the couch.

“Show me then,” I taunted as he growled. Ok, maybe I took it too far. This was dangerous, we were at work, and anybody could walk by and hear us, but we didn’t care.

After he laid me down on the couch, I watched him with bated breath as he went to the counter and grabbed a towel.

“What are you doing?” I asked as he laid the towel out it out beside me.

“Take the dress off, lay on the towel, and don’t make me tell you again.” His powerful sexy voice made me clench my thighs together.

“It’s going to get messy, and I don’t wanna waste a drop. Cause I ain’t stoppin’ till you cum in my mouth, and all on this dick,” he declared with a groan.

Tingles began to wander throughout my entire body as I slid over onto the towel, taking my dress off, knowing he meant business.

The look of pure hunger in his eyes as he eagerly sank to his knees, ripping my panties before burying his face in my welcoming center as I groaned in pleasure.

He was always this way, eager to please me, and to prove a point.

What was the point you ask?.......I belonged to him.

“Roman, we can’t keep arguing and keep ending up like this,” I moaned as Roman devoured my pussy with his mouth without a care in the world as I tried to catch my breath.

“I told you I ain’t stoppin’ till you cum in my mouth,” he moaned caressing my thighs, gently lappin’ up my juices as my body arched up against his mouth.

“We gotta stop this!” I yelped closing my eyes as he continued his assault on my wet and tender pussy, working me into a frenzy as I fought to surrender my all to him once again.

“Savannah, look at Daddy,” he moaned as I willed my eyes to his, seeing that familiar gleam of pride gracing his handsome face.

Proud that he had me at his mercy, proud of the fact that he could have me any and every way he wanted.

Proud that he could have me whenever or wherever he wanted.

“Roman, wait a minute,” I whimpered pushing at his head as he raised his head slightly, replacing his mouth with two of his fingers. Though giving me a breather, he was focused on getting what he came here for.

 His passionate gaze held me captive as his fingers curved against my g-spot. I gasped at the new sensation as he licked his lips watching me in awe.  

“Yeeaa, you talkin’ all dat shit, but you know Daddy knows every inch of his pussy and you love it,” he moaned as my body trembled in gratitude.

“Now what do you need to tell me?” he asked, his voice deep and mesmerizing.

 “Thank you, so much Daddy!” I exclaimed gripping his hand as he went deeper.

 My earlier thoughts long removed; this was dangerous but so fuckin’ good.

“Your welcome baby, I love pleasin’ you,” he whispered as my body moved against his fingers. My body betraying my mind as I licked my lips.

Seeing the remnants of my essence dripping from his beard and lips was stirring something deeper within me and he knew it…

He knew it because he knew me, and he loved that shit.

“Mmhm, you see it don’t you? You love to see all dat good, good, drippin’ from Daddy’s lips and beard, don’t you?” He asked.

His fingers masterfully thrusting against my g-spot. “Yes! I love it, Daddy. Oouu, I do.. So much!” I cried.

“Uh huh, you love it cause’ it means Daddy been puttin’ in dat good work, don’t it?” Roman groaned licking his lips in anticipation of what was to come.

“Yes! Fuck, yes! “I screamed as I felt my body beginning to ache with need.

“You need Daddy’s mouth, and fingers don’t you?” He whispered as my body trembled with need as a strangled cry escaped my lips.

“Tell me Savannah, will that make my pussy cum for me?” he asked as I fell deeper under his spell and didn’t want to be rescued.

“Uh! Yes!….Roman, yes! Please…. Make me cum!” I cried, not too proud to beg nor care who could be walking by as he growled in satisfaction as I bent to his will.

“All you had to do was ask… Stop fightin’ it, Savannah. Let me give you what we both want.”

“Which is what?” I gasped, wanting to hear him say it as he smirked, nipping at my inner thigh.

 “Me makin’ my pussy cum,” his deep voice confessed as he went back to work, his mouth devouring pussy whole as I screamed in pleasure.

“You’re going to cum in my mouth,” he moaned as I gasped feeling the end near as his words exciting me even more.

“ Mmm, I plan on it.”

“And then…..You gonna Cum all on dis dick,” he moaned against my sex, as he continued to lap up my juices eagerly.

His passionate gaze burning a hole in my heart and soul as he took me to the edge.

“Roman, shit!” I gasped grabbing the back of his head, as he continuously swirled his tongue around my clit, sucking, and nibbling on the sensitive nub. His fingers teasingly curving in and out of my hot wet center at a steady pace.

His mouth sending toe curling vibrations down my spine.

Suddenly he wrapped my legs around his head, going even deeper.

Shit, he ain’t playin’ right now.

“W- Wa- Wait, it’s too much…Mmm, Roman!” I screamed clawing at the back of his head as his grip tightened around my thighs.

His strong arms holding me over his mouth as he quenched his thirst.

“Shhh…….. Don’t fight it, I know just what you need…..And trust me, it’s never too much,” he moaned.

 Gripping the sheets, I looked at him in awe, biting my bottom lip trying not to scream so loud as he took me higher and higher.  

He looked so fucking sexy on his knees pleasuring me selflessly as I finally relaxed my body, surrendering all and welcoming all he had to give.

“Yea, that’s it…… Relax and give in to what you need,” he moaned as I writhed beneath him unable to think straight. My moans getting louder and louder.

“Oh! Fuck! Roman...Mmm, baby!.”

“Mmhm, dats it… Give dat shit some sound, 'cause’ I know it feels good,” he moaned, on a mission to blow my mind.

Carmelo who? What was this hold Roman had over me that I couldn’t resist.

“Mm, oh, Roman! I….I.. Mmm!” I screamed as he growled knowing I was close.  

“I know it baby, my princess is doing so good, you almost there,” he praised as I cried in pleasure falling apart in his arms as a satisfied primal growl escaped his lips.

“Yes! Fuck!” I gasped as my body arched of the couch from the intense pleasure as he snatched my hips back to his mouth.

“Mmmhm, don’t run….. This is all for you, enjoy it.”

“Yes! Oouu, fuck!” I screamed as my orgasm continued to wash over me.

The slurping sounds coming from his mouth as he drank my essence turned me on even more as I moved against his tongue.

“Mmm, Fuck! I’m so proud of you, givin’ Daddy all dat good good.”

My state of euphoria intensified as he moaned welcoming my waterfalls, sopping me up whole as my body trembled, trying to come back down to earth.

I was emotionally and physically spent, and he loved it. His moans as he cleaned me up will definitely be etched in my mind for all eternity.

 Fuck, he was so good, and he knew it.

“You’re such a good girl, fuck.” He praised wiping the remnants of my essence from his beard with a sly smile.

“I can’t believe you,” I gasps as he chuckled, pleased with himself slightly lowering his sweatpants.

“What, you looked so good, I couldn’t help it. It’s been weeks,” he said slowly gripping his dick and rubbing it along my sensitive slit.

“Roman! We don’t have…..Ah!” I gasped as he slowly guided himself inside me inch by glorious inch.

“Yess, that’s my girl, look at you takin’ it all…. Fuck, yea…Take what’s yours….Take all dis dick,” he praised as I ran my hands down his chest meeting his thrusts.

His grip on my hips tightening as he thrusted in and out at a moderate pace as I purred beneath him.

“Does he dick you down like me?” Roman asked sinking deeper as I clawed at his chest moaning in pleasure.

“Don’t ruin it, please not now,” I gasp not wanting to discuss Carmelo at the moment.

“I know he don’t, you know why?”

“Why?!” I gasped as he angled his hips hitting my A-spot, a spot only Roman has been able to find.

 “Cause’ this pussy mine, and she only gets this wet for me…Yea….She only squirts for me,” Roman gloated as tears weld up in my eyes from the amazing pleasure.

“Roman, I’m close,” I gasped as he looked at me with hunger in his eyes.

“I know, so am I, but I need something from you first.”

“What babe?”

“Tell Carmelo it’s over and marry me,” he whispered against my lips as my eyes snapped open at his request.

“Wh..What?” asked unsure if I heard him correctly as his mouth overpowered mine as we shared a deep kiss. Only parting to catch our breaths.

“Marry me, Savannah,"” he moaned wrapping my legs around his waist as he began thrusting with wild abandon rendering me a writhing mess as I melted into his powerful embrace.

 “Roman!” I cried as our lips met in another passionate kiss. “Fuck, I love you so much, Savannah,” he rasped, his declarations of love making me fall even deeper in love with him than I already was.

“I love you too,” I cried, his thrusts becoming more frantic as I blushed, hiding my face in his neck, holding onto him like a lifeline as the sounds of him swimming in my welcoming ocean filled the room.

“Uh! Shit!” I gasp in shock as I felt him smirk against my neck.

“Uh huh…. My pussy talkin’ to me real good, you bout to cum for Daddy, I know it?” he groaned, nipping at my neck as I heard a knock at my office door.

“Savannah you in there?” I heard Carmelo say as I froze.

 “Roman, stop,” I whispered as he grasped my chin making me look at him.

“I already told you I wanted you to marry me. You think I’mma stop just cause’ your lil boyfriend is outside?” he asked, never stopping his deep thrusts rendering me speechless.

“Savannah, I ain’t stoppin’…. I want him to hear,” he whispered as I gasped at his words.

“Yea, I want him to know….I want him to know who you belong to,” he groaned going deeper as my back arched against him in shock and pleasure, painfully biting my lip trying to keep quiet.

When Carmelo finally stopped knocking, my phone began vibrating and it bout scared me out of my skin as I saw Carmelo’s picture on the screen.

“Look at me Savannah,” Roman demanded caressing my face bringing my attention back to him as the panic began to sit in.

Did he hear us? Did he leave? Is he waiting outside?

“Hey, I heard him leave, it’ ok.  Just focus on us,” he groaned running his thumb across my bottom lip as I felt the room spinning, my head thrown back in pleasure, gasping for air.

“That’s it, there’s my beautiful girl. Let go baby,” he whispered swallowing my cries as we came together in an earthshattering orgasm.

How do we keep ending up here?

As we came down from our high, the guilt began to set in as Roman tenderly reached up and wiped my tears.

“Savannah, I want you to know as much as I wanted him to hear us, I would never put you in a situation that could hurt or embarrass you.

"I know," I whimpered as he kissed my forehead caressing my arms.

 “I meant what I said, I want you to be my wife,” he said with conviction as I nodded trying to control my tears knowing I would eventually have to make a decision.

I was thankful our secret was safe for now, but I couldn’t keep going on like this.

Damn, I just kept digging myself in a deeper.

---

Hilton Garden Inn

Savannah's Room

Carmelo’s POV

“Where you goin’ baby?” I asked knowing exactly where she was trying to run too…The shower….

“I’m going to take another shower,” she said casually trying to pass me as I stood up blocking her path to the bathroom.

“You don’t need another shower, especially since I haven’t even got you dirty yet,” I whispered taking her in a passionate kiss as she whimpered against me.

“Mmm, babe, I need to shower,” she moaned as I pulled her closer.

“Aye, I love the smell of you, not soap,” I moaned moving my kisses to her neck knowin’ it would drive her wild.

“Carmelo, babe,” she trembled against me.

 I knew she slept with Roman tonight, and I wanted to be angry, but I couldn’t….

Why?

She was never mine to begin with, she was his. I knew it from the beginning but tried to make her mine anyway.

 Working her into a frenzy I pulled away, admiring her beauty.

“Why did you stop?” Savannah gasped as I caressed her face.

“I can smell him,” I whispered as Savannah stilled in my arms, fear adorning her beautiful face.

“W- Wh-What are you talking about?” she asked dumbfounded as I sighed.

 “You took a shower at the building trying to hide it, but I can still smell his cologne on your dress," I said as the color drained from her beautiful face.

When were you going to tell me you slept with him?” I asked, as Savannah's eyes instantly filled with tears as I confessed my knowledge of her secret.

Taglist:

@reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl

@melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo

@arination99 @2-muchsauce @bakugoumarianawrites

@empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae @anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld @jeyusosgirl  @theninthwonder @mya2real  @justazzi @whatdoeseverybodywant @reignsboy19 wooahmiri alichesmi pytbgeezy @ superpietom 

@truefant4sy @yana3sworld

Hope you all enjoyed the link for part one below.