#my belt buckle plastic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bunnys-kisses · 22 days ago

Text

all bark, no bite

max verstappen - team principal au

tags: smut/pwp, halloween fic, costumes (reader dresses as a puppy), collars, team principal!max, driver!reader, age gap (20s/40s), power dynamic, semi-public sex, quiet-ish sex, clothed sex, dirty talk

a/n: have a happy halloween, i'm writing more team principal au, if you have any suggestions for future installments, please send them to me. i love hearing what ya'll come up with!!

"you are not going to the party like that." you felt like you were being scolded by your father rather than your boss. you made a face and looked over to see your team principal near by.

you stuck your tongue out, "too bad." then started to walk further away from your driver's room and towards the exit. but, you didn't get far, not while your boss had a longer stride than you.

he captured your wrist and pulled you back, closer to him. in your heels, you staggered backwards. you looked up at him and frowned. he said, "i said, you're not going out like that."

"i don't have another costume." you bit back.

max made a face, "go as a verstappen racing fan. i don't know. but i'm not having you cause a scene because you decided to dress like a whore."

you had a complicated relationship with your team principal. you had seen the jokes over the years of tps having interesting dynamics with drivers, even drivers not on their team. you had even seen memes about your own dynamic with max verstappen.

if only they knew.

he had you pinned to his chest, with his hand on your wrist as he examined your neck from the odd angle. he clicked his tongue and said, "what is this costume even supposed to be?"

you replied, "a puppy."

"a puppy, huh? usually puppies have some manners. they at least look a little apologetic when their owners are mad at them." he sad as he used his other hand to touch at the collar around your neck, "you're not very apologetic towards me."

"you're not my owner."

he replied, "you may not have my name around your neck. but you have my logo across your pretty tits every time you race. i'd say that's about the same thing." you are max verstappen were intimate in a way that would send the press into a heated frenzy. you gave him racing results and he gave you the world.

but he had such a possessive streak through him. a jealous old man. you whined when he held onto your throat a little tighter. you shifted a little under his touch.

he leaned in to kiss you on the lips and squeezed the collar a little, thus squeezing your throat. he groaned, "if you wanted me to fuck you on halloween, you only had to ask." he held on a little tighter.

there was no one else around. there wouldn't be. halloween was on a thursday, practice didn't start till tomorrow. you eventually ended up on the transport boxes with the skirt of your dress hiked up.

you were dressed like a dalmatian, except anyone could make out the shape of your body. max had expectations for you as a driver for his team. he knew what it was like to be young with the world at your fingertips. he was meant to guide you. especially with how everyone recorded anything.

"hoping to get lucky tonight, puppy?" he asked as he pushed the dress up, exposing the thin, white cotton panties underneath. he licked his lips, "we could've gone back to my hotel room and played all night. fetch, tug-o-war, maybe you'd even get a bone by the end of the night." he licked his lips.

your face flushed and you shifted against the metal and plastic of the boxes. the surface was uneven and left your back feeling sore. this felt so public, it wasn't in the most excluded area. you swallowed, "oh my god, shut up." and whined when he kissed at your neck. your panties were around your ankles.

and when he kissed you, you heard the clink of his belt buckle and the zip of his jeans. he loomed over you. he was boarder than you, he could easily overshadow and overpower you. you whined when you felt his cock rub up against your slick entrance.

he said, "aw, look at that. they're kissing." he was talking about his sticky cock up against your slick pussy. the blunt head up against your clit. it made you feel a rush of pleasure through you.

you could feel the excitement, the risk of it all. if some stray reporter came through here or a security guard. you knew what the headlines for the weekend would be.

young, promising driver takes a ride on her team principal.

he sank into your sweet cunt and your ached your back. you let out a small noise and max put a hand over your mouth. your nose was left uncovered so you could breath. his other hand was on your thigh as he rocked against you. he said in a low voice, "you know i love when you're loud, but you have to to stay quiet. you can be a good puppy, right? be a good girl for me."

his praise made something bloom in your stomach as he moved against you. you had a total kink for his praise, that was why you always pushed yourself so hard on the track. it was why you were over a hundred points ahead of the second place racer. you thrived off of it, to have someone like max give you praise.

you moaned against his hand, your voice muffled as he rocked against you. his cock slotted in you so well. you exhaled deeply through your nose. you couldn't feel your headband anymore and hair got in your face as he fucked you in such a public space.

"fuck." he groaned, "you have no idea what you do to me.' he moved against you further, "i never know i liked costumes. maybe next year, you should go as me." he chuckled as he curved over you and got at a deeper angle, "but i sort of like you in a collar better."

you groaned and reached for his shoulders. you clutched onto his shoulder tightly. his cock hit up against the softest parts of you and it made you see stars. you panted heavily and tried to keep quiet even though max's hand was good at muffling most of the noise.

you pretty painted black nails dug into his shoulders through the verstappen racing t-shirt he wore. you looked good with his logo across your chest, but he looked just as nice in a black t-shirt.

hunger ran through you as he fucked your feverishly. there was no time for tenderness. while he loved taking you apart with his tongue and fingers. there really was no time to waste.

you felt the heat on your body, your costume stuck to you in a weird way. the blank tag on your collar bounced with the movements of your boss' thrusts. something about this felt wrong, it was wrong. you were certain there had been casual affairs throughout the decades of formula one.

but nothing quite like this. the protege of one of the greatest being fucked by her boss. your pretty tits bounced with a whorish movements as she got railed in the paddock of her team. quite the scandal if it got out.

most thought you fucked your way to the top. but, in all fairness, max saw how you drove before he saw the sway of your hips. he valued your skill more than your ability to suck his cock or take his thick fingers in your slick pussy.

you were his champion, sex was just a component of it. he took your virginity, and you gave him the points he needed to win. you tightened your legs around him as he continued to drill his cock into you. the pace increased as you felt the swarm of pleasure in your head.

you weren't going to the party tonight. you could already tell.

"next time." he said, "i'll get you a proper collar. something a little more padded. with a tag with my name on it. if you're going to be my puppy then, you'll have to look the party. don't worry about a tail or ears. you'll do just fine in lacy lingerie that i can tear off with my teeth."

you swallowed, your cunt clenched around him as he continued to fuck you with a heavy pace. your felt any sense go out your ear, fully engulfed by the heat between you two. max knew how to make you feel good, he knew exactly how to get your yearning for more. if you were a puppy then he was the big, bad wolf.

you whined around his hand and he pressed his palm further against you. he shushed you and held onto your hip tighter as he thrusted against you. he watched your eyes roll a little from the pleasure of the entire situation.

he could feel the leap in his chest and the sweat on his back. he didn't often fuck you in such a public place. but he couldn't help himself. you got to prance off to some luxury party hosted by drivers of another team. you were going to be with liquor, boys and whatever else money could buy.

of course he was going to be concerned about his darling driver. his superstar. after all, he had high expectations for you. you were going to be the best if you weren't already. and he wasn't going let you ruin it over some cheap shots and boys with small packages. he knew you needed someone older, someone like him.

the pace became faster, erratic with little formalities. there was little rhythm to it as his cock kissed the hottest parts of you. the parts that made you pant under his hand. your gaze became unfocused and your blood pumped in your ears.

you clutched onto him and whined something that max couldn't hear. he replaced his hand with his lips. the kiss was hot as you held onto him tightly. it was all too much, the pleasure crossed through you like a heated sword and you came around his cock.

he groaned when you clenched around him. your nails dug into his skin. it only fueled his need to fuck you harder. while not the most ideal position. he'd make due. when you broke the kiss, you panted heavily with your gaze unfocused. you looked whorish, but max loved it.

the pace continued, and max made sure that your body was wracked with more lust as he continued to fuck you. he cursed in dutch under his breath as he gave it a few more thrusts before he finished inside of you.

you both moaned a little louder than you hoped for. you leaned forward against him. your pressed your cheek against his clothed chest as you tried to catch your breath.

max composed himself quickly and combed his fingers through your hair tenderly. he groaned, "good, puppy."

you looked up at him and asked, "can i go to the party tonight?"

he chuckled and patted your cheek with a little force. he chuckled, "cute. no, no. you're going to get your messy panties back on and we're going back to the hotel. i'm not letting a good puppy like you get into trouble." he pinched your cheek which made you whine.

"plus, i think you need some more training."

the following morning, your teammate was walking through the paddock beside you. the two of you were chatting, but your stomach dropped when he looked over and noticed something over one of the boxes.

you two stopped and before your teammate could say a word. your teammate pointed at the headband. you felt a cold sweat as he asked, "are those... dog ears?" then looked at you, "those look like the ones you were supposed to wear to the party last night... you never came to that."

you chuckled nervously, "well, i got tired... but mine are in my hotel room." you heard whistling and looked over to see your team principal walking by. you called for max, "max, isn't my costume in my hotel room."

he perked up and looked over. he pointed to the headband on the box and replied, "oh no.. those are yours." your boss broke into a grin. and your eyes went wide as he walked away.

you could feel your ears burn as your teammate asked.

"where were you last night anyway?" <3

this is part of the max verstappen team principal au

615 notes · View notes

inthe-dark-tonight · 11 months ago

Text

what she wants, anywhere

frankie morales x f!reader

summary: trying to hide the fact that you're horny from frankie while on an international flight leads to unexpectedly joining the mile high club

word count: 4.4k

warnings: E (18+ mdni!!!) dubcon, smut, porn w very little plot, pet names, established relationship, unsafe p in v, airplane sex, slight breeding kink (special just for cami hehe) creampie, reader uses frankie's hand to try and get off, no mention of age gap so read how you’d like :)

notes: this idea has been in my head for a few months but I never really knew how i wanted to write it, then an unreleased harry styles song came on shuffle (complicated freak - iykyk) and that just kinda fed the brainrot even more and…. now here we are. i'm also very aware that this is pretty unrealistic but it's fic so!! also let's pretend that airplane bathrooms aren't super gross i'm sorry. thank you to the loml @javiscigarette for always beta reading and listening to my insane rambling, i don’t know what i would do without you and our single shared braincell ILYSM xo

i also hit a new follower milestone this past week so i just want to say an extra big thank you to everyone that reads, likes, comments, reblogs or follows 🤍 enjoy!! :)

You and Frankie have had this trip planned for almost 6 months now, the two of you needing a vacation from work and day to day life. Now the only thing standing between the two of you and a week long vacation in Italy is an eight and a half hour flight.

From the second you got to the airport you were on edge, worried about your bags, your tickets, your passports, if you had forgotten anything in your carry on, up until you got to security when you finally calmed down. When you got up to the belt, Frankie grabbed a few plastic bins throwing both of your carry ons into one as you removed your jacket and shoes. As you stuffed everything into your bin, you glanced over at him, watching him intently as he started to take his jacket off.

You watched the way his biceps flexed as he slipped his jacket off of his broad shoulders and tossed it into the bin. Next he removed his hat, running his calloused fingers through his tousled curls, pushing them back before preparing to remove his belt. At that point you were noticeably gawking at him, watching the way his thick fingers unfastened his belt buckle before rapidly pulling it out the belt loops of his jeans and tossing it into the bin as well.

He looked over at you, giving you a quick once over before asking, “That everything?”

You weren’t able to conjure up any words, just a quick mhm and a nod of your head as you two moved forward. When he stepped into the metal detector, your eyes were glued to him the whole time. As he lifted his hands above his head, his shirt lifted the slightest bit, causing a small sliver of his soft tummy to peek out. A warmth started to build deep in your core from that moment forward.

Once the two of you were through security, he slipped his belt back on followed by his jacket. You swiped his hat before he could grab it, quickly stuffing it into your carry on.

He laughed, head tilting to the side as the dimple on his cheek deepened. “C’mon” he shot you a look. “Give it.” He held his large hand out towards you.

“We’re inside now, don’t need it.” You smiled at him sweetly, a warmth blooming in your chest as his eyes met yours.

He grunted, grabbing your bags with a small smile still plastered on his face before turning to walk towards your gate. Your eyes are glued to him as you walk, keeping a few steps behind him.

By the time you finally sit down at your gate, the heat in your lower stomach has grown even more and Frankie is painfully unaware of the way you’re watching him, desire growing each second. The terminal was crowded and there weren’t many seats, so you sat across from him a bit upset at the distance while also enjoying the view of your man.

You sit across from him with a book in your hand, legs crossed as you peeked up over the top of your book every now and then to admire him. He was leaning back in the chair, one arm on the armrest and the other casually resting between his legs, right where you want him most. His legs were spread wide, hair perfectly tousled, one leg bouncing from nerves and brows furrowed as he focused on something on his phone. How could you possibly not stare?

He caught you once, eyes lingering on him a little too long, causing heat to rise from for chest up to your cheeks. Your eyes roamed up his body, checking him out, before locking with his own as he shifted in his seat.

Hm? He raised his brows, a smirk growing on his face.

You quickly shook your head, looking back down at your book as a shy smile formed on your face.

Boarding the plane went by quickly. You stood close to him as you waited for your group to be called and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. The comforting feeling of his warm body pressed against yours worked you up even more, if that was even possible, and Frankie held your hand the whole time during take off.

Now you're seated on the plane, his thigh resting against yours, fighting the urge to keep your hands off of him and satisfy the throbbing need in your core. He’s surely noticed the way you’ve been squirming in your seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs a million times and the not so subtle staring.

You turn on the screen in front of you, switching to the live map and checking the time on the screen. It’s only been 45 minutes, this is going to be impossible. You clear your throat and let out a deep sigh as you look out the window at the dark sky, only a small peek of blue light shining over the horizon now.

“What’s wrong?” Frankie’s soft voice in your ear startles you slightly as you turn to see him leaning in close to you. “You nervous?” He moves his hand to rest on your thigh.

You swallow before answering. “No.” You blurt out causing him to raise his brow in curiosity. “I mean, it’s not that.” Your eyes land on his lips after the last word leaves your mouth.

“Then what is it?” He rubs your thigh lightly and you bite the inside of your cheek.

He sounds concerned, but there’s no way you’re telling him that you’re horny with 7 hours left of this flight. All you can do is hope that as the time passes the ache in your core dulls, or better yet goes away.

“Just-“ you try to think of an excuse on the spot. “Excited actually.” You smile up at him and he returns it, the dimple on his cheek growing.

“We’ll be there soon baby, the flight will be over before you know it.” He lifts his hand from your thigh and rests it on your cheek, rubbing your soft skin with his thumb before pecking your lips.

You nod in agreement, closing your eyes as you toss your head back and lean into your seat. If he only knew.

You’ve been looking out the window for who knows how long, the lights in the cabin are low, almost completely off now, and the flight attendants haven’t walked up the aisles in almost half an hour. You look at the time on your phone again, only two hours in, how is that possible? The ache in your core hasn’t subsided.

You look over at Frankie watching a movie on the screen in front of him, Top Gun, before reaching for your carry-on bag under the seat in front of you. You grab the sweater you stuffed into it and throw it across your lap.

“Cold?” Frankie’s voice is soft yet gravely as he leans in close to you, whispering for just the two of you to hear.

You look at him, eyes slightly widening. “Yeah.” You aren’t lying, the cabin is chilly, but that’s only half of the truth.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he takes in your features in the low light. You scoot closer to him, leaning into his side as you get comfortable. Frankie smiles and plants a kiss on your temple before turning his attention back to the screen in front of him. You lay your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his bicep as you watch the movie with him.

It’s not long before you’re distracted again, letting go of your grip on his arm and laying back in your seat. Your eyes linger on the way his pants hug his thighs. He’s not wearing his jacket anymore, the way he’s sitting with his arms crossed give you a full view of his strong forearms and biceps.

You’re not sure how much longer you can ignore the heat pooling in your stomach. You decide to test something and reach your right hand over to rub the side of his thigh, resting there for a moment. He doesn’t move, eyes still on the screen, and you take that as a sign to keep going. You slowly inch closer towards where his cock is confined in his pants, resting your hand on the inside of his thigh and keeping it there for a few moments. He doesn’t react, but you hear his breathing picking up.

As you start to rub small circles on the inside of his thigh and inch ever so slightly closer to where his member is hidden, he grabs your wrist.

“What are you doing?” He whispers.

His large hand is still wrapped around your wrist as you lean in, resting your chin on his shoulder as you look up at him. “Nothing.” That’s a lie, and he knows it.

“Querida...” His eyes burn through you as he stares back at you. He knows.

You clear your throat and tilt your head up to whisper in his ear. “I’ve been worked up since we went through security.”

“Hm.” He nods his head, the deep vibration causes goosebumps to raise on your skin.

You pull back and he looks into your eyes again. His hand finds yours on your lap, warm as it wraps around yours and squeezes lightly.

“Once we land and get to the hotel, promise.” He raises his hand to rest on your cheek and plants a feather light kiss on your lips.

You let out a small sigh as his hand moves from yours to rest on his lap and you turn to look out the window, trying to distract yourself from the pool of heat that burns in the pit of your stomach.

You’re not sure how much time has passed now, when you look over at Frankie his eyes are shut, mouth slightly parted as you admire his features. A small smile forms in your face as your eyes roam over him, landing on his hand still resting on his lap.

At that exact moment, an idea comes to your mind. Something that could possibly give you a small amount of relief. For now. It’s not your best idea, but it could work.

You look back up at his face as you reach over to rest your hand over his, he doesn’t open his eyes. You stay still for a moment, making sure you won’t wake him from the movement. When you think the time is right, you lift his hand, quickly resting it on your lap. Your eyes land on where his hand now lays over your sweater on your lap, so close to the dull thrumming at your core. You bite your lip and look back over to be sure he hasn’t woken up, you smile at the way his soft lashes rest on the tops of his cheeks as he rests, a warmth spreading through your chest.

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly move his hand underneath where your sweater lays to rest on your inner thigh. His warm hand burns straight through the fabric of your pants, causing your skin to heat up from the touch, and your stomach to churn. He still hasn’t opened his eyes, so you take that as a safe sign to keep going, slowly moving his hand up your thigh until it rests over your clothed heat.

A low whimper escapes your throat and your eyes widen at the realization, looking back over at where Frankie lays with his eyes shut. You watch him take a deep breath, letting out a sigh as he shifts slightly in his seat, head rolling slightly to the side as he stirs. You stay still for a few seconds, making sure he hasn’t woken from your movements.

You look away from him, back to where his hand is touching you under your sweater, and you begin to press the heel of his hand into your clothed cunt. You let out a long, relieved breath from your nose and your eyes fall shut. The pressure of his large warm hand resting over your sensitive nub is just enough to give you some of the relief you were looking for, but it’s not enough.

You take a deep breath before grinding yourself against the palm of his hand in a slow rocking motion that causes the seam of your pants to rub over your clit. Trying your best to be quiet, you bite into your cheek as your hips buck forward. A low groan escapes your throat and you let out a shaky breath.

You're lost in the moment, relishing in the feeling of his large, warm hand resting over your clothed sex as you grind into it. Suddenly you feel him move and your heart leaps into your throat. His arm tenses up, hand grabbing at your clothed cunt as he applies more pressure than before. Your eyes fly open wide and you turn to look into his own. Heavy lidded as a small smirk forms on his face in the dim lighting, he leans in closer to you.

“Bathroom at the back of the plane. I’ll be there in five.” He says slowly, just above a whisper.

You blink, mouth agape as his words sink in. “W-what?” You watch the way his chest rapidly rises and falls as you wait for his response.

“Now.” He presses harder into your clothed core before pulling his hand away.

You let out a gasp, reaching for your seat buckle as fast as you can before standing up. As you squeeze past him and make your way into the aisle, you take a quick glance around to look for the flight attendants. They're nowhere to be found, and as you walk towards the back of the plane you notice that almost everyone on the plane is asleep, has their nose in a book or eyes glued to something on the screen in front of them. You try not to walk too quickly as you make your way towards the back of the plane where the vacancy sign is glowing brightly.

Your heart is racing and you feel giddy as you approach the door, pulling it open and stepping inside before closing it behind you. As you wait in the small stall for Frankie, you stand there for a moment with your back against the door, eyes falling shut as you take a deep breath in anticipation for what may happen next. Then you hear a light knocking on the door, causing you to flinch as you reach to pull the door open.

Without giving you a second to think, Frankie pushes the door open causing you to step back, closing the door behind him and locking it before guiding you towards the sink. It's a tight fit with the two of you in there but right now you could care less. He presses close to you, causing your lower back to press into the small plastic sink as his hand flies down to grab you where you're wet and aching for him, the other grabbing your wrist.

He leans in, nose grazing your cheek before speaking low in your ear. “This what you wanted?” His voice sends a shock straight to your core as he applies more pressure where he's caressing your clothed core, causing a moan to slip from your mouth.

“Frankie,” you say breathlessly.

“Shhh.” his hand leaves your wrist to lightly cover your mouth. “Gotta be quiet for me baby, don’t want anyone to catch us committing a fucking felony now do we?” A small smirk covers his lips and your chest flutters with excitement at his words.

You look up at him with wide eyes and shake your head, then he removes his hand from your mouth and plants a needy kiss to your lips. Your eyes close and you melt into it, hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue parts your lips to tangle with your own. You press against him, slightly bucking your hips to feel the growing bulge in his pants. He groans before breaking the kiss, pulling away to catch his breath as his eyes roam over you. His large hands grab at your waist as he looks back into your eyes.

“Turn around.” you do as he says, turning your back to him and pressing your hips flush against the tiny sink while your hands grab onto the edge bracing yourself.

Frankie’s large hands land back on your hips, smoothing over the fabric of your jeans to rest on your ass for a moment, squeezing lightly before moving back to your hips. he presses his hardening cock into your ass and lets out a low grunt as your eyes flutter shut, your head falling forward as you sigh.

His hands leave your hips and you hear the sound of his belt buckle. “Gotta make this quick.” his voice is low and gruff, you lift your head to look at him through the mirror in front of you.

You watch him as he looks down between the two of you to unbutton his own jeans, stray curls falling onto his forehead. His muscles flex, the fabric of his shirt stretching as he pulls his jeans down just enough for his cock to spring out. His head snaps back up, dark eyes meeting yours in the mirror. His hands snake around to the front of you, reaching for the button on your pants, his thick fingers moving quickly to undo it before pulling at your zipper.

His eyes never leave yours as he tugs your pants down just enough to expose the soft skin of your ass along with your soaked heat. Your mouth falls open as his hand moves towards your core and you stifle a moan as his fingers start to glide through your slick folds, his other hand resting back on your hip.

“Been thinking about me filling you up this whole time, huh?” You take in a deep breath, pressing your lips together as you try to hold in a moan. “Thinking about me filling you to the fucking brim with my cum?”

You frantically nod your head, unable to form a single word. Frankie watches you through the mirror as your head falls back onto his shoulder and you press yourself back into him. A small gasp leaves your mouth as you feel his stiff cock press against your bare ass. He starts to rub small, slow circles on your clit and you raise your head to look at him through the mirror again. Your eyes immediately meet with his having never left you, and you watch him as he leans in closer to you.

“Wish there was time for me to taste this perfect pussy.” His nose grazes the side of your cheek, his low voice vibrating through your whole body.

You bite your lip trying to keep quiet, squeezing your eyes shut as he applies more pressure to your swollen clit. You also wish there was time. He plants a kiss on your neck, scruff slightly scratching you as his warm lips press against your skin. It’s like he read your mind.

“Once we get to the hotel, I promise.” He lightly squeezes your hip, pulling his other hand away from your sensitive nub causing you to hold your breath. “Bend over for me baby.”

You do as he says, bracing yourself on the sink once again as you slightly lean forward. One of his hands stays on your hip, the other lines his cock up with your soaking wet entrance. Your eyes are still glued to him in the mirror, your beautiful man. He’s focused as you watch him, and when you feel his tip slowly start to press in, you watch the way his face relaxes. You close your eyes, relishing in the feeling of him slowly filling you to the brim.

“Fuck.” You watch as his head falls back, a blissful look on his face. “Feel so good cariño.”

He stays still for a moment, taking in the feeling of your wet cunt pulsing around him. You’re not sure how long you’ve been in here, but you know that the two of you should hurry up before someone notices what’s going on. You wiggle your ass back and forth against Frankie to try and get his attention as you bite your bottom lip while looking up at him through the mirror.

He lifts his head up, dark eyes meeting with yours. A deep almost growl comes from deep in his chest as he pulls out and slams his cock back into you. Your body jolts forward, mouth falling open as you brace yourself for his brutal pace. You’re not sure how long you’ll last, the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you bringing you so close to the release you’ve been waiting for.

You watch him in the mirror, transfixed on the way his biceps strain the fabric of his shirt as he holds onto your waist for dear life. The feeling of his cock splitting you open so perfect. He leans down and wraps an arm around your torso, pulling you to stand straight up with your back against him as he continues to fuck you at the same brutal pace.

His hand roams over your body and his eyes follow, finding the hem of your shirt as he slips his large hand beneath it. You press further back into him, a sigh leaving your mouth at the feeling of his warm skin against yours.

“Francisco…” You murmur.

His hand continues to travel up your body, leaving goosebumps in its trail up towards your breasts. You suck in a breath as his hand finds the cup of your bra, slipping underneath to caress the soft skin of your breast. He’s still staring at you in the mirror, tracing over your soft skin and curves with his eyes as he moves his hand to lift your shirt up to your chin.

“So beautiful,” he whispers right beside your ear. “Look at you.”

You’re just looking at him, the way his large hand is splayed over your chest, the light flush on his cheeks from being cramped in this stuffy bathroom, and the way his hair has fallen over his forehead. The coil in your stomach is ready to snap, any second now as he slows down his thrusts. He can feel it, the way your walls flutter around his thick cock. His hand slides back down your chest, stopping to rest on your stomach as he holds you against him.

“Come for me, come on baby.” His deep voice travels straight through you to your core.

“Oh my-” Frankie’s hand flys up to cover your mouth before you can finish.

“Shhh, quiet.” The vibration of his deep voice whispering in your ear sends you over the edge and a white hot feeling spreads through your body, radiating from your core as your orgasm takes over.

“There you go.” He whispers, nose grazing your cheek as he speaks.

Your hand reaches behind you to pull at the curls on the nape of his neck and you squeeze around him as your orgasm comes to an end. He lets out a deep moan as he buries his face into your neck, muffling the sound. He thrust one last time, stopping when he bottoms out, hot cum spurting out and filling you up. His shoulders rise and fall as he catches his breath, head still buried in your shoulder and your head lays back on his. Both of his arms are wrapped around your torso and you rest yours over his, squeezing his forearms lightly as he stays there for a moment longer, making sure all of his seed stays put.

He kisses your neck before lifting his head up and looking between the two of you as he pulls out, pulling your underwear back on quickly to make sure his come stays put. His hands rest on your hips as you fix your shirt. You slide your pants back on and spin around to face him as he buttons his pants, watching the way his fingers move. A smile forms on your face as you watch him, a warmth growing in your chest.

“Hm?” He looks up at you through his lashes as he fixes his belt.

You shake your head, reaching to rest your hands on his shoulders as you kiss him. He sucks in a deep breath, making a content sound as he kisses you back and wraps his arms tightly around you. When he breaks the kiss, his eyes roam your features before speaking.

“We should go back.” One of his hands comes up to caress your cheek and he pecks your lips one last time.

“You go first.” You lean into his touch, squeezing his broad shoulders.

His thumb rubs your cheek before pulling away and turning to pull the door open. He slips out, quietly closing the door behind him. Once he’s gone you turn towards the mirror to fix yourself up and wash your hands before going back to your seat. You replay what just happened in your mind as you wait a few minutes to leave.

Once you think it’s safe to leave, you slip back out into the dark cabin. You glance around, still no flight attendants in sight as you make your way back to the aisle where Frankie is sitting and waiting for you. A smirk forms on his face as you squeeze in front of him to take your seat at the window. You get comfortable, resting your head on his shoulder as his hand finds a spot on your lap and you close your eyes. As you start to drift off you feel Frankie shift in his seat.

“Don’t think I forgot about my promise either.” He whispers for just you to hear.

Your chest flutters, a quiet laugh leaves your mouth before you drift to sleep. Only 5 more hours, you’re almost sure you can wait this time.

thank you for reading <3 any feedback is appreciated and my asks are open!! xo

tagging a few moots: @ilovepedro @gracieheartsspedro @sapphic-gardn @northernbluess @tieronecrush @joelsversion @pr0ximamidnight @daydreamingmiller @hearteyesforjoel <3

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fic #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie triple frontier

741 notes · View notes

notjustjavierpena · 1 year ago

Note

dying for you to right more of javi and reader!!! maybe them discussing having a baby or javi forgetting to pull out?? love the breeding kind from your last fic ❤️❤️

Fever

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: In my mind, this is a prequel to All Roads Lead To Someone. It was supposed to be cutesy, but it turned a little filthy too and suddenly it felt like he wrote himself. I hope you enjoy it, friend!

Summary: The beginning journey of trying for a baby with your husband, Javier Peña.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), established relationship, you indulge in Javi’s breeding kink, daddy kink if you squint, unprotected sex, p in v sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, fluff & fun, domestic javier is sexy and charming and filthy, so much in love, riding, fingering, cumplay

Word count: 2.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48106387

Fever

Javier raised a brow as you presented him with an empty blister pack. He was sitting on your shared couch, waiting expectantly for an explanation to what he could only assume was a lousy gift.

Unsure of what to do, he took the blister pack from your hand, stared down at it with a puzzled look upon his face for a moment before looking up at you once again, “This is the surprise? You got me empty foil and plastic? Are you losing it?”

You had told him to sit down and stay seated as soon as he had arrived home from work, pulled at his jacket to undress him and pushed him towards the living room. There had been a snarky comment about how eager you were, though when you hadn’t straddled him, but rather left him again, he had drummed his thighs impatiently until you had returned.

“Shut up, I’m not losing it,” you bit back, snatching the pill packet from him again to which he frowned.

“Hey, give it back, I was just starting to like it,” he teased you.

You twirled the empty packet between your fingers for a few seconds, then took a deep breath, “It’s my birth control. All gone. I’ve not gotten any more at the drugstore. Like we talked about.”

Javier’s mouth fell open. He sunk further into the couch for a moment, trying to process what he had just heard and you allowed him the time it took to register the words you had spoken.

After a few more seconds, he suddenly sat up straight again. He placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself to stand, not giving you time to say anything as he quickly closed the distance between the two of you to kiss you. You dropped the blister pack on the floor.

His hands came up to cup your face, holding you gently as he covered your mouth with his own. You responded by gently grabbing a hold of his wrist with your free hand, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

“When can we start trying?” Javier asked when he pulled back to catch a proper breath. He was beaming like a little boy on Christmas morning, grabbing a hold of you to lift you off the ground and into his arms. He spun the both of you around once and you squeaked his name.

“Well, the doctor said most people should be able to start trying already a month or two after stopping the pill, but he also said that anything could happen,” you explained when he put you down on the floor again, “Which means I’m open for business, baby.”

You leaned in to whisper the rest of your sentence in his ear, “Time to fuck a baby into me, Javier Peña.”

Then you pulled back with a satisfied smirk, because Javier was completely lost for words, and you found as you looked down, that he was also starting to get hard. It gave you reason to taunt him, “That gets you going, huh? To knock me up?”

“Don’t,” he groaned as a warning, holding his hand up to say stop.

“It does,” you giggled cutely, but there was something more devilish about it. You reached out for the buckle on his belt, carefully undoing it until you could pull the belt from its loops. You let it fall to the floor with a soft thud, going for his zipper afterwards, “I think we should practice our magic; we have to do it a lot in the coming months.”

Javier said your name softly and when you looked at his face, you saw him with damp eyes. It caught you off guard, “What? What’s happening? Is something wrong?”

“You’re actually gonna give an old dog like me a family,” he stated tenderly, and your first response was to chuckle softly in disbelief at him. He found your eyes and furrowed his brow.

“Hey,” you reached out to cup his cheek when you realized that he meant what he said, brushing it soothingly with your thumb, “Of course I am. Who else would be better than you? I can’t wait, baby. You’ll be the best daddy out there.”

Something shifted then. Javier leaned in to kiss you once more, this time with a little more confidence in the way that he carried himself. He reached for your clothes too now, pulling at your dress’ hem to lift it over your head, discarding it on the floor and finding your mouth afterwards again.

You pushed him backwards, mouth still on his, until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. You broke the kiss by pushing him to sit down again, stepping back afterwards to take off your shoes and socks, then undo your bra to slide it off your arms.

“Gonna be such a pretty momma,” he said as he watched you undress except for the wedding ring on your finger, lifting his hips off the couch to shove his jeans and underwear down over his thighs until they hung around his knees.

You hooked your thumbs into your underwear, pulled them down so you could shimmy out of them until they fell around your feet. Javier swore from his seat on the couch as you revealed your whole self to him. squeezing the base of his cock as he started hardening fully.

“C’mere.”

You went to straddle him with a sweet little smile, hooking your leg over his thighs until you had a knee on either side of his lap. You were positioned right above him.

Javier placed his hands on the back of your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh whilst you grabbed at the backrest of the couch. He looked up at you with his brown eyes which had gone darker with desire, “Gonna take real good care of you, make sure you have everything you need and want.”

“Yeah?” You said with a dazed expression as one of his calloused palms slid around your body and between your thighs. He teasingly dipped a finger into you, but only to the first knuckle.

“Oh yeah, so tell me what you want, mi amor.”

“You, Javi. Need nothing but you to cure me of this baby fever,” you moaned softly, gasping as he left you empty once more but even more so as he guided his cock into you in the next moment, “Need you to come inside.”

“Jesus,” he swore, finding your hips to fully push you down onto his length. You gasped at his generous girth, walls fluttering around him from the slight burn that it always caused as your body did everything it could to engulf him. You could feel his zipper gnawing into your ass, but it wouldn’t matter once you started moving on him.

When you finally felt the front of his thighs against the back of yours, you stopped moving to breathe in through your nose to steady your heartbeat. Your pulse was skyrocketing at the feeling of being so close to him despite the years that you had been together. No one had ever made you feel like this.

You kissed him deeply. He pressed his thumbs into the front of your hips, digging all ten digits into you possessively just to hold you in place as you sucked on his tongue, pulled at his bottom lip and moaned into his mouth. You’d move soon, you promised yourself, but not before his hands started to hurt a little from impatience.

“Ah,” you whined as you pulled back, but only to rest your foreheads together.

“Move your ass, baby,” he ordered with a slightly ragged breath, swatting your ass, “You’re gonna make me lose it.”

“Maybe I want you to,” you replied after gasping, but followed through on his command; lifted your hips off of him only to sink down dangerously slowly again. You moaned in unison, and whereas you would’ve liked to go so slow that you’d have him begging you to fuck onto him properly, your willpower to tease was gone at the first stroke of his cock inside of you.

You stared into his eyes, licking your lips as you wiggled a little on his lap. He groaned quietly, and you swirled your hips once and then twice, setting up a rhythm that had you both gasping soon.

“Yes, that’s it, use me, you look so pretty,” he panted as you lost yourself on his cock, leaning back a little to change the angle and riding him in earnest to chase an already climbing high; he always loved you milking him anyway. Plus, the sweet and domestic moment you had shared just minutes earlier was enough to have you both desperate for a hurried fuck. It would have you closer to your shared wish quicker than if you took it slow.

You held on tightly at the back of the couch, daring to lean just a little further back until the angling of your hips made his cock nudge against the front of your walls. You ground your hips down to feel the thick head of his cock ram into your g-spot, and you cried out his name before speeding up.

You started bouncing then, and Javier followed you by bucking his hips up into you until you moved in a well-known unison. There was no doubt: You just fit.

Pleasure tightened in your stomach as Javier fucked up into you, and you knew you wouldn’t last long. Everything about the situation and his body molding yours was intense. You needed to come, and you gave everything you had in you to reach your goal.

The thing that sent you over the edge was when he buried his face between your bouncing breasts, his open mouth kissing your cleavage before moving to one nipple and sucking it into his mouth.

“Javi,” you whimpered as a last warning.

And then you came, hard and fast, muscles clamping down on his stiff cock that responded by twitching inside of you. He was so close, and you egged him on.

“Fill me up, daddy, please,” you begged desperately, moving erratically onto his cock despite your sensitivity.

“Chica sucia,” he praised with a groan, looking up at your face again, “Gonna— mierda, gonna pump a baby into you… y-you want that?”

“Yes! Fuck yes, please,” you nodded, mouth hanging open from the sweet pain of oversensitivity.

Javier spilled inside of you a moment later. You stilled your hips, letting him bury himself inside of you as he pulsed through his orgasm and coated you with himself from the inside.

“You know— hah,” he cut off for a moment, catching his breath and leaning his head back against the backrest of the couch. He let go of one of your hips to run a hand over his face, fingers carding through his hair with a breathless chuckle, “I think that was quite the practice round.”

“We may have to repeat that, I think, just to be sure we were doing it correctly,” you responded, voice oozing with post-coital bliss.

When you were just about to get up on your feet again, Javier took your hand and pulled you back down. He carefully laid you down on your back, “Not going anywhere. We need to make sure that it works, mi amor.”

“Someone’s been doing their homework,” you noted, but grimaced at him a second later. He had gotten up to tuck himself back into his boxers and pull up his jeans. You wiggled a little on the leather couch, “I don’t want to scrub come off the couch later, and you, mister, you just want to look at me being naked in your living room.”

“Is that a crime?” He asked, reaching for your dress on the floor. He slid it under your ass, “There.”

“I’m not law enforcement, but I don’t think so,” you bend your legs and spread them for show, feeling his seed drip out of you and onto the dress. Javier sat down by your feet, looking at the mess he had made.

“I think the way you just behaved on top of me is illegal in at least one country,” he said absentmindedly, reaching between your legs to push his come back inside of you. You squirmed at feeling his fingers inside of you.

“Guess I’m a criminal then,” you moaned.

“Criminally sexy,” Javier turned his palm upwards to press his fingers against your g-spot, making a come-hither motion until you lifted your hips up from the couch at the stirrings of a second orgasm.

“Some scientists actually believed that you increased the chances if you made your wife come after pumping her full of come,” he told you as if he was giving a lecture, “The pelvic floor muscles were supposed to contract and make it fucking stick.”

“Yeah?” Your breathing was speeding up again, clit throbbing despite being untouched. The wet squelching of his fingers in your cunt were filthy, getting dirtier as another wave of your wetness mixed with his come.

“Yeah,” he was calm, working his fingers a little faster and more determinedly, “Come on, I can see you’re close, baby.”

“I’m coming, fuck— baby,” you suddenly announced, voice high-pitched as the first wave of pleasure washed over you. Your legs fell inwards and your hands came down between your thighs as if they could help with the intensity, but you cried as the world around you shrunk into nothing, but the feeling between your legs as you rode the wave.

“That’s it,” Javier chuckled as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping them on the dress. He let you breathe for a second before continuing, “Want a glass of water?”

“I can get my own water,” you started to get up, but Javier pushed you down on your back once more.

“You better get used to this, momma, stay,” he got up from the couch, heading for the kitchen, “One water coming up.”

You cursed him with a smile on your face as you heard glasses clinking in the kitchen drawer.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#javier pena narcos #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javi pena #javier peña #narcos fanfiction #narcos #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena one shot #javier pena smut #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal characters #asks #husband!javi

922 notes · View notes

frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year ago

Text

@steddiemas Day 7 - Mall and/or Job

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,884 | rated: G

“Munson Residence, wha'd’ya want?” Eddie groans into the receiver.

Whoever this is better be someone super fucking important to have woken him up with their damn ringing. He’s surprised Wayne didn’t wake up too, but it’d be kinda hard to hear the phone over those snores.

“Eddie! Thank god,”

Oh. Steve! Very important, actually.

“Oh, hey Steve, what’s up?”

“Eddie, can you do me a huge favor?”

“Yeah, of course, what’s wrong?” he immediately spirals into what all could have gone wrong, what could be going wrong. Everything dark blue and cold, vine-y and the flashing of red lightning—

“Nothing, nothing–well, something.. Can you please run to my place later today and grab my lunch? I forgot it this morning and I know I’m not going to be able to run back and get it and get back in time to eat it before my break is over.”

“Your lunch?” “Yeah, I packed one this morning but left it on the counter. There’s a key under the mat and everything.” Eddie barks out a laugh, “Tryin’ to get robbed, big guy?”

“I don’t care about any of the shit in that house.” Steve scoffs. He shrugs even though Steve can’t see him. “Fair enough. Sure Stevie, I’ll bring your lunch; when do you want me there?” “Dude, you’re the best; My lunch break is right at noon, can you be here just before then?”

“Got it. Five to noon at Family Video.” he drawls out as if he’s writing the information down.

“Uh, actually…not Family Video..”

A short two hours later, Eddie finds himself among a throng of people inside Melvald’s. He has to fight his way forward at first, but the crowd thins out as he gets closer to the registers.

Damn, he’s not even that far into the store and he feels like he’s ran a mile.

“Ms. Byers!”

“Oh! Hello Eddie, what brings you here?” “Steve called and asked if I could drop off his lunch to him. Do you know where he is? I didn’t even know he was working here.”

Joyce just grins at him. It’s weirdly mischievous. “Only temporarily, he’s near the back of the store. Just head back there and I’m sure you’ll find him.”

“Uh..thanks. See ya later Ms. B.”

He wanders toward the back of the store through the aisles, but stops up short when a fake white picket fence blocks his path.

The whole back corner of the store has been covered in fake felt snow, a couple of those fake plastic trees like Steve’s (though these are a normal size), a candy-striped ‘North Pole’, and dozens of paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling between what seems like hundreds of string lights.

And there, sitting in the middle of it on a throne that looks suspiciously like the one he used to use during Hellfire, is Steve. Dressed in a Santa suit. With long white beard, big ol’ belt and buckle, shiny black boots..

“Psst!”

He’s got something stuffed into his Santa jacket to give him the right shape, and even some small half-moon glasses, but those sparkling eyes, the freckles, that one swoop of brown hair stubbornly sticking out from under the fuzzy brim of his hat, that’s all Steve.

“Eddie!”

Santa Steve is fully enraptured by whatever story the kid on his knee is telling him, their hands waving every which way but somehow missing smacking Santa right in the face. Steve just continues to nod along, then gives them a hearty “Ho Ho Ho!” when they try to squeeze their tiny arms around his fake belly.

“Eddie!!”

He glances over at the sound of his name, and sees Robin waving frantically at him from her spot at old school music stand-turned-podium. She’s got on some sort of outfit that honestly looks like it was supposed to be a jester costume, where’d she even get that from?

His feet start toward her, but his eyes fall back on Steve Claus, now posing for a picture with the kid who’s smiling so wide it looks like his face will split in half.

Managing to take his eyes off Steve for a moment, he sees Jonathan behind the camera, and that Argyle kid is crouched in front of Robin, talking to the next kid in line to see Santa. All three of them are wearing matching jester costumes.

Eddie steps up to her podium after Argyle and the new kid pass in front of him to see Steve, “Family Video not paying enough, Birdie?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, the extra cash doesn’t hurt. Joyce asked us to help out.”

He nods at her, and finds his eyes drifting back to Santa Steve.

This kid is much more shy than the last one, tilting her head down and taking short glances up at Steve’s face.

Steve is saying something to her, a low comforting sound that Eddie can only make out the tone of. His one hand covers the entirety of her upper back, and his thumb is moving up and down to try and soothe her nerves. His head is ducked down to be more level with her, looking at her over those half-moon glasses.

Suddenly, the girl’s head snaps up and Steve leans back a bit. “Yeah?” he hears him say.

The girl grins, nodding her head like crazy, then she too is squeezing Steve into a hug. It’s so unfairly endearing, he can actually feel his heart swelling in his chest.

Robin speaks up then, “So..?”

“So?” he repeats dumbly.

“So wha’d’ya think, Munson?”

“Does he need a Mr. Claus?”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

“Uh, wait, I mean Mrs.–Do you have— is someone going to—”

Eddie chances a look over at her…she’s wearing a smug, shit-eating grin. She leans toward him conspiratorially and mumbles out “I wouldn’t mind a Mrs. Claus myself.”

She leans back, still looking smug, but there’s a note of panic in her eyes.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “So would he.” he mumbles out himself, jerking his chin towards Steve.

Robin only shrugs “You never know.”

“You never—what do you know, Buckley?” he asks, stepping closer and pointing an accusing finger into her still smug face.

“I know that there’s some mistletoe hanging above the breakroom door.”

He’s confused for just a moment, then understanding floods through him, “You little—”

A short whistle interrupts his incoming tirade, and Eddie can see Steve Claus moving out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry folks, it’s time for Santa’s Cookie break!” Robin calls out over the long line of people. “He’ll be back in 30 minutes though, don’t you worry!” the smile falls off her face as soon as she turns her back to them.

Eddie follows her, Jonathan, and Argyle toward the back rooms, “I’m gonna take a nap.” She says, “Tell Santa to grab me before he goes back.” She waves toward a door as she passes it and from the sprig of greenery hanging above it, this must be the breakroom.

Robin takes a right down a turn in the hall, and Jon and Argyle push out the back door of the building.

He expects more of the same when he opens the door to the breakroom, for Steve to huff and grouse about the kids or the parents or something, but when he does, Steve is grinning ear to ear as he combs through his (now removed) fake beard.

“Hey Santa Stevie.”

“Eds!”

“I’ve got your lunch.” he holds up the brown paper bag for Steve to see. Steve nods, and lays the beard out on an empty chair, taking off his hat and glasses too and setting them both on top before stepping forward to grab the bag. “And you have hat hair.” Eddie laughs.

Steve’s free hand jumps to his head and scruffs up the long hairs, making them stick up every which way instead of just being plastered down on his forehead.

“Better?”

“Sure, big guy.” Eddie pokes Steve’s fake belly.

Steve chuckles, then heads to a table in the corner where he dumps out his lunch bag.

“So what’d Past Steve pack for Future Steve?” Eddie asks, plopping down in a chair kitty-corner from Steve’s. “Bologna and mustard sandwich, Doritos, and half of a leftover Hellfire cookie.”

“And a Coke,” Eddie says, taking a can out of his jacket pocket, “I grabbed one for you from your fridge.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Steve smiles warmly at him. “You want some?”

“No way dude, you gotta get your energy back after dealing with all those kids, right?” Eddie says, waving him off.

“Eh, some of them are little assholes, but most of them are really well behaved.” he’s ripping his sandwich in half, “Gotta impress Santa, right?”

He offers him one half, and Eddie takes it.

“It’s really not a bad gig, though the beard is itchy as hell…”

Steve starts talking about some of the kids who have come by in the last couple days of them doing this, having started on that past Monday, the 1st.

There were the kids asking for baseball bats, Lincoln Logs, Malibu Barbie, Rockstar Barbie (“Barbie’s a rockstar now?”, “Barbie can be anything, I guess.”), all the usual things.

Then there were kids that asked for actual Santa stuff, “I don’t want my mom and dad to get a divorce.”, “I wish I had some friends.”, “I want my grandpa to get better.”

“Makes me wish I actually was Santa, y’know? Then maybe I could actually help them.”

Eddie’s heart is definitely getting way too fuckin’ big for his chest.

He puts his hand on Steve’s forearm where it’s resting on the table between them. “You are a good man, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s face flushes nearly as red as his suit. “Thanks, Eddie.” he glances above Eddie’s head then, “I better go wake up Robin, if she naps too long on top of the potatoes, she gets cranky.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, better get on that.”

Steve stands up and tugs on his hat, not bothering to put on the beard and glasses yet. The fuzzy white band smushes a lock of his hair onto his forehead.

“Hold on,” Eddie stands as well, reaching forward to tuck the hair under the bottom of Steve’s hat. “Now you’ll be ready to see your adoring public.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, walking with him toward the door.

And of course, Eddie forgot all about the damn mistletoe until Steve’s arm stops him in the doorway.

‘Jesus H. Christ…’

He glances over at Steve, then up at the offending plant..

Eddie looks back down, out toward the rest of the store where they’d be clearly visible in the doorway.

“I guess you owe me one, huh big boy?” Eddie chuckles, ‘Stupid plant, stupid Robin, stupid Ed–’

His thoughts are cut off when Steve tugs him back into the breakroom, moves him against the wall, and leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. The opposite to the kiss he’d given Steve three weeks ago.

Steve leans back, a smirk on his lips and a pink flush on his face. “Now we’re even.” he winks, then turns out the door to wake up Robin.

i may have actually kicked my feet and giggled about this one lmao

also, rockstar barbie mentioned here is from the 1986 Barbie and The Rockers set

also, also, i'm getting rid of the 'pre' before the steddie up top, you all know what's happening and where this is going lol - it's steddie.

328 notes · View notes

writing-until-i-drop · 1 month ago

Text

Bathroom Sex | Rhett Abbott (Outer Range) x reader | wc: 927

No use of y/n | 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings! fingering, dirty talk, Rhett's got a dirty mouth, unprotected p in v (don't forget the condom), lmk if I missed anything

Ao3

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Rhett was in rare form tonight. He had already gotten into a fight with his dad, a fellow bull rider, and his dad again after he’d gotten pulled off the bull rider. You had wanted to take him back to yours, clean him up, and put him to bed but he had wanted a drink. That’s how you found yourself at a shitty dive bar, nursing a soda, watching your boyfriend stew in his piss poor mood.

You had tried everything to make it better but none of your usual tricks were working. Which only left the big guns. You popped a button on your flannel, watching Rhett’s eyes drift downwards from where he had been staring a hole in the wall behind you to your cleavage.

“Darlin’,” He rasped softly, you could barely hear him over the crowd. “You tryin’ to get me in another fight?”

“Trying to cheer you up,” You undid another button, giving him a glimpse of your bra. It wasn’t anything pretty, a plain, cotton bra you had put on for function more than seduction but for Rhett, anything you wore did the trick. “It working?” You teased the third button, biting your bottom lip.

“Shit,” Rhett sighed, pulling you off your stool and through the crowd until he found the bathroom. You giggled the whole way, knowing Rhett’s good mood would be making an appearance soon. Rhett pressed you against the inside of the unlocked bathroom door, “Take it off before I rip the buttons.” His voice was all growly and quiet, making you shiver. As much as you hated when he was mad, you also enjoyed it when the solution was you.

You got one of the buttons undone before Rhett’s patience ran out, the plastic fastenings going flying around the small bathroom.

“Rhett!” Your scold turned into a moan as his lips met your neck. If anyone was walking past the bathroom, they would know exactly what was going on but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You reached down, fumbling with his belt as he attacked your neck like a starving man, licking and biting, leaving hickeys the size of Texas that would be hell to cover.

“Keeps your hands to yourself,” Rhett shoved them away, undoing the buckle for himself. You reached for the button of your jeans but he slapped your hands away again, “Stop fucking helping, darlin’.”

“Then hurry up,” You snapped at him, spurring him on. Rhett undressed you roughly, pulling your clothes off in a way that had you a little concerned you’d be walking out of the bar naked. “Fucking hell,” You moaned as he pushed a finger inside of you.

“So fucking tight for me. This pussy supposed to cheer me up?” You nodded, feeling your pleasure build as his thumb found your clit. “Might just do the job for me, darlin’.”

“Might?” You rolled your eyes. Rhett added another finger, silencing your complaints about his choice of words.

“Gonna fuck you against this door, make you scream so loud they call the fucking cops,” Rhett’s filthy mouth just added to your arousal. “You okay with that?” You knew he’d stop and take you home if you told him to but you didn’t want him to.

“You look good in handcuffs,” He did. It made bailing him out a little less annoying. Rhett didn’t stop fingering you until you cried out, orgasm washing over you.

“That’s my good girl,” Rhett kissed you, tapping your thigh, motioning for you to jump up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he wasn’t no time sliding into you, the burn of the stretch had you clawing at his back, moaning his name. “Let me hear you, darlin’. Let everyone in this bar know exactly whose girl you are.”

“Rhett,” You cried as he drew back before thrusting sharply, filling you completely. Rhett set a brutal pace, fucking you into the door so hard you thought it might break.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” It was impossible that someone hadn’t noticed what was going on by then. Between your cries of pleasure and the banging door, it would be a miracle if you didn’t open the door to find either the cops or a crowd waiting for you.

“Gonna cum,”

“Wait.” Rhett ordered, increasing the speed of his thrusts. You closed your eyes, fighting the overwhelming need to cum. Your composure was hanging on by a thread, you weren’t sure you could wait much longer but you’d try for him.

“Rhett, please,” You pleaded, digging your nails into his back. “Please, please, please!”

“Cum for me,” Rhett came with you. Your mind blanked as Rhett fucked you through your orgasm, turning you into an overstimulated mess. He didn’t stop though, not until you were crying, babbling his name.

Rhett dropped you to your feet softly, pressing gentle kisses across your face and neck, whispering sweet nothings. Even in your blissed out state of mind, you felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that Rhett’s bad mood was long gone.

“So fucking good for me,” He pulled off his flannel and dressed you in it. “Cheering me up like this.”

“Do anything for you,” You pulled him in for a kiss, “Love you.”

“Love you too, darlin’. Now let me take you home,” He got you dressed and gave you one more kiss before guiding you out of the bar. There were shouts and wolf whistles that had you burying your face in Rhett’s chest but he had a pep in his step, proud of himself.

Taglist: @wanderingsoul6261 @halflifejess @kyemna @alipap3 @yutangwl @teacupsandtopgun @glenpowellluver @closetspngirl @that-one-fangirl69 @starshinegrl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @sarah-bear706318 @shanimallina87 @atuman @carolina-on-my-mind03 @winelover27 @cherrycola27 @cevansbaby-dove @runawaybaby3 @helloitzholly

#bet writes #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #outer range

65 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

New Soul 3

Warnings: age gap, Auggy being a mean mean man, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. August Walker

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You focus on not moving. It’s hard to keep from squirming as turbulence shakes the plane and the seatbelt light flicks on. You buckle up and the plane shakes. You slap your hand down on the armrest, clutching a sleeve instead. You squeak and fold your arms over your middle as the man next to you growls.

Despite yourself, you can’t stay out of his way.

As the rattling winds continue to batter the airplane, you bring your fingertips to your mouth and chew nervously. You close your eyes and focus on keeping your breaths even. You jostle in the seat and bounce off the man’s arm. His low rumble is scarier than the unwieldy weather.

The light blips off and the pilot reassures you over the speaker. You keep your belt down up as the stranger unclasps his own and sighs. He leans his head back and closes his eyes. You hope he sleeps. It would make you less nervous if you couldn’t inadvertently annoy him.

He tries. You can sense the tension roiling from his large figure. He grips the armrest, then stretches his fingers, then squeezes again.

You only just recall the movie playing on the tiny screen as the credits roll. You exit the playback and pull out your headphones. You can’t focus on that right now.

You sit back and the man’s elbow brushes you as it overhands the plastic rest. You ignore it and lean into the wall of the plane. It’s chilly. You strain against the seat belt and try to make yourself small. He taps his fingertips and huffs.

The man on his other side snorts and snores, unbothered by the world around him. You envy that passenger. On your best days, sleep is a tall task.

You turn your head and do your best to block out the rows of people, yawning, chattering, coughing, and all of that. Only seven more hours...

✈

The plane lands but your destination is still far away. You don’t stand right away. You can wait. You’d rather be the last off than get in that man’s way again. You’re more relieved to be away from him than to be back on the ground.

At last, he sidles out of the row. You wait but the passenger in the row behind you waves you out. You’re not rude enough to refuse.

You come out into the aisle and reach up to grab your bag. You edge it out of the compartment but you’re unprepared for the weight. You nearly drop it, saving it from crashing down though not without knocking into the man’s back. You cringe as he grunts.

You wait. He doesn’t say anything. He just keeps going. You exhale and follow a few paces back. You go down the ramp and come out into the bright terminal. Free... sort of.

There’s still a maze laid out between you and dorm. Customs, a taxi ride, and check-in. You have it all in your head but the more you try to keep it all in order, the more of a mess you become.

At the customs counter, you drop your folder as send a splash of papers across the floor. After gathering them up with the last of your dignity, you’re let through and the next obstacle awaits you. You could try the underground but a taxi is more direct and less crowded. So you think.

You go outside and find the pavement crowded with new arrivals and departures; some waving for a cab, others hurrying in with their bags. You’re stuck in the shuffle, hidden in the bodies as you try to flag down a ride of your own.

You push through the horde and try to find somewhere sparser. Somewhere you won’t be trampled. You see a black cab and flail desperately as you run up to it, your bag tumbling around behind you. Before you can reach it, the door opens and you collide with the man’s suitcase, your own rolling free of your grasp.

Oh no. What are the chances?

The man keeps his hand on the door and sneers down his nose. He collapses the handle on his bag as the driver comes around to take it. He shoos the man and points to your fallen suitcase.

“Ladies first.” He snarls.

The driver nods and grabs your bag before you can react. As he tucks it into the trunk, you’re seized by your elbow and directed over the curb. You catch yourself on the door and glance over your shoulder at the large man.

“You heard me.” He growls and shoves you.

Your arms give out and you hit the seat. You barely drag your tangled carry-on in behind you as he sits without waiting. You just manage to get out of his way as he does.

“What are you doing--” You squeak, confused.

“You're in my way,” he snarls and turns his head slowly.

“I-- I’m sorry--”

The drive gets in and you choke on your words. The man leans forward and pauses. He gestures to you. “Where?”

The blunt question makes you flinch. You don’t know what to do. At least he isn’t taking you somewhere strange, still, you don’t think you should be giving out your address.

He sighs and snatches your bag, sliding free the folder as it peeks out from the open zipper. He filters through it and pulls out a paper and reads of the dorm building address. Shoot.

“Yes, sir,” the driver replies and eases out into the line of cabs.

#august walker #dark august walker #dark!august walker #august walker x reader #series #new soul #drabble #au #mission impossible: fallout

146 notes · View notes

vulturv0lans · 1 year ago

Note

hiiii lovely! can i please request a dom!brattamer!diluc smut in which the sub!fem!brat!reader has been teasing him all day on shift at the winery and being a massive brat, so he decides to punish her by teasing her back and eventually fucking her behind the bar? and bonus points for choking + leaving marks! thank you sm, have a good rest of ur day! ^-^ <3

sorry if its a big request :>

ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀʜᴏᴜʀꜱ (ᴅɪʟᴜᴄ)

eeeek a request!! this is my first time writing & publishing smut hope u enjoy hehe sorry it took so long!!

listening to azeru's audios while writing has its benefits <3 anyway i think i might need some holy water after this

tags: dom!diluc, sub!reader, brat taming, oral, semi-public, choking, marking, creampie, rough & spicy & kinky but soft at the end because i want it to

word count: 3.3k (oops)

requests open!

diluc swallows thickly as you saunter across the room, hair a little too bouncy on your shoulders and chest pushed up a little too high out of the neckline of your shirt, your eyes dancing a little too tantalizingly from patron to patron, lingering a second too long on the intoxicated figures drooling over you, before landing squarely on his with a knowing smile.

you've been doing this all day, and the clock cannot strike midnight fast enough. for the past few hours, all diluc can think of is throwing you against the wall and teaching you a lesson about teasing him in public, or wearing less revealing clothes around useless drunks, for that matter.

but several of them still remain, and he cannot close the bar for another good thirty minutes. even though most of the crowd has thinned out, the room reeks of alcohol and sweat, and there is nothing he wants to do more than physically throwing everyone out the door.

no, he must wait.

the knuckles that gripped the bar counter turn white from the pressure, and he takes several deep breaths to maintain his composure. you ignore the antics of the drunk customers, though, expertly dodging the haphazardly placed stools on the floor and opening the latch on the door that clearly says "employees only", before coming to a stop next to him.

the air is filled with the scent of you and diluc feels lightheaded from the sudden lack of oxygen. you support yourself with both hands on the counter, and he has to force his eyes away from the perfect shape of your breasts, now almost threatening to spill out of your low-cut top with the way you're leaning over the bar.

"do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

you jump slightly at his sudden proximity to you, but his words send a delightful shiver down your spine nonetheless. so you feign innocence.

"i can't say i know what you're talking about."

diluc huffs in frustration and shifts out from behind you to serve a customer, and your feel the cold now that his presence is gone. still, the thought of rendering your lover helpless in front of the patrons is too exciting to pass up. when you notice a plastic cup on the floor next to diluc's feet that must've missed the previous night's cleaning, a bright idea pops into your mind.

glancing around to make sure no one is paying attention to your forthcoming disappearance, you shuffle closer to him and bend down, pretending to care enough about the cleanliness of the bar. but your hand stop short of the cup and reach for his legs instead, earning a surprised gasp from diluc before crimson eyes are glaring down at you.

"what do you think you're doing?" he hisses, only loud enough under the music and chatter for you to hear.

you blink innocently at him, but your hands don't just stop at his knees. they snake higher and higher until you grab ahold of his belt, expertly undoing the buckle and slowly pulling the fabric down his legs, stopping only when the evidence of his arousal is clear and present before your eyes.

large hands roughly grip yours before you have time to make another move, a dangerous look in his eyes intended to halt your actions only spurring you on further. you wriggle free from his grasp to gently trace the outline of his erection through his boxers, until a small wet patch stains the fabric and he inhales deeply through his nose.

you giggle quietly at his current state. kneeling down on the floor under the bar counter and settling back onto your heels, your nimble fingers hook under the waistband and finally free his aching cock from its confinements. you almost drool at the sight before you, feeling dampness pooling in your own pants.

if he really hates this so much, he would've stopped you a long time ago. you take his inaction as encouragement and lick a bold stripe up his length, earning another sharp inhale from him. you get to work almost straight away, closing your tinted lips around him until he hits the back of your throat.

you groan at the taste of him, the slight vibration making his body tighten under your hold. thankful for the music that drowns out his heavy breaths and the lewd sounds of your mouth, you swirl your tongue around his tip and the thick veins, feeling the warmth of him filling up every part of you.

you'd be lying if you say you hadn't dreamt of this, teasing and milking him dry all without a way for him to seek revenge, at least not until later.

the neckline of your shirt stretches as it gets pulled down lower, until your breasts are out on full display under him. his knee buckles at the sight, and he almost cums right there when you let go of his cock with a wet pop, before settling his length between the valley of your breasts.

your lips wrap around his tip once again as you start moving, the smooth skin on your chest now glistening with a mixture of your spit and his pre-cum. you take more of him into your mouth with his every thrust, pressing your tits together tighter around him. it isn't long until he is a mess above you, knuckles even whiter than before as he desperately tries to hold on to whatever little composure he has remaining.

he is so close, so close to spilling his seed all over your tits and that pretty face of yours. oh how he longs to see you covered in his cum-

and then you stop. right as he is nearing his climax, you release him from your mouth and pull your shirt back up over your chest, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before pulling his own pants up as well, as if nothing happened at all.

he is almost furious. but there's only so much he can do in his current position, cock red and angry and leaking from lost pleasure, and he shoos the remaining patrons out of his bar with harsher words than usual, despite it not being time to close yet. the second the last customer steps out and you turn the lock, your body is shoved up against the wood and his mouth is on yours, tugging harshly at your bottom lip.

you moan into him, finally getting a moment alone after fantasizing about this all day. diluc doesn't seem to share your excitement, however. his hands are rough on your body, firmly settling them on the round of your ass and lifting you up effortlessly.

you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you over to the counter, his lips continuing their assault on yours before moving down to the nape of your neck, roughly sucking at the sensitive skin. your core tightens at the sensation, knowing that you'd have to cover the marks with makeup for days to come. still, you're too engrossed in him to care.

when he finally breaks from you, lips swollen and eyes half closed, you know you're in for a ride tonight.

"what did i say about teasing me like that in public?" he whispers darkly into your ear, and you shiver at his hot breath on your skin.

"don't act like you didn't enjoy it-"

before you can even finish your words, a large hand wraps around your throat and you're forced to swallow the rest of your sentence, yet the wet patch in your panties only grows.

he resumes his assault on your neck, trailing his lips lower until he reaches your chest. mumbling something along the words of "get this off", your shirt roughly tugged below your chest to expose your breasts, nipples hardening in the cold air.

it's his turn to tease you now, to teach you a lesson about disobeying him.

he latches his mouth onto your breast, but instead of licking and swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud, it's all teeth and biting. you throw your head back, the pain soon turning into pleasure.

it's getting too warm in this room, and you need to feel his skin on yours, now.

you reach to unbutton his shirt, but nothing escapes diluc as he pins your wrists down to your sides.

no touching until you learn your lesson.

he tuts, and you whine in response, growing frustrated at the unfairness.

diluc doesn't seem to care, only releasing your breast when he feels satisfied. the skin is red and teeth marks litter the soft skin, but you barely have time to register it before your shorts are slipped down your legs, leaving you exposed in only your panties.

he chucks the denim aside in disdain. "you're almost begging people to stare at your ass in these," he grunts and forces your legs open with his knee, "is that what you want? for all those men to look at you?"

you give your head a hard shake, wanting so desperately to close your legs and relieve the pressure but with his built body settled squarely in between them, you can only dream.

a finger comes to rest below your chin, tilting your head and forcing you to look at him,

“use your words.”

"no! that's not what i-"

once again your sentence is cut short as his lips unexpectedly latch around your most sensitive area. your body jolts at the sudden pleasure, but it ends all too soon.

he runs a finger up your folds through the soaked fabric of your panties, enjoying your pathetic whimpers, "so wet already. getting off on people catching us, hm?"

you shift your weight, trying to pull him closer, but he merely hums in response as he presses kisses to your inner thighs, their softness a stark contrast to the dark hunger in his eyes.

you don't know how long he spends paying attention to everywhere but where you want him, but by the time he finally pulls your panties aside and licks up the length of your core, you almost explode right there. he groans at the taste of you, and before you even have time to react to the delicious vibrations, a finger is inside you and you see stars behind your eyelids.

the ministrations of his tongue do not stop as he pumps his hand in and out, soon adding another finger and curling them upwards to reach that one particular spot. he can feel you clenching around him, and despite wanting nothing more than to feel your tightness around his cock instead, bad girls don't deserve to cum just yet. and he knows that.

every moan and whimper out of your swollen lips is more higher pitched than the last, and diluc knows you're close. all the words in your head have been replaced with his name and mindless begging, and you can only repeatedly whisper cute little please's at him, hoping that asking nicely would get you what you want.

but diluc has other ideas in mind.

just as you're about to reach your high, he abruptly pulls back and withdraws his fingers. a mix of emotions washes over you, frustration, desperation, and downright horniness longing for something other than his fingers inside of you, now. your eyes start to water as he leans back and admires your current state with a proud smirk. you’re propped up on your elbows with matching littered marks and bruises on your neck and inner thighs, legs spread wide open and glistening with your arousal, your pussy pathetically clenching around nothing as you desperately chase your high.

"diluc, please," you breathe out, tears betraying your resolution to remain composed. you feel your orgasm fade with every passing second and you’re clawing at every chance to reach it again.

"please what?" he teases in a singsong voice, lifting his hand to your mouth and you obey almost too quickly, swirling your tongue around the fingers that were just coated with your own taste.

you hide your face in his shoulder, suddenly too embarrassed to confess all the dirty thoughts racing through your head, all the things you want him to do to you, whatever dominance you had established with that sloppy blowjob under the bar counter long dissipated like the wind.

seeing no response, diluc draws back a little and lifts your chin with one hand, forcing your tear stained eyes to look up at him. slowly, he leans down and presses a languid kiss to your lips without breaking eye contact, and for a moment you thought he has finally had his share of fun being mean to you.

this is where you’d be wrong, of course.

his teeth catch on your bottom lip as he breaks away, tugging a little too harshly and earning a moan from you before you could stop it. the corners of his own lips curl up in a sly grin as a firm hand slides up your chest before coming to a rest around your neck, and your eyes widen.

“use. your words.”

the letters tumble out of his mouth and directly into yours, the fingers around your throat tightening slightly until every last bit of rationality is squeezed out of your brain.

“i want you.”

he grunts with what can only be described as satisfaction and excitement, but his hand remains closed around your throat.

“you’re gonna have to be more specific than that, baby.”

your pussy is aching with arousal, craving for something - anything to fill you up, bringing you back to that euphoria you were so senselessly robbed of.

“i want you to fuck my pussy so good i can’t walk in the morning,” you blurt out with a pathetic sob, “i want you to fuck me like i’m your little toy, please, diluc, want you to fill me up!”

he lets out a low growl, composure and patience running out as he finally snaps his hips into you, bottoming out without even giving you a moment to adjust. your head falls back and you cry out at the sudden pleasure. you feel so full. so blissfully full as his cock slides in and out of your walls, fitting so perfectly inside you like missing puzzle pieces.

he starts moving in slow, long strokes, reaching deep inside you and hitting that one spot with every thrust. your hands roam each others’ bodies like animals starved for days, and your skin is on fire. diluc reaches for the hem of your shirt and you comply a little too quickly, raising your arms so he could rip it off of you and finally free your breasts from the constraint of your bra.

despite the heat of the moment, he takes a second to admire your body, so perfect before him. your breasts pushed against each other in your lacy bra, and he doesn’t waste anymore time before running his hand down its smooth curve, until a nipple is freed from its constraints. he moans out as if he wasn’t just sucking on them a few minutes ago, as if he hasn’t seen you naked plenty of times already.

he was planning on saying something sappy at the sight before his eyes, but a sudden clench of your walls around his length makes him jump with pleasure.

you can wave goodbye to whatever sentimental words he had in his mind, the warmth and tightness of your pussy replacing all of his thoughts with a primal, burning desire to fuck you stupid.

diluc quickens his pace, his hands doing fast work unclasping the hook of your bra before moving down to rub rough circles on your clit. you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his back in a feeble attempt to bring him even closer, even deeper. the air is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the lewd noise almost making you tighten even more.

“fuck. do that again.”

he seethes through his teeth, and you obey, clenching repeatedly around him until you are close to your own release.

diluc must’ve sensed it, too. his hand makes it way back up your stomach, past your perky tits bouncing with each thrust, and firmly settles around your neck again.

you’re reduced to a blubbering mess as he tightens his grip while maintaining fast, steady thrusts, the lack of oxygen somehow fuelling your arousal even more.

“is this what you wanted? to be fucked and choked like this?”

you nod fervently, the tip of his cock hitting your spot over and over again until you almost see stars.

“do you want to cum?”

if you nodded any faster you’re sure you would’ve broken your neck. the coil in your stomach is tightened to an impossible amount that you feel it might burst at any moment.

“do you think you deserve to cum?”

you let out a breathy whimper, avoiding his question.

“answer.”

his hand tightens again as a warning, and you shake your head - as much as you could in your submissive position.

satisfied with your answer, diluc finally loosens his grip and you gasp for air. seeing this as your opportunity, you clench down on him, hard.

a line of curses splutter past his lips as he almost cummed first from your vice-like grip on his cock, the embarrassment soon turning into anger as he fucks you even faster, harder, until you’re almost passed out from the pleasure.

you’re so close. if he just touched you-

a harsh slap landed on your clit and you jolt. this is not what you had in mind, but it’s surely getting you where you need to be nonetheless, if not faster. seeing this side of diluc is a bigger turn on than almost anything else, which is what prompted you to tease him in the first place.

he can barely hold back anymore. your hands are slipping on the counters, trying to hold onto anything as you near your release.

“cum for me baby, i want to hear you.”

that’s all the permission you needed as the coil inside you snaps, powerful pleasure washing over you and rendering you helpless as you shake uncontrollably, juices dripping down the counter onto the hardwood floors and the sheer force of your orgasm pushing his cock out, your face contorted with pleasure. the sight of your pussy, still squirting and clenching from your release, makes his head so clouded that he can only think of one thing, and he roughly thrusts into your sensitive hole again without second thought.

a few more sloppy thrusts and he’s cumming deep inside you, his cock spurting thick ropes of cum to the rhythm of your clenching as you come down from your high. the air is filled with a harmony of both your moans as he collapses on top of you, completely spent after the hour of rough sex.

you lay limp on the counter, head still reeling from your high. if a man of his stamina and strength is exhausted, just imagine your pathetic fucked-out state.

but you’re happy. perhaps a little too happy at finally being brought to your release, and soon that sensation is amplified as diluc slowly pulls out and you feel the warmth of his cum dripping out of your abused pussy.

you remain still for a few moments, legs still pressed against your chest and your heat exposed to the air, which is now hot and humid from your activities. it’s a sight diluc wishes to have imprinted on his mind for the rest of his life.

he leans down to kiss you, gently this time, smoothing out the hairs stuck to your skin. coming down from his high, he breaks and kiss and leans his forehead against yours,

“are you alright?”

you nod, a blissful smile on your lips, and he has never seen a more beautiful sight.

“i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too, diluc.”

diluc m.list | m.list | rules | inbox

#luna writes ☽#genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #diluc smut #diluc x reader

504 notes · View notes

bitebitesnap · 3 months ago

Text

Take a Moment, Lead My Hand (Ingo/Reader)

A moment of reprieve gives you second thoughts.

(Notes: Fem Reader, Emmet/Reader/Ingo suggested)

(A/N, I sat on this long enough. This was supposed to be short but here we are.)

word count: 4900

“Ingo?”

He hums, pen scratching across a document. His eyes are on the page, reading each line carefully, yet his head tilts away from the page just so, towards you.

You fiddle with the strap of your bag sitting between your legs. The dim glow of Chandelure reflects in the black plastic buckles as a faint purple glow while she hangs above your head. A soft aura of whispers mutters sweet nothings into the air as she sleeps. She'd hung herself in the dip where an old chandelier used to be, removed a long time ago before the twins arrived. It was a favored sleeping spot of hers whenever she waited for Emmet to take his shift.

Your own Ghastly had made himself comfortable, resting behind your head in the shade of your hair. The cool lick of phantom flames rolls through your skin, flickering dim shades of violet through thin slits in your hair. Used to it, instead you focus on your hands as they twiddle nervously.

The silence seemed to finally catch his attention. The scratch of ink slowed to a stop as you roll and unroll the woven piece in your fingers, twirling it around a digit and pulling it loose. The question of your name lifts your eyes.

For a moment the two of you lock eyes. He stares at you, frown pulled down further and brow furrowed-a deep shadow coats under the brim of his cap, his silver eyes stark against the near black strip. Your face is no better, pensive, strap curled around your fingers as a bracelet of nerves.

Finally you sigh, dropping your gaze to your hands, “So..” You start with a hard swallow, “You know that I'm going into the champions road tomorrow, right?” You glance away to sit up straighter, rubbing the unwrapped hand under your nose before going back to fiddling.

Ghastly stirs as he rolls around your neck. A lick of cool violet haze grazes up the side of your neck as the pokemon rolls itself upright. He's still not quite awake yet and instead chooses to prop his face up against the back of your head.

Ingo's eyes narrow in thought as he hums, “Yes. If I recall correctly you'll be off to your destination in the morning. Is there something wrong?“

Your eyes flick to him for a moment before dropping back to your hands, ”It;s…well.“ The strap tangles up in your fingers, wrapping too tightly before you sigh sharply and tug it loose, ”I've gone through the single and double lines a lot. Don't think I'll be needing to do it again.”

“Yes you have. In fact you've also gone through the multiples line quite a few times too. A disturbing amount when I think about it.“ One of his hands raises to press his fist against his chin as he glances towards the file cabinets behind his desk, ”Last I checked, you've gone down the Singles 23 times, Doubles 19, and Multi line at 15 times. The only reason you stopped the multiple was due to conflicting schedules.“ He looks at the clock on the wall, ”Because of tomorrow, even.“

You nod, ”Yeah. Yeah sounds right.“ You swallow, palms slick on the belt. It starts to twist more around your fingers as your attention drifts more inward. You aren't looking at the straps of the bag, you're not feeling the slow cold chill rising up your neck. You're not noticing anything beyond the curdling in your stomach slowly rising up into your chest and turning into a bad case of heartburn.

The champions road. The final stretch of your journey as a pokemon trainer. It's been a long time coming, over a year counting today. By this time last year you started as a rookie, collecting your starter from the professor to head out into the world. It was odd how a young woman like you hadn't at least tried to be a trainer in your youth, but you simply couldn't find the time. School, moving and the struggles of adult life filled the days and any free time you had was spent trying to calm down before going back in to start all over again. Becoming a pokemon trainer had just slipped right by.

And then-

Your name rumbling in his low voice snaps you out of your thoughts again. Startled you look up with a sharp, “Huh-?”

Ingo had left his desk. Instead, he now kneels just before you, hand over a thigh as he sits on one knee. The persistent frown is tilted down further into a concerned scowl as he looks you over, “You seem to be unable to remain on your tracks. I have been trying to speak to you for the past few minutes but you haven't answered. Is there a complication on your rails?“ His head tilts, silver eyes flickering over your face carefully.

It takes you a moment to decipher exactly what he meant but once you do your eyes immediately flit away, ”Um, yeah uh, just distracted.“

Those deep, intense eyes narrow, ”Are you sure? That seems to be an understatement, given you have been tangling your hand into your bag strap for the past half hour now.“

You look down at your hands. He's right-your hand is firmly entangled in the strap to the point the pressure is cutting circulation to your fingers. The numbness makes you cringe as you tug at the knots that somehow formed despite you having been wrapping it around your palm in circles, ”Oh I did not want to do that-shit it's on there, isn't it? Crap-shit-ack! How does it knot up like this when I wasn't trying to make it do that!?“ You angrily mutter to yourself while trying-and failing-to unknot the betraying piece of woven polyester and plastic now knit right into your flesh like a tumor.

While you flailed about in attempt to finagle the thing off Ingo sighs. A larger, warmer hand takes the one trying to dig into the knots and pulls it away, ”Stop your gears, you're making it worse. Pulling on it haphazardly isn;t going to unravel a tangle this bad.“ He takes your wrapped up hand in his free one, the other rubbing his thumb into your palm before letting go to pull on a particular loop in the knot, ”You must start where the loose string leads into the knot. There you can find where it pulls out, then repeat until the tangle unravels itself.“

He spends some time tugging you loose from the tangle you'd placed yourself in. You couldn't look him in the eye-he'd only been watching from the side recently, you were the one who got yourself into this mess. It was your inattention, your lack of control that forced him to intervene. He could be doing his work but you had dragged him into your mess instead.

Was this how your battles went? Is your control that bad? Were you so lacking in such a basic skill that your own team had to step in to fill in the blanks? So many times had your Ghastly acted without your command, your Hypnos firing moves before you could speak. Was it because they knew how useless your skills were and they were acting in your stead-?

The sharp bark of your name rips you out of your thoughts and you look up directly into silver eyes. Ingo had leaned in closer, the brim of his cap brushing over your forehead at his proximity. A rush of his scent hits your lungs-something warm, refreshing as a summer's day, sparking with a heat like a spiced dish that could only be whatever soap he used to shave that morning. Yet it retained a soothing undertone, calm as rain, something you could only describe as Ingo.

Once he was sure he had your attention he sighed, looking back to the knot on your hand, ”It has been quite some time since you started this track, hasn't it?“

You blink, ”Huh?“ Is all you can say-the sudden tone shift had you reeling again, already off kilter from your own mental spiral, “W-What do you mean?” You try to collect yourself, focused on how his fingers worked the strap around your palm.

“The Championship. You've been building steam to this destination for a long time, correct?” At your dumbfounded nod he continued, “Your efforts resulted in you completing the other gyms within a year, building your team, all during your routine career at the post office. Am I correct?“

”Um.“ Your eyes flit around, trying to figure out why he was bringing this up, ”Yeah. I-uh-had a lot of trouble since the post office always had other trainers around sending letters out, so I had to-um-do my training late at night-“

“After hours. Usually in the dark, with only Ghastly as your lantern, yes?” He interrupts you as he unravels your wrist, “I may not have trained one myself, but I know their light isn't as strong as a Chandelure's or Lampent's. It must have been a struggle to see what your pokemon were doing with such poor lighting conditions.“

Your face scrunches in confusion, “No it wasn;t, but Match did his best to keep the light going. It took a lot out of him to make sure that I could see out there so late.” Matchstick must have finally been awake, as a cool lick of flame rolled up your scalp in the way he used to pseudo-pat your head. You glanced over while he rolled over a shoulder with a yawning wail.

Ingo watched the pokemon unfurl himself from your hair with a slow blink. The shadow over his face heightened the depth of his eyes, making them pools of silver in blackness-like stars in the night sky. A fervent lavender glow flickered in his gaze as the pokemon hovered closer, insatiably curious of all manners human.

You too watched your teammate bobble up to the subway boss with interest, ”Is…Why are you asking me about that? Didn;t I tell you about it a while back?“ You ask, nibbling your lip nervously.

”Yes. You did tell me once, a long time ago now. Before we officially linked cars, even.“ If he noticed you blushing he didn't say anything about it as he finally unwinds your hand. With the strap now safely removed he sets it aside and turns his attention to the ghost putting around his shoulder. A glint of lavender bathes his pale features in it's ghostly glow as his hands come up under the ghost as if to hold him, just below his spectral flame, ”You also spoke of Harken, how his psychic abilities keep him the main offensive car on your track. Is he still training with Haxorus? I have yet to see him in combat recently.“ He relays the whole of his thoughts while running gloved hands underneath Match's flames, as if inspecting their intensity.

You glanced at the bag now sitting on the chair beside his desk, “Yeah, well, I don't use him much for the battle lines. I don't want him distracted-not that the battle lines aren't good for training!” He raised a brow at your frantic waving, not pulling his gaze away from the fire for a moment, “I-it's just, well, I can't have him being too worked up for the championship. Because, I mean, you've seen how he gets when facing Haxorus. Sometimes I'm worried he's going to tear the train apart.”

He hums, “Yes I have. But I wouldn't put so little faith in him to lose control like that.” He turns Matchstick over in his hands, the pokemon rolling around like a queuball with little murmurs of enjoyment, “He wouldn't dare destroy your house if he was training in the backyard, would he?”

You blink, pausing the nervous scratch on your neck,“No? He's-He's never done any damage anywhere he wasn't supposed to. Why are you asking-“

”And what of Switchblade? Has he still decided to revolt against you or did he gain control over himself once he understood your intention? I've heard Bisharp are difficult to control once they evolve, and I am sure you aren't a weak trainer and can correct his course from that track, yes?“ Ingo simply ran over you with his words. He wasn't even looking at you, intent to study Matchstick's flames as if he was a crystal ball.

An annoyed puff blows away a strand of hair, "Yes, of course he did. I'm the one who told you he gave up last year and even started training with Havok." Why was he even talking about this? It was old news, half of it he even knew before you did so why was he talking like you were too stupid to figure it out.

"Speaking of, Havok hasn't been giving you trouble anymore has he? Banette are notorious for being troublemakers, no doubt you've struggled to keep her in line during battle before." His voice was insufferably patient. He didn't look at you at all, still inspecting Ghastly like he'd find something wrong, a fracture in his core or flicker in his fire.

Frustration welled in your chest. He was a master of ghost types in his youth, most of those skills he'd passed onto you when you met. It was him who inspired you to grow after a chance encounter during his disembark of the Singles line. The crowds had been especially dense that day, but they parted like an ocean tide as he passed you, grey eyes flicking to the erratic dance of your Ghastly while you stood in the middle of the crowd like an idiot trying to get him to stop circling you. He spoke with you about how Ghost types were an unruly group that needed special care and training, too little would leave them with too much energy.

He did admit later that he was a bit uncouth with how he simply butted into your affairs without warning, but you'd embraced it-though you did get mad at him for calling you out. He was right, you weren't training him because he was your first pokemon, a gift from your grandfather after he passed. You had no idea what you were doing, barley able to keep him in his ball without a fight. It was Ingo who'd taken him aside for one moment, seemingly listening to his rambling whispers before he turned to you again to say that he simply didn't like his pokeball.

The way Ghastly looked at you made you more mad. Of course even a placid grin could look at you like you were the idiot here.

From there he'd introduced you to his twin, then the battle lines. He helped you understand your partner better than anyone else-not through words or guidebooks. but action. While he didn't make you take either battle line, he did give you his number and schedule you to meet up with him later for a mock battle. He didn't have more than one pokemon on him then and he didn't even have to try to knock out your own.

But he didn't just move on. He stayed. He helped you figure out how to use your pokemon in battle, what his moves meant, how to assess the battlefield. Your continued meet ups meant more time together, leading into him helping you catch Havok, a Hypnos that had decided to battle you before he'd gotten there. It was him who told you why Havok attacked you, that pokemon sometimes attacked trainers because they recognize their strength and want to become stronger themselves.

Without him you wouldn't have been convinced to even try to be a pokemon trainer. He'd given you everything to start working on your confidence to even begin wondering how to conquer his line let alone the trails of a pokemon trainer.

Now he was acting as if you knew nothing again. Like all the progress you'd made was gone in the instant you sat down, that if he looked hard enough he'd see the dimness in Ghastly's flames showing a lack in power only a poorly maintained Ghost type would have. He was acting like you were some child he'd just met who didn't even know their own pokemon's abilities outside of strength.

Frustration boiled into anger. You spent so long getting to this point. All the hours, the days spent in the rain out on trails looking for pokemon to spar with, the nights where you'd let them pummel each other under cover of darkness to vent out their frustrations. Years battling your own self worth until it somewhat looked presentable enough to be blown into a facsimile of confidence-now here he was trying to pull it down from the bottom like a house of cards. You'd heard of the subway bosses being cruel, and Emmet you could see, but never would you imagine that Ingo would stoop to this level of meanness.

Rage boils and boils until it has nowhere to go. In your anger you knocked your pokemon right out of his hands to make him look at you, ”What are you even talking about!? I'm not stupid, I know how my pokemon work! Why would you even say that!?" Worked up as you were a flush of heat rolled up your neck, straining over your eyes like a migraine ready to pop as you jabbed a finger into his chest while he just stared at you blankly, "Do you think I can't control them?! Do you think I'm still some wannabe trainer who's barely got her feet wet?! Is that it-!?”

He snatched your hands in one of his own before you could continue, “Then why do you have such little faith in your team? You trained them, as you said, what makes you think they're incapable?” He holds your wrists together with a forefinger and thumb like a shackle to him, brow raised as he sharply leans into your space.

You startle at his gall. Deep, intense silver eyes glare from beneath the brim of his cap, cutting you to the bone and robbing you of your anger, “Um. I-I'm not-”

“You believe they aren't able to accomplish the goal you set. To ignore the efforts they take to complete their training to give you the best they have to offer, working in the dark with dim light, fighting against stronger opponents-is an insult to everything they do for you." His voice is like a sharp cold wind, shoving you towards the drop off the cliff you'd made from false bravado. With each word he tugs you closer to the edge. A sea of doubts and fears laps at your feet, coalesced from years of bottling and tossing them to the deepest reaches of your soul until this moment.

“But-I-” You floundered, struggling to hold onto the precipice he now dangled you off of, “I-I'm not doing that! I just don't think we're ready! If we don't make it this year then next year I'll-”

“And have all that you worked for mean nothing?” Again he shakes you by the wrists, gently but firmly enough to return you to the present, to his biting words that shove you closer into that deep abyss, “You drive them to train in strenuous conditions and retake our battle lines. What is the effort for if not to take them to the destination you've shown them? If it's not in their reach, why have them chase it? I will tell you, it is not from lack of training.“

And he leans in further, face stern, eyes narrowing as his voice drops to a mutter, “The very station you set to reach is out of your grasp, not because your pokemon are not ready, but because you simply are too afraid to leave the one you've come to.”

You balk. A cold flush dropped into the pit of your stomach as he pushed you off the cliff you'd failed to grasp. He was right-how long had you been at this? How many days had you driven them to train until none of them could stand anymore-how many of those days were you worn out yourself? The amount of times you'd taken the battle lines would make even the most seasoned trainer blush in embarrassment by now. How would anyone think they weren't ready for the challenge?

You could. Years of bottling up insecurities, ignoring the painful sting of defeat with the lie of maybe getting better-the consequence of paranoia it caused. Sure, you could grow as a trainer, strengthen your bonds to your pokemon-but it couldn't wash away the growing panic inside as the possibility of Champion drew closer and closer.

And now it was almost reality. All the fears, little paranoid dreams of failure and mockery were at the surface. You covered the water's mirror face with as much bravado and excuses as you could find. It would be easy, just a few more rounds to be sure. The training was almost done, but one more train ride would be just enough to finish it. Just one more day, one more training session, one more battle line win.

Everything-anything to avoid the reality that you might fail. And everything you worked for would be for nothing. Years of training, wasted on the truth that you were and always had been a failure.

It was too much. His intense eyes, his frown deepened. You couldn't look at him any longer, bowing your head while biting your lip. And you stayed like that, him staring at you while you simply sat there like a scolded child from overthinking yourself into a stupor.

Matchstick warbled in the air beside your ear. Wherever you'd smacked him to he must have just now got back, being a slow flier and all. Your gaze shifted to him while his black eyes seemed to study you silently. He wasn't even phased from your smack-he'd always been real sturdy. Whatever conclusion he reached his cold flame crackled into your hair as he tilted his face into your cheek with a soft murmur.

Tears threatened to fall. The tight ball in your chest unraveled just a bit. Ingo lets your wrists go as you reach up to hold the ghost closer to you, ”It seems Match has heard what you were worried about. Not a subtle thing, is he?“ The light amusement in his voice slowly pulls you out of your self contained misery.

It was really stupid when you thought about it. He was right-you had worked with them for years now. Maybe you hadn't meant to get into the championship initially, but hard work had gotten you this far. They gave you everything they had, breaking themselves to pieces to become what you needed.

He was cruel about how he worded it, perhaps, but he wasn't incorrect. It was just his way of reminding you of what really mattered-making the attempt with everything you had. Even if you didn't win, would it really matter if your team had given you their all? Would it matter if you'd spent so much time fighting, training, growing together just to make it here?

You can feel his stare on your face before he softly sighs, ”(Y/N),“ He mutters, voice gentle, ”I know you are afraid. This is quite the large step in your tracks and many have fallen before they reach it, but you have. You spent so much time training, learning and befriending your pokemon until they oiled their gears as a team. Their cars are linked to yours as you lead them into a bright future, one where they can stand at the highest peak and be the best of Unova-if only for a while.“ The edges of his hard frown lighten, turning upwards just a bit, ”Without you, they'd still be wild. Fighting on their own with less of a chance to evolve. Yet here they are, at the top of their game and able to break Emmet's record of losses-something I still hear about.“

You stifle a snort as he laughs under his breath. The image of Emmet grousing to his twin about losing is always a spectacle-last time he complained for an hour straight. Mostly because you'd won more than three times in a row and he was still sour, which he told you to your very smug face.

His smile softens as he sets a hand on your knee, ”(Y/N), as subway bosses we are aware of one singular truth, we cannot be the best in every battle. To win every time is to lose everything-one cannot learn to grow stronger by accomplishment alone. Avoiding loss is to avoid crucial knowledge that could send you to your next destination on the track of your life.“ He reaches back to your bag as he takes your hand, setting it at your feet ”So please, don't be afraid to fail. This is an important accomplishment to gain, but, it isn't a crime to lose either.”

You look down to the strap he sets in your hand. You rub your thumb into it in thought-maybe you had been overthinking it for too long. Was it the championship? Sure, but who else besides you had tried it, who else had been in the same place as you? Probably plenty of other people had won or lost, but in the end it didn;t matter, did it?

Emmet said it once. It's just a title on a piece of paper.

You snort a bit, “I guess you're right. It's just-well,” A bit of redness warms your cheeks as you fiddle with the strap again, not wrapping it around your hand this time, “I'm just stupid for worrying so much about it.”

“It's not stupid to be concerned of a challenge ahead. You're not stupid for worrying about it either, so don't let your tracks take your thoughts there again.” He gets to his feet, heading back to his desk before pausing, “Erm, and I…well.” Now it was his turn to be bashful as his eyes flicked to you for a moment before darting to the side, “I do apologize if I came across as too much, then. You just worry me when you go down these destructive tracks.”

You try not to snicker as you watch him study his twins desk with forced interest-clearly trying to take notes on organization from Emmet and not to avoid your gaze, “I know. Thank you for worrying. And I'm sorry for losing it on you, I know I've got anger issues.” He hums in acknowledgement as you let Matchstick squirm out of your hand before you stand up, hoisting your bag over your shoulder, “In that case I should probably start stocking up on potions and sprays before it gets dark. The pokecenter closes in a few hours and I'd like to have everyone ready for tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes. That's likely your best option for today.” Ingo adjusts his cap while sitting down, then looks up just as you pass, “But before you go tomorrow, please make a stop at our apartment. I will have something ready for you to take to the championship.”

You turn to him just as you reach the door, “Is it cookies? Did you bake again?”

A small twitch threatens to break his very serious scowl he aims at you, “Very funny. I'll be sure to include your astute review of Emmet's cooking skills in the morning-after he stops complaining about another loss.”

Your grin is smug as a Purrloin, “Can you give him a kiss for me~?”

“You can give it to him yourself when you get there in the morning. Now shoo, I have paperwork to finish and you're distracting.” He waves a gloved hand in your vague direction as he turns his attention back to the papers he'd left behind, clearly a little irked again by what he was reading.

A wheezing laugh whistles through your smile, Match hissing with you just over your shoulder. But before you open the door you make a quick jaunt back to his desk, grabbing his cheek to peck him on the temple, “Later, Ingo. Enjoy all of that.” You wiggle your fingers in the direction of the paper reading 'Time Schedule' while he grumbles under his breath, but you catch the start of a beautiful pink flush over his ears as he tugs his cap down over his face just before you depart with a bounce in your step.

In the morning when you knock on their door you're accosted by a frustrated younger twin who bullies you into the kitchen while the elder hands you a bag of revives and poison cures. His cap aside, button up shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he convinces you to stay just long enough for breakfast. Meanwhile his twin argues that no, a Mold Breaker trait isn't a fair way to battle and is verry much cheating-a leering smile directed at his not at all ashamed brother who just shrugs and tells him to do better.

When Emmet finally is shut up by you pulling him into a kiss, his twin standing silently by your side until you give him the same you set out on the final leg of your journey. Come Hell or high water, you were at least going to try.

~~affiliated with @pixelcafe-network ~~divider from @k1ssyoursister

#the bite writes #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #ingo x reader x emmet

61 notes · View notes

someforeignband · 3 months ago

Text

🪱Wiggly Worm Wednesday!🪱

more of a wip wednesday, but! heres a snippet from Tie Em In A Knot, which i've been working on for the past couple weeks! CW: implied parental abuse; steve's dad is a piece of work and this (when i eventually post it,,,) will be DD so heed this warning now i suppose

Steve stares at his mother’s lifeless form, the bandages around the front of her head, the various tubes and machines hooked up to her body.

Eddie doesn’t answer, but Steve can hear the squeaking of his boots’ soles on the tile floor, approaching his chair.

“Visiting hours are over,” Steve states, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair. “So, you’d better get out of here.”

The boy behind him reaches out a ringed finger to flick at the dead flowers. “Those need a drink.”

“How’d you even get up here, anyway?” Steve asks, beginning to get irritated by Eddie’s seeming lack of ability to respond to his statements.

“Who gets flowers and doesn’t even get a plastic cup to put them in?” Eddie asks, still completely ignoring Steve, finger running along the emaciated stem of the carnation nearest to where he stood. Steve’s father hadn’t even bothered to cut them out of their ugly plastic wrapping.

“Munson,” Steve huffs, finally turning away from his mother to look at the guy. “Seriously?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, all theatrics, and that smirk is back. He bounces a couple of times on the balls of his feet, shrugging.

“Look, man,” Steve runs a hand over his face.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you coming to… do whatever you’re here to do,” He motions over all of Eddie before continuing. “But, my dad’ll be back any second and he doesn’t want any vis—”

“Well, lucky for you…” Eddie’s tongue darts out and licks at his bottom lip. He’s looking at Steve with this glint in his eye that makes the hairs on the back of Steve’s neck stand up.

But then, he’s popping his hip out, grinning and whispering, “I don’t care.”

The side of Eddie’s mouth twitches, dimple in his cheek threatening to make itself visible, and Steve’s stomach goes warm.

Oh shit.

In the quiet of the hallway, Steve can hear his father’s footfalls, his over-confident gait, and suddenly damn near every hair on his body was standing on end, shoulders pulling upward, spine going stiff. He sits up, taking a quick peek over his shoulder, trying to gauge how much time he and Eddie would have before—

“What the hell, Steve? Who is this—”

“Mr. Harrington, hi,” Eddie holds out a hand for his dad to shake. “I’m Eddie.”

His dad, naturally, completely ignores it, fiery gaze fixed on Steve.

“Visiting hours are over.” He says, and Steve’s eyes flick down to where his dad’s hands rest comfortably on his hips, thumbs in the belt loops, right forefinger pressed against the gold belt buckle. “You know you’re not allowed to have friends up here.”

“Steve and I were supposed to meet up, and he didn’t show up, so I figured maybe time got away from him.” Eddie supplies easily, coolly even.

Steve watches in horror as Eddie mirrors his dad’s stance, spreading his feet, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. He stretches his neck a couple of times before flashing Steve’s father a cocky grin.

Steve closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get ahold of his breathing. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“He knows he isn’t supposed to have people up here,” His father repeats, and Steve can feel his pulse in his toes.

“My mistake,” Eddie concedes. “I just came up here looking for him.”

Steve swallows, trying to will himself not to die right there.

“Steve,” His father snaps. He immediately looks up at the man, uncrossing his arms, placing hands against the front of his jeans.

“You know this boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve nods. “He’s my friend. From school.”

His dad makes a dissatisfied noise, then breaks eye contact with Steve, focusing in on Eddie, studying him.

Steve, panicked, glances in Eddie’s direction, and he’s got this sick smile on his face. Like this is exactly what he wanted, like he couldn’t wait to get up here and do whatever he was doing right now.

“Like I said earlier,” Eddie licks his lips again. “My name’s Eddie. You went to Hawkins High with my old man, I think.”

That seems to catch Steve’s dad off guard, and something akin to hope that Steve might get out of this better than alive flickers in the center of his chest. If there’s one thing Steve’s dad likes to talk about, it’s those Hawkins High Glory Days.

“Is that so?” He throws Eddie a tentative smile, studying him, trying to figure out just who Eddie could look like.

Eddie maintains his easy demeanor, that blinding smile painted on his face like he’s none the wiser, like he doesn’t know he’s toe-to-fucking-toe with a Copperhead.

But, Steve watches something behind his eyes flicker, like he’s taking some kind of pleasure in this, like there’s a sick sense of satisfaction building there.

“It’s so,” Eddie nods, smile pulled tight.

“I always thought Al and Maria only had a daughter,” His dad finally decides, before following up, “But, I guess I must be mistaken. You got that Munson nose, don’t ya?”

God, does his dad look proud of himself.

And for the first time since he’d set foot in that room, there’s a flash of something akin to fear across Eddie’s face. But, it’s gone in a split-second, and the shit-eating grin returns.

“You’re good, Mr. Harrington.” Eddie laughs, and god he’s a good actor. "You're scary good."

All those years in drama class must’ve done him some kind of good. Steve supposes there are rare plusses to flunking senior year.

“Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Eddie breathes out a small sigh, looking down at where Steve still sits, stock-still, in a chair at his mother’s bedside. “C’mon, Steve.”

Steve scrambles to his feet, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. Eddie starts a leisurely stroll toward the door.

“Give your old man my regards, won’t you?” His dad asks, and it feels oddly genuine for the man, like he really cared about that kind of thing.

Eddie bleats out a surprised laugh, then his smile gets impossibly wider, and that look is back. Steve’s knees feel like jelly.

“Oh, sure,” Eddie nods, licking that bottom lip again. “But, uh, you might see him before I do… that is, if you’re planning on sticking around town for a few more days.”

“Well,” His dad nods towards his mother, who lays slumped against the rails of the hospital bed.

“My mistake,” Eddie quickly offers, giving a sympathetic nod. “My sympathies.”

And for some reason, his dad laughs.

“Accidents,” His dad shrugs. “They’re a bitch.”

Eddie hums, eyes on Steve’s mother. “So sorry to hear about something so unfortunate.”

Steve’s heart is in his throat, but he’s breathing shallowly through his nose, attention rapidly alternating between his father and Eddie.

“Let’s go, Eddie, come on,” Steve places a tentative, sweaty hand against Eddie’s arm.

“So nice chatting,” Eddie practically sneers, turning over his shoulder and walking into the hallway.

Tagging: @yours-etc and @pearynice and @sageclipse and @kaspurrcat because i allllllwayyyysss love to see what you guys are up to ! <3 <3 <3

anyways see u guys never bc this burst of inspiration will inevitably not last long

#wiggly worm wednesday #ej writes !!#steddie ficlet #steddie #steddie fic #trans eddie munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie wip #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

61 notes · View notes

pisaracraft · 8 months ago

Text

I think I forgot to update on the backpack project, so here it is!

It's technically not finished yet, because I do plan on adding things still, and fixing some other stuff (for example, I'm not happy with the pockets and barely use them as they are), but it's in a stage where it's currently my main bag.

In time, I hope it can serve as a hiking backpack, and I think as it is right now it could work for a short overnight trip, but I plan on crocheting some add-ons I can add and remove easily.

And chest strap. I need a chest strap, but I haven't figured out what sort of buckle I will use. Just for aesthetic reasons I absolutely refuse to use plastic buckles, but side release buckle would be the most convenient and the safest too, but I'd need to order online and probably abroad, because I have hard time finding metal side release buckles in Finland. Especially ones that would fit the overall aesthetic (i.e. not silvery shiny. It needs to have some patina, new or fake). But I'm keeping an eye on the local army surplus store, because sometimes they get nice quality stuff like that, and it's often second hand too. And I do have a belt buckle I can use if nothing else comes up before I need the bag for a hike.

#crochet #crochetblr #solarpunk

103 notes · View notes

eliyips · 2 months ago

Text

Sometimes I see Xisuma art and and it is so clear that they referenced my design for it, and it makes me so happy. The two toned tan fabric, darker on the shirt cuffs and hips. The grey fabric around the elbows. The silver gauntlets over dark grey gloves. The clicky plastic buckle for the belt. I see you... i see you... <3

#xisuma #xisumavoid #lots of love to the other xisuma artists out there #thank you for feeding me while i do not have time for myself to draw <3

41 notes · View notes

bellysoupset · 8 months ago

Note

ok max request

i know you said he has a pretty sensitive stomach that gets irritated by a lot of things, so what about him overindulging on something that usually sits well, only for him to start feeling sick after (i also really enjoy burps 😳😳)

Here you go anon! Burpy Max with an upset stomach!

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

"Okay, I want all of you gremlins sitting down right now!" Max exclaimed, jokingly glaring at the one kid still standing, "that includes you, Elliot. Sit your ass down."

The eight year old boy blushed and hurried to sit down and Max rolled his eyes, just as he saw Vince walking to the bus, with a kid draped all over him.

"Bus rules," Max raised a hand to start listing, "everyone wears a seat belt, no standing when the bus is moving. This includes when it just stopped in a red light. No sticking your heads out of the windows-" honestly, he hated the fact the windows weren't sealed shut, that always gave him anxiety after watching Hereditary - "no eating smelly things in the bus. If anyone feels sick, please call me up before you barf everywhere and I'll go get you so we can work this out. Ah, and use your inside voices, will you?"

He was pretty sure only 5% of what he had just said filtered through the kids. In truth, Max's favorite age to teach was teenagers, who actually listened, just opted for not doing what he asked sometimes. All he had to do was convince the older kids he was someone worth of listening, while the younger ones... They simply, plainly, didn't hear a word he said.

"Alright," Max sighed, turning around as Vince entered the bus, "nice of you to join us, Monacelli."

"We had an emergency pee break," Vince ignored him, not bothered in the least as he buckled in the six year old that was clinging to him, "you finished with the rules?"

"Yeah, we can go."

"Alright."

They were going on a field trip for the next town's science museum. It wasn't a long trip, only about 1 hour to get there, then they'd have a tour and a lunch break and come back before sunset. Still, these type of trips always made Max uneasy because so many things could go wrong surrounded by tiny, curious kids.

He settled down on his seat in the front, next to Monacelli. The other teacher was wearing a short sleeved polo, straining against his chest, and a baseball cap on top of his mop of black curls.

"You want anything?" Vince asked, not raising his eyes from his phone. Max sneaked a glance at the screen. The man was checking football scores, that made sense. He looked the type.

"No, just bored out of my mind," Max shrugged, glancing past his shoulder as the bus started to move and there was a general squeal, the volume increasing considerably. Field trips were never quiet.

Vince shrugged, ignored him and Max sat correctly in his seat, grabbing a bag of chips in his backpack. He stuffed a handful in his mouth, before tipping the bag in Monacelli's direction to wordlessly ask if he wanted any.

"Pass, thanks," Vince said, "still not feeling a 100% after the stomach bug from hell that you gave me."

Max snorted, rolling his eyes, "it's been ten days, get over it."

"Like you got over it?" The other man needled him and Max wrinkled his nose. In truth the flu had taken him out of commission for 4 whole days and when he finally managed to come back to the school, he had to take on some extra hours since Vince was down for the count.

And that was not even touching the fact he had to win his seniors all over again. Thankfully the bug had been harsh enough and he had a cemented enough position that he didn't become an immediate meme among the students, but that didn't mean they were cool with him again.

Max sulked, sliding down his seat a little more and continuing to eat. The chips were bland, because he wouldn't risk trying salt&vinegar during a field trip, since those always upset his stomach, and soon enough he finished up the whole bag, muffling a burp against his fist and crumpling the plastic.

Next to him, he watched as Vince took a sandwich from his bag and bit on it. Of course it was in homemade bread and huge. Max glared at the sandwich for such a long time, that Vince frowned and held it up for him.

"You want a bite? Or are you gonna hold me upside down by the ankles for my lunch money?"

Fuck this guy entirely, Max thought, scoffing, "I never did that."

"No, you just shoved me so hard from the monkey bars that I broke my arm," Vince rolled his eyes, "and for no reason too."

"I'm sure I had some reason," Max mumbled under his breath, even though he knew he really didn't. Twelve year old him had been a demon, smack right in the middle of his parents divorce and trying to get everyone's attention through whatever means he could.

Vince rolled his eyes, taking another bite and getting up from his seat to check on the kids.

The other teacher sighed, sliding further down his seat and crossing his arms to his chest, pissed off. He really didn't like remembering how much of a prick he once was, it burned a hole in his stomach.

Talking about his stomach... He could feel it pressing against his jeans, bloating up. He was the king of bloating, easily looking pregnant over any meal, but really? Over bland chips?

Another airy burp forced up and he blew it out under his breath, massaging his chest and cursing softly. It was like his body was adamant on humiliating him in front of Monacelli.

"We're probably almost there already," Vince said, startling Max, and causing him to sit up correctly. The other man slid in the small space between the front of the bus and Max' legs, so he could sit on the empty seat near the window, "no kid is carsick, we should count our stars."

"Uhm," Max nodded, scratching at his beard nervously and muffling yet another burp. He fidgeted on his seat, trying to find a comfortable position, "so why did you come back to Doveport? People don't come back here."

Vince shrugged, making a silly face to a kid who was watching them from another seat, then keeping the lighthearted smile on as he answered, "my family is here. I wanted to be closer to them. Besides, I like the town."

Insufferable.

"You like the town?" Max scoffed, then another burp snuck up, this one louder and bringing with it a hiccup that shook his whole body. Vince raised his eyebrows.

"You good?" he asked, not waiting for an answer to continue, "yeah, I like the people, I like the fact its peaceful."

"I'm-HIC!" The blonde let out a loud groan when another hicc-urp interrupted him, loud enough the kids sitting across the hallway from them started to giggle, "shit."

"Language," Vince said, seemingly out of habit, the corner of his mouth quirking up, "did you eat too much for your tummy, Daniels?"

Maybe he had a reason to break this guy's arm, Max thought darkly, glaring at him, "I'm fine," he stressed, wrapping an arm around his stomach and huffing as yet another hiccup shook him, "fu-duuuck."

He heard Vince chuckle at the switch of the insult, then a huge hand came to rest on his back, "maybe get up? It might help."

It wouldn't, Max already knew. Once he got the hiccup-burps, he was done for and it was really only a matter of time before his belly started churning and maybe nausea joined the mix later on. Still, just to get away from Vince, he got up and walked the hallway using the seats on each side of him as support to keep from wooblying.

Vaguely he thought they were setting up a terrible example, telling the kids to stay put and then walking all over.

He counted the children, just to have something to do, and then paused as the bus shook and his stomach flipped, going from unsettled to upset and sour. Max squinted, removing a hand from the seat in order to plant it on his belly and groaning as he could feel the bloat pushing against his t-shirt.

"Mr. Daniels?" a kid asked, confused as of why he had stopped right next to their seat. It was a little girl, with long box braids and dark skin, big brown eyes, "is your tummy sick?"

God.

"I'm fine, Jess," he forced a smile at the kid, winking at her, "what are you drawing there?"

"The dinosaurs!" Jess perked up, holding her coloring page. It was a bit messy, but overall he thought it was pretty nice. A T-rex in the middle of the woods. They wouldn't be seeing any t-rexes today, but oh well.

"That's so cool," he grinned, crouching down and immediately regretting it when the movement caused another burp to rush up, this one followed by three hiccups in quick succession that he could do nothing about. Jess started to giggle at him and Max' cheeks turned red. He swallowed some air, forcing up a thick, low burp against his fist and she wrinkled her nose.

"Eeewww..." The little girl whined and he blushed even more, his whole face ablaze.

"Sorry, sorry-" he grabbed one of her crayons, "I think your t-rex is missing a hat. It's sunny outside, is it not?"

Happily diverted, the kid turned to her drawing and studied it, "maybe sunblock," she decided, "or a cap like Mr. Mo's?"

Who the fuck was Mr. Mo?

It took Max a second to realize the girl couldn't pronounce Monacelli and had settled for the second best thing. He snorted, "yeah, give him a baseball cap-"

"Her," Jess glared at him, "It's a girl t-rex, like in the movies."

"Ah... Yeah, then give her a cap," he squeezed the little girl's shoulder, then got up once more, the movement causing the bag of chips in his belly to churn a little harder and the push up a wet burp that he muffled with a hand. This one he could just taste the potatoes.

"Fuck," Max sighed, falling back on his seat up in the front and folding in half, pressing his forehead to the front wall that separated the common area of the bus from the driver's.

"What's up?" Vince looked up from his phone once more. Now he was texting someone.

"I think I'm gonna barf," Max groaned, keeping his voice low, "how much until we stop?"

"About twenty minutes," Vince dug through the cooler that was at his feet, with water bottles, juice boxes, bags, snack bars - "here," he handed him a water bottle, "are you carsick or did you really eat too much with just a measly bag of chips?"

"My gut is a bit of a bitch," Max sighed, closing his eyes, "temperamental as fuck. I thought I was in the clear with the bland chips, but..." he trailed off, making his point by muffling a sickly little burp against his hand and shuddering when vomit splashed the back of his throat. He swallowed in, "fuck my entire fucking life."

"Stop fucking swearing," Vince whispered to him, "you're gonna startle the kids. Twenty minutes, alright? Just take deep breaths and stop leaning forward like that, you're not helping yourself."

"You're such a snotty know-it-all," Max glared at him, as Vince planted a hand on his chest and pushed him against the seats, "what's up? You're a med school reject?"

Vince frowned, "you're such a prick. Are you hellbent on puking in front of every class you teach?"

Max' ears burned and he looked away from the man, taking a large gulp of water, "you're never gonna let that go?"

"Not for another month at least," Vince huffed and then pushed the window next to him wide open.

The rush of chill air helped a lot, but Max was not about to congratulate Vince for doing the barest minimum. He breathed out slowly through his mouth, sneaking a hand under his t-shirt and pressing on his belly. It was warm to the touch and gurgling non stop.

"How much more?"

"Nineteen minutes," Vince said and he could hear the man's amusement at his plight. Max groaned, staring at the ceiling as yet another hiccup hit him and made his ribs ache, his whole chest squeeze.

The water had been a mistake, as it rocketed up his throat, forcing him to gulp down.

"I really don't wanna be sick in front of them," Max whispered, allowing a glimpse of vulnerability to the other teacher. He knew at least with that Vince could sympathize, "just- Do something? Please."

There was a pause, then Vince squeezed his knee in an amiable way and pushed Max's legs out of the way as he got up once more. He clapped his hands loudly.

"Alright kids, each one of you know the bus song?" he exclaimed, his voice all cheery and Max groaned, scooting so he could occupy Vince's now empty seat next to the window and shoving his head out, so he could breathe.

Now with the noisy bus, he could burp openly, and a string of belches pushed up, intercalated with hiccups, rattling in his chest. He let out a groan and spat the saliva pooling in his mouth, but the burps helped, a little, the ache in his gut.

He lowered his head to the windowsill, listening as Vince continued to sing. They had ruined the peace and quiet and the bus was chaos, but at least Max knew not a soul was paying attention to him, as he let out a moan and squeezed his tummy, urging it to settle down.

Eventually the bus came to stop and Max removed his head from the window, wiping the cold sweat that was clinging to his upper lip and catching Vince's eye as the man shepherded the kids into a queue in front of the museum.

"Thanks," he whispered, passing him by once they were all outside, "uhm- You can handle them for another fifteen? I'm gonna go hurl, but then I can take 'em."

Vince's eyebrows jumped up, a sudden, startled chuckle slipping past his lips. He nodded, "Uh yeah- yeah, sure, go ahead-" then his attention slipped away as one of the boys tried to run ahead, "Elliot give me your hand!"

#sickfic #max daniels #mywriting #eructo #tummyache #belly ache #⭐️ anon

72 notes · View notes

romanarose · 1 year ago

Text

Surrender

Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Join my taglist!

Masterlist

Summary: Miguel needs help letting go

Content/warnings: PIV sex, choking, degredation, teasing

Based off this Miguel animation that twitter user @superrbanana, please give the artist a retweet as a thanks for letting me use it for inspiration!

***************

It was silly, honestly, to think you had any control over Miguel O’Hara. But you didn’t take that control, he gave it over willingly.

You’d seen him at work. Well, around work anyway. You weren’t dimension hopping or anything, but he had taken you to his headquarters, especially when he needed Peter B. Parker but Peter had Mayday, asking you to babysit. He was incredibly, so in control, so on top of everything happening all the time… it was incredible.

No wonder he needed to let go a little bit.

Miguel had brought it up not too long ao, the idea of wanting you to take control for a night, what that may entail, what he and you are both comfortable with and you liked the idea. Miguel always took care of you, and if there was something he needed, you were happy to give it to him.

So when Miguel walks through the doors of your home, shoulders tense and eyes distracted, you knew he needed you.

“Miggy, you alright, ceilo?” You say, approaching him and reading his body language in order to gauge if he needed a hot, a cuddle on the couch watching Superstore (he had a crush on America Ferrera), or if you needed to give him the ride of his life. You decided on the latter.

“Si, mamacita, solo un mal dio. Y tu, hermosa? Como estas?”

“Bien, Miguel” slowly, you approached him, hips swaying, and you see the small smile spread on his face. He knew the look in your eyes.

“What are you planning there, amor?” He teased, knowing damn well you were planning to fuck him, just not how.

You place two hands on his chest, you shove him against the door. “Aht, aht, aht. You don’t get to ask questions. You just gotta lay there and take it, mi hombre guapo, got it? Be my own personal fuck toy, entiendes?”

Looking up at the tall, broad man in front of you, you see that even as his face begins to allow surrender, his eyes have crinkled into a small smile. Just for you. Only for you (and sometimes Mayday).

Fisting his shirt up in your hands, you pull Miguel down for a rough, bruising kiss, biting on the plush pillows of his lips as you turn him around and walk him backwards to the couch (he might have tripped on the coffee table but you recovered). When his calves rest against the bottom of the couch, you attempt to grind your lower body against his, letting his cock get fully hard before you fumble with his belt.

“You gonna let me use you, Miguel? Gonna let me ride this dick for my own pleasure?”

“Y-yes, please” He gasps, the thrill of letting go seeping into his head, his chest breathing heavily against your firm touch.

“Gonna be a good boy and now cum until I take what I need?”

It’s practically a whine. “God yes”

As soon as you hear the clink of the buckle hit the floor, you shove Miguel onto the couch, taking out his cock from his boxers and giving him a few gratuitous pumps as you straddle your lover’s hips. Always a tease, you grind your sopping wet pussy over him, feeling the fat tip of his aching member prod against your folds as you practically dripped for him. You take off his shirt to reveal every muscle, every dip, every ripple you’ve come to adore.

He tries to grab your hips, to pull you down onto his, but you smack his hands away, bundling them up in your hands. Where he could put both yours wrists in his strong single grip, you need both yours for his. “Naughty boy… You know, I could get myself off from just riding your thigh, Miguel. Do you want me to do that? Do you want me to use your body for my pleasure and leave you with nothing?”

“No, mi vida, no-”

“Because you’re my fuck toy, right? You're my little toy to use when I’m needy, no better than that piece of plastic in my drawer. And toys don’t need to cum.” You continue teasing him, jerking his cock that you needed both hands to wrap around, only giving a pump or two before you spend most of the time smearing precum over the tip.

“Amor, please!” Miguel writhes beneath you, back coming off the couch as he struggles from someone feeling over and understimulated. “I’ll be good, just-”

Shoving his back where he belongs on the couch, you hold Miguel’s face in all it’s beauty and it’s a wonder you don’t cut your hand on that jawline, his eyebrow slightly cocked at seeing you take the power.

“What are you?” You hang over him, his cock notched at your entrance, ready to impale you if only he complies.

With a dreamy, subby, lust-filled gaze on his face, he looks up at you, fangs prominent, and obeys. “Your ummm… your personal fuck toy”

Longer able to resist him, not when he’s so submissive, wavy brown hair wilding around his face, you sink down onto him the warmth of your cunt developing Miguel's length, stuffing you full enough to make you whine a little, no matter how many times you’ve felt him inside you.

Unwilling to fully let him off the hook, you attempt to wrap your hand around his throat (jesus christ, is everything about him massive and muscled?), and squeeze, just enough to cause a huff of air to escape his perfect mouth.

Miguel looks at you in wonder, blissed out and submissive beneath your body as you ride him, pumping yourself on his dick. He’s smiling a bit, all his worries of today, tomorrow and yesterday, all his problems and stress, calculations, loss, the constant buzzing in his fading away, surrendering to you and your body. Nothing mattered but them.

“T-thank you”

***************

Hope you all enjoyed!

Remember, reblogs are the only way to spread works, and comments keep a writer writing!

I have one more miguel on my masterlist if you are so inclinded!

@fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @k-ra @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #smut #fem reader #fem!reader #miguel o'hara reader smut #miguel o'hara reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara reader #miguel ohara smut #oscar isaac #romana writes #miguel x reader #x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #romana writes smut

259 notes · View notes