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randomshyperson · 8 months ago

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The Bed Issue - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Another retake of Wandavision, this time, the scene with the two single beds.

Warnings: (+18) pure smut, enchanted strap, fingering, creampie, wanda is in charge but r tops, dirty talking, some typical Westview angst (brief reality alteration) but purely sinful | Words: 3.284k

A/N-> At this point, I feel I should start a new collection with all the scenes I rewrote. I miss writing series people, where are my ideas. Also, sorry if there are too many spelling errors, I wrote this on my phone (it's hard to be poor and busy). But good reading!

General Masterlist | AO3

-&-

The sign of two single beds in the room made you giggle right away.

Wanda, who walked in first, looked back at you with curiosity. Her gaze scanned your face as she asked: “What's funny, darling?”

Your eyes found her and a deep sigh escaped your lips, the ghost of that giggle still present in your expression.

“The beds, Wanda.” You replied quickly, almost offended she couldn't see the absurdity of that. Maybe she was playing innocent. Or at least, that's what her confused gaze looked like. Another sign escaped you. “Why would a married couple sleep on different beds, side by side?”

“Well, I…” but she cut herself mid-sentence, her gaze shifted as if she realized that really didn't make any sense. “I guess you're right.”

The bed moved as quickly as her fingers - the wood jumping to the side to connect and transform into one bed. You smile, moving forward to kiss your wife's cheek.

“Lovely tricks as always, darling.” You praise, catching the soft color rising up her skin before you step to the bathroom. But you comment again, giggling: “How odd that was, two beds.”

Distracted by your own joke, you didn't catch Wanda's shoulder tension. And she could only force a smile, giving a quick gaze at your figure brushing your teeth while mentality praying that for the sake of her poor heart, you wouldn't notice any other weirdness tonight.

-&-

A stupid tree.

A stupid tree branch against the window and things got out of hand completely. At least this time, in a good sense of things.

That is because Wanda found herself pressed into the bed, giggling at our bold hands under her clothes.

She remembers this teasing all too well. Beyond the sexual tension, and the teenage hormones, there was intimacy. You could always make her laugh, no matter the situation. Often, you would do that in inappropriate ones that's for sure. Just for the satisfaction of making her blush deeply when apologizing to whoever was around to testify you making a mess out of her. And then when in a situation like tonight, where it was too hard to breathe and too warm for a coherent thought - teasing fingers where she had tickles was the perfect way to ease her anxiety. To anchor her back and remember it's just you. Her best friend. Warming your way around her skin.

But things were a little - a lot - different in Westview. Neither of you knows why or how, or better saying, Wanda knew to a different extent than you.

When she brought the covers up your bodies, taking the lead for the night and expecting to meet your eagerness to kiss her again, she was met with more giggles.

She stared down at your shiny eyes, leaning into the hand you brought to her cheek.

“It's too warm here.” You let her know softy, and yes, Wanda was quite aware. Kissing you was more than enough to heat her entirely, but doing this under the covers was a challenge. She could feel the sweat starting to drip. She was ready to say she didn't mind, maybe even kiss you to change the subject when you added: “Why would you cover us anyway, darling? There's no one watching.”

It was meant to be a joke, obviously. You don't know. You couldn't know. And your eyes were innocent and your smile was sincere and Wanda hesitated.

Your hand remains on her cheek, the caress never stopping.

“Did I say something wrong? Where did you go just now?”

She went outside. Outside the hex, all the way to monitors transmitting her sitcom of a fake life. But not really. Because she didn't consciously know about any of this. Yet, some part of her mind did know, and all the TVs that once exhibited her little show, now hold a Stand By sign.

Wanda was the one who threw the covers aside. The fresh air was well welcome but you're now distracted with the gorgeous woman moving to straddle your hips.

“You're right, there's no one watching.” She says with the same urgency she burst open your pajama shirt. You don't understand the rush, but she looks too pretty for you to disagree. And Wanda purrs at the sight of your naked skin, biting her lips like a naughty child. “I missed you.”

You chuckle breathlessly, some confusion in your eyes. “I was with you all day.”

She shook her head, deciding now to control her tongue. If she doesn't want you questioning, she needs to stop saying things like this. So she forces a smile, shifting against your hips in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I always miss my wife, I mean. Whenever she's not touching me.”

Even though you offer her a grin, there's a blush in your cheeks that goes down your chest and Wanda suddenly doesn't feel like talking anymore.

A feeling you two seem to share as you bring a hand to her face only to pull her down at you again. It's a heated kiss. With tongue and breathy whispers that turn her into needy sounds.

Even without the covers, it's soon too hot to keep clothes on.

You're the one who takes her nightgown off. Pulling down as your tongues dance together, until the item no longer hides the tits you started to play it.

Wanda's eyes are tightly closed as your mouth sucks her nipple. Your hand plays with the other while she struggles to breathe.

Her top needs to go, but so does all the other clothing. The nightgown barely reached the floor and you're already pulling at her soaked panties, eager to feel her inside.

“Need this off you now, witchy.” The nickname makes her gasp. You haven't used it until now and it has been way too long since she heard. Since you-

No. No thinking about this, not now.

She forces herself back to the present, an easy task when she feels every inch of her skin burning with your touch. She needs to move away to take the item off but your hands hold her tight by the waist at the mere attempt of breaking apart.

She giggles breathlessly, aware of the new wave of wetness that dripped down with the feeling of your strong hands manhandling her back at her position, keeping her restless hips still. “But you said you wanted it off.” She tries to ration, receiving only a growl in return. The next second, when your hands shift, the item is torn off her without ceremony.

“Hey! It was my favorite.” She pouts in protest but you merely give her a husky chuckle.

“I'm sure you can fix it.” Comes as a teasing answer that Wanda couldn't contradict even if she wanted to - all previous thoughts are gone when your fingers reach her front and penetrate between her warm folds without a warning. You groan at the delirious feeling of her pussy against your fingertips while Wanda whimpers at the ceiling, trying to get used to the sudden invasion.

“Fuck, you're so tight.” Your remark with a sultry voice against her ear. Wanda's arm circles your shoulder for some support while she feels the stretch of your fingers inside her. It's been a while since last time but dear God how she missed this. Her hips move on instinct and you have to chuckle at her impatience with herself. Your free hand moves to her lower back, caressing her skin while your fingers start to press your way inside her.

“Easy darling, I got you.” You guide, too deeply for her to give you any replies other than pleas and whimpers. The position might not be the most comfortable for you but it's amazing to her. Wanda can grind down and ride your fingers as she pleases and you can feel how close she's coming to her climax so you don't dare to stop. Your thumb moves to her clit, circling the nerve and she nearly loses it. The bedroom lights start to flash with the build of this orgasm and you stare at her in amazement only to be rewarded with her gorgeous flushed face while she grinds into your hand in nearly despair.

“Fuck you're so beautiful.” You gasp, increasing the speed. The depth. Wanda breaks in a sob, her back arching. The first one is a charm. Your name is being screamed at the ceiling while you feel her wetness dripping down your hand. Unfortunately - or fortunately - it only makes you crave her more. She's still recovering from the intensity of this climax, all sweaty and flushed when you shift your hand. You're still inside her tight walls and your fingers start to pick up a pace again. She squeaks at the overstimulation, but her protest dies in your tongue sucking hers when you kiss her again.

Wanda's almost too distracted by the filthy of this kiss to notice how quickly her second climax is building - almost. There's a bite against your bottom lip that makes you groan when she breaks the kiss, unable to keep it up. Her hands grab at you for some grounding when she feels how close she is to come, stronger than the last time. You feel her nails piercing your skin when her orgasm washes over her and it's your time to moan at her ear.

Her body goes limp for a moment after this. It was two intense orgasms in a row after all. She just needs to take a breath.

You move your fingers out, sucking them clean and murmuring satisfied at her taste while Wanda struggles to recognize her surroundings.

When you can hold her with both hands again, you nuzzle at her cheek.

“Enjoying yourself, witchy?” You dare to tease her when she can feel how she's still leaking in your lap. Honestly, the nerve. Wanda let out a deep breath, pushing her momentarily tiredness away.

There's an easy smile on her lips when she finds your eyes again. “I am but I've been so selfish.” She starts with a particular accentuation of her ascent that she knows you drive you insane. She also watches as your breath catches and your eyes drift to her lips, mesmerized by every word. “You must be needing me as well.”

But you tense at her nails screeching your belly, a worried frown coming at your expression.

“Wanda… my powers.” The fear in your eyes is like a cold buck of water. Oh, yes, she forgot.

For the whole day, she forgot you had no idea of the life you two shared. Nothing outside Westview and this lovely fantasy. None of the creative ways you two once used to bypass the super strength issue. Your fear and hesitation at hurting her made perfect sense but the fact that she was the only one who could remember the whole history you two shared was still painful. Her expression probably gave her away and confused you even more. “I promise you this is more than enough for me. Bringing you pleasure is enough.” You add gently, but Wanda shakes her head, leaning in to kiss you. She leaves you breathlessly before breaking apart, taking some pride in the way you're blushing.

“Don't be silly, darling, there's plenty of things for us to do together. To please one another.” You gulp at her words and tone of voice, eyes following all of her movements. From the shift of her hips to the teasing of her fingers on the way down your pants. “I wanna try something I think you'll love it. Do you trust me?”

You nod immediately, watching as Wanda's fingers play with the hem of your pants. She giggles naughty at your anticipation and brings one finger up to your chin, to make you look at her eyes again.

“Can you use your words?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow, trying to win some composure back. It's not easy when Wanda Maximoff is naked and sitting on your tight. But you smile anyway. “Of course I trust you, witchy.”

She smiles at you, her eyes flashing a glimmer of naughtiness that makes your heart leap. You can't worry too much about that anyway - Wanda leans in to kiss you again. And it's the dirtiest one of the night. She takes the lead, pulling back now and then just to tease your tongue with the tip of hers, reveling at the way you pant and struggle to keep your hips still.

But suddenly, you feel the new pressure inside your pants. The odd sensation shifts your attention entirely but Wanda brings her hands to your neck and kisses you hard. You moan into her tongue, hands holding her tight by the waist until her spell is complete. She presses down into you and the kiss is broken with your needy awareness.

“F-fuck, is that…?” You open surprised and aroused eyes at her, looking down where your middles connect only to watch Wanda's equal affected state. Her trembling hands reach down at your pants, trying to pull the garment off.

“Yeah, and I really need you inside now, alright baby? Think you're ready for me?” Her words are rushed as her fingers. Your pants and underwear are stuck in an awkward position on your thighs because Wanda is too impatient to wait another second. She grabs the hardness - barely giving you time to get used to the image or more important the feeling - of that scarlet strap magically placed there - before she sinks down.

It's a form of revenge, maybe. For the way you didn't give her time to prepare before, but what a sweet revenge that was.

The nearly animalistic grunt that escaped you when Wanda's cunt squeezed around you was a sound you didn't know you could make. She, on the other hand, rewards your ears with a pleasant deep moan while she adjusts to the fullness. There's also a new stretch. The toy is obviously larger than your fingers and goes deliciously deeper so Wanda needs to take a deep breath while she welcomes you in.

To her delight, not that you can remember this, but just like the first time you two tried, it's too much of a new overwhelming pleasure for you to handle. You came almost the same second you're bottom up. Tensing and shaking at the new feeling. You gasp, hands falling at the sides to grab the sheets that are torn apart while you hide your face into her neck and your climax washes over you.

Wanda giggles in amusement. The hot shot inside her feels as good as she remembers and you haven't changed. But the toy softening causes you to panic.

“S-sorry, god, I'm so sorry. I don't-”

“Shh, it's okay.” She cuts your anxious babbling immediately, firming her legs around you and bringing her hands to hold your cheeks. “I know it feels like a real one, but it's not a real one.” She says and without any warning, grinds down at you, stealing all the air of your lungs. Wanda bites her lip before adding “See? You're hard again already.”

You can't give her words. The only thing that leaves your mouth is a whine that makes her clench around you.

Suddenly, she's moving. Rough grinding before she's undeniably riding your strap and it's dirty and maddeningly sexy so your hands hold her hips and help her when her body starts to betray her wishes to keep going.

“Oh, Wanda, you feel so nice.” You moan with your eyes closed, outside the shared grunts and your words, the only sounds of the room are the bed creaking and the soaked toy coming in and out of her. Your lovely wife decides to give you a reason to be louder. Her hands push you back at the bed and now you can see her in all of her glory. Her pretty tits bounce with the hard pace she takes on top of you. “W-wait. Easy, I can't hold it if you-”

Her hands move yours - trying to slow her by the waist - away, locking your fingers together at each side of your head. Her hair makes a curtain for your faces but Wanda kisses you again. Your tongues are still moving together when you come first.

Because you're strong - stronger than her that is - scarlet magic holds you still, wrists and ankles when Wanda can't. She holds her climax just a little longer, enough to put on a show for your breathless figure under her when you are able to look up at it.

It's divine when it occurs - The silent scream, her frown before the blissed worn-out expression. The flags of the light, the room vibrating and her eyes bright red before the dark green meets your gaze again.

She smiles down at you, still shaking but somehow ready for another.

“Enjoying yourself aren't you, Avenger?” she repeats your words from before, but the nickname so often used for teasing makes you frown in confusion.

“What is…? But she changed that before you could finish the question.

As quickly as it happened, the scene shifted as if the words never left her lips. You were staring at her, with uneven breathing and adoring eyes.

“Is this really necessary?” For a second, her heart leaped in fear. The possibility that you could tell she altered things. But your gaze shifted to the magic holding you still, and you offered her a pleading stare. “Won’t you let me touch you?”

Wanda sighs, adjusting your hips and seeing the way your jaw tenses at the slight movement. You're still inside her, always magically stimulated to be hard no matter how many times you come. It made sense that you might be sensitive.

She bit her bottom lip, hands resting on your chest.

“But you look so pretty like this…” She starts, leaning in as if going for a kiss. You sigh as her lips meet your cheeks instead, closing your eyes when you feel her smiling before moving down. “I like having you at my mercy.”

You hum, somewhat distracted by her soft grind against you. If you're hard again, that's not only the magic to blame but Wanda's warm pussy squeezing you still.

“But I'm like this all the time.” you joke earning a husky giggle before she puts some distance between your faces again.

You let out a deep sigh when she pulls out the next second, catching her own soft groan at the emptiness. But your words fail you when you look down and see the mixed cum leaking from her and dripping down your abs.

Cursing under your breath a single “fuck.” at the image, you are not surprised at Wanda's naughty giggle.

“You made such a mess, babe.” She teases, the toy still vibrating and it occurs to you that it doesn't just answer to your arousal, but hers as well.

“Me? You're the one who, you know… ride it. I didn't even know I would come through it.” You tried to defend yourself with rosy cheeks but Wanda is clearly teasing you. She giggles again, adjusting herself and causing you to shut up immediately.

“I think you should stop babbling and start cleaning your mess.”

You swallow hard when you realize she's still moving. Up towards your face. The bed makes a strong crack sound when you use all your strength to pull your hands free from her magic chains.

Wanda allows you to break free. Mainly because she loves to feel your hands holding her thighs open when you eat her out.

Some old habits never die.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff oneshots #wanda maximoff smut

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anadiasmount · 8 months ago

Note

u and jude being in the same friend group and ur all together on a trip, though jude has been in love with you since day one and on the first night there u two sleep together, leaving u confused and wishing for more knowing things couldn’t be the same after the special night <3

no one knows - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: request above!

wc: 2.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: hii!! ik i said this would be posted sooner but i got sidetracked (what’s new… also don't hate me i didn't proof read...) ANYWAYS... this does contain small bit of smut so minors dni! like always hope you enjoy 🤍

the soft waves of the hammock you laid on rocked slowly as you stared out into the almost night sky. the different shades of orange now purple and blue, tiny star appearing in the distance, waves hitting the shore making the whole atmosphere just at peace. it was a king day of travel, having missed your first flight due to a delay on the train.

you had arrived last, but it didn’t matter because you were finally with your friends, wanting to make most of the trip you had planned. you changed into a knitted crème color swimsuit, loving how it fit and hugged your figure, accentuating your curves and pushing up your cleavage just right.

everyone inside was asleep, but you couldn’t go to sleep without wanting to watch the night fall. you loved the beach, the smell, the feel of sand, how your hair went to its natural state, and the feeling of freedom. you quickly got distracted by the click of the door opening, footsteps approaching where you were.

“hi,” you squeak as you see jude lean against the palm tree pole, shirtless and wearing similar shorts as your bathing suit. “you okay? you were the last to arrive and your here alone,” jude asked softly not being able to hold back the gulp at how dreamingly your body looked under this ray and light.

“i’m okay… just can’t sleep for some reason,” you stifle a small laugh, “plus i haven’t seen a view like this in so long, i just wanted too see it, i mean take a look.” jude obliged, looking around in a daze at how the night sky looked now. “yeah you’re right… i feel at ease,” jude nodded.

“how come you’re still up? is everything okay with you?” you sat up, propping your elbow and the back of your hand resting on your temple, your full attention on jude. you couldn’t deny but feel a tad bit confused he was here. jude never really spoke to you an when he did it was short and simple. so you wouldn’t be surprised if he made small talk and left.

“jet leg i guess? you’d think after all the constant travel i’d be used to it but it’s always difficult to fall asleep after a long flight for me,” jude explained taking a seat on the wood chair that was by the balcony. you hummed in response, your hand dragging up from your thigh to your hip letting it rest.

you sensed he wanted to tell you more, his fingers tapping against his massive and toned thighs, his eyes adverting from you to the sea. jude wasn’t shy, quite the opposite, and he knew in this moment it was now or never. “do i make you nervous?” you ask slyly, standing and walking over to him. you hated feeling awkward and left out around him, and you needed to know the reason behind it.

jude was a complete different person in his games, in public, around your friends, yet, he treats you so differently which threw you off the edge. jude roamed your eyes from your tanned shiny legs, your curved torso and bust, his heart stammering against his chest as you looked so willingly and utterly beautiful. “or do you just hate me?”

“hate you? why would i hate you?”

“don’t know… you tell me. it’s like this every time we’re around each other. the tension? you can’t even look into my face? you barely speak a word to me? if i’ve done something to offend you, let me know so i can apologize,” you spoke dearly, following his exact movements by roaming your eyes on his figure. legs spread out begging to be touch, abs defined, with veins adorning his arms. jude was fucked, all he could think about was you in this damn bathing suit and the silly theory you made in your head.

hate you? that’s impossible.

“what if i told you it was the opposite? what if i told you i’m infatuated by you?” jude looked up, standing and over towering you, your gaze shifted from confident to shy. your eyes lowering as jude looked down at you. “that when i’m around you all i can think about is you. how you look, smile, talk and walk, smell… it’s so infuriating to be this madly in love with you and not being able to do a thing about it…” jude confessed, drawing the air out of your lungs, like the wind that breezed the night sea.

“i feel like you’re lying to me…” you couldn’t help but say. a hesitance of insecurity, and that’s there’s absolutely no way this man was in love or was confessing any sort of feelings when actions proved otherwise. “why would i lie to you hm? i’m being completely truthful here y/n,” god the way he said your name had you trembling your knees. “you can’t be jude. we’re so different-”

“that’s what you think, and it’s all in your head. tell me this second you don’t feel it? the magnitude sensation for me to approach you? i can see it in your pretty face darling. now it’s you who can’t even look at me? or yet talk,” jude inches closer to you, seeing your chest rapidly raise up and down.

“you’re everything to me… i’ve had to resist myself because i have no idea if you feel the same way. i’d rather love you from a distance than be embarrassed and you not liking me back…” jude traced with his fingertips along your forearm. “don’t you see it? everything i’ve done it’s because of you… i wouldn’t be here if you weren’t y/n. i just want you…” his pleading and vulnerability in his voice had you gulping a response.

“let me show it to you hm? how you make me feel… how you deserved to be treated,” you nodded feeling the heat rise in you. the familiar desire to be wanted, appreciated, touched by a man like jude. “please jude…” you said in a small whimper, looking up where jude had a hungry gazed, lips slightly open. “show me-”

you remembered how cool the wall was when he hit your back against it, kissing you deeply, so messy and hot. how his hands traveled from your side and around your spine, gripping your ass as he ran his tongue down from your jaw and pulse point. you could feel everything, how big jude was, how hot his skin was to your touch, how desperate the need was.

he had dragged you to his room, his lips never leaving yours any second. it was so vivid in your head, how your back pressed against his chest, how his fingers slowly traced your abdomen down to inside your bottoms, his fingers covered by you slick coat, adding the bit-test of pressure on you clit rubbing it in small circles. all you could focus on was the determination and how hot he looked like this.

jude untied the bows from your bottoms, freeing you completely. he felt like he would die any second, this was real and no turning back. he could’ve watched you all night like this. so sensitive with the smallest touch.the familiar burn in your tummy when he sunk into you with a forceful thrust, hips curling and rocking to pleasure waves of emotions, the heat between your legs as he talked you through it all. the flicker in his eyes when you moaned and begged his name, how your nails scratched against his back asking for more and more.

“you belong to me… don’t you forget that y/n…” he kissed you sloppy, pushing one last thrust and spilling into you. it wasn’t just one round, he made sure to take you against the wall, balcony, shower, and the small couch in his room, in many positions too. he wanted to savor the moment like he imagined. this was way better than his dreams and thoughts in his head. you were so tight, so wet, very much made exactly for him.

the heavy weight on top you made you wake up early. you were used to waking up this early, but not with a hot body on top of you. with one eye barely open you looked at the digital clock, showing just before 7am, the whole house quiet. you looked around before your eyes landed on a sleepy jude, tucked between your arm and head nuzzled into your neck.

your heart raced, not being able to control your confused and guilty emotions. last night was real then? not a sick dream in your head or a movie, it had happened here in his room. “oh shit…” you whispered, chest sinking down as your controlled your breathing. you had to get out, feeling a tad stuck and rushed in space. this wasn’t supposed to happen… even though it felt so right. so meant to be.

you had managed to sneak jude to his back without waking him up. his lips pursed and brown drawn in, breathing heavy. you changed quickly back to your bikini, leaving the room how you had remembered. you ran a hand against your hair, the need to throw water in your face to cool the warmth in your cheeks. you weren’t used to this. you never did one night stands or had friends with benefits relationships. if that’s even what it was.

you couldn’t help but think maybe jude was lying to just get into your pants. you had seen how jude was like when around other woman. but you weren’t other woman. you we’re y/n. the shy but outgoing, smart but naive, and overly patient y/n. you didn’t want it be like them, or seen like them either. all you could think of was him. his brown eyes and stupid gentlemen demeanor.

you avoided him anywhere he was or walked in. the only way you could escape and let go of things was this. you weren’t used to this and didn’t have much experience so you did what you were best at which was ignore jude. but even your friends had noticed you were off and that there was a glow to you. drawing attention from everyone and the person who caused it all.

a small part of you did have a twinge of faith… what if he wasn’t lying? what if everything he proved to you last night was exactly how he felt? what if he was madly in love with you? that you were the woman of his dreams? that it wasn’t just sex and there was raw emotions included?

the ghost feeling against your back made you shiver, realizing it was jude who stood behind you, locking you with both arms extending out to cage you in as you cut up fruit. “you left me this morning,” jude spoke into your ear, feeling your weight shift from one foot to another. “i didn’t want anyone to catch us,” you say shaky, making up a lie knowing part of it was true.

“you’re lying to me…”

“am not. let me go… i-i-i need to bring this outside.”

“you are darling, you think i didn’t notice? you can’t even look at me without talking to me, and you’ve ignored me the whole day thinking i haven’t realized that,” jude let you go but followed behind you speaking a little louder. “lower your voice! i haven’t said anything to anyone!” you hiss, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the pool room. “what is it you want from me?” you say pleading.

“i want you! i thought i made that clear last night. not just with sex, but with my confession? before we fell asleep? don’t tell me you forgot that,” you shook your head. “i’m just having trouble to process all this, jude… i feel like we’re making a huge mistake…”

“to whom? to our friends? or to you?” jude asked sincerely. you always seemed to put them first over yourself and jude noticed that. “why would it be a mistake? if at the end of the day what we have is real…”

“jude it’s been one night together between us! look at us now! i can’t risk our group falling if we don’t work out jude! it’s not fair to them, to me and you!” you tried to reason but jude shook his head. he stood up from where he leaned, his broad frame over towering yours again.

“why are you so adamant we won’t work? we’ve barely been given a shot here! you’re overthinking it y/n. they don’t have to know a single thing pretty girl, not unless you don’t want them too.but for once think of what you want and your heart desires. not what your friends say. forget them and for once think about yourself,” jude spoke, grabbing your hands.

“i want us to work more than anything y/n. i’m not lying to you and have never gave you the reason either. i’m a good man y/n. just let me in here,” he poked your heart, seeing a sad smile appear on your face. “we can’t be so quick to judge without even trying! why is it so hard to do that? i just want to be with you, i’ve suffered enough as it is already,” jude was pleading, wanting to do anything to keep you here with him.

“and if we do and i lose you jude? people have walked in and straight out of my life. what if we try and it’s going so well just for us to part? i can’t handle losing someone else i love,” you whimper, tears of exhaustion and pain let out. “imagine me now and then? i’ve always thought what’s best for myself and i’m just confused jude… why me?” your voice sounded strained and from another dimension.

“why not you? you’re perfect y/n. anyone who thinks other wise must have been dropped into their head. you have everything that makes me so drawn to you… your eyes… your smile… your way of being… your hair… your everything. you’re everything i want and i’m willing to prove that to you however you ask. just let me be the man you need pretty girl…” jude rested his forehead against yours, his thumb stroking your jaw as you began to fall deeper into this new wave and world with him.

“no one knows. just me and you jude,” you kissed him feverently. the aching burn in your chest as he kissed you with such devotion and power. you shivered beneath him, arms wrapping around his neck and pulled him closer. jude let out a small groan gripping your hips and pushing you to his lower body. there was no self-control here, no professionalism. he quickly became your favorite taste, and feeling. just two humans brought together in the most correct and soulmate way.

two humans who had no idea what was ahead of them.

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham smut

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year ago

Text

Convenience and Desire

Johnny Cage x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: heavy allusions to smut (eventual smut basically but i got lazy)

Author’s Note: i main kitana cause she’s powerful and beautiful and a good leader and intelligent. But beside her i play johnny because he’s hot and dumb and i love him with my whole heart.

Summary: You and Johnny work together often and go to blow off some steam.

Song: unironically listened to hey baby by pitbull while writing this. feel like johnny would be proud

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif) (can't wait to play this little guy right here even though dilf johnny has my entire soul)

Johnny Cage’s smile was infectious. The way it curved was practically a trademark. It was shiny like a cartoon, almost too good to be real. He tossed it at oncomers, at girls who even half looked his ways, at people who could potentially elevate his status, at DJ’s who played songs he liked.

It was annoying.

You stood beside him, not sure how you had gotten caught up with him. Raiden had assured you that you were both some of Earthrealms best fighters, even if there was a bit of a personality shift. You weren’t sure how one ‘saving the world’ mission had turned into two, which turned into three. Eventually someone decided you worked well together and you were constantly shoved into the same space. When had convenience become necessity?

Johnny smiled at Liu Kang, who returned it with a gentle gaze. Why couldn’t you have been paired together with someone like Liu? He could forever pine after Kitana and you would work well together.

“Are you even listening?” You were broken from your thoughts by Kung Lao. His voice cut through your annoyance, making you snap out of it.

“Yes. Yeah, sorry.”

“Geez and usually I’m the one who doesn’t know how to listen.” Johnny nudged you. You couldn’t even muster an eye roll. Your smile is distracting Johnny. Even the thought made you gag. When had convenience become desire?

“Thank you for your help,” you finally said, ignoring Johnny. “We couldn’t have done it without you. Your assistance is always greatly appreciated.”

“We could have done it without you but that would’ve taken too long,” Johnny quipped. You ignored him. Liu smiled gently and nodded once.

“It’s always a pleasure to work with you Y/N. Are you both heading back home after this?” You nodded, finally glancing at Johnny.

“We should. I have to report back to Raiden on all of this and I’m sure you two have lives to get on with. Plus, Johnny has an early bedtime.” He snorted.

“I’m glad you were able to reach us in time. Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else,” Kung Lao said. His voice had more of an edge to it. You knew Kung Lao less well than you knew Liu Kang. You tended to stray from the vastly magical aspects of earth realms defenders. “Do you read him a bedtime story too?” he quipped.

“You all are acting like I didn’t help out there,” Johnny argued. He took his sunglasses off, revealing his eyes. He cleared his throat, like he was going to say something fancy. “Personally, I plan to celebrate our win. I know I’m going to drag her with me, you guys wanna come?”

“Where are you going?”

“Dunno. Bars. Clubs. Wherever there’s drinks, music and ladies.” You closed your eyes hard and shook your head. You would have put your fingers to your temple if you wanted to be any more stereotypical and feed into Johnny’s cartoonish personality.

“Probably not the best idea for a bunch of people with superpowers to get drunk,” Liu commented. You snorted and the tension of the fight officially dissipated. There was quiet laughter coming from the two in front of you, usually on the heroic stoic side.

“Just us two then!”

“Who says I’m coming?” you questioned. He rolled his eyes, gesturing for you two to head back home. You had the ability to conjure portals to any place you knew of. It came in handy when getting out of sticky situations, from which there always were some with Johnny.

“We should bar hop in Ireland,” he suggested.

“I’ll see you guys around,” you finally said. They nodded, ghosts of smiles on their faces. You turned around and Johnny stepped aside, allowing you to lift your hands. You had no interest in going to Ireland, where you were fairly sure it was early morning anyway. Instead you opened the portal to a place Johnny knew well; the streets of Hollywood.

“Fuck yeah!” he exclaimed. “You’re the best babe.” You rolled your eyes and let him walk in ahead of you. Liu Kang and Kung Lao watched as you entered your own portal and then it closed shut behind you, leaving only a faint singe in its wake.

“Are they together?” Kung Lao asked. Liu narrowed his eyes and shrugged.

“I’m actually not sure.”

“I didn’t think they were but I kind of think they might be.”

“Yeah no, I could definitely see it.”

“Maybe we should have gone clubbing with them.”

“Could’ve been educational.”

Thankfully for Johnny, most of his fighting clothes could double as clubbing clothes. As he emerged from your portal he was in the thick of LA foot traffic and he fit right in. You on the other hand looked a little out of place with your padded armor and knives at your side. Though thankfully, most people seemed too drunk to care.

“I’ll come pick you up at 4am?” you questioned. He shook his head.

“Oh c’mon,” he said. He walked up to you and he had to get close because you could barely hear him over all the commotion. “Loosen up.” You looked in his eyes that were usually shaded by his sunglasses. It was a nice change of place to see that movie star complexion up close and not covered in blood. Though you’d be lying if you said he didn’t look good after a fight.

“Just for a little bit.”

“That’s the spirit.” His voice was low and sultry. If he knew how to do anything it was to seduce a woman and you knew that. You knew Johnny Cage better than most. He gestured for you to follow him through the crowd. “I know this place like the back of my hand. I used to live down here after auditions.”

“How long were you auditioning unsuccessfully?” you teased.

“Not as long as most.” You walked closely behind him. People were rushing by, wearing barely any clothing, laughing with their friends. You admired their carefree nature. Johnny’s shiny jacket fit in perfectly in the sequined crowd. You pushed yourself against him when others tried to get between you and he made no snarky comment like you expected.

Finally he made a sharp turn. You looked up at the name of the place but you only saw long loopy bright letters. You half thought he had brought you to a strip club when he got to the door. You noticed the line that wrapped around the corner.

“Johnny, there’s a line,” you said.

“They know me.”

You rolled your eyes. Always with that mentality. He approached the bouncer.

“Hey,” he exclaimed, enunciating the y. “Mark, right? How’s the wife?” You expected the angry answer that always came after Johnny asked about someone's wife.

“Hey man!” the bouncer said, giving him one of those bro handshakes you could never understand. “Where you been?”

“Not doing many movies,” Johnny admitted. “Too busy saving the world and whatnot.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool. Go on in man, it’s nice to see you.” You tried to suppress your surprise. You started to walk forward but the bouncer stopped you before you could.

“She’s with me.”

“A little different than your usual crowd huh Johnny?”

“She’s better than them,” he said and it even sounded like he meant it. The bouncer's gaze followed you as you walked past.

You emerged in the club. Clearly exclusive but large. There were two floors and the one you were on was filled with staggering people. Music blasted. You couldn’t locate the speakers but they had to be close with how aggressive they were on your ear drums. You stuck close to Johnny as he weaved through, saying hi to people as he passed.

Your place had always been the fight. This was clearly Johnny’s place.

He turned back to you.

“Pretty cool huh?”

“Not bad Cage. Not bad.” He smiled back at you. He approached the bar area. It was a clear table that was glowing from the inside. He found an easy place to order and he did it for both of you. He had gone with you to a bar or two. He knew your tastes.

Drinks came quickly. He put it on his tab.

He leaned his back against the table, handing you your glass. You took it.

“So this is your world?”

“Yes ma’am. Thoughts? Concerns? Comments?” You looked around. People were high or drunk or happy. You had left the war and blood outside. For now, there was only every form of ecstasy that man could come up with.

“I can understand why you like it.”

“And…”

“And I like it. Is that what you wanna hear?” You took a sip of your drink. He took a drink of his as well, narrowing his eyes on you. You and Johnny had spent so much time together on the field. Usually the occasional drink was limited to both of you being exhausted. You suddenly felt like you had just woken up rejuvenated.

“That is what I wanted to hear. Thank you.” The pulse of the club felt aggressive. They were playing some shitty Pitbull song that everyone got excited to hear. “You ever wonder why Raiden set us up together?”

“In the working capacity? Yeah, I do.”

“Got any working theories?”

“You needed a babysitter and I’m patient.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Your lips turned into a smile. His movie star grin had returned, the one that looked so easy to kiss. “Eyes are up here sweetheart.” You met his gaze. He was starring.

“Wanna dance Cage?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” You took off your jacket and tossed it on the bar table. You had replacements lining the walls. With it off it revealed your arms and the tightly woven fighting armor you kept. It was thinner than it should be but you didn’t need the protection. Johnny watched your back as you walked to the dance floor. You took your hair out of its tight updo that was keeping it out of your face. It fell and you brushed your hands through it, smoothing it out.

The lighting was lower there. People’s bodies were melding together, kissing but not knowing whose lips were on the other end. You didn’t even bother looking around. The music that had been pounding in your head since you walked in was now against your chest. Johnny was swaying and you didn’t even notice you were too. He put his hands on your hips and you didn’t stop him. You put your arms over his shoulders, straightening them out so that your fingers were clasped together. Your torsos were flush, glued to each other.

The tension of the day's battle loosened in your shoulders. You were bruised but not broken. You were safe, here, with Johnny. In the middle of the dance floor without a thought in your head other than his eyes. You wished he had left his jacket behind as well but you knew he was too materialistic for that. Your smile looked drunken but your head was clear.

When had convenience become need?

Johnny pushed you closer. Now your bodies were together, dancing together, a sly smile on his face. You brought your hands down, against his chest and then around his torso, beneath his jacket where he wasn’t wearing a shirt. It was his problem he never seemed to wear armor to a fight.

He had goosebumps. You smirked. When you looked at his face you noticed his eyes had traveled south from your lips.

“Eyes are up here Cage,” you teased. He snapped back up.

“You wanna be real classic and go to the bathroom?” he questioned. You rolled your eyes. He pressed you even closer to him, if that were at all possible.

“What, you don’t have your own hotel room upstairs or something?” His movie star grin came in full force. “Raiden’s gonna kill us.”

“Raiden’s gonna kill you. He knows I make bad decisions.” His head dipped, slipping his lips onto yours. You were actually taken aback. His lips tasted like chapstick and beer. You put your palms flat against his back and then scrunched your hands so that your nails dug into his skin.

It hadn’t occurred to you until then that Johnny was nearly indestructible. The thought was alluring.

His lips left yours. You had stopped dancing to kiss him. The music seemed to muffle.

“That okay?” he whispered.

“Perfect.”

“Good. Been wanting to do it for a minute.” You grabbed his arm and turned back to the crowd. He pouted as his hands left your body. You dragged him through the crowd, weaving through the other people having the time of their lives. “Bathrooms the other way.”

You finally came to a space that wasn’t completely filled with people. You stopped abruptly and Johnny ran into you. You lifted your hands in a formation he knew well. He didn’t even try to hide the smirk when the portal opened revealing his own room. He walked in before you and you followed, leaving only a soot behind.

#johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x fem!reader #mortal kombat imagines #johnny cage fanfiction #mortal kombat fanfiction #spicy tag

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igotanidea · 2 years ago

Text

Cheater : Dick Grayson!version

WARNINGS : SMUT, cheating, unprotected p in v (cause you know fanficion is not real life), teasing, angst, reader going against her own morals - so hypocrisy and poor life choices

MINORS DNI!!

***

„Dick we need to talk.” She texted

Of course they needed to talk. Or rather Y/N was going to talk and Dick was going to listen. At least that was the plan.

She was getting tired of playing cat and mouse, sneaking around and constantly watching her back. Damn it, she loved Dick Grayson with all her heart, but the thought that she was the second girl was slowly killing her.

Yes. She knew that Dick had a girlfriend. And despite that she started meeting him. It was going like that for a few months now and there was definitely more of the tension between them. And someone had to be smart about it, before something wrong would happen.

As much as she wanted and craved his touch, needed to feel him and imagined all the things she would let him do to her…… she just couldn’t let it happen. It was wrong on so many levels. Not only because of ovary solidarity, but she simply couldn’t bear the thought of making someone unhappy. And this was the way it was going to end up.

And that was the reason behind her text to Grayson, who were surprisingly quiet for too long and it got her spinning. What if his girl was around and saw the message? What if he was busy with her at moment, getting so loud he actually missed the notification.

Shit.

She didn’t want it, but the jealousy creeped inside her. This was so damn wrong! She never should have started that drama in the first place, but the heart and the body wants what it wants.

“Damn it, Dick. Answer me!” she almost begged, furiously poking the phone with her thumb, trying to refresh the conversation.

“What about?” he finally favoured her with the quick response

“You know what.”

“come at my place then.”

“Is she around?”

“No. She’s out for some convention. I’m alone for the whole weekend L Could use some company ;)”

“You’re not gonna like it.” She warned, biting on her lip and hesitating for a moment before sending that.

“Oh, sunshine, I love whenever you are around. Come on over, I am waiting for you.”

So that was it.

Tonight she was going to break this crazy, inappropriate deal.

The way to Dick’s apartment was most likely the longest and worst drive she ever had in her entire life. It gave her mind way to much time to wonder how they met (at the Wayne gala), how she found out he actually had a girlfriend (well, to be honest, he pretty much told her that) and how she was going to let him go.

Yes. It just had to be done.

Even if her body and heart were screaming something completely different.

She had only been at Dick’s place for a couple times, since for obvious reasons, it was rather him to visit her. Even if nothing explicit ever happened between them. It was all innocent kisses and hugs and cuddling. However, anytime she actually managed to come, the magnificence of the apartment took her breath away. Grayson was the oldest son of the multimillionaire and it was definitely showing.

Once she stopped her old and a bit rusty car, next to his shiny porshe on the driveway it was clear that they did not fit each other. Taking her sweet time, almost like her legs were begging to turn around and keep things in the same way Y/N managed to walk to the doors and gathering all her strength knocked a few times.

“Baby!” Dick was so fast to open that if Y/N didn’t know better she would think he was actually waiting for her. But no, it was just his Nightwing instincts.

Yeah, right. Nightwing. That was just another little thing he was using in their relationship.

Did his girlfriend even know about that other side of his?

Did he even love her?

Because it was obvious that his girlfriend loved him. But if it wasn’t reciprocated than maybe……

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Dick became a bit alerted watching her blurry and distracted gaze. If only he knew how she was fighting inside. “Come on, talk to me….” He whispered, putting one hand on her waist, the other on her chin making her look up straight at him. Straight into those pretty, honest, blue eyes, she learned to love so much.

“I….I’m fine.’ She stuttered, raising on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek briefly, pulling away almost immediately.

“Nah. Give me a proper kiss.” He leaned forward and captured her lips into his again, this time with more urgency, passion and way more touching her body.

“Dick!’ she struggled free taking him by surprise ‘come on, stop. We really do need to talk.”

“Oh, no.’ he let out a chuckle “is it one of those it’s not you, it’s me situations. Cause I…..” he stopped in the middle of the sentence noticing her stern gaze.

“Can just come inside?” she sighed deeply.

“Of course. I suppose it’s not the kind of conversation you can have on the threshold?”

Dick led her through the maze of corridors and just following him got her a bit dizzy. Finally they ended up in the living room, as he motioned for her to seat down on the couch, which she refused and completely unable to stay put started walking around watching all the bibelots on the shelves.

“Would you like something to drink? Seems like you need it.”

“I don’t.” she mumbled, still walking around. Shit. How was she even supposed to start talking. Not even a single word could get past her throat.

“Sunshine.” Dick took a step forward and reached for her hand.

“We need to stop this.” She burst in response

“End what?”

“this….” She waved her hand around between them “this crazy shit going on. I don’t even know what we are anymore. I don’t know who I am!”

“You’re the woman I love.’

“Oh, really.” She scoffed “than how come you still have an official girlfriend and …. Me? I am some sort of distraction for you?”

“Baby…..” he sighed

“Stop calling me that!”

“I told you, I’m in this official relationship, because of ….”

“Bruce. Yeah, I remember you saying that. But this secret mission or whatever you say you need her for, is taking way to long. And becoming way to real for me to like it” she pointed at the photos on the shelves in those tiny, cute little frames. “It’s not a mission anymore, Dick. You have a life with her. Not me. And every time we meet in secret it makes me feel dirty. I feel like a fucking whore, Grayson. Even if we never….. you know….”

“You’re not a whore. You could never be, my sweet girl.” Before he could reach for her she jumped away and turn her back to him, now carefully observing all the other pictures hang on the walls. Photos of him, of her, of them together. Laughing, kissing, fooling around. Just simply being happy. She just couldn’t handle it anymore. She wanted him, but not for such price. Not for the price of another girl’s broken heart.

“Do you love her?” she cried out when the tears started falling. It took him a bit too long to answer “do you love her, dick!?” she repeated this time yelling and facing him through her wet eyes. “Do you…..?” her voice broke

“I…..” he started, but she didn’t let him finish.

“Fuck you, Grayson! Look what you made out of me!” she clenched her fist, barely holding back for throwing something at him. It was crazy. All the contradictory things she felt just found a way out and instead of confronting him calmly, she was ping-ponging, torn between begging him to choose her, shouting at his face or running away, slamming the door behind her and never getting back here. And the realization that she was acting crazy actually made her calm down in a blink of an eye. “That’s it, Dick. It’s over. I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired and sick of myself. I’m leaving.” She spun around but before she could really leave, he grabbed her arm and that sudden touch made her freeze on the spot.

“Why?” he simply asked.

“Why?” she repeated, eyes growing wide, not that he could see it “are you serious?”

“Yes.” He took a step forward pressing his chest to her back tightly, moving his hands up and down her sides “you know I want you, baby. Why do you keep resisting me?” now his lips were kissing her neck. So lightly, almost impalpably and yet sending shivers down her spine and making all her noble impulses crumble.

“Dick….. I …..” she moaned unable to hold back due all his touches and nibbling on her skin. She was literally on fire and even if she knew that at this moment there was no way out, she was still trying to fight.

“yes, baby?” he whispered against her skin, hands sneaking under her t-shirt and travelling onto her belly and lower, playing with the hem of her pants and panties.

“this is wrong….. “ she whined and squirmed a bit, fighting the urge to grab his arm and guide him where she needed “this … this will be cheating. You’ll be a cheater.”

“Then tell me to stop.” He bit on her earlobe “tell me you don’t want this the same way I do and I’ll let you go. You’ll be free of me. Forever. Tell me if that’s what you want.”

“Fuck.” She hissed when his fingers dig under her underwear. Now she just couldn’t hide how much she wanted him as well. She was soaked and he felt that.

“so, what’s it gonna be?”

“Ah!” she threw her head back onto his shoulders, feeling the tease on her folds “Dick!”

“What do you want, babe?”

“Fuck me….” She breathed out.

And just like that she relented to him. She was just a girl and he knew how to use that.

“Finally….” He groaned spinning her around and in a blink of an eye, pinning her to the wall “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for you?” her shirt was gone, all that soft skin exposed and it was impossible for him to keep his hands from touching, caressing and pinching it “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve dreamed about having you like this? How many patrol nights I spend with your body on my mind?” he released her from her bra in one single motion taking just a second to gloat the sight of her bare breast, bouncing up and down because of her heavy breath “but you were just so stubborn, baby.” He put his lips on hers kissing her with fire that was burning inside him. God, he was going to devour her, trap her underneath him for hours, teach her a lesson for all the times she turned him away “your girlfriend this, your girlfriend that” he mocked, playing with the button of jeans and pulling the zipper down “fuck, you are so much better than her. You’re the one I want. Shit, you’re the one I need.”

“Dick…” she whined, arching her back to him, embracing him, wanting him closer to her. Impossibly closer. She craved the feeling of his naked skin on hers, but knew he wouldn’t be the one to satisfy that need too easy. Oh, that little prick was in a teasing mood. “Please… don’t …. Talk about her. Not now.”

“Right. Sorry.” He whispered, running hands thought her hair, tilting her head back in the process, kissing the column of her throat. Oh, that sweet view was making him impossibly hard. Painfully hard. She was right in front of him, almost completely naked except for that little piece of material that were her panties. “It’s just you and me now.” he grabbed her hips and grinded on her clothed pussy, earning a loud moan and scratching on his back “you’re mine.”

‘I want you, Dick!” She cried out, once again trying to lift his shirt up but he caught her wrists in one hand and lift her hands above her head.

“Not just yet, love. You’ve been a bad girl, you know. Making me go through a lot of trouble to help myself….”

“I’m sorry!” Y/N screamed when he leaned down and focused on her tits, nibbling, kissing and sucking on the nipples, alternatively “I’m sorry, Dick, oh, god, this feels so fucking good. Don’t stop, please.”

“I’m only getting started.” He smirked and before her lust-driven brain realized what was happening he tore her panties away, grabbing her backs of her thighs and wrapping them around his waist, holding onto her tightly. He had her. Absolutely exposed, clinging onto him with need, want, lust. She wasn’t running or denying what they had. Not anymore. And after tonight he was going to make sure she would never do that again.

“Dick…” she squirmed in his embrace, creating a bit of friction she so desperately need, those soft hands cradling through his hair, mouth on his, unable to pull back even for a second. She was going to burn if they were separated for barely a second. “I want to feel you.”

“Here?” he smirked

“No.” she whined “take me to bed. Take me to your bed and make me yours.”

***

A minute later she was laying in the same sheets, the other girl used to be in, her hands tied to the headboard. Fuck, Y/N was going to have sex with Dick in the same bed, she was sleeping in. And when he throw her on the mattress and climbed all over her, caressing her whole body and pressing into her, that though suddenly became so hot, rather than repulsive. She was in his bed cause of some crazy scheming, Y/N was here cause he wanted her to. And his every touch and movement were proving that.

“please take it off.” She glanced at his shirt and this time he listened, pulling it away and throwing somewhere on the floor, immediately focusing back on her.

“Y/N….” he groaned “you’re better than I imagined. So much better.”

“Please let me touch you….” those stupid ropes, he was so good at tying were biting onto her oft skin but surprisingly even to her, this pain was strangely turning her on.

“are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

‘Yes, yes, please, anything you want.”

‘I want those hands on me while I fuck you. I want those eyes staring into mine when I make you feel good. Can you do that, Y/N” he lift his head a bit and glanced at her.

“Yes…” she gasped “Please….”

“Hmmmm.” He tapped his chin “I thought you wanted my pants gone, before…..”

“I do. God, shit, fuck, Dick. I want everything! I want anything! Whatever you give me, just please do something ‘cause I swear I will combust!”

“We don’t want that, do we?” he smirked and did all of those things at once. His cock was free, as well as her hands and she wasted no time in wrapping all her limbs around him.

“You want me ?” he asked eyeing her

“So bad, dick, so fucking bad.”

“you have me.” He pushed in, slowly, not to cause her any pain. It was their first time after all, and since he was planning on many, many more, it wouldn’t be wise to give her any trauma. It took him a while to bottom put, all while feeling that sweet scratching on his back, and when he did they both moaned in unison, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of one another.

“You taste to sweet, so good. So much better than….”

“Sh!” he kissed him only to shut his mouth up “don’t talk about it.”

“Sorry baby.” He extended his hand towards her right side of the bed reaching for something that sparkled a bit in the dimly room and throwing it away. The thing ended up on the floor, broken, judging by the sound.

“What was that?”

‘nothing important.” He responded, resuming worshiping her and moving slightly. Even though at this point he didn’t have to do a thing since she was desperate enough to fuck herself on his cock, he wanted to make her feel good. To prove all those words from before. Her hands digging into his shoulders, grinding on him, lips being connected, teeth clashing, hair getting pulled at was telling him that he truly was doing a good work. She just wanted him closer, deeper, railing her stronger, faster, harder.

“more dick, more…”

“I love you.” he whispered, now complying to all her wishes ‘only you. I want to be with you.”

“We can talk about it later, now just give me an orgasm Dick. Cause fuck, I’m so close, so fucking close!”

“What do you want?”

“You. All of you. Give it to me Dick.” Y/N tightened the grip on him, opening her legs a bit more, allowing him to reach her g-spot, pressing her body tighter, spasming underneath him “just give it to me. Ah! I’m …. I’m gonna cum”

“Look at me baby. Look at me when you do.”

“Ah! DICK!” she screamed when the high hit her, almost making her black out, the only word on her mind being limited to him. “Dick, yes, oh, yes, yes, so damn good. So good, baby, so good. Don’t pull out….” Y/N stopped him when he tried to move away from her body

“Inside?” his eyes grew wide.

“Yes. I told you, I need to feel you.”

“shit, you’re so hot” their mouths crashed again, swallowing each other’s moans and groans when his cum filled her up completely. Their bodies sweaty and trembling due to extortion, but not ready to let go of each other yet, instead holding close and kissing, but this time slower, gentler without the urgency from before. Now they had each other, for good and for worse.

“Stay with me tonight.” He whispered leaning his forehead on hers “don’t go back to your place.”

“I’m not. But……”

“I mean what I said before, Y/N” he confessed “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dick.” She sobbed and let him hold her and soothe her and whisper sweet words inside her mind.

Was it wrong? Yes.

But was it the best sex they both ever had? Also yes.

And they could think about the future and clearing all this shit out later. Preferably much later. But for now, all they needed was the bliss and aftercare and maybe round two. No talking and no thinking about the future.

Even if the future was heading their direction with the speed of light, since the convention was cancelled.

Whoopsy…..

To be continued? (if someone wants.... :D)

Edit: part 2

@justafanficsreader

@arfrona

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson smut #nightwing smut #dick grayson x oc #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x you #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x oc #nightwing x you #dc dick grayson #dc smut #smut #dick grayson angst #nightwing angst

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pernesophe · 28 days ago

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Arranged Marriage to the Demon Sakuragi

Chapter 1: Move

WC: 6090 Synopsis: You are an American who moved back to Japan to live with your father - Kenzo Asano - after your grandmother passed away. Truthfully, you had started receiving cryptic letters, small messages, and flowers left in places you’d typically be. One thing that remained constant was the signature: “It’s a beautiful day for flowers, isn’t it?” After a few months being back home, your father proposes you marry The Demon of Sakuragi to ease tensions between the two rival clans. You agree, hoping your marriage can create a lasting alliance and peace. How will you manage being wife of The Demon turned babysitter? Can he love you? Can you love him? Will the letters and flowers stop now that you’re in Japan, with a husband who is Yakuza to boot?

MDNI TW: angst, stalking, general fear / paranoia, multiple character deaths mentioned / grief, slow burn, fluff, eventual smut Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5

Life is wonderful, beautiful, and at times perhaps a little grotesque. This is what you have intimately learned over the years, between moving back to America with your mother to help your grandmother care for your ailing grandfather. Days were spent watching TV and listening to his whimsical stories about when he was a boy and how everything was so different now - all the while the room reeked of antiseptic to keep the deadly germs at bay. To the day that your mother’s head cold turned lethal, and a short 24 hours later you were helping your grandmother choose floral arrangements for the wake. You were grateful for your grandmother just as much as she was for you as the two of you poured over the arrangements, and finally decided on Stark White Lilies. Your mother’s favorite.

This fact was drilled in when you decided to volunteer at the hospital, specifically in the burn ward. It was gruesome, even turned your stomach the way heat and flame could crisp a person like they were flambe. The stench permeated your hair, clothes, and when it wasn’t burnt skin it was the antiseptic that burned your nose - the rubber glove smell that clung to your fingertips. Still, you couldn’t help the wealth of beauty in watching a person burn to almost a husk, and then be put back together again. It was like watching a forest regrow after an inferno tore through the mountainside.

For some reason you didn’t mind the smell, the sight, or the way some patients would direct their anger at you - all of it felt cleansing to the losses you’d felt up to that point. Because at least they were going home, and you got to facilitate that, like a gardener diligently watering, fertilizing and pruning a dying plant until it could flourish once more.

It took your mind off the fact that your grandfather’s chair has sat empty for years now, since he passed only one short year after your mother, and yet the living room still reeked of antiseptic somehow. Or how you haven’t been able to replace the white lilies on your mother’s grave stone in months, and you weren’t sure when or if you would visit her again. It especially distracted you from the fact that your grandmother was growing older and weaker with each passing day, or how you could almost feel the grief and ensuing loneliness clawing at your ankles with each step you took.

Still, as you looked yourself over in the L hall bathroom mirror just outside the NICU, a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes cut across your face. Twisting the silver band around your thumb that belonged to your grandfather, then you smoothed down your marigold scrubs and exited the bathroom. As you stepped under the fluorescent lights reflected by the shiny bleached floor under your bright, white tennis shoes - one of the nurses called out to you.

“Hey Y/N, look what someone left for you!” Lynn, the brunette nurse with kind mocha eyes, said as she held up an ornate vase filled with stark white lilies, a knowing grin on her face. “Someone has a secret admirer,” she added in a teasing tone with a wiggle of her brow.

A curious expression twisted your face as you crossed to the nursing station, taking the flowers from her. On the tallest one hung a small handwritten card on a string. Without any hesitation, you opened the card to reveal a short message:

“It’s a beautiful day for flowers.”

It was odd to say the least, but you just assumed whoever sent them was maybe a little awkward. Simpering down at the note as a blush crept over your cheeks, you looked back at the nurse with excitement in your eyes.

“Did you see who left them?” You asked her, barely containing your giddiness, while she put on a dramatic scowl before responding.

“Ugh, I wish! I came back from the bathroom and they were just on the counter. I even asked around if anyone saw who left them, but nobody did.” She said, the disappointment evident in her tone.

Humming curiously, but you smiled nonetheless, wondering who would think to send you flowers. That night you showed them to your grandmother, to which she was overjoyed for you, but then she asked if white lilies were your favorite. Like your mom. After some thought you disclosed that no, they weren’t your favorite. She had also mentioned that it was odd for a secret admirer to send you lilies, even going as far to ask, “why not roses?”

Of course you had to admit that it was a little odd, not to mention a weird coincidence that they’re the same type of flowers from your mother’s wake and funeral. But you just chocked it up to that - a weird coincidence, and that maybe your admirer was just socially awkward.

Little did you know that this wouldn’t be the last of the flowers and notes - far from it actually.

After that day at the hospital, you started receiving flowers with the same message everywhere you went. Some days you’d arrive at your one class at Uni to find an intricate vase housing a plumage of blindingly white lilies. Of course, the girls in your class would ooh and aah over them, how lucky you were, and you would thank them with a smile despite the mounting unease at the sight of them. It became a common occurrence for your volunteer manager to pull you aside at the start of your shift to deliver yet another decadent display of florals, and though she would compliment them it was becoming increasingly apparent that she was growing tired of it.

One day when you were walking home from your shift at the hospital, you passed the phone booth on the corner, and what was left inside like some ornate piece of jewelry in a display case? Stark. White. Lilies.

Panic climbed up your spine and constricted your lungs as you whipped your head to and fro for any glimpse of your secret “admirer”. Despite every primal urge screaming at you not to, you opened the booth and gingerly picked up the flowers to find the signature card:

“It’s a beautiful day for flowers.”

Stumbling out of the booth, your rubber soles scuffed on the pavement - the glass vase slipping from your grasp to where it shattered in front of the bi-fold door. Your lungs burned and your muscles ached as you sprinted the whole way home. The moment you burst through the apartment door, you slammed it shut and bolted the lock before collapsing in your bewildered grandmother’s arms. All you told her was that you had a bad day at the hospital as she soothingly stroked your hair and shushed your sobs, still not quite sure how to explain what was going on.

What even was going on?

That question plagued your mind all through the night and into the next day. The following weeks felt like you were just floating through them as you waited for the next flower delivery, but to your surprise they stopped. Weeks turned into months, and after a while you began to relax - believing that whoever was messing with you found something, or someone, of more interest.

Until your mother’s death anniversary rolled around. It was still tender even though it had happened years ago, so you and your grandmother would typically hole up in the apartment and watch “Beaches”. Your mom’s favorite movie.

The day had passed much the same as the years prior - both of you woke up, made breakfast, cleaned a bit, and lit an incense on your mother’s shrine. The two of you went about your separate activities until the evening came, where you cooked dinner together before settling in for the movie.

As the opening credits began, the doorbell rang, and you looked at each other curiously while shaking your heads. Neither of you were expecting company tonight. So, you told your grandmother to stay on the couch while you went to see who it was. Peering through the peephole first, but all you saw was the empty corridor. Cautiously, you opened the door a crack to see no one there, but as you went to shut it a flash of white caught your eye. As your gaze focused downward, air caught in your throat, heart pounding against your ribs.

Carefully placed on the doormat, directly in the center as if to frame it, was the fanciest vase yet housing none other than a stunning bouquet of white lilies. After a long moment, you swallowed thickly, and then stooped to pick up the vase. Opening the card tied delicately to the largest lily, you felt your blood run cold as your eyes scanned the cryptic message:

“It’s a beautiful day for flowers, isn’t it?”

It had changed, albeit slightly, but why? Immediately, you stepped out of the apartment and walked the flowers straight to the dumpsters at the bottom of the stairs. They made a satisfying crashing sound as the glass exploded against the side of the metal basin, and as you climbed back up the stairs you tried to not think about the fact that whoever it was knew where you lived.

Several months passed before you received another bouquet. During that time, you mulled over the flowers, notes, and specifically your mother’s death date. The more you thought it over the more you were convinced that maybe it wasn’t intended to be cruel? Though the note sounded almost congratulatory, it could have been meant to be a condolence. Anxiety held you by the nape through every waking moment as you ping ponged between analyzing the messages, and trying not to think about them at all.

That is until your grandmother fell and broke her elbow.

It had just started getting icy outside, and you had been nagging her about the stairs being slippery, so you already knew when you received the call. Luckily she was taken to the hospital where you volunteer so you went straight to her room, but on the way one of the nurses flagged you down.

“Y/N! Someone left these for you,” she said as she held up a vase of white lilies. A notch formed in your brow just from the sight, but you quickly told her that you would come back after checking on your grandmother. Luckily, despite the break, it wasn’t too bad.

After checking on her, you returned to the nurses station for the flowers. As expected, a note was delicately tied to the top of the flowers. It was the same message as the one from your mother’s death anniversary:

“It’s a beautiful day for flowers, isn’t it?”

A deep sense of unease that you just couldn’t shake seeped into your bones. Still, you never mentioned it to your grandmother, especially with her recent injury - she already had enough on her plate. So, the following months passed looking over your shoulder, because you constantly felt like you were being watched.

Unfortunately, after your grandmother was released from the hospital, she came down with the flu and it wasn’t long before she was back in the hospital. Though you knew the years were adding up for her, it was difficult to watch the strong woman who raised you deteriorate in a hospital bed. Even the burn ward brought you little comfort during this time, because whereas you knew they were going home, in your heart of hearts you knew your grandmother wasn’t.

It had been months since the last time you received flowers, but when you saw the stark white lilies on the doormat of your apartment you knew right then and there that your grandmother died. They arrived before the call came a few moments later, and the sympathetic “I’m so sorry, she’s gone…” was uttered through the phone. Anger, sadness, dread - none of it could penetrate the thick numbness that settled over you as you made your way to the hospital.

That night after you picked up a volunteer shift, a male volunteer - Cyrus - who just started at the hospital offered to walk you home since he lived nearby, because you were obviously having a day. The two of you weren’t close, but had had enough amicable conversations that you agreed. He was kind enough to let you vent to him, and for some reason you spilled everything.

From the first flowers with the message you received, to the ones that were left for you this morning. Cyrus was shaken by your story, and convinced you to report everything to the police, and promised to come back the next morning to go with you to the police and make a report. For the first time in a long while, you felt relief mingled with a sense of hope that maybe things would be okay.

As the sun rose the next morning, and you waited to hear from your newfound friend, your phone stayed silent. No knocks were tapped on your door - he never came or called. But what did arrive were more flowers with another note. You weren’t sure when they were left on your doormat, but they were waiting for you when you decided to just head to the hospital and stop waiting around.

Dread crept over your skin like the cold after you step out of the shower and don’t dry off right away. Though you tried not to think about it - to not consider the possibilities - later that day, you heard that your coworker’s apartment burned down and that he was in the ICU.

Only then did you start to believe that it was more than a prank or mean joke. You had a stalker, and they were dangerous.

You were steeped in a tingly numbness for the rest of the day. Even as you walked home, you couldn’t bring yourself to look over your shoulder or search for any signs that your secret “admirer” was around. Walking through the door of your empty apartment while you tried not to analyze the new definition behind that phrase as you sank into the couch. Without much thought you pulled out your phone, staring at the numbers, as you dialed one you still knew by heart. Even if you hadn’t called it in quite some time. The shadows in your apartment shifted with passing headlights below as the line rang.

“Asano residence,” a gruff voice answered. One you recognized, but it wasn’t the person you were trying to reach.

“Um. Hello… I’m sorry to call so late, or early… sorry I’m not sure what time it is there.” Nervously rambling as you tried to find the words. Why were you calling anyway? It’s been so long since the two of you talked, so maybe he wouldn’t want to hear from you anyway. The voice on the other end remained silent through your rambling, until finally you asked.

“I-it’s Y/N. Could I speak to my dad… please?” Stumbling over your words as you choked out what you wanted to say. After a long pause, the gruff voice answered, but brighter this time.

“Y/N!! I haven’t heard from you in awhile! It’s me - Kenji! How are you?!” He inquired excitedly. Kenji had always been like an older brother to you, and was often saddled with babysitting you when you lived in Japan.

A part of you felt overjoyed to hear his excitement, but it was also the first time you’ve been asked how you are in so long. A lump formed in your throat as hot, wet tears fell down your face and sniffles echoed through the receiver.

“Y/N? Are you still there?” Concern laced Kenji’s voice at the sound of soft sniffling on the other side of the phone. Which only mounted into anxiety when you failed to choke back a sob as the damn broke.

“K-Kenji,” you cried wetly, “e-everything is s-so messed u-up… I j-just want to come h-home.” Voice cracking over your words - barely getting out what you needed to say before you were racked with body shaking sobs.

“Y/N…” Kenji’s own voice cracked when he heard you sobbing on the other end, and you could hear muffled voices in the background. Some words came through like, “is she alright?”, “what’s going on?” But Kenji was too busy floundering over what he could say to you to answer them. Finally, Kenji figured out what to say as his soothing voice came through the phone again.

“Hey, hey, hey - it’s okay Y/N. Everything will be okay. We’re coming to get you. Soma and Hanzo are already on their way - how does that sound?” He sounded more like a mother comforting her crying child, then the intimidating man you knew him to be.

“G-good, t-thank you…” you whispered back as your sobs subsided a little bit.

“You still live in the same apartment?” He asked, and you hummed out an affirmative. “They won’t get there until the day after tomorrow - will you be okay until then?” He questioned softly.

“Mhm, I’ll be okay. Thank you Kenji…” warbling out between sniffles. “Sorry I haven’t been keeping in touch,” you whispered pathetically afterwards.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call to check on you tomorrow, okay?” His tone was still calming to the point that you could almost be convinced he wasn't Yakuza.

“Okay. Goodnight.” You whispered before hanging up, and then you curled into the cushion of your sofa as you watched the night pass through the sliding glass door. You realized you didn’t sleep at all when the first rays of light touched the balcony and filtered in through the foggy glass.

Two Days Later:

Barely leaving your apartment over the past couple of days, you anxiously packed and fidgeted around between boxing things and peering out the window. You didn’t bother wrapping up with the leasing office or your job, since Kenji promised to take care of everything. Somehow he did too - from the other side of the world.

No flowers came in the time you waited. Maybe because whoever was sending them didn’t think you leaving the country warranted “a beautiful day for flowers.”

The morning after you called Kenji, you called him back to explain the sudden death in your family, so you didn’t have to when Hanzo and Soma arrived. Conveniently, you left out the stalker with the hopes that moving across an ocean would deter them.

When Hanzo and Soma made their way up the stairs to your apartment, they discussed what to get for lunch while they helped you pack. So when they knocked and you met them at the door with 3 pieces of luggage and a purse slung over your shoulder, they were taken aback.

“Need help… packing?” Hanzo started to ask, but trailed off as he peered around you to see a completely empty apartment. Since they took care of everything else, you spent the past two days selling all the furniture in your apartment.

“Oh no thank you, everything’s packed already. Are y’all ready to go?” Punctuating your question with a tilt of your head, as you smiled brightly at them. Though your eyes weren’t able to hide the fact that you were itching to get out of there while you nervously fidgeted with the silver band around your thumb.

“No problem, let’s go.” Soma said curtly, not bothering with Hanzo’s concerned look thrown his way. Gesturing towards the stairs, he lets you lead the way to the sleek black car parked outside of the leasing office. After everything is loaded and you’ve settled into the leather backseat, the three of you began the long journey home.

Back Home in Japan

Kenzo Asano, your father, and head of the Asano clan cut his trip short when he received a call from his second in command, Kenji, about you coming home. His tentative partners, at one time rivals with the Asanos, the Sakuragi Clan were actually pretty understanding. Thankfully.

Though you insisted that he stay and finish up his business, since between Kenji, Hanzo and Soma the move, funeral and burial were all covered. Still, he arrived at the Asano estate mere hours after you and pulled you into a big bear hug. It had been years since anyone had hugged you like that, so you couldn’t stop the flood of tears as you sobbed into your dad’s chest.

After you had calmed down, he took you to the conference room, where you told him about your grandma’s injury, her hospital stay, and her eventual passing. Though you deliberately left out the flowers, notes, and stalker. He poured green tea into two matching cups while he listened intently.

“I’m so sorry Y/N,” he spoke softly after you finished regaling the past several months to him. “I had no idea you’ve been shouldering all of that by yourself.” He said as he patted your hand soothingly. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks from his words, but you couldn’t think of what to say in response. The validation was cathartic though.

After you two finished your tea, your dad showed you to your room. It was almost exactly how you left it when you moved away, barring a bigger bed and some updated decorations. Your dad told you that Kenji could help if you wanted to change anything, but just told him it was perfect. That night, for the first time since you were maybe 10, your dad tucked you in. It felt incredibly nostalgic as he bid you a goodnight from the door before switching out the light.

After about a week of milling about the estate and catching up with old faces, you fell into a routine pretty easily. It was a little awkward to be around your father again at some points, especially when conversation would steer towards the past or your mother. But he was as doting as he had always been, so it wasn’t a huge deal. After about a month, he was able to find you a good therapist to process grief, and helped you get a job at the local art museum. Your dad said it would be a good change of pace from the hospital, and your therapist agreed. At the end of the day, he knew you just needed something to keep you distracted and busy.

Though you weren’t convinced about the museum job at first, missing the hustle and bustle of the hospital, you eventually grew to love it. It was wonderful, beautiful, and grotesque in a completely different way. There was no smell of burnt skin or antiseptic, just lemon scented cleaning products and moth balls. Everyone you worked with had their favorite exhibits, but they were intrigued when they found out yours wasn’t a specific exhibit, but very specific pieces of grotesque art.

“The Bad Doctors” by James Ensor that toured through the museum at one point. Your interest was absolutely piqued after you read its description:

“The theme of Ensor's satirical print goes back to an old visual tradition, in which doctors are reduced to money-making caricatures and characterised as quacks and charlatans. Not infrequently, the supposed link between the practice of the doctor and death is emphasised. All these elements are also present in Ensor's print, including the doctors ordering each other around and the man with the scythe sneaking into the room. The doctors depicted were all professors at the medical faculty of the Université Libre de Bruxelles. From left to right they are represented: Jules-Adrien Thiriar, Emile Yseux, Guillaume Rommelaere, Jean-Joseph Crocq and Joseph Sacré. The unfortunate patient has not been identified.”

This piece in particular reminded you of the hustle and bustle of the hospital for obvious reasons, but more specifically when someone coded. It was like every person on the floor would jump into action while you stood back against the wall. Sometimes, when the person didn’t make it, just before the frantic life saving efforts were halted, you could feel a stillness fall over the person. Then, the room, and slowly that stillness would spread throughout the hospital. You never saw it, but it truly felt as if death walked past every panicked body in the room just to pluck the patient’s soul and carry them down the quieting corridor.

Next, you favored “The Cave of Spleen” by Aubrey Beardsley which illustrates the poem “The Rape of the Lock, Canto IV” written by Alexander Pope. The drawing itself was quite endearing - filled with thin ink lines to create fantastical women with animal legs, florals here and there, all swirled in the dark lines of the main woman’s hair. The section of the poem that the drawing was based on had to do with a man who stole a lock of a woman's hair and how the world around him became strange and distorted after that. If you had to guess by the look of the drawing, it seemed as if the man lost his sanity all together.

Finally, “The Intrigue” by James Ensor that toured through shortly after “The Bad Doctors”. Though the description was shorter, again you were thoroughly interested: “The story behind the painting is autobiographical and inspired by an actual event during Ensor's life. It depicts his sister's marriage with a Chinese art dealer from Berlin that caused a scandal in Ensor's hometown.” The painting itself was so expressive, that you didn’t feel the description required more than that. The art dealer’s face was stoic and unexpressive, while the people around him wore wide grins - some throwing their heads back in laughter. It was one of those paintings that was difficult to deep-dive into an analysis about, but it did often leave you with a sense of second-hand embarrassment tinged with melancholy.

Each of the pieces encompassed all of those things you ached for that the hospital had satiated. They were masterfully done, and conveyed a rawness that you rarely saw outside of that gruesome building. A form of dark humor that you hadn’t heard muttered outside of those blindingly white walls before. Sometimes you would hear, “I could’ve done that,” spat through the exhibit. But it always brought a knowing smile to your lips, because truly they couldn’t. Just like they shy away from rag filled bins in the corner of hospital rooms - they shied away from these pieces as well, making it simply impossible for them to wade through such dark emotions, let alone recreate them.

Outside of working at the museum, you also found that you had a penchant for karaoke. You only discovered this after meeting a curious fellow wearing bright red heels, Rei Hojo. It was raining terribly on your way home from work, and while rounding a corner you ran face first into a broad chest that emitted a high pitched, ‘oof!’ Stumbling over yourself with apologies, but the kind man just waved you off and offered to buy you a cup of coffee while the rain died down. While the two of you sat in the cafe, talking and giggling like old friends, you learned that Rei was in the area because he was doing karaoke today. Never having done something like that before, he offered to bring you along which you happily agreed. Turns out you're a pretty good singer, and Rei made sure to let you know through squealing compliments. Safe to say the two of you became fast friends. So a lot of your friday or saturday evenings were spent telling your father that you were working a late shift at the museum while you belted duets with Rei.

Despite how kind everyone had been, you still couldn’t bring up your stalker to your family or therapist. Every time you considered telling your dad or Kenji, some voice in your head would tell you that you left all of that behind you. The Secret “Admirer” was in America, and you were in Japan now. Safe and sound. Even though you froze everytime you got mail, and physically flinched when flowers were brought into the house.

It’s not like everyone around the estate didn’t notice - it’s kind of their line of work to notice things that are out of place, especially when it comes to their own family. But none of them knew what was wrong, or how to ask you about it. They all assumed you were working it out in therapy.

Since you had fallen into a routine and found some things to keep you busy, you didn’t really notice that the things they did ask you about pertained to relationships. Dating. Who you were currently dating, or if you wanted to date. What your thoughts are on marriage. Though the questions put a notch in your brow at times, you just chocked it up to them being protective or something.

The only other thing of note was how they consistently talked about “The Demon of Sakuragi” or “Yakuza Crusher” Kirishima. It’s not like anyone spoke to you directly about him, but the stories you heard were certainly daunting to say the least. But you just assumed it wasn’t any of your business, so you didn’t dwell on it too much.

2-3 months later:

No flowers or notes have been delivered or left for you anywhere, but still you couldn’t shake this dreadful feeling that you were being watched again. When you were walking alone you fell back into the habit of looking over your shoulder, and sometimes you would catch yourself doing a double take because you thought you saw stark white lilies.

One day after your shift at the museum, you were called into a meeting with multiple members of the family - something that you’ve never really experienced before. Your father informed you that the Asano clan was working towards an alliance with the Sakuragi clan. Of course you were aware that the two families have been at odds for decades, but you weren’t sure what that had to do with you. Kenzo finished by saying that he hoped to achieve a “lasting peace” between the two clans.

“That’s great, right?” You quietly offered, despite the tension in the room.

“Ahem yes, but we need something more concrete than a verbal agreement…” Kenzo cleared his throat before speaking, and then trailed off. A notch formed in your brow as you cocked your head at the uncertainty in his tone.

“Typically, by tradition, the two families would seal an alliance with a marriage contract…” elaborating slowly as he tilted his head forward, hoping the gears would turn. As you just stared at him, he added, “that’s where you would come in, if you are willing.”

The gears have only just started turning as the word ‘marriage contract’ solidifies in your mind. When you continued silently staring at him, Kenzo offered lightly, “I know you’re only 23, and you’ve been through a lot lately. But I’m hoping this could be a new chapter for you. Also the person you would marry, if you agree, is only 28. So he’s not too much older than you, nor has he ever been married before.”

“Who would I be marrying?” Inquiring curiously as you leaned a little closer over the table to grip your cup of tea.

“Toru Kirishima…” your father hesitated before continuing as he mulled over to divulge the next piece of information.

“He’s called the ‘Demon of Sakuragi’, but he’s mellowed out a lot since he was given that title. Kazuhiko has also assured me that Kirishima is respectable, and the Sakuragi clan does not abide mistreatment of their female family members.” He rushed to get the details out. Of course, you were aware that the bitter feud has caused a few issues to their tentative alliance. Honestly, even in the few short months since arriving you’ve gotten really good at patching knife wounds because of it.

‘The Demon of Sakuragi�� Intimidating. I think even my stalker would think twice…’, musing silently, and then you swiftly chastised yourself - hating the fact that this faceless person still occupied your mind. Peering into the now cold cup grasped in your palms as you mulled over the decision wordlessly.

“Okay. I agree.” Finally you broke the silence with your words, devoid of any doubt.

“Well, if you would just give it some thought…” Kenzo began reflexively, before your words registered, “wait. You agree?!” His head snapped up from where he was staring at his hands as the shocked words bounced off the bamboo floors.

“Yes, I agree. Am I allowed to make my own requests about the contract though?” Querying apprehensively before you straightened up and squared your shoulders to look at your father officially, attempting to be assertive.

“Uh, well. It depends on what they are…” Kenzo responded slowly as a crease formed in his brow. It had been so long since the two of you lived together, so he couldn’t really predict what your demands would be.

“Well, I guess I don’t know what the marriage contract entails… or if there’ll be a wedding…” beginning cautiously as your nerves started to get the better of you, but Kenzo just nodded for you to continue.

“If there is a wedding, then I left mom’s dress and hairpin with a good friend back in the States…” you inhaled a slow breath to steady yourself before making the request, “the letter she left with them said she wanted me to wear them when I get married. So I don't know if it’s possible, but if there is a wedding, then I’d like to have those shipped here.” Despite your attempts to be assertive, your voice shook, and you felt yourself shrinking inward the longer you spoke. Though your father just threw you a gentle smile at the simple request.

“There will certainly be a wedding, probably the biggest we’ve seen in a long time.” He reassured you with an airy laugh as he room filled with soft chuckles, and the tension in the room finally dissipated. “I will ensure your mother’s effects are shipped here well before the date. We’ll be sure to find a planner who can merge some Eastern and Western themes for you as well.” Kenzo promised as a wide grin spread over his face, obviously grateful that you agreed at all.

“Thank you very much.” Bowing your head respectfully as relief washed over you, and a small smile graced your features.

“Did you have any other requests?” Kenzo urged gently, as he seemed to already know that, in your usual manner, the requests were incredibly small and doable, yet extremely important to you.

“Uh, well… Will I still be allowed to work at the museum? Like, will I be expected to be a stay at home wife or anything like that?” Murmuring nervously as your face began to burn from the embarrassment of asking at all. The unspoken questions floated in the air between you and your father as you peered at him expectantly, anxiously sliding the silver ring up and down your thumb.

Will I still be allowed to be me? Can I still do the things I enjoy?

This time a chorus of laughter broke out in the room as your father threw his head back with laughter too. Though he quickly shushed them, and the room fell quiet again as he regarded you warmly.

“Yes you will be allowed to continue to work at the museum, volunteer, and sing at those late night karaoke hangouts you try to hide from us. Though I recommend not hiding things from your future husband - just as a general rule of marriage.” Kenzo teased with a reassuring smile, hoping you finally felt at ease with the situation.

“And here I thought I was doing a good job of keeping it a secret,” you said sheepishly before bursting out laughing, as you hid your face in your hands. Cackles and guffaws filled the room, and even shushing from the boss couldn’t quiet them for several minutes.

That night, after your father and Kenji made their calls to the Sakuragi clan, you all drank sake and celebrated the good news. For the first time in a long, long while you felt really happy and carefree, so much so that you didn’t even feel like you were being watched. Not once did you look over your shoulder, or hesitate before walking into a darkened room the whole night.

Of course that meant that you didn’t turn to look outside when passing by the window that overlooked the courtyard. Nor did you notice the accidental flash coming from behind the tea house located on the far edge of the garden.

References: The Bad Doctors from the Museum of Fine Arts Ghent Website The Cave of Spleen by Audrey Beardsley from The Art History Project Website The Intrigue from Wikipedia

Master List (I have no rights to these characters, the works they come from, or the art/screenshots/manga panels used in this post. Screenshots taken from pinterest, so if you know the creator please lmk! Divider is from @sweetmelodygraphics)

Tag List: lmk if you want to be added

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5

#yakuza's guide to babysitting #kirishima toru x reader #kirishima tooru #kirishima toru #tooru kirishima #kirishima x reader #pernesophe #sp's headspace #arranged marriage #stalker story #series #multi part fic

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bitchin-beskar · 4 years ago

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Royal Affairs - V

Under the Cover of Darkness

Rating: M

Warnings: smut! eavesdropping, masturbation (m and f), mutual masturbation? kind of? fingering, dirty talk, lots of kisses, King!Din drinks his respect women juice and we’re here for it.

Pairing: King!Din Djarin x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Here’s the next chapter of Royal Affairs! This one is a little on the shorter side, but there’s pretty much zero plot, so.... Enjoy!! Just a quick note, this chapter picks up right at the end of chapter 4, so if you’re a little confused, just re-read chapter 4 real quick!

Royal Affairs Masterlist

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment! I love hearing what y’all think!!!

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

W-Was Din actually pleasuring himself, while thinking of you?

You’re not sure how the sounds on the other side of the door could be mistaken for anything else, though. It was bordering on obscene, the wet, slick sounds of Din’s hand pumping the length of his cock. You could almost picture it, almost. Din was by no means a small man, and you imagined that extended to all of him.

Your cheeks grew unbearably hot at the lewd sounds coming from the King’s bedchambers. You shouldn’t be doing this, this was probably a huge invasion of his privacy, but you couldn’t help yourself, not when your name sounded so beautiful falling from his lips.

“F-Fu-Fuck, want– want you so bad, darling–!”

Din sounded so desperate, so tortured, and it took everything you had to not knock on the door leading to his room. This felt so taboo, so wrong, just listening at the door, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take that step forward, or backwards. You were frozen in time and space, just listening as Din worked himself harder, the noises getting more and more desperate the longer you stood there.

You didn’t even realize it, but your hands had minds of their own, slowly creeping up under your shirt to cup your breasts. You bit your lip in an effort to stifle your own desperate noises, teasing your nipples to hard peaks with your fingers, secretly wishing it was Din who was teasing you.

“Gon-Gonna come, sweet girl,” Din panted, and you could practically see him in your mind’s eye. Sprawled out on the large bed, chest bare, skin shiny with sweat, cock in hand as he worked himself closer and closer to his release. Your mouth watered, and you wanted to know what it would feel like to take him down your throat.

He suddenly let out string of loud grunts and groans, the gravelly rasp of his voice making you clench your thighs, desperate for even a hint of friction. “C-Coming, oh FUCK–”

You felt faint, flustered and so incredibly aroused that you could barely breathe. Din’s panting filled your ears, accompanied by the faint sounds of him stroking himself through his climax.

He moaned your name one last time, and you suddenly stumbled away from the door, falling back onto your bed. You were so hot, you just had to get out of your clothes, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your sweaty skin. In mere seconds you were bare, your hands running over your skin, cupping your breasts and trailing down past your belly to sink into your soaked folds.

***

Din lay in bed, panting softly as he tried to calm down from one of the most intense orgasms of his life. Just the mere thought of you got him hard, and before he’d realized what he was doing, he was wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking himself off, eyes fluttering shut as he remembered how you’d felt, pressed against him in that dark closet the night of the gala.

Fuck, you’d looked gorgeous, the dress he’d picked out looked even more incredible on you than he could’ve imagined. You lit up the fucking room, and when he’d discovered you’d forgone undergarments? He was desperate, he had to have you then and there.

His cock twitched, beginning to harden again, and he was about to let out a groan of frustration when a quiet sound from your room distracted him. His breath hitched in his throat, and he held as still as possible, trying to see if you were going to make another sound.

Sure enough, there was another soft sound, almost like a whimper, and immediately he was on full alert. He’d had to listen to you cry every night, and it had been torturous for him to leave you be, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go another night listening to you cry without at least trying to go in and comfort you. Even if you turned him away, he wanted to be able to offer you that comfort, in the off chance you wanted it.

But this time, your whimpers sounded different. He couldn’t figure out what exactly was different until he heard you moan.

Eyes widening, he sat up in bed, stunned. H-He had to be imagining things. Th-There was no possible way that he was actually listening to you–

“Din–”

Your breathy moan echoed loudly in his ears, and his cock twitched again, fully hard. Fuck, you sounded so pretty moaning his name, and he wanted to hear more.

“P-P-Please,” you whimpered brokenly, almost sounding pained. “O-Oh, please, I-I need it–”

Din fisted his hands in the sheets in an effort to prevent himself from grasping his cock. He screwed his eyes shut, but that only brought forth images of you to his mind, spread out so prettily on the sheets. He could practically see your gorgeous pout, lip trapped between your teeth as you writhed underneath him.

He could hear how wet you were, and he could just imagine the way you must look, fingers pumping in and out of your pretty pussy. Oh, how he wanted to be the one making you moan and whimper, making you come.

Your sweet noises increased in pitch and volume, and he could tell you were close. He tensed, listening for the sound of your inevitable release, but he was surprised when it never came.

“No,” you whimpered, and Din frowned, confused. “No, please, m’ so close–!”

Oh.

Din’s eyes widened when he realized that for some reason, you couldn’t come. He didn’t understand it, you’d come apart so easily for him, multiple times.

“Fu-Fuck, it’s not enough,” you cried, and Din could hear the pain in your voice. “N-Need more, please–!”

He was conflicted. You were practically begging for help, but he didn’t know if it would be overstepping boundaries to offer said help. He shouldn’t even be listening to you, this was a major breach of your privacy–

“N-Need you.”

What? D-Did you just–

“D-Din, please!”

Oh. Oh fuck. You did. You were calling for him.

***

Tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you felt the tension in your core ebb. You’d been so close, but you couldn’t push yourself over the edge. Your fingers weren’t thick enough, they couldn’t compare to Din’s. He could reach places inside you that you’d never discovered before. He’d ruined you, in the best of ways, but now you were left trembling and wanting, desperate for something you shouldn’t want.

Dejected, you sat up, sliding on the baggy sleep tunic you’d thrown off in your haste earlier. You hopped off the bed, bending over to pick up your shorts off the floor when a gentle knock rang out. You jumped, guiltily looking towards the door that led to Din’s room.

Fuck. Did he hear you?

You quickly stepped into the shorts, looking down to make sure you were covered before crossing the short distance, a shaky hand grasping the doorknob, turning the ornate handle and opening the door.

Din stood there, shirtless, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was wearing a pair of sleep pants, but your eyes were drawn to the obvious tenting in the fabric. Your eyes widened, and you quickly looked away, back up at his face.

He was staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face, and you felt yourself grow hot at the way he looked you up and down before slowly stepping into your room.

“D-Din–?”

He chuckled lowly, one of his hands unclenching and reaching up to carefully brush his fingers over your shoulder and slowly down your arm, until he wrapped them gently around your wrist. You watched, lips parted, as he brought your fingers up to his face, the fingers that had been buried in your pussy just minutes earlier.

His stare pinned you in place as he slowly opened his mouth and took your fingers in between his lips, sucking at the remnants of your arousal that still lingered on your skin. You gasped softly as he stepped even closer, his other arm coming up to wrap around your waist, tugging you against him, letting you feel his desire for you.

He didn’t stop until he’d completely cleaned off your fingers, gently withdrawing your hand from his mouth. Your eyes were trained on the way he licked his lips, the way his eyes darkened the longer he stared at you.

“Will you let me pleasure you, my darling?” His whisper rang out in the silence of the room, somehow sounding louder than if he’d spoken plainly. “I want to help, if you’ll allow me.”

You searched his eyes, looking for any hint of teasing or judgement, but you found nothing but love. You nodded, and immediately the arm around your waist tightened, and Din was picking you up, playfully tossing you onto the bed.

Giggling, you bit your lip as Din stalked forward, crawling up onto the bed after you. He propped himself up on his elbows, looming over you. For a moment, he just admired the way you were spread out underneath him, the way your breath hitched as he knelt between your thighs.

He cupped your face with one hand, his thumb gently pulling your lower lip from between your teeth. “You shouldn’t do that,” he whispered, a soft grin on his lips.

“Why?” You whispered back, the quiet intimacy of the moment sending a thrill down your spine.

In lieu of an answer, Din leaned down and gently brushed his lips over yours. He pulled away before you could respond, but he didn’t go far, pressing his forehead against yours.

“It just makes me want to kiss you.”

Your eyes widened, stunned at the quiet admission. He gently stroked your cheek, looking at you with such love and adoration that it took your breath away. Smiling back, you slowly poked your tongue out to lick your lips before deliberately drawing your lower lip back in between your teeth.

Din’s pupils were blown wide, watching as you teased him. “Minx,” he breathed, leaning down to kiss you again, drawing your bottom lip into his mouth and nipping softly where you’d been biting seconds earlier. You moaned softly, reaching up to twine your fingers into Din’s hair, tugging gently at the soft strands as he pressed loving kisses to your lips.

He didn’t stop until you were breathless and pliant beneath him, shifting to try and achieve the friction you so desperately needed. Since you’d been denied release earlier, you were even more frantic now, tugging Din closer in your search for pleasure.

“What do you need from me, sweet girl? Hmm?”

You panted, trying to focus so that you could answer him, but Din had decided to mark up your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin until he was pleased with the mark before moving to another spot.

“I-I, I need– ahh! Din!”

A loud moan left your lips as Din ducked his head, closing his lips around your nipple through the tunic you wore, laving his tongue over the hardened bud, before sucking, the wet fabric rubbing deliciously over your sensitive skin.

“F-Fuck, more–” You begged desperately, arching up into the wet heat of his mouth. “D-Don’t tease!”

Pulling off of your nipple, Din looked up at you, all flustered and needy, his grin feral. “You want more, darling?” At your jerky nods, Din crawled back up your body, grabbing you around the waist and flipping the both of you around so that he was seated back against the headboard, with your back pressed against his chest. You were settled between Din’s thighs, sighing softly as his fingers slowly stroked up and down your sides.

“I want you to pull those cute little shorts off, sweet thing. Can you do that for me?”

Din’s lips were pressed tight against your ear, the low growl of his voice making you clench in anticipation. You gripped the waistband of your shorts and shimmied them down your legs, kicking them off without a care to where they fell.

“Good girl.”

Din gently nudged his feet under your legs, spreading you wide open for him. You were flustered at being so open and practically on display, but Din was quick to distract you.

He wrapped one arm around your waist, his other hand gently intertwining with yours. “I want you to show me,” he whispered, the seductive drawl of his voice making your heart skip a beat. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

Your breath hitched, even as you slowly drew your joined hands down to your dripping folds. Din let you lead, his chin hooked over your shoulder as he watched.

The first touch of your fingers against your folds made you whimper, made even more erotic by the way Din’s fingers pressed yours just a little harder against your pussy, gently encouraging you to press your fingers inside.

He let you take charge, showing him how you worked your fingers in and out of your pussy, both his hand and your own practically dripping with your juices. Every soft moan and whimper that escaped your mouth was followed with a soft kiss to your neck from Din, quiet, whispered encouragement easily falling from his lips.

“That’s it, feels so good, doesn’t it, darling?”

Nodding, you threw your head back, hips grinding against your hand, the heel of your palm brushing deliciously against your clit. Din’s own fingers spread your lips to allow you easier access, letting you focus on what made you feel good. A particularly hard brush against your clit nearly made you scream, and you ground your teeth to fight against letting the pleasured gasp escape.

Din nipped harsly at your neck, and your mouth fell open, a squeak escaping your throat.

“No, no. Don’t hide from me, sweetheart. I wanna hear all those pretty little noises as you fuck yourself open on your fingers.”

Another soft whimper escaped your lips, and you didn’t try to hide it, not this time. Another whispered “good girl” from Din made your cunt clench around your fingers, and your hips jerked.

Din’s arm tightened around your waist, keeping you still. He guided your hand in slow, gentle circles, causing you to press just a little harder into your clit.

Like before, you quickly approached the precipice, body tensing as your core tightened, breath coming in quick pants. You were teetering just on the edge, but you couldn’t push yourself over.

“D-Din, help me,” you barely had time to whimper before he was gently pulling your hand from your wet heat, sinking his own fingers deep inside you.

The sudden stretch made you cry out, your back arching, forcing Din’s fingers even deeper into your pussy. He began to pump his fingers in and out, his thumb pressing tight circles against your clit. One of your hands flew to cup the back of Din’s neck as he easily brought you right to the edge of your release.

“Are you gonna come for me, my beautiful girl?”

“Yes!”

At your desperate, whimper, he somehow sped up. With a scream, you came, hips undulating as Din’s fingers worked you through your release.

“That’s it,” he growled as you shuddered and trembled in his arms, thighs shaking and chest heaving from the intensity of your climax. “Soak the fucking sheets, come all over my hand, there’s a good girl.”

He prolonged your orgasm as he kept brushing his thumb over your clit until it finally became too much, the sensations too intense. He didn’t stop until you began pushing his hand away, turning your face into his neck as you tried to stop your shaking.

“T-Thank you,” you whispered against his skin, lips brushing against his jaw as you nuzzled into him. Both of his hands rested gently on your belly, thankfully leaving your throbbing pussy alone. You’re not sure you could take another orgasm right now, and you felt like your whole body was going limp.

“You never have to thank me for that, sweet thing,” Din murmured, chest rumbling against your back. “It’s my pleasure to bring you pleasure.” At his mention of pleasure, you frowned, trying to wiggle out of his arms. “Now, where do you think you’re going, darling?”

“You didn’t come,” you whispered sleepily. “I-I should–”

Din’s voice was as firm as the grip he had on you. “You should sleep.”

You tried to keep wiggling, trying to turn so that you could help him. “But, y-you... for me... I should...” You trailed off, a big yawn escaping your lips before you could finish your protests.

“But nothing, darling. Just because I made you come, does not mean you’re obligated to return the favor. Any man who says otherwise is not worth your time.”

“But–”

Din tilted your chin up with one crooked finger, brushing his lips gently against yours to stave off your argument. You sighed, finally relaxing back into his arms.

“We have all the time in the world, my darling. Right now, you need sleep.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “May I bring you to my room? Your sheets are quite wet, and I don’t think you’re able to stay awake long enough for me to change them.”

You nodded. Din slowly scooted out from behind you, standing up before turning back to where you were sitting on the bed, blinking blearily up at him. He drew you into his arms, bringing you up so that you could nuzzle back into his neck, your body drawn to the warmth he radiated. You were asleep before he entered his rooms.

Permanent Tags: @mxndoscyarika, @perropascal, @pedroepascal, @roxypeanut, @justanotherblonde23, @anerdydragon, @rynadjarin-reading, @sleepylunarwolf, @rosiefridayrogersunday, @meshlamando, @sunsetmando, @bucketbunny, @mudhornchronicles, @huliabitch, @nerdypinupcrystal, @blackmarketmummy, @dinsbeskar, @mischiefnevermanaged94, @randomness501, @bisexual-space-slut, @Lucifer-, @liadamerondjarin, @tulipsun-flower, @captainmunroe, @marvgrrl, @waatermelon-sugaar, @pedrospunk, @aerolanya, @computeringturtle, @starlite41, @driftllocked, @gallowsjoker, @firstofficerwiggles, @pedro4ever, @emzd34, @talesfromtheguild, @nominalnebula, @voteforpedropascal, @grandegoddess, @finnisrioting, @clemdango04, @petersunderoos96, @merg007, @stardust-galaxies, @hereforthesunrise, @eternallyvenus, @javihoney, @sarahjkl82-blog, @martellthemandalor, @artsymaddie, @terrormonster55, @sleepisasocialconstrxct, @charmedthoughts, @jenrebloggingfics, @fruitsaladtrees, @theocatkov, @cosmicbug379, @marydjarin, @hayley-the-comet, @phoenixhalliwell, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @disgruntledspacedad, @jedi-mando, @mostly-megan, @starlight-starwrites, @ollypopp, @equalstrashflavoredtrash

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Story Tags: @hellequinn7, @all-hallows-evie, @remmyswritings, @1800-fight-me, @houseofthirst, @gilraenpalantir, @sherlokid7, @wanderlust69, @hyperfixatingmenever

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#king!Din au #King!Din x Reader #king!Din fic #reader fic #smut #chapter 5 #royal affairs #soft smut in this one #kind of mutual masturbation?#enjoy!

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sunflowersteveslibrary · 4 years ago

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❝on edge❞

the mandalorian x fem!reader

summary: Din loves to edge you for days but you can only take so much.

author’s notes: @pinkninja190 thank you so much for sending this request in!! and happy, happy birthday!! i hope you like it :)

warnings: fluff, swearing, crying, SMUT!!, edging, public sex, vaginal sex [18+ only]

fic m.list // main blog m.list

Maker—you really hated your lover right now. If you clenched your teeth any harder, you were positive they were going to crack. Fuming rage was practically radiating off of you as you sat next to Din.

You were really trying to concentrate on the food that you were eating, scarfing it down so your taste buds could preoccupy your mind. You were so hopelessly trying to ignore the throbbing, the desperate ache that rested between your legs.

The bar that Din had found was quite large; lots of bounty hunters and thieves and anyone in between had taken this spot as a hub. It was quite an interesting place, no one could interfere with anyone else’s business or else they’d get kicked out.

Din had stopped here so the two of you could eat some food and get more supplies before going back to the Razor Crest and heading off to whatever bounty that he got a signal for.

But the reason you were mad?

Ten days. Ten fucking days that Din would leave you high and dry after getting you so close to a release.

And that was the sole reason why you were so utterly frustrated. He had never gone this long without making you cum, and it was driving you up the wall. But he, on the other hand, loved it. He loved watching you squirm and beg and plead. He loved watching you become so vulnerable that you’d do anything for him to get you off.

You took another spoon full of soup, your hands slightly shaking, which did not go unnoticed by the mandalorian that was oh so close to you. Din was fully watching you now, noticing your furrowed eyebrows and crossed legs. He made sure the two of you had a table far away from others, wanting to be as unnoticed and discrete as possible to not draw a lot of attention.

You couldn’t see it, but a smirk made its way to his lips before placing a hand on your thigh. You almost spat out your soup, the ache now fully turning into an ablaze fire of desire.

Your eyes flickered over to his but you saw that he paid no attention to you, checking out the new people that sat at the bar. He could hear as your breath hitched when his thigh moved closer to your tender core, but his eyes were still strained elsewhere.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He didn’t say a word as his fingers ever so slightly moved up again, settling just below your throbbing cunt. You had then gripped his forearm, nails digging into the shiny beskar metal.

So discretely, Din unbuckled your pants, and he watched as your chest heaved up and down—anticipating the cool feeling of his leather gloves. He slid his hands down your pants, circling your clit so gently and light to the touch.

But your body did not care; friction was friction. And you were so sensitive. You snapped your eyes shut as each passing second his fingers would push harder, the leather gloves working wonders on your clothed pussy.

“D-Din, I-”

It did not take you long to build up tension; you had to use your other hand to bite down on your fingers or else you'd make the most feral sounds.

With hooded eyes, you look at Din to see him staring back—watching you so intently. He knew you were soaking wet at this point; it was dripping out of your folds, soaking your panties.

Then you feel everything stop, the coil completely snapping shut��unable to feel any release. He had edged you yet again for what it felt like the hundredth time. He lifted his hand from the table, looking at whatever gadget he had on the table. Honestly, you didn’t care what the fuck he was doing—you just wanted him to fuck the daylights out of you.

You could feel Din’s pride just radiating off of him, his whole demeanor was just raging of his ego. You knew there was a stupid smirk etched across his lips right now. You grit your teeth, hissing out the words before you.

“If you don't fuck me in the next 5 minutes, so help me maker-"

He yanks you up from the table abruptly, quickly reaching into his pocket, and throws money on the table. He then as quickly as possible drags you out of the bar, and back to the ship.

You couldn’t even rest from the running the two of you just did from Din pinning you up against the ship’s wall. You were oh so lucky that the Child was with Kuiil at the moment.

Before you know it, clothes are flying across the room. You were able to get as much of Din’s armor off as possible. You started to plant kisses on his body, your lips landing on his shoulder, chest, forearm, wherever. He forcefully slides your panties down as you squealed with excitement, prompting a slight chuckle from the mandalorian.

His body was pressed flush against you, your desperate heat radiating onto his skin. His now non-clothed hands were roaming your body, feeling every dip and crevasse that your skin provided.

You were already so wet, so frantic and needy. You needed him, and you needed him now. You didn’t are if you sounded pitiful; all you could do was plead.

“Please, Din. Get on with it-”

He then hoisted you up, your legs wrapped around his torso. Your back slammed against the hall again, no doubt leaving a bruise. You yelped as he pounded into you with no warning, the stinging pain mixed with the pleasure of being so full was excruciatingly good.

His cock fills you up to the brink; no matter how many times the two of you had done this you could never quite get used to how big he is. Your back arches against the wall, your melodic moans filling the room.

“Din, please let me cum, I-I please.”

Hearing you plead like that made his cock twitch inside—his moans are suppressed from the speaker but still echoing around the ship. He feels you clench around him, the relentless pounding of his cock. Your folds have completely drenched his cock, quivering as he thrusts into you even harder, even rougher.

“I don’t know if you deserve it, sweet girl.”

You whined loudly, hands clinging to his white undershirt. Your pussy was throbbing hard, pleading for some type of release. You looked through his visor, flashing big doe eyes in hopes of getting what you wanted.

“I-I-”

“What, too cock dumb to beg?”

Maker—he was so goddamn cocky. Normally, you would make some sly remark, but it had been ten days. Ten fucking days of edging you like no tomorrow, so you had honestly didn’t care if you looked stupid. All you wanted was him. A couple of tears had fallen, your mouth agape as you begged as hard as you could.

“Please, Din! Please let me cum, I-I need you. Please, Din, I-I.”

Your eyes had snapped shut from his stilled movements as more tears flowed down your cheeks. Your body had just become so achingly urgent, your hands latched onto his chest again, preparing for him to let go and leave you to your desperation.

“Oh, sweet girl, you’re that frustrated, huh? Was I too hard on you, cyar’ika?”

You could only nod slightly; being so openly full of Din was distracting you to no end. Without warning, Din thrusts deep inside you again, watching as his cock disappears into your pussy. He pulls one of your legs over your shoulder, making sure that the wall was still holding you up.

His cock had stretched you even further, delving deep into that spot over and over and over again. Your screams were loud, shouting his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say. Your pussy was just constantly clenching; his cock was so easily snapping back in and out of your wet core.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Let go, let go all over my cock.”

Immediately, your coil spills over and you come down hard. So fucking hard that Din has to move his hands so you don’t fall onto the floor. Your body had convulsed and pleaded, Din’s eyes had never left yours despite his being shielded from his helmet.

Your high lasted long, Din finding it so fucking hot that he exploded inside you and the two of you moaned, watching as some of his cum spilled out of you.

“Let’s get cleaned up, okay? You did so well, sweet girl.”

He then lifted you, carrying you bridal style as the thumping of his boots echoed into the hallways.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian season 2 #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fandom #star wars mandalorian #mando x reader #mandalorian smut #smut

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theutterlyboredwriter · 4 years ago

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Bounty and the Hunter

Summary: The Mandalorian's newest bounty is a seemingly harmless prostitue who offers up her services for him not bringing her in.

Rating: Explicit (I know you won't listen but if you're under 18 don't read)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: SMUT (if it's cringey I'm sorry,it's my first time writing smut), oral (M receving), mentions of prostitution, generally sexy themes, cursing, if there's anything else let me know

A/N: HI!!! This is my first post (!!!) and also the first smut I've ever written so if it sucks...sorry lmao. I also just finished rewatching the Mandalorian and it's SO GOOD!! I hope you like it!

The alarm that usually roused you from sleep had been playing for nearly half an hour before you realized that you were late. After getting dressed into the pink bra and underwear as well as the pink mesh tunic that had become your uniform these past six months, you walked out of your house. Running through the empty street you ducked into an alley and walked into the back entrance of the club, hoping that your boss wouldn't notice that you were fifteen minutes late. Thankfully, the early morning/late night rush was enough to distract him as you slipped in and set your stuff down at your station. The club was both a strip club and brothel, the latter only for those who were of a certain rank and distinction, and it was always busy between ten pm and five am. The clock on the wall read 3:58, you only had two minutes before your first customer was due to come and call on you, so you sat and touched up the makeup that had smudged as you ran from your place to the club.

"Hey! Booth number one wants you," Linberen called to you as she walked out on stage.

Your services ranged from lap dances to…well, there hadn't been anything you hadn't said yes to for the right price yet, but you had quickly become one of the most sought-after girls in the little club. The lights were a dim yellow, low from broken lights and dust that had covered the bulbs no one ever cared to change. The owner, Gribrad said it gave the place some character and ambiance, but it just accentuated the shitty stone walls and grimy wood floors that Gribrad was too cheap to replace. It was busy, the stage was covered by four girls, and there wasn't an open space around the jutted out stage, crowded by men throwing measly credits on the stage. To your right were the different booths, each covered with a purple velvet curtain to allow the customers some privacy. Towards the front of the building was booth one and you took a small breath before pushing the curtain back far enough to allow yourself entrance into the small space. Your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the significantly darker room before you spotted something shiny that struck fear into your heart, beskar.

"Don't run, I can see in your eyes that you want to. It will be a waste." The voice was deep and gruff, altered by a modulator, but the voice struck a nerve in you and sent chills down your spine. You set your hands on your lap, allowing the armored man to see that you didn't plan on pulling a knife on him, while silently reprimanding yourself for not bringing a knife like Linberen had told you to do so many times before.

"I have to say, 60,000 credits for a prostitute is a hefty bounty. Usually, that kind of price is attached to someone who's committed treason." The words fell heavy into the air. The shitty dance music in the background did little to ease the looming silence that was so obvious between the two of you.

"What's a Mandalorian like you doing here? I thought you all were killed years ago?" You asked weakly, the lump in your throat making it hard to do anything else but breathe heavily.

"Apparently not."

You'd heard that all the Mandalorians were dead, wiped out in a massive genocide by the Empire, but yet here one sat across from you. That's when it struck you that Beskar was still being sold on the black market and this could just be a silly impostor.

"I beg to differ. For all I know you just bought the armor off of some black-market dealer to scare other bounty hunters. Mandalore was destroyed years ago by the Empire," you said with a smirk. Today wasn't the day that you would be played by some asshole in armor; you needed to make money, and this wasn't a real customer.

"With all due respect, I have things to do like work, and as much fun as sitting here in silence with you is, I need to get back to work. I'll tell Gribrad that it was just a meeting, so you won't get charged but if you exc-," you'd started to get up, but the man grabbed your arm and threw you back onto the leather seats.

"With all due respect," he began through gritted teeth, "I'm not leaving without you in handcuffs."

"Listen, if you want it like that just tell me and I can get that arranged," you chuckle, hoping that the joke will lessen the growing tension in the booth.

It didn't.

"The only way that I'm going to leave is with you, now I can kill you or have you come along cooperatively, your choice."

"Who are you taking me back to? Why is there a bounty out for me? How did you find me?" You try to cover the apparent fear with anger, hoping that something drastic will happen and allow you to escape.

He sits in silence; his regulated breathing is so overwhelming that you feel suffocated. By now your eyes have adjusted to the dark and you see that his blaster is pointed in your direction, sitting by his right thigh. A million scenarios race through your mind of how you could try to distract him and kill him with his own gun until you realize that your bounty would only grow and make it harder to hide. You don't realize how deep in thought you are until the man slaps his gloved hand on your knee to get your attention.

"Listen Mandalorian, I don't know why you are here but I'm innocent. I've done nothing to warrant a bounty and I haven't hurt anyone. Let me go, I'll give you whatever you want to just pretend you never saw me." The desperate slew of words spills out as he cocks his head off to the side to look at you. You feel the judgment and disgust burning a hole into you, and suddenly you wish you had been much later to work.

"I don't bargain with criminals."

The answer is plain and cuts you like a knife.

"There has to be something that you need! A maid, a mechanic, a-a um… a stress reliever?" You know throwing out sex for protection is a low spot in your life, but you have no interest in being turned over to be murdered or tortured.

For the first time all morning, you feel that he is contemplating what you've said. But truth be told, you have no idea what is going through his head. The rigidness of his body rids you of the advantage of reading body language, and his chrome helmet blocks and facial expressions you could possibly read, but something in your soul tells you that even if you could see his face right now it wouldn't help you.

An eternity passes before his modulated voice lets out an answer.

"Have you ever worked as a mechanic before?"

Not the answer you wanted.

"For a few years, yeah," you mutter, voice wracked with worry.

Again, the two of you are left in silence; so you resign to twiddling with the worn pink mesh that covers your body, running your fingers over the rips that have gathered these past few months.

The man sighs. Loudly. You take this as a sign of hope, you hope.

"I am willing to postpone the date in which I bring you back in return for you to work for me. You step out of place once and I put a bullet in your head and deliver you to the people who want you, got it?"

You gulp and slowly nod, not wanting to upset him in any way.

"I'll give you five minutes to grab your things and then meet me here. Don’t run."

You stand on wobbly legs, grabbing onto the wall to support you, and begin to walk to the back of the club so you can grab your things. The thought of running seems nice, but you know that he probably has someone at the back just waiting for you to run. The loud music is drowned out, secondary to the thumping of your blood through your heart. You don't have much to take with you, a couple hundred credits, a change of clothes, and a small bag of makeup.

"Didn't you just get here? Why are you packing your shit up?" Ajislen asks as she changes into a new outfit for the next stage show.

"I have to leave, I can't really explain it," you try to answer. You don't want to say too much, but you also don't want to leave your friends without a word. Then it hits you, your friends. You won't see these people for a while, possibly forever. Not that it would matter much to them, but you'd like to think that your absence will be noticed.

Suddenly the lights begin to flicker. Just for a second, but long enough to draw the attention of all the girls in the room.

"Ugh, this place is a dump. I don't blame you for leaving." With that, she leaves.

You walk through the front of the club and see the Mandalorian standing at the front of the club, guarding the front entrance. The man grabs your arm and guides you from the club, looking around at the empty streets. Being only 4:30, the streets are bare and it's dark out, but it somehow feels more dangerous with this heavily guarded man on your arm than it did as you ran to the club less than an hour ago, defenseless and utterly alone. The walk to his ship takes forever, maybe because you are now fearful to be on this planet; or maybe because you aren't sure if he is going to stay true to his word. He could be leading you back, only to turn around and put a bullet in your head. But either way, as your feet trudge through the sandy road, you find yourself in painful silence.

Talking was one of your most favorite things to do, there wasn't a person you'd met who you hadn't been able to strike up a conversation with. You loved the idea of getting to know people, to open up and share something with someone. You knew better than to try and talk to this man. You feared to ask his name or say anything around him.

The ship was parked in the middle of a sand dune, far enough to not be bothered by the local traffic. In all honesty, it looked a little shitty. Part of you hoped that he would allow you to work on it and try to make it look better. It could be your ticket to surviving, spoke a little voice in your head.

He pushed you into the ship, and your breath caught in your throat as you swore you felt his fingers trace down your spine. Nonsense, you told yourself and started walking forward. If the outside was shitty the inside was utterly depressing, you could tell that this ship was in desperate need of your touch, and though you didn't realize it at that moment, so did something else.

"I'll find some blankets and you can make a spot to sleep on the floor." He said as he began to close the door to the ship, "The fresher is behind that door and the cockpit is up this ladder."

That was all he said before ascending the ladder, leaving you alone and scared. You assumed that he was getting ready to take off, so you found a spot on the floor to sit and try to grapple with what had happened in the past hour. So much had gone unprocessed and you were just coming to terms with the brevity of the situation. There was a 60,000-credit bounty out for you, who hadn't committed a crime, who was just trying to make enough to live. You knew why the bounty was out, but you decided in that booth that he obviously didn't know, so you'd feign ignorance too. It probably wouldn't do much, but you didn't know and trying to stay alive and uncaptured seemed like a good idea.

"Damn it!" You heard from above, and without thinking, you went to explore.

It was only as you entered the cockpit that you realized that you were probably overstepping your boundaries. It was too late to go back though, so you walked towards the pilot seat hoping that you'd be able to be of some assistance.

"Can I help?" You asked meekly.

The shiny helmet jerked to look at you, probably out of shock but quickly turned its attention back to the dashboard.

"Not unless you can fix this to let me input the coordinates."

You looked over his shoulder at the switches and knobs illuminated in a variety of colors, trying to find the thing that was causing trouble. You saw it finally, a small button that was lodged in a funky position that was preventing the circuit from running and allowed the coordinates to be input.

Without a word you reached past him to fix the issue, your mesh-covered chest brushing past his metal shoulder piece. You gasped to yourself, the cold beskar evoking a far more sexual feeling than it should. With a small breath to yourself, you pushed the feeling down and went to work on fixing the button so you two could be on your way.

"Thank you," he said curtly.

You just nodded and sat in the passenger seat, trying to remove your mind from the fact that just touching his armor had turned you on more than you had been in years. Silently you wondered if he'd heard your gasp, silently you hoped that he liked it. The feeling stayed, and further reflection only deepened the growing warmth in your stomach. First, his hand trailing down your back and then that? That's when you remembered that you had offered yourself not only as a mechanic and maid but as someone to help alleviate his stress.

So maybe it was this memory, the growing wetness between your thighs, or some entirely different force that compelled you to slide off the chair and onto your hands and knees. You waited until he had successfully entered hyperspace before you crawled under the dashboard and settled yourself between his thighs. He looked down at you, giving you the perfect chance to see yourself reflected in his helmet. Slowly you ran your hands up his thighs, shuddering as you ran your fingertips gently over the beskar. Your left hand stroked his thigh while your right hands began to palm his crotch through the thick fabric. To your very welcome surprise you found that he was hard, he seemed to be just as turned on as you were. The fabric was thick, but you could feel him getting harder as your fingers ran over and gave a little squeeze, and it was then that you almost ascended into the next level of consciousness. His hand, his strong gloved hand, wrapped around yours and gave a squeeze.

The moan that you let out was unholy, and from above you heard a little sigh of approval slip from the helmet. Drunk on the confidence you'd just been given; you reached for his zipper and began to work at releasing him. He lifted his hips so you could push his pants and lower armor down to his ankles.

Now you'd never been a religious woman, not by any stretch of the imagination, but as you saw what this mysterious man was hiding underneath all the armor you felt compelled to thank whatever was out there. Again, you let out a moan. You reached out to grab the base of his cock and slowly began to pump him, trying to commit every ridge and vein to memory. But it was too dry, and no doubt uncomfortable for him, so you reached between your legs and pushed aside the thong that was painfully damp to gather some lubrication. Quickly you returned your now wet hand to his cock and started to pump, your thumb swirling the tip and gathering all the precum he had to offer. This time it was his turn to let out a moan, and god were you thankful for it. Even with the modulator, you could hear how gritty it was from having a dry throat. And that's when you decided to say fuck it and go in for the gold. Leaning back on your haunches and grabbing onto his thighs with a still sopping wet hand, you took all of him into your mouth.

His whole body shook, overwhelmed with the sensation. You took your time, tracing your tongue up and down his cock, occasionally swirling your tongue around the tip.

"F-fuck," he muttered more to himself than to you.

One of his hands reached behind your head and grabbed hold on your ponytail in a death grip. Feeling his hand tighten around your hair drove you to just swallow him, your tight mouth struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. He wasn't unusually large, but Maker was he thick. As you sat there, viciously bobbing your head up and down, it occurred to you that tomorrow you wouldn't be able to comfortably eat food, and that thought spurred you on more. Your hand moved from his place on his thigh to cradle his balls, trying desperately to please him.

He could barely stand the sight of your big eyes looking up at him so innocently as you devoured his cock in the vilest way. He felt his stomach begin to tighten, hurtling towards a release that you both wanted. You could feel him starting to become rigid, and to compensate you sucked harder, hollowing out your cheeks, and moaned into him.

That was all it took. He tried to pull himself off of you, to cum somewhere else but you pushed yourself down, gagging as ropes of cum painted this inside of your throat. The man who was so silent, so restrained, had turned into a moaning mess in your mouth. You waited, rubbing his thighs with your delicate fingers until he had finished before looking up at him and swallowing.

You pulled yourself off of him and he let go of his hold on your hair.

Crawling around him you got up and decided to go to the fresher and try to take care of yourself. Though he hadn't done a single thing for you, you were wetter than you had ever been before. That's when it hit you, this was the first time in your entire life that you had given a blowjob out of pure desire, no money or bribery to entice you. A small chuckle left your mouth as you started to descend the ladder when a voice called out for you.

"I'm not done with you yet."

#theutterlyboredwriter #the mandalorian #mandalorian smut #mandalorian x reader #smut #the mandalorian x you #reader insert #fanfic #din djarin #din djarin smut

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kindahoping4forever · 5 years ago

Text

In My Dreams... You Should See The Things We Do // Ashton Irwin

Hello friends, welcome back to the never-ending game of “Crystal turns a one sentence blurb prompt into a 2k smut extravaganza!” I knew what I wanted to do with this piece when I saw the prompt but it took a lot of work to get there (I actually scrapped not only my original idea but some of what I had started to write) so I owe a great deal of thanks to @cal-puddies for making some key suggestions and helping me shape this into what I wanted it to be.

Prompt: “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you moan. It’s like a fucking melody.”

Warnings: Well, big surprise, it’s boyfriend!Ash but with the added twist that it’s a new relationship trying to flourish despite being separated by quarantine. I can’t call it porn without plot because the porn is the plot. Which is a long winded way of telling you this is fluffy (but still pretty filthy) phone sex.

Word Count: 2,673

Cass & Crystal’s Collab Masterlist

Let us know what you think!

————-

Ashton’s lips travel the length of your neck and over the swell of your breasts. His breath is hot on your skin and his fingers teasingly run across your inner thighs as they slowly make their way to dip inside the waistband of your panties and ---

You huff in exasperation as the persistent buzzing of your phone on the nightstand interrupts your fantasy. You remove your hand from between your legs and reach to investigate who exactly you should be annoyed with; a variety of emotions wash over you when you see Ash’s name on your screen.

You purse your lips in discontent and hit answer. “Hey you,” you greet him.

“Hey yourself,” he greets you joyfully. “Where ya been? I called twice before; started to think you’d had enough and had broken out into the outside world.” He laughs at his joke.

The two of you had only gone on a few dates before quarantine began but you hit it off well enough that you ended up talking almost every night. Despite the distance, the chemistry between you was palpable and your chats added somewhat of a routine and sense of normalcy amongst the chaos. As the weeks passed, you’d really gotten to know each other and forged a strong intellectual and romantic bond.

The problem was, your pre-lockdown relationship had only gotten as far as a few brief but intense makeouts and as you grew closer, the lingering memory of his roaming hands and passionate kisses only seemed to escalate your building desire. You found him starring in your dreams frequently, dreams that had recently been leaving you in such a state that you had to relieve yourself immediately upon waking.

Which is exactly what happened today when you took a late afternoon nap and woke up throbbing for release, which you would have gotten had Ashton not called. You sigh and tell him half the truth, “I’m just getting up from a nap, you’re calling a lot earlier than you usually do.”

“Oh, that sounds nice! Sorry if I woke you, I was bored and didn’t want to wait to talk to you,” he admits.

You smile at his confession. “You’re fine! I was awake, just still in bed. How’s your day been?”

Ash answers with what you’re sure are entertaining and probably very charming anecdotes about his afternoon but you can’t stop your mind from wandering as he talks. You’re thinking about the dream you had, how good he made you feel. You’re wondering if you should make yourself cum as soon as you hang up the phone or treat yourself a little, maybe draw a nice bath, use a toy.

You’re mentally running through the collection of sex toys you know are in your bedside table to determine if any particular one strikes your fancy tonight when you hear silence on the other end of the phone. Shit, you think to yourself.

“...This is the part where I should be responding to something you’ve said, isn’t it?” You sheepishly ask.

“It typically would be, yes,” he chuckles. “I can call back a little later if this is a bad time, you seem distracted,” he offers.

You frown, feeling guilty for not listening. “No, Ash, I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I want to talk to you, I really do. My head is just elsewhere right now.”

He waits a beat before replying. “I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything,” he says sincerely. “No judgement, no unsolicited advice. I just… I really really fucking like you and one of the things I appreciate about you is your willingness to listen when I need to talk through something and I hope you know that goes both ways.”

Your grin is evident in your voice as you say, “Ash… I really like you too. Genuinely, talking to you is always the best part of my day, I don’t know how I’d be getting through this without you.”

“So then, what’s on your mind? Tell me, anything at all, I want to know. Just be honest,” he prompts.

You furrow your brow and think… he did say anything. What could it hurt? You take a deep breath and hurriedly blurt out, “I had a sexy dream about you and was about to get off when you called.”

It's silent for a moment and you wonder if you’d misread things and crossed a line you shouldn’t have.

Ashton inhales like he’s about to say something and then he stops. There’s another beat that feels like a thousand lifetimes and then there’s an explosion of giggles coming from his end.

You laugh along with him but you’re not sure if it’s out of embarrassment or relief. “Well… you said to be honest,” you joke.

“I did, thank you for your candor,” he responds gleefully. "I sincerely apologize for the interruption." He pauses briefly then clears his throat. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course,” you listen, interested.

“I have to get myself off basically every night as soon as we hang up,” he admits.

You smirk to yourself and feel a flush spreading over your body. “I'd been wondering if you were getting as frustrated as I was,” you confess. “Hoping, even. I just... I can’t stop thinking about when I’ll get to be with you.”

“I don't know how much longer I can wait… I don't even have the words to make you understand how badly I’ve been wanting you,” Ash replies, voice much lower than it was previously.

You feel emboldened knowing he’s been as affected by your budding relationship as you have, so you find yourself sharing more. “You know, in the dream I had, you didn’t even use words... we were at mine, watching a movie I think? But I couldn’t focus, all I could think about was how much I wanted you. And I guess you could tell because before I could do anything, you looked me in the eye and moved my hand so I could feel how hard you were for me.”

You know you're rambling, trying to get it all out before you can overthink. “We just kind of explored each other for a while, lips and hands everywhere… god, Ash, it seemed so real, your kisses felt just like I remember… and you knew just how to touch me… I could feel the vibrations of your moans under my tongue as I kissed your neck while I stroked your cock.”

You squeeze your legs together, hoping to relieve the dull ache that has returned thanks to the sensual memory. “The dream ended before we got much further but I woke up so fucking wet and when I went to touch myself I couldn’t decide if I wanted to think about sucking you off or having you bend me over.”

You can’t hear much over the thunderous sound of your own heartbeat pumping in your ears but you could’ve sworn you heard something resembling a groan coming from Ashton. Your mind begins racing with thoughts of what might be taking place on the other end of the phone; you feel yourself become impossibly more aroused.

“I’ve thought about those things too,” he tells you quietly. “I like thinking about finally getting to take you out again and taking you back to my place and I just can’t wait to have you so I bend you over the table in my entryway, as soon as we walk in the door.”

“Rip my panties off?” You ask, holding your breath.

“Pushed to the side… and god, I lose my fucking mind when I feel how wet you are for me, you want it just as bad as I do. You’re in a nice dress that you hike up for me. My pants aren’t even down, I just take my cock out and sink into you. Just need to be in you, feel you tight and warm and wrapped around me,” he rasps.

You close your eyes and you see it: him pressing you up against the front door as he unlocks it, roughly kissing you as he walks you backwards inside the house. In what seems like one swift motion, he spins you around, pushes you over the table and slips his cock into you with ease.

“Bet I was teasing you a lot while you drove us home,” you offer breathlessly as you slip your hand inside your underwear, nearly gasping when you feel how aroused you are. “I think about that sometimes. You acting like you don’t notice my hand creeping up your thigh until I start palming you over your jeans. And your cock just feels so fucking hard and so big under my fingers that I have to take it out and get my hands on you, play with you until we get back.”

Ashton’s voice is clearly straining now and there's no doubt in your mind that he’s touching himself. “Maybe we luck out and the roads are empty and you can put your mouth on me," he suggests.

“Well, once I feel how badly you’re leaking for me, I at least have to clean you up,” you respond shakily, actively rubbing your clit now. “But truthfully? I have a feeling I’m gonna love tasting your cock so much, I won’t be able to help myself and I’m gonna end up taking as much of you as I can.”

He groans loudly this time and you can picture him so vividly: sprawled out on his couch, head tipped back, biting his lip to keep from making much noise. You imagine he started playing with himself inside his shorts but by now he’s got his cock out, shiny and desperate for attention; tattooed arms flexing with tension as he struggles to maintain control, fighting the urge to buck into his hand with every slow stroke.

“Don’t know if I can let you get away with all that teasing,” he sounds breathy but confident and you can practically hear the smirk on his face. “With you acting like that, don’t think I can let you cum when I fuck you over the table. When I’m done with you, I’ll have to carry you to the bedroom and pin your arms above your head. Strip you down, get you even more desperate than you already are; my mouth all over your tits, run my fingers through your folds. Gotta get you fucking begging for me before I’ll even think about touching your clit.”

Your eyes are screwed shut, focusing on his fantasy. You're so turned on by it, you forget to respond; it’s like your brain is overloaded trying to process the feeling of your hands running over your breasts, toying with your nipples and the words he’s saying, how badly you wish they were reality.

Ashton’s voice snaps you out of your daze and you realize he must have mistaken your silence for discomfort because he’s hurriedly altering his tone. “Of course sometimes a little teasing goes a long way and we've waited long enough at this point so I would also love to feel you cum as soon as you’re ready---”

“Oh, teasing is good, teasing is very good,” you interject, quick to reassure him that the scenario he was detailing is something you would very much enjoy. You smirk. “…But if your methods are open to negotiation, I think I’d prefer to be bound.”

“Fuck,” he chokes out, with a bit of a laugh. “Alright then, we can do that. Free up both of my hands to work you over... better yet, to hold you down while I’ve got my face buried in your pussy.”

You let out a loud moan, followed by a gasp at the volume of your exclamation. You didn’t even realize you were making a noise until it reached your ears, you were so enraptured by the fantasy Ash was describing and the feeling of your hands touching yourself like only you knew how.

There isn't time to be self-conscious even if you wanted to be because your outburst is immediately met with approving murmurs from his end of the line. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you moan… it was like a fucking melody,” Ash comments with heavy breath. “I need to hear so much more of that… especially need it when I’ve got my fingers pressed into your hips, holding you down while I suck at your clit. Bring you right to the edge over and over until I’m ready for you to cum for me… bet you taste as good as you sound. I’d want you to be so fucking loud while I’ve got you spread, baby.”

“Ashhhh…” you whine, imagining it’s his tongue circling your clit and teasing at your entrance instead of your own fingers. “You’ve never called me ‘baby’ before… I like it. Wanna hear you say it when I’m begging to cum on your cock.”

His words are rushed and accompanied by the unmistakable sound of skin vigorously slapping against skin. “Yeah? Well after you cum on my tongue, I’m definitely gonna need to fill you up again, baby. Gonna get me so fucking hard watching you cum for me, seeing you shake, hearing you say my name like that... Think you’d want to bounce on my cock, make yourself cum for me one more time?”

You’ve settled the phone into the crook of your neck so that you can have one hand hard at work on your clit and the other pumping away inside your pussy. “Yes, Ash, absolutely,” you sigh filthily. “Want to ride your thick cock, want you filling me better than anyone else has… Want to cum around you, squeeze you tight… fuck… I just wish you were here, Ash.”

He pants, “I know, baby, me too. Wish this was your hand instead of mine… your mouth… your pussy… fuck, baby, I just need to feel you... I’m so close, are you close?”

“Yes... I’m almost there… wanna hear you cum for me,” you whimper.

Ashton grunts a few times and you feel yourself tensing when you hear his strangled cry of your name. You imagine him, cock pulsing in his hand, shooting rope after rope of hot cum onto his own chest. That visual alone is enough to start you unraveling but what gives you that final push over the edge is the knowledge that he was thinking about you when he came. You moan and mumble for him as you cum, clenching around your fingers, rubbing at your clit until you can’t take it anymore.

The call is quiet for a few moments as you both come down, listening to the sounds of each other’s breathing. After a bit, you hear some rustling on his end which you assume is him cleaning himself up; it crosses your mind how desperately you want to be there to clean him with your tongue and a faint, tired moan escapes your lips as you wonder what he tastes like.

You thought your noise was inaudible but Ash catches it and chuckles, “I’ll say.” He exhales loudly and then in stark contrast, starts speaking very softly. “I’d give anything to be there with you right now. Hold you while your breathing settles, feel your heartbeat slow against my chest… I already know I’m never gonna get enough of you.”

You sigh dreamily, heart swelling, yearning at his words. “I want that too,” you agree quietly. “We’re gonna be so good together, I know it.”

You both bask in the contented silence for another moment before you can’t help but joke, “Well, I’m glad you called!”

“Me too,” Ashton giggles with delight. “Think I need a nap now too, goddamn.”

You hum happily, “Call me later, we can actually talk?”

“Nothing I’d rather do,” he beams.

“Great… And I guess now that we’ve got our first post-lockdown date figured out, we can start brainstorming about how the second one will go,” you tease.

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#5sos smut #ashton irwin smut #ashton smut #5 seconds of summer smut #ashton irwin fic #kindahoping4forever #cal-puddies #kh4f fic #smut #In My Dreams #this idea came so easily but it was a bear to write for some reason #but i am v happy with the results #pls let me know what you think!#Feedback is appreciated #note than i have grown as a writer and am only mentioning 'shorts' instead of specifically mentioning the athletic shorts #they're whatever kind of shorts you want them to be #but really we all know what i mean

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vintagedolan · 4 years ago

Text

mixtape | track five

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

*contains smut*

It took two nights for Grayson to officially give in and admit that Indiana’s bed was more comfortable than his. Although he wasn’t exactly utilizing the space the way he wanted to at that moment, considering he was criss cross on top of the comforter in front of his very stressed out girlfriend, holding out a water bottle like it was a toy for a toddler.

“Hey. You need to drink some of this.”

“Mhmm, yeah,” she mumbled as a response, blowing him off as she had been all evening, one finger tracing over her notes. He resisted the urge to pull them out of her hands, knowing he might rip them on accident.

“Dee. Stop. Drink.”

“Yeah, just gimme a sec.”

“No, cause you said that five minutes ago. Drink.”

“I’m fine.”

“Holy shit.” He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and held it over her notes, blocking her view. “Drink it or I’m pouring it.”

That got her attention enough, and when she looked up her gaze was icier than he’d ever seen it.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” He tilted it just barely.

“You’re annoying,” she grumbled, grabbing the bottle and taking a quick swig before trying to hand it off again.

“And you’re stubborn. Three more drinks, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“You know, I’m two months away from a college degree, not a two year old.”

“Then you should know how important water is,” he countered, not budging an inch. She gave in to appease him, taking three long swallows before she passed it back to him, licking her lips slowly as she moved back down to her papers.

As if he wasn’t already worked up enough.

He was trying to behave, he really was. But there was just something about the way she was so focused. He’d always found ambition sexy, but it had been a long time since he’d seen someone academically driven, and he’d forgotten how attractive he found someone with intelligence. She was right there in front of him, hair pulled up in a loose bun on top of her head with a pencil stabbed through it somewhere - she didn’t need it, she had 17 different colored pens lined up in order on top of her planner page, which was full of blocked out times and perfect penmanship. She’d been chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous habit he’d noticed, but now it was bright pink and slightly swollen, and all he wanted to do was lean over and lay her down against the bed, kiss her rough, feel her skin under his hands, get her out of that damn cudi hoodie that he’d let her borrow a few nights ago.

“Flex.”

He only realized she was looking at him when he pulled himself out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Take your shirt off and flex your arm.”

“Uh… why?”

“For science.”

His ego could have burst, and he couldn’t help the smug grin that spread across his face after he slipped his sweatshirt off over his head. He reached over and tucked a finger under her chin, tilting it up until she was looking at him with those bright blues that he hadn’t seen nearly enough that day.

“You know, if you wanted me to get naked, all you had to do was ask.”

For a moment he tried to remember what movie or book or show he’d ripped off just then, but he got distracted when Indy smacked him across his arm.

“I need to look at your muscle structure, not drool over you.”

He deflated immediately, in every form of the word.

“Oh.” It sounded small, even to himself, and it was apparently all it took for him to finally have her full attention. She frowned, guilt immediately spreading across her entire face.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

It wasn’t often that Indiana did anything less than perfect (in his eyes anyways), so he jumped at the opportunity to milk it a bit.

“No it’s fine,” he muttered, toying with his fingers.

It worked.

It wasn’t two seconds later and she was intertwining her own fingers with his, tiny little pen marks of different colors on her skin as she pulled herself over towards him. Before he knew it his hands were on her waist and she was crawling into his lap, settling herself directly over him. She was a hair taller than him like that, and he tilted his head up to look at her, keeping his pout on his lips until she kissed it away.

“Sorry,” she murmured, lips moving against his as he traced his fingers over her sides, up under her hoodie to her warm skin. He felt her relax with each pass of his hands, the tension leaving her shoulders as she got lost in him.

“S’okay. Everybody gets a little grumpy when they’re stressed,” he hummed, thumbs running over the curve of her hips.

She pulled back from him immediately, offense all over her face.

“I am not grumpy.”

He waited for a moment, bold enough to raise his eyebrows at her but not to say anything.

And then her bottom lip was quivering, and he saw the tears welling up in the corners of her shiny eyes, and his stomach dropped faster than it ever had.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Baby what’s wrong?” He moved a hand up to her cheek before she crumpled forward onto his shoulder, her tears warm against his skin.

“I’m grumpy,” she moaned, followed by a sniffle.

“You’re crying… because I said you were grumpy?”

“No, because I am.”

He re-ran her words through his head a few times, only getting more confused.

“I’m not following.” He fessed up, bringing his hand up to run over her hair that was still tucked up in the messy bun that was tickling his cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m just stressed out, and I get crazy with exams, I can’t help it, I’m sorry. I just… I can’t fuck this one up, and I’m gonna fail it. But that’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t be grumpy just because I’m stressed.”

The way that the worry in her voice pulled at his gut was a new sensation, something he’d never felt with anyone but Ethan, and even then it was different. He wanted nothing more than to be able to cheer her up, to make her feel better any way that he could.

“Hey. Look at me.”

She brought her head up slowly, eyes pink and irritated as she rubbed at them with the bottom of her sleeve.

“Have you ever actually failed an exam before?”

She shook her head and sniffled. If it wasn’t so sad, he would have thought it was adorable.

“Then there’s no reason to think you’re going to fail this one.”

“But-”

“What specific part are you on right now?” He kept up the bid to distract her, happy to see that no new tears were appearing.

“All the brachial muscles.”

“Brachial?”

“Arms. Arm muscles.”

He perked up, raising up an arm and flexing.

“I have those. Lots of those.”

He let the eye roll slide because of the laugh that followed it - he couldn’t think of something he’d produced that he was prouder of in the last month.

“My professor did say if we needed to look up muscle definition for reference to google pictures of Ryan Gosling, or Channing Tatum.”

Grayson wrapped his arms around her, but not before he snagged her phone and moved it out of her reach, getting another laugh from her.

“I think I would suffice.”

“You should be top of the list,” she hummed, kissing him again. He let her settle all her weight against him, which put her snug over his crotch in a way that she hadn’t been before, and he tried to think of absolutely anything else to keep himself from popping the most obvious boner he’d ever had. He felt like a high schooler again, with wild hormones that were ready to betray him at any moment.

And Indy had no mercy for him either, chasing away her worries through rough passes of her tongue against his, lips warm and urgent as she kissed him. It took all of his self control to keep himself from rolling her over, flipping her onto her back and really getting to work.

Luckily, her hands slid down his arms, over the ridges of his muscles and she hummed.

“Which one is that?” He took the chance for the distraction, looking over at the way her nails traced over his skin.

“Well this is the short head of the biceps brachii. This is the long head, and this is the pronator teres,” her fingers ran over the inside of his elbow, crossing over.

“What’s that do?”

“Pronates your arm.” He waited. “Like this.” She turned his arm so his palm was facing down.

“And you have a supinator too, which turns it the other way. It’s right… here.” She felt around on his forearm until she found a smaller muscle up by his elbow, squeezing it. Sure, he knew the basic muscles in his arms - anything he could target at the gym, plus anything important to build up for a planche. But it was incredible to him, the way she could trace a finger over his skin and mutter something to herself, another muscle, another nerve that went into it without having to look at any notes. She was content like that for a while, but eventually she perked up.

“Can I write on you? They’re skin safe pens.”

“You think I’m worried about skin safe pens?” He asked, looking down pointedly at the tattoos on his foot and ankle, the only ones she could see outside of his sweatpants.

“Oh shut up. My mom used to get so mad when I wrote shit on my hands, said I was gonna give myself ‘ink poisoning’, it’s habit.”

“My dad took me to get my first tattoo so… I think we’re good.”

The tug on his heart was a little less painful than it usually was.

“Play some Cudi. It helps me think.”

“Your wish, my command,” he teased, pulling out his phone.

She leaned him back against the pillows with a gentle push to his shoulder, moving her notes out of view and grabbing a black pen. He pulled up his Cudi playlist, letting his left arm rest against the comforter. Indy took it in her hands, moving it around with her pen held between her teeth, tracing fingertips over his skin as her mind worked ten times faster than Grayson’s probably ever had, he was sure.

Music filled the room, bringing in a more relaxing vibe as he tried to be a good model, only twitching when something tickled him - she didn’t seem to notice, so intent on scribbling the names of muscles he’d never heard of on his skin, his arm resting over her lap as she sat criss cross. He couldn’t resist tracing his fingertips over her skin where he could get to it, a gentle reminder that he was there for her, even if he was being quiet.

Ever since he could remember, Grayson had to be on the move. Had to be practicing, moving, working, doing something to keep his brain busy. It’s why he was in sports as a kid, why he was always starting new projects, always had 85 things going on in the background. But there, laid out on the comforter watching her wiggle around to the beat as she sang along, he couldn’t think of anything he would rather be doing. Even when she moved on to his ‘trunk’ muscles, made him hold his arm up and wrote serratus anterior across his ribs, he didn’t care. She never looked back at her notes, and he could tell she knew the information inside and out, but he humored her anyways, focusing in on the feeling of her fingers on his skin. Before he knew it, it was 11:30, and half of him was covered in Indy’s handwriting as he laid on his stomach and she wrote on his back.

“Done. I think that’s all of them.”

“Well, how do I look?” He peeked over his shoulder at her.

“Like a page of my notes,” she teased. “Come see.”

She tugged on his hand, leading him over to the mirror that hung behind her door. He stood tall next to her, a soft smile on his face as he looked over his skin.

“You really have to know all these?”

“And their origins and insertions,” she mumbled, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. “Where they start and where they end,” she explained. “I need to go to sleep.”

“Hang on.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “C’mere.”

She did as he asked, letting him pull her up against his side a bit more, angling so they looked good in the mirror before he snapped a quick picture.

“I look like death,” she mumbled, pouting a bit.

He just shook his head and kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you in bed.”

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

Indy woke up to her alarm in a cold bed - which a month ago wouldn’t have been a thought in her mind. But she knew that her personal space heater had definitely fallen asleep next to her last night, considering it was him running his fingers through her hair that lulled her down. So she stood up quickly, rubbing at her eyes and following the sound of movement towards her kitchen. But on her way she saw her backpack and her stomach turned - a reminder of the exam she had in just a few hours.

The only - and probably best - distraction that she could have had was what she found in the kitchen. Shirtless Grayson, moseying around in his own little world, bed head sticking up in six different directions with slightly smudged pen ink still on half of his torso. It took him a moment to notice her there, still in his sweatshirt with her hands covered by the end of the sleeves.

“Morning gorgeous,” he smiled, small knife in one hand and an avocado in the other. “Figured I could make you breakfast before you had to leave.”

She swallowed hard. The thought of eating anything with her stomach so tight made her mouth taste like metal.

“You can get ready if you want, it’ll be a minute before it’s done.”

Indy nodded and gave him the best smile she could muster before she went back into her room. She made it as quick as she could, pulling on a pair of leggings and a bra - it was tempting for her to put Grayson’s hoodie back on, but she went the hygienic route and found a cozy sweater, burnt orange fabric soft against her skin. She gathered up all her school things, triple checking that she had a pencil and two extras, her notes and her laptop so that she could study right before.

When she made it back out to the kitchen, there was a plate waiting for her, organized quite particularly with a piece of avocado toast and strawberries, with a mug of coffee steaming beside it.

She swallowed hard again.

“Look good?” He beamed, obviously proud of himself as he started working on his own.

“Yeah, it looks great.”

Indy forced herself to take a bite after she sat down, chewing it so many times that it went soggy in her mouth. She washed it down with coffee, which seemed to go much easier. So she stuck to that, taking sip after sip until the last bit was gone, bringing her mug back down to the table, hoping she’d played it off.

But the look on Grayson’s face when she finally put the mug down told her she was sorely mistaken.

“You don’t like it.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, no it’s not-”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to eat it.”

“Grayson-”

“It’s not-”

“No, Grayson, it’s not the toast. I love avocado toast.”

“You don’t love my avocado toast,” he pouted.

“It’s not that. I promise,” she sighed, her stomach only tightening even more.

“What is it then?”

“I’m anxious. And I can’t eat when I’m anxious cause it makes me nauseous. And then eating just makes me more nauseous.”

His face fell from a pout to concern in an instant.

“Baby why didn’t you say something?”

“Because! You got up and you made breakfast, cause you’re cute and you’re thoughtful and now it’s gonna go to waste because my brain is stupid.”

And then he was laughing - a light sound that filled the kitchen and broke through the awkwardness that had found its home in the air.

“You’re adorable.”

She frowned, and he moved around the counter so he could stand tall in front of her, stealing a strawberry off her plate and popping it in his mouth.

“So lunch, not breakfast, on exam days. Got it.”

“Gray, you don’t-”

“Shush. You said you wanted to study before for a little while, so you probably need to get going, right?”

He was right and she knew it, but it still made her huff. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up. Now go ace your exam so we can have the rest of the afternoon, hmm? You sure you don’t want me to walk you?”

“I got it, it’s okay. Just hold down the fort here, and I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

She got out of her chair, pulled her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed her water bottle, turning back towards Grayson.

“Good luck, not that you need it. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“What’re you gonna do while I’m gone?” She mused.

“Snoop,” he teased, squeezing her hip in his hand. “Actually I might hit a quick workout.”

“In here?” She looked around. “With what?”

“All you need for calisthenics is yourself and your muscles. You know my, uh-” he looked at his arm, squinting at the slightly smudged writing from the night before. “- flexor digitorum profundus, and uh… the rest of them.”

He knew he butchered the pronunciation, but he’d do it again to get the same laugh out of her.

“Last minute review, go,” he grinned, spinning around slowly so she could see all the work from the night before. She was still laughing when he stopped and grabbed her face with both hands, kissing her with a smile before making himself let go.

“Bye,” he mumbled. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill it.”

“Bye.” Love you. She held herself back from saying it, leaning up to give him one final kiss on the cheek before she turned and headed towards the door.

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

When Grayson took exams in ‘high school’, it usually consisted of him and Ethan sitting next to each other on the couch with their notes spread out in front of them, picking each other’s far too similar brains for the answers.

Indiana on the other hand, was a solo everything. Solo test taker, obviously, but also solo studier, solo crammer, solo sit-before-the-exam-and-panic. Which worked out in her favor when she finished the exam - first in the class every time - because she didn’t feel the need to wait for anyone to discuss it. And she was especially thankful for it that day, because she had no reason to stay in the science building any longer than she needed to. She was out of the room, down the stairs and out onto the street immediately, with the image of Grayson laid out on the couch waiting for her at home pacing her steps even faster than usual.

But when she unlocked the door, there was no 6ft italian on her couch. In fact, there was no 6ft italian anywhere that she could see, and it took her a minute to place the sound of the shower running from her bathroom as she sat her bag down. The relief of having the exam out of the way was almost euphoric as she flopped down onto the bed and stared up at her ceiling, breathing her first easy breath in a few days. She stretched her arms up above her head and let her body fully settle down as she waited for her boyfriend to reappear.

Grayson, on the other hand, was taking his sweet time in the shower, and trying to ensure that there was no evidence that he’d definitely borrowed her razor to shave the puff of his chest hair that was a little too long for his liking. Needless to say, it was another 15 minutes before he made it out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist to head out into Indy’s room to find his bag. His hair was still dripping as he leaned over and searched for a pair of decent boxers.

“Boo.”

The towel was centimeters from falling off when he practically jumped out of his skin, but Indy wasn’t about to complain.

“Holy fuck you scared me! When did you get back?!” He gasped, trying to catch his breath as he clutched the fabric around him. It was low enough to show off the V lines that Indy had first noticed while they were cliff jumping, and it had her mind derailing in a much different direction.

“Like twenty minutes ago. I think you take longer showers than I do,” she teased, propping up on her elbows so she could actually look at him.

Jesus christ.

“Hang on, let me put pants on.”

You don’t have to, she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue and just enjoyed the view.

Pants, luckily, were just some very tight and short boxers that left little to the imagination when he re-emerged from the bathroom that he’d ducked away to change in.

“So how’d it go, how was the exam?”

“I missed two.”

He blinked at her a few times.

“Questions?”

“Yep.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“But… how… you know what, nevermind,” he laughed, shaking his head gently before he threw his towel over his hair and started to rub it dry.

“What?” She laughed with him, and a bit at him, for the adorable way that his hair had become fluffy from the towel when he tossed it to the side.

“I’m not even gonna try to understand your brain anymore. I give up, I forfeit.” He threw his hands up in defeat, and Indy watched the way it made his abs move. She swallowed hard, her skin buzzing as she tried to keep her tone playful while her stomach floated.

“You forfeit? You?”

He seemed entirely unfazed - it struck her that he was probably very much used to girls looking at him and imagining all the things they wanted him to do to them. She tried not to dwell on it, and to remind herself for a moment that he was there in front of her, in her bedroom, in boxers. Very tight boxers, with a very, very clear outline of his dick.

“C’mere.” She took her moment of vindication and ran with it, reaching out a hand for him as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants. He raised his eyebrows at her but obliged, taking her hand and letting him pull her over to the bed so he was sitting on the edge. She swung herself over into his lap, happy to feel his hands settle on her hips to hold her there, sweatpants dropping to the floor.

“Well hi,” he hummed as her arms wrapped around his neck. “Whatcha doin’?” His tone was still playful, less affected than she wanted it to be, almost like he didn’t realize what type of mood she’d suddenly found herself in. It was true that most of the time, he was making the moves - but only because he was so touchy that she never needed to.

So she kissed him before she answered, harder than usual, slipping her tongue into his mouth before he could get to hers. She let her hands roam through his soft hair, nails against his scalp as she tilted his head back to change the angle of his lips, shifting herself up with her forearms on his wide shoulders. He grunted a bit, breaking free of the kiss to press a few to her neck, his scruff deliciously rough against the sensitive skin.

When he pulled back his pupils were blown wide, eyes trained up on her face, flickering down to her neck, then her boobs, which were far too hidden under her clothes.

“I said I was gonna make it up to you,” she finally answered. “So let me.”

“Fuck yes,” he mumbled, hands immediately bunching in the bottom of her sweater. His instinct was to strip it directly over her head, but he paused as he pulled it up, looking at her for reassurance. She nodded with a soft smile, lifting her arms up as he guided it off, revealing the skin he hadn’t seen yet. Sure, her crop top had been small, and even more revealing once it was wet, but-

“This hits different,” he murmured, hands moving to hold onto her, thumbs rubbing over her ribcage on either side.

“This hits different?” She said, eyes going incredulously wide before her head fell back in a laugh, which turned into a squeal when Grayson buried his face in her cleavage for a moment just to get a reaction. He reveled in the feeling of her hands back in his hair, even if it was to pull him back.

“Can I take this off?” He kissed the swell of each boob, hands ghosting over the back of her bra as he spoke.

“Yes. Please.”

He did as she asked, flicking the clasp open with ease and catching her lips with his again as he guided the straps off her arms and tossed the black garment somewhere behind her. As soon as he could he leaned her back a bit, holding her there with his hands spread against her back as he kissed down her neck, over her collarbone and down to her boob. The angle wasn’t quite right for him to get enough of what he wanted, so he sat back up instead, vowing to himself to give her tits the attention they deserved later. He kept the next kiss slow, wrapping his arms all the way around her torso so he could press her against him, feel every possible inch of her skin against his. It was bliss in its rawest form, and he would have been mostly content to stay just like that.

His dick had other ideas, hard to the point of almost painful underneath her warmth as she settled over him, his boxers too thin to show him any mercy. Every time she shifted above him it sent a jolt of heat straight through him, and it wasn’t long before he rolled them to the side, taking control of the situation before he literally came in his boxers.

Indy didn’t seem to mind, beaming up at him as she settled on her back, her flushed skin on display above the white comforter. It was a beautiful sight if Grayson had ever seen one, and he just looked at her for a moment, tried to etch it into his brain so he’d never forget. He’d had his fair share of girls on a bed in front of him - honestly, more than he was proud to admit. It always just happened so fast, where one minute they were talking and within the weekend they were tangled up in eachother.

But Indy was different - there was an innocence about the blush in her cheeks and the way she crossed her legs a bit, like she was hiding from him even though she still had her leggings on. It was driving him insane, and it took all his willpower to remind himself to go slow, to focus and cherish every minute of it that he could.

So he climbed over her, sinking down to kiss her again and letting some of his weight rest on her, happy to feel her smile against him.

“You okay?” He asked, kissing down her jawline slowly, over to her ear and then down her neck. Her hair smelled like vanilla where it tickled his nose.

“Mmmm,” was her only response, and he took it as his sign to move farther south, brushing his lips along her collarbone. “More than okay,” she breathed, back arching just barely to meet him.

“You wanna keep going?” Please. Please.

“Do you?” She asked quietly - he could hear the nerves in her tone, and it stopped him in his tracks. He propped himself up so he had a full view of her face.

“Only if you do.”

She bit her lip, looking up at him. The hesitation was enough for him to start to move off of her, mind already trying to remember where he’d thrown her sweater so she could cover herself back up. Her hand wrapped around his arm before he could get any further.

“No wait! Wait, I do. I do want to, I promise, it’s just… it’s uh… it’s been a while.”

He’d never seen her face so red, and then she was talking over herself to try and get the words out fast enough.

“And by a while I literally mean like… years. I’m talking uh, junior year of high school. And I can tell you that they obviously didn’t know what they were doing, so I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, and I just wanted you to know that before we really, like, got into it, and…”

He stopped her lips with his, waiting until her body gave way to him and relaxed underneath his hands before he pulled away.

“Baby, I couldn’t care less when the last time you slept with somebody was, or if you know what you’re doing. You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“Says the experienced one,” she teased, but he could tell his words had given her at least a little bit of comfort.

“Just let me take care of you. You deserve it, you worked so damn hard all week, now you get to relax.”

“You’re in charge,” she breathed.

“I like that.” He flashed her a playful grin before he really got to work, kissing down to her chest and paying specific attention to her nipples to get her worked up again. It didn’t take long, and when her back arched up he slid his hands down to her leggings, letting his fingers hook in the waistband.

“You ready for these to come off?”

“Yeah. Yours too though.”

He pulled everything off her at once, jokingly backing up and tugging to make her laugh until the ends popped off her feet. He tossed them aside and moved to his own boxers, pushing them down and stepping out of them, using his foot to kick them away.

“Jesus,” Indy said, and then immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in embarrassment. Grayson couldn’t help but to bust out laughing, the kind that went through his whole body, made him clutch at his chest.

“Was that a good Jesus or a bad Jesus?”

“A good Jesus. Is bad Jesus even a thing?” She mused, laughter and excitement overriding some of her nerves as he moved above her again. His kisses started at her boobs this time and moved down slowly, almost torturously light brushes of his lips against her skin. Grayson eased her legs open with one hand, reaching up and under her thigh with the other, searching until he found her hand and laced their fingers together. It settled her in a way that only he could, and she let out the breath she’d been holding, sucking in another one when he ran his fingers over her for the first time. Her body jolted at the feeling and he pressed a kiss to her thigh.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he said, and instead of making her blush, the words just made her wetter somehow - she already felt like she was dripping. He dipped one finger into her and she forced her muscles to relax, let herself melt into the comforter as he leaned forward and started in with his tongue, small flicks at first that already had her twitching. It was obvious that he knew what he was doing, but unbeknownst to Indy he was enjoying her inexperience - it made her more reactive, made him feel special that he was the one who got to give her this. It focused him as he tried to read her body, find the right angles and spots to make her tick as he moved up to two fingers, stretching her slightly to get her ready.

“Oh god,” she whimpered, hand squeezing his so tight it was borderline painful, but he wouldn’t move it for the world as she clung to him.

“All good?”

“Yes, yes, god that feels good.”

He could practically feel his chest puff up before he dove back in with renewed purpose, eyes trained up on her as he watched, tried to find her tells so he could commit them to memory as he explored her with his tongue. He found it when her breath hitched and her back arched for a moment, and then her legs were shaking beside either side of his head, a blissful whimper falling from her lips and filling the room as she came. It was easy to work her through it, and he backed off when her legs twitched towards closing, letting her catch her breath.

“C’mere,” she mumbled, tugging on his hand until he crawled back up her body, a bit surprised when she brought a hand up to his hair and pulled his lips down to hers.

“Fuck me.” It came out as a whisper, but all that familiar Indy confidence had returned to her tone as she hooked a leg up onto his back in an attempt to get him closer to her. He groaned into her mouth, biting at her lip as his dick rubbed against her, warm and wet.

“You sure?”

She just pushed him a bit further as her answer, letting go of his hand so she could wrap both her arms around his back, fingers running over the ridges of muscles that she was familiar with now.

He reached a hand between them, lined himself up carefully until just the head of his dick was settled inside of her. Eyes on her face, he started to move, stopping when she sucked in a deep breath through her nose.

“Don’t let me hurt you, you gotta talk to me,” he said, tone suddenly serious. The last thing he wanted was to be over eager. She nodded at him, eyes still closed as she tried to relax.

“Just go slow.”

With anyone else, it probably would have taken every ounce of willpower he had to hold himself back. But his concern for her overrode his own needs, and he aired on the side of caution, moving slowly in small thrusts, gaining a bit more each time. His head was clear enough until Indy grabbed his face and brought it back to hers, leaning up for a deep kiss that had him spinning. He could have busted right there when she moaned into his mouth, nails sharp against his cheeks as her head fell back. With her neck exposed in front of him he couldn’t resist leaving his mark, sucking a quick hickey by her collarbone.

“Fuck me Gray, please, please,” she groaned, her own way of giving him the go ahead. He picked up his pace, holding himself up with one arm and grabbing her hip with the other, keeping her steady. Indy didn’t know where to put her own hands, so she settled for exploring, tracing over Grayson wherever she could reach, appreciating every inch in front of her as best she could with the feeling of him inside of her, filling her up so much she was sure she was always going to feel empty without him.

“Fuck,” he huffed out, the first sign he’d given her that she was doing something right. She tested it out, running her nails down his side, over his ribs, watching the way it made his eyes roll back just slightly, made his abs tense up. It was a race then, trying to see who could get the other to come undone first, with angles and groans and touches and whispers in each other's ears.

Grayson won.

Her second orgasm was somehow stronger than the first, and she was so caught up in the stars that she barely registered that Grayson had pulled out. He stayed close above her as he finished himself off, cum shooting onto both of their chests as he groaned, barely able to hold himself up with just one arm.

Needless to say he collapsed next to her on the bed to catch his breath as they both stared up at the ceiling. Indy moved first, finding his hand again with hers and holding on, eventually pulling it up to her lips so she could kiss each of his knuckles.

“Woah,” was the word he finally chose when enough oxygen caught back up to him.

“Good woah or bad woah?”

He rolled over onto his side at that, raising his eyebrows.

“You have to ask?”

“Well it was amazing for me, but that doesn’t mean it was amazing for you,” she explained, only making him shake his head.

“You underestimate yourself too much. It was perfect. Best first time I’ve had with anyone, ever.”

She flushed pink at his words, looking down at herself and the mess that they’d made.

“I know you just showered but… you wanna join me?”

Instead of answering, he just stood up, glad that his legs weren’t wobbly as he scooped her up from the bed, laughing at her squeal as he carried her to the bathroom.

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

“Earrings, you do too much.”

“It’s nothing, just something for you to have while we can’t visit. Indy helped pick it out.”

Indy offered Bekah a smile as Grayson spoke, trying to keep her mindset positive. Which was much easier said than done, considering Bekah looked like she’d lost ten pounds since the last time they’d seen her, especially with the oxygen cannula in her nose. Still, she had the biggest smile on her face as she reached inside of the massive gift bag that Grayson had put together for her earlier that day. Indy watched as she pulled out the blanket they’d found, adorned with cute little smiling pumpkins and black cats with their backs arched.

“For spooky season, you know?” It hit Indy then that it was already mid October when they were shopping earlier, and by the look on Bekah’s face she hadn’t realized it either. It felt like September had only been a few days ago.

“We love cute spooky vibes,” Bekah smiled, trying to get it the rest of the way out of the bag. Her monitors started to beep more rapidly, her oxygen levels dropping.

“Here, let me help,” Indy offered, moving to the bag and pulling the rest of the blanket out, sitting it at the end of the bed. Bekah gave her a quiet thankful smile and took a few deep breaths through her nose before moving back into the bag. It was full of small decorations that she could sit around her room, and a few halloween themed coloring books and word searches to keep her mind busy - Indy knew she liked those. The nurses had decided to air on the side of caution and have her isolate for five days prior to her surgery, which meant she would need something to keep her mind busy.

“You all didn’t have to do this,” she said, laying back against the pillows.

“We wanted to. I’m sorry we can’t come see you,” Indy sighed, adjusting her blankets and moving around some of her tubes and lines. Grayson knew she was fidgeting because she was nervous, but he didn’t say anything.

“S’okay. Don’t really want you all to see me like that anyways. Don’t really want you all to see me like this either but here we are.”

One of the downfalls of being in the medical field was knowing more than you wanted to. Indy knew the chances of Bekah’s surgery going well. She knew the percentages, knew how bad she already had to be for them to even be considering something above chemo. Her weakness, her need for oxygen, everything else. They were all major red flags on a textbook page, signs she would highlight on a case report that could be consolidated into one word - declining.

But she couldn’t quite get herself to use that word, to rationalize it when it was Beks in front of her. She seemed smaller now than she had the first time Indy had met her, and it unsettled her in a way that made her want to scream and cry at the same time. Grayson served as the anchor in the room, the solid middle ground that she could cling to and distract herself with to keep from spiraling. She wished she could physically sit by him, lean against him and feel his warmth. But they were sticking to their rules - nothing coupley in front of Bekah.

“You guys should go do something while you can’t come see me. You spend a bunch of time here, you deserve a hospital vacation,” Bekah mused, picking at a few spare pieces of lint on the blanket. “Do something together even, keep her from worrying about me for the entire week.” She looked at Grayson when she spoke that time, and Indy frowned.

“I’m gonna worry about you no matter where in the world I am, so suck it up.”

She managed enough energy to stick her tongue out, but even that seemed to take a lot out of her.

“Grayson, can you go see if Jessica can get me some water?”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He jumped at the opportunity, giving them both a quick smile before he went out in the hallway in search of Jessica.

Indiana was not so quick to assume, and turned to Bekah expectantly, heart breaking as she saw the start of tears in her eyes.

“Can we uh, can we cuddle for a minute? Like we used to?”

“Of course we can.”

It was rare that Bekah asked for anything, much less physical comfort of any kind. Indy had only done this a handful of times in the years that she’d known her, and it put a pit in her stomach to realize just how bad she must be feeling to even think about asking for it. She pushed the thoughts aside, climbing in the bed next to Bekah and pulling the blanket over the two of them, wrapping her arm around her so she could rest against her shoulder. She ignored the feeling of her tears when they started to soak through her shirt. They sat in silence for a moment before Bekah finally spoke again, voice at a whisper.

“Indy I’m scared.” The vulnerability in her voice was a dagger into Indy, and it took all her power to keep herself steady.

“I know. I am too. But if anybody can get through it, it’s you. You always have.”

“This time feels different.”

“Hey, don’t think like that, okay? Gotta go in with a positive mindset.” The words felt phony even as she spoke them, but it was a knee jerk reaction that at least got an eye roll out of Bekah, which helped her to stop her tears before Grayson came back in with a bottle of water and a cup of ice.

“I couldn’t find Jessica, so I just bought one and got a cup of ice from the lounge. Is that okay?”

“I don’t drink Dasani.”

Grayson deadpanned, looking down at the bottle and then back at Bekah, then over at Indy like she could do something to help.

“Kidding Earrings,” she teased, laughing a bit when his shoulders slumped down. “But, I will give you a 30 second pass on treating me like I have cancer and opening that bottle for me.”

He did as she asked, opening it up and pouring it for her with a sympathetic smile that she would have given him shit for any other day. Grayson didn’t say a word about the way they were curled up in the bed - he just sat at the end of it, putting two and two together and realizing she’d probably asked him to leave for a reason.

When 8pm rolled around, it was hugs goodbye and promises for facetime calls if she felt up for it. But mostly it was the unspoken fear that hung over the three of them like a cloud, and it only darkened as the walls lost their color on the way back out of the pediatric wing.

By the time they made it into the elevator Indy could barely speak around the lump in her throat. So instead, she decided to hide, wrapping her arms around Grayson as soon as the doors closed behind them and burying her face in his neck.

“Hey, shhh, shhh,” he murmured, holding her close to him and praying no one had hit the button for the first floor. He kissed her hair.

“Take me to Jersey. Please.” If he’d asked her why, she wouldn’t have had an answer.

Luckily, he didn’t.

“Okay.”

He took charge then, leading them home with his arm wrapped tight around her waist. When they got to the apartment he helped her pack an overnight bag in a bid to get it done faster, slinging it over his shoulder as they headed back out into the streets, to the garage where he paid an astronomical amount to park the truck any time he came into the city.

She didn’t even bother with the passenger seat, immediately sliding across the bench to curl up next to him as they started down the road. At one point he texted Lisa and Ethan, giving them the heads up that Indy was coming back with him, but she was already asleep by then, laying down with her head against his thigh, the stress of the last few days and hours catching up with her it seemed. He kept an arm over her the whole way home, just in case.

Indy woke up to the mixture of the bumps of gravel under the tires and the sound of Grayson singing Tame Impala slightly off key above her. A sense of peace washed over her when she sat up and saw the familiar glow of Lisa’s house amongst the trees, but Grayson’s worry was filling the cab as he put the truck in park.

“I’m okay.” She answered before he asked.

“No you aren’t.”

“I’m okay enough. I just… I feel better out here. I feel better with you, wherever you are.”

He hugged her to him, breathing her in as his arms coiled around her.

“Then I’ll always be here. I promise.”

It was as if time froze in that little cab, in each other's arms, until finally the October chill seeped in enough for them to give in and head to the house. If Lisa had noticed the time they spent in the driveway, she didn’t act like it. Instead, she lit up as if two of her kids had walked through the door and not just one.

“Hi guys! How was the drive? You hit traffic?”

“Hey Ma.” Grayson went in for a mom hug - one of those things you take for granted until you can’t have it anymore. But when he let her go Lisa moved on to Indy, and it felt so close to an actual mom hug that she almost teared up.

“Ryan and Ethan are in Cameron’s room setting up the mics, but if you need to eat first there’s vegan spaghetti in the fridge.”

It was obvious by Grayson’s face that he’d forgotten about the podcast all together in the last few hours. Indy smiled at him, tried to convey with her eyes that she was fine, because she was.

“Go work. I’ll still be here when you get back,” she reassured him. “We’ll have some girl time.”

“It’ll be an hour, tops.”

“Don’t rush. Have fun.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and then headed up the stairs.

Lisa waited until his footsteps stopped, considering they could hear them all the way to Cameron’s room, and then she turned to Indy with a smile.

“So, do you need a girls night or a distraction night?”

“A distraction night?”

“Something to get your mind off things. You seem like you’re in your head. Was it your exam? Did it go okay?”

She blushed at the thought of Grayson talking about her with his mom. “He told you that?”

“Oh honey he tells me all about you. When he gets to talking about something that he loves, he doesn’t shut up. Got that from his dad.”

“Sean talked a lot?”

“Oh all the time. If you got him started on anything sports he went on for hours, and the boys always ate it up. They were mini-him’s growing up. You know they started wrestling each other when they were two years old? Actual maneuvers he taught them when I wasn’t looking - I coulda killed him when I found out.”

And with that, Lisa led on a distraction night without Indy even realizing. Stories of Sean mostly, her voice full of love with just that hit of sorrow that you only get when someone is too far away from you. Things shifted when Lisa asked about Nicole, and Indy found herself remembering stories that she hadn’t told anyone in years. The time they went camping in Georgia and skunks took over the campground, or the time she’d scored the game winning shot in a high school basketball game and her mom tackled her, right in there with her teammates.

“You know, if there’s ever anything ‘mom’ related that you need, whether it’s a haircut or just a hug, I’m always here. And that goes for when Grayson isn’t around either - my door is always open.”

“Thank you Lisa. That means a lot. More than you know.”

They were hugging when the three boys came back down the stairs, laughter bouncing off the walls as they continued a debate that was definitely a part of the pod. They enveloped Lisa into the conversation, but Indy wasn’t listening. Her attention was on Grayson alone, watching the way his nose scrunched when he laughed just hard enough, and the way he leaned his head against his mom’s shoulder when she stood by him. His eyes flickered over to hers often, and eventually he continued the conversation from right above her head, his chin resting on her, throat vibrating when she spoke.

Eventually goodnights and goodbyes were given and everyone went on to their respective rooms, Grayson grabbing her bag and taking it with them. They made quick time of their nightly routine, finding themselves in pajamas with minty breath and fresh faces in no time, eager to climb into bed and find solace in each other again.

Indy moved first, nuzzling up to his neck as soon as he opened the blanket up for her to climb in. He tucked it around her before wrapping her up in his own arms and peppering kisses along her forehead.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Not tonight.”

“Okay. What did you and my mom talk about?”

“You mostly. And your dad. She had so many stories about him.” She traced a triangle over his chest to keep herself busy, feeling his breath filling up his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“That you lost him. And that I can’t give you him back.”

“Nobody can bring people back Dee. You don’t have to be sorry about that.”

“But I can’t even give you a little. Your mom treats me like I’m one of her kids, so when I’m here, just for a minute, it feels like I have a little bit of my mom back. And I can’t give you that. You deserve that.”

He shifted so he could see her, cup her face with his hand.

“Indiana Cross. You don’t have to give me anything but yourself. And I don’t even deserve that. You hear me? I love you. For you. Not for anything else that you could ever give me. Okay?”

“You love me?”

“Of course I do.” He leaned down to kiss her slowly, as if to make her feel his words. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

She let the weight of her head, and her heart, rest in his palm.

“I love you too.”

#SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG LMAO #pls lemme know what u think I'll love u forever #mixtape #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan #dolan twins #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins fanfiction

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ka-za-ri · 4 years ago

Text

Prize Pt 1

Hello! Comin’ at you hot with some commission work I received from a lovely client on Ao3. The request was for breeding centric fic, so if you’re not into that, please avert ye eyes. This is a three part series and will end up being Satan centric, but the first part will be dedicated to the lovely Asmo~

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° Please enjoy!

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Pairing: Asmodeus x Reader Genre: smut Wordcount: 4,200 ish Tags: Hand job, demon sex Summary: There’s a game afoot and it’s up to you to figure out the rules before you’re taken by surprise by the brothers.

Game

There was an unspoken game afoot, one that only the brothers were in on. You didn’t need to confront them on what they were hiding though, it wasn’t hard to figure out. None of the demons seemed to be well versed in the art of being subtle. At least it meant you were able to catch onto what they were doing much sooner than they anticipated. You would play along with them; and in the end, it would benefit all parties involved. The most important question was how to make them play by your rules without them knowing.

It was a careful dance around their flirtatious advances. It was a precise push and pull that you needed to become adept at if you wanted to win their game. For some, material bribes distracted them enough. A different approach was needed for the others who were more persistent. From Leviathan’s obvious attempts to usurp your time by asking you to raid with him until the wee hours of the morning to Beelzebub constantly asking you if you wanted some of his favorite snacks, they clearly wanted more personal time with you than they let on.

It wasn’t hard to push away Beelzebub. You could claim to have an upset stomach or were too full from your most recent meal to accept his idea to raid the fridge and retreat to his room to enjoy the spoils. Leviathan was similar. Most of the time you got away with complaining about how much homework was put upon you. On the few occasions you did end up joining him for a dungeon run or two, you may or may not have purposefully provoked the enmity of the boss to frustrate him enough to kick you out of his room early.

It was difficult to keep up appearances. Trying to find the balance of spending time with the brothers while also keeping up an innocent and unaware facade was more tiring than you anticipated. You knew that their intentions weren’t bad, but they were up to something that definitely revolved around getting you alone and probably naked. Some of the plans they executed were more obvious than others, and you needed to pick your battles accordingly.

Mammon was particularly difficult to deal with at times. He liked to spend most of his time hanging off you. He had the distinct advantage of being chosen to be your caretaker and guardian thanks to Lucifer. One of the few favors the first born had ever done for Mammon was allowing him to have as much contact as he needed with you. Though he was great with showing you the ropes of Devildom, it was problematic when it came to you wanting your own space. Though his words were brash, you could tell how much he adored being the default person that you had to turn to for help.

Luckily for you, it seemed as though his past made it hard for him to ever have enough time to be properly intimate with you. At any moment, he was liable to completely disappear from the current plane of existence due to his debt with a few powerful witches. You never found out who they were; but secretly, you thanked them for giving you just enough leeway to dodge out of his advances.

The game continued, and the tactics the brothers used became bolder with every attempt you managed to escape. Eventually, you realized that if you didn’t give at some point, the tension between them would only mount and create chaos among them.

Unsurprisingly, it was the Avatar of Lust that took it upon himself to break the ice and blow the game wide open for them all.

“Are you free after classes?” Asmodeus asked over breakfast. There was a brief moment of apprehension that passed through the other brothers when they heard his question. With all eyes on him, Asmodeus played off any nervousness he had by flaunting the attention he was receiving. He carried on with the conversation as if he wasn’t getting barely hidden glares from the others. “I just got the cutest outfit in the mail, and I want to show it to you if you’ve got time. You have a good eye for fashion, right?”

You checked your calendar, mumbling incoherently while you contemplated his offer. The Avatar of Lust truly lived up to his name, being ostentatious with his suggestions and leaving nothing to the imagination. There was no doubting his ulterior motive, but it didn’t stop you from gently trying to push him away. “There’s a test at the end of the week I need to study for,” you said while scrolling through all your tasks for the week.

“Oh please, with how quickly you pick everything up, it’ll be a breeze for you to pass it,” Asmodeus dismissed your excuse with a nonchalant wave of his hand. He could tell you weren’t convinced and quickly tried to strike up a deal with you to keep the advantage he had over his brothers. “How about I help you study after you take a look? What subject is it on?”

You double checked your schedule, realizing you weren’t going to get out of his offer so easily. He was being much more persistent than his brothers had been. To do it so publicly almost felt like he was trying to send a message to the others. After putting off answering as long as you could, scrutinizing your schedule over and over again, you gave in and just went with the first class on your schedule. “Demon Biology.”

Asmodeus’ grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, I have the best notes for that class, and they can be all yours for just coming over and having a looksie. Sounds like a good deal, right?”

Beside you, you could feel Satan physically bristle at his brother’s thinly veiled intentions. Asmodeus didn’t have to say it, but everyone at the table seemed to know what his ultimate plan was. Sure, he was afforded some slack due to his general nature; but he was pushing the unwritten limits that had been set. You weren’t even sure if you should continue to play dumb; but the less they knew about what you surmised about their game, the better. In the end, the choice was yours; and you couldn’t afford to be too conspicuous when it came to how much you had gathered.

“Well, if that’s all I have to do for some notes to pass this test, how can I deny your generous offer?” You smiled sweetly, noticing the tension in the room grow as the agreement was made. The balance of power had been tipped in Asmodeus’ favor within the span of a few minutes.

“Great! I’ll see you after class then. You know where my room is.” He blew you a quick kiss and skipped off to get ready for his day.

You expected a great upheaval between the brothers after such a proposal from Asmodeus. Surprisingly enough, there was minimal fuss over it, further proving to you that there was a plot brewing among them where cooperation on all sides was necessary. The most dissent came from Mammon who was adamant about walking you to your classes and would spend the whole time grumbling about his brother’s audacity to pull such a stunt in front of everyone. Despite all the complaining, he didn’t try to stop you from visiting Asmodeus after your classes as promised.

You expected to be a little nervous, but you didn’t think your hands would be shaking as you knocked tentatively on Asmodeus’ door. The Avatar of Lust warmly welcomed you in, already dressed and waiting for your arrival. A large fluffy robe covered his newest precious outfit, but you could see bits of lace peeking out from under the collar. Oh boy, this will be good. You raised a brow, eyeing what might be hidden. He caught your glance and chuckled, pulling the robe tighter around him before beckoning you into his room.

Even if he tried to be stealthy about it, it was very difficult to ignore how he locked the door behind him while you got comfortable.

“I’m so glad you could make it. I wanted you to be the first person I showed this to,” he pitched his voice a bit lower, adding the slightest hint of a seductive purr at the end of his words. You sat at the edge of his bed and set your things down. Asmodeus was being quite the tease, twirling around and letting just hints of his ensemble show. You caught glimpses of shiny black leather trimmed with plenty of fine black lace. He was being a showoff, and he knew it.

“Well, I might be the only person you get to show this to if you’re going to make me wait three weeks before the great reveal.”

Asmodeus let out a laugh before he finally let the robe drop, showing off the new ensemble in its entire glory. It was quite the sight seeing him decked in all that leather and lace. The outfit clung to him like a second skin, flattering his figure in the best way possible. You had an idea it was going to be risque, but no amount of mental preparation was enough for you to be ready for the sight before you. The accenting jewels he chose to wear in champagne and pink complimented the black if only because they matched his hair and eyes.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I don’t think anyone but you could pull that off, Asmodeus,” you replied truthfully.

He laughed, his eyes glittering with mirth at your compliment. “Oh please, you know you can just call me Asmo. I’d like to think we’re familiar enough for nicknames.” He twirled again, and there was a brief flash of light accompanied by a rustling sound. Once you blinked away the bleariness from the sudden bright light, you saw that he had changed into his true form.

The low back of the dress allowed for his wings to freely move making you wonder if this was a custom piece or if it was something he found on a whim. His wings peeking out past his shoulders only added to the aesthetic appeal of the ensemble as a whole. Asmodeus relished in the attention you gave him, posing and giving you his best angles. “It looks so much better like this, right?”

You nodded dumbly. There was no denying the Avatar of Lust was stunning, even in his human form. However, seeing him in his full glory, his horns and wings on full display, only seemed to elevate his look to a whole different level. His hand traveled down his abdomen, tracing the intricate lacework. He could tell your gaze was following his fingers; and he looked over at you, a playful smirk on his lips. “I take it as you like what you see?”

“It’s hard not to like something so… aesthetically pleasing,” you tried to sound nonchalant, but there was a definite waver in your voice. You knew his charms were useless against you. That had been established when you first met. However, the heated gazes he gave you and the lowered pitch of his voice was awakening things in you that you had tried to avoid thinking about since your arrival at Devildom.

You tried to look anywhere around you but at Asmo, the outfit he had on really was doing things to your libido you hadn’t expected. Furtively glancing over to the clock on the dresser, you noticed just how long you had been there and decided a change of subject was in order. If you could get out of this, you would have dodged yet another attempt from one of them. “Oh, so about those notes...” you started.

“Oh, yes. I was wondering when you would ask me,” Asmodeus giggled, a playful smirk spread across his delicate features as he continued to prance around his room. Eventually he stopped teasing you and pulled out a notebook to hand to you. While you flipped through, he lounged in bed next to you, the smirk never quite leaving his face.

“Wait. Uh… are you sure this is the right book?”

“Oh of course, I wouldn’t dream of giving you the wrong one.”

“Asmo, the pages are blank.”

“Oh, I know,” he giggled, his eyes crinkling up with mirth as you stared at him in confusion. He coyly lifted the skirt to his outfit to reveal he hadn’t bothered to wear any undergarments. “It’s better if you got some hands-on experience, right? The upcoming test is on anatomy after all,” he gave you a sly wink and giggled.

You couldn’t avert your eyes fast enough before getting an eyeful of what Asmo was packing as a demon. Even if you covered your eyes, you couldn’t avoid hearing him giggle gleefully at your reaction as you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Aww come on now, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. This is natural,” he cooed, petting your hair softly.

He guided your hand to feel him, letting you feel every curve and ridge of his dick. You didn’t want to look. It was too awkward for you to do so; but with a little coaxing, you eventually cracked open your eyes to take in just what you were feeling. It was a little odd to admit it, but his cock was pretty. Slim and tapered, your hand could easily wrap itself around his length. With a little more vocal encouragement, your fingers did eventually find their way round his cock. You gave him an experimental little pump partially to feel how his skin shifted and felt under your hand and partially to see his reaction. He let out a soft mewl of appreciation at the friction and rolled his hips up to meet your hand. “Feel free to ah…take as many notes as you’d like.”

His eyes were lidded, the irises blown out and darkening his light colored eyes. It only added to the sensuality of the moment as he laid next to you, letting you explore every inch of him for the sake of ‘studying.’ You could hardly believe it was happening yourself. His hand held onto your wrist firmly and continued to guide your hand to stroke him at a slow, lazy pace.

As your attention was occupied with what was in between his legs, he pulled you in with his free hand to press soft kisses at the corner of your mouth. They were quick, soft and a little hesitant at first; but when you didn’t immediately pull away from him, he became bolder, gliding his lips over your own and nipping at your lower lip, hoping to gain access to go deeper. With your mind short circuiting from all the sensations you were experiencing all at once, you gasped for breath; and that was all the permission he needed to deepen the kiss. His tongue swiped over your lips just once before delving into your mouth.

Kisses with the Avatar of Lust were unlike any you experienced before. Perhaps it was the centuries of practice he had with other partners, or perhaps it was his innate charm as the Avatar of Lust that made his kisses feel like a full body experience. You didn’t even feel embarrassed about feeling him up any longer as his kisses were what ultimately made you feel overwhelmed. The scent of new leather laced through the smell of his citrusy cologne and made for an absolutely intoxicating combination.

His hips jerked into your hand as he really got into it with you, the ridged texture under your fingers was firm yet pliant at the same time. His soft whimpers in your ears only emboldened you to explore more of his length. You traced the tapered tip carefully, watching his reactions. It seemed to be a rather sensitive spot considering he stopped kissing you just to let out a lewd moan and grind his length into your hand. His kisses trailed away from your lips to your jaw and to your ear where he licked and nipped right at your pulse point, enjoying the salt of your sweat as the room was quickly becoming warm.

Asmo let out soft whimpers almost akin to a coo every time you stroked him just right. His vocal appreciation egged you on, allowing you to stroke him with more confidence once you figured out just what he liked. He simply looked ravishing in that dress; and you needed to make sure you properly thanked him for not only the extensive notes he was giving you, but also the lovely little show as well.

Eventually, he pulled away from you if only to roll you onto your back and give your body as much attention as your hand had given him. Asmo gently put your arms at your side, murmured reassurances that he would take care of you while he slowly undid every layer of your uniform. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was making you anticipate his next move. He was slow and methodical, admiring every inch of skin he revealed; and he always had a compliment at the ready to make you blush even more under his watchful gaze.

“Beautiful. Just beautiful. Every bit of you,” he murmured before taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it.

You wailed, feeling his tongue lave at your sensitive skin. In fear of the others hearing your lewd exchange with Asmodeus, you quickly clasped your hands over your mouth to muffle your noises. He looked up at you from his place at your chest and laughed softly, putting your hands back at your sides. “No, no. Please be as loud as you wish. I want everyone to know exactly what’s going on here.”

You bit your lip, not sure if you could follow his demands; but the heat simmering in his eyes convinced you to comply. Once he was sure your hands would remain at your side, he went right back to what had been doing, redoubling his efforts on your nipple and making you whimper in need from his ministrations. He loved hearing every one of the sounds that came from your lips, and he was sure the others could hear just what he could do to you on the other side of his door. After the stunt he pulled at the table earlier that day, there was no way his brothers wouldn’t eavesdrop.

You surprisingly still had your panties on, but Asmodeus made quick work of them, peeling them off of you once he was sure your body was willing to accept him. Seeing you completely bare beneath him was absolutely breathtaking. He stared for a moment in awe, making you feel entirely too self conscious; and you curled up a bit to shy away from his heated gaze. “No,” he stated firmly, once again placing your arms at your side. “I want to see all of you.”

“Okay, you’ve seen it now, how about evening the playing field? You’ve got a lot more on than I do.”

“Oh, I do. How rude of me. Let me fix that.”

You felt his weight leave the bed momentarily. Looking up at where he went, you realized he had given you front row seats to a most sensual strip tease.

The only real garment he wore was that leather and lace dress. However, he somehow made taking it off feel like an eternity. From showing off his assets whenever he bent over to the slow pull of the zipper at the side of the dress, you felt like every second he wasn’t spending on top of you was another second that made your arousal reach the unbearable breaking point.

“Asmo, please…” you whined, “Stop teasing…this isn’t fair.”

He liked it when you were whiny. The way you pitched your voice in that desperate whimper broke the last bit of control he had. Whatever other teasing he had planned was thrown out the window in favor of shucking the dress right off so he could settle himself between your legs. His cock pressed at your soaking entrance. “You say please so prettily, I can’t resist.”

He pushed into you, and your hands almost flew to your mouth again to cover the lewd moan that came from your lips. He stretched you just right, fitting into your warm heat as if he was meant to be there. Your moan faded into a satisfied sigh as you felt him fill you. He smiled softly, memorizing the way your eyelids fluttered and the blissful look on your face when he bottomed out inside of you. “That’s a good look,” he purred, giving you a moment to adjust to his cock.

The time he gave you really wasn’t needed, he filled you but didn’t stretch you out in a way that made it painful. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and pulled him in for a hot kiss, your hips flexing as a wordless command for him to move.

He complied eagerly, moaning into your kisses and starting a pace that wasn’t unlike the one he guided your hand into earlier. It let you feel every ridge and bump of his cock slide in and out of you. He knew your first experience with a demon would be unlike any other coupling you had before. He wanted to make it special; and with all his experience as the Avatar of Lust, he sure was able to make you see stars and feel like you were drowning in pleasure.

It was an entirely new type of euphoria you were feeling, and you were quickly beginning to crave more of it. Your legs wrapped around his hips, and you desperately met every one of his slow thrusts in an attempt to get him to give you more. He quickly got the message and picked up the pace once he was confident you were well accustomed to his unique shape.

The change in speed and intensity was just what you needed to satiate your desires. He knew exactly what his cock could do, and he took advantage of it as he fucked you in earnest. The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed off his walls, your breathy moans mingled with his grunts of pleasure as you both lost yourselves in the throes of ecstasy while chasing your release.

He could make you see stars and the ends of the universe with his cock and it wasn’t long before the building pressure in your abdomen of your oncoming orgasm was reaching its breaking point. You called for him, encouraging him with your jilted moans every time he buried himself inside of you. His skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat from the exertion which only seemed to add to your overwhelming arousal.

“Oh fuck,” you choked back a sob as your orgasm washed over you like a wave. Intense and all consuming, your body convulsed as you reached your peak long before he was ready for his own release.

“You’re even more beautiful when you cum,” he panted, starry eyed and amazed at how tightly your inner walls were hugging his cock. “Makes me wish I was rutting right now so I could breed you over and over again. We would make the cutest babies.”

The primal, almost feral way his words sounded only made your walls clench around him even more. For as sensitive as they were, they reacted to him and craved more. He wasn’t done yet, and it seemed like he would continue until he reached his own blissful peak within you.

You weren’t able to keep up with the sensations of his cock still sliding in and out of your swollen walls. Everything became a blur of lust and desire. Your throat felt hoarse from screaming so much; you didn’t want anymore despite what your trembling body craved.

Eventually you could feel a change in Asmodeus’ pace as the even thrusts became erratic, and the volume of his moans matched the pitch of your screams. He gratefully unloaded himself, spilling his seed into you in hot spurts. Your name mixed with a variety of curses in a language you could only imagine was demonic in nature. He groaned, burrowing his head in the crook of your neck as he rode out his climax.

As soon as the brunt of his orgasm was over, he was kissing you deeply, wordlessly thanking you for the intimate moment the two of you had just shared. There was a fair bit of passion in his kisses though the needy heat from before had dissipated now that both of you had found the release you craved. He pulled away with a content sigh, rolling to your side and pulling out of you.

“So, do you think you got some good notes in?” he asked while he gazed lovingly into your eyes, brushing away a stray strand of hair away from your face. “Or do you need some more studying?”

You giggled, your skin still sensitive from such an intense session. “I think I’ll be able to pass with flying colors,” you reassured, rolling closer to him to get some much needed post coital cuddles.

#Obey me! Smut #Obey Me! Fanfic #Obey me! Asmodeus #Shall we date Asmodeus #My writing #i'm trash you're trash we're all trash #Commission work

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angelicmichael · 4 years ago

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Pretty Please

Jim Mason x reader

Summary: Jim and Reader decide to throw a christmas party but get distracted while trying to do so. Christmas fic!!

Words: 2.5k+

Warnings: Hella sexual tension, no smut but almost smut?? Very sexually suggestive hehe, fluff with no plot basically, SO much fluff its gross

A/N: based off this prompt I found in a christmas prompt list 'Making out under the christmas tree because the lights reflecting in their eyes just looked too ethereal for them not to kiss them until they lost their breath' sorry I cant find the specific prompt list this came from. Jim and Reader are both 18+, and this is kinda canon rewrite?? Basically as if the ending in ttopv didnt happen and Jim actually lived.. and got a gf haha. ALSO loosely based on the song 'pretty please' by Dua Lipa. Enjoy 💖 read the tags for more thots

You felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you once you entered the apartment.

The minimalistic decorations that once adorned the small apartment you and Jim owned were now paired and even doubled with new, shiny, Christmas decor. The last thing you were expecting to come home too was christmas decorations, to be completely honest. You knew the decorations were new because prior moving in together- you two had nothing.. christmas decoration wise anyway.

Saying that Jims childhood and even high school years were rough was definetly a understatement; you were thankful you didnt have to see him in that state and that you met him after that time.

You only met his parents once; well his mom anyway and almost immeadietly you knew why it took him so long for him to introduce you to her.

She was a fucking nightmare.

She told you immeadietly about Jim's dark past, probably in a lazy attempt to scare you off. She told you about Jim's father, the drugs, and even the drug overdose that nearly killed him. That didn't scare you off - but what it did do was break the final fucking straw for Jim who happened to overhear everything she said.

He hadn't talked to his mom since.

Medina frequently came over, she was practically your best friend and stayed incredibly close with Jim. In fact, you were supposed to see her in roughly a hour... along with a handful of other Jim and yours close friends.

With Christmas being so soon you and Jim decided to have a spontaneous christmas party. The idea was to decorate together but.. apparently Jim had other plans.

There was a wreath on the front door for one, and multi colored lights and Garland that were kept nearly on every surface of the house. Smaller christmas related knickknacks were placed too on the dining and coffee tables. It looked beautiful. You couldnt believe Jim would do this all for you, you meant to help but work unfortunately ran short so you had to cover a coworkers shift.

The entire living room was kept pretty dark and dim, only candles and the soft lighting from the christmas tree lights allowed you to see at all- but it was still enough. It was romantic if anything.

Jim didnt say anything as he came out to the living room to greet you. He stayed silent, watching you and your reaction as you spun around - trying to admire the apartment from every angle possible.

As you continued to keep walking in the apartment and admiring Jim's work, you couldn't help but dumbly giggle.

"Jim; dont get me wrong, I love the apartment but why didnt you just wait for me"? You marveled.

He smiled shyly, a light blush coating his cheeks.

"I wanted to spend as much time with you that I could when you got back before people started to show up for the party". He admitted, sounding slightly bashful and shy as he spoke.

He approached you, and you couldnt help but to feel butterflies at the closer he got. You dont know why you were suddenly starting to feel nervous at doing a act so simple; like kissing your boyfriend. Perhaps it was because normally when you two kissed or showed affection it was done so quickly and without second thought; it wasnt 'special'. You weren't blaming Jim for that either, you knew that was typical in long term relationships. However - tonight he was actually taking the time to be with you. It was beyond romantic.

He looked delicious. His hair wasnt messy but it wasnt kept up enough to look like he brushed it recently, yet it still managed to look so soft. You were yearning to run your fingers through it.

Once you were within arms reach, he quickly enveloped you in a hug. Forcing you to inhale his scent while you quickly buried your nose in his jacket, trying to take him all in.

He smelt like a hint of weed, but mostly like the ocean. You suspected he must've went surfing a while ago.

Even though the apartment was decorated for christmas and it was currently Winter; the air was still warm, maybe even a little muggy. The sun had finally decided to set, just sinking below the far off treeline - making the sky in a state of in between. Not dark but not quite light out either.

In the part of California you and Jim lived in, it only dropped about 10 degrees in the winter. You wore a warm cardigan since you came just home from outside; along with a pair of jeans and cozy boots that seemed to be your go to outfit in the winter.

Jim on the other hand wore a tight fitted dark navy shirt under his typical Jean jacket which you gently clutched onto.

"I missed you. I hate when you have to work during the holidays". You heard him softly grumble, which made you giggle.

You slowly moved, you backed your head up just enough so that your faces were now right next to each other. You bumped noses - you considered kissing him for a split second but you chose not too. Instead ghosting your lips over his; and gently resting your forehead together.

"Why? It's not like today is a holiday or anything". You asked, a playful tone apparent in your voice.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt Jim's lips inch closer, you could nearly taste his breath. Minty mostly, and warm on your lips.

You suddenly were itching to kiss him, unconsciously moving forward to ease the growing tension between the two of you. You jumped a bit when you felt a hand start to rub your back, quickly relaxing when you realized it was just Jim being handsy. You heard Jim's voice, even though you were incredibly close to him, it was so soft you could still barely hear it. A quiet, sultry whisper.

"It doesnt matter if it's a holiday or not". Jim started, he backed up a bit.

Just enough to make eye contact with you, now gently cradeling your face in his hands.

"This is the first Christmas season I've had where I'm not in between my parents trying to break up a fight. I'm so thankful I get to spend it with you, I just wish I had met you sooner". Jim said, with a shy blush starting to dust his tan cheeks again.

By the time he finished talking you were beaming. Pure happiness and joy was coursing through your veins as you stepped forward and fully enveloped yourself in him, your hands grasped his shoulders to steady yourself while your lips feverishly and slowly met his.

Jim's hands quickly adjusted, moving from your face down to your waist. His fingers gripped your skin tightly; the slight pain made you moan. It didnt really hurt persay but you knew your skin would be purple and sore tommorow. However, in this moment you didnt really care about how your skin would look - you just wanted him.

Jim kissed you menacingly slow; his lips working against yours so slowly in a deliberate attempt to make you frustrated and it was working. Your fingers flexed into his shoulders as you let out a throaty moan. You broke the kiss and let out a hiss,

"Stop fucking teasing". You spoke, titling your head slightly and arching your neck out - trying to hint to Jim that you wanted him to start kissing down your neck.

However; that's not what he fucking did.

Instead of feeling Jim's soft warm lips on your neck, you felt his wet tongue lick a fast stripe down your neck - most likely tracing a vein. You yelped and jumped, only realizing after how stupid you probably looked for getting startled. Jim was laughing too, fucker.

"What the fuck, Jim"?! You asked, laughter mixing in with your voice.

Jim giggled before quickly leaning in and stealing another slow kiss from you before mumbling against your lips;

"As much as I would love to sit here and make out with you all day.. we have business to attend too".

He pulled back suddenly, his lips up turning in a smile as if he knew what exactly he was doing.

"Business"? You mused.

"Yes. We have company coming over in 30 minutes, love" Jim reminded you.

You rolled your eyes, completely unamused.

"Do they have to come"? You whined.

"Yes. They do. Now c'mon make yourself useful". Jim said.

He turned around, grabbing a box that sat idly in the living room which you didnt notice previously. Opening it, he pulled out a ornament. You dumbly smiled, knowing exactly what this meant. He approached you, ornament in hand with a corny smile on his face.

"I decorated everything but the tree. I wanted to save something for us to decorate together". Jim stated.

"Your such a sap". You said fully laughing.

You grabbed one of the ornaments out of the box and walking up to the tree. You felt dumb for not noticing how bare the tree was before. No ornaments, no lights, no tinsel.. nothing. Well, nothing execpt for the one shiny ornament that you had just hung on one of the branches right center in the tree.

The one ornament on the tree quickly doubled, and then tripled until the tree was fully adorned with ornaments. You and Jim (mostly Jim) hung a string of lights around the tree. Making the already ambience scene in your living room even more cozy and romantic.

"This was a good idea, babe". You said, quickly kissing him.

You quickly checked the time, there was still 20 minutes before anyone was supposed to show up.. An idea popped up in your mind.

A wonderful, awful idea.

You were already standing comfortably close to Jim; you turned casually around and place your hand square on his chest.

"Its too bad we finished decorating so early, hmm"? You purred.

You didnt dare take a step forward; you knew Jim would make the next move and sure enough he did. He took steps closer to you.

You cheeks were slightly rosy, with the slight embarrassment you felt from suddenly taking the reigns and being in control. Needless to say this wasnt something you were really used too.

"We still have the tinsel to put up, you know". Jim chuckled lightly.

You looked down for a split second and looked back up into his circealean blue eyes, batting your eyes at him.

"Or.. you know, theres something else I can think of we can do that's less boring". You said.

You let your hand slip and travel from his chest up to his shoulder, feeling the muscle that lie underneath your hands as you took your other free hand up to his other shoulder. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard Jim groan.

It's not like you two have never been intimate before; that was far from the issue. Even though you knew Jim for fucking ever and you two have had sex countless of times - he still managed to give you butterflies.

That's how you knew he was the one for you. Even after all this time he still seemed to make you nervous and blush.

"Is that what you think"? You heard Jim say. His voice lowered in a husky manner.

You felt his arms quickly grab you as he gently pushed you onto the ground. He pinned you on your back; his hands on your shoulders as he softly panted above you. His face hovered right above yours - and his legs on your thighs. Not that you were complaining but you certainly couldnt leave or escape even if you desired too.

You merely giggled beneath him at this realization, not really wanting to switch from this position at all.

It sounded incredibly corny but you honestly wouldnt be surprised if you had took a brief visit to heaven. You felt pure, unfiltered ecstasy as you looked into Jims eyes.

The aroma from the pine tree that was directly above you and Jim filled your senses; the smell along with the candles set the atmosphere perfectly. Ornaments hung directly above you two, the rainbow lights from the tree reflecting in Jim's light blue eyes.

Because of the nature of how light Jim's eyes were, typically seeing reflections of other objects or anything really in them was close to impossible... but, maybe it was the already dark lighting in the room or a bit of christmas magic that made seeing the lights in Jim's eyes possible.

It made the already beautiful man look nothing but ethereal. You were left speechless as you could do nothing but stare, and get lost in his eyes.

You couldnt help but feel how lucky you were to even be in this situation, how lucky you were to be loved by him.

You could do nothing execpt for smile cheesily and blush at your new realization. Instead of craning your neck awkwardly to reach his lips, you chose to be smart and innovative instead, by taking one of your hands and pushing his head into yours - gently of course.

His lips met yours and you nearly moaned from the anticipation. You kissed him slowly, relishing in the feeling of being on the floor with non other than Jim Mason. You knew for a fact you would never do this with anyone else, nor did you even want to spend the time thinking about doing so.

His lips were warm and soft - not chapped in the slightest. They danced perfectly with yours; making separating for air almost a painful and undesired act.

When you separated, Jim still didnt let up off of you. He remained on top, breathless. His lips were swollen and pink, and were his cheeks. His eyes still looked beautiful, but even more so now that his pupils were dilated.

You heard him let out a soft, shallow growl. Bending down swiftly, almost animalistically, to the side of your mouth to give you a quick kiss. His lips ghosted and drifted down over your jaw; until you felt them meet your neck in gentle soft kisses.

Your mouth fell open, your fingers gripping the soft tree skirt below you that was riddled with tree nettles.

"Jim, wait". You spoke, barely even able to get the words out of your mouth without moaning.

You saw his head immeadietly snap up, those gorgeous blue eyes meeting yours again.

"Arent we having company over in like.. 10 minuets"? You asked, laughing.

You noticed Jim let out a brief chuckle as well before replying.

"Ugh, your right but if only I could bring myself to get off of you, baby". He spoke, gently attacking your neck in slightly more aggressive kisses than what you were typically used too. Although, you certainly weren't complaining.

You felt Jim slightly push his hips into yours, you automatically opened your legs - wrapping them around his waist and lower half. He gently started to grind into you; and there was no point in even trying to bite down or mask your moans at this point. All you felt was pure, unfiltered love for the man who was on top of you.

"I love you, Jim".

Taglist: @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon

#i hope yall like this #im about to post to ao3 #also let me know if you wanna be on the taglist #but this fic is rlly unlike the rest of my fics and i hope u still like it hehe #its not rlly plot heavy and i feel like the grammer is kinda rough but.. i just wanted to post something happy and full of fluff haha #ALSO theres a very very slim reference to The Grinch in this.. try to find it haha #also i was very high when i wrote like 2/3rds of this?! so guess which paragraphs dhdhd #i will be back to add a read more line #jim mason x reader #jim x reader #fanfiction #my fics #my work #ttopv #jim mason

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spencervoid · 4 years ago

Text

Undercover | Spencer Reid

*I do not own this GIF nor do I take credit for it!*

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

A/N: This idea was inspired by the song “Us” by James Bay and Alicia Keys which is an INCREDIBLE song by the way! [Edited] Okay, writing this I didn’t expect to be this long but I kept adding as I went along aha so bear with it!

Warnings: angst, tension, death, blood, a lot of sadness, fluff, kissing, happy ending :)

NO SMUT! I’m not comfortable with writing that sort of stuff so I won’t go further than a very intense kiss, thank you.

Word Count: 2.6k words (reading time; 20 mins average)

[If your name is Anna then change the undercover name to whatever you like]

“I hate dresses.” You mumbled underneath your breath, stepping out of the SUV with Reid by your side. This mission was definitely out of your comfort zone but Emily claimed that there was no one better for the job. All you both had to do was profile the room after an anonymous tip came in that the unsub was going to be attending the party.

A couple of days ago, you and Reid had gotten into quite an argument and it had been awfully tense between you two since then, despite the tries from the rest of the team to get you two to at least acknowledge each other’s existence. Your heels clicked against the pavement as the warm air hugged your body closely, Reid looking around the area like the maniac he was. Defeats the purpose of being discreet.

You walked confidently, your hair was brushed back behind your shoulders, various rings slid onto your fingers with a very shiny diamond one on your ring finger of your left hand. Shoot, you almost forgot you were ‘married’ to Reid. Seriously, why couldn’t JJ go?

You approached the front door, the bodyguard stood with a clipboard in his hand. “Names?” You looked to Reid as he studied the man’s face, a light smile built up on his face. “James Meulbrook.” You planted a fake smile on your lips, as the bodyguard flicked through the pages, chewing his gum obnoxiously. “Ah, Mr Meulbrook, yes.”

The bodyguard spoke, ticking off the name with his black fountain pen. He looked to you, eyeing you up and down and you resisted every urge to gauge out his eyes with a fork but just tilted your chin up, a sudden hand on your waist, pulling you in. “And who’s the lovely lady?”

“Anna. Anna Meulbrook.” The bodyguard looked up at Reid, who had his jaw clenched and his other hand balled into a fist behind his back. The man looked visibly intimidated as he cleared his throat and stood to the side, motioning for the pair of you to walk in.

You both took his invitation in and walked side by side, but before you could go downstairs to where the hall was, you were stopped. You felt a soft grasp on your hand, turning to face Spencer, he was looking down at your face with a worrisome look. “Careful alright? We know what this unsub’s capable of.”

You nodded firmly and pulled your hand out of his, walking down the steps to where the huge hall was located. There were a couple of tables gathered on both sides of the hall, with an extravagant and expensive chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“Woah.” You whispered, picking up your dress so you wouldn’t trip over it as you strolled down the stairs. You met the eyes of other people who had came tonight, a gleaming smile on their faces.

A waitress even complimented your dress as you made your way across the hall, being offered a drink. Spencer walked with both of his hands in his pockets, looking around the room with a tight lipped smile on his face. You refused the drink and took a seat on the table with ‘The Meulbrooks’ sign on it.

Spencer sighed and sat down besides you, whispering in your ear, “if we’re going to make this whole marriage thing work, you can’t be mad at me.” You scoffed quietly, looking to him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Throughout the night, Spencer stayed on his side as you stayed on yours and followed the instructions Hotch strictly told you to stand by.

‘Be welcoming, act like you fit in, and don’t approach the unsub if you spot him. You’ll be unarmed and be putting everyone else at risk. Call us. We will be watching the entire time just in case something goes wrong.’

You were talking with a couple of women who were sat on the same table as you, so far nothing had come up. Neither you or Reid had found anyone or even suspected anyone, despite how close you were looking at all the people here tonight.

In the middle of saying something, you felt a hand on your shoulder. “Excuse me.” You looked up and saw Reid smiling at the ladies before looking down at you, motioning to walk with him. Silently obeying, you stood up and picked your dress up off the ground, following Spencer elsewhere.

He turned around to face you, looking around to make sure no one else was in conversation distance. “I think I’ve identified the unsub.” You furrowed your eyebrows, shifting uncomfortably where you stood. “Who?”

“On your 6, navy blue blazer.” You looked down to the floor, whispering, “Talk to me. Pretend we’re in a conversation.” As Spencer rambled on about something to do with the laws of physics, you smiled at him and calmly looked to your left. You observed the man Reid was suspecting and looked back up at him.

“We agreed on a young male, not a 40 year old.” He rolled his eyes, pulling his hair back behind his ears. You both quietened down as a couple walked past, resuming to your conversation moments after. “He’s been staring at you for the last hour.”

You tilted your head at him, “Can’t handle the fact men are attracted to me?”

“He’s been staring a little too intensely to be attracted.”

“I think I would know if he was staring a little too intensely, I am a profiler after all.” You turned to walk away but Spencer grabbed your hand, pulling you back to face him. You hastily whispered in a hushed tone, trying not to grab the attention of the people around you. “Let go of me, I have a job to do.”

“You’re getting a bit too comfortable to be doing just a job if these men are staring at you.” Your mouth hung open as you scoffed, your voice getting louder. “What??”

You knew better than to blow your cover and put everyone at risk so you took a deep breath and yanked your hand out of his grip. “At least I’m trying to do my job right, James.” You emphasised on his fake name, a man and a woman approaching the two of you as you both simultaneously turned to them, fake smiles plastered on your lips.

“Mr Meulbrook, we just came over to say how much we admire your charity work.” You looked down to your feet for a brief moment, rolling your eyes before looking back up to face the couple and your ‘husband’. “I’m going to get a drink.” You excused yourself and gave a curt nod towards the two guests opposite you.

You spun on your heel and walked away, heading back to your table. Spencer watched you walk away, remorse filling his chest. He wanted to apologise, not just as James but as Spencer too.

“In trouble with the Mrs?” Spencer was shook out of his trance, looking back at the man. “Don’t we all?” He threw a light-hearted comment in an attempt to make him feel distracted but it didn’t work nonetheless. You were the only thing he could think about.

As you gazed at yourself in the mirror, you desperately tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall out, Spencer’s comment earlier running through your mind. Did he actually mean that? Did he think you were purposely trying to get men to stare at you? As if it was your fault that men couldn’t keep their thing in their pants when seeing an attractive woman, that was their problem. Not yours.

You heard heels click against the floor as you took a deep breath and pretended to fix your hair as the woman gave you a small smile in the mirror before walking into a stall. Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks when you heard a piercing sound run through the building.

Fire alarm.

You briskly walked back to the hall’s entrance when you got pushed back by a swamp of people who were running out, some screaming and some in complete terror. You were entirely confused, holding a lady back and trying to get her to calm down. “Hey, hey, hey, what happened?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” She was about to explain but ran away when she heard her husband calling her name out, ushering her into their car. You looked around frantically, searching for...

A sudden gunshot echoed through the hall as you ran in, seeing a young lady lying on the floor, blood flowing from the centre of her head as she laid lifeless on the ground. “Oh my god.” You whispered, tears escaping your eyes as you brought your hand to your mouth.

You noticed the bullet holes decorated across the ceiling, a silencer on the floor only a couple of feet away from where the body was.

Running to the girl, you saw the exit door wide open assuming it’s where the unsub must’ve escaped from. You couldn’t help the tears uncontrollably run down your cheeks, bringing your fingers to your head, running them through your hair in frustration.

Two FBI agents, one unsub, one victim and he still got away. God you felt so stupid.

Great, now your phone was still in the bathroom and you knew if you left, the press would be right outside so now you had no way to contact any of your team. Not to mention that you had a body laying in front of you, an escaped unsub and your own personal audience waiting for an answer outside.

You walked out of the hall, turning back every five seconds to see the girl, your chest filling up with guilt that you didn’t see to her in time. You couldn’t help but put the blame on yourself, thinking about the what-ifs.

Walking out into the outside, an army of guests and paparazzi gathered around you within seconds, knowing you had to answer for what had just happened inside but you couldn’t even bring yourself to figure it out. Being the liaison of the team really came with it’s disadvantages.

Questions, comments, blames were getting thrown at you in every direction as you agitatedly looked around, trying to calm down the situation. You were still crying, your body still pumping adrenaline, your mind still in shock and utter denial.

Thankfully, you heard a loud and deep voice take control of the situation and push the people away from you. Sighing, your body limped from the overwhelming pain you were feeling in your chest when you looked up and saw him.

But he wasn’t looking at you. Instead he was looking at Emily and JJ, talking to them in a frustrated manner.

He was shaking his head, his eyes were red and his fingers were crossed. Something he did when he was nervous. Almost instantly, he caught your eyes looking at him as he took a sigh of... relief? Suddenly, any defences you had built up against him were just paper. Before you even knew it, you were engulfed in his arms and his blazer was wrapped around you. You could feel his torso and the heart that beat from within. His hands were folded around your back, drawing you in closer. You could practically feel your body shake, crying as you nuzzled into him further.

Spencer pulled his head back and softly wiped your tears with his thumb, even his gentle touch brought more relief than your heart could hold. He pulled your hair back behind your ear, almost assessing your face for any sort of pain or damage. “I-I let him get away, she’s gone. She-She’s gone.” You cried out in whispers as he tried to calm you down, resting both of his hands on either side of your face.

“This isn’t your fault angel. You did nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong.” Spencer repeated to you, kissing your forehead gently. “They’ve secured each exit, every unit is out on the road. We’ll find the son of a bitch.”

Your cries went to silent sobs as you rested your head on Spencer’s firm chest, his hand on the back of your head as he ran his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” He continued to whisper, everyone else around you keeping a safe distance, they were sure Spencer was doing a good job and he was. There was no one you trusted more to take care of you.

After a couple of hours, the unsub was captured somewhere in the woods when a person called in, reporting someone of the exact same description. He was disarmed at the scene and was already on his way to the police station where Hotch, Rossi and Emily followed.

You were leaned up against the side of an ambulance, still wearing Spencer’s blazer, you gazed out into the distance, hearing all the chatter and noise behind you.

You felt a vibration come from the blazer’s pocket, pulling out Spencer’s mobile, you read the new message sent. “Got your phone :)” You smiled to yourself, scanning over the message a couple of times before locking the phone and putting it away.

Hearing footsteps slowly become louder, you turned your head to see a familiar brown haired boy walk over. A soft smile on his face.

He stood in front of you, hands dug into his pockets as he pulled out your phone and handed it to you. “Thank you.” You mumbled quietly, earning a hum in response.

You had every urge to ask him what was on your mind, what you were thinking since you’d shared that hug, every moment didn’t seem right until this one. When it was just the two of you. When you were both enjoying each other’s company silently, you knew it was the right moment.

“Why were you crying?” You looked up to meet his eyes who were already fixed on you, his lips twitching as he thought of what to say. Taking a step forward, he spoke confidently, “because I thought I’d lost you.”

You nodded gently, picking at the rings on your fingers as you decided on whether or not you should ask the next question. But you did anyway. “What you said in there, about me wanting men’s attention, did you m-”

“No. No I didn’t mean that Y/N. What I said in there were lies. All of it. You’re beautiful okay? You can wear anything you want and men are always going to look at you because every ounce of you is perfect. Every ounce.” You opened your mouth to reply but he beat you to it, “look, I was just jealous. I was jealous because I mean Y/N, look at you. You’re so damn beautiful.”

There was a brief pause between you both when he spoke back up again. “Just say the word and I can show you Y/N. I can show you just how much you mean to me.”

You stopped for a moment, placing a hand on Spencer’s chest as he looked down at you, waiting patiently. There were a million thoughts running through your head but you knew deep down you wanted him. Despite how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

“Okay.” As soon as the word left your mouth, Spencer lifted your head with his thumb, his forefinger resting underneath your chin. You closed your eyes as he leaned in to your face, feeling a pair of lips brush yours instantly afterwards. It was soft and delicate, as if he was asking for permission to go further.

You brought your hand slowly up to his face as the kiss continued, the touch of his lips against yours getting more and more intimate. He could feel the warmth of your skin, smiling against your lips at how you were probably turning pink.

And yes, you were turning pink. You could practically feel your limbs inside shaking, your heart beat quickening and your body melting under Spencer’s gentle touch.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #fluff #imagine #doctor reid #spencer

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moonstruckbucky · 5 years ago

Text

Come Over (6/7)

Summary: You’re new to New York City. Fresh out of post-grad and wanting a change of pace, and this change comes in more ways than one.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader. Neighbor AU.

Warnings for Chapter: ....Smut. There’s smut ahead. And this is fucking long. And I’m sorry?

Notes: It’s the penultimate chapter, guys! I can’t even believe it. I would really, really love some feedback on this one! Enjoy x

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Bucky is early the morning of Thanksgiving. The knock itself is quiet, as if he’s pulled his knuckles back too soon. Still it startles you, has your hand jumping and nearly impaling your eye with the mascara wand.

A hissed “dammit”, you set it down, double-check your eye that it hadn’t smeared, hurry to the door as that soft knock sounds again. All the air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. Being his neighbor, you’ve seen him in various states of dress, but never like this.

Hunter green looks good on him, you decide. The satiny material looks about ready to give where it’s stretched across his broad chest. A flat plain of forestry you want to trace and memorize with hands and tongue. Dark charcoal dress pants wrap tightly around his thick thighs, and your mouth waters. Shiny black dress shoes cap off the outfit. Your neighbor is a tall drink of water and goddamn are you parched. Subconsciously you lick your lips.

His clearing throat jostles you, eyes snapping up to his. They’re glittering, those crystalline eyes of his that pull you in like a lighthouse beacon. The edge of his mouth is turned upward, a sure sign that you’ve been caught ogling him, too lost in the beauty of him to notice he’d done the same to you.

You cough lightly, poorly covering yourself. “You’re early. C’mon in. I’ll be done in twenty.”

His body brushes by yours as you step to the side, cocoons you in his warmth and a clean, fresh scent with a hint of spice. Eyes flutter closed, deep breath in and then out to compose yourself, give yourself the confidence to get through today without ending up a puddle on the floor. Bucky’s seated on the couch, flipping through a magazine with Tony Stark on the cover. It’s the newest issue—the first publication of the upcoming “super suit” demo and he flips right to it, already engrossed.

You duck past him back to the bathroom to finish getting ready. A few more touches to your makeup, a pair of black tights, black boots, and a light jacket, and you’re ready. Bucky turns his head when he hears your heels on the floor, eyes widening just a fraction, but you notice. You notice everything when it comes to him. He rises slowly, and it’s almost comical. Like that scene in a teen romance where the girl, in her beautiful prom dress, descends the stairs and her date is rendered speechless, jaw dropped, eyes full of adoration.

“You, uh.” Voice cracks, clears his throat, tries again. “You look really nice.”

Your smile is easy, gentle, a little bashful as your cheeks flush. “Thanks, Bucky. Shall we?”

His answering grin is just as bright, just as easy, as natural. He holds out his elbow. “We shall.”

The drive to your parents’ is spent chatting back and forth, mostly about the new projects you’re allowed to talk about. Bucky’s enthusiasm is addicting, makes it easy for you to just keep going. You almost feel badly about doing all of the talking, but the excitement on his face covers it up, and his responding questions are eager and hurried, like he can’t get them out fast enough. Conversation with Bucky is easy. He makes it easy.

You’ll come to realize later that Sharon is far from both of your minds. So far, nothing could sour this day.

Clint and your family are extremely welcoming when the two of you arrive. Clint takes your coat and purse, claps Bucky on the back and leaves you to do the introductions. Your mother raises an eyebrow, aims it at the two of you and inquires how long Bucky’s been seeing her daughter. Matching blushes creep up your necks and without thinking, you take a step sideways, put space between you because you hadn’t realized just how close you’d been standing to him.

“Mom, we’re—we’re not dating. He, uh, he has—”

“I’m her neighbor,” Bucky interjects with a charming smile. The look on your mother’s face clearly says yeah, right, but she moves the conversation along, asks Bucky about his work and gets lost in his stories about the tattoo shop.

Clint comes up behind you, where you’ve moved to the small bar in the kitchen and have poured yourself a hefty glass of wine. Judging by the sly, fleeting looks your mother sends you, you’re going to need it.

“Mom seems to be digging in the claws,” Clint murmurs, pulling from his beer. You hum around your wine glass. “She doesn’t buy the neighbor bit, does she?”

“How could you tell?” you deadpan. Despite your concern your mother will spill something she’s not meant to, you’re relieved Bucky seems to fit in with your family.

Your parents have hogged him mostly, though Clint’s stepped in here and there to help him along, but his eyes are never far from you. Every few minutes they’ll find you, sparkle under the dim kitchen lighting, before he looks away again to give your family his full attention again. Once or twice, he sends a wink that warms your body more than your wine does. Oh boy, are you in trouble.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), Sam arrives not too long after to break up the growing tension between Bucky and you. He greets Bucky excitedly, hugs him like he would a brother, offers him another beer from the fridge that Bucky accepts. The grin on Bucky’s face, the rumbling echo of his laughter, the lightness in his features all do horrible, horrible things to your belly and your heart, and you have to duck out of the room and find Laura, distract yourself, before you do something stupid.

She must see it on your face when you drop beside her on the couch in the living room. Cheeks rosy red, and not just from the wine, pupils dilated just a bit with a few tiny beads of sweat at your hairline. Laura and Clint had been together off and on since high school, until your brother manned up and proposed to her while out on their anniversary date. He’d taken her on a whale watch in Nantucket, something she’d always wanted to do. She said yes through a bout of sea sickness.

“You’ve got it bad,” she tsks, the ring on her left finger sparkling and tinkling against her wine glass. You groan.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Why’s he with that she-witch again?”

You hurry to shush her, glance over your shoulder to make sure you’re not heard. “Jesus, Laura. I don’t know why, okay? From what he’s told me they don’t even click anymore. Except...in the bedroom, which I can hear usually.”

Laura’s frown is sympathetic, both for your ears and for your heart. It doesn’t really make you feel any better, and despite how close the two of you have grown since you moved in, you still haven’t quite found it within you to tell him to break it off. Sharon’s already wary of you, though whether that’s from her rising insecurity or because you’re not hiding your feelings as well as you think you are, you’re unsure. The last thing you want is to stick your nose where it’s not wanted.

You and Laura go back and forth, straying from the taboo topic of Bucky’s relationship, until the men enter the living room. Bucky grasps a fresh glass of wine for you. You can feel Laura’s smirk from where you sit, hide your blush behind a long pull of the bitter red. Bucky sits beside you on the couch, close enough his thigh touches your knee where your leg is tucked up under you.

“Thank you,” you murmur once you’ve drained half the glass, tongue swiping over your top lip for the excess. You miss the slight dilation of his pupils, the way his chest rises with a deep inhale.

“Sure, doll.”

Your insides twist at the nickname and on the other sofa Laura smirks. Subtly, you flip her the bird and she snickers into her glass of water. Conversation buzzes between all of you, and you have to really focus on it instead of how warm Bucky is beside you. Maybe you should lay off the wine.

When your mother calls that dinner is ready, you’re the first one out of your seat. Clint makes a comment with a knowing grin.

“I’m hungry, dammit,” you snark back with a smirk. The others laugh a little, and you all find your seats.

Bucky pulls yours out for you before he takes his, a charming little side grin that sets your stomach to fluttering. You’re not sure if it’s just because the holiday has him in a good mood or if he’s purposely laying on the charm. Probably a bit of both.

He captures your attention over dinner, holds it as he converses with your family. You know your ‘heart eyes’ as Wanda would call them are on full fucking display, but it’s getting harder and harder to hide how you feel. Especially when he makes a dad joke that has your father howling with laughter. Sam nearly chokes on his beer. He clearly adores them, and it appears the sentiment is mutual.

And while your stomach feels like it’s flying, your heart suddenly takes a nosedive. The realization that he won’t be yours is heavy in your gut, icy tendrils slithering up to your throat to choke you. Pressure behind your eyes, a rising need to get away for a minute. It’s too much, knowing he isn’t yours when he damn well should be.

The chair scraping across the floor cuts through the conversation, halts it as everyone watches you in confusion. Your eyes are shiny, blurring all of their faces, so you keep your head down with a muttered “excuse me”.

A sharp, deep breath that’s almost painful once you’re locked away in the upstairs bathroom. Where you know no one will hear you as you let out a sob into your arm. For a little while it’s a gross mess of snot and tears and smudged makeup you wipe away with a tissue, only to have another black rivulet sliding down your face. The pent-up longing, confusion, and outright love comes pouring out, unable to be held back.

Nose stuffy, eyes crimson, you know you’re a mess and you’re going to have a hard time explaining it away. A rap of knuckles on the door, momentary fear that it’s Bucky coming to check on you, a rapid search for an excuse. More tissues swiped under your eyes and your best attempt at composure.

You open the door just a crack, surprised and relieved to see Sam instead of Bucky. His smile is sad, understanding, as if he knows exactly what’s in your head. You swing the door open a little wider, enough that he can get his body through to tug you into his chest. Large hands sliding up and down your back as you fight back another round of waterworks.

“This sucks, Sam,” you whisper. Eyes drift closed, squeeze, when he kisses your forehead and shushes you.

“I know, honey. You need to tell him, or don’t. Start dating, help yourself move on. Do something because I hate seeing you in pain.”

“I can’t tell him, Sam,” you murmur, stepping out of his space. You wipe your nose with your soggy tissue. “How could I put him in that position? I guess...maybe I’ll see if Wanda knows anybody…”

Sam smiles gently, tucks your chin with two fingers and nods his head towards the stairs. “C’mon. Let’s get through dinner and dessert.”

You’re nearly ready to cry again when Bucky lays worried eyes on you. You manage to choke it down, wave him off as you retake your seat. He tries to catch your eye but you avoid it, pointedly look to your other side. Your mom rests her hand on yours, a silent question. You smile faintly and nod, give the others a nod as well, and dinner resumes. It’s a little less light, less jovial, but soon Sam has everyone chortling again.

Your mood slightly improves once dinner is over and dessert begins. You’re laughing with Laura and Sam, Clint rolling his eyes because he’s the butt of the joke. Bucky’s a little quieter now, still perturbed from your earlier breakdown. You dread the car ride home, knowing he’ll ask you what it was about.

You gorge yourself on pie—apple and pumpkin because your mom is an exceptional baker. By the time the dishes are cleared from the table, you feel like you’ll have to be rolled out of the house. But then you remember who you’re riding home with and immediately volunteer to do the dishes for your parents if only to push that off a little longer.

Laura, bless her soul, doesn’t ask you about it. Instead, she asks you to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. Immediately you say yes, and the following conversation is a pleasant distraction from your earlier embarrassing episode. But there are only so many dishes and eventually, your time runs out.

Bucky and you bid goodbye to your family, your parents hoping they see Bucky again (thanks for that, Mom) and Clint promising to have a guys’ night soon. You barely feel his hand on your back as the two of you walk out to the car, breaths expelling in puffs in the cold November air. Immediately you crank the heat once the car is on, turning up the radio when a soft classic rock song comes on.

Bucky doesn’t ask you until you’re about halfway home. “You wanna tell me what that was about?”

It’s slow, deliberate. The chance to spill your guts, risk everything. He’s giving you the choice and you almost want to take it.

Almost.

“I’m okay,” is your reply instead. I’m fine is too much of a giveaway that you’re not. He’s quiet in the other seat, jaw muscle jumping and eyes sweeping outside the front windshield, but he nods, lets you have this because you can’t. Can’t say it, can’t cross that line with no hope of stepping back over it.

In the hallway outside your apartments, he thanks you, kisses your cheek, and it feels an awful lot like goodbye.

Two weeks. Fourteen days, three hours, and thirty seven minutes have gone by since you’ve last seen Bucky. You’ve heard him, walking through his apartment, on the phone, his door opening and closing as he comes and goes.

But not once do you ever see him.

It’s obvious he’s avoiding you, and once the initial confusion and sadness fades, anger takes over. What right does he have to avoid you? You’ve done nothing wrong except maybe get your heart tangled up somewhere it shouldn’t have been, pined for someone who’s unavailable. But are those crimes really so heinous?

When the anger fades, resignation settles in. You’d been too obvious, it seems, especially near the end, so he’s backed off, given you room to sort your feelings and shove them away. But it’s easier said than done. In the time you’ve lived here, Bucky has somehow taken root inside your heart, spread himself out within it and dug his thorns in. With each beat of your heart, they pinch a little more, leave a sharp ache in their wake. He’s implanted in you, unable to be shaken, like a giant redwood towering above the others, shading and guarding. But at the same time, smothering.

Another week goes by. The demo goes well; no injuries, and aside from a minor short-circuit, it’s a success. Investors scramble for possession of the super suit. It keeps you occupied, your mind off your suddenly-absent neighbor when before he only seemed to be ever-present. Always popping out of his apartment as you were leaving or arriving. At the mailbox when you came home from work. His absence is, to your displeasure, heavily felt.

Until there’s a knock on your door one Friday evening. If a knock could be hesitant, this one surely is. It’s slow, a long beat between the first and the second. Like the knocker almost wanted to turn tail after the first but changed his or her mind.

He stands before you, arms crossed, hands tucked under them, shoulders hunched and head ducked. Looking every bit a kicked puppy. At first, you’re ready to chew him out, let him have it for ignoring you when you’re not the one at fault.

But a sniffle from the hulking man before you makes you freeze.

“Buck?” you question on a whimper. He looks up, lifts his chin away from his chest, and your heart stutters, stalls completely at the tears running down his face. “Bucky, god, what happened? Come in.”

His arm is hot where you grab onto him, tug him into your apartment. His feet are bare, as if he hadn’t had time or care to find socks, much less shoes. You know you should be angry with him, are such underneath, but it’s easy to brush it aside when he’s so obviously hurting.

He takes up half your couch when you sit him down, offer him tea to which he barely nods. It only takes a few minutes, but Bucky’s damn near sobbing again when you return with the hot mug. It burns a ring into your coffee table but it’s ignored in favor of wrapping Bucky in the blanket you keep on the back of the couch for lazy movie nights in.

He tugs it up to his nose, calms himself by taking a few deep breaths. Those oceanic eyes glimmering again with tears and it breaks your heart all over again. You’ve never seen a man look so broken, so lost.

“Bucky?” you ask, lay a hand on the blanket over his knee. His eyelids flutter as he looks over at you, eyes clearing just a bit in realization, and he seems to recoil in embarrassment. It’s visible, the wall he tries to throw up but you grasp at his hand when he reaches to rub at his face. “Bucky, what happened?”

He sniffs hard, coughs a bit to clear his throat, and mumbles, “I don’t know why I came here.”

It stings, but he continues, “You’re mad at me. You should be.”

Fingers lace between his tattooed ones, squeeze reassuringly. “Bucky, the only thing I am right now is concerned. What happened?”

“Sharon came home, uh, yesterday. We’ve been fighting more.” You don’t say anything; you’ve heard him through the walls enough recently. “She came home, apologized, we made up. She went in to take a shower this morning, left her phone on the nightstand. You know, I never realized she locks her phone now. Never even crossed my mind. Has a password and everything. Well, it, uh, it went off, and I looked at it. The preview anyways. It was a photo, from what I could see from some guy named Rob.”

You feel like your heart plummets into your stomach. You don’t need him to finish before you’re wrapping yourself around him as he begins to cry again. Your own eyes burn with suffering, with the obvious heartbreak in his voice, in his eyes.

“Bucky, I’m so sorry,” you whisper. His hair is silk as your fingers card through it, nails scraping gently along his scalp, the back of his neck.

His face is tucked into your neck, breath hot against the skin there, and you have to push aside the realization that it brings goosebumps to your arms. His massive arms wind around you, tug you closer as he lets out all of his anguish. Months of arguing, of insecurity, of pointless arguments have all come to fruition, come to a sharp, jagged head that you swear you can feel yourself. It’s all laid out for you to feast your eyes upon.

His kiss is unexpected, makes your eyes fly open and hands to tightly grasp his wrists where his cup your face. It tastes of his tears, salty-sweet, and while your heart soars and tries to relish it, your brain jumps in.

“Bucky.” It’s weak on your tongue, but you tighten your grip on his wrists and attempt to pull back.

“Please,” is his sobbing beg, cheeks shiny with new tears, “please, I need…”

To feel something, are the unspoken words, something besides this heartbreak.

You give in. You let him pull your mouth back to his, let him part your lips with his tongue. It’s heaven, kissing him, and it’s so overdue. So goddamn overdue. You whimper against his mouth, against the wet curl of his tongue, and you can feel when it shifts. The atmosphere, the kiss itself. It becomes less about curing his heartbreak and more about his desire for you.

He lifts you from the couch, whines when you wrap your legs around his waist and grind against him. Hands fisting in his hair to wrench his head back and latch your lips onto his neck. It’s exhilarating, having this mountain of a man at your control. He finds his way to your bedroom, grunts an apology when he knocks your bottom against the door frame.

You sigh when he sits at the edge of your bed, his large hands cupping your ass and pulling you into him, into the hard length of him tenting his sweatpants. It’s too much and not enough all at once, feeling the firm planes of him under you. Shuddering when he slides his hands under your shirt, you let him strip you of it. You’re braless, your bare breasts on full display for him and the heat of his gaze raises goosebumps on your arms.

Part of you wants to cover up, but the sheer awe and adoration on his face makes you bold. You scramble off his lap, stand before him and tuck your fingers into the waistband of your own sweats. They pool at your feet, and you’re naked for him. His gaze alone takes you apart, like fire as it rakes over your form.

His broad chest heaves as he lifts a hand to reach for you, but you dodge it, sink gracefully to your knees instead. Bucky’s eyes go wide and his cheeks fill with pink. Jaw muscles jump with the need to tell you, you don’t have to.

But you’ve been waiting to have Bucky, all of him, and you’d rather die than wait any longer.

He offers no resistance when you tug on his pant legs and raises his hips. They’re tossed elsewhere, and you smirk when you see he too is bare underneath. With one hand he reaches behind his head and tugs his shirt off, and dear God, you nearly want to faint.

Every inch of him is sculpted muscle, adorned beautifully with tattoos in both black and grey and in vivid color. He’s magnificent, and right now, he’s yours. The moan that pulls from his throat when you wrap your hand around him is music to your ears, a beautiful sound that sends wet heat straight to your core. You feel it between your thighs as you kneel, brace yourself on his thigh, nails scraping gently across the sensitive skin and the coarse hair there.

A small taste, a flick of your tongue along the underside of him. A strangled hiss from the man above you, who leans back on one hand, cards the other into your hair. You mouth at his length, velvet-covered hot steel, beautiful to match the rest of him. Tease him to madness with your tongue and hand. A curl of the hot muscle around his glistening tip and he tenses, falls back against the mattress.

“Fuck,” he nearly shouts as you take him in your mouth finally. Warm, wet, and soft as you sink down on him inch by agonizing inch. He peers down, almost comes on the spot when you gaze back at him, pretty pink lips stretched wide around the girth of him. He has to close his eyes as he groans, fingers clenching in your hair.

It’s torturous, the pace you set. A warm glide up and down his shaft, your free hand teasing his balls, heavy and soft in your hands. It’s maddening for you, the sounds you pull out of him cause your thighs to clench. He twitches in your mouth, heady and tangy and something you decide is just him, and you pull away. His chest deflates as he exhales, a near whine in the back of his throat.

But then you’re straddling him, leaning over to kiss him deeply. Bucky’s inked arms snake around you, his stomach muscles shifting and clenching as he sits up, rolls the two of you over. He’s solid and heavy above you, wet from you where he pokes your inner thigh. He smiles against your mouth as you gasp at the intrusion of his fingers at your core. Slides them up and down and then finally, inside, and as he moves them, a twitch of your hips. It’s a beautiful fullness, but it isn’t enough.

“Bucky,” you moan, lay your head back and let him ravage your throat, your bare breasts. His tongue swirls a nipple, blunt teeth tug at the bud until it's pert and erect. You need him. Like air in your lungs you need him. You tell him as much.

He resettles over you, withdrawing his fingers, ruts his length against you before taking himself in hand. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he presses in. A gasp that’s swallowed by his mouth, an echoing groan as your walls stretch to accommodate him. You’re so tight around him, he thinks he might burst.

“G-God,” he sighs, forehead pressed to yours. He bottoms out, waits, meets your eyes when they flutter open. He’s so beautiful above you, dark hair in his face, nothing but pure want and love in his eyes. You see it, know he sees it mirrored on your own face. No more hiding.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admits as his hips pull back. You shudder at the drag of his cock. He’s nearly completely gone from you and he halts there, just the smooth tip of him inside. He slams forward, punches a cry from your throat. “So long.”

A steady pace, slow but god, is it deep. Plants his knees wide and opens your legs wide. You’re so full, it’s so much, but you beg him for more.

“Oh - Bucky, please.”

He braces his hand beside your head, the other pushing your hair out of your face as he leans on the elbow. Hands on his sides, his back, his ass, anywhere you can reach for more. Buck your hips to meet him, send him deeper. He grits his teeth when you toss your head back and moan, loud enough he’d be able to hear it next door.

“James.”

It sets something off in him, something primal. And in the back of his head he remembers how Sharon always called him James, but it has nowhere near the same effect as you calling him that. It’s heaven on your tongue and he kisses you deep, tongue and clashing teeth and he pulls your hand from his back. Laces your fingers together and presses them deep into the mattress. This is what it feels like, he knows now. Knows he’ll be ruined for anyone but you.

You’re seared on his heart, burn him from the inside out, and god, he needs you to come because he can’t hold back.

“Fuck, gotta come for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your ear, breathing harshly into the shell of it. “Shit, ‘m so close.”

“Fill me, James, oh, I need it.” Your needy whines echo in the room, the burning in your belly about ready to erupt. He growls low, thrusts his hips even harder and faster against you until you cry out, see stars bursting behind your eyelids, and you clamp down him so tightly he comes, too.

His thrusts are languid now as he fucks you both through your climaxes. His arm trembles where he still grips your hand, and he slides off you to the side, tugs you with him while he’s still buried within you. He kisses your forehead, slick with sweat, and can feel your eyelashes against his throat.

When your heartbeats slow, the sweat dries on your skin, you feel the weight of what’s just happened. It sinks like a lead weight in your heart, and you feel your throat closing up, eyes burning with your shame. Bucky shifts, feels the wobble in your chin, but you pull away from him to sit at the edge of the bed.

He’s alarmed when he hears you sniffling, a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs. He panics internally, the hurt slicing through him like a blazing knife. But he reaches out to touch you, flinches back when you shove off the bed. You begin to gather your clothes, meet his glistening eyes with tears of your own.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky,” you sob before whirling on your feet to shut yourself in the bathroom.

Bucky’s chest rattles, teeth gritting together as he bites back the emotion welling up. You’re sorry? For goddamn what?

He leaves your apartment in a noxious mix of anger, hurt, and confusion.

End

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #neighbor au #bucky barnes neighbor au #neighbor!bucky #neighbor!au #marvel fanfiction

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1zashreena1 · 4 years ago

Text

Come Back for Seconds -11

18+, m/f/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary: Surprise Date Night comes with Dessert.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

POSSESSIVE DIEGO, BDSM power dynamics, potential casual poly relationships, SMUT, threesome, Princess gets a full body licking, the L word, feels, plus size woman+fit man, is a relationship happening?? apparently.

A/N: Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic @symbiont13 @nicke0115 @bunnykjm @rosee-sensuelle @girlpornparadise @mandoplease @heresathreebee @xxsteph-enrixx @jetiikad @joalsglasses @mutantcookiesecrets @demoncatstone @squidlywiddly87 @lockedoutofmyotherblog @poeedamerons

Fourth of July falls on a Saturday this year and that means you get a three day weekend. Diego is deviously overjoyed about it and will not tell you why. This is scary. You are concerned. Flying up on Thursday night means less traffic and less headaches. Also, apparently, it means more immediate access to your Murder Panther.

Diego is waiting with Bastian on the tarmac, hovering outside the SUV while the plane lands. Its acutely adorable to see him pacing impatiently for you. The instant the door opens you trip down the airstairs and directly into his arms. Diego purrs loudly as he gropes your butt.

"My Princess. I missed you. Give me kiss, now." Diego demands and you laughingly comply. Cupping his bearded cheeks you tilt your head to the right and seal your lips together. Diego groans as he rubs against you, he flicks the tip of his tongue out and it results in immediate capitulation. Your mouth opens wide and the mocha taste of pure Diego washes over you. His goatee is soft under your thumbs, the mustache burns pleasantly, and you can feel his lashes flutter on your cheeks. That sinfully talented tongue glides over yours, teasing and soothing in turns. You take the time to trace over his perfect teeth, smoothing along the roof of his mouth until Diego pulls back to pant, "How was your trip?"

He is stunning like this, gaze soft and cheeks flushed. It makes you feel so powerful that you can bring him to this state with only a kiss.

"Better now that I'm here." Your tone is brimming with desire, breathy and decadent. Those brown eyes are fiery in the evening light and he is so beautiful and this man wants you and this is everything you never thought you could have and you can't stop yourself from exclaiming, "I love you, Diego."

His confused blinking is cute, but his eyes crinkling in delight is even better. "I love you, too, my Princess. Come, I have a surprise for you." Upon Diego's release you slide gracelessly to the ground while he reaches back to open the rear door of the SUV. You peek inside cautiously but its just the leather seats and a bottle of Mexican Coke waiting for you. "Did you think the surprise was in the car?" Diego laughs fondly when you shrug defensively.

"With you? It could be anything." Your answer is delivered with a grin as you climb up into the vehicle, he ushers you along by smacking your ass as you pass by. You slide to the far side of the backseat but don't really settle in too much.

When Diego crooks a finger at you with one hand while patting his lap with the other you quirk a brow at him in challenge. You are happy to lose this battle and snuggle down into his lap for a lazy makeout session as Bastian shakes his head from the front seat.

His left hand is shoved down the back of your leggings so he can fiddle with your thong, but the right has a deep grip in your hair that Diego uses to control the position of your head. You must be feeling particularly submissive because you're content to let him arrange you to his liking.

Your head is tilted far back and to the left, giving Diego unfettered access to all the sensitive skin of your neck. He kisses, licks, nibbles, and rubs every inch available while you whine and moan in ever higher pitches. The answering rumbles and growls delivered directly to your ear are devastating. Panting and writhing, you're desperate to have some part of him shoved hard up against you but Diego is being a tease tonight.

"Please, baby. Gimme something, touch me. Diego, Diego, please." You sound pathetic. You aren't even ashamed. His lap is solid under you but every time you get wiggled into place to grind on him he shifts and dislodges you.

The hand on your thong rises, pulling the material up with it to rub against your wetness. Diego rasps playfully, "I am touching you." That gravelly tone is rightfully conceited, you're a dripping mess here and Diego is suspiciously… calm.

You gasp suddenly, "Did, oh my god, did you jack off before I got here!?" Diego yanks your head back so you're looking straight up.

"Princess." The rumble is a warning tone. "Now why would I use my hand when I could have any one of your wet holes?" Diego is so smug and you want to hate it, but you both know he's right. He licks all the way up your neck like a dog.

You sob with pleasure, I fucking love that tongue.

"I know you do, bonita." He rumbles under your chin.

You didn't even know you were talking. This man has melted your brain. You hope he never stops.

Diego resumes kissing your neck until he reaches your ear, "Which hole do I want right now?" This man is fucking filthy and you love it. The whisper is vaguely threatening and you roll your hips back in an attempt to sway his decision. He continues in a taunting voice, "Does my Princess want to come right now? Right here in this truck like a good little girl? Are you wet and open for Diego?"

You try to nod but his grip prevents it, so you have to use your words. You shiver, then gasp out, "Yeah, yeah. Please. Please touch me, baby." It sounds like literal porn and you are only a tiny bit proud.

Diego's left hand slides under your thong and sneaks between your cheeks to settle with the pad of his middle finger pressed flush to your asshole. You tense briefly but he doesn't push.

"Touch yourself for me. Come while I watch." Diego leans back to give you space so you can follow his orders like a good girl. You don't even have a chance to question it, your right hand is burrowed into your crotch before you realize it. Fingers working furiously, you start riding your own hand, whiny with need.

Diego watches hungrily. "There it is. Feels good, yes?" Thank fuck your weak nod is enough because words aren't happening right now. His big finger circles your hole steadily, its almost too much. You can feel everything winding tighter, so can Diego. "Are you good? Are you going to be so good for me, Princess?"

Between his dark voice, the nasty tone, and the contrasting sweet words, you can tell this won't take long. It never does when Diego is involved.

"Come," he breathes in your ear. "Let me feel it while you make yourself come in Diego's lap." Oh fuck.

Your pussy clenches down then releases the tension in agonizingly good contractions. There's nowhere to hide your face, the sobbing wails that escape your mouth are fully audible. Your hips jerk as you ride it out, tears slipping from your lashes. That finger never falters the entire time, all the while Diego is cooing and praising you, "Good girl. Very good, pretty Princess. You let Diego touch you everywhere, so soft for me. Yes, there you go. Come, little girl. Come. Perfect."

You melt into him and Diego releases your hair to capture your jaw so he can plunder your mouth. You just lay there, limp and pliant, moaning with satisfaction. Finally, you stir to reach down to his lap and Diego stops you.

"No, I'm waiting." His grin is all teeth and you are straight up frightened. Both of your hands are captured and brought back up to his face. Diego takes great amusement in watching you squirm and fidget with anxiety.

"What, um." You're momentarily distracted by Bastian pulling into the underground garage of Diego's building. "What are you waiting for? Exactly?"

Diego can sense your apprehension, you don't like surprises and he knows it. One big hand tucks you under his chin but the other straightens your clothing. He leans down to tickle your ear, "You will shower, then get dressed, and then we have a dinner date. I have a new dress for you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The new dress is a stretchy, silky, weirdly open back number and there are new shoes to match. The color is indescribable, it shimmers from a washed out wine to smoky steel blue. The back is open from just under bra band level to waist and you are delighted to see that it has the Built-in Bra of Industrial Strength and an adjustable spiderweb of straps.

This makes the ninth pair of Louboutins he has gotten you. Diego discovered that they make their shoes to order and thus small enough for your ridiculously tiny feet, each pair fits perfectly with no break-in period required and they're actually comfortable.

By the time you finish in the bathroom and come out to dress Diego has already changed into a suit. Its blue, not a navy blue, but an extremely deep royal blue that under bright light might actually look violet. The grey shirt underneath is shiny and he has an honest-to-god tie that matches the wine color in your dress. He glances up from his phone and you drown in those chocolate depths.

"Come, let me tighten the straps, shorty." His cheeky smirk snaps you out of it. Shoes on, dress adjusted, eye makeup complimented, Diego proceeds to herd you out to Surprise Date Night.

When Bastian pulls up in front of a place that you know has to have a waitlist you're not remotely surprised that Diego strolls past the crowd and the hostess leads you to a small nook ducked off into a corner.

You are surprised to see Laylah waiting for you.

"Princess!" She greets you with a big smile and an even bigger hug. She towers over you in her heels and you both laugh when your face is smooshed into her petite cleavage. "You look," Laylah's assessing gaze sweeps over you from head to toe, getting hung up on your decolletage only briefly, "Delicious." She waggles her eyebrows and you snort with unladylike giggles.

"That's my line, beautiful!" You shoot back.

Dinner passes in a blur of easy conversation and even easier laughter. You really like Laylah, she's funny and laid back and entertaining without being overwhelming or demanding. You know these are all part of her professional skillset but Laylah is genuinely happy to see you. She tells you about her trip home to Lebanon to visit her grandparents and you explain your convoluted insurance job at a hospital. All three of you make raunchy jokes and horrible innuendo about everything under the sun. Laylah is fascinated with your fierce independence and you admire her free spirit. The two of you take selfies while Diego orders the entire dessert menu just because he can.

You're eating a chocolate torte as obscenely as possible while Diego purrs in approval when long fingers swipe some of the mousse off and present it directly to your mouth.

Laylah is watching you intently, her wide eyes dark with interest. Huskily, she asks, "Lick?"

You lock eye contact and lap your tongue all the way up her digit to swirl around the tip confidently.

Laylah's lips part to sigh, "I can't stop thinking about you. You and this tongue and those hypnotic ocean eyes."

Your breath hitches as you realize that she means it. Laylah is serious, she actually wants you. The surprise must be evident on your face because Laylah smiles and goes on softly, "I said I liked big girls and I meant it. The two of you together are like fire. I want to go home with you again."

Her long fingers stroke down your neck, skim over your chest, and land heavily on your thigh. Laylah insinuates a knee between yours and leans down close. Its too tempting, you sink hands into her sleek hair and bring your lips up to hers. She tastes like caramel and espresso, but she smells even better. The kiss goes on forever, then turns into two kisses, and before you know it the count is well past ten.

"Fuck." Diego croaks from across the table, startling you.

Laylah laughs wryly as you turn back to your Murder Panther.

Your extremely aroused Murder Panther. His hands are fisted on the table, but you can clearly see his erection. Leaning toward him you hiss, "I wanna watch her ride your face."

Diego looks like he was just stabbed. His expression goes through several transformations very rapidly before he nods jerkily. You turn back to find Laylah biting her lip while watching him. "Do you wanna feel that?" You ask Laylah.

Her eyes are sultry and she jumps a little when you touch her leg. Hand sneaking up her skirt, you watch her carefully for any objection but Laylah only parts her thighs. Diego must have caught the movement because his low growl bubbles up. You two girls share a look, enjoying not just each other but his reactions, too. Laylah leans down to brush your cheek with her lips, the matte lip color hasn't budged yet so you tilt to give her space. Turning your head puts you directly in Diego's sights, He looks like he's dying. This is fantastic, you chuckle to yourself.

"I've never had a short beard like that. Most of my male clients don't taste me, you know?" Laylah laughs into your ear.

"Oh no," You lock eyes with Diego and grin evilly. "He likes to lick pussy. And he's good at it." He licks his lips unconsciously, those dark eyes are huge. You can almost feel his tongue on you, the memories are so vivid.

"I want to try. Is that okay with you? Its painfully obvious that you two are in love." Laylah murmurs into your hair. Your jaw drops open in shock, It is??

Diego is completely unfazed by her proclamation. Am I the only oblivious idiot here or what?

Diego watches you intensely before holding out a hand, "Whatever you want, Princess. This… wasn't my plan, exactly, but I am not protesting." He actually looks a little contrite, then you recall that this wasn't discussed prior to dinner. He clearly remembers your previous parameters and did not mean to assume. You kind of want to let him squirm for a while… but you can't.

You turn back to Laylah, "No dick. And I'm being lazy tonight. Agreed?" Her nod is enthusiastic and Diego whines softly in reaction. Your gaze swings to Diego, "Yes?"

The shark smile is back. "Like I said, whatever my Princess wants my Princess gets."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Its different when you're just slightly buzzed instead of fully inebriated on some type of consciousness-altering substance. Easier than you worried but still a little more complicated than last time. You're not as loose or casual, you second guess where to put your hands until Diego hauls you into his lap in the backseat. He's only half hard, he senses your apprehension, and pulls your forehead to his.

"Do you want to stop this?" His question is direct and simple. Big hands settle on your hips but don't roam so you can think with clarity.

"No. I want this." You lean forward to rub his cheek with your own and whisper into his ear, "But tell me I'm your priority." A little bit of your insecurity bleeds through your request.

Diego hugs you close, pressing your chest to his with solid force. "Of course, mi amor. Laylah will go home after this, but I am keeping you. Princess is mine and I'm your Diego." That dark voice is so soothing to you and his hands cup your face to turn your lips to his.

The kiss goes on forever, hot tongue and soft lips and tickly beard. Diego rumbles underneath you, his enjoyment is prominent and reassuring. Laylah whimpers from the other side of the car.

"Don't stop!" She chokes out when you turn to check on her. Well okay then. Diego found himself another voyeur. You don't check the dental records for the beribboned horse and resume attempting to climb down Diego's throat for the remainder of the ride back to the penthouse.

The elevator ride is more of the same but with the addition of Laylah tongue. They pass you back and forth between them until you're dizzy and panting with it. Diego leads you both over to the sectional, you are pleased to note that he never tries to take Laylah anywhere near the stairs and up to the bed you share with him. You are also pleasantly surprised to see that his hands stay on you, outside of her elbow to steer while she's distracted with your cleavage. He is being careful and mindful and it tumbles you over from moderate arousal to burning desire.

Everything is a jumbled mess on the sofa; messy kisses, you can't tell whose hand is on your ass at first (it's Diego's), but they're both at your tits. In fact, they are getting in each other's way trying to get the top of your dress down and it makes you dissolve into giggles. Diego bites down on the back of your neck like he's establishing dominance and your entire spine turns to jello. Laylah whines at your squeakiness.

You flop your right hand behind yourself where it smacks down onto Diego's thigh and he jumps, then groans, "Again!" Interesting.

"No. N-not yet, baby." Your breathy refusal makes Laylah raise a brow in question. "I wanna watch you in action." Laylah is already rolling the stretchy skirt down over her hips.

You turn around to find him panting, pulling his shirt out of the trousers and fighting with the buttons. When you reach out to help Diego snatches you forward with a death grip on your upper arms so he can lick his way into your mouth. Those amazing hands slide up your shoulders and into your hair, controlling your head with ease and familiarity, you pet over scratchy cheeks and broad shoulders. Laylah drapes herself over your back to continue with his shirt removal, you're distracted by the feel of her nipple piercings.

The kisses pause for air and you sorta-kinda expect Diego to go for Laylah's lips, so you seem a little confused when it doesn't happen. "You don’t want to…?" Big brown eyes blink at you slowly.

"No. Want you more. Always." He rumbles quietly. Okay, so he trusts Laylah because that is some Soft Murder Panther on display here, you ponder briefly.

"Fuuuuuck, that is so goddamn hot." Laylah's kinks are not just voyeurism but apparently voyeurism specifically of the lovey-dovey variety. In fact, you can hear the wet sounds of Laylah touching herself… and so can Diego. He peers over your shoulder with focus, licking his lips yet again. You're jolted by the sudden and ferocious need to see his face buried in her pert little ass.

"Okay!" You point to Diego, "Naked now, on your back on the chaise!" Turning to Laylah, you bark, "You! Stand up!" In the time it takes you to urge her upright Diego has stripped fully and flopped down as directed, massive erection dark and leaking. You're a little shit, you have to touch it. Diego watches you stroke him firmly with a slitted gaze, purring happily.

As Laylah approaches his head she looks to you for direction. "You still want beard between your legs?" You ask to confirm. Laylah moans with a nod, biting her bottom lip. Your Cheshire cat grin makes Diego whine, "Then mount up."

Laylah crawls over Diego and his hands fly to her hips to encourage her down. She sits on his face with quiet confidence and slides her hands down his muscled torso to get to your boobs. You laugh breathlessly, then snort out, "Greedy much?

"I can't help it. These tits are fucking amazing. Can I touch your ass?" Laylah is practically begging. Diego's hips jerk in encouragement with the idea.

"Yes, please!" You chirp, then strip the dress off over your head. Laylah cups an asscheek and you push into her hand. Before she can do anything else her entire body jumps and her eyes roll up. There's that tongue.

"Holy. Shit. What. Oh fuck, that feels good." Laylah groans toward the ceiling. You keep stroking him absent-mindedly but reach your other hand out for a studded nipple. "Shit. Shit shit shit."

Your laugh is sly. "All those textures, huh? The goatee is soft but the cheeks are scratchy. His lips are like velvet, right? And that tongue is legit sinful." Your hissing dirty talk is a surprise to everyone. Laylah nods weakly and Diego bucks into your hand. You leave off to smack his inner thigh. He jolts and moans lowly, making Laylah squirm.

"Oh my god. That's like a fucking vibrator!" She is stunned. You watch her body roll as she rides him before your hand moves again, this time you hit higher up. Diego's groan is louder and he keeps it going, moaning and growling into her cunt. His sounds are too much for you. Laylah's hands move with you as you lean down to lick the head of his cock.

Diego spreads his legs for you, arching up to get more while Laylah watches with interest. Finally she speaks, "Can you-oh fuck, just like that. Can, how much can you take, Princess?" Diego's muffled laughter makes you preen. Locking eyes with Laylah, you open wide and slide down on him. And down, down until your nose is buried in his hair and he's writhing. Laylah whispers in shock, "Goddamn." She bends down to look a little closer, "You know, you could make damn good money like that."

Diego's reaction is instantaneous. The vicious snarl makes you pull off in surprise and Laylah jumps up to all fours, too.

"NO!" Diego barks loudly and all three of you freeze. His face scrunches up in focus and he goes on quickly, "I will take care of you! Mine!"

Laylah is watching your face, trying to gauge if she should leave or not. Diego's chest heaves as he realizes what just came out of him. Your heart is pounding, there is nothing you love more than being claimed. You throw a leg over his hips and settle down on his cock, but not taking it inside yet. Diego bucks involuntarily, hissing with surprise.

"Yes, baby." You breathe. "And right now I want to see you take care of Laylah." Your hands smooth up her arms and over shoulders to ease her back down. She dives in to kiss you with her caramel tongue. Diego groans at the sight, then jerks her back down to get back to work. And judging from her noises, Diego isn't playing around.

Laylah breaks away to pant, "Oh, ohhh. Fuck. That's so good." You tilt her chin up to watch her lashes flutter, hazel eyes clouded with pleasure. Her mouth moves silently but you can tell its a rapid series of 'yes'. You cup her breasts to play with the bar studs in her nipples, they're fascinating to you. "Oh! Yeah, yeah, keep doing that." Laylah cries, bringing one hand up to cover yours in encouragement. Leaning down, you take the other nipple in your mouth and start sucking on it. "Fuck! Fuck yes! Yes, please don't stop. Please, please."

You moan into her skin and Laylah sobs with pleasure. Her hips are rolling, she is literally riding his face. Fuck that's hot. You can see his chin moving as he works her clit and its killing you. Diego rumbles against her and Laylah stiffens with a gasp. You watch her come apart, face slack and hips trembling. Her chin drops to her chest as it eases, but you bite down on her nipple while patting Diego's hip to keep going. Laylah crumples forward as her abs convulse with a second orgasm. His huge hands glide up to cup her little breasts and you take the opportunity to lick widely over his fingers and her nipple.

"I can't. I can't. Need a break. Oh, time out, please." Laylah stutters out. Diego releases her and she slides off to the side to collapse in a heap. Diego takes a moment to breathe, gawking at the view of your naked body on top of him. You remember how Laylah looked sitting on him, her flat stomach and perky breasts. Your hands come up to cover your chest self consciously and Diego lurches upright.

"Fuck. You're so perfect, Princess. Ride me, ride this dick." Huge hands cup your face for a searing kiss, his tongue dives deep with it. Your moan is high pitched as Diego raises his knees to trap you. Grabbing his forearms, you roll your torso to grind down so his dick pushes through your folds to your clit. He presses up into your heat, moving with you but never relinquishing your mouth.

"Mmmmmm." The whiny moan is pure need. Watching your man lick another woman off gives you a weird sense of pride. And just being able to see him in action has you dripping wet. You pull down on his arms, "Hold these." With that choked request your own small hands direct his to your breasts and Diego does not need to be told twice. He chomps down on your neck while flattening your chest just how you like it.

His teeth meander a path to your ear to growl, "Take this dick, Princess. Sit on Diego." It does the trick. Your whole body shudders and you reach down to angle his length into you and-

"Ohhh fuck yes, baby. Yeah, yeahyeahyeah." Your wail is entirely unintentional. God, he's so fucking huge, you're always a little light headed when he first gets fully seated. Its an incredible feeling, like you can't even move because you're so stuffed. Diego is still at your neck, working a pattern of hickeys and beardburn into your skin with obsessive attention.

"Princess, fuck. Every time, so tight, so fucking tight pussy." He rumbles into your cheek while you sob silently. You definitely have a praise kink and Diego is observant enough to realize that compliments to your physicality are going to inflict the most devastation. His lips brush your ear as he rattles on, "Love watching you swallow my cock. Mouth, pussy, anything. You take it so well, little girl." You're already pulsing, whining and squirming above him. Being impaled is glorious but you need some fucking friction already. Your previously wandering hands (that broad chest is a masterpiece) come back to your own body and straight down to where the two of you are connected. Diego rumbles with approval, "Yesss, touch yourself. Play with that pretty little pussy until you come all over me."

Your eyes slip closed as you work your clit just like you did the car. The combined sensations of his hands roaming your body, his cock shoved so far up you that it might come out your throat, and the very perfect angle applied to your clit is almost too much. You're so focused on the building pleasure that his legs rising behind you and spreading wide isn't enough jostling to cause any delay. Diego rolls his hips slowly and steadily, never losing rhythm as you begin rocking on him. He purrs as his own hands slide down to your hips, squeezing and guiding. Your breasts are cupped, lifted and compressed almost perfectly. Oh fuck, his hands are everywhere--

Your eyes pop open in shock as you remember Laylah is here. Its her hands that are manipulating your cleavage with firm attention. Her body is pressed up tight to your back, abdomen curved to accommodate your ridiculous ass. That explains his legs being so wide open. Speaking of…

Diego is absolutely rapturous underneath you. His face is slack with awe, big brown eyes wide and drowning dark, his mouth hangs open to pant loudly. The naked hunger you see there as he watches you being pleasured, its too much, too emotional. Closing your eyes again, your focus turns inward as you tense and stiffen.

"Yes, Princess. Come, little girl. Come for Diego." The growl does it. Your cunt clenches tight, squeezing hard around him, before your breathing catches and everything snaps. Waves of ecstasy roll through you in ever decelerating rounds.

"I- Yes, yes, baby, f-fucking yessss." There is zero vocal control for Diego-induced orgasms. Your keening yelps drag a groan from him and Laylah moans behind you. Its too much, you collapse forward onto his chest in a graceless sprawl. Diego hauls you up to take your mouth and you bonelessly let him do whatever he wants. The kiss is filthy and desperate, he licks your entire mouth messily. Filled with Diego at both ends, you whimper in high pitches.

The sound makes your Murder Panther snap. Huge hands sink into your hair to yank your head back roughly so you have to look at his fierce expression. Teeth bared and brows drawn together, he looks vicious. Diego growls ferociously, "I'm going to fuck you now, Princess."

All you can do is hang on.

Diego keeps your head held tight and uses the same arm to squash you down to his chest. His other hand holds your pelvis immobile while his hips snap powerfully. The head of that amazing cock rams into your cervix with every thrust and you know your sobs have to be pathetic. Squeaks and mewls fall from your lips as he fucks you in a position that no one else has ever managed. Its amazing how Diego can manipulate your thick body, you always feel little and delicate under his massive hands.

"Come again! Come, Princess!" His snarled order is accompanied by a slap to your ass. The pain triggers another climax and Diego fucks harshly through your contractions. Something brushes your lower back, then soft lips are kissing over your right cheek. Laylah mouths over your burning skin, lapping where Diego just hit. Holy shit. He sees your face, watches your jaw drop open and your eyes widen. Diego smiles darkly with his next command, "Lick Princess, Laylah. Lick her ass while I wreck this pretty little pussy."

Is she seriously going t-- "Ahhhhh!" Your surprised yell melts into mindless pleasure as Laylah does exactly what she was told. Her soft tongue glides between your cheeks to pass wetly over your hole. Over and over, Laylah licks you softly in counterpoint to Diego's rough thrusting. "I can't- fuck, its. Oh, oh my god. Please, please- I'm gonna come. Please, Dieg-" your broken babbling shorts out along with your brain. Everything fades away until all you know is crushing pleasure.

There's a dull roar below you, its just audible over the wind in your ears. Someone is rubbing your back. A searing heat deep in your belly makes you whimper. Its dark and quiet very suddenly. You feel like you're floating in water, slowly rising to the surface until you can see light and hear your name being called like distant thunder.

"Bicki, look. Mirame, Princess. There, there she is." Diego's quiet rasp is relieved. You look around briefly, cataloging your surroundings. Diego is sitting up against the arm of the chaise with you cradled in his lap. Your head is pressed into his shoulder but one solid hand is holding you upright so he can watch your face. The concern in those brown eyes is gratifying, whatever happened Diego is glad you're alright. The soft silk throw is draped over you like a cape.

Laylah is in the corner of the chaise beside him, eyes huge but lips curled up in a grin. "You okay, Princess? I've never seen a man fuck a girl so good she blacks out. That's just impressive." Her hazel eyes sparkle with amusement. She lounges there fully nude with no self-consciousness.

You wave your hand lazily in her direction with a sigh, "Don't. Do not. His ego, please no." Your eyes close in slight embarrassment and you hide your grin in his neck. Diego purrs smugly.

"Oh, please yes. Tell me how I fucked two women into lazy heaps of satisfaction in one fell swoop. Go on then." Diego rumbles into your curls. "I want to hear all the ways you're going to thank me." His rough voice is dripping with pride.

You slap him in the middle of his chest. "Maybe later, when you can actually do something about it." You chuckle. Turning your head, you kiss his stubbled cheek sweetly, then lick him just to be rude. Diego only laughs and pulls you closer.

Laylah's laugh is crackly, her deep voice more hoarse than normal. "You two are ridiculously adorable." She smiles softly, the warmth of it goes all the way to her eyes. "Not to be presumptuous, but I would really enjoy doing this on a sorta regular basis. Not on a payroll." Here she gestures to Diego minutely, then turns to you with a darker look, Hungry, your mind supplies. She holds your gaze levelly as she elaborates, "I really like you. I want to be your friend. I mean, with benefits is obviously the dream, but you know. I had a great time tonight." All three of you laugh.

"I like that idea." You hear yourself answering. Diego looks down his nose at you in mild surprise.

"You do?" He looks cautiously hopeful.

"Yeah? I like having… friends?" You give him a confused look. "Is that not what you wanted?" You're not sure if you should be slightly offended or not. Sometimes there are cultural miscommunications and you always try to keep that in the back of your mind.

Diego's smile is slow and wide. "That is exactly what I would like Princess." His forehead comes down to yours and you smile goofily. You are exceedingly happy that Diego cares so much that he put effort into trying to bring you more companionship, that he paid enough attention to notice that you and Laylah connected, that she pleased you and he wanted that for you.

So you exchange numbers, you laugh with your friend, and when Laylah leaves early the next morning you're exhausted with fullness. Yeah, you have a best friend, but everything else is just acquaintances. This new thing is some weird messy not-disaster that you somehow aren't worried about.

You're sitting on the bed, staring into space when Diego waltzes out of the bathroom completely naked. Hello. He leans down over you, both big hands bracketing your hips, to crack your heart open just a tiny bit more by proclaiming, "I can still smell her and she is not you. Come shower with me so I can smell like you again." Diego kisses your forehead then returns to the bathroom and the running shower with complete trust that you're right behind him.

You realize that you have complete trust to follow him. You trust him with so many things. You trust Diego with your heart.

#damnit diego #murder panther #rough me up then dick me down #24 fucking 7 hours in this house #zash writes #dick with side of feels #casual poly

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