#what causes boils on your breast

[jacesvelaryons]

Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader

Where she gives birth to a baby that looks like jace and it bothered alicent but they don't care? :3

Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)

(a/n): i’m sorry this request took over a year but my, what a great idea! i hope you like it

word count: 3.0k

summary: with what was supposed to be a happy moment in the new chapter of your family with jacaerys, only wounds linger when your mother is unhappy with your child's appearance.

warnings: slight angst, family tensions, complicated family relationships, implied incest (the targaryen way), not alicent hightower friendly

request status: OPEN

The joy of his newborn child is nearly eclipsed by the fear that his beloved would be called to face the same humiliation his mother endured upon his birth.

Even in distress, his beautiful wife still looked otherworldly silver hair spun in gold, and with her pale lavender eyes, he would not have that ginger sucker of joy to rob him from this life changing celebration. His relief that his beloved survived the precarious birth, worried about her lithe frame and the prostration it weighed on her during the pregnancy.

His little boy, his beloved son, a fragment of the other half of soul and his own. He is perfect, with his ten little toes and fingers, and he is all his.

Jacaerys is thankful his mother was in the birthing room with him and his wife, breaking protocol (as always) to be with the mother as she went into labour. Without her, he thinks he would’ve been hysterical and lost his mind without her guiding hand and comforting presence in seeing Y/N in distress.

“Where is my mother?” Y/N cradles the babe to her breast, as he suckled in his mother’s warmth and he feels his heart drop to his stomach as her face contorted in disappointment.

The child yearned for nourishment, and the midwives guided the young mother so she could feed the child with her milk.

The Dowager Queen remained unyielding even as her step-daughter arose as Queen, and she was still given some privileges even with her dispute with his mother. The marriage of Jacaerys and Y/N, her youngest daughter, was made as a desperate attempt to patch the two sides together and make peace as his mother sat on the Iron Throne.

Her mother attended the wedding, wearing a dark muted forest green that still appeared obsidian in certain angles, but the flame patterns could not be missed on her gown.

A mockery indeed as if she did not accept his mother’s ascendance to the throne and wanted her small rebellions in forms of cloth, he would not grant her the satisfaction of his reaction, for the sake of the realm and his wife, her daughter. It would be too scandalous to do so.

When his beloved was called abed, all pretense of dignity and calm collapsed underneath him. Whatever confident front he had broke apart as fear consumed him, sweat dripping from his forehead, hands shaking, heart beating wildly as he realized his wife was to cross the barrier between life and death to birth their child.

Seeing Y/N’s clean white robes stained the bed in scarlet as she quickens and the pain increases as the babe nears reminds him of the chills whenever he walks the path from the princess’ chambers to the queen’s, the same path forged in blood when his mother then Princess Rhaenyra, the crown princess and heir to the Throne, had to face the humiliation called upon by her stepmother, now Queen Dowager Alicent.

His blood boils when he sees the auburn former queen walk that path meekly nowadays on her way to see her daughter, as if it was all an act when she had pulled rank and caused so much suffering to his beloved mother. Jacaerys fears his wife, now the Princess of Dragonstone will have to walk those same halls, perform the same walk of shame and mummery with all the courtiers of the Keep to bear witness.

There is no possibility he will allow her to endure the same, he would bring fire and blood to all of Westeros shall she have to face that, yet it brings him relief when he reminds himself that woman is no longer Queen but his mother is, Queen of her own right and first of her name, and yet all the same, that woman is also his mother-in-law, mother to his darling. And grandmother to the child that shares his blood.

Jacaerys never left the side of his wife even when her birth continued onto the hour of the wolf, his hands intertwined with her own, assuring kisses on her temple and cheek and encouraging her when she would cry she wanted to relent. Across from him stood his mother, whose locks resembled her half sister and his wife, an experienced mother who has felt such joy and such sorrow too, with a maternal comfort gained with experience.

He would not allow a woman filled with hate to the brim in her heart to rob him of the joys of fatherhood and the relief of his wife safe and sound after such birth to their babe. Jace felt relief like no other when he began to see the dark haired head of the child crowning, and the guttural, final scream she exerted as the child exited her womb.

Jacaerys comforted and whispered assurances of gratitude and encouragement to his lady wife, that she be reminded how grateful he was of her efforts to grow their family, of her devotion and love for him, and fulfilling her duty with nothing but grace, peppering kisses all over her flushed face.

As he caressed the fine hair of his child much like own while he fed from his mother’s breast, his elated expression dropped as if in a chilling reminder when she asked for her mother. As despicable as that woman was, he could not deny her wishes if it brought her reprieve. Jace smiled and promised her that she would be coming and has been informed of the birth of her new grandchild.

When Y/N was beyond earshot, he approached the young midwife with a hardened gait, grinding through his teeth. “If the Dowager Queen wishes to see the prince, she will make her way here herself. She can walk, can she not?!"

While his wife was preoccupied and in isolation during the last few months of the pregnancy, Jace had made efforts to convince his mother to move the Lady Alicent to the second floor below the palace where the current royal family lived. “To remind her of what she’s done to us and may feel the pain we have endured.” He told Queen Rhaenyra, who was hesitant but accepted afterwards.

Jacaerys marched his way outside the ornate doors where his wife and their babe rested, raising his chin and standing with his chest puffed out, a cold indifferent expression, back straightened and fists clenched white as his wife’s mother made her way up the stairs with difficulty.

In the years since her queenship, the then young queen had begun to develop striking pain all over her body, especially down her spine and legs no matter what the maesters or foreign healers would advise. Jacaerys thought it was fitting for when he would make his mother walk up with him and his newborn siblings, bleeding across the hallways and staircases due to the green queen’s attempt to humiliate them.

Perhaps he is his mother’s son, as diplomatic, gracious, intelligent and cunning as he may be, grudges linger.

He could hear a pin drop as the auburn haired woman nearly stumbled down the final stairs and tripped over her gown, with a few septas rushing over to assist her but he showed no commiseration.

The doors swung open as Alicent limped towards her daughter’s bedside, slightly softening in consolation her daughter was safe in childbirth and the child was kicking like a goat.

“Praise the Mother, my girl.” She brushed her blood-smeared fingers over her silver hair shakily, whispering. He did not miss the glimpse of disappointment when she noticed the dark brown hair of the child, even when the boy had her pale lavender eyes.

Alicent cleared her throat, avoiding the gaze of those around her. “I see that the prince strongly resembles his father.”

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, instinctively reaching towards the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword. “Is that supposed to be a problem, Dowager?” He stomped forward, hovering above his wife and child.

“Not at all, my prince. He is a handsome boy-”

Queen Rhaenyra noticed the tension beginning to develop and interrupted with a smile. “She means no ill, Jacaerys. Merely an observation.”

“An observation?! She wished to have us named as bastards to replace you as heir with one of her spawns and humiliate you.” He raised his voice, accusatory at his mother’s former adversary, and he could feel Lucerys next to him, pulling him away to calm him.

His wife Y/N, exhausted and delirious from the birth, began to grow pale and overwhelmed from the commotion around her, just as her babe broke out in tears and wailed. The Queen ordered everyone but Jacaerys to exit the room and give the family their space. The door shut with a thunderous thud.

…

Hours later, the midwives finished cleaning up the afterbirth, bathed and cleaned the lady and the child before they both fell asleep in new linen sheets and fed.

Jacaerys never left his young family’s side, despondent he had lost his cool, distressing his family during a vulnerable moment, turning what should have been a celebration into an altercation.

He cringed as he could only imagine what the murmurs and whispers about his behaviour and the events that followed with his wife’s mother would share about him. He had brought this upon himself and his family.

AS Y/N began waking from her first rest since the labours, he turned to her as soon as he could hear her rise from her sheets, reaching for her hands in his.

“I have failed you, wife. I should have protected you but I have only raised in anger over old wounds and created altercations when I should have.” Jacaerys felt his tears brim, cheeks red with ignominy and shame.

Her eyes fluttered awake, still weary from the long delivery but visibly more rested already. She shook her head in understanding with an enervated sigh.

“I understand your relationship with my mother has been tense, for what she had done to Her Grace and your family. But I can assure her she has changed, if she is not with me, she is on the knees at the Sept begging for forgiveness and giving alms-”

“She looked at our son the same way she used to look at me and my brothers as children, when she would use her tongue to call us bastards! I fear she will do the same to you and the boy. What good will alms do if she still wishes to see me and our son six feet under ground for the colour of our hair!?” Jacaerys exclaimed, lips quivering in fear as he felt tears brim in his eyes.

Y/N brought their son closer to her arms, only comforted by the sight of her child and her beloved.

“I will handle her, trust me. She thinks I do not pay attention to these things, but I do.” She reaches her free hand to his, unmoving to not wake the babe and squeezes his larger palms into her own.

Jacaerys sniffles, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I do not wish to drive you apart from your mother, my love. I only worry about you and our family’s safety, and the throne. That you and our son may not suffer on my behalf.”

Their son had just begun to fall asleep in her arms, and she began bouncing him instinctively, quickly gaining the ropes of what it took to be a good mother. Jacaerys knew she would be nothing like her own mother, eagerly learning from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, speaking with other royal and noble mothers and even listening to wet nurses and nannies on how to rear children best.

“Are you sure you can handle this conversation? Would you like me outside or in the room with you?” He asks with uncertainty, not entirely confident with his wife even with her own mother.

The wife of the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone nods fiercely. “You forget I am a dragon too. We do not bow to these snakes that suck from their prey.”

…

In the overmorrow on the first day of spring, Y/N had just put her son in his cradle, handcrafted in limestone and marble with seahorses and dragons, lined with sheets of silk with pearls and aquamarines, befitting the future King, and the scion of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon.

She hummed as she watched him sleep, having gone through feeding him herself to the surprise of the wet nurses she had followed through, unlike most royalty. She swore she would leave nursing and care to others if she had no other choice.

Underneath sat the hearth of the magenta and mauve swirled dragon egg surrounded by pieces of coal, emitting whirls of smoke that signified the life alive in those eggs. The egg was special as it was the first from her young ride, a nervous flighty thing who only managed to hatch when she found out she was expecting herself, rarely only having one dragon when most on Dragonstone laid many.

As she hums old Valyrian nursery hymns from the crypts of ancient Valyrian text retrieved from the tombs of the Keep’s libraries, she recognizes the steps of her mother without a glimpse.

In her jade hued robes, Lady Alicent was quaint yet undaunted to remind the court of her former standing as once the queen who ruled these halls. A black veil hid part of her auburn hair that turned to flames in certain lighting.

Her mother grimaces with a smile that does not reach her eyes, but relief is painted all over her being. “You are well, daughter? I presume so is the babe.”

Y/N curtly interrupts her. “The babe is your grandson, my child when I am your flesh and blood, mother. Most importantly, he is the future heir to the throne, second in line to my husband.”

Alicent frantically fidgets with her fingers, tugging at her old emerald rings in consternation.

“Of course, yes. His name, Aemon, is fitting for a future monarch.” She could hear the strain in her mother’s words, laced with lies. All her life she had learned those sealed with malice and deceit.

“You forget yourself, mother. My husband and my children are of the blood of the dragon, as do I. You do not understand the ways of the dragon, in your jealousy of wanting to unseat my sister and put Aegon on the throne. Your attempts to disgrace and dispossess my future husband and his brothers has brought the Stranger hanging over mine and my own son’s head!” Y/N chides in betrayal, voice tinged with disbelief her mother would do such a thing.

“Y/N-”

“I could not believe you, mother, that you still harbour such ill will after many years. My marriage with Jacaerys should have buried whatever disagreements you may have had with Queen Rhaenyra, but you value imbuing hate and division on this house more than choosing the peace and stability of this kingdom!”

“Your husband and your son are unbecoming of what Targaryen princes are supposed to look like-” The Dowager attempted to reason, but was impeded as her daughter held an imposing hand towards her.

“Unbecoming? Have you not glimpsed into a mirror? You are nothing of what a Targaryen queen should be, a mere second son’s daughter who brought nothing of value to the throne, and only sought discord to advance her family. Who replaced the Targaryen tapestries with ones of the Seven in hopes of bringing your radicalism to the rest of the kingdom!”

Guards barge in the doors of the babe’s nursery, their armour and swords clattering loudly in the quiet hall.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Y/N coldly turns away from her mother, even as she frowned the same way she would. “By order of the Princess of Dragonstone with the seal of approval of the Prince of Dragonstone and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,

I order your arrest for treason, and insubordination not only for your past grievances but your efforts to call my son a bastard. You will be stripped of your privileges of Queen Dowager, and turned into a septa who will serve the Seven for all her days.”

The former queen is astonished, struggling among the grips of the soldiers who surround her. “Daughter, you are mistaken, please do not do this to me. For all I have sacrificed for this realm and for your father, you must understand why I am the way I am.” She pleaded on her knees, hands clasped as she cried for mercy.

“No, you have served your ambitions and my late grandsire’s treacherous longing for power and the throne, that you would put the Hightower banners and replace Targaryen customs with the Seven and southern ways, that you would tear the kingdom apart for it. I have given you too many chances, forgiving you and turning the cheek in hopes you have accepted it and at least been happy for me, but I am a fool. I am not as forgiving as my father was to your digressions!”

Y/N paced slowly around her mother, sorrow on her face, but no regret or forgiveness.

“You are lucky I will not be putting you in a cell, because for better or for worse, you are still the mother who birthed me. But you would understand, there is nothing a mother would do to grant protection to her children.”

The princess dazed into the window, grasping onto the rails as she heard her mother being dragged out the halls and stripped of her royal ordinances. She could feel herself biting into her nails nervously after years of no longer doing so.

Jacaerys sauntered carefully, approaching his wife with comfort, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her into his arms, looking down at their son as he slept.

“Was I not too cruel, Jace?” She whimpered, weeping into his arms as she was devastated at whether treating her own kin in such a way was a fatal mistake.

He rests his chin on the top of her head before pressing kisses on her temple. “I understand why this troubles you, wife. As abominable and misguided she was, you still are her blood, her daughter.”

She glimpsed at her son, cooing at him as he quietly sleeps. “As a mother, I want to be nothing like her. My son will never be safe while she is around.”

[ervans]

Care for You (Mizu x F!reader)

warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, and violence, soft sex, fingering (r! receiving)

a/n: wow. it's been a minute since i've truly sat down and wrote something. i'm absolutely obsessed with BES and mizu, i haven't felt so passionate about something since TLOU. this is my adaptation of what seems to be the most cliche scenario in this fandom so far: reader finding an injured mizu. i'm a bit rusty when it comes to writing so any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated, follows and notes as well. i have more ideas for works surrounding mizu (including a brothel fic muahahaha) so keep your eyes peeled for my posts :))

The sound of your sandals shuffling against the ground and your heavy pants were the only noises that pierced the otherwise quiet night. The moon, stars, and faint glow of your home in the distance were your only source of light as you trekked up the hill where the soft orange hue was coming from. The walk up this specific hill usually caused you no trouble, having done it dozens of times; however, this time was a tad bit different. Why? The limp, unconscious body that was currently draped over your shoulder.

Earlier in the evening you had heard a commotion down at the lake below the hill your home rested on. It was normal for stragglers, crooks, and opium addicts to travel through this part of Japan and mixing those groups of people usually ended up in some sort of fight. You had paid no mind to the noise, continuing with your cleaning. It wasn’t until you realized you needed more water for your tea that you made your way down the hill. As you reached the shore and saw the mess in front of you your stomach lurched.

Four bodies laid lifeless in front of you on the sand. From what you could tell they all had various stab and slash wounds across their bodies. Fifteen feet away from the tattered bodies lay another smaller one clad in baggy black trousers and stockings, a dark blue haori, and white scarf around his neck with a brown straw hat, round glasses with an orange tinted lens, and a sword, the telltale sign of a samurai on the ground beside him.

 From where you stood you could see his chest still moving as he tried to shallowly breathe in oxygen from the air surrounding his struggling body. That brings you to where you are now, struggling up a damn hill trying to save this unknown samurai’s life. Was he responsible for the four bodies you had pushed into the lake? It didn’t matter to you; you weren’t one to judge in a world where it was kill or be killed.

You push the door to your house open and lay the injured stranger onto your mat near the fire. You start to boil water to disinfect whatever wounds he had and open a drawer to grab a needle and thread just in case stitches were needed. They very much were. You quickly realized the source of what seemed like never-ending blood on the top half of his body as you stripped the bloodstained clothing away. A gash about 4 inches long and deeper than you’d like it to be starting towards the base of his ribcage, skin around it starting to turn a yellowish color. It almost distracted you from the way the stranger was wearing chest wraps. Almost.

You frowned looking down at the shallow breathing of the samurai’s chest. Why would he need chest wraps? You thought, fingers brushing over the once white cloth now stained. Unless? You slowly started to undo the bindings, telling yourself you needed to anyways to properly clean the wound. As the cloth unraveled in your hands your small suspicion was confirmed. Two small breasts sat atop the chest of the slender samurai that laid before you, nipples hardening as they became exposed to the air. Your eyebrows raised, head tilting slightly to the side. A female samurai? How? Questions began to fill your mind as you started to clean the wound, gently washing it with the now hot water. It was unheard of for a woman to even touch a sword as it was said to make the blade impure. Where had this woman gotten her sword? Who did she get taught by? Clearly from the mess on the beach she knew her way around a fight.

You finished cleaning and stitching the larger wound and got to work on disinfecting the smaller cuts and scrapes on the upper half of her body. Once you were satisfied with your work, you began removing the woman’s trousers and stockings, revealing another deep gash running from the top of her knee down to her shin. Sighing you started the same process as her chest and prepared yourself for the unknown amount of time you would be caring for this mysterious female samurai.

════════════════════════════════════════════

It took three days for the samurai to fully regain her consciousness. In those days you had changed the dressings on her wounds, forced broth and water down her throat for some form of sustenance, and carefully studied her whenever you found the chance to. You noticed small things others would easily miss. The way her face seemed like it was always in a permanent frown, her subtly toned muscles from what had to be from years of training, how her calloused hands would twitch in her sleep, stress being the cause of it you had concluded after watching her for a good hour whilst you sipped on your tea, and how insanely handsome she was. Wait what? Handsome? That thought scared you so much that you had refused to watch her for the remainder of the evening besides checking her wounds thoroughly before you went to bed. But you couldn’t ignore those thoughts that plagued your head as your touch lingered for more time than it should’ve.

You were sat cross-legged waiting for your tea to steep when you heard a thud from behind you. Quickly turning around to find what the source of the noise was, you were met with the samurai staring back at you, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. And oh, were they blue. You had never seen or known something could be as piercingly blue as the eyes that met yours.

“Who are you? Where am I?” The samurai demanded in a gravelly voice that sent a shiver up your spine. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer right away, mouth slightly agape with shock at the stranger who had, just minutes ago, been passed out. “I asked you a question, now answer it.” She said sternly after a beat of silence between the two of you.

You blinked, raising an eyebrow and rising to your feet. “Well that’s no way to talk to someone who saved your life now is it?”

The woman, stern frown never leaving her features, quickly looked around the room taking in her surroundings. She then looked down at herself, usual blue haori missing and replaced with a softer red one. You hadn’t wanted to leave her bare in the middle of your home and opted to dress her in one of yours while you worked on scrubbing the stains out of hers.

You saw her tentatively try to move, and the flash of pain the appeared on her face for just a second didn’t go unnoticed by you. She pursed her lips and looked back up at you. “Thank you for stitching me up, but I would rather not stay a hostage here any longer. I have more important places to be.”

Your eyes widen and you scoff. “Hostage? Are you fucking serious? By all means you can leave, makes my life ten times easier if you do.” You were lying, you quite enjoyed caring for the handsome samurai, but you would never admit that to her. At least not now. “Good luck walking on that knee by the way, I’m sure it won’t be any trouble for you though.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against the wall as the blue-eyed woman looked you up and down once more before attempting to get up. After a few minutes she was standing, hand against the top of the fireplace to keep her from falling over. You could see her chest rising and falling quickly from the struggle of just standing. She looked back over at you, still leaning with your arms crossed. “Where are my belongings?”

“On the table to your right.” You responded, eyes never leaving hers. You watched her glance over to the table. It was about five feet away; it should’ve been no problem for her to walk over and grab her things. Should’ve. It took her almost ten minutes to reach the edge of the table, her injured leg making it difficult to have a full range of motion. She opted to shuffle inch by inch over to the edge. By the time she got there she was out of breath, looking down at her hands placed on the wood in front of her. You hadn’t moved at all, the only change being your expression shifting from annoyance to amusement as you watched the fit samurai struggle.

After a moment she let out a shaky breath. You saw her knuckles tighten as if she was having an internal battle with herself. “Can you help me back to the mat?” She asked so quietly you almost missed it. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked over to where she stood, taking notice in the way her legs were shaking from lack of use over the past three days. She refused to look at you as you placed her arm over your shoulders and helped guide her back to the mat on the floor. “Thank you.” She muttered.

You looked at her, worry spreading across your features. “Of course. I’m here for anything you need. Consider me your personal caretaker.” You joked. “Although, a good caretaker should know her patients name.” Your words hung in the air for a moment before she responded.

“Mizu.”

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It had been three weeks since Mizu had introduced herself to you. She didn’t talk much about her personal life, which you respected, instead filling the silence between the two of you with your own stories from your childhood. In that time her leg wound had been healing considerably quick, mostly due to the bedrest you ordered her to stay on. The only time she was allowed to move her legs was when she needed to relieve herself or when you would do small stretches with her to keep her blood flow moving. After some time, she was able to get up and walk for short periods of time on her own. The only problem with her quick recovery in her leg was the fact that her chest wound had hardly any progress to it.

Since Mizu couldn’t walk for some time, she exerted all her energy to her upper half, much to your dismay. She would sit up on the mat doing stretches on her arms and shoulders, sometimes raising them so far up you were afraid a stitch was going to pop. It did.

Mizu had been practicing arm movements with her sword, stating that “If I want to achieve my goals, my skills must always be honed and sharp.” Bullshit you thought. She just wanted to aggravate you. How could you tell? The small smirk that would grace her lips whenever she went to pick up her sword, even after you told her it was dangerous, and she could hurt herself anymore. Alas, she was a stubborn woman and it’s how you ended up rushing inside from chopping wood after hearing a sharp yelp from inside your home.

She sat on her mat, one hand clutching the spot above her wound while the other reached for the needle and thread you always kept close by. Once you realized she was going to try to stitch herself back up you rushed over to snatch the needle from her hands and straddle her lap, careful of the wound on her knee. She looked startled for a moment before her whole face turned a deep shade of red once she realized the position you both were in. You had a faint blush as well as you plucked the thread from her hand as well.

“I’m not letting you stitch yourself. You’re going to make your injury worse.” You said looking down at her. She looked up at you with those damn blue eyes you could get lost in for ages, cheeks still red but an amused expression on her face.

“You don’t think I know how to stitch myself up?”

You laughed awkwardly. “Well, no. I just…you just…you just popped a stitch by doing something I told you not to do! How can I be sure you’ll do it correctly?!” Mizu laughed. A sound so beautiful you were sure it would play through your mind for months to come. “I guess you have a point. C’mon then doc, fix me up.” She smirked. You felt your face grow even hotter.

Still straddling her you pushed her robe off her shoulders revealing her chest wraps with blood from the reopened wound soaking through them. You gulped. To stitch her back up you’d have to remove her bindings. And this time she was awake. And would definitely take notice in the way your eyes would roam her chest. Sensing your hesitation, she smiled looking up at you. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen them before, obviously you have, or I wouldn’t have stitches here.” She was teasing you, you realized. “Here I’ll make it easier for you.” Her hand reached around to begin to undo her wraps. You sat there dumbfounded as they fell to the floor and her breasts were exposed to you once again.

“You just gonna stare sweetheart or are you gonna patch me up?” Mizu’s teasing question broke you out of your trance as you swallowed thickly and got to work on restitching her wound. You felt her piercing gaze on you the entire time and did your best to try and ignore the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Later that night after the excitement of the day you sat sipping on your tea while Mizu slept next to the fire. You couldn’t stop thinking about her. Those beautiful blue eyes, the way her lips turned up into a smirk whenever it seemed you were flustered, and the sound of her laugh plagued you. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

Suddenly Mizu woke with a gasp, shooting up from the mat. You turned to her startled as you took in her appearance. Eyes wide with fear, chest heaving up and down, and her hands gripping tightly onto her blanket. “Nightmare?” You asked softly as to not startle her even more than she was. She just nodded as she looked at you, eyes bright in the darkness.

You softly rose to your feet, padded over to where was sat up, and sat down next to her. Her eyes had never left your figure as you made your way to her. You looked down at the blanket, then back up to her asking a silent question.

Slowly she lifted the blanket up and laid back down, giving you room to scoot in next to her. You wrapped your arms around her and brought her closer to your chest in the most intimate position the both of you had ever been in. You had never slept as well as you did that night.

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It had been four days since Mizu’s nightmare, and every night since then you two had slept together, arms wrapped around each other. The dynamic between you had changed drastically, lingering touches and glances to each other becoming a new normal.

Tonight was no different to the past few. You lay facing Mizu while her back was turned to the fire, tracing circles into her rough and calloused hands. The silence was comfortable, but you chose to break it in that moment.

“When do you think you’ll leave?” A flash of hurt ran across Mizu’s face.

“I can leave whenever you want me to, I think I’m healed enough by now. Would you like me to leave tomorrow?” Your heart clenched at the sadness in her voice. You didn’t want that at all.

“No,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to leave me. Ever.” Her eyes softened, moving closer to you she brushed her nose against yours.

“Then I won’t.”

Your lips met her soft ones in a searing kiss, one that knocked the air right out of your lungs. You let out at soft noise as she titled her head, running her tongue across your bottom lip to deepen the kiss and ask for permission to enter. You parted your mouth for her, tongues running against each other as she rolled on top of you, straddling your hips. Her fingers ran down your sides and under your top, tips of them brushing the underside of your breasts as you pushed your chest up into her, silently asking for more.

She pulled away from the kiss, a trail of spit the only thing keeping you connected, and smiled. “I’m going to need you to tell me you want more. Tell me you want it and I’ll stay.”

You moaned at her words. “Yes! Mizu please I want it, I need you.” She leaned down to kiss you once those words left your lips, fingers moving up to circle and pinch your hardened nipples. You let out a gasp into Mizu’s mouth at the sensation and she smiled into you, moving her head to trail kisses down your face to your neck, sucking a purple mark just below your ear.

You raised your arms over your head as she stripped you of your top, eyes lingering on your now bare breasts. “Beautiful.” Was all she said. You let out a whimper at her words. She kissed down your shoulders to your breasts and licked a long stripe up your nipple, the sensation causing you to moan and buck your hips up into hers. As she continued her assault on your breasts, her hand traveled lower down your stomach and slipped her hand into your trousers to run a finger through your slick folds.

You were a moaning, withering mess below her at this point. Between her mouth on your tits and her finger slowly brushing against your clit, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. “Please Mizu. I need you, please.” You begged, grinding your hips up into her hand hoping she got the message. She did. Slowly she pushed her middle finger into your wet heat, savoring the noise that left your lips as she did. Experimentally she curled her finger, finding that spongy spot at the front of your walls.

It wasn’t enough for you. “More, I need more.” You whimpered. Smiling against your breast, she pushed another finger in, thrusting at a quicker pace. You were close, she could tell by the way your pussy clenched around her digits. You just needed one last thing to push you over the edge. Removing her mouth from your nipple, she brought her forehead against yours admiring the way your mouth was slightly agape and the furrow between your brows.

“Open your eyes. You’re to look at me when you cum.”

At her words and her thumb suddenly circling your clit matching the pace at which she thrust, your eyes shot open meeting her icy blue ones, the last thread keeping you from falling snapping.

“‘m gonna cum Mizu, fuck m’ gonna fuckfuck-“ You were sent over the edge, cunt clenching and gushing around her fingers while your back arched off the mat, eyes never leaving hers as she guided and talked you through it.

As you caught your breath, chest heaving, she peppered soft kisses all over your face causing you to giggle breathlessly. She smiled down at you as you looked up at her still panting. “Give me a second, let me return the favor.” She leaned down capturing your lips once again as she removed her fingers from your core, wiping the slick on her pants and rolling to lay next to you. She pulled you into her chest and nuzzled her nose into your hair.

“You’ve taken care of me these last few weeks, let me take care of you. We have all the time in the world, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

And Mizu always kept her promises.

[bucks-babe]

Let Me Be of Service

Pairing: Husband!Bucky x Pregnant!Wife!reader

Summary: With your growing belly, it gets a lot harder to take care of yourself. Luckily, your husband is always willing to lend a helping hand

Warnings: Fluff, a little smut, reader is heavily preggo, established relationship, Bucky is down bad, Bucky shaves his girl’s cooch and boot, crack fic, embarrassing stories about each other, implied smut at the end, banter, Bucky calls reader Petal and she calls him Duckie

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: A little something something to hold you guys over while I’m working on part 2 of Change My Ways For You. Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however, any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

You hear the clashing of pans in the kitchen followed by your husband’s curse. It brings a smile to your lips, knowing that he is trying to make you breakfast in bed, even though he is probably the worst cook you have ever met. When you first started dating, he made the joke that he was the only person that could start a fire with water. 

You didn’t believe him until he actually did start a fire while boiling water at his first and only attempt to make pasta for the two of you to eat. You still have no idea how he managed to do that, but ever since then it’s either you cook, he ‘helps’ you in the kitchen, which is you giving him the easiest thing to do and hope that he doesn’t blow you up, or you order out.

But ever since you got pregnant, doing everyday tasks has gotten harder. You get out of breath from just standing up. Don’t even start with trying to pick something up off the floor. If it hits the ground, it’s going to stay there until Bucky picks it up if you can’t grip it with your toes. Cooking has become a near impossible task for you. Who knew that carrying a super soldier baby would be so hard? 

Your belly was larger than the average woman’s stomach for how far along you are. It wasn’t just that your belly was big though. It caused so much back pain that it was easier to just lay on your side all day, and your feet ached and pulsed from the shortest walk. 

You felt like a bad wife, not able to help take care of the house, or yourself for that matter. But Bucky was a saint, he doted on you every second of the day. He took his leave of absence as soon as you started grunting while moving around. Bucky loved every minute of it though, albeit he hated seeing you in pain, but every change to your body was incredible to him. He was obsessed with how round you were, how full your breasts are, and the cute little pout that is always on your lips.

So you appreciated Bucky for trying to make you something to eat; although you knew it was going to be disgusting, possibly inedible, you would take it with a smile on your face because he tried and that was something you were grateful for.

You decided to get out of bed, not to take over making breakfast in the fear of burning down your house, of course not, but to watch your man in action. When you shifted, however, it became painfully obvious that you were overdue for a shave. The prickly hairs on your pussy were uncomfortable, making putting your legs together almost painful.

You have no idea when the last time you shaved was. All you knew was that it was when you could still see your feet, and that was a loooonnng time ago. Bucky didn’t seem to mind your body hair. He would still eat you out until you had to roll over from the weight of your belly making it hard to breathe. He never once complained about your public hair and you honestly forgot that you hadn’t shaved in so long, until this moment.

Throwing on Bucky’s henley, grateful that he was so fucking beefy so you could still fit into his shirt, although tight around the belly, and wobbled out to the kitchen. Bucky heard you, your feet heavy on the wood floors. “Petal, you’re going to love this! I made you grilled cheese and guess what?” He spins around, bright smile on his face, a grilled cheese plated in his hands. 

“I have officially made something edible without us having to evacuate the house, AND it’s only slightly burnt.” The early morning sun casts a soft glow on his naked chest. He looked like a Greek god, corded muscles topped with a bit of softness, the result of your cooking and less time with the Avengers. 

“Good job, Duckie. Good thing too because I’m starving. Bug isn’t going to stop kicking my bladder until she gets something to eat.” Crow’s feet bloom around Bucky’s eyes. He falls in love with you harder every day, seeing you carry his baby into the world, keeping her safe in your belly.

Bucky sets the singular grilled cheese at your spot on the table, pulling out the chair for you to sit, strong hands grabbing your waist, making sure you don’t strain yourself too hard. He spins around and gets you a cup of your favorite morning drink and places it in front of you, quickly sitting down opposite you, eagerly waiting for you to take a bite.

“Duckie, aren’t you going to have one, too?” His sweet Petal was too good to him.

“Well, Petal, only one turned out.” He gives you a sheepish smile and you can only giggle at him.

“Do you want half of mine then? I don’t mind sharing.” You were starving your ass off, but you wanted to reward Bucky with something for being so good to you.

He vehemently shakes his head. “Uh, uh, Petal, you and Bug need to eat. I can find something else. Now hurry up and tell me if I meet up to your standards.”

Before you take a bite you reach over the table to grab his right hand, running your fingers over the wedding band there. He couldn’t wear it on his left hand, but you wanted everyone to know that he was yours. “You always exceed my standards, Duck.”

Bucky blushes and gestures for you to have a taste. Your eyes widen as the cheesy snack hits your tongue. “Oh my god, this is actually good!” Bucky leans back in his chair and does a small victory dance, proud of himself for feeding his wife.

His celebration is cut short when he sees you shift in your seat, clearly uncomfortable. “Petal, what’s wrong? Is Bug kicking?” Bucky is by your side in seconds cupping your belly, only to find that Bug isn’t causing a raucous.

“It’s kind of embarrassing.” You look down, away from his prying eyes.

“We have been together for 8 years, Petal. I stood watch while you took a shit on the side of the highway, it can’t be that bad.”

You whip your head around. “Duckie! We don’t talk about that. I told you not to bring that up again. It was one time!” Bucky only laughs and turns his head away.

“Petal, we both know that it was twice and we had to stop by Mcdonalds so you could wash yourself after you wiped with poison ivy.” Bucky was barely containing his laughter, while you were dying of embarrassment. “You know, that was the moment I knew I was going to marry you?”

You scoffed. “When we were stuck on the highway while I popped a squat? That cannot be when you knew you were going to marry me. That is not what you said at the wedding.” 

“Didn’t think that you would appreciate that story being told to all of our friends and family. But your secret is safe with me.”

“Since we are bringing up the past, remember the time you were training with Sam and he hit you in the balls and you pissed yourself. You called me to bring you a new pair of underwear and I made sure no one knew.” You turned your chin up.

“C’mon, Petal, it wasn’t even that much. It was just a dot. And it wasn’t my fault I had a full bladder. Don’t make me bring what happened the other week when you-”

You slapped your hand over his mouth, grabbing him by the back of his head and pulling him close to you. “Don’t. You. Dare. We never mention that again, we forget it ever happened, yeah?”

Bucky moans at your dominance, it never failed to get his cock hard. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, but you have to tell me what’s got you wobbling in your seat. And I know it’s not because my cooking turned you on.”

You took a deep breath before looking into his eyes. “Promise you won’t laugh?” 

“I can’t promise that, Petal, but I won’t judge you.” Of course, Bucky and you always laughed at each other. Never when it was something serious. But you were able to joke around when the other did something embarrassing, but he would never joke about it if you were uncomfortable.

“My pussy hurts.” You squint your eyes, the grumpiest look on your face, and cross your arms.

“Petal, that’s all you had to say. I’m an expert on taking care of my sweet girl. If I lick her bud would that make it better?” You feel your cunt pulse at his words, but the scratching is too annoying to let you get turned on.

“No, Duckie! I mean my fucking hair is too long and it’s poking me and it fucking hurts and I can’t reach to shave because of this huge belly, and it makes me feel like a sasquatch and I just want to feel pretty.” You almost burst into tears, not knowing that you had so many emotions bubbling under the surface, but then again you were pregnant and couldn’t control them.

“Oh, Petal, you are the most gorgeous woman on this planet, shaven or not. And you don’t need to worry about doing anything for yourself, you hear me? If you wanted me to, I would wipe your ass for you.” You sucked your teeth and slapped his chest.

“I’m being serious!”

“And so am I.” 

Without another word, Bucky picks you up like you weigh nothing and heads to your bedroom and sets you down on the soft covers. “Duckie, what are you doing?” He still doesn’t say anything as he walks into the bathroom to get a towel and your conditioner and sets them on the bed. He leaves the room only to come back a minute later with a bowl of water and his razor. “You cannot be serious right now.”

“Oh, Petal, deathly.” He flicks the towel out and lays it on the edge of the bed and sets you there, your feet planted on either side of you and you’re forced to lay back with your belly.

You don’t see what he is up to, but you feel his hot breath fan across your folds and he groans. “Petal, is this making you wet? Your husband between your legs about to service you?” He chuckles as the twitch of your clit. “Fuck, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Makes my cock so fucking hard, could cum in my pants just from eating her.”

“Duckie, don’t lie. I know it doesn’t look pretty. Probably could fucking braid it.” You fight the urge to close your legs. You haven’t had sex in almost three weeks, mainly because your body is so exhausted all the time and you know you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.

“Petal, when have I ever lied to you? You think I would lie straight to my pretty girl’s face? How could I lie right in front of Heaven?” He leans in closer and you hear the deep inhale he takes. “And about that braid comment, I learned how to braid hair in Wakanda so that isn’t a problem for me.”

He gets a giggle out of you. “I can’t fucking believe you. You’re such a dork.” Rather than hear his chuckle, you feel it, his mouth pressed against your cunt, lapping your juices. “Fuck, oh shit, don’t stop.”

“Mmh, so fucking good. Don’t even need to eat breakfast when I have this meal on a fucking platter.” He dives back in, arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place. With his hands occupied with your thighs, you were able to grind against his mouth, urging him to focus on your clit. Bucky was in his own world, the hairs pressing against his face not deterring him in the slightest.

His groan is deep and sends shockwaves up your spine, unable to stop the jerk of your hips. All at once, Bucky lets go of your thighs and turns away to sneeze. With great difficulty, you sit up and stare at him, perplexed. “Duckie, you better not fucking tell me that my pubes make you sneeze or so help me.”

Bucky falls onto his back, clutching his stomach as his laughter rings out in the room. The obvious tent is his pants still there. “I’m sorry, Petal, just tickled my nose is all.” His entire face is red, each word coming out in a wheeze. 

“Duckie, it’s not funny.” Even at your protests, you feel yourself unable to control your laughter. 

“If it’s not funny, then why are you laughing, Petal?” Bucky is finally able to control himself enough to sit up and rest his head on your thigh.

“Because you were laughing. Don’t you dare try and eat me out right now.” You push his forehead away, much to his dismay. “Are you going to shave me or not?” Your pout has him pressing his lips together to stop the giggle from leaving his lips.

“Of course, my hedge.”

“DUCKIE!”

“I’m only joking.” 

You lay back and prop your feet up again, jolting slightly as Bucky runs his hands, dipped in water, over your folds and mound. While slightly more prepared for the conditioner, it still feels foreign to have his hands touching you like this.

“Fuck, Petal, just one more taste.”

“Duckie.”

“Fine.”

He starts with your lips, using one hand to hold them tight, taking extra care not to knick your sensitive skin. “Hey, Duckie?” The only view you have is of the ceiling so you don’t see the absolute concentration on Bucky’s face, tongue poking out, and eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, Petal?”

“Do you think it’s normal that I’m getting turned on by this?” Bucky loved that you were comfortable enough in your relationship to casually talk about random things, knowing that he wouldn’t judge you for them, most of the time he was on the same page as you anyway.

“Probably not, but if it makes you feel any better, I’m solid as a rock right now.” You giggle at his casual tone, almost as if he was asking you how your day was. “Don’t move, I’m performing a delicate operation here.” It only makes you giggle more and Bucky has to pull away, leaning over to the side so you could see his face.

“Okay, I guess I’ll just lay here then.” It was Bucky’s turn to suck his teeth in but doesn’t say anything else.

“Hey, Duckie?” Bucky sighs and begrudgingly answers. “Is that my slick running down my ass or water? I need to know how embarrassed I should be.”

“I could give it a taste and answer you.”

“Ew, no. I probably have little bits of hair everywhere.”

With each stroke of the razor you feel yourself relax more and more. The constant presence of his hands soothing you. Bucky taps your leg to signal that you’re done and picks you up, bending you over the bed. “Duckie, we are not having sex right now.”

“Petal, you know that I am very thorough in everything that I do, and I still have your perfect ass to shave” You groan and bury your face into the covers.

“C’mon, Duck, this is worse than before. I feel so exposed.” Bucky rubs his hand down your spine, his other hand reaching under you to support your belly.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, and I’m going to make my girl feel pretty.” He lands a light slap to your right asscheek and grinds his hips against your cunt once before pulling away.

He works just the same, using one hand to spread you open while carefully removing all your hair. When he’s done he pulls back, one hand cupping each cheek. You huff when he jiggles your ass to his heart’s content, letting him have his reward for taking care of you.

“Duckie! Did you just bite my fucking ass?” 

“Couldn’t help it, Petal, so fucking sexy.” 

You contemplate if you should kick him or kiss him. Your decision is cut short when he rolls you over again, now looking at your face. “Petal, we still have two legs to do and they both lead to my favorite petals.”

Fuck, you were in for it.

[fangswbenefits]

Backfire

Summary: The math is simple: you make Miguel jealous + push him past his breaking point = hot rough sex. Too bad Miguel doesn’t do simple.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Jealous and possessive Miguel. Edging. Thigh riding. Orgasm denial. Fingering. Creampie.

You should know better than to cross Miguel O’Hara.

It rarely went according to plan, and he’d always end up having the upper hand.

But that still didn’t deter you from trying to change the outcome.

With a dramatic sigh, you flopped onto the couch, swinging your legs over Miguel’s. He shot you a side-glace as the oversized shirt you were wearing, rode up your thighs, barely covering much.

Miguel didn’t mind that you would often steal his shirts, strolling around your shared apartment wearing nothing but one and just panties.

Today was one of those days.

He sprawled one large and warm hand on your knee, caressing it absentmindedly, as he flicked through his pad.

“That new recruit is interesting,” you started, inspecting your nails.

“What recruit?”

“The one from yesterday.”

Miguel’s fingers paused as they were about to trail up your thigh. “Interesting?”

“Cute.”

“Ah.”

You glanced ovet at him, expecting the beginnings of a frown to settle on his face.

Nothing.

The pads of his fingers resumed the light motion, and he kept his gaze fixed on the orange screen.

That was odd.

It usually didn’t take long to rile Miguel up with the threat of other men interacting with you. You absolutely adored teasing him with fake interest in them, knowing it would be enough to make his blood boil.

But it seemed like he wasn’t taking the bait this time.

You needed to up the intensity.

“Maybe I should show him around?”

His middle finger was drawing tiny circles on your skin, but he merely hummed in response.

“… or mentor him?”

He clicked his tongue. “You’d be a terrible mentor.”

You scowled. Deeply.

This wasn not going as planned…

Clearing your throat, you scooted closer to him, the motion causing the shirt to slide further up, now revealing your laced panties.

That caught his attention, crimson eyes darting to the side.

“Terrible mentor?” you huffed dramatically with a pout. “I think he would be better off with me than with Jessica.”

You exchanged looks, both knowing that was a ridiculous statement.

“You get too distracted,” he said, patting your thigh gently. “… and are too distracting,” he added, eyes landing on your panties.

Oh.

You smiled inwardly, tasting the sweetness of victory firing up your heart. Shoving his hand away, you shifted to straddle one of his thighs, lacing your arms behind his neck.

“He’s really attractive,” you teased once again, locking eyes with his.

Miguel set the pad aside and brought his fingers to grip your chin, staring intensely at you. “What are you doing?”

“Me? Nothing!” you feigned confusion, slightly dragging your panties across his sweatpants.

He clicked his tongue, placing the other hand on your hip and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re too obvious.”

The feel of fabric on fabric only added to the delicious friction on your clit, and you smiled deviously. His muscles underneath you flexed ever so slightly, providing more tension.

“Maybe I should meet him tomorrow dressed like this.”

It was faint, but you spotted something crossing his eyes, his lips pressed firmly into a fine line.

There you go, Miguel, you cheered.

He let go of your chin and had the talon on his index finger protrude, grazing the collar of his shirt, before sliding down slowly, popping each button effortlessly.

You kept grinding on his thigh, feeling a gush of wetness spill into your underwear, sipping through and damping him.

Once he was done slicing off every single button you whined, sticking out your lower lip. “That was my favourite shirt!”

“It’s my shirt.”

The sudden exposure was enough to harden your nipples, earning a glance from him, as your breasts bounced softly with each sway of your hips.

You leaned in to whisper into his ear. “I’m yours, too, yet you don’t seem to mind that I hang out with other men.”

The hand on you hip slid all the way to your lower abdomen, and his fingers started teasing the hem of your panties.

“Ah. So this is what you’re doing,” he said with a nod, flexing the muscles in contact with you, earning a low gasp from your parted lips.

“Took you long enough.”

“Didn’t take me long at all, cariño,” he whispered, dipping his fingers to meet your swollen clit. “You’re not that subtle.”

You had unlace your arms around his nack and place both hands on his shoulders to keep your balance.

“You’re riding my thigh while mentioning other men,” he continued, spreading your own wetness across your folds and clit. “You want to rile me up.”

You arched your back into his touch, slowly edging yourself. “Me?”

“You want to ride something else.”

Touché.

At this point, you were too entranced in his fingers to even bother denying it. You let one of your hands drop to his lap, feeling his impressive erection straining to be set free.

One finger teased your entrance and you bucked your hips, desperate for him to slide it in.

His cock twitched under your palm and you glanced down to see a growing wet spot right where his tip was.

He slid one finger first, and soon added a second one, and you let out a strained sigh of relief.

You squeezed hard on his shoulder, holding on for the intense wave of pleasure that was about to hit you the moment you began riding him.

His other free hand snaked in between you two, cupping on of hour breasts, before brushing his thumb across your nipple.

“You’re already close.”

It wasn’t a question.

Miguel knew your body like he knew the entire layout of Nueva York. Months of fucking you had gifted with with unmatched knowledge of what made you tick and yearn for more.

You kept a steady grip on both his cock abd shoulder, trying your best to ready yourself for the impending orgasm that kept drawing closer and closer as he grazed the heel of his hand against your clit.

He growled into your ear as you pressed your face against his, breath coming out in shallow pants.

You were so close.

Your hand pulled down the waistband of his pants, and half of his cock emerged, pressed firmly against his lower abdomen, leaking strings of precum.

The wet sounds that filled the room were borderline obscene, which only served to heighten your pleasure.

Desperate rolls of your hips met his hand and you moaned out his name when he slipped a third finger.

The familiar coils of an orgasm slowly consuming your entire body had you dropping your head on his shoulder, whimpering loudly, ready to welcome your sought after high.

But as quickly as it came, it was soon over.

Miguel immediately removed his fingers from inside your squeezing pussy at once and had you pushed down flat on your stomach against the couch in no time.

“What the fuck!” you growled, the side of your face pressed into the pillow with both hands pinned behind your back.

You felt his hot breath in your hear. “You really thought I’d let you cum after that little stunt you pulled?”

Despair rained down on you as your walls clenched around nothing. “Miguel… what the fuck! Put them back!”

He was much stronger and bigger than you, so he had effectively rendered you immobile rather easily.

“I will once you promise me one thing,” his breath fanned your skin, raising goosebumps along your entire body.

You’d do anything to have him back inside you in that moment.

Anything.

“What is it?”

He gave one asscheek an almost painful squeeze. “Promise me you’ll never fuck anyone else.”

Your clit pulsed rapidly against your drenched folds and you tried to set free from his grasp, but all to no avail.

“Miguel…”

He then clipped your panties off with one talon. His hand dipped between your legs and he pressed his thumb against your entrance, causing your hips to jerk in a desperate attempt at more friction.

“Promise me.”

You bit down on your lip, frustration consuming you whole, as tears began to sting your eyes.

“Prométeme,” he growled.

Your lips parted in a sudden gasp once he slipped two fingers slowly inside, causing you to immediately clamp down around him.

“Yes… yes!” you then growled, trying your best to ride his fingers once again and pumping in and out of you at a steady pace.

He kept his other hand gripping your wrists tightly against your back, making sure you were kept in place.

“Qué maravilla,” he said lowly, but you could detect faint sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Slowly but surely, eased his pressure on you, giving your hips enough freedom to have you jerk against him, your pussy eagerly squeezing his fingers.

He eventually let go of your wrists and you brought your hands to grip the fabric of the couch, moaning loudly with each thrust.

You were getting close to the edge once more, not bothering to sound coherent anymore.

The closer you got to your orgasm, the more you frantically rode him.

“I’m… I’m…” you gasped loudly, eyes fluttering shut.

Miguel pressed a kiss to your temple. “I know.”

And his fingers were gone.

The beginning of your orgasm slipped away from you as if you were trying to catch smole with bare hands.

This time, you flipped and were ready to pounce him, frustration overtaking all your senses.

But Miguel’s reflexes were sharp as ever and he immediately caught both your wrists, pinning your back against the couch.

“Fuck you!” you spat, lips quivering from anger. “I promised!”

He settled between your squirming legs, as he pinned both your arms over your head.

“You didn’t sound convincing enough,” he said simply, rubbing your pulse point with his thumbs.

“Fuck you!”

He chuckled. “I know you want to, but I need assurances, cariño.”

You glared at him furiously, wanting nothing more than to hurt him the way he was hurting you, tears still streaming down your face.

“I promise… I won’t fuck anyone else…”

His cock bounced freely from his pants and he positioned the tip covered in precum against your clit.

“And you won’t try to make me jealous again.”

You rose your hips, hoping it would cause his to align with your entrance instead.

“I won’t. Ever,” you sobbed sheepishly.

He then pushed inside you effortlessly, glaring down at where your bodies were connected, watching in marvel as your pussy swallowed all of him in no time.

You were too overstimulated at this point to keep playing the waiting game, so you promptly rolled your hips, and squeezed tightly around his cock.

“Frustration suits you,” he mocked with a growl, allowing you to bounce on his cock freely.

“Fuck off…” you groaned, bringing your hand down to rub your clit.

He quickly shoved it away, scowling. “You don’t want me to make you cum?”

“You’ve been edging me for too long… I need to…” your voice died down as he pressed your clit flat with the pad of his thumb.

You jerked involuntarily as he repeated the motion, climbing the steep height of pleasure, hoping you’d reach its peak this time.

“Cum first,” he growled, his own hips snapping to meet yours. “I need to feel you squeezing me.”

You hated how his command was what brought you iver the edge, the initial contractions of your orgasm breaking the motion of your hips, violently enveloping in an overwhelming and blinding surge of unmatched bliss.

Miguel kept rubbing your clit, earning stronger squeezes from you. “Keep going…”

Your back arched and you felt yourself sliding along his cock until he was all the way in. He let out a strangled grunt, and that let you know he had reached his peak, too.

He tried to set a broken rhythm as he came deep inside you, but your grip on his cock was too paralysing for him to move.

As clarity began to clean your dazed mind, you watched as Miguel squeezed his eyes shut and parted his lips to reveal his fangs, drowning in intense pleasure.

He nearly lost balance and fell on top of you, but steadied himself in time, still buried deep.

“I fucking hate you,” you groaned, trying to control your breathing.

He shuddered one last time, panting heavily, but still managing to put on a mocking smile. “You love hate fucking me.”

Masterlist

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Girl in IT - 1. The Night Shift

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Preview: "Well, it was a virus, and as I looked into the problem, I had to explore every avenue to ensure I pinpointed the issue, you know, for my report to Tess. I went into your history to see if it might have been a site that caused you to have the virus. I may have casually peeked into a few files to ensure they weren’t corrupted…” you admit, “…and I might have stumbled upon-" your eyebrows raise in embarrassment, "Something personal." “Something personal?” He questions, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t have anything personal… oh, shit.” His eyes widen as the realization dawns on him, hands covering his face as he groans in embarrassment. "Look, about my internet history... and the list-" You slowly nod and bite your lip, mostly to hide your own embarrassment. “… yeah. Um, it was quite... informative about your... sexual preferences.”

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No Outbreak! Joel Miller, Mentions of intended smut towards the reader, Boss x Employee Relationship, Virgin Reader, All of the yearning, Joel Miller is a silly flirt, A small-ish age gap, Joel is too forward for his own good, Tess is a boss (and should not be fucked with - or you get the horns).

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: Well, hello there!

I honestly have no idea where this idea of a (somewhat crack) fic came from, but I had an idea and I ran with it! A lot of the character development came from my own anxieties of feeling behind in life, and if you feel that way too, I feel you! Don't worry, I promise it won't always feel like this. Time is just that- time, and it's never too late to follow your dreams! I believe in you!

To: IT@millerconstructiongroup.com

Fr: J.Miller@millerconstructiongroup.com

Subject: I think I have a Virus?

12:50 AM (10 min ago)

Hey Sugar,

I know it's late, but my computer fritzed out an hour ago (a shit ton of pop-ups) and I have that presentation with The H Hotel tomorrow morning. Well, do you think you could do me a solid and help me... not have any more of those darn pop-ups? I called the number that popped up asking if I needed assistance with the virus and they asked for my credit card information but they haven't replied back.

Shit, was that a scam? Fuck. I should call Amex.  

Anyway, do you think you can help me get out of this bind, Sugar? I'll be forever and eternally grateful. If you don't, well... I'm sure Tess will rip me a new one, and I would like to not have a Servopoulos-level meltdown at 9 in the morning. Not after last time. Sorry about having to be a part of that, Sugar. At least Maria was able to pay for your dry cleaning and get you a new shirt? You should have let me check your chest for burns, I sure as hell wouldn't want scalding hot coffee being thrown in my direction either. Shit. Not check your chest as in checking out your... breasts, just the burn site. Yeah. That's what I meant. 

(Also, sorry for emailing you last minute. Shit. I'm desperate, baby.)

Thanks,

Joel Miller 

Owner and CEO, Miller Construction Group

(512) 123-4567

To:J.Miller@millerconstructiongroup.com

Fr: IT@millerconstructiongroup.com 

Subject: RE: I think I have a Virus?

1 AM (0 seconds ago)

Good Evening Mr. Miller,

I got your request and will work on it shortly. I can't make any promises, but I will try to get you out of your "bind".  

Don't worry about that thing with Tess. She was rightfully upset, and I just so happened to be caught in the line of fire. If it had to be one of us, I am glad it was me being pelted with boiling hot coffee, and not you in front of your clients. You didn't have to have Maria buy me a blouse from Neiman Marcus, nothing a little tide-to-go can't fix, right? Also, I knew what you meant about my chest, and I didn't think you wanted to look at my... breasts. Let's not refer to any of my body parts moving forward.

Also, I am not completely comfortable with the terms of endearment that you continuously call me, Sir. Please refer to me by my actual name, these emails are monitored by Tess and I would not like to be scalded with hot coffee again for a little misunderstanding.  

Please let me know if you have any other pressing questions or concerns.

Goodnight!

IT Specialist 0926,

IT Department, Miller Construction Group

(512) 765-4321

"Ok Bubbles, let's see what mess Mr. Miller got himself into this time."

Settling by your coffee table, you access your remote portal and insert your portable SSD, initiating various programs to gain entry into your boss's laptop. Securing your hair in a messy top bun with a claw clip, you find yourself biting your bottom lip in concentration. Simultaneously, you switch on your TV, finding solace in the ambient noise that fills your dimly lit apartment—a space shared with Sir Bubbles, your British Shorthair companion since your college days. There's a marathon of Criminal Minds airing on TBS, Spencer Reid's adorable face on screen as he rattles off another theory for why the unsub was an abuse victim by his prostitute mother. You turn the volume down a bit, drowning out his voice.

It's near silent in the little shoebox you call home, the only decent place you were able to afford with your meager savings- after slaving away as a Geek Squad IT Specialist for the majority of your twenties at the Best Buy down the road from your parent's house. Despite graduating with your MIS at the University of Texas - Dallas, finding a decent job in your industry was brutal, and, honestly, quite embarrassing after receiving 30-plus rejection emails in a span of a year. Downtrodden and desperate for a job, you settled on working at Best Buy temporarily, but by the time you hit your mid-30s, it's been eight years working for barely minimum wage, and absolutely nothing to show for it. 

"Do you remember those sweet Miller boys who fixed our roof ten years ago?" your mother asks during a Sunday dinner six months ago, sliding a boat of gravy your way as you absentmindedly drizzle it over your mashed potatoes. "I ran into the older one... Joeseph? James? He owns his own company now with his brother, quite the feat, right? They're working on that hotel down the road... anyway, Josh-"

"Joel," you correct her, nudging the over-steamed carrots around your plate. "I think his name was Joel, Mama."

"Yes, Joel," your mother dismissively waves her hands. "Well, I told him about how you were on the job hunt, you know, with your master's and all. Oh, remember when you used to have that silly little crush on him? He's grown to be quite the looker, you know? Anyway, he told me that they were looking for someone to replace their old IT person—apparently, they retired—"

"Mom," you groan, "get to the point."

"Well," she grins conspiratorially, "he wants you to apply, baby. He remembers you and your little crush, and he said he could never forget someone as cute as you. If you're as good as I claimed you were, well... the job's practically yours!"

Your fork slips from your grasp, the metallic clang against porcelain causing Bubbles to leap in surprise, hissing at you in irritation. "Wait, what?" you blurt out, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion.

Your mother beams at your reaction, seemingly pleased with the bombshell she just dropped. "I told him all about your IT skills and how you practically run the technology world from your bedroom. He seemed really interested, sweetie. And, well, it wouldn't hurt to at least consider it, right?"

You sit there, a swirl of thoughts and emotions whirling in your mind. The unexpected twist of Joel Miller, the older Miller boy you once had a crush on, remembering you and possibly offering you a job—it's surreal. Bubbles, having recovered from the earlier disturbance, casually resumes licking his paw, completely uninterested in the familial drama.

"I... I don't know, Mom," you stammer, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. "I mean, working for the Millers? It's a bit... complicated."

She leans in, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sweetheart, this could be a fantastic opportunity. And who knows, maybe that little crush of yours could turn into something more... professional, of course." She cuts into her meatloaf, humming in contentment as she chews. "Oh, and Sweetie? Wear the red sweater with your pleated skirt, with something other than those sneakers. You're turning thirty-six in September; you can at least do yourself a favor and start dressing your age for once! I'm sure Joel would appreciate it!" she winks at you as your father grunts in displeasure, rolling his eyes, muttering "meddler" under his breath.

"Mom, it was just a crush from a decade ago. Besides, mixing work and personal feelings is never a good idea."

She chuckles, reaching across the table to pat your hand. "Well, think about it, okay? Joel seemed genuinely interested in having you on the team. It's worth exploring, don't you think?"

A wink, a handshake, and six months later, you find yourself on-call indefinitely, catering to Mr. Miller's every technological whim and folly. It's not a bad job, you reason — getting paid triple what you made at Best Buy, monitoring everyone's browsing history in the office, and fielding the incessant IT requests Mr. Miller sends your way- which was often.  Way too often.

[My laptop won't turn on.]  Did you charge it? Try doing that first.

[Why does the volume not work on my Zoom calls?]  Did you make sure that you're not on mute or that your computer volume is up? Check that first.

[Since when did we put a parental blocker on the internet?]  It was per Tess, who said that employees should be working instead of looking up anti-feminist manifestos on Reddit. I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Miller. [Oh, well shit. Do you think you could unblock it for me? I am... having a hard time accessing my... bank account.] I mean- I could, but I would have to run it by Tess first. [Do you think you could... for me? It'll be our little secret, Sugar. Don't worry about Tess, I'll handle her.]  Sure, Mr. Miller... Right. Our little secret.  [Sugar, for the last time, it's Joel. Besides, I thought we were past having a silly little crush on me, you've grown into a... rather nice young woman. Please, call me Joel.]  Uh, sure Mr. Miller.

You are broken from your silent reverie by the unmistakable ding, ding, ding of the pop-ups Joel- Mr. Miller - you correct yourself, mentioned in his email. You scoff, biting into a piece of beef jerky. Typing in a command, the pop-ups halt, the black screen granting you developer access popping up as you run diagnostic after diagnostic trying to catch the little sucker - a virus, as Mr. Miller claimed - in the act of corrupting your poor boss' laptop once again.  There you are, you little shit, you mutter under your breath as you furiously type in more commands, eradicating Mr. Miller's bane of existence for good (or so you hope).

After running what felt like the tenth diagnostic of the night and downing three cups of coffee for the last three hours, the dawn of a new day streaks through the sheer curtains against your window. With bated breath, you restart Joel's system once more, closing your eyes until the familiar chime of Windows 11 booting up reaches your ears.

Please, please, please for fucks sake... no more pop-ups...

Joel's home screen pops up in an instant, the photo of him and his two girls smiling back at you as you breathe in a sigh of relief. "Fuck yes! Finally!" you silently exclaim, a drawn-out yawn and a deep stretch escaping your body as you settle your laptop on your couch. "Okay, let's just run a few programs and check a few documents to make sure they're not corrupted and then I can finally hit the sack..." you squint at the digital clock of your microwave, "and sleep for an hour before I have to get ready for work," you groan, eyeing the jar of Cafe Bustelo in the distance. Yep. No sleep for me, you think bitterly.  Another night, another one of Mr. Miller's computer meltdowns... 

Your eyes scan his desktop, opening up the PowerPoint file he needs for his presentation. It opens up with a slight lag, something you can optimize later but you breathe out another sigh of relief anyway. You check his internet browsing history, his late-night extensive porn viewing not a surprise to you anymore as you snort at the ridiculousness of it all.  At least it's not as bad and kinky as Tommy's browsing history, you tell yourself, because you'll never quite get used to all of the roleplay porn he watches religiously, you think. Closing out of Google Chrome, You scan his desktop for a random Word doc for you to open, not checking its title as you double-click on the first one that you see, slightly hidden by the Recycle Bin icon to the bottom right.  Wants? What kind of a file name is that?

The Word doc pops open, and it seems to be a running list of random things. You blearily scan the line items, your eyes widening in shock as you read on.  

Fuck her against my office door as I cover her mouth to muffle her screams.

Spoil her with a shopping spree at Neiman's with my Amex black card.

Fulfill my breeding fantasy by convincing her to get off of her Birth Control (do you think she's on one?)

Fuck her from behind against Tess' desk (serves her right)

You quickly exit out of the document, pushing your laptop away as if it were cursed. You look at the document title once more.  

Wants.

What the fuck was this? Who is he talking about? you ponder, the guilt of your negligence weighing on you like a weight tied to your ankles as you sink into the depths of the Atlantic. You shut your laptop for good measure, covering it up with your quilt as you shake your head in disbelief.  

What the fuck did I just read?

“Mr. Miller? Do you have a moment?”

You knock on the office door once more for good measure, standing timidly as you try to occupy yourself by smoothing out your dress - sensible, a decent length, work appropriate, you think to yourself. You try to not occupy the idle time of waiting for your boss, Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction- and the thing you found while remote logging onto his computer last night - I think I have a virus, his email stated - only to stumble upon something rather telling and personal - but he was your boss, and you were a professional, and you weren’t going to think about the list… 

Kiss her in the rain.

Make love in my truck as she rides me. 

Bend her over my desk and take her from behind.

Marathon sex

Eat her out as she works at her desk.

No, Joel was unequivocally your boss—older than you by at least a decade (and maybe a few more years, give or take), and the document titled "Wants" was clearly personal, likely intended for someone else, and certainly not meant to be seen by anyone, especially not an overly curious IT specialist like you. No, you reckon that this list was meant for someone else in the office - someone beautiful, sexy, and confident— someone decidedly who isn't you. Certainly not for someone who dresses like she’s still in college, who only recently began living on her own in a shoebox of an apartment (if you can call it that) after living with her parents for the majority of her adult life, and who barely has her life together. It’s pathetic, being a woman of a certain age and with nothing to show for it, still painfully single, nothing substantial to your name, only getting your life together now while everyone around you has done everything right.  I feel so behind in life, you think to yourself.  Who would want someone so pathetic as me?

It’s not like it’s a crime to have wants, you think to yourself. Everyone has them, including you, you reason. So what if you just so happen to stumble upon your boss's deepest (and somewhat depraved) desires? Doesn’t everyone have a bucket list of their desires written somewhere? So what if your older, attractive boss with his Gen X tendencies has it typed out on his work computer? It’s not like he meant for you to open up the Word doc, right?

You knew he was single. You also knew that he had kids, at least two—Sarah, his eldest, was the head of HR, and Ellie, his adoptive younger daughter, an apprentice working under Tommy, the other half of Miller Construction—a serial flirt who asked you about your dating life in your interview a few months back. No, you didn’t think about your boss and the sheer mass of man that he was, that he smelled like cedar and sandalwood, that he winks when he tells you good morning as you pass him in the parking lot while stumbling out of your less-than-impressive shitty Corolla. You also didn’t take note that he drinks his coffee black with a sprinkle of sugar—the one in the brown packet—or that he eats in his office instead of the employee lounge because he’s a messy eater. The deep red blush trailing down his neck as Tommy scolded him about his lack of table manners during a company-mandated team-building day wasn't proof enough of that.

There wasn’t a ring on that tell-tale finger, not even a tan line, no photographs of another woman on his desk—besides his daughters, of course. Not that you were looking. Tommy had his wife Maria come down to the office often enough; wouldn’t Joel be the same with his own?

Miller Construction prided itself on being a family-run company, with Joel and Tommy at the helm and their best friend Tess as VP—more the boss than the actual Miller brothers. While Joel and Tommy preferred the hands-on work on-site, Tess ruled over the office with an iron fist. No one dared to cross her.

"You've got one job, and one job only," she declared during your office tour. "Make sure no one spends the majority of their shift watching porn, and keep Joel from messing up his computer with his boomer-isms. We can't afford to keep replacing a laptop every six months."

"Isn't he in Gen X?" you ask. "... at 56 years old, he's still considered to be in that generation, right?"

"Technically, yes," Tess replies with an exasperated sigh. "But you know what I mean. Sometimes it feels like Joel is stuck in a time warp with his 'boomer-isms.' Just keep things running smoothly here, alright?"

As the days pass, you notice an unusual trend in Joel's computer issues. It seems that every time his laptop malfunctions, it coincides with a spike in suspicious internet activity. It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots, and you can't help but shake your head at the irony of it all.

After a particularly eventful morning filled with more than the usual technical hiccups, you decide it's time to address the elephant in the room. You knock on Joel's office door, half-expecting him to be engrossed in some spreadsheet or construction plans.

It's not like you have to tell him about your snooping - he would be none the wiser judging by the way he was so technologically inept - you weren't about to tell him that the reason for the virus on the computer was because he was looking at some rather specific porn - boss fucks unsuspecting secretary from behind- his internet history had listed, nor did he probably think that his computer is being monitored, including his internet browsing history- company policy, as stated on the employee handbook that every employee of Miller Construction signs on the day of their official hiring- nor does he think that it sends reports to her at the end of the day.

You don't think about how the sudden uptick of his secretary porn viewing increased since a week after your hiring.  It's just a coincidence, right?

“Mr. Miller?” You call out once more. “It’s about your IT request last night? I have an update?”

“Yeah? Sorry! Come on in!” you hear from behind the door, accompanied by the frantic shuffle of papers and a silent curse. You take a deep breath as your hand turns the doorknob. Silently, you shut the door behind you, offering a small smile as you smooth out the skirt of your dress once more.

You fidget in place in front of the door as Joel—Mr. Miller—in his green flannel and dark jeans slung just right—it really should be criminal, looking this ruggedly handsome for someone his age, you think—as he ungraciously flops onto his desk chair, motioning for you to take the seat in front of him as he clears his throat nervously. “Take a seat.”

You situate yourself in front of him, refusing to meet his eyes as you fiddle with your hands on your lap, wondering why he, out of all people, would be nervous. It's not like he stumbled upon something so... intimate. You are a professional, and you were only doing your job, you tell yourself like a mantra, trying to ground yourself. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like he would fire you over your accidental snooping, right? You nod to yourself. “So…”

“So…” he replies, Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a drink of his coffee. “Thank you for taking a look at my computer last night.” He begins, smiling at you. “I know that it was late, and I’m willing to compensate your time by giving you time and a half…”

“Oh,” you nervously reply, shifting in your seat. “No, Mr. Miller—”

“Joel.”

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Please. We’re all family here. Call me Joel. Mr. Miller is my father for fuck's sake—”

“Right,” you chuckle. “Sure. Joel. Listen, you don’t need to compensate me for last night, let alone give me the overtime rate—”

“I emailed you at midnight; surely you were already busy, or I probably irritated your husband—”

“No.”

“No?” 

“No,” you mumble solemnly, “there’s no husband, just me and my cat-“

He barks at that, the laugh so loud it makes you jump in your seat. He gives you a look, almost as if he was relieved with that bit of information. “Well, disturbing your cat, then-“

"Oh," you reply casually, waving your hands in dismissal. "I'm sure Sir Bubbles didn't mind... and I don't sleep much, really—"

"Oh?" He straightens himself, his face serious. "Is it because of all of my requests? Shit. My girls give me such a hard time about not being with the times, I'm not really interested in technology— So no husband? Boyfriend, then?"

"Uh, no," you reply quickly, not eager to delve into the details of your lackluster love life. You clear your throat, adopting a professional demeanor. "Joel, as you're aware—or maybe not," you chuckle nervously, "I receive reports of all employee internet histories at the end of the day. Being the sole IT specialist on your payroll—perks of the job, outlined in my duties—I keep an eye out for any... irregularities."

"Irregularities?" he replies, his demeanor shifting into something resembling guilt. "What are you trying to get at?" he presses.

"Well, I monitor employee computer usage to make sure that they're not... distracted from their work," you reply. "Tess was explicit about not having any employees using company time for any unnecessary personal... dalliances."

Joel gives you a hard look. "Dalliances?"

"Yes, dalliances. Tess told me it was an issue before, with employees browsing social media and visiting questionable Reddit threads?"

"I don't follow," Joel replies. "You gotta spell it out for me, Sugar. What does that have to do with my request last night? I had a late night at the office, and after... checking my emails," he gulps, "I suddenly get bombarded with these pop-up things, so much that I just... unplugged my laptop... and, well-"

How is he so oblivious about this? You bite your cheek in frustration, not knowing how to get to the point without having to spell it out for him that you caught him browsing porn last night, secretary porn at that, and although it's highly inappropriate, you hardly think he was watching it because of Gladys, his actual secretary, who is old enough to be his mother.  Not unless he has some weird mommy kink...

Unable to endure the suspense any longer, you decide to rip the bandaid off as soon as possible. “I’m sorry!” You exclaim, “I didn't mean to look at your browsing history, I mean, I had to, but only because I had to find the reason why a virus got on your computer, but that is not the point! I had to open a file to make sure it wasn't corrupted, and I swear, I didn't mean to open it!"

“Open what, sweetheart?” he smiles at you, leaning forward towards you.  

"Well, it was a virus, and as I looked into the problem, I had to explore every avenue to ensure I pinpointed the issue, you know, for my report to Tess. I went into your history to see if it might have been a site that caused you to have the virus. I may have casually peeked into a few files to ensure they weren’t corrupted…” you admit, “…and I might have stumbled upon-" your eyebrows raise in embarrassment, "Something personal."

“Something personal?” He questions, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t have anything personal… oh, shit.” His eyes widen as the realization dawns on him, hands covering his face as he groans in embarrassment. "Look, about my internet history... and the list-"

You slowly nod and bite your lip, mostly to hide your own embarrassment. “… yeah. Um, it was quite... informative about your... sexual preferences.”

Joel visibly pales at your confession. He adjusts his collar, unbuttoning the second button as if he were being strangled by your scrutiny. “I just want to let you know", he starts, looking you in the eye with an unreadable expression. "I respect you as a woman, and Tommy, fuck, he wouldn’t let it go, with all that teasing about you being exactly my type and all, and well, your mother did remind me about your little crush on me back then-“ he rubs his hands through his hair as he rambles on, “… and I know that this looks bad, with you being my employee and all-“

“Wait, what?” You cut him off, a confused look on your face. “What do you mean? I mean, they're your personal preferences, and the list, well, I'm sure whoever you're writing about must be some woman, not that it's any of my business-”

“Fuck. You didn’t read all of it?”

“No!” You exclaim, practically jumping out of your seat. “I quickly closed it once I realized the nature of the document…”

“Well.” He stands up suddenly, pacing behind his desk. “I wrote that drunkenly one night after the company dinner, you know, the one when you wore that dress… do you remember?”

“Yes,” you reply breathily, “… the night where-“

You vividly recall that night. It was a dinner at the recently completed new hotel project. After a few glasses of wine and an impulsive, rather expensive purchase at Nordstrom.com a week prior, you endured most of the evening in an uncomfortably tight and overly revealing dress—a poor choice for a company party, for fucks sake. You believed Joel approached you at the end of the night out of sheer pity, not because—

“Well… after seeing you in that dress, and how stunning you looked in it, sitting by yourself, biting your lip in a way that makes me-“ he stops himself, giving you a small smile. “I was drunk, and I was thinking… I was contemplating how, if I were to have you, if you, by some miracle of fate… were interested, that I would do things right, you know? That if I had a second chance at… I would do it right. Treat you right.”

“You do know I’m not a secretary, let alone your secretary,” you roll your eyes. “I’m in IT… the only person in IT actually, and you’re not the first person I caught looking at questionable porn…”

Joel bristles at that. “Shit. Let me guess… Tommy?”

That gets a small smile out of you. “I can neither confirm nor deny, but… he’s partial towards a certain porn actress, and let’s just say he is really in love with women who looks like his wife.”

He smiles. "Shit, I thought I was being obvious enough, being that Tommy has teased me about it enough... I thought you knew. I know you work with computers, Sugar. I’m not completely senile, and I know Tess has been on a warpath about people getting their rocks off at work, I figured you would look at all of my… perusing.”

You're left stunned, your mind racing to process what Joel just revealed. It's not the revelation about his desires that leaves you speechless, but the unexpected admission of his feelings toward you. Your mind flashes back to the list, the desires that seemed so out of reach for someone like you. You never thought Joel would be harboring any feelings for you, let alone express them so openly.

"I... I had no idea," you stammer, still grappling with the revelation. "I thought that list was for someone else, someone... not me."

Joel walks around the desk, his eyes never leaving yours. "You thought wrong, sweetheart. I've been trying to drop hints, but I guess I've been subtler than I thought."

A myriad of emotions wash over you — confusion, surprise, and a hint of something you can't quite place. The professional boundary between boss and employee seems to blur, and you find yourself in uncharted territory.

"But," he continues, "I get it. I'm your boss, and this is complicated. I didn't want to put you in an awkward position. I should've been more direct."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Joel, it's not about being direct or indirect. This is just... unexpected. I never thought someone like you would... feel that way about someone like me."

He reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you meet his gaze. "Someone like me? What does that even mean, darlin'? You're intelligent and beautiful, and I've seen the way you handle your work. I've noticed you, and I can't help how I feel."

A mixture of vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes makes it hard to doubt his words. You start to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, your insecurities have clouded your perception.

"I don't want to pressure you, and I understand if you're not comfortable with this. I just needed you to know. The last thing I want is for things to be awkward at work," he says, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

You take a moment to absorb everything. Joel's revelation, your preconceptions, and the unexpected turn of events. The office, once a familiar space, now feels like uncharted territory.

"I need time to process this," you finally say. "It's a lot to take in, Joel. I never expected... any of this."

He nods understandingly, his hand dropping to his side. "Take all the time you need. I'll respect whatever decision you make. And hey, if you're not interested, we can go back to being boss and employee, like nothing happened."

You manage a small smile, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "I'll... let you know. Just give me some time, okay?"

"Of course," he says, moving back toward his desk. "And, for what it's worth, I meant every word on that list. Whether it's a rain kiss or making love in my truck, I want it all with you."

You nod, silently acknowledging his sincerity. As you leave his office, you can't help but wonder how a routine IT request led to such a revelation. The office dynamics have shifted, and you find yourself navigating uncharted waters, unsure of where this unexpected revelation will lead.

As you walk away from Joel's office, a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts consumes your mind. The revelation about Joel's feelings for you is a shock, but it's not the only thing echoing in your head. The list of desires he had penned down only magnifies your own insecurities. The voice in your mind grows louder, whispering that you're not the woman he deserves—too much of a mess, too behind in life, and certainly not beautiful enough for someone like him. The echoes of your perceived inadequacies replay like a broken record, drowning out the possibility that someone could genuinely see something valuable in you. You glance at your reflection in the office window, critiquing every imperfection, every perceived flaw. The dress that seemed sensible before now feels like a sad attempt to disguise what you believe is a lack of style or grace. The weight of self-doubt becomes an invisible burden, and you can't shake the feeling that you're not enough, that you may never be enough for someone like Joel.

As you grapple with your internal struggles, a small spark of defiance begins to flicker within you. Perhaps it's time to challenge those self-limiting beliefs, to be bolder than your insecurities allow. Joel's admission has opened a door you never expected, and you find yourself at a crossroads. Despite the echoes of doubt, a newfound courage whispers that maybe, just maybe, you can be more than what you perceive.

Embracing this sudden surge of determination, you make a decision. Instead of letting fear dictate your actions, you choose to confront the uncertainties head-on. Swallowing the apprehension that threatens to hold you back, you turn on your heel and head back to Joel's office. The faint thud of your own heartbeat echoes in your ears as you push open the door.

"Joel," you say, your voice steadier than you anticipated. "I've been thinking about what you said, and I need you to clarify something for me."

He looks up from his desk, curiosity etched across his features. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You take a deep breath, suppressing the self-doubt that still lingers. "Is that list something you genuinely desire with me, or was it just a drunken fantasy?"

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, a mix of surprise and sincerity in his gaze. "Every word of it is something I want with you. Why?"

A daring smile plays on your lips as you respond, "Then let's not leave it as a list, Joel. Let's see how many of those desires we can turn into reality."

The room seems to hold its breath for a moment as Joel's expression shifts from surprise to a slow, understanding smile. The air thickens with anticipation, leaving the next steps uncertain but filled with the promise of something new and exhilarating. As you stand on the precipice of this unexpected journey, the uncharted waters of possibilities lie ahead, and you find yourself ready to take the plunge.

Taglist: @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115

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[thepeonysbackup]

"Just one round.."

Alastor x Human!Reader

Summary: You wanted to get out some frustration, thinking a roleplay scenario would help your needs. But you didn't expect the sigil to summon a deal maker.

Part two

Request: Yes/No

[Warning, pure horny. A rough idea that popped into my head.]

Slammed back first against a sudden pentagram on the floor of your apartment, disheveled comfy clothes shifted and ripped off by the thick black tentacles pooling out of the lines in the floor, you let a shriek out as the appendages curled and coiled around you. They slithered and slid across your skin, feeling hot, almost boiling as they worked your supple flesh, kneading, and groping with a desperate clutch as you writhed against them feverishly. You never thought the summoning spell would work, wondering how many weeks it had been since you'd tried to summon them. It had been nearly a month, but how you ended up walking right into them at the perfect moment in the middle of the night was a mystery.

Each appendage glowed a subtle green, wrapping tighter around your legs and thighs, closer, closer, and closer to your mound that was merely covered by a pair of loose cotton panties. Once noticed, they were torn to shreads, your heat now free to the open air which erupted a squeak of surprise from your lips. "W-woah! Woah, woah wa-wait, wait a minute! Slow down, time-out!" A voice, graced with static tickled your ear everso slightly, interrupting your protesting almost immediately. "Why struggle? Cause my dear isn't this what you wanted? Wanted to be taken? Like what you had so deliciously begged for when you started that ritual?" The voice was salivating, seething through their teeth it seemed, gasping out their words as if it were a game. How charming they sounded even so. "How all you wanted was to be enraptured by something your disgusting little mind couldn't even comprehend. Something so foul that all you'd need would be.. Only.. one.. round...~" You whimpered at his voice as it dipped in tone, eyes widening as you tugged at your restraints, pathetically really because you could barely move from the lewd position you were being pinned in. "I could.." He drawled, a thinner tentacle trailing over your breast tugged at the fabric covering them before it merely started to roll and envelope one of your plump peaks. "Provide that experience if...-"

You cut him off, "Fuck- Please, yes yes, whatever you want-" You shouted aloud, head lulling to the side on the floor as your back arched with need into the feeling, your eyes finally noticing a pair of reddened boots beside you as well as a cane. As your eyes blearily drug up the figure you noticed his red suit with its white trim, monocle adorning his right eye as an ever present grin was plastered on his face. He looked more then amused with this situation to your shock. Weren't demons suppose to enjoy this kind of thing?

"Anything?" He cheerily inquired to you while tapping his cane against your face, head turning so that you'd see him better as he leaned over to peer down at you like one would to a bug. "Anything! Anything, please!!" You begged harder, voice void of any shame, you were such a needy little thing.

His silence made you shudder, a sudden feeling between your thighs rubbing perfect circles against your lower lips that edged you to moan wantonly before jutting your hips forward as a rather long piece of paper appeared before you and a quill hovered about. Now, one of your hands were free to take hold of the pen and you didn't waste a single second before signing it. "It's a deal then."

[demonicbaby666]

Where I Don’t Belong

One shot | Supergirl Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Kara Danvers x fem!Reader

Genre: angst & smut

Words: 3.7k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, jealousy, spanking, oral, fingering, strap-on use, degradation (like a little tiny bit), daddy kink, overstimulation, implied squirting, top!Kara, bottom!reader

Summary: Never one to deal with rejection healthily, you find yourself moving from bed to bed, night after night, trying to find solace in the bouts of pleasure strangers offer. But when Kara, the person who drove you to commit such deeds, confronts you, the trajectory of your evening is completely altered.

A/n: I'm rewatching Supergirl, so reap the benefits, peeps, cause after this, it's back to my JJ fic! Also, @rafesgfs didn't let me smoke until I finished this, so it's thanks to her that this was completed today <3

Festering shame that started the night at only a simmer boils over and burns your whole body, sets your skin alight and sloshes the alcohol sitting in your empty stomach in tight circles, like that of a washing machine. It's fucking filthy. Hot, sticky and filthy being pressed up against a stranger, grinding against a hardening cock in hopes that maybe the moderate length of it will taper the resounding feeling you hold for another. 

Everyone deals with rejection in their own way.

Sweat marks your forehead, and the bitter smell of stale spirits permeates your nostrils. Somehow, you convince yourself all you know is the music and the empty promises the body behind you has to offer.

You hear him mutter something, groan in your ear at how you feel so good, how he can't wait to fill you, stretch you. The churning in your gut intensifies, and your throat is thick with bile. You force yourself to moan–ever the obedient woman. He wants to feel wanted; you want the same. It's easy to use each other, get lost in a bit when there will be no consequences, knowing the following morning you'll be gone, and two people will have a hollow sense of satisfaction buzzing between only their legs. It's what you tell yourself; 'It's easier this way', 'You're doing what you need to cope and survive', and 'You're only human'. 

The dancing - if it can be called that - continues with your eyes shut as you try to alleviate the steady burn of desire coated in sticky shame. Addled with flashing lights, the black behind your eyelids brings you little comfort, but you're no longer naive to think anything really will, other than sex, that is. 

It's mucky, the alleyway by the side of the club. The thick air smells like bad decisions and cigarettes, yet you haven't the mind to care. His lips are rough on your neck, stubble rubbing uncomfortably against your collarbone, and you're beginning to pick apart the scent of his sweat under the worn-out notes of cologne. Crazed hands palm at your breasts so manically it becomes hard to derive any pleasure from the act - you force yourself to try. 

Between all the frenzy, your purse slips past your shoulder, landing on the soggy ground, and you find yourself welcoming the reprieve the opportunity garners. 

You spin around, trying to squint past the inebriation to locate it. It's landed short of a murky puddle, and you thank your lucky stars that there were only a few specks of dirt littering the suede material. The effects of endless nights spent dancing and fucking echo in the cracks of your worn-out muscles, your squatting position not helping to dull the ache at all. You know the longer this position is held, the more it'll hurt to stand up, but your reflection stares at you on the surface of brown water, holding you hostage with a haunted picture painting its canvas. 

Sleepless nights tug at the bags under your eyes, leaving the skin gaunt. The colour does not show, but you know, under your concealer, it's tinged purple. There's no shine to your face; highlighter only takes you so far in accentuating your cheekbones and brightening your false smile, never filling the devoid look of a rejected, broken heart. 

The matter of fact is, even if your body is feeling the brunt of unfavourable coping mechanisms, it's better than lying awake in bed and relying on benign hope to see you through the dark hours of the day. 

Brushing the muck off your bag, ready to discover how you would end the night, you look to where your companion should be waiting. It would either be a cheap hotel or his place, never yours; there was something too visceral about doing a stranger in a bed that not even alcohol could mask. 

Except when you turn, it is not a gruff face you find but, "Kara?" 

Confusion marks your face, the question of where your soon-to-be fuck had gone evident because before you can quite finish, let alone begin to ask, Kara's already opening her mouth. 

"He's fine." 

"Where?" 

"What?" she feigns ignorance, picking at a pristine nail. 

"Don't be coy, Danvers," you spit out, trying to sound as authoritative as a whisper would allow. Angry as you might be, no amount of rage or blood toxicity could divest you of the need to keep her secret. "Where is he?" 

She doesn't even try to hide it—the disgust. Her face is awash with it, and her grimace would sting if she hadn't so wounded you already. 

"He's lucky I didn't-" She startles as you step forward, palms jabbing at her chest and knocking her back. If it weren't for the shock of your sudden strike, you're sure she wouldn't have budged at all, but you take the small victory point all the same and continue your mission of forcing Kara off her high horse. 

"You didn't what?" you ask through gritting teeth, "Beat him to a pulp? Drop him off the top of a building? Kill him?!" 

Aware you were now raising your volume to a level bystanders would be able to hear, a fact proven by the far-off looks of a group of young women, you reined your fury in, taking a deep breath and squaring your shoulders. 

"Do you know what you've put me through?" she asks without malice, her choked voice chinking your amour. It seems a genuine question, born from betrayal. Her eyes are wide and waiting, incredulous to believe you'd ever knowingly hurt her in the way you supposedly had. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Every night," she begins, her jaw twitching. "I have to listen to you with them." 

"You're the one that said we wouldn't work. I'm trying to move on," you sigh.

There's a change in her, a nerve hit, partially hidden by the darkness of the night, but you can sense the change. You see it dance in the narrow shadows of her face, the street lamp illuminating the crux of her soured expression. It's the same stance she's practised over the years, standing before a foe, sizing them up that she now models. Her pupils dilate as her gaze turns predatory, and her nostrils flare to accommodate the substantial drags of air she inhales. With a single stride forward, purpose chiselling at her grinding jaw, fingers move to your hips and hold you firm enough to leave bruises. 

She pulls you into her. The bump of your hipbones clashing against each other vibrates down your legs and weakens your knees, leaving you at the mercy of Kara's hold. 

"By sleeping with the whole of National City?" she seethes, her sharp remark losing more and more of its potency with each puff of exhaled air landing on your lips. 

"What was I supposed to do? You made it perfectly clear you don't want to fuck me!" you yell, the pugnacious timbre of your voice unrecognisable in your ears. 

Gasps bounce off the narrow walls of the alleyway, and incoherent whispers promise gossip will follow you and Supergirl for the next few weeks. You can see it now: a hot news story, the presenter dissecting a blurred image of you and Kara, berating, conspiring, and alluding to anything that will bring in more viewers. 

"I never said that." 

She has you off your feet in less than a second, one arm wrapped around the back of your knees and the other raised skyward. You're off the ground, soaring up and up, till the bodies below turn to ants and the city their humble colony. 

"Kara," you screech, throwing your hands around her neck and holding tight. "What are you doing?" 

"I think what I'm doing is pretty obvious." She's got a smug smile tugging at the corner of her lips that's both titillating and vexing. 

"You're being obtuse on purpose, and it's not nearly as cute as you think." 

Kara at least has the decency to look a little sheepish at that. 

You know the city's landscape well enough to gauge where you're headed. Once a sanctuary, the lofty apartment greets you with its open windows and dim lighting. The TV is on. The faraway laughter of a sitcom audience grows louder the closer you get, igniting a flame to shed light upon shrouded memories once untouched by melancholy. Buttered popcorn still lives in the cracks of that grey couch, the longevity of their stay prolonged by a burning need shared between two people to laugh a little louder and forget the world around them for a little longer. 

You're helpless to the flood of emotions that sweep over you the instant your feet touch solid ground. So much so that when Kara grows bold, dragging you closer by your hips and crashing her lips onto yours, you do nothing but cling to her. 

She's warm like the first fire forged on winter's night and as dangerous as the spitted flames that crackle through damp logs, leaping towards any surface they might set alight. No matter how often the licks of fire eat away minuscule patches of skin, the brief bouts of pain they elicit will always win out in favour of staving off the cold. 

The delve of Kara's tongue into your mouth seeks to devour you, plunging your stomach into the fiery pits of hell, and you let yourself believe, not for the first time, that the only way you'll ever feel alive is to live in heated moments like these. 

The strangers you'd laid with took and took, using your body in much the same way you used theirs, imagining you were someone else, or happily viewing you as no one at all, just a body bred for pleasure. These dalliances may have been brief and fleeting, but they were safe. By morning, it wouldn't matter if expectations weren't met; there would be no discourse about seeing one another again. The sex was transactional. It was a dynamic you'd never have and would never want to have with Kara. What you feel for her runs deeper than one-night stands and self-destructive choices. 

"Stop." You step away from the blonde, unaware of how close you are to the edge of the windowsill, until it's too late and the sharp corner of brick bites at the back of your ankles, knocking you off balance. 

You want to fall, feel the wind against your back as you wait for the inevitable end. Kara doesn't let that happen. She doesn't even allow you the grace to right yourself before her hands are back on you, this time at your waist, whooshing you away from the cool breeze of the open widow. 

"Are you okay?" she asks, holding tighter than strictly necessary, eyes frantically searching for any signs of distress. 

"I'm fine." There's an urge to have her closer again, to feel her pressed firmly against your front, trace the seam of her lips with your tongue and discover how pliant the Kryptonian would become under your touch. 

"Tell me you don't want this," she whispers, lowering her gaze from your eyes to your lips. 

"I-"

"Tell me you don't want me, and I'll take you home. Pretend that none of this ever happened." 

You want so badly to do that, to rein in your desires and do the sensible thing that would save you from bludgeoned heartbreak. 

"You know I can't." 

A beat passes, charged, and laden before the both of you pounce. Kara drags you forward, melding her mouth to yours, encouraged by your hands at the back of her neck. 

"I've missed you," she mutters between kisses, holstering your legs up around her hips. 

It's a puzzle how she manages to continue winding you up into a mess, nibbling and suckling at your neck whilst simultaneously navigating her way through the apartment, all the way to her bedroom. On her unwrinkled sheets, she sets you down, prying herself away long enough to rid you of your clothing. There's a flicker of something dark in her eyes as she casts her eyes up and down your naked body, stopping at the places you know your previous lovers had marked. 

Cords strain in her throat, and you know she's fighting to keep sane at the sight of her property being tarnished with ugly bruises and clumsy scratches. You yank her forward, digging your fingers into the space between her gold belt and the blue fabric of her suit, aimlessly trying not to think about how vulnerable you are sitting stark naked whilst she presides over you, judging you for your poor decisions. Pleading silently for clemency, to be absolved of a crime you never knowingly committed, you stare up at Kara. You urge her to see the fidelity in your heart that will always gleam brightly in your eyes the second she comes into view. Her features remain stoic.

"You knew, didn't you?" 

"I don't-" She cuts you off, ripping your hands away, flipping on your stomach and pinning you down to the bed. 

"You knew that I would be able to hear you. That I would be listening to the sounds of you getting fucked over and over again." The harsh bite of her palm rings in the gelatinous flesh of your ass. 

A perverse pang of pleasure shoots straight to your core, tearing a muffled moan out from your throat. 

"You like that, don't you?" Kara questions, her self-satisfied lilt a clear sign she's already aware of the answer. "You want me to punish you, don't you?" 

"Yes," you weakly admit, burying your shame in the sheets below. 

"Don't move." 

A gust of chilling air is all that's left of Kara. You can feel her moving around the room in bursts of movement, hear the drop of her clothes, and the opening and closing of drawers. A niggling need coaxes over your limbs, tempting them to wriggle and writhe with each new sound that piques your interest. You're getting wetter by the second, imagining all the ways you'll finally find your release with the only person you've ever wanted it with, the imagery enticing enough to send your want into overdrive and your hips angling forward, seeking any friction you can get against your aching clit. 

"Don't even think about it." The blonde tuts, her presence welcome as she settles behind you. A hand clasps around each ankle, and Kara drags you back with little care for the hiss you make as cotton brushes against your sensitive nipples. "Get on your hands and knees." 

You follow her orders, waiting for her touch that never comes. Instead, Kara crouches down, keeping a hair's width away from where you need her most and blows lightly over your sex. You shiver, trying your hardest not to flinch as her breath cools your warm slick. 

"You're dripping," she comments lowly, teasing a single finger through your slit. 

It's impossible not to lean back into the much-needed touch and command more with the insistent rise and fall of your hips. But Kara's prepared. She withdraws, maintaining her proximity to you. Another puff of air bristles against your cunt, this time colder. 

"Kara, please," you beg, shaking with ardent need. 

There's no warning to her tongue delving into your pussy, no preemptive to her harsh approach and fast licks. Left to your own devices, your arms give out. You're left crying into a pillow and gripping onto sheets as Kara runs a muck of your mind and body. The pressure's teetering on the brink of being too harsh, and no matter how much you try to pull away–ease the sting of her pointed tongue against your clit–Kara holds you open, gripping onto your thighs like a vice. 

Your moans carry. They vault through the bedroom and ring between the obscene wet sounds coming from between your legs. There's barely time to release another before lips surround your bundle of nerves and drag the abused bud into a waiting mouth. It's painful and perfect all at once. There's no break from the pleasure. It's all-encompassing, surrounding you like morning fog seeping into the pores of your skin, covering every inch of your bare body in a blanket of sheen sweat. 

A scream tears from your throat when Kara plunges two fingers inside you, and you use the last dregs of sanity within you to bite down on your arm. She's picking up speed faster than you can adjust. The brief milliseconds between every jagged thrust dwindle until all you feel is a constant vibration, a never-ending hum expanding over the entire length of your sopping cunt. 

The coil in your stomach is wound so tight you can feel your muscles contract, and the pressure grows rigid like a metal rod along your spine. With one sharp slap to your ass, you break. Moans are pouring out of you, and your pulse is racing, but where you expect relief to flow, you only find more tension. It doesn't stop. The roaring waves of pleasure keep growing and growing and growing till you're screaming and shaking and begging for reprieve. 

"One more," Kara pants, replacing her mouth with a thumb. "Give me one more baby." 

How anything can hurt so much yet, yield such strong undercurrents of insurmountable bliss is mind-boggling. You're in limbo, stuck on the edge of euphoria and torment. It's a fine line that Kara forces you to walk, but with no other option, you absorb yourself into the pleasure and leave behind the bite of overstimulation. 

You know you can, that you'd cum however many times she wanted. You've been riding the aftershocks of your orgasm for no less than a minute, and already you recognise the signs of your impending release. It happens fast, but what it lacks in duration, it makes up for in magnitude. Every part of you quakes, from your wobbly lip to your unsteady knees, that collapse beneath you. Thankfully, the sturdy mattress catches you, greeting you with its cool exterior–a welcome change from the heat emanating off your body. 

Floorboards creek behind you, dulled by the non-stop thud of blood pumping through your ears. You want to tell Kara that she needs to stop. You need a break. The command dies on your tongue, melted into a contented sigh by the warm lips pressing along your spine and the puffs of cool air following each peck. 

"Tell me when you're ready," she croons hot and heavy into your ear, sending another chill down your spine as she continues her mission of being your personal air-con. 

"I don't know if I can," you reply, turning to face her, but the action is cut short when you feel the end of her prodding at your entrance. The only thing left for you to do is whimper. 

Kara doesn't push any further. The tip of her faux cock leisurely slides between your slit, swinging up and down. Warmth circulates low in your stomach, and small jolts of gratification swing like a pendulum against the walls of the enclosed area. Her hands clasp around your waist, and you brace yourself for impact, expecting Kara to sink into you. The chime of your rough breathing fills the silent space. Nothing happens for a few seconds, then Kara firms her grip and guides you onto your back. You let her, unopposed to finally seeing her golden locks, shimmering eyes and bright smile. 

She's hovering, holding herself on sturdy arms and waiting for the go-ahead. Even now, with desperation etched into her features, looking almost pained at having to wait, Kara still puts you first. Your wants, needs, and desires all outrank reason and logic. It doesn't matter that all she's known the past few years is heroism and gallantry–that she yearns to separate herself from all of it–she'll be Supergirl for a few seconds, applying that restraint she's had to use since the day she landed on earth. She'll hold herself back for you. 

Looking into her crazed eyes, you nod. She's held back long enough for you, her family, and the world. 

"I'm ready." You place your hands on her lower back, pulling Kara forward till she's fully seated inside of you, stretching you so wide it almost burns. "Fuck me like I'm yours." 

The world fades away as you watch Kara's eyes harden, two piercing sapphires eclipsed by blackened lust and an impassioned demand to possess. Immediately, she begins pummeling into you at a brutal pace. 

"I heard what you called them," Kara grits out, her eyes red, her hips stilling the moment her cock roots itself as far into you as it can get. "What you cried out when you imagined they were me."

"Don't stop," you plead between guttural breaths, scratching at her impenetrable skin. 

"I want you to say it. I want you to tell me how you're going to cum on daddy's dick." 

This is all so unlike Kara, and that very thought–that this version of her is all yours and only yours, that you get to see her feral and unencumbered by the scruples of morality and duty–has you beyond desperate. 

"Yes." You hiss at the blunt edge of Kara's hip, knocking against you as she forces herself impossibly deeper. "I'm going to cum all over your cock, daddy." 

Your complacency draws rewards. Kara is back to pounding into you. 

There's something new occurring within you, a sudden pressure forcing Kara out. You can't understand it, not between the shudders running rampant through your body, so strong they feel more like convulsions. Her thumb is steady and swift over your clit, circling the swollen nub till everything becomes too much, and all you see are blazing white lights scattering and interspersing themselves across your vision. 

You can feel your cum rush out of you, spraying onto Kara's cock the moment she leaves you. With every added second, her thumb stays working over your clit, and the push to release everything in you is flooding through the bedsheets, soaking the material through to the mattress. The white lights fade, and Kara's face emerges for only a brief moment before all you see is black. 

—

"Kara?" 

"Mmh." 

"I won't wait forever for you to be ready," you say quietly, fingers skimming through the valley of her breasts. "I can't." 

"I know," she sighs, burrowing her nose into your hair and inhaling. She closes her eyes, and you feel her puckered lips on your scalp. "I know." 

Taglist: @iliketozoneout @homo-oddity @noahrex @lovelyy-moonlight @yeaiamme2 | Click here to be added to my taglist

[ashdreams2023]

Can you please do Loki reacting to reader if they asked for him to keep his horns on while doing the dirty 🤭 and also maybe it’s usually really soft and sweet but she wants Loki to be rough and he’s initially taken aback? 🙃 -can be whatever writing style you want, thanks

The horns stay

Loki x fem reader {NSFW}

Loki loved your lip, your eyes, your hands and your curves, every inch of you made him his blood boil with heat, he wanted to take his time lavishing you and making you feel special.

"Loki" you moaned as he took off your clothes, enjoying the way you squirmed under his cool hands and your back arched.

"I’ll be there my love just one second" he pushed you into the bed, not too strong he doesn’t want to hurt you.

He takes off his armor with a flick of his finger then reaches for him helmet but your sudden movement stop him, you sit Straight on the bed and reach for his hand, you pull it away from the helmet and pull him into bed "leave it, please"

His eyes darkened before slamming his lips onto yours, your arms warped around his neck in perfect harmony, pressing your naked chests together.

"Don’t hold back, please, I want you to make me yours, all the way"

Loki cursed underneath his breath, he licked his lips and bite your bottom lip teasingly before running his hand over your chest and squeezing your breast making me moan louder.

"You want me to mark you? Bruise your pretty skin my dove?" He breathed into your ear causing you to shiver.

"Yes, yes please, do your worst to me!" Loki grinned devilishly before pulling away and flipping you on your back, making you face the huge mirror near the bed.

Loki pulled you by your hair and lifted your head up slightly so you can get a good look at yourself and him in the reflection of the mirror.

His helmet horns still stood tall and shiny on his head "Beg me more, tell me how much you want it"

"Loki, my prince, please, take me, now!"

He slammed his cock inside of you and didn’t leave you any time to adjust like he did many times before, it was exciting and you were so wet and needy, it drove him crazy.

"You like that? That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?" He said thrusting rough into you, rocking your body with each slap and slapping your ass with his strong hand.

You watched with lust fogging your vision, all you could feel is him filling you up again and again.

Those horns made him look sinister, so intimidating, so powerful and Royal.

And you were his very own dove, the prettiest, most spoiled dove.

"Fuck you’re so wet and desperate, don’t cum yet" he said breathless then pulling out of you. You whined looking back at him and reaching your hand back to touch him but he held your wrist and pulled you on top of him.

"I did what you wished for my beautiful dove, now work for it like the little princess you are, take your throne"

You blinked away a few tears of frustration and grabbed onto his horns then seated yourself down, you were so close and just needed a couple of jumps in.

"Yes, just like that use me, use your prince" his words made your throat dry and your hips faster, he gripped your sides the whole time, digging his fingers into your soft flesh, edging you till your orgasm reached its peak and you came on his cock.

You still kept holding onto the horns, letting him thrust into your sensitive pussy until he finally came shortly after.

[newkatzkafe2023]

Hey, so I thought of something funny, the Wukongs (and D.O) meeting the reader as the grim reaper (specifically the wolf from Puss in Boots: The Last Wish). And while she's pissed that they decided to cheat Death (AKA her), the monkeys are ignoring that fact and are constantly trying to hit on her. And what's worse they're not afraid of her. (Cause Death loves the smell of fear.)

I LOVE PUSS IN BOOTS THE LAST WISH!!! DEATH IS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER!!🤩

(Lmk Wukong) GOD He is so annoying, he's been nothing but troublesome and irresponsible sense day one. Worse part is he was searching for immortality for his arrogant and vain self like the selfish jacka** he ended up being. Way earlier in the His centuries , he was deathly afraid of you (HA get it🤣😈) and you thrive oh his fear. What you didn't expect was for him to be so scared of you that he would find a way to escape you entirely. You tried to stop him by taking his soul early but he was a cheeky slippery like sh*t, at the end of it all he became immortal meaning he's no longer scared of you at all. This made your blood boil and you stormed off away from him leaving him be for years but the thing is he now spends his immortality trying to woo you and win you over. This might be a good time to get this thing called a Restraining order😑

(MKR Wukong) He's the second one you can't stand at all. His sh*tty attitude irritates you so bad of course you would go to threaten him especially when he was searching for immortality. I bet you 20 bucks too that the reason he's looking for immortality is a F*ck you to not only heaven but you as well. That caused a fued to break out and The final straw was when he became immortal, and boi did you go off at him as you both fought again. Then he somehow took you off guard and he crashed dead smack on to you lips, you freaked out of course and pushed him off but instead he pulled you closer and well with the Adrenaline and sudden move affection. He got to know you all too well, but you were able to get away from him blushing and growling at him. It was too late though because now he wants you very badly.

(NR Wukong) Oh lord, once he found out you were a woman, their would be no getting away from him. He would spemd everyday flirting with you and trying different ways to woo you. It was so annoying and inconvenient to your work, He became immortal centuries ago, and you would avoid him like a plague, but unfortunately, you knew him as a mortal Of course, you know the song and dance you would thrive on his fear of being scared of death. Unfortunately, years down the line, he found out something about you. When you both fought each other one more time, he ripped your poncho and saw a pair of breast cover Ina lace bra. Making you turn red in anger and embrassment before knocking his ass out. Hopefully, you scramble his brain to think he was hallucinating, but that clearly didn't work because, worse of the worst of all, he's trying to bed and marry you.

(HIB Wukong) Oh, you both have bumped heads, both when he was mortal and immortal centuries ago. Their was never a time when you both weren't fighting, his arrogance knew no bounds at the time, so it was fun knocking him on his ass. Then you found out about his immortality, which caused you to snap in a way that it never did before. You went to stop him from getting to immortality, and you both actively throw hands with each other during the journey to find immortality. It turns out to be all in vain at the end because Wukong got to the immortality peaches, and boy were you pissed. Cursing him in Chinese and Wukong no longer fearing you we fought for a good while until he grabbed to your boob. Shocking you both making you both blush and you yell profanities as you punched him, and that's how you got a monkey to become obsessed with you.

(Netflix Wukong) Oh man it was Hilarious bullying this joker when he was a mortal. I mean he did have your sympathy when he didn't really fit in with the other monkeys, but ever since he got that God forsaken stick He quickly became a pain in your ass. It's gets worse when you find out that he's on the path to get immortality, which was the straw that broke the Camels back. You tried to scare him out of his journey for immortality, and you would Spook him and pop out of nowhere Whistling at him. Well at the end unfortunately for you 2 things happen, 1 he finally got his immortality for himself, and 2, he found out that his bully was a female, and now he won't leave you alone. You tried to scare him away, but instead, he cuddled you close. Just great😒

(BMW Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh he just loves to get under your skin about his immortality😡 He's been taunting you for years with arrogance and brazen trouble making and Attitude. You would think that ass whooping you gave him as a teenager would get the point across but no If anything it motivated him to not only escape you but to one day get a rematch from you. When he did get his immortality, he did not one but seven freaking times It's like he was pissing you off on purpose and it gets even worse when he was never scared of you in the first place. You know what's worse instead of being scared, his stupid ass flirts with you you want to strangle him but you can't 😤😡🤬

(The Destined one) He doesn't actually annoy you as much as the others would. If anything he peaks your curiosity, as he wonders around on his journey it seems like he's rediscovering the world around him. Granted you hate how he got his immortality and Therefore doesn't have any reason to fear you, but he was incredibly respectful of you anyway so you didn't have any reason to decline his request for a date.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Somethin’ Stupid (Pt. 3)

Pairings: Sam X fem!reader

Summary: Pent up feelings have a way of boiling over…

word count: 1.8k

Tags: Reader and Sam are in love, sloppy make out, kissing, sex, intercourse in the impala, PiV, slight softdom!Sam, praising, reader has female anatomy, reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, can be read as porn w/o plot but feel free to check out the other parts

Notes: With that, this series comes to a close! Honestly i really love writing Sam, y'all might just see more of him soon. Also, had my first day of school friday!

Part 1 Part 2

Requests are open

Sam’s hand slips to the underside of your knee. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. You know what he wants and you’re more than willing to oblige. You rise to your knees and with his help you swing your leg over his lap in one swift motion.

His hands rest on your hips while you sink into him. As your hips go flush with his, even through pants you both feel the sensitivity building within both of you.

Neither of you waste any time. Your hands slide up the back of his neck, fingers tangling into his hair. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your lips meet in a hungry kiss, tongues licking at each other, saliva wet on your lips, the occasional clash of teeth.

One of his hands slips beneath your shirt, sending shivers through your whole body. Sam’s hand slides up your back, long, delicate fingers trailing every vertebrae of your spine. His tongue runs along the inside of your teeth, licking at the roof of your mouth, anywhere he can get, really.

His free hand reaches down to his pants, pinching and adjusting the fabric near the tightening crotch. This action doesn’t escape you. You roll your hips, grinding into the growing bulge in his jeans. He involuntarily breaks the kiss, throwing his head back and driving his hips into you with a groan.

“Fuck,” He says in a breathy murmur.

He was so beautiful in this moment, the strands of hair fallen in front of his face, the curvature of his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You could feel your body growing hotter and with it your desire. You kiss your way up his neck, jaw, and collar bones, leaving lipstick stains in your wake.

Every movement, every breath coming from you sends more blood away from his head and straight to his dick. He wanted to take this slow- make this extra good for you. But every action executed by his fuzzy mind was done with the end goal of making you scream like you did in his every fantasy.

Sam’s hand falls from beneath your shirt and lands on your ass. He gives a gentle squeeze, causing your breath to hitch in your throat and a momentary pause in your kissing. Proud of himself, having evoked that reaction from you he squeezes harder, this time urging your hips in an up and down motion against his cock.

He was going to take it slow.

The friction provides a bit of release from the growing heat between your thighs.

“Sam- mfg,” You moan against his neck, sending vibrations across his skin. Your voice was like honey and he couldn’t get enough.

Sam did want to take this slow.

But he needed you.

badly.

Fuck it.

“backseatbackseatbackseat,” The words come tumbling from his mouth, breathy and filled with titillation. He’s slightly incoherent but you get the message.

…

“sssam,” you whimper out as your breasts slap against the hood of the trunk.

You did attempt the backseat but belts are complicated and it was damn near impossible to get your boots off in the dark. Either way, you both were far too turned on and impatient to wait a second longer.

“Mmm good girl, just like that, baby,” Sam cooed.

He slid in and out of you with slow deliberate motion. His hands gently rake up and down your back, stopping just before reaching your breasts and his thumbs kneading your ass cheeks as you adjust to his size.

Your fingers outstretched in front of you, ball into fists as ripples of painful pleasure spread throughout your body. You whine, your hips writhing as Sam fully buries himself within you. You never did expect Sam to be so large. In retrospect, it does only make sense for a man with a stature such as his.

“I know, baby, I know.” Sam says softly. He leans down, serving only to push himself further inside of you, for which he profusely apologizes for by planting loving kisses across your back and shoulders.

“Are you okay, love?” Sam says in between kisses. “We can stop if you want.”

“No, mmf, don’t stop,” You whimper, lifting your head in attempt to look at him. “Plleeeass, don’t stop.” You beg, your voice needy and filled with air.

“Okay, hon,” Sam replies with a small chuckle. He presses a kiss to your lips before straightening himself and picking up right where he left off.

His hands firmly grip your hips. Sam slowly pulls out as if you were made of delicate glass. Then, you feel the warm tip of his length teasing at the entrance of your pussy, as if debating whether or not he should.

“Sam, plea-

Without warning you feel yourself being completely filled by every inch of him. You gasp, your body rocking forward and your senses reeling.

From behind you hear Sam groan at the feeling of your pussy around him. His grip tightens on your hips, the indents of his fingers sure to bruise.

“God, you feel good,” he murmurs.

Before you have a chance to catch your breath he thrusts inside again and again, picking up a steady rhythm.

You moan and cry out breathless repetitions of his name. “F-fhuck, oh god, Samsamsam, fuuuuck, don’t mmfg stop.” Your hands desperately grasp at nothing. You suck in your bottom lip and bite down hard as you attempt to quiet yourself.

Sam immediately takes notice of how your once enthusiastic moans become high pitched squeaks and sharp breaths.

“Mm, c’mon baby, be a good girl for me, lemme hear you.” He lets out a groan, his thrusts fluctuating as you clench around him. “You like that, being called a good girl?”

His voice is low and raspy as he speaks, sending your stomach (and vagina, honestly) fluttering. You could hear the almost pride in his voice- having found out what makes you tick. You nod a mousy yes, raising to your tiptoes so your hips are aligned with his.

Sam groans again, your tight pussy fitting him perfectly. “Good girl,” He murmurs as he makes you moan again and again - music to his ears. He sings your praises in drunken murmurs as he fucks you till you see stars, not the ones overhead.

The night air, warm and thick around the two of you, felt as though it were heating up. Every inch of his body buzzed, his heartbeat raced, and his breaths came out in short pants. You were so beautiful before him- bent over, hair splayed across your back and the sweat on your skin illuminated by the moon. It was almost involuntary as his body moved.

Sam’s arm reached beneath you, wrapping around your waist. You gasp, he lifts you to him, your back flush with his chest.

“God you’re beautiful,” Sam mumbles into your skin. His other hand slides down your torso, landing on the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.

You throw your head back in a crying moan. You reach behind you, your hand tangling into his mess of hair. Sam growls into your ear in response. His thrusts become more sporadic, his cock entering and exiting you in rapid needy thrusts. His fingers match that same desperate rhythm , or lack thereof, working your clit in jagged circles at the slowest pace he can manage. The extra stimulation provided drives you so close to the edge. Your pussy spasms around him, your awareness threatening to fade as a white hot pleasure spreads through you.

“Fuck, baby i’m close where do you want it?” Sam says through barred teeth as he struggles to hold himself back.

“Inside,” You pant through moans.

“You sure?” He grunts out, his hips stalling.

“Yes! i’m on the pill, please just cum inside me!” You cry out.

Without another word, you both let yourselves go. The entire world around you seems to fade out of existence as firey waves of ecstasy roll through your body. Your back arches and your legs shake while the climax washes over you.

Once you come down from your high you find Sam behind you, panting just as hard as you were. He was still inside of you, along with something warm and sticky.

“That was…” He breaths.

“Wow.”

“Yeah… you okay?”

“Mhm, you?”

“Better.” Sam chuckles.

…

After a maddening search for your missing clothing and some difficulty getting dressed, Sam helps you into the backseat of the car since your legs had given out. He just stands there in the space of the open door, smiling down at you.

“What?” You smile softly.

“You’re beautiful.” Sam says simply.

“Thank you, I think you are as well.”

“Thanks,” He smiles.

Bzz Bzz

“Hm?” You both go curiously.

You peer around to the front seat only to see your phone just how you left it- dead.

“Not me.” You shrug.

“Shit,” Sam begins patting his pockets before pulling his phone from his back pocket. “it’s Dean.”

“Is he okay?” You question, watching Sam’s face as he skims the messages.

>Hey so i may or may not have accidentally sent you to the wrong spot. oops.

> One image attached: A selfie of Dean and Garth’s smiling faces, both holding up blood-stained machetes.

> Walked back to the car and i think i saw you two kissing?

> Nicee, knew you could do it ;)

> You’re not responding so i can only assume you’re either dead, or getting some

> i did buy two motel rooms for a reason, samuel.

“Oof.” Sam says aloud.

“What is it?” You rise to your feet and peer over his arm to look.

>Dude, i swear if you’re screwing in baby rn

>Sam DO NOT FUCK IJ MY CAR!

>IN*

“Technically we didn’t do it in the car.” You giggle.

“Don’t think that matters much.”

“Yeah… well, if he asks let’s just say your phone died.”

“Good idea, but let’s not think about that night now.” Sam tosses his phone to the backseat and turns all of his attention back on you. “Cause right now,” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “All I wanna think about is how I have the most amazing girl in the world, right in front of me.”

You blush, hard. “Oh really?” You smirk, playing coy. “Dunno if i can belive you on that one.”

“Then how can I prove it to you?” Sam replies in an equally playful manner.

“Hmm, i’ve got a few ideas.” You crane your neck upward toward him, biting down on your lower lip.

Without a second thought Sam cups your face in his hands and pulls you in for a soft and sweet kiss.

When you pull apart he smiles at you dumbly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And with that he pulls you in for another kiss. Sam would be happy to prove just how amazing you are forever.

Taglist: @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillies444lola @n0va25 @wowzabowza69

[cleopatra-x]

The Garden (18+)

Pairing | Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary | An heated argument in the gardens with your husband leads to something else.

Warnings | SEXUAL CONTENT - MINORS DNI; oral (f receiving), exhibitionism, spanking, rimming (f receiving), hair pulling, aegon making a small appearance

word count | 1.5k

Notes | The reader is a Martell but you may imagine her however you see fit. Please don't put a community label on this.

“You are unbelievable,” you grumble loud enough for him to hear, stalking away from your husband, to annoyed to be in his presence.

It’s been a year since you and your husband have been wed. Leaving your home in Dorne was not easy, but with time Kings Landing became your second home. Your marriage with Prince Aemond has been a dream come true. Despite him being cold in the beginning. He was always understanding of you, caring, and catering to your every need.

But sometimes he did things you hated. Like, making decisions without consulting you. The both of you are a pair, you felt you should be included.  

As you enter the gardens, you are greeted by the fresh scent of flowers and the sound of rustling leaves. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, the sky transforming into a canvas of vibrant colors.

You could hear his heavy footsteps catch up to yours, “Stop making a scene,” He gripped your forearm, causing you to face him.

“Let’s go back inside.” He attempts to stay calm, although you could tell he was ready to pounce.

You scoffed, releasing your arm from his tortuous grip. “It’s like you to back down from a fight.”

Not being able to stop your rouge tongue, your blood boiling at the fact that he’s always so calm. You wanted him to lose control.

He fixes you with a curious stare and tilts his head to the side, studying you intently as you stand there. “You want a fight?”

You can’t help but let your eyes wander his prominent Adam’s apple as he swallows heavily, framed by the shades of orange and red hat colored the sky. Whether it was just from him sleeping, reading, or doing basic activities, the very sight of your husband always made our stomach churn. You were obsessed.

Aemond takes a step closer towards you, and you put your hands on your hips, standing your ground. You glance around the deserted garden, knowing it was most inappropriate to be this close in public, even as man and wife.

“You are clearly aroused by this, my love.” His voice noticeably dropped an octave as he corned you.

My love. A static hot shiver slides down your spine. Your arousal seeping out of you, to trail down your thighs. You look down at the ground as a silent confirmation, suddenly not having the courage to look him in the eye.

His grin widens into that rare, arrogant face he typically reserves for when you're pleading for him in bed.

“Turn around” he commands, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for your movement.

“Aem-,” you begin, your eyes widening in pure shock. Aemond was not the kind to do such things in public. Everything was saved for the privacy of your martial chambers.

He dares to take another step closer, your breasts now pressed up against his chiseled chest. “don’t make me repeat myself, dōnus riñus.” Sweet girl.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, before turning your body away from him. Your chest heaved heavily at the thought of what’s to come. You could not believe that he would touch you where anyone could see.

You grip onto the wooden edge of a picnic bench; you knew that you should prepare yourself before he ruts into you.

You hear your husband drop to his knees behind you, causing you to turn your head to glance at him. His eyepatch abandoned onto the stone ground, the sapphire that sat in his empty socket, shining in the sunlight. You clenched down on nothing at the sight.

More often than not, Aemond would bring you to release with his tongue or fingers, but never from behind. You would always look upon his face. You audibly swallowed, opening your mouth to protest.

“Do I have to keep telling you, wife?” A slap to your backside caused you to let out a high-pitched, breathy whimper. You chew on your lip once again, before turning back around.

You feel him lift your dress up, settling it at your hips. Both of his hands grabbed your ass cheeks, pulling them apart and exposing you.  The wind grazing against your most sensitive parts had you whimpering. Your hips rolled against the air, seeking out any kind of friction. He groaned from behind you, squeezing your cheeks.

“You’re fucking dripping.” His finger ran up the back of your thigh until it ghosted over your cunt, collecting some of your slick. He popped a finger in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, making sure it was nice and clean. “Gods, I can’t get enough of how you taste.”

You gripped the edge of the bench, trying to compose yourself. 

Aemond slapped your bottom again, making you jolt forward. He placed a hand on your lower back, bending you over the bench. 

You let out a shocked moan the second you felt Aemond lick up from your sopping wet cunt all the way up to your puckered, brown hole. You squeezed your eyes closed, embarrassment flooding through you as you moaned loudly. It was always lewd when Aemond fucked you, but this was new and entirely improper.

A stinging slap was served to your backside, causing your eyes to snap open. “You know you like it.” Aemond mumbled behind you, the vibrations of his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Aemond, please.” Your eyes rolled in the back of your head just as the tip of his tongue circled your tight hole. Your husband is a patient man, he could tease you for hour on end, if he truly wanted. It was dirty and disgusting, yet you feel your stomach clenching from the extreme pleasure.

You were mewling freely now and attempted to sneak a hand between your soaked thighs to relieve the ache. Aemond slapped it away immediately, a silent warning to not do it again.

Aemond finally wrapped his lips around your pearl. “Oh- yes!” You reached a hand around and held into the back of his head, grinding your hips back against his exploring tongue. 

“Mm, mhm.” He couldn’t say much, but Aemond was showing just how much he loved the taste of you. Letting his tongue dip into your cunt for a moment before licking up towards your ass, getting it all nice and wet with his spit. 

Aemond was slurping, licking, and sucking. He was doing everything just right and you felt as if you were in heaven. You aren’t certain how he can much air with his face pressed so deeply against you, but you cared naught. Not when you felt this good.

The hand you had in Aemond’s hair pulled at silver strands. “So good, Aemond, so fucking good!” 

It was hard to keep your balance and not fall straight to your knees. The pleasure was growing and you could feel your release fast approaching, making your toes curl in your shoes.

Aemond knew you were close too, and he wanted to feel you spill all over his face. He pulled your folds apart and suckled your pearl back into his mouth, shaking his head side to side, letting his teeth barely graze it. 

Your pearl throbbed in his mouth as your stomach caved in, your wanton moans loud and clear for anyone to hear. You were humping his face, needing everything he had to offer.

“I-Im close!” You were afraid that Aemond would stop, edge you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But he let you speak, kept sucking at your pearl like his life depended on it, making obscene slurping noises. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and slammed your hand on the bench, spilling yourself on his tongue. It was taking its time running through you, letting you feel every bit of pleasure it had to give. “Fuck, fuck!” 

He drunk every last bit of your spend, groaning at the taste. “So delicious.” He spanked you again before standing on his feet again.

Your brain turned the mush, vision blurry, barely registering your husband’s words. Your thighs shook as he pulled your dress back down. He snaked his arms around you, helping you stand up straight.

Aemond wiped his mouth before pressed a loving kiss to your temple, parting his lips to speak.

“Yet, you call me depraved.”

Both you and Aemond turn to the unwanted voice behind you and you were met with eyes of his brother, Aegon.

A pang of cold sweat ran through you as your heart dropped to your gut. Has he been there the whole time? Did he see everything? Will he tell everyone?

You watched as Aemond’s lips pursed into a tine line. If looks could kill, you were sure Aegon Targaryen would be long gone.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Aemond seethed. “Before I kill you.”

Aegon drunkenly giggled before taking a sip of wine from his giblet. He turned his back not before mumbling, “Can’t even enjoy a stroll in the garden these days.”

You wished you could vanish into a hole at that very moment.

[cameronspecial]

Barry leaves, asking Rafe to watch his sister, who overhears and objects. Despite her attempts to seduce Rafe, He declines. That night after Barry goes to sleep he confesses his love to her and they have passionate slow sex

Whispered I Love Yous

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.1K

Masterlist

Rafe has always seen Y/N as Barry’s little sister and it annoys her to no end. Every attempt she makes to get the year older man into her bed is turned away. Even in her best outfit during a party, he still doesn’t want her. “I’ve told you before, Honey. I’m not going to sleep with you, so stop trying,” he declines. She groans, stepping away from him and buttoning up her shirt to hide her breasts. The only person she wants to see is Rafe. She pouts, “You are no fun.” She storms away to get a drink and misses the want in his eyes. It kills him to say no to her because everything in him wants to pound into her until she forgets her name, except his need to have more with her stops him. She only wants sex and Rafe wants love added to the mix. So he denies them both what they need because if he is going to have her, he craves every part of him. 

She returns to the couch area to find Rafe in conversation with her brother and does a little eavesdropping. “I need you to watch over her for a bit. I got to head back home for a second to take care of business and I don’t trust your Kook friends around her,” Barry orders, stuffing some of the drugs he hasn’t sold yet into Rafe’s pocket. Rafe nods, “You got it.” She rushes between the two and faces her brother. “No, no, no. I don’t need a babysitter. I am eighteen, Bare. Plus, Rafe doesn’t even like me,” she complains. Barry chuckles, “You don’t have a choice. You are going to sit on that couch where Rafe can see you and listen to what he tells you to do. If you don’t, then you can find another place to sleep.” She can’t respond because he storms out of Tannyhill to head home. “I-” Rafe tries to tell her she doesn’t hate him, but she leaves before he can finish talking. On her way to the couch, she grabs a random Touron and shoves him on the furniture. She straddles the man, beginning to make out with him. Anger boils within Rafe and he wants to shove her off of him, except a client comes over to make a purchase from him.

———

Rafe didn’t see her after Barry returned and she was allowed to leave the couch. He assumed that she went to the guest room she was given for the night with the Touron and Rafe hated the thought, so he tried his best to push her out of his mind. It works until Barry goes to bed and he doesn’t have to sell coke or a party to occupy his mind. He looks around the room at the cups and beer bottles littering the floor and thinks about starting to clean before he decides to leave it for tomorrow. 

He heads upstairs, passing the room Y/N is sleeping in. A noise coming from the room causes him to pause. “Rafe, I love you.” He can’t believe it. Y/N just moaned out he loved her. She must not have brought the Touron up. He knocks on the door and doesn’t get a response. His ear presses to the door to see if he can hear any shuffling and when he hears nothing, he does what he probably shouldn’t and opens it. He finds her asleep in bed; fully clothed, so she couldn’t have been masturbating. 

The words he heard her mumble in her sleep gave him the confidence to do what he was about to do next. He rests his hand on her shoulder and gently shakes her awake. Her eyebrows knit together as her eyes flutter open, “Rafe, what are you doing here?” 

His confession rushes out of his mouth. “I don’t hate you. I just can’t have only sex with you. I need more with you because I love you. I want dates and whispering I love you when we wake up in the morning. I declined your advances because I want a relationship with you and I thought you only wanted sex.” 

He holds his breath as he waits for her response. He knows the moment that she fully wakes up and processes his words. She wraps her arms around him, bringing her lips to his. He is pulled forward and her legs tangle around him so she is flush against him. His hips grind against her, causing her to moan out in pleasure. They quickly shed their clothes and he sees her preparing to go down on him. He keeps her in place, “As much as I would love to feel your mouth, I need to be inside of you. We will have plenty of time to show each other how good we are with our mouths.” Her head bobs at his words and she watches while he uses his hand to guide his dick inside of her. She gasps as he thrusts into her. The pace is slow and deep. A testament to the feelings brewing between them. 

The positions they are in allow them to stare into each other’s eyes. He thinks about speeding up; however, he feels how she clenches around him and knows this is the pace for the moment right now. He brings his hips back out, easing himself back in to hit that part inside of her that has her moaning louder. Tears brim in her eyes and worries floods him. He brings a hand to her cheek, “Are you okay, Honey? Am I hurting you? Should I stop?” She shakes her head vehemently and grips his bum, helping him into her. “Don’t stop. I’m just really happy to be doing this right now with you because… Because I love you.” Love fills him completely and he uses his other hand to caress her arm. He brings their lips together and then rests his forehead forward against hers. “I love you too, Honey. So much,” he promises. She kisses him with a grin on her face. 

They continue their movements until they are brought to the edge. Once they come down from their high, he pulls out of her and carries her to his own bedroom after checking that the coast is clear. He tucks her into his bed and goes to get a damp towel from the bathroom.

He cleans her off, getting them both robes from the back of his door. He helps it onto her and they cuddle into each other as they fall asleep.

———

“I love you, Honey,” a voice whispers. This pulls her from her slumber. Her eyes flick to the window to find golden light trying to shine through the curtain. She looks toward the figure beside her and she smiles. She presses her lips to his, “I love you too.” 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[astrid-sorensen]

Did I hurt you? Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1,115

Genre: Hurt + comfort, angst, some smut

Warnings: sex, injury detail caused by a human, no use of y/n, rushed ending

MASTERLIST

When you and Joel spend the night secluded on patrol, Joel is in for a surprise when he finds out just how rough he can be.

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ⋆｡°✩･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

Snow littered across the hillside, you and Joel were saddled at the ready as you left the lookout. An vacation cabin now old and forlorn. Brisk dawn had cracked along the clouds, your journey back to the commune just beginning after a short stay there on patrol.

You and Joel had been partnered up for a year or so now, exchanges growing more and more, little by little. Companionship cultivated naturally until you both began to feel something more between the lines. Something tender. Something innocent. It was measured initially, quick 'how are yous?' And 'don't walk too far.'s.

But soon enough it evolved, lengthy nights camping up in the former main lounge. Talking about anything and everything. Secrets you'd never even admit to yourself, coming to the surface and pooling into the cold idle air.

Your body would be wrapped tightly in your sleeping bag as rum you'd shared earlier, the embers still crackling at your insides.

Except, last night was unlike anything you've done before. Lust overpowered your sweet conversation. A quick run in to some desolate clickers, made you see Joel unlike anything else before.

Quick, get behind me now.

The words still echoed through your mind. His muscular limbs shoving you behind him whilst he aimed and fired. Two swift bullets in each.

Joel had a protective nature, not just in his size and strength, but in his biology too. Although he had never been this demanding, never this assertive when it came to keeping you safe. You were conscious something had metamorphosed.

After setting up for the night and shotting a few gulps of the harsh, firey liquor, Joel was on you. His frame trapped you beneath him his fingertips holding your hips still as he grinded passionately against you. He was needy, desperate and completely love-drunk. His cold lips dragging across your own, to your jaw, neck and then breasts. There was no question in what he was after. Frantic, wet thrusts of his hips down into you, the only thing separating you from the icy cold air that filled the room all the way to the high ceilings was Joel's searing body. Your hands locked into the messy ash strands that covered his head, begging for more.

After your long trek back to base, you and Joel rolled in for the night. Choosing to go back to his for some hot food and a quick shower. Ellie now fast asleep in her room across the hall. Your routine was always the same, you washed first then Joel. You now lay spread across Joel's chest, with the body Joel had grew to know the past few weeks. Joel's hand washed over your side, a sharp intake of air shot through the gaps in your teeth as you winced. Joel's face hardened, his lines deepening. Before you could say anything else, he lifted your old cotton shirt to expose the flesh.

Blotches of purple and blue littered the wounded skin of your hips. A few stray ones covered your arms and waist. Handles for Joel last night as he ploughed his hips into yours. Not leaving room to breathe as his wet trusts became sloppier. The clap of your flesh on each other echoing out through the Jackson lookout.

Joel eyes stopped at the scores and impressions he had left.

"Fuck,"

You shook you head with a smile smile, no. His hands still pulled off you, as if he had touched something boiling hot.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" He searched you face for something, anything. But you just looked back indifferent, offering a small curl on the corner of your lips.

"No, no, it was amazing. I mean for my first time, I can't imagine it being any better."

"Y-Your?" Joel got up, pulling on his jacket that he'd thrown across the floor after coming in the warm Jackson home. Silence graced the house, nothing except the short huffs of the 50 year old.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk."

"Okay lemme come with you." You interjected but the sentiment was not returned.

"No." Joel shot back. “I wanna go alone."

"Are you mad at me?"

"It's not you." His footsteps didn’t halt, sifting through the garments left on the floor for the ones he had on earlier.

"Joel, c'mon."

"Are you serious right now?" His icy stare froze you to your core, you’d seen him furious before, but never directed towards you. His southern accent laced with malice.

"Joel," you tried, tone soft as if it would somehow calm him down. His deep scowl not wavering.

"Why didn't you tell me?” He quizzed, gingerly.

"I just, "

"You told me we didn't have any secrets." His deep chocolate irises looking at you delicately as they bore into your own, leaden ones.

“I was embarrassed. Joel, I'm sorry. Please don’t go.”

His head tipped back, a deep sigh leaving his nostrils. You knew his was just building the courage to leave. He hated when you would beg him. Almost never able to not comply to your request.

"Settle down, Baby." Joel shifted to face you.

“I'll sleep on the couch. I'll give you space. Anything." The words tumbled off your tongue like a spell.

"I'm not go gonna go anywhere. M'sorry I woulda never let it happen like that if I knew it was your first time." Joel sat beside you on the bed, pulling your bare legs over his lap. The rough pads of his fingers, slid back and forth along your leg.

“I shoulda taken my time, got you really comfortable. Woulda been on a bed for a start, not on some fucking floor in the middle of nowhere." Joel turned his head, shaking it in disbelief.

"Joel, it's okay. It's what I wanted."

"You don't know what you wanted. You ain't never done it before then.” His words sharp and annoyed.

"I know. But I know I wanted you." Your hand moved to hold his bicep, the muscle naturally flexing beneath you light grip.

“No more goddamn secrets. Got it?" He appearance was stern, but his big loving eyes were otherwise. There was alway warmth in those golden orbs.

"Yes Joel." 

You grabbed a pillow hopping off the bed.

"Mmm, mmm." The male hummed, grabbing you by your wrist and halting your movements. You turned back eyes wide with surprise. "You think I'm gonna take a girls virginity and then make her sleep on the couch?" He inquired, amazed. “What kinda man do you take me for?" He smiled out softly. He moved you over to the bed, turning off the bedside lamp before getting under the covers, the other side.

[meiliarotten]

i need the insight of the tf2 smut expert (complimentary) on this one... which of the mercs prefers tits and which one prefers ass?

First off- I am honored to be considered the tf2 smut expert. Now- on to the ultimate question.

🍑 or 🍒?

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

The Masterlist

👟 Scout 👟

Oooooh I had to ponder this one for a long while. Now, I personally headcanon Scout as bi (like me), so I finally decided he likes both, but specifically tits for women and ass for men. If you’re non-binary it’s a coin toss. As in he’ll probably literally flip a damn coin.

🦅 Soldier 🦅

My reasoning here literally had me looking up muscle groups in the human body. Soldier strikes me as a man attracted to strength. Literally look at Zhanna. She definitely pegs him and he’s not ashamed of it. As such, I think he’s an ass man- largest muscle in the body, y’know? Yeah. My high school biology teacher would be proud to see what I’m doing with that hard earned education.

🔥 Pyro 🔥

Pyro likes any squishable soft part of your body- tits, ass, belly, it’s all fair game, but if they had to choose, they would go with tits. They’re the easiest to squeeze if they hug you from behind, they like the way they feel when you’re cuddling and they’re pressed up against them, big or small, breasts are just perfect! Plus, if you have an especially sensitive chest, Pyro will definitely take full advantage of that during foreplay

💥 Demo 💥

For Demo, it comes down to what’s easiest to grab in the moment- and that tends to be your ass. It’s easy to give it a quick squeeze in the corner of a bar or even in passing on the battlefield, just to tease you a bit- tits aren’t nearly as subtle. So yeah, it’s ass all the way for this one.

🥊 Heavy 🥊

I struggled with this for a long while but I finally settled on tits. Heavy is much bigger than most of his lovers, and so he prefers for them to ride on top so that they can take him at their own pace. This position makes it pretty easy for him to caress your chest or simply watch the way your tits bounce as you ride him. It’s a view he can’t get enough of!

🔧 Engie 🔧

Ass. I had to consult a fellow smut expert on this one cause I was stuck, and they’re reasoning basically boils down to a particular smutty scenario where Engie bends you over his desk and goes to town- hence resulting in the ass preference. I also personal feel like he wouldn’t be shy about spanking either.

🏥 Medic 🏥

Assl Tits. THIGHS. I will perish on this hill, Medic is a thigh appreciator above all else. Mans will go down on you for hours just to be cushioned between a pair of thighs. He’ll leave bite marks on the soft flesh. A pair of thigh high stockings will fucking slay him, as illustrated in this fic by lil ol me.

🦘 Sniper 🦘

Ass for sure. This might have something to do with the “wild man” energy Sniper gives off. Something about him just screams feral, and that includes taking you ass up and face down whenever the mood arises.

🌹 Spy 🌹

Tits, especially if they’re accentuated with some fancy lingerie. Spy will gladly worship your chest if you want him to. He’ll even buy you outfits that show off your curves with plunging necklines just for him to admire you in. Kinda like a sugar daddy

So yeah, those are my hot takes on what each merc prefers. You want a source? My source is that I made it the fuck up

Jk, this is all in good fun, and I’d love to see y’all’s opinions as well! These are the discussions we should be having, people!

[naturesapphic]

can you do little reader mommy billie

Where r can't seem to drop for a while.

but she gets in an argument with billie family and it makes her drop

Last straw

Mommy!billie eilish x little!fem!reader

Warnings: age regression, hurt/comfort, arguing

“I just don’t see why you are always clingy towards Billie! She’s almost done with the album and you constantly have to be near her! It’s messing her up!” Finneas argued with you. Billie left to go to a interview and finneas asked why you have been attached to Billie for a few days now and this arguement sparked.

“I really don’t see how that’s any of your business fin…” you say quietly as you look down embarrassedly. “It is my business when you are distracting Billie and possibly mess up her album we’ve been working so hard on!” Finneas shouts and you whimper as you curl up into a ball and start shaking. Finneas frowns and curses himself as he realized what he just did.

“Shit shit shit…” he scrambled around the room trying to find his phone so he could call his sister. He found his phone and immediately called Billie. “Hey.” Billie said through the phone and he freaked out telling her what had just happened. Billie felt her blood boil at her brother but pushed those feelings aside and told him that she would be there as soon as she could.

Twenty minutes later Billie came barging into the studio and found you still on the floor curled into a ball whimpering. “Oh babygirl…it’s okay I’m right here…” she said as she drops to her knees and tried to gently pull your hands away from your face. “There’s my pretty baby…” she said as she gives you a reassuring smile. Fin just stands there awkwardly and Billie moves her head to the door to signal that he needs to get out and he did.

“It’s okay…mommy’s got you precious one…” billie said softly next to your ear as she picks you up and sits you on her lap facing her. You sniffle and look up at her with a sad expression which causes her heart to break. “Fin s-said I too clingy…” you mumbled out but she heard you and cooed at you. “I know baby. What he said wasn’t true and I will talk to him about that later but right now I just want to focus on you.” She said with a smile.

You nodded and snuggled into her more but tense up. “Hey what’s wrong honey…?” Billie questioned you and you snap out of it. “I-im sorry…I don’t know what im doing…you don’t have time to be my caregiver right now im so sorry billie..” you sputtered out and went to get off of her but her hands went around your waist and made you sit back down on her lap. “Hey. Don’t ever apologize for being in your headspace. You know I love when I can take care of you. You never ever bother me okay? I absolutely love taking care of you, it keeps me grounded and it distracts me from my work.” She explains and you nod in understanding.

“So if you want to drop into your headspace you absolutely can princess, I know you haven’t for a while.” She said and you felt yourself slowly start to slip into your headspace again. You nod and stuff your face into her breast to which she giggles at. She knows how much you love her boobs so she doesn’t mind when you do this, not one bit. She holds you in her arms and starts rocking you back and forth to sleep. She’s definitely beating Finneas ass after this.

A/n: thank you for the request anon and I hope you enjoy it and I hope everyone else did too. Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all! :)