#ma'am... the ball please? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

takes1 · 2 months ago

Note

UHMMM hello, RAN HERE to request 😭😭😭 Please could I have an NSFW scenario where experienced!shortreader with a size kink devours inexperienced!lev and tries to teach him a few things. RIDING this man till he dies. Please and thank you. 😝❤️

clingy!lev crushing on reader

i cant tell you how real of a phenomenon this is. thank you for the opportunity to write thiiiis. ohh man i hope this finds the right freaks bc i am into this. absolute two-parter. titled 'the lev brainrot' in my notes.

warnings. recreational alcohol consumption. nsfw to follow. minors DNI

details. fem!reader / porn! with! plot! (this is the plot) / praise kink / size kink / clingy!lev / inexperienced!lev / experienced!reader / 'mom-friend' reader / bar setting / heavy drinking / best friend!kuroo / college au! / manager?trainer?reader / aged-up characters / 2k words / reply to be added for part two!

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

You called him Haiba, not Lev, because you didn't want him getting the wrong impression. There were only a handful of players, all seniors along with you, that you called by first name-- he plainly held the most animosity toward them.

Of course, you weren't ignorant to his little attachment.

It took the form of him grasping at straws to find something to talk to you about, usually in rushed attempts between warm-ups. Or asking you obvious, sometimes repeat-questions about ailments he hypothetically did or did not have. Or, when the team went out for morale events, he worked like a dog to sit or stand next to you.

You once asked him: "Haiba!"

"Hm?" His attention was fully captured, his attempt to receive forgotten. The ball rolled past him on the floor and his teammate across the gym groaned, "Yes-Yes ma'am?"

That wasn't your intention, to distract him. You sighed and picked the ball up. A handful of new members called you 'ma'am' but Lev was by-far the worst offender.

"You have any sisters?"

"I do!"

He looked like he was about to tell you his entire life story, so you threw the ball back at him and urged him to keep practicing, instead.

Maybe that had something there. It could connect with how he didn't take as easily to the senior guys on the team. If he wasn't accustomed to handling dude-dynamics with brothers, it made sense that he might seek the comfort of a somewhat-familiar presence, like a sister.

Still, that idea didn't hold much weight when you considered his time playing competitively in high school. He spoke about the friends and experiences he made there with fervor and excitement. He got along with guys. He wasn't shy, he wasn't reserved, and he didn't have problems speaking up.

Your curiosity got the better of you at one of your team outings.

The local bar on the square was packed on a Friday night. The team barely got seated, but once you were all comfortable, it was a rowdy and fast kind of evening that zoomed right through decent hours. You were all buzzed already from the restaurant you walked there from-- the idea to 'keep it going' was indulgent, and probably your first mistake.

Kuroo took the seat right next to you like he had at the last spot, but laughed, capturing your attention, and stepped back down.

"Oops! Sorry, Lev! That's your spot buddy, my bad- my bad," He cackled, and brushed the seat off for him.

It was only kind of a joke. You blushed, forearms prickling up, at the looks and snickers it generated from the rest of the team.

Lev took too long to decide if he should sit there. Kuroo shimmied into the seat across from you with a smirk.

"Just- just sit down," You pulled the chair out more so his legs would fit, and lowered your voice to something nicer, "Lev, don't mind that dumbass."

You were left to smooth it all out, as usual.

The guys often joked, in his absence, and on occasion right in front of him, that he had an obvious crush on you. You didn't like to entertain it, because it made things super awkward. Somebody had to put their foot down, or else the whole team would get too unprofessional and potentially mean-natured to the new guys. You found yourself advocating for him, giving every excuse to call it something else. Lately, you were married to the sibling idea.

Lev sat down, but slow, and armed with an odd look.

All you paid notice to was how he didn't need to jump or climb up the way you did, to get into the tall, narrow chairs.

The waitress came around, already horribly busy, and you helped her by facilitating some semblance of focus amongst your friends.

You patted the table, leaning all the way over Lev, to get Yaku's attention, "Hey- hey! What do you want?"

"Oh! Uhhh- rum'n'coke, please,"

Thankfully, it spurred a string of just rum and coke orders down the length of the two tables you had corralled together. You sighed, rubbing your face, at how stupid they all got when they were together and tipsy. You got three orders of jalapeño poppers for the table and had to forbid anyone else from revising theirs, after hearing such a great idea.

You also ordered something incredibly strong and tipped her well.

Then, it took a while to relax. Kenma helped, seated on your right- you watched him play Mario Kart on his Switch and sipped on your water. But you could feel Lev's weird, fresh energy, and wished Kuroo had stayed. You had three years of goofing around with him, and now he was all the way across the table. This place was too loud to hear much of anything, so you were barred from a lot of easy-to-make conversation with old friends.

The food, the drinks, and the three pitchers of beer they ordered, couldn't come fast enough. It took about seven levels of playing for your orders to start floating around the table to their designated owners.

12 guys + 3 baskets of jalapeño poppers = 20 seconds of frenzied grabbing, followed by 2 minutes of silent seething and burned tongues for the rest of the night. You grabbed five and placed them on a napkin, to eat on slowly.

Lev was already done with a tall glass of Michelob Ultra.

"Are you kidding me?" You watched in shock and awe as he wiped the foam from his upper lip and set the empty thing down.

"What?" He laughed, "Those are spicy!"

They, almost certainly, were not spicy. His tolerance must have aired more on the 'lighter' side. That went largely ignored, though, as you watched him pour a second glass with perfect angle and precision.

His arms were long and could reach far into the center of the table, especially if he leaned forward. You subconsciously began to catch up with your own drink, eyes glued to the way his lats were visible through his shirt as he pulled his glass back in.

You squinted at the face he made when he sniffed the rim of it.

"Do you like beer? Or--,"

Lev couldn't hear you. He leaned in with an amused grin, and you caught a whiff of something that smelled good enough to make you smile a bit.

Some of his hair brushed your cheek from how close he got to listen.

"Do you like that stuff? Or are you just drinking it to look cool?"

When you pulled away, he was staring at your yummy drink held close to your mouth- then your nose, and back up to your eyes. He closed the distance again.

"You think I look cool?"

You laughed and pushed his shoulder back lightly- he laughed, too, and shrugged, "I mean- if it's working, yeah!"

Anytime you wanted to talk, you would look at Kenma, then down at his game, and eventually lean towards Lev, instead.

The way he looked at you made you all warm and fuzzy. Like he wanted to hear what you had to say soo badly. He was eager, and jumped at the opportunity to get close, to feel your voice brushing by his warm ear, a light touch on his arm, or his leg.

The night was a crash course in what kind of person he was. You learned a lot about him.

"Ohh! Oh! An older sister!" Your eyes lit up, your hypothesis confirmed at last. Lev nodded with a big grin, no idea why that made you so happy. But you didn't smile much at practice, so he didn't pry.

You pushed yourself up and slapped a hand in front of Kuroo, hard, on the table. He was grinning as you pointed a stiff finger at him.

"I told you!!"

"I'm sure you did!" He yelled back with a laugh, "What the hell are we talking about?"

As you sat back down, Kuroo caught Lev staring shamelessly at your ass. He snapped his fingers at him like he was trying to get a puppy's attention. You didn't realize that's what he was doing.

"He has an older sister!"

Kuroo rolled his eyes. This hill you were going to die on was getting excavated as you preached, so confidently, that it was your unmovable mountain. But- who was he to take away your beacon of hope? Dance on the dirt mound all night. He'd help you out of the mud in the morning, because you were his friend. And he thought your little quirks were funny enough to entertain.

Blind to the very argument against your excitement -Lev, staring hard down through your 'going out' top- you explained, "That's why! Kuro- you were dead wrong!"

Kuroo's belly-laugh was not what you were after.

"Oh- ohhh fuck! You're too cute- ahaha! You really are!"

You crossed your arms. Lev gulped down another glass, a needed endeavor, to be buzzed enough to keep talking to you. Talking, or yelling, rather, to Kuroo had already lost its novelty because he could never just let you be right, for once.

"Yooo!! Lemme get some of those!"

Yamamoto's hand was already in your reserved stack of food.

You swatted it away, hard.

"Fuck off!"

He retracted right away, faked a sob, then yowled- it was nothing in volume compared to the bustle of the noisy bar.

Lev hummed next to you. It sounded like a word, so after you were done laughing at Yamamoto, you turned your attention over and felt a fun whoosh as your vision lagged. You blinked for a long second, and set your drink down with a giggle.

That was officially enough.

"What did you say!" You asked Lev.

"What!" He yelled over the music.

You giggled and pulled on his shirt at the shoulder hem to get him to lean closer. His grin was horribly handsome, his engrossed eye contact so cute, and you found yourself unable to stop your giggles. You rested your warm forehead on his shoulder.

He smelled good. Like a pricey, foreign cologne. You were still gripping his sleeve.

Out of all the guys here, none of them were as cute as Lev right now.

That handsome smile was back on his face, "You called me Lev earlier!"

You were confused, for a moment. What? When? Why?

An incomplete excuse, if you had ever heard of one, "Must've been- uhh, well, I think Kuro called you Lev, so-!"

When you let go of him, you missed the feeling. Your fingers were cold and wanted to hold something, so you picked your drink back up and finished it. Only after, when it all went to your head, did you realize you had already decided not to do that.

Kuroo startled you when he spoke at you from behind. You quickly fell back into your never-ending string of giggles at how silly it was.

"You want anything? I'm starting a tab!" He asked you over the music.

The sound of that appealed to you, but you knew better.

"I'm- whew-- Yeah," You laughed, and rubbed the top of his hand, nodding, "I'm good-I'm good! Don't give me anything."

Kuroo lingered for a few breaths, analyzing you from over your shoulder, then directed a mean squint to Lev.

"You tell her to keep up with you?"

It was a far reach and a confusing question. The pretty boy's hesitant head shake pissed him off a little more than it should have.

"Make sure she drinks water," Kuroo announced to him, within earshot, and rubbed your shoulder again with a goodbye-pat.

He stayed a few seconds longer, looking for the best route to get to the bar, then directed his attention back to Lev. His hard grip was a painful on his shoulder, purposefully squeezing him. A warning.

"You wanna stare at'er all fuckin' day, then let her get this drunk? I know what you're doing," Was a vicious, eerily quiet, mutter.

"Don't be a prick," He shoved him, just a little, when he walked past.

In reality, it was just a bit of misplaced concern. Lev turned his head, thoroughly intimidated, tracking Kuroo all the way to the bar.

"Um-,"

His nerves seemed to fall away when he looked down at your pretty smile, how you were still finding everything a bit too funny. Plus, your body was really getting to him. Maybe it was because you kept touching him.

Again, he had to lean down far to speak to you, "(Y/n)? Uh... Kuroo- he isn't your boyfriend, right?"

Regardless of sobriety, you would've laughed really hard at that. Your hands gripped around his arm; this time, unnecessarily, and enough to make his blush strong and vibrant.

"Oh my God! No!"

Lev laughed with you, lightly, with eyes still on Kuroo, far away.

"Ohh, this is gonna sound so terrible-," You laughed under your palm, debating on whether on not to keep talking, but Lev gave you this 'I wanna know so bad' look, and you just couldn't stop yourself, "But he's not my type. Not at all."

An incredible wave of confusion took over his pretty features.

"He's too smart for me- it's kind of, I dunno, like-- I wanna call the shots, do all the thinking, y'know?"

It's not that Lev identified as being dumb, but the proclamation made him hard, and simultaneously view you as more capable. He didn't know the first thing about girls, but you seemed to know enough for the both of you.

Transfixed, he nodded along, halfway-listening to you ramble, halfway-focused on flexing his arm for you.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu my request box

taglist.

none! reply to be added

future details/sneak peak: afab!reader / riding / overstim / size kink / handjobs / multiple orgasms / top!reader / puppy love!lev / loss of virginity / begging / needy!lev / dacryphilia / + more

472 notes · View notes

skyrigel · 11 months ago

Note

Can you write an image in which Benedict is obsessed with Y/N and is always looking for reasons to touch her. However, Y/N knows that when it comes to women, Benedict quickly gets what he wants... sex. She keeps him waiting and doesn’t sleep with him until the wedding day.

Obsessed with you | I

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x afab!reader

Synopsis: Ton's most eligible bachelor is obsessed with the mystery lady in silver, and would do anything to have her

Warning: Reader's mother has issues, scandalous family, last name Rose for convience, Benedict being a smug bastard, some regency class differences, cute Polin, cute kathony, minor non-con touching, smoking cigar, lots of teasing and ofcourse obsessive and possession behaviour. Might be toxic! Benedict but please he's a cutie.

Dearest gentle readers,

While for sure we have seen former Rake now Kate's beloved whipped husband, and Colin bridgerton who is so smitten with his dearest wife that it will not come forward a surprise if he hasn't set foot out in all these days, but Benedict bridgerton is neither whipped nor smitten, he is, as the poets would whisper, obsessed. It will be amusing to know who this mystery lady is, with her dazzling silver gown and piercing eyes, sharp enough as she carved the gentleman's heart out.

Benedict was a man for art and muse so forgive him if he got so obsessed with you, the real question was, how could he not ? You were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, clad in your most dazzling blue dress that he wanted nothing but to take off.

" She exaggerates." Anthony pouted, he shouldn't know that he had but he's been pouting a lot lately, it's called 'kateffect'

" No, you've been domesticated brother, just admit it, Kate has tamed you." Colin peppered, sprawling down next to Anthony who greeted him with the most glaring glare.

" Like you're any better." Anthony smirked, setting his gaze on Benedict who read the index again.

" Penelope doesn't know her name ? " Benedict worried his jaw, looking between his brothers.

" I take that back, Penelope didn't exaggerate, you're really very much obsessed." Anthony remarked, Colin nodded.

" Oi, she would've known your mystery lady's full name and history but—"

" Don't complete that, I'll duel you."

" In the middle of a ball ? " Benedict laughed, eyes amused, Colin turned a crimson red.

" Rather tempting—"

" Oi! " Anthony raised his brow, his mouth curving in disdain, as Colin staggered away, leaving Anthony praying to lord behind like he was any better.

" Oh dear." Benedict smiled when once alone, thumb caressing the index, as if it was the mystery lady in silver blue gown, accused of taking away the gentleman's heart.

" Who are you ? " He whispered.

" Ma'am, would you like something else ? " Mrs. Turner asked once you were seated on your dressing, playing with several glassy bottles with colourful scenty substances.

" In yesterday's masquerade ball, I was dancing with a Bridgerton—" Mrs. Turner tutted softly," He's Benedict bridgerton, i assume."

" Yes, indeed, the only bachelor bridgerton boy of age." Mrs. Turner pulled the corset strings and you gasped, feeling your internals squeeze in the process.

You smiled, thinking about the way Benedict looked at you, all stars in his eyes.

" I..it is not my place miss but as your well wisher, i would say.." she worried her jaw.

" It's okay Mrs. Turner, you should speak your mind." You assured her, feeling her fingers stop at your back as she looked at your reflection in the mirror.

" Benedict bridgerton's a rake, unlike any other gentleman... he's known to engage women with class and wits...artists, musicians, and other dimplomacy that are odd amongst our sex."

" Oh." You nodded, feeling stupid enough to think those were meant for you, like they were of real affection.

" I wouldn't want you any harm, after your father's death and your inheritance affairs, you couldn't afford another scandal, for a good match—"

" My virtue should stay intact ? " You raised your chin, examining the stain of rose on your lips.

" Your sister was a good girl madam, so are you." Mrs. Turner smiled, her eyes crinkling with deepest concerns.

Benedict's eyes were searching for you everywhere, he has been waiting for you since so long. Despite anxious mamas forcing introductions and dances, he was looking only for you.

" Miss Rose." Benedict turned to see his sister in law, smiling a smirk, followed by her husband in tow.

" You wound me Pen, it's Benedict bridgerton! " He laughed, much to Colin's dismay.

" Oh well your mystery lady is Miss Rose, daughter of late Duke of Blair field and lady bloom." Colin was one step away from clapping.

" Wow." Benedict's mouth curved in a delightful 'o'.

" Oh well they are rather scandalous, her sister was rumoured to be not a virgin which deceased all of her prospects of marriages, her mother is rather protective of her."

" Pen, did I tell you how you're my favourite sister ? " Benedict perked his gaze towards the entrance, hoping for you to bless him.

" Don't let Eloise hear that." Colin said, outstretching his arm that Penelope held as they swirled between the crowd, laughing.

" You shall not be unchaperoned." Your mother had a faraway look in her eyes, her hand was trembling and you surged the desire to just hold it.

" I understand, mama." You bowed your head once, trying to forget the trembling of her hands.

" Don't engage in gossips dearest, better keep to yourself and..." She forgot what she was saying, her lips trembling along, you looked at Mrs. Turner with a pleading gaze.

" Ma'am, we must make haste." She simply said, your mother spared a glance to you, her mouth tightening around the corners.

" You look beautiful child." She looked away, you pretended not to see the tear that glistented down her cheek.

After securing yourself in the carriage, with your dress squeezing the life out you, you finally breathed.

" I envy Gissele." You said softly, caressing the uneven glittering fake diamonds.

" She would say the same." Mary mumbled, she was Mrs. Turner's daughter who rather got scolded every often for being too blunt. You liked her alot.

" Oh wouldn't it be so wonderful to just lay in bed, reading a book and wearing simple soft dresses." You perked up at the idea of a life like that, a simple homely cottage, filled with warmth and sweetness and books.

" But the society has it's own fun, look at you, pretty dresses, pretty shoes, and all those prince charming lords." Mary took your fan and mimicked the motion, you smiled.

" Well you could always borrow a dress, have some fun." Your eyes glinted, Mary shaked her head.

" C'mon." You grabbed her wrist, shaking them, up and down profusely.

" No, mama will kill me ! "

" But the fun ?! No one would know, they haven't seen me, they don't know me."

" Well i can't pretend to be you, what would happen if somebody caught us."

" Don't then, be yourself ! Mary Turner."

" Sounds like a bad idea." Mary said, her smile deceived her.

" Lord Turner of Riverdales, be their relative, no one hardly pays attention."

" Whistledown does." Mary narrowed her eyes, you looked out to make sure you haven't yet reached.

" Well she called me a mystery woman who apparantly took a gentleman's heart."

" Oh Mr. Bridgerton's a known gentleman." You scoffed at that, Mary's brow knitted together as she studied you.

" What ? He's a rake." You brushed the tingling away, feeling the way Benedict's gaze lingered on you, the way he twirled you around like you were the only real thing, the way he flushed and stumbled through his words, attempting to know absolutely anything about you.

" I highly doubt that, never heard anything about him."

" Presumably he has a longing for accomplised women." You finger quoted it with a scowl that was too unladylike, Mary bursted into fits of giggles.

" What ? " You poked her, she shaked with her guffaw, chortling in her way.

" You fancy him." She said, chuckling the ' him' away, you frowned deeply, heart leaping at the ton that was gathered outside lady Danbury's exquisite ball.

" Utter rubbish. Do you still want to have fun ? " You asked, Mary smiled.

Benedict gaze perked up when you and Mary stumbled through the ball, Mary was almost shaking and you were sure her clothes didn't fit much to you, you felt your back prickling with burning gaze and you turned.

" Told you he's a rake. Don't be friendly to him." You whispered to Mary who was about to run when Benedict dropped his conversation with lord White, swaggering towards you.

" What if he recognises you ? " She mumbled and your lower lip trembled, but that's not possible, your mask obscured your whole face except your lips and eyes and certainly he hadn't painted you in his mind, afterall he shouldn't be that obsessed.

" My lady." He bowed, his gaze locking in yours as he kissed the hand Mary very reluctantly gave him, he was amused when Mary mumbled a hasty greeting, her manners mimicked.

" You look exquisite, more than the ball itself." He was clearly flattered when Mary blinked hard, looking at you for help.

You rolled your eyes when Benedict too, looked at you with a similar pleading as Mary.

" Forgive me my lord, my lady is tired—"

" We haven't been introduced i remember, Benedict bridgerton." He grinned, he actually freaking grinned as Mary glanced at you with the corner of her eye.

" Lady Mariam Turner." She blurted it quickly, looking at you for approval, " A pleasure." Mary smiled, you nodded.

" Forgive me Mr. Bridgerton." You cleared your throat, Benedict's gaze penetrated through you, he was setting you on fire and you couldn't do anything but to burn.

" My lady is tired, you must excuse us." You felt your throat dry, your whole body withering when Benedict narrowed his eyes, lingering specifically on your lips and treading down slowly.

" Indeed, I must not keep you." He cocked his head to Mary, humming along as you strode past him. You were sure he only whispered the ' not ' out of curtsy.

" That was bloody brilliant ! " You giggled while Mary shaked her head, clutching her bossom. Your footsteps echoing in the abandoned corridor, stiffling back your giggles.

" That was bloody scary and I can't breathe." Mary heaved, her breath easing when you patted her back.

" Lady Mariam Turner." You teased, bumping your hip as Mary looked at you, gasping scandalously.

" Shut up. I almost died." Mary pulled her dress that sticked to her skin, trying to fan in some air.

" Do you think he recognised me ? " Your cheeks blazed at the heat of the memory of him, his teasing glances and amused smiles.

" I...I think it was rather amusing that we were messing up, did you see how I trembled? " Mary shaked her hand, as you laughed at the display.

" No, my lady." You said, once your giggles subsided, " You were exquisite."

Mary wacked your arm, her smile unable to hide through the twitch of her lips.

" So, shall we go home ? "

" Would you mind waiting in the carriage ? "

" Don't tell me—" Mary glared, you pouted with puppy eyes.

" Please, you know it's my only way."

" Smoking is bad." Mary declared, " and for men." She added grimly, you nodded along, grabbing her wrist.

" Please, please, please."

" Only if you give back my clothes, i miss them." She touched the soft cotton of her clothes that you were wearing, you perked up eagerly.

You took joy at the puffs of smoke that ridiculed the air, the night chill freezing it into clouds of silvery mist.

Mary was dozing off in the carriage until it was time to go home, so early arrival doesn't raise any questions and your mother fast asleep, her trembling lipped questions saved for the next day.

" I thought your lady was tired." You almost dropped your cigar, jumping up the swing as it creaked at sudden outburst.

" Don't drop it, i don't have any with me." His smile was too big and smug for his face, his nonchalance dripped as he took the swing opposite of you. You stared, for some reason cigar still burning in intricate yellow blazing circles, dropping to ashes.

" Forgive me my lord—" you just remembered you were no longer in Mary's clothes.

" That's the only line you grasped so far ? " Benedict leaned on his swing, catching your wrist as he dragged you to sit.

You sat down with a thud, swing jiggling with your weight as you processed his smile.

" I..." You stammered, flushing in heat as he inhaled you in, you were back in your clothes, the one you were supposed to wear. And Mary was right, you couldn't breathe.

" I would say you look beautiful, in everything, in anything..or—" in nothing.

" I should leave." You throat itched.

" Stay." He was soft, almost a whine, a plead.

" Please don't tell anyone." You tried your best persuading smile, it worked on Gissele all the time, your lips pouting and eyes shining with stars.

Benedict's mouth curved in a smile, he clicked his tongue as he attempted to speak but he found he couldn't. A pause, then—

" You love tormenting me, don't you ? " Benedict took the burning cigar from you, locking your eyes with his own as he brought it to his mouth, a sound escaped him as his lips curved around the warmness that belonged to you, he inhaled deeply.

" I don't know what you're talking about." You tore away you eyes from the erotic display of smoking, he hummed in a dry scoff.

" Ofcourse, you wouldn't." He offered the Cigar back, every word coated with sarcasm.

The breeze was so cold that you shivered, moon hanging low in the night sky and every star stared back, Sirius, Rigel, and all of them.

" I never meant to offend you." You took the cigar back, his fingers brushed, a electrifying wave rippling inside you, like the way he held your hand and danced with you in the masquerade ball.

You noticed his flexing but said nothing, heart beating too fast to be sane and alive.

" Miss Rose—" you gasped, how could he know your name, "—have you ever been kissed ? "

" I...Benedict..lord." you clamped your mouth shut, lips suddenly struck by a bolt as they buzzed.

He leaned as you felt your back touching the rope of swing, his face too close... would he kiss you ? Would it be as electrifying as the rest of his touches ? Would you survive it or simply burn like a pheonix ?

" It's okay, we would alot when we get married. " He took away the cigar and dropped it as it was so close to burn your skin, smiling all the while. Was that a proposal ?

" Go home, it's getting cold, Mrs-yet-to-be bridgerton." And he pressed his lips against your forehead, his smile caressing your heart.

Rigel's note 🪩: while I loved this idea especially the hilarious ' Benedict gets what he wants....sex ' but I needed to base it, so it doesn't come as pervy and non con as it might, to make it comfortable enough to write on my part, I have tried to break it into parts, this part is generally meet up and getting obsession with y/n ( no use in fic ) and other will be courting and marriage bliss. Gif not mine.

1K notes · View notes

peachetteprice · 4 months ago

Text

Having you wear his uniform, the one at the back of his wardrobe that he hasn't touched in years because it holds rank that he doesn't, any longer, is most precious to John. The vigour with which you grind against his hips is tumultuous, naked except for the hulking silhouette of his jacket and only his jacket; you grow satisfied with power each time he shudders with pleasure, because you're in control now and it feels wonderful, Lieutenant, because he'll do everything you say.

"Christ, that's it, there... there, Lieutenant." He likes to whistle as you let his cock bloat with cum inside your cunt, leaning into his neck to let out everything you can't within that persona, each whimper, each whine, each 'fuck, John', pitching with intensity as the hem of his jacket grazes his balls and makes rigid his nipples.

It's your turn to do all the work, palms re-braced on his trail, gripping at the occasional wrinkle of skin you find as he sits up on his elbows, sucks air through his teeth and watches as his cock is swallowed by your cunt, dribbling from the corners of its lips onto his thighs.

"Should'a made you wear this sooner, gorgeous..." He chuckles, and you gasp as his thumb travels from your hip bone to your clit, and presses, and watches a flicker of distress pinch at your cheeks as he does so, as he waits for you to realise it isn't his role anymore, not with you in his lap, wearing his clothes, rolling your hips against him at whatever pace you choose.

"Fast– no..." You bite down on your lip and snatch his hand from your cunt, securing it behind his own head. He grins - bastard almost got away with it. "Keep your hands to yourself, Private."

John chortles.

At which point your thighs strengthen, lift from his cock and pinch it between them before they dive back down with a wet shlick, and feel his abdomen tighten beneath your hand, and he groans, loud, beautifully pained, and quietly, just beneath his breath, he begs, panting,

"Permission to cum, Ma'am–" and even, quieter, strained– "please."

| Masterlist |

#price smut #captain john price x reader #price x reader #captain price smut #john price #john price x you #john price x reader #john price smut #captain price x you #captain price x reader #call of duty fanfic #captain price #captain john price #call of duty fanfiction #cod #call of duty #captain john price smut

595 notes · View notes

nerdlvr · 4 months ago

Text

✩ overstimulation

(MDNI)

smut , everything is consensual , haechan x reader , sub haechan , bratty haechan , overstimulation of , dom reader , some degradation , good boy comments , an excessive use of onomatopoeia me thinks , begging , whining , all the good stuff , requested here ! , lmk if i missed something!

"oh you look so pretty like this baby." you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the roots.

he whined softly in your grasp, fingers curling into the sheets, "please- mmnh."

you watched as his flushed cock bounced against his stomach, tip still leaking cum from the last orgasm.

"eungh y/n, i- i can't- hurts so much, please."

you scoffed at his pleas, hand moving down to hold his jaw, pulling him up to look at you, "i say when you can't anymore, okay?"

he gulped, eyes watery as he looked up at him, his head nodding slowly, "yes ma'am."

a smile spread on your lips as you began to trace your fingertips sown his chest, "now be a good boy and give me one more."

you had been counting the minutes since you had began. 5, 10, 20, 40, maybe it's been over an hour now, your hand languidly sliding along haechan's length, his whines growing louder by the minute.

"i- i can't cum anymore- please, i-"

he writhed under your touch, thighs softly thrashing against the bed as his knuckled turned white against the sheets.

you looked down towards his cock, cum slowly dripping from his swollen tip, "oh but you just did baby, see how good you are for me? i know you can do one more."

his eyes watered as he looked down at you, a wide smirk on your lips as your thumb began to swirl against the head of his cock, "be a good boy and cum for me one more time? hm?"

you stared up at him with those wide eyes, lips slightly pouted as you began to stroke him again, his leg twitching at the sensation.

"o-okay, last one, okay?"

you giggled as you shuffled closer to him, hand never leaving his length, "don't think you're in charge now hyuckie-" you gave his balls a light squeeze, "only one more cause i said so, right baby?"

your hands moved up to stroke his length, your wrist snapping quickly as you picked up in speed.

he squeezed his eyes shut, head falling towards your shoulder as he mumbled into your skin, "y-yes, cause you said so- cause you said so- please, i'll be good, please-"

his breath was hot against your neck, tears staining your shirt as he wept into your arms, "yes- yes please- wanna cum so bad- please i promise, i'll be good from now on-"

you smirked into his hair, the smell of honey making your eyes roll slightly, "of course you'll be my good boy- don't want me to punish you like this again hm?

you heard his breath shudder, his whines muffled slightly as he rutted his hips against your hand.

"oh? so you want me to keep punishing you baby? you like when mommy plays with your cock?"

his hips lifted from the bed, hands moving to grip at your thighs as he let out a loud groan, "oh my- yes yes, i'm- please-"

his eyes were squeezed shut, mouth hanging open, as he threw his head back.

"good baby- just like that- justtt like that." your movements against his length slowed, watching as cum spurted out of his tip. you ran your hand along his length, squeezing at the head of his cock lightly, milking every last drop.

you felt his head drop back towards your shoulder, the grip on your thighs loosening, "my dick feels like its gonna fall- ow!"

you giggled as he flinched away from your grasp, your hand chasing after his softening length to continue stroking him, "one more?"

he shivered under your gaze, his cock, twitching slightly at your request.

"i'm just kidding! you're fucking insane donghyuck, seek help."

you chuckled as you looked down to see him growing hard again, an embarassed blush spreading across his chest, "but i- i can do one more."

a smirk grew on your face, "is that right baby?"

709 notes · View notes

dumbbitchgalore · 5 months ago

Text

Repost because it got flagged a while ago

Young Lt!Price and the General’s wife 🧚‍♀️

“And this is Mrs Holmes, General Holmes’ wife.”

Among the glitz and glamour of military balls, sandwiched between couples swaying to the music, John is introduced to an unenthusiastic woman no older than 27.

Her body wrapped in a baby blue organza dress as diamonds find their place on her ears, neck and fingers causing her to stand out from the see of black and white.

She looks at him with no particular interest as she extends her hand out as a sign of formality. She’s heard a lot about the young soldier. Talented, brave, smart and occasionally stories of his virility circle among the women.

“A pleasure, Lieutenant Price.” She says monotonously as John takes her hand to shake it while giving her a wolfish grin.

“Please ma’am, the pleasure is all mine.” He responds back, less formal and more rapacious.

Humming softly at his reply, you pull your hand away from his grasp examining his face. A light stubble, cleaned around the edges, hair slicked back giving way to the old Hollywood style. His cerulean eyes staring you down, drowning in a pool of sin. The tiny mole decorating his nose doesn’t get past her, it adds a cuteness to his person in her eyes.

“Your reputation precedes you, Lieutenant as well do your accolades adorning your chest… especially for someone so young.” She states.

Not knowing why such compliments fell out of her lips, she makes no effort in correcting herself, rather her cold and calculating stare tries to picture John without all the hustle and bustle of the military world, albeit she could not.

John chuckles, “I could say the same thing about you, although in other circumstances.”

This piques her interest as she raises an eyebrow at his comment.

“Meaning?”

John rolls his eyes shoving his hand into his pant pockets as he gives her a shrug.

“The meaning being that a woman as young as you being with such an old-”

Her scowl silences him in an instant. A deadly glare, cold enough to freeze the rivers of hell.

“Watch it. That’s my husband and your General you’re speaking about.”

John smirks, satisfaction tricking through his veins.

“Bet he’s never made you c-”

Not letting him finish his sentence, she huffs and storms away in anger, earning a chuckle from John.

For the remainder of the night, She spends her time nursing a glass of rum and coke near the bar as she scans the area. A frown finds her way to her face as she sees women younger than her drapping themselves on him as her husband relishes in the in their salacious touches.

"You know, I can make you forget about him ma'am." A voice resonates behind her catching her attention.

She turns around to face him and rolls her eyes. "It's you."

A chuckle rips through John as he moves a strand of hair from her face. "Come on, Lovie. Let me take you to cloud nine and back."

Sighing softly, an inner turmoil beings to ensue within her as her mind becomes murky with hunger. She should be able to do as she pleases for once in her life like her husband, no? She deserves to feel cock-drunk and fucked out.

"Lead the way, Lieutenant."

***

Ruffling of soft fabrics echo through the bathroom, its dim brillance casting a subtle glow on the two. John kisses her taking charge of the situation, but that doesn't slide with the missus.

Grabbing him by the hair, she gives it a harsh tug elicitng a hiss from his lips before pushing him down on the floor. John complys subserviently without much of a fight letting you take the reins. He looks up at her, eyes mirroring desperation and sex.

"Mistress..." He mutters pathetically.

Tsking him softly, her eyes burn with satisfaction as she sees the young soldier pleading for pleasure with her.

Lifting her dress, giving way to her panties, she dips her fingers into them rubbing her folds before her fingers plunge into her aching hole, coating them to her slick juices. Squelches erupt from her pussy as she moans softly, gazing into John's azure irises.

Pulling her fingers out of her tight cunt, she smears her slick into his lips as they leave behind a nice sheen.

"Open wide, Lieutenant." You command softly.

John complies, opening his mouth to accomodate her fingers. She slides her fingers into his mouth, rubbing them on his tongue before giving him permission to suck. He sucks on her fingers earnestly, paying attention to where her cunny honey has left their mark on her digits.

He moans softly, savouring her taste. Who knows when he'll ever get to taste Mrs Holmes again? He laps them clean as she pulls her fingers out of with out drawing a 'pop' noise as John releases her fingers.

"Now, be a good soldier and serve your country right, hm?"

She mutters sweetly as she grabs him by his hair, dragging his face closer to her cunt.

475 notes · View notes

jilixthinker · 1 year ago

Text

SKZ AS SUBS - HYUNG LINE 🥀

as the self-proclaimed sub!skz ambassador, i felt the need to share my version to the internet just because this was boiling inside of my brain for too long, so... i am sorry ♡

(also a big thank you to my bub @straykeedz for listening to my rants at 2 a.m. ❤️‍🩹)

content warning: smut, sub!skz, dom!fem reader, unprotected sex, mention of subspace, edging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, spanking, mommy kink, praise kink, oral fixation, cross dressing, pet play, sexting, pegging, free use, mention of somnophilia, mirror sex

HYUNG LINE MAKNAE LINE

➛ Bang Chan

- sweet baby channie is 100% good boy, and he will do anything in the world to please you;

- wants to be your own fuckdoll and pleads to be used just for your pleasure. edging? yes ma'am. overstimulation? another big yes! he would satisfy every little kink of yours just to see you getting off because of him;

- service top !!! he has a great stamina and would go on for hours, fighting against every impending orgasm to make you enjoy sex as long as he can;

- he worships you. like a lot. he would call you his goddess, his princess, his angel, his light. he is a sucker for prasing you and your body;

- ... and he is also a sucker for being praised. call him your good pup or good boy to see his pretty face all flushed and his thrusts become erratic;

- he is into orgasm denial for sure, because it means he can please you more and see your face fall apart under him;

- soft grunts while he gently pounds into you;

- he probably has a daddy/mommy kink, but he likes to be called daddy just because he enjoys being slightly degraded by you. "Daddy wants to make mommy cum? But mommy is not done using daddy yet".

- "please please please please PLEASE". and "am I doing good enough?"

- if you spank his butt he will lose his mind and whine a lot, but he has the cutest voice when fucked up, so... why not?

- prefers staying on top of you because he doesn't want you to move one single finger and enjoys feeling like a big sized dildo for you;

- "Oh God, baby, b-baby. Can you let me cum? Are you letting me cum inside of your pussy? I don't... I don't d-deserve it".

➛ Lee Know

- minho is a fucking TEASE. 101% brat material;

- will answer back every single time and won't take a punishment without grunting and cursing;

- he will start arguments just because he is bored and you can swear to god he is the most annoying and restless thing on earth. it's not clear if he does it just for fun or if he enjoys the after treatment, but be ready to stuff his mouth full with something - a shirt, a sheet, his own underwear - because he won't shut the fuck up for one second;

-he becomes pliant just after you spanked him so much that he cums untouched on the mattress, face all flushed and drool over his chin;

- he secretly has a praise kink but he will never admit it. you just know because the only way to stop his trantrum is to remember him that you want him to be your pretty toy, your good boy to play with;

- drooly. leaky. just wet all the time;

- oral fixation. he will suck anything you present in front of his pretty mouth. your tongue, your tits, your pussy, your fingers, your strap;

- enjoys pain as long as paired with you sweet tone while you twist his nipples in between your fingers or gently scratch his balls with your pretty nails;

- after you tame him, he becomes almost non verbal and he falls quickly into his subspace. He enjoys being called pretty things while you ride him and milk him dry;

- "Uh, ah mmh, nffgh- uhh", that's all you are gonna hear from him;

- wants to be played with after he cums and loves to hear you calling him your little pretty boy after he drove you crazy the entire time.

➛ Changbin

- sub enthusiast agenda at its finest !! binnie is just so happy to be there for you that he could jump from excitement;

- the most obedient boy ever. not whiney, not sobbing, just pure and honest happiness everytime you are intimate;

- def into cross-dressing as in pink fluffy sweaters, cute aprons and lacey panties. he doesn't steal from you though! he politely asks if he can borrow some of your clothes, sending cute texts while you are at work. you spoil him by buying several matching sets for every occasion and he just beams;

- i can see binnie being into soft pet play. all of him is soft either and, of course, you are never harsh with him. he likes being addressed as a cute little puppy, being petted and fed from your hands while he gently humps your leg until he cums with a loving moan;

- similarly to chan, he loves being good for you, but binnie never gets desperate about it because he knows that he is the best boy. he enjoys the praise because he loves feeling pampered, but he doesn't crave it as much as chan since he is very confident about it;

- he smiles a lot. you give him a slow handjob? he smiles. you suck him sloppily? he smiles. you fuck him or you let him fuck you? he always smiles. he is the actual embodiment of the sun itself. he enjoys being your sub more than anything in the world;

- not embarassed to ask you anything. he will talk to you about every little kink and scene he wants to try and he is super vocal about it!!;

- very very loud. he has the loveliest grunts in the world and, since he's not shy, he will let you know exactly how he is feeling. "Ah, baby- feels so good. So good, so warm. Please let me cum, I've been so good to you. You're too tight, it's unreal".

- he loves to be pegged. honestly, he will ask you after a couple of months just to be sure you know each other for a sufficient amount of time. once you reassure him that you would love to try with him, he will kiss you all over to thank you. his moans while you pound gently into him and look at his pink rim engulfing your strap are enough to convince you that you should be doing this more often;

- he will sext and send nudes a lot, so... be prepared to see his chubby rosey cock appearing a lot on your phone screen;

- "Baby, I love you, I love you, I love you I - ungghh - love y-you";

- he cums a lot and he has a decent stamina. but he will make sure that you are fully satisfied before asking you if he can keep thrusting even if he already came;

➛ Hyunjin

- pillow princess. do we have to add something else? i don't think so;

- he is your baby, and wants to be treated like one. his submissive side is not just sexually oriented, it's more like his way of seeing your relationship dynamics;

- wants you to feed him and dress him and tell him he is the prettiest boy you've ever seen. it's the truth, and you will learn that you love pampering him till the end of your days;

- whiny? bratty? sobbing? screaming? requesting? yes. all of it. hyune is not an easy sub and taking care of him requests a lot of time and effort, but seeing him under you, all open and stretched and flushed is the best reward you could wish for;

- despite all of this, he is very romantic. he will make sure to kiss you a lot and tell you that he loves you so much several times a day;

- he is very open to the idea of free use, even if he is not properly active. as long as he feels nice and you are milking him good, he is more than okay to be used as you please, even during his sleep;

- the filthiest mouth. he knows that you won't deny him anything in the entire world and that you love hearing his voice, and he uses it to his own advantage;

- "Wanna be sucked, baby, wanna feel your lips around me. Let me feel good, let me cum in your mouth. And then fuck me and let me cum in your pussy too. You know I deserve it, right?";

- mirror sex is probably his biggest turn-on. he will convince you to fill your shared bedroom with mirrors until every wall has a reflective surface on it. he will look at his own fucked up face while you have your way with him and he cums hard every single time;

- likes to be pretty, of course. he will send you tons of artsy nudes while he wraps a hand around his leaky cock and spurts hot cum all over the red corset he put on for you;

- "can you fuck me to sleep? wanna be held by you".

taglist: @jisunglyricist @hannahhhhs-things @hyuniehwa @changisworld @hyunjinhoexxx @yoobears @rockstrhanji @yongboks-stuff @taliavaleska @hw4-l1z @4-chan-inpadella @k-cock @biglipsfattits @vanillacupcakefrosting @simpity-wimpity

if you see your name in bold, it means that I couldn't tag you!

©️ jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

1K notes · View notes

patscorner · 11 months ago

Note

write a Paige fic with them being rivals on the court but secret lovers off the court please and thank you patty🫶

yes ma'am 🫡

Always and Forever

Summary: You and Paige hate each other, or that's what you have everyone else thinking.

wc: 1,780

Contains: swearing, two kisses, just fluff

______________________________

For as long as you could remember, you loved basketball. You don't know when it started, but you knew that it was gonna be your future career. You joined your first team in 5th grade, and quickly became MVP, making progress faster than you could blink.

There was another girl in your class, and for whatever reason, she hated you. She also happened to be on the same basketball team. She made it known she didn't like you, because the first day of tryouts, she shoved you for no reason. Her hatred for you didn't stop there though, she refused to pass the ball to you, even if it meant costing your team a game, or taking unnecessary risks.

Nobody knew why she disliked you, but that animosity only grew as you both did. But there wasn't anything you could do, you both loved basketball, and you weren't gonna stop playing because some kid didn't like you.

But what you didn't know is that she felt the exact opposite. She was so painfully in love with you and so deep in the closet that she didn't know what to do with these feelings. Her only solution was to make you hate her.

Another thing you didn't know is that you felt the exact same way. If an outsider were to look at you two, you'd think it was one of the most intense long lasting rivalries of all time. But you two were head over heels for each other.

You only found out your junior year in high school, because the teachers and coaches were tired of you both bickering. They put you two in a room and told you to figure your shit out. Obviously, it started in a screaming match, but eventually you both grew tired of arguing, and a different type of tension filled the room.

You both start to have an actual conversation, without the arguing and fighting. Of course, there were small jabs at each other, you both still weren't friends, but by the end of the day, you weren’t enemies. Nobody knew that you were gay, so the only solution in your eyes was to pretend to hate each other.

Eventually, she admitted her feelings for you, and you didn't say you liked her back, but instead answered with a kiss. You started dating shortly after, and decided to keep your relationship on the down low. You both know it's for the best, as not everyone was open to the idea of you being gay, including your parents, so you both continued pretending to hate each other.

Even if everybody else thought you couldn’t stand each other, you were so head over heels for the kid who hated you for all of elementary and middle school.

Little did you know that kid would end up being the Paige Bueckers.

“So how does it feel being matched up against Paige Bueckers? I know that you guys have a long history.” the reporter asks, her smile matching yours. Oh, you have history. She's been your girlfriend for about five years now, but the media didn't know.

You and her were never super far from each other, since she got accepted to Uconn, and you got a scholarship to CCSU. The colleges were only thirty-five minutes away from each other, so that made seeing each other much easier.

“Yeah, it's gonna be tough, she's a good basketball player, y’know, great defense, amazing three-pointers.” You smile at the camera. “I'm excited, I can't wait to absolutely destroy her. I've done it before, and I'll do it again, no problem.”

The reporter chuckles at your words. “Big talk, can't wait to see the match up. Anything last words for Paige?” You can't help but smile at the reporter’s egging you on.

“Yeah, give me your worst, Bueckers. I'm coming for you, baby.” You say with a wink, before thanking the reporter, and walking away. You can't help but shake your head at the ridiculousness of your empty words. Everyone but Paige thought you were being serious, and to an extent you were, you had a bet with her that you'd score more than twenty points this game, but the rest was bullshit.

Of course, Paige saw the interview, laughing at your ‘seriousness’. So when it was her turn to be interviewed, she had to say something back.

“I mean, it'll be a fun game. Can't wait to see the big game that CCSU’s ‘top player’ was yapping about.” She throws up hand quotations and tilts her head mockingly as she speaks. “I'm excited to bring her hell and knock her off that tall ass high horse she's sat herself on.”

The reporter is eating up every word coming out of Paige’s mouth.

“Lots of trash talk from both ends, it seems the feud continues?” Paige nods and smiles. “Always and forever.” She winks at the camera as she speaks.

Always and forever.

The words Paige made you repeat back to her when she gave you the promise ring that you had safety-pinned to your jersey at all times. When you first put it there, it sent the media into a spiral, rumors spreading like wildfires. When interviewers finally asked you about it, you said there was someone, but the rumors about who were all incorrect.

Nobody would've guessed Paige, and you both made sure to keep it that way.

The game was just as tough as you imagined it would be. With 4 seconds left in the fourth quarter, the score was tied, 89-89. It was the Huskies ball, and they had one chance to win.

Nika passes the ball to Aubrey from out-of-bounds, starting the shot clock. Aubrey sneaks past defense, and attempts to pass into Paige. But, Aubrey's defender blocks the shot with her fingers, sending the ball flying into your hands.

You react quickly, sprinting back towards the basket, watching as the shot clock hits one second. You're only half-court, but you don't have enough time to get any closer, so you take the risk and let the ball fly.

Just as the ball leaves your hands, the buzzer goes off, and the stadium goes silent as the ball soars through the air. You freeze as you watch the ball fall through the net, the crowd erupting into screams. Your shot went in, making the final score 92-89.

You're immediately surrounded by your teammates, who are chest bumping you, and dapping you up. This moment is something you never want to end, but there's something missing. This moment won't be the same without one thing.

You manage to wiggle free from your extremely hyped up teammates, ignoring your name being called as you make your way to the Uconn bench. You try to ignore the eyes on you, as you find the only person you want to ever have to look for.

When you spot the back of her head, you quickly make your way to her before your confidence runs out. You pull her sleeve, and her eyebrows furrow as she makes eye contact with you.

“What-” She starts, but you cut her off.

“I'm going to kiss you now.” You say, but you don't move. You want to make sure this is what she wants, but as the smile grows on her face, her compliance becomes clear.

“Okay.” she nods as her face turns a bright pink.

You grin as you pull her into a searing kiss, her hands finding your waist as she reciprocates your passion. You hear the gasps around you, which only makes you smile more. When you feel Paige grin against your mouth, you wrap your arms around her neck.

She pulls away, laughing as your whine. Even though there's thousands of people in the room, she only cares about you. “Guess they know now.” she chuckles.

“Paige Madison Bueckers! What the fuck?!” KK screams, causing Paige to roll her eyes and look over her shoulder. “Can I help you?” She deadpans. “I'm a little busy right now.”

KK’s jaw drops even more from the audacity. "I can see that, I better be filled in after."

Paige looks back at you and smiles. “Yeah, later. Now, do you mind?”

“Oh, by all means, continue making out with your arch-nemesis. Don't let me, the six giant cameras, or the sold-out arena stop you.”

You laugh at this, kissing Paige’s cheek before pulling away. You look at your team, and around the stadium, and everyone's sharing the same expression, jaws dropped, eyes wide, and frozen in shock. You look up, and see yourself on the big screen.

Paige smiles down at you, her arm still wrapped around your waist. “I can't believe you did that. You're fucking crazy.”

You shrug and smile. “You love it.”

She kisses the top of your head. “Damn right.”

After the excitement of the kiss calmed down, the same reporter from earlier asked to interview both of you, to which you of course said yes.

“So what is your guys’ relationship status?” She asked, pointing the mic in your direction. You smile widely before answering. “Paige is my girlfriend, and she has been for five, almost six years.”

The reporter shakes her head in shock. “What made you guys choose to keep it a secret and cover it up with a seemingly harsh feud?” This time, she hands the mic to Paige, who shakes her head.

“Well, it started out real. Like I could not stand her, ever since we were on the same basketball team in fifth grade. But eventually, I started to like her, then I started to love her. Turns out she liked me too, so in high school we started to date.” She finished with a shrug.

“Oh wow, I mean this is a shock to everyone. You both played it off very well. What were some of the hardest moments?” You nod as the reporter speaks.

“Probably pretending to not care, especially if one of us has a rough loss or a great win. It was hard not to comfort or celebrate publicly.” You say.

“So everything after junior year in high school was fake? The rivalry, I mean.”

You smile. “Yeah, it was all for the cameras.” Paige’s eyes light up as she looks down at you. The camera picked up on the sparkle in her eyes as she looked at you with nothing but love.

Her hands squeeze your waist as the interview ends, and you both walk away. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and you've never felt happier.

You knew that whether the world knew or not, it was gonna be you and her.

Always and forever.

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris

975 notes · View notes

ieatedyourcrayons · 3 months ago

Text

Princess!Reader x Knight

(random tags for reach, sorry!)

synopsis: Princess Y/n attends a family friend’s royal ball. While taking a breather in the garden, y/n meets one of their knights and gets to chatting, eventually slipping away and wandering the castle with him

The royal hall roared with music, chatter, and laughter. The faint sound of glasses clashing and forks scraping could be heard to the attentive ear.

The man on the piano played gracefully, his fingers dancing with every note and flowing beautifully with the orchestra. The pianist face showed pure bliss and adoration for his music, as did Y/n's.

She was soaking in the beautiful music and atmosphere. loving the vibe she never gets tired of. Her family, the Bauer's, were invited to the Meyers annual ball. Both families were friends and have a long history. They attend each others balls and formals every year, their children practically grew up together.

Both families were chatting and discussing plans for their kingdoms, children, vacations, etc. Y/n didn't pay much mind to the chatter and focused her attention onto the music.

"Miss. Y/n here, is still looking for her a love, yes?"- Mrs. Belle asks your mother.

"Well of course, we aren't pressuring her though." Your mother responds, hoping Mrs. Belle doesn't continue pushing her son onto your roster.

The mention of your name caught your attention and you focused into the conversation. Mrs. Belle, like your mother had expected, brought up her son Kacey.

"Well, you do know that Kacey is a good boy, he is my son after all." Mrs. Belle teases with a laugh. Your mother laughs it off as well, not wanting it to continue, but not wanting to be rude either. "Oh yes, we love Kacey, how could we not?" Your mother responds.

You laughed along with them. "Yeah, Kacey is great, he's like a brother to me!" you add. The brother comment hit Mrs. Belle like a brick. She doesn't know why you stomp the romance before it can bloom. She mainly wants your beautiful genetics and family name, but she won't admit that part, especially not to your mother...

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

You managed to get away from the group to go snag a few snacks and cheese cubes from the charcuterie table. As you reached for another toothpick, Kacey grabs it before you.

"Umm... Ma'am, what do you think this is? Charity?" He jokes with a sassy tone.

"Oh shut up and give me that." You laugh back while taking it from him. He puts on a fake shock and bring his hand to his chest. You guys have always had this sort of bond, constantly teasing each other since birth.

"So, you like my party?" He ask, back to his normal voice, while picking some grapes.

You turn and look at all the well dressed people dancing and chatting, then direct your eyes back to Kacey. "Nah." You shrug, trying not to grin but failing to as a huge smile breaks your face.

Kacey grins back, "Wow, you must really think you're funny." He teases. You two exchange banter and conversation for a little longer before his dad drags him off to meet a girl his mother found. Kacey hates this, he always has. If he wanted a girlfriend, he'd go get one. Kacey reluctantly follows his dad after telling you bye.

You watch as Kacey uncomfortably interacts with the girl to please his mother, the poor girl didn't even seem interested in Kacey, almost looking mad that Mrs. Belle convinced her to do this. Kacey is far from ugly, wavy shoulder length black hair with a strong face and green eyes, always well dressed and mannered in these situations.

You looked away from your friend's struggle, to not embarrass him any more then he already is. You walk away from the snack table to the nearest exit, your heels clicking with every step. Kacey eyed you as you left, wishing you'd come save him and confused to where you're leaving to.

You stepped out the back door without being stopped or called. The outside garden was beautiful and spayed out farther than you could see. Beautiful trees, bushes, and flowers placed in such an intricate way.

You followed a stone path that led you to another clearing in the yard, but as you got closer, the sound of water got louder. In the clearing stood a beautiful fountain. Towards the back were walls and windows of the castle, a few vines and flowers ran along the walls.

The moonlight lit up the clearing almost perfectly. You walked over to the fountain and took a seat on the edge, facing the yard. The music from inside could faintly be heard.

"Oh, hello there." A velvety german accent calls out, startling you. You turn and face the voice and you're met with the most handsome face you've seen in a while.

He stands tall, 6'4'' ish, with short, curly, black hair. He stands in full knight armor, minus his helmet. He has a straight nose with the slightest bump, perfect teeth, hazel eyes, finished with a set and defined jaw line. You stare at him, taking in all his features.

"Hi, sorry am I not supposed to be here?" You quickly question after zoning back in, scared that you're intruding on anything you shouldn't be. "Oh no, no. I assure you're not. May I sit?" He responds while pointing next to you.

"Yeah go ahead." you respond with relief. "Are you one of their knights?" You add. "Yes, I am, you're from the Bauer's right?" He responds with a grin.

Confusion hits your brain and it shows on your face. "Yes... How'd you know that?" You question with nervous laughter. "I've seen you around here, you may not have seen me, but that's kinda the point with the whole knight thing" He laughs.

"OH" You laugh back. "I didn't think of that." You add. He laughs along with you, studying all your features.

"Yeah, don't worry Y/N, I know you" He says teasing you.

"Oh well then, what's your name sir?" You respond with fake sass.

"My apologies to such royalty, it's Mark." He responds with joking sadness, with a hand over his heart. You both laugh at the silliness.

“Ever seen the castle? like other than the ball room and a few other rooms?” He adds while looking at one of the outer walls.

“Only a few rooms, I try not to be nosey.” You respond while staring at the flower bush, watching as the wind sways the delicate petals.

“Wanna be nosey?” He asks with a grin, tilting his head to face you. You mimic his gaze and think on what he asked. “Why not, as long as you don’t get me in trouble.” You say with a smile.

“I would never” He teases as he stands up, taking your hand. The unexpected touch sends shivers up your arm.

He leads you guys to another back entrance of the castle, slowly opens the door, and leads you guys in. The hall you enter is beautiful and has tall walls. The walls have small indents in them, creating a mantel that holds a intricate candle holders and decorations.

You follow behind him as he leads you through the hallway. After a few twist and turns, you find yourself in a small circular room that has a stone, spiral, staircase in it.

"you expect me to walk these stairs... with this dress and heels?" You laugh out with nervousness while pointing at the stair case.

He looks at you with a mischievous grin, "Oh I'm sorry pretty lady." He responds before scooping you up into his arms bridal style.

Your face goes red at the unexpected gesture but the cool metal of his armor on you arm sends chills down your body. Mark looks down at your red face, taking in your beautiful features, the eye contact makes you nervous and you quickly look away.

Mark softly laughs at you and begins taking the steps. Once at the top of the stairs, Mark sets you back down on your feet , leaving his hand on you hip for a few seconds, lingering on your soft dress.

The room in front of you was beautiful, the walls were a royal blue with intricate gold foil patterns across the blue. the room was curved and the ceiling was high and ended in a point. A small chandelier hung in the center. There was a big, open, window that looked over the castles pond.

Your heels clicked on the tile floor as you walked to the window, Mark behind you. You jaw slacked as you looked out at the view. the sound of the fountain was distant and the cool wind hit your face, blowing your hair back.

"Your castle doesn't have this?" Mark teased while placing his hand onto your lower back.

"No, It does not, this is so pretty." You say in awe. Your castle is surrounded by beautiful trees and foliage. You see deer and small bears on a daily, never beautiful ponds with swans and fish.

Mark pushes your hair behind your ear, "I wouldn't want your mother to get worried that someone stole you." He says quietly to you.

"yeah... let's go back, I fear it may be time for me to go soon." You respond sadly, while looking back at him, not wanting this feeling to end.

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

You were right, it was time to go. You said your goodbyes and thanks to Kacey's family as you left the main entrance of the castle. Each step down the small stairs made you sad, knowing you were leaving Mark.

A few knights stood outside the castle, guarding of course. You couldn’t figure out which one was Mark.

"Gosh!, about time you get out of my castle!" Kacey fake groans once he spots you outside the castle. The sudden interaction snapped you back into realty.

"Yeah well, your party sucked, I'm never coming back." You respond with the same joking attitude. Both of you burst out in laughter and hug each other goodbye.

"so, how'd it go with that girl?" You tease, knowing he hated it and probably didn't talk to her long.

"Umm... no, just no. She's sweet and pretty but did not like me, which is fine because I didn't like her either." He laughs, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Oh yeah, I could tell. very obvious." You tease. "Make sure to actuality write me back, Left me with no trace of you for a few months." You say with fake sternness

"I'll think about it" He responds with fake sass and an eye roll. Kacey walks you to your carriage and chats with your parents for a little bit before a knight walks over to your carriage to shut the door and secure the lock.

You and the knight make eye contact, it's Mark , He sends you a wink before walking away. The wink sends a rush down your spine. The carriage moving startles you back to reality.

"So Miss Y/N, whose the boy?" Your father ask you.

184 notes · View notes

dragon-kazansky · 1 year ago

Text

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Thirteen - Passionate

♡♡♡

A garden party was a nice occasion. The joys of being outdoors while socialising with dear friends had a calming and charming air about it. You found it rather pleasant being in the outdoors.

The flowers smelled wonderful, and you couldn't help making mental notes of some of the flower arrangements for, perhaps, future uses.

As you stroll, you come across the Bridgertons. You smile at Violet as you get closer, though she is talking to Eloise, who sounds less than pleased with the topic of conversation. You decide to narrowly miss this conversation for now and walk past them to where Benedict and Anthony were talking to a couple of young ladies.

Both men seem to perk up at your appearance beside them.

"Hello," you smile at the pair.

"Good afternoon," Anthony smiles back.

"Enjoying the fresh air?" Benedict asks, also smiling. Smiles all around, how joyous.

"Yes, very. This is lovely."

Anthony waves over a servant with a tray of lemonade and hands you a glass. You take it with a soft thank you, missing the look Benedict gives his brother. Anthony elects to ignore Benedict as he smiles at you again. You sip the lemonade.

The sound of someone clinking their glass to signal attention has everyone turning around to look at Colin Bridgerton.

"Can I have your attention?" He asks, looking around at everyone.

"What's he doing?" You ask quietly to the brothers beside you.

"No idea," Anthony mutters.

"I would like to make a small but important announcement," Colin declares. He is standing next to Marina Thompson. "I have happy news to impart. I have asked Miss Marina Thompson to be my wife and she has accepted."

You nearly choke on your lemonade. Benedict and Anthony look at each other. Anthony, in particular, looks less than pleased by this.

People clap around them. You clap for appearance sake, but you look up at Anthony. "Did you know?"

"No."

Anthony steps forward to talk to his mother. You can't hear what they're saying. You look up at Benedict. "I wasn't even aware your brother was courting."

"Neither was I." He says with a little shrug.

Everyone moves to go congratulate the couple. As you pass Anthony, you look up at him. He offers you his arm and you both approach Colin and Marina.

You could feel him seething behind his calm exterior.

After the party, Anthony takes Colin into his study to talk to him. You have no idea what they discuss, but you can take a pretty good guess.

♡♡♡

The next morning, you went to the Bridgerton house to see Violet. After Colin's unexpected announcement, you wanted to know all was well with the rest of the family. They were already without a sister now. They did not need to lose Colin so soon, surely.

Lady Bridgerton was most pleased to see you at her door. She told you they hadn't even started breakfast yet and invited you in. Benedict was there with the two youngest siblings. You smile at him as you enter. He smiles back softly, seemingly pleased to see you.

"Take a seat," Violet says kindly.

You sit next to Gregory, opposite Hyacinth, who sits beside Benedict. The eldest son at the table hasn't torn his gaze from you at all.

"Tea, ma'am?" The butler asks.

"Yes, please."

A cup is poured for you.

"Are you hungry?" Violet asks.

"No. I ate at home. Thank you, though." You smile at her. She returns the smile and picks up the paper in front of her. "How are you all?" You ask.

"Uh, well," Benedict nods. You smile at him.

"Violet?" You looked at her.

"Hm?" She looks up from her paper. "Oh, uh, yes." She nods, and then lowers her gaze back to the paper.

Benedict gives you a look that you understand clearly enough. His mother has been better.

"I suppose it's too soon to hear from Daphne yet?" You ask.

"I'm sure they'll have made it by now. They'll be enjoying their honeymoon period, no doubt." Benedict chuckles softly.

You smile softly and look into your teacup. "I wonder what it's like..."

"The honeymoon period?" Benedict asks, looking up at you with slightly flushed cheeks.

"Being married," you correct him.

"Oh..."

Violet looks up at you with a small smile, her eyes sparkling. "When you marry your best friend, it's the most wonderful feeling of all."

You smile at her. "I want that."

"Youshall have it. One day, dear."

You are grateful for Violet and her kindness. You've never known a more warm and welcoming woman. Your mother was nice, certainly, but she was eager just to see you wed. Violet made marriage sound magical.

You sip your tea and listen to Hyacinth bicker with Gregory over a ribbon. Benedict tries to be the middleman and solve this peacefully. You chuckle at their antics. Gregory tries to get you to defend him, but you put your hands up and explain that you weren't here when the crime was supposedly committed. Benedict also comes to your rescue.

You smile at each other.

Colin walks in.

Conversation becomes quieter. You pour yourself another cup of tea and avoid looking up at Colin. You feel like this may be a little awkward. You grab a slice of toast for the centre of the table and butter it quietly, needing to keep your hands busy.

Benedict seems to realise what you're doing and says nothing to you.

"Good morning." Colin greets his family.

"Morning, brother."

Colin nods to you, too. You offer him a smile which you then hide behind the toast you had buttered.

"Colin, your engagement is in Whistledown!" Hyacinth exclaims cheerfully.

"Hyacinth!" Eloise scolds. You hadn't even seen her lingering in the back of the room.

"What? It is!"

"Very well. Everyone out, I think." Benedict says as gently as he can.

"Yes," Violet mutters.

Benedict calls your name softly. You nod and down the rest of your tea, taking the other half of the toast with you as you rise with the others. Eloise grabs her plate and glides past you quietly.

Colin approaches his mother as you all leave the room. When the door shuts behind you, yo turn to Benedict. "Will he be alright?"

"I'll let you know after."

You follow him down the hall.

The two younger siblings follow their sister into the drawing room. Benedict reaches out his hand to grab lightly at your arm, stopping you from going any further.

"Could I... show you something?" He asks.

You look at him, brow slightly furrowed, and nod. He smiles, that crooked little smile of his and guides you down the opposite hall, leading you toward an empty room. There was minimal furniture in there, which confused as to why he brought you here.

"I like to come in here for some quiet." He explains.

He offers you a seat on one of the chairs in the middle of the room and disappears for a brief moment. You look around the room as you wait. When he returns, he's carrying something.

"I don't usually show other people my work, for, I admit, I am not happy with it, but I would like to share a piece of me with you." He says, placing the book on the table between you.

For a moment, he sits there with his hands planted firmly on top of the book and then pushes it closer to you. You reach out and take the book carefully. His hand slowly slides from the cover, and you watch him become riddled with anxiety and nerves as his passion lays slowly in your hands.

You turn your eyes to the book and gently curl your fingers around the cover, pulling it open slowly, hoping not to disturb the pages. You start from the beginning. Mere scribbles of a person. You turn the pages slowly. Different angles. Different body parts up close. Eyes, noses, hands, lips. Nearly 6 whope pages are focused on hair styles on ladies. There are pages focusing on the folds of clothes and how they hand. Particularly dresses.

You browse the sketchbook slowly and carefully, taking I never details.

There is some evidence of torn pages within the book. You wonder how many times he sketched something and torn it out with anger with displeasure.

"Well?" He asks after a long pause of silence.

You lift your eyes to meet his. "You drew all of these?"

"Yes..."

You cast your eyes on the book again, admiring a sketch of a hand up close. The long fingers, the bend in the knuckles, the lines on the palm.

"You're very talented, Benedict."

You hear the breath leave his lips and look up to see the way his eyes light up with surprise. He clearly was expecting a very different comment.

"You think so?"

"Yes." You nod. "Very."

Benedict seems to relax immensely as he looks at you and then sits back in his chair, looking relieved.

"I want to create something people will remember and talk about for years to come," he confesses. "But I cannot. I do not possess such a talent."

"Nonsense."

"No, really." He leans forward again.

"Can I ask why you decided to show me this?" You ask, looking at the open book again.

"I trust you." He speaks softly. "Are we not friends?" He asks.

"Of course."

Hs lips twitch into a smile. "I trust you," he repeats.

"Well, I'm very glad you do." You close the book and hand it back carefully. "I trust that you will create something spectacular one day."

You had no idea how much your words meant to him or for how long he would end up carrying those words with him. If you could see the artist he wants to be inside, then surely one day it shall come true. Benedict swears on his heart that anything you day could become true just because they are spoken from your lips.

He hadn't even noticed his eyes had glanced at your lips, not until his eyes met your eyes again. You don't seem to have noticed.

"I think I've taken up enough of your family's time now. I mostly wanted to check on Violet after Colin's rather abrupt proposal."

"Yes..." Benedict wasn't entirely certain what you had just said, he just agreed. His mind was reeling.

Had he really just stared at your lips without realising he was doing it. Why does he feel the urge to look at them again?

You stand before he can get the chance.

"See me out?"

He snaps back to reality and stands quickly. "Yes."

You chuckle and begin to leave the room. Benedict follows you, pretending nothing is amiss. He was confused by his own behaviour.

You assumed it was a Bridgerton trait, if nothing else.

Benedict shows you to the door, and you step outside. Your carriage awaits. You turn and smile at Benedict.

"Do not give up."

"Hm?" He looks at you confused.

"Your art. Do not give up. One day, your work will hang with the greats."

Your words set his heart fluttering. He takes a deep breath and nods, not tristing his voice. You chuckle again and bid him farewell as you walk away.

Benedict closes the door and turns slowly, looking at the empty hall of the house.

"I need a drink."

"It's barely 9," Eloise says from the open door of the drawing room.

Benedict nearly jumped out of his skin.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @crazymar15

@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @biancamde - @charmainemaclendon - @pinkpantheris - @krismdavis

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

656 notes · View notes

sizzlingcloudmentality · 4 months ago

Text

yes, ma'am

Dave York x dominatrix!reader | 9.5k w | explicit, mdni | ao3

summary: life goes sideways and Dave is close to snapping. he needs professional help. aka let himself be dominated and be at the receiving end for once. good thing he has your number.

warnings: sub-ish!Dave (how sub can a born dom be?), dominatrix!reader, no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied, Dave is a good husband and father™️, Molly throwing up, slight humiliation (the boy being called dummy <3), slight ball torture, (guided) masturbation (m), finger sucking, petnames (ma'am, good boy, love), cum eating, slight shoe worship, dick+pussy pronouns, reader wears lipstick, nail polish and stilettos, squint and you miss unprotected PinV; dm me if I missed any

a/n: my submission for @wannab-urs dmamc 2025. i had so much fun domming my man and I tried to make it believable because, well, he's Dave 'the dom' York. enjoy another character study including his dick. thank you @guiltyasdave for the beta and constant love, even though sub!Dave isn't your cup of tea 🥹💛

"Gentle eyes, soft words, tender chin scratches. You have his tail wagging. Slowly, slowly you are domesticating him into a dog, one praise at a time."

“Fuck!” His hand slams down on the steering wheel, once, twice. Again, again, again, until his palm hurts and the thrumming pain helps him to push aside the anger boiling inside of him. He rips down his beanie, ripping out a few hairs as well, not giving a shit about it.

He fucked up. If it wasn’t for his partner the mission would have gone south completely, pulling him along. The plan had been perfect, the preparations perfect as well. All he had to do was to pull the trigger and take the target out. But he fucking missed. He fucking missed. Hit the target into the shoulder, and if Dave’s partner didn’t take initiative and put a bullet through the target's head… He doesn’t want to think about it.

He already saw his domestic life passing before his eyes. The police arresting him at home, his daughters terrified and not understanding why they would take their daddy away. Carol at the trial, being questioned if she really didn’t know about her husband’s assassination side hustle, her face puffy and red from crying.

Dave hisses out another curse, hitting the hard wheel in front of him again.

He could always just disappear, always has an emergency duffle bag stowed away with fake IDs and some cash. But he wouldn't stomach it, couldn't stomach it, leaving his family behind.

It was a close call today… He starts the engine and pulls away from the curb, the tail lights of his inconspicuous car slowly blending in with the dozens of others on the nightly roads as he heads home to his inconspicuous life.

The next few days were difficult, to say the least. His higher up at the CIA was a pain in the ass, deadlines were piling up, Molly got sick and needed attention and care, Carol needed his support, the almost-failed mission was still breathing down his neck… He needed a break and there was no break in sight. Not now. His family needs him, his job does, he needs to fucking function now.

“Daddy, ‘m not feeling good,” Molly mumbles, curled up on the couch, her head in Dave’s lap while he’s working on a report on his laptop.

“Just a second, baby.” He’s almost done, he just needs a minute and the worst part of his report would be finished. Molly stirs on the couch, hastily now. God damnit.

“Daddy…” Her little body starts trembling and with a shudder and a sound that makes Dave’s heart hurt, she slumps over and pukes. All over his notes. Over his pants he had just picked up from the dry cleaning. All over the cream colored couch that Carol wanted so badly and that looks like shit now. All over his laptop. The screen flickers a last time before it goes dark.

“I'm so sorry… Please don't be mad, Daddy.” Molly starts crying, feeling sick and miserable, her little hands shaking as she grips her ruined blanket.

The vein on his neck, he feels it throbbing. His laptop, his fucking work laptop, broken. The sticky, disgusting warmth of what once was chicken soup seeps through his trousers and makes his eyelid twitch.

Just pick your baby up, just comfort her, just help her change into new pajamas, just be a good father, just be good…

“Daddy?” She sounds so fragile, her voice nothing more than a weak breath. She clumsily pushes herself up and accidentally nudges the laptop off of Dave’s knees. The carpet swallows the low thud when it hits the ground, but the cracking of the screen is still very much audible, just as much as Molly’s shocked gasp.

“You broke it. You fucking broke it, Molly,” Dave hisses and is on his feet in an instant, his daughter toppling back onto the couch, now crying even more because she upset her dad.

He doesn’t look over to her but picks up his laptop, trying to bring it back to life. The muscles in his jaw clench when Molly’s sobs start pealing in his eardrums. Dave turns towards her, a barked shut up already on his tongue when Carol appears in the doorway.

One quick look is enough for her to assess the situation. Their crying daughter, a picture of misery and guilt written all over her pale face and Dave, nostrils flared and one hand balled into a fist, the unmistakable smell of vomit reaching her nose… No, this wasn’t good.

“It'll take it from here, Dave,” she says when she strides past him. “Go and calm down.” There's no bite to her words, bite wouldn't do any good at this moment. It would only make it worse, make Dave lose the last bits of reason.

Carol scoops Molly up in her arms, pressing a few soothing kisses to the little girl’s temple. She looks over her shoulder and gestures towards the door with a tilt of her chin as if to say please, just go.

And he does. He flees from the living room and the feeling of shame that starts licking at his insides. It gets too much. A thought crosses his mind, a simple calculation, it has been almost ten months since…

A shiver runs through him and he shakes the idea off his mind like a dog tries to shake off an annoying tick. No, he wouldn't need to do it this time, there sure is another possibility to finally get a grip on his life. He just needs to focus more. Needs a better sleep regimen. More training. More protein. More control over all the small bits and pieces of his life.

Dave shuts the door to his home gym behind him and gets to work. If his muscles are trembling and his lungs are begging him for air, he has no time to think about what kind of an asshole father and husband he is. And so he starts tormenting his body to shut off his mind, to keep the guilt and shame at bay. For now.

That night, when he slips under the bed sheets, almost silently to not wake his sleeping wife, the idea creeps back into his head. Like a tick it has sunk its teeth into his skin and he can’t seem to get rid of it since the first time he has done… it.

It has helped him before, more than he likes to admit it. But he hates it. Because he cannot do it on his own. Because he needs someone else doing it for him, to him. And Dave never liked to be dependent on something or someone.

The sheets rustle and Carol’s hand finds his own, wrapping her fingers around his in the darkness as if she was trying to comfort him. But in reality she wanted his comfort and soothing. Dave wasn't a man who was dependent. Because he always was the man everyone else depended on.

He turns on his side and lifts her hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to Carol’s knuckles.

She hums, shuffles closer, her feet slipping between his calves. After a moment of content silence a murmur crawls over the pillows to Dave and settles right on his chest, where the thought about it sits and gnaws at him like a night terror.

“Maybe… maybe you should go see that therapist again? They really helped you the last time.”

Therapist. That was what he told his wife you were. And the things you did, it was therapy. It is, in a way. It helped him. And he hates that it does. He hates that he can’t function like he needs to. He hates that Carol sounds so timid when she suggests therapy, afraid that he could snap at her, too, because she dares to point out his weakness.

He sighs, her soft knuckles still held against his lips. “Is Molly okay?”

“She’s a little better, yes.”

The silence weighs heavy for a moment, Carol’s unanswered question pressing down on Dave’s rib cage. Or is it the feeling of guilt? About being a shit show of a father and husband? About needing you to function, even if it all feels so wrong but afterwards it always feels good and right and he feels better, every damn time?

“I'll make an appointment,” he murmurs and his lips find her ring finger, kissing the spot where the simple golden band always sits. She never takes the ring off, just like him. Carol nestles into his arms, the relief clear when she whispers her thank you, I love you into the hollow between his clavicles. God, he is such a failure, he thinks to himself with his wife in his arms and you in his mind.

You are completely booked out. Months ahead. Of course you are. There never is a shortage of people who want your services. Or to be exact, who need them. So when you received the request for an appointment “asap, ma'am”, signed by David York, you told him you were free again in three months. But then another customer canceled their session and because you like David, you give preference to him.

So a week and a half later you find yourself entering the bar of the Rosewood, one of the finest hotels of the city. Doors magically open because there’s always some finance or marketing guy holding them open for you. Each step with your pointy high heels parts the crowd in front of you and is paved with sleek smiles and licked lips of the men who move out of your way.

You pay them no mind, they only exist at the periphery of your focus. They are not important and will never be. What is important is your customer for this day. You recognize him, the way he sits at the bar, one foot on the footrest of the empty stool next to him, the other one firmly planted onto the ground. Just another pretty man in a suit, interchangeable for most who might look at him.

But for you he was different. A customer, first and foremost. A challenge, too. And he's probably the only man in this bar who is not doubling over to get a crumb of your attention. You had to work for what your customers usually give you gladly and freely: their acceptance and sometimes even devotion.

That is why you like Dave York, because working for him and with him is rewarding. It satisfies you to no end to finally turn his smoothness into something with cracks and weaknesses. And to have him thank you for it.

One of the many men in suits in this bar moves from his place on the outer borders of your attention into the spotlight and obscures the view on Dave. The guy looks you up and down, tries to smile a flirty smile but all you see is a pathetic obstacle. Your mouth already opens to tell him no to whatever suggestion he wants to make, when a big hand lands on the man's shoulder.

Thick fingers, blunt nails, a simple golden wedding band. You look past the surprised strangers face and find Dave, standing behind the man.

“Sorry buddy, not tonight,” Dave tells the man. For a moment they look at each other, like two wolves who found a piece of meat and now silently fight for ownership. Two alphas in suits. But only one of them is a wolf, the other one is just a dog.

“Not ever,” you add when you pass the stranger. The sting of your words gets soothed by your sweet smile, showing off your wolfish canines as you do. Your gaze meets Dave’s own. Two alphas looking at each other again, this time both are wolves.

You don't even bother to care about the other man who disappeared into insignificance as quickly as he had the guts to peek his head out of it. Your focus is solely on Dave now. He looks tired, frail even in the small details of his facial expression. He already looks cracked, maybe you wouldn’t have to work as hard as usual today.

“It has been a while.” You sit down at the bar and Dave gestures for the bartender. He always orders you a drink before you both go up to the booked suite. He never not acts according to the unspoken rules of those kinds of arrangements. He is polite and respectful, even if the air around him very much tastes like aversion. Not against you as a person or the work you do. The aversion is directed against himself and the fact that he was sitting in this bar with you and not at home with whoever was waiting there for him.

He nods his head. That would have to do as an answer. “The usual?” he asks instead when the bartender waits for the order.

“The usual,” you confirm and watch Dave order your vodka on ice. It is a nice change of pace, to not talk and to enjoy the silence, to stretch it like a fabric until it becomes see-through and the silent words between them become audible. Two wolves, dressed in white shirts and blouses, in polished shoes, mustering each other over the rims of their glasses. Sizing each other up.

You take a big sip of your vodka and set the glass down. There’s still a good portion of the booze left, but you need to keep a clear mind for what comes next.

“Are you done?”

Usually he obliges and leaves the rest of his drink on the counter, usually he wants to get over and done with it, with you, with himself. But tonight his need for some more liquid courage is bigger.

“Not yet, ma'am.” His legs spread a little more when he leans back on the barstool. Not in a sleazy manner, not to act like he is hung like a horse. No, taking up space comes naturally to him. And again he is respectful about it. He gives your crossed legs enough room between his thighs, almost like he acts as a buffer between the bustling bar and you.

A thought crosses your mind and makes you smile. He is protective, even though you mean nothing to him. You stretch out your leg, just enough to let the tip of your pointed stiletto brush against his shin. A silent praise for him being good.

Dave’s hand suddenly grabs your ankle, following his first impulse of inhibiting an unwanted touch. Your eyes snap up and meet his, your surprise showing in your raised brows. The grip of his fingers loosens immediately, like he touched something that he wasn’t allowed to, like a too hot cookie fresh from the baking tray.

“Finish your drink then.” A demand dressed up as a friendly request. You pull your foot away, Dave’s privilege of getting a feel for you is already over.

“Yes, ma'am,” he says lowly, just loud enough to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the bar. He swirls his drink in his glass and takes another look at you. You look like some partner in a law firm or some higher up shoving around numbers on paper and employees in meetings. Expensive clothes, expensive designer bags, expensive heels. He had seen them often enough to know that you only wear those 700$ pairs. You’re sleek, smooth, polished, with edges that look round and safe to touch but will cut through skin and flesh if you want to.

He takes a sip of his drink and watches you smile, the red lip stretching over your teeth. He feels a part of him getting excited, this one stupid part of himself, the part which constantly makes troubles. Some corner of his brain just loves this. And apparently needs it too, needs it to make him function as a person. This little part loves to make you smile. And he hates it.

You let him finish his drink, let him buy himself a few more minutes before you leave the bar and enter the grand and shiny hotel lobby. Having people move out of your way just by the way your heels click is satisfying. But having someone in front doing it for you is better. You watch Dave plowing through the lobby as he makes his way to the elevators. His ass looks cute, you think to yourself and enter the cabin with him.

He’s so well behaved for you, pressing the buttons, shielding you from the other guests and making sure you can stand comfortably without anyone standing too close to you, himself included, You smile at him again and for a moment one corner of his lips twitch. Good, that's good. He's responsive tonight.

Dave exits the elevator and struts through the long hallway, countless doors left and right until you reach the right one. A quiet beep when the key card opens the door, muffled footfall on the thick carpet and a discreet click when he closes and locks the door behind you both again. Another reason you love this hotel so much, beside the soft beds and high end shower products in the marble bathrooms: the soundproofing.

No matter how hard the stomp, how loud a scream, how sharp a smack, the walls of these rooms seem to swallow the noises and they are never sated. They drink down every word and whisper and always seem to want more. Like the people you work with.

“Tell me about your rules and limits tonight, David,” you say and look around the suite for a moment. You gesture for him to sit down on one of the plush chairs facing a full body mirror.

All you know about Dave is his name, his phone number and another number as an emergency contact. The rest is guesswork you did over the last months and years. The golden ring on his ring finger? He never takes it off. He's married or maybe widowed.

Dave takes off his jacket and hangs it over the backrest of the velvet chair. One time a little toy figurine fell out of his pocket when he took his jacket off. So there must be a child who he has a close enough relationship with for it to sneak little gifts into his pockets. This time nothing out of the ordinary happens. He simply follows your instructions and sits down.

“The same as always.” He lifts his hips again to tug his slacks down, just enough for them to not cut into his groin. “Nothing that leaves marks on me, no touching me between waist and knees, no restraints, no gagging, nothing enters my body, nothing leaves my body without my consent.”

Yeah, just like you thought. “So basically just talking. You know, you could have ‘just talking’ a lot cheaper, down at the bar for example.” You pull a chair for yourself closer to Dave, with the mirror diagonal behind it.

“I'm not here for just talking,” he says quietly with his eyes fixed on his knees.

“Oh I know, don't you worry.” You sit down now, your legs crossed over your knees and one of your high heels swaying in the air just between Dave's spread legs. “Next: safety. Repeat the rules for me, will you?”

He looks up at you and sighs. “We use the color system. Green means more, yellow means keeping the intensity, red means stop.” He likes the simplicity of this system, appreciates it at home, and loves the way Carol loses it whenever he keeps her on yellow for a little too long. But he doesn’t like to be the one using it himself.

“Good. What else means stop?” Your leg is slowly bouncing up and down and Dave's focus shifts to the pencil thin heel for a moment.

“The… the safeword. Helsinki.”

His eyes meet yours again. Dark ponds of raging brown, the storm behind them perfectly contained, for now. “And…?” you prompt, prodding him a little bit with the sweetness in your voice.

“And there's no shame in using my safeword. Or not using it if I'm… feeling good.” He almost chokes on the last words. There is shame in the whole situation, no matter how he looks at it. But you smile again and this one part of him is relieved. He did good, fuck.

“Good job, you remembered,” you praise and the shiny leather of your shoe ghosts along his calf. “Let's start then. No touching yourself or me and no talking unless I tell you to. Got it?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He never sounded less enthusiastic than now. His pretty mouth curves into the tiniest scowl and he looks a little more handsome like this. In another life you two could have a lot of fun. Real fun. Fucked up fun.

In another life you might kneel before him and beg for some peace of mind. He could be the therapy the therapist needs. But not in this life. Because in this he was the one needing peace of mind and you were the provider.

“Now, Dave, I want you to take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror. Right into your eyes.”

He obeys. When he meets his own gaze through the mirror the scowl becomes more prominent. You will let him sit with his own thoughts for a minute or so. Enough time to recap your last sessions with him.

Pretty quickly into your business relationship with Dave you found out about his history with the military. No details really, you just knew that he had served for several years. Being degraded on a daily basis in your forming years does something to the brain. And it surely did something to Dave's brain because his tough outer layer cracked beautifully for you as soon as you called him a ‘weak fucking loser’.

And that was all that you did since then: humiliating him, watching him turn from the hard and controlled man into one who is struggling to loosen up and finally a man who spits out ‘Helsinki!’ and flees from the scene with a raging boner. He is the weirdest customer you have. Because his requests are so tame, so small scaled for what you could do and for what he could really take.

But all you had to do was calling him names and having him palm himself through his pants. You are not exactly complaining, he paid you as much as the guys who go the whole nine yards. Dave makes you work for your money though. It is a fight, every time.

You see it in his face, he is fighting right now, while he stares himself down through the mirror. A fight he can never win. His upper lip twitches, like he is going to growl at his own reflection any moment. Oh, it is clear as day to you, he really needs this session.

You might need to switch things up a bit, you want your customers satisfied after all. And the way he glares at himself tells you that he needs more today.

“What are you thinking, tell me.”

Your voice pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. It’s sweet like honey but also sticky. He knows that your mouth is a sugary trap. Every word and gesture and touch a carefully laid out crumb to lead him to where you want him: staring up at you, doing whatever it takes to get your sugar lips to smile at him.

A little nudge of your heel against his thigh. A little harder than it had to be to get his attention. He doesn’t like that he likes it.

“Whimp,” Dave says with heartfelt disdain.

“What else? And keep looking at yourself.” Your heel digs a little more into his thigh and you can feel the tremble of his muscle beneath his slacks. He sure was a runner, you think. Thick thighs look so pretty with a few streaks on them. But no, no marks. “You can tell me everything, you know?”

Dave swallows thickly, the soft velvet of your voice is making his throat tight. He's trapped, caged in between your shiny stilettos and your mouth. His thigh throbs against the thin heel.

He takes in his reflection, the man in power, in slacks and a crisp white dress shirt, in polished shoes. A high heel prodding him. His fingers clutching the armrests. His face tight and sour. His wedding ring glinting.

“Cheater.”

You hum, pleased with his answer and gracing him with a small smile in return. So he is in a relationship. Good, this would make it easier. For you.

Your foot moves, the pointy heel being exchanged with the flat of the sole, pressed against his inner thigh. You drag it up the seam, just a little bit.

This is breaking the ‘no touching’ rule. And yet, he endures, fighting his silent internal fight.

Interesting.

“What’s your color, love?” You tilt your head to the side, enjoying how Dave’s nostrils flare at your audacity. He is defying the sweetness of your words. But he wants more of the stickiness. Just a little bit. It won’t hurt, right?

“Green,” he grits out. Fucking whimp, cheater, loser, failure, he tells himself silently through the mirror. Your sole moves higher now, the pointy tip already indicating towards your final destination.

Green. He wants more, he will get more. Your shoe slides higher and leaves a trail of dusty dirt on his clean pants. He will hate that, you know he will, because you would be pissed off, too.

“Are you not embarrassed, Dave? Sitting here, paying money for this? What would she say, if she knew?”

His eyes snap from the mirror to you, the corner of his lips move into another scowl. The wolf would be baring his teeth soon.

You tap the sole of your shoe against his crotch, just enough for a little sting that lets him jump slightly. Dave looks at you, stunned. Such a pretty sight.

“Oh what's with the attitude now? Did I say you could look at me?” You smile at him, the tip of your tongue running along the edges of your teeth. “Do you think you deserve it, looking at me, dummy?”

His eyes widen and his mouth opens, ready to protest, to call this off, ready to show you your place. But the only thing leaving his throat is a choked sound. Probably because you keep rubbing your foot into his groin, pushing into the not-so-soft-anymore softness.

“Eyes back on the mirror.” Another quick rap, sole meeting joined seams, another jolt and, oh yes, a moan, finally. The walls with their expensive satin tapestry greedily drink down the throaty sound. “Now.”

Your command has nothing of the powdered sugar quality anymore and he obeys. Who even is he, he wonders for a moment of clarity when he meets his own eyes through the mirror again. A stupid man, growing hard under the shoe of a stranger, a stupid man with a loving wife at home. A stupid man with guns hidden all over town. Growing hard.

He looks into the mirror, feeling detached from his own reality. He watches the shiny shoe move between the thighs of this man in the mirror, he sees the stomach of the man tense under his dress shirt, he notices how the man's mouth opens. He hears him groan, this man who looks like himself.

“God, are you seriously turned on by this? That's embarrassing. No wonder you pay me for it instead of getting it at home.” You love being mean for money and you love how Dave writhes beneath your high heel and squirms under your gaze. “Do you like this? Answer me, dummy.”

“Yes.” You only get a single hissed word as an answer. Adorable.

“Yes what?” you hiss back, applying a little more pressure to the bulge showing so beautifully.

“Yes, ma'am,” he snarls now. The wolf is showing his teeth and you're gonna pull one out. You are the only one allowed to bite in this arrangement.

“Christ, do I have to spell it out for you, stupid?” Your foot drops lower, right over the tight little package nestled under the thick, elongated dick outline. The pointy shoe tip slowly pokes into the squishy warmth of Dave’s clothed balls. His breath hitches. “Yes, ma'am, what?” you prompt him, the sugar returning to your words.

“I… I like this, ma'am.” His eyes are still glued to the picture in the mirror and he seems to register that this is him. The visual of an expensive high heel pressing against balls matches the thrumming, stingy feeling of pain in his own slacks. And another thing belongs to him, besides the pain. The jumping hard-on, right above this damned shoe.

He swallows thickly, his blunt nails digging into the velvet of the armrests. “Fuck. I like it,” he stutters, staring at his face, like he is seeing himself for the first time. Like he recognizes himself. His stormy eyes become a little calmer, the silent internal fight becoming more quiet.

“There we go. Good job.” You pull your foot away from him and lean closer, elbows to knees, one finger coming up to his chin. He just now notices that your nail polish matches your lipstick. The color would look good around his dick. In another life.

“Look at me,” you croon, laying out your trap for him again. The pad of your finger so warm and gentle under his chin, guiding his eyes to yours. You're smiling, red stretching over white, he did good and his cock throbs against the zipper. He’s wagging his tail for you.

“Good boy.” You lean closer and he can smell your perfume, the mint and vodka on your breath, your amber-scented dominance tinted in black and scarlet. The sweetness of your praise coats his tongue and he swallows it down, to make it a part of him. A little secret part on the inside only he knows about.

“Color?” Soft, alluring, a trap made for him to curl up in.

He takes a moment to think, but not too much. The thinking part of his brain was already beginning to shut down. “Green,” he rasps with his eyes fixed on the way your eyebrows dance when you smile again.

“Good. Now, I have a question for you.” Your thumb rubs against his chin, just enough to feel the day worth of scruff beneath the digit. “Will you take your cock out for me? Let me see him?”

Gentle eyes, soft words, tender chin scratches. You have his tail wagging. Slowly, slowly you are domesticating him into a dog, one praise at a time.

Dave nods his head. There’s no harm in showing his dick. That doesn't make him a cheater, he tells himself. Maybe he could make you smile again, he knows he has a good cock. Good balls too. Maybe you could squish them again. Just a little bit.

“That's a good boy. Show him to me. Show me how hard I make you.” You lean back in your chair and watch Dave hesitantly fumble with his belt, then top button, then zipper. He still has a little fight left in him. You would be concerned if not. A man like him will never give up completely, that is what makes him so interesting for you, so much fun to play with.

The teeth of the zipper hiss, the fabric rustles when he pulls it over his ass and down his thighs, over his knees. He looks a bit disgraceful like this, sitting in the velvet chair, slacks pooled around his shoes, tented black briefs, looking at you expectantly. You would have let him take his shoes off and fold his pants if he wanted. But he chose to be… excited. And a little impatient. Truly adorable.

You move a little closer again, inspecting what you can see so far. You never saw his dick and usually you are not too keen on seeing your customers’ genitals, they were just extensions, more of the canvas you like to work on. But since Dave always made a fuss about decidedly not showing signs of arousal you became curious. Out of professionalism, of course.

It was looking good, the tent. A thick head pressed against the cotton and crowned with a now black, later milky stain.

“You’re leaking? For me?” You sound like he presented you with a bouquet of flowers or a painting he doodled with crayons. You reach out, your fingers stopping shy before touching the wet spot. You look up at him, a glint of horror in his eyes. No touching, with your hands. “Is this okay?”

A head shake and a dry swallow, then he finds his voice again. “No. Ma'am. I’m sorry.” You touching him would be cheating; in his head this makes sense.

“That's okay, don't worry.” You purse your lips, tapping a finger against the red on them. Then you hold out your hand, palm up. “Lend me a hand?”

Dave hesitates. His dick protesting with stirs against the briefs, not caring about who would touch him and how. He puts his hand in yours, trusting that you would accept his limit.

And you do, of course, you're a professional. Which means you know how to work your way around limits and how to stretch boundaries. You guide his thumb to the wet, glossy spot and rub the pad over the fabric, once, twice, until Dave grunts from the tingling friction.

“Let me know how you taste,” you coo and lift his thumb to your mouth. You open it wide, your tongue sticking out, reversing the roles but he still is your wolf in a dog costume. His eyes glint and for a second you can smell his dominance, too, lingering under the scent of his precum.

Two beasts who recognize each other, just for the fragment of a second, as you look into each other's eyes. But only one can be in charge tonight. You lean in and take his thumb into your mouth. Deeply. You sink down until your lips leave a red lipstick print around the base, one half on his palm, the other half on the back of his hand.

He tastes salty, with a sharp bite to it, just like the man himself. He presses his thumb deeper, can’t resist to have the upper hand with you just once. Your pussy clenches. She likes him.

Oh, in another life, you would let him wreck you. But not now. You suck his finger until you can’t taste his precum anymore and pull off of him.

“Kneel.”

He huffs and his brows draw together. “What?”

“Wrong answer, stupid.” Your foot snaps up, sole pushed against his hard dick, pointy heel somewhere in between his balls. “Try again.”

There it is again, the storm in his eyes. He is so much fun to work with, so easy to rile up, always keeps you on your toes. The same toes that feel Dave's cock throb through his briefs and the leather of your shoe. You move your heel from left to right, just enough to make him squirm and hiss.

“Yes, ma'am.” That's what he says but it sounds a lot like ‘fuck you’.

You laugh at that, sit back in your chair and put your foot back down on the ground. “That's more like it. Come on, chop chop. On your knees.”

He does as he is told. Growling and glaring, avoiding his ridiculous reflection in the mirror, of a tough guy with his pants around his ankles and leaking like his cock is drooling for you. Dave finds himself on his knees as he sinks into the thick carpet. Your feet are right in front of him, he catches a glimpse of his face in the glossy black tip of your heels. He looks twisted, but unmistakably like him.

“And now: touch yourself. Over your briefs. Nice and slow. Eyes on my shoes.” You place one foot on his thigh and his eyes follow the movement without moving too much. “You seem to like them?”

His hand, the one with your lipstick on it, runs along his length, slowly, calculated, avoiding his sensitive tip as he does. “Yes, ma'am,” Dave mutters and squeezes his girth like he's trying to soothe himself because your voice doesn’t do it anymore. It's all harsh now and not sticky-sweet.

Your heel gets pressed into his thigh, the thin end biting into his skin. “Yes, ma'am, what?”

His jaw ticks. His thumb is soothingly rubbing over the head of his cock, knuckle pushed against the underside. “Yes, ma'am, I like your shoes.”

“I thought so. You got so hard for them, didn’t you?”

He takes a deep breath and keeps on palming himself, a steady back and forth. The wet blotch grows. “I-...” He breaks off when you start caressing his balls with your sole. Back and forth. Front to back, in the same rhythm as he strokes himself. “I did get hard for them, yes. For you, ma'am.”

He just wants some of that sugar back, some of those honeyed words from you. He's on his knees already, what else could you want?

You let him kneel and watch his hand move, register his hip twitch. You brush your fingers through his hair, just a light pet.

“Take him out now. I can look at him, right?”

He nods his head and tugs himself out. Caught behind the waistband you get a first peek. Girthy, a stunning color, a dusty rose turning into an earthy pinkish-red, cut, a clear bead of precum forming over the slit before it runs down and spreads over the already glistening skin.

With another tug he pushes his briefs under his sack, forcing it up nice and tight, right under his cock. He has a slight curve, too. Fucking perfect. Your pussy clenches again.

Dave's hand fists the base, some of your red lipstick transfers to his shaft. The closest your mouth will probably get to him. Such a shame, you think, swallowing down some pooling spit, because you really would like to get a sore jaw from sucking him off.

“Now that's a pretty cock you got there. Hold still.”

You crouch over to Dave and place your palm over his hand, giving his dick a good squeeze with Dave's hand.

“I won't touch him, I promise. But let me guide you.” Molasse thick, that's how your voice sounds. Almost too thick to be swallowed down.

He manages to do it nonetheless. Ignoring that this is out of the comfort zone of David York, the husband and father. But oh, those words taste delicious for the man who knows rules and laws but lives outside of them.

His own hand relaxes under yours and with the first stroke another yes, ma'am drips from his lips.

This is a strange feeling. He guided several hands in his life, taught them where to rub, how to twist, how much to squeeze. But having his own hand touch him with those foreign movements was… new. Sexy. Frustrating too, because you seem to know exactly what not to do.

He looks down between his thighs and sees two hands moving and he really tries to imagine it was just your hand. He wants your touch. Christ, he wants your mouth on him, too. And you would do it, you would gladly accept the proposal and call him a good boy again. But he can't. He can't do it, it's not the right thing to do. He feels his wedding ring slide up over his tip and back down. No, he can’t have you touch him directly.

But he can give in to you a little more. His dignity hangs over the other chair, taken off together with his jacket right at the beginning. You might as well make him your bitch. He throbs against his fingers and Dave asks himself if you can feel it, too. Without being able to stop it his hips buck into his fist, your fists. You were moving his hand so goddamn slow, he needs more. More pressure, more speed.

“Are you not happy, love? Are you being ungrateful?” You slow down even more until your palms reach his top again. Dave has lubed himself up so nicely with his own precum, you can feel it spreading between your own fingers. With a tight grip you flick and twist, like screwing open a bottle, twisting the cork out of a bottle of champagne.

Dave’s body jerks as do his hips and he moans again, feeding the soundproofing of the hotel room the delicious sounds he makes.

You tut at him, smirking and mocking and twist his hand over his cock again.

“Oh, so you are ungrateful? You have to ask for the things that you want, dummy, That's how this works.” You loosen your grasp and straighten your back, cross your arms and then your legs until the sole of your shoe hovers over his balls. “So…? Are you ungrateful?”

He shakes his head and fights the urge to rock himself against your shoe. More precum gets pushed out of his slit, he fucking aches. He could just spit out the safeword and jerk it in his car, like usual. But he is too proud for that. He is going to finish what he started here, in this room with you.

“No, I’m not. I just-...” he breaks off when you start bouncing your foot, knocking against his balls with almost gentle pats. Dave clutches his girth with a groan, his hips bucking forwards again. “I…,” he strokes himself once, hoping you would get the implications without having to put it into words.

A finger hooks under his chin again, he can smell himself on your skin. A nudge and he looks at your face again, the way you bare your teeth at him in a graceful smile doesn't cover up the authoritative tone hidden in your sweet words.

“You already did so good today. But I want you to do one last thing, yes?” You rub your finger under his chin, smearing some of his sticky precum over his skin. “Will you try it, for me?”

He'd do a backflip, if you kept up the carrot and stick game for a little longer.

And then you do it again, showing him the treat he could have if he only was a good enough boy for you. You start licking your hand clean. Languid laps with the flat of your tongue, starting with the little finger.

“Love, I want you to fuck your hand. You don't have to hold back.” You suckle on the tip of your finger before licking Dave's salty residue off of the next one. You stop at the tip, twirl your tongue around the fingernail painted all ruby and smile at him. Just as if you were licking an ice cream spoon clean.

“Just make sure to keep your hand still and fuck into it.” Now middle and index finger. Your tongue runs over both of them before you put them into your mouth. In and out they go, sluggish and without hurry, you hum at the taste like it's the sweetest cream.

And then, instead of doing a backflip, Dave starts moving his hips. His eyes glued to your mouth and the red of your lipstick transfers to your fingers before it disappears in the dark, tight, wet cavern of your mouth.

His hand doesn't feel anywhere close to what he imagines your mouth does. Dave is just glad that he can finally care for his aching boner. With every thrust, in sync with your fingers sliding in and out between your lips, his balls slap against the leather sole of your shoe. It stings, but it stings good. He didn’t even know he liked this before tonight. Before your expensive stiletto pressed and rapped and pushed into them.

He ruts his hips faster now, not matching the speed he needs, but he makes it up with squeezing himself hard. Soft squelches come from between his legs now with every back and forth. More noises for the thick carpet and walls to swallow, never to be heard again.

You’re sucking on your thumb now while Dave's clutching himself harder, hips thrusting in a relentless pace. He fucks his hand like you told him to.

He looks so perfect in the mirror, that little piece of ass that you can see from your angle. Clenching and unclenching, the movements draw you in, hypnotize you. The perfect cream-white canvas for blotches of red and sprinkles of violet, for scarlet streaks, oval imprints of your teeth even.

You lick your lips when his thighs start trembling. How good he would look if he fucked himself on your strap-on. In another life, you muse and press your thighs together. The sound your thumb makes between your lips resembles the one that will come from your wet cunt later, when you're at home again. With Dave's salty taste in your mouth and a girthy vibrator, one to match the size of his cock.

His eyes meet yours again, just for a second before they dart down to your tongue again when you start licking your palm. He's still in there, the hard man, the one who's fighting against himself, the one who probably whispers insults inside his head. You can see him in that short moment, somewhere swimming in the stormy mahogany.

You stop licking your palm when Dave winces after snapping his hips harder into his hand and his balls against your sole. He’s at his personal limit.

“Almost there, love, hm?” Another lap to your palm, seemingly unbothered by the state he is in. “Do you want to come?”

He groans and growls, his glutes are burning, his knees hurt, his fucking balls thrum. Oh, he wants to come alright. “Yes, ma'am,” he grits out.

“Say that you're pretty when you fuck your hand for me.” Your tongue flicks over your palm again and reveals your canines again. Just a wolf cleaning her silky fur.

If the need for his orgasm wasn't bigger than his pride, he would have rolled his eyes and fucked that smug smile right out of your face. But he really, really needs to come. He is so close. He can play along a little longer.

“I'm pretty when I fuck my… fucking hand for you,” he snarls and a something in the depth of his guts starts fluttering with a burning strength.

“Good job. You really are pretty like that, love.” You pull the leg of your pants up, the heavy, black fabric now rests bunched up on your knee. Dave still ruts into his hand, chasing the release he knows he can’t have that easily.

“Say ‘I will make a pretty mess for you, ma'am.’,” you order and push your fingers through his hair, careful to not ruin his side part. A single unruly strand gets fixed with your spit-wet fingers. Nothing that leaves marks on me. Well, he can wash off your little saliva mark later.

More carrots, more sweet words and sugar touches, more of your smug but also content smile. Christ, he just wants to do something right. And you are offering him an easy fix. Dave whines and leans into your touch. Vigorously he pounds his hand, his balls trapped between his waistband and your sole and it all feels so warm, hot, his pulse beats in his ears and throbs in his straining cock. “I will make a pretty mess for you, ma'am. Fuck. I need to move my hand.”

His big browns look up at you, same parts furious, pleading and desperate.

“Say please,” you chirp and tilt your hips to feel the middle seam of your pants pressed against your clit. “Be good, say please and you can come for your ma'am.”

“Please. Fuck, please!” he barks as he steps into your honeyed trap you have laid out for him from the beginning. He is stuck in it knees first, tail between his legs, barking, howling, wagging. How to catch a wolf.

“That's my good boy. Go on, you can come. Make a mess.”

He did good, thank god. Dave starts moving his hand, jerking his cock hard and fast, his teeth sink into his flew to bite back a loud howl when he feels himself coming.

It is beautiful to watch for you, how his eyes roll back slightly, how his hand moves so fast that the smacking sounds are like a rapid fire, how he thrusts a few more times into his tight fist until he squirts his thick creamy cum all over. It feels hot on your skin, like molten wax poured over your shin, down to your foot and finally your high heel.

You moan in unison with Dave. You never are above feeding the soundproofing some of your noises as well. An offering to the gods, to keep you blessed with men like Dave.

He continues to stroke himself, choking on a few whimpers, milking the last remnants of cum out of him. His wedding band isn't shining as much now, all dull and foggy with his seed dimming the golden hue. His hand trembles, his runner thighs tremble too, his briefs, still tucked under his balls, are ruined and he slowly, slowly loosens his hard grip around his cock.

“Love, you did so good. That wasn't so hard, was it?” His cum starts running down your leg now and you both watch it for a moment.

“I'll get you a tissue,” he mutters breathily, ready to finally get off his knees and gain some dignity back.

“Nuh uh. Clean up without tissues or towels.” Nothing enters my body without my consent. He looks at you and scoffs out single disbelieving laughter. You shrug your shoulders. “Listen, you came this far. You can be a coward and use your safe word. Or you can take responsibility and clean up the mess you made. It's an easy task.”

You are right. It is an easy task, compared to the mess his life is. It's easy. It's easy. It's easy. He leans forward and swallows, thickly. He looks up at you and sticks his tongue out. It's easy.

You lift your leg up to his mouth, nodding your head, smiling, baring your teeth like a docile pet wolf. Dave's tongue meets your skin, smooth under his slick, powdery scent under his salty stench. He licks a stripe from your ankle up your shin, then another one and another one. Slowly. It's easy. One lick at a time. Fixing the mess he made.

His clean hand holds your foot, nestled in your stiletto, and he laps his cum from the bridge with shorter strokes.

Dave doesn't flinch away from his own taste, he’s licked his own hands clean often enough to enjoy it to a degree. A form of cannibalism, eating his young, feasting on his own potential.

He cleans your skin, lifting your foot higher and his tongue pressed into the small gaps between the leather and your toes. You pet his head again, humming, purring under his ministrations. Dave's lips purse half above the leather and half above your skin, a small kiss before he sucks his cum out of the tiny gap.

It really is easy. He licks over the glossy black, leather and salt coating his senses, another sugary good boy in his ears and in his hair your claws graze over his scalp.

A few more licks and kisses and the creamy white has disappeared from the shiny piece of leather. He can see himself in it again. A twisted image, but unmistakably Dave.

He rubs his spit into the smooth animal skin, you can wash his mark off later if you want. He's done. With cleaning and with this. It's over, for tonight at least.

He lowers your stiletto onto the thick carpet again and offers free sight to his spent cock, heavy and sticky. No more wagging, no more dog. He's back to being an equal.

“You did amazing, Dave. Really good.”

Your hand falls to his shoulder, giving him a gentle pat before you rise to your feet and over him your hand to pull him up. He takes it, groaning quietly when his knees crack. Dave feels a little shaky, or maybe more shook than shaky. But he feels good, lighter, loose. Not even ashamed.

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink, something to eat?” You don't even wait for his answer and turn to the minibar, pulling out a cold water for him.

“No, thank you. I'm good. I'll just take a quick shower.” With a thud his shoes land on the floor as he kicks them off. His slacks follow, then his damp briefs.

You watch him undress, amazed and attracted to his confidence and nonchalance, attracted to what lies beneath Dave's clothes, too. In another life you two would be a great match.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” You turn towards the minibar again, looking for something else. There it is, a kitkat.

“You don't have to, but thank you.” Dave smiles at you and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders. He holds out his hand now, naked in front of you and not bothered by it. Smug. Big dick energy and he can afford it.

You shake his hand, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. “Until the next time then. Take good care, Dave.”

You smile at each other, the possibilities of being reckless crackling between you, but then he lets go of your hand and turns his back towards you, heading into the bathroom. When the water starts running behind closed doors you take his shirt from the pile of clothes and nuzzle into the fabric. It's a good smell. Masculine, of course.

Slipping a few fingers into your pants and deeper, behind the elastic of your lace underwear and still deeper, dipping them into your sopping pussy, you inhale his scent deeply, clenching to the thought of his tongue on your skin.

You treat yourself to a moment with your fingers buried in your cunt before you pull out again. You write your name on the inside of his collar, invisible ink made out of your slick, setting a scent mark, a last reward for this good boy.

When Dave enters the room again later you have disappeared, in thin air, no trace of you is left. But something churns inside of him when he gets dressed.

Later, in his car, it clicks. Pussy. It smells like pussy, right in front of him. You god forsaken menace. Of course you had to have the last word. Marking him, mocking him, making him hard again. And of course your pussy smells delicious. Sticky sweet. He groans and adjusts himself, driving home a little faster now.

The house lays in silence when he steps over the threshold. The girls are fast asleep, he checked it immediately with a peek into their rooms. Carol is asleep as well. Soft and warm and plush under the blanket, curled up on her side. Dave kicks his shoes off and steps out of his slacks and briefs. They are still damp in the front, from the precum you urged out of him. But the shirt stays on.

He slips under the blanket and pulls Carol closer, her perfect ass against his already half-hard cock. A hand gently kneads one of her breasts, the other one tugs down her pajama pants.

She's awake in no time, whimpering when he grinds against her rear and lets his dick glide between her ass cheeks.

“Therapy was good?” Her voice is so soft, always sweet for him, never harsh, rarely ever does a no come from her.

“Yeah. Missed you…” he mumbles into the crook of her neck, biting and pulling on her skin until she winces softly.

“Dave-...”

He pinches her nipples and she winces again. A waft of your pussy hits him and he breathes it in deeply.

“Color, baby.”

“What?” Carol chuckles, not yet believing that she’s about to be fucked by her always loyal, always loving and caring husband.

“You’ve heard me. Give me your color.” His cock now slides between her legs and through her folds. He’ll slick her up real good, leaking already with a quiet thrumming sting in his balls. Carol’s pussy feels as good as yours smells.

“Green,” she gasps and rocks back against him.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls before biting the flesh over her shoulder blade and pushing into her.

When Dave finally is satisfied, soaked in Carol and him, she rolls on her back and watches him get a warm towel for her. Whatever this therapist did with Dave, it did wonders. He should go more often.

thank you for reading! and remember, kids, comment or reblog to show me I've been a good girl and did a good job, please and thank you

find my Dave York masterlist here

find my general masterlist here

more a/n: I'd probably suck as dominatrix, shout-out to all the bad ass professionals and hobby dom(me)s out there, you are amazing and I'm literally on my knees for you

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

#dmamc2025 #dmamc 2025 #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york smut #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #pedro pascal #my writing

179 notes · View notes

cosmerelists · 1 month ago

Text

Cosmere Characters with Random Hobbies

This is months later, but at the time I'm writing this, there's a big trend on tumblr of people sending around Picker Wheel polls--is that still going on?

Anyway, I saw this post with a Hobby Picker Wheel, and I used it to assign random Cosmere characters random hobbies! Let's see how it goes!

1. Lezian tries...weaving

Lezian: I HATE THIS Lezian: I HATE SITTING STILL AND I HATE YARN AND I HATE THAT THIS STUPID LOOM IS SOMEHOW DEFEATING ME Lezian: DIE LOOM, DIE!!!!! Raboniel: That's the fifth loom he's broken. Leshwi: I don't think fiber crafts are for him.

2. Charlie tries...reading

Charlie: Wow, this is so relaxing! Charlie: In a book, the evil sorceress can't actually hurt me! Charlie: ... Charlie: It is maybe a little boring, though.

3. Demoux tries...model airplanes

Demoux: It's so weird. Demoux: I don't even know what an "airplane" is. Demoux: And yet...I am SO invested in getting this right. Galladon: Demoux, please, the Seventeenth Shard has left you like a hundred messages. Demoux: I'm BUSY.

4. Lightsong tries...pickleball

Lightsong: So...is the ball the pickle? Is the net the pickle? Is the racket the pickle? Lightsong: ...Am I the pickle? Llarimar: Your Grace, please, your opponent is weeping. Lightsong: Not my fault I'm freakishly good at all sports.

5. Lirin tries...horseback riding

Lirin: I just don't see the point, really. Lirin: I have legs for walking. Lirin: Riding may be faster, but it's also higher. And angrier. Kaladin: I...agree with my father about something? Lirin: You don't have to sound that surprised!

6. Dilaf ties...cycling

Dliaf: HAHAHAHAHAHA Dilaf: WITH THIS DEVICE I SHALL SPREAD THE WORD OF SHU-DERETH FAR AND WIDE Dilaf: WHILE MOWING DOWN HEATHENS WITH MY METAL HORSE Dliaf: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH Hrathen: You're not built for hobbies.

7. Bleeder tries...crossword puzzles

Bleeder: This...this is impossible! Harmony: You can't put down "murder" as the answer to every clue. Bleeder: STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO

8. Elend tries...swimming

Vin: 👀 👀 👀 Elend: Swimsuits sure are...revealing. Elend: Are we SURE this is the right size? Vin: WE SURE ARE

9. Vin tries...archery

Vin: It's fine, I guess. Vin: Kinda a slow way to bring death to your enemies, though. Vin: One at a time? Really? Archery range attendant: Please ma'am you are scaring the children.

10. Painter tries...single-player video games

Painter: [With tears in his eyes] Painter: Finally...the lonely hero all in black...saving the world....is me. Yumi: Is your Warrior of Light riding a...really fat chicken? Painter: ITS NAME IS NIGHT WALKER

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Lezian #Charlie #Demoux #Lightsong #Lirin #Elend #Vin #Painter #Bleeder #Dilaf

126 notes · View notes

joeys-babe · 11 months ago

Text

Joey B Imagines: Oh! Darling*

Summary: You and Joe make it to his house. Well, to his garage.

(Part two to - Part 1)

Warnings: Smut (Thigh riding, finishing in pants and untouched, and PIV sex)

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Everlasting Love

*Complete continuation of part one*

Once Joe and I arrived at his place, he used the button on his sun visor to open his garage door.

After pulling in, Joe shut the garage door behind us and turned the car off before looking over at me.

Joe’s gaze was heated, a loaded look on his face that started the throbbing between my legs again.

“Come here.” - Joe

I looked at him, wanting him to reiterate himself because I wasn't exactly sure what he wanted.

“On my lap.” - Joe

Continuing to look at him, Joe lept forward and scooped me up by my thighs before pulling me on top of him.

“You look so pretty above me.” - Joe

I reached out and held the side of his face, cradling his cheek.

“You look pretty good bellow me.” - you

A huge grin broke out on Joe’s face as he pulled me in, placing sloppy kisses around my mouth before he finally landed on it.

I lowered my hips down onto him, grinning when I felt him already hard.

“Ya feel me, don't you?” - Joe

Joe grabbed my hips and gently moved me against him. I couldn’t help but moan into his mouth at the feel of his hard length. His sweat shorts and my jean shorts were the only things separating us.

“Feel what you do to me, baby? Fuckin’ make me so hard.” - Joe moaned

I continued rocking against him, the seam of my jean shorts inadvertently rubbing against my clit, pleasing me as well.

Joe spread wet, opened-mouth kisses down my neck, his hands gripping my hips tight.

Eventually, Joe wrapped his hands around my thighs and pushed me up to where I was hovering over him. He unbuttoned my shorts and pushed them down my legs. Since I was still straddling him, they couldn't go farther than my knees, so Joe picked me up by my waist with one arm and moved my shorts down the rest of my legs.

I was giggling the entire time because his hurriedness was amusing.

“You needed them off that severely?” - you laughed

“Yes, ma'am. You'll see why here in just a second.” - Joe

Now I was just in my panties, and Joe wasn't about to do that process all over again, so he grabbed at them, and the next thing I knew, I heard a loud ripping sound.

“Joseph Lee! I liked those panties!” - you

I playfully slapped his chest, and Joe rolled his eyes before tossing the ball of ripped-up fabric in his backseat.

“You’re not gonna care here in just about ten seconds.” - Joe

I watched Joe yank up one of the legs of his shorts, but I didn't know why yet.

Before I could ask, Joe moved me around before pushing me down to where I was straddling his thigh.

My heat was pressed right to the same thigh I was staring at not too long ago.

“You don't think I saw you staring at my lap earlier, baby? I can make you feel good with it. Just trust me.” - Joe

Joe grasped my hips again and gently started moving my hips back and forth. The feeling was overwhelming. He was letting me use his thigh for my pleasure and my pleasure only.

“Good girl.” - Joe groaned

My upper body fell into his chest, and Joe wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Keep going. Just like that.” - Joe

In all honesty, Joe had come to terms with the fact that he was going to end up cumming by the end of this too. The feel of his girlfriend’s soaking wet pussy dragging across his thigh, getting him off without any friction on his cock.

My movements were getting more frantic, using Joe’s thigh to my advantage as I ground on him, moaning his name throughout the entire process.

“Joey, baby… shit.” - you whimpered

“Keep movin’. You’re doing so well for me.” - Joe

I opened my eyes for the first time since I settled down on Joe, and I moaned out at the sight.

Joe had his head thrown back, his top teeth sunk into his bottom lip, eyes closed, face scrunched, and he was sweaty everywhere.

“So close.” - you moaned

“Me too…” - Joe groaned

I couldn't tell if I imagined Joe saying that or if he did, but before I could ask him, the feeling pooling in my stomach gained my attention.

“Fuuuuck!!” - you moaned

Joe’s grip on me got impossibly tighter as the strokes of my hips got faster, and when my knee accidentally bumped into Joe’s crotch, he let out a loud moan of my name, followed by a grunted curse.

My eyes were closed, and the ringing in my ears from the overwhelming pleasure was keeping me from acknowledging what Joe had just done.

I fell over the edge not long after that, moaning loudly and falling deeper into Joe’s chest as I came on Joe’s thigh.

It was minutes later that my breathing was returning to normal. Joe was sitting with his head back against the headrest with his eyes closed and his chest heaving.

“Are you okay?” - you

“Mhm… I just…” - Joe trailed off

My gaze flicked from his face down to his lap, the wet spot on the crotch of his sweat shorts giving him away.

“Did you…” - you gasped

Joe nods his head, still not opening his eyes. In all honesty, he's a little embarrassed.

“That’s…” - you

My voice trailed off, and Joe continued my sentence at the same time I tried to. It was baffling how different our words were, with him saying, “Embarrassing?” While I said, “So fucking hot.”

We both laughed, and I went to crawl off of Joe’s lap and open the door, but he stopped me.

“You think this is over?” - Joe

“I don't know… we both finished, and we’re home.” - you shrugged

A cocky grin formed on Joe’s lips, and he leaned forward to nestle his mouth just hovering over my ear.

“Oh darling… this isn't over till my cock is buried deep inside your pussy.” - Joe whispered

All at once, Joe’s words set off every pulse point in my body.

I pull my head away from Joe’s face and grin down at him, running one of my hands through his hair.

“You wanna burrow yourself inside me? Is that right, baby?” - you

Joe smiled at the slightly dominant tone in my voice. He was always in charge during sex, but maybe he'd switch roles just this once.

“Yes, ma'am. That's right.” - Joe grinned

“Lose the shorts for me.” - you

I winked at Joe as I moved to sit on my thighs between his spread thighs, giving him the ability to lift his hips and pull his shorts down.

He put his shorts in my outstretched hand, and I sent him a bratty grin.

“You made a mess in these. You're lucky that I love you enough to scrub them later.�� - you

“It's your fault it happened.” - Joe shrugged

I rolled my eyes playfully and moved to straddle his lap.

Joe’s cock was fully erect and dripping at the tip as it lay against his stomach. My eyes couldn't stray away from it. From him.

“Want you so bad…” - Joe

He was playing along. Joe was actually going to switch roles and be the submissive partner for once.

I reached down and wrapped my hand around his cock, pumping his length slowly as I rose higher on my knees.

Joe’s eyes were fixed below us, watching how the tip of his dick was inches away from the heaven he believed was my pussy.

“Please… want in you so bad.” - Joe

He groaned when I lowered slowly, the tip of his erection barely grazing my clit but making me moan at the contact nonetheless.

I leaned forward and smashed my lips to Joe’s hungrily, my hands reaching for his hair as I fully settled onto his length.

Joe groaned into my mouth as his cock was immediately buried to the hilt.

“This what you wanted, huh?” - you

Every teasing word was whispered between kisses, Joe’s tongue tangling with mine, and every time I pulled away even a little bit, his mouth chased mine.

“Yes. Please move.” - Joe moaned

I realized that I was basically cockwarming him when he said that, and began rocking my hips against his at a slow pace.

Joe was now panting into the kiss, his hands on my waist telling me he wanted more but still letting me do my thing.

“Faster.” - Joe

The fact that he was on the verge of begging satisfied me, and before I knew it, I was bouncing on Joe’s lap. Joe’s cock was perfect. He made me feel so full as his thick length stretched me in the best way possible.

“Fuck, Joey.” - you moaned

As a minute passed, my thighs were starting to get tired, and I was close to climaxing.

Joe didn't like the fact that I was slowing down at all, and it didn't help that I was getting distracted by my pleasure instead of taking care of him.

“Baby, please. So close.” - Joe

I couldn't pick the pace back up, and Joe snapped out of the submissive character in a matter of seconds. Joe was holding my body tight to his chest, seemingly holding me in the air as he started thrusting up into me.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked. Feel how easy I can slip in and out of you?” - Joe

His pace and thrusts were relentless, taking back over to show me that he truly was the one in control here.

I leaned in close, nestling my lips right under one of his ears and whimpering his name.

“Oh shit.” - Joe pants

Joe reached down between our bodies and pinched my clit with just enough force to tip me over the edge, my orgasm ripping through my body as I moaned Joe’s name.

A moment and two extra hard thrusts later, I felt Joe’s cock spit and sputter before he buried himself as deep as he could get and came. My name was on his lips as he fell over the edge, and there was nothing hotter than watching his face contort with pleasure.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck.” - Joe panted

Joe’s head fell onto my shoulder as my still-spasming walls continued to milk him dry for every drop his release offered.

For minutes the only noises audible were of Joe and I trying to catch our breath, a soundtrack so unique to us.

“I fuckin’ love you.” - Joe

He wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed me tight, helping me off of his lap a few seconds later.

I opened his car door and slipped out of it, my legs feeling like jelly and my knees buckling.

“Great, now I'm walking weird.” - you

Joe got out of the car a second later and gently spread a big hand on the small of my back.

“That means I did my job right and that you have a stud of a boyfriend.” - Joe grinned

“I knew and could continue to know both of those things without the limp.” - you laughed

I watched Joe roll his eyes with a playful smile on his face as he directed me to the other side of the garage, my luggage in his hands.

“Wait did you not grab your shorts?” - you

“No way I'm puttin’ those back on.” - Joe laughed

I laughed with him for a second before he spoke up again.

“Did you want your panties?” - Joe

“You mean what's left of them?!” - you

We laughed together again before Joe unlocked the door that went from the garage to the mud room.

“You can take a bath if you want. I was gonna fix dinner up real quick while you freshened up… only if you want too, of course.” - Joe

Looking up at his blushed cheeks, I couldn't help but giggle at the way he got bashful all of a sudden.

“Why are you getting shy after you just rearranged my guts.” - you chuckled

I held his hands in mine and giggled at the way Joe wouldn't look up at me while he had a little smile on his face.

“Answer my question!” - you laughed

“I don't know! You have this crazy effect on me. That's the only way I can describe it.” - Joe

Pulling him into a hug, the smile was never wiped off of my face as I pressed kisses all over his.

“How about this? We take a shower together, then I can help you make dinner, we eat, and go to bed.” - you

“It’ll be like five the time we’re done eating. Why are we going to sleep so early?” - Joe

I left his arms and walked up a couple of steps to the doorway that entered the kitchen, turning around before and looking at Joe.

“I didn't say anything about sleep, Joey.” - you

“That's my girl.” - Joe grinned

—

I walked out of the bathroom after changing and grinned at the sight of Joe lying in the bed, shirtless and sprawled out. It was later in the day. We’d eaten showered already, and even watched a movie before climbing the stairs to Joe’s room.

Joe looked over when he heard the bathroom door shut and smiled at the sight of me wearing nothing but one of his shirts and a pair of panties.

“Hi, beautiful.” - Joe smiled

“Hi, baby.” - you

I smiled at him for a brief second before continuing my task of putting my dirty clothes in the hamper and laying out an outfit for tomorrow.

Joe had turned his phone off and put it on his nightstand, his full attention on me. My back was to Joe as I bent over to grab something out of my suitcase, inadvertently making my shirt ride up to where my ass and panties were on complete display.

I threw a look over my shoulder when Joe let out a low whistle, yanking my shirt back over my behind and grinning at Joe’s whines of disapproval.

After laying my outfit out, I crawled into bed next to Joe and snuggled into his side. Joe was still lying on his back, and I was on my side, smashing my face into his bare shoulder.

“I know you probably want to fool around some more, but I'm exhausted.” - you

“I was about to say the same thing.” - Joe laughed

I laughed with him for a few more seconds before Joe moved his arm, wrapping it around my shoulders and pulling me into him. My head was now lying on my favorite pillow, Joe’s built chest.

“So you'll settle for cuddling tonight?” - you

“Settle?! I love having you in my arms.” - Joe

“Good thing I love being in them.” - you

Joe squeezed me tighter, tangling his legs with mine under the sheets.

“I can't wait till this is every night, and your clothes are in the empty half of the closet instead of in a suitcase.” - Joe

“One step closer to forever.” - you grinned

Butterflies went off in Joe’s stomach after I said that. He referenced earlier the fact that he had been thinking a lot about being the best boyfriend possible, and a part of that was because after a conversation he had with his dad, he realized he wanted to marry you.

Joe contently lay there, his soft blue eyes scanning my tired face and half-closed eyes.

“I love you so much.” - Joe

“I love you too.” - you

You had no idea he was talking to his jeweler about custom-designing the engagement ring he was going to propose to you with before you walked out of the bathroom.

Joe was determined for you to be his forever.

Authors note: It’s not going to be that easy, though!! 😙

Requests for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed!! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #everlasting love #joe burrow smut

315 notes · View notes