#particularly in one hat endings

[petrii-dish]

A piece of home

[assiraphales]

no but meeting luffy honestly gave zoro freedom. to embrace his whole self instead of hiding behind “demon pirate hunter”. to live. his whole life was structured. his childhood was riddled with his anger and the loss of kuina. he trained relentlessly to reach his goal. he became a bounty hunter and the entire east blue (including civilians) shuddered at his name. but luffy came hurdling into his life and saved it. not just from the marines but from a self destructive path that would only end in flames — and alone. luffy reminded him that fire doesn’t just burn, it also warms. it protects. zoro could be silly. be good. he could have fun while chasing his dreams. have a family and a purpose beyond fighting mihawk. that while he didn’t fear his own death, he feared his captain’s. his crews. and he would stay alive for them, be the worlds greatest swords man for them, never lose another battle for them, not just a ghost. zoro was lost but luffy became his true north

[titaniumions]

ok but a r1999 witch hat atelier au would work so well with the foundation (and just the regular arcanists in general) being pointed hat witches and the manus vindictae as brimhats ...

[purplepenntapus]

Im sorry I love the Zoro Mihawk Perona dynamic but the fandom trend of turning it into “Mihawk adopts Zoro and Perona as children and raises them” makes me want to die

[foldingfittedsheets]

It sounds funny but I’m actually a second generation sex shop employee. My mom worked in one for a while when I was little. It definitely set a very blasé tone around sex growing up which was great until it was mortifying because I was a teenager.

I don’t have many clear memories from when I was a kid but a few stand out. First is that when I was too sick to go to daycare I’d get to hang out in the back room of the shop my mom worked in. It was basically paradise.

Firstly, because my mom was in charge of inventory and there was always a kings ransom in boxes. So most of my sick days were spent in custom box fortresses filled with blankets and pillows. I got to watch the TV in the safety of my cardboard castle. My mom’s boss would also usually let me play with the stone otters she kept on her desk. I adored those otters and looked forward to sick days where I got to caress their carved stone features.

Second, mom’s work had the best candy. There was a novelty brand they carried that I still think about. Sure, the chocolates were shaped like boobs, but I did not care because they were the most delicious chocolates I’d ever had. I only got a candy if I were very good so I stayed on my best behavior most of the time.

I did get in trouble once for wandering into the back stock while looking for props to play with. I ended up finding a joke pack of condoms that were super tiny and using them as hats for my little toys. Thank goodness they were unlubricated. I was chided for this and the teeny condoms were carefully returned to their package.

But my absolute favorite was when I go to stay until closing. While mom was counting down the til I could wander the display shelves and touch all the sample dildos. I only had a vague sense that these represented anatomy- mostly I just cared about their relative texture merits. I poked and squeezed my way through the displays dongs, approving particularly squishy ones, disdaining the hard plastic offerings.

I rated them from worst to best until my mom secured her cash box and we went home, leaving behind a wonderland of yummy candy, stone otters, and cardboard kingdoms.

[planetaryupscaled]

Three Times is Perfect

Male Reader x Haerin x Minji

Tags: 7k, first time, creampie, oral, threesome, tw

The story is not ours; we are simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

“Are you ready for me? I hope you’re saving up for when I see you tomorrow 😘”

Minji attached a video. It was taken right before we were going to be separated for months. The video started on her face, scrunched up in pleasure, then scanned down her chest to her perky tits that were crowned by stiff nipples. The video kept going down, showing her taut, flat stomach and the perfectly smooth shaved pussy.

Further down, I could see her pussy lips welcoming my cock over and over again accompanied by a wet sound.

Behind the camera, I could hear myself saying in a low, gruff voice, “Fuck, Minji, I’m about to cum.”

“Just cum inside me,” Minji moaned. “Cum in me...”

The video shows me bottoming her out as far as possible, before emptying a week’s worth of cum into her pussy. Minji moaned off-camera as I pulled my cock from her grasping pussy, allowing the cum to spill out of her, it’s overflowing. I paused the video.

“Come on,” I typed back.

“That is not fair. You’re making it difficult for me to stick to our agreement.”

I must admit that quitting masturbation for weeks was more difficult than I expected. But the girlfriend was going to be out of town for that whole time, and I’d agreed to save it for her. Knowing the pent up passion will make my first time fucking her in weeks even better.

Our junior year of college ended three weeks ago, so our entire group of friends decided to take a vacation at Yejun’s family’s home in Jeju before starting our summer jobs, and Minji needed to visit family, so she was only coming for the last leg of the trip.

“Only 16 more hours,” Minji texted back. “I get in late tonight.”

“Wake me up when you do,” I replied.

“I’ve got a few ideas.” She attached another picture, this time of herself with two fingers buried inside her wet pussy.

“Too much teasing and it’s only 9 a.m. - I’m blocking you” I joked, before hearing a knock at the door.

“One sec.” I called out, before texting Minji: “Have to go, big day of hiking ahead.” I put my phone down, then yelled to the door “Come in!”

Haerin stepped through the door, looking alert and chipper in athletic attire. She took in the room, frowning.

“We’ve only been here one night and your room already look like garbage dump.”

Kang Haerin. My childhood friend grew up two houses from me. We both went to the same college, which was several states away from our hometown, and we remained good friends. However, I can’t say no one asked about me and Haerin, since we’re really that close.

She was undeniably beautiful. I wonder how she can be her while I’m just… me? God really has a favorite.

Though many of our friends say that Haerin has a cat-like personality. That’s right, ‘a cat’ as in small domestic animals covered with fur. See, I'm not sure where they got that idea.

Watching her grew into a stunning, willowy woman with a shapely ass and breasts that were on the smaller side but perfectly fit her short frame. I knew she was beautiful, but our relationship was never particularly romantic, which suited us perfectly. We worked too well as friends to risk anything. Besides, she had been the one to introduce me to Minji, and Haerin was dating Yejun.

“You know how I feel about putting clothes in drawers while on vacation. Besides, you don’t have to share my room,” I said.

I stealthily tucked my erection into my waistband and stood up, brushing past her to grab one of the shirts from the ground to put it on.

“You’re horrible,” Haerin said with a laugh. “Anyway, I was just coming to rouse you for breakfast. Everyone else is done eating.”

“Should I pack a hat?”

“I don’t know. Yejun said there was a chance of rain. Can I check the weather from your phone?”

“Sure.”

Haerin picked up my phone, then let out a yelp and dropped it. She blushed furiously “Waaaa, Sorry, Sorry!”

“What?” I crossed to the bed and picked up my phone. Minji had texted one last picture, this one a closeup of us having sex. The caption read: “Don’t tire yourself out too much.” Haerin had picked up my phone only to get an eyeful of my cock stretching out her friend’s pussy.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that would be up on my phone,” I said, embarrassed. “Minji’s been... sending me stuff in preparation for her arrival tonight.”

“Oh, yeah- no, I get it.” Haerin blushed even deeper, then paused. “I- I only looked for a second, so I barely saw anything.”

“No, of course.” I said.

She looked more flustered than I had seen her in a long time. Neither of us knew what to say.

“I- I’ll just check the weather on my phone,” Haerin said, rushing out of my room.

Given that she was dating Yejun, I assumed she had overcome her embarrassment and shame about sex, but she was still fairly innocent. However, she had just been surprised with a close-up photo of her two friends having sex, so who wouldn’t be embarrassed?

—

Despite the late start, a few cups of black coffee jolted me awake for the hike. Our other friends were experienced hikers who were glad to drag us along at their rapid pace, up trails with pine needles that covered treacherous rocks and roots. I spent the majority of the hike watching where I put my foot, expecting to twist my ankle at any second. When I did hike without my eyes glued to the ground, I found them drawn up perfect, toned, slender legs to Haerin’s ass in her tight athletic shorts. She was walking ahead of me, holding hands with Yejun.

I shake my head. Clearly, a combination of Minji’s teasing and the sexual frustration of the last few weeks had transformed me into a dog, slobbering over anything with the slightest female form.

We stopped for water at a clearing that looked out over the miles of trees below us. As I drank from my water bottle, Yejun pulled me aside.

“Can I ask you something? It’s about Haerin.”

“What’s up?” I thought Haerin had told him about the picture she’d seen of Minji and me and I was ready to apologize.

“Haerin and I have been dating for like eight months now, and...” he paused, a little awkward. “I know this is weird, since you guys have been friends forever, but I’m just gonna say it: I kinda thought we’d be doing more, sexually, by now. All we’ve done is dry humping, nothing below the clothes.”

Hearing that was surprising, but not completely unexpected. I don’t know how that made me feel. Part of me was bummed for my friends that they were missing out on all the great things sex had to offer, but another part of me, one I didn’t realize was there, felt a flash of... something. Not surprise, but maybe lust. I tried to kept my face straight as he went on.

“She’s said she’s waiting to actually have sex, which I totally understand, but do you think she’d want to do anything more than just make out and dry hump? Not just for me. I’d like to make her... finish, you know.”

“I haven’t talked with her about it, it’s not the sort of thing we discuss.” I said, truthfully.

“Do you know if she’s ever gone further than that with her previous boyfriends?” He asked.

“What previous boyfriends?”

Haerin had never dated anyone seriously before Yejun. Hell, the only reason I knew she was straight in high school was that she’d talk about having crushes on boys, but when I’d tell her to do something, she’d refuse.

“If I were you, I’d just let her lead the way. She does what she wants, but not before she’s ready.” I added.

On the way back down the mountain I watched Haerin with more curiosity. It certainly explained her reaction to the picture - she was totally inexperienced, so maybe it was more disgust at what she had seen. I felt bad for just leaving my phone open. I knew her well enough to know her reaction wouldn’t be one of judgment, but it had to make her uncomfortable. I resolved to apologize when I got the chance.

By the end of the hike, we were all soaked in sweat. Haerin pulled up her shirt to mop her flushed face, I could make out the tender curve of her breasts beneath her sports bra… I felt another pang somewhere in my stomach…surprisingly hard nipples. When she lowered the shirt she was looking right at me. I looked away, a little too late.

Damn, I thought, cursing the fact that Minji wouldn’t return for another eight or nine hours. I just needed to stop myself from getting horny for long enough not to do something stupid.

—

“Well, I’m gonna head to bed,” Yejun said, getting up. It was late at night and we’d put on a movie after the night of drinking had wound down. Just about everybody had drifted off from the movie and gone to sleep, save for me, Yejun, and Haerin, who’d seen it through to the end. We were all tired, dressed for bed.

“I’ll be right there,” Haerin said, as Yejun wandered off groggily. Then she turned to me, a small smile on her lips. “T minus two hours until Minji gets here. Are you excited?”

“Of course. I miss her a lot.”

“I mean, are you... excited?” Haerin said, gesturing down at my crotch.

“Hahaha,” I said sarcastically.

Haerin sat in a comfortable recliner across from me, her legs crossed under her. Without realizing it, my eyes drifted down her pajama-clad form and I saw with a start that she wasn’t wearing panties under her loose pajama shorts. I could make out a small dark bush and the tight cleft at the top of what seemed to be her beautiful innie pussy. Of course she wasn’t shaven, I thought, my cock beginning to thicken. She’d never even had sex.

“I guess she hasn’t been too far away, considering all those pictures,” Haerin said.

She shifted on the chair. I got an even better view of her small bush, and through it, her neat pussy lips.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that. You shouldn’t have to see that.” I tore my eyes away from the faint glimpse of her pussy.

“No, I liked it,” Haerin said. “The wifi’s terrible out here, so my porn has been taking forever to load. Easier to just get it off from the two of you.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” I joked.

“Is there?”

I looked at her, trying to decide whether she was bluffing. We’d both had a lot to drink, but the several hours of the movie had sobered us up. She didn’t usually speak this brazenly.

“Yeah. Videos, too.”

Haerin’s face was now as flushed as mine, is she’s serious?

“Can I see it?”

“Should I airdrop them?”

Haerin stood up and walked across the room to mine. My heart started to beat fast. I couldn’t stand up, because I was so hard.

“Show me.”

I opened my phone, trying to keep my hands from shaking. I pulled up the picture she’d seen, the close-up of Minji’s pussy with my bare cock drilling into it.

“Really?” I asked.

Haerin nodded. She leaned down, and I caught the soft curve of her small breast down her sleep shirt. I hesitated, then thought, Fuck it. I turned the phone to her.

“I’ve already seen this one,” she whispered, sending a shiver up my spine. This was bad. I was too horny. I should lock my phone and get out of here. I swiped to the next one -- the video of me and Minji, paused with the cum trickling out of her pussy, her tits and face in the shot.

“Where are you?”

I rewound the video. The only sound in the room was the slick squishing noise of me and Minji fucking, then her moaning. Haerin’s mouth was half-open as she watched.

“Fuck, Minji, I’m about to cum.” At that, I quickly paused the video, returning to my senses. This was too much. Too personal. Minji wouldn’t want me showing intimate videos of us to one of our best friends. And did I really want Haerin to see my dick? I was more drunk than I thought. And so was she, if she allowed it.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I shouldn’t show you that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Haerin muttered. “It’s… hot. I have a thing for small dicks.”

I looked up at her. She was grinning. We both burst into laughter.

“Oh, you…” I said, leaping up to grab her. She shrieked and tried to make an escape, but I grabbed her and tackled her, tickling her, onto the couch. We were both laughing. Only when I paused for breath did I realize what a bad idea that had been. I was still completely hard, and was only wearing my boxers.

From beneath me, Haerin tickled me back, and I grabbed her arms, trying to keep her from tickling me.

The rest of it happened fast. I was on top of her, hard, and somewhere in the maneuvering, my cock must have slipped out of the hole in my boxers. I knew that reaching down to fix the situation would immediately make it clear to her what had happened, so I tried to keep her pinned, unable to look down. That was my undoing -- Haerin spread her legs, trying to get them around me for some reason.

All of a sudden, as she did, I felt my cock press up through the leg of her baggy shorts, against her mound. She gasped in surprise, moving her lower body back, but all that did was make my cock slip down, nestling into the hot wetness between her pussy lips. It happened so fast I didn’t even think about the fact that she was dripping wet.

“Is that your…” Haerin started to ask, trying to reposition herself.

Then I felt my cockhead slipped inside her opening. We both froze. I looked down. Her pussy lips were stretched around my cock. I didn’t even have time to think about how amazing her pussy looked -- how long I’d wondered what it would look like, what she’d feel like. Though I was only a few inches into her, it was almost too much for me.

“Y- You’re... inside me.” Her voice quavered.

It happened in such slow motion that the freeze-frame image of Haerin below me, looking down in open-mouth surprise at her shorts pulled to the side, her wet pussy clenching my bare cock is imprinted on my mind, though the moment only lasted a second or two.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to...”

“No… I- I wasn’t wearing panties, it’s my...” She trailed off, her breath ragged.

The moment felt like a dream. Neither of us was moving to pull apart. My cock throbbed inside her, and she gasped as I felt her pussy clench. She was getting wetter, somehow. Involuntarily, I pushed an inch further into her, my cock moving on its own to bury itself as deep into her scalding hot pussy as it could.

“Wait…” she said, her voice soft and strained.

“Don’t-” Then she was cut off by a gasp. Her body shuddered, and her legs which still around my back, pushed me deeper into her. I bottomed her out, God her pussy is sooo tight.

Haerin was small, but she could take my whole length buried snugly inside her. Then she came, hard, trying to stifle her own moans while her pussy clenched around my cock.

“Anhh- fuck I’m…cumming...” Haerin whimpered.

Her body jerked, and she wrapped her arms around mine, pushing our bodies together. Her pussy felt too tight. I wasn’t going to last, especially after three weeks of no sex or masturbation. I was bare inside of her, I couldn’t cum in her. With the last ounce of my willpower, I tried to pull out.

“Haerin, I’m gonna…”

I only made it halfway. Haerin, who was still shuddering in orgasm, firmly pulled me back into her. That feeling of sliding my entire length back into her tight pussy was the end of it. I felt my cock swelling up, before I came hard, deep inside her.

As my cock jerked, shooting cum against the back walls of her pussy, her eyes snapped open. She could feel my warmth splashing into her.

“No, no, I’m not…oohhh…”

She writhed in orgasm again, while I emptied weeks’ worth of cum into her. Any thought of trying to pull out was forgotten. All I wanted to do was bury into her and fill her up. I came and came. Each jerk of my cock within her drew another small moan from her. Her pussy squeezed my cock tighter than any I had ever experienced.

“Oh my god....” she moaned softly.

I slumped down on top of her, breathing heavily into her neck. We stayed like that for a while, until the last jerks of my cock and the last of her small shudders subsided, indicating that we’d ridden out our climaxes.

I lifted my head to look at her. She was beautiful- wide brown eyes, cheeks flushed, her hair a mess on her sweaty forehead. Through her white sleep shirt, I could see the outlines of her areolae and the tiny tents of her nipples. We looked at each other for quite a while, faces close together, then she shook her head in wonder.

“I can’t believe that just happened.”

Haerin looked down on our connection, where my cock was still buried inside her. Her pussy was overflowing with our mixed love juice, dripping and creaming around my cock.

“You cum inside me…” she said, quietly.

“I- I’m so sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, I stopped you from pulling out. I... I’ve never cum that hard before. It was… really good, I didn’t want it to end.”

“Me neither,” I said, and she let out a small laugh. As she did, her pussy squeezed me, milking another drop of cum from me.

I breathed out and lifted myself up, pulling my cock out of Haerin with a soft squishing noise. My cum dripped out from between her legs, and she reached down to catch it with her fingers. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you always... cum this much? How does Minji take it all?”

The mere mention of Minji twisted my insides. “Oh, god…”

“Don’t feel bad. It was an accident.” Haerin was still on her back, legs spread, looking up at me, making no effort whatsoever to conceal her small, hairy, freshly fucked pussy. It was a beautiful sight.

“Yeah, An accident.” I said.

“No need to explain to either Minji or Yejun why you took your best friend’s virginity and pumped her pussy full of cum, especially when it wasn’t on purpose.”

“Oh fuck- Haerin, I…” In the rush of sensations, I had completely forgotten that I had taken her virginity.

She finally stood, barely reaching my collarbone. I couldn’t read her expression. Then she just pulled off her shirt, revealing her beautiful round, petite breasts that sat high on her chest, with brown nipples that looked perfect on her small tits. She slid her shorts down, revealing her pussy in all its glory. A line of cum is dripping down her legs.

“I’m going to need to shower.” She looked dead serious.

I couldn’t tell if she was angry, confused, sad, or… I was horrified to think I’d just ruined one of my longest friendships.

“Haerin, I…”

“Come join me.”

She took a step toward me and wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her back. In my dazed state, I hadn’t tucked my cock back into my boxers, and it was pressing into her mound. I was still wet from our combined juices. Haerin looked up at me. Tentatively as if we hadn’t just fucked, I leaned in to kiss her. Our lips met in a spark of passion, we kissed with an open mouth as our tongues probing hungrily for each other, And as if it had been forever. Finally, we broke apart.

“Losing virginity to your best friend, that was the best way to lose my virginity I could have ever asked for.”

Haerin took my hand and led us to the bathroom before locking the door behind us.

“Never know when Yejun will be back,” she said softly.

Haerin turned on the shower. Undressing myself as I watched her outline in the mirror, her incredible ass, tight and perfect for her frame, and that pristine lips between her legs. She shivered after splashing water on her breasts to test their warmth.

“This place takes forever to turn on the hot water,” Haerin said.

I was zooning out, naked, half-hard, staring at her. “What?”

“Oh- just trying to figure out where we’re going from here.” I added.

“Don’t overthinking it. We will always love each other. One accident won’t change that. Besides, there’s something poetic about losing your virginity to the same person you had your first kiss with. Someone you can really trust.”

As she spoke, she stood close to me in this small bathroom. It was surreal having this conversation with your best friend, not to mention that both of us naked, having just fucked, cum still dripping out of her pussy. I started to get hard again, cursing myself for being this horny.

“Wow,” she said, looking down at my crotch.

“Already? You are insatiable.”

“I’ve just been wondering how you look naked, and here you are. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

Haerin grabbed my cock with her slender hand.

“Why do you think I wanted to shower with you?”

She got down on her knees, looking up at me with her beautiful eyes and her small mouth half-open. Slowly but surely, she reached out her tongue to lick my tip. A strand of our mixed juice trailed from her tongue.

“Haerin…”

“I’ve never given a blowjob, either,” she said thoughtfully, working her hands up and down my shaft. She circled the tip with her tongue.

“I assumed it would happen before I had sex. I definitely didn’t think I’d be licking my own cum off a cock that had just finished inside me,” she said.

She parted her lips and enveloped my cock in the warm wetness of her mouth. She bobbed up and down on my shaft several times, cleaning her pussy juices and mine off with her tongue. Then she pulled back, looking up at me while continued to jerk my cock.

“I can’t tell if this is you or me, but wow, we taste really good together.”

Before I could answer, she closed her lips around me again, gradually finding a rhythm as she sucked me. I stroked her hair, looking down at the beautiful sight before me, Haerin’s hair is a mess, sucking her best friend cock, her nipples protruded proudly from her pert breast. Her mouth felt almost as amazing as her pussy, and I soon found myself swelling with anticipation. She clearly felt it too as she took me out of her mouth and asked…

“Would you rather cum in my mouth or in my pussy?”

It was strange to hear her, the innocent, sweet, nerdy Haerin, talk like this.

“I didn’t realize you liked talking dirty.”

“You know me,” she said, smiling. “I’m a detail-oriented person.” She continued on sucking, demonstrating a surprising skill despite the fact that it’s her first time giving a blowjob.

She looked up at me and repeated her question.

“So, in my mouth or in my pussy?”

“Honestly I want to do both, but you know me, always indecisive… and God… it’s hard to think with your mouth is on me.”

Haerin stood up as the bathroom started to steam up.

“Think the water’s warm enough?” She asked, grinning.

She pulled me into the shower and our bodies intertwined under the water. I grabbed and kissed her hungrily, working my hands down her breasts, to her side, to her tight ass, pulling her close to me and pressing my cock against her. She lifted her leg onto the side of the bathtub, spreading herself to me. I got down on my knees and pressed my lips against her slit. She moaned in pleasure, but she turned my head, forcing me to look up at her.

“You don’t have to. I… I haven’t shaved.”

“I don’t care about that. Besides, Minji isn’t either.”

“Yeah,” Haerin said, inhaling as I planted a kiss on her nether lips. “I’ve seen the evidence…anhhh” Small moan escapes her lips.

“I want to taste you…”

That was the last word I said before I sank my tongue into her folds, working my way up to her clit and then back down, slowly. I slid a finger into her, pumping slowly in and out as I sucked and licked her clit. I’ve always loved the taste of pussy, and Haerin’s was no exception. As I finger-fucked her, I switched the up and down motion with my tongue to a circular motion, right on her clit.

“Enhhh god, please… just like that,” she whimpered.

“You’re gonna make me cum again... ahhh”

I kept up exactly like that, furiously tonguing her clit and driving my finger in and out of her. Her breath became heavier, and she pushed herself towards me, grinding hard against my mouth. I savored the taste of her tangy opening as she approached her second orgasm of the day.

Finally, with a great heaving sigh and a jerk of her body, she came. While her first orgasms had been hard and all-consuming, but relatively short, this one lasted longer, crashing like a slow wave. I held my mouth to her pussy and continued what I was doing until she stopped thrashing. She lifted me up and kissed me passionately.

“So, what do I taste like?” She asked smilingly.

“Hmm, you taste really good Haerin”

“Have you ever tried lemon zest?” I added.

“Mmm”

“You taste just like that,” I said, grinning.

She stood there for a moment, thinking about what I had just said, then she slapped my hand playfully, and we both burst out laughing.

I kissed her again, silencing her protest. She felt my cock nuzzled at her opening. She reached down and pump it up and down, stroking it up and down in a slow motion, we broke our embrace and she looked up at me. Water cascading down her breasts and dripping off her nipples.

“You didn’t cum in my mouth, and it seems that your dick made the choice for you. In my pussy it is.”

“Haerin. Once is an accident, twice is a choice,”

“Just for tonight, kay? I need you in me.” She said softly.

I slowly began to push in through her tight pussy lips, a thought crossed my mind and I looked at her.

“You’re not on birth control, are you?” She shook her head, kissing me again and spread her legs wider so I could go deeper into her. And deeper it went, I began to push deeper, faster, and harder over and over again as her pussy stretching to accommodate its intruder.

“I could have sworn you got bigger just now,” she whispered, a small moan escapes her lips with every thrust.

“Maybe I like cumming inside you without protection.”

“Ehm yeah? maybe I like that, too… Ahh”

I looked down at our connection, how her perfect lips split open by my grith. She was so unbelievably silky and wet, the perfect pussy that I would ravage forever if I had the chance. And I was bare inside her. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her pussy or her petite breasts, barely moving as I bottomed out in her again and again.

“Can I ask you something?” she panted between strokes.

“What?”

“Who... who feels better? Who do you like fucking more? Me or Minji?”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “Look who I’m inside of right now.”

Talking about Minji while fucking Haerin emphasized the forbidden feeling of it all. I could feel another orgasm rushing on, so I closed my eyes and tried to delay it.

“But if you had to say. And you can be honest.” She said.

“When I fuck Minji,” I said, slowing down my frantic thrusting.

“It’s amazing. She has the most incredible body, experienced, and knows exactly what to do to get me to cum. Sometimes I just enjoy burying myself in her pussy and feeling all of her around me”

“God, Haerin, you are so tight…” I stopped, holding my throbbing cock as far into her as it would go. Her eyes were mostly closed, savoring the feeling.

“Sometimes when I finish in her, she’ll reach down and taste me. Which just gets me going again. I have filled her up every different way. Just about every time you’ve seen her, she’s been full of me.” Haerin moaned at this, clenching me inside her.

“But you… it’s a whole different thing, fuck…” I growled.

I started to build up the pace, gripping her tighter as I pound her faster. Haerin wanted to say something, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

We froze.

“Haerin? Are you in there?”

It was Yejun. He sounded tired. Haerin looked at me, unsure what to do.

“Nghh…yeah,” she called out. “I’m almost done.”

“Why are you showering this late?”

I could hear the wet squelch of her pussy even over the rushing water of the shower as I slid my cock in and out of her. She struggled to maintain her voice even as she responded.

“I- I was feeling… a little dirty…mmhh”

“Are you okay babe?” Yejun asked.

“Hmm… yeah… I- I just need a moment- nghh…”

I couldn’t hold out much longer. I whispered in her ear as I thrust into her “I’m going to cum.”

“Don’t cum too much,” Haerin warned in a low voice, pausing to gasp as I bottomed out in her. “You’re still going to need some for Minji tonight.”

“I’d rather use it all up in you.”

“Alright, I’m going to sleep,” Yejun said from outside.

He had no idea I was fucking his girlfriend for the second time ever, readying to burst my cum into her unprotected pussy, again. Haerin maintained eye contact with me as I sank deeper into her.

“I’ll come soon,” Haerin shouted to him, in a voice that I was sure sounded like she was being fucked. I looked down at her naked body, taking in the sight of her pink ravaged pussy and her firm tits, my thrusts increasing in intensity.

“Haerin…” That was all I could groan out before I pulled her tightly as I buried my cock as deep as it could go into her and burst my second load, painting her wall white as far as it could reach. I’m sure her womb is full of those small tadpoles by now.

Last time had been incredible for its novelty, but it had all happened so fast that I didn’t take it all in. This time, I looked down at her, eyes wide open in pleasure as she felt the warm of cum quickly filling her up. I pulled out halfway and pushed in again, watching, satisfied, as a glob of cum was pushed out around my cock, painting her lips white.

Haerin held me hard, flinching as she came down from her orgasm, while I fucked my last drops of cum into her. I was as far up her pussy as I could go and there was nothing between us. I looked down at her cum-filled pussy split open as I pulled out. Cum poured out of her and onto the floor of the shower.

She inserted two fingers into herself and pulled them out, covered in cum. She brought her fingers to her mouth and let me watch as she licked them clean.

“Better than Minji?” She asked with a low voice. In response, I leaned in to kiss her, our two tastes mingling as our lips met.

We toweled off quickly and went our separate ways after one last kiss. The last thing I thought before falling asleep was “I hope we did a good enough job washing each other off and -- out of ourselves.

—

I woke up the next morning, groggily taking in my surroundings, it was sunny in my room. Minji’s bag was on the desk. I realized Minji must have gotten in and not woke me up, or worse, she’d tried to wake me up and I’d been too tired. Then I felt a warm, wet mouth wrap around my cock, which was rapidly hardening. I Recognize Minji’s incredible lips as she looked up at me, smiling around my cock.

“Good morning!” She was topless, her breasts hanging down enticingly.

“I’m so sorry, I was really sleepy last night” I said.

Minji ran her tongue up the length of my cock, slowly and thoughtfully. “You know you talk in your sleep, right?”

“What?” I asked.

“Well, usually you don’t, but you must have been very tired.” She punctuated her sentences with slow licks on my cock. “See, when I came in and got naked and tried to wake you up, you said the darnedest thing.”

Minji buried my cock in her mouth, deepthroating me until her nose was pressed against my pubic bone before pulling back out, lines of spit connecting her mouth to my shaft. I looked down at her, puzzled.

“Right around the time I got you into my mouth, you looked at me and said, A third time in one night.” As she said that, my stomach clenched

She climbed up the bed, angling my cock in between her folds. “I didn’t know what that meant, but then you said, If we keep this up, Haerin, I’ll have no cum left for Minji.” She sat down on my still-wet cock, letting me bury myself into her velvety pussy.

“At first, I thought it might just be a wet dream. But then I tasted your cock and wouldn’t you know it, I could swear you tasted... different.” She lifted off of me, angling my cock into her for maximum tightness, then slowly inched back down. My head was filled with competing emotions; I was turned on, guilty, horrified, and excited all at once.

“Minji…”

“Did you fuck Haerin?”

I didn’t know what to do or say, besides… “I’m sorry...”

She sped up on top of me, working my cock inside her as only she knew how. “I thought she was a virgin.”

“She... she was. The first time was an accident,” I regretted and cursed myself. After these words left my mouth. Why the hell did I have to say ‘the first time?’

“The first time was an accident huh...and the second?”

“It was- less of an accident…” This was crazy. What was going one? She didn’t seem to be mad, asking the questions in a matter-of-fact tone, as if we were having a simple conversation while I was fucking her.

“I’m guessing you didn’t wear a condom based on the taste she left on you.” I shook my head slowly. “Lucky her. She loses her virginity by having raw sex with her best friend. Did you cum inside her?”

I nodded. My cock throbbed inside Minji, edging closer to orgasm. We both felt it. She kept her pace, sliding her perfect pussy up and down my cock.

“She got three weeks’ worth of your cum. Was her pussy... overflowing?” she asked, again.

All I could do was nod, getting closer to my own orgasm, what the hell with all these questions anyway?

“Are you thinking about it right now? Picturing how she looked?”

“It’s- hard not to, when you asking about it… nghh fuck Minji”

“Are you gonna cum in me while thinking about Haerin?

In response, I pushed all the way into Minji and emptied the cum I had left up her pulsing canal. She moaned louder, grinding her clit hard against mine, and she cummed too. I held Minji close as my cock emptying itself inside her.

I noticed a movement near the door.

Haerin stood in the doorway, her gaze fixed on the spot where Minji and I were joined: Minji on top in a cowgirl position, legs spread, my cock splitting her open with her ass facing the door. Haerin could see our connection where I was bottoming out deep insider her friend.

Minji saw where I was looking and turned around to see Haerin. Haerin flushed and backed away from the doorway, but Minji called out to her, “You can come in.” After a brief moment, Haerin’s head reappeared, beet-red.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Mean to what?” Minji cut her off.

I was still hard inside Minji and I could feel drops of our cum running down creaming my shaft. Haerin tried hard not to look at it, but failed, miserably.

“You didn’t mean to watch, or you didn’t mean to fuck my boyfriend and take all his cum like a little slut?”

Haerin said nothing, mortified. I didn’t know what to say, either. Minji beckoned Haerin over to the bed, and she came hesitantly. She was wearing the same sleep shirt as last night, and her stiff nipples were clearly visible through it, maybe aroused by this all.

“Did you like watching us?” Minji asked and Haerin just nodded.

“Say it.”

“I liked watching,” Haerin said timidly.

“You liked watching what?”

Haerin swallowed nervously. “All of it. I liked... watching you... suck him off. I liked watching your pussy being pounded by him. I liked- watching… his cumming inside you.”

I was surprised to hear Haerin say that. The submissive side of her had taken over.

“Come here, you little slut.” Minji commanded.

Haerin got onto the bed, following her order. “Now I want you to taste our connection.” Haerin looked confused, so Minji clarified “Taste the place where he’s entering me.”

I was still rock-hard between Minji's lips. Haerin slid between my legs, looking directly at Minji's supple, round ass cheeks and her trimmed pussy around my cock. She tentatively reach oud her tongue to the underside of my cock. Slowly, she ran it up my shaft, gathering cum and Minji's cream on her tongue before reaching Minji's stretched pussy lips. She licked them up and around my cock, allowing me to feel her tongue on every pass. Minji breathed out slowly, clearly enjoying it.

“Now I want you to take him out of me and clean him off,” Minji said.

Haerin slowly reached out to grab my cock, which was slick with Minji's juices and my cum, and withdrew it from Minji with a soft squish. More of cum dripped on my cock. Haerin opened her mouth and leaned down take me in her mouth.

“Don’t swallow,” Minji said. “Keep it in your mouth.”

Haerin bobbed her head up and down, deliberately licking and sucking the wetness off my cock. Directly in front of her nose was Minji’s opening with cum dripping out slowly.

“Now put your mouth on my pussy and put it back in me.”

Haerin couldn’t reply, her mouth full, she looked hesitant. Minji rolled over, spreading her legs in front of Haerin.

“Haven’t you gotten enough of it? Put his cum back inside me.”

I was certain Haerin wouldn’t do it. Fucking me was one thing, eating Minji’s pussy was another. Would this new, submissive Haerin go for it? Still, she was holding the excess cum in her mouth, not swallowing it. She looked caught.

Minji absentmindedly rubbed her clit while waiting. Then, to my surprise, Haerin darted her mouth toward Minji's pussy, pressing her lips against it and reaching out her tongue to let the cum in her mouth dribble back into Minji's waiting hole. Minji moaned in pleasure.

“Keep going... make sure you get it all in...”

Haerin used her tongue to push the cum that had dribbled out of Minji’s pussy back in. She began to fuck Minji with her tongue, in and out of her sopping hole, tasting my cum every time she reached deeper into Minji. Minji closed her eyes, rubbing her nipples with one hand and using the other to press Haerin’s face into her womanhood.

I was rock hard again. Haerin was eating the cum out of Minji’s pussy, or, I guess, putting it back in. Was this a dream?

Minji writhed on the bed as Haerin continued lapping at her, bringing her tongue from the bottom of her pussy, where the cum had pooled, to the top, hungrily licking her clit. Minji gasped, her body rocked with waves of orgasm, and still Haerin kept going. I had never seen Minji orgasm from this angle, normally I was part of the process, and it was hot to see her body constrict in pleasure, tits bouncing, eyes screwed shut. It was even hotter watching Haerin eat her out.

Finally, Minji pulled Haerin's face away from her, which was wet with spit and our mixed juices. Both girls were panting.

“Have you ever gone down on a girl before?” Minji asked. Haerin shook her head, wiping off her mouth. She looked dazed but horny. “You’re good at it.”

Minji looked over at me, at my cock, which was standing upright. “And after all that, he’s still ready.”

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen,” was all I could manage to say.

Minji sat up and pushed Haerin down onto the bed, on her back. Under the sleep shirt, Haerin was wearing a pair of grey panties that were fully soaked through. Minji pulled the panties down, revealing Haerin’s wet, drenched pussy. As Haerin spread her legs, I watched her pussy lips come unglued from each other, revealing pink folds inside.

Minji reached down, into her own pussy, scooping my cum onto her fingers. She reached over and sank those fingers into Haerin’s. She moaned, writhing on the bed.

“You don’t need the extra lubrication,” Minji said, reaching down to spread her wetness over my cock. “But it’ll get you started.”

Minji pulled my cock to Haerin’s opening. I adjusted myself on the bed, getting up so I was supporting myself over Haerin. Minji slowly rubbed my tip up and down Haerin’s sopping lips, before putting me between them. Haerin cooed in pleasure.

“Show me how you fucked her.”

As I sank into Haerin for the third time, I looked over at Minji. My girlfriend was watching with rapt attention as I bottomed out in Haerin’s pussy. Then I looked at Haerin, who stared up at me with wide eyes. My longtime best friend, the girl I adored, was open beneath me.

“Fill me up again,” Haerin whispered.

“Once is an accident, twice is a choice, but three times?” I asked.

“Three times is perfect.”

[wonderjanga]

Billy’s Homelessness

Being a homeless kid has its perks, Billy supposes. He’s picked up tips and tricks from other kids and even adults during his time. It’s practically second nature to him at this point. Only thing is, the fact that it’s second nature in the first place is what can come back to bite him in the future.

Like lock picking. He’s good at it, and it’s not something he’s particularly proud of, but it’s helped him when he’s needed it most. He’s gotten shelter from blizzards, sleet, and rain with this skill. That’s why when Billy, Flash, GL, and Supes got locked in an all yellow room with red sun lamps and a locked door.

Supes, GL, and Flash: *all discussing how to get out* Marvel: *leans down in front of the keyhole of the door*

Supes: “Alright Flash, vibrate through the door-”

Marvel: “Done!” *opens door*

*silence*

GL: “How’d you do that?”

Marvel: “I picked the lock.” *walks out and immediately gets shot in the face by one of the guards*

Then there’s pickpocketing. He’s also unfortunately good at this. Freddy says he’s better though. Billy isn’t about to make a contest out of it. Batman found out about this particular talent when both him and Billy went undercover for a mission to uncover the scheme of some foreign politician.

Batman: *as Bruce Wayne* “That’s the man.” *subtly gestures to him*

Marvel: “Him? Okay… What do you wanna do?”

Batman: “First, we need to properly identify-”

Marvel: “Oh, okay.” *walks over to the man, passes him, then comes back to Bruce* “Here.” *places the man’s wallet in Bruce’s hand*

Batman: “…that he was involved in the crimes.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

*silence*

Batman: *opens the wallet anyways and starts looking through it*

Marvel: “Do you want me to put it back?”

Batman: *puts one finger up to Marvel’s face while he continues looking through the wallet*

Marvel: *deflates slightly* “Oh, okay.”

Batman: *pulls out a clue from the wallet* “Put this back, chum.”

Marvel: *scurries off to put the wallet back*

Bruce then heavily lamented how Marvel knew how to pickpocket so well. Cause the thing is, Marvel’s like six feet tall. (Had to make him a little shorter guys. My bad.) A man like that had no business doing that so well in a bright red sweater and yellow hat.

Then, there’s the avoiding cops. He rarely sticks around for them. He does not mess with them. He’s had too many bad experiences as Billy for it to translate well to Marvel. Whenever one tries to talk to him, he’ll say the bare minimum as politely as he can and fly off. Sometimes, if he knows it’s a cop who’s harsher on the homeless than most, he’ll act polite(passive aggressive) and then give them a nice, firm(crushing) handshake. One such incident was when a cop asked for a photo:

Cop A and Marvel: *posing for a photo by shaking hands*

Marvel: *smiling at the camera, his grip tightening on the hand*

Cop A: *awkward laugh* “That’s a tight grip you got there, Captain.”

Marvel: *lightens his grip, looking down to Cop A’s name tag: Richard* (This isn’t Nightwing guys) “My bad, dick.”

Cop A: “Excuse me?”

Marvel: “Oh no no no, not like “dick,” Dick.” *grip tightens again* “Not like some spineless, lowlife piece of shit from the bottom of my boot that gets scraped off onto a bigger pile of shit, kind of dick.” *smiles the whole time as he speaks* “No, like your name, officer, Dick.”

Cop A: “I prefer Richard.”

Cop B: *takes photo*

Also, anybody who gets that reference gets a kiss. Man or woman. It doesn’t matter. I don’t make the rules. By the way, someone definitely recorded that entire interaction and #passiveaggressivecap ended up trending on twitter.

Then, there’s the time Supes came over to Fawcett to hang out. They were chilling on a rooftop talking when down below they both saw a teenager steal food from a seller.

Supes: *doesn’t see Marvel move* “Aren’t you gonna stop that kid?”

Marvel: “Uh… no. He’s homeless. He clearly needs it more than we do.”

Supes: *blinks rapidly but then remembers he’s not in Metropolis and can’t really tell Marvel how to run his city* “Okay then.”

[bluesidez]

[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane. 

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway. 

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up. 

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself. 

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head. 

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying. 

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door. 

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband. 

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display. 

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button. 

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming. 

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island. 

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips. 

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response. 

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest. 

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined. 

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips. 

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting. 

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment. 

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you. 

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading. 

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back. 

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection. 

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you. 

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it. 

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama. 

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom. 

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early. 

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door. 

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself. 

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. 

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did. 

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues. 

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day. 

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek. 

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.” 

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time. 

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven. 

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet. 

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly. 

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.  

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10. 

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit. 

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure. 

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone. 

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away. 

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.  

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner. 

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight. 

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths. 

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms. 

You couldn’t ask for anything better. 

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think. 

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it. 

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good. 

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say. 

Hook, line, and sinker. 

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much. 

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped. 

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn. 

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you. 

You’re starting to think the worst. 

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working. 

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time. 

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with. 

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had. 

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house. 

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom. 

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.  

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand. 

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat. 

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry. 

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp. 

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back. 

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.” 

So much for communication. 

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides. 

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout. 

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight. 

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length. 

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers. 

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep. 

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length. 

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face. 

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better. 

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him. 

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls. 

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically. 

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time. 

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress. 

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it. 

It was all too much. 

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message. 

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper. 

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you. 

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 13)

first chapter >> last chapter

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You could just tell him. 

You consider it at least once a day, particularly in the mornings when John sits up on his side of the bed and hesitates briefly before rising to his feet and going downstairs to start breakfast. You can feel the way he wants to lean over and touch you, and the way he holds himself back. The way he pulls his hand back at the last second from where it hovers over your prone body.

He leaves you in bed with an ache in your stomach so deep that you swear it’ll swallow you whole. But you have no choice but to sigh and sit up as he shuffles around downstairs, the morning well on its way in. There’s nothing to do now but move forward.

The atmosphere in the house is tense. You walk on eggshells around each other, unsure of how to bridge the divide. The eggs jump in the pan and brown at the edges, and outside the feather reed sways in the breeze. You’re weary of each other and yet hardly capable of being apart.

Maybe that’s just on your end. 

You’ve taken to watching him from afar in recent days. In the absence of his physical touch, which comes sparingly now, his hands always curled into fists like he’s holding himself back from reaching out and touching you, you’ve resorted to the only thing left to you: the visual realm. That’s what you glut yourself on now, and while it doesn’t fill the hole in you, it soothes the ache. 

You watch him with the horses in the paddock, always confident and sure-footed with them. Suspenders straining against the muscle of his back and his shoulders, sweat running in rivulets down his back, the sun golden on his face. At dinner, he collapses into his chair, exhaustion written into every corner of his being, and you drag your eyes over the jut of his stomach, the layer of fat over his muscled core. Hairy forearms braced against the table while he eats (no manners, that one). 

Any thought of bolting in the night now seems unwise. Your previous aspirations of freedom seem foolhardy in the light of day. You give it some consideration. Say you had succeeded in escaping—now where would you be? Alone wandering the mountains, parched and starving? Drinking from the ravine? Eating poisonous berries and hawthorn leaves in desperation to have something in your belly? Or hogtied in some bandit’s tent, enduring a fate worse than starvation or death? 

You shudder to think of it. 

In the days since John brought you home, you haven’t seen hide nor hair of Graves, nor anyone else in pursuit of a woman from back east. No bounty hunters, no officers of the law, no rogue agents. It’s as if they came, found nothing, and simply wandered on through.

You should’ve just waited them out. It’s clear now, what you should’ve done, but who can argue with the past? You’re sick of telling yourself that there might’ve been another way. It doesn’t change the way things are now. 

There’s nothing to do now but move forward.

The routine is the same. You head into town every morning and try to say as few words to each other as possible. You glance at each other when the other isn’t looking. The glances grow longer with the days, the stubborn sun refusing to set until well into the evening hours, and your own eyes refusing to part from his form. When you catch him watching you in turn, his eyes are always heady, filled with something like longing.

Outside, the sky is cornflower blue; clouds bulge and drift away. 

Life returns to some degree of normalcy, despite the sense of something unresolved hovering in the air. John’s deputies come over again for supper, and with them they bring better table manners this time. At least Soap doesn’t belch at the dinner table and Kyle leaves his hat at the door. Simon is taciturn as always, but that comes now as a comfort.

The men play cards in the living room until even the fireflies go to sleep, until the night is a thin paste spread over the world, the sharp edge of the knife scraping over the craggy limestone peaks and ridges and spreading it evenly. You go to bed alone, the bedroom door cracked open enough to see the flicker of lamplight against the wall, their shadows weaving in and out of it. 

He must come to bed at some point because his side of the bed is warm when you wake up the next morning. You put your hand there to soak up his warmth until you can’t excuse lying in bed any longer. Breakfast is, again, quiet, but you feel the compulsion to break the silence bubbling up in your chest. You think if he stares at you even a moment longer, you’ll have no choice but to belt it out. 

The brittle morning is interrupted by the arrival of one of John’s deputies. When Simon rips open the door and barges into the house, you nearly scream, watching with wide eyes as he charges towards the back, looking for John. You flit over to the window to watch him go. He finds John out back mucking the stalls in the stable and there’s a brief moment of intense conversation before you watch as John throws the pitchfork against the wall and hurriedly shuts the stables up, following Simon back towards the house. 

It’s a flurry of motion after that, John throwing on his clothes haphazardly, not even bothering to properly button up his shirt. You unconsciously follow him up the stairs to the bedroom.

“John?” you ask, uncertainly. 

He doesn’t answer you right away. The tension creeps up the length of your back the longer he goes without responding, his mouth set in a flat line. 

“John?” you repeat, more force behind your words this time. “What’s wrong?” 

“Passenger train up east is about to be robbed,” John finally grunts out in reply, checking his rifle to see if it’s loaded. “Simon got word.”

“How’d he know before it even happened?” you ask, stuck on conversation because you unconsciously want to delay the inevitable. Your heart pounds hard in your chest, images of gunfire and bloodbaths searing the backs of your eyelids. 

“Informant. He’s got ‘em all over the county.”

Not once does he slow down or pause to take a breath. You follow him back downstairs and through the house, watching anxiously as he loads his gun and tightens the belt of bullets around his waist. He plucks his hat from where it sits hung up beside the door and then exits out of the house, you trailing along helplessly behind him. The porch creaks ominously under his feet as he makes his way down the stairs towards the horses, where Simon already has John’s other horse saddled up and ready to go.

“When will you—” You can’t finish it. It hangs uselessly in your mouth. He doesn’t answer you. 

You follow him to the horses but stumble to a halt when he reaches them first, taking over from Simon and fixing the straps in place. Simon gives you a curt nod when your eyes meet before turning to his horse and heaving himself up onto it briskly, obviously in a rush to get going. 

John turns to you when the straps are fixed in place and he has one foot in the stirrups, brows furrowed deep enough to accentuate all the lines in his forehead. He gestures warningly at you with a finger. “You stay here, you hear me?”

Your brows furrow, affronted at the command. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t fancy havin’ to chase after you for a second time, but I will if you try anything funny while I’m gone.”

“Well, you just see here now—”

“You heard me, darlin’—”

“Price,” Simon growls, cutting him off, and it takes you by surprise to see his usual phlegmatic disposition traded in for something choleric. He’s never been one to talk back or act insubordinately, more of a guard dog than a deputy sometimes. His mouth is set in a hard line though, betraying the tension coiled in his bones. 

John nods and hauls himself up onto his horse.

“You be good while I’m gone,” John says, casting you one last parting glance.

You screw your lips into a scowl. “Don’t you dare die out there.”

That somehow gets a laugh out of him, as jagged as it is. It makes your stomach twist, the goodbye stagnant on your lips. You refuse to say it.

John’s horse whinnies when he pulls on the reins. He gives a sharp whistle, jolting it into motion, and you watch as he circles around and follows Simon down the path, their horses kicking up dust behind them. 

You stand there until their horses disappear over the horizon. Then you linger a little longer.

It dawns on you that John hadn’t said goodbye either. That has to count for something.

Still, you dwell on it over the next hour, hardly able to keep your breakfast down. Any lingering frustration melts away into dread the longer you think about John confronting a train full of armed robbers, his deputies accompanying him or not. The shotguns loaded and strapped to their backs told you enough about what they expected to encounter. The thought makes you shudder.

You try to distract yourself with chores, but that hardly helps. All you can think about when scrubbing the floors is whether someone will have to do the same on the train. You know how hard it is to clean up blood.  

Kate comes over later that morning while you’re still pinning the bed sheets and linens to the clothesline. The sound of horse hooves beating against the dirt elicits your attention first, and when you look down the dirt path leading into town, you see her riding towards you on horseback. A dapple grey gelding, bigger than Buttercup but leaner than the horse that John had chased you down on.

“Morning!” she shouts, still far enough away for it to be necessary. Your hand goes up slowly in a wave, half-shielding your eyes from the sun.

She comes up the path quickly, dismounting before her horse has even come to a standstill. It speaks to an element of comfort on a horse that you haven't acquired yet. Jealousy licks a hot tongue up your innards. 

“Morning,” you greet tentatively. “Not that I don’t appreciate spending time with you, but don’t you have a store to run?”

Kate shrugs her shoulders, sauntering up the walkway. “Folks chip in when they have to—I’ve got plenty of people in town willing to watch the shop for me. Besides, what’s the point of owning a business if you can’t take a day off every now and then?”

You frown, looking at Kate a bit suspiciously. “Did he tell you to come babysit me?” 

You don’t specify who, but it’s obvious enough.

Her lips flatten. “I offered.”

All that does is stoke the flames of your ire. “They seemed in a hurry to leave. Didn’t think John would have time to stop by and ask you to watch his wayward wife.” 

“John didn’t do anything. Simon mentioned that he was coming here to get your man.”

“My man,” you mumble a bit sardonically. Still, her words make you let go of some of your anger. “So he didn’t ask you to come?”

Kate shakes her head, lips finally curling up into a half-grin. “No, ma’am. Thought I’d just get Miles to mind the shop and come give you some company.”

Your frown keeps getting deeper. “Don’t ma’am me, Kate. And I don’t need your company if you’ve just come to make fun of me.”

“Hand to heart—I came only to make sure you were alright.” Her smile grows directly inverse to your frown. “Give me a minute to put the horses in the paddock and I’ll be right back.”

You could almost kiss her for that though. You’d been dreading the thought of having to bring Buttercup out into the paddock on your own, but the thought of leaving her in the stables all day had also felt immeasurably cruel. Since getting lost with her in the mountains, you haven’t felt confident enough to be around her on your own. At least Kate’s presence takes some of that stress away. 

Not all of it though. Stress eats away at you as the day goes on. You can’t seem to go long without returning to the thought of John being shot or stabbed by one of the bandits on the train. Your mind keeps turning to the image of him lying lifeless on the floor, blood seeping out of a wound in his chest, eyes glazed over and far away. 

You chew on your nails until they tear. Kate smacks your hands when she notices.

It’s well past dark by the time John comes home. You notice his arrival first as a flicker of light when you happen to glance out the window. You’d long ago pulled up a chair to settle down beside the window and wait, Kate in a chair on the other side of the room near the oil lamp, flicking through her book, and with the waiting had come a knot in your chest tighter than a fist. A cancerous lump metastasising in your belly, spreading out into every corner of you. 

And then someone riding up the path towards the house holds up a lamp that swings with the rhythm of their approach. Your heart all but stops in your chest, fingers halting in the middle of knitting. It beats a furious frenzy now, alert again, alive in your chest. The needles clatter to the floor when you rise to your feet, dashing over to the door to swing it wide open.

“I suppose he’s—” Kate says, but you don’t hear the rest, already gathering up your skirt to hustle down the porch steps and meet him halfway, heart lodged in your throat. 

When he notices you hurrying out the door and down the path towards him, John brings his horse to a standstill. 

Shadows engulf his form until you get close enough for the lamplight to slash across John’s face, illuminating the deep, sunken troughs under his eyes. He looks exhausted. The top button of his shirt is missing, perhaps ripped out in whatever altercation he’d gone to stop. Your eyes flit over him, looking for any sign of blood or injury, and you find it along the grooves of his knuckles, the skin there torn and bloodied. He hadn’t even bothered to wrap his hands in gauze before coming home. 

John smiles down at you. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

That’s almost enough to make you sway on your feet, lightheaded. You hadn’t realized the toll his sudden absence had taken on you, or the worry that’d been festering in your belly, but as it drains out of you, it almost brings you to your knees. 

“Are you well?” you ask, throat tight. 

He doesn’t answer you. Instead, he shifts his weight and swings his leg over his horse to dismount, eyes on you the whole time. You can hardly pull your eyes off him, not even for a second. His horse, well-trained enough to not wander off without its rider astride it, huffs out a breath but otherwise remains in place while John walks towards you. 

Your heart jumps in your chest when he lifts a hand to cup your cheek and drops a firm kiss to the center of your forehead, the heat of his kiss suffusing through you. The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck lift. Your arms erupt in gooseflesh.

“Never better,” he says when he pulls back. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your forehead when he speaks. It makes everything from your collarbone up go hot.

You hear the door open again. “Hi John,” Kate calls from the door.

“Hi Laswell,” John calls back to her, but his eyes never leave yours.

A heavy silence pregnant with meaning passes. You’re not sure what to read into it, but reading’s never been your strong suit. 

“I’ll see myself out then,” Kate says. “Leave you two lovebirds to it.” Her words make you bristle, but even that isn’t enough to pull your eyes off your husband. 

“Don’t look so put out—Soap’s just down the path waiting to take you home,” John scoffs. Sure enough, when you peek around him, you notice the slight flicker of light that burns at about the height of a man sitting astride a horse.

Kate rolls her eyes. “So chivalry’s not dead. Thank the Lord for small mercies.”

You don’t hear her go around the side of the house, but she must because she comes back a few minutes later with her horse, lead in hand. Her goodbye goes unnoticed by you or John, barely audible over the sound of the crickets in the bushes. You come back to yourself only when her horse takes off down the path towards Soap, and by then your voice is too faint, the words evaporating off your tongue. 

The moment finally bursts when John shifts his weight and winces. You frown. “You’re hurt.”

He huffs. “Just a sore rib. Nothing worth fussin’ over.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Your eyes flick down to his bloodied knuckles. “Your hands need tending to anyway. We should get inside.”

John nods. “I’ll put Chiron away and then come in.”

“Chiron?”

“This boy here.” His horse chuffs when John pats his neck lightly, smoothing a hand down the length. It slots into your mind—another piece of this place assimilated into your being. Another name you’ll never be able to shake. 

You hurry back inside while he takes Chiron around the side of the house towards the stables, the lamp still swinging from his hand. It’s how you track him from the window. It’s too late now for them, but you remember staring off into the distance earlier, watching the fireflies flicker in and out of view, gold will-o-wisps hovering over the fields. Now it’s quiet, and nothing outside moves. Even the moon hides behind dark clouds. 

You wait by the window until you see John come out of the stables, headed back towards the house. Only then do you exhale. 

He sits at a chair in the living room and spreads his legs, forcing you to step between them to get close enough to treat him. You bandage his torn knuckles under the light of the oil lamp in the corner of the room. John doesn’t so much as flinch when you clean them, gently inspecting the wounds to remove any debris that might’ve gotten in. He’s a good patient; hardly makes a sound as you wrap the gauze around his knuckles. 

“Do you want me to call the doctor in the morning?” you ask, then start a bit at the sound of your own voice, inexplicably loud in the relative silence of the room. 

John shakes his head. “Don’t bother. Wasn’t anything too serious.”

You frown. “Are you sure? I don’t want to risk it getting infected—”

He turns his hands over in your loose hold, curling his fingers around yours. You blink at the stark contrast between his and your hands. His fingers are thicker than yours, swollen at the joints, and the skin of his palms is calloused, rough to the touch. You’ve felt them over every part of you—loose at your waist, gripping the nape of your neck, prying your thighs apart. Holding your hand. Sunk deep into your quim. 

You can recall the feel of his touch from memory now. 

“It’s not that bad, darlin’,” he rasps, dragging his thumb back and forth over your fingers. “Y’did a good job fixin’ me up. You’re a good little nurse.”

“I’m no substitute for proper medical care,” you snip, still frowning. 

“Ah, if I die, I die.”

“That’s not funny,” you snap, abruptly incensed, and the joking twist of his lips unfurls at that, the creases around his eyes smoothing out. He looks at you like there’s something new writ large on your face.

There’s a tremble in your lower lip and a tremor in your hands that you hadn’t noticed until now. Once you notice it, it’s impossible to shake; your lip wobbles when you have to pinch back your tears. A stubborn one nearly leaks out until you sniff and blink it away. 

“Now where’s this all coming from?” John asks, voice pitched low and intimate, just for the two of you. 

His voice laps over your bones like bourbon on the rocks, glistening amber in the setting sun. Except it’s dark now and there’s not a drink in the world that could dilute the emotions welling up in you. You’d be a blubbery drunk anyway; you’ve always been something of a sad sack. 

“I thought you might come back hurt,” you whisper. “And you did.” 

His thumb strokes over your unblemished knuckles and he lifts your hands to his mouth to kiss the very same spot he just brushed. “I’m sorry to make you worry, darlin’. I meant nothing by my words. We’ll go to the doctor tomorrow.”

The bur of his beard tickles the back of your hand. His acquiescence brings some of your candor back. “Well, only if you want to.”

“Don’t get smart with me, wife—”

He stops short when you giggle, his eyes widening infinitesimally. You wonder if it’s the first time he’s ever heard you laugh. It’s not something you can help though. The joy spills up from you unbidden. 

John sighs. “We’ve been making a right mess of things, haven’t we?”

You go to say something, but all that comes out is a soft hum of agreement. 

It’s in front of you again. An opportunity to tell him everything, to make things right. To land in the soft sediment of truth and come out unscathed and better for it. All you need do is open your mouth and say it; say that there was a man back east that tried something untoward and you did what you had to in order to protect yourself. You think on some level John would understand that. 

Again you open your mouth. Again nothing comes out.

There’s love and then there’s thinness, words preserved in amber. He takes your whole world in his hands and you want to say, is it safe here? Can I call this a home?

There's love and then there's a heaving mass of recollection. It is an ancient thought: to love and be loved in verity, in one's own sphere of understanding. You don’t yet know if that’s possible for you, but you’re starting to think that maybe here is something close to that. Something gentle like wildflowers springing up from beside train tracks, the sprawling emptiness of the plains on either side. 

Still, it is not enough to make you tell the truth. Maybe now the consequences are different. You think less of a jail cell and more of being deprived of this man that holds your hands tenderly and looks up at you with such clear affection. 

If love has a way of speaking, it is marbles in the mouth; it masticates its own words. It chokes them back out of fear, out of longing to keep things right. 

So instead, you ask, “Can we just put it behind us and move on?”

John lifts a hand and slides it around the back of your neck, drawing you in for a kiss that makes your heart melt in your chest, caramel-rich. You moan into his mouth when his tongue traces over your lips, hands dropping to sink into the lapels of his shirt, pulling him closer to you.

When he pulls back, the folds around his eyes are crinkled, lips pulled up into a fond smile. “Already forgotten.” 

You exhale. This is reconciliation. It comes home limping and bruised, but it comes home to you. 

[doofnoof]

Sun and his Good Boy Points™ /J

In a few short years, “Pizza Boy” became one of the most popular pizza places, their human like androids making fast deliveries and more profits. As you go to pick up your pizza from the front door, the delivery android seems to be nearly out of power. It asks to recharge before heading out.

[yelenasbraid]

the one I run to — joe burrow

summary — you’re out with your friends when you start to notice someone’s been watching you.

warnings — fem!reader, protective!joe, creepy guy, some suggestive comments, fluff, language, names used for friends’ names ( so sorry if i use yours! )

requested by — anon <3

YOU LOVED COOLER WEATHER. the soft breeze through your hair, the big sweaters and the hats. it brought back memories of college, of friends and the sweet times you had. those same college friends came up to see you, and you couldn’t be more excited.

“you literally haven’t aged,” one of your friends, cassandra, laughed as you sat down at a table. the restaurant you chose was a cute spot, warm lights dangled from the ceiling while the smell of wood filled your nostrils. it was one of your favorite places around town.

“cass, it’s been four years,” you defended, scooting in your chair.

“still, i feel like the stress of being a WAG would get the grey hairs going,” cass joked, earning an eye roll from you.

“i think i see some already,” your other friend, courtney, commented, going to point out said grey hairs. you smacked her hand away.

“you both are bullies. did you come up to ohio just to bully me?” you asked jokingly, making both girls laugh. both girls were your roommates at one point, and after that the three of you became fast friends. you did everything together in college, so graduating, knowing you were parting ways, made it ten times harder.

flashback

you embraced the two of them, tears stinging your eyes. you didn’t care about your makeup at this point; the three of you were going to be parting ways for who knows how long.

“you better text me,” courtney wiped her eyes as she playfully shoved you, “especially with you dating the golden boy,”

“oh hush,” you laughed, wrapping her in another hug. leaving would be the hardest thing for you. those girls showed you good people existed, that you were worthy of friendship. they were apart of you, and now it felt like time was ripping them away.

“we’ve gotta have like an annual catch up or something,” cass sniffled, pulling away from the embrace.

“you won’t be able to get rid of us,” you reassured.

end of flashback

you felt whole again with them there. this wasn’t to say that you weren’t friends with some of the WAGs on the bengals or that joe wasn’t enough. he was, and you were friends with some of the WAGs. you and jess, sam’s fiancée, were particularly close. it was just different with friends you’ve known for a lot longer.

you ordered your drinks and then your food choices.

“so, give me the tea,” courtney spoke, sipping on her wine.

“what tea is there?” you asked her. while you and joe kept your lives pretty private, everyone knew you were together. everyone knew that joe was absolutely smitten with you.

“oh come on, you’re dating joe burrow. there’s obviously some tea. and where’s that ring?”

“he hasn’t proposed yet,”

“imma beat that boy’s ass,” cass muttered, causing you to choke on your drink. you had no idea what was in joe’s mind, but you’ve had the marriage talk. you’ve talked about getting married and that you were meant to get married. he just hasn’t put a ring on it, yet.

catching up with them was always special. cass told you about her husband and her 3 year old at home. courtney told you about her business and the cute guy who works next to her. you shared struggles, the things that caused you to stumble. you had the opportunity to lift each other up, to fill each other’s cups in the time that you had.

after you’ve had your fill, three drinks in with a full belly, the three of you figured it was time to leave. you didn’t want to hold up the restaurant any longer, even if you guys didn’t want to leave.

“don’t freak out,” courtney started, which consequently unsettled your stomach.

“what?”

“there’s a guy who’s been staring at you for the past 5 minutes,” she whispered to you, concern furrowing her brow. you were used to people staring at you, especially since you were dating joe. people wanted to ask you questions, and they weren’t always of innocent intent.

you turn and meet eyes with the guy, who’s sitting by himself, a drink in front of him. he makes no move to break eye contact with you, but he does wink at you. it unsettled you, causing your stomach to bubble with anxiety. you didn’t like his expression or what he was insinuating.

“he’s probably just a fan. he shouldn’t follow us out,” you told them. you were comforting yourself, but your gut told you a different story. it told you that this guy had other intentions and he wasn’t going to leave you alone.

you pack up your things, pay the bill, and fill your mouth with the last of your drink before walking out. you flicked your eyes back over to the man again, who had moved closer to you. he was still staring at you, his eyes flicking over your body. he was checking you out, and it made you very uncomfortable. you shivered, walking out of the restaurant. before you left for dinner, you liked your outfit. it was cute, it was comfortable, and you felt confident in it. now, you tugged at the sleeves of your shirt, worried about any exposed skin.

the three of you gather in front of a window into the restaurant, a warm glow cast on your faces. you still felt eyes on you, the prickling sensation on the back of your neck confirming such. this was different, you knew that. you also knew that you parked in a different area than your friends did. that fact alone tightened your chest and labored your breathing.

you’d be fine. you could handle yourself.

“you ok?” courtney asked you, snapping you out of your trance.

“yeah, yeah. he’s just really freaking me out,” you admitted to them. courtney looked in the window, catching the guy who was staring at you. she made a face at him, breaking the eye contact he had with her. you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

“needed a little embarrassment,” she shrugged. you hoped she was right. even though you were in a happy relationship, it didn’t stop other guys from hitting on you. it didn’t stop other guys from ogling, from making sleazy comments. it didn’t stop them from denying reality, wanting you to be theirs. you hoped that this guy in particular just needed to be told to shove off.

the three of you started walking down the street. the sun was setting, golden hues lighting your way. you guys stayed together, laughing and giggling as you went. your eyes caught movement, and you turned your head to see the man from earlier walking on the sidewalk across from you. it had to be a coincidence. you didn’t say anything, chalking it up to be paranoia. you were with friends. joe was a phone call away. you’d be ok.

you take out your phone and unlock it, hovering a finger over joe’s contact. you decided against calling him, at least for now. you didn’t need to bother him with this right now. you reached their parking lot, and you looked back, seeing no sign of him. you let out a breath of air.

“it was so good seeing you,” you chirped, feeling in a much better mood. you hugged each of them before they departed to their cars. the deck you parked in was right across the street.

“you good to walk there by yourself?” courtney called from her car. you contemplated taking her up on her implied offer, but you shook your head.

“i’m ok, thanks. i’ll call joe while i walk over,” you reassured her. she smiled, getting into her car, and driving off. you were met with silence again. you watched your friends leave, and as your eyes followed their cars, you saw him again. your heart caught in your throat, your breath hitching.

this is how crime documentaries started.

you pulled out your phone again, not hesitating to call joe. your breath picked up, watching the guy down the street from you. he was leaning against the wall, lighting a cigarette. based off of the lighting of the fire hitting his face, he was white. he was wearing dark clothes and had dark hair. you kept those physical descriptions in your mind, just in case.

“baby?” you heard joe’s voice on the other side of the phone, grounding you.

“hey! i’m walking over to the parking deck and wanted to call you,” you explained, maybe a little too brightly. you started towards the crosswalk, which would make the walk to the parking deck a tad longer. you stole a look at the guy, and he’d put out his cigarette and started after you.

“are you ok?” he asked you. joe knew that you sounded off; something was up.

“um,” you started, glancing back as you crossed the street, seeing the mystery guy pick up the pace, “i need you,” your voice shook with the realization you were being followed. ruffles were heard on the other side of the phone, which meant silence.

“joe?”

“i’m on the way, just keep walking to the parking deck, i’ll be there in 15 minutes,” he informed you. he slipped on some shoes, grabbed his keys, and walked into the garage. he didn’t have to ask, you didn’t have to explain. he heard the shakiness of your voice, and that alone threw him into overdrive. no one messed with his woman, no one got away with scaring her.

he got into the car, opening the garage, and pulled out. all while on the phone with you.

“wait 15 minutes? isn’t the restaurant like 30 from the house?” you asked, walking into the parking deck. at least it was lit, but it didn’t ease the sickly feeling in your stomach. you turned back, watching as the guy just entered the parking deck. he wasn’t making it subtle.

“30 minutes, 15 minutes, whatever. if i get pulled i’ll sweet talk the cops out of a ticket,” he informed as he gassed down the street. his hand wrung against the steering wheel, his mind running a million miles an hour. he might even make it in 10 minutes.

“oh well that’s comforting,” you told him as you disappeared up the stairs. you skipped steps, reaching level 4. it was then you heard the door open and close. you bolted through the level 4 door, panting, your heart in your throat.

“joe, please hurry,” you’re begging, your mind coming up with escape routes and hiding places. that car is big enough to hide you. there’s a pillar over there that could keep you. there’s another stairwell on the other end.

“i’m coming baby, just hang tight for me, ok?” he hated hearing you sound so scared, he hated all of it. his anger boiled, his jaw working as he turned onto the highway. why did men think it’s fun to scare women? why did they think it was ok, that it meant they were interested? why did they get off on their fear?

“just stay on the phone with me, please?” you asked him, trying to eye your car. of course you forgot where you parked. you heard the door squeak, and your nerves lit up with adrenaline.

“i promise, babe. i’m here,” he assured you. you swallowed and parked yourself next to a random car, taking out your fob as if to unlock it. you wouldn’t let this man know what you drove.

“he’s on the same level as me,” you breathed shakily, trying and failing to keep your composure. you’ve only read of this sort of thing happening, you never thought it would happen to you. you tried to think logically, which would calm down your nerves only for a little bit.

“i’m almost there,” he told you. he pulled onto the same street as the restaurant, and he wondered why someone would even dare scare you. the area was well-lit, populated. there were people out and about, and yet this guy didn’t seem to care. it just enraged him even more.

you saw the guy round a corner, and you didn’t have anywhere to go. you stiffened, your back rigid as this man approached you. you could see more of his face, and you made sure to sear it into your mind. you could hear your heart beat in your ears, blood rushing through your body. your hands shook, and not because there was a chill in the air.

“can i help you?” you dared speak, trying to sound confident, to sound like you could knock him out if you wanted to.

“you left your wallet,” he replied. on the phone, joe listened, pulling into the parking deck. you were engaging in conversation with this man, and he just hoped that this guy didn’t want to do anything else.

“oh, thanks,” you took the wallet from him, your heart pounding. your eyes flicked to the ramp, watching as joe’s sleek porsche came into view. you almost cried with relief. joe parked in the aisleway, opening and shutting the door. he’d hung up the phone the second he pulled onto the level, preparing for whatever it was he was going to see.

“is there a problem?” joe’s voice is tight, his eyes are hard as he eyes this man down. he walked up to him, a certain strut to his stride. he looked taller, bigger, but maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you.

“i was just giving the lady her wallet back, man,” her follower defended.

“then why the hell are you still here?” joe snapped, stepping between you and the guy.

“she seemed afraid, wanted to make sure she was ok,” he replied, sounding smart. joe didn’t like his attitude, but he also knew a slug to the face wasn’t going to fix anything.

“she’s fine, so get out,” he snapped, his voice raising. joe was a good 4 inches taller than this other man, and it made you feel safer. joe squared his shoulders, the tension in his body building as he towered over the other man. you shrunk behind joe, praying for this moment to end. you took careful breaths, trying to control your surging anxiety.

“what the hell is your problem, man?” he snapped, and joe couldn’t hold himself together much longer.

“my problem?” joe hissed, inching towards the other man, “my problem is that you followed her here. my problem is that you’re just now saying something about a wallet,” joe was seething, his fists clenching and unclenching. he wasn’t going to say he scared you, he didn’t want him thinking he won in any way. no one should be proud of scaring someone or wanting to scare someone, unless it was joe in that moment.

“well maybe if she wasn’t running i would have been able to give it to her,” he argued. joe needed to breathe, to take a step back, but this guy was trying to justify his following you. it continued to boil his blood, to churn his stomach.

joe shoved this guy back, hard enough to give you some space, but not enough to knock him down.

“get the fuck out of this parking deck, i don’t want to see you again,” joe’s voice was gravelly as he stared this guy down. he watched as the man stalked off and left the parking deck. joe’s breaths were the only thing heard in the silence. he turned towards you, his expression immediately softening.

“you alright?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in close to his chest. you melted into his embrace, the safety of it. the tears finally fell, the adrenaline that once coursed through your veins slowing its pace. you held onto joe, but you wanted to get out of there.

“i’m ok now that you’re here,” you pulled away. he nodded, wiping your tears from your eyes. the pads of his thumbs felt cool on the heat of your skin, calming down the nerves in your body.

“good, let’s go home,” he hummed, kissing the top of your head. he walked you to your car, helping you in. you felt safe in your car; it allowed to finally breathe and release the tension in your chest. tears flowed down your cheeks you pulled out, following joe all the way home.

—

once you were home, enveloped in the warmth and smell of comfort, you changed into comfortable clothes. you were still shaken up, your body shaking from the adrenaline crash. you walked out of the bathroom, joining joe on the bed. he immediately wrapped you in his arms, giving you a gentle squeeze. he didn’t know what he’d do if he got there too late, if he got there and something despicable had happened. he’d lose his mind, that was for sure.

he just couldn’t get the sound of your voice out of his head. the sound of fear.

“feel better?” he hummed against your hair, pulling himself out of his own head. you nodded against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. his fingers ran up down your spine, spreading warmth throughout your body. you were safe. no one was going to hurt you.

“i’m still shaky, but i’m much better,” you admitted. he could feel your hands, the slight tremor to them as you laid against his chest.

“good,” he replied, running his hands up and down your back, “i’m always a call away,”

“i know,” you said, words muffled against his chest. silence rode by, safety once again seeping back into your bones. he was the one you ran to, the one you’d always call if you needed help. he’d always answer that call, too. your mind drifted with the returning feeling of safety, joe’s actions returning to the forefront of your mind. his tone, his body. you chuckled at the thought, curling further into him.

“what?” he asked, watching as you looked up at him.

“seeing you get all protective has me feeling some type of way,” you laughed, making joe roll his eyes. he kissed the crown of your head, a smile on his lips.

“i think it’s about time little miss got some sleep,” he smiled, reaching over and turning out the light. your laugh broke the darkness, bringing its own kind of light. he was thankful you were feeling ok enough to make suggestive jokes. hearing you laugh was one of the most healing things in his life.

“sweet dreams, my love,” he hummed, feeling you drift off to sleep, safe in his arms.

went overboard but i hope this is ok anon! please enjoy!! as always, i’m so thankful for your support and your love! you guys are amazing <3

tags: @wickedfun9

[halfvalid]

through the night

ABOUT

| 18+ | smut | explicit |

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

description: zoro comes to the reader's room during the night. sex ensues.

tags: smut, female reader, oral (receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, kissing (a lot of it), soft zoro, first time together, confessions (kinda), fluff, no use of "y/n", banter, pwp (lowkey).

author's note: consent is sexy and so is zoro

i have up to now only watched 2 episodes of OPLA and have never consumed any other type of one piece media. expect him to be ooc. also it's my first smut fic help

It was nighttime on the Going Merry, and the dull kiss of the setting horizon drifted lazily through the single window in your room. You were lying on your bed, leaning against the headboard as you flipped through a book you’d picked up the last time the ship had been docked. It wasn’t too interesting, but it was something to pass the time with, so you stifled a yawn and flipped to the next page.

There was a knock at your door, and you glanced up, watching as the shoddy metal hinges slowly creaked open. Zoro was standing in the doorway, his broad frame blocking out nearly all the light coming in from the hall. He was still dressed in his daywear, which reminded you that you needed to change—the loose shirt and trousers you wore were, although clean, nothing near sleepwear.

“Zoro?” you asked, watching as he started into the room. You clicked your tongue before he could step another foot inside, though— “If you’re going to come in, take your shoes off.”

Zoro scoffed but obeyed, pausing by the mouth of the room to slide his heavy boots off. He tread lightly to where you lay, climbing up to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. “What’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” Zoro answered. You moved aside to allow him some more room, centering yourself on the bed. Zoro didn’t move, though.

You raised your eyebrows. “That’s possible?”

He looked unimpressed, propping his arms under his head and leaning back so his head was splayed against your thighs. His three matching earrings glinted in the light. “Luffy and Nami are being loud. Your room’s the farthest away.”

“Your elbow is digging into my gut,” you said, turning back towards your book. Zoro rolled his eyes, but readjusted his position, pulling his arms down to instead lay folded atop his stomach. “Are you just going to nap there?”

Zoro shrugged, and you had to stifle a giggle, the sensation vaguely ticklish. He’d never been a man of many words, so you lowered your book again and went back to reading. The light in the room was dim, though; after a few minutes, the glow from the light at your bedside no longer sufficed, and you were too tired to strain your eyes to squint at the page. You could, of course, just turn on the cabin lights—but Zoro was asleep by now, and you hadn’t even liked the book that much anyway.

You set it on your nightstand, gazing down at the slumbering man in your lap. Despite the glare he so often sported, Zoro looked near-angelic in his sleep, his face all smooth planes and straight lines. Those dark eyes of his were hidden like this, black lashes splayed across his cheeks as shadows emphasized the hollows of his bone structure.

He really was beautiful, an ever-comforting presence within the Straw Hats that your eyes had always strayed to. There was a certain kind of fondness you held for him that none of the other crew members could quite compare to, although if you voiced those thoughts Luffy would probably end up giving you a lighthearted scolding. You could already imagine the teasing from the other members of the crew—Usopp and Sanji particularly—making fun of your little crush, which is why you kept your lips firmly sealed. A secret was a secret, and this was yours to keep.

You finally tore your eyes away, focusing instead on getting out of the position you’d gotten stuck in. Somewhere in the back of your mind you liked the idea of Zoro sleeping in your lap, but the clothes you wore were getting increasingly uncomfortable. You carefully slipped out from under him, cradling his head so as to support him as you gently lowered him to the mattress. Thankfully, he didn’t rouse, and you slipped to the other side of the room to open up your wardrobe, satisfied knowing you weren’t disturbing him.

You made deft work, first brushing through your hair and rinsing your face with some clean water before focusing your attention on changing your clothes. You removed your trousers, instead donning a pair of shorts. You were halfway through peeling off your blouse to replace it with a softer, silk one, when Zoro coughed from behind you.

You froze, daring to glance behind you whilst still topless. Zoro had awoken, eyes having lost all trace of sleep as he slowly sat up, staring at your figure across the room. He coughed again as soon as your eyes met, dropping his gaze. “Sorry,” he said very carefully, voice hoarse and grating.

“No, it’s okay,” you managed out, but you were still frozen. Your thoughts were on the dark look that’d been in his eyes the split-second before he’d looked away—surprised but sharp, cutting like just his gaze could pierce through your soul. Gooseflesh had prickled up along your arms.

“I’ll just… go,” Zoro muttered, already having gotten up as he started shuffling towards the door. You jolted into action, nearly dropping the shirt still in your hands as you turned towards him.

“No, you can—” your words softened, seeing his gaze flicker rapidly around your figure before finally landing on some spot by your cheek. “You can stay.” You paused, hoping your words weren’t too direct. “If you want.”

“You should put your shirt on,” Zoro said, almost choking on his words, like they were too big to fit in his mouth.

Your gaze dropped down before a steady blush started climbing up the sides of your face. “Right,” you started, but it was like you’d lost control of your hands. The shirt still hung limply from your grip.

“Or you could…” Zoro paused, lips parted as he sucked in a soft breath. Carefully, he moved back towards your bed, the only sound in the room a soft thump as he sat back on it. “Not.”

You swallowed. You could barely feel the lax of grip as your fingers released the shirt, letting it fall to the floor in one pathetic heap. You took a tentative step towards Zoro, and then another, until you were right in front of him. The soft night breeze through the window caused chills to erupt down your spine. Or maybe that was Zoro’s expression—nearly studious in his attentivity, eyes grazing across your chest and torso like he was taking in information for a new, particularly high-paying bounty.

“Zoro,” you started. He finally glanced up at your face, and you shuddered, biting down hard on your tongue. “I, um—hi.”

“Hey,” he said carefully, like he was testing the word on his tongue. Your gaze flickered down to his lips. He seemed to notice, but he didn’t say anything; rather, he raised one of his hands, pressing it against your side until his fingers tightened against your waist, a present, ever-pulsing rush of warmth. “I think my chest is bigger than yours.”

You flushed, a quick rush of crimson gracing your cheeks as you turned away. Zoro’s grip on your waist tightened, and a low laugh escaped the bottom of his throat. “That was mean,” you whined. Zoro’s other hand came up to your face, fingers pressing against the underside of your chin. He carefully angled your face down, so you couldn’t look anywhere but straight at him.

“It worked to calm you down, though,” he said easily. You were about to protest against the fact that you had been calm in the first place, but then Zoro was kissing you.

Zoro was a lot less aggressive than you’d originally expected, but as you sunk deeper into the kiss, it started to make sense. Zoro was all clean lines when he fought, practiced and perfect—no space for sloppy lines or scribbles. The way he kissed was similar; he applied pressure, but not too much pressure, and his thumb traced firm circles into the skin of your waist.

He angled your head with the hand firmly propped against your jaw, so you didn’t have to do a lot of the work—just press against his lips and move against the gentle rhythm he’d set. His teeth scraped carefully against your lower lip, and he tugged, letting a soft gasp out from your throat.

Zoro took the opportunity to pry your lips apart with his tongue, the fingers splayed against your chin coaxing your jaw open until he could slide his tongue against yours. You let out a soft whimper, hands scrambling to his shoulders and running along the muscles of his back. Of course you’d known he was well-built, but the firmness of his body forced another squeak out of you—one he was more than willing to swallow up.

Eventually, Zoro’s hand dropped from your jaw, skimming along your body line before coming to rest on the underside of one of your breasts. You gasped as he started to massage the skin with his thumb, accidentally biting down on his lower lip in the process. He groaned, the sound low as his rhythm sped up, the hand cupping your waist dropping down to your hip.

And then he was hoisting you up and onto his lap. “Oh my God,” you muttered, causing him to break away, eyes glinting with amusement.

“What?”

A heady rush had blossomed along your cheeks again. “Nothing. You.” Somewhere in the back of your head, you wondered how strong Zoro had to be to lift you off the ground so easily with only one arm—granted, it hadn’t been that far of a lift, but still. “Kiss me again.”

Zoro laughed but obeyed, his hand still working at your breast as the other dropped to your thigh. Your fingers interlaced with his short hair, tangling within the moss-green locks as his tongue ran along the ivories of your teeth. His teeth scraped against your lip as he moved away, lips instead following the line of your jaw and moving down to your neck.

You dropped your arm from his hair, hand pressing flat against his upper back. Zoro’s muscles flexed as he chased down your throat, and you sighed as he pressed gentle kisses along the line of your vein.

“Been—wanting to do this for a while,” Zoro panted between kisses, placing a final one kiss at the junction of your collarbone before glancing tentatively back up at you. You met his mouth in another kiss, a smile you hadn’t felt rising bright along your cheekbones.

“Me too,” you whispered, and a look of relief flashed across his face before he was ducking his head again to press more kisses along your neck. You let out a laugh—you could feel the rumble of his lips against the sound as it left your throat. Carefully, you ran your finger along his earrings, soft clinks filling the room at the action. “What was that? Did you think I didn’t?”

“Dunno,” Zoro muttered, and you laughed again before he nipped at your skin, teeth scratching in a gentle bite. At your chest, his hand squeezed your nipple, and you gasped.

“That was mean.”

“Mhm.” Zoro didn’t seem appeased, his kisses turning sloppier—open-mouthed, full of bite. He never pressed down hard enough to hurt, but your mouth was full of soft gasps and whines, and your hand had come down to clench against his bicep. God, his arms. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

You nudged him, meaning only for it to be a slight press. But Zoro let the action guide him, falling onto his back with you pressed against him, flat against the bed. He stilled, both hands dropping to your hips as he gaze lifted to drink you in.

You were certain you were a mess—blushing, lips probably swollen, bruise blossoms that would purple by morning scattered all along your neck. But the way he looked at you made it seem like you were all dolled up—like you were outfitted in a flowing gown, eyes sparkling and hair perfect instead of the mess it most undoubtedly was.

“You’re pretty,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear. Actually, you were certain you weren’t supposed to hear it, because before you could respond, he was pulling you across him, fluidly rolling you onto your back. His forearm pressed against the mattress beside your head, caging you in. Zoro seemed to like this angle, moving down your neck to your chest with more gentle kisses.

You were content to let him take what he wanted, eyes not moving from his face as you watched his lips brush over your breast. His tongue was hot against your skin, and you sucked in a tight breath as he swirled it along your nipple. Zoro steadied you with a firm grasp, hand pressing against your side before pushing up to attend to the breast that his mouth wasn’t. You squirmed, a soft pool of warmth sitting in your lower belly as he worked. A tight knot had formed somewhere inside, and you let out a breathy gasp.

Zoro’s gaze traced lower, hand leaving your breast in favor of skidding down your figure to rest at the hand of your shorts. He paused, eyes flickering upwards to meet yours. Hastily, you nodded, and his fingers dipped below the cloth, head lowering to press another kiss by your hip bone. Your hands clenched against the bed sheets as his fingers skimmed the rim of your shorts, coaxing them down inch by inch before they finally slid down to your knees. You kicked them off insistently, and Zoro laughed, one hand coming to stroke your thigh as if to make you stop moving.

Even though you’d partly expected it, you hadn’t been ready for the soft kiss he pressed against your inner thigh. His hand hooked around the side of your panties, dragging them down as he kissed up your skin, and you took in a sharp breath that he wholly and entirely ignored. His movements became more insistent as you squirmed, open-mouth and biting, tongue darting out from between his lips to languidly swipe up your thigh. Finally he reached the junction of your thigh and core, mouth pressing a feather-light kiss that dragged an entirely shameful sound out from your throat.

Zoro pushed your panties all the way off your hips, letting them sit by your knees even as you squirmed to kick them off. “Shh,” he murmured, and you stopped, heart pounding as the sound sunk deep into your bloodstream. The tight knot in your lower belly had only grown tighter, and your breath caught in your throat as you watched Zoro, his eyes flickering all around your exposed core.

He ran a finger along the side of your slit, and you shuddered, watching as he experimentally traced it across your folds. He lowered his head to your hips, pressing a kiss onto your clit. You were barely able to suppress the buck of your hips as Zoro’s hand came to rest on your thigh, pinning you down as his other hand worked along your core.

His finger found your vagina, carefully sinking between your folds as his tongue worked languid circles around your clit. You let out a moan, voice stuttering against your throat as his finger slipped deeper inside you. It only took him a few moments to push another one in, the soft scrape of his cut fingernails eliciting sparks that drew another breathy moan out of you.

“Isn’t it a little—unfair that I’m the only one not wearing anything?” you managed out between breaths, and Zoro stopped his motions, head lifting and eyes glancing up at you from under his lashes. One of his eyebrows arched in question, and his lips were glossy with your fluids, causing your core to squeeze around his fingers. Somehow, he didn’t even seem to notice the motion.

“Oh, that’s what you want to focus on right now?” he murmured, all low and throaty. He always spoke low-pitched, vocal chords all brash and grating from the back of his throat, but his voice hummed even deeper now, although that didn’t seem humanly possible. Your muscles clenched again, and Zoro’s gaze dipped down to where his fingers were still pushed inside of you. He fluidly pressed in deeper, fingers curling inside your body before pulling out and working back in. Your retort was lost as you moaned again, the tight feeling of your gut slowly unwinding as he moved back and forth inside of you.

His mouth lowered to lick at your clit again, and you cried out, barely suppressing a scream as his fingers dug, more insistent, inside of you. He pressed one final kiss against your clit, and then sat back, eyes fixed on working at your core instead. His fingers pumped in and out, steady and fluid. Your breaths came out breathy and broken, climbing closer and closer to your climax until he finally reached the summit inside of you.

“Come,” Zoro whispered, the hand not taking care of you running reassuringly along your thigh. You came suddenly, hips stuttering from where’d they’d lifted off the mattress, a cry ripping out of your throat. Zoro slowly slipped his fingers out of you, rubbing soothing circles into your inner thigh as you ran out your climax. Your breaths evened out, becoming less deep, less frantic; Zoro watched all the while, a glossy shine over his eyes and the faintest of smiles pressed along his lips.

You tilted your gaze down to his face, catching him just as he started to move again. The fingers drenched in your fluids came up to his mouth, and he licked them clean. Your stomach dropped, somehow already turning you on despite having come just mere seconds beforehand.

“My turn,” Zoro said softly, sitting up to start unbuttoning his shirt. You hoisted yourself up, hands skimming along the sheets beside him, uncertain of whether he wanted you to touch. You glimpsed a stiff tent in his pants as he sat up, and swallowed hard, eyeing the pull with apprehension.

“Do you want me to—” you tried gesturing down to his hips, but he caught your hand swiftly, pressing it against the buttons of his shirt. “What do you want?”

“Sex,” Zoro said. Nothing else. You held back the choke that dared to escape your throat, and a sheepish grin crossed his face. It was lopsided, nearly a smirk, if not for the genuine warmth glimmering at his eyes. “Sorry. That was vague.”

“It’s okay,” you assured, stifling a laugh. Your hands worked fastidiously at his buttons. It took far longer than you felt it should’ve, fingers all clumsy as you tugged them through their holes, unlooping them from where it fixed the cloth together. Soon enough, though, Zoro was stripping the last of the fabric off, tossing it carelessly across the room before pulling you into another kiss.

He was sloppier now that you’d come, more comfortable in his element—you could taste the tang of yourself on his lips, and you let out a sigh, hands moving down his figure to work at his belt. He had to stop kissing you to tug at his pants, pushing them down his legs before finally kicking them off fully.

You ducked your head to press a kiss at his navel, eyes tracing the length that jutted out from his hips. Your breath caught, gaze fixed to a pale vein running up the line of his length. “Up,” Zoro murmured, and you glanced up. Zoro pressed a long kiss to your mouth, one hand skimming around your butt to pull you up by the headboard. He ran a hand over your core, as if to ascertain you were relaxed enough for him.

“Do you have anything for it?” he murmured, lips sending chills down your back as he pressed a soft kiss at your jaw.

“I’m on the pill, yeah,” you huffed out, arms winding around his torso. Zoro hummed his response, fingers running up and down your thigh as he adjusted, hips sliding against yours to meet your core.

You sucked in a breath, but he was gentle with it, pushing in slowly, hand running along your lower back and coaxing you still. The sensation sparked tingles all over your body; up your spine, along your hips, down your legs like Zoro was electricity himself. You let out a little sigh as he pushed up to his hilt into you, hips stuttering against his as you both paused for breath. He brushed a ghost of a kiss along your lips. “Okay?” Zoro murmured.

“Perfect,” you answered, arms clutching tighter around him, fingers digging into his back. You hoped it wasn’t too sharp, but considering how big Zoro was, it was likely he barely felt the pressure—the crescents of your fingernails were probably just pinpricks to him.

Zoro started moving, then, his actions soft and fluid at first, fingers pressing reassuring circles into your waist and hips. He was nearly tender with it, motions languid and slow, like he had all the time in the world. Your breaths came out easy, soft and just barely edging towards gasps.

He started thrusting with more insistence soon, though; Zoro’s hips bucked against yours, and your grip tightened along his shoulder blades as he pushed in and out of you. Soft gasps and whines left your throat, in stark contrast to the heavy groans and grunts that barely stuttered past Zoro’s lips.

“Like that,” you said, barely able to let out words of encouragement as he hit your sweet spot, buried deep inside of you. You let out a throaty moan as he moved faster and faster, thrusts becoming harder and more aggressive. You knocked your head back, one of your hands reaching to grab Zoro’s from where it propped him up by your head. He welcomed the invitation quickly, fingers interlacing with yours, coaxing your palm open into a kiss of your hands. His thrusts worked harder than ever, and you stopped chasing the friction, letting your hips buck up against his as he shoved into you.

A low groan erupted from his throat as he hit your spot again, mouth coming down to bite into your shoulder as he suppressed the cry that tore from his mouth. You swallowed, gasping hard for breath as you felt him come inside you, your walls clenching tight around him before you also felt the familiar burst of pressure. You let out a gasping moan, mind buzzing with sparks and tingles. Vaguely, you felt Zoro’s hand against your hip, moving up and down in calming strokes.

It took a moment for you both to recover, coming down from the blissful high after long seconds ticked by. Zoro removed his mouth from your shoulder, carefully prying his jaw off from your skin. He scrutinized the marks he’d left—crescents of teeth, undoubtedly—before lowering his head again to press an apologetic kiss to the bite. You laughed in surprise.

“I can be a gentleman,” Zoro protested lightly, though his words didn’t hold much of a fight as he carefully slid out of you. He did it slowly, inch by inch, leaving a hollow sensation in his wake when he eventually parted from you. “You okay?”

“Lovely,” you answered honestly, eyes grazing up his chest before meeting his. “You?”

“I’m good,” Zoro answered, a vague smile on his lips. It was soft, tender; maybe not as big as ones you’d seen when he was laughing with the crew, but special nonetheless. He studied you for a moment, and you took the opportunity to trace his face with your eyes. His pupils were blown, slowly receding back into small dots of shadow, and his lips were kissed red, swollen over and glossy with your saliva. “Want me to draw a bath?”

“No,” you said, content just to watch him like this. “We can clean up in the morning, it’s getting late.” You hesitated, suddenly uncertain, teeth tugging at your lower lip. “Unless… you want to go?”

Zoro snorted. “No, I think I like it here,” he decided. He sat up, reaching to pull the blankets over your figure so the gooseflesh you hadn’t even noticed on your skin would subside. “Too tired to move, anyway. Might stay here forever.”

“Dramatic ass,” you mumbled, wrapping a hand around his wrist and tugging him closer to you. Zoro obeyed, sliding beside you, one arm moving to wrap around your waist. “Go to sleep, you big dummy.”

Zoro’s breath was light against the shell of your ear. “That was unwarranted.”

“Sleep,” you insisted, and Zoro huffed, reaching the arm that wasn’t around you to the nightstand. He flicked the lantern off, then turned back towards you, finally settling down. His lips pressed a soft kiss along your shoulder, and you smiled, your hand reaching down to meet where his was splayed along your belly.

“Good night,” you whispered.

“Night,” he mumbled back, the end of the word tapering off into a soft, tired breath. You could feel his chest move, up and down in a steady, soft rhythm. You buried your head into the crook of his arm, letting out a contented sigh before finally closing your eyes to drift off to sleep.

© halfvalid 2023

[crushribbons]

𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖉𝖎𝖊

summary: Sebastian Sallow should have been a Ravenclaw. (series masterlist)

cw: 4.6k words, pining, fluff, very light angst, smut (18+ ONLY), male masturbation *cough*saltburn*cough*, sexual imagery, Sebastian in a towel 😵‍💫

a/n: this if my first HL fic :) feedback welcome and requests are open! req rules here. enjoy xx laney

“Mr. Sallow! Would you care to join the rest of the class in absorbing the information I am teaching? I suspect the grounds will still look just as they do now after the period has ended.” 

The wave of suppressed, tittering laughter fluttered around the room and died quickly as Professor Weasley turned back to the parrot on her desk. Sebastian yanked his head off his upturned palm and away from the window he’d been staring out of. Rain was pouring down in resolute sheets and turning the lush Hogwarts grounds to murky mud. Absolutely no good for a flying match against Imelda, because the witch was so talented at flying in any condition, it almost guaranteed that the outcome of their “friendly” wager would be ten less galleons in his already light pockets. 

He turned his attention, or at least tried to, back to the parrot. Weasley had been droning on for so long that he could no longer remember whether it had started as a parrot or if it had been a picnic basket first. He doubted that in his day-to-day life he would find much use for turning either into either.

“Dreamy dreamer,” murmured a voice to his left, and he swiveled his head still further to catch the eye of the witch sitting next to him. She was balancing her head on her fist and smirking to herself.

Dreamy, he was. The Transfiguration classroom was as cold as the grounds were sure to be, but when he remembered that his favorite classmate was seated mere inches from him, he suddenly found his cheeks to be unbearably hot. 

She had plummeted into his life, in the wake of a dragon attack, nearly three years ago now, and Sebastian had never been so instantly intrigued with anyone before. He was intrigued particularly because she refused to tell so little about her past, her travels, herself, that he couldn’t help but be drawn toward this talented little mystery that demanded solving. 

“So,” he had said, on only her second morning at the castle, sidling up to her as soon as he found her not flanked by Professor Fig whispering in harsh, muted tones. “Entrance, pursued by a dragon, is it?” She had whipped around to face him. Her smile was enough to make his knees crumple and he felt a little taken aback. No one had mentioned that the dragon tamer was ludicrously beautiful.

“I fared slightly better than poor old Antigonus, though, don’t you think?” His breath had stuttered in his chest for a moment. Oh, he liked her already. She introduced herself and asked for his name. 

“I’m Sebastian Sallow, but how’d you get here, after the dragon? And where from? And why do all the professors seem so concern–”

“Sebastian Sallow, I think the Sorting Hat may have missed the mark with you. Only a Ravenclaw could be so curious,” she’d deadpanned with a glint in her eyes that told him she was thoroughly enjoying the obscurity surrounding her arrival at Hogwarts. She gave his Slytherin tie a gentle brush with her forefinger and then she was gone. As she’d clipped away towards the Great Hall for breakfast, robes swishing behind her and the imprint of her finger swiping across his chest still present, his jaw had hung slack. He later inwardly punished himself for calling hoarsely after her,

“N-no, I’m a Slytherin!” Very witty, Sallow.

They became friends quickly after that. When he sat down in the first Transfiguration class of fifth year and found himself elbow to elbow with her, he prayed to every deity he could remember that he could manage not to fuck up talking to her this time. And he didn’t; their chats and whispered estimations as to how long it would take Ominis to fall asleep after lecture started and notes passed to one another were the highlight of his week–no, his year. Before his sixth and seventh years, a well-placed and distracting bottle of port had been enough for him to slip into Professor Black’s office long enough to fix the Transfiguration schedule and ensure those highlights would last.

When she’d first asked him to show her how to get in the Restricted Section of the library, however, he’d realized that this witch was not just adventurous outside of school. It had taken all his nerve and self-control not to stare at her bum as they snuck through the library doors and past Scribner’s watchful, hawkish gaze. Reaching the section unscathed and unnoticed was old hat for Sebastian at that point, but it gave his companion such a thrill that she threw her arms around his neck and squealed in delight. Sebastian remained stiff as a board while congratulating her, so as not to reveal that he was, in fact, stiff as a board.

Now, in the never-ending void that was Professor Weasley’s lectures, Sebastian tore a corner off the ancient copy of Transfiguring the Tedious in front of him and scrawled on the paper with his quill. He slid it along the table to her hand and bumped it against her pinky. The pinky surreptitiously rose to slide the scrap under her palm, her eyes never leaving the demonstration at the front of the class. It was so subtle that he would have hardly believed she’d received his note if they hadn’t practiced this fine art of espionage about ten times already that period.

She opened the note under their desk and read what he’d written. Please, if you’ve any humanity, you’ll kill me and save me from this torture. Her lips immediately pressed together hard to contain a snort. She moved the paper back to the top of the desk and jotted down a response. When the paper landed in Sebastian’s lap, he glanced down.

And leave me here to endure it all alone? I think not, birdie.

Birdie. Birdie, as in, should have been a Ravenclaw; birdie, as in, his favorite thing in the world to be called. Whenever his peppering questions regarding her whereabouts during the day or what she did over the summer break (out in the Highlands exploring and assisting and digging and Merlin knows what else!) caused her to throw down a book with a huff or break into a sweet, clear laugh, she would cry, “Enough, birdie! I swear I’ll get that dodgy old hat to put you where you belong!”

Sebastian couldn’t recall when she’d gone from being an interesting new classmate with a secret she kept under her cloak to the reason he was excited to wake up in the morning. At some point, while they grew closer and he had shared his anxieties and fears for Anne, he had realized that he did not want her to bump elbows and waggle eyebrows at that Weasley kid when she passed him in the hall. He had realized around the same time that he did not want Poppy Sweeting to be the one who took her to Hogsmeade every weekend to giggle over butterbeers. 

The pieces of this puzzle slowly continued to arrange themselves over the years, such as that time in Crossed Wands when she had knelt before his crouched body to make sure the gash on his eyebrow wasn’t too deep. She gripped his forearm to steady them both and hissed when she saw the damage to his freckled forehead. “Come here,” she had murmured, and Sebastian was sure that the stone floors were going to open up and swallow him whole as she lightly traced her wand over the cut and it healed into a dark line. “I think it suits you.” 

“I was looking a bit too soft anyway, don’t you think?” He chuckled, touching the healed scar. 

“If it still hurts tomorrow, I’ll kiss it for you.”

As he rose back to his feet, his brain wanted him to shout “Can I have that in writing?!” but instead he opted for the much more suave option: “I can kiss it myself just fine.” 

He ought to have sealed his own mouth permanently with the binding curse. 

The point was, he finally drew the conclusion that he was madly in love with this woman, for she really had blossomed from a somewhat timid new fifth-year student into a self-assured and confident (not to mention talented and brilliant) young woman. It made Sebastian’s heart glad to watch this transformation over the years. The only thing that could make his heart gladder, he was sure, would be her hand in his. 

In an act of blissful mercy, Professor Weasley ended her lesson at the appointed time she always did. “And remember!” She called shrilly over the din of twenty 18-year-olds rushing to shove books into bags and be done with thinking for the day, “Bird transfiguration will figure heavily into the N.E.W.T.s, so practice as much as you can! I have picnic baskets available for those who wish to borrow them.”

“Are you gonna take one?” Sebastian asked the witch to his left, who was sweeping her parchment and quills haphazardly into her leather satchel.

“No, I don’t think I need to practice much. I’ve already got my own little birdie.” Then she actually pinched his cheek in her fingers. Sebastian’s skin turned bright red at the contact, and his insides took flight in an awkward but not uncomfortable way at her words: My own little…

Was she trying to kill him? This had to be the flirting that Ominis insisted was always occurring between the two of them. Usually, Sebastian had no problem at all recognizing and reciprocating attention from the opposite sex, but something about this particular witch made his head go mushy as the mud they avoided as they walked across the courtyard, robes pulled up over their head to avoid the downpour as they dashed towards the Great Hall.

Her affectionate nickname did sometimes feel like a deflection on her part, an attempt to infantilize him into a permanent position of friendship. He couldn’t bring himself to care though, quite frankly. He adored hearing it so much, although only from her lips. As they splashed through the courtyard, he recalled the time Imelda, hoping to goad him during Quidditch practice, had shouted “Come ON, birdie, and FLY, dammit!” He’d sent a bludger straight at his team’s captain, causing her to careen off course with a fresh string of obscenities. 

And down, deep down, buried in the depths of the shameful part of Sebastian that held all guilt and impurities, he wanted nothing more than to hear that nickname leave her mouth in a gasp as their bodies pressed together in his empty dormitory. His shame at this well-visited fantasy was not eclipsed by his desire for her, however, and he far too frequently found himself rushing back to his bed after their shared classes and repeating her sweet words to himself as he tugged his pants down and slid the curtains of his four-poster shut. He hoped today’s rain might cleanse him of his sins just a bit, because that old routine was currently all he had planned for the evening.

Once they found shelter inside, robes still dripping and hair plastered to their forehead, his friend turned to him. “I’m drenched,” she said cheerfully. Even though it was true, she still looked a vision, her bright eyes shining in the low light and smile always in place. “I’m going to go change before dinner…say, are you still flying Imelda?” She glanced back outside at the deluge. “For your sake, I hope not.”

Sebastian put his hand to his heart, feigning offense. “Are you insinuating that I couldn’t beat the most Quidditch-obsessed witch in the school just because of a little rain?” She pursed her lips, and he could tell she was about to fire back with a witty reply; he felt his head swim a little, as it always did when they bantered back and forth, possibly resulting in a playful shove or tweaked nose that he would think about for hours later. 

Suddenly, the Quidditch-obsessed witch in question came barreling around the corner, eyes fiery, and yelled, “Sallow! Outside, now!” Sebastian groaned, partly because he most certainly did not want to race Imelda right now, and partly because the girl he’d much rather be spending time with gave him a wink and departed to her dormitory with a muttered “Good luck, birdie.”

When he trudged into the Great Hall an hour later, sopping from head to toe and more mud than man at this point, he caught her eye at the dinner table and dropped his broom unceremoniously on the ground. She got up to fuss over him as he plopped down beside her and began eating everything in sight. 

“Did you–?”

“Does it look like I did?” he grumbled around a mouthful of chicken.

“It looks like you challenged the ground to a race and lost, my dear.” 

He may as well have. The second Samantha had blown the whistle to start the race, Imelda had taken off like a perfect missile of pure speed, whipping through the hoops at the other end of the field before Sebastian could even kick off. From there, well…he decided it might save him a small bit of face if he told her he only fell off his broom once.

“Poor thing, poor thing!” She tutted, brushing the grimy locks of hair from his forehead. The food Sebastian was swallowing got caught in his throat at the contact and he choked. Ominis got up from his position on the other side of this accidental seductress and whacked Sebastian hard on the back without looking up from the copy of the Daily Prophet he was running his wand over. Once the food made its way safely to his stomach, Sebastian cleared his throat. 

“I’m a mess, I ought to go clean up,” he said. Truthfully, he knew he needed a wash to clean his body, but his trousers were also becoming tighter and tighter the longer he spent with her. He needed some time in a hot bath with nothing but his thoughts.

She smiled and swiped a line of dirt from his cheek. There was no other explanation–she was trying to kill him. His pulse hammered every time they touched, and especially hard when–

“Dirty birdie,” she giggled, and it was too much for him. Sebastian shoved back the bench he was sitting on and clambered haphazardly to his feet. 

“I’m going to go, er, to, uh, the–see you later!” 

He all but ran from the Great Hall, barely pausing to snatch his broom from where he’d left it. Merlin’s beard, this was getting out of hand. He wanted to spend time with her, but at the rate things were going, all his thoughts would be consumed with the idea of getting her naked and he doubted he’d make for a very good friend then. Adventurous and devil-may-care as she was, she was still a lady, after all. His uncle hadn’t taught him much, but he’d taught him how to respect a woman, and no part of that instruction had included zoning out mid-conversation with that woman and wondering if she cried when she came. Or if he could make her.

“Pull yourself together, pull yourself together,” he grunted as he made his way to the dungeons and told the ornate silver snake at the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory the password it required. Imelda was standing in the common room, engaged in telling the story of Sebastian’s spectacular fall(s), but he didn’t even stop to acknowledge when she called, “And there’s the man himself, the Miraculous Mud-Eater!” He blew past her and the gaggle of Slytherins gathered around the fire, all chuckling at his appearance. Their words fell on deaf ears. The only words ringing around Sebastian’s increasingly empty head were, “My own little birdie…my own little dirty…”

He closed his eyes and swayed on the stairs, gripping the bannister for support. The erection that had been encroaching since Transfiguration was close to blinding him with desire by now. Banging open the door to the seventh-year dormitory, he ignored whomever said, “Alright, Seb?” and snatched up the bath towel flung over his trunk. Then, he was out of the common room as quickly as he’d entered it. 

The nearest bathroom was only a hallway away from the Slytherin dorm, but no one ever used it. Ice cold was the only water temperature available for a bath, and the stone floors were somehow permanently covered in a layer of frost, due to the position of the dungeons underneath the Black Lake. Sebastian sprinted past the door, then skidded to a halt. Perhaps freezing and dingy was alright if it meant quiet and empty, too.

Leaning back against the cold granite of the bathtub, Sebastian finally let out a long sigh. The water had practically given him frostbite when it first came out of the faucet, but after far too long a while, it had warmed to a humane temperature, and he used his wand to heat it until it actually felt good to strip and slide into it. His muddy clothes lay in a heap next to the tub, long forgotten. All that mattered to Sebastian now was the feeling of his hand wrapping around his aching cock and the thought of her voice, sweet and clear and sinful as hell.

It always started the same way. On his first stroke, he conjured the image of her healing his cut in Crossed Wands, only in this version, he actually acted on his instincts and pulled her in by her neck for a searing kiss. Naturally, in this perfect little fantasy, she melted into him with a moan every time, and suddenly, the dueling stage was gone, and the two of them were crashing into an empty classroom and making out furiously. Sebastian pictured the feeling of her, desperate and needy for him, hopping up onto a desk so she could wrap her legs around his waist and grind against him. 

A whimpered and whiny “Fuck, fuck, fuck” left his lips as he tipped his head back against the cold floor. The hand that he wasn’t using steadied him against the bathtub stairs, foamy soap drifting around him and cleaning the dirt from his body. He wondered absently, fucking his hips into his hand, what she looked like when she took a bath. Her clothes falling away, the sight of her ass as she slowly descended into the tub, and the soapy water running down her tits. 

Sebastian was a tit man, through and through, and this latest imagined pornography had him tipping dangerously close to the edge. As he stroked himself harder and faster, water pulsating gently around him, he pictured her swimming over to him and wrapping her arms around his neck (the scent of her hair from when she’d done the same in the library filled his brain). “Little birdie,” she was whispering, and Sebastian swore he could almost taste and feel her. “Aren’t you curious about what it feels like to fuck me?”

Merlin’s fucking sake, of course he was! Back in reality, he swore and groaned as he neared his precipice. A full day of aching for this woman should have had him on the edge of coming almost instantly, but he slowed his hand just for a moment, wanting to savor the idea of her. Her, who he was most definitely sickly in love with, even though she’d had two other relationships since her time here and never expressed interest in him in any other way than friendly ribbing. 

“Oh, baby, Go-oood,” he whined under his breath, because now, in the bathtub of his dream, she was straddling his cock and sinking onto it, her heat wrapped around him like the most perfect silk glove. Then she was moving, bouncing up and down with her arms still clutching his neck and whimpering his name over and over. 

“Seb, Seb, it feels so-s-soo–fuck!” she cried, and Sebastian wished more than anything that his hands were digging into her hips instead of his own as he bit back a groan and panted. Her tits, heaving in front of his face, looked so marvelous that he couldn’t stop his imaginary self from leaning forward and catching a nipple between his teeth. The scream that tore from her lips at the sensation was enough to make him come, and the realization that she’d probably be clamped down on his cock like a vice actually did. 

He let out a hoarse cry, his vision leaving him for a moment, and then his sticky load was being spurted into the water. The relief felt almost better than the orgasm itself, tense as he had been all day. 

He really needed to pull himself together in regards to this witch. 

After he’d regained the ability to think, speak, and move, Sebastian finished his bath as if nothing at all had happened. He quickly vanished his cum from the water so that he could dip below the surface to wash his hair. As he scrubbed his skin with a sponge from the massive carved wooden cabinet that held the bath supplies, the guilt started seeping back in. She was his friend, and that was all, and that was clearly all she wanted. In the wake of finally coming, the words “little birdie” seemed more condescending than sweet. There was no romance behind them; she clearly saw him the same way she saw that first-year Hufflepuff who’d given her a single flower with shaking hands and nearly vomited while asking her to go to the Yule Ball with him. She’d given a very polite, “How sweet you are!” then explained with mock regret that she would be away for the holidays, and would not be able to attend with him.

That was Sebastian: a hapless little boy in love with a girl who was too kind to say anything about it. He mentally added three more layers of clothes to her as he thought of her, out of respect.

When he rose out of the water and looked to where he’d placed his clean pajamas, he saw with a lurch that he hadn’t put his clean pajamas anywhere. A moan of horror escaped him when he pictured them where they actually were: at the bottom of his trunk. In his haste to get in here and rub one out to the thought of his friend, he’d forgotten to grab them.

The only fabric available to him were the muddied and disgusting robes he’d raced in, or the towel currently wrapped around his waist. Sebastian glanced out the bathroom window. The moon over the Black Lake was high in the sky, and his shoulders drooped a little in relief at the thought that most everyone ought to be in bed right now, and he wouldn’t have to walk half-naked through a packed common room. 

Dirty robes safely in the laundry hamper, Sebastian secured the towel around his waist as best he could before poking his head down the hall. It was deserted, the only audible sound the soft whoooosh of the draining bathtub behind him. He exhaled, stepped into the hall, and began half-walking, half-running towards the Slytherin dormitories, leaving wet footprints in his wake.

He had almost made it to safety when the last, the absolute last voice he wanted to hear on the planet, yelped, “Oops!” from behind him. Whirling on the spot, mere feet away from the dormitory door, he locked eyes with his girl.

“What on earth are you doing down here?!” He scream-whispered in indignation, clutching the towel tightly around his waist Her eyes were the size of dinner plates, taking in his tousled wet hair, bare torso that was not at the physical peak he wished it was, and the thin grey towel that was threatening to slide further south at any minute. “It’s the middle of the damn night!” 

“I-I’m…” This was his worst nightmare. Getting caught quite literally with his pants down and the girl of his dreams was stifling laughter at the sight. He turned away from her, determined to lock himself inside the dormitory and never come out. Maybe if he took a draught of living death he could sleep for the rest of the term.

“Seb, hang on!” she laughed, darting towards him as he told the snake his password and lifted a leg to try and clamber inside. He paused and looked back at her, if only because he wasn’t really sure how he was going to gracefully lift himself with only a towel around his waist. “I sent you an owl but never heard back!” she said. “There’s leftover cherry tart in the kitchens from dinner, and I snuck you some.” She held out the tart and his heart twisted into a knot. His favorite. The fantasies he’d made up about her mere minutes ago now seemed doubly inappropriate as he saw the real thing, clad in an innocent nightgown and thick wooly robe. 

“Oh. Thanks.” He took the dessert. They both stood motionless for a second. She was tactfully looking everywhere except at his body. Sebastian prayed for death. “Well, I’m naked, so–”

“Right! I’m sorry! You just darted out of dinner so fast…” She trailed off. Sebastian grunted noncommittally and readjusted his grip on the towel. His head was starting to sweat from embarrassment. “Well, good night, anyway,” she said, trying to muster an awkward smile.

“Good night,” He responded through gritted teeth. “Thanks again for this, it looks great.” With that, he turned around and clambered very clumsily, but fully covered, through the dormitory door. 

As he lay in bed that night, Sebastian replayed the whole fiasco in his head a hundred times. He wondered what she thought of what she saw, or if she would discuss it with anyone. It wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned her seeing him nude for the first time. She certainly didn’t seem impressed. And he’d been so rude to her, when all she’d done was bring him a treat.

He covered his face with his hands and groaned loudly. “Shut up,” huffed Ominis from the bed next to him. He was a light sleeper and the slightest sound could stir him.

“Give me one of your sleeping potions.”

“Fine, if it’ll knock you out so I don’t have to.”

Sebastian got out of bed and quietly opened the trunk at the foot of Ominis’ bed, feeling around for the small cylindrical bottles the Gaunt boy always kept on-hand for sleepless nights. He found one, uncorked it, and drained the contents.

He had just stumbled back into bed, the effects of the potion working through his blood immediately and making his eyes heavy as boulders, when he noticed a small piece of paper on the windowsill by his bed. Undoubtedly, this was from the owl she had sent him. He managed to throw one leaden arm up to snatch it and bring it an inch away from his eyes so he could make out the delicate writing in the near-darkness of the bedroom

A little birdie told me he liked cherry tart, so I saved him some. I’ll bring it to you in a bit. 

Sleep overtook him.

Back in her own bedroom, the letter writer lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling. She hadn’t been able to form a coherent thought all night. Poppy had asked her what was wrong, why she was being so quiet. She had shrugged and gone off to bed, but the lingering ache persisted between her legs.

Had Sebastian Sallow always been that fucking gorgeous?

pt. 2

masterlist

[laurfilijames]

Under His Kutte

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Sending a nude photo. Fingering. Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: When Jax forgets his kutte at your house, you make good use of it.

A/N: I am such a slut for this man especially when he wears a hat, and particularly when it's backwards. I stared at this photo for too long and needed to write about it, and with the help from @ramadiiiisme, this happened. Bonus action of The Hat™️ at the end 🫠

---

The same flustered excitement you felt in your stomach every time you saw Jax stirred up again despite having only said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the benefits of him having accidentally left his kutte behind continuing to grace you.

You placed it back on the sofa where he had carelessly discarded it last night, pretending as though you hadn’t seen it there as soon as you walked out of your bedroom earlier that morning, his rush to leave after being woken up by a phone call from Chibs making him forget his most treasured item of clothing.

You sat on the barstool at the kitchen island, sipping from a cup of coffee you had been nursing, smiling into the mug when you heard your door open and Jax strut through it as confidently and comfortably as usual.

“I left my kutte,” he explained, getting right to the point while glancing around your living room quickly, lifting up the blanket and a pillow off of the loveseat before spinning on the spot to begin his search of the sofa.

“Oh, did you? I hadn’t noticed,” you lied, your cheeks feeling a flush that was partly from the heat of the coffee but mostly from the sight of Jax. He had his Reaper Crew hat on backwards, sunglasses still on, and the sunshine had kissed the skin on his face to tint it with a healthy pink that was the same whenever he was fucking you.

Finally locating it, Jax held up his vest with a smile before shrugging it on and walking over to you, his smile bright and playful, and you knew his eyes held the same sparkle behind the black lenses that covered them that you could never forget.

He leaned down and kissed you, bracing his arms on either side of your body to land on the countertop and cage you in, forcing your body to arch back into it as he delved his tongue deep inside your mouth.

You hummed when he peeled himself away from you, your eyes feeling heavy with lust as you watched him lick his lips.

“Did you forget it on purpose?” you teased, slipping your hands beneath the leather panels to feel the warmth radiating off his body through his layers of faded shirts.

He chuckled, his hands reaching up to cup your face while he nudged your legs apart with his, standing close to you where he was able to grind his hips against you.

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

You giggled when he grinned at you before capturing your lips again, pressing his bulge into your core to make you moan into his mouth, the fervor of your kiss growing with each pass of your tongues.

“Fuck!” he hissed, backing away from you but still holding your face in his hands. “I gotta go.”

You breathed out a disappointed sigh, tilting your head to the side as you watched him step away and try to collect himself, hoping he’d convince himself to stay for a hard and fast fuck.

His phone rang in his pocket, and he dug to answer it immediately, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Yeah, I’ll be right there. I said I’ll be right there…Five minutes! Jesus Christ.”

Jax flipped it shut and shook his head as he replaced it back in his pocket, closing the distance between you again with another smile on his face as soon as he looked at you.

“I’ll see you later.” he spoke sweetly, his tone completely different from the one he had just used to whatever poor soul had called him.

You nodded, smiling again as he kissed you once, then again, chuckling when he finally found the strength to stop and back away from you.

He stormed through to the front door in a few long strides, giving you one last grin as he shut the door behind him, and you grinned to yourself as you picked up your phone and sent him the photo you had taken just after he had called you to say he was stopping by.

You listened for the roar of his Harley to start up, feeling giddy as you waited to see if he checked his phone before taking off.

Standing, you walked over to the window, seeing him sitting on his bike looking at his phone with a huge smile on his face.

Your phone rang, his name and number lighting up the screen, and you answered through a smile so big it hurt your cheeks, “Did you forget something else?”

“Are you kidding me?” he asked, his amusement clear in his voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, how am I going to focus on anything now?”

“It’s just a little something to get you back here.”

“Like I need the help,” he said pointedly, starting his bike where it purred loudly through both the phone and the walls of your house.

“I’ll be back to deal with you soon,” he both promised and threatened, making heat surge through your body like wildfire.

“See you later, Teller.”

You hung up, tucking your lip between your teeth to stave off your smile as you looked at the photo you had sent again, feeling more than satisfied with the reaction it had gotten out of him.

You wore nothing but his kutte, your body that he had already made tired and sore from a sleepless night on full display under his leather, the bare skin on your chest bearing the claiming marks left by his mouth.

He took off quickly, his engine rumbling so loud it vibrated the house and sent a shiver down your spine, and you hoped whatever it was he was going to do was done quickly so he could get back to you soon.

You did everything you could think of to occupy yourself; laundry, dishes, even baked muffins and whipped up a casserole, knowing Jax would be hungry when he got there, or if he wasn’t, that he would be made hungry from all the things you did whenever you were together.

The impatience you felt was beginning to outgrow your arousal, the desperation in wanting to have your hands on him and his on you becoming too much to stand any longer.

Not two minutes later did you hear the distant grumble of his Harley tearing through your neighbourhood, your body conditioned over time to respond to that sound and awaken a neediness and desire that never seemed to be sated.

Even though you expected it, you still jumped when Jax barrelled through the door with a hungry and desperate look on his face as he stared you down while kicking off his white sneakers, his grin sly and crooked.

“Why the fuck aren’t you naked yet?” he panted, crossing the room to get to where you stood waiting for him.

“Isn’t half the fun undressing me?”

“Yeah, but when I’ve been staring at that pic you sent me all day, I kinda want to get to the point,” he explained, his eyebrows lifting upward while he tugged his jeans down to the floor.

He still had his ball cap on, worn with the bill of it facing forward this time, the shade casting on his face making his blue eyes glow like flames in the shadow.

Jax slipped his kutte off, placing it carefully on the back of the sofa as if making a point that he knew where it was or would be needing it again soon, and stepped toward you, tipping his head and giving you a piercing look.

“Now, get naked.”

You obeyed with a grin, crossing your arms to grab at the hem of his ‘SAMCRO’ t-shirt, pulling it over your head where you had the satisfaction of hearing Jax’s breath hitch when your tits became exposed, and tossed it on the floor beside you.

Remaining in your panties, you went to assist him with his clothes, only to have him grip your wrists, his long fingers wrapping around them securely.

“That’s not naked, sweetheart.”

You glared at him as he released you, making a point to slowly hook your thumbs in the waist of them and inch by torturous inch, crept them down your hips.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffed impatiently, even though he was still smiling.

A furious look flashed in his eyes when you pulled them back up to their rightful place, challenging what he would do, and you gasped in equal shock and fear when he grabbed onto your thong and tore them roughly down your thighs.

He crashed against your lips, kissing you with a demand that reminded you that he wasn’t playing games, your body flinching when his fingers trailed along your hip and to your soaked pussy.

Spreading your legs further apart, you moaned into his mouth, rocking on his hand as he drove two fingers inside you, hooking them to massage your g-spot.

Within minutes he had you on the edge, fucking you with his fingers until you were a whimpering mess ready to completely fall apart, but he stopped his movements and withdrew his hand from you, smirking at you with a smugness that managed to turn you on even more.

“Fuck, Jax,” you hissed, your breathing sharp as an untamed feeling ran through your veins.

“Hang on, darlin’” he drawled, his tone all-too happy considering what he just did to you.

He took off his hat and then tore his shirts off his torso, leaving him in his boxers that did nothing to disguise how large and hard he was, and had he not tugged them off himself, you were seconds away from doing it for him, your need for him increasing to the highest point when his cock sprang free.

“Put the hat back on,” you requested, your voice so lusty it was almost unrecognizable.

You squirmed in place, seeing the surprise in his features as he did as you asked and placed it back over his messy, blond tresses that crept out wildly from under it, his expression turned cocky in knowing how horny you were.

A half-satisfied smile pulled at your lips when he stood up against you, wrapping his arms behind your back where his hands carded up and down, returning your smile.

You leaned back slightly, reaching up to grip the bill of it to spin it around, facing it backwards just as he had worn it earlier.

“Happy now?” he chuckled.

You nodded, “Mhm. Are you?”

“Fuck, no!” he admitted jokingly through another laugh, reaching over for his kutte that he hadn’t for a second forgotten about you wearing earlier.

Guiding each of your arms through it, he brought it up to rest on your shoulders, holding onto the edges of its opening as his thumbs moved to rub your nipples until they hardened, making you shiver while a breathy whine passed your lips.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his mouth so close to you that his lips grazed your parted ones when he spoke.

You let your eyes close, waiting for him to give you the pleasure he was never selfish with, holding your breath until you felt his lips press onto your neck and down over your chest, his hands falling to your waist and then your hip, smoothing over the curve of your bum where he squeezed your flesh and gave it a playful slap.

Your giggle was swallowed when he kissed you, and you felt his own laugh shake through his chest when you brought your hands up to it, sliding them up to cradle his neck and let your fingers dance where his hair brushed along his bare shoulders.

In a swift motion that caught you off-guard, Jax lifted you into his arms, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist where he backed you up against the wall, thudding against the drywall as he pressed his body hard into yours.

Your nails raked across his shoulders and upper back, roaming to tangle in his hair that wasn’t trapped beneath his hat, and when he lined his cock up to your spread pussy and guided himself inside, you pulled at the strands that were woven between your fingers, his reaction to both sensations reverberating in your mouth.

Jax unleashed all his power on you, holding you up while slamming into you aggressively, the photos that hung on your wall rattling and banging with his barbaric movements.

Doing the best you could to move with him, you humped up and down in an effort to rub your clit on the coarse, wheat coloured pubes above his cock, feeling your climax begin to build again where it had been left teetering on the edge.

You caught Jax staring at your exposed tits, his vest having opened to put them fully on display where they bounced to the enthusiasm of his thrusts and your erratic rocking, his pupils blown out wide with lust.

“You look so fucking good, baby,” he growled, taking one last look at the erotic scene before meeting his mouth with yours, his kiss sloppy and rough.

A sweat started to break out on both of your bodies, your skin able to slip and glide on his easier with the harder you worked, the hair at the base of his neck damp when you moved your fingers along it.

Jax was always completely enamoured when he fucked you, but for some reason with you wearing his kutte today, he found himself in even more of a state, destroying you with reckless abandon to create the whimpering mess before him that he craved to see, the sounds he pulled from you the sweetest ones he'd ever heard. He was convinced it had something to do with the way his Vice President patch kept swaying beside your right breast as your chest shook in time to his ruthless pace, or the way the worn, faded, black leather and the white on all the labels that had turned dingey over time looked against your supple skin, and the thought of fucking you in it when it ranked him as President one day instead had him ready to explode.

The sense of pride he felt when it came to his club and displaying its logos was something he never took lightly, and seeing them on you intensified it even more, making it seem like no one else could wear them as well as you.

He became almost possessive, wanting to claim you and prove to you all the things he never vocalized all while knowing without hesitation that everything under that piece of leather was his and his only.

He kissed you roughly, not caring that the scruff on his face was turning your skin raw or that his teeth had knocked against yours more than once in his frenzy to get enough of you, feeling your pussy get wetter with every drive of his dick inside it.

“Fucking turn around!” he spat through gritted teeth, giving the order despite forcing you to do it anyway. He dropped your legs and had you spun around and planted against the wall in a matter of seconds, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck to guide you forward, pushing you down so you hinged at your waist and were bent over.

His other hand gripped at your ass to spread your cheeks apart, his cock finding your open cunt without needing any help, slamming into you so hard you had to brace yourself on the wall to stop your face from hitting it.

“God, I’m gonna - fuck! - I’m gonna cum, Jax!” you wailed, your ability to speak properly taken away when he reached around you and started rubbing your clit.

“Yeah?” he huffed, mesmerized in the sight of his glistening cock pumping in and out of you. “You gonna cream all over me, you fucking slut?”

The way he barked that name made you shiver, your mouth filling with saliva to a point you couldn't even contain it anymore, feeling it drool out as your jaw went slack and your climax billowed its way to the surface.

Exhilaration took over you, your moans and cries of approval of how hard Jax was fucking you making him increase his fervor, creating a domino effect of you growing louder and his own moans to sound out and intoxicate you further, the mix of everything so dizzying that it was impossible to imagine a better high.

Jax chuckled behind you, the sound maniacal and deliciously twisted. “That’s it, fuck…”

You let go, accepting the way his body threw you into a trembling orgasm, clenching hard around his cock as he proceeded to pound you mercilessly, hearing his grunts and growls increase in volume and consistency as he honed in on his own end.

He couldn’t look away, watching your combined milky spend leak out of you as he continued to fuck you, your ass cheeks shaking along to his irregular thrusts, the Reaper patch spread out across your back as you took every blow he gave you a sight he would never tire of.

His hand was soaked when he removed it from between your legs, bringing his fingers to his mouth where he sucked them clean, keeping his dick buried inside you until he couldn't anymore.

You closed your eyes as you worked at steadying your breath, your fingers continuing to grip the wall even as you slowly began to straighten your body, feeling full and close to him despite him having slipped from you.

Sweaty handprints temporarily stained the paint when you opened your heavy lids again, smiling at the tingling afterglow that filled your veins, that smile growing bigger when you felt Jax press his lips to your dewy neck where he kissed your sensitive skin with gratitude. You were spun around again, gentler this time, his sweet smile matching yours as he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, your hands wrapping around his damp back to help support you as you stood on unreliable legs.

He was heavenly in his post-fuck glow, small beads of sweat dancing just below the edge of his hat, his skin tinged with a pinkish blush from his efforts, his pulse hammering in his neck. His lips looked more inviting than usual, plump and moist, and when his tongue licked across them before dipping to capture yours, you swore your own pulse ceased in its duties.

The way he looked at you when he pulled away after kissing you slowly was curious, a softness and devotion reflecting in his cerulean blues that made your heart beat faster after having just managed to regulate it.

“You look like you've got something to say, Jax,” you breathed, wondering if there would ever be a day that he would say what he felt.

He shrugged, his thumbs stroking your heated face as he tilted his head, looking between your bodies at yours clad in nothing but his kutte, seeing his cum dripping down your thigh.

“I think I'll be leaving this here more often.”

You both laughed as he kissed you again, shuffling forward to push you against the wall where he was able to press his lips to yours as much as he wanted to.

---

Comments and reblogs are the lifeline of fanfic, so if you enjoyed reading this story, please consider sharing your thoughts with me and others! 💗

Taglist: @sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @rhoorl

[withahappyrefrain]

for the lil prompt list: thinking of our beloved Bob and fixing the others clothing when something is a little bit off (particularly when it’s you doing it to him when he’s in uniform for one reason or another) he’d be so endeared by you :(

Stop he would!!! 😭😭😭

You couldn't have been prouder of Bob. After the mission at Top Gun, he and several others in the squad were being rewarded with a medal of honor.

It meant getting to support your boyfriend. As well as (selfishly) seeing him in uniform.

Bob liked to keep his work and personal life strictly separated. Coming home in his flight suit was a rarity. It was why he had yet to introduce you to his coworkers turned friends.

That and because selfishly, he didn't want to share you.

But today, your own desires triumphed over Bob's. Dressed in his Navy whites, chest adorned by the medals he had already received from previous deployments.

He always looked handsome, like a movie star from the Golden Age. But something about his slicked back hair, face stoic as he stood proud and tall, had you unable to focus on anything else besides Bob.

Once the ceremony ended and the honorees were free to mingle with loved ones, you became laser focused on getting to your boyfriend.

Due to the crowd of what had to be his coworkers, Bob wasn't able to see you waving as you walked towards him.

Your voice would just have to do.

"Bobby!"

Bob looked over Jake's shoulder to see you, an absolute vision in your sun dress, waving excitedly at him.

Ignoring the confused remarks from his colleagues, Bob practically pushed Jake aside, all but running over to you.

Seeing him for the first time in eight weeks had your self control thrown out the window. You threw your arms around his neck, nearly knocking over his hat as your lips pressed against his.

The medals were pressing against your skin but quite frankly, you couldn't find it in yourself to care. You were far too busy reveling in his kiss; his soft lips that were becoming reacquainted with yours, his large palms steadying your body since you all but threw yourself onto him, the delightful scent of sage flooding your nostrils once more.

Bob registered the gawking his coworkers were doing, but he didn't care. Eight weeks was a long time, particularly when he wasn't sure if he would come back from this mission.

He could only hope that you didn't feel the small ring-sized box that was in his pocket.

After breaking apart for much needed air, you beamed as you took him in; blue eyes shining brighter than the sun, his hat now sitting at an angle on his head, pink lips formed into a smile that could best be described as lovesick.

God you loved him.

"I'm so proud of you Bobby," you beamed, your fingers gently adjusting his hat, "and I'm glad others are recognizing how incredible you are."

Bob was at a loss for words, enamored by the way you mindlessly fixed his uniform as you sung his praises. It was an action you had always done, something you didn't even think about. In fact, it was that endearing gesture that caused you to meet Bob. And despite dating for such a long time, it made Bob's heart flutter every time.

You showed your love for him so effortlessly, pouring it into every action, no matter how small.

"Bobby?" You giggled, "You good?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, warmth flooding his body, "Just in love with you, that's all."

He made you want to kick your feet like a school girl. Instead, you settled for placing your hands on his upper back and pressing another loving kiss to his lips.

"Why don't we go meet your squad? I can hear their questions," you chuckled, knowing the team was currently arguing over how long you and Bob had been together.

Bob looked over, wincing at the sight of his coworkers arguing over an apparent bet about him. His grip on your waist tightened.

"Maybe not just yet. Don't want your first impression to be Bradley and Hangman arguing."

You simply smiled, fingers toying with one of his many medals, "That's fine."

Leaning in, your breath was hot on his ear, "Gives me more time to admire you in this uniform."

Maybe they would skip the meeting altogether and head straight home.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

"Bite Me" - Alastor x Reader - Part 3

prev first

“Hey, Alphabet.”

Alastor’s eye twitched. He swiveled his head around 180 degrees, grinning down at the short king that had approached him.

“Hello, Lucifer! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The king leaned more heavily on one leg, spinning his cane with his left hand. “Charlie’s getting kind of worried about one of the residents, so she asked me to look into it.”

“Aaaannd?” Alastor said, snapping his neck as he tilted his head.

Lucifer said your name. Alastor’s ears twitched.

Something was going on with you? Charlie was worried? What had happened-

“So what the fuck do you want with ‘em?” Lucifer said, raising an eyebrow.

“Pardon?” Alastor straightened up his posture as he spoke, turning to face the king completely.

“You’ve been stalking them for the past, like, two weeks.” Lucifer said. He spun his cane back towards him, nestling it under his arm as he motioned with his hand “Let me remind you: you’re not allowed to harm residents of the hotel.”

“I wasn’t aware I was attempting to.” Alastor said, eye twitching yet again.

“Then why are you following them- oh.” Lucifer cut himself off abruptly, seemingly having an epiphany. The fallen angel’s eyes widened, light gleaming in them “Oh! OOOOOH!”

“….what?” Alastor said, not following the king’s train of thought.

Lucifer was bouncing on his feet, grinning so wide it rivalled the Radio Demon’s. His eyes were practically sparkling “I know what’s going on~!” He sang, elbowing Alastor in the side “Y’gotta be straightforward, bambi!”

Alastor took a large step back and took a good amount of joy watching the king fall into his face. He cleared his throat, tilting his head slightly “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

Lucifer rose from the floor, propping his chin up on his hands while kicking his feet behind him “You, y’know, want their attention!”

“That’s absurd.” Alastor hissed.

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

“None.”

“You sure?”

“Lucifer if you continue this pointless back-and-forth I will rip out your wings and grill them.”

Lucifer actually paused, letting the side of his head hit the floor as he studied Alastor. There was a bright flash of sparkles and the king appeared on Alastor shoulder in the form of a snake (with a hat). “That kind of sssoundsss like a threat they came up with.”

Alastor chucked Lucifer off of his shoulder. The king poofed back into his usual self mid-air and hovered there. “SooOooOooo…. Do they… y’know?” Lucifer giggled, fanning his hand outwards as rainbow-colored magic filled the space between them “Inspire you?”

“This conversation is pointless and I’m leaving.” Alastor scoffed, making true of his statement by immediately shadow-ing away.

Lucifer landed on his feet and put his wings away. Seems Bambi either doesn’t realize or is too stubborn to admit it out loud. Well. If there was one thing Lucifer learned about the glorified bellhop…

Is that man was made of 105% spite.

Later that day at dinner, Lucifer forsook his usual seat in order to sit next to you. While some of the residents were mildly confused by this (as usually people never ventured from their self-assigned seats), no one particularly cared.

You paid him little extra attention either, simply moving on with the meal as per usual. However, seated across from you, Alastor’s eyes were narrowed intently at the king. Lucifer grinned and dusted off the old charm.

“Heeey, y’know, I was wondering…why are you in Hell to begin with?” Lucifer said, propping his chin up on his hand “Surely an angel like you just got lost?”

Charlie spat out her drink on her end of the table and keeled over while coughing violently, Vaggie frantically rubbing her back to get her situated. Once she was all right (giving a shakey thumbsup), you gave the king a bemused look.

“It’s rude to ask a person of indistinguishable gender what got them hell-bound.” You hummed.

Lucifer paused in his response, too concerned with Charlie’s situation. She gave him another thumbsup and he hesitantly turned his attention back to you.

“Sorry, can’t help myself.” He lidded his eyes, leaning slightly closer “I simply can’t help but want to learn all about you~”

You put a hand over his face and pushed him back “Personal space.”

“Fair.” Lucifer said with one finger up, his voice muffled by your hand.

You retracted your hand and rolled your eyes “Well, I’m not a super share-y person…I mean I’ll do it during Charlie’s redemption activities but that’s about it.”

“And that’s okay!” Charlie chimed in, “I appreciate your efforts!”

You gave her a thumbs up. Lucifer took the pause to glance at Alastor, to find the deer man only paying half attention. Well. That wasn’t what he was aiming for. Absentmindely, Lucifer picked a fry off your plate and chomped down on it.

“Dad! That’s not your plate.” Charlie said, motioning awkwardly.

Lucifer was going to apologize (he’s a bit of an airhead, he knows…) but you made the funniest goddam squeak he had ever heard in his life. Never had he seen anyone so comedically offended by someone eating their fries.

He couldn’t help it- he laughed.

“Dad!” Charlie squeaked “Don’t laugh at them-!”

“S-s-sorry Char-Char but that SQUEAK- Oh my lord…”

He wasn’t the only one laughing. The spider person was joining in, throwing arm across your shoulders in a friendly manner while you seethed in silent resentment. Bar cat chuckled a bit under his breath, Vaggie and Charlie were both trying to suppress their giggles, and Nifty was howling with deranged cackling. Alastor took a drink from his mug but didn’t react much more than a slight snort.

“Lucifer I am going to fill your socks with mayonnaise when you sleep.” You muttered out.

Everyone burst into more hysterical laughter.

Except Alastor.

Who broke his mug in his hand like it was made of crackers.

At the sound of shatter ceramic, everyone’s attention shifted to him.

“Whoops!” Alastor grinned, shrugging non-chalantly as blood dripped down the hand that now had shards of ceramic in it.

“OhMyGosh, Alastor!” Charlie yelped, jumping to her feet “I’ll get the first aid kit-“

“No need, Charlotte!” Alastor hummed, getting to his feet. He reached over the table and picked you up by the back of your shirt like a kitten, tucking you under one arm as he walked off with you. “This one is responsible for the mug shattering, this one will take care of the wound.”

“Wait- Alastor-“ Charlie took a step to follow, but you waved her down and gave her a reassuring smile. Charlie hesitated a moment before sitting back down.

The table fell into an awkward silence. Lucifer was vibrating in his seat while grinning. Nifty was doing the same thing. The rest of the table-people wondered if they were somehow communicating this way.

Meanwhile, for you, Alastor had you held like a suitcase as he entered the kitchen, setting you on your feet.

You dusted yourself off and made for the cabinet the first aid kit was in. Alastor, frankly, had no plan other than to get you away from that joke of a king. So he was left standing their awkwardly as you patched his hand up gently. (He could’ve done it himself, it didn’t even hurt, he just did not want you wasting those ‘threats’ on that stupid lawn-gnome looking bastard)

“There you go.” You said, putting the unused first aid materials back in the kit and the kit back in the pantry.

Your name left Alastor’s lips.

You looked back at him, head tilted slightly.

His treacherous mind abruptly shoved forward the memory of you biting him. Teeth sinking into his shoulder, his blood on your face and the cold look you gave him afterwards. His heartbeat started to race. It was so different from now, your big eyes looking at him softly as though you could warm his entire soul with your gaze alone.

How amusingly two-faced of you…

“Alastor?” You said. He jolted back to the moment, tilting his head.

“Aplogies. Thank you, my dear.” He hummed.

“uh. Sure.” You said, tail flicking in irritation. “You’re a weirdo, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told!”

=============================================

Deer man's in denial.