#oh my god what a beautiful brown-eyed man

[jokersfangirl84]

Frankie!!! Oh dear heavens. I'm writing a fic about him right now. He is so.......🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

PEDRO PASCAL as FRANKIE MORALES

TRIPLE FRONTIER (2019)

[reidsfilm]

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 — SPENCER REID

PARING: spencer reid x fem reader

WARNINGS: SMUT!! (18+) porn with plot, soft !dom spencer, oral (fem receiving) praise, unprotected sex, cum eating, missionary, spencer being hot as fuck. hotch and rossi being protective dads. establish relationship, sexual harassment.

SUMMARY: The BAU team goes out for a nice night of drinking and fun, but what was supposed to be a fun night turns into you being harassed by a, clearly drunk man, and Spencer's not having any of it. And when you get home, things get pretty steamy.

WORD COUNT : 3,8k

Notes: i just LOVE dom spencer. that's all.

You and the rest of the BAU team are out at a bar, having decided that everyone needed to relax and cool off after a long and exhausting case. Garcia has taken Derek out on the dance floor, accompanied by Emily and JJ. Hotch and Rossi are having a quiet chat by the bar.

While you, your sitting next to Spencer at a table, talking about the latest book Spencer has read.

Spencer had been rambling about the book he was currently reading for a good ten minutes now. It was like he had a whole monologue prepared but it didn't bother you that much honestly. His rants were pretty adorable though, watching the enthusiasm shine in his eyes as he talked about the book.

He was almost finishing up the plot of the book when he suddenly paused. He'd gotten so lost in the discussion that he didn't realize that he'd been talking for so long. "Oh my god, have I been talking this entire time?"

To be fair, you didn't mind him talking nonstop, you found it adorable if anything.

"Yeah, you have," you said with a nod, taking a sip of your drink. "But I don't mind, I think it's kind of cute when you get like that."

His cheeks tinted a light shade of pink at your comment.

"Really?" He asked, trying to avoid eye contact, looking down at his drink. "I didn't realize I was talking so much. You were paying attention right?" He questioned before looking back up at you, those wide brown eyes piercing into your own.

Those beautiful honey-eyed eyes that always had so much to say.

"Of course I was," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I always pay attention, Spence."

You took a moment to admire his flustered expression before taking another sip of your drink.

Even though he felt a sense of embarrassment, he secretly enjoyed the fact that you found him adorable.

"Well, you didn't stop me," He mumbled, taking a quick sip of his own drink in a failed attempt to hide his blush. "I could have gone on for hours."

Oh, you definitely knew he could do that.

A soft laugh escaped your lips. "I know you could," you said, shaking your head in amusement. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

You moved your stool slightly closer to him, your knee brushing against his under the table.

The slight contact between your knee and his sent a jolt of pleasure through his body, causing his blush to deepen.

He tried to play it cool, taking another sip of his drink, but he couldn't help the smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips.

"You enjoyed listening though, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," you replied, a sly smile on your face. "I like hearing you ramble on about all your nerdy stuff. It's cute."

You placed your hand on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

''Well, aren't you two just adorable.'' Your head perked up at an unfamiliar voice, your eyes landing on a man, probably around his early forties. His hair was almost completely grey, which might be due to the stress, or old age might just catch up to him quicker than he thinks. He had a sleezy smile on his face, his eyes dilated, indicating that he was most likely drunk.

Of course, you were profiling him. Working at BAU has made you do it daily when you interact with others, without even knowing it.

''Can we help you?'' You questioned, swirling your plastic straw around in your drink. The man fully turned his attention to you, and you felt a chill run up your spine at the way he was ogling you, his eyes moving to your cleavage.

The man's expression didn't change, his sleazy smile still in place. "Just admiring the view," he replied, his words practically slurred due to being so drunk.

His eyes remained fixed on you, shamelessly ogling you, seemingly ignoring Spencer's presence.

''Right... well if you haven't noticed, I'm very much a taken woman.'' You said, gesturing with your chin, pointing at Spencer.

The man's smile faded slightly as he finally turned his gaze to Spencer. He looked him up and down, a hint of amusement in his eyes, as if Spencer couldn't possibly be enough to keep you.

"Is that so?" the man asked, his voice still slurred. "And how do I know that's true? You could just be saying that to get rid of me."

Spencer's grip on his drink tightened, and his jaw clenched, trying to maintain his composure. He knew this creep wasn't worth wasting his energy on, but he was struggling to keep his cool.

"We're together," he responded, his voice firm and cold. "And you need to back off."

The man chuckled at Spencer's words, the alcohol in his system making him more confident than he should be.

He leaned in closer to you, his hand reaching out to grab your arm, attempting to pull you up from your chair. Your eyes widened as you reached for his hand, trying to pry it off of your arm. ''Hey! Don't touch me.'' You stated firmly.

The man didn't let up, his grip on your arm only tightening as he pulled you slightly out of your chair. "Aw, come on, sweetheart, don't be like that," he cooed, his sleazy smile growing wider. "I just want to have a chat, that's all."

Spencer, at this point, was absolutely seething at the man's audacity. He couldn't believe how forward and aggressive this creep was being.

"Let go of her," he said, his voice low and dangerous, standing up from his chair. "Now."

Spencer's actions were quick and precise. In a swift movement, he reached out and grabbed the man's arm, forcefully twisting it behind his back. With a firm push, he slammed the man's chest against the bar counter, the man's head hitting the hard surface with a thud.

The people around them stopped what they were doing and turned to watch, murmurs of shock and surprise filling the air.

The man struggled against Spencer's grip, trying to break free, but Spencer was stronger and more determined. He pressed the man's cheek more firmly against the counter, his free hand resting on the back of the man's neck to keep him pinned in place.

You'd never seen Spencer quite like this before, he could be a little rough if he wanted to, but this? This was Spencer's possessive side breaking out. And you? You found it very... hot.

"I warned you not to touch her," Spencer growled, his voice dark and venomous.

Hotch and Rossi, who had been sitting a bit further down the bar, had immediately heard the commotion and turned to see what was happening. They saw the scene unfold with a mix of surprise and sternness.

Hotch's expression hardened as he got up from his seat, Rossi following suit. They walked over to where Spencer was holding the man against the counter, their steps filled with an authoritative presence.

Both Hotch and Rossi immediately recognized the situation upon approach. Hotch's eyes flicked over the man pinned to the counter before shifting to you, silently checking if you were okay.

You just gave him a small nod, a silent indication that you were okay.

Rossi's face darkened as he observed the scene, his voice firm when he spoke. "What's going on here?"

Spencer, who was still holding the man in place, glanced up at them. "This creep was harassing her," he replied, his voice low and filled with anger. "He wouldn't back off when I told him she was taken, and then he had the audacity to grab her."

Rossi's face tightened at the explanation, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. He looked down at the man, who was still struggling against Spencer's grip.

"Is that true?" Rossi asked, his voice low and stern.

The man mumbled something incomprehensible, clearly not in a state to form a proper response.

Hotch's expression remained stoic, his gaze fixed on the man as he attempted to mumble out a response. He noticed the man's obvious drunkenness and took a step closer.

"Are you drunk, sir?" Hotch asked, keeping his tone even and authoritative.

The man's attempts at speaking were slurred and incoherent, his head still pinned against the counter. There was no denying that he was highly intoxicated.

"I... I had a few drinks," he managed to mutter out, struggling briefly under Spencer's grip again.

"More than a few, I'd say," Spencer grumbled, squeezing the man's wrist tighter to discourage any further escape attempts.

Hotch and Rossi exchanged a knowing glance, both aware that the man was too drunk to deny any of the accusations against him.

Rossi crossed his arms, his eyes fixated on the man in Spencer's grip. "You realize you're causing a scene, right?" he asked, his voice stern.

The man, still pinned to the counter, groaned, trying to twist his head to look at Rossi. "I just... wanted to talk to her," he managed to say, his words slurred and thick.

"There are better ways to approach someone without being a creep," Rossi stated bluntly, his patience with the man starting to wear thin.

Hotch took a step closer to Spencer and the man, his gaze unwavering. "I think it's time you apologize," he said firmly.

The man let out another groan. "Fine, fine... I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice low and resentful.

Spencer, however, didn't loosen his grip, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the man. He wasn't convinced by the man's half-hearted apology.

Hotch noted Spencer's tight grip and the lack of sincerity in the man's apology. He placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder, silently signaling him to ease up a bit.

"Let him go, Reid," Hotch said, his voice quiet but assertive.

Spencer was reluctant to let go, his anger still boiling within him. But he knew Hotch's authority, and he wasn't in a position to argue. With a small huff, he slackened his grip and took a few steps back, allowing the man to raise his head from the counter.

The man, now freed from Spencer's hold, groaned again as he pushed himself off the counter, his balance unstable from the mix of alcohol and the rough treatment. He stumbled back a few steps, leaning against the bar for support.

Rossi watched the man carefully, his eyes sharp and calculating. "I think it would be best if you left," he said, his voice firm.

The man, still swaying slightly, grumbled something under his breath before pushing himself off the bar counter and stumbling away, leaving a trail of muttered curses and unsteady balance in his wake.

You took your bag from where it was hanging onto the chair, slinging it onto your shoulder before stepping over to Spencer. You could tell he was still angry, his jaw clenched and his posture tense.

You placed a hand on his arm, ''Hey...'' You said gently as you squeezed his arm, ''Can we go home?''

Spencer turned to look at you, the anger seemingly slipping from his features as they softened. His brown eyes softened as he looked at you, ''Yeah, yeah, let's go home.''

You nodded in agreement, giving his arm another small squeeze before releasing it, slipping your hand down to lace your fingers with his. Then you both made your way over to Hotch and Rossi to say your goodbyes.

"We're gonna head out," you said, pointing with your head over to the exit.

Hotch glanced between the two of you, his expression becoming a bit softer. "Alright, take care."

Rossi nodded in agreement, his gaze moving from you to Spencer.

"You two stay out of trouble, alright?" he teased, earning a slight roll of the eyes from Spencer. You just chuckled as you started walking, looking over your shoulder at the two older men, ''Can't make any promises.''

The late-night air in your apartment was thick with anticipation as Spencer's usual awkwardness had given way to a powerful, unrestrained passion. The adrenaline from the bar had left a tangible energy between you two, a charged electricity that seemed to buzz through the air. The door slammed shut behind you, and the moment you were alone, Spencer wasted no time in showing you just how much he needed you.

He pulled you into a fervent kiss, his hands gripping your waist with an urgent intensity. His lips were hot and demanding against yours, his tongue sweeping in with a possessive hunger. You could feel the heat of his desire radiating off him, his cock pressing insistently against your lower belly.

He was kissing you like he was a man-starved— and that he was.

''Fuck, you’re so hot,'' Spencer growled against your lips, his voice rough with lust. ''I need you so badly.''

He backed you towards the wall, his hands working quickly to undress you. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of your blouse, but his frustration only heightened the urgency in his movements. When your blouse finally fell open, exposing your bare skin, he looked at you with a hungry appreciation. His eyes traveled over your body, lingering on your exposed cleavage and the curve of your hips.

''You're so perfect,'' he muttered, his voice hushed but filled with a raw edge. His hands traced the contours of your body, his touch both reverent and greedy. He slid his fingers along your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts, and gently cupped them, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.

You gasped, your body arching towards his touch as he squeezed gently. ''Spencer, please,'' you whimpered, your voice trembling with desire. ''I need more. Please... please give me more.''

''I'll give you anything you want, anything.'' He muttered lowly as his hands moved to the waistband of your jeans. He undid the button and zipper with a rough urgency, pulling them down your legs and tossing them aside. You stepped out of them, your skin tingling with the cool air of the room.

''Fuck, you’re so wet,'' Spencer said, his voice dropping to a growl as he ran his fingers through your slick folds. His touch was electrifying, the rough pad of his fingertips teasing your clit. ''Is this all for me, hm?'' He crooned and you couldn't form a single coherent sentence, so all you managed to do was nod. Spencer chuckled at your obvious lack of verbal response, finding it adorable.

He knelt in front of you, his hands parting your legs with a firm grip. His eyes were dark with desire as he looked at you, his breath hot against your inner thighs. ''You’re driving me insane,'' he said, his voice rough with need. ''I want to make you come all over my face.''

That just made you all the more wet— you were practically Niagara Falls at this point. Spencer lifted one of your legs, draping it over his shoulder, pulling your aching and needy pussy closer to his mouth.

He didn't give you any time to react before he dived right in, flicking his tongue over your clit. The sensation of his tongue on your clit was overwhelming. He licked and sucked with a hungry fervor, his mouth moving in a relentless rhythm. The pressure and heat of his mouth on you made you gasp, your hands reaching out to grab at his curly brown hair, tugging at the strands.

''Spencer, oh my god.'' you moaned, your fingers tugging harder onto his hair and pulling his mouth even closer if that was possible. ''Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.''

He growled in response, his tongue moving faster and more insistently. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as you bucked against his face. The intensity of his touch, the pressure of his mouth, had you gasping and writhing with pleasure. You felt your climax approaching, your body trembling with the force of it.

''I'm gonna come... fuck.'' You moaned as you threw your head back. Your words only make Spencer more relentless in getting you to reach that high. His hands move to clutch at your ass, his nails digging into the flesh.

When you finally came, your body shuddered with the intensity of your orgasm. Spencer continued to lap at you, his tongue moving slowly to draw out every last wave of pleasure. You moaned and gasped, your breathing coming in ragged bursts.

He looked up at you with a satisfied grin, his face flushed and his chin glistening with your release. ''You taste incredible,'' he said, his voice low and thick with desire. ''I want you to feel amazing, to know how much I fucking want you.''

As soon as Spencer got back on his feet, still holding onto your hips to keep your wobbly legs steady, you reached for his pants, eager to return the favor. With trembling hands, you undid his belt and pulled his pants and underwear down. His cock sprang free, already hard and dripping with pre-cum. You wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat and weight of him in your hand.

Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut as you stroked him, his breath coming in quick, sharp intakes. ''Fuck, that feels so good,'' he groaned, his hands resting on your hips as you worked him. ''I need to be inside you.''

You gave him a teasing smile, leaning in to whisper against his ear. ''I want to feel you inside me. I want you to fuck me hard.''

With a low growl, Spencer guided you to your shared bedroom, to the bed, his movements both urgent and deliberate. He laid you down, spreading your legs wide as he positioned himself between them

You reached up to remove his shirt, your hands trembling as you undid the buttons. Spencer watched you, his lips curving up a little. He took hold of your hands, stopping you. ''We've got all the time in the world, baby. Relax.'' He cooed softly as he leaned down to press a few kisses to your knuckles.

''Sorry... just really want you.'' You mumbled, a sheepish look on your face. Spencer chuckled, letting go of your hands and placing a soft kiss on your forehead, ''Believe me, I want you just as bad.'' He mumbled before pulling back to look at you, undoing the last of the buttons before shedding off his shirt, and tossing it to the floor. Now the two of you were both completely naked.

Spencer placed his hand on your chest, nudging you down so you were fully laid out on the bed, propping yourself up against the pillows. His brown eyes skimmed over you, taking in your naked body laid out beneath him.

''Now, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can't think straight.'' His cock was heavy as it teased your entrance, and he looked down at you with a fierce, possessive gaze. You bit your lip as you looked up at him.

''You ready?'' He questioned and you simply nodded.

He pushed into you slowly, the sensation of him filling you completely was both overwhelming and exhilarating. His cock stretched you perfectly, each inch filling you up. You gasped as your head tilted back against the pillows, your hands gripping the sheets. Spencer's own hands moved to grip the plush flesh of your hips tightly, holding you in place as he began to move.

''Fuck, you’re so tight,'' he groaned, his voice strained with lust. His thrusts were deep and relentless, each one making you gasp and cry out. The bed creaked beneath you, the sounds of your passion filling the room.

His hands roamed over your body, gripping your breasts and pinching your nipples with a roughness that sent jolts of pleasure through you.

''Tell me how much you want this,'' he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

God did he sound hot when he was being like this. It always surprised you to see this side of your nerdy, dorky, and all in all sweet and doting boyfriend. But it never ceased to amaze you how well he took on the role of being dominant and assertive.

“I want it so much,” you gasped, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. ''I need you, Spencer.''

''Yeah? My pretty baby needs me, hm?'' He cooed as he pulled out before slamming back in, making you arch your back, your breasts pressing up against his chest. ''Spencer...'' You moaned softly, your hands tightening their hold on the sheets.

''Come one, baby, you're so close aren't you?'' You let out a breathless moan as his pace quickened, his thrusts getting rougher, his cock kissing your cervix. ''Yes... yes... so close.'' You babbled out.

''Come, come around my cock like a good girl,'' Spencer demanded as he continued his relentless and hard thrusts, leaning down to capture your lips. Your hands let go of the sheets, drifting up into his brown locks, clutching onto the strands of hair. A particularly hard thrust made your mouth open more, allowing Spencer to slip his tongue inside. Your tongues battling against each other, swirling around one another.

Your climax was close, you could feel it— could feel the tight coil in your stomach about to burst. One of Spencer's hands moved from your hips to your breast, kneading at the flesh, groping and pinching your nipple. ''Fuck... I'm gonna cum.'' You mumbled against his lips before your orgasm came crashing over you. Spencer's lips silenced your wanton moan. Your vision went completely white as the blissful feeling washed over you, your body shuddering as your release coated his cock.

Spencer pulled away from your lips, both of you breathless as he was seeking out his own release. ''I'm right behind you, baby.'' His forehead pressed against yours as his thrusts grew more sloppy and unsynched, ''Just. A. Few. More.'' He said between each thrust before he reached his own peak, his cum coating your gummy walls as he came with a shuddering growl.

You felt the warmth of him, his cock twitching as he filled you completely.

As he collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the bed, you could feel the lingering warmth of his cum inside you. Spencer’s hands moved gently over your skin, his touch tender and soothing after the rough intensity of his movements.

''Did I hurt you?'' he asked softly, his voice filled with concern as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with affection and satisfaction. ''No, you didn’t hurt me. You were amazing, per usual.''

He smiled, a mixture of relief and contentment in his brown eyes. ''I’m glad. I just wanted you to know how much I care about you. I never want to see you hurt.''

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. ''You were really fucking hot when you manhandled that guy at the bar.'' You muttered, slotting your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked up at him.

He looked down at you, a smirk forming on his lips, ''Yeah? You thought it was hot?'' You nodded in response, pulling him down to meet your lips in a soft kiss before you relaxed your forehead against his.

''Yeah, it's a shame you didn't have handcuffs on you. Would've loved to see you go all bad cop on him.'' You giggled as you looked at him.

Spencer chuckled, giving your cheek a chaste kiss, ''I'll remember that next time a guy tries putting his hands on my girl.''

''Mhm.. I'd love to see that.''

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saddle Me Up, Cowboy Part 1: Spin Me Around the Dance Floor✨

Cowboy! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to @alltheirdamn for encouraging me to write this! Beth Dutton and Rip Wheeler from Yellowstone heavily inspired this short little series. I hope you enjoy 🩷 I just saw @auteurdelabre Trope Off challenge, so I’m tagging this as a meet cute for that!

Chapter Summary: You were only trying to enjoy your drink and watch the different couples spin around the dance floor at your favorite country club, but all that changed when you set your eyes on a certain handsome brown-eyed cowboy.

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 4.6k

Tags: Lots of fluff, flirting, pining, two stepping, meet cute at a country western bar, no use y/n, no outbreak au, switching POVs, soft! Joel, summer love, reader has hair

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The neon lights flash across the busy dance floor as bodies sway back and forth to the slow country tune. Smoke permeates through the air as couples hold each other close and the men spin their lovers around the wooden floor. You love two stepping, love the rustic feel of the bar, love the feel of your jean shorts and fitted cowboy boots. You just love being here on a Friday night in your favorite country bar called Cowboys. 

   You stir the straw slowly around in your mixed drink, your elbow leaning against the side of the dance floor, toes tapping on the bottom of the barstool. And as you watch the happy couples spin across the floor, you can’t help but wish that was you out there. 

   When was the last time you came here with a date? Maybe two years. 

   Sure, you’ve been asked to dance. Took a twirl around the room twice with some nice blonde guy that talked about his job and dogs. But it was just friendly and casual. Just a way to spin around the dance floor a couple of times. It wasn’t a perfect match with your cowboy lover. That’s someone you haven’t met yet.

   Tonight, maybe you’d find someone. The one. A girl can dream, and that’s exactly what you do. Dream.

   Another two songs fly by as you sip your fruity drink, watching couples come and go on and off the dance floor. A slow Morgan Wallen song floats through the packed room, your eyes roam around the bar, falling on the far right corner. Just when a couple spins out of the way, it clears your view to the opposite side of the dance floor. And oh my God, your heart drops out of your chest.

   You nearly choke on the fruity liquid, your jaw dropping straight to the floor. There, right across the room, stands the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

   He’s tall, well over six foot. His green button-up flannel clings to strong biceps, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that spider down into massive hands. His hair is dark and sandy, silver threaded through his tousled curls and burrowing into the thick beard against his sculpted jawline. He’s tan, dark from working out in the sun, you think. And his eyes look like the color of chocolate almonds from what you can tell under the dim lights. And his smile. Jesus, it could light up an entire room. 

   Soft. He looks so soft the way he holds the flute of his beer bottle, the way his eyes light up every time he laughs with his friends. And God, you’d kill to see him smile at you like that.

   You keep your gaze on him, staring like a child in a candy store, eyeing the last Hershey’s bar on the shelf. And it’s like your first school crush all over. You need to get a hold of yourself, but you just can’t. He’s too tempting, too smoldering, too perfect.

   And in the next moment, his eyes are on you.

—

   Sweat beads Joel’s forehead as he takes another swig of his beer, a chuckle leaving his lips as Tommy teases Maria and pulls her to his chest. She just laughs and kisses him on the cheek as he wraps her in his leather jacket. Joel wishes he had someone like that. Someone to love as much as Tommy loves her. Maybe someday he would.

   “You gonna ask anyone to dance?” Tommy asks, his brown eyes trained on Joel. 

   “Eventually,” Joel mutters, sighing as he takes another generous sip of the strong alcohol. 

   “Better before the end of the night,” Tommy laughs, pulling Maria by the hand to the dance floor. Before Tommy turns away, he gives a brotherly shove to Joel’s shoulder and winks. “Pretty girl at twelve o’clock, straight across the room. Go get her, Joel.”

   Just as Tommy leaves him with a confused expression, he looks up and freezes the minute he spots you. He gulps and sets his beer on the table, his fingers curling into the wooden tabletop, eyes wide when your eyes meet his.

   Big, glittering, beautiful eyes swallow him whole, the swirling lights making them glow even brighter. He catches his breath and has it knocked right back out of his chest again as a shy smile curls against your glossy red lips. He thinks he just fell in love. 

   Your pretty hair falls in long waves down your shoulders; your low-cut tank top sticking to your sun kissed skin shining under the bright spotlight. It’s like an angel sits before him, and he’s mesmerized. Your tight denim shorts hug your curves, and your tan boots with embroidered butterflies scuff against the barstool. Your pretty eyes flick down to your drink and back up to him repeatedly, sweetly beckoning to him to come ask you to dance.

   Shy, sweet, adorable, beautiful. He picks all this out just by looking at your pretty face. And you’re just his type of girl; he already knows it. He thinks you were made just for him to find tonight.

   It goes on like clockwork for the next few songs. Shy smiles, locked eyes, hesitation permeating through the thick, smoky air. But he won’t hesitate for long. No. He wants to know you, to dance with you, to take you out, maybe show you his ranch. 

   He just has to have you. And he will. You’ll be his by the end of the night.

   After an encouraging slap on the back from Tommy, he takes one more glance your way and hands his tan cowboy hat to Tommy. Right now he only has one task at hand, and that is to ask the pretty girl to dance. So, he swallows all his nerves and walks across the room, right through the sea of endless bodies. 

   Right to you.

—

   Your cheeks burn hot as you lock eyes again; a flirtatious game you’ve been playing for the past two songs. You practically feel on fire with the way your body reacts every time he looks at you. 

   Maybe he’ll ask you to dance. You hope he does because you have a feeling being in those big, strong arms would be like jumping into a freshly made bed after a long day at work. Warm and cozy and made just for you. 

   You bite your bottom lip and laugh as your head drops to the scuffed-up wood, a loose curl falling over your shoulder. How can you already like someone this much when you don’t even know them? Sounds pretty silly, but it gives you tingles in your feet just the same.  

   This is a good sign.

   When you look back up, your heart drops to the floor when you don’t see the handsome man standing across the room anymore. You slide further down in your chair and sigh, letting all the hope fizzle out of your tired body. 

   He left. You just wanted one dance. That’s all you wanted. One fucking dance.

   You sigh quietly and look back out at the spinning bodies on the dance floor, shaking off the growing tears in your eyes. Just when you think one might drop, your body freezes when you hear a husky, deep voice being cleared next to you. When you turn to look at who just interrupted your sulking session, you nearly fall off the barstool.

   It’s him. The man with the pretty brown eyes.

  “Hi.” His deep voice floats through your ears like a dream, and the music seems to disappear altogether.  

   “Uhh—hi,” you stammer out, your mouth agape as you watch a small smile curl against his inviting lips.

   “‘M sorry if this comes off as rude. But what’s a girl like you doin’ sittin’ on the sidelines, darlin’?” His thick Southern accent drawls out, and your eyes immediately widen when you hear how deep and staccato it sounds. You think you could listen to it all night long.

   Darlin’. He called you darlin’.

   Your words fail you, so you just brush off his apology and smile. “Can’t a girl enjoy a drink?”

   He chuckles and shakes his head, a tousled curl falling into his forehead. You want to brush it back for him. That soft looking sandy hair. “Well, sure ya can. Didn’t answer why you’re sittin’ over here by yourself, though.”

   “My friends are dancing,” you shrug, spinning your straw nervously in your drink, letting the liquid slosh around the sides.

   “Now how come a pretty thing like you ain’t out there with ‘em? Hmm?” His thick eyebrows raise in question, and another dreamy smile meets his face. 

   God, he’s so handsome.

   “Oh, I dunno. Was just watching,” you answer nonchalantly, not pointing out the fact that they’re all taken and you’re not.

   He hums to himself, his eyes flicking to the dance floor and back to you after a few seconds. “You wanna dance?” he asks softly, his chocolate eyes sparkling in the hope that you’ll say yes.

   “Huh?” you say off guard, your eyes wide at the question. 

   He just asked you to dance.

   “Do you wanna dance with me?” he asks again, nudging the side of your boot with his own worn leather boot.

   “You’re asking me to dance?” you question.

   “Ain’t that what I asked?” he chuckles, causing your stomach to somersault with the way his infectious laugh is making you feel. All warm and tingly.

   “Oh. I umm—okay,” you smile shyly, looking up through your long eyelashes at him. 

   “Is that a yes, darlin’?” he asks with a big smile.

   “Yes, I’d love to,” you confirm with a nod.

   “Well, c’mon then.” He holds out his open palm, and you don’t hesitate to take it. 

   Warm. He’s so warm. Rough, calloused hands that hold yours perfectly. A match made in heaven.

   He leads you to the middle of the dance floor, careful not to get in the way of any other couples. And then he slowly slips a hand around your waist, the other securely latched to your hand, his fingers laced through yours. And when he starts to lead the dance, you follow right after him.

   The bright lights land over him, putting his beautiful eyes right on display for you. Your breath catches when you see how soft his eyes are. Dark brown like the color of honey and onyx flecks swirling in his irises that hypnotize you to him. He’s absolutely beautiful. You’ve never seen eyes as pretty as his; ones that draw you right in. And the way he’s looking at you, all soft and like he’s looking at the most beautiful girl in the world makes your knees a little wobbly. 

   The neon signs on the walls glow in the distance, the melodic tune of a Scotty McCreery song floats in the background while couples dance around you. Joel leads you around the dance floor, holding you tight and never once stepping on your feet. 

   You scuff your boot over his toes out of nervousness, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just chuckles and pulls you closer to where you can feel his steady heartbeat against your chest, his brown eyes staring into yours like he’s enamored by you. But he’s got your full attention, and you’re so into him already.

   “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks, his Southern drawl completely melting you at the sweet sound. You tell him yours and when your name slips off his tongue, you nearly fall to your knees in awe.

   “And yours? What’s yours, Cowboy?” you ask over the loud couple that whips around you. 

   “Cowboy, huh? Already got a nickname for me, sweetheart?” he chuckles, eyes lighting up at the nickname like he wants you to say it again. And maybe you will.

   “Maybe so,” you giggle, relaxing into the dance as he spins you around in circles, the lights following your movements.

   “The name’s Joel. Joel Miller.” He tips his head and gives you a big smile. You can’t help but giggle every time he smiles at you. It’s like you’re in first grade all over, and Joel’s the new, cute boy that’s caught your attention in class.

   “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Joel.” 

   “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” he smiles, keeping you close to his warm body. You let out another nervous giggle, and it just makes him smile wider like he’s addicted to your laugh. 

   “I like your laugh, darlin’. Could listen to it all night,” he sighs dreamily, chocolate eyes melting as he looks intensely at you, honing in on just you while the rest of the room disappears. Your breath hitches for just a second, and then you melt right back into him.

   “Well, I like your brown eyes,” you lull, your eyes locked on his pretty pools of honey. You giggle when he blushes, and then a dimple indents into his left cheek when he smiles. And God, you think you just fell in love. 

   “And your smile. I love your pretty smile. It lights up a room, darlin’. And you lit up the whole damn bar tonight,” he drawls, his warm breath fanning over your open mouth, gawking at this handsome gentleman. 

   He’s fucking perfect. 

   He lifts his arm and spins you around in a complete circle, his large hand finding your hip again and pulling you back into his broad chest. And there you are, completely breathless again.

   “So, Cowboy. What made you want to come ask me to dance?” you ask, curiosity circling in your wide eyes.

   “Saw you from across the room, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” he answers honestly with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

   “Me?” you ask, taken aback. 

   “Yes, you,” he chuckles as he guides you across the polished dance floor.

   “There’s a hundred other girls in here who’ve had their eyes on you all night,” you scoff in a playful way.

   “Oh? Is that so?” An eyebrow lifts in piqued interest, but his eyes still don’t leave yours. They stay glued to you.

   “Mhm,” you hum in confirmation.

   “That means you’ve been watchin’ me too, ain’t that right?” he smirks devilishly, his brown eyes darkening just slightly.

   “No I—no. That’s not…” you stutter, at a loss for words. You were watching him. Ever since you saw him across the room; that damn smile that has your head spinning.

   “S’alright, sweetheart. Wasn’t tryin’ to get you all flustered now,” he chuckles, obviously trying to get you flustered. He doesn’t have to try hard because you’re already overly flustered.

   “I’m not flustered,” you scoff, your cheeks burning hotter with every second his chocolate eyes are on you.

   “No? Well, you’re pretty cute when you’re blushin’, darlin’. Maybe I want you flustered,” he grins, a beautiful smile curling against his plush lips.

   “Careful, Cowboy. You might be the one blushing next,” you tease, narrowing your eyes playfully in response.

   “I’d like to see you try, sweetheart,” he challenges, his eyes growing into a soft syrupy color you want to drown in.

   “Maybe I will, brown eyes,” you say with the flash of a smile.

   “Brown eyes, huh? Kinda like the sound of that.” His pretty eyes are genuine when he says it, like it’s the best thing you’ve said this whole dance. And the pink that marinates around his dark scruff tells you enough. He does like it.

   You smirk in knowing and wink playfully his way, creating a deeper blush on his tanned skin. It makes your heart skip a beat. “Good, now you’re the one blushing.”

   He shakes his tousled curls and sighs, his eyes alight with an enamored glow. “Christ, you’re adorable.”

   “If you say so, Cowboy,” you say, letting him continue the dance even though there’s a new song booming from the overhead speakers.

   He wraps his large hand tighter against your waist, and you let his other gently glide up and down the back of your hand. A caress that’s laced with care.

   “I do say so, sweetheart,” he chuckles warmly. “But you wanna know the real reason why I asked you to dance?”

   You keep your eyes trained on the glow of his and squint carefully. “Tell me.”

   He takes a deep breath and smiles shyly. “The reason I asked you is ‘cause I thought you were the prettiest girl in the room.”

   Your mouth gawks open in shock. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl in the room? Wow. “Me? Are you sure you picked the right girl?” 

   “Yes, you,” he nods, his thumb stroking against your soft skin. An affirmation of what? Care, admiration, love?

   “You think I’m… pretty?” you ask hesitantly, your voice quiet and meek. He can’t think you’re the prettiest girl. There’s no way.

   “Mhm. Gorgeous. And your eyes. Absolutely beautiful, sweetheart. They make the lights in here look dim with how bright yours shine.”

   You stare in amazement at him, eyes as wide as an owl’s gawking at the man with pretty brown eyes who swept you off your feet. You’re falling into places you’ve never been, and you’re quite scared of how many feelings are bubbling up inside you already. But at this moment, you don’t care. All you can do is stare at him affectionately as he spins you around the room.

   He’s perfect. 

   “So, what does a pretty girl like you do for work, sweetheart?” he asks, molton brown eyes glazing into yours, making you audibly gasp how pretty they are.

   “I’m a vet assistant.”

   “Vet assistant, huh? You ever work on cattle, by chance?” His wide brown eyes are full of hope, and a smile tugs at his lips. 

   “Unfortunately no. Just dogs and cats mostly. Why? You got some cattle, Cowboy?” Your eyebrow arches, and a mischievous smirk curls over your mouth.

   He chuckles and nods his head. “As a matter of fact, I do. I own a ranch,” he says proudly, standing a little taller, making your face hurt from smiling so damn much at him. 

   “So you are a Cowboy. I knew it,” you giggle. “What kind of animals do you have?”

   “Tons,” he says, the neon lights glowing over his tousled curls. “Horses, cows, bulls, chickens, sheep, dogs, and the list goes on.”

   “My, my. You got your hands full. Don’t you, Cowboy?” you blush, fluttering your eyelashes flirtatiously up at him. You like him even more now. 

   “Reckon I do,” he chuckles, his thumb tracing light circles against the back of your hand, eliciting goosebumps down your arms. 

   “Too full to handle one more thing?” you question, giving him your best puppy dog eyes that you can manage. 

   He shakes his head and smiles warmly. “If that one thing is you then ‘course not. Got all the room for you, darlin’.”

   Your eyes soften into liquid and your head is spinning as you stare at this beautiful man. You’re already falling head over heels, and you think he is too. 

   “You ever ride a horse before?” he asks, tilting his head like he’s assessing you.

   You shake your head in response. “I mean, when I was little I rode on a pony. But a horse? No. Can’t say that I have.” 

   “You wanna learn? Got a stallion back at home that has your name on the saddle.” His smile is breathtaking, just like his honey-colored eyes. Your heart gallops in your chest like hooves pounding on the ground. He wants to teach you how to ride?

   “You really plan on teaching me?” Your eyebrows pinch together, hesitation stuck on your tongue. 

   He nods, a fleeting smile meeting his beautiful eyes. “Consider it our first date, darlin’. Gonna turn you into a little cowgirl.”

   “Oh, a cowgirl, huh? Is that what I’m going to be?” you giggle flirtatiously, and he picks right back up on it as he winks at you.

   “S’right. My cowgirl.”

   My cowgirl. 

   Your heart gets stuck in your throat, words lodged deep inside. So you do what you can do. Smile and trace your fingertips across his broad shoulder, letting the soft flannel graze against your smooth skin. 

   As the song slows to a halt, you find the opportunity to wrap both of your arms tightly around his neck, nuzzling your face into the soft fabric of his flannel. His arms circle your hips, and one hand gently runs up and down your lower back, sending electricity zapping through your nerve endings. 

   You smell him now. His woodsy cologne, the hint of sweet beer on the tip of his tongue, faint scents of smoke on his collar, the scent of leather in the air. He smells like your favorite scent all mixed together, combined into the perfect formula to get you drunk off him. And you’d gladly get drunk off him. 

   “Lady May” by Tyler Childers plays through the speakers; the slow song sending the mood of the bar into  a romantic, all consuming type of way. Love’s permeating through the air, and you can feel it everywhere. It tingles in your toes, brushes like a breeze through your hair, spirals down the back of your spine, floods your heart with warmth you’ve never felt before, makes your eyes sparkle like starlight through the bright lights, landing right in the palm of Joel.

   Put your toes down in the water. And a smile across your face. And tell me that you love me. Lovely Lady May.

   He pulls you closer, where your chin is tucked against the crook of his neck, his woodsy cologne making you feel a bit dizzy. 

   Now I ain’t the sharpest chisel that your hands have ever held. But, darling, I could love you well.

   Lovely lady May.

   His lips brush over the crown of your head, his fingertips lighting your nerve endings on complete fire, sparks igniting in his caramel eyes. The way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s already in love with you. And maybe you’ve already fallen in love with him, too. 

   As the music slows, he dips you low, not daring to let your back touch the scuffed-up wood. When he pulls you back up, he brings you flush to his broad chest, and his scent is everywhere. 

   His brown eyes sparkle like glitter, shooting stars that only you can make a wish on in the clear night sky. And his smile. My God, you’ve never seen anything as beautiful as him before.

   He gently brushes a loose curl behind your ear, lingering his calloused fingertips down your jawline, ending right under your chin where he stills. The room melts away, the noisy crowd disappearing as the song completely takes a hold of you. 

   But I’m baptized in your name. Lovely Lady May. 

   His thumb slowly traces your bottom lip, leaving invisible marks that’ll stick like permanent ink, branding you as his own. The way he’s staring at you all soft and deeply makes you melt into him even more.

   One more trace, one more shy smile, and he’s asking. “Darlin’?”

   “Yes?” you ask breathlessly.

   “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his Southern drawl sounding lovestruck and angelic. “And thank you for allowin’ me to dance with the prettiest girl in the room. But there’s jus’ one more thing I’d like to do.” His mouth drops a little lower, and your breath hitches.

   “And what’s that?” you ask, lilting at his soft smile.

   “I’d really like to kiss you…” he breathes, his deep timbre shaky as his brown eyes melt into you.

   You lean up on your tiptoes, blowing your breath over his open lips. “Then kiss me, Cowboy…” you whisper out.

   He cups your face the next second and leans in, crashing his lips down on yours without any hesitation. And he draws you in like a moth to a flame. 

   His lips are soft like velvet, and he tastes like your new favorite flavor. Blue moon, sweet and savory with a hint of smoke and mint marinating on his tongue. 

   And then your lips become his as you fall like rain into his kiss.

   Mint. Blue Moon. Smoke. Velvet. Cedar Wood. Leather.

   He’s all you know now. 

   You stay like that for minutes, connected like webs to each other in the middle of the dance floor as couples swirl in a colorful blur around you. When the two of you finally disconnect from each other’s lips, a big smile curls against his mouth and his pretty brown eyes look like they’re laced with love the longer he looks at you.

   He brushes his thumb against your lower lip and leans in close, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. “You taste like mine, darlin’.”

   And that’s when you fall head over heels for the Cowboy that snatched your heart and made you his own.

   He pulls you in for another dance, and you let him lead you through another song which turns into another and another and another. You lose count. All you know is that you’d dance all night with him if you could. 

   After over an hour of twirling around the dance floor with him, he buys you a drink and leads you over to two barstools. You end up with your legs sprawled over his lap, his fingertips tracing lines over your thighs, his lips brushing over your cheek while he places his cowboy hat on top of your head, claiming you as his own. 

   You end up meeting Joel’s brother, Tommy, and his wife, Maria. And you spend all night laughing and flirting with Joel while you bond over music and shared interests. Turns out you have a lot in common. 

   It’s the way his smile stops your heart and his brown eyes that send your head spinning. It’s the way he calls you his girl and the way he can’t keep his hands off you for even a second. You’ve never been this wrapped up in a guy before, but you’ve never met a handsome gentleman like Joel. A cowboy that won your heart over the second he looked at you. 

   He ends the night by driving you home, walking you up to your door, pulling you against his broad chest as his thumb traces lightly against your skin affectionately. You don’t want to say goodnight.

   “So, pretty girl. How ’bout I pick you up at 4:00 o’clock tomorrow? Can give you your first ridin’ lesson, maybe watch the sunset from the back of my truck. Can tell you how beautiful you look under the stars,” he drawls, his brown eyes sparkling under the moonlight. 

   He has you reeled in, pulling you in like he just lassoed his way into your heart. 

   “Quite the romantic type. Aren’t you, Cowboy?” you blush, lacing your fingers through his tousled curls. 

   “That I am,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you tighter against him. “So, what do ya say, Cowgirl? You gonna let me take you on that date?”

   “Pick me up at 4:00, and I’m all yours.”

   “All mine?” he smiles, his warm breath fanning over your lips.

   “All yours,” you confirm.

   He pulls you in for a slow, romantic kiss, letting it linger as the stars twinkle above your porch. You’re never going to get tired of his kisses, his soft Southern drawl, his big brown eyes. You’re only going to grow more in love with him every day. And you’ll let it grow like a wildfire that consumes you whole. 

   This was only the beginning. The beginning of a perfect summer love that would never fade away. 

Tags for those that were interested: @mountainsandmayhem @alltheirdamn @lotusbxtch @almostfoxglove @burntheedges

@jasminedragoon @inept-the-magnificent @magpiepills @almostempty @aurorawritestoescape

@milla-frenchy @pedrospatch @thundermartini @lanaispunk @sawymredfox @ace-turned-confused

@stylesispunk @there1snothingleft4u @littlevenicebitch69 @tuquoquebrute @ajw-23

[pedge-page]

You Please, My Pleasure

Sub! Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings: Sub!Joel, Mommy kink, cowgirl/riding, orgasm denial, over stimulation, unprotected sex, cream pie, orgasm control, reader’s hand makes a pretty necklace for Joel, themes of free use, objectification, praising words for Joel (sweet boy, etc), bitty breeding kink at end

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You sat In a community table at the cafeteria, over hearing a group of other women chattering about the men they'd been eying up:

"You seen that Joel Miller around?"

"Oh, he's hot as hell. I dont care how old he is."

"So protective, and strong, and firm. Jesus just look at him those broad, muscled shoulders and back. Bet he's a wild night."

"Shhh!"

"Im serious! The lucky girls he's probably pleasing..."

'Did you you hear he's apparently great with a gun."

He could ram his big gun in me any day."

"Shut up Claire! Oh my god."

"I just know it. Bet he could make you ache for days. Half the men here wouldn't compare to a guy like Joel in bed. I just have my own fingers to keep me barely satisfied, dreaming about a hunk like that."

"What about you?"

You hear your own named piped up, apparently leaning too far in to their conversation and now finding yourself included.

"Oh." You glance at the clock behind them, realizing you had to get back to your house instead of listening to the lady gossip of the town. "Luckily I just have my own toy to come home to..." and you escuse yourself with a gentle smile.

-

There was something beautiful about watching a strong, built, capable man like Joel Miller absolutely fall apart under you. The way his high pitched moans bounce within the confines of your bedroom, not one secret of his confessions ever leaving the safety of these four walls. His flush skin adorned in bright claw marks, almost a way of claiming him under those rugged clothes. His stomach tensing then releasing with each breathy pant, eyes rolling as he tries to hold on to the little control he has over his orgasms.

An unearthly sight. Just for you.

“Ah—ahh fuck!” He cries. Joel’s hips crash up against yours, shaking as he concentrates on starving off his orgasm.

You slow the rocking of your hips to gentle glides, your palm caressing the stubble of his cheek. “Shhhhhh, I know. I know. You’re bein’ so good tonight, baby.”

He nods with furrowed brows, eyes closed and head thrown back into the soft white pillow. His beautiful brown curls splayed out on the satin case like a god. “I’m—I’m bein’ so good,” he repeats, swallowing the lump in his throat as he feels himself regaining composure over the tight coil wound in his stomach.

“That’s right. That’s my good boy,” you praise. 

You start a slow rhythm again, softly bouncing on his thick cock that’s been teetering on the edge for an hour now, buried snugly in your suffocating pussy. 

“Good boy,” you coo again. “Mommy never leaves your aching cock neglected, huh? Let you live in my warm sopping pussy all day and night.”

“mmmm—yeah—yes Ma’am. Treatin’ me—s’good.”

You’ve trapped his body, your knees caging him between your legs. You can feel the tense quivers in his spread thighs, unable to do much as your ankles have wrapped back over the meat of them, pinning him below you. He can’t fuck up, can’t squirm. If he wanted to throw you off him, there’s no doubt the immense strength in him could. But he doesn’t. 

His hands are on your waist reassuringly, only to remind himself that you’re still here, guiding him through it. He’s gotten so much better at not taking back control, relinquishing his mind, body, and soul to you.

You feel the steady twitch of him inside you, dragging so deliciously along your walls, taking full advantage of his girth pushing to the crest of your womb. “You’re the best cock I’ve ever cum on.”

“Hahhhh, oohhhhhgggghhhh, tha—oh f-fuck!—thank you—“ he can’t help the slight canter of his own pelvis rolling up into you, brushing his tip along your cervix. “Thank you, Mommy. I—You feel so good—I feel—feel amazing, sweetheart. J-Jesus fuck. Love—love your tight pussy—choking’ my cock. Usin’—usin’ me.”

“Yeah? You like being my fucktoy?” The hand on his face slow glides to his mouth, your thumb hooking on the side and tugging before letting it spring back to place. You then push your fingers around his thick throat, the other hand planting firmly on his plush chest to hold you up. You don’t crush his neck, only leave your touch there as a warning. You ass slams down harshly on his fat cock, making him hiss, encouraging the new rough fucking you’re giving him. The room fills with the obscene slapping of skin against skin as you ride him harder.

“Yeah—yeah! Ye—ah fuck—fuck yes!” He croaks, teeth gritting as he stares you down with hooded eyes. “I l-love bein’ your little fuck stick. Comin’ home n’ fuckin’ me, fuckmefuckmefuckme!—turning’ me into y-your personal dildo. FUckMommy, yeah!”

His tongue sticks out, smiling hazily as his neck arches, head thrown further back, pushing him into your touch. He looked so fucking pretty wrapped around your fingers.

He doesn’t realize his hands have grasped at your breasts, squeezing them in his big hands. 

“Look at me,” you command, breathless yet still pulling your authoritative voice over him. His head snaps back, watching the way your body glistens on top of him with each bounce. Your hips were practically flush together, grinding down on him with precision. “Did I say you could touch my tits?”

He retracts his hands immediately, returning to their rightful place on your hips. “N-No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry Mommy, please.”

You tighten your grip around his throat. “You live— for my pleasure.”

He lets out a guttural groan from deep within his chest. “Yeah—yeah fu—oh fuck, shit—yes Mommy! squeezing’ me so tight, m’just for you, all yours, want you to feel so fuckin’ good, mmmm—” He’s nodding quickly, little wailing growls growing louder as you crash your pussy down on his weeping length over and over again. His lips are parted, fast short breaths being forced out as he feels his pleasure climbing.

“That’s right,” you pant, lost in the prickling feeling of your clit snagging against his pubic hair, smothering your throbbing nub.

“Nnffmmmm—I’m—I’m gonna cum, Mommy. Please, please tell me I can cum,” he whines.

You stop your hips entirely, ignoring the way his face curls into anguish and cries out pathetically. His body is shaking violently under you with the denial.

 You laugh wickedly in his face. “No, nonono, sweet boy.” You let him continue to whimper and quiver below, his cock twitching between your folds. You lean down and grip his hair, kissing him with your tongue invading his lips like a serpent in a rabbits den. You suck his bottom lip before pressing your foreheads together, rolling into a slow, devastating grind that has him seizing in near pain under you.

“I still want more cock.” 

Joel elicits a small whimper, reducing himself to nodding again. You cup around his cheek once more, a loving, natural tone slipping out of you. “Can you do that for me?”

 “Y-yes. Yes.” He coughs obediently, voice strained beyond recognition. 

You sit back up, both of your hands digging into his chest and start riding him more aggressively again. “Fuck me like you want to give me more cock.”

He gasps out a pained yelp. Joel’s beefy fingers clench your sides, nails pinching into your lower back. His knees bent, feet planted wide apart digging into the mattress to thrust up into you. He fucks you with vigor, ignoring his own pleasure too rapidly building inside him again in exchange to watch your tits bounce, hear your gorgeous voice flood the air with each powerful ram. 

“Ugh—oh yeah, baby that’s it!” You cry, tilting your head up to the ceiling. “Fuck me, fuck me so good, baby!”

But his hips are rutting too high, too fast, breath coming out too shallow. “Oh—oh god, I’m gonna—Mommy fuck I can’t! I can’t stop, I’m gonna—!”

“Don’t you dare fucking cum, Joel,” you snap. Your pussy contracts around the width of his cock in a death grip, unable to stop the aggressive back and forth grind as you chase your orgasm.

He’s shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut as you start to cum around him. 

“Oh f-fuCK I can’t—ICAN’T!—I’m—FUCKfuck!—“ His balls draw tight as he releases thick spurts of his seed, load after load filling your convulsing cunt as he forces out harsh pants through clenched teeth—“Mommy I’m sorry! I’m cumming! I can’t stop—I can’t stop fuckin’ cummin—ohjesus I’M CUMMING.” He’s absolutely pouring buckets, each throb of his cock inside you pushes more cum deep into your convulsing womb. The two of you are moaning together in high tune, though his even more desperate, slightly pained after being denied all night.

You settle before he does, eerily quiet atop him as his staggered breaths and fluttering chest calms. When the fog in his mind clears, his eyes fly open, shame washing over him at what he’d done.

“M-Mommy I—“

But you don’t listen, slowly driving back down with his spent cock sloshing in and out of your drenched cunt.

“Ah!” He yells, fingers tightening around your waist in a plea to stop the overstimulation. You yank his wrists off of you and pin them above his head. With each rock of your hips, you feel his stomach tensing and releasing, unsure of the overburdening sensation you’re forcing on his poor dick.

“mmmfffff—nnoo, Mommy, No more, please!”

You still ignore him, rutting your ass back down on his dick now that it’s fully erected again. His seed spills down the base of his cock, wet slaps overlapping with his pathetic pants.

“AURRgghhHH!! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He begs. “I’m—Mommy—fuck—fuck I can’t!”

“You can and you will.” You state plainly, pace continuing without falter.

His shaking digits desperately try to collide with the death grip around his wrists. “Please, please, how can I make it up to you??”

You smile inwardly. The desperation in his hoarse yet sweet voice, his shaking limps both squirming away and subconsciously thrusting back up in to your tight heat, more, less, more, he’s so unsure of the overstimulation wracking his bones. You liked this Joel. You want to keep this Joel. 

And he knows. 

“We’re not done until you fuck a baby in me.”

- - - -

Permanent Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005

[universesweetheart]

Birthday Gift (Dazai x Reader)

In which it's Osamu's birthday

Is it his bday? No, but do I want to write and post this? Fuck yes. So enjoy you virgins

Read my other Dazai's oneshot here, here, here & here :]

Bye now - Mars ♡

“Bella?” Dazai called out as he entered the room. Dazai has had a whirlpool of devasting thoughts when you didn’t pick up his call. This was a first, you were always so willing to hear from him. To talk with him. He couldn’t help but be worried when you didn’t. Afterall, he was now accustomed to your affections. He even shamelessly sought them out. So imagine his surprised when he called his Bella and she didn’t pick up and greet him with that sweet sweet voice that made him rock hard in an instant.

“Kitchen, love” your sweet voice called out to him, like the riches of honey pouring over his raw soul. Without hesitation he found himself rushing to the kitchen, only to internally gasped when he saw the sight in front of him. Heart like a wild beast confined by his very ribs, trying to leap out of his chest.

You, his belladonna, were in pajamas pants with a bralette loosely covered by a Kiss the Chef apron. In front of you on the island counter there was a cake, the icing only of a white layer and when his eyes caught hold of the multiple colors in different bowls, he guessed it was unfinished.

“I guess it won’t be much of a surprise then,” you laughed, “that’s fine though” placing down your piping bag you closed the distance between the two of you and greeted your boyfriend with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I missed you today, Osamu” you kissed his lips, “So much,” you kissed his lips again.

“Mm”

You loved kissing Dazai, you loved showing Dazai affection and receiving affection from Dazai. You felt safe and secure whenever you were with him. His lips were the softest plush heaven you’ve ever felt. To have access to such divinity, to have it be yours made you feel like the goddess you were. Even the thought of Dazai brought you a sense of warmth. Oh, how you loved this man.

Dazai, of course, willingly kissed you back repeatedly. How could he ever be tired of your affections? Of your kisses? Of you? He felt like a man that just had a sip of water after days of going without it. “Why didn’t you pick up earlier? I got worried” he pouted but you saw the genuine concern within the depts of his brown eyes. Beautiful brown eyes. Milky chocolate pool of richness.

Your face beamed as a bright smile overtook it, “Promise you won’t laugh” you kissed the corner of his mouth, arms still secured around his figure, “I didn’t want to get my phone messy” you giggled, “Sorry if I worried you, love, wasn’t my intention.” Eyes crinkled as you smiled.

Dazai let out a breath, chuckling “what am I going to do with you?” his arms found your waist bringing you closer to his body. As a result, you felt your breast pressed up against his chest.

“Hmm well for starters, help me finish this cake” you suggested, “What’s it for?”

“Osamu Dazai,” you said sternly, and a childlike smile crept up on his face, his handsome face that you could stare at forever. “Your birthday, old man”

“Ah, that was today? It must have slipped my mind” he thought out loud. Truth was, he remembered it quite well, he just hated the idea of celebrating his birth into this god forsaken world. Life wasn’t worth celebrating to him, not his at least. He’d celebrate yours everyday of the year if you let him.

You kissed his lips again, “I know you dislike celebrating it, but I thought a cake would be nice, mostly because I wanted cake” and in a singsong voice “Plus I got you a gift,” another kiss, “and… another gift too”

As he eyed you, a smirk found itself onto his lips, leaning down he kissed you biting your bottom lip in the process of pulling away. “Must you always tease Bella?” his hand found it’s path lower onto the curve of your ass; squeezing it. Kneading the soft fat, pushing, and pulling and gripping and jiggling it. Gods, he was obsessed with your sweet ass.

“I don’t know what you mean babe” you reached up to kiss him for the millionth time since he came but he pulled away. Standing at his full height. Cheeky bastard. You tiptoed and placed your hands around his neck, bullying your way into his space to steal yet another kiss. “Don’t deny me of these lips, baby”

Your lips left his and went to his jaw, and then lower to his neck and when you bit down on that sweet spot, he found himself groaning. Hands automatically squeezing your ass harder. “Such a tease” he mumbled in between gasps as you kept sucking and biting his neck. No doubt leaving a trail of purple marks that will later birth hickeys.

“So which present do you want first?” you asked staring at his lust filled eyes. The gods knew what they were doing when they made this special face of your lover.

“The gift…the gift” he smiled and sought out your lips again, swallowing your words of praise.

“What about finishing this cake?”

“I want another cake” Dazai scooped you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, “can wait” he mumbled as his mouth found your neck. Licking, biting and then sucking and the pattern continued from your jaw down to her neck and then your collarbone, and even lower to your breasts.

He walked to the couch and sat down, your bodies close, fitting perfectly, together. “My gift woman”

“Eh? Demands?” you pulled away, your body straddling his thighs, “I’m only letting you off because it’s your birthday and I love you.”

He smiles, “Are you going to keep your birthday boy waiting?” teasing words as his smile stretches into a smirk, “And I love you too, Bella”

Returning his smile with one of your own, you stand up and shimmy down your pajamas pants, revealing your nude bottom half.

Dazai’s eyes beams in excitement, and he licks his lips, “It’s pink for self-indulgent purposes”

He waits for you to explain yourself further, but you don’t. “Take a guess please.”

“Bend over and let me see”

“You’re no fun, at least act surprised”

“Oh Bella, what is it? What is it?” he fakes excitement and smiles as you roll your eyes. Soon enough, he’s pulling you down and holding you down over his lap. Shamelessly ogling your juicy behind. Dazai is not always a patient man, you’ve learned that the hard way. The very hard way.

His hand come down and lands a hard smack on your ass cheek, causing your body to jolt forward and a whine to escape your lips. Rubbing the red flesh and massaging the skin between his fingers, he uses his other hand and spread your ass apart revealing the baby pink jeweled dazzling butt plug stuffing you.

“Happy birthday to me” he whispers and kisses your ass, teeth biting into the plump flesh. A soft whine escaping your lips as your lover bit down on your ass.  

Part 2: here

[lanadelnegan]

Wildest Dreams

Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader

Song inspo: Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift

Summary: Y/n's celebrity crush, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, makes her dreams come true when she meets him at a bar after the walking dead comic con.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, *Jeffrey is single*, plot, smut, sexual tension, cursing, sex, oral, daddy-kink

This is my first attempt at fanfiction ever, ahhh! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

This can't be happening right now. I can't believe he's actually right there. I'm about to touch him.

"Well hello there." Jeffrey's smile widens as I approach his open arms. "What's your name, darlin'?"

"Y/n...Hi" I smile and let him wrap his arms around me.

"That is a beautiful name, y/n. You ready?"

"Yeah, but can we pose a different way though.. maybe looking at each other?" I ask, hoping he can't hear the nervousness in my voice.

"Absolutely, doll." He turns his body facing mine and gently places his fingers around my jawline, looking directly into my eyes and lifting my chin to meet his gaze. "Relax." His tone is soft but demanding.

The photographer counts to 3 but it feels like 10 because Jeffrey's hazel brown eyes are burning flames into mine. I swear this man is staring into my soul as if he can read every thought I've ever had about him. Including that one, because the left side of his mouth suddenly raises and he lets out a "negan-like" chuckle that only the two of us can hear.

I'm the first one to break away from our embrace and I can feel my cheeks redden as I take another glance at him. I make a mental note to never forget what he looks like in person and let my stare linger a little too long on his chest hair peeking out from his white t-shirt. His smirk grows wider and he leans down, putting his mouth next to my ear. "You... are adorable."

When he leans away, the smell of tobacco, leather, and sweet mint fills my lungs.

Even now as I sit in my car, his scent is burned into my nose and the front of my shirt.. I'll never wash it again. My eyes close and my head falls back against my driver's seat.

The rest of my evening is spent binge watching The Walking Dead -season 7 of course - and ordering too much room service. I should go out. I drove 3 hours to Austin, TX.. by myself, which is a big deal for me. I should at least explore the city while I'm here.

I shower and throw on some jean shorts and a cute top, pretending I'm not bothered by the fact that I just washed any trace of my parasocial boyfriend off of me. At least I have this. I hold the picture we took and study it for the 48th time today.

After google searching "nightlife in Austin", Sixth Street seems to be where it's at, so I head that way and although it's only 7 minutes away from my hotel, it takes me 30 to find parking. I have no clue where exactly I'm going or what I'm doing, but hell - I met Jeffrey Dean Morgan earlier. If I could do that, I could do anything. I apply some lip gloss and tell my anxiety to go fuck itself before climbing out of the car.

Bright neon signs from every building light up the street and I smile to myself at the couples holding hands walking past me. I browse around at my options for drinks - not food - because I destroyed $70 worth of room service earlier - and make out the faint sound of Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift coming from one of the pubs up ahead as if it's calling my name. "Shakespeare's." the old sign reads, and I know that's the one. I make my way into the mildly crowded pub, find a seat at the end of the bar, and don't waste any time ordering a drink.

I bring up the picture of Jeffrey and me on my phone and study it.. for the 49th time today. I'm lost in my thoughts when a deep voice fills my ear. "Shit. That is one handsome dude." He takes a seat next to me and orders himself a drink while I stare at him wide-eyed and unable to speak. Oh.. my god.

Jeffrey orders his drink and turns his body towards me slightly with that signature grin on his stupidly handsome face. He breaks the silence since my lips seem to be paralyzed at the moment.

"Tell me what you're thinking, y/n." ... he remembered my name.

"I'm thinking that there is no way this is real life right now." I grin and look around, trying to mentally focus on suppressing the redness in my cheeks.

He laughs as the bartender places his drink down. "Want me to pinch you?"

"You can do whatever you want to me." I say under my breath as I sip my drink, surprised by my liquid courage. If he heard me, he ignores it and I internally cringe at myself.

"Cheers, darlin'." We tap our drinks and I throw my head back to finish mine completely. I sense his gaze on me and turn to face him completely. "So.. What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" He fires back.

"Apparently having a drink with my celebrity crush." I laugh and cringe again. I need to stop.

"Crush? Me?" sarcasm drips from his smirk as he sips on his whiskey. "Would have never guessed.. not with the way you were blushing like hell during our picture."

My mouth drops open. "I was not!"

"No? Lemme see then." He nods towards my phone in my lap.

I pause hesitantly before handing him my phone and unlocking it for him. Bad idea. Instead of looking at our picture, he clicks on the camera button and turns it to selfie mode. He raises my phone in front of us and leans into me. I'm caught off guard but quickly lean into him, our faces touching and I smile as cool, calm, and collected as I can be in this moment.

He snaps a couple pictures of us and looks at them. "We are fucking cute as shit." He shows me and I laugh.

He pulls some glasses out of his jacket pocket and slides them on his face while holding my phone. I watch him in awe as he takes it upon himself to browse through my phone. My heart drops when he goes to the home screen and sees himself as my wallpaper with cute little hearts and cherries surrounding him. Fuck.

I wait for his reaction but it doesn't faze him. And if it does, he says nothing. He stares at the screen a little longer then finally glances at me with a smirk before turning his attention back to my phone. His thumb presses the tiktok icon and I watch curiously. He's not seriously about to suggest we make a tiktok together. Ick.

Worse. Instead, he clicks on my favorites and multiple squares of his face pop up - edits of him. I almost reach for my phone, but part of me likes that he sees it. What is wrong with me.

He looks at me and raises his brow. For the first time all night, I don't blush when he looks at me and it seems to amuse him because he chuckles and looks back at my phone. He clicks on one of the edits and watches himself on top of another woman kissing her passionately. I watch it with him unashamedly. Before it ends, he suddenly clicks my screen off and hands me my phone back.

"Why did you save that?" he asks with a serious tone.

"Uh, I jus - I liked it." I shrug.

"You like watching me make love to women?"

I laugh to myself. "Uhhh. Yeah, I guess so."

He pauses and stares at me, this time with a serious expression. "Do you wish it was you?"

My eyes widen and I open my mouth to answer but no words come out.

He stands and puts his jacket on. Oh great, I scared him. Good job y/n.

"Let's go." He throws a $100 on the bar and motions for me to stand up too.

I'm obviously not going to question this man. If he tells me to bark, I'll bark. I almost faint when I feel his big palm firmly placed right above my backside as we're leaving.

We exit the bar with our heads down as we quickly walk to his car. He opens the passenger side and I get in, waiting for him to appear on the other side. Leather, mint, and tobacco fill my lungs and I'm gone once again.

I'm so lost in my head that I don't even notice that he's already in the driver's seat. "Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Don't ask me that. I don't even know anymore." My answer amuses him and he drives a few blocks away to one of the "rich" hotels. The entire ride over is awkward silence with the exception of Jeffrey blowing puffs of cigarette smoke towards the crack in his window every few moments.

"Y/n." He puts the car in park and turns towards me while flicking his cigarette out the window and rolling it up. "At any point tonight if you want to leave or.. you.. want me to stop, I need you to tell me, okay?"

I look at him and his face is the most serious I've seen it all day.

"Okay." I whisper.

"Come here." Is all he says before I'm leaned towards him over the middle console and so close to his face that our noses are touching. I wait for him to make the move but he doesn't. He looks down at my lips and sighs. "Fuck. I'm not going to kiss you."

I back away a little, feeling embarrassed before he continues explaining. He brings me back closer to him and his hand caresses my cheek. "I need you to understand that tonight is a one time thing, y/n. You.. you can't catch anymore feelings for me than you already have, okay? I'm going to make you feel good, but I'm not going to break your heart in the process."

The smell of his minty cigarette breath tempts me and I have to mentally restrain myself from not crashing into this man's lips. But I just nod instead.

"Good girl." Is all he says before he gets out of the car and comes around to open my door.

The way up to his room is quick and discreet. It's 11pm so we only pass two people on the way up and they didn't seem to recognize him. Even his hotel room is already filled with his signature scent, minus the tobacco.

"Would you like to stay the night with me, y/n?"

"Um, obviously. Are you kidding? ..Yes, I'd love to." I laugh and look around his room.

The lights are off, but the room is bright enough with the city lights shining through the windows. I fall into the bed dramatically on the side closest to the window.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower. Make yourself comfortable, okay?" he grins before closing the bathroom door. I stare back at the closed door and imagine what he looks like getting undressed behind it.

I glance around the large room and notice his phone sitting on the nightstand next to "his side" of the bed. He went through mine.. so it's only fair if I -

I reach over and grab his phone. 042266. I type in his birthdate and the phone locks. I laugh to myself. Too easy, old man.

There's a recent text message from.. my number? I click it and the picture he took of us at the bar pops up. And another one - our picture we took at comic con. He sent them to himself.

I don't want to intrude on his personal business too much, so instead I open his camera and take some goofy selfies. The bathroom door opens while I'm mid tongue out. He stops and stares at me as I slowly set his phone down on the bed. I shrug at him and he shakes his head a little and laughs. He appears in nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist. I turn my gaze away before I get carried away and my eyes get permanently glued to his torso.

"It's okay, y/n. You can look at me. In fact, I want you to."

I look back at him and don't even bother hiding how hard I'm checking him out now. I observe every hair on his chest and my eyes travel south until I'm imagining what he looks like under the towel. A lucky water drop runs down his flat stomach and disappears and I'm hoping the drool I just felt run down my chin was just my imagination. He walks slowly over to my side of the bed and stands next to me.

"You ready to find out what my cock looks like, y/n?"

If I was drinking water right now, I would have just spit it out all over him. I nod and he drops the towel. His cock springs free and I stare at it in awe. He's about 7-8 inches of thick perfection and I've never seen something so hot in my life. He looks down at himself, a proud smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Tell me one of your fantasies, y/n. We're not doing anything tonight that you haven't already thought about."

"I - well, one of them is.. putting it in my mouth." I look up at him innocently.

"What are you waiting for, then?"

I get up and push him gently for him to sit on the bed, then get on my knees in between his legs. If I weren't still buzzing from the drinks earlier, there is no way I'd have the confidence to do this.

He leans back slightly with his hands on either side of him on the bed and looks down at me through lust filled hazel eyes.

"It's all yours baby." He smiles and tucks his bottom lip under his teeth.

I slowly take him into my mouth, savoring the taste of him - like man and fresh leather soap. I groan around him as I take him further and the growl that escapes his throat encourages me to take him as far in the back of my throat as I can.

"Fuuuck baby." His deep voice strains and I watch as his head fall back with pleasure. I continue steadily sucking him and stroking where my throat won't reach. His moans grow louder with each time he hits the back of my throat.

He suddenly thrusts his hips up slightly, causing me to gag and jolt back a little.

"Goddamn it, y/n. You are not making me cum yet." He hanks my hair back and his cock pops out of my mouth and stands strong against his stomach. It's big and wet and throbbing, and my legs clench together and the sight of him.

I stand up and take my shirt off, then my bra. Then slowly slide my shorts and panties down while facing away from him. A satisfied moan escapes his lips and he wastes no time grabbing me and throwing me on the bed. He positions me until my head is on the bed and my ass in the air before I feel his cock press against my soaked pussy from behind. He rubs himself against my wet slit until I'm whimpering and begging him to put it in me.

"Beg for me, baby." He slaps my ass and the sensation causes me to jump a little.

"Please, Jeffrey. I need you. Please."

"Baby, now I know that's not what you call me in your fantasies, is it?" Another slap to my bare ass makes me yelp.

"Daddy.. please!"

His dark chuckle fills the room and every one of my senses is on fire. His scent, his voice, his dick all surround me until I'm crying and pleading for this man to ruin me. "Please daddy, I need you. Please."

"Sorry, princess. I'm taking my time with you." He flips me over suddenly until I'm laying flat on my back. His knees push mine apart, signaling me to spread open for him until he positions himself above me. He leans over me until our faces are inches apart.

My hands roam over his lean body and scratch his back lightly as his lips travel down my neck. His hard cock slides back and forth between my slit and it feels too good every time it brushes my sensitive clit.

"Goddamn, you are soaking my fucking cock and I haven't even put it inside you yet, baby." he groans and bites my nipple gently before taking it into his mouth and sucking so hard it hurts.

He finally leans up, sitting on his knees, and positions his cock right at my entrance.

"Was I or gentle or rough in your fantasies?" He rubs the head against my clit before sliding it back down. My pussy is weeping for him at this point.

"Rough.. please." I choke out.

"Please.. what?" He growls.

"Please daddy!"

He chuckles. "You want it rough baby?" I nod and a tear runs down my cheek at how bad I need him.

"Be careful what you ask for." In one motion, he enters me fully, causing me to scream out at the sudden sensation. My body feels like it was just completely ripped in half, and I wouldn't want it any other way so I cry out for him to do it again. He smirks before pulling out all the way and ramming himself back in.

He starts thrusting at a steady pace and I concentrate on the way his balls feel slapping against me.

Even more tears fall from my face from the extreme emotions he's making me feel. Horny, desperate, obsessed, in.. love.

Fuck.

"Baby. Why are you crying?" He slows his pace and leans over me, assessing my eyes.

"I - I don't know. I - I just.."

"You want me to stop?" his voice is filled with lust and concern.

"No! .. No, don't stop. I just.."

I love you.

"I want it slower." I lie.

"Y/n.. I know you better than that already." He says gently as he thrusts into me deep and agonizingly slow. His lips brush over my ear. "Tell me, baby." He kisses my neck before grabbing my jaw firmly and looking for answers in my eyes. "Tell me, y/n, or I'm stopping."

I close my eyes and blurt out before I can stop myself. "I - I think I love you."

Jeffrey's expression falls serious and he looks back and forth between my eyes while slowly releasing my jaw. His head drops and his eyes close as if he just got slapped, but he continues fucking me.

"Goddamn it, y/n... I told you.. I told you not to catch feelings."

I just stare at him and cry. "I'm sorry."

He closes his eyes again tightly as if contemplating what he should do next. Before I can say anything else, his lips crash against mine. I kiss him back passionately and his tongue slips into my mouth. He picks up the pace with our kiss and his hips and I moan into his mouth.

"Fuck, baby. What am I gonna do with you?" his breathing grows faster and heavier with mine.

"Jeffrey.. fuck, I'm - I'm."

"Cum for me, baby." He growls and quickens his thrusts again.

I scream out for him and he moans into my neck.

"Jeffrey.. you know what else I fantasize about?" I ask him while trying to catch my breath.

"What's that, baby?" His balls slap against me over and over and over.

"What you taste like when you cum."

He lifts his head to look at me and paints a devilish grin across his face. "Yeah? You want me to cum in that pretty mouth, baby?"

I nod without question. I've dreamt about what this man tastes like for so long. If this is our one and only night together, I need to know.

"Fuck." He pulls out of me and leans back on his knees, bringing my head with him as his fingers tightly grip my hair.

"You ready, baby? Open up." His voice is deep and hoarse as he moans out and I swear I've never heard a man sound as sexy as he does right now.

His warm, salty cum fills my throat and I greedily swallow every drop of him, licking his tip until he's completely drained.

"Holyyy shit. Look at my dirty girl." He grins down at me and strokes my hair like he's proud.

He drops down in the bed and holds his arm out for me to lay next to him. I lay my head on his chest and listen to his rapid heart beat. A few minutes pass and I'm hoping he forgot about my little comment earlier. Well - big comment. I can't believe I told him I love him. I mean, I do love him and I think I have for awhile now, but why did I have to be a psycho and tell him that.

He finally breaks the silence. "Y/n.. We have to talk about it."

I sigh. Here it goes. "I know.. listen.. I didn't mean it. Obviously, I barely know you. I was caught up in the moment and I was just.. emotional. I promise I'm - I'm not crazy. I know this is a one time thing and I'm okay with that."

"Hmph." I feel his chest rise a little and he sighs. I lift my head up to look at him and he smiles wide at me before kissing my lips.

"That's too bad y/n.. Cause I was thinking we could do this again tomorrow."

The End.

If you read this, thank you so much. This is my first time writing fanfiction, so pls be nice. If you hate it, I'll cry. :') Xo,kb.

[delirious-donna]

Who? [Kiba Inuzuka]

an: this is a repost of an old story I wrote for @tired-biscuit who we all know is the biggest kiba girlie on the planet. I've reworked it and added an extra 2k (sorry not sorry). Hopefully, it gets a few reads.

pairing: Kiba Inuzuka x female reader

warnings: NSFW, modern AU, friends to lovers trope, characters in late 20s, angst, toxic males (sorry Asuma, Obito, Itachi and Hidan simps!), pussy eating, blowjob after sex, unprotected sex, cum swallowing, biting and marking.

Masterlist

He eyed you with the utmost disdain.

Glowing amber eyes raked from the toes of your scuffed Converse to the brim of the baseball hat that peeked from under your hoodie. A sleek dark eyebrow rose, stern in admonishment of your haggard appearance and you could scream at him for it.

You knew you looked god awful—felt it too—but did he need to sneer quite so fucking openly? Even from the door of the coffee shop, you knew he was going to give you absolute hell, motherfucker couldn't help himself at the best of times. Some best friend he was.

Kiba Inuzuka appeared his usual well-put-together self, the epitome of the aloof bad boy that most girls had that annoying phase of wanting more than reason should allow. Sickening really, but you loved him regardless. Platonically, of course… of course.

He sat with arms crossed at your favoured table in the back corner, his arms tightly crossed over his wide chest and forcing the cotton of the black tee he wore to work to its limit to contain the muscles beneath. You spied his foot stretched out as he practically manspread in his chair, and the ominous tap of his heavy biker boot sounded like the tolls of a church bell as you walked toward him and your doom.

The strands of his chestnut brown hair were tousled in a sexy 'I just got fucked' style that was meant to look like he had rolled right out of whatever bed he had spent the previous night in. However, you knew the truth of it. That particular look took him a straight forty-five minutes to perfect each morning, and you were tempted to ruffle your hand through it just to piss him off more but you didn’t have a death wish–not today.

You always gave him shit for how long it took him to get ready in the mornings, many a time in your college years you had screeched about him being worse than the girls, and you were not wrong. If any of his floozies were to find out about his skincare regime their little airhead brains would likely implode from shock. Perhaps you should never have taught him that he needed to use more than bar soap on his face each morning, for the man owned more luxury beauty products than you did now.

"You look like shit," he offered with a shit-eating grin on his annoyingly handsome and punchable face.

The onset of summer highlighted the fresh dusting of freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and his usual sun-kissed skin darkened further from the abundance of scorching sunlight. Kiba was a true summer child, not something you shared with him as you opted to hide from the dangerous rays of the sun until the weather cooled into a more agreeable autumn temperature.

"Well, fuck you too, dickhead!"

You threw yourself haphazardly into the opposite chair, face screwed up from the squeal of metal on the polished floor and pouted.

"Could've at least bought me a drink. Not like you don't know what I like," you moaned sullenly.

Glancing over your shoulder you could see the line was almost at the door, and the thought of standing in it to get your much-needed fix of caffeine sounded like hell on earth. With your best puppy dog eyes, you rounded back to Kiba who was watching you fixedly, jaw set in a firm line.

"Oh no. I already stood in that queue, had to almost sell my soul to Satan himself to get the last apple danish. It's not my fault that you're so hungover that you can't face standing up for longer than a minute," he all but yelled at you.

Kiba was more pissed than you had expected, you must have really caused a scene for him to be this level of mad at you. Caffeine was your biggest weakness, and he knew it. Groaning loudly as you rubbed at your aching temples, you tried to replay the snippets of what you remembered from the previous night.

Anger snapped at your fingers. The burn of absolute fury had you rubbing at your chest in discomfort, and you well remembered the slap you had landed with the stinging pain that still lingered on your palm. A face you would much rather forget loomed into your mind's eye, tall and dark-haired. A cocky lopsided smile on his face as he tried to wave away your well-founded accusations.

Goddamn Obito Uchiha, he was the devil incarnate. Nothing but a cheating scumbag that had promised you the world but in the end gave you only hell and one heck of a headache.

You could recall the heated whispers of your girlfriends, the words that had curdled your stomach and caused your pulse to pound in your ears. Your boyfriend had been seen by multiple reliable sources engaged in acts that should solely be reserved for you. He had fallen back into the arms of his ex, and he didn't even have the decency to end things before he went and stuck his dick in her.

Sure, you could have handled things better, you knew that, but he had it coming to him.

"Kiba," you whined, "I know that I probably didn't do myself any favours last night, but you can't tell me that he wasn't asking for it? The bastard cheated on me! A slap to the face was hardly the end of the world..."

You fell silent whilst his stare iced over instantly.

The warmth of his amber-flecked eyes was gone in a heartbeat, cold fury descended over his face as he leant forward with his arms braced on the table. You couldn't help but admire the black ink that ran from his left elbow and slipped beneath the sleeve of his fitted t-shirt. His bicep flexed as he pointed a thick finger in your face.

"Are you serious? You think I'm pissed at you for throwing a piss poor slap at that self-centred prick?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Be quiet," he added as your mouth popped open to shoot back your reply.

"Course he deserved it, and the rest of what he got..."

You frowned at the ominous statement in confusion, suddenly eyeing his hands intently, and as you had suspected, the knuckles were raw and split open in places. That only ever happened when… Icy dread whispered down your spine at the unwelcome thought.

"What I am downright furious about is the scene you made after that slap. Don't you remember shouting your damn head off, screeching like a fucking banshee for 'that bitch' as you called her? Must have slipped your mind that you stormed right across the bar, literally pushing over your friends that just wanted to help and then threw up all over the pinball machine, yeah?"

You blanched, literally feeling the colour drain from your face as you did indeed recall flashes of what he spat at you so venomously. All you wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, instead, you raised your hands to cover your face, or at least, you tried.

A rough hand wrapped around your wrist and forcefully removed it from your mortified face.

"Uh-uh, I got more to say and you are gonna listen, so perk those little ears up mama. I could forgive you yelling like a lunatic and spewing your load, god knows I'm more than aware you're such a damn lightweight. What I cannot forgive is you running out the door and going fuck knows where!"

He was getting louder and you cringed.

It felt like a thousand eyes were on the pair of you, and it made the introvert in you crumble like a sandcastle being overwhelmed by the ocean. You had wondered why you'd awoken in your childhood bedroom, why the window was wide open and your dad was holding a baseball bat over his head as you emerged from the cocoon of bedsheets. Old habits die hard and sneaking in and out of your bedroom window proved to be one of them even though you had long moved out of your parents’ home.

Your mouth was drier than a desert, tongue heavy in your mouth as Kiba finished his tirade. He huffed through his nose like an angry bull, and with only the jut of his jaw, he silently demanded a response. The problem was, you didn't know what to say, surely you were out of excuses for the poor choices you had made. It seemed like this was a cycle you were meant to repeat from now until the end of time.

Step One – find a new boyfriend who would quickly become your obsession.

Step Two – Kiba would either know them already or meet them only to immediately disapprove and ask you to end things. Ask was putting it mildly too.

Step Three – you and he would argue like squabbling schoolchildren until one of you stormed out, resulting in a period of silence.

Step Four – said boyfriend would reveal his true colours in the most atrocious of ways and annoyingly prove Kiba right time and again.

Step Five – Kiba picked up the broken pieces of your heart and soul, glueing them back together with an ever-patient hand. Although he never failed to tell you, ‘I told you so.’

Repeat.

Shame burned in your chest, the feeling filled you from head to toe and it was enough to intensify the headache that crested through your brain like waves on a turbulent sea. All this and you had no damn coffee to at least take the very edge off your misery.

What could you say?

You had acted like a selfish brat with those actions, your friend had every right to be angry at you and it was only then you noticed the dark shadows that lingered beneath Kiba's eyes. You grabbed his hand and held it tightly in your own when he tried to withdraw, pulling it toward you.

"Please don't tell me you've been up all night cause of me?"

He shrugged and again tried to pull his hand free, but he didn't truly fight you. It was evident to both of you that if he wanted to retrieve his hand, he would be able to do so with ease. He grunted in reply and looked pointedly over your shoulder.

Fuck!

"I'm sorry," you whispered with a slight hiccup, fighting the flow of tears that threatened to spill upon the bougie-looking rustic tabletop. A fingertip traced a gnarled knot, it grounded you and kept you from completely losing it.

"Kiba, please. I'm sorry, it won't happen again. I know I've said that before but I mean it, I do, I promise. No more idiots and no more making an absolute fool of myself."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

His tone had returned to a more amicable level, with a smirk unfolding on his lips and you knew that the worst of the storm was over.

Worry had been at the core of his fury, not knowing where you were until you had texted him upon waking at your parent’s house. Frantic fingers flew across the keys whilst listening to your dad's yells of indignation about how you should have used the damn front door instead of climbing in through your old bedroom window.

This really was the straw to break the camel's back.

It was exhausting, the emotional toll enough to have you curled into a tight ball on most nights. True that the highs were intoxicatingly good, but the lows were soul-suckingly abysmal. It was time that you stopped endlessly chasing around after men who were never worth your time and effort. Maybe if you stopped searching, the right man would find you instead.

"I'm done, I promise," you reiterated with a steely determination in your eye.

Kiba tipped back in his chair, assessing your words and finding them to be genuine. His normal goofy smile manifested and it was like the first ray of sunshine you had seen in weeks. He truly was the best friend you could ever ask for, and when he stood with a sigh, you realised you couldn't love him anymore.

"Caramel macchiato?"

Or could you?

–

Kiba had known it wouldn't last, it never did, so why would this time be any different?

The trouble was that he adored you from the tip of your sharp tongue right down to your uncoordinated feet that stumbled and fumbled no matter how hard you tried to keep your balance. The pair of you had been friends since your schooldays and you were both prominent figures within your wider social group. What he didn't like about you, and was not quiet about, was your god-awful taste in men.

You couldn't help it, you were downright adorable so of course, men were always gonna be drawn to you, but did you have to pick the worst scumbags imaginable? He had never believed that one person could get it wrong over and over without at least learning some kind of lesson. It must be some kind of imbalance in your brain and it was astonishing, to say the least.

Over the years you had gone through phases, such as the bad boy stage where you swore blind that you could reform idiotic womanizing players like Asuma Sarutobi. Everyone and their grandmother knew that Asuma could not keep his eyes, and hands, off the ladies. It was never going to matter how many times in a day you fucked him, he was destined to stray and stray he did.

Kiba was there to pick up the pieces, to reassure you that it was most definitely his loss, and no, he didn't think you needed to lose any fucking weight! Why would you even think that? He didn’t always understand women and the fascination with weight was his biggest bugbear. 

Then there was the sophiscated phase which he referred to as the smugly quiet phase. Itachi Uchiha was only a few years older than you but damn did he act like he was a motherfucking elder. The condescending smiles, the little tuts and eye rolls at what he deemed to be childish acts and that low almost monotonous tone that spoke volumes about his feelings, or lack thereof.

Again, Kiba had warned you off but you chose to ignore him as usual.

Instead, he waited until Itachi sat you down and told you abruptly that you were too immature for him, effectively breaking your heart in all the time it took him to blink those feminine-looking long dark eyelashes of his. Kiba was there for you to cry upon his shoulder, to wipe your snotty nose and assure you that you were not immature, that dude was just an old ass fuddy-duddy.

Obito had simply been the latest in a long line of utter morons, and part of him had desperately hoped you would keep your word this time. The one thing he was glad about was that you had never dated within your friendship circle, though it hadn't stopped some of the guys from trying.

You would never know about the times he had forcibly taken aside the likes of Naruto and Shikamaru, the muttered threats of mortal wounds and outright death if they so much as dared to touch you. Kiba was always met with nervous chuckles, reassuring pats on the shoulder and hastily sworn oaths that they would keep their distance. Shikamaru had even looked downright pleased with himself, as if he knew something that Kiba didn’t and that encounter had lingered with him for a long while.

It had been a good month since you swore 'til you were blue in the face that you were done chasing men, a record for you but it had all come tumbling down when Hidan entered the fray.

Hidan–a dude who swore he had no last name. Seriously, who did he think he was, the goddamn pope? Perhaps he should have taken that final step much like Prince had done and changed his name into a symbol, it certainly wouldn't have made him any more pretentious.

The man clearly thought he was the next messiah and Kiba had taken an instant dislike to him. This time it was different and he couldn't shake the fear that gripped his heart. Worry gnawed at him, the sense that his guy was more than capable of drawing you into things that could endanger you. The saying goes that you should listen to your gut and Kiba took that very literally. His every instinct screamed of danger and put him on high alert for trouble.

Weeks had passed since you two first started dating and although he desperately wanted to teach you a lesson by giving you the usual silent treatment until you snapped, he refrained. Something stopped him, a niggling doubt that poked him at the most random of times. He wasn’t about to let something befall you on his watch, he’d never forgive himself if it did.

Instead, he watched much like a predator would, assessed this cocky-ass male and learned his weaknesses. Kiba knew Hidan hated to be called out on things, his word was law in his mind and that just grated on the Inuzuka to the worst possible level.

He remembered well the night that Hidan had cornered him as he left the bar restroom, his fist thundering into the wall next to his head in an attempt to intimidate him. It didn't take much for Kiba to snap, yet he managed to hold on to his composure this time. Fought to retain his sanity tooth and nail because he would not play into Hidan's hands, for this was a game to him.

"You wanna fuck her, dontcha?"

"Killing you to know that it's my dick that she sits on each and every chance she gets, huh? Cock hungry little slut that she is."

The inflammatory words had been like grenades exploding behind his eyes, what an utter cunt he was for speaking about you in such a derogatory manner. Kiba had stuffed his white-knuckled fists deep into his pockets, biting his tongue and pushing away from the sneering male without further incident.

In hindsight he was shocked that he had managed to keep it together and not outright punched the fucker–he wanted to–but then again so had Hidan. It was a part of his plan to isolate you, to keep you from your friends and family so that he could steal all your time and attention. He was the definition of a toxic male.

Manipulative fucker!

The Inuzuka drained his beer and let his head fall back against the couch cushions. He was at his wit's end, there was no plan to swirl inside his rampant brain that seemed likely to work.

How long had he ignored his feelings for you?

Too long was the answer. He doubted you were ever going fall into his arms as he wished, but he satisfied himself with being your ever-constant rock. If he could not have you, he would make damn sure that whoever was lucky enough to steal your heart treated you like a princess.

It hurt his heart, but it was better than the emptiness that came with the alternative.

Tired eyes looked towards his phone that was buzzing incessantly on the couch beside him, he palmed the device and looked at the screen to find your name illuminated like a beacon in the darkness of his lounge. He schooled his features although he knew you could not see him and answered the call.

"What's up?"

–

You were a dumbass.

There was no other way to describe how dense you were when it came to your love life. You had to wonder if you had a sign above your head that attracted the absolute worst of mankind to swarm you like insects. Was there something wrong with you? Were you actually a bad person who didn't deserve to be loved?

You made your way to the apartment you knew as intimately as your own.

Feet carrying you ever forward, speeding you towards comfort in the arms of Kiba. He would make it all better, wouldn't he?

For once, you didn't know if he could. There were only so many times you could be knocked down before you could no longer get back up and it was getting harder and harder to find your feet.

Tears threatened to fall but you refused. Curling your hands into tight fists until your nails sank into the flesh, close to puncturing the skin but not quite. It grounded you and kept the tears at bay. How long it would last, you weren't sure.

The ache in your chest eased as Kiba answered the door with worry prominent on his features. Pinched brow and pristine white teeth gnawing his lower lip in earnest. Even before you could step inside, he was reaching for you, dragging you into his strong embrace and wrapping you in his essence.

You sank into him willingly, inhaling his musky spice-infused scent until you were filled with it. It felt like stepping into a perfectly hot bath after a long exhausting day, the tension from your muscles draining away whilst you sagged against the chest that rose and fell in harmony with your own. Kiba wrapped one arm wrapped around your lower back, a thumb rubbing against you in soothing motions whilst the other cradled your head and let you settle into his broad shoulder.

Why couldn't all the men in your life be like this?

Kiba accepted you for who you were and had no interest in changing you into something that would better suit him. His soul was filled with warm light, you saw it through the amber flecks in his eyes, the adorable dimple appearing on his right cheek when he smiled broadly and through his caring actions.

"Tell me everything babe," he cooed softly into your mussed hair, ruffling the strands with his breath.

Where to begin?!

You spent the next hour filling in your longtime friend with every dreaded detail from this afternoon, sipping cautiously on a beer that he offered you once seated on his squishy leather couch. The last thing you wanted to do was succumb to alcohol, but one would settle your nerves you reasoned.

"I knew that guy was a motherfucker," Kiba hollered from the kitchen.

Rolling your eyes at the sheer joy that laced his gravelly tone, you turned to find him bent over searching the fridge aimlessly. His tight butt swayed in the hold of his black jeans, it was such a nice backside and if you were in a better mood you might have tiptoed closer to give it a good hard smack. He’d deserve it.

"Mr Kiba 'I knew he was a motherfucker' Inuzuka. Can't you ever give me a break?"

It hadn't bothered you this much when he first said it, but the more you repeated the words, the more fury infused your veins. It hit you like a tidal wave, turning you from weepy sadness to burning anger in less than a minute.

You popped to your feet, pacing back and forth whilst your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides. Wary amber eyes followed your movements, closing the fridge door with a hard thud that made the magnets rattle. Magnets you had gifted that asshole. The grim set of his jaw was back, irritation so quick to line his features until you were both scowling at one another.

"The fuck? Why have you always got to be so fucking high and mighty? You ain't perfect either, you know!" You were yelling now, raw emotion burning your throat and turning your body into a literal inferno.

"High and mighty? You gotta be joking me. Watch your damn mouth, my patience will only remain for so long. I suggest you calm the fuck down and sit down as well!"

He was making it worse, where was his usual compassion when you stormed like this?

"Or what Kiba? You gonna chuck me out?" You snorted through your nose and missed the flash of pure rage that flitted through his blown-wide pupils.

All six foot two of him towered above you, so close you could feel the heat roiling off his body and licking at your flesh. The back of your legs caught the edge of the glass coffee table and he was grabbing at your upper arms in an instant.

You gasped when his fingers dug into the meat of your arms until you almost yelped out for him to stop. Head tipped back and heart thundering from an evil cocktail of anger and bitterness, you straight up growled at him like a dog ready to lunge and attack.

"When are you going to open your fucking eyes?" he whispered, low and so very dangerous that the hairs on the nape of your neck prickled to attention.

Too wrapped in your own negative emotions, you failed to comprehend his words fully. Oblivious to the storm of desire that was rapidly rising to the surface in the male fixing you in place. You ignored his words and spat more venom at him in an attempt to get him to release you.

"When was the last time you even got laid Kiba? Haven't seen any of your airheads flouncing about in forever. They made me sick to my stomach with their simpering eyes out on stalks, drooling over you like you were some kind of fucking god."

He let go in a moment of startled surprise as your words found their mark, and you stormed towards the door only to have your wrist captured in a rough hand. Kiba pulled you back to him, the tug was so forceful that your chest bumped into his and your free hand flew to the wall of steel that was his chest in an attempt to balance yourself.

"Jealous?" he seethed, lowering his face until you were practically nose to nose

Had you been in your right mind, you might have taken a moment to process that incredibly loaded question and see it for what it actually was. Instead, your primal instincts found themselves firmly in the driving seat as a war cry pounded in your ears and a tightness grew heavy in the pit of your stomach.

You snatched your hand back and grabbed two fistfuls of his stupid tousled chestnut hair, pressing yourself onto your tiptoes to reach his wickedly curled lips.

This was no soft kiss, it was cruel and punishing.

Lips met, teeth gnashed and snarls sounded from both of your throats as Kiba reacted in kind. His hands were not gentle as he cupped your face, one hand stealing into your hair and wrapping it around his fist. He pulled, forcing your throat to strain taut and ripping your mouth away from his with a hiss.

White-hot fury veiled your vision in red. His sharp almost fang-like incisors sank into your vulnerable neck, harsh and selfish as he marked you for his own. Greedy lips followed the exquisite sting of pain, sucking at the skin indented by his teeth until the entire area would be bruised and tender to the touch when your sanity returned.

You didn't know what made you say it, the words were out of your mouth before you took note of them.

"Seems like you've been the jealous one.” Kiba froze against your frantic pulse point.

His eyes were positively feral, the pupils almost entirely swallowing his normally warm amber irises. Cheeks dabbled in rough whiskers from the late hour and the tendon from neck to collarbone straining from exertion. Kiba levelled you with a dangerous stare and you couldn't help but look away to admire his forearms instead of succumbing to his piercing gaze. The sleeves of his open shirt rolled to the elbows–a look that had you weak at the knees at the best of times–and the strength in those corded muscles was obvious to your appreciative eye.

"That’s right, m’gonna make you forget about those stupid assholes that didn't know what a treasure they had. Their loss is my gain. If you want this," he pointed to himself to emphasise the point, "if you want me, then come get it."

Without a backwards glance, he stormed to the island in his kitchen and left you there… alone and bereft of his overwhelming heat. Kiba stood with his lower back resting against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other and his arms folded as he watched you. His muscled chest heaved with every laboured breath, cheeks ruddy from the kiss you’d shared and there was a more than subtle bulge on the front of his jeans.

Did you want him, your best friend Kiba?

Hell yeah, you did!

Annoyed by your own oblivious stupidity, the puzzle pieces clicked together in your head. Kiba was downright sexy, his physique godly and a face that was both rugged and angelic depending on his mood. He was funny, a total goofball who made it his mission to keep you laughing until you were clutching your stomach and begging for mercy. A social butterfly who ensured he gave his friends equal attention, he knew every birthday and often was the ringleader of group outings and meetups.

He was your Kiba.

The person you relied upon most in the world, your constant and when you tried to imagine a world without him, it stole your breath until you were crippled by the agony. Had you been jealous of his idiotic little girlfriends? Yes, you always wanted to be the centre of his universe and they distracted from that. You had tried to mask it as a dislike for his taste in women but most of his exes had been perfectly nice if you had given them the time of day to get to know.

It was clear, that you wanted him.

You ran.

Four long strides and you threw yourself into his quickly outstretched arms. He caught you –of course, he did –bearing your weight with practised ease as you wrapped around him like climbing ivy. Hands fisting into the t-shirt that lay beneath his shirt as you found his mouth once more, sought to reclaim it and make your intentions crystal fucking clear.

This time the kiss was more tender, yet the passion was still as ardent and heady. His wide hands roamed your hips until he was kneading the meat of your ass through your pants and making your lower half grind against him in sinful bliss. The zipper of his jeans pressed against your centre through the layers of clothes and you moaned openly into his mouth.

Kiba was famished, he swallowed your lewd noises and was quick to incite more as he turned to perch you atop the counter. His hips rolled into you, languid but forceful whilst he explored the wet cavern of your mouth. Your tongue rolled over his in an erotic dance that had no end in sight. If not for your necessity to breathe, there would be no parting you and only the shared oxygen in the space created by two friends that finally breached a line that had been long held and now threatened to either tie them together or pull them apart.

You tugged expectantly at his clothes, desperate to strip him to your gaze and finally, he relented. Kiba pulled back long enough to tug off his shirt and tee, discarding them haphazardly. His warm breath fanned your cheek, stuttering when your cool fingers stroked and detailed the definition of his torso.

"Eager little thing," he growled. The smile he sported only served to highlight the ego that was often to focus of your teasing. Yet, this time no humourous jabs came to mind. For once you were glad of his self-confidence and eagerness to move things along.

He divested you of your oversized hoodie, thankful you had taken the time to put on a nice bra beneath it despite the mess you had been in earlier. His groan was heaven to your ears and when he dove to kiss you through the sheer material of your bralette you thought you had died right there and then.

Saliva dampened the already thin fabric, those dangerous wolfish teeth nipping at your pebbled buds. With your head tossed back, he used that wicked mouth of his on your breasts and you were unprepared for the piercing rip that flooded the hushed space. Kiba had torn clean through the garment, the halves falling down your arms to lay destroyed on the floor.

"Kiba!" you half yelled, half squeaked as he took that exact moment to suckle your nipple between his plush lips. Your belly quivered, the pulling sensation more intoxicating than the most potent alcohol and the feeling echoed far more intensely between your trembling thighs. Your fingers carded through his lush hair, nails scraping against his scalp and smiling indulgently at the rumble deep in his throat.

"I'll buy you more, promise baby. Lay back, need to get you naked," he said sounding entirely as drunk as you felt.

For once you were eager to follow his instruction, a novelty for Kiba who merely watched with a knowing look that promised he would deliver of your wildest fantasies if you’d just fucking listen to him, at long last. His eager fingers hooked into the waistband of your leggings and were quickly dragged down your supple legs. Slowly, he eased his calloused fingers back up your bare legs, stopping to toy with the back of your knees and listen to the subtle gasp caught tight in your throat.

Funny how you had thought he would be rough and impatient, the deed almost over with and the finish line hurtled towards at inhumane speed when here he was taking his sweet time. It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to feel the searing heat that was radiating from between your thighs, to dip his fingertips against your panties and know how drenched they already were from the mere prospect of being with him.

As if sensing your thought process, Kiba finally parted thighs whilst you rested backwards on your elbows. A low appreciative hum caught your ear and you shifted your focus to the tight grip he had on his bottom lip, teeth sinking deep and the wide flare of his nostrils like he was scenting you as an animal would do. He planted your feet and pushed your knees to the sides until you were splayed out like a cat in heat. It was vulnerable and so exhilarating you couldn't help but wriggle.

His eyes were glazed over when he, at last, moved to touch your panties, zeroing in on the obvious damp patch and letting his head roll along his neck for a second as a visible shiver passed up the length of his spine. You’d swear he appeared like those cartoon characters that have zapped with electricity, near every hair on his body rippling from the sensation.

"Have to taste you, sweetheart. My pretty fuckin’ girl."

A chaste kiss fell to your lips before he began a slow tortured path down your body, stopping here and there as he learned the spots that made you tremble and shake, noting carefully when you would whine and try to cling to him. Smug smiles and smears of his saliva were painted upon your heated skin, and he let loose a triumphant bark of laughter when you whimpered your impatience.

"Please," you mewled, a hand pressing atop his head to hurry his descent. Forward was not something you were familiar with, shyness always overtaking your urge to express your wants, but with Kiba, you knew there was no need for any such concerns.

"Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll deliver."

You could cry at the bubble of pressure that was desperate for release, sitting just below the surface, if he would just touch you.

"Wan’ you to fuck me with your mouth, need it so bad Kiba! Please–"

The last syllable had barely left your mouth before he was diving for your centre, underwear pressed aside as he nudged your clit with his nose and inhaled deeply. One roughened pad explored your slick folds, collecting the nectar and pressing it into his mouth.

His sigh was purely reverential and he settled down to devour you like a starving man sat before his first meal in weeks. It was all too much, the immediate stimulation intense enough to have your toes curling where they now rested down his broad back.

Kiba laid languid swipes of his molten tongue along your slit, alternating between flickering motions against your engorged pearl and slow circular patterns around your sopping hole. The walls of your cunt fluttered, desperate to be filled and clench around something–anything–and when his finger slipped easily inside you bucked wildly.

“Shh, keep still. Lemme hear your pretty voice but gotta hold still, yeah?” He encouraged, mouth only moving far enough way for you to hear his heated request.

It took mere minutes for you to come apart on his mouth, his digit sucked deep as he stroked your slick, spongy walls and suckled at your clit to almost pain. Your legs were limp from the unrelenting waves of euphoria that raced throughout your body and if not for the grounding palm caressing your thigh then you might have passed out there and then when white sparks shot straight through your vision.

Kiba didn’t spill a single drop of your nectar, the wet insistent muscle rolling into your cunt over and over to simply dig more of the delicious juices from your quivering body before he stood with the lower half of his face glistening in your essence. It felt… empowering. The intense lust that blazed in his eyes, a lust that was for you and no one else. Fuck. You loved him. Had for a long time. Why had you taken so long to see it for what it really was?

It wasn’t the time to get stuck in your head like this, there would be moments for these thoughts and what lay beyond but right now, you weren’t entirely satisfied and you wouldn’t be until you had milked the man looming over you for every drop he could deliver.

With renewed vigour and determination, you propped yourself on your elbows and then lunged forward towards the buckle of his belt. You’d never worked so deftly as you worked to unbuckle him, moaning at the loud metal clattering loose. Buttons worked free and zipper pulled down, the waistband of his underwear came into sight and your fingers curled around that final barrier and released with him an audible gasp mingled with his sigh of relief.

You had known he was going to be well endowed, could feel it from the press of his body only earlier, but it was still a shock to see him in all his glory, and what a glory it was. His length was impressive, but it was his girth that was the true beauty–if you could even call such a monster a beauty. Kiba's cock could barely support its own weight, the angry length tipped to a deep purple with precum leaking from the slit under your scrutiny.

It looked enormous in your petite hand, managing to encircle the shaft but only just did your fingertips meet. You stroked his velvety soft skin, paying attention to the stark veins that stood to attention and how Kiba reacted when you traced over the most prominent with a salacious smile. You scooted towards the edge of the counter, eyes locked with him with every deliberate move you made.

The head kissed against your glistening folds and you teased both of you by running the blunt tip along your slit until it bumped against your clitoral hood. His fingers were gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you feared he would crumble the marble under his strong hands if he wasn't careful. You notched him at your slowly pulsing entrance, and on a breathy keening noise, you pleaded. 

"Fuck me Kiba."

You knew that he had snapped when an animalistic noise roared from his throat and the death grip moved from the counter to your hips as he pushed into your cunt. Kiba eagerly watched your walls suck him in, utterly drunk on the silken feel of you in much the same way that you were drunk on him. Every drag of his shaft rubbed delicious friction into your most intimate areas with a precision he shouldn’t yet possess. He was made for you and you were made to take him.

There would be a time for slower moments and tender loving making, for you were sure that Kiba was not going to escape from you, not now. He was yours, and you his. This alone had you urging him on, driving that feral side of him to act and do it hard and fast with nips at his lips and nails clawing down his back. 

His hips pistoned like a well-oiled machine, and sweat clung to his forehead as he set a pace that saw him pounding into your pussy. A relentless rhythm that matched the pound of your heart, clammy skin on skin and kisses that acted better than any drugs ever could.

"This what you wan’? Hungry for my cock, huh?"

His words were staccato with every thrust that he delivered, your body jerking with the wild and powerful movements. Your head fell back against the counter as moan after decadent moan left your throat. Kiba's tight grip moved to your waist and he began to pull you onto his length, your back sliding against the marble top making your tits bounce and your ass slap against his pelvis. Every drag of his shaft against your walls made you keen for him, full to capacity but craving more nevertheless. He was using you like his own personal fucktoy and you were creaming around him at that knowledge, the lewd squelches of your bodies joined in this way growing louder and louder.

"Tell me. Need to hear you say it, kitten."

"Oh… fu-fuck! Need your dick, feel so good–ah!" You screamed when Kiba leaned over you and altered the angle of how he was driving into you. His mouth sucked possessive marks onto the sides of your breasts as you used the last of your hastily retreating sanity to again fist his hair and force him even closer to you.

"Tell me I'm better than those other motherfuckers. No one can fuck you like this, nobody else is worthy of this beautiful pussy," he growled, breaking from your hold to allow him to press his thumb against your clit and making you jerk at the sudden unsuspecting touch.

"Kiba–best. Gonna, oh god–m’so close. No one but you."

Your brain was a puddle, the ecstasy too much for full coherent thoughts as you felt the gush hit against his groin. You soaked him in your juices, the wet noises crescendoing whilst stars winked into your vision.

"Such a good fuckin’ girl, oh shit. What a beautiful mess you've made on me," he cooed in praise, slowing his pace but never stopping. He had to be close; your walls desperately trying to milk him, to force his release in kind.

Slowly, you returned to the earth, oversensitive from each measured stroke that he delivered until he pulled from you and wiped the sweat from his brow. He fisted his shaft as you watched, tears springing to your eyes at being denied his release.

"Wanna come down your throat, think you can manage?" he asked, his eyes burning into yours as he pumped himself.

Your thighs were shaky, the skin slick with the spill of your arousal but you managed not to fall to the floor. Kiba steadied you with his free hand, groaning in his throat as you knelt before him. His head fell back when you parted your lips and accepted him into your wet mouth.

The taste of his essence mingled with your own, sweet and bitter but definitely not unpleasant. You had never done this before and it felt so wicked as you watched Kiba come apart above you. He could barely maintain his eye contact with you, heat surging to his cheeks and his hands cradling your head in gentle reverence.

His hips jerked, your fingers sinking into his ass that flexed beneath your touch as he kissed against your throat. The muscles constricted and he faltered. "Oh fuck, so close sweetheart."

Your teeth unsheathed carefully, tongue running the length of the litany of veins that ran his shaft and teeth grazing his sensitive flesh until his fingers seized and you felt the hot spurts of his release. It poured down your throat until you pulled back, the rest pooling on your pink tongue.

Kiba panted and whined, losing himself in the moment and the feel of your scorching mouth, chest heaving with each laboured inhale. You showed him the milky seed that coated your tongue, watching his eyes roll to the back of his skull the second after you swallowed audibly and opened up to show your now empty mouth.

The seconds ticked by and neither of you moved as your breathing slowly returned to normal. How gorgeous he looked to you, spent and blushing. The massive frame of his body–Kiba’s body–completely undone by your actions and your body.

"That's one way to get over Hidan," he groused, trying to turn from you.

You were not going to allow him to step away from this, two hearts were on the line and you refused to see him in pain. You stood abruptly, possibly a mistake given how your thighs quaked but not giving a shit at the moment. You pulled him back to you, arms resting over his wide shoulders and placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. Pouring every bit of love and desire into your expression, you fixed him with a sincere smile and watched his eyes widen and soften, the creases smoothing out to reveal his true self, the one you were intimately familiar with.

"Who?"

[melancholicstation]

Take Me Out To The Ball Game — john f. kennedy

taglist: @remotewatch @bloxholden35 @kennediva @h-l-vlovesvintage @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @absurdlyvintage @chemicalw0rld @fortheloveofjos @kimcrystal123 @astro-vibes-bro @tsloverr-13

authors note: i use jfk's nickname "jack" in this if you're confused!

summary: you’re self-imposed pity party after your failed romance with a left-end jack kennedy is interrupted when you dragged along by your girlfriends to a football game held at the harvard crimson. you were comfortable going as you were assured that jack had gotten sick with strep days prior. what you didn’t know, however, was that as you’re eyes glaze over the field a certain insufferable blue-eyed boy would be quick to meet your gaze…

warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, sleazy man, public sex at a baseball field, bit of degradation but not too much.

words: 2808

Now you wouldn't regard yourself as the kind of woman to lose herself in mindless rumination over a failed collegiate love, but looking down at yourself from a birds-eye perspective: you just may have been kidding yourself.

To put it plainly you're a wreck. Emotionally strictly. One disposition you count your lucky stars for is the ardent dedication that you carry within yourself to the performance of femininity. And by god was it a performance, entirely unnatural to you.

This love stupor you've been in for 8 to 9 business days simply needed to end, and your new attitude started with you discarding the days-old clothes you donned while rotting away in your poster board twin-size bed. Deny as you have many times to yourself, you didn't wear these clothes out of a slobbish penchant for convenience or pure happenstance, you wore them because they smelled of him: feeling that if you wore something that had once touched his skin that you too could still inhabit the body of the boy who you had lost. Still touch what had so cruelly been ripped away from you from the very boy himself. What a cruel boy he'd morphed into these past few days.

You rummaged through the large chest of drawers that your mother just insisted you keep for "functionality" knowing full well her hatred of the object: a dreadful eyesore of a gift from your grandmother on your father's side. You decided upon a poplin sleeveless dress tastefully skimming the fleshy part of your upper thigh. You move ghostly, in a pathetic slump-like state towards your vanity: a treasure in dorm-living, and start to unpack your beauty packing cubes: one labelled "hair", one labelled "skin", and one labelled "make-up" in thick bolded typewriter font. Some time passed and before you knew it you were applying your last coat of sérum teinté N°1 when you were rudely interrupted by a barrage of knocking and girlish condescending shouts from the other side of your dorm door.

You roll your eyes, despite being unconsciously excited to experience the delightful distraction of girlhood in the form of your girlfriends. As soon as you unlock the door, each of your girlfriends bound through the door every one of pawing at you with a look of pity in their eyes. "Oh come on don't look at me like that I'm not dead yet: I can smell the sympathy on all of you"

Betty, a friend who had eagerly sought you out during orientation, and attached herself to you, not unlike a succubus escapertaly exclaimed "Well you don't look far from death sweetheart why do you think we made the trouble to come up five flights of stairs looking for you? You are a case of upmost urgency!"

"Well I--" you're excuses are cut short when Betty's partner in crime: Alana pipes up, a brown-haired girl who stood at maximum 5 foot 4, "Oh come on y/n!, you think we'd show up if you weren't in dire straights. Take a look at my shoes--" She physically moves your hand to feel the leather glide over your fingertips "--do you really think I'd risk dirtying the soles of brand new Dior slingbacks on dormitory stairwells if we weren't really concerned about you?"

"I suppose you may be right. It's downright dreadful what's he's done to me. Before him I felt I was made for great, I had hopes for the future. But now all I sincerely believe that my being, my flesh and blood was created to love him, to tend to him. And I know it isn't right or near darn healthy to feel or think this way but dammit I do--and it's proving damn near impossible to shake."

By the end of your monologue your hands had begun to shake and your face to become an odd shade of green, nearly immediately the hands of your two friends came to encompass you whole. You knew they didn't understand, couldn't comprehend the stupor he had placed on you, but they cared enough to listen and that was even for now.

After a well-needed clean up job by your friends, who more closely resembled catholic saints at this point, of your dormitory littered with stained coffee mugs, pomegranates seeds on the windowsill, and a plate of un-touched steak fries from the cafeteria.

It was during this time that you'd been asked--no informed that you and them would attend the four o'clock baseball game at the Harvard crimson. A grim place for even people in the highest of spirits: a setting marked by the unmistakable musk of fake grass, cheap mulled beer, and an overflow of appalling showcases of testosterone.

"And you're sure he's not going to be there. Not even in a twenty foot radius?"

"Who Jack? God no he told coach that he had strep throat. Probably rotting away in bed as we speak. Serves him right for what he's done to such an innocent like you." Betty says. You quietly scoff at "innocent girl" if only they knew what perverted, sickening acts you had done with jack, simply in the last fews months: on desks, on lampposts, in the backs of cars, simply anywhere and everywhere that had no present inhabitants that you two could surmise.

"Now that that silly thought is out of your head you need to get into that bedroom and find an nice looking dress, just because you feel awful doesn't give you the right to look it" Alana says in a tone so backhanded it could only come from a motherly kind of love.

You reluctantly do what she says, with a slight pep in your step, despite the pitfalls of the crimson sport arenas you were always a fan of anywhere you could smoke and drink at 2:00 pm and not look like a total degenerate slob.

You take a quick admiring glance at the 18th century armoire, the one prized possession you had forcibly removed from your childhood bedroom in New Hampshire along with you for the move much to your mother's dismay, and survey your options of dress. You zero in on a particular pair of field shorts which are clearly not yours but Jacks.

*flashback*

"When are you gonna change for the date?" You say to jack with applying your about tenth coat of rouge onto your lips, checks, and eyelids. "Whadda you mean sweetheart? I am dressed" Jack teases kissing his way up your neck making eye contact with his reflection. How vain.

You survey him from top to bottom, the top half of him is lacklustre but workable: a cream pullover with the collar of his white collared shirt peeping out every so slightly. But the bottom half is down-right offensive: tennis socks paired with field shorts so tight that there's a pronounced bulge noticeable to the naked eye. "Oh Jack you've gotta change. Don't you know we're going out with my friends--who trust me will not find it as comical as your friends would. I feel like it's staring right at me."

"Do you wanna' kneel down and take them right off, then they can really stare right at you honey?" Jack chuckles, always ready for a sexual escape even on an uneventful Wednesday evening. His sexual drive was concerning at best and rotted to the core at worst. But despite this, you too seemed to be afflicted by the same kind of constant desire around the presence of Jack. So you did as you were told, kneeled and started slipping of his boxers with little complaint and complete submission.

*end of flashback*

You're released from your temporary haze, as a knock comes at your bedroom door: it's Betty "Y/n we'll be waiting outside for you in the courtyard. Don't be more than 10 minutes I really don't want to wait in those retched lines with those retched Harvard boys."

You reply to her with an affirmation signally that you'll be out in a minute and turn quickly back to your armoire. As undergarments you went for the staples: a silk georgette camisole, and slip skirt. Quickly you find a wool dress cut above the knee in a pattern reminiscent of a kaleidoscope, detailed with mother of pearl buttons trading from your neck all the way down to your mid-behind (authors note: for imaginative purposes imagine those iconic Alexander McQueen dresses but make it 1930s era). You slip on a pair of slightly beaten up heeled oxfords and grab your favourite nappa leather bag. You glide out of your dormitory, drift down the stairwell with the temperament of a girl who desperately needs to spend some time with her beloved friends.

As your trio enters the stadium you tell Alana and Betty to go up and gather the greasy yet delightful treats and drinks while you go find each of your seats in the bustling chaos. You finally find the seating number after bumbling around for longer than you would've liked to admit. And before you know it Alana and Betty have come back mulled bear in hand an dried peanuts in the other, seemingly without delay the home team takes their defensive positions and the game gets well and truly under way.

But just as your mind is finally taken away from the blonde-haired equivalent of a sea barnacle on your brain that simply won't get off the interior of your mind: you spot him in the flesh.

A tanned face and beaming pair of blue-grey eyes meet yours from across the field. Definitely not the face of a person suffering from strep throat and is most definitely the face of the man who'd shattered your heart with a simple note stating that he couldn't "do this anymore" left on the windowsill: John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

Your friends hadn't caught on, clearly as they continued business as usual for the rest of the game, trying and failing in engaging you in conversation about what was transpiring on the field. But you couldn't pay attention, no you were paying particular attention to one man on the field.

The game ends unceremoniously, with Alana drenched from the amount of times Betty had thrown her hands in anger spilling mulled bear across the seats, and her friend.

But just as you three gather yourselves to get going, a familiar touch caress the clothed skin of your shoulder. Jack. "Funny seeing you here, I'd hoped you were withering away in that dorm of yours from Strep. Clearly not."

"You know I hate to disappoint you but I seem to have made a miraculously quick recovery. Dr. Schuab says it was the fastest he's ever seen!" Jack chuckles in an effort to diffuse the present tension that one could only cut with a butcher's knife.

"Well now that's not the truth, our last encounter disappointed me greatly"

"I know that Honey--" you physically recoiled at the term of endearment, a mix of revulsion at the man he caused you and the desire that the very presence of him inspired in you.

"--and that's why I came to talk to you. Look you stay here and I'm going to clean up and come right back to explain it all to you. Promise you'll wait for me, it'll be worth your while."

You quietly nod in shock immediately defaulting to agreeing to whatever he says, he has that certain effect on you it would seem. And before you know it Jack's scrambling to keep up with his teammates before entering the locker rooms.

Jack keeps you waiting for about 15 minutes, a minute longer and you would've walked out until you saw that beaming face barrelling towards you. Without a word he took your hand, leading you down a flight on stairs and directly onto the field. "Isn't this like totally, one-hundred percent illegal?"

"I wouldn't worry about it. See those floodlights up there? Dad funded them." Jack says in a tone trying to portray humbleness but failing in an adorable manner.

Your still stood fully upright as jack plops his body onto the fake turf, rolling around like a labrador in the summer heat. But just as quickly, his eyes zero in on you and he crawls his way, ever so slowly to your feet.

You squint your eyes in confusion as he goes to rest his head upon the fleshy part of your stomach, placidly placing suggestive kisses around the area. You quickly take the base of his head within his hands--"Now what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Just resting. Is it bothering you?" He says innocently "No what's bothering me is that you're acting like nothing happened, like you didn't completely cut me off."

"Baby I was being stupid, you gotta forgive me. I get like that sometimes, a compulsion of sorts to run. It had nothing to do with you." Jack says, and you don't know if youyourre stupid or smart for believing his words. You become puddy in his hands, slowly dropping to the grass as he starts to suck on your stomach with his lips, desperate to leave a mark. A monument.

Jack slowly taps on your face, waking you out of the passionate haze, and delicately slips his digits into your mouth. Encouraging and praising you to keep sucking them, telling you "what a good girl you're being for him" "the best in the god damn world". His moves are as smooth as a ballet dancers as he enters them into your warm, engorged mound. His fingers are an inviting stretch that leaves you whimpering to an empty stadium. As you moans start to increase in brevity and volume Jack places you on your back and starts to climb on top of you overing words of encourgament

"--Oh it's a big stretch isn't it. I haven't been taking care of you have I? I need to remedy that for my best girl don't I Huh? Don't I?" he says in a tone so patronising it's deeply arousing. Suddenly he stops his motions "Come on Y/n I wanna hear you say it. You need my help."

Your pleas come out quick and breathy "I do I do-Jack you have no idea". Once you reach your climax you feel as though you've been possessed, a good all-encompassing possession that you pray to never be broken free of. In the struggle the valley of your breasts are now fully exposed to Jack and in typical Jack fashion he uses this to his advantage.

Consistently sucking on your nipples while unbuttoning the fly of his pants and boxers all at the same time. It's then when you release a sticky substance coating his boxers. It's only then that you realise that in the haze of your personal euphoria, you had missed that Jack had came in his pants simply from pleasuring you. What a sight that was.

In recognising this you unconsciously giggle to yourself, to which Jack notices quickly throwing his soiled underwear and pants to the side "Hey now, what's got you giggling?"

"Nothing" you breath out, turning your head to the side feeling it be slightly irritated by the artificial turf. "Oh nothing really? We'll i'll give you something to giggle about, c'mere" quickly he grabs dominant possession of your hips and plunges his cock into your warm mound, already sensitive. Plunging in and out, in and out. And in such quick succession that you're sure to have grass burn the next morning.

He continues until for a while until he completely removes himself, and rests his member on your stomach slapping it around the flesh just to tease your already desperate frame, before quickly inserting it back where it belongs. "Best girl, pretty please hold on just for a minute, want to cum with you around me."

"Can't--Jack I-i"

"Yes you can and you will" Jack says in a tone that leaves no room for rebuttal. Finally you know you can finally let go when the tell-tale signs of Jack's impending climax appears: the relaxed eyebrows, shut eyelids, and rapid movements.

Jack holds you tight to your chest, his hot spurts filling you up wholeheartedly. Minutes later you stay like this, held together by each other's limbs.

"You think you can walk--never mind" Jack changes his mind mid-sentence after taking a look at you, completely blissed out, and adopts a bridal-carry despite his poor back, transporting you from one end of the field to the other.

You start to drift off as he carries you out of the stadium and back onto campus grounds, lullabied by the sound of his breaths and the faint kisses he litters across the crown of your head. The most delightful jewels any girl in Massachusetts could even dream of having.

the end.

[derekmorgansgirl]

Derek Morgan x Chubby BAU!Reader

I absolutely hate that there is not enough out there about my literal comfort and joy, Derek Morgan, so I'm here to write what I wish I could read about him.

This is a oneshot following Y/n and Derek's angsty relationship over time. He has always flirted with her, but she was insecure and assumed he was joking around, so she always brushed him off. One day, she had enough and snapped at him, resulting in a very heated, very public argument.

Y/n's stomach dropped to her butt when she stepped through the elevator doors to the wide open bullpen of the BAU. It was her first day working as their new media liaison after their old one had switched positions. She honestly had little clue what she was supposed to be doing that day except for meeting her new boss, Aaron Hotchner.

She picked her jaw up off the floor and blinked her wide-eyed look away as she began to scan the room for Hotchner's office. Although, apparently, her confused figure drew some attention because two people approached her, startling her out of her concentration.

Upon first impression, she noticed the difference between the two people. One brown skinned man, tall, muscular, intimidating. And the other, a much shorter white woman, blonde, colorful, and friendly. The man, Y/n could see as an agent of the FBI. The woman, however, looked like an elementary teacher.

"Hey, there," the man said, "what's a pretty little lady like you doin' round here?" he said with a flirtatious grin.

Before I could even think of a reply, the woman playfully rolled her eyes before turning to me and speaking, "Don't mind him. He's well aware of his good looks and likes to use them for nefarious intentions," she glared at him. "I'm Penelope Garcia, the most beautiful, most genius technical analysist. And he's-"

"Really forward," Y/n says with an awkward laugh.

"Oh, it's Derek Morgan, actually. But you," he punctuates with a glance up and down her body, "can call me Chocolate Thunder."

"Yeah, that most definitely will not be happening, Derek Morgan."

Derek feigns a disappointed sigh before asking, "No, really, though. What are you doin' here? Can we help you with anything?"

They both look at her expectantly, eyebrows raised and fully attentive. "Oh, um, I'm supposed to be finding Aaron Hotchner's office," Y/n replies, but it sounds more like a question. "We had a meeting for," her eyes widen with a glance at her watch "7 minutes ago! Oh, God!"

"Oh, dear! Come with me, sweetheart, I'll take you there! And don't you even worry I will take full accountability of the delay and explain what happened," gushed Penelope while dragging you through the bullpen, Y/n's hand in hers.

Still shocked from the previous interaction, Y/n makes no effort to reply to her. It doesnt go unnoticed, however, because Penelope turns around to look at her for a second before continuing the walk.

"I'm, once again, sorry for Morgan. He goes a little overboard with his flirtations sometimes. I would certainly know," she giggles out. "You just have to learn not to take him seriously, everything he says is out of kindness. He really is a good man, you know-"

"Garcia?" a deep voice cuts her off.

"Hotch! Sir, I am so, so sorry. She looked so lost and confused, so Morgan and I were greeting her, and then she told us she was late for a meeting with you, so I rushed her over, and I'm so terribly sorry, this is on me! But she's here now, this is- Oh, I didn't catch your name," Penelope manages to spit out in one breath while the tall man stands there, hands in his pockets, a slightly amused look on his face.

"It's okay, Garcia. This is Y/n Y/l/n, our new media liaison. Now please excuse us, as you said, we have a meeting," he says calmly.

"Ok!" And with that, she's already turning around and scurrying away.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Aaron Hotcher, unit chief of the BAU. Come on in."

/// One month later ///

After that first meeting, especially what Garcia had said about him, Y/n had just assumed that Derek was joking around with her. She had seen him cozying up to plenty of other women. Prettier women.

But that didn't stop him from calling you such ridiculous, clearly mocking nicknames.

"Hey, baby doll. Maybe after you finish up those files, I can give you a ride home," Derek tells her with a wink.

"Um, no. I have a lot to finish and to be honest, I dont- I dont really think thats a good idea," Y/n says before clearing her throat.

"Aww, why not? You not that into me, pumpkin?" Derek leaned against her desk. And that's when it hit her. Of course. He was only doing this to make fun of her. She'd known that from the start. But she didn't know why until he had said it. It was because of her appearance, she told herself, short and round. Like a pumpkin.

The logical side of her knew it was likely not true, but her insecurities got the best of her. She had always been self conscious about her size, and it was easier to tell herself that he was just like everybody else. I mean, a handsome, fit man like him? No wonder he was messing with her.

"No, not really," Y/n said with a fake smile. "You can go now, Morgan."

///

Y/n had been growing closer to the team, especially Reid. They had a lot of similar interests. They both liked reading, nerdy TV shows, and most importantly they got along really well.

The other team members had taken notice of this, of course. But Derek, most especially. Y/n couldn't figure out why, but it seemed that he couldn't pry his eyes away whenever he saw Y/n and Spencer together.

Y/n and Spencer had been making their coffee side by side while chuckling and conversing about last night's episode of Doctor Who. It was something that Spencer admitted he got mocked for by multiple people, but she didn't understand why. So it became their thing. A couple nights a week, Y/n would go to Spencer's apartment and watch a few episodes with him.

Derek approached the two and grabbed a packet of sugar to pour into his own steaming mug. "What're you two nerds talking about, huh?" He said with a false smirk.

"Oh, um, we were just talking about last night," Spencer stuttered out as Derek had startled him when he snuck up behind him.

"Oh," Derek quirked an eyebrow, "last night, huh? You making a play on sweet pumpkin here?"

Spencer shook his head, embarrassed, "No! We were watching Doctor Who together."

"Huh," Derek rubbed his tongue along the inside of his cheek, "well, maybe I can take you home then tonight, Y/n, it only seems fair," he says as his smirk reappears.

"Spence and I actually had plans tonight, and he's better company than you, but thank you," Y/n replies rather harshly, causing both Derek and Spencer's faces to break into a startled reaction.

"Oh, you call watching your geeky little show in your pajamas while stuffing your face with snacks plans?" He jokingly said, but you took it as a joke that you were the butt of.

"Really? I mean, I already suspected that was why you're always mocking me, but I didn't expect you to outright and say it," Y/n crossed her arms as an attempt to shield her body.

"Whoa, what?" Derek said, suddenly conscious of everyone's eyes watching the scene. "What are you talking abou-"

"Seriously?! Are you gonna pretend to be stupid, too. You've been messing with me since the day we met, and don't act like you weren't aware of it," she slans her mug down onto the counter, causing Spencer to flinch as he awkwardly shuffles away from the two of you.

"Okay, what in the actual hell are you talking about? I have not been messing with you!" He raises his hand to smooth it across his hair.

"Oh, yes you have! Flirting with me, feigning an interest in me when you know that someone like me will never have for real!"

"Thats not why I- What do you mean someone like you?"

"Someone whos always sitting around in their pajamas stuffing their face with snacks, as you might recall saying. Short and fat, like a pumpkin, right?" Y/n said, suddenly feeling more self-conscious and insecure than she had anytime that stupid nickname slipped from his beautiful lips.

"Oh, my God. No, thats not at all what I meant by that. I- I thought you would have realized by now that-" Derek said, his eyes swelling with tears that she knew he would never let fall in front of the team.

"That what?" Y/n had asked flatly, though her face was still wet from tears.

"Baby doll, I really like you. I have from the start. Thats why I flirted with you! Not to mock you or make you feel bad about yourself. I would never do that. Especially not to someone like you. You're so incredible and I have never met a woman like you. Please let me make this up to you."

"No," she replied with a sob, causing him to momentarily panic. "You didnt do anything wrong. I'm just an idiot," they both laughed as she said that.

"Then, tell me. Do you maybe feel the same? Even after you thought I was ridiculing you for months?"

"Yeah," she whispered before grabbing his tie and pulling him down to crash her lips into his.

His hand immediately found her waist and hers on his face. They laughed while their lips pressed together in an explosive way she could have never imagined. His hand traveled around to her lower back, causing her to let out a gasp, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. Y/n let him know that she appreciated it by letting out a quiet moan, when suddenly they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

"Okay, cute moment, guys," JJ said with a mocking pout, "There are kids being kidnapped and murdered but sure, sure, take your sweet time making out in the kitchen. Get your asses over here!"

__________________________________

The pumpkin thing was definitely inspired off of a similar situation in the movie Dumplin' but shhh

PLEASE like and comment and reblog if you enjoyed it takes such little time and shows so much support

In the same respect I am open to constructive criticism always so dont he afraid to comment your ideas

LOVE DEREKKK

[cardierreh15]

Queenie’s Beehive

Happy Black History Month my Loves!!! Who do yall think this story is based off of?

***I do not give anyone permission to repost, translate or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Seducting Behavior/Dancing.

Pairings: Napoleon Solo x Queenie Covington(Black!OC)

Description: When Solo & Illya’s Leads point them in the direction of a club, Solo turns on his charm to get a word with the infamous Queenie Covington

Word Count: 4.1K

Song: Virgo’s Groove by Beyoncé , It’s A Man’s, Man’s, Man’s World by James Brown

Side Note(s): I changed the time to accommodate the story. I do not own or take credit for any of Beyoncé’s or James’ song ✨ Credit will always be theirs and theirs only 😊

The Beehive

Sacramento, California

February 5th, 1978

19:42 🐝

Napoleon looked down at the small brown business card. On the front in plain honey colored words were the address of the establishment. On the back was a beehive. That was it. Very minimalistic and straight to the point.

‘Interesting marketing strategy.’ Napoleon said as he passed the card over to his partner, Illya.

Illya took a moment to take in the small yet fine work of art. ‘Hmm.’ Before he handed it back.

Once their cab slowly came to a stop by the curb, the two gentlemen thanked their driver and stepped out of the car.

They were immediately met with a beautiful yellow LED lamp screwed into the building; showing across their skeptical glances. The lights were shaped into that of a beehive with tiny twinkling yellow lights, resembling bumble bees.

Beyond those doors, beneath that heavenly designed neon lamp lay the disco highlife of the century.

Awaited by the door were two Gods amongst men. So tall they could touch the roof if they wanted, and muscles that could break bones. To the left and right of them were two separate lines, damn near wrapped around the building that were guarded by red rope.

Illya began to worry.

‘We’ll never get inside.’ He said plainly.

‘Do you not have faith my friend?’ At the flick of his wrist and a twitch of his fingers, the tiny invitation appeared in Napoleon’s fingertips.

‘More magic?’

‘Someone’s gotta like it.’ He smirked and leaned in, ‘Here’s the plan. We go inside, we split up, we listen. Try not to look suspicious please.’

‘Suspicious?’ Illya scoffed, ‘The only person here suspicious here, is you cowboy.’ Pointing at his partner.

Napoleon made a face and looked down at his fit. He was in a plain gray suit with a matching waistcoat, and a white crispy dress shirt and black dress shoes; his usual attire.

‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’

Illya on the other hand, sort of fit the bill. With a brown leather jacket with a turtleneck beneath, dark colored slacks and brown dress shoes to match. Oh, and his signature gray beret sat atop his blonde head.

‘You look like you’ve come to work and not to have fun.’ He rolled his eyes at his unwarranted pun.

‘In all technicality—‘

‘Yes, I know now can we go inside please?’

‘Perhaps. Do you remember your alias?’

Illya rolled his eyes as he head fell back, ‘Yes. I am a migrant here for work. You are a Wall Street journalist looking to have a conversation with the legendary Queen of Disco.’

He had a little bitterness in his voice. Napoleon caught on to that fairly quickly.

‘If you’d like, we can always trade places?’

Illya made a face, ‘Trade places? I am afraid that wouldn’t work.’

‘And why not?’

‘Because…’ Illya stuck his hands in his pockets and turned away. ‘you’re too small.’

A scowl curled up on Napoleon’s face at the insult, wanted so dearly to call him a bunch of curse words but he just cleared his throat and followed his partner towards the bouncers.

Once the men stood in front of the bouncer, Napoleon handed him the card.

The bouncer eyed the card closely, turning it back to front then pulled out a skinny pen like contraption. He clicked it on and a purple light shined down on the brown sheet. Revealing a bumble bee and a +1.

His big brown eyes flickered up from the card to Napoleon then over at Illya which he sized skeptically.

‘Who’s this.’

‘Oh? This is a friend of mine. He’s never been to an American club.’

‘Is that right?’ The bouncer said as he clicked off his pen and tucked it in his breast pocket. ‘Well, this is the perfect place to pop that cherry. Enjoy fellas.’

Napoleon carefully took the card and placed it inside of his breast pocket, ‘Thank you.’ And both of the men walked into the club.

As the men walked in, they were blinded by the bright twinkling lights of the many disco balls that hang on the ceiling along with over a dozen strobe lights dancing across the club.

The place was bustling and busy like nothing they’ve ever seen!

Like a Beehive!

Napoleon gently bobbed his head to the music as his crazed blue eyes danced amongst the floor, watching as gorgeous women of all colors and sizes grind and move their hips upon the dance floor.

It appeared that this mission was the least of his worries but, who he was going to be sneaking out of here with. That was until Illya landed a smack against his chest, knocking him out of whatever silly daze he was entrapped in.

‘Ow!’

‘Stay focus, cowboy. We’ve come to do a job.’

‘Yeah but who said we couldn’t have fun?’

‘Not you. You get carried away. Try not to blow our cover.’ Illya added before walking away in his stern manner.

Napoleon rolled his eyes and reached in his pocket to activate his voice recorder. Then he made his way across the bar which wasn’t far from the entrance.

As he walked over to the bar, he gazed at the dancing patrons, greeting everyone who’d passed to see if he could spot this special lady.

When he stopped at the bar, he took notice of the bartender. A woman, standing at great height. Must’ve been those thigh high platform boots. She had her back turned, cleaning out some glasses. This way he could admire her as she did so.

She had a big, beautiful Afro and wore this leather black and yellow striped short dress that hugged and defined her curves. Maybe this was her?

He cleared his throat loudly, ‘Excuse me bartender!’

The woman looked over her shoulder halfway in a startle, before quickly placing the glass and rag down. She spun around to greet him, her Afro bouncing with each movement. She wore big golden hoop earrings that twinkled and shined everytime the lights danced in her direction.

She flashed him this darling smile, with eyes brown as chocolate yet so bright with happiness and warmth. She was to die for!

‘What can I get for ya’ suga?’

Napoleon’s lips parted to speak but he all of a sudden felt shy. Truly unlike him. A burning heat rose to his cheeks, ‘Hi uh—‘ he looked at her chest which revealed her cleavage but her name tag rescued him from staring. ‘Flo… can I have scotch on the rocks please?’

‘You got it baby. Any particular kind?’

He stared up at the gorgeous brown skinned woman, almost disregarding the question— he cleared his throat and blinked hard once he realized he was staring again.

‘No— no,’ he chuckled, ‘Nothing in particular. How about you surprise me.’ He raised a brow, his own warming smile curling on his lips.

The two stared into one another’s eyes before a giggle left her lips, her dimples puncturing into her cheeks much deeper than before. ‘Alright na. You asked for it.’ She pushed off of the counter and started on his drink.

Napoleon smiled softly before he spun around halfway in his stool and began to gaze across the crowd. After a short moment, he spotted his partner standing off by the stage. Illya gave him a gentle nod of his head before Napoleon returned it in acknowledgment.

‘Here’s your drink, sugar.’

He quickly turned around and met the woman with another smile, ‘Thank you. How much do I owe ya?’

‘Nothin. It’s on the house.’

He raised a brow, ‘Is that so?’ That caught him by surprise really. He had been drugged in all different forms before, so taking a free drink always made him skeptical. ‘Am I like your 100th customer?’

‘No. I ain’t ever seen you here before, I wanted to welcome you here. People who wait outside those doors seldom get inside; just having a little shred of hope to even spend a second inside of this place.’

‘Hmm. Must be quite the place.’

‘You don’t think so?’ Flo asked, placing her hands on her hips.

‘Oh! Of course I think so. The women here are stunning.’ He gave her a quick size before straightening up, ‘Look. I refuse to drink this by myself. Lemme at least buy you one too?’

‘And drink on the job?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

A smirk was plastered on Flo’s face as she internally battled with herself.

‘Tik tok, love. I could practically hear the ice cracking.’ He teased, tapping the face of his watch with his index.

Flo inhaled deeply and rolled her eyes, ‘Alright, fine.’ Her southern draw had slightly peaked through, ‘Only cause you’re cute though.’

Napoleon smirked as she turned around where his smirk quickly faltered and he looked over his shoulder once again.

Once she was finished making her drink, she turned to face him and placed her glass down. ‘Alright—‘

‘Oh! One more thing sweetheart, could you pass me a straw?’

‘A straw?’ She raised a brow. ‘You don’t look like the kind of man that drinks his whiskey through a straw.’

‘Well there’s a lot you must learn about me baby.’

‘Alright then. Ask and you shall receive.’

While she was fulfilling her end of this bargain, Napoleon swiftly swapped their glasses before she could turn back around.

‘Here’s your straw. What should we toast to?’ She asked as she lifted up her glass.

‘Actually, I don’t need the straw… I just like to watch you work.’ He smirked as he wrapped her large hand around the glass that just seemed so miniscule in his palm.

Flo giggled rolling her eyes, ‘You flirt with all your bartenders like this?’

‘Oh dear no! I’m a one bartender kind of man. Actually, let’s toast to that. You being the most spectacular and gorgeous bartender that’s ever graced my presence.’

‘I can get down with that sugar.’ The woman winked as the both of them carefully clicked their glasses together.

Napoleon brought his drink to his lips slowly, watching Flo take a big swig out of hers before placing it down on the counter. No side effects hit her immediately… but perhaps they shall later.

As Napoleon embraced the welcoming warmth of his drink, he placed his glass down on the paper towel that she’d handled him. The space between them grew quiet for a second before he looked up at her. ‘What can you tell me about the person who owns this club?’

‘Who? Queenie? Why you wanna know?’

‘I’m a Wall Street Journalist. I’m looking to write an article about her success!’

Flo looked down at her watch and turned around to grab a rag and clean off her countertop. ‘Well, ion know if you can tell but… Queenie got her work cut out for her that’s for sho.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, her husband—‘

There it was. Exactly what he needed to further investigate.

‘Bought this place for her to solidify their marriage. I’ve been her friend for quite some time and never have I ever thought she would marry that grade A dickhead.’ Flo rolled her eyes.

‘Oh dear. What’s he like? How does he treat her?’

‘He worships the ground she walks on. But it often appears she couldn’t give less than a rats ass about him.’

‘Do you know how they met?’

‘She was singing in some lounge in Texas. That’s where we’re from.’

Napoleon was taking in all these minor details about this woman. He knew she would tell him everything he wanted to know… all she needed was a little motivation.

‘Right. And do you know what her husband does for work?’ He lacked the knowledge of that field, which was why he and Illya were here in the first place.

‘He owns a couple businesses as far as I know… i thought we were talking ‘bout Queenie though?’

Napoleon paused, ‘We are!’ He cleared his throat before taking a sip. He took notice of how she kept looking down at her watch, ‘Y’know the more you look at that thing—‘

‘“The slower time goes.” I know. But since you’re new here… it’s Friday Night.’ Her eyes glanced up at him.

‘Something special about Friday nights?’

Flo looked down at her watch one more time before a huge grin graced her face once more, ‘In fact… they are very special.’

Napoleon’s thick brows tugged into one as his face was written in incomprehensible confusion. Then, every light in the vicinity of the club shut off without warning. A few short squeals floated across the room in dismay.

Startled, Napoleon stood to his feet as he went into panic mode, afraid that he and Illya had been bested. His bright blue eyes fought desperately to adjust in the darkness. But in seconds, a sweet and groovy melody filled the air.

‘Baby, come overrrr.

Baby, come overrrr.

Baby, come over. Come be alone with me tonight.

Beehiiiive!!!’

A woman sang lewdly over the sound of the speakers.

‘Don’t be scared babies. Queen Bee won’t hurt you.’

Napoleon’s eyes had finally adjusted somewhat but he had yet to find Illya.

A big yellow spotlight shined on the stage revealing a band to the left and 3 back up singers who harmonized angelically. Three women with big poofy Afros donned with fresh flowers. They wore something similar to what Flo wore just instead of short dresses, they were flared pants; covered in black and yellow rhinestones.

They shined like stars on that stage.

Napoleon finally spotted Illya who hadn’t even left the spot.

‘All these emotions. It’s washing over me tonight.’

Once the room gained its groove back, Napoleon looked back to see that Flo had disappeared from her post.

He raised his brow in suspicion before he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Illya.

‘I saw you flirting with the bartender.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I was gathering intel.’

‘And?’

‘She knows just as much as we do.’ Napoleon sighed as they both turned to look at the charade.

That was until this huge disco ball began to slowly descend from the ceiling.

The two men's lips parted in disbelief.

Eventually, she was revealed standing on top of this gigantic ball. She had this beautiful smile plastered on her face as she greeted the crowd with alluring harmonizing.

She almost sounded like a siren; gracing the masses with her deathly hymns.

But when he saw her face, there was no way she could be something so sinister and evil. She was… ethereal. An angel in disguise of a woman who could snatch the soul from any man who dared looked in her direction.

Napoleon was stunned.

‘How are we doing tonight my worker bees?’ She grinned as the crowd beneath her cheered with blissful enthusiasm. ‘Yeeeeah!’ She laughed happily as she continued to scan the crowd.

‘That must be—‘

‘Queenie Covington.’ Napoleon felt like he couldn’t breathe. This was fan behavior! She was not what he’d imagined her to be.

Both of the men watched the woman carefully descend from the ball with the help of her security guards. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded down her back like sacred waterfalls. She wore a bedazzled tank top, matching bedazzled light denim shorts and high metallic silver fringed boots.

She shined brighter than any star they’d ever seen.

Baby come over, come be alone with me tonight.

All these emotions,

It’s rushing over me tonight— AH!

Ride it!

‘What is the plan now, cowboy?’ Illya asked.

‘What plan?’ Napoleon retorted.

‘You don’t have a plan.’

‘You think I knew she was doing an open mic tonight?!’ Napoleon huffed as his pink nose flared with aggravation, ‘We’ll figure it out.’

As Queenie began to croon over that melody once again, the flashing lights glowed into this magnificent yellow hue causing her glow light gold. Her eyes were closed as she allowed the music to embrace and be one with her soul. And when her hazel eyes fluttered back open, her eyes cut across the room towards the two men at the bar who seemed to be bickering at one another. Though, that didn’t take her out of her sensual groove.

‘Look after her performance, she may come to the bar to have a drink.’

‘And if she doesn’t?’

Napoleon inhaled deeply, holding it there as he tried to think of something. ‘Then we’ll do what we always do.’

Illya knew that specific plan and a lot of the time it involved them both getting damn near getting caught.

‘Oh no. Not this again.’

‘Not this again? What choice do we have? She’s the only lead that we have on him. We must exhaust all options.’

‘Sure. Whatever.’

Baby you can hit this, don’t be scared.

(Baby you can hit this, don’t be scared.)

It’s only gonna get you high!

Baby come over.

The boys watched in amazement as the woman swayed and rocked her hips as her own hands made love to her own thighs, belly and breasts.

Queenie cut her eyes back at the two gentlemen back at the bar once again; particularly the one in the suit. He surely stuck out like a sore thumb. And most of her folks here were regulars.

That star struck glare in his eyes was also very telling. She always did enjoy seeing men gawk over her. So with a smile and a wink, she began to moan her lyrics.

Don’t you leave. (me)

Don’t you leave.

So use me. (Use me)

Pursue me. (Pursue me)

Kiss me where you bruise me. (Bruise me)

Oooh weee—

Taste me, the fleshy part.

I scream so loud, I curse the stars!!!

Napoleon gulped hard, reaching in the collar of his dress shirt and tugged at it as he felt his temperature rising.

Illya glanced over at Napoleon and smirked as he took in this canon moment. ‘Has Casanova finally met his match?’

Without taking his eyes off of her, Napoleon groaned, ‘Shut up.’

As she adlibed and add those heavenly high and lows, the song had come to a beautiful close.

‘Thank you.’ She grinned happily as the audience blessed her with a healthy applause .

‘Thank you so much everyone for coming. Being able to perform in front of an energetic crowd is always a true blessing. Please, enjoy the rest of your night sugars and stay groovy.’

They gave her one more applause as she brought her hands together in prayer and bowed in their wake. She then swiftly turned around to speak to her back up singers.

Napoleon narrowed his eyes, taking note of the smiling group of women. It was nice to know that she and those that worked with and/or for her got along fairly well. Then, she excused herself and went backstage.

‘Did you enjoy the performance?’

The two gentlemen jumped at the sudden voice, one that was familiar to Napoleon alone. They turned around to see Flo standing there with a knowing smirk on her full lips.

‘Where did you go?’ Napoleon’s head fell to the side.

‘Oh. I help engineer those pretty lights and what have you. Just some techy junk.’ She smirked and glanced over at Illya. ‘Who’s your friend here?’

Well, the story seems to check out. Though, he didn’t know why she needed to be so suspenseful.

‘This is uh—‘

‘Alex—‘ Illya looked over at Napoleon before looking back ahead at the bartender. ‘My name is Alexsander.’

Napoleon looked back at Flo who gave them both a strange glare. ‘Alright, Alex…sander. Could I get you a drink, sweet baby?’

‘No ma’am. I’m actually here for work.’

‘Well I think we may have something open for security… you sure do fit the bill though.’ A smirk curled on her lips as her head fell to the side. She was checking Illya out.

Napoleon raised a brow with a smirk as the two began to converse with one another. It was about time Illya blew off some kind of steam.

‘Flo, hey.’

Napoleon watched her walk up to the bar and pull herself onto the empty seat beside him. Thee Queenie Covington. Their whole mission, sitting not even a whole foot away from him.

“You are not to sleep with Mrs. Covington under any circumstances, Solo.”

Well it was a good thing he didn’t make promises.

‘Give me the usual.’ She added.

When Flo’s and Illya’s conversation came to a close, he and Napoleon leaned into one another.

‘Just start casual conversation. Perhaps she’ll give us everything we need.’

‘Not to worry.’ He pulled away and turned halfway in his seat, ‘Excuse me, Miss. Queenie I am sorry for the intrusion but—‘

‘No autographs right now sugar.’ She said in a hurry as Flo placed her wine glass in front of her.

This is a man’s world! This is a man’s world!

‘I’m sorry Miss. Queenie I’m not here for an autograph. My name is Napoleon and I’m with the Wall Street Journal. I’d like to honor you in our newspaper.’

She had brought her wine up to her full lips and took a long sip. ‘Mmm! Napoleon? Like the little French dude? You don’t strike me as a “Napoleon”.’

‘What do I strike you as then?’

But it wouldn’t be nothing, nothing — without a woman or a girl.

‘Hmm…’ her head fell to the side as her pretty eyes roamed all over his handsome features.

She breathed him in and my what a breath of fresh air he was. The colors and the lights that danced across his face only seem to enhance the shadows and curvature of his jaw, making his face appear more masculine. Then, every once in a while a yellow light would flash over his eyes, causing them to glow like high beams.

‘I don’t know… maybe a “Henry” or a “David”. Definitely not a short little man with a God complex.’ She giggled, her full lips pulled back to reveal that dazzling smile once more.

He chuckled as his head fell in slight embarrassment. He should’ve changed his damn name.

‘You know I’ve heard that before.’

‘I bet you have.’ Queenie smirked as she took another sip from her glass, ‘So, what is it that I need from me, Napoleon?’

‘I just want to ask you a few questions if you have time?’

‘Yeah, I sup—‘

‘Mrs. Covington?!’ A tall lean male came rushing over to the bar, carefully pushing folks out of the way.

Goddammit.

Queenie rolled her eyes and turned around to meet the gentleman’s gaze, ‘Oh dear, what is it now? I’m in the middle of something!’

‘Yes but it’s your husband ma’am.’

‘Oh? Is the fool finally dying? I’m having a meeting.’

Napoleon took notice of how her mood quickly shifted from something light and fun to something else when her husband was brought up.

Her attitude was so fierce and sharp, you could see how it cut and tore through the gentleman’s ego. Napoleon found himself smirking a little.

‘It’s… it’s important ma’am. He demands your presence.’

She stared up at him for a long moment before letting out a deep breath through her nose and shook her head. ‘Fine. Please just— give me a second to finish my drink.’

The male in all black bowed his head and took a step back to give the woman privacy.

‘Mrs. Covington…’

‘Dear heavens, Mr. Napoleon I am so very sorry. You’ve come all this way to meet me and I have to leave.’ She sighed once again before knocking back the rest of her wine. She was gonna need it dealing with that god forsaken man.

As frustrated as Napoleon was, he couldn’t step out of character so he just gave her a gentle smile.

‘No need to apologize, Mrs. Covington. Perhaps another day? Are you free tomorrow afternoon?’

‘I should be. Maybe we can have brunch. Since this is my screw up, on me.’

‘Nooo, no ma’am. I won’t have it, it’s just a minor inconvenience—‘

‘Are you telling me no?’

The woman stared at him with eyes that searched his soul. Digging in every nook and cranny to figure out who he was.

And to her surprise, he didn’t buckle or break. He wasn’t like most men it appeared. His gaze remained on hers.

‘I’m telling you not to treat me. I don’t think it’s fair.’

‘Hmm.’ She hummed softly as she smirked and stood from her seat. ‘Alright. Meet me here tomorrow at 11:45am. Don’t be late.’

‘You lack faith in me Mrs. Covington.’

Queenie raised her brow and began to walk away, her slightly swaying hips making a statement. Then she paused and turned halfway to meet his gaze once again.

‘Oh and Sugar?’ She called out over the swelling of the music.

But it wouldn’t be nothing— nothing!! Without a woman or a girl.

He blinked and lifted his chin in response to her voice.

‘Call me Queenie.’

Random Tags: @ellethespaceunicorn @milknhonies @headcannonxgalore @xblackreader @xsapphirescrollsx @peternoonewantsthat @deandoesthingstome @peachyvulpixie

[smutinlove]

hiii could you do a fic(carl grimes x fem!reader) where its based on the song called eyes dont lie? it could be a small suggestive/fluffy thing? and could it be set in a world where zombies dont exist?

could it be preferably short? less than 700 words??? thank you, smutinlove!!!!

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You hated going to parties with your parents, but the one thing you always enjoyed was the view. But not the view off of the Eiffel Tower, but that one-eyed, brown-haired, blue-eyed, suit-wearing man named Carl Grimes. 

Carl Grimes' parents were your parent's business partners. So, you often saw him around. But whenever you looked at him or stared back at him, his piercing and intimidating blue eyes would greet you.

But to you, he was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen. He didn't even have to try, as he already looked divine. You wished he had told you that he was yours. But you two never said anything more than the casual "hi" or "hello." It killed you to wait every week to see him, but it was always worth the wait. 

There he was, standing across the room in a corner while he secretly took a sip of wine. He hid his wine from everyone else, but you knew. 

Speaking of secrets, you've always wanted to feel his body against yours, your hands in his hair, as he rapidly and passionately kissed you hard. But that was one of many secrets that you chose to not tell a single soul. 

You felt someone tap your shoulder. You turned around and saw him. "Hey," he said with a smirk. You crossed your arms and said, "Sorry? Do I know you?" You laughed a little too hard at that. He tilted his head to the left, "You're going to regret that. So, so, fucking much, you cunt." He spat. Then he smiled and whispered something in your ears that made you blush.

"I saw the way you were looking at me. Eyes don't fucking lie, Y/N."

"Oh, our kids are finally getting along!" A voice echoed. She was truly a beautiful woman. Carl Grimes' mother was extraordinarily pretty. "Yeah!" You put an arm around him and pulled him close. "We're the greatest of friends, right, Carl?" You nudged him slightly, and he took the hint.

"The greatest," he said through gritted teeth. Lori Grimes was about to speak when someone whisked her off into God knows where with God knows who.

"Doll," he muttered. You pinched him, "I ain't your fucking doll, and you ain't my fucking friend." He gasped dramatically and inched closer towards you, "Ouch, sweets, that hurt." He whispered in your ear. He grabbed your hand, but before you could protest, he said, "Come on doll. I have something to show you." 

And curious to see what he wanted to show you, you let him take you with him.

He led you outside of the grand venue and into the big and luscious garden. The smell of roses and peonies excited you; going into big and luscious gardens wasn't new to you, but with Carl, here it was even better. 

"Doll," he said with pure lust in his eyes. "Like I said before, I'm not your fucking—" He flashed his award-winning smile and leaned in, kissing you gently. His hands tugged at your hair as he kissed you with so much passion that you were able to differentiate the words 'who' and 'whom.'

"Carl, stop, we can't—"

"I saw the way you looked at me, pretty girl. You had so much lust in your eyes. Now, I kinda wanna pin you against a wall and fuck you until you're a panting mess."

───── ❝ authors note ❞ ─────

AU2EINWSMSKEJDEIJKLMWIDEJIOA. OHHHH FOR CARL TO CALL ME A PRETTY GIRL. OHHHHHHHHHH IT WOULD MAKE ME SO HAPPYYYYYYYY OH LOVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR MY LOVER WHERE HAVE YOU GONE????? I WOULD SAVE A SEAT FOR YOU AT EVERY TABLE DARLING I WOULD OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH LOVER

[pynkgothicka]

Ｃａｌｌ Ｏｕｔ Ｍｙ Ｎａｍｅ ＬＪＨ

Pairing - Dark! Drummer! Lee Jihoon (Woozi) x AFAB! Reader

Synopsis- When you attend your friend’s boyfriend’s concert, you end up falling for the drummer.

Featuring - Maude Apatow, Halle Bailey, Dominic Fike

Word Count - 2.6k

Tags and Warnings - Manipulation, Isolation, Abuse, Arguing

Authors Note - Should I write for more things besides bts??

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

Hanging out with Maude and Halle after finals was one of the most refreshing things you could possibly do. Being cooped up in your dorm became more and more stressful as you surrounded yourself with notes upon notes to study with.

You eyed your figure in the mirror. The beautiful red dress your friend ordered for you perfectly. It formed to your body perfectly, hugging each curve. Maude stood behind you, long brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her pink frilly dress fit perfectly. “We look so good! God and I thought you would hate what I picked out for you.” She comments wrapping her arms on your shoulders.

“To be honest, I was scared. Reds not usually my color. You know me. I love wearing more muted colors.” You replied leaning your head back onto Maude's shoulder. You both laughed and she let go of you, falling onto her bed. You both shared a dorm, not even knowing one another as freshmen. But into your current sophomore year, you, Maude, and Halle were best friends. “I'm guessing Halle is going to be late huh?”

Maude lets out a chuckle, “Yeah, should I just text her to meet us there?” She says picking up her phone. She lays back on the bed calling up your mutual friend. With a nod, You continue to eye yourself in the mirror before sitting at your vanity. You began to do your makeup, powdering on various things. “Okay, she's going to meet us at the venue, apparently she's getting us tickets to a random concert. But hey I don't really care, I just want to honestly do something besides study.”

“I can get on board with that one.”

🕊

As you entered the bar, you met up with Halle and stood together near the stage, eagerly anticipating the start of the concert. "So who is Macabe exactly?" You asked curiously.

"My boyfriend's band," Halle replied, pulling a flyer from her purse and passing it to you and Maude. "Y’all know Dominic right? The fucking dreamboat of a man in the front!” She points to the frontman on the poster.

You eye the poster seeing all the members. “Is Dominic new? I mean yeah he's hot, but they're pretty much all hot. I’m assuming they do like rock or something?”" Maude leaned in to ask Halle, and they began chatting animatedly while your attention wandered back to the stage. That's when you noticed the particularly large female audience, drawn to this local band. You dismiss the thought and refocus on your friends' playful argument.

The entire room dims as it hits the three of you, it becoming clear that the concert is about to begin. “Y'all better cheer so loud Dom!” Halle asks, and you roll your eyes but nod. As the band walks on stage your eyes are drawn in to the drummer.

As the band takes the stage, your attention is immediately drawn to the drummer. Short black hair, chipped black nails, piercing eyes that seem to see right through you, and a toned physique - in your opinion, the most attractive man you've ever seen.

Lost in your admiration, you feel Halle nudge you with her elbow and make a clicking sound. Maude joins in with a quiet "Ooh! Our girl finally likes someone." You playfully shove them back.

The man looks down at you, his gaze studying you. Eyes trailing up and down your form. You push them playfully as the drummer's gaze meets yours, his smirk indicating that he noticed your staring. Halle squealed quietly. “Oh, after this I’m so introducing you to him!”

🕊️

After the show, you and the entire group sat and waited for Dominic to come out. “I texted him and everything, I'm kind of sick of waiting on his ass,” Halle complained, rolling her eyes, head resting on her palm. Maude was at the bar, playing Candy Crush on her phone. You fidgeted with one of your rings, feeling restless.

“Halle! Come on, the boys want to meet you guys!” You heard a voice call from the door opening. Halle's face lights up and she gets up motioning for you and Maude to follow. Both you and her walk backstage and come to sight with a relaxed view of the band. Seeing all of the band resting, lazily, now their eyes on all three of you.

“Okay! Girls introduce yourselves, y'all got mouths!” Halle cheerfully says, walking away to go sit on Dominic's lap. YNervously, both you and Maude introduced yourselves. “Okay get comfortable!!” Halle says already practically tuning both you and Maude out completely.

"Do these men..." Maude began.

"Intimidate you? Yeah, me too." You finished.

Your eyes then reconnect with the drummer. With a hand he makes you come, patting the spot next to you. With a nervous smile, you sit down and greet him. "H-Hi..." Your voice trails off as he smiles back at you, his eyes closing genuinely.

He seemed like such a sincere person.

At least, that's the impression he gave off.

"You're cute," he says in a seductive tone with his charming accent. "I saw you looking at me with those pretty eyes." He lightly touches your chin, directing your gaze towards his own. You enjoy hearing how much he admires you without even knowing you.

"O-Oh! Thank you... no one has ever told me that before," you admit, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. It was nice to hear someone admire you without even knowing you.

"Don't be so nervous, am I scary or something?" he asks, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Lee Jihoon. Just so I'm not too intimidating." His name rolls off his tongue easily.

You raise your hands in defense. "No no! Nothing like that... well, maybe a little," you confess with a laugh. Your hands fidget with your thighs as you try to ease your nerves. But Jihoon just laughs along with you, his smile warm and inviting.

“Really? How so?” He adds keeping the conversation light-hearted. But why were you so nervous around him? It's not like you were turned off and creeped out by him.

With another shy laugh, you explain, "Well, you're in a band...and just really built. And, well...super hot. Shit, did I just say that?" You cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, nervously rubbing them against each other.

Jihoon chuckles and moves to sit closer to you on the black loveseat. His fingers dance along your shoulder, causing you to jump. "Don't worry, I don't mind," he reassures you with a laugh, resting his head on your shoulder. You can't help but laugh along with him, his laughter making you feel at ease.

Dominic reaches over and taps your shoulder. “Woah, dude barely talks to me and I'm his fuckin’ bandmate.” He comments, Halle, resting on his chest. “Don't let up on him dude needs some.” Jihoon leans over pushing Dominic away.

“He's a dick, don't listen to him gorgeous,” Jihoon whispers into your ear as he plants a gentle kiss on your temple, making your face flush with heat. “I want to talk to you all night.”

“Well, you're lucky, because I can do just that.”

🕊️

And you welcomed it with open arms, grateful for the attention and affection he showed you. That led to you two making it official.

Halle and Maude couldn't be happier for you. Halle and Dominic broke up, but seeing that at least one of the band members seemed genuine made her happy.

Dating Jihoon felt like being in paradise. He was kind and gentle towards you, always treating you with tenderness and care. Currently, you were sprawled across his lap as he worked on his music and that of the band. As you talked, you discovered that Jihoon was not just a talented musician but also a skilled producer who worked on multiple projects simultaneously. "You work so hard," you mumbled, your cheek resting against his thigh.

His hand found its way to your arm, gently lovingly caressing your skin. "Someone has to do it, Dove," he replied with a small smile.

Dove.

That nickname made you feel like an angel in his eyes.

"I suppose you're right," you murmured. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you grab at it.

Maude💄: When R u coming home?? 🤨

You: Whenever Jihoon is heading to bed

You: Sry u know how he is

Jihoon's voice startles you, causing an involuntary jump from your entire body. "Who are you texting?" he demands, his face twisted into a stern expression.

“Maude, she wants to know when I'm going to be home and stuff.” You replied looking back up to your boyfriend. His face is more serious than before, as he seemingly contemplates his next sentence.

He clears his throat before speaking. “I don't like it when you text people when you're around me. It's like you're not focusing on us.”

You stare at him dumbfounded by that statement. If anything you put your all into the relationship, allowing for him to come whenever he wants to, always catching a ride to go visit him. You've always made sacrifices for him, constantly traveling to see him and putting in effort to make things work.

"I'm sorry that I have to let my roommate know when I'll be home. I can't just ignore her," you say, trying to reason with him. But his jaw clenches and he runs his tongue over the side of his cheek in frustration.

He just stared ahead, continuously fiddling and mixing the music. You scoff and lie down on the arm of the couch, facing away from him.

“It's disrespectful. It's like you don't want to be around me or something.” Jihoon says still working. You furrow your brows and continue to stare ahead.

“Yeah, whatever. What, fucking ever.”

In an instant, Jihoon lunges at you and grabs onto your shirt, pulling you towards him so that your faces are inches apart. His grip is tight and painful as he snarls through gritted teeth, "Don't ever talk to me like that again. You got that?"

“Y-Yes! Let go of me please…” You say grabbing at his arm. He lets go and moves to kiss the crown of your head. He finally releases you and moves to kiss the top of your head before pushing you back into his lap. Your body trembles as you try to hold back sobs, gasping for air between sniffles.

"See? Now you've learned your lesson," he says with a sickeningly sweet tone. "I'll let you know when you can leave, alright?" You nod weakly, too frightened to speak up or stand up for yourself.

🕊️

“Leave his ass girl,” Halle said walking into your dorm announced. You look up from your work confused. “You're little boyfriend is the reason Dom broke up with me. He's been talkin’ about how I'm this that and the third.” Your heart races with confusion and anger, not understanding why she would accuse your boyfriend of such terrible things.

Without hesitation, you rushed to defend your boyfriend. “What? No way… He wouldn't do something like that. He's not that type of person.” Quickly closing your notebook, you added, “He doesn't even talk to people.”

Halle stared at you, her face twisted in shock. “Un-fucking-believeable. You're seriously siding with that dick!” She yelled her hands going in the air. Maude walked through the door in shock at the scene. Halle turns around and points at Maude. “You're barely home, and Maude can even agree to that.”

Maude stands there before walking in. “I mean, she's not wrong… you aren't home. You just met him not even two months ago. But you're always with Jihoon, just texting me to say you're staying the night. And don't even get me started on when he pops up just demanding shit.” Maude huffs crossing her arms. She places a hand on her temple, sighing. “You are willingly blinding yourself. Why?”

“What do you mean why?” You stood up and gestured emphatically. “You guys just want to take away the one good thing I have in my life right now. Jihoon hasn't done anything wrong. If he's such a problem, then I'll just leave.” You grabbed your suitcase and began hastily throwing clothes into it without bothering to fold them. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision.

Halle huffs out turning away. “Get the fuck then, go run to that fake ass mother fucker. Then whenever you find out what is, you're gonna be sorry.” She yells walking out of the dorm. Maude stares at the scene letting out another sigh.

“Just call me if things get too rough, okay? I love you so much… But I don't trust him.”

🕊️

Moving in with Jihoon was the best possible thing you could ever do. The night you arrived on his apartment doorstep, having cried to yourself the entire way there, he let you in with open arms. He doted on you with nothing but love.

He showered you with love and attention, buying you new clothes and making you feel special. Just like now, you stood in his living room, doing a twirl in the lingerie he brought you. Red lace adorning your thighs, panties, and bralette. “You love seeing me in red?” You ask hands on your hips.

Jihoon couldn't take his eyes off of you. "You look amazing in red," he said with a smile. You couldn't help but blush at his compliment as you sat down next to him on the couch, placing your hand on top of his.“See? Arent you happier without those friends of yours? They always made you so dreary.”

You give him a look before talking quietly. “Well, It's not like I don't miss them, you can't just say that I’m happier.” You commented sulking away from him. However, he didn't seem to like that statement. Much rather Jihoon closed his own computer.

“Don’t talk back.” He said looking at you, his eyes burning with contempt for your statement. You looked back at him with the same look. “And don’t look at me that way, or I’ll give you a reason to act like this.”

“What is your issue? I’m just saying I don't like you telling me how to think and feel, you have no right to threate-”

But before you could finish your sentence, Jihoon's hand came crashing against the side of your face, causing your head to hit the coffee table and a bright flash to cross your vision. You looked at him through tear-filled eyes and saw a twisted sense of contentment on his face.

He damped at the blood on your forehead, his lips coming to kiss at your temple. “Shh, I’m sorry baby,” He cooed doting on you for just a split second. You started off sniffling and then breaking down into full-on sobs. Jihoon held the side of your face once more. “It’s okay… see you just made me so mad, I’m sorry though, just don’t make me so mad baby okay?” Your eyes drift over to him, Jihoon smiling at you, this twisted look of contemptment.

And you agreed.

All you could do was agree.

You long for Maude and Halle's company, for the freedom to go to class and be out of this damn apartment. But for now, all you can do is play along with Jihoon's game to avoid further punishment.

But you chose this.

You chose to be with a man who buried you away from everyone and the world.

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63 @captainengineer-trixie @chimmisbae @iloverubberduckiez-blog @mageprincess7 @looneybleus @whipwhoops @mayvalentine33

[adh-james-version]

explicit sexual content

⚠️trans reg⚠️

"But that's the fifth time 3 days!" Regulus' said exasperated. Another "fan" tried to for real grab him again. Regulus' though being a world known musical artist would be fun until people started mobbing him. Actually mobbing him. He was sitting in his 3 bed room Penthouse with his brother sitting on the edge of his bead "I'm sorry Little Star. But to make things better I got you a bodyguard? Especially since I don't live with you anymore you need someone around. His name is James, James Potter and h-" Woah. Full stop, pause, rewind. "James Potter? As in your best friend who was a bumbling jock who had an IQ of 12. How in the living fuck is he gonna save me from anything."

"Don't be so quick to judge, Regulus. James was actually very smart and he was in the military and is trained in multiple forms of martial arts. And trust me, you know how you thought he was attractive in highschool?" Regulus' just rolled his eyes. "You just might pass out, Regulus' and I'm being so serious. More Sirius than my name." Regulus rolled his eyes again. After he was done laughing he added. "He's gonna stay here with you by the way, in the spare bedroom. Regulus had the sudden (very common) urge to slap his brother in the face.

"You know what?" Regulus started deciding to take the high road for the first time in his life, "Just tell me when he's gonna get here; so I can set up the spare room." "Funny thing is he's gonna get here at 5pm...today..." "SIRIUS WHAT THE FUCK?! That's in 30 minutes!?" "Sorry, Sorry. But after that girl grabbed you I wanted to get somebody here as soon as possible.

The elevator that was only used for his apartment went off indicating someone was here went off. "You already gave him the key to the elevator? What if I didn't like him?" Regulus said walking down the stairs with Sirius close behind him "Oh trust me you will." The elevator doors started to open. "I highly dou-" Woah.

A beautiful 6'2 god of a man with gorgeous dark brown eyes, muscles that have definitely increased since high school and unruly dark hair that Regulus itched to run his hand through, stepped into his penthouse with a small rolling suit case. "Jamie!" Sirius ran up to give his friend a hug. "Hey Siri!" He turned his attention to Regulus. "Hey Reggie! Long time no see!"

"Too long." Regulus said smirking and letting his eyes roam James shamelessly. When he made it back up to James' face he could see the blush already forming on his face. Sirius cleared his throat, exaggeratedly. "Anyways," he eyed them both suspiciously, "I'm going back to my house. Reg you basically get to order James around and that's kinda all." Sirius turned and left, probably sensing what was about to happen.

"So I get to order you around, huh?"

- - -

"Fuckkkkk~" Regulus back was arched high off of his bed as James ate him out like he had never eaten a  single things in his life. His tongue was swirling in all kinds way that had Regulus trying to push his head further  into his folds. As James kept devouring him, Regulus felt two fingers enter him, curling and rubbing as if James was trying to map his body.

A third finger was pushed in while James kept licking and sucking on his clit. His stomach began to tighten and his vision began to blur and the Regulus fell off the edge shaking with pleasure.

When he was finally able to form a thought outside of pleasure and or James he felt kisses on his neck and jaw. "Are you okay, love?" "Mhmm," Regulus hummed. "But you still need to cum." "No I don't, I'm fine, love." "No you need to. Use me." "No, it's okay Regulus." James pressed a kiss to Regulus' lips from when he was hovering over him with his hands next to Regulus' head. Regulus held James down deepening the kiss while running his hands through his hair. "I remember being told that I get to order you around." Regulus murmured against James' lips before kissing him once again, quicker this time, causing James to whine. "So I order you to fuck me so hard I can't think, and then I order you to cum inside me and keep fucking your cum inside of me until I forget my own name."

James whimpered, the words affecting him in all kinds of ways. Jame flipped Regulus over pushing his face into the mattress. "Okay I'll fuck you, baby. But remember, you maybe able to 'order me around' but," He thrusted in roughly, pushing Regulus' head down,

"I'm In Control."

James slowly pulled out of Regulus before thrusting in hard. The sound echoed across Regulus' entire room. "Feel good, love? Feel good to be treated like a slut? Like you have no choice?" James teased, still with the same slow and hard strokes.

"Maybe if you AC-tually fU~cked ME like one then maybe I WO-uld have and ansWEr." Regulus said breaking when James thrust in particularly hard. James pulled out completely, and grabbed Regulus and turned him over so he was facing up so James could see him. He had such a smug grinned that was wiped of his face as James wrapped his hand around Regulus' throat and tightly gripped it.

Leaning in close to Regulus so their lips would brush but Regulus couldn't reach up and kiss him, James said. "Regulus Arcturus Black, if you don't fix your attitude I will fuck you up."

"Well you'd actually have to fuck me for that to happen." Regulus rolled his eyes before they rolled back in his head as James chocked him harder than he'd ever experienced in his life. "You know what, that mouth is a problem, and I'm gonna fix it. Off the bed. On your knees." Regulus was quick to get off the bed, sitting in between James legs. "Suck."

Regulus got to work quickly, sucking on James' cock faster and deeper. "Look at that, you're so much better when you have my dick shoved down your throat." Regulus moaned and James' words and James smirked. James ran his hands through Regulus' hair before pulling it and holding him still while he started fucking his throat ruthlessly.

Regulus gagged and James dick but never once have a sign to stop. James started to feel himself unravel and he held Regulus down as he came deep down his throat. "Nghh- now, do you think you can handle being fucked without the snarky remarks?" Regulus just nodded looking up at James.

"C'mon then" Regulus got back up on the bed lying on his back. James lined himself up and then pushed in. "Ohh- fuckkk yes" Regulus said and James started fucking into him at a moderate pace. "Such a slut, I'm barely even fucking you." Regulus tried to reach up and grab James but he found his wrists pinned above his head in one of James hands, the other was around his neck. He felt simultaneously helpless and safe at the same time and he relished in it.

James sped up his strokes while keeping them just as hard, Regulus felt like he was choking on the man fucking  him. "Is this more what you wanted? Huh? This how you think a slut should be fucked?" James tightened his grip on Regulus' neck. "Yess, James. More please." 

"There we go,  that mouth has already gotten more polite." James said as he kept fucking the younger man ruthlessly. "Gonna c-" "I know baby." James moved then hand from Regulus' wrists to circle his clit causing Regulus to squirt all over him. James slowed to his movements, the thrusting, the grip on Reggies neck and the circling of  Regulus clit. Regulus was beet red. James leaned down and kissed Regulus lightly."You squirted for me baby? Hm? You ever done that before?" "N-no." He kissed him again, "Guess you have never been fucked well. Just know you're gonna be fucked well by me this time, next time, and every time after that." 

James resumed his fast strokes and pace, and Regulus was falling over  the edge of an even high cliff in no time. James came deep inside of Regulus and did just as he wanted him to do: he kept fucking his own cum inside him, making him feel every, single, thing. Regulus whined but made no effort to tell James to stop or push him off, "Mhm that's right love, take it, this is what you ordered me to do right?" Regulus lost himself completely, not comprehending anything past the pleasure he was receiving.

So in the end, Regulus did get to order him around, but James was 100% in control. 

[lemonmaid]

Imagine bassist Shoko

Fem reader, pick me friend. This does NOT contain lyrics, I kinda cringe at song fics.

Imagine going to a sad bar on the edge of town with your friend and meeting a super hot bassist.

"This place looks like a dumpster fire...." You cringed, "and smells like one".

Your friend rolled her eyes, "Listen I understand but there's this band-"

"Oh god".

"Just shush!!! Listen, I went here on a date with a guy and these guys were playing and they aren't that bad! To be honest the singer is kinda cute-".

"So we are supporting a small band based on their looks?".

"No! They are acually really good!!".

"What's their name then?".

"....".

You sighed. Not want to argue anymore but also grimacing at the disgusting outer outside interior. "I'm sorry (Friend's name) but this literally looks like we are about to be sold meth".

Your friend rolled her eyes before opening the door to the bar. Now, it wasn't so bad, the stairs down into the small basement; there was a small bar in the corner, then a "stage" on the otherside of the wall.

"There's my number one fan!".

You both turn around to see a tall white haired man, he was... hot but there was a vibe that gave 'I will literally suck you dry, mentally and physically'. You smiled awkwardly, while your friend gave the guy a crushing hug.

"Of course!!! I told you I wouldn't a miss a show silly! I lovvvvveeeee y'alls single Satoruuuuu~".

'Gross' you thought.

"Ah first name basis already? Wow this was is different Satoru".

You made eye contact with a longed hair, pierced face man. He gave you a small smile then re focus his attention to Satoru.

Your friend made a face, "oh of course we are on a first name basis!!! He said the next song he'll write will be about me!".

Satoru rubbed his neck, giving his friend a cheeky smile while he in return was given an eyebrowed look.

"What's our next song about?".

Coming down the stairs with equipment in hand, was a beautiful, brown headed and brown eyed woman. Now, you were the type to be into people that were in a band but Jesus, talk about a tall glass of water.

Satoru laughed, "oh you thinking and throwing some ideas around..... thanks for grabbing the stuff Shoko!".

Shoko nodded, she then made her way towards the stage.

You kinda looked around, noticing how empty everything was, "uhhh I thought this was a concert or a performanc".

Suguru and Satoru stared at you, before Suguru coughing, "oh.... we are just planning on rehearsing tonight, SOMEONE, can't figure out an "adjective"...".

Satoru dramatically sighed, "it's a form of ART, this takes time.... Greece wasn't made in a day".

"But it was almost destroyed in a day" You mumbled.

You heard Shoko snickered behind you, your face turned a small hint of red.

Suguru stared at you and your friend, "So.... you wanna help us set up..... and give us a feedback?".

(Friend's name)'s eyes light up and immediately grab Satoru's guitar and bringing it to the stage leaving, three boxes to Suguru.

Shoko sighed but smiled softly at you while you help grabbed the cording and speakers, "let me guess... you were dragged to this?"..

You chuckled, "how could you tell?".

"You look fed up".

You looked back at your friend who was hanging off Satoru's arm, "kinda, I was expecting a show.... not being techie, but can't complain".

Shoko hummed, "Well" looking at your friend, "Let's hope she lasts".

You raised your eyebrow, "what do you mean?".

"Satoru is a slut".

If you could spit out water, you would. Your jaw dropped, "I mean... I got the vibe but I didn't-".

"Oh yeah no, his 'art' is just tickling other people's chords while he can barley raise his".

You started laughing.

"Do you really think... that guy can write a song? You should thank his ghostwriter Suguru".

You laughed harder.

"What are you two ladies talking about?"..

Satoru came up behind both of you, wrapping his arms between you, "can I know what's so funny?".

Shoko rolled her eyes, "thinking about taking a smoke break, you in....sorry I never got your name?"

"(Name)".

Shoko hummed, "Well (Name)... help me find a lighter in the van?".

Going outside, Shoko opens the back door of the van, inviting you inside.

The inside wasn't what you were expecting, it was an older model for sure, seating around the windows, red rugging, alot of red.

"Cozy".

She hummed. Grabbing a ciggerate and flickering the lighter a few times before lighting. She offers you a ciggerate but you polity decline. "Sorry I don't smoke-".

"Don't apologize... it's a bad habit".

The silence between the two of you was awkward, well for at least on your end.

You awkwardly laughed, "the outer exterior of the van doesn't do the inside justice".

"What's wrong with my van?".

"Oh no! I didn't mean it like that!"

Shoko laughed, "I'm kidding, I know it's a shit box, Satoru found it on Facebook and nagged me and Suguru to buy pitch in and buy it... fucker is a nepo baby....".

"Now that you mention it, he doesn't seem like the singing type-".

"Oh god, he can't sing, but he and Suguru can yell... to be honest, I think your friend and others just come to see Satoru and his looks. "

The silence was comforting now, Shoko gets out of the van, "Welp, I'm bored. Let's see what those freaks have been doing". She grabs your hand, helping you out of the van.

Before you and Shoko enter the bar, she puts her lighter in your hand, "You should come to practice more often, kinda nice not being the only girl."

A/N I might make a part 2 tbh, I lovvvveeee Shoko ♡♡

[necroromantics]

🌾 — Battle Fields

ticciwork short story

- a boy lay silent atop the bright autumn meadow of the countryside. farmstead and forest still waiting, but the woods of the darkened world no longer lure him in, and horrify him with its dreadful kingdom.

- silently, he wishes to a god who is not listening to remain lying under the warm sunlight, breathing along to the birds song and humming symphony of crickets.

- here in the endless wilderness, he was removed from the world of man, and creature. he never saw so clearly the wide blue spread of heaven coated by soft white cloud.

- his back met the grassland that cradled him as dandelion weeds sat messily in his brunette hair. tired, ladened eyes found a semblance of strength in the sky as he stared up. strange country surrounded him, nevertheless the forest brook spoke to the young man.

- a deep inhale of the reek of the wartorn fields caused the boy to tremble with the wounds of a hundred dying and sick. time has long slipped past him, and he knows only that somewhere in the distance, a battle is being fought.

- brown, earthly eyes grow heavy and darken the world around him for a moment. slowly, he begins to slip away. he, too, will return to what he was. he will once again become a soldier. and he will once again know, that the sweet breath of peace, the precious possession of heartbeat, is only a loan.

- a soft kick to his side fluttered him awake, the small boyish frame hurriedly taking a seated position and faced the leg which had touched him. he looked up, and his gaze met with a familiar, tall and brunette girl.

- “what’re you doing out here?” she spoke.

- “what do you care?” he replied.

- the rolling chirp of a northern cardinal was heard in the distance, singing from the tall trees of orange and yellow. in this torturous year, autumn had come early.

- without another word, the girl had taken a seat beside the boy whose thick brow was now furrowed in disregard. with his eyes, he promised friendship, and they were so young. the winds come and go, the clock that sat itself inside her left eye ticked on, and yet she stayed. sat for a time by his side. she stayed in silence.

- the last warmth of the fall catered itself onto their skin, and the wide meadow enveloped the pair. the mighty sun falls kindly onto their foreheads, and jackets. breathing in, they shared a sense of an upcoming winter.

- “maybe some day you will come back from the war, and take a walk with me one evening.” the clock-eyed girl spoke, her slender arms draped casually around her long legs as to hug them. the boy only stared at her in reply. he had forgotten for a moment what he was, and where he was supposed to be.

- “give me your hand then, i still have a long way to go.” a reply was spoken in a low mutter, a boyhood fear of making the companion beside him run off as one frightened deer might. he was a soldier running away from the battlefield, and she was beautiful.

- “you know nothing of time. you will remain in those woods until it kills you,” her eyes gazed forward into the edge of the dark, tall forest that beckoned, “you will never free yourself wholly like this. the puppet strings remain attached.”

- the girls long thin fingers calloused with years of creation, and destruction, wrapped neatly around the boys blood-stained hand. they interlocked as though they were never meant to be apart in the first place, as if a puzzle piece was being put into its proper place.

- “i need to make my way back now. the sun is beginning to set,” he spoke softly, there was a hint of melancholy that hitched his speech. only in reply did the girl stare out to the orange and red rusted skies as the two watched the sun lay to rest.

- “its going to kill you some day, toby.”

- “that is knowledge i can live with.”

- “take me with you to your grave, then, stubborn boy.”

- a low chuckle escaped his mouth at the oh too familiar scold of his closest friend. he nodded in agreement, joining her in a peaceful gaze at the beautiful view ahead of them. when he made a glance over to her, he saw a hint of deep sorrow make its way into the cracks of her time-ridden face as her brow creased and her lips folded into a frown.

- it seemed that no matter the exchange of words, the boy had an unfortunate habit of upsetting his intimate other. shaking his hand from her comfortable grasp, he stood up from his bedding within the vast golden green fields and stretched his tired body. the sweet breath of life shook sorrowfully from his overworked limbs and a quick goodbye was exchanged before he made his way back into the distant woods.

- for the boy, always a dim picture of a legend. war will remain, and heavy are the recent days. he has no place in the peaceful meadows outside the bounds of the battlefield.

[miyuhpapayuh]

fourteen

Back in front of the blank canvas, she deeply sighs.

What to paint?

She'd been sitting here for the last hour, wondering the same thing.

Flowers were always a favorite, but she was in the mood to try her hand at something else.

Maybe someone else.

Dipping her paintbrush into the deep brown paint, she sighed again and let her mind wander, while letting it dance across the canvas.

Halfway through, she pulls back and smiles at the outcome, feeling more smitten than she ever has before.

Turning the music up just a bit louder, she continues on, filling the blank space with her newest subject.

Once she was done, she sat and marveled at her work, placing her fingers over the fine detailing and smiling to herself.

Oh, Leon.

She'd painted him in five different ways, each one more strikingly beautiful than the last.

Never had she sat and painted a man in such vivid hues of brown, blue and orange. With such emotion, such thought.

“Wow,” seemed to be her favorite word to describe moments that involved him. This one was no different.

She loved Leon. She was in love with him. No doubt.

He was just as in love with her, if not more.

She clouded his mind just as much. So much, she was his permanent muse for every piece of poetry he'd written over the last month.

Her hair.

Her smile.

Her scent.

Her eyes.

Big and brown,

Full of wonder,

Of love,

Of life!

Her wit,

Her charm,

Her spice,

Her warmth.

All wrapped in mocha,

Kissed by a thousand suns.

Curves that would make a blind man crash.

A sharp tongue that would make the most confident man crumble.

A heart of gold.

Skin made of silk.

A goddess, for real.

Meeting each other back in her love lair, the pair exchange their heartfelt gifts, neither of them ready for how it tugs on their hearts.

“You wrote me a poem??” She gushes, holding the orange envelope to her chest. Her twinkling eyes made him smile extra big.

“I did! You painted something for me??” He asks, staring down at the board, neatly wrapped in deep green paper.

“I did! You wanna open yours first?” She excitedly asks, making him tear right into it.

His surprised gasp, coupled with his shocked expression, does her in. She was hoping to god that he liked it, at least.

“Zora.. wow, this is so… wow!” He stares at the canvas, struggling to find the words that express how breathtaking it is.

“Do you like it?” She asks, shifting her weight.

“I love it, mama. Absolutely. I— I've never been painted before. I don't think anyone's ever even sketched my face! It's so detailed and wow.” He repeats, making her blush.

“I told you, you're my prettiest subject,” she smiles, “I've got a whole sketchbook full of your face.”

The way he looked at her could've melted her right into the ground.

“Read your poem, sweet stuff.”

“Okay,” she says, her voice coming out small.

Pulling the paper out, her eyes linger on every word, her heart beating double-time at his sweet, sweet words.

“Ohh, you just love to make me cry!” She laughs through her small tears, wiping them away with the back of her hand.

“You like it??”

“Hell yeah, boy! This is so sweet! I love the way you talk about me.”

“Like I can talk about anything else,” he says with a shake of his head. “You cloud my brain, woman. I wrote like five different poems about you.”

“Like you're any better! Got me drawing and painting you.” She stares at him wide-eyed.

“You're so talented, baby.” He coos, pulling her into his arms finally, wrapping her up in his warmth, while he feeds on hers.

“So are you, handsome.” She rubs the back of his head, kissing his forehead as he hugs her tightly to him.

“Our anniversary is in a couple days.”

“I know! Six months!” She gushes.

“It's crazy how time flies, huh?”

“Well, when you're having so much fun, it does tend to slip on by.”

“I made reservations, but I cannot tell you where. It's a surprise.” He says, snickering at the look on her face.

“We gettin’ all gussied up?!”

“Hell yeah, baby! Pull out your best dress and we gon paint the town orange.”

“Aw, you are so cute!,” she frowns, pecking his awaiting lips a thousand times.

“I know, lucky me.” He bashfully smiles, hugging her waist tighter.

“Now I'm gonna stress until Friday, tryna figure out what to wear!”

With the chilly air that late October brings hanging in the air, Zora was contemplating on 86’ing the dress idea altogether for something more practical, knowing how much she despises the cold.

“I have faith that we'll be able to pull something together.”

“Yeah, I probably won't be wearing a dress, though. It's a lil too cold for that.” She laughs.

“Yeah, I didn't even think about that,” he chuckles, "I just know that's your go-to. But, I know you're gonna look absolutely stunning! That's a given.”

“If it's possible, I love you even more.”

“Ah, my heart grows ten sizes with every glance your way. Every word you say,” he presses another kiss to her lips, dipping her back into her heap of pillows.

“Such a way with words,” she giggles, halting the wandering hand before it reaches the hem of her t-shirt.

“It's not over yet,” she mumbles, matching the frown he sported.

After summer ended, so did their free time. They were lucky if they got to see each other on the weekends, due to preparation for the holiday season.

The warehouse Leon worked at seemed to have a million pre orders for a variety of the new gift items they advertise, keeping him at work almost overnight, sometimes.

The pub had been jumping still with all the changes Linda made, including a complete renovation of the restaurant, which included an actual dance floor, an ole-timey jukebox, and a larger dining area and bar once she knocked out a wall.

Zora had started pulling longer hours, while Linda was in the process of expanding their team, which she didn't mind, but she'd never been so tired in her life.

At the end of days like that, the pair were lucky if they hit their own beds correctly, before having to jump right back out of them the next day.

And with their impending anniversary right around the corner, on top of it being the first one they were gonna go all out for, Mother Nature paying her a visit couldn't have come at a better time. 

But she was on her way out the door!

“I know,” she laughs, “that's how I feel, too! I'll be clear in like a day or so, though.”

Moving his hand back to her knee, he smirks. “Just in time for the festivities, huh?”

“Yeah, I may have an extra surprise for you, too.” She bats her lashes at him.

“Oh?”

“Maybe,” she smirks. “Maybe not.”

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Friday dragged its feet and the couple's nerves along the way, knowing they were ready to detach themselves from their jobs without thought.

As if teleporting to her apartment, he opens the unlocked door like she requested through text, immediately getting an earful from him as he heads down the hall.

“Now, Zora, you know how I feel about unlocked doors.”

“Leon, you were like five seconds away. Nobody was gonna get me.” She says, staring at him through her vanity mirror while she applies her lip gloss.

“Still. I've got a key for a reason. Let me use it.” He says, before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, running his hand over her freshly pressed and still billowy hair.

“You look beautiful, as always. I like your hair.” 

“Thank you! I rarely wear it like this ‘cause it's so hard to keep up with, but I was missing it and it's a special occasion, and this qualifies as my something different.”

“Checked it off your own list?”

“Yeah, why not!”

“Why not.” He smiles, agreeing with her.

She smiles back, before standing to her feet to face him, both of them cracking up at the 360 they give each other.

“See? I had faith in you and you did it, Jean.” He pokes, twirling her around. “You look damn good, baby.”

A cropped white top and high-waisted, wide-leg distressed jeans was a pretty basic outfit, which is why god invented cardigans. An orange and pink one did just the job at setting her outfit off.

“I didn't find it until last night, don't be too proud.” She sighs.

“Woman, please. Point still stands, you put it together like only you can.” He flirts, wrapping an arm around her waist, their faces just a few inches apart as they gaze at each other.

“Every chance you get, for real.” She pokes back, making him suck his teeth, planting a kiss on her lips still.

“You already know it, sweet stuff.”

Taking a step away, she looks at him again. An orange beanie pulled over his low-cut and his beard was full and shiny, begging her nails to play with it, which she’d definitely ended up doing.

His green leather jacket, black sweater and jeans combo was doing so many things to her, as was the heavenly scent wafting off of him.

Vanilla? Bergamot??

“Whatever you're wearing, always keep a bottle near.” She speaks, earning a smirk from him.

“Yes ma'am.”

“You look so good, baby.” She compliments, moving back into his hold.

“Thank you, mama.”

“Mhm, and thank you for six bouquets of poppies! That was the cutest thing ever.”

“Anything for you,” he kisses her again, before looking at his watch. Right on time.

“You ready to go?”

“Absolutely.”

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The Petal Café was one of the newest, fanciest restaurants in town and Leon made quick with getting reservations, thankfully bypassing the huge waiting list.

“This place is so beautiful!” Zora squealed for the millionth time, making him laugh and squeeze her hand from across the table.

“I'm glad we made it, cause that waiting list is a year out, now.” He says with a shake of his head.

“What?? That is wild! Let's hope the food lives up to its hype!”

“I know, right. Everything looks really good, though.”

The waiter comes over and sits their drinks down, before taking their food orders and leaving them alone again.

“I'm certain we said it already, but happy anniversary, doll face.” He says, going back to squeezing her hands.

“Happy anniversary, baby. Best six months I’ve ever spent with anyone.”

“Same here, you’re one of my best friends.”

“Really??” She asks, squeezing his hands back now.

“Absolutely! It’s been an absolute dream getting to know the world is you, and to experience life with you is just as dreamy.”

She was thankful that she went light on her makeup, cause she knew it would’ve been ruined with him and sweet words.

“Oh, Leon,” she frowns, “you're the epitome of a dreamboat. When I say I love you, I really mean it. I don't think I can say it enough.. but thank you for showing me what actual love feels like,” her voice cracks near the end of her sentence.

A soft smile covers his lips, as he's keeping his own tears back.

“It's my pleasure showing you what you deserve, Jean. That'll never end.”

Knowing she was gonna cry, she beckoned him to her with her pointer finger, pressing her lips to his, giggling against them as her tears fell down her cheeks.

Pulling away to cup her face in one hand and wipe her tears with the other, he laughs as she reaches up to wipe his own tears away.

“Nique was right, we are sappy.” He points out, making her shake her head.

“Don't let her hear you say that, we'll never live it down!” She exclaims, making them fall into a small laughing fit.

“I love you, Jean.”

“I love you too, Avery.”

After indulging in the well worth it cuisine, the pair move their party to the expansive bar, which happens to sit right beside a huge flower garden, a few orange and yellow roses sitting the closest to them.

“How'd you know about this place?” Zora asks, sipping her rum.

“Eryn told me about it, actually. Saw an ad about them opening a location here and gave me the details. As soon as I heard the name, I knew we had to come here.”

“Aw, you know me so well!”

“I better, ‘fore somebody try and take my job.” He cracks, making her laugh and lean into him.

Any opportunity to wrap his arm back around her, he'd take it. Pressing another kiss to her face, he goes back to sipping his own glass of rum.

“Nobody could ever do such a thing, baby.”

“Touché, sweet stuff. Nobody holds a candle to you.”

Two more drinks and it was time for them to move their party back to the privacy of her apartment.

As if teleporting back to her front door, Zora pulls Leon inside and sits him down on her bed, before disappearing into her bathroom.

“I'll be right back!”

“Whatchu hidin’, baby?” He slurs, a wicked smirk crossing his face at the thought of what it just might be.

“A surprise!” She giggles from inside the bathroom, making sure everything was sitting the way she needed it to— not that she'd have it on long, anyway. But still.

Slipping out into the hallway, she pulls her hair up into a sloppy bun before strutting back into her room, where he sat with his jaw in his lap.

The jade hued lace teddy hugged her figure like a second skin, holding up and framing her voluptuous body in the best way possible.

“Wow.” His eyes traveled up and down her frame, as if he was savoring this moment.

Here she was, standing in front of him in his favorite color, and all he wanted to do was rip it off and take her in every way possible.

“I take it that you like it?” She speaks, pulling him out of his trance, his gaze now on her face.

“You look absolutely breathtaking, girl. I love it.” He responds, reaching out for her hand and pulling her to stand in between his spread legs.

His strategically placed kisses made her giggle and softly push his face away.

Sticking his tongue down her throat, he pulls her flush against him, groping her fat ass with his big hands. Her left leg finds its way over his right one, soon straddling him altogether.

Licking a trail from the corner of his mouth to the sweet spot on his neck, her fingers work to remove his jacket, dying to have full access to his broadness.

Next to go was the sweater, ultimately making her lose her mind. He'd been hitting the gym pretty hard and boy was it doing him some good.

“So damn fine,” she moans, pushing him back onto the soft bed, reaching underneath herself to undo his belt buckle, biting his earlobe as she slides a hand inside his pants.

He grunts in response, assisting her in pulling his clothes away until he's in nothing but a pair of briefs that were already being tugged on.

Pulling them away, she swings over his lap backwards, now facing the rounded mirror on his dresser. She smiles at her reflection and wraps her hand around his dick, softly jerking him.

His groans fill the air, especially when she bends over to stick her ass in his face and drool all over him, sucking him like she had a point to prove.

Mesmerized by the jiggle in her hips and ass, his hands reach out to slap each cheek, eventually slapping the wet spot between her thighs, making her inch away, an audible gasp leaving her full mouth.

“Come back,” he rasps, pulling her hips back in his direction to rub his thumb over the steady-forming spot, his head falling back into the pillows as her tongue swirls around his sensitive tip.

“God dammit, baby,” he moans, sending another fire smack to her ass. Taking him to the hilt, they both groan as he hits the back of her throat.

He wishes she could've seen how wide his eyes were as she holds him there for a few moments, and does it again, and again, moaning all on him and making his toes curl.

“Fuck… I'm cummin’, Zora… fuck,” his hips jerk upward as she milks him for every single drop, giggling once she releases him.

Pulling her back on his face, the seat of her lingerie was pulled to the side and his nimble fingers played in her wetness, making her bite her lip and grind against his hand.

“Fuckin’ soaked,” he grunts, sliding his middle fingers into her, reveling in the sweet moans that fill the air as he curls and pumps them into her gspot.

“Shit, right there,” she breathlessly moans, dragging her nails up and down his stomach.

“Right here?”

“Yes, I'm g-gonna cum!” She gasps, throwing her head back once his fingers begin jabbing at her spot, making her gush onto them in no time.

Wasting no flipping her onto her back, he pulls the lace away from her body, kissing every inch of skin he came across on the way.

Hooking her legs around his waist, he glides into her and grunts at how wet, how snug, “fuck I could bury myself here, you feel so fucking good.”

His slurred praise hits her ears, while her eyes are stuck in the back of her head as he thrusts into her so deeply. Her hands find his chest.

“Oh my god,” she whimpers, “so d-deep!”

His lips find her neck, as her body clings to his. Her breathy moans hit his ear.

It had been so long since they'd found themselves in the moment, which made them savor it now for all its worth.

Declarations of love and affection leave their lips, as their peaks get closer and closer to erupting. Sweat blanketing them like a second skin.

“Cum with me,” he groans, as he ground his hips into hers, making them see stars at the same time. The cry that left her lips made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Blissed out, they lay still entangled as the aftershocks pass through their bodies. Dazed smiles cover their lips.

A second wind comes sooner than later, sending them into their next position of the night. Both of them facing the mirror as he hovers over her, spreading her thighs to glide right back into her.

One hand is splayed across her chest to pull her flush against his own, the other planted firmly into the bed as he pumps into her, mumbling shit in her ear that would make her blush if she were able.

Both of her hands were rolled into the sheets, trying her best to throw her ass back onto him, but those lethal strokes are nothing to play with.

“Fuck me,” she helplessly whines.

His breath tickles her skin, his kisses along the back of her neck make her shiver. “Just like this?”

“Yes,” she breathes, “yes!”

Speeding up, he crashes into her sweet spot so precisely it makes her cum in an instant, a heavy sob leaving her mouth as he continues.

Her hands found both of his wrists, as she was desperately needing something to hold onto.

“S-so good, Leon! Please don't stop!”

“Fuckin’ you all night, baby.. all night.” He smirks, pulling his hand back to smack her ass.

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“Ooh, she's being loved properly. Look at that glow!” Nique teases, just as Zora spots their table.

“Hey, y'all.” She greets her sisters with a hug and kiss, before taking her seat beside Nique and kissing her cheek.

“Hey, lover. How's life been?” Neoma pokes fun, making Zora roll her eyes.

Not being one to post much about her relationship on her social media, besides a few pictures here and there, Zora felt compelled to make a dedication post for their anniversary and her sisters, of course, found it and left all types of crying, heart and kissy face emojis in the comments.

“I should be asking y'all that.”

“Let's talk about you first, though.” Lovita redirects just like an older sister does.

“Life's good, lemme lone,” she mumbles, still “mad” at them.

“Oh come on, we went wild in the comments, but we're done now!” Neoma pleads.

“Yeah, promise!” Nique adds.

Zora looks at her oldest sister, raising an eyebrow. Lovita sighs and shrugs. That was as much as Zora was gonna get from her, since sorry is not in her vocabulary.

“Fine. Life is beautiful!” She smiled, making them reciprocate.

“We've seen! You two are too much,” Lovita frowns, over the moon happy for her littlest sister.

“How was your anniversary?!”

“It was the sweetest day. Not like, every day isn't just as sweet, but he sent three bouquets of orange poppies to my job and three more to my apartment. We had already exchanged gifts a few days before, being too excited to hold onto ‘em. He took us to the Petal Café, and y'all! It's the prettiest place I've ever been in! The best food ever! There's a garden next to the bar! It was so me. He's such a hunk.”

The chorus of aw’s commences.

“How much did you cry?” Neoma and Nique ask.

You know what! Too damn much,” she answers, laughing at herself before they could.

“Such a big baby, oh my gosh!”

“I know, ugh. He's just so… wow.” She smiles again, shaking her head.

“Yeah?? We pickin’ out baby names, yet??” Nique squeals.

“Girl, no. I made sure I stocked up on my birth control. No babies… yet.” She purses her lips together for a second, watching their expressions shift, but before they could lay into her again, she re-redirects the focus back onto them.

“But, what about y'all! How's everything?!”

Nique jumps at the chance to tell her best friend just how head over heels she is, to which she outwardly gushes.

“Since we made it official, I met his mama and he met mine— she loves him— he's been showing up to my office with lunch, sometimes it's hand-prepared!! Y'all know I love a man that can cook!”

“Food be good, don't it?!” Zora asks, the smile on her face is too bright.

“Girl, if you see me gain a lil weight, don't say nothing! And if you see him gain a lil weight, you heard me the first time,” she snorts, “cause he's just as fed. Baby got an appetite the size of Texas.”

“You did tell ‘em you loved a man who could eat.” Neoma points out, making her blush.

“And eat, he does.”

“Dominique!” Lovita yells, her jaw dropping.

“What??! He does eat a lot! Sometimes, it's me– hell, most times, it's me.” She covers her own mouth, high-fiving Zora with her free hand.

“I knew it,” she laughs, pointing between Neoma and Lovita, “you two owe me money because what did I say??”

“Y'all bet on me?!”

“No, they bet on you. I knew you'd have him that boy in the palm of your hand before the end of the year and they bet on it taking a little longer.”

“What, y'all ain't think I still had it in me?” She asks in faux outrage.

“Girl, you been celibate for like a year or so, I ain't think he was really gon affect you like that. But, I shoulda known after that phone call I heard.”

“What call??”

“Man, Nique was on the phone with this man, talkin’ his ear off about her job and Ron big stupid ass had done something else that she had to undo, and Darnell was telling her about how he was gon come up there and stomp a hole in his ass if he didn't get it together, cause she was way too important to be doing favors for the incompetent. Nique got to giggling, and I knew it was over. I ain't never heard her sound like that.” She finishes, blinking dryly.

“Yeah, I had nothing better to do, obviously. It was a very funny conversation.” She adds.

“Ne, you've always been so nosy. Maybe you and Nique are related.” Lovita jabs, making Zora laugh.

“Anyway, Nique please record the fight when it happens ‘cause Ron been needed an ass whoopin’. But seriously, you two are adorable! I knew it was coming once he called you his baby. I'm so happy for you.”

“Thank you! I'm so happy for me, too!” She laughs, fanning her red face.

“Neoma, you sharin’ next?” 

She smirks. “Craig is a dork, for real. He's so funny, so smart. So stubborn, Jesus. So fine,” she sighs. “He drives me insane, but boy do I love it.”

“Always the one for challenges, lord.” She shakes her head. “But, as long as everything is going good, I love it for you.”

“Thanks, sis. We're not a couple yet, but we're getting closer.”

“Take your time, girl. If it's meant to be, it'll happen.” She assures her older sister.

Their hands join in the middle of the table for a sweet squeeze, before everybody's eyes dart over to Lovita, who's yet to share.

“Do I have to??” She asks.

“Yeah, what the fuck?”

“Okay, okay! But y'all cannot judge me.”

“Girl, what did you do?”

“Remember that night y'all slept over after the game day we had?” She asks, watching them nod in response.

“Well..”

Smirks decorate their faces as she gets ready to spill what they'd already seen coming.

“Clyde and I had sex, that night and I swear I've been in love with that man ever since.” She sighs.

“In love?” Neoma repeats.

“Yes. In love. I love him.” She spells it out for her younger sister, while she slowly blinks back at her.

“Girl, I know that feeling. That's how I felt the morning after me and Leon had sex.” Zora says, shaking her head. “I was done for.”

“Really? I felt like I was going crazy, at first. Like I woke up a little before he did and just kinda stared at him like, “you have fucked up, cause now I love you.” It was wild!”

“Literally such a wild feeling, I agree.”

“Wow, y'all makin’ me miss my man.” Nique snorts, internally giddy as hell that she gets to call him that.

“Aw, her man.” Neoma coos.

“Stop it,” she laughs.

“But, ‘vita,” Nique starts, “we would never judge you for how you feel. Sex is such an intimate experience, I'd be afraid if you didn't feel more than you already had about him.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs, “I know.”

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” she smiles, picturing his face in her head. “Nothing’s wrong. He's perfect. Realistically, of course.”

“Yeah?” Zora asks, beaming for her sister.

“I can't stress it enough. He's sweet, funny, well-rounded.. he's a hard worker, might be a lil rough around the edges, but so am I. We don't clash at all, it's always so refreshing to be around him. And my goodness, that man is so damn fine.”

“He is very handsome. I believe we all lucked out like I said we were gonna! Sounds like I'm owed some thank you’s.”

“Zora, do not ruin this sweet ass moment.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs the champagne flute from the table and tipping it toward her lips for a sip.

“Wait. What kinda gifts did y'all get each other??”

“Oh, he wrote me a poem and I painted him.”

Their eyes widened.

“What??”

“Aw, you painted Leon!?”

“You painted?!”

She smiles wide at their reactions, shaking away the urge to burst into tears.

“Y-yeah, I painted. It's been a few months since I've painted, but really, it's been so long since I've actually been motivated to do so. Y'all know that relationship of mine just drained the life out of me and everything I loved to do just vanished. And, I'm finding the purpose for it again. In something and someone else. Y'all should've seen his face when he unwrapped it,” she smiles like he's right in front of her, “it was priceless.”

“Wow, I'm so proud of you, Zora.”

“Aw, thanks,” she frowns, wiping the lone tear that fell.

“Oh, don't start crying. We’ll be here all night!”

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Having a few more days of freedom, Zora and Leon get back together for another sip and paint, with another spin to it.

Nique had given her the idea to make Leon the subject for Zora to paint. And of course, this sounded like some fun and some trouble. Well worth both, she already knew.

“Okay, so you're actually my model, today.” She says, taking in his raised brow.

“Really? That's cool! You need me to pose?” He asks, beginning to flex his muscles and make her laugh.

“Yeah, actually! Hold on,” she stands up from the couch and heads towards her dining area for a chair, pulling towards the middle of the floor.

“Okay, come sit.” She says, patting the chair.

He strides across the floor in a show for her, which she appreciates, more giggles leaving her and he kisses her forehead before sitting down.

“The cutest man, ever.”

“I know,” he replies.

Sauntering into the kitchen for a stool, she pulls hers up to her easel and sits, looking to her left to make sure she's got all the supplies she'll need.

Peeking out behind the canvas, she eyes him but keeps the request on the tip of her tongue.

“What you keepin’ from me?” He asks, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Uh… don't think I'm crazy..”

“Who's sane?”

“Leon,” she says, sighing to herself.

“Zora, come on. What is it? You want me to pose like The Thinker? Huh? Something more interesting, perhaps?”

“Yeah, way more interesting.”

“Okay, throw it at me, baby.”

Pulling her head back behind the easel, she swirls her paintbrush in the clear water, letting the request fall from her lips.

“Strip.”

A few moments go by with nothing but silence, and just as she's about to poke her head back out, she catches sight of his shirt being flung over her head.

Pants next.

“These too?” He asks, making her peek back out, staring at the hand that's hooked in his briefs. She deeply sighs and shakes her head.

“You can keep those on.. for now.”

Enjoyyy!

Ch 15

@thegifstories @sheabuttahwrites @honestpreference @ghostfacekill-monger @soufcakmistress @blackerthings @abeautifulmindexposed @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @mauvecherie-writes @cecereads209 @blowmymbackout