#first request LETS GOOOO | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plaguechyld · 9 months ago

Note

Omggg finally a blog with dom reader instead of sub!! I'm so excited I don't know what to even request with all the thoughts in my head! I'm into power play, spanking, dumbification, praise kink and overstimulation. I can't think of a storyline but you can choose one of any of those kny characters (muzan, kokushibo, giyuu, yoriichi or kagaya ) thanks!

i’m glad you’re excited!! All of these are right up my alley too lol

first giyuu work of the blog?? Lets goooo (reader is uppermoon two along with douma)

cw: sub!giyuu, dom!gn!reader, demon!reader, uppermoon!reader, praise, spanking, dumbification, overstim, manhandling, crying, reader is said to have an angelic appearance, you/your used for reader, plot, fighting is flirting, reader has strap/cock (referred to has cock but can be interpreted at strap), demons can purr

This wasn’t the way things were supposed to happen, Giyuu was supposed to be in for a suicide mission, fighting uppermoon two alone.

The demon slayer had been confronted by the demon, you, in the dead of night when he was all alone on a patrol of the outskirts of a town in the wild lands of Japan’s countryside.

The first thing he noticed about you, embarrassingly enough, was how stunning your appearance is. Still, that didn’t stop him from drawing his katana from its sheath and baring it at you.

Giyuu swallowed when he saw your eyes, how could he not? They were beautiful after all, though they held the demonic inscription of uppermoon two.

The battle would be bloody, he knew. Your strength outweighed his by an obscene amount, your flesh could mend itself back together within mere seconds and your stamina was nearly unlimited, something he would soon come to see in a different light.

A soft smile played on your mouth, lips tugged up in a gentle manner as the skin around your eyes crinkle slightly. Each blow the hashira dealt was easily sidestepped by you, making Giyuu somewhat enchanted by you despite himself.

Your movements were so graceful, making you look like a living angel as you danced through the entourage of blade slashes directed at you.

Your smile never fades as you gradually get closer and closer to Giyuu despite him thinking that he has quite a handle at keeping you at a fair distance. The elation surprised him and he found himself soon unable to keep you more than a few feet away from him.

Sweat started beading on his forehead as he tried harder, channeling every skill he knew of from both his breathing style and swordsmanship in general. But despite the worry he was feeling at your nearing presence, you didn’t intend him any harm, you just had to exhaust the hashira to the point where he couldn’t fight back any longer.

Truth be told you found him absolutely beautiful, those deep sapphire eyes and dark black hair framing his pale face. Those fluid water-like movements, a signature of water breathing users, just looked so much better when it was Giyuu moving in that way.

In your century of life you have come across many different demons, demon slayers and normal mortals.. Even playing around with a handful that you found physically attractive, though none ever tugged at any heartstrings of yours, nor achieved a second glance.

This human was different, he was undeniably handsome but also his quiet nature intrigued you.

Mortals and even demons varied in personality, of course. But when they were in the presence of you they either become obnoxiously loud, crying and screaming and whatnot. Either that or they would cower in fear, not even daring to speak a word to you, causing you to quickly become bored with their existence.

But Giyuu was different, he was quiet, not screaming at you for your existence but at the same time his silence was not driven by fear. No, it was driven by the pure focus driving him forward.

Undoubtedly Giyuu harbored some hate towards you merely for the fact you were a demon. It didn’t bother you, however. He was respectful in his fight, never once did an insult slip past his plush lips which you found to be quite a pleasing change of pace.

And so you let him fight, let him display his years of training in such a gorgeous way.

Giyuu wasn’t completely unaware of your silent musing, he noticed the way you gazed at him with dreamy eyes. He saw the way you allowed his every attack to finish, even if it never hit you.

Those small things go unnoticed by many, so many that it has annoyed you for multiple decades. But you knew that Giyuu saw them and that only fueled your interest in him.

The fight was quiet, only the soft rustling of fabric, impact against grass and sword slashes swinging through the air.

But at the same time it spoke louder than any word could. The soft dance you two were in together grew closer and closer like it was nearing its grand finish, however that end would not be in death nor would it come that night.

The both of you seemed to look past the slashing of Giyuu’s sword, focusing on the small gestures of movement that brought a soft hue of pink to the hashira’s ears.

Your hand would graze his blade for a moment before he danced away from you again. He wasn’t that easy to woo, you found, which made you try even more. But at the same time Giyuu never rejected you, no. He was just putting on a show, a beautiful one at that.

The two of you had lived a life of darkness and bloodshed so a meeting such as this was only appropriate, no? To many others it would appear that the hashira’s fate was sealed and in a way it was, though there was no promise of death when he was with you.

It was important for the first promise between them to remain silent, not spoken aloud. The words in early days of meeting are unimportant in such a world, the quiet bond that was being built was much more precious, like a small defenseless thing that you wanted to shelter. It was valuable to you, you realized.

In some ways Giyuu felt the same. He just couldn’t help it, he was lonely. He had been lonely since childhood so the promise from such a seemingly… angelic demon seemed tempting to him. That temptation was already drawing him in, he had fallen to it, how could he not? You were so pleasing to be in the presence of. Despite the clear warning of the kanji inscribed in your beautiful e/c eyes the hashira found himself unable to pull away.

You welcomed him, you welcomed him to you, ignoring the biological hatred between the two of you because why would that matter? You had all eternity to have whatever you desired, why would principles make it any different?

The need, no matter how faint, was all too visible to you. Giyuu didn’t hide it from you, never averting his gaze from your own as if he wanted to drive your primal hunger for him. He didn’t fear your fangs nor your sharp nails that could dig into his flesh if he were to make a single misstep.

As his stamina ran out his muscles began to ache, his movements were growing more sluggish from their dance dragging on too long for his human body to handle.

This notion didn’t slip past your notice, after all the two of you were already so in tune with each other despite never speaking a word.

You let him drop right into your arms from fatigue and somehow Giyuu didn’t find himself afraid of what was to come.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Slept left Giyuu after some hours of sleeping. He found himself waking up in a lavish western style bed. The room was comfortable, having a nice scent of something like vanilla and cinnamon.

The hashira found that couldn’t bring himself to sit up out of the bed, feeling too content to even consider it much.

Your presence was easy to sense within the home due to the fact you didn’t bother to mask it from the demon slayer. The trust between the two of you was oddly strong despite the strange nature of its founding.

It didn’t alarm Giyuu when you entered what he could only assume to be a guest bedroom. In your hands was a bowl of pork cutlet, well seasoned with some vegetables on the side. The exhausted demon slayer took the bowl of food with a thankful nod.

As he ate he was able to hear your voice for the first time as you asked him a simple question.

“Your name?” ah, of course your voice would be as attractive as your appearance. The mere sound of it had turned the tips of Giyuu’s ears pink once more as he replied in a soft voice.

“Tomioka Giyuu.” It was a short response but he was happy to see that you didn’t mind his lack of verbalization. You gave him your name in return and he nodded, finishing up his meal with eagerness.

You chuckle softly as you take his empty bowl away and at the same time set down a glass of water. Giyuu smiled softly to himself, hiding it behind the rim of the cup as he took a grateful drink.

This was some of the most gentle treatment he had received after years of tough training, bloodshed and ostracization from his fellow slayers. So he couldn’t help but feel at ease around you, despite your status as an uppermoon demon.

You couldn’t help but feel similarly with his own status as a high ranking demon slayer, a hashira. The two of you didn’t feel like you were in danger when you were around each other which was out of the ordinary but at the same time pleasing.

It was quite comforting to finally be able to form a meaningful connection with someone after all these years.

The wounds he had allowed himself to sustain during a recent mission were now rebandaged, Giyuu noticed. You had spent the time wrapping his arm and waist in fresh white bandages, making the hashira feel a warmth growing in his chest.

Those seemingly small things were quite a gentle and thoughtful thing for a demon to even consider doing, he thought. So the fact that you did it made it all the more special to him.

You had left Giyuu to his thoughts for a little while as you cleaned his dish before putting it away.

You returned to his side not long after and this time the two of you didn’t stay separated for long. Soon you were seated on the comfortable duvet cover of the bed Giyuu had been resting in, looking over at him.

A slight shift in his posture edged his hand just a little closer to your body, a silent invitation for you to take hold of it.

And that you did, your cooler hand slipped into his rather warm and calloused one, gently running your thumb over the top of it as Giyuu allowed his deep blue eyes to flutter shut. Soft touches were so rare in Giyuu’s profession and he was really feeling that fact now.

Some might consider him touch starved, which he couldn’t disagree with. So when you gave him that gentle touch Giyuu could find himself craving more and more. He didn’t care about being greedy and honestly, neither did you.

So a simple hand touch soon turned into you rubbing his arm then to the two of you in a joined embrace on that soft bed. It was painfully comfortable, lying there with Giyuu. So the two of you remained wrapped in each other’s arms for a while longer.

Your hands eventually found his dark black hair, undoing the ponytail it was currently in, letting it hang loose. Giyuu hummed in question only to be met by you slipping down into a lying position on the bed and opening your arms for him.

Who was he to refuse the demon that took him in? So of course he allowed his body to sink against your’s, letting out a soft breath of content when you begin rubbing slow circles on his back. It didn’t bother him that he was without a shirt at that moment, not at all.

All that mattered was being snuggled against you, being pressed so comfortingly against your demonic body. Giyuu loved that you welcomed him into your arms, that you rubbed his back and tended to his wounds. That you cared to make him feel this way.

And maybe.. Perhaps you would also care enough to make him feel better in another way. That thought seeped into his mind with no warning nor invitation but once it was in it made itself a home. Giyuu couldn’t get the thought of you doing such a sinful and loving thing.

Your eyes were busy gazing at his face, admiring his beautiful features. Once he looks up at you he instantly notices how you’re watching him with that sweet look on your face. Instantly he felt blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. You giggle softly at his reaction and cup his cheeks in your hands, gently squeezing them.

“May I?” you inquire with a quiet breath before smiling when Giyuu nods his head. Your lips meet his own soft ones in a tender kiss.

It’s calm at first until Giyuu leans into it more, urging you to take that next step. Of course, who were you to deny him? So your tongue meets his own, exploring his mouth for the first time that night.

Giyuu was so needy yet so inexperienced, he didn’t know where to place his hands and was messily copying the motions of your tongue.

So you take the lead, your hands holding his waist possessively, rubbing all over his skin and bandages with a firm touch.

He tasted so sweet and his little muffled whines were so adorable to listen to. It was so hard to take this slow but you knew that he needed it that way, despite his cold facade he was quite a sensitive thing.

His body remained on top of yours but in no way was the hashira in control, he had relinquished that the moment he fell into your arms.

You eventually sat up with Giyuu in your lap, clinging to you like you’d vanish if he were to let go.

Giyuu felt his air supply running low so reluctantly he parted from your lips, gasping for breath soon after. Your smile never faded and your hands never left his body, they rubbed his waist slowly before eventually grasping it in full.

Your grip wasn’t particularly firm nor possessive at the moment and even so Giyuu could feel warmth pooling in his tummy from the mere touch. It wasn’t long before you sunk your lips back against his, pulling him into another searing kiss.

It was just so perfect that the hashira couldn’t resist attempting to clumsily roll his hips, not knowing what to do but feeling a tightness growing in his pants. After your lips separate for a second time you don’t waste a moment in placing hands on Giyuu’s hips to guide him properly.

A soft whimper escaped his lips, it was breathy and pure, so painfully pure to you. You had to have more, Giyuu was just so stunning when he was like this, after all. Your hands picked up the pace, making the slayer gasp in moderate surprise before leaning his head into the crook of your neck.

You didn’t mind because in that position you could hear each and every sound that Giyuu let out. Every breathy gasp and quiet whimper were easily picked up by you, driving you forward.

Giyuu bit down on his bottom lip out of pure instinct. He was practically in heaven, or so he thought. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself- or you, from continuing the passion that was slowly unfolding in this quaint bedroom; hidden away from the rest of Japan.

“Please, more.” he whispers to you in an almost bashful tone. You knew exactly what he desired and you weren’t about to deny your beautiful human anything, at least not yet. So you obey, unbuckling his belt and “accidentally” brushing your hand against the prominent bulge in his dark black pants.

Each touch of that nature had the water hashira tensing and sucking in a breath of surprise and need. You just had this air about you; it was driving him insane. If you could just do it, touch him there; where he needs it-

Giyuu squeaks at the soft smack that was laid against his now bare thigh. Your hand was quick to rub the soft skin there, of course; but it served as a reminder to be good, to not go off on his own. He needs to listen to you, of course he does; he has no idea what to do.

“Shh, just follow my lead. Listen, baby.” you mutter in reply to his soft pleading sounds. Giyuu swallows before nodding his head, he knows that he has to be good for you to get what he wants, somehow.

Ah, but it was so hard! He was sitting in your lap in only his fundoshi, rolling his hips at a pace you control and to top it off you were still fully clothed. Giyuu merely buried his face even more so against your neck, choosing to stay quiet.

But that just wouldn’t do, would it? No; he needs to voice what he wants with you. You shift him in your lap, placing your thigh between his own so that he can get more friction against his bulge as you whisper teasingly in his ear.

“You want something, what is it?” he tenses slightly as his cheeks flush more. He should’ve known that you would figure it out; after all he wasn’t good at hiding anything from you, clearly. Swallowing his shyness after a moment he replies,

“You still.. Have all your clothing on…” so that was what he was thinking about? How sweet. You chuckle in light amusement before giving him one guided hip roll against your thigh.

“Then take it off.” you reply without missing a beat, making the hashira pause and look up at you with slightly glazed over blue eyes and a confused expression on his face. However that confusion soon turns into blush as he looks down- avoiding your gaze as he nods his head.

With trembling hands he pulls both your kimono and under-kimono open, revealing your chest to his flustered but oh so hungry gaze. You had removed your haori long before settling down in bed with the hashira so now all that remained was your kimono, obi and hakama pants.

Next Giyuu unties your obi with unsure hands. You take the fabric from him and look into his eyes, clearly uninterested in what becomes of it because of the lust that was starting to get to you.

The hashira swallows before continuing to help you undress and slowly, piece by piece, your stunning body is revealed.

But he can’t have all of the fun, can he? So you toy with the edge of his fundoshi for a little while, making Giyuu blush even further before eventually pulling it off. The hashira instinctually covers his erection with his hands, embarrassment flooding through his face.

You smirk softly and take his hands in yours, bringing them away from covering anything. You lay soft kisses on his knuckles as well, smiling at the way he was blushing because of it.

A soft whisper, or rather plea of your name here and there, had your patience nearly snapping. But you had to remind yourself that your baby didn’t know any better, not yet. Giyuu was just calling out for you, wanting you closer, wanting more of your touch; wanting more of you.

“Press your back to my chest.” you instruct in a calm voice, Why were you so calm and collected? Giyuu was blushing so much that he thought his skin was on fire at this point. You really were going to ruin him; though he obeys nonetheless. With his back flush against your chest you wrap your arms loosely around his waist.

You slide one hand to his erect cock while the other trails further up, playing with one of his soft pink nipples.

A light pinch with the first stroke of his cock has Giyuu’s hands flying up to cover his mouth. But even then he isn’t able to hide his squeal from you. You rub your hand up and down the length of his dick, occasionally circling his tip with the pad of your thumb.

“None of that now, darlin’. I want to hear every sound you make.” you whisper, your voice almost a soft hiss. You had to resist being just a bit harsher in your words with him because you knew Giyuu wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

Besides, you had other things planned for tonight…

Giyuu nods meekly as he lowers his hands, instead balling them up into fists as your hand picks up its pace. Another moan is pulled out of the hashira as you give his nipple a sharp tug.

Ah, his bare shoulder is just too tempting for you to not bite… So you lean in and sink your teeth, albeit quite gently for a demon, into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, eliciting a sharp cry from him.

“HnGAH?!~” another bite, another squeal or cry. It was an addicting cycle but you eventually began licking over the marks you had already left, not wanting to be too rough quite yet. Your hand also never stopped, driving Giyuu closer and closer to orgasming.

Your fingers leave his chest to press against his lips, coaxing him to suck on them and coat them with his saliva. For what? He doesn’t know yet; though he will soon. He arches his back, hipping bucking into your hand as he feels the coil about to snap.

“Close, close!~” is all of the muffled warning you get before the hashira comes, pearly white cum staining your hand. You hum, bringing it to your lips to taste much to Giyuu’s embarrassment.

“Mmpfh!” he protests, wordlessly, due to the fingers currently playing with his tongue. You merely hum in response, finding the taste of your darling to be quite pleasant. Looking down into his flustered eyes makes you chuckle softly before giving him a kiss on the head in response.

“Sorry, hun. Couldn’t resist tasting you.” you chuckle quietly before pulling the two fingers you had in the hashira’s mouth out. They were thoroughly coated in saliva now and perfect for what you intended to use them for.

You let Giyuu get another whine out before flipping him to lay with his chest flush against yours once again.

Giyuu can’t help but feel quite comfortable in this position, being able to hold onto you- practically hug you all while feeling your bare skin against his was something he was never going to get tired of.

Your dry hand slowly finds its place on Giyuu’s perky ass, giving it a few rubs before lightly pressing your two wet fingers against his hole.

He sucks in a nervous breath, never having been penetrated before; only jacking off when he was alone at times. But you’re there to soothe his worries, of course you are. You’ve been so sweet to him this entire time.

“Shhh, it’s alright. I’ll go slow, okay?” you murmur in a soft voice before laying another gentle kiss on the hashira’s forehead. Giyuu nods his head as he looks up at you with wide trusting eyes, squeezing them shut when you push your finger in, burying the first knuckle in his warmth. He was grateful you were adding them one at a time as he wasn’t sure if he could take them in from the beginning at once.

“Ngh.. ahn~” his moans are like little mumbles as he smushes his face into your chest, hands holding onto your back as he pushes back on your finger slightly.

Soon enough another knuckle is in him, then another until your middle finger is completely inside.

Giyuu shifts his hips slightly, trying to get used to the sensation of having something inside him like this.

“I’m going to add another finger, alright?” you warn quietly, only acting when Giyuu gives a little nod in response. You slowly ease your middle finger out of him before readjusting so that both your middle and ring fingers slip into the first knuckle. Giyuu lets out a soft hum of pleasure, shifting his hips to let you know that he wants you to continue.

And you do, you ease those two fingers until they’re fully inside of him and at that point the hashira is moaning softly into your chest. You kiss the top of his head as you begin moving them in and out at a nice and slow pace, allowing him to get used to the sensations he’s receiving.

Your fingers work diligently, pressing deep within him every time you move them back in. Occasionally you spread them apart to loosen his muscles, to which he lets out a moan or whine, depending on the distance between your fingers.

Soon enough the tips of your fingers pad against a soft little bump that causes Giyuu to squeal and arch his back without warning. His eyes fly open for a moment before his body shudders and once more clings onto your own.

“Is that where it feels the best?” you ask him, not expecting to receive an answer as your fingers prod away at that sensitive spot. Giyuu can’t answer, his voice too busy being used for moans and whines from the stimulation he was receiving at your hand; or rather, fingers.

Though, to your surprise Giyuu manages a slight nod in response to your question. How sweet… you just had to tease him a little bit, of course. So you press nice and firmly against that spot, not taking your fingers off like before.

“NYAGH!~ Whu-wai-” his moans are like a sweet melody to your ears, he’s begging, pleading with you. It’s too much, he really isn’t used to these types of touches.

So when you finally return to your normal pace he slumps down against your chest again, whining and whimpering to himself.

You eventually find that he’s been stretched enough, though you’re still thoughtful about how his body will react to the real thing. So you reach over to the nightstand and retrieve a bottle of oil.

You pour a decent amount onto his already twitching hole, noticing how he squirms slightly from the feeling. You kiss him on the forehead, whispering a soft reassurance before spreading the oil along his walls.

His hands still grab at your arms, your chest, your back; whatever he can get at he’s instantly clinging onto. He whines softly when you remove your fingers, having grown used to the sensations they provided.

“It’s okay, darling..” you whisper in his ear, your voice calm with barely concealed lustful hunger. A soft sigh makes its way from Giyuu’s lips, signaling the fact he was quite content in your arms.

However a soft gasp does slip past his lips as he feels your tip pressing teasingly against his slick and oiled rim, as if you did such a thing just to hear him moan more.

Your teasing movement was met with a tremor of Giyuu’s legs and his face being pressed against your neck. It was sweet that he was acting so shyly when only a few moments ago he had pleaded with you, whispering your name in that breathy voice of his.

But you could only tease Giyuu for so long, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to take much of it without proper training.

So you gently grab ahold of his hips, squeezing them lightly as you guide him to slide down on your cock. A choked whine sounds from Giyuu’s lips as his hands squeeze you, holding on for dear life.

“Ah! Feels.. W-weird.. Mngh..” he slurs into your neck, hands still squeezing you as tightly as he could manage. You hum softly in response, eyes focusing on the hashira’s hips.

Giyuu shifts around in your lap, trying to get used to the sensation of being so full. Soft whimpers leave his lips every time you readjust him slightly, getting him into place.

“Hngh.. move? P-please?” He asks, innocent eyes looking up into your own demonic inscribed one. How adorable. He was just too cute to say no to.

You hum and place a lingering kiss on Giyuu’s already sweaty forehead as you buck your hips up into him.

Soon enough you move your beauty onto the bed so that he can relax on his back, arms and legs wrapped around your body as you move your hips at a slow and smooth pace.

You thrust your hips forward, driving your cock into the hashira’s tight heat again and again so that you can soak up the sweet moans Giyuu lets out. They’re heavenly to listen to, sounding like a siren’s call.

“Good boy, you’re doing so good.” you whisper in his ear as your hips keep moving, continuing to thrust your cock deep into his hole.

Heat spreads over Giyuu’s cheeks as he clenches around your dick at the praise, making you unable to resist pressing a kiss to his soft lips again.

He bucks his hips up to meet your every thrust as you pick up the pace you were moving at, now bullying his prostate perfectly.

“Mnghh~ close…” he murmurs between moans that continue to grow in volume, signifying the truth behind his words.

“I know baby, I know.” you reply with a few more strong thrusts of your hips, driving Giyuu closer and closer to his peak.

With one more harder movement of your hips Giyuu let out a wail, cum spurting from the tip of his cock as his nails dug into your back.

You made the choice to not allow yourself to heal the marks that the demon slayer was leaving on your back, you wanted to be able to admire them in the morning after all.

However you don’t stop your hips there, no. Giyuu was just too cute and warm for you to be able to control yourself. The hashira let out a startled moan before sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his sounds.

He only let go to whine out, “t’much! ‘Soo m-muhhch!~” How sweet. It was adorable to hear him whine about everything being too intense for him to handle but at the same time thrusting his own hips up to meet your harsh pounding.

Tears cascade down the Hashira’s face, making him seem even more pathetically cute than before. His beautiful blue eyes roll back in his head as you hit that sweet spot over and over again, causing his dick to harden once more.

He can feel himself growing closer despite having come not that long ago. You were just too good, too perfectly attuned to all of his needs.

A second orgasm rips through him, causing him to arch his back and let out a filthy moan that's soon silenced by your lips connecting with his. It's so much, it's too much!

Giyuu feels like he’s drowning in the best pleasure imaginable. Though he expects you to stop now, after all you’ve gotten him to cum twice tonight and that's quite a lot for him, at least.

But you don’t, you keep going and even pick up your pace slightly. It punches sweet little “Uh uh uh”’s out of the poor thing, making it clear to you that he’s too fucked out to whine about it.

Your hand comes down to hold onto his chin, making him look up at you with that oh so pretty fucked out expression of his.

“Hm, you can take another round, can’t you baby?” you ask, the question obviously rhetorical as both him and you know that his brain is too mushy to answer you.

Instead Giyuu gives a weak whine of protest before holding onto you tighter. Though, his body is a stark contrast of the complaint he had just let out; he’s wiggling his hips, urging you to continue moving your own.

So with a soft chuckle you continue, slamming your cock deep into him, ramming so far inside that Giyuu swears that he’s seeing stars.

“AHN!- mnHN~.. ‘Omgohhhdddd!-" The hashira’s voice is broken up by his heavenly moans, unable to stop himself as you continue giving all the pleasure that you could possibly give him.

Your stamina is downright insane, though what could Giyuu expect. After all, you are one of the higher ranking uppermoon demons.

Even then, you can feel your pace slipping as your thrusts grow sloppier- more intense in pace and less like the strong, deep and practiced ones you had done prior.

“‘M close, baby. Want me to fill you up some more, Giyuu? Hmm?” You murmur into his ear, your breath hot and heavy as you breathe in Giyuu’s intoxicating scent.

Giyuu nods fervently in response as he screws his deep blue eyes shut. His cheeks are all rosy and stained with dried tear marks, making him all the more adorable.

He hiccups as you finally slow your pace, hips moving slower as you cradle his shaking body close to your own.

Oh? It appeared he had cum for a third time from that sloppy pace. What a sensitive thing he is.

You kiss Giyuu’s forehead, finding it drenched in sweat with his black bangs sticking to his. He looks up at you with a dazed look when you finally slow to a stop before closing his eyes again.

A smile finds its way onto your lips as you pull out of him, making him gasp, arching his back for one last time.

Giyuu whines softly, opening those tired eyes of his again as he searches for your touch.

“Mmngh.. Stay…” The hashira murmurs, calling out for you in that sweet and quiet voice of his.

How could you refuse? So of course you wrap yourself around his weakened body.

You use a soft cloth you dipped in the lukewarm water that had been sitting out in a glass to clean the cum from Giyuu’s tummy.

Your touch is gentle as you clean him up as best you can for the moment, after all the poor thing was much too tired for a proper wash.

In return the hashira snuggles up to you, peppering shy kisses to your neck as a thank you for the night as he was much too tired to talk.

You release a quiet purr in return, it's a sweet and gentle sound which makes it soothing for Giyuu to listen to.

The hashira curls up properly after you set the cloth down, feeling quite content to be wrapped in your arms like this.

He falls asleep quite quickly, clearly your shared night of intimacy had gotten to him quite quickly.

You merely smile and lay another kiss on him, this time to the top of Giyuu’s head.

“How sweet…” You whisper to yourself. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to prolong this… relationship.

#sub character #kny smut #kny #sub kny #dom reader #demon slayer #kny x you #smut #n/sfw #giyuu #sub giyuu #kny giyuu #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka #dumb wh0re #demon x #demon x human

1K notes · View notes

gracieheartspedro · 1 year ago

Text

Trash Talk

abby anderson x fem!reader

description: you and abby anderson go waaayyy back, and she can't stand you. after being distant for years, you can't help but pick on her and get under her skin. you can't help yourself. maybe it's those god damn arms and that cute smile she makes sometimes. so, why not try to bully her enough so she will take you to bed?

word count: 7.1k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, nsfw, smut, wlw, some slight bullying, threatening of one's life, murder (reader kills scars), use of guns, dom!abby, fingering, eating out, shower sex, use of a strap on, dirty talk, abby calls reader tons of names, major teasing!!

author's note: first abby one shot. let's goooo! lemme know what you guys think. I really liked writing this and I'm down for any requests for abby or ellie!! love you guysssss <3

“Are you the one braiding your hair every day or do you have some pretty girl do it for you?”

Abby’s head spun over how dumb your questions had been all afternoon. Luckily for her, you were being quiet up until this moment.

You are propped up beside her on the back of the jeep, your rifle slung across your lap. You were itching to get a rise out her today, it was fun to watch her eyes roll into the back of her head.

She cocks her gun, her eyes trained forward and away from you. She’s always on edge when you’re out on patrol. Her furrowed eyebrows and tense shoulders made your relaxed and at ease body language look unjustified.

“I braid it myself,” Is all she says. You train your eyes to watch her muscles flex as she inspects her gun closely. You contemplate your answer, do you ask if she can braid yours next or do you ask if that’s how she got those insane arms of hers.

You don’t make a decision by the time Manny slams on the breaks, unexpectedly. Abby’s body flies into yours, sliding across the bench and crashing into your side. You wince, snapping your head forward to the road.

“We got company, chicas!”

You duck when the first shot hits the steel of the car. Abby grabs your waist, dragging you down onto the bed of the SUV. She didn’t want your death on her hands, knowing Isaac would never forgive her for losing his best gunner. You roll away from her grasp, propping your rifle forward where Manny is driving.

Scars on horseback surround the road in front of you.

They are easy to take out when they are high up, for you at least.

“Manny, duck your head!” You holler, glancing back at Abby who’s hand is still somehow on you. She looks conflicted, her gun still loosely in her grip.

You prop your gun up, aiming at a older man on the closest horse trailing the jeep. He has a bow, which doesn’t move as fast as your bullet. You ease into the trigger, taking out the guy with a head shot. You didn’t have time to think about your reasonings for killing the guy, you never had the time to think about it. You knew that these men would kill Manny, Abby, and you, if they had the chance, so you guess the proper reaction is a bullet to the skull.

You hear Abby yelling something but your ears are ringing at the sound of you taking out each Scar one-by-one. You don’t even let them get behind the SUV, knowing they would be getting a better shot at you. Once the last one flies off the back of their horse at the impact of your bullet, you sit up.

You realize that Abby hasn’t fired a single shot.

“I think we have a flat tire! I’m gonna pull off when I find cover,” Manny explains, his voice loud over the sound of the ringing in your ears.

Abby sits up beside you, gripping the side of the bench with her left hand. She gets a good look at your completely unfazed face and it pisses her off. You never had a moment to second guess your actions and you never had an honest reaction to killing upward of 7 men. You were always stone cold and even. You weren’t always like that. You used to have some life left in your steely eyes. At least, that’s what she thought.

You were disassociated from the entire world when put in any situation that could be deemed “dangerous”. It’s almost like a completely different person took over your body. Your reactions were not your own. But when you finally came to, your bones would vibrate with anxiety and adrenaline. You were just a master at disguising it because you didn’t want everyone around you to see you as weak. You can never be weak, again.

Even if Abby took out that many men, which she has done before, she still walks away with a small inkling of guilt written on her face. You don’t even quiver at the sight of violence and death, not that she sees, anyway.

But it does eat away at you. You’re plagued with nightmares if you can ever even find sleep at night. Most nights are spent curled into a ball, staring off into space, praying the walls will just cave in and suffocate you. You hardly eat most of the time, the thought of munching on food makes you nauseous.

Manny pulls into a familiar warehouse that’s usually a stopping point for one of your patrol routes. The jeep is jittering, chugging forward with a scraping noise. You stand up when it completely stops, jumping down from the side. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and your gun strap across your other.

You watch Abby jump down after you, her impact on the ground loud. She stares at you with this annoyed look on her face.

“What’s wrong, baby girl? Mad you didn’t get a shot off?”

Your tone makes her ball her hands into fists.

“Can you shut your fucking mouth ever?”

Manny chirps in quickly after she says it, “Ay! Quit it you two!”

You bow your head, “Yeah, Abby. You need to blow off some steam. Gettin’ all worked up.”

Manny slaps your shoulder lightly, gesturing you two to get inside the warehouse. You knew you had to clear it before you settled in to discuss the next game plan. You stand there watching Abby strut towards you, her eyes scanning your body up and down.

She is only a little bit taller than you, but she’s built like an ox. When you two were acquainted, she was about your stature. Now that she needs to prove herself, she bulked up and became even more hot.

“You’re lucky Isaac needs your ass, because if were up to me, I’d send you straight to the Island and watch them pick you apart.”

Her voice is vicious and you could tell she was pissed at you for teasing her. It only made you smile in sick pleasure. You craved getting under her skin.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me, Abs.”

She ignores your comment, knowing exactly what you were trying to do. You were doing it so well, too.

You three creep inside the warehouse, stalking around the open area, ensuring there’s no one nearby to sneak up on you. Your running low on ammo, but you didn’t want to ask Abby for a new magazine. She would bitch you out for not grabbing an extra. With that in mind, you sling your rifle across your back and pull out your pistol. You cock it, which interupts the silence you three had been settling in.

“A pistol?” Manny questions, quietly. You nod slowly, discharging the magazine to make sure you had a stacked shell.

You huff, “Yeah, I’m out of hallow points for the rifle.”

Abby stops in her tracks, “You forgot another magazine, didn’t you?”

She wanted so badly to be right, especially when it came to you fucking up. You stare at her as you shove the magazine back into the grip.

“Eat my ass, Abby.”

She laughs, watching your face fall as you cock the gun again. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Manny grimaces, “Please, stop, you two. Let’s get this place clear and then figure out what we do next.”

Manny was right. You and Abby separate, both of you trailing up some stairs to the extended area of the warehouse. You check every corner on your side, ensuring no one will be sneaky and catch you all off guard. Once you all decide it’s clear, you meet up at the staircase Manny is walking down.

Manny was a good friend and a rare hookup. You had slept with him a couple times and while he was always a generous guy, he never made you cum. He always joked that it was because you liked girls better, and truthfully, he may be right. He was handsome but he never really did it for you.

Abby, on the other hand, you and her went way back and she did it for you. Before becoming Isaac’s favorite, you were pretty good friends with her. You two sat together in “school” and she taught you how to make someone pass out by putting them in a headlock. You had confided in her about your past and she was the only one who truly knew everything. You genuinely liked her and wanted so badly to tell her how you felt. But once Isaac took interest in your skill set, he trained you vigorously with his top men. You had no time for anything anymore. It pissed Abby off so much, for some odd reason. You’d think a friend would be proud that the head honcho took interest in you and wanted to make you better. But instead, Abby took it as a personal jab and started ignoring you. When you confronted her, she told you that she was too busy for friends. That, of course, didn’t stop her from having a whole ass friend group without you. When you befriended Manny, he told you that Abby only saw you as competition.

So you became even better. Not wanting to repeat the same mistake, you kept everyone at an arms length and avoided getting close with anyone. It made you withdrawn, and eventually, you realized you were not meant to be a friend to anyone. You were made to be a killer.

“So what do we do now? Go back or go to our assigned checkpoint?”

Abby’s training her eyes on Manny and Manny only. She refuses to even glance your direction. You turn your gun safety on and tuck it into your waistband.

“How far do you think we are from the checkpoint?” You question, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Too fuckin’ far,” Abby responds, still not looking at you.

You smirk, “Perfect, then let’s do that. Maybe Abby can get her finger on a trigge-“

Before you can finish your sentence, Abby’s reaching out and pulling your body towards her by your shirt. You don’t even flinch, your body just flies forward as she finally stares daggers into you. You like being this close to her, it makes the hair on your arms stand up.

“I swear to God,” She’s gritting her teeth, “If you don’t stop fucking around, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

You press yourself closer to her. Her fist with your balled up shirt grazes your boobs. Manny doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes, anticipating your response. You like this game. The one where you tease Abby and she becomes enraged by your words and eventually it comes to a tipping point. She’s always just thrown something, her manhandling you was new.

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart,” You mutter, your face millimeters from hers, “I don’t think you’re remembering what our body counts are and who’s surpassing the other by a fucking landslide.”

“I’d love to add you to mine, that’s for damn sure,” She responds quickly, eager to one up you. You giggle at the double meaning that comes to mind. You would like to be on her body count list, for sure.

“Stop it!”

You both shoot a look at Manny who’s nudging you two apart. Abby unhands your shirt, and you step backward away from her, tripping a bit over some broken concrete. She looks you up and down with disgust.

“You need to stop acting like you’re better than everyone else,” She grumbles, ignoring Manny’s pleas for a truce.

“You need to stop acting so serious all the time! Get a grip, I’m just fuckin’ with you.”

“I said stop! I knew you guys hated one another but I didn’t know this was gonna be a who’s dick is bigger competition. You both need to relax!”

Abby’s face is twisted and you hated that you found it attractive. God, you wanted to fucking hate her.

Abby crosses her arms, flexing them right in front of you. She notices your expression change. She knew you had a little crush before, but she thought that feeling was long gone. She shoves the small inkling of optimism that you may still feel that way down.

Manny speaks up again, “We should just head back and tell Isaac we will head back out tomorrow morning. It’s going to be dark in about an hour. It’s too risky.”

“Agreed,” Abby tightens up her folded arms, “If you wanna go out by yourself, you can do that. We can tell Isaac you went awol.”

You smirk at her suggestion, “No, I want to be there to tell him you can’t pull your punches. Be way more satisfying to watch you squirm.”

“I’m glad everyone was okay,” Isaac says, his deep voice dropping an octave, “I’ll get more guys to go with you tomorrow morning. You three get back here at sunrise, okay?”

You clear your throat, “Want me to run through how to shoot a gun with Abby before we ship out?”

Manny huffs, “Come on, dude.”

“I think she’d benefit from it,” You say matter-of-factly to Isaac. You can feel Abby’s gaze burning into you. She’s leaning against the door frame, while you are seated in front of Isaac’s sprawling desk. You always felt like he only sat there to seem more authoritative. To you, he was just a man.

“Play nice, little one,” He stands up from his rolling chair to stand in front of your manspreaded legs, “You still need to prove to me that you’re loyal. Don’t think I forgot about the incident at the hospital last week.”

Your stomach drops while Abby’s ears perk up.

“What happened at the hospital last week?”

Her voice is eager, which only makes you angrier. You adjust yourself in your seat, sitting up straighter.

“She refused to kill a Scar,” He explains, teetering over you, “She shot a Wolf instead.”

“He demanded I gut a child in front of her mother. I am not going to do shit like that.”

Isaac chuckles before slamming his fist down on the table beside him, “You can and you fuckin’ will. If I get any more push back from you, I’ll get Anderson here to take you out herself.”

You stand up quickly, avoiding everyone’s gazes. You want to throw your knife into his throat, but you know that wouldn’t end well. You didn’t want to have to be on the run again.

Being humiliated in front of Abby and Manny made you feel sick. You hadn’t felt shame in so long, not even when you were reprimanded last week for shooting that guy between the eyes. You were lucky he was just some new recruit and had no family back at the Stadium. Isaac spared you because he needs you. You’re a good asset.

“We clear?”

His voice bounces off the wall. You don’t say anything, you just nod slightly and storm out of the office. You hear the door slam behind you as you swiftly walk towards the staircase. There’s men loitering in the hallway, waiting for Isaac to tell them to go kill another Scar. Pathetic, you thought.

You start to think about how didn’t want to face Abby and Manny tomorrow, but you knew better to ignore direct orders. Maybe a shower would rinse off the disgusting dirty feeling that plagued your skin.

“Didn’t know I was workin’ with a traitor today,” Abby says from behind you. You’re in the community bathrooms, cursing that it’s even a thing because you knew some shit like this would happen. You thought since it was midnight, you wouldn’t have any company. You were, of course, wrong.

Abby has her towel draped over her broad shoulder and a small container with her soaps. You were just about to strip down and take one of the spickets on the tiled wall when she interrupts your routine.

You swallow hard, not in the mood to argue with her. Even if there’s no one around, you don’t feel like entertaining anymore.

“‘M not a traitor. I just don’t kill children.”

You had very limited morals, but you drew the line at children. You remember what it was like to watch your friends get picked off by raiders when you were a kid. You remember being horrified hearing the screams of their mothers. You remember the innocence being stripped from you. You can’t stomach the idea of killing someone who has no control over their life or the decisions of others, so you don’t.

Isaac showed no mercy to any Scar, but you did and he was trying his very hardest to beat that out of you. The only reason you were stuck on the patrol with Manny and Abby in the first place was because he knocked you down to more minor runs and not the intense ones you were on before. It was your “punishment” for disrespecting authority. You were lucky to even have your head after killing that guy in front of other Wolves.

Abby grumbles something inaudible.

“You remember when we were forced to watch those daycare kids after not doing our morning mile?” You reflect, thinking back to easier times with Abby, “Imagine one of those innocent kids being gutted by a machete and it’s your own hand doing it. If a child is going to die in the name of some stupid land, I don’t want to be the one holding the weapon. Isaac can have sociopaths like you to do that.”

“Me? The sociopath? If I’m remembering correctly, they gave you the nickname Heartless after your run through on the East side a couple months ago,” Abby’s voice is venmous, “You are the top Scar killer right now. You kill and you don’t even flinch.”

“I kill people who try to kill me,” You grab the hem of your top, pulling it over your head, “I need to protect myself. And whoever I’m with. I’m not given a choice.”

“Was that guy trying to kill you? The one you shot between the eyes?”

You’re silent. She poses a good question, a question you don’t have a good answer for. You turn to face her, and the first thing you realize is her braid is becoming unraveled. You purse your lips, racking your brain for a response after being distracted. The only rebuttal is a question, something that has eaten you alive ever since it started.

“Why do you hate me so fuckin’ much?”

She cocks her head to the side, “Are you serious right now?”

Deep down, Abby never hated you. She was jealous of you. She wanted everything you had. She couldn’t stand seeing someone be better than her, especially a girl she liked. And you did everything so well. She harbored a secret crush on you for a while, even when she was with Owen. She hated that she liked you and you were leaving her behind to advance up the ranks. She only wanted your attention, truthfully. Now, since she distanced herself from you, everything you did ate her alive. While poking fun at her was your way of flirting, Abby reeled over it every night before bed. How could you be so mean?

“We were friends, Abby. I told you about my family. I told you everything, and as soon as I got in with Isaac, you iced me out. Told me you didn’t need friends,” You huff out, “I knew that was a lie then and I know it’s a fuckin’ lie now because you have friends. Lots of them. Why couldn’t I be your friend?”

“Because I can’t be friends with you!”

Her voice is high pitched, almost shaky. You take a step forward and for once she doesn’t step away from you. You’re in her space, your hip bone millimeters from her hands. Your eyes are trained on her reaction, which is just her eyes averting away from you.

“Why can’t we be friends, Abs?”

You reach up, grabbing her messy braid softly. She flinches a bit, easing into the idea of you touching her. It’s been a long time since you were this close to her without her resisting. She still won’t look you in the eyes. Your fingers travel down her mousey braid until you’re trailing her collarbone and wide shoulders. As your digits trace her bicep, she finally looks at you for a moment. The tension is palpable, your question still hanging in the air.

“You’re impossible,” She murmurs, her eyes flicking away again, “And you’re despicable. You think you’re bett-”

“Cut the shit,” Your hand stops right at her wrist and you wrap your much smaller hand around it. You know the real reason she won’t be your friend, it’s written all over her face, “You hate me because you want me, Abby. You always have. Almost as much as I want you.”

“Want is a strong word,” She chirps, “I was in a relationship when we were friends. I had Ow-”

“Don’t even say his fuckin’ name,” Your free hand tilts her head back toward your gaze. You hated that fucker for messing with your Abby, “Can you just indulge me? Admit that the reason you’re pissy with me is because you want me between your legs?”

You can feel her tense up, her jaw going slack.

“Nah, don’t think that’s what I want,” Her voice finally changes. It’s more sultry, the tone shifting with the conversation. She shakes out of your grip, bringing her hand up to your chin, “Think I need to teach you a thing or two. Shut that stupid smart mouth up for a minute.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, you’ve been a fuckin’ bitch and you need to be taught a lesson,” Hearing the words come out her mouth has your core clenching with anticipation. She’s silent waiting for you to agree, but you just stare at her with a smirk. “Do you need me to show you here or do you want me to show you in your room?”

“Why not yours?”

“Because Manny is there. Unless you want to give him a show like the slut I know you are.”

She makes the hair on your arms stand up. She scans your body as you contemplate your options. This is a moment you’d been waiting for, so you can’t fuck it up. You finally have her exactly where you want her.

You can’t be caked in dirt and grime when she’s devouring you, right?

“I need a shower,” You mutter. It catches her off guard. You swallow before continuing, “I think you need one, too. So, how about we take our showers and then you can walk me back to my room.”

She doesn’t even say anything, just begins stripping off her tank top. She’s sporting a black sports bra underneath and my God, does she look good in only a bra. You have seen her in a bra before, but never with a six pack and huge arms like she has now. She smiles at your gawking. She shoves off her cargo pants, leaving her just in her underwear and bra.

You finally come to your senses and start stripping as she walks over to one of the shower heads and turns it on. She looks excellent from the back, too, you think.

“We don’t have all night,” She groans, watching you slowly start undoing your bra, “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

You walk towards the shower head next to the one that’s running for her. She pulls the hem of her bra up and off, revealing her full chest to you. You follow her lead, undoing the back of your bra and letting your breasts free. The water is soaking your feet and you still have your underwear on. It’s almost like a competition as to who can break first and touch the other, and it wasn’t going to be you. You shimmy your underwear off, tossing both your bra and panties to the pile outside of the shower.

“Jesus Christ,” She howls as you let the water take over your body. Her eyes are glued to your chest, “It’s like they got bigger.”

You sneer at her comment, “I could say the same about you in general.”

“Yeah?” She slips off her underwear, leaving nothing to imagination anymore. She caves first, creeping into your stream of hot water with you and wrapping her large arms around your waist. Chills shoot up every part of your body when her lips dip down to leave open mouth kisses on your shoulder blade. Her hands trail upward from your hips to your stomach to your tits. You watch in disbelief when her massive hands take up most of your boobs. She cradles them in her palms before massaging you tenderly. You’re already a moaning mess, pushing your ass into her crotch.

“Let’s get you clean since that’s what you want,” She drops your boobs before reaching out for her soap. She starts to lather herself up before her hands return to your buzzing body. You let her hands wander, coating you in her pine soap. You didn’t care for the scent, but it smelled like her and you always wanted that scent on your body.

She manhandles you a bit before using your arm to twist you around to face her. She’s staring down at you, her pupils dark with desire. You realize her hair is still in a braid and resting on her bare shoulder. While she continues to rub you down, you grab the end of her braid and start to undo it.

When her wavy hair is released from the hair tie, you realize how long it is now. No wonder she keeps it braided, it must get in her way.

“May need to rebraid your hair,” You mutter, your hand still dancing around her decolletage.

“I’ll just have you hold it up while I eat you out.”

You smirk as she focuses her attention on pinching and tugging on your hard nipples. You ogle her, unsure how you got here. Earlier she was threatening to kill you, now she’s toying with your body and leaving you the wettest you’ve ever been. She backs you into the water, having you rinse off the suds.

“Abby,” You finally catch her gaze and her lips are pursed in concentration. She looks at your expression and then it finally happens. She kisses you, feverishly. You almost slip on the wet floor as she aggressively pushes you back against the tiled wall. Luckily, her arm is completely enveloping your hip, keeping you stable against her. Your bodies are wet and burning with desire, eager to touch every inch of each other. Abby pulls away, catching her breath.

“We need to speed this part up, I need to fuck you.”

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around her neck, “We are having fun though, aren’t we?”

She shakes her head, “Rinse yourself off, no more back talk.”

She pulls away from you, quickly showering herself. You don’t even wash your hair like you need to, you just watch her lather her body up, slowly circling your clit with your middle and pointer finger. She does not even realize what you’re doing until you are moaning in her direction.

“You’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

She pulls your hand away from your sensitive nub, using you as leverage when she gets on her knees. She’s staring up at you, pulling you forward by your ass. She looks too good at this angle.

“Please, Abby,” You beg, wanting her to devour you whole.

“Hold my hair, baby. Just like I said.”

She nudges your knees apart, her face centimeters from your dripping core. She uses her long fingers to spread apart your pussy lips, soaking in the fact that she was the one who made you this wet. You reach down, pulling her long locks upward to get them off her shoulders. When she creeps in closer, her tongue is extended outward. As soon as it makes contact with your slit, you throw your head back, your hand full of hair loosening. She works her tongue around your pussy, pressing forward even more. She has her full face in you, her nose poking your clit every time she moves her tongue and lips.

You’ve never been eaten out like this before. She’s a starved woman, begging you to feed her your sweet juices. Your knees feel like they could give out at any moment, so you grip onto her shoulder to balance yourself. She’s switching between slurping and sucking, her mouth working magic on your senstive pussy.

Just when you think her head can’t get any better, her fingers enter the equation. She slips her long fingers between your slit, finding your hole after exploring for a moment. She guides one finger into you, then two. She’s groaning into you, watching your body twitch under her touch. She’s fucking you so fast, you can feel yourself teetering over the edge. She switches up her moves, flicking her tongue on your clit and fucking you slower. It sends you into bliss, your mouth agape as you stare down at her pressed against your core. You cry out, trying your best not to let your legs surrender to your weight.

“Yes baby,” She watches you fall apart, her finger tips swiping over your clit fast, “That’s right, cumming apart on my tongue. That’s so hot.”

Your vision is hazy, but you can still make out Abby as she stands up. Her hands rest on your waist as she brings you into a ravenous kiss. You’re still in a daze from your orgasm as she shuts off the warm water behind you. She’s guiding you out of the showers, bringing you back to your clothes and towel. She helps you by wrapping your towel around your center.

“You okay to walk back to your room?” She questions, watching you shakingly dry yourself off.

You chuckle a bit, “Why? Do you want to carry me or something?”

She gives you a smug look, “Do you need me to?”

You want to smack the expression clear off her face. The freckles that litter her face scrunch in a teasing manner, which makes you melt a bit. You continue drying off before you throw back on your pants and shirt. You would be taking them off within the next two minutes, anyway, but you had to make it through the main hallways.

Abby does the same thing before she gathers all her belongings and waits for you. As you rake your fingers through your hair, she jokingly starts tapping her foot.

“Can you relax?”

She shakes her head “no”. You roll your eyes, grabbing all your things and leading the way to your room.

Abby knew your room would be better because you were graced with a room all by yourself. Courtesy of being Isaac’s top dog.

You were vigilant about keeping a clean suite, always making sure your limited belongings had a place. You did not have people in your room often, so you were a bit nervous to have Abby Anderson in your room.

She trails behind you closely, grunting every so often to indicate her impatience. Once you're outside your room, you unlock it with the key around your neck. It was easier to keep it on your chain, you hated stuffing your pockets with loose items.

The cold air hits your skin. You were known for keeping a cold room. You always ran hot at night and you refused to sweat. When Abby walks into your suite, she starts to laugh. You lay down your towel and undergarments.

“What’s so funny?” You ask, your wet hair sticking to your shoulders.

“You haven’t changed at all,” She grumbles, tossing her stuff in a pile beside your front door. The comment takes you off guard, simply because you spent years trying to be someone different.

“Why do you think that?”

“You are still so Type A,” She’s bounding towards you, stopping centimeters from your still-orgasm-dazed body, “You always run hot. It’s fuckin’ freezing in here.”

She’s cowering over you, her hot breath getting closer to your face. Before she can kiss you, she averts her head to the crook of your neck.

“You still smell of lavender,” She kisses your pulse point before continuing, “And you need attention or else you’ll die. You thrive off pissing everyone off.”

“Especially you,” You practically moan as she continues to kiss your throat. When you say that, she lifts her head and stares down at you. She’s so symmetrical and beautiful. You loved seeing every freckle, every wrinkle of her nose. The fullness of her pink lips.

“Especially me, that’s right.”

She pulls you in again, this time using her large hands to push your ass forward, capturing your lips as you melt into her grip. You move fluidly with her direction, peeling off your clothes again and frenching her when her lips slip open. Your tongues battle but you fully submit when she slowly bites down. She’s hungry for more.

You grab onto her forearms, tugging her towards your full size bed in the corner of the room.

You always kept your blinds drawn, not allowing the large windows to expose your personal space. You’re silently thanking the angels for your obsessiveness because if someone spotted you and Abby right now, it would somehow get back to Isaac. He would have a cow if he found you two messing around. That’s too much of a distraction and you need to focus on the “mission”.

Well, right now your mission is to make Abby cum.

You two fall on the bed, her hands still resting on the curve of your ass. She groans when you pull away from her lips. You tug at her shirt, gesturing to her to rid herself of her clothes. She obliges and she’s finally naked in your bed. You could die happy.

You were too caught up in her touching you earlier, now you want to feel her. When the cold air touches her nipples, you notice them stand at attention. You practically fall into her chest, latching your mouth onto her tits, sucking the skin. She moans out, her hips reacting by pressing forward into you. You swirl your wet tongue around her areola, teasing her sensitive nipples.

“God damn,” She whimpers, her hands exploring your hips. You use your teeth, nibbling slightly as you pull away from her one boob. She falls onto her back, releasing you from her grip. You crawl on top of her, straddling her waist with your thighs. You press your slick entrance on top of her mound, dragging it back and forth, teasing her.

“You want me to touch your pretty pussy with my mouth?” You ask, resting your hands on her abs. She was so built, just tracing the outline of her 6-pack made you quiver.

“God yes.”

Her voice is deeper, her pleasure taking over her vocal chords. You grind down on her before you shimmy down her legs and settle between her thighs. You lay on your tummy, lining up your face with her middle.

She’s dripping, her entrance waiting for your fingers and mouth. You loved returning the favor, especially for women. You got off on hearing a woman chant your name as you alternate between licking and sucking. It would always boost your ego, but now that it’s Abby in your bed? You’ll be satisfied if she’s the last one to ever get in bed with you.

She talked a big game about “teaching you a lesson” but here you are, shoving your fingers deep inside her and fucking her with your tongue. You smirk at the thought, watching her face twist in delight. You swirl your tongue around her sensitive throbbing clit. You were fed off her reactions, your eagerness to make her feel good increasing the more she cried out.

You wrap your lips around her clit as you’re three fingers deep, fucking her steadily. As soon as you start the suction on her pussy, Abby is falling apart on your face. It’s a quick reaction, which gives you a bit of an ego boost. You watch her stomach flex, her jaw clench, and her mouth let out a guttural moan.

Once she catches her breath, you slide off the bed, heading to your side table. You open the drawer, searching for the one thing that Abby could use to teach you a lesson.

You pull out the black strap on you found a couple months ago at an abandoned sex store downtown. You haven’t used it yet, but you did make the effort to clean it before you tucked it away. This seemed like the perfect time for it to shine.

You show Abby, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She snatches it from you, giggling as she stands up.

“It’s like putting underwear,” You explain as she messes with the strap. It was like a thong with a dick attached. Very advanced technology.

“It’s perfect,” She whispers, sliding it over her massively thick thighs. Once she gets it on, it’s kind of silly to look at. Seeing Abby with a massive cock made you chuckle, but instead of following your reaction, it’s like it gave her a newfound attitude.

It’s like a switch goes off. Instead of slowing down after an orgasm, like you, she manhandles you and grabs your biceps. She tows you up to her naked body before she pins you down to the bed. She plants herself like a tree between your legs, the large silicone dick nudging your inner thighs. You still can see her glistening core through the straps.

“I need to watch you come apart again,” She explains as she holds the cock in her hand, “Wanna watch you cum over and over again.”

Her hair is messily over her shoulders, so when she leans down to stare down at the dick sliding between your folds, it falls in her face. She tucks it behind her ears, but it still drifts down her chest. You circle your hips, sighing at the feeling of the ridges of the dildo against your sensitivity.

“Fuckin’ hair,” She fusses. You giggle a bit, watching her throw it back over her shoulders. You nudge her shoulder, using some force to pull her over your body. She leans down, her hair falling onto your face.

“I’ll hold it for you, just make me feel good,” You murmur, using both hands to gather her hair. She gasps as you tug on her locks. You use some of the leverage you have to position her even closer to you. She reaches between your bodies and coats the cock in your slick. As soon as she teases your entrance with it, you pull her hair back. It sends her over the edge as she eases the dick inside you. It hurts a bit, so when she draws back you tell her to coat it in her saliva. She does what she’s told, spitting into her free hand a couple times and covering the appendage with it.

Once she eases in again, the stretch feels better with the lubrication. Your thighs want to clench so bad, but the way she’s resting on you, you have no way to. She draws in and out of your pussy, grunting at the impact.

It feels so good, but part of you wishes you just had her beautifully long fingers inside you.

She moves your hands away from her hair and throws her head back, tossing her blond hair back. She props your legs up, plowing into you. You’re crying out, your ears ringing with the sound of your own heartbeat.

“God, I need you to cum, baby,” She mumbles, kissing your knee as your body starts to vibrate. The cock is hitting you in all the right spots, but you need more. You reach down, using the pads of your fingers to stimulate your clit.

“Please don’t stop!”

It riles her up more, her pace quickening with every gasp. She pushes your fingers away, replacing them with her own. The pressure she applies sends your body into overdrive. Between her moans and the physicality, your orgasm hits you like a train. She fucks you through it, mumbling phrases like “that’s my good girl” and “yes baby, give it to me”.

Once it’s over, it feels like your heart may beat out of your chest. She pulls the strap out and stands up beside your bed, shoving it off her hips. You watch her closely as she props the item up on your side table. She’s careful not to mess with any of you meticulously placed knick knacks.

“You good?” She asks, her voice cracking a bit.

She wanted to say more, but as she looks at you all fucked out on your bed, she feels a pang of guilt. She should not be indulging in this type of stuff, especially when you’re going against the cause. Abby had it made here, she can’t risk anything.

“‘m all good, Abs. Do you wanna stay?”

She shakes her head negatively.

“I think I’m gonna head back to my room. We gotta be up in a couple hours.”

You notice she’s being cold, which sends you into a spiral. You want to reassure her, but you know deep down she’s already made up her mind.

You clear your throat, “Well, we can at least wake up together.”

“No, I don't think that’s the best idea,” She explains as she finds her clothes across your bedroom. She lays them on the bed beside you as she starts to dress herself. She has this look of concern on her face. It makes you physically ill, knowing it’s the face of regret.

“Well, I guess we are back to square one.”

She throws her shirt over her head before she’s gathering up her things and practically running to the door. You want to pick up the dildo and sling it at her head. You can’t believe this.

She reaches for the door before turning around to face you, “Guess so.”

PART 2 is HERE

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby from tlou #abby tlou smut #tlou x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #the last of us #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby x reader #the last of us 2 #gracieheartspedro

2K notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 9 months ago

Note

you asked for fallout request, so here i am, eagerly writing this…

i’ve been craving a cooper howard x reader oneshot where him and the reader are navigating through life in their own way. maybe a run in with tricky people?? angst?? fluff??? it’s up to you best friend. THANK YOU!!!

AN | Alright, let’s goooo. First go around with Cooper and we had to go with some fluff because that is my specialty. I’ve loved Fallout for a long time and I love the show too❤️

Pairing | Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x fem!reader

Warnings | language; gun violence

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You weren't sure if you'd call yourselves friends.

More like…an unwitting duo of sorts. Unwitting on your end more than anything.

You'd promised him that you absolutely didn't need company or anyone to assist you. He'd insisted that the only way he'd let you go on your own was over his dead body. You'd contemplated that idea for a few moments. Given his reputation, you decided not to push him too much.

The realization that he was a stubborn old man who wasn't going to change his mind was the only reason he was still next to you. Begrudgingly, mind you.

“How much further, darlin’?” His deep voice cut through your internal monologue and you shot a glare in his direction, “I'm starting to think you're not the best judge of distance.”

“If you're just going to complain,” you pointed over your shoulder back to the last town you'd passed through, “you're more than welcome to go back and terrorize that town. I told you that I didn't need you to come with me.”

“And why would I listen to you, huh?” He rolled his eyes lightly as you scoffed, “you'd be dead before the sun went down, sweetheart.”

“So what?” You turned on your heel, walking backwards so you could face him, “why do you care?! You don't even like me!”

“Contrary to what you believe, I do have somewhat of a conscience,” his voice was gruff but somewhat soft, “and if I let you go and then heard that you were killed, I'd be a little annoyed.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve already saved your life once,” he so sweetly reminded you as you sighed heavily, “and I didn't just save your life so you could go and be killed by someone else.”

“Ain’t that sweet? You’re a modern day prince,” you mocked his twang as his expression refused to shift. It was almost annoying how unfazed he remained the majority of the time, “I had it handled. You happened to come at an inconvenient time.”

“If that's what helps you sleep at night,” he had to fight to hold back a laugh as you turned back around and you marched in front of him, making it a point not to look back at him. He had to be the most infuriating person you'd ever met. He'd had two hundreds years to perfect being annoying and he had done exceedingly well.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you had been traveling together for a number of days. You'd managed not to kill each other, luckily, but otherwise things had remained mostly the same. Silence, and if it wasn’t silence, it'd be harsh words and fast quips.

You didn't hate him - not really. You hated the idea that anyone, let alone a man, believed that you needed help. You'd had things handled and would have kept yourself safe. He'd just happened to come fight when you were in the midst of either killing or getting killed.

He wasn't going to let that go anytime soon. That much you already knew about him.

“It’s cold,” you announced as the two of you made camp for the night. You pulled your jacket tighter around your frame but it was no use, “I’m cold. Can we make a fire?”

“That, princess, is one of the many reasons you need someone out there to keep an eye on you,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost have thought that he was being kind - nice.

“Listen,” you sat down and leaned against one of the trees near the clearing you’d decided to call home for the evening, “I know it’s not exactly safe or the best idea, but I’d rather do that than freeze.”

“It ain’t even that cold,” he mused, stripping off his overcoat and tossing it over to you. You made a sound of surprise, but didn’t hesitate to put it on, “life really was different for you, wasn’t it? I’d say it was almost as easy as those vaulties had it.”

“It wasn’t…” you knew he wasn’t wrong. You’d come from a place of privilege, having been born into a family with wealth, new world wealth anyway, and had it pretty easy for a surface dweller. You’d lived in a large, well stocked and safe home with people around to do your bidding. Those were some of the perks of having a father that was some sort of merchant prince, “it wasn’t like that.”

“Yeah?” he rolled out his bedroll, a bitter laugh escaping him, “sounds like you had nothing to do and everything done for you.”

“I mean…” you trailed off, knowing it was futile to lie to him. He’d known your father after all; Cooper Howard was the one sent to fetch you and return you home once your father had found out you’d run away, “it was…good sometimes. There were a lot of bad times too. But I still know how to do things for myself. I could kill you with my bare hands if I wanted to. I’ve done it before.”

“Huh,” he grabbed a vial and downed it one go, his eyes never leaving your face, “guess that makes you a killer. Just. Like. Me.”

“I did what I had to do,” you swallowed thickly, blinking back tears that threatened to well up. Cooper knew that you had run away, but he didn’t know the full extent of what had happened to cause you to run away, “and we’re here.”

“Tell me what happened,” your eyes snapped to him as you tried to weigh his words in order to see if he was being serious or not. He’d never really taken an interest into your personal life, but you wondered if that was because he genuinely didn’t care or if he’d just created some sort of creed for himself that didn’t allow him to get close to anyone, “what made you run away from your sweet little life, darlin’?”

“Cooper,” you wiped your hands on your thighs and shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. You’d never really said his name before and that caught him off guard, “does it really matter?”

“It’s still buggin’ you, clearly,” he mirrored your position and crossed his arms over his chest, “and we ain’t got nothing but time.”

You inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling and looking at the sky. You could feel his attention still focused on you, “my father told me that there was a man I was going to marry. I told him no and he told me that I didn’t have a choice. Said man found me shortly before the wedding was supposed to happen and he…he tried to…”

You paused for a moment, wiping away the tears that had unwittingly rolled down your cheeks. Cooper’s gaze had darkened but he was still watching; the expression on his face looked like he was ready to commit murder.

“He didn’t get a chance to do anything,” you said softly, “I killed him before he could. But he managed to get me a little bit when he was trying to fight me off. That’s why I had a black eye and all the bruises.”

“Darlin’-”

“I didn’t hesitate, Coop,” your expression steeled as you looked him in the eyes, “and I won’t hesitate now. A man will never tell me what to do. And I don’t need anyone thinking I need someone to protect me.”

Cooper had been listening with rapt attention, his mind already thinking of the things he could do to your father. Bringing you back to him definitely wasn’t one of those things. He’d made up his mind about that almost the moment he’d met you. You’d been sporting a black eye and cut lip, dried blood caked on your hands and arms. He was smart enough to put two and two together.

“For what it’s worth,” he looked back at you with the gentlest expression you’d seen on him, “I’m sorry for what you had to go through. Those are not men, those are monsters.”

“And you’re going to bring me right back to him,” it was a question presented as a statement. You weren’t entirely sure what his plan with you was; you’d been scared to ask. But he also wasn’t hadn’t mentioned a word of bringing you back to your father, “aren’t you?”

“I ain’t bringing you back,” he admitted and you couldn’t keep the surprise off your face, “I never was. I’ve been around a long time, little girl. I know what your father is. I figured it was a better option for me to find you than someone else.”

“You’re not?” you hated how small your voice sounded; how you almost sounded scared. In a way you were. Scared of going back to the place that you hated and would surely make sure you suffered, but you were also scared of forging a new path. You didn’t really know where you were going or what you were going to, “really?”

“On one condition,” of course. You waved your hand, motioning for him to go, “you admit that you have no clue where we’re going and we’ve basically been making this hell of a trek for no real reason.”

You tried to look serious for a moment, but you couldn’t help but start to laugh at how well he could already read you. Cooper was so taken aback by the soft, sweet sound that he couldn’t help the smile that tugged up the corners of his mouth. When you managed to catch your breath, you looked at him and cocked your head to the side, “I have no clue where we’re going and we’ve been making this hell of a trek for no real reason.”

“Honesty,” he pulled one of his knees toward his chest and drummed his fingers on it, “it’s refreshing. You’re gonna be alright, kid.”

“There’s a place,” you murmured after a few moments of silence, “that my mom told me about when I was little. She made it sound like this magical place. I guess really, that’s where I want to go.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Cooper said, “but magical places don’t really exist. They never really did.”

“I know,” you admitted softly, “it just seemed like that when I was young. She died a long time ago, but I’d always think about that place, going there someday. She said it was west - just go west and you’ll know when you’re there.”

“Hmm,” he nodded and paused for a moment before getting up and grabbing some nearby sticks and bringing them to the center of the clearing. He started making a fire before you could even question him, “if it draws anything out, I’m sure we can handle it.”

“Thanks Coop,” you watched him work, an odd feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Once the fire was going, he settled down near you, “Cooper?”

“Hmm?”

“We are going west, right?” your question caused him to chuckle before he reached into his pocket and pulled something small out that he passed over you. It was a small silver compass worn and weathered just like him.

“I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but we’ve been goin’ east for the last couple of days,” he shrugged as you groaned at yourself. At least you didn’t have anywhere to be at any particular time, “had I know we’ve been searching for a magical place, I could have told you we were going the wrong way.”

“I guess I’m not as handy as I thought,” you grumbled to yourself, clutching the compass tightly in your hand, “you know you don’t have to come, right?”

“I know,” he nodded, “you think anyone could force me to do something against my will, you don’t know me at all, sugar. Now stop your yapping and get some rest. We’ll start heading west at sunrise.”

You paused for a moment, pulling his coat tighter around you, “thanks, Coop.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next couple of days of trekking passed in relative peace. The two of you were now making your way west for whatever magical place your mom had made you dream of you. You weren’t sure why Cooper was still with you, but you weren’t about to complain. He provided some decent company since you’d had your little heart to heart, but he owed you nothing. You weren’t exactly complaining; he was the closest thing to a friend you’d had in a long time.

But, as things would have it in the wasteland, life threw a wrench in your plans. A wrench in the form of two raiders that definitely weren’t looking to get chummy.

“Ugh,” you groaned as the two figures approached from a distance. The two of you were outside of a saloon, trying to decide whether to keep pressing on for the evening or staying put and turning in. Cooper followed your line of sight and made a sign of annoyance, “why do I feel like they’re going to make trouble?”

“Well, darlin’, that’s because they’re about to make trouble,” he touched the brim of his hat and pulled it further down.

“Look who it is,” one of the men sneered at the two of you. He looked about as unfriendly as they came, “the Ghoul of the hour and his little bounty.”

“We heard you were having some trouble delivering her back home,” his partner came up and eyed you without shame. He looked disgusting with greasy hair and rotting teeth, a sinister expression on his face, “so we came to take over.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you spit at him, reaching for the dagger that was at your side. You felt Cooper reach for your hand and gently squeeze it in order to stop you from making any rash moves.

“What this charming sweetheart means is that she is not going back with you,” Cooper smirked at them, “so you can run along now.”

“Fucking Ghoul,” the first man snarled at him, “you couldn’t even do your job. Turn the bitch over and we’ll let you go alive…or whatever the hell you are.”

“You can go back to my father and tell him that he can go fuck himself too,” you hissed, blood boiling with sheer annoyance and anger, “and if you don’t turn around right now-”

“What?” His voice was sticky sweet and filled with vinegar as he smiled at you; both of them had pistols in their hands and that made your stomach churn. They could easily get the jump on you, “you’ll kill me?”

“No,” Cooper pushed you behind him and looked at them with a grin on his face. Of course he’d be enjoying this, “but I will.”

“Why don’t you just-” but the man couldn’t get another word in as the sound of the gunshot rang through the air, causing you to stumble backwards and cover your ears. A second shot rang out within seconds and you saw the other body fall to the ground.

It happened so fast that you couldn’t help the shock that ran through your body, causing you to let you let out a loud sob. You’d seen death before, you’d seen things much worse than before but there was something about the moment that was overwhelming.

Blood spattered the side of the building, causing you to dry heave as you noticed the bits of brain and bone clinging to it. Your ears were still ringing as you tried not to completely lose your grip on reality.

“Hey,” you heard his voice cut through the fog and you felt his hand on your shoulders, helping to keep you steady and upright. You shifted your gaze up and found his eyes concerned, “hey.”

“I-I…” you couldn’t even form a proper sentence as you looked at him, “they…you. You saved me.”

Before he could even respond, you threw your arms around him and held tightly onto him. He was taken aback for a moment before he hugged you back, and you could feel his breath of relief. There was something so good and reassuring about the feel of his arms around you.

“You would have had it handled,” he insisted and you shook your head.

“No,” you looked at him and to your surprise he gently wiped away your tears, “I couldn’t have. I couldn’t have saved myself this time. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, darlin’,” he took your chin in his hand and kept your gaze on his, “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“I do,” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and nodded slightly, “I do need you. Don’t go.”

“The only place I’m going is west,” there was that smile again, the one that rarely graced his features. The same one that made your legs feel like jello, “are you comin’?”

“Yes,” you promised, “I’m coming.”

“Well then, we best get goin’ sweetheart,” he glanced over the carnage that he left behind, “before someone else comes to make trouble.”

He checked himself over to make sure he had everything ready to. You missed the feel of his touch almost immediately.

Once he made sure he had everything, he held his hand out to you.

You took it without hesitation.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout #fallout fic #fallout prime #walton goggins

491 notes · View notes

sainzsiren · 9 months ago

Text

"lover boy"

ఌ︎ pairing... op81 x reader

ఌ︎ now playing... lover boy by a-wall

ఌ︎ letter from liz... first f1 post here we goooo! y'all have good taste, osc is so bbg. i also got fancy w twitter and some texts, hope you like it! request what you want to see next

ఌ︎warnings... swearing and suggestive content

--------------------------------------------------------

liked by landonorris, mclaren, ynyln and others

oscarpiastri always a good time at home, thank you for the support aus!

view comments:

user OSCAR WHAT

user this was not slick pastry

landonorris 3rd slide 🤨

oscarpiastri what i cant post my mates 🤷

user LANDO WHAT DO YOU KNOW

user OSCAR WHAT ARE YOU HIDING BUDDY

user that is not a mate

mclaren us because 3-4 😁🧡

user lmao admin just ignoring the drama

user pr is probably screaming and crying rn

user im screaming and crying bc who is she

liked by f1, oscarpiastri, f1academy, and others

mclaren lots of LOVE for australia, good job boys

tagged landonorris, oscarpiastri, f1

view comments:

landonorris cheers 🥂🍾

oscarpiastri 🍾🍾🍾

user oscar we havent forgotten

landonorris help why do i look like that in the last picture

user forget what you look like lets talk about WHO OSCARS LOOKING AT

user maybe its his "mate"

user admin what do you know

user so why are oscars eyes literally hearts

user LOVE??? not love???? ADMIN KNOWS AND IS GIVING US HINTS

user admin is a girls girl

mclaren 🎀

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussel63, and others

oscarpiastri still not over this weekend

view comments:

landonorris so heres the "mate"

oscarpiastri were the quotes really necessary??

lanconorris from what ive seen 100%

user LANDO WHAT HAVE YOU SEEN

user NDKDNDJDNDJDND

user we will figure out who this is

f1 we want photo creds 📸

oscarpiastri fine all photos were taken by f1 photographers

user i need to find an f1 photographer to bribe to figure out who this is

user NEITHER ARE WE

texts between you and oscar

twitter:

liked by ynyln, landonorris, f1, and others

oscarpiastri we'll be the talk of the town

tagged ynyln

view comments:

ynyln i love you 🧡

oscarpiastri i love you more and most 🧡

landonorris THATS GAME

user screaming crying dying

user i cannot he seems like such a sweet bf

ynyln he really is

danielricciardo congrats mate!!

alex_albon lily says a double date is needed

landonorris WOOOOO WE'RE PUBLIC CAN SHE COME TO RACES NOW?

ynyln duh i'll be at suzuka

ynyln's story

990 notes · View notes

iamtired10 · 3 months ago

Text

open your window

pairing - best friend! pham hanni x basketball player! female reader

synopsis - sneaking into pham hanni’s house at 2 am through her window was practically a tradition by now. you’ve done it countless times before, but tonight feels... different.

genre - pure fluff

warnings - drunk asf, swearing, and a whole lot of cute.

word count - 1.9k

— requested!

it was 2 a.m.

the time when the world outside is quiet, still, and wrapped in the embrace of sleep.

but for pham hanni, her peaceful night was disrupted by the soft buzzing of her phone on the nightstand, pulling her out of her half-asleep daze.

she squinted at the screen, trying to make out the words through her sleepy haze.

owl leader

opeb ur damn wimdoe, yanni

fvckkksjxioskejfydiej

it's freezinh out herrre

the neighbor's betch is barkimg its lungs out

dont wanna get caught by the atttractibe ghost rn skdifiif

hawhiny

...

i have a lot of nasty things to say, but let's start with this: fuck you.

owl leader

han my sweet fluffy bestie-of-the-century pooookoe bear OPEM THR DAMN FOOR

i cant stand on this sketchy-ass ladder any longer

fckkkkk it's about to collapse wljjfirowkhsgd

hawhiny

🙄

hanni groaned, her warm, cozy blanket hugging her tightly, tempting her to stay in bed.

the thought of getting up at this ungodly hour to let you in was the last thing she wanted to do.

but she knew better.

if she didn’t get up now, you'd definitely do something worse, and her night would go from bad to worse.

dragging herself out of bed with an exaggerated sigh, she padded across the room, still half-asleep, and peeked out of the window. there you were, face pressed against the glass, knocking as if your life depended on it, mouthing exaggeratedly, “OPEN THE WINDOW!”

“romeo’s here, babe! your romeo has arrived!”

hanni raised an eyebrow at the sight of you, swaying unsteadily on a ladder you most likely stole from one of the neighbors. she unlocked the window, cracking it open just enough to speak, “can’t you, for once in your life, act like a normal person and use the damn door? you’re going to get yourself killed, and i’ll have to explain why my best friend fell off a ladder at 2 a.m. because she’s a complete idiot.”

“i’m just trying to be romantic, my sweet juliet!” you slurred dramatically, struggling to keep your balance on the ladder. “f-finally, you opened up! i was freezing out here... about to turn into an icicle!”

hanni rolled her eyes, knowing all too well what was going on. she could tell just by the way your words slurred together and how you couldn’t stand still for a second.

“are you drunk?” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she opened the window wider and reached out to you.

“nah, nah… i’m just a little tipsy. nothing major, i promise.” you grinned at her, clearly not fooling anyone.

hanni gave you a look of disbelief. “uh-huh, sure. and what exactly are you doing here, stumbling around my window at 2 in the morning?”

she extended her hand to you, helping you climb in through the window, though you were so unsteady on your feet that you almost dragged her down with you.

you stumbled inside, barely managing to stay upright as you grabbed onto her hand. “well, first of all, i missed my juliet!” you declared proudly. “and secondly… WE WON THE MATCH!! BABY, LET’S GOOOO!!”

you threw your arms up in the air triumphantly, nearly knocking over hanni’s lamp in the process.

hanni flinched, quickly steadying the lamp before it could crash to the ground. “could you not scream at the top of your lungs? you’re going to wake everyone up,” she whisper-yelled, glaring at you as she hit your head.

you pouted, rubbing the spot on your head where she’d lightly smacked you. “you didn’t have to hit me! that’s child abuse, pham hanni! i could report you for that.”

“child abuse? please. you’re acting like a 5-year-old,” hanni muttered under her breath.

“you don’t understand…” you slurred. “we won the basketball match! i had to celebrate! it’s basically my job to get tipsy after a win. besides, i needed to see my Juliet.”

“right, because there’s no other reason to climb a ladder in the middle of the night,” hanni deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked down at you.

“hey, hey… don’t forget, i’m banned from your house, remember?” you pouted, looking up at her with big, sad eyes.

hanni sighed. “yeah, banned because you broke my mom’s favorite vase trying to show off your basketball skills. she’s still pissed about that, you know.”

“i swear, i didn’t mean to! jasmine was—” you paused, blinking up at her. “wait, wait, it’s fine, right? she’s not still mad about that, is she?”

“trust me, she’s over it. you’re just making excuses because you like sneaking in through the window,” hanni said, rolling her eyes.

“maybe... but, seriously, i’m romeo! you’ve gotta have a romeo in your life, and i volunteered!”

“you do realize romeo was a fucking DUDE, right?”

“details, details,” you waved her off, attempting to steady yourself but immediately losing your balance and tripping over your own feet.

you landed face-first on the floor with a loud thud.

“ow! my pride…” you groaned dramatically, holding your head.

hanni sighed, rubbing her temples as if you were giving her the world’s biggest headache. “you’re such a disaster. you’re going to wake my mom, and then we’re both dead.”

“she won’t do anything to me,” you mumbled into the floor. “she thinks i’m cute. but jasmine? oh, she’s gonna stir up everything and make your life miserable.”

hanni couldn’t help but laugh a little. “my sister? yeah, she’d definitely throw us under the bus.”

you finally managed to sit up, blinking at her. “so… what’s the plan now? do i get cuddles or what?”

hanni was dead tired.

her body screamed for the comfort of her bed, to sleep off the entire exhausting day.

she’d already argued with you for ten straight minutes, mostly because all she really wanted to do was crash. but she couldn’t just leave you alone like this—you were flailing around like an octopus. drunk as hell, stumbling and knocking over everything, and honestly, you were about two seconds away from destroying more than just her mom’s vase.

“god, you’re such a pain in my ass,” hanni muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples as she glanced at you as you dramatically throwing yourself backward onto her bed, draping an arm over your face

“why?” you shot back. “for coming through your window? you should be thanking me! you’ve got yourself a romeo climbing up here, risking life and limb to see you. who else would do that for you, huh? i missed you so much today. seriously, i came here to steal my juliet away! admit it—you love it when i do this.”

hanni stared at you like you had three heads. “again... romeo was a fuckin’ guy, you idiot.”

you giggled, rolling over and waving your arms dramatically. “well, i’m your female romeo. so come here and cuddle me! romeo demands cuddles.”

“why would i even do that?” hanni asked, still eyeing you with mild annoyance, even though the corners of her lips twitched, trying to suppress a laugh.

you blinked at her, pouting as you sat up. “c’mon, han han! you love me, right? so just cuddle me.”

she crossed her arms and sighed, but there was a softness in her eyes now. “alright, fine. but stay quiet, or my mom will—”

before she could even finish her sentence, you flung yourself onto her, wrapping her in a tight, almost suffocating hug. “there it is. my cuddly juliet,” you mumbled against her shoulder, eyes already half-shut as you melted into her.

hanni groaned. “you’re insane.”

you nodded sleepily, barely registering her words. “yeah, but i’m also insanely in love with you.”

the words spilled out of your mouth in a drunken slur, but the way you said it—so soft, so genuine—made hanni’s heart skip a beat.

for a moment, her eyes widened in shock, but she quickly brushed it off, chalking it up to the alcohol talking.

as the two of you lay there in silence, you nestled against her like a clingy cat, the peace only lasted a few minutes before your drunken brain sparked back to life.

“oh, right… forgot to ask you… the trillion-dollar question: how was your amazing date with anton lee today?”

hanni stiffened beside you, a noticeable tension creeping into her posture. “it was fine,” she mumbled, trying to sound indifferent, but there was an edge in her voice.

“fine?” You lifted your head, frowning. “no, no, no. that doesn’t sound fine. something went wrong, didn’t it? spill. i’ll break his legs if he did anything. seriously, just say the word.”

hanni exhaled, clearly not wanting to rehash the evening, but knowing you wouldn’t let it go.

“we went to see a movie, but honestly, it was kinda boring. and then we had dinner, but the entire time, he just kept talking about himself. like, dude’s obsessed with himself—he’s probably not straight, not bi, but fully autosexual. who the hell talks about themselves that much on a date? he was like, 'look at what i did,' 'i’m so amazing,' 'blah blah blah.' i was sitting there, trying not to lose my mind.”

you burst into uncontrollable laughter, snorting at the mental image of hanni suffering through the date while anton babbled on.

“oh my god, i would’ve paid to see that. but you should’ve let me take you out instead. we’d have gone somewhere fun, like a carnival or something.”

hanni rolled her eyes. “a carnival? you? please. you’d trip and fall off the first ride.”

“rude,” you said, pouting. “but i wouldn’t fall if i had you to hold my hand. i’ve got experience, remember? i’m your romeo after all.”

hanni chuckled softly, shaking her head. “yeah, yeah. anyway, what are you even going to do after graduation? you gonna work at a carnival?”

you paused, your playful demeanor dropping for a second. “i don’t know, han. sometimes i think about it, y’know? like, what comes next after university?”

the shift in your tone caught her off guard, and she glanced over at you, surprised. “yeah… i think about that too. it’s scary sometimes, isn’t it? the whole 'what comes next' thing.”

“yeah…” you sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “like, will we still be close? or will we drift apart like everyone else does after uni? my parents are all over me about my future, but i just wanna stick to basketball and… figure it out later.”

hanni’s heart tightened at your words. the thought of drifting apart from you felt like something she wasn’t ready to deal with.

“we won’t. i promise. we won’t drift apart.”

you hummed in response, your voice soft and tired. “good… ‘cause i don’t wanna lose you, han. you’re too precious. if you go away, whose window am i gonna climb?”

hanni chuckled, leaning her head against yours. “right…”

“by the way, your hair smells nice,” you mumbled, your sleepy voice slurring again as you nuzzled into her neck. “what shampoo do you use again?”

hanni rolled her eyes, her hand absentmindedly stroking your back. “you’ve asked me that a million times. don’t act like you don’t know.”

“rude…” you muttered, your voice trailing off as sleep overtook you. “anyway, i love your shampoo and… smdhidkdheuxu…”

you were out cold, leaving hanni shaking her head in disbelief.

“not this dork falling asleep after confessing her love to my shampoo,” she mumbled, glancing down at your peaceful face, your breathing steady as you slept against her.

her annoyance melted away as she watched you sleep, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

maybe you were right.

she really did love it when you climbed through her window just to see her.

maybe… just maybe, she loved it more than she’d ever admit to herself.

a/n - my brain hurts 🤕

#newjeans #new jeans x reader #fluff #fanfiction #hanni x reader #oneshot #hanni pham #pham hanni #pham hanni x reader #pham hanni x female reader #x female reader #UGHHHHHHHHHH FUCK IT

342 notes · View notes

mlqueen89 · 2 months ago

Text

One | Flyboy

so cross your thoughtless heart she's the albatross she is here to destroy you

The Albatross by Taylor Swift | TTPD |

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x f!oc (top gun: maverick)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

w a r n i n gs : smut, mentions of masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, one-night stand, jake being a cocky, self-assured man who leaves no crumbs after he eats.

word count: 8,997

summary: in affairs of the heart, eleanor rigby has one strict rule: no pilots. Less than 24 hours back in the US, she breaks it.

A/N: this whole entire fic literally started with the (full) name of eleanor. i also have a radar tech in the family, so that helped a bit. snowball met a steep hill and picked up speed. i've planned for ~10(ish) chapters, but it may be open ended with a few more random scenes/chapters here and there.

proud to say that this one was beta read by my bestest friend, so you know she was mean to me helpful.

also! i saw the asks - super excited to dive into those, tysm. ♡♡

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ next chapter ❥

Eleanor Rigby hadn’t wanted to go to the Halloween party, not really.

The boxes stacked in the spare bedroom of her friend Nicole’s four-bedroom house desperately needed unpacking and the 10-hour time change from Western Turkey to San Diego was kicking her ass. She’d done about as much unpacking as was required to find a suitable outfit for her new job in the morning, folded them carefully and set them out.

When Nicole had invited her out, Ellie had fallen asleep, mid-unpack of the rest of her belongings, waking only when the bubbly blonde burst into the room and jumped onto the foot of her bed, dressed in all her glory as Barbie.

“Ellie does San Diego! Let’s goooo.” Nicole tugged at Ellie’s arm as Yanique flicked on the light in the ensuite, reapplying a purple-ish shade of lipstick as Ellie blinked against the sudden light in her dim room, her arm jiggled aggressively by an enthusiastic Nic.

Bleary-eyed, her voice just a croak, Ellie politely declined, muttering something about starting her new job early the next morning and making a good impression. Nicole eventually relented with a huff and left, a little less than impressed, with their other two roommates, Yan and Sophie, in tow.

Within 45 minutes, her phone buzzing against the hardtop of the nightstand, the voice messages started flowing in.

Nicole’s first voice message was short, 12 seconds. Ellie’s thumb jabbed at the play button as she gathered the dishes from her girl dinner of toast and coffee and used her elbow to push down on the paddle door handle, making her way to the shared kitchen.

Ellieeeeeeee... Eleanor Rigbyyyyyy ....

There was a dull thud of base in the background somewhere, behind the long, pronounced whine of Nicole’s voice as she sang the beginning of her namesake Beatles song, horribly off-key.

Ellie, please you have to come out. It’s Halloween, the most magical night of the year! Just make an appearance. An hour, tops. Please?

Ellie moved through the kitchen, rinsing out her cup and placing it on the drying rack. Her head was in the fridge, scrounging around for an apple in the crisper drawer, when the next three messages came in.

Please, pretty, pretty, pretty, please with like, a million cherries on top, even though I know you hate cherries.

Bradley’s not here yet, Yan already left with a weird guy in a Frankenstein costume—do we know what kink that is? That has to be a kink, right? I’m not kink shaming though, I promise. He was just like... weird. Do you think I should get her to drop her location? Like, just in case?

Soph is requesting Chappell Roan for the like, twentieth time, and I think she’s going to start a fight with the DJ about being an anti-feminist incel if he doesn’t play “HOT TO GO!” again... did you know that she broke up with that witch, wiccan girl from Hinge? HingeWitch? The one that had that study of cheeses in her bio, that blue cheese description—Ellie thought she heard Nicole pause to gag—anyway, I think she thinks she got cursed or something...

The voice message cut off even though Nicole’s tone suggested that she wasn’t finished talking about Sophie’s ex.

There was a garbled message in between the last one and the next, one in which Ellie could hear Nicole begging the DJ not to leave and promising to talk to her friend about the excessive requests for Chappell Roan.

Don’t abandon me in my time of need, El. Desperate need. Like, jumping off of very tall somethings desperacy.

Ellie smirked. Nicole, her very best friend in the whole wide world, quite possibly the vast universe, was, in fact, very dramatic.

Quickly, before another voice message could roll in, Ellie hit record on her own before she bit into her apple, wrestling the third box out of a teetering tower of boxes in the corner of her room and hit send.

Fine. I’ll be there in twenty.

The response pinged back quickly.

Ohmygodohmygod, thank you! Remember, the theme is Icons through the Ages!

Wear something sexy. Iconic sexy. Iconically sexy? But not Hawaiian Barbie. Or whatever Soph is dressed up as. I want to say is either Frida Kahalo or Mama Imelda from Coco. Basically, avoid anything with a Mexican gothic vibe.

Once Ellie had managed to pull her vintage leather aviator jacket from the box, the one she’d mislabeled in her hurry to pack everything up, the rest of her costume came together fairly quickly.

When she found the venue, a small bar off a main street, she still had around 30 seconds to spare on her twenty-minute promise to Nic.

Eleanor had always known that Nicole was popular, but the Halloween party, a party which Nicole had demurely announced was just “a small thing” with “a few work friends” was in actuality, not quite a small thing.

Weaving her way through the crowd, Ellie scanned the room, trying to pick out the hot pink of Nicole’s costume or the flower crown Sophie had carefully woven into her voluminous red hair.

Squeezing her way through a group of Spanish Conquistadors (notably with less armour and more exposed skin than was historically accurate) Ellie paused short of the small DJ booth in the corner of the bar, her eyes still scanning for Nicole when her eyes fell on him.

Sandy blonde hair peeked out from under a neon sweatband, shoulders stocky and solid in a sleeveless denim vest over a t-shirt that read, No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem. The white sneakers, short shorts, and that unmistakable lanky sway to the beat of Footloose pumping through the venue that could only belong to one person.

It was Ken.

Specifically, the Ken to Nicole’s Barbie.

“Bradshaw?” Ellie called, squinting.

Ken spun around with the beat of the song, a lopsided grin already on his lips as he faced her. “Holy shit, Rigsy?” Swiftly, Bradley Bradshaw was over to her, scooping Ellie off her feet, squeezing her tightly in a bear hug, shaking her frame slightly with a growl, before she groaned and he set her back down, feather light.

“You didn’t say you were back stateside.”

“My flight got in last night.” Ellie shrugged, straightening her jacket and adjusting the thin white scarf around her neck, “Just wanted to surprise you, Rooster.”

“Well, damn it,” Bradley nodded in approval, all dimples and easy charm, “colour me surprised.”

It was no wonder Nicole had fallen for him, head over Barbie heels. Even Ellie liked him, and that was saying something.

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was less pilot and more golden retriever, a good heart wrapped in an all-American charm with an easygoing, dopey grin that made people feel like they’d known him for years. He was the kind of guy who’d lend you his jacket and forget to ask for it back or show up at your door with takeout and Sleepless in Seattle cued up on a streaming service he had to pay an arm and a leg for, because he “just had a feeling.” The Batman who responded to the Emotional Needs and Mercury Retrograde Bat Signal™. The hero the people deserved. Ellie was pretty sure she caught him watching videos of a baby hippo getting into shenanigans at a zoo in China on loop for 14 minutes while Nic tried to pick an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians that would really pique his interest and get him invested enough to make it his “new Roman Empire”.

Ellie remembered the night Nicole and Bradley had met with perfect clarity.

Nicole had been in the middle of swearing off all men for the foreseeable future, her voice thick with the brand of determination that came with a prosecco-fueled resolution. Ellie had watched as her friend declare a new era of singlehood and Taylor Swift before turning to Sophie, slurring out a request for “gorgeous, single women willing to humor an experimental phase.”

It wasn’t two minutes later that Nicole lurched forward, losing all her resolve—and her prosecco—in a sudden, graceless bout with the sidewalk.

As Ellie rubbed her back and tried to get her standing, a group of pilots had come down the street—Bradley Bradshaw among them, flanked by two others they’d later get to know as Phoenix and Bob. Bradley had been the one to stop, eyes quickly scanning the situation, assessing and then moving in with expert precision. He’d peeled off his jacket immediately, holding it out to Nicole as she moaned her embarrassment and weakly gestured at the puddle of what had once been bubbly and appetizers a few feet away.

“It’s okay,” Bradley had told her, voice soft and reassuring. “If you throw up on this one, I’ll just get another jacket tomorrow.” When she’d protested, he’d grinned, shrugging in that effortless way of his. “Honestly, they just give these jackets to anyone,” he’d joked, as if he hadn’t spent years earning the right to wear it and every single patch stitched on it.

Nicole had blinked up at him, mascara smudged, his jacket draped over her shoulders, looking at him like he was some knight out of one of the many cheesy rom-coms she loved. And for once, Ellie hadn’t blamed her for it.

That night, Bradley Bradshaw had seen her best friend at her worst and treated her like she was worth sticking around for.

And that was Rooster in a nutshell—a steady warmth that lingered long after he was gone, the guy who would do just about anything to make Nicole smile, including, but not limited to, dressing up in the ridiculous costume he was currently wearing.

Nudging her, Rooster grinned. “So,” he drawled, “does this mean I finally get the best friend stamp of approval?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, feigning a reluctant sigh, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t want to tell him that she’d approved of him long before now. “Don’t let it go to your head, Bradshaw.”

“Too late,” he laughed, mimicking his head expanding dramatically before throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Already there.”

Rooster grabbed his drink off the small table bordering the dance floor, draining the glass. “Love the costume, by the way," he sucked his teeth against the burn of the whiskey he’d downed, “I’ve not seen one Amelia Earhart here.” He craned his neck, searching in the dimly lit room.

“You think the goggles are too much?” Ellie adjusted the strap on her head, pushing a loose strand of hair up underneath the band. “I think they might be cutting off circulation to my brain..."

“An aviator is only as good as their headgear,” Rooster tapped the top of his head. “You’re just missing your call sign.”

“Guess you must not be a very good one, then.” Ellie smirked, snapping the neon sweatband on his head with a laugh.

Rooster levelled her with a narrowed gaze, but there was no heat behind it, “one day someone is going to love that you’re kind of mean.”

“Sorry, Bradshaw—” Ellie pointed at her ears, shrugging as she stepped back, a smirk on her lips, retreating into the crowd “—I can’t hear you.”

Rooster flipped her off, in an affectionate way, she assumed. “Sit and circumnavigate, Rigby.”

With another laugh, Ellie turned and set her sights on the bar, squeezing her way through a grouping of zombies and a Michonne, who stood shoulder to shoulder with a Negan, complete with Lucille, tugging her scarf out of Zombie #1s grasp on the other side.

The last tug, sharp and forceful, sent her stumbling over the tattered chiffon hem of the La Llorona’s dress at her back.

Ellie braced for the rough landing as she attempted and failed to steady herself. She felt the fall in her stomach, the way it pitched as gravity pulled her down. She figured it served her right, the swift intervention of karma coming for her after she’d insulted its favourite pilot — Rooster was going to have an absolute field day over this.

Ellie had been so lost in the idea of bracing for the impact of the ground, hard and sticky, she didn’t notice that she hadn’t fallen until she looked up and saw a lopsided smirk and green eyes, looking down at her. The realization there were hands hooked under her arms, holding her up came quickly after.

“And here I was thinkin’ that Amelia Earhart had a reputation of staying upright.” The man was all smirk, dimples ghosting his cheeks, as Ellie blinked up at him, processing the situation.

“Guess I’m overdue for a refresher course on emergency landings.” Ellie cleared her throat, righting herself with his help before she tugged her bomber jacket back into place.

When she glanced up from her improved angle, Ellie could see just how striking he was—sharp jaw, confident eyes, and a natural swagger that suggested he knew it, suggested he knew women sized him up in more ways than one.

“What are you drinking, Amelia?”

“Nothing, yet.”

“Let’s fix that, shall we?”

The music pumped anew, the DJ spinning a Thriller remix, as she approached the bar, the presence of the man at her back as she weaved her way through the crowd. She could feel the hover of his hand at her lower back, ready to catch her if she took another tumble. She hadn’t been expecting much from the night—just a few drinks, maybe some small talk with Nic, a short discussion with Sophie on Chappell Roan’s representation of duality in the midwestern identity to prove that she’d come out and spent the appropriate amount of time there. But as she took the beer the bartender slid her way and the man leaned against the bar next to her, she couldn’t help but smile. She definitely hadn’t been expecting this.

“Let me guess,” Ellie’s eyes scanned his costume then, taking a moment to take stock. Carefully, she scanned the skull patch, dagger in its teeth, VFA-151 stitched in below, the chevrons, patches, carefully piecing the images and small details of his costume together before she replied, eyebrow raised, “you’re a pilot—” she paused to sip her drink, her eyes falling on the patch on his bicep, “—Navy.”

A grin pulled up the corner of his mouth as he gave her a slow once-over, a scan he didn’t bother to hide, before he leaned casually against the bar beside her. “Hangman,” he said with a smirk, and Ellie’s eyes dipped to the patch on his chest, the golden wings stitched above the call sign. “Best pilot you’ll ever meet.”

She tilted her head, gaze sliding from his call sign back up to his face. “Best pilot, huh?” She gave him a once-over that was part skepticism, part intrigue. “You Navy guys really know how to sell it.”

Ellie leaned into the bit hard. Tonight, she was Amelia, and he was Hangman, the name stitched into hundreds, if not thousands, of storebought costumes. If she were Navy, she might have been insulted.

If he heard the skepticism in her tone, he ignored it and chuckled, not breaking eye contact as he matched her smirk. “Only because it’s true. Besides,” he said, letting his voice drop lower, “don’t have to sell anything when you’ve got it all.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, meeting his challenge head-on. “Big words for someone who still hasn’t proven a thing.”

“Oh, don’t worry, darlin’,” he drawled, leaning in just close enough to lower his voice to a rumble, “I’m very good at proving myself.”

She laughed softly, a glint in her eyes as she set her drink down. “Okay then, why don’t you start with this—” Ellie leaned in, her finger tapped lightly on the golden wings over his heart, her touch lingering. “Explain why they call you Hangman.”

She waited, waited to see if he’d squirm, held his gaze and paused for the story that was sure to come. Some feeble attempt at role playing for an unpracticed character, just a call sign with no real bite, no real story.

He smirked, clearly used to that question but still savoring her attention. “I’ll leave that for you to figure out,” he teased, straightening, “after all, you strike me as a curious type. And I’d hate to ruin the mystery.”

Ellie chuckled, leaning back as she looked him over. That was his game, wasn’t it? A tennis match, a steady volley and lob. Two could play at that game. “Maybe I’ll get bored before I do.” Ellie added a shrug to punctuate her words for effect.

“Somehow, I don’t think so.” His voice held a hint of challenge, his gaze lingering, his grin lazy but sharp. He straightened up, hand resting on the bar, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“Guess we’ll see,” she murmured, lifting her drink to her lips, her gaze unwavering as she took another sip. She looked away for just a second, but not before she caught his confident grin widening.

“Believe me,” he said with that maddening confidence of his as he leaned in, so close that his voice was low, the heat of his words warming the shell of her ear, “I’ve got plenty of ways to keep you entertained.”

Ellie had barely unlocked the front door to Nicole’s place when he was on her, his hands on her hips as he pressed her into the wall at the bottom of the stairs. He kissed her like a man starved, his fingers reaching up to tangle in her hair at the base of her neck, anchoring her to him.

This was the culmination of the barely veiled innuendos, the heavy-handed flirting that had gone on all evening.

When he’d slipped out of the bar and onto the street with her, Ellie knew what would happen. He knew what would happen. She could tell in the way his eyes raked over her, all want, pupils blown wide. He wanted her and she wasn’t shy to admit, maybe not out loud, but to herself, that she wanted him too.

“Maybe we should—” Ellie’s breath was uneven, her mouth missing his the moment they broke apart, just long enough for her to tip her head in the direction of the stairs.

“Yeah—” his reply was equally breathy, his eyes on her lips even as she spoke, his tongue jutting out to whet his lips. A thrill shot through her, one that dipped low and pulsed between her legs.

She was wet already, she could feel the slickness of herself, the material of her panties weighted with the evidence. In response, in a swift motion, he picked her up and Ellie instinctively spread her legs so that they framed his waist, her ankles locking at his low back. Ellie didn’t need to be told, she gripped him with her thighs, squeezing tight as he chuckled.

“Good girl,” he smirked against her mouth before he kissed her again, deeply, his tongue pushing inside to taste hers.

When they reached the top of the stairs, she broke from him only just long enough to give directions to her room in as few words as humanly possible, reaching out to grip the door frame of her room as he carried her down the hall and almost walked past it.

Shutting the door behind them with his foot, he wasted no time in pressing her up against the wall. His fingers worried the buttons, slipped each from their place, starting from the bottom up as Ellie took her bomber jacket off, tossing it and the goggles to the floor before she joined him in working on the buttons from top down.

“So many—” his breath came out with an edge of frustration and Ellie gave up on her buttons to tug the zip of his flight suit down to where her hips met his waist.

“Just rip it,” Ellie huffed out, voice unsteady as his lips dipped to her neck, teeth grazing the spot where her collarbone met the base of her throat. One less thing between his mouth and her skin warranted the sacrifice of a shirt.

He didn’t waste time, didn’t question and the sudden coolness on her skin and the sound of the buttons hitting the floor, scattered, had her grinning. She liked a man who followed orders. “You owe me a new shirt, Captain.”

“Lieutenant,” his voice rumbled into her skin, making quick work of her bra next. By the time it hit the floor to join the other articles of clothing, his hands were on her breasts, teasing her nipples, every pinch and pressure, every touch of his lips, every nip of his teeth sending surges of raw pleasure pulsing down.

Ellie hated the way he ripped the sounds, raw, unabashed, desperate, from her. Hated how she’d folded under his smooth charm — she could have stopped it, could have said good night and left him at her door. Touched herself, alone, in bed, thinking about the way he’d been so eager to prove he was the best, picture how his touch would have felt, how he would have filled her as she coaxed herself over the edge and leave it at that.

But she hadn’t, she’d wanted him —she’d own that. She wanted him to fuck her stupid. She could feel him, the hard outline of his cock pressing against her as he held her to him.

“Easy, darlin’,” he chuckled lowly, rough around the edges as she shifted, reaching to touch him over top the Nomex. “We haven’t even started yet….”

He was across to her bed in a few easy strides, carefully setting her back so that she sank into the pillows, his hand lingering at her waist as he leaned over her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. His gaze held hers, steady and unhurried, as he let his fingers trace lightly over the edge of her jaw, his index finger coming to rest under her chin, his thumb smudging her bottom lip.

As his thumb traced her lip, smudging her lipstick, she caught his hand and pulled his index finger into her mouth, closing her lips around the digit, tongue tracing purposeful patterns as she slowly dragged it out. Her eyes never leaving his as he huffed out a heavy breath, a thrill running through her.

“You should know that I have a rule, sweetheart.” He murmured, leaning over her so that his arms framed her, so close that his nose brushed hers as he spoke, his voice low, deep, edged by the hard edge of desire. “Ladies first.”

Her pants were off quickly, leaving her in nothing but a whisp of material separating her from the man who wanted all of her. She heard the jingle of dog tags as he lifted the white shirt that had been under the flight suit over his head and abandoned it.

Before she could sit up to see him, stripped down to his boxers, he was back on her, lower.

Softly, he kissed her inner ankle, the next kiss trailing higher, her calf, another on the inside of her knee and the next, on her inner thigh, so close to where she wanted him, she was sure he could feel the heat radiating from her core.

She was a wreck, a hot, wet wreck and she was barely holding onto the part of her that was ready to beg him to touch her. The part of her that wanted all of him in a way that was driving her mad every moment he wasn’t touching her.

“What do you want?” His voice was steady, measured as he touched her over her panties, his rough fingers brushing over the dampened spot of the material. The sound that left his lips, a quiet hissing intake of breath, told her he knew what he was doing to her, knew that he had her right where he wanted her.

In response, Ellie writhed, sensitive to even the smallest brush and despite herself, a small moan left her lips, one she couldn’t have contained even if she had wanted to. What was the question again?

He moved up from the altar between her legs, nipping a sensitive spot on her side where her ribs ended before he remedied it with a soft kiss, blazing a trail up her body with his mouth. Carefully, holding himself just above her, he bent to tease her nipple with his tongue, whetting the already hard peak, before he closed his lips around one and then moved to the other.

Ellie was barely holding on, her vision edged with haze as he looked up to finally locked eyes with her. If he kept it up at this rate, he wouldn’t even need to fuck her.

“What do you want?” His voice was husky, his body propped up over her as Ellie tried to order her thoughts, process them into coherent words. “You going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?”

She could feel him against her thigh, hard, ready, the thin material of his boxers the only thing between her and all of him. There was some small satisfaction, a thrill that swept through her and coiled low in her stomach, that there was a part of him he was barely controlling a part of him that wanted to be inside of her now. The wet spot of precum on his underwear ghosted against her bare skin and she swore she could feel him twitch.

Hangman, she’d asked at the bar, explain why they call you Hangman.

Mystery solved.

“I want—” she started, barely a whisper as he kissed the corner of her mouth, kissed her jawline, his fingers slipping under the top waistband of her panties as he continued to nip at the most sensitive spots on her neck.

“You want…?” He prompted, waiting, even as his hand slipped lower, slow, calculated.

“I want you to—,” Ellie lifted her head and muffled her moan into his shoulder as his fingers found her slick clit, massaging lazy circles, steady, calm, “Mmm.” Her nails bit into the muscles on his back as her head fell to the pillow, arching into his touch.

“Guess, it is then.” He murmured, that infuriating smirk in his words as he pulled his hand away from her slick, stopping the steady rhythm she’d just gotten used to. She whined after the loss, but he didn’t give her much time to mourn before he was down between her legs again, his fingers dragging her panties off.

Swiftly, he pulled her to the bottom of the bed, throwing her legs over his shoulders. Ellie gasped, her hips bucking up into his tongue as he swept it up through her folds. Calmly, as she inched closer to unravelling completely, ascending the slope at dizzying speed, he gripped her hips, controlling her movements as she pressed down against his mouth.

She could feel the pressure building with every expert movement of his tongue over her, through her. Reaching down, she combed her fingers through his hair, gripped into it and tugged him over, directing him to her need.

“Oh, god….” Ellie whined, the words just barely words as they dissolved into a moan, her free hand gripping the mess of sheets underneath her.

“Hangman’s fine, gorgeous.” The response was quick, cocky. The response of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to her and taking his time.

“Wait,” Ellie’s hips chased after his mouth, a groan on her lips as she threw her arm across her eyes. “Don’t stop—.”

He was torturing her now, bringing her just to the edge and then allowing her to come down just enough to bring her back up again. He was fucking good and he knew it. It was going to drive her insane with want.

“You have to say please, sweetheart,” he murmured, the heat of his breath on her inner thigh almost too much, carefully, he touched her with his thumb, a light pressure as he teased her. Ellie could hear the smirk in his words.

Words. What were words? Ellie's mind was short-circuiting. Short-circuited, past tense. Already gone. Wires crossed— leads jammed in the wrong place, signals crossed.

She hadn’t wanted to fall apart under his touch so easily, she'd wanted to seem like she wasn’t desperate for him, but his touch was a warm fire on a cold night.

“Ple—fuck,” Ellie moaned, her words dragged out, long and torturous as she felt his thick fingers slip inside her, slow and deliberate.

She didn’t even know his real name, wasn’t even sure if she could manage to say it even if she did. He was undoing her carefully, piece by piece, sensation by sensation, she was malleable under his touch.

“What was that darlin’?”

Ellie might have been embarrassed at the squelch of her wetness as his fingers stroked in and out, excruciatingly measured, but she couldn't think about anything. Just the way he filled her while still leaving her wanting more, more, more.

“Please—” her nerves crackled like livewires as she moaned, her hips moving against his fingers with each stroke, her movements almost involuntary, the wild need in her chasing the high, just out of reach.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” his voice was husky, lower now. He gripped her hip, holding her, steadying her rhythm before he added another thick finger, three deep in her now, his thumb moving in circles around her swollen clit.

“Jesus,” he breathed, taking a moment before his mouth dipped to her hot center, alternating between sucking and the slow caressing tip of his tongue, creating just the right amount of excruciatingly perfect sensation, his fingers stroking and curling inside her. “You're so tight, sweetheart. Might not—”

He might not fit. She finished his words in her mind, a secondary thought, one that made her mad with want.

She breathed through the sensations, jolted and writhed as his pumping digits searched for the spot that made her see stars. She felt drunk, high, soaring, just on the edge of release, her muscles aching to reach the peak before she tumbled over, completely undone.

When she finally broke, her back arching off the mattress, her hips grinding harder into his hand, she moaned into her forearm to muffle the sound.

That air of self–assured cockiness he carried himself with at the bar, the swagger. It was all well–earned, she was coming to realize. Pun intended.

“You know what they call a pilot with at least five confirmed air-to-air kills?” His voice was low as he drew his fingers from her, slipping his arm behind her still arched back as he leaned over her, his heavy cock pressing up against her throbbing pussy through his boxers, hard, ready.

She was hyper aware that she still wanted him, inside her, filling her, spreading her to her limit in a unique mix of pleasure and pain.

“Hmm—Ace?” Ellie’s mind was still hazy, vignetted around the edges as her heart hammered against her ribs.

It happened in a moment, a quick change of position, as he lifted and turned, positioning himself under her so she straddled him. Smooth and calculated, precise and fast, an expert maneuver.

Ellie could feel her bare wetness against him, her hands bracing on his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath her touch. In the dim light of the room, she could see the glint of his dog tags hanging off to the side, a small detail of his costume she wished she might have looked at before, in the bar.

“Ace.” He smirked up at her before he shifted her hips up and he pulled her down over his face.

Ellie gripped the steering wheel tightly, the worn pleather creaking under her hands as she leaned forward and angled the rearview mirror sharply so she could get a better look.

“Fuck,” Ellie hissed, her fingers hovering just over the purple mark on her neck, just above her collarbone. How she hadn’t noticed it in the mirror this morning, she wasn’t quite sure.

“Seriously? A fucking hickey?” She was already digging around in her purse as she huffed, her fingers blindly searching for the concealer she knew wouldn’t be there because she could see it in her mind’s eye, sitting on the edge of the porcelain countertop in her ensuite bathroom. “Are we fourteen?”

This was definitely topping her list of things she didn’t need her first day on a new job site, especially not Miramar.

When Ellie had woken up that morning, the sun barely peeking through the half-shut blinds, she wasn’t surprised that she was alone in bed. There was no note, no forgotten sock, no evidence, save for the dull ache between her legs and a tender, purple love bite on the inside of her right thigh as evidence that last night had even happened.

That was what one-night stands were though, right? One night.

Even under the hot stream of water from the shower in the ensuite though, Ellie closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back, only shaking herself from the thought of him when the alarm from her phone buzzed it right off the counter.

Groaning, Ellie blew out a noisy breath, abandoning the purse search when she found nothing other than a stray mint.

Guess today was going to be a hair down kind of day.

It wasn't the look she normally felt comfortable with on military bases with all the formality of rank and protocol, but she was a civilian contractor, it was unlikely anyone would notice. Hair down was better than the talk that might follow her around if anyone saw the mark on her neck.

Sighing, Ellie pulled the pins out of the bun she’d spent her morning perfecting and allowed her hair, dark, still damp and wavy from the shower, to fall around her shoulders. Carefully, she pulled the tresses forward, over the rouged mark on her skin, peeking just out from under the collar of her white blouse.

It wasn’t the best, but it would have to do in a pinch. She made a quick mental note to head off base on break to stop at a CVS to grab some concealer before she twisted the rearview mirror back into place.

Tony Cudmore, the Crew Staffing Supervisor she had been coordinating with solely through email before now, was already waiting for her just outside the gates, his eyes on his wristwatch as Ellie approached. “Rigby, glad to have you on board. Heard we snagged you from your work on base in Turkey.”

“Yeah, well. When Uncle Sam comes knocking, right?” Ellie snagged a tress of her hair as it lifted from her shoulder in the wind, carefully patting it back into place.

“Don’t I know it,” Tony chuckled, his white, push broom straight moustache blustering as he waved at the officer stationed in the booth by the gate before he scanned his security pass. “How��s your old man?”

“Ah, you know the type, Tony.”

Ellie had perfected the art of sidestepping questions about her dad and Tony didn’t push further, seemingly content with the non-answer.

As they reached the security clearance office, Tony slid a few documents under the glass and Ellie stepped up in front of a camera, the flash going off quickly before she had a chance to adjust.

Whoever thought DMV photos were bad had clearly never had their photo taken by a Naval Officer a few months away from retirement.

“Given name?” The man behind the glass murmured, so low that Ellie had to strain and lean toward the hole at the bottom of the glass to hear him.

“Eleanor.”

“We have a lot of work here that could really benefit from your expertise. The boys are flying Super Hornets nowadays, so the tech is good, but the improvements from your research could really give ‛em the edge.” Tony continued at her side, distractedly flipping through emails on his phone as he waited, “Now of course, those Super Hornets are far and away from the Tomcats your dad would have been flying in his heyday here, let me tell you….”

“Surname?”

“Neven - but you can just put Rigby.” It was Ellie’s turn to murmur now, edging closer to the slot in the glass, her voice just loud enough to be heard over Tony’s absent chatter behind her.

The Security Officer paused, fanning out Ellie’s passport and glancing up at her for a moment, eyebrow raised before he punched something into the computer. She offered him a tight smile a beat too late.

When the man slid her the newly printed security pass, Ellie’s eyes scanned for any sign of the hickey and was thankful that, though her hair looked like a bird's nest and her eyes were half-closed in mid-blink, at least the hickey wasn’t memorialized in her security pass.

As they stepped out of the security office, Tony untucked a manila folio from under his arm and passed it to Ellie as they walked. “I’ll take you around. Give you your bearings. You’ll be working with the tower crew lots. Some good people up there.”

They were out of the outbuilding now, Ellie’s heels clicking across the tarmac, past the line of F18s lined up on the hardtop and gleaming in the early morning California sun.

“The ground crew might ask for some help with the planes, so you’ll be in the hangars. I’ll take you for a quick flyby,” Tony chuckled to himself, pleased with the pun, “we’ll pick up the tour after since the meeting with Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Stark is at 0900 sharp and those suits don’t mess around.”

Tony’s strides were long, and it took Ellie a moment to jog after him, catching up just in time for him to open the door for her.

“If you’re not five minutes early—” Ellie started, half playing into the old Navy saying she had grown up hearing as she slipped into the hangar.

The nostalgic scent of jet fuel and oil hit Ellie hard in the closed space — it didn’t seem to matter how long she did this, how long she worked around planes and crews, in different countries, different airfields, this part never changed. Part of that was comforting in an odd way. It felt like home to her.

Tony snapped his fingers in response, the sound of agreement. Tony opened his mouth to speak when a loud peel of laughter echoed in the closed space. Tony glanced at his watch, confused for a moment before his face turned toward Ellie, excited. “Oh, well, will you look at that, lucky you, we’ve got some of our Flyboys here. Must have some free time before drills.”

Ellie followed a few steps behind Tony as he rounded the front of a line of Super Hornets, a spring in his step. As they approached, she took in the group of aviators in their flight suits from a distance, casually talking and laughing — and then her stomach twisted, her gait faltering for a moment.

There, leaning against one of the jets, was the last person she expected to see again, let alone here: Hangman.

He looked almost exactly as he had last night, though somehow the daylight amplified everything about him— his height, the confident set of his shoulders. He turned, mid-laugh and Ellie watched as his eyes caught on her, like he recognized her for a fraction of a second before the look was gone just as quickly.

Hangman’s easy smile shifted when he saw her, an eyebrow shooting up, surprise flashing across his face before his expression settled into something like amusement.

The last time she’d seen that look, she’d been over top of him, hovering, before he pulled her down over his mouth greedily, his tongue painting pictures over her most sensitive nerve endings as she moaned. She was pretty sure she’d broken one of her fingernails as she gripped the headboard, biting into her bottom lip so hard she could taste blood, his other hand reaching up to cup her breast roughly.

Yet here he was now, in the light of day, truly in his element, looking like he belonged here as much as the jets around him.

Ellie felt her heart kick up a notch, a reaction she’d hoped she’d managed to stow away. She forced herself to play it cool, lifting her chin slightly as they neared the group. She didn’t have a choice – there was no running from this. The consequences of her own actions coming back around to haunt her.

“Hangman, Payback, Harvard,” Tony greeted, nodding to him and the other pilots. “Good to see you guys. Just giving our new radar tech a tour.”

Ellie felt her pulse quicken as his gaze slid back to her. He wasn’t going to say anything, right? They were strangers here, well, coworkers now. She wasn’t Amelia Earhart, and he wasn’t the pilot from the party, except, he very clearly was and Ellie had miscalculated, mis-stepped. A TOPGUN pilot no less.

As she held his gaze, she could see the recognition flickering behind his eyes. He knew exactly who she was, but his mask didn’t slip, not for a second.

“This is—”

“Rigby. Eleanor.” Ellie interrupted Tony sharply. The introduction as herself, not as Amelia, would be on her own terms. At least she could control that. Here, at Miramar, she was Eleanor Rigby.

“Welcome to the team, Rigby,” he said smoothly, holding out a hand as if they hadn’t already met in the most intimate of ways. The way he said her name sounded off, like he was testing it out in the context of their previous… encounter.

Ellie held her breath, pausing only a moment before she forced herself to shake his hand. “Thanks,” she replied coolly, her voice even, though she was silently praying for the ground to swallow her whole. She refused to let him get the upper hand. Not here, not in front of people she had to work with.

His grip was firm, his eyes amused. Ellie caught the brief flicker of his gaze to her neck, his eyes resting where Ellie knew she’d tried to hide the hickey, admiring his work, likely.

Tony chuckled, oblivious to the tension. “Lieutenant Seresin’s one of the best we’ve got. You’ll probably end up working on his bird now and then.”

Ellie forced a smile, though she could feel the bottom of her stomach drop out and she cleared her throat in an attempt to press down the nervous, incredulous laugh that threatened to escape her. Technically, she’d worked on it last night, right?

“Looking forward to it,” she said instead, even though the last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near him right now.

He released her hand, stepping back into the group of pilots. “Catch you around, Rigby” he said casually, before turning back to his crew, who began to stalk off, out of the large open hangar doors, not looking back.

“Anyway, you’ll be working here between—” Tony continued, oblivious.

Ellie let out a breath as Tony waved at her to follow him, continuing the tour. She kept her eyes forward, focusing on Tony’s voice, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of Hangman’s eyes on her or the memory of last night still lingering between them. This complicated things. This really complicated things.

At least he’d set a standard: he didn’t know her and Ellie was only happy to play along with that pretense. She didn’t know him either. At least, that’s the story she was sticking to.

The fluorescent lights in the conference room felt harsher than usual, and Ellie shifted uncomfortably as Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Ingrid Stark watched her closely, their expressions unreadable.

Standing before two of the Navy’s highest-ranking officers, Ellie tried to steady her breath, tried to ignore the slow trickle of panic coursing through her. The same panic that churned the small bit of breakfast she’d managed to eat while maneuvering in and out of San Diego traffic all the way to North Island.

All she had to do was focus, recenter her mind on the presentation. The presentation that culminated the last three years of her career, it was important, she knew – it had been the sole focus of her work in Turkey and yet, here she was, hiding that stupid hickey and thinking about the man who made it. Thinking about how he looked at her in the hangar not but twenty minutes ago, a glance exchanged that held a shared secret between them as he took her hand and treated her like a stranger. Cool, calm, collected, all charm.

It was the same easy charisma she’d leaned into just last night, at the Halloween party, blissfully unaware of who he really was. Except now she knew he’d been telling the truth the whole damn time and she’d just called his bluff wrong. And now, now with all those thoughts running through her mind at Mach 2, she was standing here, in front of the highest-ranking personnel on base, expected to deliver a groundbreaking presentation on her research, trying to ignore the lingering flush of that unexpected run-in this morning.

Ellie cleared her throat, tightening her grip on her tablet as she began walking the Admirals through her research. Running through her practiced script, she carefully outlined her new detection algorithm—a project that had garnered their attention in the first place, the same work that had pulled her back here, to Miramar.

Truthfully, if they’d asked any probing questions, Ellie would have to confess that the technology was in its earliest stages but had the potential to counteract enemy jamming of GPS signals. In theory (because that was the key word theory), the algorithm she’d developed, on paper, had the potential to become an un-jammable navigation system.

Ellie clicked through to the next slide, “The reason this algorithm has the potential to give our pilots the advantage is because the enemy would have -”

You have to say please, sweetheart.

The memory from last night, his words a steady command, sent a pulse through her, from her chest, down into her core, where it settled, hot and pulsing.

Ellie’s voice caught in her throat, and she coughed, before holding up her index finger and pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher at the head of the table. Quietly she sipped the water, her eyes landing outside the window at the tarmac as ground crew guided an F18 out of the hangar. She waited for a beat, measuring her sips as she calmed down.

Get your shit together, Rigby. She coached herself, draining the last of the water as she caught Admiral Simpson checking his watch from the corner of her eye. You are not going to screw this up because you had sex last night.

Incredible sex.

The best sex you've had in the last two years... possibly in your entire life.

Top tier sex... with your new co-worker. Who just so happens to fall into the off-limits category.

If she could have shaken her head without it seeming strange, she would have, but she suspected she was getting into foot tapping territory. With Admirals, time was money.

“I’m sorry, as I was saying—” Ellie straightened her blazer, setting the glass down and resuming her presentation, determined.

When she finished, Admiral Simpson leaned back, giving her a thoughtful once-over as he drummed his fingers on the folder containing her research on the table in front of him. “Well, Ms. Neven,” he said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The best of the best. That’s what they told me about you. I suppose that must run in the family.”

The weight of the comment hit her immediately, and her mind reeled again. This time for an entirely different reason. She hadn’t anticipated Rick’s reputation coming up so soon—or at all.

She managed a quick nod, hoping it looked confident. “Thank you, sir,” she said, barely keeping her voice steady.

Simpson’s smile deepened. “When we saw you were one of the top minds in the field, it was a no-brainer to bring you in for this project. Your research is intriguing.” His gaze softened slightly, just enough to give her a glimpse of the man behind the rank and she wondered if, for half a second, it had anything to do with the fact that he had a daughter her age. “You’re going to do great things here. Your dad’ll be proud, no doubt.”

Ellie nodded again, murmuring her thanks, feeling an odd pressure bubbling under the surface. Truthfully, she had expected some bluster about her family, some comments about her father and his Radar Intercept Officer being wingmen for the late Fleet Commander Tom “Iceman” Kazansky. She hadn’t expected it this soon.

“Admiral Stark and I will take a look over your documentation and see how best to get the testing started. I trust you’ll let us know if you need anything in the meantime?” Admiral Simpson stood then, and an Officer stationed outside the boardroom opened the door from the outside.

The meeting adjourned, and as everyone began to filter out, Ellie felt herself unraveling by the second, anxiety pushing its way to the forefront. She wanted to scream or laugh, possibly both. Instead, she was rooted in place, unable to decide whether to escape to the nearest empty room or brace herself against the wall and breathe. If she didn’t leave this room for the rest of the day, what were the chances she’d run into him again? Probably slim.

This was her first day here. The first day and she was thinking about how she’d been laid bare and fucked out of her mind by a man she’d never thought she’d see again, much less work with. All in the middle of one of the most important presentations of her entire life, in front of the people who could make that research into something tangible, a finished product, a cornerstone of new technology in aviation, a reality.

The lights in the boardroom automatically flicked off and Ellie sighed, gathering up the last of her things before exiting the room. She could hide in the women’s bathroom, right?

“Ms. Neven.” RADM Stark’s voice approaching from the hallway behind her startled Ellie. As she turned, Ellie watched as Stark appraised her with a mix of curiosity and approval. “Impressive work. It’s good to have some estrogen in the room for once.” Her lips curled into a slight smirk, and Ellie let out the measured breath she’d been holding.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m—excited to work here,” Ellie's voice was a little steadier now, a bit of genuine enthusiasm breaking through her nerves as she reminded herself why she was here in the first place. Her work. Her career. Her tech.

Stark raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Don’t get too excited,” she said, producing a small stick of concealer from a crisp tan pant pocket. She held Ellie’s gaze, a message or a warning behind her cool eyes, Ellie couldn’t be sure, as the ranked Officer handed the makeup to Ellie. “I think we might be the same shade.”

Ellie’s heart stuttered as the realization hit her, broad-sided. Her hand shot to her neck before she could think, the heat in her cheeks flaring brighter than before as she accepted the concealer, mumbling a mortified thank-you.

Stark gave her a knowing smile, a curt little nod as she tapped the side of her nose, before walking away, her stride as calm and confident as when she’d approached.

Ellie waited until the RADM was clear from sight before making a beeline for the bathroom, practically stumbling into the mirror over the sink. She tilted her head to confirm what she already knew was there: a very visible, very damning mark on her neck. The scarlet letter.

Great.

She didn’t waste a second applying RADM Stark’s concealer, muttering under her breath as she blended it carefully with the tips of her fingers, dabbing. “One day at Miramar, Ellie. One day.”

As she swiped on the secondary layer of concealer for good measure, she felt the rush of everything hit her again. The tension of the presentation, the equal parts pride and pressure from the Admiral’s praise, and him—Lieutenant Seresin, Hangman, with his easy, cocky grin and the piercing eyes that, despite everything, she could still feel on her.

tags: @mrsevans90 , @avengersfan25 , @hookslove1592

taglist if you want to be added/removed!

#glen powell #smut #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin smut #top gun hangman #top gun maverick #hangman smut #hangman x oc #top gun fanfiction #tom iceman kazansky #rick hollywood neven #(i love you) it's ruining my life #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun

163 notes · View notes

michaelsfavgirl · 3 months ago

Text

porn stash

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: Alone at home, consumed by boredom, you stumble upon Michael's secret stash of tapes. Lost in curiosity, you're oblivious to his return until he catches you red-handed.

Tags: smut, established relationship, breach of privacy, snooping through his stuff, mentions of pornography, masturbation, getting caught, p in v, a singular pussy spank, doggy style, squirting, overstimulation, no creampie :( dom!michael, sub!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: we're back to smut let's goooo

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

You wake up from your nap with a slow blink, stretching lazily as the afternoon sunlight filters through the curtains. The house is quiet, almost too quiet. You groan, flipping over on the bed, hoping to hear the soft sounds of Michael coming back from the studio soon. But instead, there's just silence.

With a sigh, you grab the remote from the nightstand and flick on the TV, hoping to find something that will pass the time until he gets home. The screen buzzes to life, and you start scrolling through channels, trying to find something, anything, that might hold your attention for a while. But nothing works.

The shows are cheesy, the dialogue cringe-worthy, and after five minutes of trying to force yourself through a scene, you roll your eyes and switch it off. “Ugh,” you groan, tossing the remote aside. Boredom starts creeping in fast, the empty house feeling too big, too still, and your mind begins to wander.

Your eyes lazily drift across the bedroom, over the familiar space, the faint scent of Michael lingering in the air. Everything is in its place but then your gaze lands on his bedside table.

More specifically, on one of the drawers.

The one that’s locked.

Curiosity tugs at you, a feeling that’s been there for a while now. You’ve always wondered about that drawer. Michael never mentioned it, and you never asked out of respect for his privacy. You figured it was something personal, something he didn’t want you to see.

But right now, with the house so quiet and your boredom clawing at you, that drawer seems to call out to you louder than ever.

You sit up in bed, biting your lip as your gaze lingers on it. What could be in there? Something secretive? There’s something about the way he’s kept it locked that has you more intrigued than ever. What could be so private that it’s kept behind a key?

You glance toward the door, making sure you’re still alone. Michael won’t be back for hours, he said today would be a long day at the studio. It’s the perfect opportunity to satisfy your curiosity. A little peek won’t hurt, right?

Heart racing, you slide out of bed as you approach the nightstand. Your fingers hover over the drawer, feeling a little tingle of excitement and guilt all at once.

Where could the key be?

You start searching. You check inside the nightstand’s upper drawer, rifling through the neatly arranged items, but there’s no key there. You crouch down and look underneath the table, and that’s when you spot it, a small, metal key taped to the underside of the nightstand, hidden just out of sight. A sly smile spreads across your face as you peel it off.

Your heart beats a little faster as you sit back on the bed, the key cool in your palm. For a moment, you hesitate, chewing on your lower lip as a wave of guilt washes over you. You shouldn’t be doing this—it’s his private space, after all. But then again, what harm could a little peek really do.

Taking a deep breath, you slide the key into the lock and twist.

The drawer opens with a soft click, and for a moment, all you see are a few VHS tapes stacked neatly inside. At first glance, it looks innocent enough, maybe some old home movies or forgotten recordings. But as you take a closer look, your eyes narrow, the momentary disappointment turning into your cheeks heating up.

These aren’t just any VHS tapes.

Your heart skips a beat as you realize what you’ve stumbled upon. The titles scrawled on the side of each tape in Michael’s handwriting aren’t the names of movies or shows. They’re far from innocent.

Your eyes widen as you pick up one of the tapes, your fingers trembling slightly. The label reads Doggy/Anal/Squirting in bold, messy letters. Your face burns as you quickly put it back down, glancing at the other tapes. Each one has similar titles, all in his handwriting, and each one more explicit than the last.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, a mix of shock and disbelief washing over you.

This is his porn stash.

You can’t help but laugh nervously to yourself, your cheeks still burning as you sit back, staring at the drawer filled with explicit tapes. You never would’ve guessed. Michael always seemed so in control. To think he had a secret like this tucked away in your bedroom, just a few feet away from where you slept every night... It's a little mind-blowing.

Your fingers hover over the tapes again, curiosity piqued. He wrote the titles himself, meaning he put these together for his own, private collection. There’s something oddly intimate about that, something that sends a little thrill through you as you pick up another tape, reading the words Public/Threesome/Creampie written in the same familiar handwriting.

Your mouth goes dry as you imagine him watching these when he’s on tour, far away from you. You feel a knot tighten in your stomach, a mix of embarrassment and desire.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You know that.

But now that you’ve seen it, you can’t stop yourself.

Your fingers trace the label of another tape, and your heart races at the thought of popping it into the VHS player, of seeing exactly what he’s been watching in secret. The idea sends a flush of heat through your body, your imagination running wild with possibilities.

But before you go any further, you pause, biting your lip.

You’ve already invaded his privacy enough by opening the drawer. If he finds out you’ve watched one of these tapes... you’re not sure how he’d react. And part of you doesn’t want to break that unspoken trust between you.

Still, you can’t deny the way your body reacts to the thought of it. The thought that Michael, your seemingly perfect, polished husband, has this secret stash of pornographic tapes stashed away, it changes something in your mind.

The drawer is already open. The key already used. What’s a little more?

Your pulse races as you move to the TV, sliding the VHS into the player. The soft click of the tape being swallowed by the machine feels heavier than it should, like you’re on the edge of something big, something that will change things between you and Michael forever. But at this moment, you don’t care.

As the screen flickers to life, you lay down on the bed, your heart pounding in your chest. You feel your thighs press together, squeezing tightly as the seconds tick by, your body growing hotter with each moment. The slickness in your panties has you feeling needy, aching, and the more you wait for the tape to start, the more your mind drifts to Michael.

Finally, the screen lights up, and you’re immediately greeted with the sounds of heavy breathing, loud moans, and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. The woman on screen is bent over, her face twisted in pleasure as a man pounds into her, hard and fast. You can’t help but widen your eyes at the explicitness of it, the way the camera zooms in on her pussy, stretched wide around a cock. It's raw, no-holds-barred.

Your cheeks burn but instead of turning down the volume or stopping the tape, you lean in closer. There’s something intoxicating about the graphic nature of it. You try to keep your breath steady, but it’s impossible. Each loud, wet sound seems to pull you in more, and you can’t stop thinking about Michael watching this.

Has he sat on this very bed, stroking himself while this played? The thought sends a shiver through your body. He’s been away on tour so many times, away from you, and you wonder how often he’s resorted to this. How many times has he pictured you in the same position as these women?

Your hand slips down your stomach and under your underwear, your fingers brushing between your wet folds. You bite your lip, barely suppressing a moan as you feel just how aroused you are. There’s something both thrilling and scandalous about this—watching what Michael watches in secret, knowing this is what he gets off to.

But then something shifts.

As you continue watching, you start to notice something about the women on screen. They aren’t just random actresses, no there’s something familiar about them. The way they move, the way they moan, the way they react to being fucked. It’s not just their bodies, though there’s an undeniable resemblance there as well. It’s more than that. It’s the way they look at the camera, the way they carry themselves.

They resemble you.

You almost choke as the realization hits you. Each woman in these tapes... looks like you. From the way they arch their backs to the way they tilt their heads when they moan, it’s as if Michael specifically chose women who could pass as your double.

He didn’t just stumble upon these videos. He sought them out.

You picture Michael watching these tapes, his hand wrapped around his heavy cock, imagining you. Every time you weren’t there, every time he needed to relieve his tension without you, he turned to this collection—a carefully curated set of videos, all starring women who resembled the one he truly adored and craved.

You.

A low whimper escapes your lips as your fingers find your throbbing clit, your body acting on instinct now. Your hand moves on its own, your trembling fingers slowly rubbing your glossy nub.

As you try to take care of your sensitive cunt you watch tape after tape after tape…your hunger insatiable. Your fingers move faster, circling your clit as you squeeze your thighs together, barely able to contain the pleasure building inside you. The images on the screen are raw, primal, and you can’t stop picturing yourself in the same position, moaning for Michael as he takes you the way you like it.

You’re lost in the haze of pleasure, your drenched fingers working in quick, desperate strokes against your pulsing clit. The pressure is building, your body tense and trembling as your other hand grips the sheets for stability.

Your arm is getting tired from the frantic rhythm, your hand trembling as it works your glistening heat, but you can’t stop. Not now, not when you’re so close, the familiar warmth coiling in your belly, ready to snap. The pornographic scene on the TV doesn’t help either, the loud, graphic moans and the wet slaps of flesh against flesh have you imagining him in place of the actor on screen. You see Michael’s face instead, hear his voice, his deep groans as he takes you hard, filling you to the brim with his thick cock, stretching you in ways that make your toes curl.

Your breath is uneven, your thighs shaking from the tension as you lose yourself in the fantasy. You don’t even hear the footsteps approaching the bedroom, so consumed by your need that nothing else registers.

Michael’s back from the studio. As he steps closer to the bedroom, he hears the unmistakable sounds of moans, the erotic noises seeping into the hallway. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he listens. The noises are louder than he’s used to hearing but he simply assumes you’re feeling extra needy, and not that porno playing on the tv is causing this commotion.

His cock twitches in his trousers but when he pushes the door open, what greets him is something far more tantalizing. His eyebrows raise, a mixture of surprise and lust washing over him as he takes in the sight before him. You’re on his side of the bed, your legs spread wide, your hand buried deep in your panties, desperately working yourself toward an orgasm while his porn tapes play on the TV. The explicit scene fills the room, the sounds of sex mingling with your own gasps and moans.

Michael leans against the doorframe, watching for a moment, his mouth slightly parted as his gaze trails over your flushed skin and the way your body moves with each thrust of your hand. His cock is painfully hard, his tip leaking at the sight of you completely unaware that he’s standing there. He could watch you like this all day.

“My, my,” he finally says with a teasing smirk, his voice deep and thick with amusement, “look at my baby.”

The sound of his voice snaps you out of your daze, and you jerk your head toward the door, eyes wide in shock. Panic floods through you as you yank your hand out of your panties, your soaked fingers trembling as you fumble to grab the remote. You scramble, trying to turn off the TV, but in your haze of embarrassment and the frustration of your unreached orgasm, your hands can’t seem to function properly.

Frustrated, you lower the volume instead of turning off the video, and the scene on the screen continues to play in the background, the wet, obscene sounds still audible, though quieter now.

Michael stands there, watching you with clear amusement, his eyes dark and heavy with lust. You can feel his gaze burning into you, making your skin tingle as you sit there, frozen and unsure of what to do. The embarrassment claws at your chest, and you can’t even bring yourself to look at him.

“I- I was just…” you stammer, but the words die on your lips as you glance down at your fingers covered in your juices, your face burning with humiliation.

Michael pushes off from the door and walks over to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. He sits on the edge of the bed in front of you, his intoxicating scent filling your senses.

His gaze flickers to the open drawer, then to the tapes scattered on the floor. A chuckle rumbles from his chest, and he raises an eyebrow. “Got a little curious, I presume?” he asks, his voice teasing.

You nod, still unable to meet his eyes, your fingers clutching the remote like it’s a lifeline. “I’m sorry…” you whisper, your voice so soft it’s barely audible, your cheeks burning even hotter.

“What was that?” Michael leans in closer, pretending he didn’t hear you. “You’re gonna have to speak up, sweet girl.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, your voice trembling with embarrassment, barely louder than before. You can feel the weight of his stare, making you feel small under his gaze.

He smirks, tilting his head as if considering your apology. “Sorry for what, exactly?” he asks.

“For going through my stuff? Or for getting caught?” His voice lowers. “Because I think you’re only sorry you didn’t hide the evidence in time.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat. He’s right, you’re not just sorry for snooping. You’re sorry he walked in on you like this, caught red-handed, mid-orgasm, watching his secret stash of porn.

“I-” you begin, but Michael raises a hand, stopping you.

“No need to explain,” he says, his voice teasing as his fingers trail along your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. “I think I already know the answer.” His fingers reach your hand, still clutching the remote, and he gently pulls it away, tossing it aside. The TV is still on, though the volume is low enough now that it’s just background noise, the moans and grunts mingling with the heavy silence between you two.

You bite your lip, feeling the tension coil tighter in your stomach as Michael leans closer, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, a slow smile tugging at his mouth.

You feel a surge of boldness coursing through you, your heart beating fast as you turn your head slightly, still flushed and embarrassed but unable to resist the curiosity building inside you.

"They look like me." Your voice is soft, but it’s enough to make Michael pause for a second, raising an eyebrow at your admission.

He glances back at the TV. His smirk deepens when he understands what you mean. "Who? The ladies?" he asks, his tone teasing, knowing the answer before you even nod.

You blush even deeper, your face heating up at the truth laid bare between the two of you. It’s not just a coincidence; Michael clearly has a type, and it’s you.

He chuckles softly, leaning closer until his lips brush against your ear. "My clever girl," he murmurs, and your heart flutters at the way he says it, his voice thick with pride and amusement.

You don’t know how to respond, your mind racing as his hand slides up your thigh. His presence is overwhelming, and you’re all too aware of the slickness between your legs, the wetness that’s soaked through your panties. Michael notices too, of course. He always does.

He grips your chin, tilting your head so you have no choice but to look at him. His touch is firm but not rough, commanding without being harsh. "Eyes on me," he orders, his voice low and authoritative. You obey, your gaze meeting his dark, intense eyes.

“Were you enjoying yourself?” he asks, his voice low.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes…” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

“Yeah?” His smile widens.

“You were doing such a good job, too,” he coos, his voice low and dangerous, filled with heat. “Getting yourself all worked up like that. I almost didn’t want to interrupt.”

Your breath hitches as teasing. “M-Michael…” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

“But now that I’m here…” He murmurs, “I guess it’s my turn to finish what you started.”

"Spread your legs," he commands softly, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

You part your legs slowly, your movements shy and unsure. The cool air of the room brushes against your heated skin as Michael’s gaze drops between your soft thighs, and his eyes darken with lust when he sees just how soaked your panties are. You’re practically dripping, the fabric clinging to your swollen folds, slick and wet with arousal.

He coos softly, his voice filled with a teasing sort of affection. "My poor baby.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he casually tugs your panties to the side, exposing your drooling cunt to him. His fingers slide between your slick folds, finding your pulsing clit with practiced ease. He begins to circle it gently, his touch light but purposeful. Your head falls back onto the pillow as you buck your hips a little.

As his fingers toy with your sensitive flesh, Michael glances at the TV again, the sound of the porn still filling the room. "Did something catch your eye?" he asks, his voice laced with amusement, as if he already knows the answer.

You swallow hard, your thighs trembling as he continues to tease you, but you manage to nod toward the screen. You don’t need to speak; he follows your gaze and sees the woman on top of the man, riding him, bouncing on his cock with wild abandon. The woman clearly takes control, and it makes your pulse quicken with excitement.

Michael’s lips curl into a knowing smirk as he turns his attention back to you. "Is that what you want?" he asks, his tone teasing but with a hint of challenge in his voice.

You nod, unable to find the words to express just how much you want it. It’s something you’ve fantasized about—being on top, feeling him beneath you as you move, your bodies in sync. But Michael never lets you. He’s always been the one in control, always the one calling the shots in bed. The idea of you straining to pleasure him is a foreign concept to him. You’ve never dared to voice your yearning. Until now.

He grins softly, shaking his head in amusement. "Not happening," he says, his tone firm but playful, as if he finds your request cute but entirely out of the question.

Your face falls, you pout at his response. But before you can protest, Michael’s hand moves faster, his fingers toying with your pearl in quick, sharp motions that make your whole body jolt with pleasure. A soft, needy whimper escapes your lips, and you instinctively arch your back, pushing your hips toward his hand.

"Don’t be greedy," he warns, his voice low and commanding. He pauses just long enough to give you a soft, teasing slap right on your pussy, the sting causing you to gasp. "Or you’ll get nothing."

The sound of his dominance, the way he takes control of the situation so effortlessly, makes your breath hitch. You can’t help but nod sheepishly, your body already trembling from the tension building inside you.

Michael’s smile widens, clearly pleased with your submission. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. "Now, let’s get these off, yeah?"

Without another word, he helps you out of your clothes, his fingers brushing against your heated skin as he strips you down to nothing. He moves you into position, pressing your chest down against the mattress, your face smushed into the soft sheets. Your ass is raised in the air, the perfect angle for him to take you however he pleases. your pussy leaks with anticipation.

Michael undresses himself behind you, the sound of his belt hitting the floor making your heart race. You can hear him stroking his cock, the slick sound of lube as he preps himself.

Michael presses the bulbous head of his cock against your weeping hole. You breathe heavily as you feel his warmth. He teases you, prodding his tip into your soaked folds before slipping it out, leaving you clenching around nothing, your needy pussy instinctively trying to keep him inside.

A soft whimper escapes your lips, your body craving him. Your walls throb with want, slick and hot, desperate for the fullness only he can give you. Slowly he pushes in again, this time sinking deeper into your tight heat. Your breath hitches at the intensity of the stretch, your pussy molding around his thick shaft as inch after inch disappears inside you.

Your eyes flutter, half-lidded in pleasure, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan as he fills you completely. The feeling of his delicious girth inside you is overwhelming, your gummy walls gripping him like a vice. He pauses, letting you adjust to the fullness, his hands firm on your hips as he stays buried deep within you.

"Oh god," you breathe, the word barely more than a whisper as your body trembles beneath him.

But Michael isn’t in any rush. His hips pull back, and you can feel every inch of him as he withdraws, the slow drag of his lengthy cock making your body shudder. The moment he nearly slips out, he thrusts back in again, a little faster this time, driving his meaty shaft into you with a satisfying stretch. Your pussy squeezes around him, trying to suck him deeper.

Your gaze remains fixed on the TV screen, watching the woman riding her partner, her body moving with a freedom and control you crave. You want to ride him so bad. The thought sends a jolt of desire through your core, your pussy fluttering around him as you imagine it.

Of course Michael notices. He always does.

He shakes his head, his amusement evident in his voice as he keeps plunging deeper into you, "Stop daydreaming about it," he says, his tone dripping with authority. "You can barely take my cock as it is."

Your brows furrow in frustration. You try to say something smart to defend yourself, but before you can, he cuts you off with a sharp slam that knocks the breath from your lungs.

"Wasn't a question," he growls, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounds into you with more force. "You should be grateful you’re not being punished right now."

A helpless cry tumbles from your lips as his pace quickens, each powerful stroke filling you to the brim. Your sensitive pussy can barely handle the relentless pleasure, your slick walls gripping his cock as he drives into you, hitting spots that make your entire body tremble. Every vein, every ridge of his huge shaft presses against your walls.

Your legs shake beneath you, your muscles trembling with the effort to stay in position. If Michael wasn’t holding your hips so firmly, you’d have collapsed by now. His grip keeps you in place, keeps you grounded as he pistols his hips against you with a brutal intensity that leaves you breathless.

Whines spill from your lips, needy and high-pitched as your body struggles to keep up with the overwhelming sensation. His heavy balls slap deliciously against your swollen clit with each deep pump. Your eyes roll back in your head, your vision blurring as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

The sheets are damp beneath your face, muffling the sound of your ragged breathing as Michael's relentless teasing continues. His deep voice drips with amusement, mocking you for going through his things, and you can barely focus on his words as the overwhelming sensations in your body mount.

"You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" he says, his tone laced with playful cruelty. "Had to go snooping."

His words stir a heady mix of shame and arousal. Your thighs tremble as he continues to pound into you, his cock sliding in and out of your glistening, swollen pussy with ease. The wet, obscene sounds of his cock plunging into your dripping core fill the room, mingling with the pornographic noises still playing on the TV.

"Look at this mess you're making," he groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulls you back onto his cock covered in your shared slickness. "All because you went through my stuff. Naughty girl."

Your vision blurs, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you feel the pressure building inside you. It’s too much—his fast, relentless pounding, the slickness of your juices making everything slippery, the way his cock stretches you perfectly. It all blurs together, overwhelming you.

You try to speak, to warn him that you’re about to lose control, but the words die in your throat, your mouth opening in a silent gasp. And then it hits you, hard.

Your body tenses, muscles locking up as a powerful wave of pleasure crashes over you. Before you can stop it, a rush of liquid spurts from your pussy, soaking the sheets and spraying onto his thighs. A loud, guttural cry escapes your lips as your face is pressed deeper into the mattress, your entire body shaking uncontrollably as you squirt. It’s messy, uncontrollable, and you can’t stop it as your pussy sprays out more of your juices, drenching everything in your wetness.

"Fuck, go on sweet girl, mark your territory," Michael groans, his voice thick with arousal as he feels the warm liquid dribble down his skin. He doesn’t stop, if anything, the feeling of your wetness covering him only spurs him on, making him thrust harder, faster. His cock slides in even easier now, the extra slickness allowing him to plunge into you effortlessly

Your body jerks with each powerful thrust, your legs shaking beneath you as your sensitive pussy clenches around him. The overstimulation is almost too much to bear, the pleasure bordering on pain as he prolongs your squirting, making it last longer than you thought possible. Your whole body is quaking, your muscles spasming as another wave of pleasure washes over you, your pussy clenching hard around his cock as you cum again.

The bed is completely soaked beneath you, the sheets drenched with your juices as your orgasm wracks through you. You’re trembling uncontrollably, every nerve in your body on fire as Michael continues to pound into you. His balls slap against your swollen clit with each thrust, the sensation pushing you further into a haze of overstimulated bliss.

"You look so beautiful when you make a mess for me," his voice thick with desire. His movements become more erratic, his breathing ragged as he chases his own release. You can feel how close he is, the way his cock twitches inside you, his balls tightening as they slap against you.

His voice lowers, rough and filled with need. "You want me to fill you up, don’t you?"

You can barely find the breath to respond, your body trembling with exhaustion and overstimulation. But you nod, gasping out a breathless, desperate "yes." Your pussy still pulses around him, aching to be filled with his thick, hot cum.

Michael lets out a breathy chuckle, the sound dripping with mockery. "Mm, I don’t know about that," he says, his tone teasing as he slows his thrusts to a torturous grind. "How are you supposed to learn your lesson if I give you exactly what you want?"

Your breath hitches in frustration, your pussy clenching around him in a futile attempt to keep him inside as he suddenly pulls out. You whine, your body instinctively arching toward him, desperate for more. But he’s already stroking his cock, the slickness of your juices making it glisten as he groans at the sight of your puffy gaping pussy.

"My pretty girl," he murmurs, his eyes fixed on the way your pussy is still spread open, glossy with your arousal and his precum. He strokes his stiff cock with long, slow motions, his gaze trailing over your trembling body.

You feel the cool air hit your exposed skin as his heavy length hovers above you, and you know what’s coming next. His heavy balls are tight with need, full of his potent seed, and you can hear his panting as he brings himself closer to the edge. But instead of giving you what you crave, instead of filling you up the way you always crave, he teases you further.

With a low groan, he pumps his cock a few more times before he cums, thick ropes of his creamy seed spurting from his tip. His creamy load splashes onto your pussy, covering your folds in his sticky, milky release. You gasp at the sensation, your body still sensitive from your own orgasm, and you feel the warm liquid drip down your inner thighs.

But none of it goes where you want it most.

Not a single drop enters your aching, empty hole. He’s careful to avoid your entrance, his cum pooling around your swollen folds but never filling you. You can feel the heat of it, the way it marks you, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough. Your pussy clenches instinctively, craving the fullness of him, but he denies you.

One drop of his cum starts to seep toward your stretched hole, and for a moment, you think you’ll finally get what you want. But Michael’s hand is quick, swiping it away before it can slip inside. You let out a disappointed sigh and nuzzle your cheek into the soft sheets.

You feel utterly spent, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all. His cum dribbles down your inner thighs, marking you, claiming you in a way that makes your heart race. But at the same time, there’s a lingering sadness, a frustration at the thought of all that creamy seed going to waste when you could have been filled with it.

Michael leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the small of your back as his hands gently rub over your warm body. He’s back to being tender now, his teasing nature momentarily softened as he takes care of you.

Once he’s cleaned you up, he moves to put the tapes back in the drawer, his actions slow and deliberate as he organizes them neatly. But this time, he doesn’t lock it.

You glance up at him, your eyes still half-lidded with exhaustion, and he catches your gaze with a knowing smile. He says nothing, but the unlocked drawer speaks for itself. You know he’s giving you permission—whether it’s to test your boundaries again or to explore your curiosity more freely, you’re not sure. But either way, it feels like a small victory, a silent acknowledgment of the power you hold over him, even when he’s the one in control.

Taglist: @theladyinmoscow @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @leociinta @graciegizmo3184 @theasexual-jackson @mrsmikaelsxn @fallinlovewithevil @armasbw @b3rk1ey @sirusxx @maybe7tommorow @falllovesomemichealjackson @virgomjj @michaels-nonbinary-child @veavixen @elthoughtzos @kingayanna @kaoritowa @callsignwidow

204 notes · View notes