#but the modesty shirt is SENDING me

[wisteriagoesvroom]

lando: issey miyake pleats. university of cvntology. captain of the team of servington. head bitch in charge of yassification applications.

oscar: whatever-the-hell-i-want-itis

[writingmingyu]

Put a Shirt On, Kim Mingyu

Pairings: FuckBoy!Mingyu x afab!reader Summary: Your fwb Mingyu sent you a message and you can't ignore it Genre: College AU, Smut, Minors DNI Warnings: Protected sex - use of a condom, reader is a little mean and a little selfish Word count: ~1.9k

Author’s Note: Happy New Year! I saw this photo and I had an idea (I mean who didn't look at this photo and have ideas 😈) This was fun and something new, we always talk about taking clothes off this man but when do we ever put them back on??? And so it escalated from there.

I hope you enjoy as always ^_^

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

*1 new message*

You reach over to your nightstand to check the message.

It is an image of Mingyu, your fuck buddy. It is cropped so you can only see his bare shoulders in the mirror selfie. You up? The caption says.

You roll your eyes. As much as you like hooking up with Mingyu, sometimes he could be a complete douchebag. This was why you were only fuck buddies and you hadn’t taken the relationship any further. Sometimes you thought he could be the kind of guy you wouldn’t be embarrassed to bring home to your family, other times he did shit like this.

No, put a shirt on and go to bed. You reply. Refusing to look at the image he had sent. He had annoyed you by saying something dumb the previous day so you were not going to appease him by coming over right now.

A few minutes go by and there’s no response, usually Mingyu would take the bait and keep up the banter but there was nothing. So you take another peek at the photo.

It was slightly blurry and he had cropped it in such a way that you couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing with his other hand…you had a rule with him - no dick pics. But that didn’t mean he didn’t send you ones implying his dick was out.

For example, in this image, you could imagine him just standing there, naked in front of the mirror, holding his cock proudly. What an asshole.

But still, you couldn’t help but linger on the photo. Picturing the muscles he’d concealed from the photo, how large his arms were and the feel of them as they were tensed as he fucked you senseless. His large body encompassed you completely as he provided you with numerous orgasms.

Great, now you were horny. You hadn’t even been thinking about Mingyu since he pissed you off. But he knew exactly what he was doing sending you a photo like this.

You put the phone down. Determined not to give in and take matters into your own hands.

Settling into your bed, and pulling out your favourite vibrator, you are ready to begin but a new text flashes up on your phone from Mingyu and makes you curious.

Make me.

Make me. As if those words ever lead to anything but badness.

You put away your toy and reached for some sweatpants, it was time to pay Mingyu a visit. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Y/N, what a surprise,” Mingyu said when he opened the door, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Shut up,” you respond, pushing your way into his dorm room and heading towards his drawers.

“You know that’s not where I keep the condoms.” He says casually, closing the door.

“I know,” you open the first drawer and pick out a t-shirt. “Sit down.”

Mingyu is confused but he sits on the edge of his bed anyway, enjoying the bossy tone you were using.

You close the drawer and turn to finally take in the sight of him. He was still shirtless, wearing a pair of boxers, presumably thrown on to have a little modesty while opening the door. You let your eyes soak in the view that his cropped photo denied you, if only because you were about to cover it up.

“What game are we playing today?” he asks as you walk over and straddle his lap.

“It’s not a game,” you say, grinding your core down against the bulge in his boxers as you scrunch the shirt up in your hands, “you said to make you put a shirt on, so I am. Put your arms up.”

Mingyu lets out a laugh but does what he’s told. You hadn’t really considered the logistics of this, as when Mingyu raised his arms, it was slightly out of your reach to put the shirt on. But you weren’t going to give up.

You raised yourself up, purposely brushing your whole body against Mingyu’s as your fingertips brushed against his wrists trying to get the t shirt over his hands. 

Seeing your struggle, Mingyu lowers his arms a little, allowing you the reach to pull the t shirt down over his arms, you move down his body slowly, stopping to make sure the shirt goes over his head before bringing the rest of the material down over his torso.

“There,” you say when you’re finished.

“Happy?” There’s a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yes,” You shift your hips towards him, his cock pulsing against your core.

“I’m sure you could be happier,” his hands reach for your hips to grind you down against his length again.

You let out an involuntary moan before taking Mingyu’s hands from your hips and placing them on the bed. “Don’t touch me, I’m still annoyed at you.”

“I know, but you came over, so you can’t be that annoyed right?”

“Maybe I’m just horny,”

“Join the club,”

You both sit staring at each other for a few seconds, it wouldn’t be the first time you had taken your frustrations out using Mingyu. But this would be the first time you would be using him to work out the frustration you had against him. And you didn’t think he deserved the pleasure.

“Take your boxers off,” you stand up heading to his bedside drawer to grab a condom.

You return to stand in front of Mingyu and he has done as you asked. He’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands, his cock standing proud against his clothed stomach.

You open the condom and roll it over his cock. “Wipe that smile off your face,” you say as you straighten to pull your bottoms off. “This is for me,”

“Sorry,” he replies trying to keep his face neutral, but he was enjoying your bossy side a lot. You usually didn’t complain too much when he took charge of your hookups, in fact, you preferred it because you didn’t have to think too much. The only time you were vocal is when Mingyu was first learning the best way to make you cum, but he was a fast learner.

“And if you cum before me,” you moan as you sink down onto his cock. “I won’t speak to you for two weeks. And that’s no fun for anyone.”

“It’s not,” he agrees, breathing heavily as you begin to ride him. “If I’m good will you forgive me?”

“We’ll see,” you use Mingyu’s shoulders to keep yourself stable as you move your hips in a steady rhythm, making sure the tip of his cock hits your favourite spot every time.

Mingyu does as he’s told and doesn’t interact, he just watches as you take your pleasure from him, trying not to think too hard about how hot you look and how the sensation of your walls clenching around him is driving him crazy. He loved when you were on top, taking charge with your tits bouncing in his face. It’s a shame he couldn’t see them in their full glory, as you had opted to keep your shirt on, but that was probably helping him in his quest to keep it together until you got your release.

It doesn’t take long before you feel your orgasm building, you reach down to stimulate your clit, your other hand digging into Mingyu’s shoulder as the pressure builds. You had never left a mark on him before, that was one of his rules but this time you think you might have pierced his skin through the material of his shirt, but you didn’t care.

“F-fuck Gyu, your cock always feels so good,” you whine as you get closer to the edge, looking down at him. His body tenses as he tries to hold off his own orgasm, the material of his shirt stretched to its limits due to his ridiculous size. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he sighs, closing his eyes, as you bounce faster on his lap.

“Look at me,” you demand, “watch me cum.”

Reluctantly, Mingyu reopens his eyes. His hips involuntarily bucking into you and sending you over the edge. You moan out his name as you cum, one hand still rubbing your clit as you ride out your high. The stimulation and the sight of you proving to be too much, Mingyu cums too, he curses under his breath as his cock pulses within your walls.

Neither of you say anything as you wait for your breathing to return to normal, Mingyu lies flat on his back and you rest your hands on his chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles rising and falling as he breathes. Part of you wants to lay on top of him because his torso always looks so inviting but it would be too intimate so you stay upright.

“Is all forgiven?” Mingyu asks as he sits up, removing the condom after you stand.

“I guess so,” you reach for your discarded clothes. Turns out that taking your frustration out on Mingyu was just what you needed. And you couldn't be sure, but you think he liked that you were a little mean to him. 

“So you’ll come over tomorrow night?” He had a wicked grin on his face that caused your stomach to flip.

“No, I don’t think you deserve that.” You say turning your back to him and reaching for the door. Trying to stay composed before you ended up staying longer. 

“I'll come to you then,” 

You roll your eyes. “I think you've done enough coming recently don't you?”

“It was still after you!” 

You laugh despite yourself, “That's true you did hold off. Proud of you.”

“Thanks, it was tough. Ya know, you're really hot when you're mean.”

“Aww does baby have a kink?” You had turned around again and were leaning against the door. 

“Shut up,” Mingyu blushes and comes to stand next to you. “I thought we didn't kink shame.”

“And I thought you liked it when I was mean,”

“Touché,” he leans down to kiss you on the cheek. That was another rule, you didn't kiss on the lips. It was silly but somehow it helped you remind yourself that Mingyu wasn't your boyfriend. Yet when he kissed you on the cheek it was the most intimate gesture in the world. “Thanks for coming over,”

“It's not like I wanted to. But you know I can't ignore a challenge.”

“Hmm I don't know seemed like you really wanted it.” He smiled. 

“Whatever,” you push him away so you can open the door. It was late and you wanted to go to sleep. “I'll text you?”

“Sounds good,”

“Also if you ever send me another photo like that again I will have to block you. It's full torso or fully clothed. Got it?”

“Got it,”

It’s only a minute later when you get another photo through from Mingyu. This time, it’s a photo of his chest, still covered by the t shirt you had just put on him. My new favourite shirt. He captioned the photo.

You rolled your eyes before leaving him on read. It was taking all your strength not to go back there and get him to wipe the smug grin off his face and rip his shirt while you were at it. But maybe you could revisit the idea when he inevitably came over tomorrow night…

[badnoahmens]

You’re Mine

Noah Sebastian x Reader

3.6k words.

A/N: jealous Noah has me feeling strong feelings. Smutty shit so 18+ only. Wrote this instead of working on higher priority WIPs.

You twist the handle for the hot water off, steam being the only thing that filled the small shower around you now. After the long day you had, a nice, hot shower was the only thing that seemed to help take the edge off. With a sigh, you step from the warmth surrounding you, reaching for the towel and swiftly tucking in the side to preserve your modesty.

As you exit from the bathroom, you swipe meaninglessly through your phone, scrolling through photos posted from friends and the odd targeted advertisement. With a small ding a new notification graces the top of your screen. An old friend of yours, Patrick, that you had kept in touch with throughout the years, had recently reached out and was sending memes he thought you would like. Seeing as the two of you had similar jobs, they were mostly focused on that. Innocent enough, but it wasn’t worth looking at now.

Without taking much notice of your surroundings, you walk between the bathroom and into the kitchen in search of a snack to quell your cravings. Noah was leaning on the counter in the middle of the kitchen, elbows propping up with one hand curled into a fist under his chin, the other scrolling through something on his phone. His eyes were slightly glazed over, a side effect of the doom scrolling that he often fell into. You side-eye him as you walk past, pulling an unimpressed face as you responsibly reach for an apple.

The bite you take makes a loud crunch that is the only sound that breaks the silence in the room. The chewing that follows is equally as loud and disturbing, echoing as an irritating wet, mushy slurp. You kept your eyes on Noah as you took a second loud bite from the apple, knowing full well he loathes the sound.

Another scroll with his thumb flashes bright colours and fast-moving videos on his phone, still unaware of your presence.

A third bite of the apple, this one finally earning a reaction. His head slowly turns, pivoting on the hand that he still has balancing under his chin, his eyes landing on you as you take a fourth, menacingly slow and obnoxiously loud bite.

And then it is a stare-down. You refuse to let up, keeping a blank expression on your face as you grind down, meticulously masticating the organic surgery fruit. Noah squinted his eyes, knowing full well that it was your intention to bother him. He clicks his phone so the screen locks, and places it gently on the counter.

“Alright! That’s it!” he finally calls as you lift the apple, almost gone now, to your mouth dramatically slowly for another bite, although you never get to take it. Noah stands and strides over to you, snatching the apple from your hands, tossing it into the bin that sat in the corner of the room. It was immediately after that you were tossed over his shoulder, flailing in a panic. He turned on his heels and speed-walks to the bedroom. You bounced slightly as the pace he held wasn’t one that was all that graceful. He was laughing maniacally at your feeble attempts to squirm from his grasp. You would never tell him that you weren’t actually trying.

With a jostle and a thud, he dumps you on your back, the soft mattress bouncing below you. You fight playfully, trying your best to catch Noah’s fast and nimble hands as they darted in and out, tickling your sides. His smile is palpable, his hair wavering from side to side as he adjusts his plan of attack every time you twist and turn under him. He has his knees pinned by your sides, grey sweats and a black t-shirt lingering over you as his colourful, decorated arms and neck looked ever so enticing. You couldn't help but notice the way that his pants twitched as he continued to hold you pinned down on the bed.

In a sudden change of heart, his hands stop, grasping your wrists and holding them above your head in one of his hands. He drops his face so that it is an inch from yours. His breath wafted over your face and you smiled, glancing between his intense gaze and watching the way he licked his lips.

“How was your shower? Did it fix your bad day?” He asked. His head tilted to the side slightly. The question sounded innocent enough, right?

“I’m still a little tense,” you reply. And you were honest with your response. It was a long day. When you arrived home, your bags were quickly dumped on the floor by the door haphazardly, a huff leaving you in an attempt to exult some of the emotion that had pent up all day. Working with kids was difficult on a normal day, but there must have been something in the air today for them to be as wild as they were. Noah knew you were in a less-than-ideal mood. Bless his soul, he did try and help, but the best thing you could do was to wash the day away. Now, even after a shower, the aftereffects of a bad day were still lingering despite being only towel-clad underneath your boyfriend.

“Turn over” he motions with his head, releasing your hands from his vice grip allowing you to lay on your stomach instead. In the midst of this motion, he tweaks his fingers under the top of where your towel sat, tugging at the tuck that held it secure. You had a sharp inhale as the cold air hit your bare skin, still warm and slightly damp from your shower.

You heard Noah hum behind you and you glance over your shoulder back at him, but he doesn't see your face. Instead, his eyes are trailing down your body, pupils dilating when he sets his sight on your ass.

Noah was an ass man for sure. And he was obsessed with yours. He would always be so handsy with you, the odd playful slap here and there, tucking his hand into your back pocket to cop a feel when he probably shouldn't be, even his favourite sex positions were the ones where it was front and centre in his view.

You tucked your hands under your chin, still twisting so that you could see Noah in your peripherals. His hands started to glide over your back, down your sides, following the sweet contours of your body. Noah let out a low growl from deep within, but you’re certain he wasn’t aware of half the noises he was making; the deep breaths, slight gasps and quiet moans.

Using all of his restraint, Noah tears his gaze from your ass and lifts his body so that he is kneeling over you, hands now placed on your shoulders. He could still feel the tension in the knots that had built up over time, forming firm ridges across your shoulders and back. Tattooed digits started to knead into the tender muscles twisting under your skin. The pressure mixed with the slow circles made you close your eyes and let out an involuntary moan. Noah hummed and smiled to himself, knowing the power this had over you. You were such a sucker for massages, and could never deny having Noah;s hands all over your body.

He continued to try his best to break down the clusters of tension, twisting and rubbing at the bundles that had gathered over a long time. Your head would roll from one side to the other, allowing Noah to work into different areas and use different pressures to make some kind of difference. Noah would be lying if he said he didn’t love it too. Having his hands all over you? Making you feel good? Knowing full well that this often led to something far more exciting? Yes please.

It was at this moment, as you were about to be lost to Noah’s touch and oblivious to the world, when your phone dinged again. Lifting it up to your face, another notification from your old friend lit up the phone that was strewn carelessly on the bed next to you.

Noah’s hands stopped.

“Who’s Patrick’?” Noah asks, the slighted hint annoyance in this voice. You readjusted your position so you could see Noah’s face, his expression blank. You tried to wriggle so you could twist from under him, but his legs tensed and squeezed you so you were stuck, completely at his mercy.

“He’s an old friend. Has a similar job. Been sending me some memes about work. He sent me one earlier but I didn’t respond so he’s probably sending another” you answer.

“Sending you memes, huh? He does this often?” Noah’s leg muscles were still tense beside you as he sat back on his haunches, warm calloused hands now retreating from your body.

“I mean, a little bit. He reached out last week after he started a new job with someone I used to know.” You pause, Noah’s demeanour was changing before your very eyes. Now, he seemed a little standoffish.

Noah makes a “Hmff” noise in response.

“Noah?” He doesn’t respond. “Are you jealous?”

No response again.

“Noah” you call once more.

“You’re seriously moody because I have been talking to an old friend?” You prop your head up on your hands in an effort to get a better view of Noah. Although you could see his face, he had turned to look across the room beyond you, and he seemed perplexed.

“Fine. Don’t talk to me. That's totally fine” you say sarcastically, shifting underneath him to slip out from his legs still perched beside you. Before you could free yourself entirely, Noah leaves. He stands and crosses the room, disappearing into your walk-in robe. Sounds of shuffling items then follows.

You twist and sit up, pulling the towel back around you. Your gaze was down at trying to hitch the material back into a safe tuck as you ignored the kerfuffle Noah was making when he walked back into the room.

Just as you are satisfied with the towel adjustments, Noah’s hands are on you, pushing you back down onto the bed. He hovers over you again, but now his eyes were dark and his motions were very intentional.

You go to speak, but Noah shakes his head and stands again, holding a firm grip on your hips so that you swivel to a new angle, diagonal across the bed, and spinning so that you land back onto your stomach, just like before.

Your eyes glance up in front of you and you see what the commotion Noah was making before. A full body-length mirror was now sat up leaning against the wall, allowing for your reflection to stare right back at you. You look up at Noah through your eyelashes in the mirror, raising an eyebrow quizzically at you, trying to figure out the expression Noah has spread all over his face. That is, until it hits. It’s a look of desire.

He proceeds to crawl over you, leaning forward on closed fists so that they land on either side of your head before rising to be on his knees. Illustrated hands that contrast with the towel hitch around your hips, yanking them up fast and forcefully so that your knees fall under you, perching your ass high.

You couldn’t help but have a smirk plastered on your face; Noah on the other hand, still doing his best to hold a poker face. His gaze wanders down, allowing his hands to rub possessively over your cheeks under the fuzzy material. They dance lightly over your hips, then begin the trace lines on the insides of your thighs. You let out a high-pitched whimper as an automatic response. You had no control over what influence Noah had on your body, let alone when you were like this.

Noah’s eyes didn’t leave your face, so you teasingly leant back, pressing your skin closer to him. Your breath started to quicken, hitching in your throat when his nimble fingers flicked at the towel causing it to slip down, exposing your body once again. Noah struggled to keep his composure as he took the sights, expression faltering slightly and his hands moved to your folds immediately feeling the warm wetness on his fingertips.

Your eyes slipped closed, relishing in the lightest of touches that Noah was gracing you with, that was until one hand came down with a hard slap on your ass, and the fingers teasing you were gone.

Your eyes shoot open and your body jolts in reaction, except Noah clamps his hands on your hips and pulls you back closer to him.

“Keep them open” he growls, and you watch the way his mouth twitches as his fingers return to your folds, one hand grabbing a handful of the tender skin of your ass cheek perched up in his direction. You lock eyes in the mirror. “I want you to see who’s you are,” he continued.

Slowly, one finger glides into your pussy. It might not be enough, but it’s something. You rock back in the slightest way, and Noah’s grip tightens on your ass. He gives you a warning glance, before his eyes move to his digit disappearing into your folds. It curls up inside you, like he was beckoning you to come closer. The caressing on your inside walls slowly pumps out, and then in again. A rhythm started to build and he added a second finger.

Starting to feel more full, your eyes begin to close, but you remember the demands before they fully shut. Instead, you peer through half-closed slits and admire the way Noah’s hips were starting to grind against you. There was a mound growing in his pants, grazing against your inner thigh, telling you that he is loving this.

“Does that feel good?” He murmurs from behind you, and his eyes are back on yours in the mirror. You nod and hum in response, sliding a hand back behind you to reach for Noah. He takes your hand, grasps it firmly, and places it on your back. It’s feels unnatural, but not unformatabme. Your fingers intertwine as acts almost like an anchor. For you? For Noah? You’re not sure, maybe even both of you.

“Say my name” he demands.

“N….” You start, and he flicks his wrist, stopping any ability to control your voice. Instead, a moan escapes.

“What was that?” He whispers, twisting his fingers again in the same motion.

“Nooaaahhhhh…” the end of his name escapes your mouth as a sigh, as though it could have very well been your last breath.

Noah’s fingers disappear from inside you, slipping out and bringing with it some of the wetness that is all but dripping from your pussy.

“What do you want?” He asks. But you can’t speak. The emptiness turns into an ache. All you can do is stare at him in the mirror and watch as he slides his fingers into his mouth, letting drips of your own liquids run down his chin. His eyes are blown wide and dark with desire, and he notices the way your legs twitch closer when his tongue graces the space between his two fingers, curling up to clean them of any remnants of you on them.

“I- I want you” you are able to stammer out between the heavy breaths.

He grins a devilish grin and shifts his weight, struggling to jam down his sweats to his thighs with one hand, ignoring his own wet patch of precum that had soaked through the front of them. His hand then lands on the outside of your thigh, in the crease where it meets your hip, as he steadies himself. You can feel the tip of his cock nudge at your entrance, and then he pauses.

His dark eyes are locked in on yours, looking through his eyelashes, and moving his eyes, slowly rocks his hips forward. The pressure is achingly slow. He is teasing you. Letting you know that he is in control here.

Your free hand grasps at fbe sheets below you, trying in some way to let out the tension that is building. The other hand still intertwined with Noah’s behind you tightens in grip. He gives his own squeeze back, almost as a reassurance. Your mouth falls open and eyebrows twist, anticipation causing you to be entirely out of control if your own body movements. You feel him inside, yet it’s the lack of rhythmic motion that is missing.

Your hips buck forward involuntarily, something deep within you just pleading for more friction between you and Noah, and he picks up on it. He begins to drag his cock out of you, placing his free hand on the inside of your thigh, tapping it with grace as though to say ‘open more’. You do as you’re told, shifting the weight to one leg and the other swings out to make a wide gap between your legs. Noah doesn’t hesitate after that.

His shaft is hammering back into you. In and out like a jackhammer. The fingers of his free hand now sitting dangerously and teasingly close to the tight ring of muscle that sat between your asscheecks. You look at his face in the mirror; a sheen of sweat building over his face after only a minute of fucking, his brows furrowed as he stares intently at the work he is doing on your behind. Nails dig into the tender flesh of your derriere as Noah tilts his head back.

You feel the white hot glow begin to burn inside you. Noah is not taking any chances tonight, his hand leaving yours on your back to tangle with the mess of hair on your head. It was already knotted, but Noah intertwined his fingers with it, tugging with little force to bring your chin up.

Your legs were shaking at this point, and it could have been from the pleasure or the absolute hammering they were receiving. There was a growl from Noah which drowned out the hum of the tv from the other room, but you couldn’t tell what he actually said. The skin on skin slapping sounding even sloppier by the second. He was getting close, he was starting to fumble over his rhythm, but he could see that you just weren’t as close to your release as he was.

His hand leaves the tangle of your messy hair, keeping his eye contact in the mirror, and lands on the underside of your belly. You can feel him pull towards him, another silent instruction. Pushing on your arms, you felt weak. They shivered underneath you and you rose to your elbows, then up on your palms.

“More. Against me” Noah hums through a tight jaw. The pounding from behind you was starting to slow and you knew he couldn’t hold on for much longer.

With the right shift of weight, you right yourself on your knees, feeling the sweaty, warm sensation of Noah’s heaving body on your back. His arm wrapped around your chest, settling with an open palm grasping needily at your breast. He grabbed, twisted and pinched at your nipple, caressing what he could as he tried his best to focus on bringing you closer. And boy, was it working.

The new position gave you a full frontal view of what state you were in. The mirror was a portal to a world of pleasure and sex, and the only ones who lived there were you and Noah. Nothing else around you mattered. Nothing else around you even existed in this moment.

Your eyes clamp shut as the build of your orgasm was teetering at the edge, threatening to unfurl and throw sensations through your body that only Noah could achieve. There was a tightening around your neck, and as your eyes open, he land on Noah’s is tense stare from behind you.

“I said keep them open” he demanded. “I want you to watch you cum. Watch what I can do to you.”

All you can do is nod. He was never this dominant, but he must have been really ticked off. He had a point to prove, and he was delaying his own paradise just to make it know.

“You’re mine.”

“I’m yours” you whisper.

The hammering of his cock inside you, slamming deep inside of you, paired with the hand that had just dropped to your clit was the magic that brought your orgasm to its peak. There was a flood of heat that washed through you. If it wasn’t for Noah’s arms, you would have collapsed right there in front of him. Your body jerked involuntarily as Noah let you ride out the electricity. His eyes were on your face, watching as you cried out with his name, hands desperately grabbing at his arm twisted around you.

His muscles flexed as he held you up, knowing that you needed him to stay this close, but he couldn’t help but give up the fight of holding back his own orgasm. With a wet jerk of his hips, he slipped from you just in time to let the streams of hot white cum leave him, landing on the lower part of your back. You fall forward, landing with your arms by your face, and let Noah release onto you. You watch as his own eyes close, failing to follow his own rules, and then collapses beside you.

It was minutes before either of you even got your breaths back into a regular pattern. You watch Noah lay on his back, his palm resting on his forehead, and a sex-drunk smile on his face. He turns to look at you, letting out a low chuckle.

“I’d like to see Patrick’s memes beat that.”

[aurorawritestoescape]

Hot Shower

Pairing: pre-outbreak/no outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader

TW: 18+ mdni, smut, oral (f receiving), inappropriate use of a shower head, a lil temperature play, praise kink, Joel calls reader 'baby' and 'sweetheart', unsafe P in V (be safe and wrap it up!), infidelity, cum eating, swearing, multiple orgasms.

Summary: Joel and you enjoy a shower together and then move to the bed.

Word count: 2,5 k

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“Who do we have here?” You hear the familiar raspy voice, and in a flash the shower door is open revealing Joel in his work t-shirt and jeans with a charming lopsided smile on his face. You gasp, feeling a sudden touch of cold air on your wet skin, and out of shyness, you try to cover your naked parts with your hands. Joel smirks at your display of modesty as just this morning you rode him on the kitchen floor, your breasts bouncing, fingers rubbing your clit.

“Started without me, baby? Fuck, so hot outside,” he complains, discarding his clothes hastily and hopping into the shower. You move out of his way, so he can quickly rinse away the heat of the day and his work sweat.

“Somebody’s excited,” you note playfully, biting your lip at the sight of his semi hard cock. Its pinkish head is calling for your mouth and you salivate thinking about swirling your tongue around it. Joel turns to you, noticing your hungry gaze and places his hands on your waist as his dark eyes are leering down your glistening body.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day, sweetheart. Look at you. All wet for me I hope?” he mumbles in your ear. His hand slips down your stomach and his fingers slide between your folds.

“Fuck yeah, someone’s excited,” he repeats your words to you kissing your neck and moving his lips up to your jaw.

You purr as his mouth finds yours, and he shares a scorching kiss with you. His lips glide down, tracing a line from your jaw to your collarbone. “Gonna make you feel real good, baby,” he mumbles as he sucks on the plush of your breasts and returns to your mouth. He devours your mouth again, pinning you to the shower wall. He always runs hot, and you shiver and moan when you feel the cold tile at your back and ass and his body heat at your front. Joel parts away from your lips and hums.

“Wanna cool off?” he asks with mischief in his voice as an idea is formed in his mind. “Ok,” you smile softly and shrug, being confused at what he has in mind. Ogling your water covered frame, Joel takes the shower head off the holder and begins adjusting the water temperature. The drops reach your legs, and you feel it getting cooler. The temperature is still comfortable, but you usually prefer it warmer. And that’s exactly what Joel wants. His hand is gliding along your side as his eyes leer at your breasts.

“Can I play with you, sweetheart? Will you let me?” he asks, moving the shower head up to your chest level and spraying your tits with cool water. “Yeah,” you moan as your nipples perk up with the change of temperature. The cool streams are running down your curves, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He notices the way your body reacts to it, and his cock twitches, “Oh, fuck.” With slightly parted lips Joel is pouring water on your breast, and his mouth darts to the other. You feel his warm tongue swirling around your bud, and the mixture of sensations—cool water and his warm mouth—make your eyes roll back. Your cunt aches with the desire to be stretched and filled by him. You want to be pierced on his cock, so you bite your lip and your hand moves to his stiff member.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you whine, sounding as needy as you can to get him inside of you. “Not yet,” he grumbles and kneels in front of you. You lean against the wall, giving him more room. His hand grabs your hip, and he gently kisses your mound. It sends electricity through every cell of your body, and you plant your feet further apart to give him access to your tingling centre. With a free hand, Joel caresses your folds, wet with water and your arousal, and then gently parts them with his thick fingers, exposing you to him completely.

“Look at this sweet pussy. So pretty and tasty. All for me,” he praises you and licks a hot stripe from your entrance to your throbbing clit. Then he raises the shower head and directs the cool water jets to your blooming cunt. You moan loudly, shutting your eyes and tilting your head back resting it on the wall behind you. He slowly moves the head up and down, massaging your folds and clit with the streams and hums at your whimpers with satisfaction. You played with yourself like that before, but him doing it to you, looking up at your trembling form with the carnal desire in his gaze, is so much hotter. Your arousal burns your core and you are dripping, your slick quickly mixing with the water. You drop your head forward, your face contorting with pleasure, and see that he is fidgeting with the faucet again. The water gets a little cooler, and your skin is covered in chills yet again. His big, warm hand glides along your thigh, he grabs it and, lifting it, places it on his broad shoulder. Your hands dart to his head and to the wall to steady yourself.

“Don't worry. I got you, baby,” Joel assures you, holding your body in place with his hand on your hip. Your folds open up to his gaze, and he groans at the sight. He begins peppering kisses along your inner thigh, moving closer to your needy cunt. “Please, Joel,” you whimper, and he glances up to see your pleading eyes.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me,” he cooes at you, his hot breath reaching your folds and making your head spin with desire.

“Want your mouth on me, please.”

“Want me to suck on your clit? Or should I fuck you with my tongue first,” he asks, rubbing your bundle of nerves with a pad of his finger and then slowly circling your entrance. You moan, as his dirty talk makes your walls clench around nothing and you run your fingers through his wet hair. Your touch earns as another groan from him, and he finally gives you what you want. He begins making out with your cunt, licking and sucking on it. Your loud whimpers and his grunts, stifled by your pussy, fill the bathroom. You begin grinding your hips to make yourself cum on his mouth, but he stills you with his strong hand and pushes you to the wall.

“You cum when I tell you, baby. Don’t be greedy,” he rumbles as his hand picks up the shower head again and directs the stream at your soaked cunt. His other hand is splayed on your stomach, keeping you steady. The water is cool, and you jerk, feeling it on your warm, puffy lips and throbbing clit. “Aaahh, make it warmer, Joel,” you whimper, chewing on your lower lip. His ears are deaf to your complaints and his mouth joins the water in pleasuring you, his hot tongue poking into your entrance with a steady pace. The water runs down his face and your heart swells with admiration of his pronounced nose and long wet lashes. The sensation of cool water streams massaging your clit and him fucking you with his hot muscle makes your core tighten, and a new wave of slick covers his mouth, the streams quickly washing it away. He laps it up greedily and continues plunging his tongue inside you. "Gonna cum... Don’t stop,” you mewl, grabbing his wet hair and trying not to fall as your legs tremble.

“Oh, yeah,” he whispers, parting from you for a moment. Then he quickens the thrusts of his tongue and shakes the shower head from side to side, so the jets are stroking your clit faster. All that sends you over the edge. You cry out Joel’s name as your walls begin flattering, and your cunt clenches around his tongue. You squeal at the sensation of ecstasy coursing through your body, fisting and pulling on his hair, making Joel hiss. He puts the shower head down and rubs your clit, prolonging your orgasm and marveling at the way you are unraveling in front of him. “Good girl,” he praises you, and catches you in his strong arms as you fall to your knees, not being able to stand any longer.

“Did so good for me,” he mutters, getting a towel, and carefully dries your body and hair and then hastily does the same for himself. Through your post orgasmic haze you see his cock still hard and leaking pre cum. But he doesn’t seem to care, all his attention on you at the moment.

Joel wraps you in another dry towel. “Let me warm you up,” he embraces you and plants kisses all over your face. Then he takes you in his arms and carries you to the bed. He puts you down and covers you both with a sheet. Your bodies are glued together in a flash. You’re embracing each other, both on your side, making out slowly and lazily. You’re still coming down from your high, but when you feel his tip poking your stomach, your core buzzes with anticipation again.

All of a sudden, kissing is not enough. His hand rushes down to cup your breast, his mouth finds your nipple and swirls his tongue over it. Your body reacts, the breathing speeds up and a quiet whine escapes your swollen lips. Joel continues sucking on your bud while you are combing his wet hair with your fingers. You hear him groan at your touch and the fire in your core starts to hurt you. The only remedy is his cock.

You throw the blanket off you both, feeling hot as the need to see his cock scorches you from inside. He is already waiting for you, his hard length in his hand. The sight makes you whimper.

“C’mere,” he roars as he grabs you by your waist and pulls you closer to his body. You feel his cock poke into your mound. Joel caresses your butt cheek and squeezes it with his big hand. You hastily lick the palm of your hand, covering it with saliva and wrap it around his throbbing cock. Then you shift your position so his length is between your lips and start grinding on it. You are already wet from your previous orgasm, so his member moves easily, making you both moan. You are certain you can cum this way without him entering you. You desperately want him to feel good, so you spit on your hand again and place your palm on the other side of his cock, imitating your soft and tight channel. He seems to love it. He closes his eyes and groans loudly. His reaction sends a hot pulse through your belly to your cunt and you feel a new surge of wetness seeping out of your hole. You find a steady pace grinding on his cock. Your clit is throbbing, the way it rubs on the tip of his cock pushes you closer and closer to the edge. You are desperate to cum and feel him also getting close. All you need is a little push. Joel senses that. He sees your open mouth, the crease between your eyebrows, beads of sweat along your hairline. All he needs to do is to gently push you over the precipice. He moves his face closer to yours, his wet hair tickling your cheek and his lips at your ear, and whispers so quietly you barely hear it. “Squeeze my cock. Cum for me.” This command is all you’ve been waiting for. You feel all your muscles tighten, the heat in your stomach rises, your back arches and you come hard, white flashes dancing behind your eyelids. You keep grinding on his cock covered with your juices and ride out your orgasm. But it is too much all of a sudden, and overstimulation makes you part from him.

You lie on your back breathing deep, trying to steady your pulse. Joel kisses the side of your neck and you open your arms to him with a silent invitation. He quickly moves on top of you, caging you with his arms. His broad back shields you from the evening sun peeking through the curtains and all the other world. You kiss him and spread your legs so he can get between your thighs. Joel sighs when his tip nudges at your wet entrance. He is desperate to fill you up, and he bottoms out in one swift move. You moan at the intrusion, feeling full as pleasure pools inside you again. The corners of your mouth rise slightly.

He pulls his cock out almost to the tip and then pierces you with it again. He starts fucking you, his thrusts desperate and strong. You know he must be close. His cheek is at your neck rubbing your delicate skin with his stubble. But you don’t care. You wrap your legs around his waist and lift your hips up so he can reach even deeper inside you. He grasps your shoulders with his hands for leverage, pounding into you.

“Fuck, the juiciest pussy,” he mutters his tongue now licking your neck. You feel every vein of his cock dragging along your walls, the weight of his body comforting and overwhelming. Your third orgasm is coming as all your muscles tighten and the heat in your core rises. You come with a breathy moan, your juices soaking his cock. Your cunt makes lewd sounds as he rails you frantically.

“Listen to her! Soaking me up so well,” Joel’s thrusts get unsteady, then he pushes in one last time and freezes over you, pumping his cum deep inside you. You look up at him drinking his pleasure and marveling at his beauty. Joel groans with his eyes closed, body covered in sweat, muscles bulging. He holds his body over you, coming down from his high and your lips meet again, the kiss is your wordless ‘thank you’ to each other. He falls next to you and you turn on your side to look at him. The hunger in your bodies and souls is satisfied, replaced by the content and gratitude. Joel takes you in his arms, his lips gracing your forehead.

“The roof’s almost done,” he tells you as his hand is gliding along your side, “When’s he comin’ back?”

“Monday,” you answer with a sigh.

“‘m gonna miss fuckin’ you in this bed.”

You sigh again and look up at him, “He travels a lot, you won’t have to miss it for long.”

“Good,” he whispers into your temple,”we can try out my bed as well sometimes.”

“I’d love to,” you say tracing circles around his nipple, “I’m glad he hired you. You’re a great contractor, Joel Miller.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he smirks as his hand cups your cheek and he pulls you in for a passionate kiss.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!🩵

[sideblogofhell]

a dance with the enemy

summary: ikaris is recruting eternals in hiding but you're unwilling to take him without a fight pairing: ikaris x male reader word count: 1.4k warnings: 18+ warning, oral and anal, reader is an eternal (non specified powers but they can absorb energy) ikaris is a villain here duh, hate sex? a/n: the writer's block is killing me send help

masterlist | the repentant's corner

His hands on your wrists were tight, fingers digging deep into your skin, creating coils of red. You looked up at him with your varied height, his blue eyes now a bright gold. You tried to escape him, writhing underneath his grasp. His brown hair was tousled and wet, the lone streak of gray plastered on his forehead.

"Why do you have to make this so difficult," he said. 

He was stronger and faster. You knew that escaping him would not be possible. The only way to get free of him was to use his own weakness, his pride. "Arishem's golden boy, have you come to finally kill me?"

"Not kill. I need you to join me," Ikaris said, his face so close you could feel his breath on your lips.

"And leave my life behind?" You pleaded. "No."

"I never wanted this for any of us," he said, pulling away. You massage your thumbs on your aching wrists. He stopped, panting while his eyes faded to a light blue. "But it needs to be done."

"Then show me why I should," you said. Ikaris swiftly cups your face, his lips crashing onto yours. His lips were warm and plump, his hands large and strong against your cheeks. You wanted to pour yourself onto him, let your mind and body betray you just for once.

But you pushed him away. His lips were swollen and shiny against the lights, his eyes bloodshot and welling with tears. Your heart pounded, almost painful. You tried to whisper a word, but unidentifiable syllables came out. 

Let go, you thought. You crashed back into Ikaris' embrace, his arms around your waist while your lips met his. The stubble of his jaw pricked your skin as his kiss fell on your neck. Teasing and nibbling with his lips and tongue. The wetness on your neck, mixed with the air, made you shiver. Ikaris chuckled under his breath, a teasing laugh. 

"We shouldn't," he whispered. He's right. Nothing about this is sincere. Nothing about it is birthed from affection. It's simply a temporary pleasure, a scratch to an itch. It shouldn't feel right. 

You pushed him hard against the wall, cracks forming. You kiss him again, this time more rabid, lip-biting, nails digging into his shoulders. His hands were firm on your waist, pushing hard enough it could break human bones. "We really shouldn't."

Your lips kiss down his stubble neck, your flesh hit against his jugular. A hand guiding your way. You could bite him now, strangle him, take a knife to his veins, and finally end him. Instead, you suck on his skin, a moan leaves his lips, mouth agape from pleasure.

He takes off his jacket, leaving a tight blue shirt that shapes around his muscles. Your hands find the hems, seeking what is underneath. You smooth your palms against his taut abdomen, littered with soft hair. Your fingertips trace each ridge. 

You go on your knees to give his skin a kiss and have a taste of his pale skin. Your tongue teases the hem of his jeans, the barrier between modesty and eroticism. You palm the growing bulge. He takes over and unbuckles his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping so he can take out his sex.

"Just take me in," he pleaded. He pulls your mouth in with much force. The walls of your mouth envelop his well-endowed sex. You gag from the sudden movement, eyes welling with tears. His hands smooth on your hair, gripping on it as he fucks your mouth. 

Saliva coats his cock, which is aching hard. He would occasionally pull out, the head aching red and the tip leaking. There was no regard for your body. You were simply a means to pleasure. 

You back out, coughing up saliva while the roof of your mouth aches. You stagger to find balance. Ikaris' eyes are dark, his lips taut. 

"Where's your bed?" He asked. 

You find yourselves naked on top of each other, limbs entangled, hair messy as your bodies are drenched with sweat. Ikaris' body casts a shadow on top of you, his broad shoulders perfectly flexed as his arms pinned yours. Your legs placed on his waist, his erection teasing your hole. 

He spits on his hand, lubing his cock before pushing it in you. There was a sharp pain, eliciting a loud shriek from you, your hands wrapping around his neck. He takes a few moments to make you settle on his size. He is panting on top of you, his hairy chest rising and falling, his muscles contracting and relaxing. 

He moves his hips, his head falling on the crook of your neck as he thrusts. "You're so tight," he moaned. You gasp from the pressure. You swore you could feel your body tremble. He pushes again, and this time, your body finally acclimated. He hit a spot inside you that drew out a moan of pleasure. Your sex ached hard on your abdomen, leaving a drop of pleasure.

He wrapped his arms around you, large biceps around your body, your fingers scratching at his broad back, leaving lines of red. For a second, you thought of the embrace as a result of love, something couples would do in sex. But then he forces a strong thrust, a gasp leaving your mouth. And suddenly, it was just sex. 

It took a great deal of restraint on Ikaris' part. His strength could crush you. He felt his body lose control, his eyes becoming warm and lighting up in gold. Your body felt so fragile in his arms, so delicate and feeble. 

You cursed under your breath, your eyes rolling back in euphoria. Intricate patterns of gold laced your hands. You could burn him if you wished. Cosmic energy laced your bodies and, if uncontained, could send ripples of destruction around you. 

He pulled onto you so you could switch positions. He took time to straddle his muscular thighs as he slowly guided himself in you. You palmed his chest, a hand finding his throat. You pressed your fingers in, wrapping around his neck, constricting his breathing.

His hips ram into you at an accelerated pace, and your body does the same. You rode him until he was tearing through the sheets with his hands, the bed creaking, his form sinking into the mattress. He lets out exasperated groans, the veins on his neck more prominent, his face burning red. 

You feel each other's climax coming. Ikaris pulls you back into a kiss, a greedy kiss, one that is meant only for the finality of the act. He pushes deeper as you ride him, his tip hitting the sweet spot inside you that only draws your pleasure to excess. 

"I'm gonna cum in you," he demanded. "And you'll take it like the good boy you are."

"I'm not your good boy," you said, pulling on his brown locks. You were on high ground. The command is with you, not him. "I'll finish whenever I like."

His face contorted into a headless cry, his eyes shut, and his lips open. You were close, too close. Teetering into climax like an overflowing glass of water. "Fuck," Ikaris groans. "I'm so fucking close."

"Look into my eyes," you said. 

"I can't," he said, the veins around his eyes a glimmering gold. 

"Fine," you said. "I'll just leave you like this," Ikaris slowly opened his eyes, a hazy gold. You moved your hips in sync with his. His grip grew harder, his body more flexed. You could feel the energy burn through his eyes. If he let go, he could easily hurt you. 

Ikaris cursed as he came inside you. Shining bright light through his eyes that burned through the ceiling. You shuddered as you came as well, your hands glowing with gold as you sucked in his power. Slowly, Ikaris' light faded, coursing through the veins of your hands. The increased energy surging through your body crashed into you like a potent drug. 

Ikaris passed out long after. The strongest Eternal, asleep in your bed. The room was obviously a mess, sheets torn, bed broken, ceiling burnt. He looked peaceful, though. His long lashes lay softly on his cheeks, his lips barely pursing to let out air. A slight pang hit your chest when you took the call.

"I have him," you said. You finally have the enemy. 

[pretty-circa006]

Unhealthy Attachments pt.1

Coach! Negan x Student! F! Reader

summary Negan, your gym coach, takes pity on you after seeing the way your peers treat you. tags mentions of bullying/ mild bullying, second person pov (sorry lol this is old pls forgive me) note this is an old WIP that i'm choosing to post because i haven't had time to write anything new (I WILL EVENTUALLY, I PROMISE, BUT COLLEGE IS DRAINING MY FREE TIME). this is part one of a multi-part series, maybe it'll even evolve into a longfic, who knows. btw you guys will have to pry coach negan x student reader fics from my cold dead hands bc i loooove writing these.

wc 1.3k

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

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You stood lined up with the other students in your PE class, waiting to be chosen by the team captains for this class' soccer game. It didn't even phase you how every other student was picked before you, leaving you the last one standing until one unlucky captain had to pick you. That's just how things went, you were always the odd one out. Even now, everyone wore the usual school issued PE uniform of a t-shirt and shorts, while you had on the sweater and sweatpants version- in ninety degree weather. You were just honoring your father's, the town's local pastor, principles of modesty. Being the pastor's daughter felt isolating. Nobody invited you to things or wanted to be friends with you for fear that the indecencies of their typical teenage behavior would get back to their parents by way of the pastor; and of course he'd get that information from none other than you, his daughter. You never would, though. In middle school, you learned the hard way to not be such a narc, but by then it was too late and nobody trusted you or even wanted to be near you. 

 "Over here!" you shouted to your teammates, wanting them to pass you the ball. You had a perfect shot to the other team's goal. Like always, they ignored you, but it didn't matter because they scored anyway. You didn't give up on trying to be a team player, though. The gym coach, Negan, was watching the game closely and you wanted him to see that you cared and tried to put effort into his class. Maybe it was because he was the only person who ever paid you any attention, but the fear of letting the handsome man down weighed heavily on you. 

"Guys, I'm open!" you yelled. Your desperation to be a part of things was becoming so pathetic that Negan had to direct his focus elsewhere. Maybe it was by mistake, but the ball came rolling your way. Hope blossomed within you. It sounded silly, but you hoped that even something as little as you scoring a goal would make your class like you again. You kicked the ball, sending it flying to the opposing team's goal. It would have made it in if someone didn't intercept- someone from your own team, you notice- and kick it directly at you. You didn't have time to dodge it because it had already smacked you square in the face, knocking you over. You clutched your nose as you writhed on the floor in pain, salt being rubbed even further into your wound by the snickers of your classmates. 

 Negan blew his whistle and called a foul. He profanely scolded the students about their bad sportsmanship and lectured  them on treating their teammates fairly. He helped you up off the floor and led you to his office with an arm wrapped around your shoulder. You sat in one of the chairs with your nose plugged up with tissues per Negan's orders after it started bleeding. It didn't seem broken, so he didn't deem your injury bad enough to send you to the nurse. 

"You can go back now," he told you once fresh blood stopped flowing from your nose between tissue changes. 

"Do I have to?" you asked with teary eyes. You were tired of all the bullying and just ready to graduate already. Your senior year was almost over and you were legally an adult, so why did you still have to put up with everyone else's childish behavior.

"You're all healed up. Don't see why you needa be in here any longer." It was obvious that he wanted you out of his office, probably feeling the same way your classmates felt about you. It shouldn't have surprised you, yet it stabbed you in the heart.  Your chin and lips quivered as you blinked back the tears burning in your eyes. 

"C-can I just stay in here?" you cringed at the way your voice cracked. He rolled his eyes and sighed. 

"Just because your sucky ass team is losing doesn't mean you can hide out here and skip class." 

"That's not why!" you pleaded. 

"Then why?" he asked. 

"Everybody hates me!" You couldn't keep it together after finally saying it out loud. You sobbed like a baby, tears streaming down your face and snot dripping from your nose. You were ugly crying but you didn't even care, it wasn't like you had anyone else's respect to lose. Negan got up and closed the door in an attempt to save you some dignity. Your breathing became short and rapid as your bawling made it difficult to take in oxygen. 

"Teenagers are so goddamn hormonal and dramatic. Nobody hates you, kid," he said disinterested. 

"E-even you d-d-do!" you choked out before going back to wailing. He felt bad for you. He saw the way others treated you and it made him feel worse seeing you long for the acceptance of people who rejected you and took pleasure in your pain. But that's high school for you.

"What makes you think I hate you?" he asked, genuinely curious. He didn't hate you, not even close. He just couldn't stand seeing you walking around like a kicked puppy-dog, it was pitiful. You tried to explain your reasoning, but everything that came out of your mouth was an incoherent blubbering, stuttering, and hyperventilating. He pulled you up from the chair and cradled you in his chest, just letting you sob into his sweater. He hushed you and rubbed your back in soothing circles. It was the best he could do, he knew his words sure as hell couldn't offer the comfort he wanted to give you. Your sobbing eventually calmed into small hiccups and occasional sniffles. 

"Why does everyone hate me?" you whispered. He wanted to tell you that they didn't and that's just how high schoolers are, but he didn't want to lie to you. 

"You're almost outta this goddamn shit hole, kid. Jus' keep your head held up high and finish the year off strong." He clapped a strong hand on your shoulder for added reassurance. You gave him a small smile before trudging out of his classroom and to the locker room now that the class was over.

...  

 Negan comforting you in his office that day made you feel like he was a safe space. He seemed to be the only person who cared, or bothered to do anything about how others treated you, even if it was just the bare minimum, you felt it was better than nothing. 

"Coach," you muttered shyly, standing outside his open office door in the gym. He glanced up at you from whatever work he was doing and immediately sighed. It was a miracle to him that you were oblivious as to why people bullied you. Here you were, dressed so matronly in a long floral skirt that resembled an old woman’s wallpaper and an awful knitted sweater. He knew you were a pastor’s daughter, but did you really need to dress the part. 

“What do you need, kid?” He asked, focusing on his work again. “Can I eat lunch in here?” 

“Why? The bathroom crowded or somethin’?” He joked. When you nodded your head yes, he immediately felt guilty. He motioned with his hand for you to sit in one of the chairs before his desk. You happily took a seat before offering him half of your sandwich. 

“It’s turkey,” you said when he looked at you strangely. He accepted the half and ate it while he worked and you sat in silence enjoying the change of scenery. 

“You don’t actually eat lunch in the bathroom, do you?” He asked. 

“There’s nowhere else for me to sit,” you admitted shamefully. 

“That is  fuckin’ disgusting!” You shrugged your shoulders and went back to your sandwich, embarrassed to let Negan see how pathetic your life really was. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

“Look, if you have nowhere else to sit, you can eat lunch in here.” You visibly perked up, a your face splitting into a joyous smile. 

“Really?” 

“Don’t make me fuckin’ regret it.”

next part ▶︎

[joeyalohadream]

Saturday Softness

Happy weekend every one! I'm going to start writing short little fluffy Clegan stories every weekend as a little treat to myself. Either Saturday or Sunday each week! Here's the first one featuring: post-war buckies (established relationship, as usual with me), a sick Gale, a fussy John and some soft, fluffy goodness!

“Buck?”

The lights are still on in their sitting room, in the kitchen despite the late hour. Paired with the fact that the front door was still unlocked, Bucky could only assume Gale was having one of his late night study sessions. He let his truck keys drop from his fingers onto the coffee table and stepped out of his shoes.

He wasn’t supposed to be home until the following day. They’d flown all over the country in the last week, giving the new pilots experience with long duration flights and while Bucky had loved every minute of it, he had been silently relieved when they’d cancelled the last trip due to weather issues and changed course for home.

Eight days away from their little slice of heaven out in the middle of nowhere, eight days without Gale, was more than enough to have Bucky feeling homesick. It’s the longest they’ve been apart since they found this property and Bucky’s already dreading the next time his job pulls him away for more than an average work day.

He walks through the sitting room and down the hall into the kitchen. Dishes are piled in the sink and Bucky feels an immediate pang of worry as he takes in the mess. Gale’s books and papers from school are haphazardly laying on the kitchen table, the coffee pot is half full and gone cold, his shoes aren’t neatly lined up by the back door and his coat is slung over the back of a chair instead of in its usual spot in the closet.

Gale isn’t a messy person. He cleans and organizes their home with a dedication that borderlines on obsessiveness and seeing the kitchen in disarray sends Bucky to the stairs immediately.

“Buck?”

His car was out front, he has to be home. There’s nothing around them for miles.

Silence greets him still as he makes his way up the stairs and into the hall.

Gale had been doing well when he’d left. They both are plagued with nightmares, both in sleep and while awake, but the frequency of them had decreased the longer they’d been home. They both had bad days, days when everything is too much, and the memories are too heavy to do much other than breathe and exist. But he’d called home just yesterday and Gale had been fine.

Bucky had listened to him ramble on about his classes and about some kind of theoretical physics problem that was giving him trouble but that he was enjoying working out. Despite not understanding a word of what he’d been listening to, he’d listened and made encouraging noises and soaked up the excitement in Gale’s voice with a smile on his face.

That was thirty-six hours ago, and Gale had been fine. But now he left a mess in the kitchen and he left all the lights on downstairs and he left the front door unlocked and Gale doesn’t do any of those things when he’s fine.

Their bedroom door is open, and the light is on but he’s not there and Bucky feels his heart pound in chest as he takes in another empty room.

“Buck?” He raises his voice and peeks his head into the spare bedroom that’s never been used and still isn’t being used.

A muffled noise catches his ears and he makes his way to the end of the hall where their bathroom door is cracked open. Modesty be damned, he doesn’t bother knocking, too panicked to care if Gale is simply doing his business.

The sight that greets him when he pushes into the small room melts his heart and breaks it in one go.

Gale is sitting on the tiled floor, back reclined against the tub, knees pulled up and arms wrapped around them, head pillowed atop. He’s wearing Bucky’s sweatpants and Bucky’s sleep shirt and he looks too small and too vulnerable and he hasn’t acknowledged Bucky’s presence and Bucky hasn’t seen his eyes yet.

“Buck?” He lowers his voice and winces when it still makes the smaller man flinch. But it also makes him raise his head and then blue eyes, red rimmed and a little swollen are looking up him, confusion and something that looks a little like relief shining in them.

“John?”

Bucky practically sinks forward and lands on his knees in front Gale when that raspy voice hits him, quiet and weak and wrecked.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“What’re you doin’ here? You’re not comin’ back ‘till tomorrow.”

Bucky reaches forward and pushes sweaty bangs from Gale’s forehead, smooths them back and then lets his hand slide back forward to cradle the other man’s jaw.

“Last flight got scrapped, but that doesn’t matter,” Bucky tells him. He’s relieved he found Gale safe and sound, but his worry has only increased. “Why are you on the floor? Are you sick?”

Gale nods miserably and then lets the weight of his head rest in Bucky’s palm.

“Stomach thing,” Gale rasps out. “Got sick so many times I figured I’d just stay here. Saves me a trip.”

A small smile tugs at Bucky’s lips but doesn’t settle as he takes in the sorry state of his man.

“How long have you been getting sick for?”

“Don’t know. What time it is?” Gale shrugs.

“It’s late, after midnight,” Bucky tells him. He smooths his thumb over a pale cheek and watches a pout form on Gale’s lips.

“Since afternoon,” Gale breathes out. “Think my lunch did this to me.”

He looks up at Bucky with big blue eyes and Bucky can’t help but smile at the betrayal in them.

“Want me to kill it for you?”

“Yeah,” Gale nods against his hand. “It’s the casserole in the glass pan. Make it suffer.”

A laugh barks out of Bucky, and he loves the small smile that pulls at Gale’s own face at the sound.

“Missed you,” Gale mumbles, staring at him. “Missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too.” Affection blooms in his chest. “When was the last time you got sick, huh? Think it’s safe to relocate somewhere more comfortable?”

He watches as Gale lifts his head and eyes the toilet to the right with narrowed eyes, brow furrowing. “Think it’s been a while. Don’t wanna get sick in our room again though.”

Bucky’s heart gives a painful lurch at the recrimination in his tone. He wraps his hand around Gale’s fingers and gives them a squeeze.

“You got sick in our room?”

“The first time. I cleaned it up,” Gale tells him, eyes getting brighter, and Bucky feels unreasonably guilty for not being home earlier. It couldn’t have been helped but imaging Gale sick and miserable and scrubbing his own mess off the floor in their room makes him want to put in for early retirement and never leave his side again.

“Of course you did,” Bucky squeezes his fingers again and then stands up, still holding the hand in his. “Let’s get you off the floor, Buck. I’ll help you back in if you need it.”

Gale heaves a put-upon sigh but pushes himself to his feet. Before he completes the transition though, he’s pitching forward and falls easily into Bucky’s chest with a quiet noise of discomfort.

“Easy, I gotcha,” Bucky takes the opportunity and wraps Gale in his arms, presses his lips into the sweaty mess of hair atop his head before he tucks it under his chin. “Dizzy?”

He feels Gale nod against his collarbone, so he rubs up and down his back, feeling trembling muscles under his palm. Gale wraps both arms around his waist and squeezes with a surprising amount of strength.

“I really missed you,” he mumbles the words into Bucky’s uniform shirt.

Bucky closes his eyes against the emotions welling in him.

“I need to brush my teeth,” he says next, but he makes no move to extract himself from Bucky’s hold, seems to melt further into him instead and Bucky chuckles into his hair.

“Let’s freshen you up and get you to bed.”

He brackets Gale against the sink, a long line of support against his back as Gale brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face. It leaves the ends of his hair damp and curling and Bucky smiles at him in the mirror when their eyes meet in the glass.

It’s a slow shuffle down the hall and into their bedroom and Bucky warms inside when Gale refuses to swap Bucky’s ratty sweats for his own pajamas. He has a feeling Gale has been wearing his clothes to bed since he left, and it makes something possessive curl around his heart.

Gale’s arms are shaking as he lowers himself into their bed and he looks exhausted by the time Bucky pulls their sheets and quilt up to his chin. He sits on the edge of the bed and lets his hand rest on Gale’s forehead, fingers playing with the damp hair there.

“I was going to be waiting for you here when you got home tomorrow,” Gale’s tired rasp is quiet and soothing in the dark room. “Had a whole plan. Was gonna really blow your mind.”

“Is that right?” Bucky grins down at him. He imagines coming home to an empty house, yelling Gale’s name like he’d done tonight as he explored the rooms and finding him naked in their bed instead of sick and miserable on their bathroom floor. It would have ended with him keeping Gale in bed the entire night and most of the next day, and it still is ending that way. Just under less appealing circumstances. “I would’ve loved that.”

“I’m sorry you came home to this instead.” The guilt in his tone has Bucky moving his hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp.

“None of that, now,” he chides. “This isn’t your fault.”

They watch each other in the low light shining in from the hallway, a comfortable silence settling as Bucky continues dancing his fingers through Gale’s hair.

Bucky can’t help but wonder what Gale’s night would have ended like if his trip hadn’t been cut short. Would he have slept on the bathroom floor? When he finally got up, would a dizzy spell have taken him down without Bucky there to catch him? He could’ve cracked his head on the sink, on the floor. Bucky could’ve come home to a nightmare scenario and the thoughts make his breathe stutter and his eyes burn.

He hates seeing Gale sick, injured, sad, scared. He had his fill of it during the war and he knows they haven’t escaped it, but he wishes he could banish every bad thing from this home and they could just live in the soft, safe comfort of one another.

“Hey,” Gale breaks him from his spiraling thoughts, brow scrunching and he gets a hand out from under the quilt and latches it onto the end of Bucky’s tie. “Quit worrying. I’m alright.”

“How do you know that’s what I’m doing?”

“It’s what you’ve been doin’ since you met me, Bucky.” The look on Gale’s face is fond, tender even.

“Well, can ya blame me?” Bucky untangles cold fingers from his tie and covers them with his own. “One look at you, with that sweet smile and those big blue eyes and I was a goner, Buck. Knew I needed to keep ya.”

Gale’s pale face gets some color, cheeks pinking as he turns his head into the pillow.

“And the first time I saw you do that,” Bucky lets the hand in Gale’s hair drift down to graze his finger over the heated skin over Gale’s cheek, the bridge of his nose. “I knew I needed to see it every day for the rest of my life.”

“Stop,” Gale mumbles into the pillow, bashful as always in the face of Bucky’s affections. Bucky pinches his chin between his thumb and index finger and turns his head.

“Never.” He punctuates the word with a gentle press of his lips to Gale’s and feels the smaller man melt into pillow beneath him, a soft smile sitting on his face when he pulls back.

“Come to bed?” Gale’s fingers bunch around his shirt and give him a tug. “Missed falling asleep with you.”

He’s blinking slower, exhaustion etched across his features.

“I’m going to get you some water and something light to eat.” Gale pulls a face at his words and Bucky clucks his tongue. “Don’t argue. You need food and you’re probably dehydrated as hell.”

Gale pouts up at him and gives his shirt another tug, but Bucky holds firm.

“Just give me twenty minutes to clean up the kitchen and lock up the downstairs. Rest a bit until I get back with the goods.”

“The kitchen,” Gale starts, eyes wider than before.

“Shut it, Buck.” Bucky scolds. “You’re sick and you’re allowed to leave the dishes in the sink. Let me take care of everything.” He clears stubborn hair off Gale’s forehead to create a place for his lips and kisses the space between his eyebrows. “Let me take care of you.”

When he sits back up, Gale’s eyes are closed but he blinks them open a moment later.

“I’m really glad your home, John.”

“Me too, baby.” He pulls the quilt back up and tucks Gale’s arm back under. Fusses for a minute and places a trash bin on the floor within reach by Gale’s head. The sick man eyes it with an embarrassed huff but doesn’t protest that it might be necessary.

“You shout if you need me, alright?” Bucky tells him, hand splayed over his chest on top of the covers, thumb brushing idly back and forth. “I’m gonna go murder the casserole that hurt my sweetheart.”

Gale’s breathy chuckle follows him out the door and he speeds up his steps and lengthens his strides, eager to get out of his uniform and into their bed.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Soooo how did those “negotiations” go for diplomat reader 😉 (I’m begging for more cato and Titus plz give us that blueberry sandwich!)

Author’s Note: One Blueberry Diplomat Sandwich coming right up~ I hope that you enjoy the fic :D First. Latest. This is NSFW, so 18+ only readers!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: smut, polyship, polyandry, mild exhibitionism, ask me to tag if there's something that bothers you

Summary: You show off one of the sets of armor you've been gifted to your lovers. Both of them have very enthusiastic responses.

You pause for a moment to do another couple of cooling down stretches, humming to yourself contentedly before noticing that the rest of the small group of mortal diplomats had paused in their stretches and were looking at the door to the training room the group you were currently in had been brought to, in order to go through the physical fitness and basic self defense qualifications that were required of the diplomatic corps under the Lord Regent. 

You look over and smile as you see Cato lingering in the doorway, watching you move, his expression serious and neutral, though his eyes were focused intensely on each movement you made. 

You were wearing a two-piece black undersuit - though you’d taken off the long-sleeved top, revealing your sports bra to preserve your modesty in this space, and had tied the shirt around your waist. Part of the requalifications included being able to successfully get in and out of various kinds of protective armor, as well as move about inside of said armors without throwing off one’s normal rhythms and movements. 

You did enjoy going through the self-defense classes, even though your preferred weapon was either the word you wielded or the stylus you used to write with, you were familiar with hand-to-hand combat as well as a number of widely available small-arms. Mostly Laspistols and their variants as well as knives and daggers, but you’d been trained with a rapier since you could walk, along with dance and elocution lessons.

“Did you need something, captain Sicarius?” The self defense instructor - a semi-retired training sergeant of the Astra Militarum - asked curiously. 

“I… Uh… Uhm.” Cato responds, gaze still focused entirely on you. He seemed to be struggling to find his words, and you could see the way his face was warming to a very entertaining shade of red. 

You cheerfully make your way over to him, putting a subtle sway in your hips as a sly grin appears on your face “Grynx got your tongue, captain~?”

“WHy… You are… What?” Cato manages out.

You frown a little - is he perhaps concussed? You hadn’t expected him to be so wholly startled at your state of dress. He’s seen you in significantly less than what you’re wearing currently. Part of you very much wants to continue to tease the clearly flustered Ultramarine captain, but the rest of you is starting to get genuinely concerned. You send a quick text to Titus [Cato’s acting stranger than normal. Did he get sent head-first through a reinforced wall?]

You get a response a couple of seconds later [Not unless he got yote through a barrier in the ten minutes it’s been since I’ve last seen him. Where are the two of you?] Titus sent.

[In the training room where the diplomatic requals are being held. He’s just… Lurking in the doorway. He’s starting to unnerve the others a little.] You send, as it’s true. The rest of the mortal diplomats up for requalifications have only recently been transferred to Maccrage’s Honor and are still very much unused to interacting directly with any Astartes - much less one with as storied a history as one Captain Cato Sicarius.

[Ahhh. Quick question, love. What are you wearing?] Titus asks, the question feeling a little confusing and out of place.

[Half a black flightsuit, why?] You send back honestly. [I got too warm in the full suit, while I was sparring with some of my fellow diplomats, so I took the top off. I do have something covering my breasts, of course.]

Titus didn’t respond to your text, worried you a little. Especially as the self defense instructor slowly moved towards Cato, having grabbed one of the training staves, and looked like they were about to whack the Ultramarine with it.

Just before Cato was about to be poked by the end of a long, sturdy stick, Titus appeared, stopping dead in his tracks as he looked you up and down. You could see his mind running some sort of calculations very quickly in his head, although what he was thinking about, you could only begin to guess. He turns and looks at the Defensive instructor, asking “Has class concluded for the day?”

“Yes, and these particular diplomats have qualified to test out of the lessons for the next month, particularly her.” The instructor answered, gesturing to where you were standing.

“Fantastic. If you don’t mind, Captain Sicarius and I would like to borrow you, lady diplomat. To go over some practical concerns we have over your security detail during the next planet-side negotiations, due to some new intel we’ve recently been updated with.” Titus responds, taking three strides over and scooping you up, one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back, as he leaned your weight against his armored chest “Unless you have something more urgent to tend to, my lady?”

A small frown appeared on your face as you shift a little, comfortable in Titus’ hold “Nothing that is more important than ensuring the compliance of the Uvranis system. I’m ready to talk to you both about it. I don’t have my pad on me to take notes, but I imagine one or both of you have something for me to write notes on.”

“That we do, my lady.” Titus hummed, turning and leaving the room, moving at a quick but unworried pace. 

He’d carried you perhaps four steps down the hallway before Cato caught up with you and him, swiping you out of the lieutenant’s arms and pressing you up against the nearest wall, kissing you hard on the lips.

You gasp in surprise into the kiss, but respond in kind, melting into his touch, equal parts delighted and confused.

The sound Titus made at Cato’s second question was concerning. A mixture of a groan and a whine as he presses in close, turning your face away from Cato’s and kissing you back, nipping your lower lip “Oh… Throne, please?”

Cato pulls away as your lungs begin to burn for air, just far enough to speak, his lips brushing against yours “You look. So fucking sexy in this. Have you worn armor before? Will you wear armor for us?”

“I… Yes, I’ve worn armor before. Either reinforced grox-hide leather armor incorporated into the outfit I’m wearing for the event as subtle protection against most non-electrified or chain-blades, or the occasional ringed mail, on certain feral and feudal worlds, as part of negotiations.” You answer honestly, startled by the fervor the both of them are showing. “The leather armor is quicker to get on and off, but I do have both of them properly stored in my quarters. They’re further in the back of my closet than most of my clo- woah!”

You squeak as Cato pulls you off of the wall and begins sprinting down the hallway, having slung you over one shoulder, a broad, warm hand keeping you steady ,the other shoving Titus as the other Ultramarine lunged to grab you out of his hands. “Woah! Hey! Loves?”

“You look incredible in the under-armor… I just… Please wear at least one of them for us?” Titus pleaded as he chased Cato through Maccrage’s Honor - the second captain dodging his continued attempts to take you from him.

Other Ultramarines and the occasional serf flatten themselves along the wall, giving you amused expressions as Cato barrels towards your room at speed. This is far from the first time they’ve done this. You’re just grateful these sorts of antics only happen on Maccrage’s Honor, or when you and your lovers are in an Ultramarine owned base, on the occasions that’s happened. “I… Alright.” You didn’t expect them to have such a strong reaction to you potentially being in armor, but you were happy to indulge them.

~

It did not take long for Cato and Titus to bring you to your quarters. Cato impatiently set you down in front of your large walk in closet, and both of them watched you intently as you used your ident-scan in order to get into your closet (it was important to have security on it - not just because there were valuables in there, but there were ways of poisoning someone’s clothes, or slipping in any number of small listening devices - among other things - if your clothes and accessories weren’t properly stored and protected.

Not that they weren’t checked by loyal tech priests regularly, due to your station, but you’d rather be cautious than something unfortunate happening. “Wait out here, you two. I want to surprise you with which set of armor I’m going to wear first.” You instructed them “Why don’t you two get comfortable while I change?”

Cato huffed, pouting at you a little “And what if we wanted to help you into the armor?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. Considering the vehemence the both of them had reacted - “Can either of you honestly say that you’d be able to wait until I’m in the armor to try and get it off?”

“... She’s got a point.” Titus sighed, a dreamy expression appearing on his face, gaze flicking between you and Cato.

Cato harrumphed and sat down at the edge of your bed nearest your closet. “Very well. We shall wait here, per your request. If you need assistance…”

“I’ll call, if I do.” You hum, smiling warmly at both of your lovers, before indulging in kissing them both, before heading back into your walk in closet.

It did not take long for you to find the four sets of armor you’d been gifted over the years. You went with the dyed blue brigandine armored dress, humming to yourself softly as you put on the under shirt you’d tied earlier around your waist. The chest and thigh piece of the brigandine armored dress was sleeveless and had clasps running down the back of the armor - which you could reach with a little bit of stretching, as the lower portion split in the front, covering you to your mid-thighs. You reach for the armored leg and arm pieces, swiftly attaching the correct part of your body, ensuring that the straps were synched down correctly.

The last thing you put on were the leather boots that accompanied this set of armor. You internally debated on grabbing one of your weapons - perhaps your favorite rapier? But you weren’t exactly in the mood to try and spar one of your giant lovers at the moment, so perhaps later. Both were excellent and highly skilled swordsmen, and you’d wanted to clash blades with them occasionally, but hadn’t quite been able to ask yet. 

You pause, catching sight of yourself in the mirrors attached to your closet doors before going back and grabbing several sturdy pins that doubled as emergency weapons in a pinch, tying up your hair out of your face, the way you would when anticipating a potential battle, or when going to spar as loose hair was begging for trouble.

You grin at yourself in the mirror, hoping that Cato and Titus would like the way you looked in the armor - you certainly felt fierce. You take in a couple of steadying breaths and confidently walk out of the walk-in closet, throwing the doors open wide, looking up challengingly at the both of them and asked, posing a little for the both of them “What do you think?”

Titus wasn’t much better, having been leaning against a nearby wall and flailed with a surprising lack of grace, falling to the ground in a loud crash of ceramite on metal as he stared up at you, awe and lust on his face. “You… You look amazing!”

Cato swore softly and nearly fell over as he attempted to stand up from where he’d been sitting on your bed. “Fuck!”

You smile warmly as you walk over to Titus, offering a hand to help him up “Thank you, although I honestly didn’t expect both of you to react so much to me in armor.” Given how important their armor was to them… And to their fellow Ultramarines, perhaps you shouldn’t have been so surprised. For most baseline humans, the only images they had of Astartes were them fully armored. It was incredibly rare to see astartes out of armor unless one was deeply trusted and in constant contact with them, as you are.

Titus took your hand and stood up, before sweeping you off of your feet and kissing you deeply on the lips, playfully nipping on your lower lip before purring into your ear “How could we not, when you look like a goddess of battle?”

Cato was suddenly right next to Titus, using two of his fingers to gently turn your face to him, and kissed you deeply, before you could try and respond to Titus’ goddess comment. He also swiped you from Titus’ arms  in the same movement, carrying you over to bed, setting you on it. “You look… Titus is right.” one of his hands slid under your armored skirt, lightly squeezing your upper thigh, tracing a line up to your lower lips. 

You groan in pleasure and grind down on Cato’s fingers, a needy “Please, touch me more!” Leaving you. 

“As you wish, our radiant lady.” Titus purred, joining you and Cato on the bed, giving you another heady kiss. 

Cato hummed “Should we remove your armor? Or keep it on, as we worship you? You went to all the effort of putting it on���” You can hear the devious smirk on his face, the warmth of his breath as he kisses and nips his way up your inner thighs, his tongue joining the two fingers he’s slid inside of your wet cunt.

A pleased keen leaves you as you grind down on Cato’s face, your legs wrapping around his head in order to keep him in place “I… It’d take time to get me out of this…”

“Mm,  you’ll find that we are able to get you out of armor quickly, if that is what you wish.” Titus hums, his hands having loosened the straps of your chest piece in order to reach down the gap to gently squeeze one of your breasts, teasing the dusky nub, prompting you to shiver in pleasure and anticipation.

Cato hums in agreement, and the vibrations through your core cause your toes to curl at the stimulation. 

“I- ah! - Alright!” You cry out, shivering in pleasure, your legs pressing Cato closer to your core.

Titus grins, starting to undo the straps completely when both Cato’s and Titus’ voxes go off at the same time. A moment later, your vox chimes from where Titus had placed it on your bedside table. You look up at Titus, then down to Cato and sigh. “Titus… GIve me my vox please.”

Titus sighs and Cato, the merciless bastard, starts rubbing little circles into your clit with one of his fingers, still kissing and moving hush tongue in and out of your core, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “Are you sure?”

“It’s.. AH! Probably something - ngh - important!” You manage out, trying and failing to glare at Titus, your legs still wrapped around Cato’s head.

“Very well.” Titus responded, handing you your vox, before returning to getting you out of your armor, kissing and nipping every bit of newly exposed skin.

You fumble with the communicator under the expert attentions of two amorous Ultramarines, making sure that it was audio-only on your side. It was a message from another member of the diplomatic team, having marked the request for communication as urgent. “Yes, I’m here. What’s going on?” You manage out, hoping that your voice doesn’t sound as breathy to them as it did to you.

Titus has undone the last of the straps of your armored dress, pulling it off of your body as Cato continues to drive you mad with his tongue and fingers buried deep inside your core.

“The situation in the Ulvanis system has changed drastically. They are under siege by Chaos forces and are begging for aid.” The other diplomat explained “The Lord Regent, in his infinite wisdom has arranged for Imperial Aid to be able to chase off those wretched traitors, but that also means that we should probably change our method of approach with the local leadership, once we arrive.”

“Why… Would we need to change approaches?” You ask, keeping your voice as even and calm as you could. “Just because they are given aid, doesn’t necessarily mean that they will be easier to convince to rejoin the greater imperium.”

Which was Difficult as Titus was currently kissing and biting where your neck and your shoulder joined together, intent on leaving a dark love bite that you’d need to cover up later.

Cato, not to be outdone by his second in command, was doing his level best to get you to cum, his tongue pressing in and out of you faster as his finger continues to rub toe-curling circles into your clit. You can feel the oncoming orgasm by the curling in your body, the way you feel your cunt throb in aching pleasure.

“But!” The other diplomat protested “They should be! Given that it is only the strength lent to them by the Imperium that will allow them to stay free of Chaos’ yoke!”

“And the… People of the Uvranis sector are… Known for being quite… Prideful. The fact that they asked for help at all… Means that-” you briefly mute the call and let out a high, pleasured moan, arching into Cato as you clutch desperately onto the bed with the hand not holding onto vox, desperately trying not to cum just yet. Once you’re sure you have command over your voice, you unmute yourself again “-that the situation is likely quite dire. They may be more stubborn, not less. For their possible perceived shame of needing help in the first place.”

“Oh… I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll keep researching what is recored about their peoples and past reactions. Thank you for pointing that out.” The other diplomat responded.

“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?” You asked, hoping that your voice wasn’t as shaky over voice as it sounded to your ears.

Titus was gleefully teasing your breasts and nipples, pressing kisses to your face and neck, leaving more little love bites everywhere he kissed you, finding your sensitive places and teasing them.

Cato was still expertly eating you out, tongue and fingers continuing to tease your cunt and clit. He was humming, quietly enough so that the Vox wouldn’t pick it up, but the extra vibrations were rapidly stripping you of the ability to keep from cumming. 

“That’s all. Should I schedule a meeting with the full team about this?” They ask.

“Everyone’s going through the combat re… Requalifications today, and will probably be too worn out to be effective. Maybe tomorrow or the next day?” You suggest. It would take several more weeks of travel to get to the contested sector, so it wasn’t as if the meeting had to happen as soon as possible. Thankfully, as you’re not sure you’d be able to walk to the meeting room under your own power.

“Ah, that’s right. I’ve got to get mine done. Have you done yours yet?” The other diplomat asked curiously.

“I have. As long as you’ve kept to the mandatory fitness levels, you should be fine. I’ve got to go.” You respond, ending the call before they could say anything else, You shudder and gasp a couple of moments later in the evil, terrible, talented hands of your lovers as you cum less than a second later “FUCK! Titus! Cato! Ah…”

“Yes?” Cato purrs, his breath warm over your core, his lips brushing against you as he speaks. 

“Did you need something?” Titus drawls, an evil grin on his face as he gives you another nipping kiss to your neck.

“You’re both… So… Augh! Hah… Impossible.” You half grumble, the high activity from earlier in the day - and the intense orgasm courtesy of your lovers having worn you out.

“We aim to please.” Titus hums, kissing you on the lips.

You feel Cato nod before nuzzling your thighs. “Tired?” He asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

“You two may be used to combat training all day long, but I’m not, so  yes. Yes I am.” You sigh, uncrossing your legs and tapping Cato twice on one side with one of your feet.

He silently responds by standing up and joining you and Titus on the bed properly, Cato licks his fingers clean of your slick before resting his dry hand on one of your knees as your legs come to rest across his lap.

“Then rest, love. You are always safe with us.” Titus promises, giving you a gentle kiss on the lips.

You hum back in response before saying, as your eyes close “I know… I love you both, so much.”

“And we love you too, our lady.” You hear them both murmur at the same time as sleep takes you under.

[thepaperpanda]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, master kink, blindfold, leash, oral (m & f receiving), anal fingering, dirty talk, fem!reader

Synopsis: Sukuna takes immense pleasure in indulging in playful interactions with his beloved human plaything

Author: @doumadono A/N: Here is my latest contribution to our Kinktober '23 Collaboration. I sincerely hope that you derive great enjoyment from it. Today’s prompt: leash

Masterlist

From the shadows, a chill embraces your skin as a cold piece of leather gracefully encircles your neck. The whispered command reaches your ears, coaxing a mischievous smile to dance upon your lips, “Rule #1, human whore.” 

Swiftly, you shed your shirt and pants, casting aside the last remnants of your modesty, baring your form to the world.

Rule #1 - when the collar graces your neck, your garments yield to the ground.

Kneeling obediently, wrists offered to the sides, you await the embrace of leather cuffs, ready to submit to their firm hold.

Sukuna's presence envelopes you as he slides the cuffs into place, and you offer gratitude, your voice hushed, "Thank you, Sukuna.”

Yet, without warning, searing pain surges across your right cheek. The command tears through the air, a stark reminder of your transgression. “Rule #2!” Sukuna yells.

“Rule #2 - Sukuna does not exist at the same time the collar does. When the collar is on, you will be referred to him as Master. Anything else is grounds for punishment,” you recite.

"You see, Y/N? You can be a good slave, you just need to want it," he utters, his satisfaction evident more in the comprehension of his dominion than in any delight derived from your presence. With deliberate care, he adorns your ankles in leather cuffs, issuing the decree for you to rise.

You comply, pivoting to face him, your first true glimpse of him since a long time. Clad in naught but snug boxers, he exposed his entirety to any observer's prying eyes. Almost instinctively, you found yourself tallying his chiseled abdominal muscles within the recesses of your mind.

He reaches behind him, and he retrieves a leash, fastening it securely to your leather collar. A rough tug guides you into his sanctum, where a peculiar sight, previously unnoticed, now beckons – a suspended chain descends from the ceiling.

"Hands aloft, my sweet human slut," Sukuna decrees.

You oblige without hesitation, your cuffs attaching to the suspended chain. This, you cherished the most – the segment he referred to as playtime, where you metamorphosed into a pliable puppet, surrendered wholly to his unrestrained whims.

Sukuna's lips descend upon your neck, igniting an exquisite symphony of sensations that ripples through your body. Each kiss is a tantalizing promise, and you can't suppress the instinctive squirm of excitement that coursed through you. His path of seduction continues, a slow, deliberate journey down your chest, where his lips pauses, lingering temptingly over your aroused nipples.

The world around you seems to fade into insignificance as Sukuna traces his way further south, his kisses setting your skin ablaze with longing. Finally, his destination is reached, and his lips meet your slick, aching core. With a deft touch, he kisses around it while firmly grasping the plush flesh of your ass, sending waves of pleasure through you. A languorous, teasing lick up your slit follows, culminating in an intoxicating kiss on your clitoris before he withdraws, leaving you craving more.

Sukuna's chuckle, a wicked melody, pierces the air as he circles around you, positioning himself near your ass. Without warning, his skilled fingers find their way into your tight asshole, eliciting a gasp of pure pleasure from your trembling lips. He works his calloused fingers in and out of you, watching you scream just for him. 

Soon, Sukuna rises, and a blindfold descendes over your eyes, shrouding your senses in anticipation. "My master," you whisper. “You’re so good to me, master.”

The subtle sound of clips being undone from above reverberates in your ears, a signal for you to lower your arms. Eagerly, you comply, yearning to be bound, to surrender completely to Sukuna's mastery. 

He clips your wrists together, and you instinctively place them before you, tantalizing thoughts of self-indulgence dancing through your mind.

But Sukuna, ever the master of your desires, anticipates your thoughts with an air of authority. "If you even try to play with that little cunt of yours," he warns, "expect punishment." His grip on your leash tightens, and he guides you, blinded by the fabric that concealed your vision, to what you can only surmise as his throne.

A sharp slap on your exposed ass commands you to kneel. Sukuna's dominance is an intoxicating elixir, and as you kneel before him, you can't help but long for the thrilling journey that lay ahead.

With an eager grin, your anticipation heightens as you know exactly what's about to unfold. 

Sukuna's hand gently but firmly guides the back of your head, directing your lips towards his massive dick. His physique is undoubtedly impressive, but it's his imposing cock that stands out as his most remarkable physical attribute, in your opinion.

As your lips make contact with the warm, throbbing head of his member, an immediate surge of desire courses through you, and you moan. The salty taste of pre-cum teases your senses, and you embark on the tantalizing journey, taking his length into your mouth inch by inch. With each passing moment, you feel the throbbing presence, stopping at about halfway when it grazes the back of your throat. You've never quite managed to take the entirety of him before, but tonight feels different — it's a night of potential conquest.

Sukuna maintains a steady pressure on your head as you draw in a deep breath through your nose, preparing for the daring plunge that lies ahead. As his pulsating cock advances deeper, you begin to feel a sensation of lightheadedness creeping in. Lost in the intense moment, you lose track of how far you've come, your singular focus on taking even more of him inside. 

Suddenly, the sensation of his skin brushing against the tip of your nose snaps you out of your passionate trance. Gasping for much-needed air, you peel your head away from his length, a triumphant grin playing upon your lips, drool dripping down on your tits - you've achieved what you set out to do!

You can feel the undeniable assurance that he relishes the upward pull of your leash, a silent affirmation of his desire. As you rise to your feet, you're swiftly guided onto his regal throne, your body effortlessly placed there. Your legs find themselves hoisted upward, draped over his robust, sinewy shoulders, and the sultry sound of his grunts fills your ears. Without any warning, he shoves his dick in your pussy, and you let out a shout. "Fuck, master, harder!" You somehow manage to get out in one quick breath before returning to moaning.

He grabs your leash and uses it as leverage as he pumps his massive shaft into you. Sukuna begins going faster and you are in complete ecstasy, barely able to stop squealing to breathe. His balls slap against your cunt, wet noises fill the room.

You feel him pull out of your cunny. With a tug of the leash, Sukuna forces you back on your knees. “Open your filthy mouth, bitch,” he orders. Hs dick is placed in your mouth. you barely give it a lick before his huge load shoots into your mouth, some of it dribbling out of the corners of your mouth. You swallow all you can, licking your lips after.

"Good slut," Skuna says, clearly satisfied. He slips one of his hands between your parted thighs to rub fast circles on your swollen clitoris. He then pulls the blindfold off of you and you grin up at him shyly. Sukuna's voice drips with approval as he can’t help but wear a sly, mischievous grin. "Impressive work, my obedient slave. You've truly outdone yourself. Well done fulfilling Rule #3.”

Rule #3 - ensure the master's desires are consistently satisfied.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Can we have more of Edira? I am completely in love with your writing!

A/N: This one is out to you Edira freaks and geeks 🎤! Apologies its not much proof read. Thank you to those always sending positive vibes <3 you don't go unnoticed 😽😽

TW: Suggestive content, implied past/future sexual relations, boobs+ butts, use of sugar mommy/daddy, borderline nsft

Summary: Just a night alone with your lovely (totally not gaslighting or manipulating) corporate fiancée.

“Sugar mommy?” 

“Yeah its a… term of-- endearment. I guess?” 

“People around the office don’t usually use terms of endearment for me.” Edira squinted her eyes, scrutinizing your explanation. 

“Sugar mommy…” She contemplated again.  “isn’t that usually what you call some old creep preying on young girls?”

You slightly cringed hearing the term come out of her mouth again. 

“Well-- that’s usually sugar daddy; sugar mommy on the other hand..  Is usually looked at more positively. Like… a MILF.” 

“A MILF?” Edira scoffs. “Is that what I am? I’m not even a mother.” She sighed, pushing her greying blonde hair back with her fingers, looking back down at the paperwork on her vanity. “Or am I just old…” 

“Aw now don’t say that. You’re.. Like fine wine. Aging better with time.” Hearing the poorly constructed compliment leave your mouth nearly made you want to gag. Especially because you never thought twice about giving Edira such kind words; not when she still played you like her personal emotional dildo. 

“Besides, what does it matter anyway? It’s not like you cared about what they thought about you beforehand. Why now?” 

Edira massaged her temples, back turned to you as her head hung low. She had been getting increasingly more exhausted now that she had to focus on performance evaluations. You would’ve been worried for your job if it weren’t for the fact that you were sleeping with your boss, being strung along with her whims. You were safe for as long as Edira kept her interest in you. 

“You’re right,” She suddenly started, getting up out of her chair. “Its too exhausting to worry about what those lowlives think; I don’t know when I started caring.” 

Her crinkled white button up pulled upward slightly as she lifted her arms to tie back her hair. The last two undone buttons revealed the dark of her mesh, black thong as she stood in front of you. Her eyes closed as she wrapped a hairtie around the thick, straight tresses.

She took off her tight pencil skirt long ago, finding it far more comfortable to do paper work in the barest of minimums. She’d probably go fully nude if it weren’t for your scolding modesty, and the fact that the housekeeper had yet to go home. 

You scurried farther back onto the bed, repositioning your book on your lap as you looked away. But even as your head was buried in your book, you couldn’t help but peak your eyes upward; Not even out of sheer lust, but curiousity. You could never look away when it came to her-- and she knew it. You hated how she knew what her every move did, how it effected her surroundings and most of all-- you. You pressed your legs together, holding the book on your thighs as you attempted to get back to reading. 

It was like your subconscious willed you to look, to look at the way she dipped on each foot as she tried to position the tight black piece of elastic in a comfortable manner through her hair, how her swelled chest pushed against the white button up that you told her was too tight. But she liked it, liked how it made it easier for her to win over investors, how easily it won over you. Even through her padless bra and dress shirt, you could see the faint outlines of two round buds--

Nope, that was too much. You were getting ahead of yourself; how could you be so shameless? Especially with the woman who you cursed for all your problems and woes. However that was a double edged sword-- she was also to thank for your promotion, for the raise in your salary (as if that even mattered with her around), and your upgrade in housing. But what did that really matter, when your pride was missing?

The older woman sighed, breathily with a hint of a moan at the end. 

“I’m too tired to work on the rest of this... Why don’t you join me in the shower? I’m surprised you haven’t gotten in yet…” Edira commented, sliding onto the bed with her knees to get closer to you. 

“You wanted company, remember?” You rebuttled back, reminding her how you didn’t choose voluntarily to be by her side right now. 

“Ah, right.” 

She positioned her hands on your knees, leaning over to see the words on your book. She didn’t ask about it, instead reading upside down as she spoke. “So, all the more reason for you to join me. This looks boring anyway. Is this one of the books that I got you?” She asked, though you knew she wasn’t really looking for an answer. 

You felt slightly offended, though not surprised that she was criticizing your enjoyment. 

“It’s not. And.. I think I’ll just get in after you. Besides, Carla is still in the kitchen-- what happens if she comes looking for one of us?” 

Edira didn’t respond, instead walking out of the bedroom to stand in the doorway. 

“Carla,” She shouted, leaning on the side of the doorframe. “It’s already 10 hon, you can head home.” 

“Edira!” You whisper-screamed, looking her up and down as you saw Carla come down the hall. 

“Okay, Miss Edira.” The rounded woman put the broom back in the closet nearby yours and Edira’s bedroom, waving to you as Edira gave her a warm smile. The woman’s faint Bulgarian accent came out as she said her goodbye’s, the front door shutting behind her after she gathered her purse from the table. 

“What’s the matter with you!” You scolded. “I can’t believe you’d show up like-- that-- in front of Carla; do you really want to scare her off, I thought you liked her.” 

You grabbed your temples, shutting your book as the panic began to recede from your chest. 

“Oh please, don’t be so dramatic,” Edira waved her hand frivolously at you, shutting the door behind her. “ Carla’s seen me in much worse states, as have you--- wearing only half of my office clothes hasn’t been the worst of it.” 

“And I do like her,” Edira followed, pulling you up with one hand as you limply allowed her to tug. “She’s the only maid I can bare. Otherwise, I’d have you running up and around here cleaning up after me in a cute little maid outfit instead.”

“Housekeeper.” You corrected, giving her a frown as she lowered her hands down to your waist. 

Edira rolled her eyes childishly, pushing her pelvis up against the front of your hips, her bareness pressing against the warmth of your comfy sweatpants. You still wore your baby blue office blouse, not having the commitment to change the rest of your clothes since coming home. But its not like that mattered now, since Edira was so insistent on dragging you closer to the shower. 

She walked backwards, holding onto the drawstrings of your pants as she pulled you along. She held a gentle smirk, her undereyes slightly darkened from a lack of sleep. 

“Are you sure about this..?” You slowly slid your feet against the carpet, hesitantly following. “We both need our rest for tomorrow, and the shower isn’t always the safest opt--”

“Shh,” She hushed, grabbing your hips with a firmness as her nails slid gently under your shirt, running shivers up your spine; she knew you loved it when her nails ticklishly played against your back. “Just follow me, sweet thing.” 

She walked faster now, dragging you by the front of your pants into the master bathroom. Your socked feet nearly slid against the grouted tile floor, the rug cutting off abruptly. Edira shut the door behind you, her buttocks slightly sticking out in view as she turned away. 

You spun around, rubbing your face up and down as you tried to steady the anxiety that was clawing out of your heart. You always got anxious when she wanted to get intimate; she could be so demanding, so degrading if you did one wrong move-- but the praise, oh the praise made it so worth it when she pushed back your hair and said how good you were for her. 

Edira pulled you back around, watching you as she turned the lock, strands of hair falling out of her loose ponytail as they fell into her eyes. 

“Well, going to reject me now?” She asked, leaning dangerously close to your face. You had hardly moved away from the door once she pushed you in. 

“Well…” 

“Well, what?” Edira mocked, running a finger down your jaw. 

Her lips were so close to yours that you couldn’t pay attention to her eyes anymore, merely focusing on the breath that entered and left her mouth. 

“Say no, hm? I dare you to.” You heard the faint sound of her buttons coming undone, hands changing to reaching the tops of her buttons as she leaned in close. 

Her hand pushed to the back of your head, gently nursing you to kiss her as she pulled your sweatpants down just a tad. They fell with ease, her breasts softly squishing against your chest as you felt the heat of her body that was once kept warm by her clothes. 

“I know you can���t.”

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 16: To San Diego

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

Gradually awakening, you found yourself in an unfamiliar queen-size bed, the sound of a shower running nearby gently rousing you. You wore an olive green tank top and light weight olive green and black sleeping pants. As you slowly sat up, you took in the surroundings. The room had white walls adorned with a few pictures resting on a well-worn dresser. The only items that seemed new in the space were the bedding and pillows on the bed.

You let out a sigh, realizing this simple setting was reflective of how your husband had been living for years as a pilot. In stark contrast, your own living conditions could be considered luxurious. With a sense of newfound appreciation and a bit of guilt, you tossed the duvet aside, swung your legs over the side of the bed, and placed your feet on the floor, just as the sound of the shower ceased.

Moments later, the bathroom door swung open, and Jake stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist, his dog tags dangling over his muscular chest. Steam billowed out behind him, enveloping him like a cloud, creating an almost ethereal sight. You found yourself looking at him with fresh eyes, seeing him in a new light that melded the familiarity of your husband with the stark realities of his profession and lifestyle.

"Morning," Jake greeted, his voice warm. "I didn't wake you, did I?" he asked, concern tinting his words as he made his way toward the closet.

You shook your head in response. "No, it was the unfamiliarity that did," you answered, your gaze following him as he reached for his flight suit hanging among the other items in the closet.

He turned to face you, his green eyes sparkling with a lively intensity. Even in his disheveled state, he had an undeniable allure that could send shivers down your spine.

"Good. We did get in pretty late, and you looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn't want to disturb you," he explained, moving towards his dresser to fetch his underwear, T-shirt, and socks. As he spoke, he let the towel around his waist drop to the floor.

Feeling an unexpected wave of embarrassment, you turned away to afford him some privacy. The reason behind this sudden modesty with your own husband puzzled you, yet you could hear him getting dressed behind you.

"I'm going to go make some coffee," you announced, seeking an escape to compose yourself. With that, you headed out the door towards the kitchen.

The kitchen and living area were compact, resembling a modest kitchenette. There was a small couch, a TV, and a petite dining table accompanied by two chairs, all arranged to fit within the limited space efficiently.

You started opening up cabinets to look for some coffee, but there wasn't much.

A few minutes later, Jake emerged from the bedroom, his hair neatly combed and dressed in his flight suit, perfectly embodying the image of a pilot.

"Don't worry. I'll grab some at the base," he said initially, then paused, reconsidering his words. Realizing the coffee was meant for both of you, he added, "I'm sorry. I don't have much here."

You turned to face him, offering a reassuring smile. "It's no problem. I'll get a rental car and tour the city today."

He closed the distance between you, concern evident in his eyes. "You sure?"

You nodded affirmatively. "Yeah, I'll be fine." Your gaze swept across the confines of the small apartment.

"I know it's not like the lodge," he began, acknowledging the stark difference in your accommodations.

You reached up, gently cupping his face with your hand, a tender gesture that sought to bridge any distance between you. "Has it always been like this? Why didn't you say something?" Your voice carried a mix of concern and curiosity, wanting to understand his experiences and the choices he made to live this way.

He leaned slightly into your touch, his expression softening with a hint of resignation. "I'm a Naval Aviator. I'm not here much. And when I get deployed, it's less for me to worry about," he explained, his words revealing a pragmatic acceptance of his lifestyle, dictated by the demands of his profession.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. He gave you a quick kiss on the lips before he turned to answer it, moving with a sense of purpose towards the door to see who was on the other side.

He opened the door, revealing a tall African American gentleman on the other side. "It's about time you came back," the man greeted, his voice carrying a warm, familiar tone. They exchanged a brief, hearty "man" hug, a gesture that spoke volumes of their close relationship. After the greeting, the man's gaze shifted towards you, his eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and friendliness.

The man approached you with his hand extended, a friendly smile on his face. "So, you're the famous Doctor Seresin that I knew nothing about. I'm your husband's best friend, Javy 'Coyote' Machado. You can just call me Coyote." His introduction was warm and inviting, clearly indicating the close bond he shared with your husband.

You took Coyote's hand, his grip firm and reassuring, the kind that spoke volumes of his character without the need for many words. "If it makes you feel any better, Jake has never mentioned you either," you said, returning his smile with one of your own, your curiosity about the man before you piqued by the familiarity in his demeanor.

Coyote's laughter was hearty and genuine, the sound filling the space between you with an ease that spoke of his good nature. "Well, I suppose that makes us even then," he said, his smile broadening. "Jake's always been more of the strong, silent type, but don't let that fool you. There's a lot more to him beneath the surface, as I'm sure you're well aware."

His observation struck a chord with you, acknowledging the depth you had come to know and love in Jake. "Absolutely. Every day with him brings something new," you agreed, your thoughts momentarily drifting to the complex layers of your husband's character.

Coyote nodded, his expression turning thoughtful, as if reminiscing about past experiences shared with Jake. "He's one of the best men I've had the honor to serve with, and trust me, I don't say that lightly. Jake's saved my hide more times than I care to admit, and I'd do the same for him in a heartbeat."

The sincerity in Coyote's voice added weight to his words, offering you a glimpse into the unbreakable bond formed in the crucible of their shared service. It was a world apart from your own experiences, yet in that moment, you felt a profound connection to it through Jake and now, Coyote.

"Sounds like you two have been through a lot together," you commented, appreciating the depth of their friendship even more.

Coyote looked at his watch and then at Jake. "We've got to get going."

Jake nodded in agreement with Coyote's reminder of their schedule. He then made his way to the coffee table, where a notebook lay open. After jotting down a note, he carefully tore out the page and handed it to you. "If you need anything or get bored, just go here," he said, ensuring you had a point of reference or a suggestion for how to spend your day while he was away.

"The Hard Deck?" you questioned, looking at the note with curiosity.

"Yes, the owner's name is Penny Benjamin. I texted her and let her know you were here. She's my Captain's girlfriend," Jake explained, providing you with a bit of context and ensuring you'd have a friendly contact in the area. It seemed like a thoughtful gesture, connecting you with someone who could offer both company and assistance during your stay.

With a casual shrug, you accepted the plan. Jake then leaned in for a kiss, a tender moment shared between the two of you. "I love you, and I'll let you know what's going on," he assured you, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

"Love you too," you responded, the affection in your voice clear and unwavering. Watching Jake and Coyote leave, you turned your attention back to the piece of paper he'd given you. After a brief moment of contemplation, you placed it on the small table, a symbol of potential adventures or solace for the day ahead. With a deep breath, you then headed to the bathroom to prepare for whatever the day might bring.

You managed to arrange for a rental car to be delivered to Jake's apartment. Once it was there, you took it to do some grocery shopping, ensuring his apartment had food during your stay. After stocking up, you glanced at your watch and noticed it was only noon. With a sigh, you slumped onto his couch, feeling a bit lost in a city unfamiliar to you, wondering what to do with your time while Jake was busy at work.

You turned your gaze to the piece of paper resting on the small table behind you. Recalling the name written on it, you swiftly entered it into your phone, eager to find out what it was and where it could be found.

After reading the details, you pressed the directions button and discovered it was just a ten-minute drive away—and even better, it was located on the beach. Shrugging to yourself with a "why not?" attitude, you picked up the rental car keys and made your way out the door.

You pushed open the door to the Hard Deck and cautiously stepped inside. Behind the bar, an older man looked up.

"We're actually closed right now," he informed you kindly, his voice carrying a hint of an Irish accent. "We don't open until three."

"I understand, I'm sorry for the intrusion. My husband mentioned that if I ever needed anything, I should come here," you replied.

He looked at you with piercing blue eyes. "You must be Jake's wife."

With a slight nod, you tucked your hands into the back pockets of your shorts. "Yes, I am."

"Alright then, I'll fetch Penny for you. She's currently in the cooler taking stock of our inventory." With that, he turned and made his way toward a set of double doors.

Left by yourself, you wandered closer to the bar, taking the opportunity to admire the establishment's decor. Near the bar, a piano was positioned, its presence suggesting nights filled with music. Not too far from it, a jukebox stood, ready to fill the room with selected tunes. Hanging above the bar, model planes dangled, adding a unique touch of character to the ambiance.

The sound of the double doors opening caught your attention, and a slender brunette emerged, clad in an olive green button-up shirt and black jeans.

"Hi there! You must be Y/N?" she inquired with a welcoming tone.

"I am," you confirmed.

Pausing, she scrutinized you for a moment. "Well, I guess it all makes sense now," she remarked.

Puzzled, you inquired, "What does?"

"Why Hangman never seemed attracted to any other woman."

A smile crossed your face.

"Have a seat, please," she motioned towards a barstool. "My name's Penny," she introduced herself, extending her hand across the bar.

You took the offered hand, noting the warmth and firmness of Penny's grip—a welcoming gesture that made you feel instantly at ease. "Nice to meet you, Penny."

"Finding out Hangman was married really took me by surprise. He was always so reserved about his personal life."

"That seems to be the consensus."

"You're a doctor, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine. I specialize as a veterinarian for large animals."

"That's really impressive! How did you decide to pursue that field?"

You shrugged. "I've always been drawn to larger animals. Don't get me wrong, I am still trained for dogs and cats."

Penny glanced in your direction. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Just water for me, thanks."

Acknowledging your request, Penny reached behind the bar, selected a glass, then filled it with ice and water before setting it down in front of you, ensuring a coaster was beneath it.

"If you don't mind sharing, how did you come across Hangman?"

You took a sip of your water. "We actually met in a bar while I was attending a class in Austin, Texas. He had just completed his time at the Naval Academy and was back home for a few weeks. We connected instantly and ended up getting married after just a week and a half."

"I'd say I never saw Hangman as a quick decision maker, but that would be incorrect. He saved my boyfriend."

"Your boyfriend is the plane he saved. He told me about that."

"So, why didn't he tell us about you?"

You met her gaze and inhaled deeply. "Not long after we married, I discovered I was pregnant. But three months in, a horse kicked me in the stomach, and I miscarried. He urged me to give up my veterinary practice, leading to a major argument between us. We drifted apart after that, each of us burying ourselves in our work. Just last week, he suddenly decided he wanted to return to Wisconsin. I'm not sure what prompted the change."

Penny expressed her condolences with a sorrowful tone. "I'm sorry to hear about your loss."

"Thank you. It's something we've been working through together over the past week."

"The idea of divorce or separation never crossed your mind?"

"I can't say the thought of divorce never entered my mind, but whenever it did, I would glance at our wedding photo and remember the joyful moments. I had seen Jake at his happiest, yet I had never witnessed him in pain. I suppose the loss of our baby was that moment of pain for him. I couldn't blame him for feeling that way. I was dealing with it too."

Penny nodded, showing a sign of understanding. "He's quite fortunate, indeed. And here I was, thinking he was untamable by anyone."

You couldn't help but chuckle at Penny's comment, recognizing the mix of admiration and jest in her voice. "Well, I guess we all meet our match at some point, right?" you said, taking another sip of your water, the crispness of the drink a perfect match for the warmth of the conversation.

Penny laughed in agreement, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "That's very true. It's always the ones you least expect that end up surprising you the most," she added, her gaze briefly drifting as if reflecting on personal experiences.

The conversation flowed easily from there, with Penny sharing tidbits about the local area and you offering snippets of your own life and career. Despite the differences in your backgrounds, you found common ground in shared values and the occasional challenges of dealing with strong personalities, whether in a professional setting or personal relationships.

Penny glanced at her watch. "Wow, time really does fly when you're enjoying yourself. I need to go pick up my daughter from school. Feel free to stay as long as you like. Jake gave me your number, so I'll text you mine just in case you decide to head out." She swiftly pulled out her phone and sent a text, with your phone chiming shortly after. "If you need anything at all, just let me know."

You checked your phone, saving her contact details. "Thanks, Penny."

"I'll see you later," she said, rushing out the door.

After Penny left, your phone rang. You glanced at the caller ID and saw it was Jake. "Hey," you answered, a hint of surprise in your voice.

"Hey, darlin'. Where are you?" Jake's voice came through, sounding eager.

"I'm perched on a stool at The Hard Deck," you informed him, the background noise of the bar faintly audible.

"Great. I'll be there in a few minutes, so stay put," he replied, a tone of anticipation in his voice.

"I might head down to the beach," you mentioned, gazing out towards the sea visible from your vantage point.

"Alright. I'll find you there in a few," he assured.

The line went dead as you processed the swift exchange, pondering the imminent reunion.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbell @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891

[freeuselandonorris]

this has been sitting in my drafts for a day or so and an ask game is the perfect excuse to send it in

☉ SHARK TANK

I've been thinking many thoughts about Oscar and his usually quite well hidden exhibitionism. like he's not as much of an attention whore as Lando is (or at least not nearly as obnoxiously) but he still definitely IS. my source? old prema videos: him on a cliff in monaco talking about the view and then pointing at himself and saying "nice view". talking about how he's fine "becoming a meme on twitter" as long as it gets him attention. being well aware that there's a camera on him while he's getting undressed (the one singular clip that exists of him with his shirt off that is in like every edit ever made) but not making any effort to get said camera turned off or just turning away from it, not even bothering to look at least a little bashful after. like you ain't slick bitch I see you. I've not really seen that characterisation of him in fics but I'd be curious to hear your thoughts on the matter

YEAAAH love this!! i think you're so right actually - i think a lot of this is that athletes are just very comfortable with their bodies in the sense that they're used to seeing them as a tool and a thing to be honed and manipulated, so they're constantly being touched, adjusted, assessed (i also have a theory that this is why they're all so grabby with each other) and they're also used to just being on display. but ALSO this is about oscar's quiet confidence - like, lando's an exhibitionist in the sense that he's constantly putting himself on display for approval and because he wants the validation, whereas oscar's just like. yep. here i am. i know i'm worth it.

lil snippet because i love this idea!

The wild thing is, Oscar’s not even bothering to hide it. He’s standing as cool as anything in front of the mirror in his hotel room, dressed in only his boxer shorts, flexing. As if Lando’s not there.

“Damn,” Lando says from his vantage point on the bed, feeling hot and strange. He’d barged into Oscar’s room to get ready for the stupid sponsor event, needs the company to stop him getting all up in his head about it. “Really feeling yourself there, bro.”

He lets his voice tilt a bit scathing as he says it. Not like Oscar’s got nothing to be proud of – his upper body strength’s better than Lando’s now, the last bits of teenage softness melting away into solid muscle as the season’s progressed. But still. Man needs some modesty.

Anyway, he needn’t have bothered, because Oscar just blinks back at him in the mirror, face unreadable. 

“Yeah,” he says simply, and presses a hand to his sternum, twisting to flare his lats. Lando, for some stupid reason, feels his face going pink. “Pretty stoked with my progress recently.”

He doesn’t make an inappropriate joke of it like Lando would, or blush and get awkward. Just turns, angling himself subtly towards Lando instead of the mirror. Slim fingers resting in the channel between his abs, pinkie finger just dipping into his navel. 

Lando swallows. There’s something about the way Oscar’s acting, like it’s perfectly normal for him to be displaying himself like this, that makes Lando want to look. Like, really look. It must be okay, if Oscar's letting him do it. Encouraging him to do it.

He’s kinda flushed, colour high up on his cheeks and across the pale skin of his neck, but it’s not like he’s embarrassed. It’s like he’s excited. Like his heart’s hammering in his chest, sending all the blood rocketing around his body.

“Yeah. You’re looking good, Osc,” Lando says, dry-mouthed, and settles back into the pillows as Oscar’s hand creeps down, down. “Why don’t you show me the rest?”

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Hello! I have a funny request, what if one of Kai’s(Overhaul’s) subordinates walked in on him and y/n doing the…devils tango?

(Also you don’t have to write this topic if your uncomfortable)

Who the fuck does he think he is?! Some kind of God?!

Those were the only words that practically echoed inside Kendo Rappa's head as he huffed and stomped over the halls much like a feral animal.

Usually no one would care about the male's behavior or mood since practically Rappa was an ass most of the times. But apparently the source of his anger was once again Overhaul.

Much like any other day, Rappa demanded a match out of the dark haired male and again lost... miserably. It didn't even lasted one minute since Chisaki seemed kind of like in a hurry for something, and that pissed of Rappa even more.

It pissed him off so much that he was leaving the underground of the house to track Overhaul again to demand a proper rematch, since the asshole wasn't even looking at him when he had the nerves to kill him... again.

"Rappa, I always say how stupid you are, but have you lost your God damn mind?" It was so rare for Tengai to use those kinds of words that even Rappa stopped a bit to actually listen to the more rational and calm man "Master Overhaul already had a rematch with you today, just let it be-"

"The hell he didn't." He growled "The fucker wouldn't even let me finish my sentence and was already using his damn quirk on me, that ain't even a fight! And that asshole just left like nothing happened."

"I consider you more than a idiot then" Tengai hissed as both got up to the main floor, Rappa almost stomping his feet on his way to Overhaul's usual office.

He was so out of it that he didn't even listened to hushed groans and moans....

"LISTEN HERE YOU DAMN FU-" the man almost kicked the door open but soon shut his mouth pretty quick at the scene displayed in front of him.

His "boss" with his back turned towards, neck visible and filled with hickeys, gloves and shirt no where to be seen, scratches all over his back like he was attacked by some cat, it could be seen thanks by the light of room how sweaty, yes, the mysophobic sweating, he was... at least he had his pants on.. he thought... while you, overhaul's partner, sat on the the desk with legs wrapped tightly on Chisaki's waist and nails almost piercing through the male's flesh, your face was flushed and lips parted, eyes wide open in horror shock as you locked gazes with Rappa, hips immediately stopping from meeting with Chisaki as you shrieked.

Oh... and to Rappa's even more embarrassment.. you had your shirt on the damn floor.

"Fuck." He could only mutter that, he could feel his own cheeks almost burning up at the lewd scene in front of him.. clearly he caught his boss fucking.

But soon his embarrassment was changed to fear. Deep fear.

Overhaul immediately stopped moving, slowly moving his arm far enough to grab his shirt to cover your modesty... until he only turned one side of his face towards Rappa... it was one of the most terrifying death stares Kendo had ever saw on his God damn life. It seemed like all the light was drained out of Chisaki's face as his one eye almost sended the poor subordinate to a place worst than hell.

That side glare was enough to leave Rappa a shivering mess before he slammed the door close and got his ass out of there before he could be killed more than twice that day.

.

.

.

"Rappa, where the fuck were you these past two days?!" Mimic yelled at the man as Rappa groaned.

"Trying not to die."

"What?" Mimic arched an eyebrow before Rappa sat down with a heavy sigh and a hand covering half of his face before he put his mask on

"... I walked in when Overhoe was in the middle of a fuck." Rappa muttered which left Mimic widening his and shrieked. "Shut up. I didn't come here for two days in hopes he would calm down enough to not torture me."

"Shit man, sorry but I think that won't happen." Mimic spoke while patting Rappa's back

"Why?"

"Because for these past two days overhaul has been wanting to... talk... with you. And he still wants to..."

"Shit."

Soon a door slammed open while both man jumped at the sudden sound, Rappa could only gulp thick air when he heard (Y/n)'s begging for him to calm down.

Kai was now glaring at him the same way he did two days ago, now with a mask but he swore he could see at least three veins popping on Overhaul's head.

"Rappa." Was the only growl that left Chisaki's mouth before blood was spilled once again in the whole room.

He really should have stayed with his mouth shut that day....

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝕳𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸

Derek Danforth x gn reader

Summary: A normal day inside of your new life as Derek in this simple yet intriguing town while ghosts from the past keep haunting you.

Warnings: No pronouns used towards the reader so everyone can read. fluff. Fake identities but no names used. Fake marriage. Soft Smut at the end.

Note: I highly suggest you read the first part of the story or you just won’t understand anything

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

Words count: 6500

The morning light seeps through the sheer curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. You stir, slowly emerging from the depths of sleep, and blink against the light. Your eyes land on Derek, standing at the foot of the bed. He's already dressed, though his choice of outfit is characteristically chaotic: a bright red tie against a loud purple shirt, paired with a teal jacket and trousers. The combination is almost painful to look at, but it's so quintessentially Derek that you can't help but smile.

Before you can even greet him, he's on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His lips find yours in a series of rapid, fervent kisses, moving from your mouth to your cheeks, to your eyelids, and back again.

"Morning, love," he mutters between kisses, his voice a husky rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "Miss me?" he murmurs between kisses, his voice husky and warm. "I couldn't wait for you to wake up."

You try to respond, but his relentless affection makes it difficult to form coherent words. "Derek... I... Good morning," you manage to get out, laughing softly. Your arms wrapping around his neck as you return his kisses.

He grins, his hands roaming over your sides, his body pinning you in place. "You have no idea how much I've missed you," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with an intensity that makes your heart race. "You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?"

You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up despite the haze of sleep. "I think you might be the crazy one, Derek. Especially with that outfit."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. "You like it? Figured I'd give the locals something to talk about."

You roll your eyes playfully. "They're already talking about you, Derek. You don't need to give them any more reasons."

His expression grows serious, his gaze locking onto yours. "I don't give a fuck about what they think. The only thing that matters to me is you."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss that leaves you breathless. His hands are everywhere, his touch searing through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

You're completely at his mercy, but you wouldn't have it any other way. His intensity, his passion, it's all part of who he is - and you love him for it.

"There's always work to be done, especially with these idiots in town. Can't expect anything to get done properly without me, can we?" He chuckles, his breath hot against your ear.

You laugh softly, your hands tracing the lines of his jaw. "Ever the modest one, aren't you?"

He pulls back slightly, his eyes darkening with intensity. "Modesty is for the weak. I get things done. And I'll get you done, too, before I leave."

His words send a shiver down your spine. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that” you managed to say, looking quickly at the watch he had.

He was already more than 30 minutes late.

"Derek, I just woke up," you protest weakly, your voice muffled against his lips. "Give me a moment to breathe."

But he ignores your plea, his kisses becoming more fervent. "I can't help it," he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You're irresistible." His hand tangles in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

You gasped from the feeling of his teeth taking a chunk of flesh from your shoulder. His tongue licking ferociously like a starved animal who hasn’t eaten in days.

Finally, he pulls back, looking down at you with a smug satisfaction.

"Right. I've got to go deal with these incompetent fools now," he says, standing up and adjusting his tie. "But don't think for a second that I'm done with you. I'll be back, and we're going to pick up right where we left off."

You watch him as he leaves, a mixture of amusement and affection warming your heart. His arrogance, his confidence, it's all so him. And as much as he frustrates you, you wouldn't trade him for anything.

Once Derek is gone, you take a moment to gather yourself before getting out of bed. The villa you share is a simple, charming place, a stark contrast to the lavish lifestyle you once knew. It's nestled in a quiet coastal town, far removed from the chaos of your past. The whitewashed walls and terracotta roof tiles blend seamlessly with the surrounding landscape, giving the villa a timeless, rustic charm.

The interior is modest but comfortable, with rustic furniture that speaks of a simpler time. The living room is cozy, with a large stone fireplace and a worn leather sofa that has quickly become your favorite spot to relax. The kitchen is small but functional, with wooden cabinets and a quaint dining table where you and Derek share your meals.

Outside, a small garden blooms with colorful flowers and a lot of weeds that still need to be eliminate.

Gardening just wasn’t for you.

The simplicity of this place brings a sense of peace you never knew you needed.

You move through the villa, your footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floors. The tranquility of your surroundings provides a welcome respite from the lingering fear of being discovered. You brew a pot of coffee, the rich aroma filling the air, and think about the life you've built here with Derek.

The town's economy is struggling, and Derek's suggestions are met with a mixture of skepticism and hope. It's a side of him you've always admired, even if his arrogance can sometimes be overwhelming.

You also contributed to the town via the community center where you volunteer. It's a short walk from the villa, through winding streets lined with quaint houses and shops. The people in this town are friendly, their lives intertwined in ways that remind you of the importance of community.

At the community center, you find fulfillment in helping others. Whether it's organizing activities for the children, assisting with educational programs, or simply lending an ear to those in need, the work is rewarding and helps you feel connected to your new home.

The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the quiet coastal town as you exit your new home. The air is filled with the scent of salt and the distant call of seagulls. As you walk down the cobblestone streets, you're greeted by the familiar faces of your neighbors, each offering a friendly wave or a nod of acknowledgment.

A man selling fresh fish waves enthusiastically, yelling that ugly name you still needed to get used to. A group of children playing with a ball pause to wave at you too.

The community's warmth is palpable, and though you've only been here a short time, their friendliness has made the transition easier. They have accepted you and Derek into their community despite your mysterious arrival.

You make your way to the bakery, a small, charming building with a brightly painted sign hanging above the door. The scent of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, inviting you inside. You push open the door, the bell above it jingling softly as you enter.

The bakery is empty save for the young man behind the counter. He looks up as you walk in, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly composes himself. "Good morning" he stutters, his cheeks flushing a faint pink. Must be the hot weather outside.

"How can I help you today?"

He's a young man with a sturdy build, blond hair and a gentle demeanor. Despite his flustered greetings, you've come to enjoy your daily visits to the bakery, often stopping by just to talk with him. He's always polite, though you've noticed he becomes a bit nervous in your presence.

"Hello," you greet him with a warm smile. "I was just coming in to see how things are going. Has my husband been too harsh on you lately?"

The young man shrugs and offers a shy smile. "He can be... intense," he admits, "but he means well. He's helped me a lot with the business, even if his methods are a bit... direct."

You chuckle softly. "That sounds like him. I'm glad to hear the business is doing well, though. What do you recommend today? I'm in the mood for something special."

He brightens at your question, clearly pleased that you've asked for his advice. "Well, we just made a fresh batch of sourdough," he says, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "It's perfect with a bit of olive oil or cheese. And if you’re looking for something sweet, we have some new pastries filled with local berries.

You nod, taking in his suggestions. As you look over the selection, you notice the small gestures he makes the way his hands fidget slightly, the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

"I think I'll take a loaf of the sourdough and a few of those berry pastries." you decide. "They sound wonderful."

He begins to gather your order, moving with practiced ease. As he works, you lean against the counter, the atmosphere comfortable and relaxed. "So, any interesting details that are happening in town?" you ask, your tone light. "You always hear all sorts of things, working here.”

He grins, his demeanor relaxing a bit as he engages in the familiar small talk. "Actually, there's been quite a bit of chatter lately," he confides. "Mrs. Turner's cat had kittens, and everyone's talking about who's going to adopt them. And Mr. Fletcher is planning to expand his fishing fleet. It's all anyone can talk about at the market."

You laugh, enjoying the simplicity of the town's concerns. "Sounds like there's never a dull moment around here."

He chuckles, nodding. "It's a small town, but there's always something happening. People love to share their stories.”

“Anything else worth mentioning?”

"I’d you insist" he continues, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "have you heard about the mayor's daughter? She's apparently planning a big surprise for his birthday next week. It's all very hush-hush, but I heard she's organizing a town wide celebration.”

You lean in closer, intrigued. "Really? That sounds exciting. I'll have to keep an ear out for more details."

He nods, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "And then there's old Mr. Howard. He's convinced he saw a ghost near the lighthouse the other night. Says it's the spirit of a sailor who died at sca."

You laugh, shaking your head. "That sounds like he. Always coming up with something just to attract attention”

As you continue to chat, you can't help but notice the way he looks at you - his gaze lingering a bit too long, his smile a bit too warm.

"Do you ever get tired of hearing all the town's secrets?" you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Not really. It's part of what makes this place feel like home. Besides, it's nice to know what's going on in everyone's lives. Makes you feel connected.”

You nod, understanding.

The small talk is comforting, a reminder of the normalcy you've found in this quiet place.

"So, how's the community center project going?" he asks, handing you your bag of goods. "I heard you're organizing a new reading program."

"It's going well," you reply, smiling. "We've had a lot of interest from the kids. It's nice to see them so excited about books."

"That's great," he says, his smile widening. "You're doing a wonderful job there."

You thank him, feeling a warmth spread through you at his kind words. As you glance around the empty bakery you can't help but notice the care he takes in everything he does the way he arranges the pastries just so, the pride he takes in his work. It's clear that he loves what he does, and you admire that about him.

"Thank you," you said as he handed you the neatly wrapped package.

As you prepare to leave, he looks up, his eyes meeting yours. He calls out, your fake name still sounding odd and almost ugly to your ears.

You turn back to him, curious. "Yes?"

"There's going to be a festival tonight," he says, his voice hopeful. "Just the townspeople, a little gathering by the beach. I was wondering if you'd be there.”

You smile, touched by his invitation. "That sounds lovely. I’ll talk to my grumpy husband I’ll see if we can make it."

He beams, clearly pleased. "Great. It'll be nice to see you there."

With a final smile, you step out of the bakery, the bell jingling softly behind you.

As you walk back towards the villa, your phone rings. It's Derek.

You glanced at the time on your phone.

Punctual as usual.

Every single day, almost always at the same hour, you expected a call from Derek where you would then hear him whine and complain like a brat about how boring life here is.

You answer, and his voice is instantly recognizable, tinged with a familiar whine. His complains about this place are always hilarious to hear.

You seize the opportunity to steer the conversation towards the festival. "There's a festival at the beach tonight. It's a yearly event where everyone in town gathers. It might be fun, and it could be a good way to blend in more with the locals. What do you think?"

Derek snorts derisively. "A festival? Really? Sounds like a waste of time. I can't imagine anything more dull than watching these people dance around a bonfire or whatever it is they do."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "I find it adorable, okay? It's what makes this place unique."

"Unique is one thing," Derek mutters, you hear him making use of his vape with unnecessary vigor. "But some of these traditions are just plain stupid. They're so backward."

"Maybe," you concede, "but it's also about community and heritage."

Derek sighs, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I know, I know. It just drives me crazy sometimes. They could be so much more efficient, more productive."

Sensing his resistance, you decide to use a more persuasive tactic. "Well, I was thinking... if you do come, maybe we could make the evening a bit more interesting afterward. You know, a special reward for making an effort?" Your voice takes on a playful, suggestive tone.

There's a pause on the other end, and you can almost hear the gears turning in Derek's head. When he speaks again, his voice is cocky, laced with a hint of amusement. "A reward, huh? Well, that does change things. Alright, fine. But you better make it worth my while."

You smile, satisfied with his agreement. "You won't regret it. I'll see you at home soon."

"Yeah, yeah. See you then," he mutters before hanging up.

N

The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the small coastal town, bathing everything in a warm, inviting light. The townspeople have been busy all day, preparing for the annual summer festival held on the beach.

As you and Derek walk down the cobblestone path that leads to the shore, you can hear the distant sounds of laughter, music, and the hum of excited conversations.

Derek walks beside you, his posture relaxed yet still exuding an air of entitlement. His eyes hold a glimmer of curiosity that you didn’t dare to highlight to him otherwise he would just deny it.

The festival is far from the high-society events you and him used to frequent, but there's something about the simplicity and authenticity of it that intrigues him.

As you reach the beach, you're greeted by a breathtaking sight. The entire stretch of sand has been transformed into a vibrant tapestry of colors and decorations. String lights hang from wooden poles, their soft glow beginning to compete with the fading sunlight. Lanterns of various shapes and sizes are scattered around, casting a warm, flickering light as the evening approaches.

Large, colorful tents have been set up, each housing different activities and stalls. One tent is dedicated to local artisans, displaying handmade crafts and artwork. Another is filled with tables laden with an array of delicious foods, the scents mingling in the air and making your mouth water.

"Quite a setup," Derek remarks, his voice tinged with both amusement and a hint of his characteristic disdain. "A bit... quaint for my usual taste, though."

You smile, nudging him playfully. "Come on, try to enjoy it."

He rolls his eyes, but you can tell he's not entirely opposed to the idea. As you walk further onto the beach, you notice a stage set up at one end, with a local band playing lively music.

The sounds of guitars, drums, and cheerful vocals fill the air, blending with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

As you stroll along, you spot a group of teenagers playing beach volleyball.

Among them, you recognize the guy who works at the bakery. He's already watching you from afar. When he realizes you've noticed him, you wave at him warmly.

One of his friends, noticing the interaction, nudges him playfully in the arm. The baker, caught off guard, waves back awkwardly, a blush creeping up his neck. His nervousness only intensifies when he notices Derek looking in his direction as well, a flicker of territoriality in Derek's eyes.

Just then, you feel Derek's presence beside you, his arm slipping possessively around your waist. His grip is firm, and he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Seems like you've got an admirer," Derek comments dryly, his tone laced with amusement and a hint of possessiveness.

You laugh, shaking your head. "He's just a kid, Derek. Don't get all worked up."

Derek smirks, his gaze still lingering on the group of teenagers. "Well, he'd better know his place."

You and Derek make your way to one of the food stalls, where the tantalizing smell of grilled seafood draws you in. The stall owner, an elderly woman with a warm smile, offers you a plate of freshly grilled fish and a side of roasted vegetables

"Welcome to our festival," she says, her eyes crinkling with genuine friendliness. "Enjoy the food and the festivities.”

"Thank you," you reply, taking the plate. You hand another to Derek, who accepts it with a nod, his expression inscrutable.

As you find a spot to sit and enjoy your meal, you take in the sight of the beach decorated for the festival.

Banners with intricate patterns flutter in the breeze, and tables covered with colorful cloths are dotted around, inviting people to sit and relax.

There's a sense of community and togetherness that's palpable, something that feels warm and adorable.

A middle-aged man with a hearty laugh approaches your table, accompanied by a woman with kind eyes. The man's face lights up with recognition as he sees Derek.

"Never fought to see you here!" the man exclaims. "What brings you to our little festival?"

Derek raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Fred. This is my partner, the reason why I’m here" he says, introducing you.

Thank God, Derek gave you the grace of not specifying or the conservation would be over already.

Fred shakes your hand enthusiastically. “Pleasure to meet you. This is my wife, Susan. We run the fish stall with my mother.”

Susan smiles warmly. “We hope you’re enjoving the festival. It’s a tradition that goes back generations in our family.

“Really?” you ask, intrigued. “Tell us more about it.”

Fred and Susan exchange a proud glance before launching into the story. “Well, it all started around fifty years ago.” Fred begins. “This town was just a small fishing village back then. Every summer, the fishermen would come together to celebrate the bounty of the sea. They’d share their catches, tell stories, and enjoy the warm weather.”

Susan nods, picking up the tale. “Over time, it evolved into a community-wide celebration. We have music, food, games, and of course, the traditional bonfire at the end of the night. It’s a way for everyone to come together and appreciate what we have.”

Derek listens, his usual cynicism replaced by genuine interest. “Sounds like a lot of work to put together. But I suppose it’s worth it for the sense of community.”

“It is,” Fred agrees. “And everyone pitches in. It’s what makes our town special.”

Just then, you catch with the corner of your eyes a teenage girl with long hair tied back in a ponytail comes up to the stall, trying to sneak past without drawing attention.

She’s wearing a scarf around her neck despite the warm weather.

She is hiding something. The right corner of your lip raised as memories of your past fun times with Derek made you act like this.

But at least the strategies you came up with were more convincing, especially at work. Even though everyone knew that you slept with your boss you still did your best to hide the evidence.

As she ducks behind the counter, Fred and Susan both notice her at the same time.

“Emily!” Susan exclaims, her voice a mix of surprise and concern. “Is everything alright?”

The girl turn around too fast and the poorly wrapped scarf around her neck fell off.

Fred’s eyes narrow as he catches sight of the telltale mark on his daughter’s neck as she adjusts her scarf.

Both parents’ eyes widen in horror as they scream together, their voices echoing across the beach.

They sounded like seagulls.

Emily freezes, her face turning bright red. The elderly woman, Fred’s mother, jumps in shock, brandishing a wooden stick and a pan in her hands as she start to scream along with them.

The commotion attracts the attention of nearby people, who turn to see what’s happening. Emily’s friends giggle from a distance, clearly enjoying her predicament.

“Who was Emily? I want to know who did this to you? Who disfigured your body? My daughter’s body,” Fred shouted quickly.

Susan, meanwhile, fusses over her daughter, adjusting the scarf to cover the hickey. “You’re too young for this kind of behavior!”

Emily looks mortified, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Mom. Dad, please! Not here, not now!”

The elderly woman, seeing that there’s no real danger, lowers her weapons, but she still looks flustered. “Young people these days,” she mutters, shaking her head.

You can’t help but laugh at the scene, hiding your giggles against Derek’s shoulder. Derek, unable to contain himself, buries his face in your hair, his body shaking with laughter. The ridiculousness of the situation is too much, and you both find yourselves laughing uncontrollably.

He leans in closer to your ear, his warm breath tickles your skin. “Imagine if the wind were to lift your shirt a bit too much,” he whispers, a mischievous glint in his eye. “They would all see my marks. If for one hickey they did all of this, imagine their reaction to all the ones I’ve left on you.’

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but laugh, hiding your face against his shoulder, picturing in your mind the possible expressions of everyone around you. Derek joins in, his laughter vibrating through his chest. The absurdity of the thought, combined with the night’s events, is too much, and you both end up laughing uncontrollably, leaning on each other for support.

As the night deepens, the festival’s energy only grows. People gather around the bonfires, sharing stories and songs, their faces lit by the dancing flames.

You and Derek sat a bit away from the main festivities, a blanket spread out on the cool grass. The flames of the bonfire flickered in the distance, casting a warm glow over the scene. Despite the gaiety surrounding you, a sense of solitude enveloped the two of you, as if the world had receded, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of your own making.

Derek seemed unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on a spot beyond the dancers. You followed his line of sight and saw Susan and Emily, their faces illuminated by the firelight. They were laughing, their bond evident in the way they leaned into each other, sharing a moment of pure joy as Susan applied make up on her neck.

"Derek, what's wrong?" you asked softly, sensing the shift in his mood.

"Nothing," he replied curtly, his voice tinged with irritation. His eyes didn't move from the pair, and you knew better than to take his dismissal at face value.

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "It's okay, you can tell me," you urged gently.

He sighed, a heavy, resigned sound. "It's just... seeing them like that. It makes me think of my mother. How things could have been different."

The admission was a rare glimpse into his vulnerable side, a side he seldom showed. You knew about the strained, complex relationship he had with his mother, the President of the United States. Her ambition, coupled with his illegal activities to fund her campaign, had driven a wedge between them that seemed insurmountable.

"I know it's complicated," you said softly, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his arm. "But it's okay to feel this way. It doesn't make you weak."

His jaw clenched, and his eyes were hard, reflecting the flickering flames. "She never cared about me. Not really. I was just a means to an end for her," he said bitterly.

He looked back at the mother and daughter, a wistful look in his eyes. "Do you think things could ever change between us?" he asked, almost to himself.

"I think it's possible," you said carefully. "But it will take time. And effort. And maybe, one day, you'll find a way to forgive her, even if she doesn't change."

He turned to you, his eyes searching yours. "Why do you put up with me?" he asked, a trace of vulnerability in his voice.

"Because I love you," you replied simply.

For a moment, the hardness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something softer, more human. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "Thank you," he whispered.

You find yourself leaning against Derek, his arm wrapped around you.

Despite the lively atmosphere, a sense of melancholy settles over you. You sip your drink slowly, the cool liquid doing little to lift your spirits.

You sigh, a deep, resigned sound that catches Derek’s attention. He looks at you, his brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?” he asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer.

“It’s just... everything,” you say softly, your gaze fixed on the happy faces around you. “We’ve started a new life here, but we’re still hiding behind lies. We’re deceiving these people, just like before. I thought things would be different, but it feels like a cycle that never ends.”

Derek snorts. “You’re overthinking it. These people are simple. They wouldn’t understand our world, our reality. We’re doing what we have to do to survive.”

“But it’s not just about survival,” you insist, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s about living honestly, with integrity. We’re living a lie, Derek. How long can we keep this up?”

He scoffs, leaning back on his elbows, his eyes scanning the crowd dismissively. “As long as we need to. They don’t know any better, and it’s not like they’re going to find out. We’re safe here. Just enjoy the moment, will you?”

You look at him, searching for a trace of the man you fell in love with, the one who showed you kindness and affection amidst the chaos. But all you see is the mask he wears, the arrogant exterior he uses to shield himself from the world. You feel a pang of sadness, a longing for something more, something real.

The music changes, a slower, more soulful tune filling the air. Couples draw closer together, their movements more intimate, more connected. You watch them with a mixture of envy and sorrow, your heart aching for the simplicity of their happiness.

Derek shifts beside you, his arm slipping around your shoulders. “Come on,” he says, his voice softer now. “Don’t let this place get to you. We have each other, and that’s what matters.”

You nod, leaning into his embrace, though the sadness doesn’t fully dissipate. The lies, the deception-they weigh heavily on your soul, casting a shadow over the new life you’ve tried to build. You wonder if you’ll ever truly escape the past, or if it will always linger, a ghost haunting every step you take.

Derek holds you close, his presence a reminder of both the love and the complications that bind you together. And as you sit there, watching the waves roll in under the moonlight, you silently vow to find a way to break free from the cycle, to seek out a life where you can be honest, where you can be free.

As the festival winds down and the bonfires begin to fade, you and Derek make your way back to the villa. The walk is quiet, the only sounds being the distant waves and the occasional chirp of a night bird. The town has a peaceful, almost magical quality at night, and despite the heavy thoughts earlier, there’s a sense of anticipation growing within you.

When you arrive at the villa, Derek immediately drops his jovial facade. He strides inside, tossing his jacket carelessly onto a chair. You close the door behind you, the soft click echoing in the quiet space.

Derek turns to you, his expression shifting from weariness to something more demanding. “Alright,” he says, his voice low and edged with impatience. “I suffered through that tedious festival. You owe me.”

You suppress a chuckle, finding his eagerness almost endearing. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” you reply, a playful glint in your eye. “You’ve been very patient tonight.”

Derek’s eyes narrow with a mix of amusement and desire. “Patient, huh? That’s one way to put it. So, let’s not waste time. I’ve been bored out of my mind, and now it’s time to make it worth my while.” His tone is demanding, but instead of feeling offended, you’re excited by his bluntness.

You take a step closer to him, your smile widening. “Fine,” you say, your voice filled with anticipation. “A promise is a promise.”

Derek’s eyes gleam with satisfaction as he grabs your arm, pulling you toward the bedroom. “That’s more like it,” he mutters, his grip firm but not painful. “Let’s see if you can make up for the hell I went through tonight.”

You laugh softly, genuinely amused by his impatience.

You let Derek guide you through the dimly lit hallway, the warmth of his hand on your arm sending shivers down your spine. The soft glow of the moon filters through the windows, casting delicate shadows on the walls. Derek’s steps are purposeful, his presence commanding yet oddly comforting.

As you reach the bedroom, he pushes the door open with a deliberate force. The room is a serene contrast to the lively festival, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. Derek turns to face you, his eyes dark with a mix of frustration and desire. He steps closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“You think this is a game?” he asks, his voice a low growl. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a spark that both intimidates and excites you.

“Maybe,” you reply, your voice steady. “But I think you like games.”

His lips curl into a smirk as he closes the distance between you. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You’re right,” he admits, his voice softening slightly. “But let’s see if you can keep up.”

Without warning, he pulls you closer, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is both demanding and passionate. You respond eagerly, matching his intensity. The world outside the villa fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

His hands move to your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the bed. The anticipation builds as he hovers over you, his eyes locked onto yours. There’s a moment of stillness, a silent understanding passing between you. Then, with a sudden urgency, he claims your lips again, his hands exploring the curves of your body.

You can feel the tension in his movements, the pent-up frustration from the evening slowly melting away. His touch becomes more insistent, his kisses deeper. You match his fervor, your hands roaming his back, pulling him closer.

Time seems to blur as you lose yourselves in each other. The boundaries between where you end and he begins become indistinct. His impatience gives way to a surprising tenderness, a side of Derek you haven’t seen before. It’s a dance of push and pull, of dominance and surrender, leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

Finally, he pulls back slightly, his breath ragged. He looks at you with a mixture of satisfaction and awe. “You... you surprised me,” he admits, his voice hoarse.

You smile, feeling a sense of triumph and deep connection. “I told you a promise is a promise.”

He chuckles, the sound low and filled with genuine amusement. “I guess you did.” He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “But this is just the beginning.”

As you lay there, enveloped in the warmth of Derek’s embrace, the anticipation between you continues to build. Derek’s hand, resting gently on your side, begins to move with purpose. His fingers trail down your ribcage, grazing your skin lightly, before coming to rest on your hip. You can feel the heat from his touch seeping through the thin fabric of your clothes, igniting a slow burn within you.

You respond instinctively, your own hand tracing the lines of his chest. Your fingers move with deliberate slowness, feeling the firmness of his pectoral muscles beneath your touch. The movement is exploratory, but filled with intention. As your hand descends, you feel the defined ridges of his abdomen, each muscle tense and waiting.

Derek’s other hand slides up your back, his fingers slipping beneath your shirt to touch your bare skin. The contact sends a shiver through you, and you arch slightly into his touch, pressing your body closer to his. His hand continues its upward journey, finally reaching your shoulder, where he gently but firmly pulls you even closer, aligning your bodies perfectly.

Your breath catches as his mouth finds your neck, placing soft, deliberate kisses along the sensitive skin. The sensation is both soothing and electrifying, and you tilt your head to give him better access. His lips are warm and slightly moist, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You can feel his breath against your ear, each exhale a reminder of his proximity.

Emboldened by his actions, you let your hand slide lower, exploring the defined V of his lower abdomen. The tension in his body is palpable, a silent testament to his own desire. Your fingers brush the waistband of his pants, and you feel a low rumble of approval from him. Encouraged, you slip your hand beneath the fabric, your touch light but insistent.

Derek’s response is immediate. He shifts his weight, pressing you back into the mattress, his body now hovering over yours. His eyes lock onto yours, a silent question hanging between you. You nod, giving him permission to continue. His hand moves from your hip to the waistband of your pants, fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper. He slides the fabric down, exposing your skin to the cool air and his heated gaze.

His movements are deliberate and unhurried, each action a careful exploration of your body. He lowers himself onto you, his weight a comforting presence, and you can feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh. The sensation sends a jolt of anticipation through you, and you lift your hips slightly, inviting him closer.

Derek’s hands roam your body, one sliding beneath your back to hold you steady, the other continuing its exploration of your curves. His touch is both firm and gentle, a perfect balance of control and tenderness. He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that is deep and consuming, his tongue exploring the contours of your mouth.

You respond eagerly, your own hands tracing the lines of his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath your fingertips. The kiss deepens, a dance of desire and connection that leaves you both breathless. As you part, his eyes search yours, filled with a mix of hunger and affection.

He shifts his hips, aligning himself with you, and you feel the tip of him pressing against your entrance. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust, and you nod, your body arching towards him in silent invitation. Slowly, he begins to push forward, the sensation of him filling you both intense and exquisite. Your breath catches, and you grip his shoulders, grounding yourself in the moment.

Derek moves with a measured rhythm, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. His hands hold you steady, one cradling your hip, the other supporting your back. You can feel the tension building between you, a crescendo of sensation that threatens to overwhelm. Your bodies move in perfect harmony, each thrust a symphony of connection and desire.

As the intensity builds, you find yourself lost in the sensation, your body responding to his with a fervor that surprises even you. The world narrows to just the two of you, each movement a testament to the bond you share. Derek’s breath is hot against your ear, his murmured words of encouragement a backdrop to the symphony of your shared pleasure.

Finally, with a shuddering sigh, you both reach the peak, your bodies trembling with the force of your release. Derek collapses onto you, his weight a comforting presence, and you hold him close, your breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. The room is filled with the sound of your ragged breathing, a testament to the intensity of your shared experience.

As you lay there, still entwined, you feel a profound sense of connection and contentment. Derek’s fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, a silent promise of more moments like this to come.

Note: I won’t say that this is the true ending because in the future I might come back and write another part, who knows. Let me know if you enjoyed this one, I missed writing Derek. Next one shot will be for Mike :)

[bussyslayer333]

🪐 “don’t you know what you’re doing to me?” Any character cos I cannotttt choose😍

i hope u like this!!

send me a prompt!!

pairing: bradley bradshaw x girlfriend!reader

word count: 0.5k

warnings: allusions to smut? this is more cute than smutty methinks

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bradley frowned as he rolled over in your shared bed, the weight of you usually pressing into his chest was missing. He rubbed his bleary eyes, adjusting to the bright morning light filtering into your bedroom. As he finally adjusts to being awake with one last groan and stretch, he picks up on something.

The faint sounds of one of your throwback playlists thumping downstairs. Bradley smiles to himself, realising this can only mean one thing. You’re spring cleaning.

Bradley jumps out of bed with a renewed vigour and makes his way downstairs, clad only in his boxers that he slept in. The sight he’s greeted with is truly something spectacular.

Your hair is piled on top of your head messily, your wearing one of Bradley’s old naval academy shirts that only just covers your modesty and if Bradley knows you well enough (which he does) he would say that he also recognises the black thong you’re wearing underneath the shirt.

Bradley observes how you dust along the picture frames that line the wall with a little feather duster whilst shaking your hips and singing along quietly to yourself as your playlist blasts out. Finally deciding to make himself known, Bradley walks up behind you and places his arms around you waist lifting you off of the floor in tight squeeze.

“Good morning, gorgeous girl.”

His kisses on the side of your neck tickle, the bristles of his moustache making you twitch in delight.

“Hey, handsome,” you counter, turning your head to kiss him properly and much too desperately for an early Saturday morning.

Bradley groans into the kiss, setting you down so his hands can move to grope your ass. His suspicions are confirmed as he feels the lack of fabric covering you. He pings the thin side of your thong and murmurs into your mouth,

“Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

You giggle in response and pull away from the kiss. Bradley watches as you bend over to pick up the feather duster that had clattered to the floor after he’d scooped you up. His low groan makes you tingle in excitement, even more so when his hand lands against your ass cheek in a light smack. You pull back up and look at him in mock shock, first taking in how awfully handsome he looks, even after just rolling out of bed.

“Is that how you mother taught you to treat women, Bradshaw?”

Bradley smirks at your teasing tone, “No, it’s how my dad did.”

Bradley let’s a laugh fall out of his mouth as he hears you mumble something about “Maybe Mav did.”

He trails behind you as you wander into the kitchen, hands encircling themselves around your waist as you get to work making breakfast. Gasping lightly at what you feel when you bend over to open the cabinet holding the plates.

“Baby seriously? It’s 8 am.”

Bradley sighs melodramatically, “My love for you has no timer!”

You roll your eyes and go to tease him further when he grinds his hips up into yours, stilling any words that were going to leave your mouth and replacing them with a whimper.

“Breakfast can wait?” Bradley questions as he nips into the side of your neck.

“Breakfast can wait.” You hum in agreement.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n: brad being my boyfriend in 4k for u guys x

i rarely write about rooster considering miles teller was my og boyfriend

i was in the divergent trenches guys it was tough 😭😭

anyways i loved writing this and i love bradley bradshaw

[finniestoncrane]

request but... a-anything icky creepy yucky for audio adventures scarecrow? i want him to eat MY brain like a delicacy lmao. he's so oddly hot lmao.

All Tied Up and Nowhere To Go

BTAA!Scarecrow x Female!Reader, word count: 800 ok i. really was selfish with this one and it gets kinda fuck nasty and literally made me drool 🎃🧡 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: dubcon, crying, bondage, punishment, restraints, sub/dom dynamics, knife play, blood, fear play, drugs

The ropes, smooth, silky, professional, shuffled against themselves as you pulled your wrists up gently from the wall and settled them back down. Your ankles were in much the same situation, all four limbs spread up and out from your body, in a strange homage to a star. Stuck there, weak and vulnerable. So prepared was Jonathan, that the moment you agreed to let him test your fears, to make you ultimately submissive, he had offered you one of his pills, already in his hand ready to pass to you. The hallucinatory properties only now receding, revealing to you that you were now captive in... his home? His office? Yet another property he owned for the purposes of who knew what? Your chest hitched, rising and falling in a shuddering motion as you considered what this all meant.

"You agreed to this. I mean, I don't want to make this into a big deal, but I record everything that goes on in my office. I'm hoping I don't Nixon myself, but so far... it's served its purpose well."

Jonathan's voice carried over to you, loud, growing louder as he stepped out from behind the wall and walked towards you. A grim smile covered his face, eyes piercing you from behind his glasses, slender fingers tented as he menacingly closed the gap between your bodies. His free to move and covered in his usual sleek and neat suit that he wore for his appointments under the guise of Doctor Crane. Yours, trussed up, vulnerable, and covered only in long, loose fitting shirt.

When he stood still, observing you, his eyes tracing over every inch fo your body, he let out a wry chuckle. The sound turned your blood cold, skin prickling in bumps as your hair stood on edge.

"I hate to reiterate a point, but you did agree to be tied up. Left to my devices. You're not changing your mind now, are you?"

Before you could respond, Jonathan raised his hand, holding your face still, tight. His fingers pressed against your cheeks, teeth cutting against the flesh on the inside of your mouth as he pushed both side of your face inwards.

"I asked you a question."

You tried to shake your head, but he was holding you too tight. And when you tried to say no, you were all the more aware of how tight the gag around you was, the ball forcing your lips out, saliva dripping from the opened corners of your mouth.

"Hurry up, clock's ticking."

A mumbled 'no' squeezed past the gag. Not clear, but good enough for Jonathan.

"Good girl. Now..."

He reached behind his back, pulling a knife from a sheath you hadn't noticed.

"...I sense that you might need a bit of... coercion... to keep you behaving."

You could feel your eyes straining, pupils blown wide as you kept your focus on the glinting blade attached to the handle that Jonathan held so flimsily.

"See, the fear in this room is palpable, has been since you came to. But I need a little bit more.I need to be able to taste it on my tongue."

He was so close to you now, teasing the fabric of the shirt, before pushing it in a little. The move so quick, so dependent on the belief that you would shift your body back, flat against the wall, which luckily you did. And with a cruel giggle, he brought the blade up swiftly, tearing each button off as he dragged the knife towards your chin. Exposed, entirely, your nipples hardening in the cool air, your legs trying desperately to press themselves together, to preserve your modesty.

Unwillingly, unknowing even at first, you tensed your body so tight that your muscles began to cramp, and a tear dropped from the corner of your eye onto your cheek. Jonathan laughed, loud and long, before he stopped abruptly, his nose pressed against your face as he ran his tongue up and along the trail of the tear, savouring it with his eyes closed, a low moan rumbling in his throat.

You whimpered at his joy, at his delight in your apparent terror, but it still wasn't enough. Because when you turned your face from him, daring to deny him the pleasure of the salt, the taste of your fear, he picked the knife up and held it to your throat.

"Ah, ah, ah... that doesn't seem like something a good girl would do, does it?"

You shook your head, careful to avoid the point of knife. And while you settled yourself again, focusing on your breathing, reminding yourself that this is what you wanted, what you agreed to, after all, you could see Jonathan from your peripheral, unbuckling his belt and undoing the fly of his pants with one hand, preparing himself for the next step.