#but it took way too long for me to cut ties completely

[woniiez]

𝙏𝙄𝙀𝘿 𝙏𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 S.mg

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. song mingi x fem!reader

𝗦𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮/teaser. You always thought of Mingi as nothing more than the spoiled son of a wealthy CEO. He was the kind of guy you’d hear about in the tabloids, always caught in the middle of some scandal, some drunken night out, or some rumored fling with the next “it” girl. His last name alone commanded respect, but it also made him untouchable in your eyes. He was everything you despised about people with too much money—arrogant, entitled, and far too used to getting whatever he wanted.

For you, the Song family was just another name tied to wealth and power. Your own father was a successful businessman, a man who’d built an empire from the ground up. But there was a difference between your family and his, your family had always struggled to maintain what they had, keeping the balance between status and reality. The Songs, on the other hand, seemed to live in a world that operated on a completely different set of rules—one that never knew struggle.

It wasn’t that you hated Mingi, per se. You just couldn’t stand the way he moved through life with no real sense of accountability. His arrogance was like a cloud surrounding him, blocking out everything. Every time he spoke, you could feel the cockiness in his tone, the way he knew his words would hold weight because of who he was. It made you want to roll your eyes.

And yet, in some strange part of you, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you sometimes. It wasnt anything serious, but in those moments, you saw the softness beneath his ego and arrogance the vulnerability he hid behind the confidence. You could see it when you both stood in the same room, but neither of you ever addressed it. Instead, whenever you were forced to interact it would be like a cat fight.

It was easy, then, to pretend he didn’t matter when your families were never really close. You had different friend groups, different circles. And when you had to endure forced family gatherings, he’d always disappear into the background, a silent figure in the corner, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.

But that all changed the day your father came home with a grim look on his face, news that would change your life forever.

Your father sat you down, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. His hands were clenched around the glass of water in front of him, his eyes looked tired, worn down. You’d never seen him like this before. Your father was always in control, always the one with the answers. But today, his voice was weaker than usual as he spoke, and you realized, something was seriously wrong.

“Sweetheart,” he began, his tone soft but firm, “the company… it’s in trouble.”

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t need to hear more. You knew what this meant. Your father’s empire,the business that had been the backbone of your family for years, was facing bankruptcy. But you would never expect the next words that came out of his mouth.

“Your mother and I have spoken to Mr. Song,” he continued. “We’ve come to an agreement.”

“What agreement?”

The words that he forced out sounded like they were being pulled from deep inside your father, something he was going to hate saying, but knew he had no choice. “You’re going to marry Mingi.”

|| 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁. series

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲. arranged marriage!

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. will be updated for every chapter.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩. (Open! Comment below if you wanna be added) @minkioswoo @yunhogrippers @hee-yunie

(hii I’m back. This took me really long to plan and then write, I’m not sure why I decided to make a series since I started writing just this year but I really love reading the series other people write and post and I haven’t read something with this genre (series) on mingi so I just started writing and saw it going somewhere so ig that’s how it came to be. I did take help from a few friends to improve the writing since I don’t have an extensive vocabulary so it’s better to read. Also i just wanna say that this is a 100x better than my first fic cause this took forever to write with making sure the paragraph formation was put together, vocab, and planning out the whole story line to make sure the first chapter would flow well with the others. I really hope you like this!)

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭.𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲

[lunapwrites]

If you have a friend who goes out of their way to make you feel shittier while you're down:

1) that person is not your friend

2) they should be carefully and completely excised from your life, starting ASAP. (Not necessarily immediately, but when you can.)

[kousanosgf]

men, minors dni

councilor!sevika x housewife!reader

sevika comes home after another tiring day. gladly, she has a good way of reliving stress.

tags: domestic fluff, oral (reader receiving)

it was well past 12am but your kitchen was alive, filled with smells of spices and meat. sevika was still not home, and recently she took a very annoying habit of staying too late at work. you couldn't blame her. maybe you were staying home all day and having all the time to enjoy yourself and work around the house but you were knowledgeable enough to understand how hard politics can be. so there's definitely not even a thought to voice any of your complaints to sevika.

yet, you couldn't stop to feel disappointed and dissatisfied the whole day, ever since you woke up late in the morning, sevika already off to work. it was unfair that you are unable to meet her while living in the same house and sleeping in one bed. and that's the exact reason why you were staying up late, waiting for her to come home. "i will not go through the day without seeing my own wife." you told yourself as you put on the apron about an hour ago to spend some time cooking so you wouldn't fall asleep by accident.

finally you hear a key clicking in the lock and a door opening. you smile to yourself but don't move from your place to meet sevika, the pan demanding your full attention.

sevika moves around the house, taking off her boots and outwear, washing her hands in the bathroom, before coming into the kitchen.

"give me a sec-" you don't finish your sentence, sevika surprises you by basically attaching herself to your body, hugging from behind and nuzzling into the top of your head.

"sorry i'm late." she mummbles and it makes you smile.

"how was your day?" you ask as you stir the stew on the stove.

"i work with complete idiots."

you can't help but laugh at sevika's attitude. she sounds like a pouty child, the sleepiness in her voice definitely adding to overall cutness of her.

comfortable silence hangs between you as you continue to cook and sevika just tracks your hand movements. she gets restless, you guess, when you feel her palms cup your breasts. sevika presses more into you and kneads your chest, her mouth coming down to leave light kisses on your neck. it tickles and you flinch away slightly. sevika just presses harder, your frame now caught between her and the counter.

"aren't you hungry, babe?"

she humms in agreement but doesn't let you go. "my meal is right here." it's probably the cheesiest thing you heard from her but you're so in love it works, something twirls in your lower belly.

you nudge her to the side to turn off the stove so the food wouldn't burn and face her finally. there're dark circles under her eyes, she definitely needs a better sleep schedule. the sight makes you frown.

"i hope it's your day off tomorrow, like you promised." you look at her with a stern look but cup her cheek gently, rubbing circles with your thumb.

"it is." sevika grins, there's a mischievous glint in her eyes. "planned spending it without letting you out of my grip". her hands rise back to your waistline, toying with the ties of your sweatpants under the apron.

there's a lot you can tell her. it's been a long day for both of you, especially sevika. she probably only had quick snacks on her brakes. she needs to sleep more. but how can you when she grew basically professional at seducing you.

treating your silence as a permission to continue, sevika slides your pants and underwear swiftly. suddenly you're in the air, held by her, as she places you on the kitchen counter.

"made me nervous there, doll," she huffs and squats down to place herself perfectly between your legs. "thought, i'll have to beg."

she starts slow, taking her sweet time to get you hot and wet. she squeezes your thighs while telling how her day went. the end of the year is coming and it seems everyone demands annual reports on her every move.

you really try to be an attentive wife and listen carefully to her stories but it's basically impossible when sevika runs her hands up and down your inner thighs, the contrast of temperature between her arms makes you shiver. you can help but gasp as the finger of her metal arm dips softly in the crease where your hip connects to the crotch.

"no, baby. don't block the view." she teases when your legs twitch, trying to close from the unexpected contact.

"sorry," you sigh. "just... weren't you so eager for this?"

"i am." sevika laughs and puts her head on your hip. "but don't you want to be a good wife and listen to what i'v been up to?"

and you do. of course, you do. but that's not really the reaction she waits from you. recently sevika's been set on a mission. begging wouldn't help in this situation. what she really wanted is you demanding things from her. you were too nice and sweet, usually considering other's wishes first rather than yourself. sevika finds it cute and cherishes that part of you. it's one of the traits that was important for survival in zaun, people being empathetic towards each other, always ready to help the community. but everything had it's limits and by sevika's judgment you needed to be selfish sometimes, specifically with her, because either way she was willing and ready to serve your every wish.

"vika, please." you whine.

"try again." she turns her head to kiss your thigh.

"fuck- you need to eat me out!" you finally give up, leaning further back, your head presses against the wall, hips thrust up to get closer to her mouth.

she doesn't let you wait a second more as she basically leaps forward and puts her lips on your pussy. your apron is still on you, sevika dips under it, hiding herself. she chuckles as you whine displeased and doesn't let you drag the fabric up for a better view.

there's a pause that's followed by a bite on your inner thigh. "use your words."

"wanna see, vika. let me see." there's a smile against your skin. she lays her lips back on your dripping cunt and reaches for the laces of your apron.

the sight is magical, you think. her face rubbing against you, nose already coated in your slick as she was teasing your clit, sliding up and down. sevika holds your gaze, taking in your reaction, and then just dives deeper, closing her eyes. her tongue is inside of you now. you cry out with pleasure, you legs closing around her.

sevika is so so so good for you. she can't move her head now, so she can only use her mouth. the tongue disappears from your hole and she just sucks on your clit. her puppy grey eyes are back on you, drinking in your reaction.

the kitchen is filled with your quite moans when she holds you there for couple more minutes. then she decides something for herself. the tip of her tongue on your clit. it dances lightly without much rhythm.

sevika once told you, she needs to try to spell the whole alphabet on your pussy and maybe it's the time for it. and if it is, you're not sure you can last through the whole thing, already too worked up.

"vika-" she raises her brows in question. "need to cum."

as she hears it, the pressure hardens, her tongue now laying more flat, trying to cover as much skin as she can. the sounds of her mouth and your drenched cunt become louder. you have to hold onto her head, pushing fingers through her hair, to steady yourself.

sevika doesn't stop, doesn't slow down as you reach the climax. "need to clean up the mess." she usually jokes, guiding you through the feeling and then some, becoming delirious with need to overstimulate you till you actually tell her to stop.

you slide down the counter when you finally catch your breath, legs shakey. sevika has to steady you, grabbing your elbow.

"i'm not letting you out of the bed till monday." you say, brining yourself closer, kissing her wet lips.

"can't say i'll be disappointed." sevika grins. you scoff under your breath and tug at her arm out of the kitchen, stumbling like a baby deer on shaky legs.

[winxanity-ii]

LIKE WHAT YOU SEE?

ship: fashion designer!gojo x fem!model!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (fem. receiving hand-job/fingering; overstimualtion; p in v ; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos) word count: 6.6k (i'm gagged cuz i swear it wasn't that many words as i was typing 😭😭💀) A/N: Hey, bubbly-bear! just wanted to let you know i've moved from my my alt account to my main one, so i'm posting your request here…

Request:Hello! I had a lil gojo x reader idea but if you aren’t vibing with it please dont feel like you have to write it, or change it how you see fit! BUT I feel like Guess (ft. Billie E.) By Charlie xcx is so Gojo coded and I would love to see a fic based off of it if possible :)

p.s. mwaaaaahhhhh, thx you so much for being my first request, hope i did you justice 😩✨

This line from the song just stood out to me and i just had to write it:

I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit it Pull it to the side and get all up in it Kiss it, ride it, can I fit it?

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

"Turn your head like that—yes, perfect! Raise your chin a little more. Hold it!" The head photographer's voice cut through the organized chaos, every word precise and demanding. "Lighting! Can we adjust the back light, it's catching too much glare!" Another barked command as assistants scurried to fix the harsh spotlight casting an overexposed halo on you. "Makeup! Fix the lipstick; it's smudged." The pace had been relentless, as it always was on set. The camera had clicked, capturing each second of your endurance, but all you could focus on was the way your body ached.

Your feet, crammed into designer heels, screamed for relief, and your back burned from holding poses longer than it felt natural. You shifted your weight slightly, hoping no one noticed as the clicks of the camera went on like rapid fire.

"Alright, people, ten-minute break!" Finally, the head photographer clapped his hands, giving everyone the much-needed signal to stop.

A bell rang faintly in the background, and your shoulders slumped as you let out a groan.

You dropped the strained pose you had been holding for what felt like an eternity. You rolled your neck, feeling the tension snap and release in your joints.

The lights dimmed slightly as Kugisaki Nobara and Itadori Yuji sauntered over from the swimwear shoot, and you couldn't help but notice how their outfits screamed for attention—both in completely different ways.

Nobara was in a skimpy two-piece swimsuit, the top barely enough to cover her small bust, accentuating her slim waist. The delicate straps dug into her skin as she pulled at them, clearly annoyed, though the outfit highlighted her toned frame with every step she took.

The bottom piece clung to her hips, just barely covering enough to maintain some modesty, with high-cut sides that emphasized her long legs.

Despite the discomfort written across her face, Nobara moved with confidence, her slender figure not going unnoticed by the photographers still milling around.

She scrunched her nose. "This swimsuit is killing me," she muttered, fingers fidgeting with the ties around her waist. "Honestly, whose idea was it to make swimwear this uncomfortable?"

Yuji, in contrast, had an air of ease about him, rocking a pair of matching swim trunks that coordinated with Nobara's outfit—an intentional design that somehow made their shoot feel like a playful, couples-themed editorial.

His bare chest gleamed under the studio lights, each of his perfectly sculpted abs on display as though carved by a sculptor. His body was toned yet muscular, the kind of physique that didn’t need fancy clothes to stand out.

With sun-kissed skin and that infectious grin, Yuji could have made wearing anything look effortless.

"C'mon, Nobara, we don't have that much longer. Besides, you look great," Yuji said, his voice lighthearted as always.

Nobara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, says the guy who could wear a trash bag and still smile like it's no big deal."

You let out a quiet chuckle as Yuji gave you a wink before being called away to review some of the shots. He shot you a playful smile over his shoulder as he walked off, his broad back flexing slightly under the pressure of moving around in the hot lights.

"Ugh, I swear, if Yuji keeps this up, I'm going to barf," Nobara muttered, shaking her head as she sidled up next to you, arms crossed over her chest.

The two of you made your way toward the refreshments table, where the scattered models and assistants buzzed like bees around a honey pot.

You could feel the material of your own outfit shift as you moved, the delicate knitted vest you wore slightly hugging your upper body. It was all part of the 'clean girl' aesthetic your stylist had chosen for you—a knitted cream-colored vest over a crisp white blouse, paired with a pleated schoolgirl skirt that swayed with every step.

It was simple, yet chic—the kind of outfit that made you feel both elegant and casual at the same time.

Yet, despite its light, airy look, the long hours standing in the heels were starting to make your feet scream. The snug fit of the vest only heightened the strain on your tired muscles, adding to the sense of exhaustion.

Nobara leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming as if she was about to share the juiciest tidbit of gossip she had yet. "So, did you hear about Kaori and that photographer? Apparently, they got caught in one of the back dressing rooms."

You raised a brow, barely hiding your amusement. "Kaori? The one who's been eyeing everyone since day one?."

"Oh, and you didn't hear this from me," Nobara continued, lowering her voice even more, "but Sumi told me that Yuji's been getting cozy with that new model, Megumi. You know, the quiet one? Well, they—"

You groaned, cutting her off. "Don't you ever get tired of knowing all the messy things?"

Nobara rolled her eyes dramatically, her lips curling into a smirk. "Never~" she said, before nodding toward the side entrance. Her voice took on a mischievous edge as she added, "Just like I know you never get tired of denying that your new stylist wants to fuck you."

You practically choked, your eyes widening as the words hit you. "W-What?" you sputtered, your face heating up. You let out a shaky laugh, then coughed, trying to gather yourself. "Stop saying that…"

Nobara's smirk only grew wider, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Oh, come on. The man practically undresses you with his eyes every time he's around. You can't tell me you don't notice the way he looks at you. The man's got designs on more than just your clothes, babe."

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and you averted your gaze, unsure how to respond.

It was hard to deny that your stylist's hands lingered just a bit too long during fittings, or that his gaze seemed a little too intense when he adjusted the fabrics on your body.

The clean, tailored looks he designed for you always felt more intimate than the pieces he created for other models. But surely, it was just part of his meticulous nature, right?

"I-It's just professional," you stammered, glancing down at the drink in your hand, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the growing knot in your stomach. "He's focused on the designs, Nobara. That's it."

Nobara snorted, giving you a knowing look. "Yeah, okay. If by ‘designs’ you mean figuring out how to get under your clothes, then sure. But I mean, I'm not complaining. If I were in your shoes, I'd fuck him."

Before you could respond, a shadow fell over you both, and you didn't need to look up to know who it was. You felt his presence before you saw him.

There, leaning casually against the side of the refreshment table, was Gojo Satoru, the man in question.

His signature smirk played on his lips as those piercing, ice-blue eyes of his scanned over you over his shades, and you could practically feel the heat of his gaze as it lingered on your skirt.

"Ladies," Satoru drawled, his voice smooth and dripping with charm. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything too scandalous?"

Nobara raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing look before stepping back. "Oh no, nothing at all. We were just talking about your... designs," she said with a sly grin before stepping back. "Guess, I'll leave you two to it," she teased, nudging you as she walked away.

And just like that, you were left alone with him, heart racing as you met his eyes. His grin only widened, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

"So..." Satoru murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in slightly. "Anything you'd like to confess?"

Your throat went dry, and you could only shake your head, praying that he hadn't overheard Nobara's playful remarks.

But judging by the gleam in his eyes, you had a feeling he probably had.

Your heart raced as you tried to compose yourself, swallowing back the nerves rising in your throat. You forced a smile, though it felt shaky at best. "I don't have anything to confess," you said, attempting to keep your voice light. "Is there anything you need help with?"

Satoru's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming as he straightened up, his hands casually slipping into the pockets of his perfectly tailored trousers. "As a matter of fact," he drawled, "you could help me with something."

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. Before you could ask what he meant, two of Satoru's assistants appeared at his side, as if on cue, each one wearing the kind of professionalism that didn't quite mask the urgency in their steps.

Without explanation, they began to gently but firmly usher you toward the changing quarters.

"W-Wait—what's going on?" you stammered, glancing over your shoulder at Satoru, who followed behind leisurely, his long strides giving him an air of complete control. "Why am I changing? I thought my shoot was almost over?"

"Oh, nothing much," Satoru sing-songed, his lips pulling into a mischievous grin. "I just had a chat with the higher-ups about pushing up the date for a few of our theme releases. Ya'know, rearranging which models get which looks."

Your confusion only deepened, and you blinked owlishly, trying to make sense of his words as you were guided toward a small room at the end of the hallway. "But—what does that have to do with—"

You trailed off as you stepped into the changing room and saw the mannequin sitting in the center. It was draped in an outfit that made your breath catch in your throat. A short leather miniskirt, sleek and shimmering, paired with a crop bodycon top that clung to the mannequin’s torso like a second skin

The entire ensemble was a bold combination of black and silver, with metallic bangles adorning the arms and a choker embedded with silver and black accents.

But what truly caught your attention was the soft sheen of baby blue that ran through the outfit—a shade that was eerily similar to the blue of Satoru's eyes.

You stared at the outfit for a moment, taking in the platform boots that completed the look, their towering heels intimidating yet alluring. The whole ensemble screamed nightlife, clubbing, a world of flashing lights and pulsing music.

It was striking, to say the least.

The assistants wasted no time, setting down various items on a nearby table while preparing the room for your quick change. But you stood frozen, blinking again as realization slowly dawned.

Satoru leaned against the doorframe, watching you with an almost lazy amusement.

"You're joking," you muttered, half in disbelief.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

You glanced back at the mannequin, the black and silver catching the light in a way that made the outfit seem even more eye-catching.

The baby blue accents shimmered faintly, bringing your thoughts right back to Satoru, his confident smirk and those eyes that seemed to follow your every move.

The outfit looked like it had been designed for you—and only you.

The assistants were already moving around, gesturing for you to start changing, but your mind was still reeling. "You... moved up the schedule?"

"Had a feeling this look was perfect for you," Satoru said casually, pushing off the doorframe and walking further into the room. "Wanted to see it on you sooner rather than later."

You bit your lip, nerves fluttering in your chest as you stared at the mannequin once more.

The way Satoru's gaze lingered on you sent a shiver down your spine.

It was as if this entire thing had been orchestrated just for his amusement, his design, his vision.

The assistants handed you the top, a fitted crop that shimmered in the light, the baby blue accents standing out against the metallic silver.

You reluctantly grabbed it from them as they moved off to remove the other pieces from the mannequin.

The room felt warmer all of a sudden, like the air had thickened, and you couldn’t shake the tension prickling at the back of your neck.

You lifted your gaze only to find Satoru already staring at you, his eyes locked on yours in a way that made your breath hitch. You cleared your throat, your voice shaky as you tried to break the spell. "Shouldn't you leave? I need to change."

Instead of moving, his lips curved into that trademark smirk that always made your stomach flip. "I'll have to stay and oversee things. You know, just to make sure nothing goes wrong. I can swoop in and fix anything if needed."

Your face burned, heat rushing to your cheeks as his words lingered in the air.

You weren't naïve. You'd worked with dozens of stylists before, all of them meticulous, always staying to make sure the fit was perfect. But none of them ever made your skin tingle the way Satoru did.

None of them ever watched you like they were imagining a thousand different things beneath the clothes. And none of them ever made you feel like you were burning alive from the inside out with just a look.

Heart pounding, you turned away, hoping to escape his gaze. You began undressing, slipping out of your current outfit.

Each movement felt amplified, like you could feel the air around you, charged with tension. You reached behind yourself, trying to steady your breathing as you fumbled with the zipper.

You could practically feel his eyes on you, mapping out your body, lingering on every curve as if he could see right through the fabric.

Your skin prickled, the sensation of his gaze making it hard to even think straight. Every breath felt labored, every second stretched too long.

As you reached behind to unclip your bralette, your fingers trembling slightly, you felt a pair of hands cover yours—large, warm, and deliberate.

The shock froze you in place, your breath catching in your throat.

"Allow me to help you with that…" His voice was low, velvety, and it sent a shiver down your spine as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear.

The world narrowed to that moment, the heat of his presence overwhelming your senses. His fingers gently brushed against yours as he unhooked your bralette, the touch feather-light but filled with an unspoken promise.

You couldn't move, couldn't breathe, the room suddenly too small, too hot, with Satoru towering behind you, his hands so close, too close.

Every nerve in your body screamed in protest, but your heart betrayed you, hammering in your chest as a low pulse of desire curled through your veins.

His hands slid away as he stepped back, giving you room, but the mark of his touch lingered long after he'd let go.

It left you breathless, the space between you charged with something dangerous, something unspoken that hung heavy in the air.

Satoru's smirk never wavered, his eyes still locked onto yours in the reflection of the mirror. "There..." he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "...All done."

You stuttered out a soft, breathless, "Thank you," barely able to get the words out before Satoru turned on his heel. His presence seemed to consume the room, but as he barked an order to one of his assistants, the pressure finally lifted.

"Adjust the lighting for the next setup! And I want the backdrop changed in five minutes!" Satoru's voice rang out, sharp and authoritative. With one last glance over his shoulder at you, he strode away, leaving the room in a whirlwind of activity.

As soon as he was gone, it felt like you could finally breathe again. The air in the room cooled, the weight of his lingering presence fading, though not entirely.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you pulled the leather skirt up over your hips, the fabric snug against your skin. Satoru's assistant helped you with the bodycon top, tugging it into place, adjusting the hem and smoothing out the fabric as it clung to your curves.

The outfit was bold—almost too bold—but it fit like a second skin, highlighting every line of your body in the way only Satoru's designs could.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of camera clicks, flashing lights, and endless posing. Hours slipped by, the sun gradually lowering as the shoot continued, stretching longer than expected.

Nanami Kento, the photographer overseeing everything, was a perfectionist. His no-nonsense attitude left no room for error, and his eye for detail was unmatched.

He had insisted on waiting for the natural dusk light, arguing that it would complement the metallic sheen of your outfit and bring out the best in the overall composition.

You had worked with Kento before. His bluntness and unwavering pursuit of perfection made him a tough taskmaster, but he was one of the best in the industry.

Shoots paired with him always led to increased success. His images captured not just the clothes, but the mood, the essence of the model wearing them.

He and Satoru were at the top of their game right now, the dynamic power duo behind many successful campaigns, and you couldn't deny how they both pushed you further than anyone else ever had.

"…And… that's a wrap!" Kento's voice finally cut through the endless camera clicks, sharp and definitive. The faint ring of a bell followed, signaling the end of the shoot.

You exhaled a long, relieved breath, feeling the weight of the day lift off your shoulders.

The shoot had taken the remainder of the day, from midday to the last golden rays of dusk.

The combination of Satoru's exacting demands—making you pose in just the right way to show off the outfit—and Kento's insistence on perfect lighting meant you'd spent hours standing, twisting, and holding uncomfortable poses.

The tightness in your back and shoulders made it clear how long you had been at it. Your feet ached in the platform boots, and your muscles screamed for rest.

As the assistants began to pack away the equipment, the space slowly emptied out. The other models and staff had long since finished their own shoots and left, leaving only you and a skeleton crew behind.

The studio, once alive with chaos, was now eerily quiet, the low hum of final tasks being completed the only sound in the background.

You peeled yourself away from the set and made your way back to the dressing room, feeling the tightness of the leather skirt with every step.

The corridors were deserted now, with most of the team having wrapped up hours ago. The silence was almost jarring after the noise and flurry of the day.

You were exhausted, every muscle in your body protesting as you moved.

Finally, you reached your dressing room, the door creaking slightly as you pushed it open. The sight of the empty space—the vanity mirror now bare, clothes and shoes scattered—was a welcome relief.

The day had been long, but now you could unwind.

As you closed the door behind you, the quiet settled over you like a blanket, offering you the peace you desperately needed.

You stumbled into the room, barely keeping yourself upright as exhaustion weighed down your limbs. Practically dead on your feet, you began peeling off the clothes that had felt glued to your body for the last several hours.

The crop top slipped off first, falling to the floor with a soft thud.

You didn't care where it landed as you walked over to the couch in the center of the room, facing a large squared mirror. Each step felt like a weight being lifted from your sore muscles.

A cool draft brushed against your bare torso, making you shiver slightly as it passed over the sheen of sweat from the long day. Your fingers worked at the accessories next, unfastening the bangles around your wrists and dropping them carelessly.

The metal clanked against the floor, loud in the otherwise quiet space. You massaged your sore wrists, the cool air soothing the raw skin where the jewelry had pressed tight against you.

Your fingers then moved to the choker at your neck, tugging it free and letting it fall beside the rest, relieved to feel the soft touch of air against your throat.

Your mind began to drift, wandering somewhere far away from the chaos of the day. You thought about what you'd do when you got home.

Maybe snack on those yogurt bites you found at the grocery store earlier that week. Or maybe you can finally binge-watch that series you'd been meaning to catch up on.

The thought made you feel a little lighter.

Hell, you can even spend tomorrow doing absolutely nothing, you have nothing booked!

You were right in the middle of imagining your lazy day ahead, fingers working the clasp of your bralette, when the door creaked open behind you.

"Hey! I'm—" Your arms instinctively rose to catch your slipping bra before it could fall completely. Your heart raced, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

You looked up at the large mirror in front of you, eyes wide, only to lock gazes with Satoru, lounging casually against the doorway as if he had all the time in the world.

"—undressing," you finished, your voice dropping to a shaky whisper.

Satoru's lips curved into a faint smirk, his gaze shameless as it raked over your disheveled appearance. He tilted his head slightly, looking over his shades at the scattered accessories and top on the floor. "You know," he said, his voice light with a playful edge, "you really shouldn't leave my designs lying around like that. It's almost disrespectful."

For a moment, you thought he'd bend down to pick up the items—his creations, after all. But instead, he strolled right past them, making his way toward you.

Your breath hitched, your body freezing in place as his steps closed the distance between you.

Satoru's eyes, usually filled with playful mischief, were darker now, more intense as they followed the lines of your form.

He moved with the kind of confidence that left no room for doubt. And as he reached your side, standing just behind you, his presence loomed, filling the small space with the heat of his gaze.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the cool draft that had once been a relief now doing little to cool the flush rising across your skin.

Satoru stepped even closer, the heat radiating from him making the cool draft on your bare skin feel like a distant memory. His presence was overwhelming, filling the small room until all you could focus on was the warmth seeping from him and the way his gaze lingered on your reflection in the mirror.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, almost idle, "a lot of my best designs… they're not the ones I spend weeks perfecting." His words drifted through the air like a secret. He raised a hand, his fingertips brushing lightly against the faint indents the choker had left on your neck. The touch was barely there, yet it sent a shiver running down your spine. "No… the ones that really stand out," he continued, "are the ones that light up in my mind every time you fall into my vision."

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as he leaned in closer, his chest now just inches from your back.

The heat from his body wrapped around you like a second skin, and you watched him through the mirror, mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes as he spoke.

His hand, warm and deliberate, trailed slowly down your arm, his fingers brushing your skin with a tenderness that felt both comforting and dangerous.

"You're my muse," he said, almost as if speaking to himself, lost in the thought. "Every second I spend watching you, seeing you wear my designs, it's nothing but inspiration." His hand continued to drift lower, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist before sliding back up, pulling you just slightly, coaxing your body into his.

Your breath grew heavier, chest rising and falling with each shallow inhale as you were drawn back against him, the solid warmth of his chest pressing into your bare back.

Your gaze flickered to the mirror, watching the scene unfold before you—his hand resting lightly on your waist, his eyes tracing the outline of your form as if committing every curve, every inch of you, to memory.

You could feel his breath, warm and steady, fanning against your ear, and it made your head spin, your thoughts running wild.

"Every touch," he murmured, his lips brushing just above your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Every glance…" His voice dropped, becoming something darker, heavier. "I can't stop thinking about how perfectly you fit into my designs. Like you were made for them—or maybe… they were made for you."

His hand trailed down your arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, and you watched him in the mirror, breath hitching in your throat. Then, his lips ghosted over your ear again, the warmth of his breath making you tremble as he purred, "But you know… I keep thinking about something else…"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you felt him shift closer, his chest now flush against your back. The air between you crackled with tension, thick and almost suffocating, and yet you couldn't pull away—you didn't want to.

His hands pressed against your waist as he lowered his voice to something almost sinful. "…How perfectly you'll fit around me."

The words slipped from his lips, dripping with raw, undeniable desire, every word reverberating through your skin, hitting you like a tidal wave. Your breath stilled in your lungs, heat coursing through your body as your mind raced.

Wait a minute—what's… b-but—

His arms tightened around you as his mouth hovered near your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me you feel it too," he groaned, his voice low, growling with need as his fingers dug into your hips. "Tell me you want it… just as badly as I do."

Finally, your mouth seemed to catch up with your thoughts. "S-Satoru—"

Your voice once again falls away as Satoru's arms tightened around you, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. You felt his chest rise and fall rapidly, pressing into your back, his grip around your waist possessive, firm.

Then, in a voice so raw, so desperate it sent a shiver down your spine, he whispered, "Can I... have you?"

The words tumbled from his lips in a near whimper, laden with a hunger that bordered on pleading. His breath hitched, his forehead brushing against the back of your neck as if even he was losing control of the space between you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your mind trying to process everything, yet failing to hold onto any coherent thought. His words, the way they sounded so needy, left you breathless.

You watched him in the mirror, his reflection almost ghostly in the low light of the room. His eyes were half-lidded, clouded with lust as they lingered on your form, and his lips, parted slightly, looked dangerously close to speaking something sinful, something that would push you over the edge.

The room was silent except for his panting breaths in your ear. You could feel his need in the way his arms wrapped around you, in the way his fingers pressed just a little too tightly into your skin.

"Say yes..." he breathed, his voice low and pleading, his lips now trailing down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of heat with every soft, almost teasing touch. "Please... just say yes."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body frozen in place as your mind blocking out everything else but Satoru.

The sound of him, the feel of him, the way his voice came out in that almost whimpering tone—it consumed you, leaving no room for anything else but him.

Finally, a breathless, barely audible "yes" escaped your lips, the word trembling from your mouth like a whimper, your resolve crumbling under the intensity of the moment.

It was as if a switch had been flipped in Satoru. His wicked smirk grew, a gleam in his eyes as he dipped his head lower, pressing a soft kiss to your neck before dragging his tongue in a slow, deliberate stripe up your skin.

The heat of his breath against your neck sent shivers racing down your spine, making your entire body tense.

"Good girl~" he purred softly into your ear, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Before you could even catch your breath, he pulled you down onto the couch, his movements fluid and effortless. You landed in his lap, your back pressed firmly against his chest, legs bent and pulled up on either side of him, facing the mirror.

our thighs immediately began to burn from the stretch, the leather skirt you wore sliding up all the way, exposing the lace underwear beneath—the same light blue that matched the bralette you'd worn earlier.

The delicate fabric contrasted sharply with the heat of the moment, and your face flushed in embarrassment as your eyes caught the sight of a small wet patch there.

Your heart raced as you tried instinctively to close your legs, but before you could, he gently tapped your thighs with his fingers, his smirk never faltering. "Aht aht," he scolded lightly, his tone playful but firm, making it clear that he was in control.

His arms slid under your legs, lifting them slightly and pulling them farther apart.

The stretch made you gasp, thighs burning as he forced you all the way back against his chest, your body now fully reclined into him.

His grip was strong but not painful, holding you in place as his breath ghosted over the side of your face.

In the mirror, you saw it all—your legs spread wide, your flushed face, and Satoru's darkened gaze fixed on you, his expression one of total control. His was voice, low and teasing, rumbling against your ear. "Look at you... perfect," he murmured, holding you tightly against him, his arms securing you in place, his presence overwhelming.

The reflection showed more than just your vulnerability—it was the power he had over you, and the way he reveled in every second of it.

Satoru's left hand slowly trailed down your body, his touch feather-light at first, but purposeful. The cool air kissed your skin as his fingers slid beneath the waistband of your underwear, his hand pressing firmly against your most sensitive spot without pulling the fabric to the side.

The sensation made your breath hitch, and your entire body tensed as his fingers began to move, rubbing slow, deliberate circles along your slit, teasing and drawing out every bit of tension you’d been holding inside.

His fingers trailed gently up and down, gliding over your skin as if he were mapping you out, testing your every reaction. He found your clit with ease, rubbing small, teasing circles that sent jolts of heat through you, the slow rhythm making it impossible to think straight.

Your thighs twitched, the stretch around him making the sensation even more intense. The heat of embarrassment flooded through you as your body reacted, and when you turned your face away, unable to watch the reflection of what he was doing to you.

Satoru clicked his tongue softly in disapproval. "Uh-uh," he murmured, his voice dark with command. "Eyes on the mirror. Watch what I do to you."

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as your gaze reluctantly shifted back to the mirror.

His hand kept moving, the slow rhythm intensifying, the way he touched you sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. His reflection was smug, pleased, as he watched you fight to keep your eyes open and focused on what he was doing.

It was an order, and disobeying felt impossible.

When his finger slipped inside you, your body jolted slightly, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His movements were slow, deliberate, each stroke inside you making it harder to think.

One became two, both pumping in and out of your clenching heat with a slow, deep rhythm. He kept his other arm wrapped securely around your waist, holding you in place against his chest as he worked his fingers deeper.

His breath was hot against your ear as his grip on your body tightened, his voice a low groan as he spoke. "You know what I can't wait to do?" His words sent a new rush of heat through you, and he chuckled softly at your reaction. "I can't wait to taste you... spend hours learning every inch of my muse's body. Watching you come undone again and again and again."

The promise in his voice made your mind reel, the intensity of his touch and his words leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as your pulse raced.

A particularly well-angled thrust had your back arching, a breathy moan slipping free. "That's it..." he praised, curling his fingers so they can brush against your G-spot again. "You're so wet for me... So responsive."

His thumb joined the fray, rubbing firmer circles over your clit that had your hips rolling mindlessly to meet his touch. He worked you higher and higher, stoking the flames of your pleasure until you were teetering right on the edge.

And still, he demanded you watch. Compelled you to observe the wanton display you made, his dark gaze devouring you from over your shoulder.

"Come for me," Satoru growled against your lips, his fingers pumping furiously now. "Let go. Now."

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and whiting out your vision. You shook and shuddered in his hold, a cry of ecstasy torn from your throat as he wrung every last bit of pleasure from your spasming body.

Satoru swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing you deeply as he continued his ministrations.

Only when you collapsed bonelessly against him did Satoru still his hand, drawing his glistening fingers from your depths. He brought them to his mouth, maintaining eye contact through the mirror as he licked them clean with a shameless moan.

"Delicious~" he purred, voice rough with satisfaction. "My perfect muse."

You felt weightless, the tension from the day—hell, the whole week—melting into nothingness as the lingering echoes of your orgasm left you in a daze. Your body felt loose, relaxed, like all the stress had finally evaporated, and for a moment, you simply existed, floating in the aftermath.

Then, you felt your thighs shift wider, and a small, confused sound escaped you before you even realized it.

Satoru's low chuckle filled the quiet room, dark and amused. "You didn’t think that was it, did you?" His voice dripped with mischief as his hands moved to adjust you in his lap. He shifted beneath you, pulling his pants down slightly as he repositioned you, pulling you higher onto his lap.

The movement pressed you closer to him, allowing you to fully feel him underneath you, hard and insistent. His hand returned to your underwear, the long digits returning to rub away at you.

The sudden pressure made your back arch instinctively, a small whimper escaping your lips from the mix of sensation—equal parts pleasure and the discomfort of being played with beyond your limit.

"Silly girl," he tutted softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. His hand returned to your waist, the grip firm yet tender, as he tugged your underwear to the side, filling you in one stroke.

You both froze for different reasons—your legs trembled as you felt the stretch, trying to stay tethered because he had to be the biggest you'd ever had, while Satoru groaned, overwhelmed by the tightness that enveloped him.

"F-Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed.

You let out a broken whimper, arms growing weak and giving out beneath you. You collapsed slightly forward, your forehead resting against his thighs as you tried to adjust, to find some relief from the pressure.

Satoru growled softly at the sight, his hands gripping your waist with more purpose. He pulled you fully down onto him, your hips flush against his.

"S-Satoru..." you moaned, your voice shaking, tears welling in your eyes as the sensation became overwhelming.

His hips jerked forward in short, deliberate movements, and your body responded, helpless to the rhythm he set. "T-that's right, baby, say my name..." he groaned, his voice thick with need as his hands guided you, pulling you back down with each upward thrust.

He lifted his hips to speed up the movements. You could only cling to his thighs, breathless and powerless against the force of his desire.

Satoru kept going, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer, filthy words laced with desire. His grip on your waist was tight, almost bruising, as he held you firmly in place.

The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room—wet, slick noises and the rhythmic squelching with every movement.

The intensity of the moment wrapped around you, heightening every sensation, your body overwhelmed by the pressure building inside you.

Your second orgasm was approaching too quickly, the wave of pleasure rising fast, almost too much to handle. Desperation washed over you, and you tried to scoot forward, to slow things down, but Satoru's response was immediate—he went faster, his thrusts growing erratic.

You let out a choked cry, begging for him to slow down, but he only groaned in response, his pace relentless.

The sensation was overwhelming, and then it hit you, like you were thrown over the edge. Your eyes fluttered closed as the blinding pleasure rocked your entire frame.

Your body shook, every nerve alight as the intensity consumed you. You could hear Satoru cursing under his breath as you trembled in his arms, your body a quivering mess in the aftermath.

And then you felt it—the heat of him filling you, spreading through your lower body in a rush of warmth. Satoru let out a long, drawn-out groan, pressing himself flush against you as he reached his climax. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving as he stayed close, savoring the feeling.

Before you could catch your breath or say anything, Satoru moved again. He pulled you back slightly, and you gasped, the sudden movement sending a mix of pain and pleasure shooting through you.

His hands snaked under your thighs, lifting you carefully from his lap. He groaned softly as he watched his release spilling from you, leaking out as he admired the sight.

Satoru gave a low whistle, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "What a sight to see," he hummed, his voice thick with amusement. One of his hands trailed down to your entrance, his thumb gently grazing over the sensitive skin.

He played with your sticky entrance, his fingers teasing, before pressing back to plug up the fallen release. Your thighs twitched in response, a shiver running through you at the sudden sensation.

You called out his name for what felt like the third time, your voice weak but pleading. "Satoru..."

He let out a tired but satisfied chuckle, his hand pulling away as he finally relented. "Fine, fine," he murmured, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. He settled you down on his lap again, this time pulling you close to his chest, cradling you as his arms wrapped securely around you.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, his breathing slowing as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

The night grew quiet, the tension fading into a comfortable stillness, but even as you relaxed against him, your mind wandered.

As the night went on, you couldn't help but think: Nobara was fucking right.

A/N: lolol, sorry for the influx of smut guys, promise this won't be like an everyday thinjg.... 👀 anyways, hope this was up to your standards and wasn't too bad bubbly-bear, i tried my best to make it work to the song...😭

[m2ok]

I’ve never been so madly in love

Cowboy! Johnny Mactavish x bottom! M!reader

Tw: soft fluffy smut

A/N: Guys this is my first time writing smut…I think I did alright, but let me know if you have any critiques for future reference :) 

Johnny twisted in the bonds tied around his wrists, thick rope cutting into soft skin as he wriggled about from where you had placed him on top of your horse. 

“Oh come on!” He groaned, trying with all he had to stretch the rope and break it, but to no avail. 

You ignored him, the hefty bounty you would get for his capture heavy on your mind as you made your way steadily back to your little town for which you were the sheriff of. 

Seemingly annoyed at your lack of attention, he shuffled forward as much as he could on the horse, knocking his shoulder into yours to force you to put your eyes on him. 

“Can we at least stop for the night! Wolves live near these parts and I’d rather not meet em.” He tried to reason. 

You rolled your eyes at the man as you ventured onwards, shaking your head at his pleas. 

“With the bounty on your head I wouldn’t worry about wolves. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ them take that money from me” you assured, though positive your words did little to comfort him. 

Johnny chuckled dryly, “aw sheriff, you wound me.” he mocked, struggling against the ropes halfheartedly. After a moment he sighed, once again giving up.

“Tell me honest pal, that bounty’s all worth it? All the work, risking your neck each time? For what, a few coins and a pat on the back?” He gazed ahead down the darkening trail. The trees seemed closer, though miles ahead still, shadowy figures lurking within just awaiting his arrival. 

“When was the last time you took a rest, had yourself a drink or dance with a pretty thing?” Johnny glanced sidelong at you, a hint of mischief in his eyes despite his words. 

You were tempted to ignore him once again, but you figured conversation might do you some good out on the dusty landscape. Though you wished it was with better company. 

“Dance with who? You?” You scoffed, shaking your head as you adjusted your hat so it wouldn’t cover your eyes. 

“This here’s the only work I’ve known. I’ll be damned If I let it go now,” you didn’t care much for the money nor the glory despite what you had said, the chase was the most fun part; that was what kept you going and made the job enjoyable. 

And Johnny was the only man who routinely matched your wits. Though this time proved different, this time you had finally won. It was a kind of euphoria you hadn’t felt in a long while. 

Johnny let out an obnoxious bark of laughter. “Well now sheriff, I’ll have you know I get rather frisky when I’ve had one too many. But you don’t seem the type.” His smile faded as he pondered your words. 

“Aye…I get it. The thrill of it all keeps the blood pumpin’. Nothin else quite like the open road.” He sighed wistfully. “What I wouldn’t give to feel that freedom again, even if just for a night.”

The horses slowed as darkness fell. Up ahead was a small clearing, as good a spot as any to camp, and it had Johnny eying you sideways again.

 “Bet you five dollars i can wriggle outta these here ropes by mornin’. Whaddya say?” He flash a rougish grin, bright eyes watching for your reaction.

You stopped the horses as you camp upon the little plot of land, dismounting as you unpacked the little rucksack you carried. You set up a small tent with a mat on the inside for a buffer against the hard ground and some furs for warmth. 

You spent the next few minutes gathering wood for a humble fire, completely ignoring Johnny until the thing was built - then you spoke as you dusted your hands off on your worn denim. 

“I’d be a damned fool if I took that bet.” You said as you looked over at him, the mischievous glint in his eyes doing little to ease your nerves. “Reckon I won’t get much sleep tonight on account of makin’ sure you stay put.” You grumbled to yourself as you practically dragged him off of the horse, setting him in front of the fire before he could complain about being cold. 

Johnny chuckled at your wariness. “No need to fret sheriff, I ain’t goin anywhere.” He said with a wink before he shifted into a more comfortable position, eyeing the flickering flame.

“Must get lonely out here though. Never thought I’d say this, but I’d offer you some company.” His grin returned, flecks of gold in his eyes as he gazed over at you from where he sat, his eyes holding something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“We bounty men gotta stick together after all. Who else understands the thrill of the chase, hm?”

He leaned forward, closing in on your space as his voice turned low, “and between you and me, I’ve had my sights set on a certain lawman for a while now. Why do you think I keep letting you catch me?” He winked. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling warm in places the fire couldn’t have reached. Damn scoundrel was playing games with your head, same as he did to escape time and time again. But part of you found yourself intrigued at his new tactic, despite your better judgment.  

You wrote off his words as deception, an attempt to get your guard down just enough so he could run off in the middle of the night with everything you owned. 

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, adjusting your pants as you turned your attention back to the fire to hide your blush; hoping he would right off your red face as a result of the fire burning bright in front of you. 

“You’re bad at hidin’ your intentions. No wonder ya get caught so often, you’re a terrible liar.” You said with a roll of your eyes, trying as hard as you could to ignore the temptation and desire slowly building in the deep pit of your stomach. 

You and Johnny had always had this strange sort of relationship. He would tell you sweet nothings, his face so honest and true you couldn’t help but believe him only for him to run off the second he saw an opportunity. Though you always crossed paths again, and he always assured he meant what he said.

You knew it was wrong to feel this way about a man of his stature, and you hated your body for betraying your mind. The desire in you slowly turning into sick guilt at the feeling of being physically attracted to a man you were supposed to be capturing, and likely sending to his death should you turn him in. For what crimes committed you couldn’t rightly say. 

Johnny chuckled once again, not missing the slight flush creeping up your neck towards your ears. “Now now sheriff, no need to be coy. Ain’t no crime in finding a fella agreeable.”

He shifted his bound wrists, leaning ever closer so his words were for your ears alone. “And to be honest, I’ve yet to meet a man as cunning and determined as yourself. It’s…inspiring” His breath was warm against your skin, lips barely inches from your own. Fear and desire warred within - this outlaw could ruin you with a single move. And yet…out here in the whispering dark, titles and duties seemed so far away and futile. 

Johnny searched your gaze, smile fading to something hungrier, questioning. After so long chasing each other’s shadows, what would happen if one of you stopped running, just for a moment?

The fire crackled lower as stars emerged unseen above trees. Anything could happen…if you would just let it.

Your own eyes were blown wide as he leaned in ever closer, sharing the same air as you gazed into his eyes. You wanted to believe his words, and you wanted to give into your instincts. No. You couldn’t, you had to convince yourself this was just an issue of forced proximity. So pent up from a job you couldn’t catch a break from that you got hot and bothered at the sight of an attractive man. You were better than your instincts, you had to believe that. 

You cleared your throat as you leaned away from him, shaking your head as your eyebrows furrowed while a new sort of feeling filled you - hurt. You weren’t sure why this new emotion popped up, but it did. You wanted to be seen as more than just a means to an end, but you knew this life didn’t offer much of that. Everyone was always going to be more worried about their own skin, and maybe you should take their lead. 

“M’ not gonna be something you use just to get away. Nor will I be a one night stand.” You grumbled, words firm and sure as you mindlessly poked the fire with a nearby stick as a way to distract yourself from the current situation. 

Johnny sat back with a sigh, watching your restless stoking of the flames. Clearly this situation stirred more within you than you cared to show. And he understood - to give in would risk everything, for the both of you. 

“Hey now…” He said softly as his gaze turned tender “I meant no disrespect.” His tone was gentle now, earnest in the firelight. “Fact is, I’ve never met a man like you. There’s something about you that intrigues me, lawman. Something worth riskin’ it all for, if you’d have me” 

He held your gaze steadily, searching. After so long running wild, the idea of settling…It didn’t scare him half as much as he thought. Not if it was with you. 

Johnny smiled faintly. “What do you say we grab this here bounty in the morn, head into town as partners? I’m willing to turn a new leaf, if you’ll vouch for me.” 

The offer hung between you, heavy with promise. A chance at something real. It was all your call.  

You thought about your options, finally landing on something you deemed not quite illegal. With steady hands you grabbed a knife from your pocket, taking his bound hands in one of your own while the other used the blade to carefully saw through the thick rope. 

The binds fell away to the wind, and you set the knife to rest on the dirt as you gently massaged the indented skin, unwilling to let go of his warm hands just yet. 

You pulled away to look over at the small town barely a mile away, a big wooden saloon sign catching your eye. “I need a drink anyway.” You said simply as you both made the short trek over.

It was hours later when you finally got back to camp, alcohol still buzzing in your system just enough to give you confidence as you clung onto each other life life depended on it, lips clashing in a heated kiss as you moaned against him, addicted to the feeling of Johnny’s hands on your waist - desperate to keep you pressed against him. 

Johnny grinned against your lips, heart soaring like it hadn’t in years. Finally free in more ways than one, and with the most interesting man he’d ever known no less. 

“Sheriff…” he murmured, guiding you down into the soft grass as hands roamed, learning your shape in the pale moonlight. No need for words now - just sensation and freedom, two men chasing a different kind of high. 

Clothes were discarded in haste, bare flesh reveling in the cool air and fiery touches. Johnny looked down at you with hunger, a longing, he’d never allowed himself to feel fully before this night. 

“Tell me what you want darlin’,” He breathed against your neck, nipping softly at tender skin. Your hands in his hair urged him closer still, the ache inside building swiftly with the need to be inside you. 

You arched into his touch, a whine leaving your lips as his hands roamed against sensitive skin. It wasn’t often you were under someone like this, so vulnerable and splayed out for all of him to see. 

“Johnny~” You gasped, desperate for some sort of friction as you rolled your hips up to meet his own. 

“You- just want you. Please…need you to - to make me yours~” You were begging, frantic hands keeping him close as you waited with mock patience for what you wanted Hips wiggled in anticipation as you looked down to where your bodies were so nearly joined, only needing a slight push from Johnny to come together as one. 

Johnny growled low at your plea, all thoughts fleeing save the primal need to claim and be claimed in return. 

“Fuck, baby. Whatever you want~” He rumbled, grasping your hips to still them. With a slow roll of his own and careful aiming, he teased your entrance with his aching length. Your gasp spurred him onwards, sinking in to the hilt with shuddering care. 

Pausing the savor the connection, Johnny saw stars behind his eyes. You felt so unbelievably right wrapped around him, guiding his rough edges into a smooth whole. 

Bracing above, he gazed down at your blissed out expression and swore then and there - come hell or high water, nothing would rend him from your side again. You belonged to each other, body and soul, and may the devil himself try to tear you apart. 

With that vow sealed in his blood, Johnny began to move with near excruciating patience, learning your responses like familiar paths once trekked long ago. 

“Mmf~!” You moaned, words escaping you at the feeling of being filled so entirely, nearly cumming as soon as he entered, hard member pressing down in you deep enough to make you feel utterly full. 

“Fuck! so - shit - so fucking big Johnny!”  You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him impossibly closer as you began to rock your hips in time with his thrusts, trying to urge him to go faster. 

“Please - please move I can’t- Need you to move-!” You begged, your own hard cock leaking precum against your stomach as you waited impatiently for him to bend to your pleas. 

Johnny groaned at your words, beyond thrilled you found his size so pleasing already. “Anythin’ for you, darlin’,” he grit out, pulling back slowly before snapping his hips forward in a deep thrust. 

That first rollick sent sparks shooting through his veins, your walls clasping him in exquisite heat. Johnny set a punishing pace from there, driving into your willing body like a man possessed. All that built up want and denial over your respective chases came flooding out in each meeting of skin. 

Reaching between you, he grasped your aching member, pumping in rhythm with his thrusts. Johnny wanted you unraveling completely beneath him, marked inside and out as truly his. 

“Come on now honey, let go for me,” he urged roughly, angling for that spot deep within. 

His balls drew tight with the promise of release, but Johnny wouldn’t dare finish before you. No, he was going to milk you for all you were worth before he even thought about his own release, tying your pleasure irrevocably to his own.

You gasped at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, eyes nearly rolling back as your body moved with every harsh pound into you, mind going dumb on his cock. Though you wouldn't ask for anything better, the feeling consumed you entirely, pleasure taking over everything as you felt that familiar coil in your stomach start to tighten further and further until-

With a soft cry you came, body shaking as your spend landed across both of your bodies. Your legs tightened around his waist, desperate to keep inside for a while longer, almost crying at the thought of him pulling out of you so quickly. You wanted to spend the entire night wrapped in him like this.

Johnny groaned at your reaction, grinding his hips through your release to prolong your pleasure. The way you clung to him so wantonly with shaking legs stole what little breath he had left. 

“So responsive already, darlin’. I ain’t done with you yet - don’t worry your pretty little head~” He rasped, uncaring of the mess you were creating. With sloppy rolls he rode out your aftershocks, cock throbbing at your fluttering insides. 

But you begged for more like the insatiable creature he knew you to be. Johnny wasted no time obeying, moving your legs so he could pull you up into his lap, pistoning up into that sweet spot with no mercy. His orgasm teetered on the edge, held back only by sheer force of will. Johnny latched onto your neck, sucking a sore mark to match the pulse beating erratically beneath his lips. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. Ya feel so damn good takin’ my cock. Gonna fuck another load outta you ‘fore I’m done, you hear?”

His fingers returned unbidden to your sensitive length, determined to wring every last shiver from your overstimulated form beneath the glory of the moon. Johnny wanted this night - wanted you - to last as long as fate allowed. Let the dawn take care of itself for once. 

His words did little to quell the burning lust building up inside of you once more, a whiny moan leaving you as your second orgasm of the night rippled through you, this time merely dribbling out of your tip. 

“God- fuck Johnny!” You whined “So good- so so good inside me. Can’t even can’t even think right!” You babbled, practically drooling as you held on tight to him fingernails no doubt leaving scratches along his body. 

“Need you to cum in me - nice and deep and- and make me yours~” You begged, rocking your hips against his. 

Johnny growled deep at your pleasure cries, all sense of restrain utterly vanished in the throes of lustful abandon. 

“Anythin’ you want, darlin’, gon’ fill that tight hole up just how you want,” he grit out through clenched teeth. A few final brutal thrusts was all it took, his release exploding within your clasping heat with a drawn out groan. 

Wave after wave pulsed from his cock, painting your velvety walls white inside and out. Johnny held you flush, grinding through the bliss to be certain not a drop was spared between your bodies. 

As his throes eased, Johnny pressed loving kisses to your sweat-slick brow, nose nuzzling sweetly against your own. “You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he murmured, cock still twitching inside its paradise. 

Johnny adjusted your sated form to cradle properly in his lap, breath coming fast yet deep with afterglow. One hand stroked gently through your hair while the other rubbed your sated length, reluctant to part so soon. 

His sweet words clouded your brain, fuzz covering everything logical as a pleasured haze took over. 

With a weak whine you came for one final time, panting softly as he removed his hand and allowed you to just rest against him. Your body was completely lax in his arms, lingering pleasures twitching inside you still. With another whine you cuddled into him, sweat turning cold on your skin as you sought out his body heat to keep you warm. 

“Don’t leave…” You whispered, the aftermath hitting you hard, body and mind falling together. “Don’t leave me again” you begged, voice shaky as you clung onto him. 

Johnny held you tighter at your whispers, heart near bursting at the confessed sentiment. 

“Never, darlin’, I ain’t goin’ nowhere without you,” he vowed softly into your hair, peppering it with gentle kisses. His hand rose to cup your face, urging your glazed eyes to meet his own smoldering gaze. 

“You’re stuck with me now, ya hear? I’d follow you into hell itself for another taste of heaven like this.” Johnny chuckled lightly even as deep emotion welled in his chest. 

“We’ll face tomorrow together, you and me against the world. Anyone tries to tear us apart will get a bullet quicker than they can blink.” He held your eyes steadily, willing you to see the sincerity in his soul. 

“I love you, little sheriff. Now and always, till my dying day.” With that Johnny sealed the oath with a tender kiss, Pouring every unspoken feeling into action. Nothing would part you from this moment, from him, ever again if he had any say. 

Now yours completely, he guided your limp form to rest atop his chest as blankets of stars looked on. Whatever dreams may come, for tonight there was only peace in each other’s arms at long last. 

~end

As always, requests are open

[mikkomacko]

holy f that was so good, now can we can we get the opposite, nico dom reader in bed

A/n: holy shit this took me so long but here she is. I hope it was worth the wait!

Warnings: smut (Nico does not wrap it before tapping it), overstimulation, edging, little bit of bondage, Nico’s got a dirty mouth

____________________________________________

Just my hands?"

"Mhm," Nico hums, nimble fingers working the bandana around your wrists. The fabric is soft and worn, comfortable after years of it being tied around Nico's thigh on jobs, washed after it was used to hold and clean a wound. Tied and untied from your body.

"Not gonna have to put one around that pretty mouth of yours, am I?"

He's challenging you, daring you to so much as be bratty with him. You can tell by his tone, the warning bite to his words. Glancing over your shoulder, you catch the way he’s smirking. Dark eyelashes hiding his eyes as he examines his handiwork on your wrists, but his cheek is dimpled and lips curled just slightly.

“No,” you say back, looking straight ahead. The tension in your arms tightens, Nico pulling the knot tight before your conjoined hands fall against your lower back. It’s not uncomfortable, but it makes your back arch in the way Nico likes. And it makes your muscles ache, pulls on your shoulders and stomach with the perfect amount of pain and pleasure.

You feel almost boneless.

Nico, done with his work for the moment, walks around the bed until he’s standing in front of your kneeling form.

“Not unless you want to.”

Your words make his smirk grow, not surprised but impressed as he quirks an eyebrow and licks at his bottom lip.

“Don’t think I want to,” he mutters, and a large hand pushes your hair out of your face, fingers gripping the strands at the nape of your neck. Instinctively you tilt your chin up, thighs squeezing together and your core throbs in anticipation.

It’s second nature the way you open up for him, lips parted, tongue out and waiting, and you blink sluggishly. Nico spits into your mouth, biting at his bottom lip as you give him a moment to see his saliva pooled on your tongue before you swallow.

You know what he’s looking for, what he wants from you. Soft and pliant, ready and willing for any and everything he could throw at you. He wants to know that you’re eager and ready, not testing or teasing.

Nico’s not in the mood to scold or break you. He wants to use you, and he wants you to want that too.

God, if he only knew…

“Good girl,” he says under his breath, like he’s mostly talking to himself. But it reaches your ears and sends shivers down your back, skin prickling. You want him to touch you, right now preferably.

Your eyes trail down his almost completely naked body, from his protruding collarbones that you love to bite and bruise to the dark hair in the center of his chest. Down the dips and cuts of his abdomen, light pink scars and the smattering of hair that’s cuts off at the waistband of his briefs.

Mouth watering and arousal rushing through your whole body, you shift on the mattress. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, bubbling just under the surface and only his hands can soothe it. When you look back up into his eyes, he’s watching you with a cocky tilt to his head.

You purposely looked away when you got to his boxers, knowing to not tempt yourself by looking at the bulge in the front of them. You’re trying to be good for him, not start frothing at the bit and mouthing at his dick through his boxers.

That’s desperate and pathetic, a desperate you haven’t reached yet. Well….maybe.

“Look at you,” he coos, stroking at your hair with his right hand. You press into his hold, needing to feel more of him. Any little bit you can get your hands on. “Being so polite baby, so proper, hm?”

Jutting out your bottom lip, you nod in agreement. He laughs to himself, the sound staying in the back of his throat but his closed lip smile gives it away.

Nico looks at you thoughtfully for a moment, tilts his head ever so slightly and the intensity of his gaze sends a shot of warmth through your body, dripping down your spine and into the pool of your belly, trickling and trickling until your toes are curling, thighs clenching together.

Every time he looks at you like that it’s because he’s got some idea mapped out in that pretty head of his, something so specific and beautiful.

Anyone who’s ever accused Nico of being uncreative has obviously never seen him in bed.

Wordless, Nico bends to press a kiss to your forehead, his beard warm and scratchy on your skin. “Gonna listen to me, yeah?” He waits for your hum of acknowledgement, lips still brushing the crown of you heard. “I’m going to make you feel good, like I always do. And you’re gonna be good, not complain about how I want to do it, are you?”

“No,” you croak, squeezing your fingers together as best you can with the tie around your wrist. “I’m gonna be good.”

Nico smiles against your forehead. “Good girl,” he presses a chaste kiss before returning to his full height. Towering over you, he licks his lips. “What are you going to tell me if you want me to stop?”

“Strawberry.”

He nods, something like pride glinting in his smirk. “Good, baby.” The compliment drips down your head like honey, warm and sticky, clinging to every muscle in your body. You bask in it, thoughts turning to goo as Nico strips out of his last article of clothing. Then he’s settling onto the bed with you, not even giving you a chance to ogle him before he’s manhandling you into his lap.

Perched on his thighs, Nico’s strong grip keeps you steady as you instinctively try to ground yourself with your hands. They strain against the tie, a yelp of surprise squeaking out of you.

Nico silences it with his mouth, lips rough and bruising but the pain sends tickling static through your nerves. You melt into him, every muscle in your body bending to his will.

A large hand on your ass, palming at the flesh long enough for you to arch back into his hold. Nico’s laugh is almost mocking, like he can’t believe you’re this desperate for him. You have a feeling he doesn’t even know the half of it.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you mumble, sloppily kissing next to his mouth. He tilts his head to the side, silently giving you permission to keep trailing kisses along his cheeks and jaw.

Pliant in his hands, it’s easy for Nico to lift you up, shifting his hips just enough that when his hand lowers your weight back down your no longer sat on the top of his thighs.

Breath stuttering out of your lungs, a whiny moan wheezes from between your lips. Nico’s cock is thick, stretching and burning in just the right way. That static fuzz buzzes in your ears, blurs your mind around the edges until all that’s there is Nico.

“That better?” He goads, hand laying heavily on the curve of your ass. Suddenly all the promises you made to him earlier are forgotten and without word you’re trying to push up on your knees.

Nico presses your weight down. “Nuh-uh,” he breaths firmly “I don’t want you moving a muscle.” Blinking, you look at him in disbelief. How are you supposed to do this without moving?

He looks utterly amused watching the wheels turn behind your eyes, seeing you helplessly trying to figure out how this is gonna work because you want to come right now actually.

Lips parting with an unspoken question, Nico answers before you can even form the sentence. His thumb finds your clit, gentle but certain as he immediately works it in little circles.

“Oh,” you breathe, eyes fluttering as your core warms, sending sparks of heat throughout your veins. Shifting ever so slightly, you tilt your hips further into Nico’s touch. “Nico,”

His other hand finds yours, tangling his fingers with your tied ones. “If ya move I’ll stop,” he warns, squeezing your digits. Dumbly, you nod, eyes falling shut as you relax into Nico’s very capable hands.

Patiently you wait for him to move, wait to feel him shift onto the heels of his feet and fuck up into you. But he just keeps petting at your clit, his breaths growing heavier as you grow wetter around his cock.

The coil in your tummy tightens. Blinking open your eyes, you try to figure out Nico’s next move. He’s already looking at your face, pupils blown wide and dark with desire. His bottom lip is bitten red, wet and pouty as he pants out heavy puffs of air.

“Nico?” You murmur, pouting your own lips at him when he meets your gaze. “Can I cum?”

The sweetest smile you’ve ever seen curls his lips, dimpling his cheeks and crinkling his eyes. It’s a lethal combo; that cute smile with those lust filled eyes. “Yeah baby you can.” He agrees easily and something stirs in the back of your mind.

For being in charge, he’s being awfully agreeable right now.

“So tight, you feel so good around me,” he praises and the thought from before fades away. Nico’s nice, he’s always so nice and you know from experience that he’s above and beyond generous.

You melt into him, tucking into his shoulder and mouthing at the muscle as he circles your clit. “My good girl,” he squeezes your numbing fingers “let me feel you.”

The coil in your stomach winds so tight it bursts, your teeth biting into Nico’s shoulder as you come around him. His hold on your hands and ass tighten, keeping you still as every muscle shakes and clenches.

A gut punching moan crackles out of his chest, his cock twitching inside you. Finally, you think. He’s gonna actually do something.

Until his hand drops from teasing your clit to where your still sat on him, nudging you slightest bit and you peek down to see him wrap his fingers around the base of himself, knuckles turning white as he squeezes.

What is he doing?

~~~~

You’ve lost any semblance of time and space that you previously held. Any self-control, any actual firing neurons reduced to fuzziness thanks to Nico’s fingers.

And his still unmoving dick.

Your third- fourth?- orgasm of the night tears through you like an electric shock, Nico’s hand holding your ass down doing nothing to stop you from wiggling your legs and feet, kicking at his shin.

“None of that,” he scolds, easing up the circling of his thumb. His lips press into your shoulder, kissing the sweaty skin there, soothing compared to torturous actions of his hands.

“Too good,” you whine pathetically, resting your damp cheek against the side of his head as your legs go still again. Faintly, you think he should be more grateful that you’ve stuck to the promise of not trying to bounce on his cock.

“Please Nico,”

“I know it’s good,” he admonishes, “so fucking good, but if you want more you’re gonna listen to me.”

His thumb drops to prod at where your stretched around him, aching and dripping wet. Your hips flex against his hold, an indignant whine escaping the back of your throat. “Don’t want more, want you.”

“Want what?” He mouths at your neck, oh so gentle and kind with his lips. You wish he’d take that same course of action with his dick and fingers.

“Want you to cum,” you cry, unsure if it’s from too much pleasure or not enough. Nico’s always been good at walking that line between desperation and overstimulation. “Ple-“

The pads of two fingers find your overly touched clit, v-ing around the bud and pinching together just enough to have your stomach tightening and toes curling.

“M’not ready yet,” he says conversationally, lips on the shell of your ear. “Want you to keep me warmer for a little longer, yeah?”

The thought has tears rolling down your cheeks, whining in protest as his nimble fingers roll your clit. “Hey,” he shushes almost instantly, breath hot “be good for me, baby.”

“S’not fair Nico,” he chuckles at your whining leaning back into the headboard.

“What’s not?” His nose trails across your cheek bone, lips kissing away the messy tear tracks.

“I have been good,” you insist, flexing your hands that feel like pins and needles in their tie. The tips of your fingers brush against his warm hand, no doubt icy to the touch. “I’ve been so good and I still don’t get to feel you come?”

As if rectifying his mind jumbling teasing, Nico’s fingers press directly over your clit, a gentle tickles that has warmth buzzing under your skin, melting your overstrained muscles.

“You will,” he promises, and a wicked smirk sits on his face when he pulls all the way back. Dark eyes trail up and down your body, tongue licking at his swollen lips. He meets your gaze, and a small flicker of pride lights up your chest when you realize he’s not as calm and cool as he pretends to be.

No he looks fucking tortured too, like every time he’s had you pulsing around his cock has slowly driven him mad too.

The thought makes you clench around him, the knot in your belly going taut and you bear down into his hips without even think about it. Your right legs spasms out, stretching to widen your stance and somehow Nico sinks even deep into your cunt.

Before you can even realize the disobedience, the hand on your clit is gripping your thighs, blunt nails digging into the flesh. “Stay still,” he scolds, low and harsh. The reprimand falls on deaf ears though, blood rushing in your ear drums as the head of his cock nudges at your g-spot. His jaw ticks, a curious eyebrow raising as he takes in the glossed over look in your eyes, the way you’re blinking back at him in a daze.

He knows that look, and he knows any more pushes will be too far. No this is supposed to be good for you, not hurt your feelings. Not hurt you, period.

Nico pushes your thigh back until you’re kneeling, canting his hips up. The molding of your legs doesn’t matter, as soon as he nudging his cock deeper into you they’re kicking out again.

You’ve been good, so he doesn’t really care to make you go back. No, he’s got you right where he wants you. Tucked into his shoulder, little hiccuping noises of pleasure muttered into his skin.

He takes ahold of your thighs, strong hands bouncing you in time with his thrusts. You keen, biting at the skin of his collarbone and sinking into him like deadweight. Nico groans softly, your left leg jutting out as you twitch in overstimulation.

“Thought I said to keep those legs still.” He taunts, no heat behind his words. “Maybe I’ll have to call Timo in here, make him tie those down for me too.”

It’s an empty threat, something Nico would never ever do to you but the idea has you whining pathetically. You shift in embarrassment, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Stop Nico that’s embarrassing,” you hiccup, sniffling. But Nico can feel the way you’ve tightened around him, the way you’re dripping at his wicked tongue.

“Why baby?” He asks innocently, lips tucked to your forehead. “Don’t want him to see how pretty you look taking my cock?”

A wrecked sob rumbles into his throat, your walls fluttering around him and Nico whimpers when he feels you flex against his hold, tired and strained thighs trying to ride him.

“You like that?” He pants, heels digging into the bed as he fucks up into you. “Like hearing that you’re pretty like this? So messy and sweet for me, so fucking perfect all night.”

Nico’s abs clench, his balls throbbing painfully after being denied his own orgasm so many times in a row. It feels the good, that pull in his muscles and ache in his cock. He can feel it in his toes, veins burning with it.

“Please, please, please…” you mutter through cries.

He’s not even sure you know that you’re asking him for anything. Nico tangles a hand in your hair, gripping the back of your neck and squeezing the sides. Then he’s using his last bit of worn out will-power to piston his hips. He’s relentless with it, muttering praise into your damp forehead until you’re pulsing around him, warm and wet and so fucking tight.

His orgasm hits him sudden and sharp, shocking his entire system as he empties into your spent pussy. A pleasured sob wracks through you, muffled into his neck with every twitch of his cock. It feels like it drags on forever, his orgasm, ribbons of cum spilling into your hot cunt for longer then he thought possible.

It hurts, in a way that’s so fucking good and Nico whimpers into your hairline, petting at your spine and the curve of your ass. Plaint, you sit on his lap with limp bones, hands still tied against the small of your back.

He blinks, coming back to some of his senses and he’s immediately fumbling with the tie. It loosens, falls to the bedsheets below you and your arms hand heavy at your sides.

“Ow,” you whine when he takes ahold of them, cupping your cold and numb fingers into his.

“Sorry baby, let me make it better,” he apologizes, shifting to sit up. You move with him, wincing in tandem when he starts to slip out of your walls.

He gets them cradled between the two of you, pressed to his chest and he massages at your forearms and wrists. “You did so good for me baby, m’so fucking proud of you.”

Eyes fluttering open, you smile at him all lazy and flattered, cheeks flush and neck splotchy. Nico grins back, satiated and dopey after his orgasm. His long awaited orgasm at that.

“My pretty girl,” he continues, “best I ever had. I fucking swear.”

Preening, you wiggle your fingers in his hold, the feeling coming back to them. “You came so hard,” you giggle lowly, a hint of awe in your tone.

Nico giggles too, kissing at your knuckles. “Yeah? Was it worth it?”

Your head bobs mindlessly. “Always worth it. You’re so sexy when you come.”

Heat rises in his cheeks, flattered but he still looks at you questioningly. You look all soft and sweet, like your tongue is moving on its own accord.

You’re so precious after being properly fucked.

“Like the noises you make, and the way you hold me.” You snuggle back into him, arms squished between your naked chests. “Love you Nico.”

“I love you too baby.”

[billsbabydoll]

“𝓈ℯℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒽ℯ 𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉 𝓂ℯ.”

contains:PURE SMUT<3

summary:as fuck buddies there was obviously zero commitment, no strings attached, just sex.but once tom learns of my new boyfriend, completely furious he takes it into his hands to show me whats really his.

WARNINGS:dom!tom sub!reader, p in v (riding), car-sex, rough-sex, praising, pet-names, over-stimulation, SLIGHT breeding kink, implied cheating (I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING this story is ONLY for entertainment purposes only!!!), new established relationship.

notes:AAAA i love this story hopefully you guys enjoy!

tom was the one who came up with the rule of no-commitment, he was obviously a play-boy, typical womanizer, having girls out of his hotel room left and right so it was understandable he established this rule.

with other girls normally, he would get what he wanted and get onto the next but i guess to him i was different, we would frequently met up and have dinner then fuck once we got back to his place as usual.i was sure i was the only girl he gave this special treatment towards, because he made it very clear.

besides having flings and other “serious relationships” here and there, i was always the girl he would call when he wanted to talk or get his frustrations out with.although just being a sex based relationship, we grew close and knew each other fairly well not just anatomically.

everything changed once i met robert, he was your average of snooze guy nothing really too special but we soon began dating after a couple weeks of getting to know one-another, after becoming fully monogamous to robert i cut ties completely with tom.i was sure this would be no problem since our relationship was just for sex right?but oh was i strongly wrong.

while sitting on the couch watching a movie i see my phone in the corner of my eye suddenly begin to vibrate and ring, confusedly i pick up the phone from the coffee table and see an unknown number calling.i assumed it was just a spam call so i set it back down letting it continue to ring.unexpectedly it continued vibrating and ringing suggesting someone was continuously trying to get me to pick up.

i annoyedly sighed, angrily picking up the phone pressing harshly on the answer button before bringing the phone close up to my ear.

“took you long enough..now meet me outside right now.” the chillingly familiar voice on the other line said, the one i havent once heard in weeks..

i hung up looking around weirded out and ultimately confused, trying to understand how he managed to call me if i blocked his number?i slowly set the phone back down on the coffee table, getting up from the couch making my way out of the front door stepping onto the front porch, shutting the door behind me.

i look around trying to spot someone or something and then i finally see him standing next to his black, fully tinted, red rimmed audi, smoking a cigarette blowing the smoke out into the cold winter breeze.he looks back down taking another drag out of his cigarette looking straight ahead, me and toms eyes making eye-contact for the first time since the last time we saw each other.

i then begin to slowly approach him, he blows the smoke out of his mouth dropping the cigarette down to the ground putting it out with his sneaker, afterwards opening the passenger side door letting me inside closing it once i was settled inside then making his way to the drivers side getting into the vehicle as well.

he looks over to me seeing my anxious expression, chuckling a bit as he began to speak-

“so hows this guy im hearing of, how is he baby?”he questioned speaking in a voice that was cheerful but still lingering with complete rage.

“he has a name you know..its robert.”i strongly clapped back, rolling my eyes at him.

“aw wonderful guy isnt he hun?”he exaggerated adding an annoying emphasis to the sentence, his words cutting deep into my skin.

“see your man is a man but he ain’t me you know mama?tell me does he touch you the way i do-”he says smugly a smirk soon appearing on his reddish lips, his hand now rubbing and squeezing on the skin of my thigh.he then leans in closer his hand still caressing my thigh his mouth nearing closer to whisper in my ear, “fuck you like i do?”

i breathe in deeply desperately trying to remain strong and remind myself of my boyfriend, whatever his name is.tom knew exactly what he was doing teasing me like this, getting me right back where he wanted me.

“tom..”

“what love, cmonn use your words hm?”

“j-just fuck me already, please.”

“since you asked so nicely.”he said pulling away with a smile, swiftly pulling me into his lap placing me in the reverse cow-girl position, my hands now holding onto the steering wheel.

he harshly slapped my ass causing me to softly moan, his fingers then find the hems of my pajama shorts tugging on them signaling me to pull them down, he followed right behind unbuckling his belt and unzipping his baggy jeans enough for him to pull his hard length out of his black briefs.

after he slightly lifted me up spitting a generous amount of spit on his hand before lubricating himself then sitting me back down slowly on his cock, we both groaned at the heavenly feeling my teeth harshly biting down on my lower lip suppressing a loud groan.

i soon began to bounce on his length, it wasnt long before the sound of skin clapping took over along with a string of our passionate moans, his left hand aggressively spanking and hitting my ass the other making a makeshift ponytail using it as leverage to kiss and bite on my neck.

“keep riding i-it just like that mmh-mama..”he groans praising my movements, his hands now gripping on the sides of my hips helping me go up and down faster on his desperate cock.

“y-you feel so ughh-fucking good baby!”i cry out my eyes rolling to the back of my skull, the tip of his length kissing my tight cervix perfectly.

“doing such a good f-mmfucking good job for me love, keep ughgoing!”

“your fucking mine all-mmhm fucking mine..” he continued encouraging me and by now my brains were completely fucked into mush, all i seemed to say and mutter was how good his fucking big cock felt pounding inside my needy cunt.

“b-baby im mmh-gonna!”i managed to mumble in between my desperate whimpers, my walls beginning to aggressively tighten around his length.

“aww i know mama i know g-go on ugh!”he cooed fucking his dick in further inside me, sure enough to see a bulge in my stomach.

to his command i immediately start seeing stars as i begin to orgasm and coat his cock completely with my cum, my body severely shaking and my chest heaving from the harsh impact of my climax.this pushes him to take the opportunity to really show me whos cunt this really belongs to, his cock now beginning an impeccable and violent attack on my pussy.

“tom! i cant i mmh-cant t’much!”

“yeah you can mmm!be a good ugh-girl!”

im a drooling, screaming, crying, utterly fucked out of my mind disgusting mess.after a couple more painfully delicious thrusts he finally reaches his high, fucking his seed inside my over-stimulated cunt making sure to milk ever last of drop of cum out of his member.

he gently rubs my lower back before he pulls out of me watching his sticky seed rapidly spill out from my cunt, lifting me up again a bit to swiftly now hold me up in his arms peppering soft kisses on my skin.

“you better never see that loser again alright, your fucking my girl got it mama?”

THE END

[literatureloverx]

Eeeeh!!! Your writing is just! Too good! This should be your full time job. I think my brain has overloaded with request ideas. I'm sorry...I'll try and contain myself. But..if you want to please either of these...

Fyodor and bondage...please let's go there.

Fyodor general relationship headcanons (guys clearly yandere by nature..but how does that look for his darling.)

❤️

Thank you so much for the huge compliment, dear!♥️ I wish I could live off of this.

I’m so sorry it took me so long to write this. Please, please forgive me.♥️

I’d love to hear all your ideas and requests! I’m a slow writer, so it takes me some time to complete posts, but I’ll get to them eventually. Please don’t hesitate to share—though it may take a while, I’ll get there!♥️

I wrote bondage headcanons + a scenario. I’m not trying to be arrogant, but I think it might be some of my best work so far.

Mdni, yandere!Fyodor, wife!reader, sub!reader, dom!Fyodor, bondage, VERY detailed.

Note: You have a huge mirror on top of your canopy bed. Which means: you can see every single filthy thing he’s about to do to you.

The headcanons are under the first cut, the scenario is under the second cut.

Enjoy.♥️

Fyodor & Bondage

"You and me... your eyes wide open, wrists bound to the bed, and my hands marking every inch of your skin as mine."

Headcanons

Fyodor Dostoyevsky's obsession with control isn't simply a trait—it's a reflection of his very nature, an extension of the meticulous mind that crafts every move in his life like a grand game of chess.

In the bedroom, this need for control manifests in ways that blur the line between cruelty and devotion, creating a deeply intimate yet unsettling dynamic between you.

He doesn't tie you up just for the sake of it; every knot, every piece of silk that binds your wrists to the bedposts, is an act of art in itself.

He takes pleasure in the delicate balance between pain and pleasure, understanding how the tension in the bonds heightens your senses.

The way your chest rises and falls with each breath, constrained by the bindings, is a symphony to his ears—a rhythm he orchestrates with masterful precision.

Fyodor's control is not just physical; it's psychological, a deep-seated need to own not just your body but your mind.

He whispers in your ear as he works, his voice a soft, dangerous lullaby that wraps around you, lacing his words with a poison that makes you crave his touch even more.

He knows your thoughts before you do, anticipates your desires, and then dangles them just out of reach until you're nearly frantic with need.

To him, the act of binding you isn't about restraint; it's about possession.

Each time he ties you down, he's reminding you —and himself— that you are his to keep, his to protect, and his to break if he so wishes.

The marks he leaves on your skin are not just evidence of your encounters but symbols of his ownership—a canvas of bruises and bites that declare to the world that you belong to the Fyodor Dostoyevsky and no one else (though he would never allow you to flaunt them to anyone).

In these moments, as you lie there, every inch of you under his control, you understand something about him that no one else does.

He craves beauty, not just in the art he admires or the music he plays, but in the way he manipulates you, his perfect creation.

He takes you apart piece by piece, only to put you back together again, stronger, more bound to him than ever.

And then there's the mirror—his favorite tool of seduction and domination.

Positioned above your shared kingsize bed, it serves as both a reminder and a revelation.

Fyodor loves to make you watch yourself as he works, forcing you to witness the way your body responds to him.

The sight of you in the mirror, bound, gagged, vulnerable, with his hands marking your skin, is a reflection of his power over you.

He enjoys the way your eyes, those beautiful, expressive eyes he refuses to cover, reflect both your submission and your defiance, the internal battle he has mastered like a seasoned conductor.

Fyodor is not a man of brute force; his strength lies in subtlety, in the way he makes you crave the very bondage that holds you down.

It's in the way he can make a single touch linger on your skin like fire, the way he can make you beg for mercy with nothing more than a glance.

His pleasure comes not just from your surrender but from the knowledge that you choose to surrender to him, time and time again.

He has cultivated your dependence on him with a precision that rivals any strategist's plan, making sure that even in your freedom, you're never truly free.

And yet, in this dark dance of power and submission, there is an undeniable tenderness.

Fyodor cherishes you, his fragile, soft, perfect little wife.

Every time he binds you, it's not just about taking control—it's about giving you something as well.

The security of his dominance, the assurance that he knows exactly what you need, even when you don't.

He molds you, not out of cruelty, but out of love, a love so intense it manifests in ways others might find terrifying.

He knows every inch of your body, every weakness, every secret pleasure.

And he uses this knowledge to break you down, only to build you back up again, shaping you into the perfect reflection of his desires.

It's a process that's as intimate as it is intense, a bond that goes beyond mere physical connection.

In Fyodor's eyes, you are more than just his wife—you are his masterpiece, a living, breathing testament to his power, his control, and his love.

And as he watches you, bound and beautiful beneath him, he knows that this is where you belong—by his side, in his arms, forever under his control.

Scenario

Fyodor Dostoyevsky's mastery over you is a delicate art, a carefully crafted symphony where each note resonates with the tension of control and submission.

As Fyodor watches you from above, your body spread before him like an exquisite canvas, his eyes darken with a possessive intensity.

The mirror reflects every angle of your submission, every quiver of anticipation that runs through you. He revels in this moment, savoring the power he holds, not just over your body but your very soul.

He doesn't rush; every movement, every touch, is measured, as if he's composing a piece of music where you are the instrument, and your body, bound and trembling, plays the melody of his desires.

When he binds you, it's not simply to restrict your movement.

No, for Fyodor, the act of bondage is a ritual, a way to elevate your shared experience to something almost sacred.

The babypink silk ropes he uses are chosen with care, soft against your skin, yet firm enough to hold you in place.

The knots he ties are intricate, each one a reflection of his calculated mind, designed to allow just enough movement to keep you on edge, but never enough to break free.

The ropes bite into your flesh, not painfully, but just enough to remind you of your submission to him.

The tension in the ropes mirrors the tension in your body, a taut line that could snap at any moment, but never does, because Fyodor is in control, always.

Your legs are spread wide, ankles secured to the bedposts, leaving you open and vulnerable to him.

He takes his time, his gaze traveling over every inch of you, as if committing the sight to memory. There's something almost clinical about the way he studies you, but there is a dark hunger in his eyes that betrays the possessiveness underneath.

He moves with the grace of a predator, each action calculated, deliberate.

His hands glide down your sides, his touch light and teasing, sending shivers up your spine. He pauses at the curve of your hips, fingers digging in just enough to leave a mark, a small, cruel smile playing on his lips as he watches your reflection flinch at the sharpness.

It's a reminder—every bruise, every bite he leaves on your pale skin is a declaration of ownership, his signature on the masterpiece that is you.

He reaches up, tangling a hand in your hair, soft strands slipping through his fingers like silk. His grip tightens, and he pulls your head back, exposing your neck, your chest, as if offering them up for him to mark.

"So fragile," he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his breath hot against your skin.

There's an odd mix of reverence and cruelty in his tone, as if he's marveling at how easily he could break you, yet relishing the fact that you trust him not to. Not entirely, at least.

Fyodor leans down, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your neck, before he bites down hard enough to draw a gasp from you. The sting is sharp, sending a rush of heat straight to your core, and you feel his smirk against your skin.

He pulls back to admire the red mark blooming on your neck, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

"Perfect," he says softly, and there's something almost affectionate in his voice, a rare glimpse of the man behind the mask that you know so, so well.

But the softness is fleeting. His hand leaves your hair, trailing down your body, fingers brushing over the marks he's left, over the ropes that hold you in place. He's in no rush, savoring every moment, every reaction he pulls from you.

You feel his hands on your thighs, cool fingers tracing the sensitive skin there, and you can't help the way your breath hitches in anticipation.

His fingers dance over your skin, teasing the sensitive spot there, before moving higher, where you're already wet and aching for him.

He's not even touching you where you need him most, but that's the point, isn't it?

Fyodor revels in your desperation, in the way you squirm under his gaze, every nerve in your body alight with need.

He leans down, his breath hot against your inner thigh, and you shiver at the proximity. But instead of giving you what you crave, he moves away, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"Patience, my love," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, the kind that sends a shiver down your spine.

Fyodor enjoys making you wait, dragging out the anticipation until it's nearly unbearable. He knows exactly what he's doing, knows that with every second he makes you wait, your desire for him only grows.

The mirror above you captures everything—the way your body arches off the bed, the way your lips part in a silent plea, the way your eyes, wide and desperate, lock onto his in the reflection. Fyodor makes sure you see it all, makes sure you understand the full extent of your submission.

You are his, bound and laid bare for his pleasure, and the sight of you like this, helpless and needy, fuels his own arousal.

He's still fully clothed, a stark contrast to your nakedness, and that only heightens the sense of power imbalance. He's in control, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

His hands move to your breasts, fingers tracing the curves, brushing over your nipples until they harden under his touch.

He takes one in his mouth, sucking gently at first, then biting down just hard enough to elicit a gasp from you. The pain mingles with pleasure, sending a jolt straight to your core, and you tug at the ropes instinctively, your body craving more.

But Fyodor isn't done teasing you yet. He lavishes attention on your other breast, leaving a trail of bruises in his wake, each mark a reminder of his possession.

When he finally, finally, moves lower, you're a trembling mess, your body practically vibrating with need.

Without warning, his fingers slide over your slick folds, parting them with ease, and he lets out a low hum of approval. Your body arches in response, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

"So wet for me, already, мышка?" he muses, his tone darkly amused.

His fingers dip inside you, curling just right, and you can't stop the moan that escapes your lips. He pumps them slowly, torturously slow, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to drive you mad.

"Look at yourself," he commands, and your eyes are drawn back to the mirror. The sight is overwhelming—your body laid bare, trembling under his touch, your face flushed with desire, and his reflection, calm, controlled, a stark contrast to your desperation.

He adds another finger, curling them inside you just so, hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

You can feel yourself edging closer and closer to release, but just when you think he'll let you come, he pulls away, leaving you gasping, on the brink but not quite there.

Fyodor's laugh is low, dark, vibrating through you as he watches your frustration build.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you, suffocating in its intensity.

He watches you, taking in every twitch, every whimper, as you struggle against the bonds, desperate for more. But Fyodor isn't interested in your pleasure now, not entirely.

He's interested in your submission, in the way he can bring you to the edge again and again, only to pull you back, making you beg for him, for his touch, for his mercy.

And he does make you beg. He makes you plead with those beautiful eyes of yours, makes you promise anything, everything, if he'll just let you come.

But your dear husband is disciplined, and he takes his time, drawing out your torture until you're nearly sobbing with need. He loves this—the power he holds over you, the way he can make you lose yourself so completely in him.

It's intoxicating, a heady rush that he will never tire of.

When he finally decides you've had enough, he doesn't give you what you want immediately. He teases you with his length, sliding it against your entrance, rubbing it over your swollen clit, making you writhe beneath him.

"Keep your eyes open," he whispers, his voice a dark, velvety command that sends a thrill of both fear and excitement through you.

Fyodor has no need to raise his voice; the sheer authority laced in his words is enough to ensure your obedience.

"Look at me," he commands. Your eyes flutter open and snap to his, where you see the cold, calculating gleam, before shifting to the mirror.

He wants you to see yourself as he does—beautiful, vulnerable, utterly his.

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising force as he lines himself up with you.

But before he pushes in, he pauses, "I want you to watch," he says, his voice low, commanding, brooking no argument. "Watch how I claim what is mine, моя любимая.”

You nod softly, almost pathetically, and watch as he pushes inside you, slow and deliberate, filling you inch by inch until he's seated deep within you.

He thrusts into you, hard and deep, and you can't hold back the cry that escapes your lips. The stretch, the fullness, is overwhelming, and Fyodor doesn't give you a moment to adjust. The sensation is overwhelming as well, and you cry out, your body straining against the bonds, desperate for more.

“The gag…looks so beautiful on you, love..”~

He pulls back only to slam into you again, setting a brutal pace that has you gasping for breath, your body straining against the ropes that bind you.

The mirror reflects it all—the way your body jerks with each thrust, the way your hands clench and unclench in their bindings, the way your eyes, wide and glassy with pleasure, never leave his.

He sets a slow, torturous pace, drawing out every thrust, making sure you feel every inch of him. The pleasure is almost too much, and yet not enough, and you can't help but whimper, begging him with your eyes to go faster, to let you come. But Fyodor is in no hurry.

He watches you, watches the way your face contorts with pleasure, the way your body responds to him, and he drinks it in, savoring the power he has over you.

Fyodor watches you, his gaze never wavering, taking in every detail, every expression, as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice a harsh whisper as he leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

"Taking me so well, so beautifully."

His praise is laced with possession, a dark undercurrent that only heightens your arousal. You can feel the tension building, the coil tightening in your belly, ready to snap at any moment.

Fyodor's thrusts become more erratic, more desperate, as he nears his own release. He shifts his angle slightly, and suddenly he's hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, driving you wild with pleasure.

You can feel yourself teetering on the brink, so close, so achingly close, and you can't help the way your body arches, seeking more, seeking him.

When he finally does let you come, it's with a rough, punishing thrust that sends you spiraling over the edge.

"Come for me," Fyodor orders, his voice rough with need, and it's all you need to push you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashes through you, violent and overwhelming, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure rips through you. The orgasm rips through you, powerful and all-consuming, and he doesn't stop, prolonging your pleasure until you're a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him, tears of sheer ecstasy slipping down your cheeks.

He follows soon after, his release shuddering through him, and he holds you close, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs soft, possessive words, claiming you all over again. He holds you there, his grip on your hips almost painful, burying himself deep inside you as he spills into you, a low, guttural moan escaping him as he does, grounding himself in the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the only sound the harsh breathing of the two of you, the only movement the slight tremors that still wrack your body.

Then, slowly, Fyodor pulls out, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he takes in the sight of you—utterly spent, bound, marked, and completely his.

He takes his time untying you, his touch surprisingly gentle as he massages your wrists, soothing the marks left by the ropes. He unties you with a tenderness that's almost jarring after the intensity of what you just shared.

He rubs soothing circles into your wrists, kisses the marks he's left on your skin, and pulls you into his arms, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your cheeks, as he murmurs words of praise and affection, a stark contrast to the roughness from before.

In the aftermath, as you lie there in his arms, completely exhausted, you feel a strange sense of contentment wash over you.

Fyodor has pushed you to your limits, taken you apart and put you back together, and in doing so, has only strengthened the bond between you.

You are his, in every sense of the word.

Fyodor may be a man who craves control, but he's not without care. He cherishes you, his fragile little wife, and in these moments, when you're sated and secure in his embrace, you understand the depths of his love for you.

You belong to him, body and soul, and as you drift off to sleep in his arms, you know that there's no place you'd rather be.

Fyodor has claimed you, bound you to him in every way that matters, and you wouldn't change a thing.

In his arms, in his control, you are exactly where you belong.

~

FYODOR’S MASTERLIST => HERE

TO MY OTHER WORKS => HERE

[heylittleriotact]

⚰ＷＩＰ ＷＨＥＮＥＶＥＲ⚰

I've been tagged by @xxnashiraxx and love seeing their work pop up on my dash - thank you <3

The Soup du Jour is... smut! Plotless, pointless, porntacular, horny Emmrook smut.

We've got praise kinks, we've got flashing, we've got grinding, we've got trying-to-distract-this-poor-man-from-his-work, we've got Rook biting off more than she can chew when Emmrich calls her bluff. It is in this piece that I am (ultimately) going to make good on my threat of Emmrich reciting erotic poetry intimately into Rook's ear while he makes deeply passionate love to her, because that idea has lived rent-free in my head for days now and I need to manifest it. But first I need Rook to be a brat, and for Emmrich to... deal with that.

I was having doubts about this one because I am forever afraid of writing OOC, but honestly I'm just trying to chuck it in the fuck it bucket and have fun.

Tagging: @preciouslittlebhaalbae (you have TIME now MWAHAHAHA), @allofthebarks (don't hold out on me), @emmg (I know you're cooking 👀)

Under the cut because it is ✨EXPLICIT✨

𝒱𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃:

A funeral event where the prepared body of the deceased is reposed in the casket (open or closed) so that mourners may pay their respects, say their goodbyes, and grieve communally prior to the formal funeral service.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she pulled on the flimsy little camisole. She had very specific plans in mind when she slipped into the thin leggings that she knew were just a little too tight. There was a distinct reason she had chosen to completely forgo underthings. 

She tied her thick hair into a low bun at the base of her skull so her neck was clearly visible… as was the somewhat faded love bite from their previous encounter - the one that made Lace turn beetroot when she laid eyes on it at breakfast. The one that prompted Taash to reach over the table with a congratulatory high five. Emmrich had coughed awkwardly and subtly adjusted his own collar, clearly hoping the marks Amina had left on his neck in return were concealed.

She padded barefoot down the hallway to the laboratory, stomach fluttering and turning on itself in a not unpleasant way with the sheer anticipation of being in his proximity again. She couldn’t help but be drawn to him - his immense gravity could not be ignored; her need to be near him was insistent. She put little stock in the novelty of fate before Emmrich, but there was no doubt in her mind that there must have been some sort of cosmic ruling in which they were unwittingly sentenced by the stars to find one another. Her belly smouldered at the thought of such a thing… of such belonging.

She knocked gently on the door. “It’s me - may I come in?” 

She didn’t have to wait for an answer, nor did she have to turn the knob herself: she heard a chair scuff over the flagstone, the muffled jingle of gold - a sound that set her heart racing more often than not these days - and the door was flung open. Emmrich stood in the threshold, beaming affectionately down at her. 

“Of course, darling.” He took her hand and pulled her into the room, reaching over her shoulder to shut the door once she was inside. She might have been embarrassed that the sound of the lock clicking behind her made her breath catch solely due to its implication, but she was having a hard time feeling much of anything but barely restrained lust for the man in front of her. 

He drew her in close with an arm around her waist, still holding her hand between them, massaging her palm with his thumb as he bowed his head to kiss her sweetly. Her knees went weak when his lips met hers and his familiar scent filled her nose, rendering her brain incapable of anything other than inwardly chanting the same base sentiment over and over for as long as the kiss lasted: Home! Home! Home! Home! You’re home!

He straightened and looked at her, smiling as though he hadn’t heard the hungry little moan that had slipped from her, nor perceived the way she’d pressed as much of her body against him as she could during their embrace. “How are you today?” He asked, genuinely interested - as always. He knew. Surely he knew that she was positively bursting with need for him.

“Fine,” she breathed, returning the smile, watching as he started back towards the desk that was covered with books, inkpots, and parchment. “I’m well, thank you. Just thought I’d come say hello, see what you’re up to.”  

He pulled a chair over to the opposite side of the desk for her to sit on. She opted to remain standing instead, her eyes flitted over the pages of drying ink spread over the desk. 

“More letters home?” She waited until he was settled in his chair again, the quill back in his hand, and she bent at the waist to take a closer look at a recent anatomical drawing he’d completed. She could feel the cozy heat of the laboratory caress the exposed peaks of her breasts as the insubstantial shirt draped downward, offering a generous eyeful to anyone who might be sitting directly across from her. 

Her eyes flicked up from the drawing when Emmrich didn’t answer right away, a clever smile pulling at the corners of her mouth when she caught him red-handed; his eyes locked on the dainty swell of her breasts. 

He came to his senses when he felt her eyes on him and he comprehended the coquettish smirk on her face. “Yes.” He licked his lips. “Yes. Maintaining alliships and channels of communication is vital as we draw closer to our confrontation with the gods.” He swallowed and smiled again as Amina straightened and rounded the desk, settling against the wood on his side now.

“A fine plan,” she concurred, leaning back on her hands, her very visible nipples more or less eye level for the handsome academic to admire. “I hope I’m not distracting you: it’s so rare that I get a few hours to just relax these days.” She made a bit of a show of tilting her chin up and slowly rolling her head from side to side, stretching out the muscles of her neck and making sure Emmrich could see the soft plum-tinted bloom of colour he’d imparted on her skin as he sent her over the edge with his name on her lips, buried to the hilt between her legs as she clenched hard around him, her fingers curled tightly in his soft, thick hair. ‘You are incredible, darling,’ he had sighed against her tingling skin afterwards when they were little more than a tangled, panting heap of limbs. It had taken a good hour after that before she could walk again…

Amina squirmed against the desk a little at the thought, aware of the burgeoning wetness that was accumulating at the juncture of her thighs. 

Somehow Emmrich managed to maintain the discipline required to look back at the letter he was working on, his lips curling quaintly. “Not at all, my dear - quite the contrary in fact: I’m so glad that you’re finally taking some time to look after yourself.” He dipped the quill, tapped it once, twice, and then brought it to the paper.

She observed him in silence until he seemingly made peace with the fact that she was not going to sit on the chair he’d brought over for her, and instead pushed his own back slightly, pulling her down onto his lap where she perched gleefully, having gotten what she wanted. 

“I must concede that you are somewhat distracting, so I will need your assistance in proofreading these before they’re sent out - I do have an academic reputation to maintain, regardless of the beautiful woman on my knee.” 

“Is that so?” Amina purred, nuzzling into his neck, her lips barely ghosting over his skin that smelled organic and clean - crisp soap and freshly cut sage… a lingering hint of pipe tobacco and expensive brandy. 

Oh yes, she was going to be one hell of a distraction…

“She sounds like a real piece of work, this woman. It’s a marvel that you get anything done at all with her around.” She tilted her hips ever so slightly. Not enough for it to be claimed that she was trying to get a rise out of him, but enough so that the fingernails of his left hand dug into her side a little where he gripped her. A pleased smile took her lips at the feeling of him against her, already half hard: he could pretend to be aloof and composed all he liked, but she knew that there was only one possible outcome for this encounter. 

“I was just having a similar thought, as it turns out,” he murmured, breath catching slightly when Amina ground against him more deliberately this time. “She’s cornered me in my laboratory no fewer than three times this week, you see: my productivity has utterly plummeted.”

The way he whispered those words, his voice so sinful and cunning…

“Oh dear…” Amina tutted. “Well we can’t have that now, can we?” She moved to slide from his lap, fully prepared to at least pretend that she cared a whit about Emmrich’s ‘productivity’ of late. 

He held her fast though, keeping her on his lap with his hands and arms, and the sheer fact of his existence alone. She rewarded him with a satisfied hum and another agonizingly slow roll of her hips, suspecting that she was probably beginning to soak through her thin pants.

His hand dropped from her waist to her thigh and he palmed the expanse of hard muscle there, dragging his fingers towards her hip as he leaned forward and his hot breath washed over the sensitive shell of her ear, driving a small gasp from her as she flinched in his grasp: he had not been idly boasting during that dinner date about his anatomical prowess.

“I fear I wouldn’t have it any other way…” he confided, those artful, nimble fingers of his straying to her waistband and slipping beneath it. He sharply inhaled through his teeth and uttered a soft ‘oh’ when he found her waiting for him, slick and needy. There was a slight tremor in his voice when he said, “She is intoxicating, you see…”

She moaned encouragingly as he swirled a finger through her, clearly enjoying the experience of her arousal alone: she could distinctly feel his hardness against her rear now.

Oh how she longed to ravish him - ride him to completion on this very chair, or on the floor perhaps. Maybe against one of the many bookshelves that lined the room - they had dallied against one the week before, her leg hitched up around his thin waist, pulling him deeper as he set a pace that stole her breath from her lungs and hit angles that caused her to see stars. 

Or she could bend over the railing of the balcony upstairs and feign interest in the curious nature of their environs while he slammed into her over and over again, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips… 

Of course there had been the rather awkward instance a few days earlier where Manfred had wandered in on them both in a state of partial undress: Emmrich’s waistcoat hanging open, Amina dragging her hands through his hair, her own shirt piled in a careless heap on the floor nearby and Emmrich’s hand down her pants as she tried to kick off her high-heeled lilac slippers without removing her lips from his skin. Manfred had launched himself between the two of them with a consternated hiss, clearly interpreting their entanglement to mean they were fighting instead of well… the other thing. The following day, Emmrich gave his first in a series of many lectures to Manfred about the birds and the bees - and reiterated the invaluable virtue of always knocking before entering a room that might have someone else in it.

She was snapped from her musing at the sublime sensation of Emmrich’s finger dragging along the ridges of her walls as he slid the digit inside of her. She let out a small gasp at the intrusion and reflexively clenched around it, hips rocking against his once more. 

“... but I really must finish these letters.” There was a playful, coy edge to his voice as he slowly withdrew his finger and slowly pushed it back in. “This striking woman of mine will need to exercise patience today, it seems…”

Something about being his striking woman in particular sent a jolt of arousal straight through her very soul. She could feel the cool metal of his rings against her feverish skin as he cupped her sex, his thumb brushing almost tauntingly over her aching clit. 

“Please, Emmrich…” she whined, arching up into his touch, making her need plain. 

The demonstration of manners earned her a second finger, but her lover did not deviate from his task as he leaned forward, dipped the quill, and began to write once more. “In good time, my precious love,” he soothed. “Try to relax for the time being - I shan’t take long.” 

“It feels so good though…” 

“That’s wonderful, darling - I want you to feel good.” 

She fell silent, the wind in the sails of her desire to argue stilling as she let her head fall against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, allowing herself to exist in the moment - holding on tight to every emphatic response of her nervous system as Emmrich touched her with a capable familiarity that suggested he’d touched her a thousand times before; the erotic symphony of the quill scratching over the parchment mingled with the sound of his fingers moving within her… her breathy moans… his many bangles shifting gently with each purposeful gesture…

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured eventually - she had lost track of time - kissing her shoulder before returning to the letter. He had to be nearly done, hadn’t he? “So good for me… my sweet Amina…”

She whimpered at his words - the reverent praise tolling something deep within her that was starved and lonely. She writhed on his thigh as he placed tender kisses all over her cheek and crooked his fingers, stroking that euphoric place inside of her that made cognizant thought impossible and made her thighs tremble like she’d been in the training hall all day. He took her apart slowly, casually… effortlessly, and before long she was fluttering around him, cheeks and lips flushed a delicate pink, staring down an orgasm that was about to be everyone in the building’s business - she could feel it: the deep fire in her belly roiling and twisting on itself, going taut, so tense and eager that one more touch could snap it, yielding the most decadent release…

And then he was gone, the absence of his touch keenly felt as her walls flexed and tensed around the sudden nothingness. 

She glowered at him, though her stomach flip-flopped enthusiastically as she watched him taste her on his slender fingers with a dignified poise she should have expected. “That was cruel.”

“Is it cruel to strive to linger in a garden of untold majesty forever, even knowing forever is unobtainable?” He stroked those same fingers gently over her lips and she caught the tip of one between her teeth, flicking the very tip of her tongue over the fleshy pad of it. “I want to savour you, my dear.” He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her scent. “Let me take my time.”

[ak319]

Lovesick Village Boy x Fem civil servant reader

《Beloved's Veil》

(Warnings: will have themes like possession/horror and abuse) This story will have more than two parts, so enjoy🌼

"Do you like it this far, Ma'am? The village?" Odai’s voice cut through the soft hum of the engine, drawing your gaze to the rearview mirror where his eyes met yours.

"Yes, it’s quite peaceful. I've never lived in a village before."

"You’ll love it, Ma’am. It’s indeed peaceful, which is good for someone like you who enjoys working in a calm environment. The beauty here adds more to the experience." He smiled, his eyes glinting with nostalgia. "This is my second time here. I once drove the Commissioner on a visit. The people are kind too."

"Mhm." You nodded thoughtfully as Odai slowed the car down on a narrow street. Your eyes wandered, taking in the surroundings--quaint homes with old wooden doors, vibrant rugs hung on balconies, and villagers watching the car with curious eyes. "But even the smallest villages have their dark sides. Crime, hardship--they exist everywhere."

"Indeed, ma'am." Odai's voice took on a more serious edge. "I kept news of your arrival under wraps, which is why no one's gathering around our cars." You glanced back at the security vehicle trailing behind, steady and unobtrusive.

"Good," you mused, lighting a cigarette, the flicker of the flame momentarily catching your gaze. "Maybe they are not happy to get a new DC so soon." You chuckled softly, exhaling smoke into the still air. "And what about the other task I gave you? Judging by those wary glances, it might be working."

"Yes, ma'am. I handled it." You'd instructed Odai to spread rumors before your arrival, whispers about your uncompromising nature--how you were a stickler for the law, an officer with unshakeable honesty. It was a strategy you'd wanted to test, a way to plant seeds before even setting foot in Al Razeh. Spread your roots before you even step into the territory, you thought with quiet satisfaction, watching the smoke curl and dissipate into the air, like invisible tendrils laying claim to the village before you.

You, (Y/n), had just been appointed as the Deputy Commissioner, DC, of a district called Kamandik, and your new office--and residence--was nestled in the village of Al-Razeh. It was a quiet place, far from the hustle of the city, a change you welcomed after the long, exhausting journey. Coming from a distinguished family, it almost seemed like destiny had led you to this path. Your lineage boasted army officers, doctors, and civil servants. Your father, a retired military man, had served with distinction, and your mother, an army doctor, had met him through her service. It was that kind of background that had built your discipline and drive.

"Is the Assistant Commissioner going to be there?" you asked, gazing out at the unfamiliar landscape as you approached.

"He will arrive tomorrow, ma'am. His flight got cancelled for today." Odai replied.

Good. You felt a sense of relief. One less formality for today. You leaned back into the seat, letting the exhaustion sink in, already imagining the stillness of your new residence awaiting you.

═════ ◈ ═════

"But I want you to work with me, my son," the old man said, his shivering hands reaching out as his weak, but soft gaze fell upon his youngest. Habib--the kindest, gentlest, and most beautiful of his sons--stood there, looking down at his father. His pale green eyes and thin, golden locks were a wonder, something the village marveled at since his birth. His father, prayed each day that God would grant his son a life as beautiful as he appeared, for Habib had known nothing but pain because of this beauty--this curse.

"Baba, you know they don’t want me to," Habib began, his voice barely a whisper, catching in his throat before it could fully form. The familiar heaviness of his situation silenced him completely as soon as his oldest brother, Basim, strode into the room with an air of command.

"Baba, how many times must we go through this?" Basim’s voice cut through the room like a blade. "I told you--he is not working, and that’s final!"

"He is going to work in the store I go to! With me! He has to do something."

"Him? Are you serious? " Kadir despite being not having the desired strength at the moment stood up from the bed and Habib immediately supported him, his own eyes casted down in his brother's presence.

"Basim, you seem to forget that I am still alive," Kadir said, his voice low but firm, "and I am very much capable of making decisions for this house. Do you hear me?" His words hung in the air, heavy with authority, and Basim, eyes flickering between his father and younger brother, clenched his jaw before storming out of the room, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

Habib finally exhaled the breath he'd been holding, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Don’t be afraid, son," Kadir soothed, resting a reassuring hand on his son's cheek. "I’m here for you. I will always be."

Habib nodded, pressing his lips softly to his father’s weathered fingers. "Just follow what I tell you in the shop," Kadir continued, "and you’ll learn the work in no time."

Outwardly, the Jafaris appeared to be a humble, respectable family--Kadir himself was a respected elder in the community, with his two eldest sons already married. But beneath the surface, the Jafaris were infamous. And though it seemed like many things, perhaps the real reason for the rumors that clung to them like shadows was just one thing--Habib.

Habib woke with a start, his heart pounding as he scanned his dimly lit bedroom. The narrow terrace window was open, a detail he couldn't remember opening himself. No, wait, he had opened it earlier, hadn't he? The memory was foggy. He looked down at the book in his lap, the dim light from the terrace lamp casting strange shadows around the room. Quickly, he turned on the side lamp, its bright light offering a small sense of relief.

He ran his fingers over the pages of The Book of Kings. The words seemed to mirror his own sorrow: “On my heart, this pain and sorrow are so abundant, in mourning for you, the assault on my anxious heart is endless. O heart, you are with me, but you constantly mourn the lost beloved. Every day, we remember you, and at night, we weep for your love, as if my heart cannot reach any solace from your absence and this pain has no remedy.”

Indeed, there seemed to be no remedy. The ache and torment felt as fresh and unyielding as if it had happened just yesterday.

His footsteps were light as he stepped out of his chamber, and with a whispered prayer, he made his way to the kitchen. It was 10 p.m., and most people had gone to bed by 9. He had missed dinner once again. The worried faces of his parents flashed through his mind, contrasting sharply with the indifferent expressions of his brothers.

As he approached the dishes stacked in a corner--likely left there by his mother--he began to prepare his plate. Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, signaling someone's presence behind him.

'No, please-'

The words of the cleric, Nazim, echoed in his mind: “Remember, my boy, never be afraid of anything, for these things feed on fear.” Despite the reminder, he remained paralyzed, his fear not only of the unknown but also of the possibility that it might be Basim, who wasn’t pleased with what Father had said earlier.

The plate in his hand nearly dropped when the person touched him. "God!--Uncle, it’s me, it’s me, Rahim. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you...""

"It’s alright, Rahim." The teenager, Rahim, was the son of Basim, his oldest nephew, and also his best friend. "Why are you awake?"

Rahim smirked and leaned against the counter. "Just couldn’t sleep," his playful demeanor shifted to concern as he took in his young uncle’s appearance. "Uncle... were you sick again?"

"I’m always sick, nothing to worry about."

"You should take better care of yourself. I worry about you. And..." Rahim hesitated, "I doubt that--"

"Rahim, I’m fine. And no, it’s gone. Long gone. Believe me. I’m just... going through some side effects."

"Wow, all that pain and now side effects too, even when you’re free from it? It’s been years! You should see an actual doctor." Rahim was just a toddler when his uncle was afflicted in a way he never imagined possible. Yet, he remembered it all like a vivid nightmare.

"Rahim, please. I am fine," Habib reassured, his voice soft but firm, trying to mask the lingering shadows of his past.

The boy decided to drop the topic for now with an unconvinced sigh. "I brought those pastries you love."

"Why?! You know Brother Basim--"

"Uncle, please. It’s my pocket money, and I get to buy whatever I want for whoever I want." Rahim smiled, and Habib couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound light and comforting in the quiet of the kitchen.

Rahim’s grin widened. He always loved seeing his uncle, who was more like an older brother to him, happy. "Shall I make tea?"

"No, I'll make it. I don't want you waking the whole house."

The two chatted softly, the kitchen door closed to keep their voices from carrying. Basim would be furious if he knew they were up.

"Oh, how could I forget to tell you! When me and my friends were playing, we saw the new DC’s car. She’s here. And from what we’ve heard, she’s very upright and strict too. Which I think is a good thing, considering the previous one was lousy as hell."

"We’ve never had a female DC before, have we?" Habib wondered aloud, trying to recall if he had ever seen any officer around or remembered the last DC’s name.

"Um, no. And do you know her bungalow walls are so high, you can’t see past them! Imagine how cool it must be from the inside. Plus, all the cameras and stuff, which I heard they’re going to put around the village too."

"Mhm, nice." Habib nodded, his smile fading slightly as he sipped his tea. The conversation about the new DC and the changes in the village did little to distract him from the quiet sadness that lingered in his heart.

Part II

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter Three: Chrysanthemums - Joy

Summary: You and Andrew meet outside of your workplace for the first time for a completely platonic coffee on him.

Word count: 2385

Author's note: i am so sorry that this took so long 😭 last week of school combined with finals combined with life i guess hindered me from writing. but i'm back on track!!! hopefully you all enjoy and if i don't update again soon happy holidays <3

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @padfootblackswh0r3 (if you want to be added just let me know!)

fic below the cut <3

This is not a date.

That was your affirmation all of Friday morning, repeating it to yourself.

You muttered it under your breath as you fixed your hair. It was mumbled as you laid out your outfit, specifically chosen to be fashionable but casual: your favorite sweater and a nice pair of jeans. You whispered it before spraying your perfume, a scent you had to dig through your closet for five minutes to find. Ironically, the scent was nothing close to floral. You said it to each of your houseplants as you watered them. They remained unconvinced.

Slipped on your shoes. Locked up your flat. Walked down the stairs. You repeated your mantra every time, because maybe if you said it enough times, it would become true.

By the time you made it to your car, you had said it so many times it felt like breathing. Your hands gripped the wheel. You locked eyes with your reflection in the rearview mirror and whispered your phrase of the morning one more time for good luck.

This. Is. Not. A. Date.

Stepping down on the gas pedal, you began to drive.

On the drive there, you prepared yourself for all possible scenarios. This kind of thinking came naturally — it always did, especially in situations like these. You ran through what your reaction would be if he showed up, what it would be if he didn't. What you would do if he had an insanely complex coffee order, or if he ordered a drink with six shots of espresso. What if he tried to order for you, or if he made some backhanded comment about another woman at the cafe? You doubted he would do any of these things, but you believed it's better to be safe than sorry. This thinking only paused when you parked in front the coffee shop and caught a glimpse of Andrew waiting inside. All of your previous repetition and fretting had made you ten minutes late, a fact you weren't fond of and hoped Andrew wouldn't chastise you for.

The moment you stepped into the coffee shop, all of your previous affirmations were thrown out the window. It wasn't a date. But after seeing Andrew you wished that it was.

It wasn't any particular factor. It wasn't the black denim jacket he was wearing, or the way he'd tied half his hair up, leaving the other half down. It wasn't even the smile on his face, reserved like he wasn't sure how to react properly when he saw you. It was a combination of everything; his presence alone was enough to make you flustered. So flustered that you were very close to forgetting to say anything when you walked up to him. Thankfully, at the last moment, you actually spoke.

“Hey! Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,” you greeted him with a small smile.

“Oh, no. I just got here, too. You're alright.”

You walked inside together, and you looked around at your new surroundings. It was a small business, quaint and cozy, with framed photos of artworks by local artists; it was exactly what you would imagine a coffee shop that Andrew picked to be.

Because all of your overthinking (or what you preferred to call planning) on the way there, you ordered your coffee with ease. Andrew recited his order, a black americano, a surprise to you. You watched as he paid and gave his name for the order, the barista already recognizing him. He turned his head towards you and offered an explanation:“I’m a regular. I always come here whenever I need a pick-me-up.”

“I’ll have to come here more often, then,” you replied.

You found a small table in the corner and sat down to claim it for the both of you while Andrew stood by the counter, waiting for your coffee. What a gentleman.

You had yet to notice any flaws in him, only making your self-imposed rule of this not being romantic harder to follow. There had to be something about him that was off. There was no way he was so caring and endearing and funny all at the same time; he had to have an imperfection eventually. You didn't find it in the few minutes you watched him stand around, occasionally fiddling with his hands or putting them in his pockets. Your efforts grew even more futile as he walked over with the coffees in hand, setting them down on the table.

He shedded his jacket and carefully placed it on the back of the chair before sitting down in the chair opposite you. This simple action caused the fact that you barely knew Andrew to pop up in your head. Despite how connected to him you felt already, you had only met him twice before. On both occasions he wore long sleeves, so seeing him without a jacket for the first time gave you a much appreciated surprise.

His right arm had an entire sleeve of tattoos.

He had turned his arm into a mural for myths and legends. A portrait of a falling Icarus, wings disintegrating beneath a red sun. A tortured Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his back. Dante and Virgil arm in arm wandering through a circle of hell. Writing in script filled the empty space, seemingly verses from poems. It was all centered around two words placed across his bicep: Noli Timere. You’d be lying if you said it didn't make you even more attracted to him than you already were.

You could've spent hours just looking, analyzing every line of ink. It felt as though you did, though it's much more likely it was only for a few seconds. You were brought back to Earth by the sound of his voice.

“It's rude to stare, y’know?”

There was no real annoyance in his voice, but it caused you to attention like you had been caught. An explanation mumbled its way out of your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, I just- I like your arm. Tattoos. Your arm tattoos. They're…”

Beautiful? Enticing? Very attractive?

“…cool.”

You took a sip of your coffee, finding it the perfect time to cover up your embarrassment, as well as the flushed face that came along with it. Luckily, Andrew didn't notice (or if he did, he didn't mind) and continued the conversation, accepting your compliment with a crooked smile.

“Thanks. I try to put a lot of thought into them, give them some meaning, so they're all based on these stories that are important to me.”

“Makes sense. I’d hate to get a tattoo just to regret it a few years later. Even worse, a few months later.”

“Too many of my clients have had that exact issue. Come in a year after and ask for a coverup. Makes me question my work sometimes.”

“Clients?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“Oh, right. I never mentioned it.” He paused to take a drink from his cup before continuing. “I’m a tattoo artist. The parlor I work at’s only a few blocks away from your shop, believe it or not.”

“Wow. Small world, I suppose. Maybe I could stop by someday and say hi.”

The boldness of your statement didn't fully process in your brain, and you quickly backtracked.

“If you’d be okay with that, of course.”

“Yes. Absolutely. You can come by whenever I don't have a client.”

“Call me over if anyone gets a tattoo of a flower and I’ll be there to explain everything it means. There is always the very dangerous possibility of someone getting a flower that means jealousy or a rejection.”

He didn’t reply, just flashed a smile, and the silence between you seemed… awkward. Combined with the way he was fidgeting with his hands, it almost made you think he was nervous.

“I’m actually thinking about buying a bouquet to put on the front desk,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah. A lot of people, they get nervous before their appointment, whether it's their first tattoo or their tenth. Having flowers right when you walk in might ease some of the tension.”

“That's a great idea. I know I’m biased, but flowers do tend to brighten my day."

“Do you have any ideas?”

You bit at your bottom lip as you thought, finally speaking again once you racked your brain for what could work.

“Chrysanthemums are a favorite with customers. Those mean joy and optimism. I could start with those and build from there.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“That's all I’ve got right now, but I’ll see what else I can come up with later. After coffee, I’m much more… insightful.”

As if to prove your point, you took another sip of your coffee, a longer one that left only a quarter of the cup left.

“So… this is official? You're placing an order?”

He nodded.

“If that's how this works, then yes. I’d like to place an order of one chrysanthemum bouquet for the purpose of making my customers happy. Please,” he replied genuinely.

“Your order will be marked down as soon as I get to the shop.”

“Feel free to take your time, by the way. I don't mean to pressure you. It's not like I have a deadline, and I know you probably have a million other things you have to do.”

You considered reaching for him, your fingertips flexing in his direction, but you restrained yourself, choosing words instead.

“You're not pressuring me at all. You made your order. Now you're asking me to do my job. My job that I love, by the way. If anything, I’m thrilled that you're so interested.”

The real question is whether you're more interested in my job or me.

You weren't bold enough to say what you were thinking, but you never had been. You had gotten so used to biting your tongue it was a miracle it was still in your mouth. You spoke again, but selected a much safer option of what to say.

“It's gonna take a few days since there's some orders before yours, but I have your number on file so I’ll call you when I finish it up.”

“I’ll be there. With my wallet, this time around.”

You thought about your proposition before realizing there would be a much more effective, though maybe you just wanted to visit Andrew’s job for a change.

“I mean, you said your place is only a few minutes away, right? I could always deliver it. Gives me an opportunity to get some fresh air during my day. Besides, you're probably much busier than I am, so it might be harder to find the time. Meanwhile, I can deliver it as soon as it's done, and everything works out.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know. I want to, though.”

He sighed and shook his head, a reaction you originally feared was out of annoyance, but you felt a small amount of relief when you noticed the smile that accompanied it.

“You need to stop doing nice things for me. Otherwise I’ll go bankrupt from buying you so much coffee to compensate.”

“I also accept gratitude payment in compliments, thank-you-cards, and checks.”

“What about credit cards?”

“Ooo, sorry. Compliments, thank-you-cards, and checks are your options.”

He chuckled, a deeper and richer laugh than before.

“Fine. You want a compliment? You're incredibly kind for doing all of this for me, and I sincerely appreciate it. Thank you.”

Another sip from your cup to hide the flush of your cheeks, though no amount of caffeine could calm the butterflies in your stomach.

“That covers your gratitude payment for now. I still need real money, of course,” you muttered. “And you're not getting your way out of it this time.”

“I would never. You can't pull the same con on the same person twice.”

“Oh, so it was a con? Did those flowers even go to your mother?”

“Nope. Underground flower smuggling ring.”

“Ah, I should've guessed. Tell your flower-loving crime boss that I’m thankful for all that you've done for me, but I unfortunately need to get going, because it's 9:30 and the shop opens at 10.”

Andrew complied. You two wrapped it up, and he put his jacket back on, covering up his tattoos much to your dismay. Your coffee cup, now empty, was discarded by the door.

“Thank you so much. For the coffee, for the company. Everything. Especially for the coffee, though, considering you barely even drank yours,” you commented, pointing at the half-full cup still in his hand.

“You’re welcome. And trust me, I was going to drink it, but I found myself much more engrossed in the conversation.”

Andrew grabbed the door and held it open for you, and you walked past him and thanked him. Both of you stood on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, unsure of how (or if you even wanted) to say goodbye.

“This is where we must part ways,” he said with a sigh.

“You say that like we're never going to see each other again.”

“A lot can happen in a few days, Y/N. You have no idea what the universe has up her sleeve.”

“Do you have some kind of knowledge about an apocalypse that I don't? Because when it comes to that kind of stuff, sharing is caring.”

“Just… prepping for the future, I suppose. If there is no apocalypse, I’ll see you when my bouquet’s finished.”

“I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

You walked to your car, only a few footsteps away, the smile slowly fading from your face as he walked in the opposite direction. You sneaked a glance over your shoulder at him before opening the car door.

Sitting down in the driver's seat, you took a deep breath to bring yourself back to reality. Your mantra had been proven right: that was not a date. It just felt like one. A very successful one at that. He was a gentleman, listened to what you had to say, gave you a compliment, and you even set up an incentive to meet again. This not-a-date went better than most of your actual dates, and it was with a guy who, to your knowledge, had no romantic interest in you.

You were totally and utterly screwed.

[mrwinterr]

Fast In My Car

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Summary: Self-driving car sex. That’s it. 

Warnings: Adult themes | 🚫 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🚫 | Smut 18+ (unprotected sex [risky business], vaginal penetration, oral [male receiving], riding, creampie), dirty talk and language.

Disclaimer: None of the spooky events of the Stranger Things (2016) series take place in this piece. Everything is just where it’s at because this is made up. 

A/N: I don’t own a car with this feature, so oops on the technicalities. We’re just trying to have fun. Self-driving or not, lol, this is dangerous, but sexy too. Idk if this has been done. It’s just another car sex fic.   

mrwinterr masterlist

When Steve said he had a surprise, you thought it would be something simple like flowers, candy or some cute gift, but what you don’t expect is him with a new car. 

“Check it out!” he exclaims from the curb, a big smile on his face, his arms outstretched wide with the new shiny vehicle glistening in the sunlight behind him. He looked so happy and who wouldn’t be with a new car, right? 

There was nothing wrong with his BMW, so you were a little confused. He had the best car from the lot, courtesy of his parents, and while your own car was still holding its own, you remained steadfast in your refusal to mooch off their wealth, which they’d grown indifferent to. You knew they meant well in their own way. They gave Steve everything he wanted and only the best for him, but you just weren’t cut from the same cloth. 

“Where did you get that?” your first reaction was to question it, although you already had a good feeling from where. 

“At the dealership,” he answered simply. 

“Okay, not what I meant, babe. I mean how and why?” you clarify not one for playing dumb with him at that moment. 

“My parents wanted to surprise us,” he explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to do. 

“There’s nothing wrong with the car you have,” you noted.

“Had,” he corrects you before revealing the fate of his car, “they traded the BMW.” 

“What?” you exclaimed, taken aback. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Come on, it’s just a car. People trade in for new ones all the time.” Everything was just that easy for the Harringtons. “Okay, not everyone...or all the time,” he admits, seeing the unamused look on your face. “I didn’t know you liked the BMW that much.” 

“It’s not that…I don’t know,” you trailed off, trying to not sound sentimental. “We just had a lot of memories with the BMW.” 

Steve’s expression softened as he started reminiscing about the nostalgia tied to his old car. He picked you up for your first date in that car. He drove you to work with that car when yours would inconveniently break down. You both went on several road trips in that car. Among a lot of other things…in that car. 

“Couldn’t they have given us something else? Like…I don’t know, a house in Chicago maybe,” you unrealistically suggest, but wouldn’t completely put it past them. 

“What’s wrong with the house we have right now?” He asks, failing to grasp your point. 

“This is your parents’ house!” You remind him, gesturing toward the big house behind you. 

“They barely live here. It’s practically ours.” Steve reasons. 

“Not the point,” you say, hands on your hips, not amused by that answer either. 

“Whatever. Let’s take this for a spin.”

You sigh and reluctantly make your way to the passenger side, where he held the door open for you. 

~

Steve took the long way to everything during the whole drive and you were getting bored fast. Admittedly, the ride was smooth and the seats were very comfortable. You struggle to keep your eyes open and head up right, trying to not doze off. 

It was such a mundane thing, Steve driving around town with one hand on the wheel while the other on your thigh, sometimes in your hand. You didn’t think much of it at first, but when you start to feel him get a little too handsy, you rouse awake. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Well, you mentioned how we have so much history with the BMW…I was thinking maybe we can make some memories here,” he shrugs casually, continuing to drive through the backroads. 

“I’m not having sex with you in this car just for that reason,” you retort. 

“Why not? It has a self-driving feature,” he counters like that would help his case. 

“That still doesn’t mean you don’t have to pay attention to the road.” 

“How is you giving me road head in the BMW going to be any different in here?” 

“Steve!” You yell appalled by his bluntness on the topic. 

“If anything, it’ll be easier for me to keep the car on the road.” He’s really trying to upsell you on that self-driving feature, “…and the windows are tinted. No one will see us.” He can see the gears in your head turning, contemplating your next move. You just need a little nudge and Steve knows how to push your buttons. 

“You can’t tell me that car sex isn’t hot.” His hand sliding further up your skirt. He can feel the heat radiating from your core through the thin barrier of your underwear, which boosts his confidence in his plan. He has to bite his bottom lip to conceal the smirk. 

There were so many things wrong about this like endangering not only your lives but others, getting caught, and wrecking the car to name a few, but despite that, he’s right; you can’t deny the idea. It was dangerous but also thrilling. 

You huff at his triumph, unbuckle your seatbelt, and turn to face him. Giddy, he pushes his chair back to make room for you, but at enough distance for him to ensure he can still reach the steering wheel should he need to. 

“You’re taking us home right after this,” you demand, watching him nod his head eagerly, then reach to grab him. “Shit, Steve,” you pull your hand back not expecting him to be half hard already. 

“What? You’re the one that put the idea of us fucking in a car in my head. I can’t help but think about it,” he says defensively, trying to shift some of the blame on you. “Plus, your legs look really nice.” 

Shaking your head, you refocus your attention on undressing his lower half. Steve raises his hips as best as he could to help you tug his pants and boxers down enough for his cock to spring out. 

You wrap your hand around his length, giving it a light squeeze before pumping him in a gradual pace you knew that got him going. You watch his lips part at the sensation you’re conjuring from him, and it only encourages you to continue. Seeing Steve come undone is one of your favorite things. 

Leaning over the console, you get closer, poke your tongue out to swirl it around the head, collecting the small bead of pre-cum pooling from the slit. Your mouth waters at the taste, hungry for more, so you skip the teasing and go right for it. Steve sighs when you take him in your mouth, your lips enclosed around his cock.  

You look up high to the left to see he’s thrown his head back against the headrest, eyes closed, so you pull yourself off him. “Hey! Eyes on the road!” He jolts, your warning ringing through his ears, straightening up a bit and a hand back on the wheel. 

You’re soon bobbing your head up and down his length, a hand assisting in the job before you slowly start taking more of him inch by inch. He bunches up your hair in his hands to get a good view, sneaking a peek while still trying to keep his eyes trained on the road. Feeling the head of cock hitting the back of your throat stirs something animalistic in Steve. You have to keep your hands on his hips to force them down, so he doesn’t lodge himself any deeper than you could handle. 

“Fuck. You’re so good at that.“ His voice drones with the sloppy sounds from working your mouth on his cock. 

You hold him in place for a few seconds until you pull away, in desperate need for air, a mix of fluids running down your chin, but continue fisting his cock, feeling him grow harder.

Satisfied, you carefully maneuver over to him, claiming his lap as your new seat. It’s an awkward angle, but nothing new to you both. You hike your skirt up and push the slit of your underwear to the side. You let out a long moan as you lower yourself down on his thick cock. Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you close your eyes to focus on the sensation wracking through your body, doing your best to ignore the sting from being stretched out. 

“Yes,” he lets out as you’re fully seated on his thick cock, allowing him to bask in the warmth of your wet and inviting pussy. “You’re so tight,” he whines, feeling your walls contract around him involuntarily, waiting patiently for you to get used to his girth. 

It’s always a bit of a struggle, but once you get accustomed to him, you pull your face away, brace your palms on his clothed chest and start to bounce on his cock. High enough to keep the tip snuggled inside and low enough to feel his balls press up against the bottom of your ass. He looks down, gawking at the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing in you. 

“You’re so wet,” he says, licking his lips at the delicious sight. “You like riding my cock don’t you?” He knows you do. Your juices make certain of that when it starts overflowing that it starts to drip down his balls, soaking his seat. 

He’s just eating up the effects that his words have on you, the vulnerable look displayed on your face, so different from the one that was reprimanding him earlier. “Making such a mess,” he chastises, grabbing a hold of your chin forcibly to look at him. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open from the orgasm building up in you. Once he has your attention, his stare is intense as he gravely speaks out, “my dirty girl,” before smashing your lips together, his tongue inviting himself in your mouth seeking your own.  

It’s not enough for Steve to be just content with his cock buried deep inside you, he pulls your top down, your breasts spilling out. “God, I love your tits,” he groans, taking his other hand off the wheel so he could get a good fill of them in his hands. 

Moaning at the sensation when his mouth latches onto them, teasingly nibbling the hardened buds, you get more heated. You start grinding on him, your hips swiveling in circular motions. He loves when you do this because it allows him to feel every part of you, sending him into overdrive. 

“That’s it, grind on that cock, baby,” he mumbles against your chest, his hot breath fanning your skin.

“It’s so good,” you praise his cock. You let out a choked gasp when you ground harder, switching from circular to back and forth motions, “you’re so deep.” Feeling your body shiver, you try to memorize the angle where he’d just probed at, desperately needing him to hit it again. 

Your efforts proving futile, Steve notices your hips losing its rhythm, so he decides to take control. Sneaking his hands around to grope the globes of your ass, he draws you in closer to him, thrusting his cock deep inside to find it for you and judging by the volume of your moans getting louder and louder plus the way your walls contract around his member, he’s found your sweet spot. 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes,” your voice wavering. You use the bit of strength remaining in your legs to sit up to focus on him. “Steve, I’m gonna cum,” your warning pushing him to drive it home.  

“Oh, baby,” he coos, bringing a hand up to push away the sweaty hair matted on your face. He loved watching you unravel too. He grips the side of your hips, fingers digging into your skin, not a care given about the marks they’d leave, and starts lifting you up and down his cock. 

“Right there! Fuck, yes. Steve, baby, right there.” 

“Yeah? You got it, baby.” He pistons his hips up into you, loving the way your breasts bounce from his harsh thrusts. “That’s it. Fucking come all over my cock…I’m right behind you, honey.” 

Your thighs clamped around his hips, hands twisting his shirt from the tight grip you held, you let out a silent sob as your orgasm rocks through you. Steve makes good on his word because as your walls start pulsing around his cock, it’s enough to make him come. His arms tightly wrapped around you, keeping you close and rooted down, he stills. Sensitive, you flinch and groan in bliss from feeling, the throb of each spurt of his cum shooting deep inside you.

When you both come down from the high, your body is slumped over him. Steve tilts your head leaning in to kiss you tenderly. He pulls away, a soft smile adorns his perfect face as you gaze lovingly at him. You almost forget that you’re in a moving vehicle until the warning noise breaks your catatonic state. 

“Shit,” he panics, letting go of you, quickly reaching over to align the wheel, almost crushing you in-between. You shoot him a threatening look to which he returns with a sheepish smile. 

“It’s cool! We’re alive aren’t we?” 

Shaking your head, Steve hissed as you carefully removed yourself from him, quickly sliding your panties back in place, not wanting to make a bigger mess than you already have or leave any stains before you climb over back to your seat. 

He pulls his pants back up on his own as you try to fix your appearance, but the post-coital glow doesn’t allow you to. He doesn’t look any more innocent either and he doesn’t care. These memories are yours alone. 

“Can we please go home now?” You ask, buckling up again. 

He looks over watching you draw a small heart on the foggy passenger side window, one of your quirky ways of expressing your love. 

“Yes, honey,” he says with a sweet smile, reaching over to hold your hand, and then taking the shortcut back home. 

A/N: Well that came out of nowhere. I'm a little rusty, but I'm done looking at this. Please give it a like, reblog or reply. I’d love to hear what y’all thought. Thank you for reading!

[pedgito]

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Five: Mr. Miller

Chapter Summary: Years later, you find yourself with choices that feel impossible. And of course, Joel Miller is there at the root of them. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (formerly), time jump, joel is a successfully published writer, reunions, drinking, semi-public sex in a bathroom, m!oral, unprotected piv, job proposals, ambiguous endings

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Word doesn’t travel, thankfully. It’s handled swiftly, quietly. Mostly be the discrepancies of Joel, who allows himself to take the full responsibility—for you, for him, and definitely not for Tess.

You’re not sure what expels in the office after you leave that night, other than the gradually rising voices of the troubled couple and Joel–he sounds tired, exasperated, done before Tess can get a word in edgewise. But, you don’t linger much longer.

Joel, however, can’t seem to grasp something to anchor him down, feeling himself slip into a quiet rage. Tess forces the ultimatum on him that night. Either he owns up to, tells her everything, or she would make the divorce hell. He knew she was capable of being vindictive, but he never thought it would be aimed at him. And he knew it all boiled down to him never forgiving her own undue and unjust actions. A bitterness that lingered, festered, and now that she had caught him in his own mess, like he had to her, it was too poetic for her to let things go.

Joel resigns a few weeks later, your interaction minimal—he doesn’t even speak directly to you anymore. He feels like he’s being watched, judged, under constant scrutiny. The reality was that no one knew what had transpired, but it felt louder than ever. The rest of the year is quiet and dull, but you manage.

And the months that follow, they’re fine. But, the spark you had for literature then, even if slightly skewed by Joel and his nefarious obsession with you, never really returns.

The divorce comes several months later for Joel—it isn’t quiet. It’s messy, it’s difficult. Despite his willingness to comply with Tess’s conditions over his pseudo-fling with you, she goes back on her word. Eventually though, he cuts his ties and moves on. And it shouldn’t freak him out that he sees your face in his mind every night after nearly a year of knowing you, but it’s the way he’s memorized every detail about you that paints itself in vivid pictures.

Eventually things get easier and you move on, but Joel can’t bring himself to forget.

He leaves a voicemail on the day of your graduation, a couple years passed, and he still knows—he memorized the day and even if it was without intention, he still feels the pull. To explain or apologize. Something.

He can’t explain why he’s so hung up on the moments he shared with you until the words begin to pour out. And you find yourself curled up on your bed the night of graduation, exhausted mentally, emotionally, physically—but then you see his name on your phone and you break.

You press play on the voicemail and place the phone on the bed.

‘I really…don’t know if you’ll even listen to this. I don’t expect you to, but I wanted to apologize. I manipulated a shitty situation to my advantage to forget my own problems. The shit going on within my own marriage. That wasn’t your fault…and you’re young. I shouldn’t have entertained it and I did. I liked the attention. The attention you gave me and it was wrong. If you ever want to…I don’t know, talk things out? I would like that, but I understand if you ignore this completely. I would too. A long, drawn out breath that delves into a sigh. Uh, congratulations on the graduation. I’m sorry this took so long for me to say. Yeah…anyways, goodbye.”

The abrupt ending is bittersweet, rolling your eyes at his tone. It’s clipped, void of emotion. He’s masking and you can hear it. It only pisses you off further, unable to believe the genuineness in his message or tone so no—you don’t give him the chance to talk it out. And Joel Miller fades from your mind from then on, a distant and bitter memory.

Three Years Later

Working at a local publication company in Austin was never the plan, but it was the fastest thing you could grasp after graduation and several failed internships later—and the money was decent. You had an apartment in the city, close to work, and an easier turnaround time when you needed to get something to the office on an emergency or whim.

You were a lower level employee, editing and working around the simpler marketing for author’s that—most of the time, you didn’t even know the name of. You were meant to take the brunt of the work before it was delivered to the actual team of publication for everything that they didn’t want to handle. Which often included lunch as well, daily, coffee orders every morning, and tasks that felt never ending.

But the one time you did receive a break was the publishing parties. Authors would throw a nice party for the team and a long, never-ending list of connections that led for it to be more of a schmoozy get together than anything.

You went for the alcohol, the food, and the entertainment.

Which, thankfully—they all proved to have a ton of.

So, it should be any other Friday when you walk into the bar downtown, filled to the brim with patrons and company people who were there in attendance and support of the author, who you still had yet to meet. You’d been working on the book for months now, getting small snippets of things to correct and proofread when you weren’t running around to fetch things, but sometimes the curiosity is really just too much.

You grab a drink first, sipping on the sweet mix of liquor and syrup as the people filter in and spread, conversing in a low hum that quickly divulges into a cheer as someone makes their way through the door. They’re muffled by the crowd, loud pats of congratulation and claps that aren’t entirely necessary—but everyone had been anticipating the book to be a best-seller in record time. A book of delicate poetry, beautiful and thoughtful. It was something that brought you back to a time long forgotten, sitting in your bed during your freshman year of college, flitting through the recommendations of a professor that had nearly disappeared off the face of the earth.

So, when your eyes land on Joel Miller as he pushes through the crowd, the pit in your stomach grows and swells to an unbearable size.

He’s different in every way but still inexplicably him—he seemed softer, relaxed. His hair was grown out and curling over his ears and down his forehead, curls tickling against his skin and he sported a full beard, more than he ever allowed himself while he worked as your professor the interim year he was there, patchy in places you don’t realize until he comes closer, still unaware of your presence.

You recognize the suit, though—he’s worn it a million times, week after week and it feels too overwhelming now, knowing you both had left things unfinished. 

Your intentions then weren’t the same as now and you’re almost positive he could say the same—even if you did keep your vindictive streak to get things you wanted, Joel was the only person who had managed to push you in a way that brought out that side of you.

You turn on your heels as a woman catches his attention, smiling brightly and too touchy to be considered a stranger, your back facing him now. You wave and smile at a few passing co-workers, also giving a small murmur of congratulations to Joel before you feel a hand on your back, half ready with your hand balled into a fist before you hear his voice over your shoulder.

It’s a soft whisper of your name, irreverent fondness in his tone, “How’s the open bar?”

He’s folding a jacket over his arm as he squeezes into the small space between you and another person, palm flattened out against the bar as he awaits your answer.

And for once, you don’t have anything to say. 

Your mouth opens once, twice, before quietly snapping shut.

Joel breaks out into a slight smile, “I saw your name on the guest list—I just thought I’d say hi.”

“I didn’t—” You take a shallow breath and press the half-empty glass against the surface, “I don’t usually know anything about who we’re working on publication for, if I had known…I just—”

His hand is a gentle press against your clothed arm, curling around your bicep, “Hey—no harm, no foul. Did you…like my book, at least?”

You chuckle softly, “Uh—yeah, of course. I think that goes without saying. I almost got fired for not providing enough notes when they asked, but I didn’t feel like anything needed to be changed.”

Joel smiles brighter, but his lack of response is palpable.

He nods, pointing at your drink, “Take advantage—seein’ as it’s paid for.”

And you feel the moment fleeing as he turns away for a brief moment and orders his own drink, thankful for the short moment of calm as he didn’t have to constantly talk shop, so your curiosity gets the better of you. You didn’t know when you would ever see him again now that he was standing in front of you—unfinished business and all.

“How are things?” You ask—it’s a vague question that without your past would seem harmless. But, Joel understands. He spots the worry in your brow where it creases subtly in the middle and he chews at his bottom lip, taking the drink that is slipped into his hand.

His ring finger is still bare and he raises the hand up, curled around the glass with eyes that peek over the rim, squinting at your playfully, feigning innocence. 

“Good,” He tells you when brings his drink down to his chest, “Uh—some roadblocks trying to get back into writing but…it’s been alright. And Tess, she’s—I don’t really know how she is but we also haven’t spoken in over two years. Last thing I heard was that she was getting engaged.”

Your eyes widen by the sudden influx of information, surprised by how forthright and open Joel was being, “Oh—that’s…good? For her, I guess.”

Joel chuckles softly and raises his eyebrows in response, agreeing with the uncertainty in your statement. You had grown so accustomed to his small quirks and body language that it was coming back to you in waves, like they had never left. But, the booming voice of a few men on the other side of the bar grab Joel’s attention and he looks slightly disturbed of his peace but offers a quiet apology before leaving you alone, left to process what the fuck was happening.

For someone you haven’t seen in a few years, it shouldn’t make you feel so at ease in their presence and you hate the way it lingers and aches the moment he leaves. The same push and pull that you felt so long ago, it’s overwhelming. 

You finish your drink quietly, watching the warm, orange sky morph into nightfall and you attempt to slink out quietly, having had your fill on alcohol and surprises for the night. And the activity in the bar had only ramped up more in the lingering time—but the fingers around your wrist stop you, stretching through the crowd as you spin slowly on your heels.

“Follow me?” Joel asks lowly in the space between you when you turn to him, difficult to hear under the roar of the crowd but he nudges his head in a far off direction and you nod, feet moving before your brain can process.

Joel yanks you gently into a small, unisex bathroom with a stall in the corner. It’s big enough that you can rest against an opposite wall while he presses up against the door, looking slightly flushed from the alcohol but calm—it’s strange seeing him now, outside of the setting of his work.

Also, time had passed and he’s grown and processed things in the interim.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask about you,” He begins—Joel had only wanted a quiet place to talk to you, bothered by the idea of you the entire night for more than a few reasons, but most importantly, he just needed to know, “how…things have really been?”

“I graduated, but I’m sure you know that,” You tell him, his gaze trailing down as he remembers the half-assed message and apology he left you, “got a job after way too many attempts and failing and I’m living in an apartment here in Austin, it’s a few blocks away from the publishing company. It’s not bad—I thought things would be easier. But… I can’t complain. I mean, I could—there’s really no point, though.”

Joel’s nostrils flair in amusement as his chest vibrates with a laugh, hands tucked behind him as he leaned against the surface, suit jacket having disappeared…somewhere. Now, it was the tight pull of his chest under his shirt, the gaps in his buttons covered by the long stretch of his tie.

You cross your arms gently, one leg hooking over the other as you lean the weight of your shoulder into the wall similarly, the cold breeze of the unheated bathroom brushing against your thighs and you were silently cursing yourself for wearing such a short skirt in the biting cold weather at the end of fall, rolling into winter with a force.

“I can see that hasn’t changed.” Joel comments slyly and you squint your eyes in his direction, wondering his angle. Truthfully, he didn’t have one. 

You roll your eyes momentarily, biting away the smile that creeps onto your face as you look away briefly, distracted by the buzzing, overly luminescent light above your head. The tension between you two had never left, that much was apparent. 

“So, how has single life been?” You ask, feeling silly at the way you word it, but given his openness to tease you so easily, you felt the need to do it back.

Joel begins with a subtle warning of your name that has you huffing out a laugh of indifference.

“What?” You say in playful defense, “It’s just a question. You don’t have to answer it.”

Joel shakes his head fondly, though the bitter memories begin to flood back.

“I’m not your student anymore,” You point out, “it’s not like you’re breaking any rules by talking to me. It’s been…years, Joel. I think we’re both different people by now.”

Were you? That was entirely debatable.

“It’s been fine.” Joel gives you as little detail as possible, which is a telltale sign that he was masking, but you can’t ignore the way his eyes drag over your figure even if for a brief second.

You nod in response, not pushing the topic any longer.

“So, what’s this about?”

Joel makes a small noise in question and you tilt your head accusingly, lips pursed into a sneaky smile.

“I was on my way out,” You tell him, “now I’m here—with you. So, what’s the deal?”

“I wanted to catch up,” Joel admits–though it’s mostly a lie, “is that a crime?”

“Mmm, but here’s the problem,” You counter him, “you’re not really doing much talking. You ask some lame, basic question to cover up whatever excuse you had to get me in here. Seriously, Joel—what’s up?”

Joel sighs, chin touching his chest as he stares at the floor, “Still so goddamn stubborn.”

It’s like a trigger, soles patting against the ground as you approach him. His gaze pulls up slowly, first at your feet, then your chest, until he lands on your face. Delicate fingers press against his chest, his arms falling to his side as you press in closer and trace your fingers upwards, brush against his jawline.

You grin at the way Joel swallows tensley under your gaze, opposite hand wrapping into the length of his tie and pulling him into you, pressing your lips against his without another thought.

This kiss was new, different. Like pressing lips against a stranger with a renewed interest, not entwined in the throes of his divorce and a shitty marriage that kept him tied down and riddled with guilt, he kisses back with a force, boring conversation long forgotten.

Deft fingers turn the lock silently, a faint click of recognition as Joel leads you toward the empty stall with roaming hands, coat brushed down your shoulders and draped over a nearby hand dryer as he huddles you into the small space and watches as you pull away briefly to lock it with a giddy smile, lip pulled between your teeth as the lock slips into place and he stares at you openly, an unhinged hunger behind his eyes that he attempted to keep it bay so long ago.

“I have an idea.” Your voice is creeping suspicion in Joel’s mind and he sees your smile soften, an undertone in the wait as your fingers stretch along the expanse of his neck, leaning into him fully as he presses against the opposite wall of the stall, faces only a few millimeters apart as you breathe into him, noses brushing gently.

“That sounds like trouble.” Joel admits, your eyes dilating under his gaze as your excitement reaches your eyes, skin wrinkling slightly at the corners as you laugh.

“I don’t know,” You reply airily, “I think you’ll like this one.”

Joel’s game, eyebrows raised in question as you descend slowly—for anyone else, offering up a blowjob on the floor of a shoddy, questionable bathroom, you’d immediately decline and foremost, wouldn’t even offer. But, this was Joel. 

The Joel that, despite years of time between his company, still culminated at the forefront of your mind all of the sudden. Fleeting memories, things that threatened to remind you of him, a bitter afterthought. But now, it was sweet—tangible and finally within reach. You were seizing the opportunity to close things out, even if you knew you would never see him again.

And damn his months of unintentional abstinence, Joel is unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants at an embarrassing speed with the assistance of your eager hands, instantly cradling your head as you wrestle with the few layers of fabric before his cock is heavy in your hands and hardening with even the minimalist of touch, his mouth hung open slightly as your tongue press flat against the underside of his cock, tracing along the jut of a vein that leads to his head, circling as you pull taut at his shaft and reacting openly to the tight squeeze he gives to your jaw, eyes falling shut with a gasp as he urges with silence for you to put him out of his misery and take his cock into your mouth.

Enough teasing. He knew you were both far beyond that.

There’s a lightness to your movements, inhibitions slightly skewed. You suck at his cock greedily, hollowing out your cheeks and allowing your hand to cover the length of his shaft that your mouth can’t reach and the hand that isn’t cradling your face is pressed against the stall door for leverage. There’s a crease in his forehead from how hard he’s scrunching his face up, willing himself to focus albeit how overwhelming you are in the moment and then you’re speaking to him, needy and soft.

“Look at me Joel,” You plead, tip brushing against your lips as you kiss the head and take him once more, bobbing your head slowly as he opens his eyes, and that familiar heat sets in his gaze, “there’s nothing to worry about this time—it’s just us.”

His hand is a soothing touch against your jaw, slowly trailing until his palm is cradling your head, “That’s—hm, that’s the problem. Don’t have much time.” Oh, right. This was his party after all.

“Riiiight,” You reply snarkily when you pull, feeling the gentle squeeze of his fingers against your neck as his hand settles there and rests, “guest of honor and all that, I suppose.”

Joel wasn’t letting you go that easy, though. He pushes you away gently and helps you rise to your feet, a slow progress of crowding you against the corner adjoining the stall door and the wall and his fingers slip under your skirt, digging into the supple skin of your thighs and he breathes, takes in your scent as he buries his face into your neck and he groans, so soft you almost don’t hear it. Almost.

 “You still like fucking college girls? Or was that a one time thing?” You tease, earning another less than gentle squeeze before his hand is traveling down your center and over the wet fabric of your panties, covered with your slick and you moan out—guilty, and he settles with pulling them to the side for quick access, dipping a finger inside of you and chuckling at how familiar it feels, walls squeezing around the digit and you huff, “Dirty old man, Mr. Miller.” 

“Just one. Annoying little brat that she is.” Joel admits, his stiff cock prodding at your thigh as he slips another finger inside of you, your grip tightening against the fabric stretched over his shoulders, head banging deftly against the surface behind you as you moan, “And just so we’re clear—don’t ever fucking call me that again.”

It never really fit him anyways.

“Got it.” You reply softly, staring at him half-lidded as his thumb brushes over your clit and he’s so close—right fucking there, dick pressed against your thigh but he won’t cross that line, not unless you ask. Luckily, you’re selfish even under a time crunch, “Joel—need it.”

“Need what, baby?” His breath is hot against your ear as he mouths at your skin sloppily, fingers leaving you empty as they rub collectively over your sensitive clit, “Such a beautiful way with words, let me hear you say it.”

“Fuck—” You breath rough, a sharp breath, “your cock, Joel. Want you inside of me.”

Fortunately, Joel’s never been more impatient as he pulls your thigh up and over his hip, his fingers holding the fabric of your panties to the side as he presses inside of you steadily, selfishly watching your reaction as he splits you open—a stark difference from the first time. He was disconnected, emotionless, trying to prove a point. But, this was so much more. 

It was everything he couldn’t say before.

“Stop—stop that,” You laugh softly, fingers gripping over the edge of the stall as he Joel fucks into you with sharp, precise thrusts. He was searching, determined that no time was wasted, but still admiring the catch of a gasp or moan in your throat every time he hit a particular spot inside of you that rendered you nearly speechless, “stop looking—at me like that.”

And Joel has the gull to smirk, lip pulling between his teeth as he angles you back and hikes your thigh up a fraction and that—oh, that was perfect and your grip slips and falls to his chest, wrinkling the fabric under your tight grasp as he leans in, lips pressed unmoving against your own as he thrusts into you wildly, the deafening sound of skin against skin and noises breathed into each other’s mouths.

“Touch yourself, baby,” He pleads and you thought the first time was a one off, a slip of the tongue in such a heated moment but it rings in your ears and warms your body with a faint buzz of adoration and allowed yourself to feel special and reserved only to him for that moment, “come with me?”

You reply with a shaky nod, feeling his hand guide yours between your bodies and settle over your cunt, rubbing over your clit in quick and determined circles as he spoke soft praises against your skin.

Good girl, sweet thing, look so pretty like this while you’re taking my cock.

And you’re hit with an immense rush of emotion as you come around him, his thrusts faltering in time with your cunt as you squeeze around him, “Fuck—I’m gonna come, gonna—” He pulls his hips back slightly but you’re reeling him back in with your heel, offering a small head shake.

Inside, you plead wordlessly.

It does him in—hand grazing over your breasts, tongue dipping into your mouth as he squeezes at the flesh and snaps his hips one last time, coming inside of you with a long, drawn out groan that precedes a long moment of silence as you both come down in synchronized breaths.

Joel hasn’t moved either, cock still buried inside of you but slowly softening.

“Work for me,” He says suddenly, head resting against the wall as he looks at you, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his fingers massaging the sore muscles in your thigh, “please?”

Your brow furrows tiredly, “What?”

“Come and work for me,” He asks once more, “I can offer you a job.”

“Joel, that’s—”

You whine softly at the loss of him as he slips out of you, but silently thankful for your achy muscles—and you think Joel will leave it at that, but he’s taking your face between his hands, urging you to look at him, “Look at me and tell me you’re happy there.”

You swallow a lump in your throat and look back at him, the words perched on your tongue.

You couldn’t lie to him. Not about this.

“I saw your name weeks ago—” Joel removes his hands and redresses slowly, watching as you adjust yourself to a more presentable manner, despite the feeling of his cum dampening your panties even more than they were before, “thought I was fuckin’ hallucinating.”

Still, you’re not sure where it’s coming from. Three years of silence and now this, his cum dripping down your legs and a proposition that sounds far too good to be true.

“I need an assistant,” He admits, “Someone to help me keep track of all this shit. Everyone I’ve hired, it just doesn’t stick.

You unlock the door behind your back and file out, watching Joel stuff his shirt back into his pants with a little too much force, shifting from heel to heel as he walks, “So, you’re desperate? And you thought fucking me would help your chances?”

You’re teasing him, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Immediately, his head snaps up, eyes full of concern that you misconstrued his intentions and he knows he’s fucked up again—again. He fucks up everything.

“I’m fucking with you.” You crack a gentle smile and his hammering heart slows.

“I need someone who won’t bullshit me about my writing,” Joel tells you, “real—honest feedback. Someone that knows me.”

Your hands fall behind your back, fingers interlocking as you step toward him again, playfully kicking your foot out at him, “So, the whole blind worship thing, kissing ass—it’s not for you? Because…that can be arranged too, I don’t mind.”

He says your name in warning and you pull back with a soft laugh, “I can give you a bigger picture tomorrow, after…all this. We can work things out. You can sign an official contract. I’m not trying to play you on this.”

And maybe history was repeating itself, something Joel refused to acknowledge.

“Isn’t that what got us into this mess?” You ask, allowing Joel to adjust the flap of your jacket over your chest as you slip it back onto your body, “Teacher…student…boss…”

You don’t have to fill in the rest. Joel’s pointer finger trails up the center of your chest, nudging at your chin and pulling your attention in, lips parted slightly.

“I can keep things professional,” Joel lies, “can you?”

You mouth a silent no as you shake your head and his thumb brushes your bottom lip.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to write a few stipulations into the agreement.”

“I never said I agreed,” You retorted playfully, “did I?”

“Suppose I’ve got a bit of convincing to do then,” Joel smirks, “—is your number still the same?”

You shrug innocently—of course it was and truthfully, Joel never had the thought to delete it. Letting it gather dust in his contacts, finger hovering over it from time to time. Wondering.

“You still have my email,” Joel laughs at that, barely, cracking a gentle smile, “send me the details—I’ll let you know if I’m interested.”

“And if there’s any way I can sweeten that interest—”

You lean in mockingly, eyes looking over his facial expression, clearly amused with himself as your nose brushes against each other and you speak into the quiet space between you both.

“Keep it in your pants, alright? I’ll consider it.”

Joel couldn’t let you slip through his fingers, not again.

But, you knew you were doomed from the moment he set eyes on you.

[dreamwritersworld]

On the run…

just a disclaimer that this has been the longest since I’ve posted and this isn’t a for sure series! I’ve been super busy lately and I took a break because writing felt more like a need then something I wanted to do, i’m kinda back now and I hope you enjoy it 💕

Neteyam and I grew up together, we were very close. I grew to love him and I believe he felt that way too…until we were told that we would be promised to each other…Neteyam didn’t liked the fact that he felt tied down without having a choice. He was perfect at everything but being a good promised mate to Y/n.

Y/n however was very good. She comforted Neteyam when he was stressed about his father and she’d give him calming oils and treatment to relax him..

There were nights where Neteyam was absent, one night Y/n decided to hug Neteyam even with him pushing her off…

“I can smell her. Her scent. Irya.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Stop it! I caught you. And you’re not going to talk your way out of this. How many Neteyam? How many are there? How many have there been?”

“What does it matter? Hmm? We still are promised to each other and have no choice but to be mated. But irya is willing to take in that void until then. And maybe…maybe that’s better for everybody.”

Y/n scoffed at his attitude towards the situation…the man she loved, the boy she grew up with, had become so heartless to her.

“You know what, it’s better for you! You have a pretty good deal don’t you? You go out! You fool around! I sit here, I take care of your home and the clan. Well no more! That’s it.”

“Calm down!”

“No! I’m not going to do this anymore! Ok? I’m not going to sit here and take it and take it! Sorry! I love you, yes! But I am not dirt! I am promised to you! And you will not do this to me anymore-“

“Enough! I’ll stop! It’s fine. But you will not raise your voice at me. We will not do anything until we are to be mated.”

Y/n watched as Neteyam turned his back to go lay on the hammock with a blanket that Y/n made and cleaned just for him. If this was how things were going to be…it pained her completely but he came home didn’t he? He came home to her..?

She slept that night right beside him…cold and crying. He didn’t ever hold her while she slept..not like how they did when they were younger.

Truth was Neteyam didn’t sleep with Irya, no he could never. He just laid with her…he knew her scent was enough to break Y/n’s heart further…

~~

I stayed strong…I dealt with the pain and still claimed him proudly and openly…waiting on the day he called out my name.

I said I didn’t feel nothing but I lied, I almost cut a piece of myself for his love.

The passing Navi’s would smile at me and ask how Neteyam was…I would responded proudly.

“Ah yes Neteyam! He is doing well! Very good!”

Oh how I wished I didn’t get this treatment…I wish I could’ve been able to choose. In all honesty I would’ve still chosen Neteyam but it’d be on my terms..can’t say the same for him.

My days had an endless routine, I felt so trapped. I wanted Neteyam to stay even though he didn’t want me. Why can’t he wait till I fall out of love?

After everything going on…the war…the panic. It was decided that we’d have to give up our home and roles of the clan…everything. That meant every last tear, blood shed and sweat that Neteyam and I sacrificed to be the next leaders were wasted. Just because I was leaving didn’t mean I wasn’t no longer promised to Neteyam, he had all of me.

The move was so difficult and I didn’t know how else to comfort someone who didn’t want to be loved by me…but when he let me hold him, it gave me hope.

“We’ll be ok Ma’tyem”

The journey was long and tiring…it dragged and made our bodies sore…weak. Riding beside Neteyam made it worth it, all I could do was focus on him and how beautiful he truly was. Taking in his presence was my best bet at loving him from afar. Something about finding a new home and having a new adventure felt good despite leaving my entire life behind..

When we had arrived, nervousness ran through my veins…I allowed myself to be the last of the group to get off, watched how Neteyam protected his siblings and remained respectful just like his father.

I walked in cautiously repeating Neteyam’s same action and passing small smiles to those I had made eye contact with and then suddenly I made eye contact with someone who caught my attention …it was a boy who seemed about our age, instead of giving disgusted looks like he was before he froze. Soon enough the soften look in his eyes brought me into confusion, and I turned away. A warm unfamiliar arm wrapped around my waist, tuggin me forward and I couldn’t help but be more focused as to what was wrong.

Neteyam never held me, not anymore…not like when we were children. He pushed me to listen to the leader of the clan..that’s when I discovered the beautiful girl who Lo’ak shared a moment with was Tsireya and the boy I briefly noticed was Ao’nung..both children of the clans leaders. My ears went up and tail swayed at the new introduction, new people? New setting? Absolutely brought me bliss.

Unpacking was draining and having to now share a mauri with a full family was something I’d have to get used to, I didn’t mind though. I grew up with the Sully’s and remained very tight with all siblings…Neteyam included until our parents suggested we’d be mated. Of course I loved that idea…but Neteyam felt forced, it made him hate me.

It was another night of falling asleep beside Neteyam except this time he turned his body towards me and loosely had his arm around me. It was then that I realized I missed his touch so much and I’d settle with this even if it only meant he was doing it to prevent his family from questioning the separation.

I had butterflies take over me, placing my hand on top of his…only for him to pull his hand away and lay it on my hip, furthering any more affection..

Soon the sun rises and I woke up early to help prep meals for everyone with Neytiri, to her I was perfect. In my eyes I was far from it, not even able to satisfy her child.

I made my way sitting quietly next to Neteyam, my mind was still focused of last night’s interactions and our relationship…soon enough the loudness and spinning in my head only begged me to just take a moment for myself, I paused my eating and excused myself…but walking away I can hear my childhood best friends speak.

“What’s wrong with her?..she’s been quiet.”

“She’s always quiet Lo’ak-“

Kiri was one of the only people who noticed the great shift in Y/n. They grew up together, Y/n was open to Kiri about her crush on Neteyam and she never told any one although she enjoyed the idea of them together, it made her so happy when they were promised…but now after a couple of months with them together, Kiri could see something was weighing Y/n down.

“Not always! She only starts to get quiet when Neteyam’s around! You make her nervous bro! Y/n’s been in love with you since we were kids and now you guys are going to be all lovey, dovey once your Mated!!!”

Neteyam couldn’t even reply, it wasn’t that he didn’t love you…or maybe he didn’t? He himself, couldn’t understand his feelings towards you. Neteyam just wanted time to choose his mate and who he loved.

He was truly living his fathers dream, sacrificing his life to repay and honor his parents sacrifice. Would he had chosen Y/n, his once childhood crush as his mate? Would he have done it if he wasn’t forced? He didn’t know.

Y/n took in Lo’ak’s word..she did only get quiet around Neteyam, she knew how quickly and easily it was to annoy him.

*flashback*

It was the beginning of their relationship and he couldn’t be anymore closed off with her. All Y/n wanted to do was love him and be a perfect mate to him. So when he walked through the door…that’s exactly what she did.

“Neteyam, I’ve made you dinner! Your favorite!”

“Not hungry.”

His response was short but however, what made the two perfect was that no matter how calm and collected she was…she remain optimistic.

“Ok! That’s fine! I’ll prep it for you in the morning, when you’re ready to go back to training-“

“Y/n! How many times do I have to say it? I’m not hungry! I do not want your food! Just be quiet!…voice is annoying…relationship is business only..”

Y/n perfectly heard his last muttered words and it brought her to tears as she wrapped his food up, she had stayed up late waiting to eat with him once he arrived home…but now he laid in bed. Y/n blew the candles providing light and closed the tent enough just for a little moonlight to shed as she provided him a calm setting to fall asleep in while she struggle to eat in the dark.

Neteyam could see though, he saw her tears roll down her face and her hand quiver as her eyebrows furrowed and head shake as if telling her that it’ll all be ok. It took everything in him to not apologize for being so cold, but he couldn’t..not now when he was so frustrated.

*

Y/n lost her optimistic side…instead of being calm, she slowly was just pulling herself into a fiery state. After so much coldness could you blame her? She didn’t have any time for playing around or a moment for herself..but now with this new home, she did.

There it was Y/n sat outside taking in the sunrise and fresh breeze, she was just starting to relax when Kiri interrupted

“So…I’ve been meaning to ask but nothing feels like the right time but…are you ok? Like I mean really ok? I can feel your energy Y/n.”

It took Y/n by surprise and it only took Kiri to see her face for her to know whatever she was going to say next was a lie. That’s exactly how it all played out, Y/n had her mouth slightly open in shock and then she smiled, not a true one thought just a small one with closed lips.

“Of course Kiri!…it’s just the move.”

Silence stood between them, Kiri could see the little white lies Y/n told herself and it hurt her. Y/n was never one to be standoffish or guarded.

“Right..well soon enough we’ll start training to get used to this environment-“

“Hello! We’re here to start training”

Both girls looked at Tsireya in surprise and soon settled into a smile, excited to finally have a taste of something new. Y/n stood proud and tall before tsireya, she admired it truly. To tsireya if she would’ve stayed at the forest she would’ve been a perfect leader for the people…what could’ve been.

“I’ll go ahead and get the others! Excuse me.”

Ao’nung watched from a far…Y/n was captivating to him. Her voice and the way she walked presented herself with confidence.

His smile stayed until he saw her stand beside Neteyam, they walked together as one but in silence.

They all trailed after each other one by one. Ao’nung tried to slow down so that his speed would align with Y/n’s but it just didn’t happen.

Tsireya decided to start by swimming first and excitement erupted amongst Kiri and Y/n as they grabbed each others hands swimming down around the corals of the reef.

Ao’nung pushed the rest of the group forward and he allowed his sister to take over as he glanced over to Y/n doing flips around the ocean and viewing the fishes in amazement. Y/n put herself in tune with the ocean..if she was going to live here she had to act as one of the people.

Neteyam couldn’t help but notice Y/n staggering behind the group and he rolled his eyes at her childish behavior… when he went up to the surface with everyone else gasping for air, he looked back beneath the water..he saw Ao’nung swim over to Y/n, watch them exchange smiles while swimming up beside each other.

“You’re pretty good for a beginner! I can show you how to-“

“Y/n!-“

neteyam was going to interrupt but he was quickly interrupted by his own little sister, gasping onto Y/n’s arms and his arms.

Y/n quickly passed a smile at Ao’nung as she now turned her attention to Tuk cradling her while Neteyam fixed Y/n’s hair from getting caught onto Tuk.

The sudden touch caught Y/n by surprise, she was quick to turn her head in confusion until Tysireya’s voice brought them back to focus

“It’s fine if your not the best right now…we should try getting you guys on ilu’s! I’m sure you’ll love it!”

Another tug to another direction, telling Y/n to swim with him. There was not a chance Neteyam was going to leave Y/n with Ao’nung when it was clear to him, he was trying to get close to her.

this interaction between the two didn’t fly past Y/n she didn’t understand what Neteyam was trying to do. Once practice ended she allowed the group to go past and speak amongst each other while she began tugging back at Neteyam’s arm to walk with her. They said their goodbyes respectfully and Y/n held onto Neteyam the entire time.

“What are you doing? You have a role to withhold still Neteyam. Be respectful. You must remember that this isn’t our home.”

“Me? What am I doing wrong? You must’ve forgot that you have to withhold your role with me. You are my future mate do not forget.”

“I haven’t done anything that can make you imply that I have, are you kidding?”

“So why are you getting friendly with-“

“This is not our land. Our relationship has been in shambles because of you-“

“How dare you blame me? What? Because i went out to get my needs done so I can keep pushing to Be with you. I did it for us.

Tears welled up in Y/n’s eyes as she realized he was now the one blaming her for their relationship.

“I’d rather go blind then to see you walk away from me, with another women. I never asked you to do that.”

“But it needed to be done Y/n, you can’t maintain me.”

“This isn’t my fault Neteyam please stop. I’m not doing anything wrong. I haven’t gotten overly friendly with anyone. Just stop.”

“Don’t talk to Ao’nung Y/n, I’m not asking you.”

“I don’t need you telling me it either. I have to remain mutual and respectful to everyone, even if it means speaking to them.”

“You will be disrespecting me-“

“Please, this is barley scratching the surface of what you’ve done to me. This relationship is business only. Isn’t that what you said? So then stick to your words. It stopped meaning anything to me the moment you started acting this way.”

She was lying, but she wanted to shoot a bullet at him just like he did to her. When she looked back at Neteyam she didn’t notice the pain flushing his eyes or that fact that his heart was beating rapidly, he truly hurt hearing her stand up to him. It hurt him to see that he can’t seem to keep her close and let her go. He knew though, he still had her…even if it meant she was speaking back.

Later on in the night when it was time to eat, Y/n made sure to start a conversation with Tuk to make sure she was settling in well. Tuk pulled her arm to sit with her and Y/n did. Kiri quickly sat next to Y/n sensing something was wrong with her. This left Neteyam to sit in front of her, though Y/n didn’t even bat an eye at him.

“Did you see all the fishes down there Y/n?!”

“Oh I did Tuk! They were beautiful!!”

Jake had interrupted their conversation discussing the clan and asking how the children were treating them.

“Ao’nung sucks and Tsireya is really nice.”

Lo’ak was clearly biased to Tsireya based on the way he was smiling so his opinion flew out the window in Jake’s eyes.

Everyone began speaking quickly and clashed their words together as Y/n watched trying to follow everyone’s words.

“Mmh I barley heard a thing anyone said…what about you Y/n how were they?”

Jake knew Y/n had a thing with words, she was descriptive and knew how to speak properly. She observed everything there was to a person.

“Tsireya was sweet, attentive while teaching and patient. Ao’nung was witty, quick to say something and less patient. Overall they are good people-“

“Please Y/n Ao’nung was the worst, maybe not to you!”

Lo’ak had spoken in a teasing voice, implying something he shouldn’t. Jake had shut down his youngest teasing seeing it as a learning lesson

“It’s about being respectful. The face that you had while learning their ways probably didn’t help Ao’nungs remarks. Your face tells everything, Y/n knew how to behave.”

Neteyam grew silent only looking at Y/n and his food, quietly pushing for her to say more.

“Yes correct, this isn’t our home yet..but we must learn their ways with a positive attitude.”

The tension felt visible to the couple sitting across from each other and it continued when Y/n looked up at Neteyam after saying the statement.

She got up attempting to remain calm, picking up her meal and placing it to the side. After cleaning up and paying her respects she resided off to the side not facing Neteyam if he were to sleep on her hammock…

There it is that dip of him crawling back to my bed, enraging me over and over again without a care in the world that he hurt me.

*💕*

remember that this isn’t a for sure series, it’s definitely not perfect either I’m just trying to get into the groove of things again :))

[cabinetofquriosities]

Love on the Brain

Agathario AU: Singer and Roadie

Warnings: Smut

Listen while reading!

Find the complete playlist here.

——————————————————————

Rio Vidal’s career had exploded in the past five years after working towards it her entire life. She was now in her mid thirties and riding the high of being an established phenomenon. She toured too much to hold a consistent relationship, but her tour crew became her people. One such person was a newer roadie named Agatha who had joined on the previous tour.

Rio had found herself noticing the woman more and more. She had something of a flair to her even when just in a band shirt and black jeans with her long hair messily tied up. Though she got along well enough with everyone, her brash attitude and humor caught some of them off guard. It only endeared Rio to her, making her snort-laugh whenever she said anything cutting. The two had become friendly, with the both of them still keeping a bit of distance from one another for reasons they couldn’t quite explain.

When the new tour began, Rio led by asking for Agatha back. Her manager, Jen, seemed surprised at the request.

“Agatha?!” Jen asked, “Like, Agatha, Agatha?”

“I don’t think we know any other Agathas.”

“Sorry, I just- I mean, she can be a little much sometimes. I don’t know if she fits with the rest of the crew…”

“I like her,” Rio said simply, “She’s funny.”

“She threatened to set me on fire with the pyrotechnics.”

“She didn’t go through with it, though.”

“That cannot be where the bar is,” Jen deadpanned.

“Please. I want her on tour with us,” Rio said, reaching over and taking her hand, “I will make sure she doesn’t set you on fire.”

Jen sighed, folding for her employer and close friend.

“Fine. But I’m not sleeping on the same bus as her.”

“Feel free to take the other bus and snuggle up with Alice in the bus’s private bedroom…” Rio said with a smirk.

“Huh… didn’t think about that solution.”

“See? Silver lining.”

The first day of the tour came and Rio treated everyone to a night out on the town to kick everything off. They ended up in a club where they took up a good part of the dance floor. Rio gravitated toward Agatha, the other woman with her hair down for once.

“Hey, what are you drinking?” Rio asked.

“Martini.”

“Dirty?”

“Always.”

“Let me get you another,” Rio said before giving the bartender the order along with a tequila shot for herself.

“Thanks,” Agatha said, taking her drink, “I appreciate you hiring me back. I know I didn’t exactly make the best impression with Jen.”

Rio smiled and made a little wave at the mention of her.

“Don’t worry about Jen. I love her, but she can be a little judgmental with new people.”

“Well, I’ll try to be a little…” Agatha cringed before saying, “Nicer.”

“No you won’t,” Rio said with a fond laugh.

“No, I won’t,” Agatha replied with a smile.

The two drank together for a while before Agatha took her hand, pulling her out to the dance floor as Suavemente played. Rio could barely think with the touch of Agatha’s hand in hers as she danced. She spun Rio and pulled her in, their bodies close. They moved together with Agatha leading. She was impressed at how good Agatha was, handling Rio in a way that left her breathless.

At one point, Agatha and Rio found their eyes locked on the other’s. Both seemed a little terrified at the intensity of the moment. In that instant, both seemed to be realizing the same thing. Rio froze while Agatha’s chest thudded with her heartbeat.

“I should get some sleep,” Agatha blurted out before turning around and abruptly leaving.

Rio almost called for her, almost followed her out, but was stopped when Jen and Alice interrupted.

“What the hell was that?” Jen asked, her head cocked.

“What was what? We were just dancing..”

“That wasn’t ’just’ anything,” Alice said with a smile.

“Don’t encourage this!” Jen said to Alice.

“There’s nothing to encourage!” Rio said with a groan.

“That look you both had says there is,” Alice said.

“Okay, okay, I’m going to bed,” Rio said with a sigh.

“Rio, you don’t have t-“ Jen said, regretting her harshness.

“I’m okay, Jen. I want to be rested for tomorrow. Big day and all that. Make sure everyone’s drinks are paid for and that everyone is on the bus by 2.”

“Alright. Rest up. Drink some water,” Jen said, hugging her.

Rio walked out before Alice said, “I think they’re cute.”

Jen rolled her eyes before pulling Alice to the dance floor.

Agatha had stripped out of her clothing and was left in her sweat shorts and tank top. She finished brushing her teeth when she heard the door close. She looked out and saw Rio come on. Rio took her hair down and walked past. She looked back at Agatha. Agatha tried to avoid her eye, giving Rio the message to leave her alone.

“See you tomorrow. Sleep tight,” she said.

“You too,” Agatha simply said.

Rio walked into her private room in the back and closed the door. Her mind swirled with everything she had been feeling. The look in Agatha’s eyes haunted her as she drifted off to sleep, drawing out emotions she thought she would never feel for someone.

She had never been good at relationships. She was always half in since she felt like she was performing with them the way she did for her fans. With Agatha, it felt different. Something inside of her relaxed when she was around. She groaned just before falling asleep when she realized it.

She was in love with Agatha Harkness.

Fuck.

She had not signed up for love.

Agatha was off the bus by the time Rio woke up. The two stole glances at each other throughout the day, one looking away when the other saw them.

“You didn’t seal the deal last night?” Alice asked Agatha as they carried a speaker to the edge of the stage.

“Seal the what now?” Agatha asked with an arched brow.

“With Rio. Don’t worry, I won’t tell. I mean, Jen and I got together on a tour a few years back. The road just makes people closer.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Agatha said, looking away.

“Okay, then. Don’t make her wait too long. Rio doesn’t show interest often.”

Agatha didn’t need reminders that Rio was notoriously single, never staying with a woman longer than a night. Agatha had also been fiercely independent, having been married years ago before it all fell apart after their fifth anniversary. No, Rio didn’t see her that way.

“What do you mean ‘nothing happened’?!” Jen asked loudly with an indignant tone.

“Keep your voice down- I thought you’d be relieved,” Rio said.

“I mean, yeah, but I’m more confused. Did she shoot you down?”

“No.. I didn’t really… I just went to bed. And told her to sleep tight,” she said, cringing at her own failure.

“Oh no,” Jen said, her eyes widening.

“What?”

“You’ve got it bad bad. She triggered a useless lesbian response.”

“Useless lesbian?”

“Gay panic. You couldn’t make a move because you like her too much. Shit, of course it would be her…” Jen sighed, “Sometimes I hate it when Alice is right.”

“I don’t… I didn’t… I mean… it would be wrong to pursue anything with her, right?”

“You’re worried about a power imbalance with Agatha Harkness? That woman doesn’t let anyone have the upper hand. She’ll be fine.”

“I thought you didn’t like her…”

“I don’t. She’s an asshole. But I also haven’t seen you like this since high school when you dated Carol. It’s been twenty years. If someone is finally making you feel this way again… well, I will unhappily support you.”

Rio laughed softly before saying, “While I appreciate that, I don’t think she wants anything to do with me. She won’t even look at me.”

“She won’t STOP looking at you. She just doesn’t when you aren’t. Just do yourself a favor and shoot your shot. Okay?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too long. The tour doesn’t need this level of yearning,” Jen said before walking off.

The show that night went perfectly. The arena was packed and every number went according to plan. Rio soaked in the adrenaline. Performing was like a drug to her. It fueled her. Coming back after a few months felt like recharging her system.

She thanked the roaring audience wearing a bodysuit that was dripping with diamonds, her hair slicked back. She walked offstage, hugging and thanking her crew as she went to greet fans by the tour bus. After an hour of signing autographs and talking with overexcited teenage girls, she walked to her bus.

She walked to her room, closing the door behind her. She was still smiling, still feeling the high of the show running through her veins. A knock sounded at her door. She opened it up and found Agatha there.

“Hey,” Agatha said a bit awkwardly.

“Hi…” Rio said, “What’s up?”

“Jen told me you needed me?”

“Oh,” Rio said, reminding herself to thank Jen later, “Yeah. Uh, come in.”

Agatha stepped inside as Rio closed the door.

“The show was amazing,” Agatha said, a nervous smile showing, somehow making Rio love her even more in that moment.

“Thanks. You guys did great with all of the setups.”

“So.. what was it you needed to see me about?” Agatha asked, unable to stop her eyes from raking down the deep V cut of the bodysuit that plunged down Rio’s front.

“I.. just wanted to make sure you were alright… after last night. You seemed… like I made you uncomfortable.”

“No! No, you didn’t,” Agatha hastily answered, “I promise.”

“Okay, good,” Rio sighed with relief.

“Was… that all?”

“Well… could you actually help me with this?” She asked, pointing at the back of her suit.

Agatha’s face flushed before she said, “Sure, of course.”

It felt like a special type of torture as they stood before a full length mirror, Agatha’s fingers pulling down her zipper. Rio took a deep breath, her heart racing as the fabric loosened and fell apart. She was left in her underwear. Both women looked at each other through their reflection.

Rio suddenly turned, standing face to face with Agatha. Agatha reached out, cupping her face in her hands. Rio leaned into her touch, gazing into Agatha’s blue eyes. Her hand reached up and gripped her wrist as if using it to steady herself.

“Would it just be a night?” Agatha breathed.

Rio slowly shook her head, hoping it wouldn’t freak the other woman out.

“Good,” Agatha replied.

They closed the space between them, their lips colliding in a slow kiss. They took their time at first, refusing to come up for air while their tongues danced around one another. As the electricity grew between them, their movements became more frantic, more charged.

Rio pulled Agatha’s shirt up and off, finding nothing underneath. Agatha was already kicking her jeans off before she lost balance and fell back onto the bed. She was about to get back up when Rio was suddenly crawling over her like a panther.

Rio looked at her, her eyes moving down to her breasts. She dove down, wrapping her lips around her nipple, grinding her tongue against it. Agatha drew in a sharp gasp, her back arching off of the mattress. Rio moved to the other breast, her dark eyes locked onto her.

Agatha reached down and gripped Rio’s ass, digging her nails in. The other woman let out a feral moan that activated something in her. In one swift motion, Agatha rolled them over, topping Rio. Her long hair fell over her neck in a curtain as she looked down at her.

Rio was so used to people assuming she was a top that Agatha’s move completely took her by surprise. It stoked the fire in her chest, making her need this woman more than she thought was possible.

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

“Oh,” Agatha said, gripping her chin in her hand, “I intend to.”

Agatha reached down, rubbing Rio over the lace of her panties. Rio sucked in a sharp breath as her entire body came to attention for Agatha. The woman had complete control over her with just a little touch.

“Mm… you soaked through your panties…”

Agatha pulled her underwear down her waist and legs, moving down between her thighs. She kissed up her form and wrapped her arms around her thighs. She ran her tongue along her slit before finding her clit. Soft whimpers left Rio’s lips as Agatha toyed with her.

She slid her tongue inside of her, yanking her closer by her thighs. Rio’s hands clutched the sheets. She stared at her new favorite view of Agatha’s head between her legs. Agatha let go of one leg before using her free hand to tease her. She slid two fingers into Rio, causing her toes to curl.

“Fuck! Yes..” Rio gasped.

Agatha’s tongue circled and swiped over her clit. She sucked while thrusting into her, crooking them against the most sensitive spot of hers. It didn’t take long for Rio’s pleasure to build. She gasped and moaned as her cunt strangled Agatha’s hand. Agatha watched her as she stroked and licked her through her climax. Agatha had a wicked smile on her lips. She moved up her form, nipping and biting everywhere she could reach.

She moved to straddle her chest, moving up onto her knees. She looked down at Rio, saying, “Now, show me what a good girl you are.”

Agatha grabbed the headboard and lowered herself onto Rio’s face. Agatha’s dominance was intoxicating. Rio found herself wanting her approval along with her pleasure. She ran her hands up her thighs as her tongue explored her. Agatha let out a soft moan at the sensation.

Rio’s hands settled on her ass, gripping and slapping it as she wrapped her lips around her clit. Agatha’s moan tore from her mouth at the slap. Rio would have smiled to herself if her mouth wasn’t full. She slapped her a few more times, noticing how wet she became with each strike.

Agatha looked down at her as she rolled her hips. She reached down, running a hand through Rio’s hair. Her breathing quickened and her heart raced. Her moans rose in pitch until they stopped altogether. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as Rio drank her arousal. She caught her breath, looking down at her and saying, “Good girl.”

She moved off of her and laid beside her. Rio surged forwards and kissed Agatha, her lips covered in her. The two women pulled back to look at one another. Rio smiled softly and played with the ends of Agatha’s hair. Agatha gazed into her eyes until her own closed. She snuggled into Rio, the dominant woman suddenly cuddly in her sleep. Rio ran her fingers through her long hair until she drifted off with her.

[gaycragula]

I'd love some König x M!Reader where König has been captured by an enemy, and the reader, along with a few others are going on a rescue mission to find him. The reader eventually finds König, all tied up, and has a little bit of fun with him before untying him. When he's untied, he gets his revenge on the reader. ;)

(My life will be completely fulfilled if you write this)

Caught Between a Rock and a Hard… Man

NSFW UNDER THE CUT Warning: Smut. 18+/explicit content Pairing: König x Male Reader

Pairing: König x Male Reader Warning(s): sub reader, dom König, dick sucking, deep throating for a moment, throat fucking, tied up, captured and tied up König, dry humping, handjob, pinned against a wall, cum on face, cum eating, choking on air/choking for air, coughing caused by choking, spit on dick, attempt at making him game accurate, probably didn’t work Word Count: 1994 AO3 Link

The building was teeming with hostiles. Or so it was supposed to be. Your team had split apart to cover as much ground as you could as quickly as you could. 

You’d been put by yourself on the first floor of the building. Each room you entered was empty, though you could tell people had been there recently. It frustrated you with every room you entered. Empty cans, bottles, and miscellaneous trash littered most of the rooms. 

You groaned as you ‘cleared’ another empty room. These fucks had probably left long ago. Probably with their little prisoner too. You almost decided to call off the mission temporarily as you entered another room. You’d just took a breath to tell your team to regather before you stopped in your tracks. 

In the corner of the room sat the mountain of a man you’d been looking for. His arms and legs were tied to a chair, his head lulled forward and his shoulders rising and falling with each breath he took. 

You made quick work of making sure no one was hiding in the room before setting your gun down and stepping over to the masked man. “König,” you called out before your hand brushed over the mask on his head. 

He jerked in response, head shooting up at the sound of your voice. “Scheisse, you came.”

His voice was rougher than it normally was though that still couldn’t mask the relief in his voice. “Of course I did,” you hum, crouching down to cut the ropes off. “I couldn’t leave you to rot.”

The ropes were tight leaving very little room to get a knife in. You debated trying your knife anyway, biting your lip as you thought. “Are you waiting for permission? Untie me,” König hisses, trying to jerk his leg in your general direction. 

“Shut it big guy. Those fucks got you secured in that chair. Don’t wanna hurt you,” you snip back, trying your luck at sawing through the outside of the ropes. 

König shifted in the chair, his head lulling back as you sawed through one of the five ropes holding his leg. “These guys must’ve been terrified of you,” you joke, moving onto the second rope. “They sure as hell didn’t want you up and running.”

“They knew what would happen if I got out,” König chuckles, trying to pull his leg out of the binds. You chuckled before his words settled in your mind. 

You bit your lip as you mulled over his words, glancing up at him. He was still looking straight up, the ideas his words put in your mind seemingly only affecting you. 

Your knife cut through the final rope and you heard him let out a sigh of relief as he immediately stretched it out. “Thank you, liebling.”

You stood up and stepped around him to do the other leg, your touch lingering just a little too long on König’s thigh as you moved. You felt his muscles twitch under your touch before you were down and working on the second set of ropes. 

Now that you knew what you were doing, you managed to get them off quicker, setting the rope out of the way. König was quick to stretch the leg, hips shifting in the chair and you felt your breath catch in your throat. 

You took a deep breath before you made the decision to slide into König’s lap. His arms twitched and his head jerked back up, his eyes meeting your own. “What are you doing?” He whispers, eyes narrowing as he watched you. 

“Testing something,” you mumble back, shifting so you were straddling one of his thighs. Whatever König was starting to say next was quick to die on his tongue as you pressed your knee into his groin. 

You heard him curse before he was pressing his hips harder against your knee. You leaned forward, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Your nose buried into the fabric of his mask, his scent filling your nostrils. König cursed and you felt his shoulders tense as he pulled against the ropes keeping his hands connected to the chair. 

“Leibling please,” he pleads, his nose pressed against the temple of your head. “Don’t tease me like this.”

You hum in acknowledgment of his words as you begin to fumble with his belt. König was no help, basically humping your leg. Your hand pushed against his waist in an attempt to slow him down to no avail. He was whispering your name over and over, desperate for the friction your clothed leg provided him. 

 The sound of his belt coming undone was music to your ears and you were quick to let it drop to the ground. The button on his pants was easier to get undone and you were unzipping his pants just as fast. König’s dick was straining against the fabric of his boxers, a wet spot already forming. 

“Quit humping me,” you hiss, pushing against his hips again. “You’re like a dog in heat.”

A noise akin to a growl sounded in his chest as he reluctantly stopped his hips. You rubbed him through the fabric of his boxers, the groan he let out at the feeling making you shift in your spot in his lap. His breath was coming out ragged, his hips twitching in anticipation.

You pulled the hem of his boxers away from him and used your other hand to pull his cock out.

König’s groan vibrated in his chest, his back arching away from the chair as you ran a finger down the underside. His breath hitched when you wrapped your hand around him, squeezing just enough for König to feel the pressure.

You gathered some spit in your mouth then let some drip down onto his cock to slick it up. König sighed, his head falling over the back of the chair as you slowly jerked him off. His thighs quivered under you, shoulders tensing every few seconds as he tried to move his arms. 

It wasn’t long before he was practically begging you to speed up. His legs were restless under you. You could hear his boots scraping the ground as he tried to find a comfortable position for them. He was panting, chest heaving and you almost missed him moaning your name. 

You glanced up at him and felt your stomach flip. He was looking at you with pure lust. His eyes lidded and the glint in his eyes had your face heating up. You slid your free hand under his hood, rubbing your thumb over his jawline as you pressed your forehead against his. 

You were suddenly very aware of the temperature. Your gear felt too hot on you, König’s breath fanned hot air over your face and you were aware of how much you’d been sweating. A curse fell from your mouth and you pushed yourself back from König and the hand on his dick came to a stop. 

“No, no. Please don’t stop,” he begs. “I’m so close. You can’t stop now.”

“König we’re not secure,” you mutter. “I don’t want to get caught like this.”

König groaned in complaint as you wrestled his dick back into his pants. You’d gotten it back into his boxers before you heard the thud of ropes falling to the ground and you were on the ground with him on top of you, your back pressed against the wall.

He held you in place by your hair as he stood up and pulled his dick back out. You couldn’t even speak before he was pressing the tip against your lips. “Open up.”

The tone in his voice shot fire through your veins and you did as told. König used the grip in your hair to keep your head still as he pressed into your mouth. The stretch to accommodate his size burned and you could feel yourself tearing up. 

You placed your hands on his thighs to stabilize yourself as you tried to relax your jaw as much as possible. König cursed above you, resituating his legs so that you were practically trapped between the wall and him. 

He knew you couldn’t take all of him in your mouth, you trusted he wouldn’t push you past your limits. The thought helped relax you body as König started fucking into your mouth. You felt the tip of his cock brush the back of your throat with each thrust in.

König was mumbling above you. You couldn’t make anything out with the squelching sound his cock was making. Your eyes fluttered shut and both your hands move to undo your own pants, you dick achingly hard. 

You got your belt undone before König was tugging at your hair, regaining your full attention. “Hands off,” you hear him say, borderline snarling at you.

You groaned around his dick, reluctantly putting your hands back on his thighs. König grunted in approval, running his fingers over your scalp in some form of thank you. 

The room filled with König’s grunts and groans and the squelching of his dick as he fucked your mouth. He was hunched over you, the hand not in your hair planted on the wall behind you so he could lean against it. His thrusts were getting more erratic, his groans louder. 

Your fingers dug into his thighs in an attempt to ground yourself, to focus on your breathing. The grip in your hair tightened and you let out a noise of surprise as König pulled you farther down his dick. 

You felt him go down your throat, your airway clogging momentarily as your nose pressed against the hair on his pelvis. König held you there for a moment but as soon as you pushed back against his thighs, he let you go completely and pulled his dick out of your mouth. You heard him jacking himself off above you as you fell into a coughing fit, caught between trying to catch your breath and trying to not choke on air. 

König’s hand returned to your hair and he’d pulled you back upright, his tip pressed against your lips again as he came. You flinched as it shot up your cheek, narrowly missing your eye, the rest coating your lips. 

He sighed quietly as he looked down at you. You could tell he was smiling under his hood. Whether at the mess he made or at you, you weren’t sure. You licked your lips to clean them off at least a little bit, fighting the urge to grimace at the taste as you swallowed. 

The sound of static coming from your headset startled you and you felt yourself jerk as your teammate’s voice filled your ear asking anyone if they’d found König.  

You did you best to calm your breathing as fast you could before responding, “Yeah, I found him. Just got him up and running.”

König took the time you were speaking with the team to put his dick away and pull out a handkerchief to wipe the rest of your face off. Your team made the decision of where to meet up and you were quick to shut your mic back off once it was decided. 

You pushed yourself off the ground, sighing quietly as you redid your belt, hoping to whatever forces above that your boner wasn’t too noticeable. König chuckled as he watched you before gently grabbing your chin and tilting your face towards him. He cleaned the rest of his mess off of you, which you were more than grateful for, before leaning down and lifting his hood up just enough to kiss you. 

“Thank you liebling,” he whispers as he stands back up. “We’ll continue this when we get back to base.”

“Long as you don’t try to kill me again,” you mumble, rubbing the front of your neck as you started out of the room. Despite your words, König could tell you were excited to get back.