#time to savor every. single. frame | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

svndaysaweek · 4 months ago

Text

Wanna Make You Mine — {Feat. Minji}

5k words

A/N: Hi, it’s been a while! I felt like I should write and post something, and here it is. This was not written in my best condition, but it’s Minji😌. Honored to have had @chunksworld as a beta-reader and an editor! If you find some amazingly well-written sentences most likely it’s from him haha☺️ Enjoy!

******

It was a few days ago when rain poured heavily, unexpectedly leading to one of the hottest encounters you have ever experienced in your life. And the more you reminisce, the bigger your smile grows, bittersweetly. If someone told you it was a dream, you’d buy that. A fever dream, albeit a short one. But it hasan everlasting lingering image carved in your heart. It was fire-hot, it was ice-cold. Like bubble gum you savor it when it tastes sweet, but it diminishes when the sweet is gone.

The day you forgot your umbrella is a day you will never, ever forget. It was a surprise, a super hot one to you. And like a hit-and-run, it stuns you, and then leaves, barely leaving any marks.

******

You don’t precisely remember since when, but there’s something about her that made her stand out to you. Multiple times you caught her looking your way then quickly avoiding your eyes–it happened enough for you to sense how unusual it is.

It’s not because she stands out; she doesn’t. She is considered by many as a model student and everyone likes her. Acing quizzes, straight A’s and with a courteous manner. She was given every admirable virtue in her heart, and radiates it like it’s her body odor. A waking proof that humans can be perfect. But she’s not the one to boast about it, keeping down people’s envy in the level of admiration and friendliness.

For you, Kim Minji is just another student who happens to be in the same school as you. Sometimes you get a nod as a sign of greeting from her and sometimes she just passes by. Still, everytime you run into her, her tranquil smile tells you how she became the model student that she is. Not a single person in this school would succeed in disliking her. You see how everyone says hi to her just to hear it back. And with no exception, she does. To you, too, of course. Sometimes she says “hi” first, and sometimes you do.

A respectable student. That’s it. Nothing less, nothing more.

******

Today it is raining. At this point, it’s plausible that God knows you didn’t bring your umbrella for the third time this month. Third time you brought an extra tumbler, third time you left your umbrella at home, and the third time it rained. Youthink of repenting but deep in your mind you know God owes you a big apology, not the other way around.

The downpour is heavy so you decide to wait in school knowing that it will die down in a few minutes, well that's what you hope because you don't want to risk getting any of your stuff wet.

You are and have always been a quiet kid in school—an introvert. Just the right amount of friends, not really prone to being bullied, a surprisingly average amount of female interactions and above-average grades. Just one of those boys who loves listening to music, watching movies and a bunch of other things.

Can’t spend a rainy day without music on your headphones, can you? Plus, it’s just you in this big hallway so you wear it and turn the jazzy classics on while you stroll lazily along the windows. You blindly step to the comforting rhythm of the song watching the droplets kiss the window. Guess you won't blame God for the rain this time.

You look at the dark gray concrete walls, white window frames, bright gray limestone floor, and the wooden doors of the classrooms you walk by. With the music flowing through your ears and rain crashing on the windows right in front of you, even the gloomy colors of the school building looks rather comforting.

So you walk, and walk, and walk until you’re back in front of your classroom. The rain has become a lot more silent than when it started and it’ll get dark soon. You want to spend your Friday evenings at home and not in school.

The rain will have stopped by the sunset and theair would beclean then. You wouldn’t want to miss the glow of the setting sun with such a crystal clear sky. You imagine the view it’d give you, which songs would be perfect to listen to and you just can’t hold a smile back.

“Oh! Oh… hey…” When you open the door, Minji is frightened by you. She looks disheveled from head to toe. Her hair is frazzled, her face ruddy, her breath heavy. But what’s more desecrating is that her shirt is open, her unblemished midriff has a layer of sweat-like liquid coating it, taint on her gray bra. All of it is sent to your brain to process, which causes it to cease functioning for a second.

“D-don’t mind me.” Then she rushes to what you assume to be the restroom Kim Minji, who has never even opened a button of her shirt in school before and yet you just saw her bare belly. You’re blushing, trying not to think about it but you fail miserably. It feels dirty to be like this—she isn’t one of those provocative types of girls to you… or she wasn’t.

But you can’t explain why she’s so frantic with her skin so exposed. Why was she so out of breath and sweaty? Why was she so surprised to see you and then proceeded to rush outside the classroom?

Has she been sacred or sanctimonious? Has she been exemplary or errant?

You know it’s a rash judgment.

You step inside the classroom then walk over to your seat where you find an oddly-placed puddle on the desk. Not as big as a spilled bottle of water, not as small as the drool you usually make when you doze off with your face buried in your arms during class.

You examine it by dipping your finger on it.

Definitely not water.

Then what?

“What's this?” You find a blue switch and pick it up.

“Hey,” Flabbergasted, you turn around so quickly that it slips out of your grip. It's Minji who's standing at the door frame, leaning slightly on the wall.

Her shirt is still open, and so are the stains on her bra and her messy hair. It seems like she didn't tidy herself up in the bathroom.

“Did you spill something on my desk, Minji?” For the moment you think that's what happened. Every clue provided to you is telling you just one thing, and you're pretty sure you got it right. Maybe she'll apologize, and you're going to say it's nothing and help her clean it up. She'll then thank you and say you're such a nice person.

Well, it sure is a possible series of normal things to happen.

Unless Kim Minji brings a crazy plot twist for the two of you only.

“No, I didn't.” And step by step she approaches you. The way she walks draws your eyes to her slick legs and the uniform skirt she's wearing: dark gray as always. But it hangs way higher than usual, so high and short that you almost catch a glimpse of her underwear.

You're just standing there still, wondering why she’s acting unprecedentedly strange. You don’t even recognize that she’s already just in front of you. You’re trying your best not to look at her breasts even when she slowly squats down to the floor.

“You dropped this.” You realize when Minji hands it to you that it is a switch. That she wants it in your hand and that she wants to see you flick your finger on it and turn it on.

“Minji, is this…?” There is only a shy grin on her face. Swear to god, you didn’t even imagine in your dreams that such a thing would happen to you. You’re yet to escape the stage of denial, to be honest. Where was the heads-up to begin with?

“Wanna try turning it on?” Her tone is so casual that you didn’t get it the first time. You’re just totally dumbfounded. Minji sees it, knows it and understands it.

“Go on, do it.” Her eyes are on your fingers. Her teeth dig into her bottomlip. Her eyelids flutter. Your thumb is now on the switch, ready to flick it on. Your thumb presses on it, just enough for the knuckle to whiten up, but not really turn it on.

Her arms hug your neck, and the moment she does, you flick the switch up. You didn’t mean to, but when she hugged you your thumb automatically moved so it was turned on with a clicking sound. An embarrassed gasp leaves your mouth.

But when she buries her face in the crook of your neck and moans all the gibberish improvised excuses building in your head washes away.

At the risk of sounding grandiose, it’s rather the situation she lures you in that is overloading you mentally. It hasn't even been 5 minutes since you ran into her.

“Y-you know…” At this point you can’t even imagine what’s going to unfold. If she confesses that she is in fact an alien from Saturn you’ll sense no absurdity. You’ll just breathe it in.

You feel her body shaking by how her weight changes every second. And you’re standing there like a dumb statue, not knowing where to put your hands, even when she’s almost climaxing mere inches away and your lust is getting completely heightened by it.

“I’ve had a crush on you for so long…”

No one couldn’t have ever anticipated that. For a moment you forgot to breathe; Minji has taken it away. And when she bites into your shoulder you gasp, feeling the tingling sensation rushing down your spine.

“I’ve liked you eversince the first time I saw you by the way.” She’s struggling to make her words distinguishable in between moans and hisses, while you’re struggling to come up with a proper reaction to what you’re currently experiencing.

This whole situation you find yourself in is so foul and so hot given that she’s one of the most admirable students of your school. She was supposed to be out of your league and yet somehow the timid and quiet boy is who she wanted all along.

“You’re going to make me cum…!” Hearing it coming through her lips makes your head spin, makes your cock throb painfully inside your pants. You don’t even expect yourself to think straight, nor want to think straight.

During the day she’s a model student, then after school she becomes a kinky pervert. It’s the least possible thing in your life to happen and yet here you are.

But when she cums and squirts on your pants, you’re proven very wrong.

“I… I like you.” Out of breath she whispers, still cumming and you support her by her bare waist. You switch off the toy and just let her go through the bliss of post orgasm.

As she comes down her arms let go of you, still panting. “Do you like me too?” That’s not even a question, as her eyes are on your shirt and her hands are already halfway down unbuttoning it.

“Minji…” You take her already open shirt off of her arms before fondling her breasts over her bra. Your eyes are fixed at the pair in your hands while you can feel hers glaring into your eyes.

“Mhm. Go on. Take as much as you like.” Her hands seductively unbutton your shirt, one by one, from the top down. She’s not in a hurry but in a matter of seconds your top vanishes. Then she puts her lips dangerously close to yours, hovering and tickling your lips with subtle skims.

“But don’t forget to let me do the same, okay?” She sounds so full of confidence but her face is as red as yours. The eyelock doubles and triples the heat between you two and when the distance is completely eliminated by a messy lip lock, your heart begins to beat out of your chest.

Her tongue is aggressive inside around yours. Her hand is already a hand of a luster, already sneaking down on your pants sending shivers up to the crown of your head so easily. You grab and unhook your belt, and Minji purrs delightfully when she sees your erection spring out ontoher belly.

“This is a yes, right?” Minji pushes you lightly, just enough for you to know that she wants you on the desk. Her tummy brushes against your erection as she climbs up to face you again after swiftly removing her bra. You’re met with her mouthwatering pair of breasts pressed against your bare chest.

“I don’t understand why…” Her fingers trace down your jawline to your lips. The placidity oozing out from her words is making you fret over—inside, you want her to take advantage of this one-way situation as much as she can. Your hands find her sweaty tits and fondle them softly, and she moans with a dreamy smile.

“But you kinda make me feel things. Unexplainable, but certainly that’s more than just love.” It's an overwhelming lust you obviously planted in her. You can see how ripe it is, and now you’re reaping it. It’s sweet, the flesh, the hue is so mature and obscene.

“Say something, hmm?” When you part your lips to say ‘I like you too’, however, her tongue ties a knot on yours. You feel the pace suddenly upshift when she strokes your cock slowly and when you involuntarily moan and flinch. Your breaths overload your lungs while your mouth has totally fallen by what the intertwined tongues are doing inside.

“Minji… I-I like you too.” You didn’t mean to just whisper it. However it somehow did work as the cue to make her start pleasuring you with her hand.

The smirk on her face is almost a burden to your already weary mind, topped with the anticipating lip bite. And those glaring, sly eyes which eventually force yours to squeeze shut. The sensation is too much for you to take in as it is, so your nails dig into your palms hard and your head tilts backwards.

You don’t look comfortable at all—you aren’t, with all the unreal touches and heated breaths being poured on your skin. But that doesn’t mean you’re not enjoying this, of course. Her hand is pumping your cock at a constant rhythm, her groaning voice matches yours as if it’s as tantalizing to her as well.

“I’m glad you said that.” As if her confession was to be ignored by you. It was more of a seduction than a platonic confession to think about. Not that you can properly think while you’re getting mentally wrung by her.

“You would’ve never known…” Minji slows down her hand around your throbbing cock. You open your eyes to be faced with her orbs mere inches away.

Lust doesn’t seem to have dispersed from the jetty pair of pupils. “...how many times you relieved my stress from all the studying.” She continues her lewd confession of her sexual fantasies about you which could’ve been kept a secret… But what more to hide when you two are touching each other’s sex and mixing body fluids?

When your fingers brush against her inner thighs, she hisses and tightens the grip on your cock. Nearing her core, you can feel the moist lust seeping out, leaking and running.

“Do you think about me often too? Who am I to you?” You hesitate. But she doesn’t want any lies. Nor do you.

“You’re just a… the model student of the school. A pretty one. A pretty, smart girl that I run into often.” You amazingly finish the sentence while riding off to the very edge of your patience under her bewitching strokes.

Just enough to feel incredibly heady but still seconds away from exploding on her hand. Your fingers aren’t idle either, as two of those smoothly enter her damp entrance. The tips of your fingers reach her toy inside and you pull it out slowly.

You see her belly flutter from the sensation of it. “Put your fingers in deeper,” She pleads as grinding herself on your fingers, situating you two in a mutual masturbation.

“I want to cum with you.” Her words trigger so many things inside you. Deeper and darker things, something the superficial you don’t possess. Something every guy would hide and keep deep under the surface and wait for the very chance to bring up.

Your fingers move, inside and out while hers move up and down. Both relentlessly, hungrily almost. The desire to see each other drown in bliss is paralleling the desire to feel it for oneself. You’re almost there, hoping that she is, too.

“Minji, I-I am… I can’t-“ You’re miserably stuttering, tongue twisted by how unblemished the sensation is from all sides—her soft hands working ever so hard and hot on the head of your cock, her lewd moans tickling your eardrums. Her face, that face making a look that just screams sex.

In no time you explode first, spurt after spurt in her hands as she still keeps on pumping it with pace. Your groan never dies down until you’re completely out of breath and strength.

Then Minji restarts grinding on your fingers that she stopped when you blasted the turbid pleasure on her fingers. You look up from her cum-coated fingers to her eyes, and it’s a head-spinning hypnosis that beams into your eyes from hers.

Dense, intense, a bit lethargic in a way and flooding with lust—seeing her crush cum in her very own hand, must’ve sent her into another galaxy at least, possibly another dimension. That is what sex can do even to a woman of high status.

“That was so hot. Now will you help me with this?” You already are when you’re snapped back from drifting off in the ocean of bliss.

“I will.” You literally sigh words out as you still are trying to regain your breaths. You lay her down on the desks and crawl up to level with her face, fingers still making the dirty wet sound.

Minji’s face is a mess; it’s red, it’s sweaty, in need, desperate. Her eyes are fixed on your lips, her mouth agape, breathing into your face, it’s hot, her hands touching and squeezing her own breasts, her throat vibrates into your teeth and tongue when you kiss and bite it. And it happens to splash you all at once like a tsunami, but without the premonitory phenomena.

Kiss her neck, jawline and back to her lips. Her tongue welcomes yours, and after a few seconds she screams into your throat airily with her hands holding onto your shoulders.

“I’m close, I’m close, I’m-Oh!”

Hearing her you circle her clitoris with your thumb and it sends her away to bliss. To a heavenly abyss, where she doesn’t want to be bailed out. She’s squirting too, which makes it even hotter aside from her orgasming on your fingers. The watery sound makes you want to push into her even deeper.

You’re hard as rock again in no time after seeing the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, the least touchable girl in your school cum under your body on your own fingers. In school, in your classroom, on the table.

“Oh my god, is that your bag?” It’s a black backpack that her secretion is dripping onto. Minji is more entertained than concerned to your eyes however, and so are you. You wouldn’t mind if your iPad is broken from all the water for now.

“No, I don’t care. Mine is over there I guess.” You’re not sure, but not that you ever want to be. Because your eyes lock before hers darting at your cock on her above her belly. Then she looks into you again. And that’s it.

“Do you want to-“

“Yes.” It doesn’t even need any brainpower to say yes. So you take your agonizingly hard cock to her entrance. First you rub it against her pussy slowly, and it makes her let out a small gasp.

Her hands are on your arms, tightly gripping. Her eyes, they’re fixed at yours, her beauty beaming at you, and it flutters when your tip enters her hot cavern. Her fingers dig a little deeper into your arms, her teeth into her lip, as you enter her bit by bit.

It’s a whole new sensation to be wrapped around the wet walls. And considering that this is your first time, it’s not odd to be totally enraptured and indulge deep in straight away.

“Mmm…!” Your eyes roll back when you push in until you can’t. The world around you narrows down to only you two, hot breaths, sweaty skin and a mutual high that you never want to be detached from.

“G-go on, I’ll make you feel good.” As if you need any more motivation to dive in.

Minji’s coquettish smile is the last thing you see before you spontaneously shut your eyes and groan as you go deeper and deeper. You’re barely breathing, barely thinking, barely sensing anything.

“F-fuck me…”

Her shaking voice cooing those words is a complete switch-off to your reason. She said it shyly, with a burning face and big eyes looking up at you—it must be her first time to do this—and single-handedly sending shivers up your spine.

“Ah… Mmm yes!” You begin to move, and even to the slightest moves she reacts so sensitively. Her walls are wringing around your cock, pulsing and matching her intermittent moans as you gradually, tantalizingly raise the pace.

It’s as if time itself ceased running. Just you and Minji, feeling every part of each other, moaning against each other’s skin, a locomotive with a broken brake. Broken brake, but with a fully functioning accelerator.

As you up the pace her hands find your shoulders for support as yours roam around her torso. Her sharp shoulders, to her perky tits, brushing your thumb on her stomach randomly, overloading her with your touches.

You lack subtlety and it’s even visible to yourself. Not knowing where to put your hands, not knowing what to say, only thrusting in and out and getting so worked up by hearing her moans and her face flooding with sex.

Eyes barely holding on, moans escaping her agape mouth along with her hot breaths, blushed cheeks. Her hands find the back of your head and pull you into a kiss, and it gives you the feeling of being possessed.

Like you’ve become hers.

Like you’re fucking her pussy and now kissing her with intertwined tongues for her, not for yourself. Which somehow, to your surprise, aggravates the lust deep inside you. A hidden need for the dynamics, even unseen to you.

Seems there will be plenty of time for you two to explore it further.

You go even faster in return for the kindling kiss she dragged you into. Her grip tightens, traps you in her arms—not that you ever want to escape—suffocating you with the sloppy lip lock.

And it throws a barrel of oil to your already-flaming fire. Your breath is completely taken by Minji, without any chance to get out, your will is rather on the side of dying with Kim Minji absorbing the last breath you have.

Soon her walls begin to pulsate around your cock, her screams that reverberate in your skull are now about to tip you over into unconsciousness.

“So good… I’m about to c-cum.” Her voice shakes. Your thrusts keep the pace, at a steady rhythm you’re pounding into her leaking pussy. The tightness goes up like crazy, her thighs lock your hips in and it makes you, forces you to discover her inside even deeper.

With every thrust Minji voices out how well your cock is stirring her inside. And the elevating tension in her moans lets you know how close she is to-

“Cumming…! Fuck!”

A trance. It is a frenzy, an ecstatic upheaval that overwhelms your patience, that demolishes the dam and lets whatever behind the wall flood in.

When her fingers dig painfully deep into your head, when her teeth leave an intaglio of her love, when her legs lock you in, for you to join her with the heady pleasure…

A streak of benumbing orgasm shatters your nerves as you paint her stomach and her heaving chest. It seems to never end, spurt after spurt until the repose is here. You can only stare at her—her still high face, cum-coated breasts and tummy heaving up and down.

You both are taking in the messed up view of each other, eyes locked but no words or signals delivered. You just stare into her eyes hoping that she makes a move on you first. To take you where she wants, perhaps. Another round could be awesome, but either way you’ll be so satisfied.

Together. With Minji.

“Let me bring something to clean-”

“No.”

Her hands snatch yours. Not strongly, but just soft enough to let you know what she means.

“Stay here for more… With me.”

******

“Hey. So… Can I ask you exactly when?”

Dark purple sky, humid breeze of midsummer. Clouds that showered the earth with their own bodies are now completely gone, and you and Minji are walking down the street towards the sunset.

“It was when you picked up my notebooks I dropped. You were putting on your headphones. Hair was just long enough to look good, and on top of everything… What I fell for was the smile on your face. I don’t remember the date it happened, but it was special. So special.”

Her fingers then sneak under your palm, in between your fingers and lock with yours together. It’s warm and soft. A romantic placidity under one of the most beautiful sunsets you’ve ever seen.

Her thumb lightly brushes on the back of your hand as you keep walking down the serene road. “But I don’t think you’ve wanted to do this since then, right? Not complaining, but it was quite an unexpected way of confession. Especially from you.”

Minji giggles with her crescent eyes looking down at the ground. “It’s been only weeks… I got so stressed out from studying and one day… I tried touching myself then I suddenly thought of you. Since that day, you know, it’s been like that.”

But there’s no shyness anymore. It’s not a secret anymore, at least between you and her. Nothing is. Nothing will be.

It’s a hot thing to think about. A girl touching herself thinking about you. And that girl being Minji is what surpasses your imagination. She even got caught pleasuring herself in your classroom today-

Or even that was part of the plan. You think of asking her about it, but at the same time, you don’t want to make any gaffe come out of your mouth. Right now is where the tinge of romance should fade in, not that.

“You can, you know, call me honey… If you… want…” Minji’s grip on your hand gets tighter as her shy laughters follow. It immediately makes your face burn. You look at her and find that it’s doing the same to her too.

“Okay, Minji-I mean, honey.” You feel your face drumming to the beat of your heart. But it doesn’t hide the happy smile on your face.

A girlfriend.

And a boyfriend.

It’s mutual from now on. The first love in your life starts.

“It’s my home already.” She stops in front of a white two-story house and turns to you.

“Alright, goodbye, honey.” You let her hand go but it doesn’t leave yours. Instead, a zesty grin blooms on her face and she hums an airy chuckle.

“Not before this.”

Her lips find yours. They don’t open, but it’s a kiss filled with heartiness, a long peck, with an artificial smacking sound made by her.

“See you tomorrow honey!”

******

It is raining just like yesterday; you forgot your umbrella just like yesterday too. And you decide to stay at school until it stops.

As if you’re seeing a deja vu of yesterday.

Only if you could see a deja vu of yesterday.

Minji didn’t run into you today. She didn’t come to your class to say hi. She didn’t come to her class.

She didn’t come to school today.

The day passed uneventfully just like yesterday. Class after class, lunch breaks and “see you tomorrow”s from classmates. But painfully, the only one who said it yesterday with a kiss wasn’t here to keep her words.

And the day ended just like that. No sign of Minji.

“You heard that?” Just before you put on your headphones, something penetrates your ears.

“Minji moved to New York!”

What?

You almost shouted but managed to deal with that.

First, it’s denial that hits you.

“What do you mean? I saw her just yesterday!” The other guy looks as confused as you are.

Second, the word ‘why’ comes up in your head.

“I don’t know, man. Everything I heard was the teachers talking that there was a sudden incident that left no choice for her family but to move.”

Third, denial again.

You wanted to stand up and ask them, but what you are going to get is a weird look and a “Why do you even care?”

Didn’t she tell me ‘see you tomorrow’?

It’s all complicated for now.

Maybe you yourself are to blame for not asking your girlfriend’s number.

But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

It was your first love, starting hot yet pure.

Now it’s as if all was a reverie.

The air you breathe hasn’t changed, the classes you attend were the same, it rained like yesterday, and your umbrella stayed at home again.

But there was no Minji, although you still hear her merrily say-

‘See you tomorrow, honey!’

******

#kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #minji smut #newjeans smut

945 notes · View notes

transformers-spike · 30 days ago

Note

Since you were so graceful to deliver us that magnificent Optimus (and autobots) x Human in their heat cycle, another question arises. What are the autobots' thoughts on eating pussy? What about their styles?? Please and thank u

Good god, I’m going to assume this is general TFP pussy eating and nothing to do with the heatverse. For now I’ll stick to the main cast and add Wheeljack/Ultra Magnus/Smokescreen when I get a better feel for how I want to write them. (also fuck making gifs, thank you for existing, Tenor)

Back when he went by Orion Pax, he was as chaste as a lily. Not from lack of fuckability, oh no. His small frame at the time made him especially cute to onlookers, but it was nigh impossible to hang around him when he was too busy working as a clerk or researching Cybertron’s history in his downtime. There's certainly a possibility he ate at least (1) valve back on Cybertron. Whose? Who fucking knows. My bet would be on Megatronus, but he wouldn’t have horribly fumbled the bag if that was the case. Maybe cunnilingus could have saved their planet… Having, to an extent, merged his consciousness with the thirteen primes, he has gained their wisdom and become something akin to a demi-God by Cybertronian standards. Except with none of the praise, and the weight of the world on his shoulders. Anyway, let’s cease philosophizing about his nature as a Prime, what we’re looking for is how good he is at eating pussy with that extra knowledge. Answer: it depends on the receiver. Considering the size difference, he makes it work without catching your clit between his glossa’s mesh plating. He prefers supporting you in his massive servos, carefully wrapping his digits around your frame in case you start squirming too much and fall off. He applies slow languid licks between pauses, waiting to gauge your reaction in case he’s hurting you. It’s sweet of him, but please Optimus, you need to make your partner cum else they’ll die.

Ratchet has been alive for Primus knows how many slutty millenia. Of course he can eat valves. And if he can eat valves, he can eat human pussy just fine. The hard part is dragging him away from his workstation. Don’t get him wrong, he would love to bury his face between your legs, but he’s got things to do, nevermind a whole ass team to keep alive on top of manning the ground bridge and fixing whatever alien technical bullshittery Raf can’t help with (seeing as the little guy only takes care of the human technical bullshittery). He’s perpetually exhausted, and if Cybertronians had an equivalent to coffee, you’re sure he’d be downing it like a single father after losing everything in the divorce except the kids. So when he gets the chance to eat pussy, he takes his damn time with it, pressing his face against your groin for so long you think he’s fallen into recharge. When he gets to work, he’s savoring every inch of you, making a point to complain there isn’t enough energon to mass displace and taste you completely. The size difference is especially annoying to him, but he makes due nonetheless by slipping the tip of his glossa between your folds, pushing it as far as it can go without hurting you. His engine growls from desperate hunger as he grinds his spike against the ground, grunting and scoffing against your pussy as he has to contend with the smallest sample he’s ever received. Ratchet is going to kill Megatron.

Bulkhead is a complicated case. Yes, he’s tried valves. Any wrecker worth their weight in energon has eaten valves like no tomorrow. But the point is, when you look at his jaw, things get a bit complicated. An overbite in humans is mildly bothersome for a giver, but it gets even worse when you look at Cybertronian anatomy and realize that oh, he’s going to do some major jaw exercises to stick his glossa out properly and eat you out. Thank fuck you’re so small in this case, you have no idea much easier this makes his job. To be fair, his main worry is hurting you. Optimus is careful, yes, but Bulkhead has known destruction for the vast majority of his life, not only as a career, but as a way of life. So when he finds you naked in his servos, smiling up at him, his spike retracts into his panel from anxiety alone. If he so much as bruises you, he will shrivel up and offline. He can handle humans just fine, but during interface? He already has to take a breather before he tries anything in the Cybertronian equivalent of a panic attack. His cooling fans are screeching, and if he could sweat, he’d be causing a major flood in Nevada and all its neighboring states. In conclusion, yes, he can eat out. Not perfectly, but he puts in some valiant effort that’s sure to pay off sooner or later.

At first glance, you may exclaim “Wowzers! Bumblebee doesn’t have a mouth! How can he eat pussy without glossa or lips?” – well guess what! Take a vibrator and stick it between your legs. That’s Bumblebee right there. They should add him as a synonym for it in the dictionary. He may not be able to lick up your juices, but he can buzz incessantly against your groin at a near illegal setting until you come undone. He is so proud of himself. And for his own sake, let’s hope he never got to experience valves before he lost his oral equipment. He tries to be comforting, beeping words of encouragement that you absolutely do not understand but get the gist off anyways. Chances are, he’s either helping you balance on top of his face to get the full hitachi magic wand duct taped to the floor experience, or you’re both lying down while you’re cupped in his servos as he buzzes excitedly between your legs; equal parts cute and overwhelming. You feel bad for using him like this, but he beeps reassuringly and urges you to lie back in his servos and enjoy the ride. He’s such a hitachi toy it’s not even funny anymore. You start giving him setting levels which he eagerly follows like the boyscout he is, keeping the same vibration pace even as you start humping his face plate. You pray to Primus Raf isn’t looking for his guardian, else he’s going to overhear things you would rather die than explain.

Arcee is… way too good at eating out. On Cybertron, she could eat a valve like her life depended on it, sucking on the anterior node and wiggling her glossa inside of it well after her partners would overload, begging her to stop from overstimulation alone. Nowadays, she still has it. With her two-wheeler frame type, she can easily access a human pussy without any trouble, treating it like the cutest minicon valve she’s ever seen. She’s all rapid licks and wandering digits, stuffing you to the brim when she’s busy torturing your clit between her lips, then circling around it as she pushes her tongue between your folds. Arcee’s a fucking menace. She leaves you a crying hyperventilating mess as you plead with her to let you breathe. Yes, she’ll take your words into account and stop at some point. Key word: some. You get a break whenever she fancies. This, or you go into cardiac arrest and she has to deal with your metaphorical blood on her juice-soaked servos, all from eating pussy too good. No one should have that sort of power. But Arcee does, because she’s an unstoppable force. Prepare yourself from some light pillow talk after she takes mercy on you, stroking your cheek and leaning in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on her intake, and she wants you to contemplate the flavor as she wraps her arms around your squishy body in a protective hug, the blue glow of her optics dancing over your skin.

#transformers x reader #transformers x human #transformers prime #valveplug #tfp optimus x reader #tfp arcee x reader #tfp arcee #tfp ratchet #tfp optimus #tfp bumblebee x reader #tfp bumblebee #tfp ratchet x reader #tfp bulkhead x reader #tfp bulkhead

342 notes · View notes

slushycoookie · 7 months ago

Text

Miguel is losing it...

He's paying too much attention to you.

Without having any spider senses, he's learned to be hyper-aware of his surroundings. Focusing on anyone's movements. Unfortunately, that means with you too.

A friendship budding into something more in Miguel’s heart. He notices everything about you. Your nice eyes glitter when you see a thing you like. The way they trace his built frame whenever he crosses your vision. Your fingers brushing an object of his; his shirt, his suit, his hands. You were a touchy person.

When you drink something and share it with him, he tries to lower the uptick in his beating heart. Your lips were on that cup. If he drinks at the same spot where your lips were, would it be like an indirect kiss? That's pathetic. He decides to drink as far away from where your lips were.

Miguel couldn’t escape the taste of you when it came to food. You like to feed him, he didn't understand why. Something about sharing with friends brings you joy. And he wants to make you happy.

You feed him like an infant, holding the utensil to his lips to taste whatever you have to share. Miguel always gazes directly at you whenever he takes a bite. Savoring the mix of food and you around his tongue. How he wishes to get more of you through a kiss. But that would blur the line of friendship and evolve into something more.

The worst part is when you go to hug him. Your body flushed against his own. Miguel rarely gets touched like this. He couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged him willingly. He wonders if he should ask you to stop because his body can't take it. It gets hot, a little sweaty, and he wants to do more than embrace you.

“You're killing me.” He mutters right when you pull away.

Miguel didn't mean for the words to slip out, but you heard it anyway. “What? What did you say?”

“Nothing.” He leaves abruptly to calm down, not giving you room to respond. Those weren't the best words to say, but it was the truth. You were killing him. Eating away at his resolve by smiling at him, hugging him, feeding him. Your entire existence was destroying him. Becoming his downfall.

Of course, you weren’t going to let it slide. He noticed your call later that night. He wasn't going to pick up, ignore you by burying himself in his work. Yet he answers.

“Hey,” You start, your soothing voice causing his tense muscles to relax. “What was that earlier? You left all of a sudden.”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, “It was nothing.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You force out a laugh to try and lighten the mood. “It didn't seem like it was nothing though. You usually don't leave like that without saying something.”

Miguel wanted to confess. Say it was because of you. How you're creating the turmoil in his head. Why he was focusing on every single thing you do and say to him. His silence was enough of an answer for you as you continued.

“Was it because of what I did? The hug? I know we just started hugging recently if that's what made you uncomfortable-”

“No.” He cut you off, “Don't stop doing that.” The word ‘please’ was about to slip off the tip of his tongue, like a plea but he resisted.

“Are you going to storm off every time I hug you?”

“No.” He insists, “That was a one-time thing. I promise.”

“You promise, huh? That’s serious…”

Miguel bites his bottom lip, holding back his amusement. “I keep my promises.”

“Prove it then.” He hears you shuffling behind the phone, “We need a do-over on that hug.”

“You serious?” He glances over at the clock on his screen, almost midnight. “It’s late.”

“So? You should’ve thought about that when you stormed off earlier. Now, you gotta pay.”

Miguel huffs. He wasn’t going to go back and forth with you this late. Better to do a quick hug, in and out after a couple of minutes. “Fine.”

He drops into your bedroom. You leap at his presence, not expecting that.

“What the-why did you arrive in my room?”

“You said you wanted a hug, right?”

“I did but not in my room.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, “What difference does it make? Do you want one or not?”

You pout and he tries not to stare at how nice your lips look. He pulls you into his arms once you get out of bed. Usually, you're the one initiating it but not this time. He holds back from focusing on how you feel. How smaller you were compared to him. The way your arms fit around his waist perfectly. Like you were made for him and him alone.

He notices your smile of satisfaction at meeting your quota of hugs for the day. And he just can't take it anymore.

“I'm in love with you.”

A/N: Love writing about Miguel losing his mind

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o��hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel fanfic #slushycoookie writes

671 notes · View notes

prettygirl-gabi · 23 days ago

Text

Chocolate-Covered Strawberries

Rating: Mature

Warning: Vinnie being a munch..oral (fem receiving), reader has some thicc thighs MDNI!!

I repeat MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!

Category: F/M

Fandom: Vinnie hacker...

Relationships: Vinnie Hacker x black f reader

Summary: Vinnie being a munch before his stream...

---

Vinnie’s POV

It’s not often I get the luxury of waking up before her, but when I do, I make the most of it. The early morning light spills through the blinds, casting a soft glow on her smooth brown skin. She’s curled up on her side, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Her hair is freshly done—a crown of thick, shiny braids that she got done yesterday. She looks like a goddess.

But that’s not why I’m awake. No, I’ve been staring at her thick thighs peeking out from under the covers for the past five minutes. Those thighs that drive me insane every single time. I swallow hard, knowing I have a full day ahead of me—a 24-hour stream I promised my fans—but before I let the day steal me away from her, I have to make this moment ours.

I shift carefully, peeling the blankets off her without waking her. She stirs, mumbling something incoherent, and I freeze. Once I’m sure she’s still asleep, I get to work, kissing the inside of her thighs and trailing upward.

“Mmm... Vinnie?” Her voice is groggy, but there’s a hint of amusement laced in her tone.

“Morning, baby,” I mumble against her skin.

“Vinnie, what are you—” Her words cut off into a soft gasp as I slide her legs apart gently.

“Just let me take care of you,” I whisper, already lost in her scent, her warmth.

She moans softly, and I swear, it’s the best sound in the world. I take my time, savoring every second, every taste, every reaction. She tries to push my head away at one point, half-heartedly, but I grip her thighs firmly, holding her in place.

“Vinnie, you’re such a—”

“A munch?” I finish for her, grinning against her.

Her laughter is breathy and light. “Yes. A damn munch.”

I don’t argue. She’s not wrong. I keep going until she’s trembling beneath me, her hands clawing at my shoulders and back. She leaves marks—I know she does—but I can’t bring myself to care. She tastes like chocolate-covered strawberries, and I tell her as much when she finally catches her breath.

“You’re insane,” she says, panting as she pulls the covers back over her.

“Insanely in love with you,” I counter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Her braids smell like coconut oil and heaven.

“You’re lucky I love you too,” she mutters, but I catch the small smile tugging at her lips.

Fast forward two hours later, and I’m sitting in front of my PC, logging into my stream. I decided to stream shirtless today—partly because it’s comfortable, but mostly because she stole my shirt after I showered. Seeing her tiny frame swallowed up in my oversized shirt did things to me, but I had a schedule to keep.

“Yo, what’s up, chat?” I greet my viewers, running a hand through my hair. Comments flood in immediately, the chat scrolling so fast I can barely keep up.

“Bro, why are you shirtless?”

“Vinnie, what happened to your back??”

“Why are your lips so swollen???”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Man, y’all are nosy today.”

The questions keep coming, though.

“Did you get in a fight?”

“Did you fall or something?”

I glance over at her sitting on the couch behind me, still wearing my shirt, her thick thighs on full display. She’s scrolling through her phone, pretending not to notice me staring.

“Nah,” I say, smirking. “No fight. No fall. Just... let’s call it ‘relationship perks.’”

Chat explodes.

“WHAT???”

“VINNIE EXPLAIN.”

“PERKS???”

She looks up from her phone and arches an eyebrow at me. “Relationship perks, huh?”

“What?” I shoot back, grinning. “It’s true.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, and that only makes me laugh harder.

About halfway through the stream, I’m taking a break to grab water when she wanders into the kitchen. She’s still wearing my shirt, and it’s slipping off one shoulder, exposing her soft, brown skin. She’s so tiny—barely reaching my chest, but she packs enough attitude for someone twice her size.

“Hey,” I call out, pulling her into my arms before she can escape.

“Vinnie, you’re live,” she says, swatting at my hands, though she doesn’t pull away.

“They can wait,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then, because I can’t help myself, I add, “God, your thighs drive me insane, you know that?”

Her cheeks flush, and she smacks my chest lightly. “Shut up!”

“What?” I tease, spinning her around and planting her on the counter. “It’s true. You’re so beautiful, baby. I can’t get enough of you.”

She bites her lip, trying to hide her smile, but I catch it anyway. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“And you’re lucky I love you,” I shoot back, leaning in to kiss her again.

By the end of the stream, the chat is still buzzing with questions about my lips, my back, and my overall mood. I ignore most of them, but when someone asks why I’m grinning so much, I can’t help but answer.

“Because life’s good,” I say simply. “And my girl’s even better.”

She throws a pillow at me from across the room, and I laugh so hard I almost fall out of my chair.

Life really is good.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

#support the writers!#oneshot #vinnie fluff #vinnie hacker #vinnie imagines #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie x y/n #black reader #poc reader #vinnie hacker x black reader #black reader insert #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie smut #gabi writes #gabi answers #vinnie being a munch

165 notes · View notes

makeyoumine69 · 1 year ago

Note

for your 2k follow celebration, could you do wife fem!reader x husband patrick? patrick has a lactation kink (reader is breastfeeding) and facesitting? angel / pretty as pet names <3

You're My Snack

PAIRING: Husband!Patrick Bateman x Wife!Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Your husband is hungry and horny. Only you can satisfy his hunger since you're his favorite snack.

CONTAINS: Smut, Daddy kink, lactation kink, spanking, body worship, tit sucking/nipple play, face-sitting, pet names, dirty talk.

WORDS: Around 1k

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, I hope you like it! 💗��

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [2k CELEBRATION MASTERLIST]

You always knew that your beloved husband, named Patrick Bateman, had many kinks, but you never imagined that he would be so turned on by breastfeeding — once he tasted your milk, he couldn't stop thinking about it, and whenever he got a chance to latch his greedy mouth around your swollen nipple, he did it with a desperate ferocity.

That night, Bateman found you peacefully napping on the couch, and he couldn't take his dark eyes off your heavy breasts that looked so captivating in your tight top. Licking his lower lip briefly, Patrick approached your sleepy form and traced a finger along your cheekbone.

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured in a low voice, sliding his thumb down to your lips to part them. "My pretty girl."

A sudden surge of heat rushed through your body as his warm mouth found the most sensual spot on your delicate neck, and that delightful sensation woke you up. Batting your long eyelashes, you tried to get up, only to be easily positioned on his lap.

"I've missed you, Angel," he nipped your earlobe, his hands wasting no time exploring your curvaceous body. "I've been thinking about tasting you all fucking day."

"But I–" You stammered as Bateman cut you off with a searing, sloppy kiss on your lips.

"You only fed me in the morning, right?" He arched his brow playfully as his nimble fingers were busy outlining the shape of your hard little tips. " So, I'm hungry again."

His silky voice flowed through every particle of your trembling frame, making you submit as if you were spellbound. "Uh, you're so insatiable ..."

"It's all because of you, honey," Patrick grinned before pulling up your top with ease, his mouth watering at the sight of your milk-filled breasts and the next moment he was already swirling his wet tongue around your engorged nipple. "You like it, don't you?"

Considering how badly you were shaking; it was kind of pointless to deny it. "Yes, Daddy," you used that nickname faster than you could even realize it. "Please ... leave some milk for the baby."

Bateman groaned in response, sucking covetously at your tender flesh — the sweet taste of your milk was intoxicating, forcing his blood to rush through his veins. Hot and bothered, Patrick released your swollen peak with a loud pop, licking every single drop of your breast milk.

"Fuck, you're so tasty," he pulled you even closer, making you wrap your legs around his waist and grind against the hard bulge in his pants. "Do you want to ride Daddy's face after he finishes his meal?"

Oh shit, that sneaky bastard knew how to hit the bullseye when he needed to.

"Yes..." you gasped and involuntarily brought his head closer to your chest, shutting your eyes as you were about to lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation. "You're s-so hard, Daddy...mhmm...I can feel it."

With a low chuckle, Bateman painfully tugged at your nipples before slapping your ass with both hands, savoring all of your high-pitched wails, not to mention the way you frowned every time your dripping pussy rubbed against his hardness.

"Ahh, look at you," he slapped your butt once more, then gave your ass cheeks a pretty rough squeeze. "Enjoying yourself, babygirl? So eager for my cock?"

His dirty talk didn't give you a chance, as by now you couldn't control your moans or the needy rocking of your hips against his firm ones. "Lie down already!"

Your sudden attempt to take the lead took him by surprise for a moment, but instead of restraining you or punishing you for defying his dominance, Bateman just sneered mischievously and did as you asked.

"All right, Angel," he crooned teasingly as he lay back on the soft, white couch and loosened his red tie. "Go ahead, show me how well you can use Daddy's face."

Patrick didn't have to ask you twice.

Carefully but confidently, you positioned yourself on top of his beautiful face, leaving inches between your soaped slit and his ravenous mouth, ready to devour you at any moment.

"Don't doubt me, Daddy," you murmured excitedly as you moved your panties aside and descended lower, his perfectly shaped nose brushing so deliciously against your taut, lower lips. "Awww, Patrick..."

At first, Bateman lay still and only stuck out his tongue, allowing you to take control and set the pace that was comfortable for you, each slide along his scorching flesh igniting you with passion. Whimpering uncontrollably, you tangled your fingers in his brown curls, bucking your hips back and forth along his face, drowning in the pool of pleasure his mouth was giving you, exploring your oozing folds delightfully and sucking on your blushing clit.

"Daddy," you gasped, tilting your head as you felt your orgasm building in your core, Bateman noticed it immediately and held your hips tightly to keep you in one place. "I'm close... I'm so damn close!"

"Mmhm, my slutty little Angel," Patrick's muffled voice reverberated against your throbbing bud, making it hard for you to move, but now it was his turn to take control as his strong hands on your thighs encouraged you to keep grinding on his tongue. "(Y/n), you ride my face so fucking good."

As soon as he felt your body convulse, Batemn pressed his thumb to your bundle of nerves to make the friction completely unbearable, accompanying it with merciless lapping at your wet entrance, plunging his tongue inside as you reached your climax, intending to make your orgasm even more blissful.

"Pat-Patrick...mmmmhm," you gripped his arms almost painfully, but he didn't even flinch. "Your mouth...feels so good...I love...I love you..."

Patrick could barely keep himself from giggling at your pleading comments, but he couldn't deny that they worshipped his ego like nothing else in this world.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

1K notes · View notes

awkward-walking-potato · 4 months ago

Note

This is my first time suggesting anything, so I'm quite excited, Can u do a nightcrawler/Kurt x goth Mutant reader (whose power is smoke like turning herself into smoke or smoke like Illusions) and kinda acts and looks like Morticia Addams and just how there relationship is like Morticia and Gomezs relationship (like how obsessed they are with each other and how genuine there love for each other is)

Shadows of Devotion

The mansion was alive with activity, as it always was, but there was a particular stillness that followed you as you moved through the halls. Your presence commanded attention, though you sought none. Draped in your usual attire—a long, flowing black dress that trailed behind you like smoke—you moved with an ethereal grace that turned heads wherever you went. Your dark hair framed your pale face in soft waves, and your piercing eyes held a depth that could silence a room with a single glance.

You had a reputation among the students and staff, not just for your appearance, but for your powers. You could transform into smoke at will, slipping through cracks and crevices like a wraith, or conjure illusions of shadowy figures that seemed to float in the air. Your powers were as mysterious as you were, and the combination of the two had earned you the whispered nickname of "The Lady of Shadows."

But there was one person who saw you differently, who saw past the dark exterior and into the heart that beat with as much passion as any. That person was Kurt Wagner—Nightcrawler.

To Kurt, you were perfection incarnate, his “Schatz” and “Liebchen,” words he often murmured against your skin as he kissed your hand with the kind of devotion that could only come from a love as deep and unyielding as his. Your relationship was the subject of much curiosity, especially among those who had never seen a love like yours—a love that was intense, almost obsessive, yet so genuine and pure that it left everyone in awe.

Kurt found you in the library one evening, sitting in a high-backed chair, your fingers trailing over the pages of an old book. The light from the candles cast long shadows around you, making you appear even more otherworldly. His heart swelled at the sight, and he wasted no time teleporting to your side, appearing with a soft bamf and the faint scent of brimstone.

“Mein Engel,” he greeted you, his voice low and full of affection. He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips with the kind of reverence that made your breath catch.

“Kurt,” you replied, a smile curving your lips as you looked up at him, your dark eyes glimmering with warmth that only he ever saw. “How many times must I tell you, I’m hardly an angel.”

“To me, you are,” he insisted, his yellow eyes glowing with adoration as he held your gaze.

He never grew tired of the sight of you, never tired of the way you looked at him like he was the only person in the world. It was the same way he looked at you. Kurt was utterly captivated by you, as if every word you spoke, every movement you made, was an enchanting spell that kept him bound to you—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You closed the book and set it aside, standing to face him fully. As you did, you let your body dissolve into smoke for a brief moment, swirling around him before reappearing in his arms, a playful smile on your lips. “You’re hopelessly in love with me, aren’t you?” you teased, your voice a soft, velvety whisper.

“Ja, hopelessly,” he confessed without hesitation, his arms tightening around you. “Ich bin dir verfallen, mein Liebling. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

His words sent a thrill through you, as they always did. There was something about the way Kurt expressed his love—so openly, so passionately—that made your heart race. It was a love that others might find overwhelming, but for you, it was perfect.

With a graceful flourish, Kurt dipped you, his tail curling around your waist to support you as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, slow and tender, savoring the moment. When he pulled back, he didn’t go far, his forehead resting against yours as he gazed into your eyes. “Dance with me,” he murmured.

“Always,” you whispered back, your voice full of the same unwavering devotion.

He straightened, pulling you back up with him, and the two of you began to move together, as if the music was something only you could hear. Kurt’s movements were as fluid and graceful as yours, his experience as an acrobat making him the perfect partner. The two of you danced through the library, your dress swirling around you like smoke, his tail playfully curling and uncurling as he twirled you around.

Every step was filled with an unspoken promise, every touch an affirmation of the love that bound you together. It wasn’t just a dance; it was an expression of everything you felt for each other, a love so deep and consuming that it left no room for doubt or hesitation.

As the dance slowed, Kurt pulled you close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Ich liebe dich, meine Königin der Nacht.”

“And I love you, my Nightcrawler,” you replied, your voice filled with all the tenderness you felt for him.

He leaned in for another kiss, this one more passionate, more urgent, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. And in truth, he couldn’t. You were his obsession, his muse, the light in his darkness—and he was yours.

The kiss deepened, and you could feel the heat between you intensifying. His hands roamed over your back, his touch igniting a fire that seemed to burn brighter with each passing second. You responded in kind, your fingers threading through his hair as you pressed yourself closer to him, wanting to feel every part of him.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady your racing hearts.

“You’ll be the death of me,” you whispered playfully, though the words were tinged with genuine emotion.

“Then I shall die a happy man,” Kurt responded with a soft chuckle, his hands still holding you close. “But until then, I will spend every moment loving you with everything I am.”

“And I will love you,” you replied, your voice steady and sincere. “Forever and always.”

The mansion might have been filled with other mutants, with students and teachers who were powerful in their own right, but none could rival the power of the love that you and Kurt shared. It was a love that was dark and passionate, yet full of light and joy—a love that consumed you both, and yet left you feeling more whole than you had ever been.

#marvel imagine #x men imagine #kurt wagner oneshot #kurt wagner imagine #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner #nightcrawler one shot #nightcrawler imagine #nightcrawler

152 notes · View notes

deafsignifcantother · 6 months ago

Text

alastor just being weird

♥ summary: alastor wanting you solely for the fact that you smell delightful so he starts searching your room ♥ relationships: alastor x [deaf] woman reader, deafness not a major point ♥ word count: 600 ♥ notes: reader wears makeup, she likes photography, she also doesn't really gaf about alastor being snoopy and weird LOLZ

Now that you're not in here, he can look around. He's welcomed himself into your empty room, eyes roaming everywhere except the attached bathroom, of course. He's immoral but not indecent. Where should he even start?

As the hotelier, it is his job to meet and make the guests comfortable. To be able to do that, he needs to know more about you, which is out of kindness and does not relate to how good you smell or how he would enjoy making you his next meal, most be mistaken.

Your dresser's drawers are a good start.

Just a standard assortment of socks and underwear, some salacious as any demon would have, neatly arranged. One pair of fishnets, a small collection of photos, a camera, a notebook. Do you always keep things like this? Or did you develop a new habit after the sudden move-in. He is hoping to find a clue as to who you are, and notebooks have saved him a lot of times before. He lightly picks it up and flips it open. Blank pages. Do you write in invisible ink? His claws finger through the pages one at a time before he bends them and watches them fly by. There's nothing.

He's wasting time. He places it back and lifts up the photos. The red sky above. One is a long shot of the pentagram with the Hazbin Hotel in the center.

In the next drawer there are no clothes, only a single makeup bag and accessories. Mismatched earrings, it seems you have a habit of losing one of every pair and then stashing them away—in case you find the other?

Alastor opens the drawer closest to the ground. Empty except for what he can only guess is a miscellaneous drawer. The brush smells like you from the multiple hair strands wrapped around it. His nose twitches; how delightful. He reaches for it slowly, brain rocking back and forth in his skull. But by the time he grips the handle, it's too late to stop. The bristles meet his nose, and he takes a whiff, savoring the pleasant fragrance that fills his lungs. He puts it back before he gets carried away.

Your room has a lovely and quite large wooden wardrobe. As he expected, when he opens it, there is space needing to be filled. His smile twitches at the soft gust of your smell; the scent assaults his hunger.

His index claw drags down a long sleeve, wrapping around the material and bringing it up to his nose. Even when clean, you've corrupted the cotton.

The moment the door opens, he fades into the shadows. He stands before the bathroom door as you step out in a robe, fresh out of the shower. It's the robe he gifted you, a welcome gift. He'll never tell you it's for capturing the soapy aroma of your wet body.

You look behind him, eyes flickering back. His smile tightens. Ah, he left the wardrobe's door open.

Alastor straightens his suit, shoulders a bit taut from embarrassment. He makes a show of brushing off his sleeves while you stand in the same place; the weight of your stare makes him sweat. "Well, my dear, I'm afraid I must be off, one can't even imagine the things I'm busied with!"

He looks up at you, his monocle hiding one of his eyes, his expression unreadable while he waits for a response. His wavery pupils match the small, excited shake of his hands. He doesn't leave immediately, curious him.

"And 'be off' you may," you walk past him, signing in simple pse to strengthen your point, not acknowledging him further. Your hand rests on the wooden frame, getting a small glance inside the wardrobe before closing it softly. By the time you turn around, Alastor is gone.

#hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #x deaf reader

196 notes · View notes

sometimesanalice · 2 years ago

Text

Give Me Your Hand {Here Is My Heart}

Summary: You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like to be in Bradley Bradshaw’s bed, and now you finally get to find out. (Spoiler: It’s even better than you could have ever imagined.)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K+

Warnings: so much smut with a side of fluff (Minors DNI)

(This is a 2-Part series for the “Like I Can” Universe. However, it can be read on its own!) Read Part 1 here!

“Well, are you coming?”

You are two lace trimmed bits of cotton away from being naked, and you can feel his heated gaze traveling over your body as you walk towards his stairs with a teasing sway of your hips.

If you had known you were going to end your night shimmying down your little red dress in front of Bradley, you might have tried to wear something a bit more underneath it, just for him.

But there was no missing the intensity and the desire that was in his eyes as he had watched you strip before him. It was more than clear that liked what he saw.

The appreciative way Bradley was looking at you made your everyday underwear feel sexier than La Perla ever could.

You don’t get very far before your whole world tilts as you’re lifted off the ground and tossed over his broad shoulder.

“Oh my god, Bradley! Warn a girl.” The sound coming out of you part gasp, part laugh.

“Heads up, kid.” There is no missing the smug smile in his voice, as he grips you a little tighter.

You’re dangling behind him trying to support yourself on his lower back, a useless endeavor since every step he takes up the stairs only serves to make you lose your grasp.

“Are you sure you got a strong enough hold on my ass there, Bradshaw?” you complain flippantly.

You wiggle a little trying to alleviate some of the pressure on your stomach.

“Stop trying to distract me,” he grunts, digging his fingertips further into the fleshy muscle in a way you didn’t mind at all. “I’m carrying some precious cargo.”

He tops off the end of his sentence with a light swat of his hand on your other cheek, and you have to bite your lip to keep from making the noise that was trying to crawl it’s way out of your throat, one that would give away just how much you liked his strong hands on your ass.

Bradley stops at the first door on the left and bends a little as he eases you off his shoulder. You lean back against the wall watching self-indulgently as he straightens up in front of you.

There is nothing subtle about Bradley Bradshaw. Not the commanding way he enters a room. Not the force of his energetic smile. Not the powerful build of his body. And definitely not the way he is checking you out.

It’s your first time being up here, there’s never been a reason to come upstairs before. You can’t help but wonder if the spaces here have the same sense of functional practicality as his downstairs does. Everything has a purpose, but nothing has much of a personality.

And Bradley has the best personality.

Maybe if you ask nicely he will let you help him pick out some things to make his place feel more like a home. More like him.

Reaching out you thread a finger through one of his belt loops and tug him closer to you. Bradley grins as he comes to crowd you against the wall before leaning in to kiss you, his warm hands coming up to frame your face.

For the other men you’ve dated in the past, kissing was a means to an end. A mandatory part of foreplay to perform in order to speed things along. But with Bradley, he kisses you with a type of single-minded determinedness that always sends your heart racing.

He has never been the type to do anything half-heartedly. Kissing is the agenda. It is the main course. He is happy to take his time to savor the taste and feel of you. He’s not thinking about how quickly he can move on to the next thing. He kisses you like he couldn’t dream of doing anything else.

You have never felt so entirely treasured in your life as you do right now outside of his bedroom in his arms.

It’s hard to fight back the smile that makes it impossible for him to keep his lips on yours, and when he pulls back the look on his face is nothing short than pure fondness.

“I’m excited to have you like this,” you admit to him, soft and sure.

It would be a new first, a new moment, a new memory. His and yours alone.

“Yeah?” he asks with a gentle smile quirked to one side. “I am too.” He settles his hands on your hips, his thumbs skimming over the skin at right above the waistband of your panties. “We go at your speed, sweet girl. As much or as little as you want. Whatever you want is what I want too.”

“And if I want everything?”

“Then I’ll give you everything,” he promises, pulling you close to get his mouth on yours again. You could taste the unspoken always in his kiss.

There was still a small part of you that was nervous about what feelings could come up in the after, the worry that bittersweet what-ifs could color all of your perfect memories with him. But you were done with not letting yourself have everything you want with him.

And with one more indulgent kiss to his lips, you take his hand and lead the way into his bedroom.

Bradley lingers near the door as he watches you take in his bedroom. One could call it snooping, but he knew you’d have some other smart-assed term for it.

He had been able to tell that something was on your mind for a while. And the last thing he wanted to do was put pressure on this new thing between the two of you by making you talk about it before you were ready.

You had always been in his life, but when you moved to San Diego after living separate lives for over fifteen years, he couldn’t deny that it felt different being around you again. In a good way, in the best way.

And those terrible dates you went on had made him come to terms with his feelings much earlier than you. Bradley knew exactly what he wanted with you, and he would give you all the time you needed to get there too.

He is amused, but not surprised, when the first thing you do is go to investigate is his bookshelf. Your fingers skimming the spines as you read over the titles.

It’s mainly a collection of NATOPS manuals he’s memorized inside and out from the aircrafts he’s been trained to use and other technical handbooks, along with his old collection of the Hardy Boys, a few political biographies and mystery novels he hasn’t had the chance to read yet.

He had felt like such an idiot when he made that joke about sleeping with the enemy in your car on the way to the surprise movie date you had planned for him. He hadn’t missed the way your body had tensed up. Or how you would always pull back and stumble over some flimsy reason why you had to call it a night when things would get on the exciting side of too heated or too physical.

He knew that you would come around to telling him what was holding you back on your own time, he just didn’t expect it to be after you had come in his lap from rubbing yourself on him in that sinful dress of yours.

The one that taunted and tempted him from the second he had opened his door that night. The one now a heap somewhere on the floor of his living room.

“So why do men love bitches, Bradley?” The question shakes him from his musings.

You turn to him with a mischievous smile painted on your pretty face as you gleefully show off the book that he had completely forgotten about like you have hit the jackpot.

“How do I still have that?” He huffs a laugh crossing towards you, leaning on hip on his desk to get a closer look. “Nat give it to me after I broke up with my ex a few years ago, they never got along. She even drew some red flags on the paper she wrapped it in when she gave it to me.”

“Ah, that explains the inscription. ‘Know the playbook, so you don’t get played again.’” you read with a snort. “For what it’s worth, I never liked Paige either. She was always seemed like such a shit-stirrer. Good thing you came to your senses. He’s pretty and smart, folks.” You send him a playful little wink before you go back to your investigation of his room.

It’s not even a contest, you are his absolute favorite person in this world.

And you look so perfect, so real in your nude bra and white panties in his bedroom. He likes that this wasn’t planned, that he gets to have you so authentically. He wants you just as you are.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he can’t help but wonder a little self-consciously what his space must look like to you through your eyes as you wander around.

His room is a mismatched collection of furniture that people have passed along to him over the years. Stuff that others didn’t need or that they upgraded from to something newer and better. Everything else that wasn’t donated to him were easily assembled things from IKEA.

He didn’t mind it in here, but he’s also never particularly liked it. It’s always just been a place to sleep.

He has his sturdy wood bed frame against one wall, it creaks sometimes when he turns over but he that’s what he got for putting it together after a few of beers. There is large print hung above it so the wall wasn’t totally bare. Next to his bookcase was a desk and small filing cabinet. He has a spare room in his condo that he has been meaning to turn into an office, but this set up was familiar to him after so many years of living in the barracks.

But if you were going to be here with him, Bradley wanted you to be comfortable in his home. Maybe he could find a few new things for the room to make it nicer, cozier for you with stuff that wasn’t other peoples’ cast offs.

There was only one nightstand for fuck’s sake, which is where he watches you linger in front of now.

“Wait, Bradley. Is this…” you trail off, picking up the framed sheet music from his nightstand. Your finger traces over the upper righthand corner in the exact spot where he knows three vibrant blazing fireballs decorate the page.

Hand-drawn by a ten-year-old you.

They were overly cartoonish in the way that most kids’ drawings were at that age. But it was obvious you had spent time on it for him by the way the reds, oranges, and yellows of your colored penciled artwork had been perfectly blended.

“Yeah.” He has to clear his throat, “Yeah, it is.”

“I can’t believe you still have this,” you say quietly.

You had given him the book of sheet music that included his favorite crowd-pleasing song to play on the piano for his twelfth birthday. He had had the notes memorized for almost a decade before he had put it in a frame, he had wanted to have this reminder of home with him instead of sitting in a box somewhere.

Other than the mounted toy fighter jet his mom had given him, it was the only thing that he had always taken with him as he moved around the world from base to base.

He thought he had seen every expression that’s ever crossed your face, but you have never looked at him like quite like this before. Your face is filled with such tenderness and something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Well, you know what Marie Kondo says about things that sparks joy,” he jokes light-heartedly, trying to find his footing again.

“Is there anything else in here that sparks joy in here?” You put the frame back down, observing him with your head tilted to the side as you sat on his bed and leaned back on your hands. It did amazing things to your chest.

“I can think of one or two things,” he says, playing along. You look so perfect in his bed, it was going to feel too big without you in it now.

“Are you going to come join me? Or do you just want to keep on checking out my breasts from over there?” you ask teasingly, pushing yourself back further on top of his bed. Your feet are resting on the edge, knees knocked together swaying enticingly from side to side.

You are easily the prettiest thing in his room.

Bradley takes his time as he saunters over to come join you at the bed. But when he comes to stand at the edge of the mattress, you stop him with a dainty foot to his chest.

“That’s bold of you to assume you this is a clothing permitted establishment,” you say popping up onto your elbows, applying a bit more force to where you’re pressing into him.

“Is that so?” he hums. Wrapping his hand around your ankle, he lets his thumb circle over the rounded joint there. “You know you’re in my room, in my bed, right?”

“Mm-hmm. I’m very aware. I like how it smells like you in here.” He watches as your hand makes indistinguishable shapes on the top of his linen duvet, “I’ve got to say, I’m pretty sure I’ve the best view in the house right now.”

He rakes his eyes over your figure, “Hm, think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.”

“You might be right,” you tell him cheekily, “My view could be so much better if you’d take some clothes off.”

“You sayin’ you want a show, kid?”

“I wouldn’t say no to one, if you are offering,” you say stretching like a satisfied cat. And there are those dimples of yours. If only you knew how just how gone he was for them.

“I can give you a show.” His voice is whiskey smooth as he squeezes your ankle.

Bradley holds your hot, greedy gaze as he removes his watch and sets it down on the nightstand. The way he undoes the buttons on his shirt could almost be called lazy if it weren’t for the purposeful way he watched your every shallow breath, as he listened to your unsteady exhales.

He has to tap on your foot to remind you to lift it off of his chest so that he can take his shirt off. You rest that foot high on his thigh instead, dangerously close to his quickly hardening cock. And then he is tugging his shirt off and tossing it somewhere behind him.

The fabric of his comforter is clenched tight beneath your fists.

Reaching behind his neck he grasps the collar of his tank, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion making sure that his biceps and abs are flexed for your benefit. If you wanted something to look at, he was going to give you an eyeful.

He lets out a satisfied sound as lets his hand indulgently, leisurely trail down his chest, down his abdomen as he watches you steadily. There is no reason for him to hold back his proud smirk when sees the way your lips part as he reaches the top of his jeans.

“How am I doing?” he drawls knowingly.

Your eyes are glued to his hand as he languidly unbuckles his belt.

“Good. Yeah, very good.” He sees the way you swallow hard as he begins to pull it out from his belt loops. The thick tension building between the two of you has his pulse pounding.

He likes the desire he sees reflected in your eyes as you take him in, “I’d leave you at least four-stars on Yelp.”

Bradley lets his belt fall to the floor, it lands with a satisfying clunk. Your eyes fly to his at the sound.

“Mm, only four-stars? Such a tough critic,” he muses lightly as he casually runs his finger up and down your calf. “What’s a guy gotta do to get five?”

You’re devouring him with your eyes and he wants to take over the way you’re nibbling on your lower lip with his teeth. “Drop the denim, Bradshaw.”

“You’re right, it’s only fair,” he concedes, admiring the way your nipples are raised against the cups of your bra. He teases a finger under the black elastic band that is peeking out from over the top of his favorite jeans, “I’m telling you now that what’s under these isn’t anywhere as pretty as what you’ve got on.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much,” you say as primly as possible given how affected you are, pressing your foot harder into the muscle of his thigh. “Plus, I think you’re plenty pretty.”

God, he loves that he gets to have you like this.

That even when you’re both half naked and riled up you can still banter with each other. That he can still make you smile and you can still make him laugh all while the undercurrent of need pulses around you.

“Bradley, come on.” The hint of whine that accompanies the way you say his name goes straight to his cock. He wouldn’t mind hearing you beg sweetly for him sometime, but not tonight.

He was going to give you whatever you wanted.

“Patience, sweet girl. I’m putting on a show here, remember?” he tells you with a playful grin as he bends over your body to kiss you deeply. Your legs part for him and come up to hug his hips. When he pulls away after a few moments you move to sit up, chasing the feeling of his mouth on yours. But he puts a hand to your sternum pressing you back down onto his bed with his fingertips before standing up to his full height above you.

The silence in the room is deafening as he unbuttons the top of his jeans. And then he is slowly pulling his zipper down for you.

Your heart is hammering as Bradley peels off those form-fitting jeans of his strong legs.

His body is a work of art. You could stare for hours and still find something new to admire. From the rounded definition of his shoulders, the smattering of chest hair between his full pectorals, the ridges and valleys of his abs, to the v-shaped muscles that lead your eyes directly to the outline of his hard, thick cock that you’re getting an up-close look at for the first time.

It looks as good as the rest of him does.

“Good god,” you groan, covering your eyes. “Honestly, Bradley?” The sound of his deep, warm chuckle has you pulling your hands away from your face, he is clearly amused by your reaction. “Be serious with me right now, that is totally how you got your callsign, isn’t it?” Gesturing to his sizable cock with a wave of your hand.

“I’ve told you that story before,” he tells you as he climbs on the bed and settles next to you.

“You’ve told me a story, but I’ve never believed it.” You turn on your side to fully face him, throwing one of your legs over him as nonchalantly as possible, as if it was totally normal to be half-naked in his bed with him. “‘I was just the only morning person on my squad’,” you say lowering your voice mimic his, “I don’t buy it. Not to mention, Natasha always made a face whenever you told that version to someone who was flirting with you.”

“Fine, you really wanna know?” he asks as he squeezes your hip. His cheeks are already lightly flushed, and now you’re downright giddy about this new development. It’s not often you get to see him so bashful around you.

“I knew you were withholding important information from me, Rooster,” you trill.

He grunts something unintelligible before he has you gasping when he grips your thigh and rolls over, pinning you underneath him.

And oh. You like the feel of him pressed against you.

There is something comforting about the weight of his hard, sunkissed body as he relaxes more fully on you. It wasn’t like you didn’t know he was built but the sheer sturdiness of him and how he fits with you like this is so good it’s dizzying.

He really is so handsome. With his face this close to yours, you can see every shade of brown in his pretty eyes. You bring a hand up to his face, letting your fingers brush over the coarse hairs of his mustache.

“Don’t think that just because you manhandled me, that you’re off the hook here. I’m not so easily distracted.” It’s a lie, but you think you pull it off well.

“Ok, ok,” he relents, kissing your fingertips then guiding your hand around to the base of his neck. “There are usually two versions of the story that pilots will tell, the one that makes them look good and the one that actually happened. But most pilots get their callsign from doing something stupid or screwing something up.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” you say with a teasing grin. “Which category do you fall in?”

“Believe it or not, both,” he admits ruefully. A small boyish smile on his face.

“Oh, I believe it,” you beamed.

“So,” he continues, with a fond shake of his head, “There was a girl I used to hook up with in my squadron. We had a friends with benefits type thing for a while when we were first deployed.” That made you scrunch you nose, he chuckles leaning in to kiss your cheek. “But she was always, uh, loud. Especially when I would go down on her.” He says that last part in a rush, almost like he is trying to gloss over it.

It wasn’t a secret to you that Bradley had gotten around, you had heard the whispers when you visited him at UVA and in the bathroom at the Hard Deck when you had first moved here. And it wasn’t like you had been sitting on your couch knitting like some Jane Austen spinster, you have had your fun too.

“Mmm-hmm.” You stroke his leg with your foot encouraging him to continue.

He is entirely adorable in the way he full-blown blushing now as he tries so hard not to fidget, even as his fingers idly play with the strap of your bra.

“We were fooling around early one morning after she has stayed over. Which I am sure you can guess, that kind of socializing was very much frowned upon,” he allows with a sheepish dip of his head. “As it turned out, one of the Petty Officers decided to do a surprise barracks inspection that morning. And, uh, well, we didn’t hear his arrival and the announcement or any of the noise in the hallway-”

“Because you’re good with your mouth,” you gleefully interject.

“You said it not me, kid,” he says nudging your cheek with his nose. You are grinning so wide now because he is getting so flustered as his story goes on. “So fast forward to us getting caught in the act. They let her run back to her own barrack, but I had to stand there at attention for the whole inspection in my boxer briefs with a hard-on.

The mental image of that was equal parts amusing and appealing, especially after the show he just gave you.

“And since my clothes were still on the ground from the night before, I got an auto-fail for having gear adrift. They even called in some of the guys from my unit to double check the inspection results and make an example out of my, um, indiscretion. After that, well, Rooster stuck.”

“I knew it!” you hoot before bursting into a fit of laughter. “I knew there had to be an X-rated reason, you dirty bird. Oh my god, Bradley! No wonder why Nat can’t keep a straight face.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chuckles good-naturedly, his eyes crinkling in the corner. “There you have it, that’s the whole story. And just so you know, it is literally on the record that I was an early riser when I got written up for it. So technically that part is true.”

“In more ways than one,” you titter with a lewd wiggle of your eyebrows.

He looks up to the ceiling and groans, “How long are you going to tease me about this, kid?”

You make a big show about doing the math in your head until he nips at your collarbone.

“Probably for as long as you’ve had your callsign, I’ve got a few years to catch up on. It’s only fair since you lied to me, your best friend, for so long. I’m wounded,” you lament unconvincingly.

“I had an image as a responsible adult to maintain.” That makes you snort as you wrap both of your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you.

You half-heartedly roll your eyes, “I’m only two years younger than you.”

“Mm, that makes you the baby here,” he hums against your neck. “Wasn’t gonna give you the full version back then, not when you had such impressionable ears.”

His body is so warm, so solid against yours. And his thigh is pressing into the center of you. You’re surprised how quickly he can go from making you laugh to making you squirm.

“You know what I don’t get?” you muse tugging on his curls.

He runs mustache along your neck, “Enlighten me.”

“Why would they punish you when they could have just made you pose for the cover of a Navy pamphlet? Seems a little shortsighted, if you ask me,” you quip, a bit breathlessly. “I mean, they’d be turning down new recruits left and right. Everyone would be so inspired to serve their country. Propaganda with a side of eye candy.”

Bradley pinches your waist, making you yelp and rock against him. He sucks in a sharp breath at the contact. The mood shifting instantly from playful into something else entirely.

“You like what you see, huh?” He shifts his weight into his arms, lifting up a bit. Not only do you have a stellar view of his abs now, but also of his defined biceps by your head.

“Are you fishing for compliments, Rooster?” You glide your fingers along the crests of his ribs.

“I don’t mind getting my ego stroked every now and then.”

“What about other things?” you murmur, sliding your hand in between your bodies to grasp him through his boxer briefs.

He groans your name before claiming your mouth for a hot kiss.

“Come on, Bradley. I want the full experience,” you pant against his lips, “I heard how the girls talked about you.”

“I’ve learned a few more things since then,” he rasps, grinding himself more fully against you.

“Good, I’d hope so. Now, show me.”

Show me. Show me. Show me.

He can’t keep his mouth or hands in one place for too long. He wants to taste you everywhere. He wants to touch you everywhere.

You are looking at him with such open want. Your pupils blown wide, your lips kiss-swollen. He was unprepared for just how perfect your body would feel under his. You’re so beautiful spread out before him on his bed. Green might be his favorite color on you, he was biased, but you looked stunning pillowed against his navy duvet.

He had told you he’d give you anything you wanted and he meant it. If you wanted the full experience then he was going to give you the best damn time of your life.

Bradley licks his lips before lowering his head back down for a kiss, moaning at the slide of your wet, soft lips against his. He loves the sound your needy whine as you cant your hips against him.

You tilt your neck to the side giving him more room to get his mouth on the delicate column of your throat. The smell of your perfume and shampoo makes his blood thrum in his veins. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this desperate for someone in his life as he is for you.

He slips his hand around your ribcage and under you, groaning when your breasts rub against his chest as you arch into him. He runs his fingers along the band of your bra feeling for the little clasps that are preventing you from being bared before him.

After the third pass he makes, you pull away from his mouth with a little grin, “Bradley, it’s a front clasp”. Taking pity on him you guide his hand to the shiny little closure resting in the valley between your breasts.

He chuckles self-deprecatingly toying with it for a second before asking, “You mean to tell me this is both pretty and functional?”

Your giggle turns into a whimper when he flicks it open and pulls it off of you. Tossing it somewhere to be discovered later.

And then his is finally, finally getting to see you in the way he’s spent many nights with his hand wrapped around his cock imagining.

“How are you so soft everywhere?” he murmurs tracing a finger down your bare sternum. He rubs his mustache over the sensitive tips of your pebbled nipples before claiming one with his mouth.

Your hands fly to his hair as he sucks and teases this newly uncovered part of you. He moans as you start grinding against him in earnest before switching over to the other, his hand coming up to cup and squeeze the taut bud that was wet and shiny from his mouth.

The sounds you are making are nothing like he has ever heard from you before. And he can’t wait to spend hours with your body learning all the things that make you whimper and whine and sigh.

With one more flick of his tongue against your nipple, he trails hungry kisses down your neck. He stops once to admire the little freckle high on your right ribcage before continuing his way down your body. He likes how easily your legs fall open for him as he settles himself at the center of you. At how much trust you are handing over to him.

“You still doing good, sweet girl?” he asks into the crease of your thigh.

“So, so good,” you exhale roughly. One of your hands is skimming along the skin of his shoulders, your delicate finger stroking over the scar there. “Five-stars, Bradley. Easily.”

“Mm, you sure I deserve that? Haven’t done anything to earn it,” he hums, teasing kisses along the lace edge of your white panties. “Haven’t even made you come yet.”

“Bradley.”

“Can I take these off and make you come with my mouth?” He slides a finger under the elastic band. “Can I earn that five-stars?”

“Yes, yes,” you nod rapidly, “I want that.”

Bradley slides his thumbs under the sides of your perfectly practical panties and starts to pull the last of your clothing off. He’s dreamt about you naked and on display for him, he is eager to discover every freckle, every mole, every scar on you.

You are almost revealed to him when he stops. His eyes snag on a spot on the inside of your right hipbone. A tattoo.

The tattoo.

He remembers the night at the Hard Deck when he had learned about its existence with picture perfect clarity.

Fanboy had been showing off the fresh ink on his forearm for the full sleeve he was in the process of getting, which had then turned into display of skin as his friends pulled up and rolled up their clothes to share their own. It was probably for the best that he had an aversion to needles or else he probably could have ended up with some misspelled Latin phrase like Payback had along his forearm.

Just as Hangman had finished tugging his shirt back down, he had turned towards you at the tall stool you were sitting on and asked, “What about you, darlin’? Anything to share with the class?”

There was gleam in his eye that Bradley had not appreciated in the slightest. Especially since he had made it perfectly clear that his best friend was off limits to the group of cocky aviators.

You had only relocated to San Diego a couple of months ago, and he hadn’t realized how much he had missed living in the same area as you. And you were already fitting in with everyone like you’d been there for years.

“Yeah, I’ve got one,” you shrugged taking a sip of your drink while he nearly choked on his.

“What? No, you don’t,” he asserted as he elbowed Hangman out of the spot he was leaning on next to you.

“Uh, yeah, I definitely do.”

He didn’t get why you were looking at him like he had a second head. You were his best friend, that’s something that definitely would have come up in conversation at some point if you did have one. Right?

“I’ve never seen one on you,” he’d said adamantly.

He eyes quickly traveled over your body, you were in some laidback loose-fitting jeans with rips in them and a creamy colored knit tank top, as he looked for any hint of ink on your skin.

“Well, you wouldn’t,” you said like the reason should be completely obvious to him.

You kicked out at him in annoyance. He caught your foot easily with his hand, and gave it a quick, sharp tug in warning. Smirking at you when you gasped and scrambled to hold onto the stool, “What does that mean?”

“It means it’s not for the viewing public, Rooster,” you huffed at him.

“Sounds like there’s a story here,” Nat interrupted, looking on with keen eyes.

Yanking your leg out of his hand, you went on to tell the story about how you had gotten it done one drunken night at a house party your junior year of college. A “silly, girly thing” was all you’d had to say about it.

“Sounds like you’re lucky you didn’t get hepatitis or a staph infection,” he grumbled. You took the beer out of his hand in retribution and claimed it as your own, while throwing him the middle finger as you took a swig. And he’d let you.

“If it makes you feel better, bird boy, the guy who gave it to me now works at a pretty popular tattoo shop in New York.”

It hadn’t and he never forgot about it.

There had been more than one occasion where he had caught himself looking at you a bit too closely in a swimsuit from behind his aviators at the beach trying to get a glimpse of it.

And now he finally knew.

His fingertips are drawn to the fine, dainty lines of the ink on your skin. The pair of delicate butterflies were placed discreetly on your lower pelvis. One looked like it was in mid-flight with its wings spread wide, while the other was waiting to take off and join it.

“These are pretty, they suit you,” he murmurs leaning in to touch his lips to them. “Definitely not for the viewing public.”

“Just you, Bradley,” you agreed, setting your hands on top of his where on your hips. And together you both work off that last bit of fabric off your body.

“God, you’re so beautiful. I don’t know how I got so lucky, sweet girl.” He kisses your pretty tattoo once more, then the spot below your bellybutton, the top of your pubic bone.

“You said you’d give me your mouth,” you whisper eagerly, your fingers carding through his hair. He loves the way your nails felt against his scalp.

“Whatever you want.” A reminder of the promise he had made to you in the hallway, before he even had you in his bed.

He inches himself even closer to your body, getting one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you to his hungry eyes. This part of you, just like your butterflies, was for his eyes and fingers and mouth alone.

He parts you with his tongue enjoying your little whimper and gives you a couple slow licks as he gets acquainted with your taste. He wants to savor you like a fine wine, to identify all the individual notes that made up the essence of you.

You’re already so wet for him.

And then he is exploring your pretty pussy with unrestrained enthusiasm. Using his tongue and lips to get you squirming before introducing his fingers. Your moans are better than any kind of music as he starts rubbing your clit with gentle precision.

His chest fills with smoky coils of masculine satisfaction as you prop yourself onto your elbows to get a better look at him as he works you with mouth. He holds your intense gaze when he slips one of his fingers inside the silky center of you.

Bradley can feel his heart beating in his throat as he watches your jaw drops in pleasure as you start to lose yourself to his mouth, “Tell me what you like.”

You’re so responsive to his touch. Your knee is trembling on his shoulder as he tries out long, smooth strokes and short, curling thrusts of his fingers determined to learn what makes your toes curl.

“I’ve never—,” you start before stopping, shaking your head.

“Never what, sweet girl?” he repeats, patiently looking up at you from between your legs. He is still circling your clit with his thumb as you work to find your words.

“I’ve never been able to come this way,” you confess like it’s something you’re embarrassed about. “But it feels really good. I just don’t want you to think I’m not enjoying this with you when I can’t get there.”

The burst of red-hot irritation that hits him like truck for all the men who have failed you in the past makes his jaw clench. Men who would prioritize their pleasure over yours.

He knows he is capable of getting you there. He wants to show you, to prove to you just exactly how capable he is about giving you the pleasure you deserve. It’s what he would give you every single time.

“Can I try?” Bradley waits until you nod your head yes, still propped up watching him. He places a kiss to your inner thigh in thanks for trusting him with this. “Tell me what makes you feel good,” he coaxes, “Tell me what you need from me.”

He’s tempted to suck hard enough to leave an indelible mark at the delicate skin of your perfect thigh. He wants you think about being back in his bed with him, when you’re at your apartment in your own bed. He just nips at the spot instead, before kissing it again.

“Can I give you another finger?” he asks.

“Please.” You whimper when runs his thumbnail across your clit before he gives you another one of his fingers.

“So polite,” he teases as he gets his mouth back on you. “I’ll give it to you right.” You clench against his fingers as they sweep against your front wall.

He is so hard, but all he can think about is how good you feel under his hands, under his mouth.

He is watching your face for every expression. He wants to know which motion of his fingers makes your breath catch in your throat. He wants to know what kind of touch makes your eyebrow pinch together and gasp.

Yes. There. More. Just like that.

It doesn’t take him long to get you writhing and keening for him as explores your body as you tell him exactly what you like.

“That, Bradley, that. Don’t stop, please.”

Your pupils are blown wide as you watch him tease his tongue against your clit with a pressure so gentle it makes your whole body shiver. He moans his contentment against your slick-shined center when you reach out to cup his jaw and stroke his cheek with your hand when he finds that spongey spot inside of you.

Your head falls back and you convulse spectacularly as you come with his tongue on you and his fingers in you.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises low and rough, “So fucking pretty when you come.”

Bradley hopes you can feel his grin against the soft skin of your thigh.

He lets you bask in the warm glow of your orgasm, all while his thumb keeps making the softest of circles against you, “Think you can do it again?”

Your heart is still beating erratically in your chest as you attempt to come down from your orgasm. You still can’t believe he made you come with his mouth in the first place, let alone that he thinks he can get you there again.

And when he puts his hot mouth back on you, your arms give out and you fall back against his soft duvet, “Fuck, Bradley, oh my god.” The feel of his mustache against that sensitive part of you was overwhelming.

Bradley works you like he is trying to erase the memory of any man before him.

The only other sound in the room besides your breathy panting was the wet sounds your body was making as his fingers curled and thrust in and out of you. You’d be embarrassed by it if was anyone else other than Bradley.

Because he is the one making you feel this good.

The coiling sensation in your stomach was tightening with every lick and suck and flick of the tongue he used to bring you closer to the edge. You savored the burn in your hip flexors as his thick forearms held you open for his talented mouth.

“Sorry,” you gasp, unable to control the way your hips roll against his mouth.

“Don’t be. Do it again,” he rasps, gripping your thigh harder, “Use my mouth.”

He hums in satisfaction when you do it again, this time on purpose at his command. The vibrations against your clit reverberate through your whole body as you rock against his mouth and ride his fingers.

The woodsy smell of his bed, the sound of his voice and dirty praise, the feel of his body on yours was building you up much quicker than before. Your hands were fluttering everywhere. In his hair. On your breasts. Tangling in his sheets.

You are hyperaware of his every touch and it has you feeling high strung. You’re there teetering having been built up so stunningly. Your body is pulled taut like piano wires with unreleased pleasure that you just can’t seem to reach.

One of his warm, comforting hands soothes up and down the side of your waist as you twitch and writhe beneath him.

“C’mon, kid. You’re there, I can feel it,” he says pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your tattoo before sealing his mouth over you again. “Want you to come for me.”

For him. For Bradley. You want to come for Bradley.

It is almost instinctual how your body responds when he laces the fingers of his free hand together with yours. You have been feeling so untethered in your own skin by the promise of another deliciously devastating orgasm. The squeeze of his hand is your gravity, anchoring you back in the moment with him

And he is holding more than your hand in his as you fly apart for him. He has your heart.

You can hear his gentle murmurs, but your brain can’t process anything other than a few choice words as he peppers kisses back up your body.

He leans over reaching for the forgotten half-full water glass on his nightstand, probably some misguided attempt to be courteous, but you need his mouth on yours right now. He makes a noise of surprise as you pull him to you, your mouth is already parted and ready to chase the taste of yourself off of his tongue.

It’s slow and languid and just what you need.

“I’ve never come so hard before,” you laugh pulling away from him after a few minutes, the endorphins hitting you hard. “You should lead with that. Bradley-Gives-Great-Head-Rooster-Bradshaw.”

His eyes glimmer with amusement, “I don’t think that would fit on a helmet, but you can introduce me that way if you want.” His voice is smug, but it’s his satisfied smirk that thrills you the most.

“Oh my god, you’re preening! You’re so pleased with yourself right now,” you giggle, your thumbs stroking over his mustache at the wetness still there.

“Damn right I am,” he rasps leaning in for another lingering kiss.

Bradley kisses you like a wildfire, all unrestrained heat. And you will happily burn for him. Under his touch you are regenerated, reenergized, revived.

“I want you,” you breathe into his neck, tugging on the band of his black boxer briefs. His body was already a visual treat and his heart even better, but you want to feel him against the center of you with nothing standing between your body and his.

You don’t want to want anymore, you want to know.

With your help, he pulls them down his strong thighs and off completely. You’re treated to the reminder of just how big he is, it would almost be intimidating if you weren’t so desperate for him.

You run your hand up and down the length of him. He was right that night on the phone, you’d need to use both hands next time.

Savoring the way he drops his head down and pants into your clavicle, the coarse hairs of his mustache rough on your skin in the best way. With your other hand, you play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. His biceps quaking from where they’re rooted on his mattress next to your head.

You want to make him feel as good as you do.

“Can I go down on you?”

Your mouth would be the end of him.

“Next time,” he grunts out. He’s barely able to think with the way your hand is stroking his cock, let alone speak.

“Haven’t you thought about my mouth on you? Come on, Bradley,” you purr temptingly. You both know you’re not playing fair when you tighten your grip on him.

“Shit.” He’s breathing hard now. “Of course, I have. I thought about it this morning when I got myself off in the shower, sweet girl.”

He’s treated to both the sight of your dimples and the clever twist of your wrist at his confession. He knows you think you’re going to get your way, like you usually do, so he changes tactics, “I promise, the next round you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Already planning for round two, huh?”

“Yeah, kid,” he says hoarsely, “Did you think this was just going to be one and done?”

You collect some of the precum from the tip of his cock with your thumb and lick it off as you look up at him doe-eyed and innocent, “Well then, I hope you can keep up, Lieutenant.”

A feral groan rips from him and he drops his head down to yours feeding you his tongue. He dominates your mouth as he slides and swirls his against yours. You whimper prettily as both flavors melt across your tongue.

“Do you like the way we taste?” he rumbles, his voice like gravel.

Bradley doesn’t know how to interpret the sound you make or the way you choke out oh my god.

“Sorry, too much?” he asks raggedly, checking in. The last thing he wants to do is make you feel uncomfortable because he can’t stop from running his mouth.

“God, no. I’ve never been so turned on, Bradley,” you pant, as you rock your warm, wet pussy against him. “Don’t want you to hold back with me.”

You’re both naked and it’s no secret how this night is going to end. He loses himself to the feel of you as you roll your hips against him, whining every time the head of his cock connects with your swollen clit.

“Hold on, hold on,” he doesn’t know why he feels nervous bringing it up, but he needs too while he still has the brain function to talk about it. “I’ve got condoms. It’s been awhile for me, but I got a new box in my bathroom. I just need to go grab them.”

He moves to get up, but you tighten your hold on him.

“I’m on the pill. I, um, got back on it after our first date,” you say almost bashfully. “So if you wanted to go, ah, without it would be ok. I would be fine with it if you didn’t wear one. More than fine, actually.”

There’s something about your endearing self-conscious babbling that helps him get out of his head, “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything, always. You know that,” you tell him, nudging your nose against his.

“I haven’t done this without one before,” he admits.

And it’s clear from the way your eyebrows spring up that this surprises you, “Wait, never?”

“Never,” Bradley confirms. He brings your hand up to his chest so you can feel how fast his heart is beating.

While he’s had a couple serious girlfriends in the past, one didn’t like the way the pill made her feel and the other didn’t like the mess. It was never a big deal to him as long as everyone felt good. He liked that extra layer of protection, he never liked the idea of potentially getting someone pregnant and leaving them to care for his child when his job was so unpredictable.

And with one-night stands, the use of a condom was never even a question.

“So, I get to be your first?” A delighted grin overtakes your face, as you affectionately run you hand through his hair.

“If you want,” he offers softly.

“I want it to be me,” you say with such sincerity it makes his chest ache.

You pull him back down to you and wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer to you. The two of you are a frenzy of wandering hands and teasing tongues and needy noises.

“How do you want me?” he asks, low and velvety.

“I’ve imagined everything,” you whisper, your thumb caressing the long scar from where your hands are cupped around the side of his neck. “But I want you like this, just like this.”

He has always been wrapped around your finger, but with your hand on his cock guiding him to the center of you, he is at your mercy.

You trusted Bradley to be gentle not only with your body, but also with your heart. You were safe in his stupidly big and unfairly perfect hands.

There’s no holding back the sharp inhale as his thick, flared tip enters you for the first time. He’s barely inside of you and the way he is filling you is nothing like you’ve ever experienced before.

The low whine he makes as he slides into you without anything in-between your bodies is the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard. You are impossibly wetter at the knowledge that you are the one to make him feel this good, that it’s your body he’s experiencing this with for the first time.

Your eyes flutter close at the sheer stretch of him as he presses further into you.

Slowly, gently, deliberately.

“No,” he roughly rasps, pausing half-way inside of you, “Look at me.”

His desperate tone sets off more goosebumps over your body. With no small effort on your part, you do as he wants.

He looks just as overwhelmed as you feel. The flush from his cheeks and neck has worked its way down his broad chest, there’s a sheen of sweat collecting in the hollow of his throat and you want to lick him there.

“Want you to keep your eyes on me.”

You fight the urge to squirm as he slowly serves you the rest of his cock. He’s intensely watching your reaction to every ridge, every vein, every thick inch of him as he makes encouraging circles with his thumbs over your hipbones.

If you were to close your eyes again, you know you’d be seeing stars. But how could you when he was looking at you with such wonder.

You are nearly undone by the sensation of being so entirely wanted and cherished and lo—

“Bradley,” you whimper, unguarded under his gaze.

Every emotion is pounding away inside of you, eager for its turn in the spotlight.

“I know, I know.” His voice is rough and wrecked.

You can feel what he really means. We’re right on time.

Your heart stumbles over itself when he tenderly kisses the damp skin of your temple when his hips finally, finally press against yours.

And for a moment you two just hold each other’s eyes as you get used to being connected with each other in the most intimate of ways.

Your mind was taking snapshots of everything, you didn’t want to forget a single moment of this. All these little details of him that belonged to you. The length of his eyelashes. The flush of his cheeks. The state of his pretty wavy hair made messy by your hands. The pinch of his brow. The exact shade of his whiskey brown eyes as he stared into your eyes.

It is almost too intimate the way he is looking at you when he starts moving above you. As he took in your every dewy blink, every hitch of your breath, every little sound you made. As he slowly, purposefully rolled his hips against yours.

That untethered feeling was settling over you again. “Bradley, need you to kiss me.” You feel his hands tighten on your waist. He was inside of you, but you needed him closer. “Please, please.”

His lips are on yours like a flash. “Anything,” he murmurs in between deep, thorough kisses. “Anything you want.” You take his tongue just like you take the rest of him.

You’re on the right side of too full and he is hot and heavy inside of you. It is dizzying being this stretched around him, this surrounded by him. You can feel everything. The orgasm that sneaks up on you is a silvery, shimmery thing that coasts over you like stardust.

“Fuck,” he groans as your pussy lightly flutters around him, slowing down his thrusts to draw it out for you.

You recover quickly, the sensation that swept over you was not nearly as intense as the ones that he gave you with his mouth and fingers, but no less satisfying.

“Of course, you’re good at this too,” you laugh breathily.

He huffs one of his own in response, his mouth pulling crookedly to the side, “I told you we’d be good together.” He props himself up higher with his forearms from where they were lovingly, protectively caged around your head, “You feelin’ good, sweet girl?”

“So good, it’s so good, Bradley.”

You can feel his grin when he makes your back arch from hitting you just right. Grasping onto his thick biceps, your fingers dig into the corded muscle there. All you can do is let the rhythm take the lead as he picks up the pace again.

It’s hard to draw a full breath. Whether from being so filled by him or from the pressure building in your chest you couldn’t say.

He is everywhere, but it still isn’t enough. You don’t know if you want more or you need less. If you need him to go slower or if it’s not fast enough. You’re so overwhelmed, it’s just so overwhelming how good he is making you feel.

“Bradley, I need, I need-” you can’t even finish your sentence before you’re making a noise of frustration.

“Shh, it’s ok. I got you, kid.” He tosses your legs over his shoulders and raises up to his knees. Lifting your hips up as he reaches over to grab a pillow and slides it underneath you.

Next powerful thrust of his hips has you feeling like you are going to vibrate out of your skin.

Bradley has always been a big fan of mutually assured orgasms, but he had no idea sex could be this good. He has never felt so in sync or connected like this with anyone else ever.

And the way you feel around him with nothing separating his body from yours was indescribable. Only you had the ability make him feel this good.

He wanted your heartbeat to syncopate to the syllables of his name like his did with yours.

“Fuck, fuck. That feels so good,” you stutter out. The new change of angle has you even tighter for him as the sounds of your bodies coming together fill the room. “B-bradley.” a thrust “Your pillow.” a grind “The mess.”

“Fuck the pillow, I’ll get a new one,” he grunts. He clearly isn’t doing his job if you’re concerned about something as inconsequential as some feathers surrounded by cotton.

And then his loses himself in your whimpers and whines and the feel of your perfect-for-him body. In the silky warmth of you. Of his hands on your waist, on your hips, on your ass.

He has to remind himself this is the first time of many. He’s been dying to have you in every way possible for weeks. He wants to know if you sound the same as you do right now beneath him or if your sweet noises changed whether you were above him or on your hands and knees in front of him.

He couldn’t wait to find out.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises. You clench around him and his hips nearly falter in the slow, steady rhythm he has set, “Mm, of course you like a compliment.”

Bradley leans down to kiss you and you cry out at the change of position. Good girl. He teases his mustache down your neck, licking along the straining tendon of your neck. Pretty girl. And then he has he mouth on your breast again. Sweet girl.

The position is perfect for him to grind against your clit. The sounds of your soft sighs, of your breathy moans, and your shaky exhales as he hits that spot inside of you just right has him fighting the urge to chase his own release. And he can’t hold back his own sounds of satisfaction when your hot mouth trails along his collarbone, your tongue laving over that scar on his shoulder.

“I can feel you’re holding back,” you urge. “More, give me more.” One of your hands goes to his ass encouraging him to go faster.

“I’m trying to be romantic here,” he only partly teases, as he rolls his hips in that way he now knows makes you gasp.

“You are, you are,” you promise as you pet the side of his face. “But Bradley, I need you to romantically fuck me harder.”

Only you could make him laugh and make his cock stiffer all at the same time.

He’s never been one to deny you. He sits up on his knees again and flings one of your legs over the crook of his elbow, opening you up and giving him more room to give you just what you want.

“Look at you, I can’t believe you’re mine,” he groans. He can’t tear his eyes away from the way your tits bounce as he gives it to you harder, faster, deeper. “Touch yourself for me.” The only thing he can think about was getting you over the edge, so that he could follow you.

He nearly comes at the pretty sight of your fingers making rapid circles on your clit. His hips are rocking into yours roughly, and the way you are whimpering his name is ratcheting his need for you even higher.

Your mouth feels too far away, he wants to taste his name on your lips. He drops back down caging you in his arms. The two of you groan together, he’s much deeper this way. Your hands are fisted in his hair, pulling tightly at his curls as you sweep your tongue against his.

There’s no way he’s going to last with you gripping him like this. He can already feel the tension building in his spine. He knocks your hand out of the way as he takes over the ministrations on your clit, rubbing you there with tight circles.

“Bradley,” you gasp and writhe desperately against him. The way you chant his name sounds so breathy and perfect in his ear as he speeds up the motion of his fingers needing you to come undone.

And then he feels as you spasm and arch and come apart for him with his name on your lips.

bradleybradleybradley

The blood is buzzing in his veins and his breathing has gone entirely ragged as he continues to move in you until you go soft in his arms with a full-bodied sigh.

And then he gives into the desperate way his body needs yours as he chases his own climax.

He presses his face into the curve of your neck, mouthing at whatever skin he can reach as he comes. Nothing has ever felt so good to him as it does emptying himself inside of you, as he thrusts deeper into you as your body convulses around his.

It’s an earth-shattering orgasm that takes and takes and takes.

You don’t know how long you and Bradley lay there tangled up in each other, all heated skin and rapid heartbeats. It’s the most you can do to run your hand through his damp hair from where his head is still tucked against your neck and up and down his muscular back.

He’s long since pulled out of you and you can feel him dripping out of you. But if Bradley isn’t worried about the mess, then neither are you.

You’re still getting use to the weight of him. Still getting use to the shape of your bodies pressed against each other in this way. But it’s better than you could have ever hoped for.

He’s better than you could have hoped for. In every way that mattered.

“So, same time, same place tomorrow?” you ask finding your voice first. You can feel his chuckle as he kisses your neck once, then twice before he pulls away to look at you.

His brown eyes are rimmed with hazel and crinkled around the edges. All the affection and happiness and familiarity evident on his flushed face.

And then he smiles at you. And you know you’re wearing a matching one.

And then you giggle. And he lets out a laugh as he reaches up to softly brush the sweaty strands of hair away from your face.

You didn't know you could be this happy or this content. It fills up your chest in a way you've never experienced before. It's a feeling you know is going to last.

“You know what’s not fair?” He lets out a hmm of acknowledgement for you to continue as his thumb traces your cheekbone. “You’ve got all these nicknames for me, but I don’t have one for you. Should we try some on for size?” you croon against his ear. Feeling very pleased with yourself when the heavy hand resting on your hip tenses in response.

You kiss along his jaw. Honey. Over his cheek. Baby. On the corner of his perfect mouth. Sweetheart.

“Bradley,” he murmurs looking at you softly.

“Bradley?” You repeat it back to him. Not questioning, but there’s a curiosity there. You love the way he leans in into your touch as you comb your fingers through his waves.

He nods and you’re hit with a wave of affection for this man in your arms. Your Bradley.

“Ok, Bradley,” you say indulgently as you drop a lingering kiss to his lips. “I can work with that.”

And then you’re whispering his name and alternating kisses to his skin, his stomach tensing and flexing as you work your way down his body.

Not one to break his promises to you, he keeps to his word and lets you whatever you want.

After you’ve gotten your way and after he’s gotten his again, you’re wrapped up in his strong arms tangled in his sheets. You’ve never been more satisfied in your life than you are with him here and now, warm and cared for.

You’re too contented in the blissful after you had been so needlessly worried about to fight sleep as it comes to claim you.

Will you two stay intertwined like this all night? Or will he chase you across the bed like he has been chasing you in your dreams?

Snuggling in closer to Bradley, you think about how excited you are to wake up next to him in the morning. Knowing him, he will probably be up before you, hopefully waiting with a steaming cup of coffee for you.

With his soft breaths in your ear, you let yourself drift off to the sweet potential and possibilities of tomorrow.

There’s so much to look forward to.

More of Bradley, more with Bradley.

The two of you are perfectly and exactly on time.

This was written as the part of a series for characters in the “Like I Can” Universe. If you missed Part 1, you can read it here!

They’re right on time, and boy, was it worth the wait!

If you’re curious about what Bradley’s room looks like, you can check it out here! (I’ve updated it to include some headcanons)

I wrote this little series as a birthday gift to my favorite Taurus Moon twin @gretagerwigsmuse! It only took a couple months, Jordan, but its the gift that keeps on giving!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

2K notes · View notes

cupidzgf · 1 year ago

Text

CHRISTMAS MORNING | SATORU GOJO

☁︎‎‎‧₊˚ summary: satoru wakes you up on christmas morning to open presents. its 7 am and you want to sleep.

cw: mentions of sexual activity, non sorcerer au, rich!gojo, no pronouns, no smut, fluff, all of it is fluff. w/c: 1.8k a/n: my first post in a long time. ahh kinda nervous I hope you like it! merry christmas eve!

christmas was an occasion that satoru always went above and beyond to make special.

whether it was for his sake or yours, he made sure there was no way to get out of decorating his place, baking cookies, or matching christmas pajamas. not that you mind. you savored the time away from work to bask in each other's presence uninterrupted and entirely devoted to the holiday, but what perhaps made it even more so was the slow wake of your lover beside you.

his hands, warm from where they were pressed against your midsection during slumber, trace the curve of your spine. his fingers dip between the knobs of your vertebrae gently as if trying to rouse you as well. it works because your mind slips from your unconscious state into consciousness with the kisses he presses at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. sensing the shift in your stirring frame, his kisses grow in numbers as they rise up the column of your throat, lips brushing and pressing with varying pressure on previous faded marks.

you lay on your side, facing away from him, and satoru practically climbs on top of you just as your eyes flutter open to get your attention to fall solely on him.

in the blink of an eye, you're met with an infinite void of vivid, azure irises peering at you with an expression you can only describe as childlike.

"it's christmas." a dimpled grin beams from his too-wide smile, devouring your lips in one fell swoop before you can protest. satoru vibrates with excitement, and he pours every ounce into the kiss, holding your face with a giddy glee. "merry christmas."

a sleepy grin of your own curls at your lips as you try to regain your breath from the overwhelmingly passionate kiss you just received before speaking softly in an admiration-filled voice. "merry christmas, toru."

you lay there, admiring your boyfriend, as he practically jumps off the bed and pulls your arm. "c'mon, we have to open presents! pleaseeee," he whines impatiently, tugging at your hand like a small child. you groan, still exhausted from the long night at suguru's house, and attempt to roll over.

suguru's christmas eve party the night before had left both of you exhausted, though the way satoru acts, you would never have guessed. your friend was never one to skimp out on these rare get-togethers with your friend group, formed from years enrolled at the same college. the holiday atmosphere and the rich decor lulled you into christmas cheer, which always made for great nights of booze, food, and rekindling. dripping in wealth satoru insists on buying for you, the two of you made it back in the early hours of the morning, drunk and worn out from socializing.

this, however, did not stop satoru from fucking you into the bed like he had been deprived of your touch (he had clung to you the entire night), where you both passed out after a single round.

now you're paying the price for the long night as his eyes widen comically when you avoid him. he rushes to stop you by throwing himself over you and, despite your protesting, makes you face him.

"nah, uh, where do you think you're going? it's christmas! we have presents from santa–"

"--he's not real, baby. let me sleep a couple more minutes." you chime back, and his expression drops with a huff.

"you don't know that! and we only will when we look under the tree," he states jokingly, refocusing his abundance of energy on getting you up.

you scoff, raising an incredulous eyebrow. "yeah, like you would be on the nice list."

satoru gasps, loud and dramatic, falling to his knees in front of your bed with a cry.

"how could you say such a thing? i'm the kindest, nicest person you know!" he exclaims, a hand hovering over his heart to further the theatrics, and you can't help but roll your eyes at his exaggeration.

"you weren't very nice last night."

his eyes shift, darkening by a shadow passing over his irises as they gain a mischievous gleam. satoru leans over you despite kneeling on the floor. "oh yeah? well, you didn't seem to mind when i fucked your pretty pussy so hard she was crying and screaming my name–"

"ok, time to get up!" you interrupt, mortified by the vivid personification he used to describe last night, your cheeks set aflame by his teasing. you hide from his cocky chuckle and self-satisfied smirk, embarrassment churning in your gut as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"that's what i thought, sweetheart." cocky bastard.

you rummage the floor for a shirt, the blanket covering your lower half as you throw his santa hat off the first one you can find, which coincidentally is his.

satoru whines sadly when his shirt covers your bare breasts, a frown pulling his lips down as your once naked body, decorated in hickeys, is covered. "what's the point of my hard work if you're just going to cover it?" he gestures to the bruises, pouting with the familiar solum look he uses when he wants something.

"i'm not going out there naked, toru." slipping on slippers, you stand, craning your neck to look him in the eye. your exasperation does not go unnoticed by the white-haired male.

"there's no reason you can't," he suggests, tugging you in front of him and letting his hands settle on your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. "it could be like a christmas present…to me!"

you raise an eyebrow. "i thought you wanted to open gifts?"

his face brightens as he remembers his original goal, his one-track mind making his hand tug you to the door without a second thought and newfound eagerness.

your living room is the same as you left it last night, with your cocktail dress strewn across the back of the sofa and satoru's shoes scattered across the hardwood, but what's different is the snow swirling in slow flakes outside the massive windows. it lands on the window sill, and the rest slowly descends to the world outside satoru gojo's penthouse. the bleak grey does nothing to discourage the sight of the luminescent christmas tree taking up your living room and glittering with a rainbow of lights against the grey sky in the ray of morning light.

a christmas morning crafted from a hallmark movie.

an array of presents ranging in various sizes and shapes overflows from under the tree you decorated weeks ago, and before you know it, you throw yourself into your lover's arms. a teasing remark sits at the tip of his tongue, maybe to poke fun at your elation, but he hesitates, fingers twitching at his side. in a moment so delicate it could be shattered like glass, he frames every second of the scene into memory, holding the warm and achy feeling in his chest close.

arms circle your body pressed tightly into satoru's, butterflies erupting from your stomach when you glance upwards and find him already staring.

"thank you," you muster every ounce of sincerity into your voice, swallowing the lump forming in your throat when he returns your gentle smile with his own.

"don't thank me yet. you haven't even seen what i got you!" effortlessly, he turns your attention away from the raw and achy emotions being pulled to the surface and onto you, where your eyes sparkle with eagerness.

the both of you find a seat on the floor and begin the seemingly endless presents and discarded wrapping paper; the laughter and joy that can only come from christmas morning echo off the walls you call home. and when the gifts are opened, and the faint tune of falling snow is all that's left, you are sure it can't get any better.

even as satoru nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, his lips parting to whisper the words on your skin that have never been uttered in a moment of complete clarity. "i love you."

it somehow becomes perfect.

bonus:

staring at your mountain of gifts, ranging from designer to everything under the sun you mentioned wanting during the year, piles around you, and the thrill of being spoiled by your filthy rich boyfriend quickly wears off into guilt.

was his presents thoughtful? yes. overwhelming? also yes. especially since neither the price nor the quantity of gifts you'd given him come close to what you have. so the shame of being spoiled and unable to provide the same, in turn, quiets you into an insecure ball of nerves.

"do you like it?" your heavy gaze lifts to find him, and he squirms where he sits, uncharacteristically nervous. he waits for your reaction with uncertain eyes, wringing his hands together to calm his apprehension. "i tried to get everything you wanted, but i know how you feel when i overdo things…"

"satoru," you breathe, looking over the gifts once more. the following words come in a gentle coo he's come to recognize are used to let him down easily. "i do love everything, but it is a lot. you didn't have to spend so much."

frowning, your gaze flickers to him, and his eyes dip, avoiding yours. "ah, okay. i didn't mean to upset you," he murmurs in a quiet, saddened voice, and you quickly shake your head, realizing he took it the wrong way. shuffling on your knees to where he sits, you fall into his chest. solid and well-defined arms circle your body without a word, and you hear the distinct sound of his breath hitching at the contact.

"never. you're too good to me and treat me so well, baby, but you don't have to spend all your money on me."

"trust me, i didn't," he teases, attempting to regain the lighthearted atmosphere, before adding in a more hopeful tone, "but i'm glad you like your gifts."

"oh yes, the lingerie set was especially thoughtful," you joke, and he cracks a smile at that. only your expression falls a moment later when you clear your throat. "i just hope what i got is okay. i know you've been asking for a new watch and those glasses, but it's hard to find gifts for someone who has everything. i'm sorry i didn't get you more."

the sad murmur and downcast expression made satoru's heart crack, remorse twisting his stomach into knots. "no, no, no baby, i love what you got me. i couldn't be happier with all of your thoughtful gifts." he kisses the top of your head, resting his head on yours for a quiet moment of admittance that makes you fall in love with him all over again. "but everything i want is right here with you, sweet thing."

#merry christmas #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojou satoru x reader #satorugojo

397 notes · View notes

smutstationchoochoo · 6 months ago

Text

A little John Price x FemReader drabble because I think about John Price far too often for it to be considered healthy and my mind always comes back to this: he always seems so in control. Not just of his people, or whatever environment he is in, but of himself. He’s cool calm and collected and honestly?- I don’t think that aspect of Price would shift too much during sex. Actually, I think it would kick into overdrive. I think that cool calm collectedness would shift into a calculating tenderness.

You see, he knows you. Knows how you take your coffee in the morning, knows what makes you laugh, knows your favorite movie, he even knows what kind of toothpaste you prefer. And he knows what makes you shake and cry and beg and plead beneath him.

John Price has had you pressed into his bed for what feels like an eternity now, one of his strong arms holding your hips down as the other is busy working two thick fingers in and out of you as he eats you out not like a man starved but like one who knows how to savor a good meal, how to taste a fine whiskey, how to suck in the smoke from a cigar and discern every single note.

Your legs are trembling, your hands grip onto the back on his head and you try to grind your hips against his molten tongue, chasing the release he has denied you since kissing his way down your body and planting himself between your legs. He of course pulls away, as he has done every single time you finally got close to falling over that edge. Price prides himself on his patience.

Your throat is raw from the sounds he has been wrenching from you and your mind struggles to catch up from another stolen orgasm yet you still try to form his name though it comes out slightly slurred as you lift your head to look down at him.

He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh, running his rough bearded cheek against the soft skin before glancing up at you. His hair stands up at all angles from your hands desperately clutching at it. His eyes glint like sharpened steel but crinkle beneath a lazy warm smile spread out over reddened cheeks. He blinks at you, your hair wild, a sheen of sweat glistening across your body, and offers a low rumbling hum as if deep in thought.

“What’s that, love? You need to speak up.”

His eyes never leave yours, your gaze just as locked beneath him as your body in his arms. You drag in a breath, trying to fill your lungs with as much oxygen as you can muster and you begin to beg.

He patiently listens to your pleading, nodding his head with your every demand, that grin on his face never wavering, until you are finished.

He shakes his head and sighs, “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

And god bless him, he lets go of his hold on your hips and moves his looming frame until he is kneeling on the bed just below you.

His huge thighs shuffle until they are flush with the backs of your own. His cock is flushed a vicious red, precum glistening from the tip, as he takes it in hand and rubs himself against your clit. You shake, your body body a live wire of pleasure beneath him, and your fingernails dig into his thighs.

“Look at you,” he huffs with a smile.

When he finally lines himself up with your entrance, you can feel your arousal dripping down between your cheeks and creating a small wet spot on the sheets but you don’t have time to care as John’s huge rough hands grip onto your waist and pull you onto the hardened length of himself as he pushes in. You’ll never get used to it, you think for a split second, before the stretch of him inside of you catches up to your brain making your back arch off the bed so harshly that you grit your teeth in pain.

Those hands of his soothingly rub your hips and one slides up to cradle the small of your back.

“There we go,” he praises, his voice low and sticky in your mind, “Such a good girl for me.”

This has you clenching around him so hard that your vision nearly whites out, and even gets you a little huff from John as he closes his eyes and relishes in the feeling of you around him. Then he begins to move.

John’s thrusts are not fast but they are not gentle either. He grinds into you, cock hitting a spot that has you gasping, clawing at his arms as he watches you. He watches as you fall apart beneath him, that smile still there, though his mouth now hangs slightly open in awe. His eyes are hard and focused as he completely gives himself over to the task at hand. Tears begin to gather in your lashes, slipping down your temples, as you blink up at the man breaking you apart. It’s only when his hand shifts to where the two of you meet, and his thumb begins an onslaught of circles against your clit do you begin to grasp the enormity of the cliff you are about to fall over. You sob out his name, the sound of it wretched from your chest, and you shake your head as your hands try to push him away, or drag him closer you have no idea which at this point.

“C’mon, just let go for me,” he urges, “I want to see it.”

And you do. You immediately fall over that cliff and you let go. You can’t even cry out his name, the ability to form any words seemingly lost as you grind yourself into his thrusts and brokenly sob incoherent nonsense as pleasure ricochets through your body electrifying every nerve in your system.

“There it is,” his voice comes to you amongst the waves of your orgasm, proud and praising, as he continues to grind into you, carving himself into your pleasure until he finally gives one last thrust, burying himself deep, before emptying inside you.

You stay there like that, him inside of you, as you try to will yourself back into your own body, listening to the sound of his breathing.

The feeling of those hands softly rubbing against your thighs helps bring you back, eyes blinking up at him. He grins back at you, all tousled hair and flushed faced, before leaning down to kiss you. You sigh into his mouth, but then you feel him twitch inside of you.

“Now give me one more.”

#john price smut #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #fem reader #call of duty smut #cod mw smut

184 notes · View notes

grimesgirll · 7 months ago

Text

you love forcing your guys to watch tv with you.

snuggled up on the sectional together, there’s nothing you’d rather be doing with your saturdays.

your head is on daryl’s chest and your feet in rick’s lap while the old vhs tape plays an old episode of six feet under.

one of the alexandrians who’d passed long before your group arrived had a considerable hbo collection, along with some of the other most popular television series of your time before the end of the world as you knew it. from dvds of mad men to nip/tuck, there was enough to keep you preoccupied binging the best of the 2000s.

your duties in your new neighborhood kept you to a constant schedule but making time for tv wasn’t hard. slipping away to rock judith asleep in your arms was made easy with an episode of grey’s anatomy. it was nice to feel normal for once - like someone who wasn’t holing up behind ten foot high walls from hordes of the dead.

it’s even nicer getting your busy, go-getters to simply sit and enjoy your company, and the glow of the tv.

having never had a tv aside from the busted flatscreen merle’d once ditched at his place before everything went down, you were shocked when daryl told you he didn’t have a favorite show. it seemed every dvd or vhs you inserted had the man mocking the media.

dexter is dumb. arrested development’s cast consists of assholes. house bored him. psych too. and don’t get him started on desperate housewives.

at least you could count on wrestling rick into the couch for an episode of cops. rick’s rambling on everything the show got right and wrong was worth it if you could get him off his feet, because then it wouldn’t be long before you were teasing a foot along his leg.

still on top of daryl, you’re hoping the two pick up on what you’re putting down without you having to be too obvious. rick ruins your perfectly scripted scene with a single clearance of his throat. that’s all it takes for his attention to be diverted from the screen and for a hand to settle on your foot.

your tongue swipes across your lips. your twinging foot eventually brings rick’s attention from the limb to your lust addled expression. daryl’s probably half asleep. he doesn’t give a fuck about cops.

“they’re all gettin’ caught doin’ some dumb shit merle’d do,” he’d gruffed when you first played the title.

regardless, he’s relaxed beneath you. the hand wrapping your frame into him pulling him close. a lightly planted hand on your breast that lures your gaze back to his. you curl into the warmth of his arms and into a balmy kiss.

rick blisters his own impressions onto your calf. “ah,” you hum off-guard into daryl’s mouth. that only spurs the sheriff further up your thigh until you feel a finger over top the crotch of rick’s your boxers. between two pairs of masterful mouths, you could care less about cops. you have your own pulling down your underwear with his teeth and an outlaw on your lips. the latter is laying a hand on your head, savoring the feeling of your soft hair beneath his rough, calloused hand. you don’t mind it at all when he ushers you crushingly closer.

“were you even watchin’?” rick asks, the breath of his laughter panting onto your thigh.

“a bit,” you admit in a puff of breath. “cops is boring.”

“say that again,” daryl snarks into your neck.

rick shakes his head. those bronzed locks brush against the sensitive skin of your thighs, with rick now situated front and center facing your dripping core. he parts the light bush you’ve been maintaining to spread open your plush pussy. cool air makes you whine just as the roving pucker on your pulse point pulls the same sounds from you. “you want a finger? or my mouth?” rick leaves it to you.

you choose the hybrid option.

rick should know that you live for the way he prods you open with a nice fat finger, then letting his tongue wander up and down your clit.

knowing you inside and out, rick is ready to do just that. so it only makes sense that his tongue and a thick finger is already driving you up the sofa, so far gone already that all you can do is muffle your cries with daryl’s mouth.

the brother of georgia’s most wanted has no problem absorbing your pleasure. in fact, he works in near tandem with rick to get your heartbeat racing on both ends. fingers fall into a deft hold on your breasts, going from groping to taunting the buds popping up through your thin long sleeve. bunched up over your chest or your head seems to be the only fate that typically befalls that shirt. the thin material is always accenting your headlights in a cold room or straining holding back your bust enough that your boys always take note of it.

daryl loves it. loves getting a fistful of the flowy, flexible, blue and white flowered fabric. loves it even more when it’s out of his way. bunched up over your tits, it goes. “you gon’ come, pretty girl?” daryl questions, ducking down to capture your breast in his mouth.

you don’t know what to say. the answer is obvious but your words are mere babbles and all you do is moan and huff and pant yes.

all you can see of rick is that fluffy mop of brown. hands dug into your hips, he’s not relenting even as your clit pulses beneath his tongue. he only takes it as an opportunity to run his skilled appendage along the single pronounced ridge of your pleasure point.

“rick takin’ care of ya’? givin’ you a break from the pig show?”

you feel a snort against you, but it’s not long before you’re bucking your hips against rick’s face and he’s steadying your hips. that damn tongue just has to drag against you and you’re ready to flop off the couch. you can barely manage a smile at daryl’s dig because your mouth is contorting into an open o shape - o for orgasm because that’s the only thing on your mind. not the dead stalking the gates upon hearing a single human breath, not the responsibilities of running the community within those gates, not worrying about who’s on watch, definitely not anything other than the burst of delight coursing through you.

sunlight tumbles through the windows onto the perfect center of the living room. it would be blinding rick had he not still been between your thighs. squeezing your eyes shut, the last thing you see is rick’s sunlit head grooving up and down.

feeling snug on rick’s two fingers is enough for you to feel completely unbound. clenching but not clamping like daryl is now on your tit.

“fuck me,” you groan. the vulgarity comes out wispy as the man flattening his tongue and pancaking a new finger to your soaked clit steals your breath.

the denim hardness beneath you has you guiding daryl’s mouth from your chest to your face for another kiss. your hand is wound in his hair, almost like the kiss could distract you from the overstimulation rick’s so hellbent on.

a stripe of gold beams across your faces - and rick’s - so once you’re parting from the messy mash of tongue and lip you’d shared with daryl, the sight of rick has you squeezing your thighs again. with a finger still inside of you, rick’s slowly massaging your newly drenched cunt, and he’s never looked better. pink glossy lips have you yearning for a taste.

luckily, you and rick are always on the same page, thus, he’s leaning up on forearms to croon, “wanna taste yourself, baby girl?” and with a sure nod, your mouths are connecting so you can sample the fruits of your labor.

a hand on daryl’s dick, a bit of maneuvering on your part, and some sweet sounds from rick are all it takes for the television to be ignored. it feels like you’ve all fast forwarded through a season of cops by the time anyone recognizes the television’s still on but no one gives a damn. not when there are better distractions.

214 notes · View notes

her-satanic-wiles · 2 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 28 - Uniform

Brother Imperator x Reader

Copia got his promotion to head of the clergy, and with it a new uniform. And you couldn’t keep your hands off him.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 5.1k.

Reading Time: 21 min.

Warnings: creampie, PIV sex, public sex, thigh riding, vaginal sex, uniform kink, unprotected sex

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The moment your eyes met his, you knew you were in trouble. For the first time in ages, he’d stripped back the elaborate paints, leaving only the faintest hint of kohl around his eyes, allowing every distinguished line and angle of his face to shine through. His new look was a vision—his smart uniform a departure from the traditional Papal robes, but no less commanding. The suit was a sleek, modern twist on his usual regalia: rich black fabric that hugged his form perfectly, every seam tailored to emphasize his broad shoulders and lean frame. A single, dark blazer sat unbuttoned and fell neatly at the waist, held together by two ruby pins that caught the light like blood-red flames. From them both, a diamond-studded grucifix dangled just over his upper abdomen, the glittering charm drawing your gaze with a dangerous allure. His look was seductive yet regal, an intimidating blend of elegance and dark charm. You could hardly breathe as he approached, each step deliberate, with a knowing glint in his eye that told you he was fully aware of the effect he had on you.

He stepped forward, arms slowly outstretched, his hands still gloved in that familiar, supple leather. The movement itself was an invitation—a silent command to take him in, to fully appreciate the figure standing before you. He said nothing, but the slight tilt of his head and a quiet, almost shy hum conveyed, “This is the new me.” And the transformation was powerful. Gone was the ornate guise of Papa; here stood Frater Copia Imperator, every inch of him exuding authority and confidence, as if the Ministry itself had reshaped to match his presence. The old robes had held him back, binding him to tradition, but this—this new look—carried the weight of true dominion. His domain, his rules, and he seemed to bask in it, his gaze dark and intent, as though savoring the scope of his control.

This wasn’t just Copia; it was Copia unleashed, finally embracing his true place. Like Lucifer reigning over Hell, he was perfectly in his element, ready to rule with an intensity that sent a thrill through your core.

You, however, were too thrilled about his new uniform to even consider the consequences of this promotion. You just wanted that chain dangling in your face as he -

“I don’t know who the new Papa is yet,” Copia told you, pulling you out of your horny musings. “Apparently he will be arriving soon, but I don’t know.”

Copia’s words pulled you out of your daze, but only for a moment. That glint in his eye, the way his fingers traced the edge of the ruby pin on his blazer—it stirred something deeper. You tried to refocus, to keep your thoughts on his words instead of the sinful path your mind had wandered down. But when he shifted, the delicate grucifix on its diamond-studded chain swayed, catching the light and drawing your gaze right back to it, and him.

“Hmm,” he murmured, watching you closely, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. “Seems like I’ve already lost you.” He stepped in closer, his gloved hand reaching out to cup your chin, bringing your gaze up to meet his. His thumb traced a slow circle along your jaw, the leather sending a shiver through you. “Were you even listening to me, tesoro?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words tangled as he leaned in, the chain now dangling just above your lips. He lowered himself even closer, enough that his breath warmed your skin. “Distracted, hm?” he whispered, voice as smooth and dark as velvet. “Or is it something else you’re interested in?”

With an amused tilt of his head, he straightened just slightly, but his grip on your chin remained firm. The chain hovered enticingly between you both, and the glint of the rubies seemed to cast a soft, scarlet hue over his eyes. “What were you thinking about just now?” he teased, his voice low, drawing out the words with a lazy, knowing tone.

Your heart raced as you felt yourself flush under his gaze. He let his gloved thumb slip down, tracing your lower lip, his smile deepening as you trembled under his touch.

The restraint you’d been trying so hard to keep shattered in an instant. Words wouldn’t cut it now; only action would. Before he could utter another teasing word, you launched yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his blazer as you pressed your body flush against his. He barely had time to gasp, his eyes widening before they darkened with a raw hunger of his own.

The chain swung between you, grazing against your chest as you pressed him against the wall, your lips crashing into his with all the ferocity of pent-up desire. He gave a low, muffled moan, hands moving to grip your waist, steadying himself as you pinned him there. You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your gaze fierce and unwavering.

“Oh,” he breathed, voice rough and laced with amusement. “Not even going to tell me what you want first? Just taking it, eh?” His smirk was devilish, eyes hooded as he leaned forward, lips brushing your jawline. “As bold as ever, tesoro.”

Your fingers slid down, finding the clasp of his belt, your intentions laid bare in the determined way you worked it open. He sucked in a sharp breath, his gloved hands sliding up your sides, encouraging you, grounding himself in the pressure of your touch.

“Here?” he murmured, glancing around the empty corridor but not looking the least bit reluctant. “Right here in the open, where anyone could see?” His voice dripped with exhilaration at the idea. The thrill in his eyes was unmistakable as he tugged you even closer, his hands roving possessively over your body.

“Oh, let them,” you whispered, pressing a fierce kiss to his throat as his head fell back. “I refuse to wait any longer.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest at your words, and any remaining control he had snapped. With a rough pull, he reversed your positions, pinning you back against the wall, his body pressed firmly against yours. His gaze bore into you, pupils blown wide with desire, the gleam of his chain catching the dim light as it swung between you both. He brought a gloved hand up, tracing it down the side of your face, down your throat, finally stopping to rest on your collarbone, his fingers curling just enough to feel your pulse racing under his touch.

“You have no idea what you’ve started,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. The heat of him, the scent of his cologne mixing with the faint leather from his gloves, was intoxicating, overwhelming your senses as he kissed his way down your neck, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver.

With one swift movement, he slipped a leg between yours, pressing his thigh against you as his hands found your waist, holding you firmly against him. The friction, even through your clothing, was electric, sending shockwaves through you. He smirked against your neck, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Look at you,” he whispered, his tone darkly amused as he ground his thigh ever so slightly, “already unraveling for me, and I’ve barely even started.”

You tightened your grip on his blazer, feeling your resolve slipping away completely. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered, daring him, your voice rough with need.

He chuckled, his lips curving against your skin. “Oh, I won’t.” His voice dropped lower, every word a promise. “But I’m going to take my time with you, right here. Let every inch of this place echo with the sounds of us.” His fingers found the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath to brush against your bare skin, igniting every nerve with his touch.

As his mouth claimed yours once more, his kiss was slower, more intense, his movements deliberate as if he wanted to make you feel every second of it. His gloved hand moved to your chest, thumb brushing over your skin, drawing a gasp from your lips that he swallowed eagerly. The thrill of the forbidden, the possibility of being caught, only seemed to drive him further, his kiss growing deeper, more insistent, as his hands roamed possessively over you, leaving no inch of you untouched.

And as he pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you, a wicked gleam in his gaze, he leaned in close and whispered, “By the time I’m done, tesoro, everyone here will know exactly who you belong to.”

Your movements grew more desperate, grinding against his thigh as his hands roamed your body, each touch and squeeze lighting you up in ways you hadn’t felt in so long. He held you firmly, almost possessively, his fingers digging into your hips to guide your movements, pressing you harder against him with each roll of your body. His breathing grew heavier, his lips never far from your skin, leaving trails of hot, lingering kisses down your neck.

His gloved hand slid lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your clothes, his fingers brushing over your skin with a tantalizing slowness that made you shudder. He paused there, his mouth close to your ear as he murmured, “Look at you, so eager for me.” His voice was low, laced with a dark amusement that sent a thrill through you, making you push against him harder, needing the friction, needing him.

Copia chuckled, dark and deep, his thigh pressing up with just the right pressure, making you gasp. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” His hand traced back up, gliding over your chest, fingers grazing the sensitive spots he knew so well, making your head spin. “You want more?” he asked, though he already knew the answer, his eyes gleaming with a devilish satisfaction as he watched your reaction.

“Please…” you breathed, barely able to form words under his touch.

He smirked, his thumb brushing across your cheek in a mockingly tender gesture. “That’s it,” he purred. “I want to hear you beg for it, right here. Let everyone know what you need from me.”

The sheer thrill of his demand had you trembling against him, and as his thigh pressed harder, his fingers digging into your skin, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You moaned softly, moving against him with wild abandon, feeling him take in every sound, every shiver as his mouth claimed yours again, consuming you in a searing, possessive kiss that left you aching for more.

The pressure built until it was overwhelming, each roll of your hips pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His thigh pressed firmly against you, his hand gripping your waist with just enough force to ground you yet keep you spiraling. His mouth was at your neck, lips moving hot and slow, and you felt yourself unraveling, unable to hold back any longer.

And then it happened—a rush of pleasure crashing over you, your body trembling as you came right there, held in place by his hands and the unrelenting press of his thigh. The intensity left you breathless, your fingers clutching his blazer, as though clinging to him was the only thing keeping you steady.

He groaned softly as he felt you shudder against him, his gaze darkening with satisfaction. “There we go,” he murmured, his tone rich with pride and something even deeper, a possessive glint in his eye. “Just like that, tesoro.”

His hand stroked your back in lazy, soothing circles as you caught your breath, barely able to comprehend what you’d just done, right there in the middle of the corridor. But he didn’t look the least bit surprised—in fact, he seemed thrilled, his gaze roving over you with a smug sense of accomplishment.

Before you could say a word, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Now, shall we continue somewhere more… private? I’m far from finished with you.”

“I refuse to wait any longer,” you panted. “Please just fuck me, Copia.”

A flash of something dark and eager crossed his face, and before you could even draw another breath, he spun you around, pressing your back against the wall with a controlled urgency that made your pulse quicken. His fingers hooked into the gusset of your panties, pulling them aside with a rough, unhesitating motion, his other hand already freeing himself from his trousers.

The moment was electric, charged with a tension that had been building too long. He didn’t waste another second, aligning himself and pressing into you in one smooth, deep thrust that stole the breath from your lungs. The sensation was overwhelming, his heat and weight pressing you firmly into the wall, grounding you while simultaneously making you feel as if you might float away. His grip on your hips was strong, possessive, his fingers digging in just enough to leave you tingling.

He held himself there for a heartbeat, his forehead pressing to your shoulder, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he felt you wrapped around him. Then, his grip tightened, and he began to move, his thrusts slow at first, deliberate, each one sinking in deeply, pulling another soft, breathy moan from you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, words punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts. “So needy, couldn’t wait another second… I love it when you’re this desperate for me.”

His pace quickened, his hands sliding up your waist, holding you in place as he took what you’d so eagerly asked for, his hips snapping forward with a building intensity. Each thrust seemed to drive him deeper, his control slipping as he gave in to the pleasure, his breaths ragged in your ear as he pushed you toward that blissful edge once more.

His movements became more urgent, each thrust driving you harder against the wall, the sound of your bodies meeting echoing through the corridor. You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching and filling you, and it only heightened your desire, pushing you closer to the brink without letting you fall over.

“Copia…” you gasped, the sound of his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You were lost in a haze of sensation, your body responding eagerly to every thrust, every shudder that ran through you as he rocked into you. He felt impossibly good, and the way he held you—his grip possessive yet tender—made you ache for more.

His lips found their way to your neck, hot against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that ignited every nerve ending. “That’s right, tesoro,” he murmured, his breath warm against you, sending shivers down your spine. “Let me hear you. Let me know how much you want this.”

You moaned softly, pushing back against him instinctively, seeking more friction, more of that delicious pressure building within you. He chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your eagerness, and he quickened his pace just slightly, teasing you with the promise of more without granting you release.

“You want it harder?” he taunted, his voice low and dripping with lust. “You’ll have to earn it. Show me how badly you need it.”

With that, he changed his angle, hitting that sweet spot inside you that made your head spin. The sensation was electric, and you gasped, feeling the heat pool low in your belly, but he was relentless, holding you right there on the precipice, teasing you with his control. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, building tension but denying you the sweet release you craved.

“Sathanas, you’re beautiful like this,” he breathed, his eyes dark with desire, locking onto yours as he continued to push you further into bliss. “So responsive… so fucking perfect.”

You writhed against him, desperate and aching, needing more, but he held you firmly in place, a wicked grin on his lips as he relished in your frustration, taking his time to savour every moment.

With a swift, commanding motion, he pulled out, leaving you breathless and wanting. The abruptness of it sent a shiver through you, a mix of anticipation and urgency swelling in your chest. “Get down,” he ordered, his voice low and firm, eyes darkened with desire.

You didn’t hesitate, the need to obey overriding any hesitation. You sank down onto the cool corridor floor, the surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body. As you lay back, your heart raced, both from the thrill of his command and the way his gaze devoured you, hungry and insatiable.

Copia moved over you, his body looming above like a dark, predatory silhouette. He positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread you open for him, the intensity of his stare sending jolts of excitement through you. “I want to see you,” he growled, his voice dripping with lust as he lined himself up once more.

With a sharp thrust, he entered you again, deeper this time, and you gasped as he filled you completely. The weight of him pressed you into the floor, his hips snapping forward with a force that made the chain hanging from his neck swing and sway tantalizingly in front of your face, glimmering in the dim light.

“Look at me,” he commanded, and you did, locking eyes with him as he drove into you, his expression a mix of pleasure and authority. The force of his movements sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, his body perfectly in sync with yours, creating a heady rhythm that left you gasping and wanting more.

“You’re mine,” he said, punctuating each word with a thrust, the intensity in his voice matched only by the way he filled you. The chain danced tantalizingly close, swaying with every forceful movement, a physical manifestation of his power and control. You could hardly think, lost in the delicious friction and the way he possessed you, your body responding to every demanding push, every glorious pull.

Each powerful thrust brought the chain closer, its cool metal brushing against your cheek and lips, a reminder of the power he wielded over you. The sensation was maddening, and you could hardly focus on anything else—the rhythm of his hips, the way he moved inside you, the intoxicating sight of him looming over you, chain swinging with every thrust, an emblem of his dominance.

As he continued to thrust into you, the chain swinging tantalizingly closer, you felt an overwhelming urge to taste him, to take in every part of him that you could. Your gaze fixed on the diamond grucifix dangling from his neck, the cool metal glimmering in the low light, and a wicked idea sparked in your mind.

With a quick movement, you reached up, grabbing the chain and pulling it closer to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the grucifix, sucking on it as if it were his cock, the sharp, metallic taste mingling with the heat radiating off your body. It felt deliciously forbidden, a bold display of your need for him, and you could see the surprise flicker in his eyes, quickly replaced by something darker—hunger.

Copia’s thrusts stuttered for a moment, the sight of you eagerly sucking on the chain driving him wild. “Is that what you want, tesoro?” he growled, his voice low and gravelly, as he regained his rhythm. “You want to worship me like this?”

You nodded, still sucking on the grucifix, letting your tongue glide over the smooth surface, teasing it as you would with his cock. The action sent a thrill through him, and he picked up the pace, his thrusts growing more forceful, each movement pushing the grucifix deeper into your mouth, forcing you to take in more of the chain, feeling it cold against your lips.

The sensation was intoxicating, and the combination of his deep thrusts and the way you worshipped the grucifix left you breathless. You could feel the tension coiling within you, the line between pleasure and desperation blurring as you surrendered completely to the moment.

Copia’s breath grew ragged, each thrust driving him closer to his own climax. “That’s it, just like that,” he urged, his voice a mix of praise and urgency, each word sending heat coursing through you. “You’re perfect for this—such a good little pet.”

As he thrust deeper, you felt an insatiable urge rising within you, an overwhelming desire to amplify the pleasure coursing through your body. With your lips still wrapped around the grucifix, you let out a low, muffled moan that reverberated against the cool metal. The sound sent shivers of pleasure racing through you, echoing in the dimly lit corridor, as you began to touch yourself.

Your fingers moved eagerly between your legs, seeking out that sweet spot that had been yearning for attention. The sensation of your own fingers dancing over your sensitive skin, combined with the rhythmic pounding of his hips, sent shockwaves of ecstasy through you. You could feel every pulse of his thrusts inside you, each one making your fingers tingle with excitement as you rubbed your clit with a fervor that matched the intensity of the moment.

Copia’s gaze was fixated on you, his dark eyes blazing with hunger as he watched you pleasure yourself while he drove into you. “Look at you,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “So fucking desperate for it. Don’t stop, tesoro. Let me hear you.”

You obeyed, your moans spilling out around the grucifix as you continued to suck on it, the metal a reminder of his dominance. Each thrust met your fingers moving with urgency, and you could feel the pressure building, both inside and outside, intertwining in a way that threatened to consume you whole.

“Good girl,” he praised, his pace becoming even more erratic, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the corridor. “You’re going to make me lose control, you know that? I want you to come for me while I’m buried deep inside you.”

The heat pooling low in your belly swelled, and you felt your body responding to his words, an electric thrill coursing through your veins. You moaned louder around the grucifix, the combination of your own touch, his powerful thrusts, and the deliciously forbidden act of sucking on the chain pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

With every movement, you lost yourself further in the blissful haze of pleasure, the world narrowing down to just the two of you—his thrusts, your moans, the grucifix swinging gently in the air, and the desperate need to feel him fill you completely as you chased that sweet release.

The pressure inside you reached a crescendo, building to an almost unbearable peak as you continued to work your fingers frantically, the urgency of your movements intensifying. You could feel every thrust from Copia, each one driving you closer to that edge, and the sweet sound of your moans around the grucifix only heightened your need.

Then, as if a dam had broken, the pleasure erupted within you like a tidal wave. The orgasm washed over you, more powerful than anything you had ever experienced before, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed. Your body trembled as the waves of ecstasy surged through you, making your toes curl and your back arch off the floor. You cried out around the grucifix, the sound mingling with the raw desire in the air, echoing through the corridor as you surrendered completely to the bliss.

Copia’s grip tightened on your thighs, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he felt your body clench around him, your orgasm pulling him closer to the edge. The sensation of you coming around him was overwhelming, and he couldn’t help but thrust deeper, seeking his own release even as he reveled in the way your body reacted to him.

“Fuck, yes!” he gasped, his voice a mix of awe and lust, completely enthralled by the sight of you lost in pleasure beneath him. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

As you rode the waves of your orgasm, you could feel your body pulsing around him, milking him with each spasm. The sensation heightened your pleasure even further, and the heat radiating from him added to the intoxicating mix. You let out one final, guttural moan, the sound echoing off the walls, as your body trembled in the aftermath of your release.

With each thrust, Copia felt the tension coiling tightly within him, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he watched you ride the waves of your orgasm, completely lost in ecstasy. The sight of you—your body trembling beneath him, fingers still working furiously at your clit—drove him wild, urging him closer to his own release. He could feel the tightness of your walls clenching around him, coaxing him into that sweet abyss, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through his entire body.

“Sathanas,” he groaned, his voice thick with need, the intensity of the moment washing over him. “I can’t hold on any longer.” He thrust harder, the urgency in his movements increasing, desperation fueling his every action. Each powerful push drove him deeper, bringing him closer to the edge, and he couldn’t help but lose himself in the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

As the world around him faded away, all he could focus on was you—your beauty, your moans, the way your body responded to him. “I’m coming,” he breathed, just before his release crashed over him like a tidal wave.

With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, the heat of his body merging with yours as he let go completely. He came hard, filling you with a warmth that spread through your core, the sensation of him spilling inside you pushing you back toward the edge once more. You gasped in shock and delight at the feeling, a mixture of his release and your own, amplifying the bliss that coursed through you both.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he breathed, his voice thick with satisfaction, as he rode out the waves of his climax, his body trembling as he remained anchored deep within you. The weight of him pressing down, combined with the warmth of his release, wrapped around you like a cocoon, leaving you both breathless and euphoric.

For a moment, time stood still as you lay there together, lost in the aftermath of your pleasure, the connection between you both tangible and electric. The corridor felt like your own private sanctuary, filled with the remnants of your shared ecstasy, and as you looked up into his dark, smoldering eyes, you knew this was just the beginning of what he could give you.

As Copia pulled out of you, the warmth of his body lingered in the cool corridor, leaving you both breathless and delightfully spent. He turned to lay beside you, a satisfied grin plastered across his face, the glow of post-coital bliss still evident in his eyes. The corridor felt like a world of its own, the thrill of what had just happened hanging in the air like a sultry fog.

Just as he was about to tuck himself away, a Brother of Sin strolled by, nonchalantly whistling a tune under his breath. You both froze, eyes wide, as he paused, glancing down at Copia. With an exaggerated eyebrow raise, he took in the scene before him: the disheveled state of both of you, the lingering signs of passion, and, of course, Copia’s still-exposed cock, glistening slightly in the dim light.

“Frater… Sorella,” the Brother acknowledged with a casual nod of his head, a smirk creeping across his lips. His eyes danced with amusement as he continued, “Looks like you’ve had a productive meeting, eh?”

Copia, ever the dramatic one, flushed a deep crimson, sputtering for words as he scrambled to cover himself. “I—I was just—uh, discussing… duties! Yes, very important duties!” he stammered, trying to regain some semblance of dignity.

The Brother chuckled, shaking his head as he continued walking, “Don’t let me interrupt your… practical training. Just remember, we have a reputation to uphold!” His voice trailed off, the mischievous tone lingering in the air.

Copia groaned, throwing a hand over his eyes in embarrassment, while you burst into laughter, unable to contain the joy of the moment. “Oh, this is just perfect!” you said, still giggling at the absurdity of it all. “Only us, right?”

Copia rolled onto his side, still flustered but unable to hide his own laughter. “At least I know my meetings are memorable,” he replied, a grin creeping back onto his face. “Next time, I’ll try to keep my—” he gestured vaguely at himself, “—professionalism intact.”

“Or maybe just find a more private location?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

He chuckled, the embarrassment fading as the moment turned into yet another inside joke between you, the warmth of shared pleasure and laughter mingling together in the most delightful way.

Copia raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, is that so?” he replied, leaning on one elbow to look at you, his expression a mix of feigned outrage and amusement. “I would like to remind you that this location was your idea!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a bright sound that echoed off the corridor walls. “Well, I didn’t think we’d have an audience today!” you shot back, unable to suppress the grin on your face. “It’s not my fault that you have a penchant for the dramatic, Frater.”

“Dramatic?” he feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. “I prefer to call it enthusiastic! Just look at how well it turned out!” He gestured around the corridor, as if the very walls would applaud his romantic choices.

With a dramatic flourish, he added, “It’s not every day you get to mix duty with a little… extracurricular activity.” He winked, his confidence returning, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics.

“Extracurricular, huh? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” you quipped, nudging him playfully.

“Absolutely!” he replied, puffing out his chest in mock seriousness. “And let it be known: I am fully committed to the role of dedicated educator in our… field studies.”

“Right. I’m sure the Ministry will be thrilled to hear about your ‘educational’ methods,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Just try to keep it down next time, or we might end up with more than just curious Brothers wandering by.”

“Deal! But no promises if the curriculum gets a little… intense,” he winked, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, and you both burst into laughter once again.

Prev./Next

93 notes · View notes