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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 month

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somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this isn’t how things should be.

your living room is dimly lit, illuminated only by the tv in front of you, and the moon is glowing a pearlescent blue. flimsy strings of moonlight spill over your floorboards, reflecting off the windows, and whatever you’re doing isn’t what you should be doing. you shouldn’t be awake this late, shouldn’t be gorging on sweets before bed, shouldn’t be having a rendezvous with an enemy — shouldn’t be watching movies with your ex of ten years.

most of all, you shouldn’t be feeling nearly this content.

getō is seated right beside you, legs comfortably spread, popping a macaron into his mouth. chewing it slowly, savouring the flavour. or lack thereof, you suppose — he’s digested far too many curses for his taste buds to remain intact.

or so he says, anyhow.

this time, he brought pastries with him; expensive ones, you can tell, just from the package alone. a soft pastel pink box, wrapped up in silk, golden letters etched into the front. mont blancs, macarons, two slices of strawberry shortcake. carefully picked, suited to your tastes.

(you aren’t actually too fond of sweets, anymore, but how is he to know? he hasn’t seen you in years.)

”would you like me to make us some tea?”

when you turn your gaze towards him, getō’s wearing a smile. laid-back, the slightest upward curl, tilting his head in a manner you’re far too used to. eyes shining with something keen.

somehow, it feels difficult to tear your gaze away from his.

but you manage, turning forward, grasping control over your sleepy vocal cords. ”no, i’m good.”

a low hum. he’s still looking at you.

”coffee?”

”the sweets are more than enough.”

this time, a smile — one you can’t see but still somehow sense. a little bit amused. getō gazes at you with a knowing look, watches you glance at the box of pastries on your coffee table; studying you under the monochrome flicker of the tv-screen.

”understood,” he finally quips, leaning back into the leather couch. exhaling a little breath. ”eat as much as you’d like. i bought them for you, you know.”

you nod, nibbling at a macaron. not glancing his way.

being alone with him still feels a little awkward. a little tense — to be curled up on the same couch, watching the same movie, just like your old sleepovers in high school. there’s an elephant in the room that neither of you have addressed — not since he first showed up, just a couple weeks ago, waltzing up to your apartment with a plastic bag of dvds after a decade of estrangement. wearing heavy robes, and a familiar smile. asking to be let in.

and despite every single circumstance telling you not to, you did just that. you’ve yet to refuse.

(satoru would hate you, if he knew.)

so he’s there, right beside you, and you don’t talk about it. not his choice, not your work, not anything except the movie playing on the screen in front of you. this time, it’s one he’s seen before. beautiful, he called it, and for once you think it might be a romance — if the kiss between the main actors is anything to go by.

you wonder if that’s why he says it.

”say, do you hate me?”

you still. freezing in place, for a moment, discontent but not surprised. he’s always been like this; breaking any illusion of peace before you can find solace in it.

you bite back a groan, and shoot him a glance out of the corner of your eye — but he isn’t looking at you. only at the tv, at the two men, holding hands and standing on a bridge in the rain, watching the stars twinkle in the sky. and you sigh, turning your head to look at him fully, parting your lips. your voice comes out frustrated.

”do you really want to have this conversation now?”

”when else?” he chuckles, meeting your gaze with one brow raised. amber eyes gleaming with mirth, and something else, something less practiced. ”you don’t have to answer. i’m just curious.”

you gulp down the last of the macaron, licking your lips for any leftover crumbs — unaware of how his eyes follow the movement. ”are you?”

a hum buzzes in the back of his throat, a tiny rasp. you wonder if he’s tired. ”i hadn’t expected this, you know.” he taps at his knee with the pads of his fingers, rhythmic and controlled. ”i thought it was just wishful thinking… that you’d let me come this close.”

you feel his gaze on you. it’s heavy, heavy like lead, like a loaded gun. you feel it dissect you from afar, and can’t find it in you to reach for another pastry.

”… would you have preferred being kicked out?”

”not at all.” a little grin plays at his lips, something in his voice betraying the face he’s making. ”are you avoiding the question?”

another sigh. you’re painfully aware of how resigned it sounds, spilling out into the open air, already filling with a sense of dread — any leftover nostalgia bursting at the seams. you want to tell him so many things, but every thread inside your mind feels all tangled up.

and, as always, getō beats you to the punch.

”that’s fine, too.” a brief pause, a twitch of his pinkie. he closes his eyes and inhales a breath. ”because i’ll keep waiting.”

for a second, you consider not taking the bait.

then you’re giving in. because that’s what you always do, whenever he’s involved. you watch him in the dark, pale skin enveloped by moonlight, raven hair spilling across the headrest. he looks beautiful, like this, just resting his eyes.

”… for what?” you whisper, and his answer comes without a hitch to his breath.

”for you to love me again.”

…

getō tilts his head, opening his eyes, a golden brown dragging you into their depths. he looks expectant, selfishly awaiting a response, and you’re tired.

(unbeknownst to you, he resists the urge to intertwine your fingers, to trace every ridge and dip of your knuckles with his thumb. to squeeze your palm like a promise, something concrete.)

when your mind has managed to untangle itself, something in your gaze turns sharp. frustrated, impatient, disappointed, looking at him with a raised brow. ”you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

as fast as it came, your gaze returns to the screen in front of you. monochrome, flickering, two beautiful men. one of them is holding a gun to the other’s temple, and the victim looks appeased. the movie’s almost over.

(how very like him, to find such violence beautiful.)

quietly, you swallow down the bile building up in the back of your throat. a decade of bitter flavours. clenching your teeth, nails digging into the couch beneath you, leather on your cold fingertips. it’s a little peeled.

you wonder why you even bother being honest, when he never quite seems to return the favour.

but the room is dimly lit, and the moon is big and bright, and your ex of ten years is sitting right next to you. in your apartment, on your couch, watching a movie on your tv. when he could, should be anywhere else. he’s with you, and he pulls the words out of your throat without trying. puppeteering your heartbeat.

”… as if i ever stopped.”

silence.

you hear a gunshot ring out. low, muffled, a crackle of static. one of the men falls down to the ground, and you can’t tell who's who. the actors are forgettable, but the soundtrack is pretty. it rings in your ears like a lullaby.

getō says your name.

it sounds the same as you remember. honeyed syllables, spilling from his parted lips, silky and sweet. he says your name like he’s asking to marry you, and you can hear the smile he’s struggling to repress.

”will you look at me?”

it’s less of a question, and more of a demand. you wonder why he even bothers asking — but you’ve never really understood the way his brain works. never understood why a burglar would bother asking the shopkeeper for permission before reaching for the register, when they’ll be leaving with the money either way.

and you’re paralyzed, stuck in place on the couch, gaze glued to the screen in front of you. but you aren’t watching, not really, just looking. and you don’t want to see what kind of face he’s making. so you whisper;

”.. no.”

”no?” he mimics, something like a coo on the tip of his tongue. as always, you can feel his gaze, travelling down your face like a trickle of honey. ”and why is that, my dear?”

you bite down on your lip.

a long, long moment passes, and neither of you say a word. he’s looking at you, and you’re looking down at your lap, at your clenched fists. a little meek. it’s quiet, the calm before the storm, and you know exactly what’s going to happen — it’s already set in stone.

”because you’re going to kiss me,” you exhale, finally, resignation on your breath. ”and i’m going to let you.”

…

for a second, you wonder if his silence means he understands. if he can hear the desperate plea in your voice, if he can translate it correctly.

but his fingertips graze the lines of your jaw, his palm sneaks under your chin, and he keeps you in place. turning your head to meet his gaze, his amber eyes, dripping with something hungry; something pleading.

this time, he doesn’t ask for permission. he leans forward until there’s no space between you, tips your head back, and kisses you with bated breath — as softly as he can manage, which is still too intense for your liking. still brimming with desperation, something carnal, like he wants to pour his everything into the kiss but knows he shouldn’t. he tastes like tobacco.

and it’s over.

you know it is, because your senses are flooded with him, him, him. nothing but him, the strands of his raven hair ghosting your skin, his greedy tongue licking along your teeth, large palms resting on your spine and the back of your head. you’re pliant, surrendering yourself to his touch. he’s cradling you like he loves you, and you feel like you’ve done something awful, because you have.

because you’ve let him come so close, again, invited him inside — inside of your home, your ribcage. and he won’t bother making a home for himself there, because it’s already waiting for him, untouched, between your fourth and fifth ribs.

you never bothered to get rid of it.

(that’s your sin.)

getō hums, muffled by your lips. he sounds pleased. he sounds like he’s been waiting for this for decades, and you suppose that he has. he murmurs praise that you do nothing but swallow down.

everything feels too perfect, too normal, and it’s too much, too much, too much. your lips pressed together, your chests pressed together, your noses meeting in a tender touch. you choke down the noise that threatens to push past your lips, and he kisses you like a starved man. like he’s trying to drown in you.

he only pulls away once he realizes that you’re crying, and by then it’s too late. his widening eyes don’t matter, your cold hands don’t matter, the tremble of your erratic heartbeat has never mattered less. he looks at you with remorse, and it doesn’t matter.

(he’s yours, again, and you’re his.

you can’t stop crying.)

”… i’m sorry.”

in the background, you hear the sound of gentle whispers, an ending scene. the men are talking to each other, speaking softly, and your eyes burn with tears. geto catches one of them with his forefinger, and leans forward to plant a kiss against your nose. chaste, this time. still mumbling apologies.

it doesn’t matter, because a tiny sob still breaks past your throat — and you know the sound must hurt him.

you hate that. you hate that you always hurt him, hate that you care, hate that you feel nothing but guilt when he’s around. you hate the movie still playing to your left, hate that he doesn’t hate it, hate that he loves you. hate that you love him, that you probably always will.

you hate that you blink up at him with glassy eyes, swallow down a shaky breath, and kiss him again. hate that it’s still the only thing you know how to do well.

he doesn’t pull away, only biting back a noise of surprise — but he makes sure to kiss you gently, as if you’re made of porcelain, slow and tender, cradling you closer still. he wipes away your tears with his thumb, one after another, and you hate yourself because everything feels so deliriously right.

somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that what you’re playing is a losing game.

(he’s yours, and you’re his. it’s already set in stone.)

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 3 months

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My Favorite Pet

Touch Me (1)

BDSM Preformer!Fem!Reader! X subby! Wanda

Summary: You've hit your limit when you can't find a partner to click with at work until a new plaything comes along.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!, obviously BDSM themes at play, collar leash play, exhibitionism and voyeurism, pet play, pet names (R is referred by W as Mommy, W is referred by R as pet and plaything along with amor) degradation, praise, R uses strap on W, rope play, vibrator use, edge play, aftercare

Word count: 4.5K

A/N: I loved writing this, and I still have more I want to do with this, so if you like it, there could be a part 2 in the future

Having all eyes on you was something you normally dreaded. You hated knowing that people were looking or staring at you. Normally you’d want to be invisible, but not now; not on stage. Fuck did it feel good to have people watching you get degraded or degrade someone else. To toy and tease, bending to your pleasure.

You stood above him, cold as you played through your scene; distant. As soon as it ended, you were gone, far away from him and everyone else. Of course, though, he yells after you are trying to get you to stop. You hate it when anyone yells at you, but more specifically, men.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N!?” He asked as you stopped. Everyone around had their eyes on you, and you shook in place. “Well? What the hell was that? There was nothing behind that! No feeling. No emotion! How are we supposed to give them a good show when it’s all fake?”

You kept walking, ignoring him and his words. It didn’t matter to you anymore. They’re all the same, and none of them are satisfying to you.

“Fuck this I’m done. Find yourself a new stage partner!” you started running until you went out the back door, out of breath as you fall down.

How are you supposed to keep this job when you can’t work with anyone here? You can’t do anything else. This is all you're good at. You are not going to go back to being a teacher again. You loved that, but this was on a whole other level of making you happy and paying the bills that’s for sure.

“Y/N/N?” You hear the familiar voice of your best friend, Kate, call out to you. You look up at her, and she realizes the tears in your eyes. “Oh Y/N, what happened?” She sits down next to you, the warm summer night air feeling good on your skin.

“I can’t work with any of them. There’s no feeling behind it and none of them want to work with me if I can’t do that, but I haven’t been able to do that since…” you shake your head trying not to think of bad thoughts, back to your last partner, well your last partner before Kate. You feel her arms wrap around you, pulling you close.

“Listen to me. She’s nothing. Got it? She’s a shit person, and she doesn’t control you.” You nod slowly, choosing to think of the better times with Kate. You sniffled a bit, and Kate held you tighter. You and Kate had dated for a bit, but you two realized you were better as friends.

“You’ll be okay, let’s go home.” She got up, pulling you up with her.

You hadn’t been to the club in a week even though the manager keeps calling you to ask if you want to do a performance. You can’t though…nobody wants you as their partner. You can’t put emotions into something that you have no emotion towards.

You're lying on Kate’s couch with a blanket pulled up to your chin and scrolling on your social media. You've been staying here instead of your house because you didn’t want to be alone. Kate’s wife, Yelena, is pretty amazing, too. The three of you get along really well. She’s at the end of the couch with your feet on her lap as she watches something on TV. Your phone buzzes again, and it’s your manager, Natasha, who is Yelena’s older sister; you sigh and get Yelena’s attention before answering it.

“Yes Tasha?” you asked, sounding exhausted even to yourself. You shifted onto your back and looked at Lena, who raised an eyebrow. Mouthing ‘Sestra?’ Which you nod to her.

“Can you come tonight? I need you to help out with a new girl. She’s going to be starting tonight. She’s a year younger than you and I think it’d be good for both of you.” You sigh again, not really wanting to go out tonight, especially not there where you have to dress up and put on a show.

“Domme or sub?” you ask, noticing Yelena’s smirking.

“Sub it seems.” Submissive boys are fun to play with, but girls are always a lot more fun to play with.

“Alright…what time?” you could hear her perk up.

“The usual time. Five to close.” You sigh again. After not being there for a week, you were not looking forward to a nine hour shift.

“I’ll be there, no promises on how good I’ll be.” You let her know and hung up. You closed your eyes, and Lena spoke,

“We going to the club tonight?” Lena wiggled her eyebrows at you. As if doesn’t visit her sister every night or work on the back end of the business with Kate.

“Yeah there’s a new girl they want me to show her the ropes, literally.” you both laugh at the pun as Kate comes in the front door.

“What’s so funny?” She asks setting her keys down in the bowl they keep by the entry way.

“Y/N’s gotta show a new girl the ropes.” Kate’s expression falls.

“You two are idiots.”

“We’re your idiots though~” you say and get up with a smile. “This could end up being a fun evening.”

You had Kate and Yelena take you back home so you could go choose an outfit. It was simple enough, just a red silk button-up with a black tie and a black button-up vest and some black dress pants as well as a pair of black loafers. You checked yourself over in the mirror and slicked your Y/H/C hair back.

Your phone vibrates multiple times in a row, and you know it’s Kate. You smile and roll your eyes as you grab your phone. Five new text messages from her.

≈≈≈

The club was always so quiet before hours as the three of you made your way inside past Bucky the bouncer who always loved to see you. Familiar faces on you, some happy and others not so much as you made my way to Tasha letting her know to send the new girl to your room and then headed there. Kate and Yelena stayed behind, grabbing a drink from the bartender, Scott.

You were putting the finishing touches on your make-up when there was a knock at your door. “Come in.” you called, when the door opened you looked through your mirror to see probably the most beautiful woman you had ever met, auburn hair, piercing emerald green eyes that you could see from across the room, she wore a short black dress with a red leather crop jacket, she wore knee high ripped stockings, and ankle cuff boots, the make-up around her green eyes was dark and smoky in a way that reminded me of high school.

“Hi you’re Y/N, right?” She asked and fuck she has an accent which is your biggest weakness. You love accents of all kinds and most of them turn you on.

“Yes that is me. I unfortunately wasn’t told your name, just that you’re new and would be my new partner.” She smiled at you.

“Wanda. Wanda Maximoff.” She told me.

“Wanda...” You tested the name on your lips. “Beautiful.” You smiled and noticed her blush. “Come here.” You beckoned, and she finally stepped in, sauntering over to you. “Spin around.” She does as told, spinning slowly as I looked her over, drinking up every inch of her. “Stop.” you commanded as she faced you again. “Kneel.” She got down without a word of protest, “Such a good girl.” You smirk. “Now tell me, is there anything I should know about you, Wanda?” you ask and she pulls out the forms that everyone has to fill out of their kinks, hard limits, soft limits, and some personal questions mainly about health issues that your play partner should be aware of, allergies, and if you have any STDs. The last question is about safe sex which Wanda takes birth control much like myself. Not that you ever actually do it with the guys.

As far as tastes go, Wanda and you are pretty much on the same page with your likes and dislikes, which makes you smile. “I can work with this.” You tilt her chin up using your fingers. She had been looking at the floor this whole time, “Now for my own personal questions for you, Wanda. Which name do you like better, pet, puppy, kitten, baby, or something else entirely?” You ask her.

“Pet is always a good one for me. I tend to have Doms that tell me what I am, why does it matter which I like best?” She tilts her head to the side so innocently.

“I want to get the best reaction out of you. The whole performance is you. All eyes on your reactions, and they need to be genuine. No form of play is good if you don’t follow one simple rule.” You tell her, and she tilts her head the opposite way. You lean down slightly, so you're eye level with her. “I may be the Domme, but you are in control of the whole scene. You’re the one who holds control over all of it.” You tell her, and she looks so confused.

“What are you talking about? I’m not in control at all. You control me. You tie me up, you degrade me, you turn me into a dumb slut because you’ve fucked me until I can’t even think how am I in control?” you bite your lip at the idea of everything she just said to you, soaking it in and remembering it for your performance.

“Safe word.” You start, “You hold all of the control because you hold the safe word. The thing that will end everything. Make me stop dead in my tracks and make sure you’re okay. Make sure you are safe.” You're looking into the deep emerald eyes, and she’s staring back into my own Y/E/C ones. “You really never had a good Dom who took care of you, did you?” You tilt your head.

“They took care of me in the way that mattered.” She tried defending, but I knew she didn't have a leg to stand on in this aspect.

“Aftercare.” You state simply, and she looks at you with her face contorting in confusion.

“What?”

“Have you ever had aftercare?”

“I...what is that?” Your heart sinks at her response.

“How many Dom/sub relationships have you been in?”

“Seven.” She swallows hard. Seven BDSM relationships and not one of them took care of this girl?

“Aftercare is what you do when the scene ends. This is where the Dom makes sure that you come back from subspace in a safe way and not crashing back; it can have bad effects on your mental and physical health. I always have my subs tell me what they like best, for me personally when I’m the sub I tend to ask for cuddles and I can just scroll on my phone watching tiktok and YouTube shorts that I can share with my partner. I’ve had subs that ask for cuddles and words of affirmation, I’ve had baths after a scene is done, surprisingly I even had one that just wanted to always go for a walk in the park after.” ypu shrug, “Everyone is different. What is something you think you’d like to do?” You ask, and she thinks for a moment.

“I really enjoy cooking, and I’m always hungry after sex. I’ve always just cooked by myself, making a meal for my Dom.” She confesses.

“Well then, after we finish our performance, you and I can go back to my place, it’s only a few blocks away, and we can cook dinner. Does that sound good?” She blushes and nods. You cup her cheeks, brushing the pads of your thumbs across her cheeks, loving the feeling of her smooth skin beneath your tips. “I’m going to take care of you, Wanda. We have a long night ahead of us. While others perform until it’s our turn, luckily they saved us for last, we’ll be going around the club and introducing you to our clientele. I’ll introduce you as my pet or plaything. You have no name to them, at least as a sub. Well, even as a Domme, I shouldn’t have a name, but they all know me out there, so they call me by my name.” You let her know, and she’s listening intently.

“Yes...uh...”

“Miss, Mistress, Master, Sir, Mommy. Whichever you prefer. I love all of them.”

“Yes...Mommy.” you smiled at her, running your fingers through her hair.

“My good baby.” I haven’t felt like this since her. It's been so long since you thought you'd never feel like this with a partner again. “How about we get you all dressed up, pretty girl. As much as I love this outfit you’ve chosen. I’d like you in something a little different.” You smirk, and she nods happily, ready and willing to follow.

You get her dressed in a red lace lingerie set with black accents and roses over it, along with garter belts and a pair of black thigh highs. You get her all fixed up and dolled up. “There’s a pretty girl.” You put your thumb and middle finger on either side of her chin. “I can’t wait to have you screaming later.” You tease as you grab a little lacey red and black collar for her to match that you put on her, a little tag hanging from it that says ‘Property of Y/N/N’

“Y/N/N?” Wanda questions.

“My nickname. It feels more personal than one that has my Domme title. Besides, I have like six that I rotate through. My nickname is always permanent.” You explain, and her biting her lip and blushing doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

≈≈≈

“Y/N, Miss. Romanoff wants you on stage for a solo.” MJ, Natasha’s ‘assistant’ tells me, you internally and externally groan, rolling your neck. You're about to throw a tantrum when Tasha rounds the corner, giving you her signature look.

“Yeah, no. I’m having none of your attitude after ghosting us for a week. You’ll go up there, and you WILL have a good time. You’ll show your pet just how much fun solos can be. Do I make myself clear? Unless you want a punishment tonight?” Tasha asks, and it just makes you want to groan more. She grabs your face tightly, nails digging in, making you hiss. You aren't in the head space for that as you pull away.

“Okay Tasha I get it. I’m not in a sub state of mind, so can you lay off.” You bite at her. Tasha was your oldest friend. Older than Kate and who you met in high school. Tasha and you go back to diapers, which is why she puts up with your bullshit at times and other times knowing when you need to be put in your place. Tasha and you have fucked around, you have for years, it was always a good time when you needed to not think for six or more hours.

“Then act like it. I set up your Playlist.”

“Okay fine. Let’s go, pet.” You tug on the leash that is attached to the collar around her neck. When you get in front of the stage, you turn to Wanda. “Sit.” She sits front and center on the floor. “Good girl. Watch me.”

“Who’s ready for some good entertainment!?” You call out, you're back to the crowd as they roar back as ‘Hey Look Ma, I Made it’ starts playing, and you're taking over the stage. Suddenly, you're a whole other person. Captivating everyone, locking eyes, you dance and sing around. Next plays ‘Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off’ and you smirk, looking at Wanda as you crawl over to her. So long as you don’t pull her up on the stage it’s still a solo performance. Tasha doesn’t have rules about involving audience members so long as they don’t come on the stage.

You fuck with her almost the whole song as you move around, touching yourself, moaning out as the crowd roars, money finding it’s way to the stage as you practically get yourself off in front of them. As the song crescendos, you feel an orgasm rack through your body as you lock eyes with Wanda, watching her squirm, thighs so tightly pressed against each other, and you smirk at her as your performance ends. Collecting your earnings and bowing as you get off the stage, grabbing Wanda’s leash and pulling her.

“Let’s go. Now.” You pull her back to your dressing room, locking the door behind you. “Strip. Now.” She seems taken aback by it as you start taking off the little clothes you had left after your performance. She starts doing the same, and once you're both undressed, you push her back onto the bed in your dressing room. Moving yourself between her thighs, which are covered in her juices, you can smell her, and you feel hazy from how good she smells. Without asking you dive right in, letting your tongue swipe over her folds as she moans out, you moan out at how good she tastes, so fucking sweet,

“Ah! M-Mommy!” You flick both your tongue and your eyes up at her. Watching as her face twists in pleasure, expertly working your tongue over her and sucking on her clit. “Please...”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.” you smirk at her words.

“Oh you can do better than that pet. Go on, beg for it.”

“Please Mommy fuck me with your fingers! Please fill me up with your fingers and make me cum until I can’t think!” you do as asked and push two fingers inside making her moan out as she grabs your hair, rutting against your face as you lay your tongue out flat for her to ride against as you pump your fingers in her. “F-Faster..Harder...” She’s whimpering and so you add a third finger making it a little harder to move as her walls clench around your slender digits.

“Oh good girl, so tight for Mommy. Are you going to cum from Mommy’s fingers?”

“Yes Mommy!”

“Did you enjoy my performance pet?”

“Yes Mommy!”

“Did you want to touch yourself when you saw me like that?”

“Yes Mommy! I wanted to touch myself. I wanted to crawl on stage and eat you and please you and...ah...Mommy.” Her words sent fire to your core.

“Cum.” you tell her and moments later she’s unraveling in front of you. A moaning, whimpering, mewling mess. “Good girl...so good for Mommy.” you lick up what you can off your face, moaning once more at the taste as you move up, brushing your thumb across her bottom lip, “Open.” She opens her mouth allowing your fingers inside as she looks you in the eye, cleaning them. “Mmmm fuck...” you felt that familiar feeling in your chest as your eyes bore into each other, the feelings she was sending through you. You knew what this was and you don’t think you've ever fallen faster.

“More?” you laugh a bit at her request.

“Oh you’ll get plenty during our performance, pretty girl. Don’t worry Mommy’s going to take good care of you.”

≈≈≈

When Wanda stood, she was taller than you, which meant on stage she'd be kept on her knees. You made sure she had on knee pads since we'd be performing for over an hour.

“Hello out there to all you lovely people! Welcome to the last performance of the night here at The Red Room!” Of course, there were some people making disheartening noises. “Don't you worry my pet and I will make sure that this is a performance you can go home later and think about while you fuck yourselves!” you call out as you get things ready. “Now my pet is new. It is her first performance tonight. Shall I go easy on her?” A roar of no's came from the crowd. “Well I'm glad it's not up to you. I'm going to give her everything she wants and needs. When I'm done with her she's going to be a dumb slut with no thoughts.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth, signaling Wanda to come out, crawling as she makes her way to me. Before your performance you told her to keep her eyes on you unless you told her otherwise. Mostly to help with her nerves. When she got to your legs she nuzzled into them. Yoi ran your fingers through her hair.

“I'd like everyone to meet my new pet to those who didn't get the opportunity earlier. She's a sweet little plaything, and I'm going to break her so good before your eyes tonight.” You look down at Wanda and smile as you grip her hair, pulling as she mewls. You loved hearing her sounds. She looked up at you, eyes already blown with lust just from the eyes on her.

You get her up on the bed we have up on the stage. It has this amazing bathroom blanket for any messes that are made, which is amazing.

“Strip.” She does as told, taking off her lingerie set you put her in, leaving her in only your collar, you smiled down at her. “Tão bonita.(So beautiful)” You speak in Portuguese, which throws her off momentarily, not knowing what you've said to her.

You grab the ropes and start tying her up expertly. Doing your signature pentagram harness, whispering as you tighten the ropes down her arms, “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes Mommy.” You smile and kiss her neck, nibbling and making sure you mark her up. She's yours. No one else is taking her from you.

You have her kneeling for you, back arched perfectly as the vibrator sits against her clit and you pound into her with your 8 inch strap. “Who are you?” you ask, grabbing her hair, pulling her against your chest.

“Mommy’s dumb little cock slut!” She cries out. You’ve been edging her for just about an hour. Every time she's come close you stop everything and whisper sweet nothings in her ears. All the makeup she's put on is ruined and staining her cheeks from the tears in her eyes. “You look so cute when you cry, amor.”

“M-Mommy please…can't take n’more. Cum Mommy?” She was begging and mewling as you left marks over her back. You push all 8 inches back inside, bottoming out as you push her face down into the mattress.

“My fucking slut wants to cum?” you ask.

“Yes! Yes, Mommy! Please! Please, Mommy! Wan’cum on Mommy's cock!”

“Go on slut. Cum all over my cock.” Wanda cums on your command, shaking intensely as she squeezes so tight it's hard to move, but the friction is enough to get you off. “F-fuck!” you moan out as you bottom out inside her and rutt against her as she collapses beneath you. Completely engulfed in subspace as I slowly pull out of her.

“Thank you, everyone. I hope you enjoyed my pet's first performance and any further tips are always appreciated.” You say with a bow as various customers and clients leave us tips on the stage. You leave Steve, who cleans up the stage between performances to clean it up as you untie Wanda, the rope marks deep in her skin, more marks from me. You toss aside the strap after the curtain has closed and pick Wanda up. She's taller than you, but you're strong enough to do this much as you take her back to your dressing room. Laying her down on your bed as you grab comfy clothes of sweatpants and a baggy shirt for her. Throwing leggings and a sweatshirt on yourself, not bothering with anything else for us besides shoes. “Let's go to my house, amor. Can you walk?” You ask, and she nods, but almost falls when she tries to stand on her own. “I've got you. Come on, let's go get you that aftercare.” You have your arm around her waist as you walk out.

You set Wanda up on your countertop as she figured out a recipe to make and you counted out your tips dividing it in half.

“Here you go, amor. Your half.” You hand it to her,

“How much is it?” She asks, eyes coming off the screen as she looks at the wad I'm handing her.

“$750. Don't expect it every time. Our performance was new, and people were excited. I've had nights where I only make $50. Either way, though, just remember that there's always tomorrow.” You tell her.

“Y/N?”

“hmm?”

“How long have you done this for?” She asks, and you notice how she is now coming back fully as she looks around your penthouse.

“10 years.”

“How old are you?”

“28. I've been doing this since I was 18. Natasha and I go way back to being in diapers. Our parents were friends growing up. Tasha is a few years older than me and established the club while I finished up high school. Once I turned 18, she let me join the club.” Wanda nodded, listening.

“How many-”

“Too many. I'd rather not think about that, okay, amor?” You had cut her off. You didn't want to think about past partners. All you wanted was her at this moment.

You move between her legs, kissing gently over the marks you've left on her neck. “I only want to think about you right now.” You admit against her neck, and you feel her relax.

“I'm okay with that.” You smiled against her neck.

“How about we make some pasta? I've got a carb craving right now.” you ask, looking up at her. Though I'd be dominant all night, looking up at her from between her legs just felt right.

“Sounds good to me.” She cupped your cheeks and leaned down, pulling you up so your lips met, and you melted a bit. She was perfect.

The two of you were curled up on your couch watching sitcoms. You had found out they were Wanda's favorites. You were lying down. You were laying on her mainly because she pulled you in this way. “Shhh I wanna hold you.” Had been her response, and you didn't argue with her. Laying here with your head on her chest, hearing her heartbeat as she gently scratched my scalp eventually lulled you to sleep.

#ley speaks #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #ley writes #wanda x reader #wanda x you #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #subby!wanda #dom!reader

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littledollll · 4 months

Text

Her favorite dancer

Ballet teacher!Larissa x ballerina!reader

A/n: I started watching Black swan in the living room tv today and was quickly humbled by the amount of sexual scenes, quickly cut that out.

Warnings: unhealthy teacher/student relationship, sexual undertones, condescending, manipulation, slightly mean Larissa

____________________________________

“Perfect.”

You lived to hear her utter those precious words. Every second of every day revolves around it. Around seeing that proud smile that would reach her eyes, her chin tilted up as she, admired you.

She, the one who should be admired.

The soft, recorded piano music played, surrounding the empty room with its beauty. An unplanned choreography, you were instructed. The music played and you were to follow, let your creativity and desires use your body as a vessel.

Larissa admired the way you moved. The fluidity of your movements. How every muscle tensed and released with each movement. And as you stepped into an arabesque, the dreadful word came out of her mouth. “Hold that.”

You sighed, your position wavering. Larissa tilted her head, stepping behind you.

“You can do better than this. Your leg goes up to your ear, there’s no reason that leg should be so low to the ground.” Her hands found your waist and thigh, fixing your position.

“I want a your leg to be at chest level, minimum. But I know you can do better.”

“Your body was built for this. Your legs are strong, your back is flexible. Use this to your advantage.” She spoke into your ear. “Have you no idea how many girls would kill to have your body?”

“Lean. Feel the weight of your body on your toes, focus the pressure on your hallux. You should know all of this by now. I haven’t been teaching you for months, only for you to still need my corrections.”

“It hurts.” You uttered in a small voice. Larissa chuckled. “Aww it hurts.. are you just a fragile little girl? Is that it? Are you weak?” Her hands tightened around your waist, fingers digging into your skin painfully.

“The stage is no place for weakness. Nor is my studio. If you think you can’t handle it, I encourage you to leave.”

“Beauty hurts. Art hurts. That is no excuse. I say you’re simply being lazy.” You went to speak, defend yourself but she was quick to shush you.

“Silence. You know better than to speak during my class. I don’t need any more words from you.”

There was no softness in her voice. None of the usual smoothness she spoke with. Larissa could be strict when she needed to, truly she often was. But not to you, for some reason.

“I believe I’ve failed you then. Is that what you’re saying? Are you showing me that my teachings have been ineffective to you, girl? Have you managed to learn nothing in all this time, nothing?”

No no no. She couldn’t think that. Not ever. You owe everything to her. Every bit of your talent has been expanded and bettered because of her.

You whimpered, taking a deep breath in and tightening up your position. She nodded approvingly.

“Good.. you wouldn’t dare make me have my very first failure of a student. You won’t tarnish my reputation like that, would you, my beautiful girl?” You shook your head as best as you could without moving too much.

“You should know I expect better from you, little girl.” She sighed.

“Stretch those lovely arms of yours, aligning with the tip of your nose and your ear.”

You shifted as told, of course. But her body against yours wasn’t helping. It was harder to balance with her pressed against your back, making your body subconsciously support itself against her. “Very well done.”

Larissa knows. She’s been teaching for decades, of course she knows that she’s only making you struggle more. Not that she cares. She’s refining you. Making your practice harder only so you can come out on top. That’s what you tell yourself anyways.

“I will not let your talents waste away simply because it ‘hurts’, my dear. The more it hurts, the better you’re doing.” She said as she stepped back, allowing you to find your balance on your own.

You quivered for a moment but didn’t let yourself fall.

“If you fall from that arabesque you will not like the consequences, my beautiful girl.”

You tightened up in a second. You didn’t want to know the consequences. And you surely didn’t want to disappoint her.

You found your center. The raised leg lifting, ankle height going past your shoulder. Your face spotted, unmoving from one of the walls of mirrors.

“Look at that line.. you’re stunning. This, this is why I work on you the most. You have so much potential yet so little dedication. You need me to guide you. One day, you’ll become my prima ballerina. But only if you put your life into this. Into me.”

Yes, you could do that. You could do it for her. You wanted to hear that word again, to hear her smooth voice call you perfect in that proud tone. You wanted her to show you off, be her model student, her star.

“Give me a nice lift, I want to see that knee in line with your head.”

She watched you through the mirror, as you lifted your torso, rib cage tight in its place and slowly lifted your leg as high as you could. “Hold that.”

Part of you wanted to turn around and slap her every time she said those damned words. But you held. Your supporting leg was cramping up already, your calf feeling that painful strain. Your back felt like needles being stabbed all over and then her hands were on you again. One placed at your knee and the other a little too close to your chest.

She supported your torso as she forced the leg up further, further, further until you winced in pain. “That, is your line.”

“Look at that beauty, look at yourself from this mirror, beautiful girl.” You did. It truly was impressive, but you couldn’t reach that without unbearable amounts of pain, and even less without her hands forcing it. You couldn’t do it on your own.

“One day, my star. Very soon, this will seem like nothing to you. You’ll be able to do it all on your own.” She murmured, dropping your leg but not moving her other hand from its position.

She watched your leg drop in the slightest, you not being able to hold it as she had it. “We’ll work more on this, don’t you worry, little girl.”

“Drop.” She commanded, and you couldn’t stop yourself from falling into the ground, smacking your supporting leg in hopes to ease the cramp. “A little more graceful than that, next time.”

“Yes ma’am.” You said with a shaky breath, looking up at her. A sliver of tears were gathering in your eyes.

She loved it when you called her that. That sweet voice of yours, a little pained and shaky. “Oh it’s alright.. stretch that leg sweetheart, I’ll help you.”

She got on her knees before you, taking off your points shoes and rolling up your tights on that leg before she began to give you a gentle massage. “The trick is to do it in the opposite way you put pressure on it. So up, instead of down. Smacking never really helped me, plus we wouldn’t want to bruise that pretty skin of yours.”

“Thank you..” you said quietly, and Larissa looked up at you with a sweet smile, bringing a hand to caress your cheek. “Of course, my beautiful girl.”

“Did- did I do good?”

“You did wonderfully today. My favorite little student, you’re always a good girl.”

You blushed, resting your head against your knee as you looked at her with a tilted head. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Larissa nodded, patting your cheek. “You may leave now, sweet girl. Don’t practice at home tonight, okay? I don’t want my favorite girl straining herself. I’ll be seeing you here tomorrow.”

#larissa weems #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #gwendoline christie #principal larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems x f!reader #wednesday larissa weems #larissa weems wednesday

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prettieinpink · 6 months

Note

how do i learn to develop JOMO? (joy of missing out)

HOW TO DEVELOP JOMO

Jomo is the joy in missing out. JOMO encourages intentional living and finding fulfilment in the present rather than seeking validation or fearing missing out on what others are doing. It celebrates the freedom and peace that comes from consciously choosing to miss out on certain social activities and trends.

DISCONNECT. Social media is an illusion, it makes everything look better than it truly is. Not only should you put boundaries on how you manage and use your accounts, but you should also shift your mindset when using them.

Begin to think of social media as a tool to help you become the best version of yourself. Consume content that resonates with your current life or the life you’re working towards. This will motivate you to work hard for what you want.

EMBRACE SOLITUDE. Learn to find enjoyment in being alone. Using this time by ourselves to reflect, recharge and indulge in our pleasures allows us to connect better with ourselves.

To get used to being alone, challenge yourself to do things that you would usually have to do with someone else, by yourself. Whether it’s eating out, studying, shopping etc.

REFRAME YOUR MINDSET TO GRADITUDE. Someone else’s assets, skills or experiences do not take away from your own. Be thankful for what you have, and what you are going to get.

Begin to focus on what to cherish currently, other than what you could be missing out on. A way to practice gratitude is at the end of the day, to list 5 things that you’re thankful for (and you wouldn’t trade for someone else’s life!).

PRIORITISE YOURSELF. You should start to see that the ability to take care of yourself is a privilege that you shouldn’t ignore. Instead of saying ‘yes’ to every commitment, only go to the ones that align with you and bring genuine fulfilment.

The times when you’re not at any commitments, use it to invest in yourself and practice some self-care rituals regularly. Your health is more important than any other event.

BE INTENTIONAL WITH YOUR TIME. Stop chasing after every single opportunity, especially ones that do not resonate with your dream life. Only do the things that align with your values and goals.

Stay focused on what truly matters to you. This doesn’t even have to be about going out, it applies to scrolling, laying in bed all day, or watching TV shows, do something intentional instead.

PRACTICE DETACHMENT. Focus on you and you only. Other people’s lives, words or actions should not play a role in how your days go. It does not matter what they’re doing, you’re just wasting energy on someone who probably could not care less.

CELEBRATE OTHER’S SUCCESS. Someone else’s success is proof that you can do it too. There is enough success for everyone, be happy that others are achieving what you want to achieve because that allows you to open up to the opportunities you want.

GET MOTIVATED & INSPIRED INTERNALLY. While I’m all for using other people’s lives as motivation, there is a line when your life becomes misaligned with your goals and values, because that’s still someone else’s life.

You know yourself better than anyone else. You know why you want this, and you know how you envision it. Tap into those feelings and embody them.

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proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

title: in a feud with her neighbor

bonus scenes now available

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5621

summary:

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

author’s note: this is so self-indulgent. i hope you guys enjoy it! if you like this work, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make my day 💕

special thanks to the angels who helped with ideas: @dreamingofdaddydin @jksprincess10 @mydailyhyperfixations @funnygirlthatgab

additional warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, story contains visual graphics, everyone pretend the 12 ft skeleton was available in 2003 and you could stream TV shows, no sarah, no outbreak, neighbor feuds, enemies to lovers, oral (explicit f receiving, non-explicit m receiving), semi-public sex, making out in a pool, reader is a menace and arguably the bad neighbor here, unprotected p in v, use of sex toys, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk. let me know if any are missing!

Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever.

Your issues with him started on your first Halloween in the neighborhood. You had moved into your new home a few months prior, thrilled that you finally managed to escape the horrors of apartment living. You were now the proud owner of a little single story two bedroom craftsman style home, complete with fenced in backyard and a pool.

You loved your little house and the neighborhood was ideal, quiet but tight knit. The neighbor to your left, an elderly woman named Betty, had invited you over for tea and cookies and given you the lowdown on the neighborhood gossip.

The neighbor to your right, Joel Miller, she said, was a wonderful man. Polite, kind, and not too hard on the eyes either. You hadn’t met him yet, but with a glowing review like that, you couldn’t wait until you did.

She had also mentioned that the neighborhood goes all out for Halloween. They even hosted a contest for the best decorated house. Your mind already raced with the possibilities.

You loved Halloween. In Texas, the stifling heat finally eased around that time, dropping to a slightly more tolerable range in the 80s with cooler nights. You loved seeing all the displays in the stores and how abandoned storefronts would be overtaken by whole companies dedicated to Halloween. You watched all the horror movies you could and on the weekends you’d seek out local fall festivals because you’re a sucker for candy apples and funnel cake.

No one ever decorated at the apartment complex you previously lived in, so you were extra excited to decorate your house and yard. You bought fake tombstones and plastic skeletons for the yard, spider webs and little ghosts to hang in the trees. You carved two pumpkins to set on either side of the steps leading up to your front door and made little ghost statues out of tomato cages, foam balls, and white fabric. You even strung purple lights through your hedges.

You were totally going to win the decorating contest. You were confident that you would.

Until you woke up Halloween morning and Joel Miller had somehow decorated his entire home in the time that you had been sleeping, blissfully unaware.

The man had somehow managed to set up an entire army of skeletons, including a handmade wooden jail stuffed with ones trying to escape. There were some posed on the house itself, climbing up the sides and the roof. He had some coming out of the ground, red spotlights fixed on them for an eerie glow. But perhaps most impressive of all was the twelve foot skeleton with glowing red eyes that was posed near the makeshift jail, holding the door open like it was releasing the trapped undead soldiers.

Joel Miller had the motherfucking twelve foot skeleton. You wanted one of those so bad but it was always sold out. You checked every nearby Home Depot for months trying to find one and here Joel Miller has one, taunting you.

He won the decorating contest, sweeping the victory from right under your feet.

It may seem silly, but that was the moment you decided Joel Miller was the worst neighbor ever.

When you were buying your first home, you had been meticulous in calculating your finances in order to comfortably afford the purchase. You did not, however, account for having to repair your air conditioning system within less than a year of moving in. This made a significant dent in your savings, which led you to cut your expenses elsewhere.

One such expense was your internet. Why? Because it turns out Joel Miller, asshole neighbor, doesn’t password protect his router and you can just use his.

It’s not like he would notice.

_________________

Joel stares at his internet bill in confusion. This is the third month in a row that he’s been charged for going over his data allowance. That doesn’t even make sense. He’s the only person in his house and he only uses the internet on his phone to check the news and sometimes play Candy Crush. It’s why he got the lowest data plan in the first place.

He tries to think of what he could be doing differently, but comes up short. Hell, he’s not even home most of the day. He works long hours at different contracting jobs, so his free time is spent watching TV (cable, not connected to the internet), and sleeping.

But then it hits him. The overage charges never happened until you moved in.

Joel powers up his ancient laptop and has to Google search what a router is. Turns out, he doesn’t have a password set on his. Which means, if his hunch is correct, you’ve just had free access to his internet this whole time.

He learns how to set a password and, more importantly, he learns how to change the name of his router.

He needs to send a message, after all.

_________________

You’re about to start another episode of Grey’s Anatomy, courtesy of your friend generously sharing her Netflix password, when you receive an error message.

No internet connectivity. Try again?

The little WiFi connection icon is missing from your toolbar. You investigate further, opening the list of options and scanning them for Joel’s, conveniently titled Miller.

But instead you find a new name.

GetYourOwnWiFi. And it’s password protected.

“Son of a bitch,” you hiss.

Joel Miller’s tree is always dropping debris in your yard. The limbs have grown over your shared fence line and on windy days you have to deal with extra pool clean up on top of the usual mess it makes of your yard, twigs and leaves ruining your perfectly manicured backyard oasis.

You’ve asked him to trim the branches. Left him notes on his door and in his mailbox, but he still hasn’t done it.

Today you’re sending a new kind of message.

He’s going to wish he’d listened when you asked nicely.

_________________

“What the fuck,” Joel growls when he gets home just after sunset. There’s piles of leaves and twigs littering his front porch, almost to the point that he can’t see the concrete slab beneath.

There’s no way this just happened through the force of nature. It’s been a perfectly clear day in Austin and besides, there’s no trees at the front of his house for this kind of mess to fall from.

Which can only mean…

His eyes spot the bright pink Post-It note stuck to his door and he curses under his breath as he stomps up the porch steps and rips it down.

Here. Clean your own mess up for once.

xoxo

Joel crumbles the note in his fist, taking deep breaths as he heads for the garage to grab a broom and a trash bag.

He’ll get you back.

He always does.

You love animals, especially cats. Unfortunately, being allergic, you don’t have the option to have one of your own all the time.

When you spot the first neighborhood stray, your heart lights up with excitement. It’s a little black and white cat with bright green eyes that walks right up to you while you’re getting your mail, winding its lithe body between your legs and purring against you. You stoop to pet it, mentally reminding yourself to wash your hands before you touch your face, otherwise your eyes would be itchy for hours.

“Hello, little baby,” you murmur, rubbing a hand down the length of its back. “How are you?” The cat gives a strong meow in response. “Oh, are you hungry? Let’s go see if I have anything I can give you as a treat.”

Back inside your house, you locate a can of tuna and dump it into a small plastic bowl. The cat sits patiently on the porch, tail flicking in anticipation. It hops down and shoves its little face into the bowl as soon as it’s within reach.

“So cute,” you say, giving it one last pat on its back before returning inside.

_________________

There’s a cat sitting on Joel’s porch, watching him as he parks his truck. It’s the second time this week there’s been a cat lurking around his property. The first one he found out in the backyard, tearing up his flower beds.

The neighborhood had never had an issue with cats before, so he has a sneaking suspicion that you’re, once again, the root cause of his suffering.

His suspicions are confirmed when he sees you on the porch one day, laying out a row of plastic bowls filled with what he assumes is cat food. At first he’s annoyed that he’s right, it is you feeding the cats, which is why they’ve been terrorizing his yard, but then you turn around and he’s struck by how utterly gorgeous you are.

This is the first time Joel’s ever actually seen you. He’s usually out of the house before dawn and back after sunset, which must not coincide with your schedule since you’ve never run into each other. He remembers Betty, the older woman who lives to your left, telling him about meeting you.

“Gorgeous girl, that one. You two would probably hit it off,” she said as he hung a picture frame for her.

“Don’t go playin’ matchmaker, Betty,” he replied.

But damn, seeing you now in a pair of little shorts that hug your hips and ass just right and a tight white t-shirt that shows off the tiniest bit of skin above the waist of your shorts is making him think he should have taken Betty up on her word.

Joel’s so distracted that he almost misses the way the cat on his porch hits one of his planters with his paw, knocking the ceramic over and spilling dirt all over the ground.

“Fuck!”

_________________

There’s a note on your door the next morning, a torn piece of paper with a familiar scrawl of messy handwriting that could only belong to one person.

Stop feeding the cats or you owe me new plants.

-Joel

The note actually makes you giggle. Betty sees you on your porch and beckons you over to hers.

“What’s got you gigglin’ like a schoolgirl?” The older woman asks.

“What? Nothing,” you reply too quickly.

“Wouldn’t happen to be a note from a certain tall, strong, and handsome young neighbor of yours?”

“No, definitely not.”

She smirks at you. “You better quit terrorizin’ that poor man, honey.”

“Now, Betty, where would the fun be in that?” You say brightly as you head back to your house, the sound of her laughter following you through the door.

There’s a package on Joel’s porch when he gets home from work. He doesn’t remember ordering anything, but he wouldn’t put it past himself.

He brings it inside without thinking twice or checking the label, chucking it on the counter with the rest of his mail as he searches for a box cutter in his junk drawer.

Joel cuts through the packing tape, lifting the flaps and rifling through the packing paper to pull out the contents.

It’s another box, light pink with the image of a hot pink u-shaped device on the top. The text across the top reads REMOTE VIBRATOR in black script.

He nearly drops the box in surprise, fumbling it in his hands. He’s certain he didn’t order this.

Joel pulls the shipping box back towards him, keeping an eye on the vibrator like it might grow legs and run away. He flips the lid over to inspect the shipping label, his eyebrows rising as he reads your name and home address instead of his.

He looks at the toy again, mind whirling with images of you on your back, remote in hand as you bring yourself pleasure. He coughs, clearing his head and adjusts himself in his jeans.

He searches the junk drawer for a sheet of paper and a pen.

_________________

You’re staring at the delivery confirmation email from Lovelies, panic creeping down your spine. It says that your new toy has been delivered but there’s no package in your mailbox or on your porch. You’ve checked everywhere.

Which means it was either delivered to one of your neighbors or someone stole it.

If you’re being honest, you’d rather someone stole it than to have to go knock on Betty or, god forbid, Joel’s door to ask if they accidentally received your sex toy delivery. Your cheeks heat at even the thought of Joel knowing what you ordered. You head back inside empty handed.

Later, when you open your door to feed the cats, you’re surprised to find a box on your welcome mat. You set the bowls of food down and carry it inside, your excitement mounting.

But when you open the box, you’re mortified to find a torn piece of paper on top of the packing material, Joel Miller’s familiar handwriting on the sheet.

Interesting choice

-Joel

“Fucking asshole,” you mumble, crumbling the note and tossing it to the side. You pull your new toy from its box and turn it on. “Huh. Fully charged.”

Your jerk of a neighbor won’t ruin your night if this little gadget has anything to say about it.

It’s Joel’s one day to sleep in and you’ve been blasting your music all fucking morning. He’s already got his head shoved under his pillow but the sound still filters through, ruining his chances of any extra hours of sleep to make up for his lack of it during the week.

He rolls out of bed with a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand across his beard. He heads downstairs to make coffee, the heavy beat of your music chasing him through the house. He can feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes.

Joel tries to tune it out. Really. He does. As much as the two of you butt heads, he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, nor is he trying to be one.

But if you don’t turn your music down soon he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

He gives you another hour. He’s feeling generous. But when the music just keeps playing, he finally snaps.

Joel shoves his feet into the work boots beside the door, paying little mind to the fact that he’s not wearing socks. In fact, he’s still in his sleep pants and ratty old t-shirt but he’s too far gone to care.

Once he’s in front of your door, he bangs on the wood with his fists. He waits for a response and when he doesn’t get one, probably since you can’t fucking hear him, he bangs again. There’s movement from the corner of his eye and he turns his head to find Betty watching him, lips tilted in a smirk.

“You okay with this?” Joel asks, gesturing vaguely to your house to indicate the noise level inside.

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” she replies before shuffling inside. He turns back to the door to pummel it with his fists again but he’s surprised to find it open.

“Howdy, neighbor,” you say, eyebrow raised and arms crossed beneath your breasts.

Which were currently covered by the tiniest bikini top he’s ever seen. His eyes trail lower, over the expanse of your stomach to the matching bikini bottoms that peek out past the folded waist of your denim shorts.

“Uh,” he says, followed by a strained cough. “Hi.”

_________________

Joel Miller is standing on your porch dressed in a threadbare t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms that sit low on his hips, a strip of soft tan belly peeking out from above the waistband when he stretches an arm up to run his fingers through his dark, messy curls.

Christ, you think. The man is prettier than Betty gave him credit for.

“Can I help you?” You ask. His eyes snap from where they’d been lingering on your chest and you straighten your back just the slightest bit at the knowledge he’d been checking you out.

Joel clears his throat. “Your music is way too loud.”

You roll your eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“Does…what hurt?”

“Always having a stick up your ass.”

Betty barks a laugh from her porch and Joel’s head turns so fast you have whiplash just watching him. He throws his hands up.

“Who’s side are you on, Betty?!” He shouts.

You’re bent over, laughing so hard your stomach hurts and tears form at the corners of your eyes. When you finally catch your breath and return your attention to Joel, he’s got his hands on his hips and an impressive furrow between his brows.

“Listen, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m about to go out by the pool and have a drink. Wanna join?” You ask.

“I don’t have my suit with me.”

“Well good thing you’re just right next door, huh? Go get it. I’ll leave the door unlocked,” you tell him before shutting the door in his face.

_________________

Joel returns to your house thirty minutes later, showered and wearing his swim trunks and a new t-shirt. He wipes his sweaty hands against his chest, not entirely sure why he’s nervous. He’s just having a drink with his annoying neighbor to hash out all the issues. No big deal.

Your music is still playing when he enters your house, giving the door a courtesy knock before letting himself in. The front door opens directly into the main living space, a large sectional couch facing a TV mounted between two windows to his right and a dining nook to his left. Your kitchen is nestled in the corner, just past an opening to a hallway that he assumes leads to the bedrooms. Your place is bursting with colors and textures and patterns, from the floral blanket draped over your velvet couch to the leaf patterned wallpaper and natural stone backsplash in your kitchen. You have tea towels hanging from your stove that say “ANOTHER ONE BITES THE CRUST” with a picture of a pizza, and an impressive looking bar cart that houses a variety of liquor bottles and glassware.

There’s a splash from outside and Joel sees that the sliding glass door to your patio is open. He steps onto the concrete deck, surveying the backyard oasis you’ve created for yourself. The pool is on the smaller side but still, it’s a pool, and Joel’s a little jealous of it. You’ve got chaise loungers lined near the edge and matching chairs that surround a little fire pit further out in the yard. There’s string lights hung from the shade canopy that extends from your house.

You pop up from beneath the surface, your hair slicked back from your face and little droplets of water clinging to your skin. Joel stands there, unsure of what to do, until you swim to the ledge closest to him and drape your arms over it, regarding him with keen eyes.

“Hi,” you say. He swallows, the nerves returning as he tries desperately to not let his gaze fall below your neck.

“Hey,” he replies.

“There’s beer in the cooler. Grab me one?” You ask before ducking back beneath the surface. He can see you swim towards the edge of the pool that the loungers face. He grabs two beers as instructed, popping the tops with the bottle opener fixed to the lid of the cooler. You break the surface once more, swimming over to where he sits on the end of one loungers.

Joel passes you the beer and you tip it towards him in thanks before taking a deep pull, your lips wrapped around the lip of the bottle and distracting him monumentally.

“So, you’re the Joel Miller, huh?” You ask. “Tell me about yourself.”

The two of you talk for what feels like ages. He learns that you’re a software engineer and you work a typical 9-5 schedule, which is why he’s never caught you around the neighborhood before. You don’t like to be outdoors much, preferring reading and catching up on your Netflix shows. You have two brothers, both of whom are older than you and live on the opposite side of the country, but you visit them around Christmas. You love animals, but have major allergies so you settle for fleeting moments with the neighborhood strays and occasionally watching your best friend’s dog when she goes out of town.

He tells you about his work as a contractor, which he’s been doing since he was fresh out of high school and had no idea what to do with his life. He talks about his brother Tommy, how they work together on most projects and they want to start their own contracting business, but that’s a dream for another day. He mentions he’s more of a dog person than a cat person, especially because he has a grudge against the orange neighborhood cat that is still tearing up his flowerbeds.

Joel loves the way you laugh, bright and full bodied as you toss your head back and bring a hand to your chest each time. You talk with your hands a lot, which is funny because you keep letting go of the pool ledge and scrambling to grab it again when gravity pulls you down in the water. If he doesn’t give enough detail in an answer, you’re not shy about asking him for more information, like when he said his favorite color was blue.

“Okay, but what shade of blue?” You asked.

“Just…blue?” Joel asked, clearly not understanding your question.

You rolled your eyes. “Men. I like lavender. Not just purple. Purple is a range of shades.”

“I guess…navy?”

“Now you’re getting somewhere, big guy!”

The conversation lulls as you share your drinks in companionable silence. The Texas sun bears down on his back, his t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his sweat slick skin. He bites the bullet and reaches behind his head to tug the damp fabric off, leaving him in just his swim trunks. He doesn’t miss the appreciative once-over you give him.

You extend a hand to him. “Help me out?””

Joel grasps your hand in his, marveling for a moment how small it is in his broad palm. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the michievous look on your face, or the way you plant your feet to the pool wall for leverage.

You give a sharp tug with both hands and he goes toppling into the pool with a surprised shout.

_________________

You’re laughing so hard you can barely catch your breath. The look on Joel’s face as you tugged him into the pool will be burned into your memory for years to come. You’d been waiting all afternoon for the man to take his shirt off, not only because you were admittedly dying to see what was hiding beneath the fabric, but also because you wanted exact a little neighborly revenge for stomping over to your house to tell you your music was too loud.

You’re feeling mighty accomplished, right up until you feel a hand wrap around your ankle and you get pulled beneath the surface with no warning.

You open your eyes, chlorine stinging them as you see Joel torpedo towards the shallow end of the pool. You give chase, breaking the surface with a gasp.

“You asshole–”

Joel cuts you off by wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you close and tipping his head down to capture your lips with his. He kisses like a man starved and he tastes like sunshine and chlorine and the beer he’d been drinking as his tongue slides hungrily against yours. He uses his arm to press your body to his, but it’s not close enough.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lift your legs to circle his waist, your center grinding against his rapidly hardening length. Joel trails his hands up and down your back, stopping to grab rough handfuls of your ass as he groans against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he curses. “This little fuckin’ bikini has been torturin’ me all day.”

“Why don’t you just take it off then?” You offer. He pulls back to watch your face as his fingers find the strings of your bottoms beneath the water, giving both sides a quick tug until you feel the material fall away. His hand creeps up your back, pulling at the strings holding your top together around your back and neck until they, too, fall away.

Joel walks the two of you forward until your back collides with the rough stone of the pool wall. He presses a muscular thigh between your legs, boxing you in with his body. Your hips jerk at the sudden pressure and friction against your bare pussy, a moan slipping from your lips as Joel presses kisses to your jaw and neck, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth.

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, the deep timbre of his voice making a shiver dance down your spine despite the Texas heat. “Those sounds are just for me, isn’t that right?”

You nod your head quickly and he rewards you with another toe curling kiss. Your hips rock against his thigh and he swallows every little whimper as his hands explore your body.

“Joel,” you whine. His fingers pinch and pull your nipples before he soothes them with sweet circles of his calloused thumb.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks. One of his hands slides across your thigh and your breath hitches as he brings it dangerously close to your pussy before trailing it back down. “You need somethin’?”

“Need you to touch me.”

“That right? You want me to take care of that pretty little pussy?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Please.”

“So polite. Where’s all that attitude from earlier, hm?” Joel asks, sarcasm dripping from every word. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I can be rude, Miller. You want that instead?”

“Trust me, I know, but I think I like you better when you’re beggin’ for me,” he replies with a grin.

Joel’s hands grab onto your waist and he hoists you up onto the ledge. His broad shoulders press against the back of your thighs and his arms drape across your hips. He smiles at you, mouth tauntingly close to where you’re desperate for relief. You lean back on your elbows, the concrete warm against your bare skin and the sun washing over you.

“How about you show me those nice manners one more time?” He asks.

You grit your teeth. “Joel, I swear to god I will go inside and lock you out–”

Your threats are cut off by your startled moan as he licks through your folds, broad swipes of his tongue from your fluttering entrance to your aching clit. His sweet brown eyes are sinful as he looks up at you from between your thighs, devouring your pussy like his last meal. His nose rubs against your clit each time his tongue dips inside of you and you’re quickly reduced to a writhing mess.

You shift your weight to one arm and reach down with the other to tangle your fingers into his hair. He moans appreciatively against your cunt, the vibrations making you keen. When your hips start to fight against his hold, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking and rolling it with his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that,” you babble, trying to keep your voice down as you balance right on the edge of your orgasm. He hums again, tongue swirling over your clit until that final thread snaps and you free fall into oblivion, fingers curling tightly against his scalp and making him groan as he works you through your release.

Your limbs go boneless in the aftermath and you collapse against the ground, an arm over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear the sound of water sloshing before Joel lays beside you on his back, arms beneath his head. He turns to look at you, his bright smile making your heart flutter in your chest.

And when he extends an arm out for you to snuggle up against him, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Joel Miller isn’t such a bad neighbor after all.

“What do you mean you thought I was the asshole?!” Joel asks indignantly as he leaves your bathroom. He’s got a towel held up around his waist and you’re finding it hard to concentrate on his words at this exact moment.

You’ve just finished showering together after your outdoor activities, where you returned his poolside favor with some attention of your own. Now, you’re laying on the bed in your own towel, tired from the sun and the sex.

You’ve also just admitted that you thought he was the worst neighbor. An asshole even. And now he’s looking at you like you’re insane.

“You stole my internet!” He exclaims.

“You can’t prove that,” you reply, maybe a bit too quickly. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you refuse to back down.

“Fine, but you put all those twigs and shit on my porch.”

“They were from your tree, I was simply…returning your property.”

“And the cats?” He crosses his arms. “Because of you, my flowerbeds look like shit and I’ve lost two planters.”

“Not my fault they can sense you’re the weak link. They’re asserting their dominance. Hiss at them or something,” you say with a shrug.

Joel gapes at you. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, it’s water under the bridge now, right? What can I do to make it up to you?”

He’s silent for a moment before a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“Where’s that toy you bought, sweetheart?”

_________________

Joel’s got you on your back, your wireless vibrator placed snugly inside of your and against your clit. You’re glaring at him because he’s stopped you from another orgasm. He’s quickly becoming obsessed with that fire in your eyes and the curl of your lip when you’re mad at him.

He presses a trail of kisses from your ankle to the inside of your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin close to your pussy just to hear you gasp. He continues across your abdomen and your breasts, stopping to lavish attention to each sensitive nipple, your back arching against him for more.

“Joel,” you whine, squirming beneath him. He stretches up to capture your lips in a kiss, your lips dragging across his in the most addicting way. His cock slides against the smooth skin of your hip, making him groan. With a flick of his thumb, he turns the toy back on. “Oh, fuck!”

“Want you to come for me this time, baby,” Joel tells you. “Then I want you to come all over my cock, okay?”

You nod, back bowing and muscles straining as your writhe against the vibrations. Joel sits back on his heels to watch you, the way your mouth is dropped open in a silent shout and how your eyes find his at the exact moment you start to come undone.

“Oh my god,” you pant as Joel swiftly removes the toy, the pink silicone shiny with your release. He tosses it to the side and presses his cock to your fluttering hole, sinking inside of you with a deep groan. Your walls are still clenching with the aftershocks of your orgasm as he begins to thrust, slow and deep.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growls. He uses a hand to press one of your knees closer to your chest, his fingers wrapped tightly beneath your knee.

The change in angle gets him deeper and his pace grows faster in response to your moans. He can feel you start to pulse around him, each drag of his cock out of your cunt getting harder as your walls squeeze, desperately trying to keep him inside.

“Touch yourself,” Joel commands. “Wanna see you come for me again, pretty girl, come on.”

Your fingers find your clit, swirling through the mess of slick coating your folds. Your eyes are glued to him as you work yourself to the same rhythm of his thrusts. He knows you’re close when your eyes start to flutter, your head dropping back against the mattress and your thighs going tight against his hips.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, just like that,” he growls as you come with a shout of his name. “Christ, you look so damn good.”

You blink at him, your eyes hazy and your smile languid as he chases his own release, using your sensitive cunt for his pleasure. When it gets to be too much, too close, he withdraws, fisting his cock with rough strokes until he comes in thick splashes against your belly.

He collapses on the bed beside you, both of your chests heaving with deep breaths. After a moment, he uses one of the towels to wipe you clean, tossing it to the floor. You glare at him.

“You better put that in the hamper later,” you admonish. He pulls you into his side.

“So, why exactly did you think I was an asshole neighbor?” He asks. To his surprise, you blush, mumbling something he can’t make out. “What?”

“I said because you beat me at the Halloween decorating contest.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. You have the twelve foot skeleton and I’m jealous.”

“I’ll get you as many skeletons as you want,” Joel laughs. You smile at him.

“Sounds good to me, big guy.”

_________________

The following Halloween, there are two twelve foot skeletons in the neighborhood, and they live right next door to each other.

Joel Miller taglist:

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu @dreamingofdaddydin

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #pre outbreak!joel #enemies to lovers #hot neighbor

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astrophileous · 7 months

Note

In honor of Hotch’s birthday (November 2nd), can I please request a NSFW scenario where he gets spoiled rotten by his girlfriend and finds out that she’s a nymphomaniac which she tries to hide because she’s scared of rejection and being ostracized?

IK IK I'm technically late to this but HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY BOSS MAN!!! ty sooo much for the request hun and so sorry for the delay ❤️ I did as much research abt nymphomania as I could, and I apologize if I didn't do a good enough job representing the condition. pls feel free to correct me abt anything in the comment section if you want to. oh and I wasn't sure if you specifically wanted for the plot to go from spoiling hotch to him finding out, bcs I kinda switched it the other way around 😭 still hope you'll like it thoo 💞✨️

Warning(s): fem!reader, nymphomania, 18+ content minors dni, fem masturbation, use of sex toys, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), alcoholic consumption, past relationships trauma

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Aaron was adamant that you had been hiding something from him.

The signs started out small. They always did. In this case, Aaron first noted it during one of the rare nights out that the BAU somehow managed to have amidst their ruthless schedule. The booth that the whole team was at could barely fit everyone who showed up that day, and thus, Aaron found you sitting with almost your entire body pressing against his side. He didn't mind the tight fit one bit. In fact, he'd do just about anything to have you that close to him at all times.

As the night grew older, your sobriety began to recede as well. Aaron didn't initially notice what you were trying to do until he felt your hand sliding up his knee and towards his thigh. He sucked a sharp breath when the same hand began to palm him through the slacks he was wearing, suddenly thankful that Spencer Reid—who had been talking with him for the past ten minutes—had his attention stolen by something on the dance floor.

Aaron's fingers circled your wrist. "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

"I wanna play," you said in a slight whine. Your forehead dropped to Aaron's shoulder before you left a kiss on his jawline. "Want you so bad right now, baby."

"Seriously? Right here, right now?" he asked. It wasn't because he had any impartiality to your suggestion. Aaron was merely perplexed by this foreign behavior you were suddenly dispaying.

But between your state of inebriation and Aaron's general stoic nature, something must have gotten lost in translation. Before he knew it, you suddenly pulled away from him as if it burned you to have mere contact with his skin. Just as he was about to ask what was going on, you got out from the booth and teetered faraway from his reach.

"I'm gonna dance with Emily. I'll be right back!"

Following that night, Aaron began observing you with a closer eye. This led him to detect the differences between how you acted around him when your inhibitions were low and when they weren't.

Just like the other day, for example, when you and Aaron were lounging on the couch during one of your routine movie nights at your apartment. In your sleepy haze, you had shuffled your body closer towards Aaron, to the point where you eventually found yourself sprawled across his lap. Aaron's eyes were still on the TV when you started to kiss and suck on his pulse point, your hand slipping inside his shirt to find the hard panes of muscles on his abdomen.

"Sweetheart." Aaron pulled back once your fingers strayed towards the hem of his shorts. "Don't you wanna watch the movie?"

You blinked blatantly at him for a minute, before you yanked your fingers away and pressed yourself to the other end of the couch. "Yeah, yeah. Of course I wanna watch the movie. Sorry, shouldn't have done that. You know what? Actually, I think I'd like to go to sleep now."

Aaron frowned in confusion. "I'll come with you."

"No! No, it's okay. You don't have to. Just finish the movie, handsome. Join me when you're done, alright?"

After movie night, Aaron was determined to confront you about it. About why you seemed to love gluing yourself to him one second, only to recoil as if he just electrocuted you by the next. It was as though you kept prohibiting yourself to touch him, because of what, Aaron wasn't sure. All he knew was that he didn't like the thought of you being reluctant to be with him in any capacity at all.

The day Aaron sat you down with him, he swore he could smell your trepidation from miles away.

Choosing not to beat around the bush, Aaron decided to dive in head first and ask you the question that had been bothering him, "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Despite your immediate denial of his accusation, your body language told a completely different story. Aaron continued to press on, demanding you to tell the truth and promising you that whatever you were going to say, nothing could ever change how he felt about you.

After minutes that seemed like decades, you finally turned to him and exclaimed, "Fine! You wanna know what's going on? I'll tell you what's going on. I'm a fucking nymphomaniac. Happy now?"

Aaron faltered upon hearing your admission.

The sound of your heart shattering was deafening to your ears. Aaron's reaction hurt, no matter how many times you had imagined it in the past. This was the reason why you never said anything. You loved Aaron too much, valued your relationship so severely to the point that you couldn't let anything jeopardizing its future.

Not even the truth about your hidden addiction.

Your entire world collapsed on top of your shoulders, pinning you down as a sigh fell from your lips. "I know this isn't what you signed up for. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I just—I couldn't fathom the thought of you leaving me once you hear the truth. Because you will leave me, I know, you don't even need to say it. I just wanted to be able to love you a little while longer."

"You think I'm gonna leave you?"

Your confused gaze slithered his way. "Why wouldn't you? Everybody else has. I don't blame them. I mean, who wants to be with somebody like me? Sure, society has their own fetish over us. But most people, once they experience being with a nymph for themselves, always end up running away. That's how it's always been."

Silence setlled in the room soon afterward. You hid your head in your palm to evade the shame that clouded over your entire being. You had never wanted to disappear so badly in your entire life as you did in that moment. The longer you waited for Aaron's response, the deeper the blade pierced through the beating organ in your chest.

But where you expected expulsion to rain down from your boyfriend, all you could find in the next second was a pair of gentle hands tugging at your wrists. Your eyes opened once more to see Aaron staring back at you ardently.

"No one is going anywhere, sweetheart. I love you. Nothing is ever gonna change that, not even this."

"But any other person—"

"I'm not any other person. I'm yours." The promise was accentuated with a kiss to your knuckles. "And you need to know that there's nothing to be ashamed for about this. We all have demons we battle with every single day. This just happens to be yours. Are you getting the help you need?"

You nodded meekly. "I started going to therapy a year ago, right after I, uh, got fired from my last job. I was falling behind on deadlines because of my addiction. That's when I knew I needed help."

"That's good." Aaron's praise made you preen. "That's amazing, sweetheart. First step to overcome any addiction is to admit that you need help and to seek it. I'm proud of you."

"Really?"

"With my whole heart," he vowed. "You must have been holding back a lot from me these past few months."

"It wasn't easy at first. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how you were going to react, so I just made sure to minimize the chances of you ever finding out about this."

"Is that why you've only ever wanted to have a quickie with me?"

The question caught you off guard. You pressed your face to your boyfriend's shoulder to hide your fluster. "Aaron—"

"It's just a question." He chuckled. "But I'm gonna take that as a yes. How else have you been trying to cope?"

More heat traveled to your face. You felt lewd even thinking about replying honestly to Aaron's question, but the longer you stayed in his arms, the more you realized that there was nothing to be scared about. This was Aaron, after all; loving, compassionate, and understanding in ways that you thought weren't even possible. If there was ever anyone who would understand your struggles instead of judging you for it, that person would be him.

So, with a deep breath, you opted to lay down your book as open as possible. "I usually just... watch porn and masturbate. Toys help a lot. I used to go numerous times a day, but now I can sometimes survive with doing it just once a day. It's convenient that my current job is freelancing as well. And my therapist has also encouraged me to explore new hobbies whenever I can. I just tried crocheting last week."

"How was it?"

"Crocheting? Absolutely terrible. I don't think these fingers were made to crochet." You frowned, chastising the digits in your hands with your judgemental eyes.

Aaron's whole body shook when he laughed, sending vibrations right into your bloodstream. He pulled back to look straight into your eyes, smiling when he saw the adorable pout on your lips.

"Will you show me?" he suddenly asked.

"Show you what?"

"Who you are. What you like. I want you to show me what happens when you don't hold back."

"I don't think that's a good idea—"

"I'm not saying you need to throw away all the progress you've made so far, sweetheart. I just wanna understand you better. I wanna know how I can help you. Please?"

And that was exactly how Aaron found himself sitting on the love seat in your bedroom that night, gripping the armrests as he watched you spread out on the bed like the best last meal of a man's filthiest fantasy.

You were laid down on the mattress, writhing in pleasure from the vibrator shoved deep inside your weeping cunt. You had cummed twice before this, the first time from your fingers and the second from a dildo without Aaron ever touching you, and you were still going as if your stamina hadn't depleted in the slightest.

"Aaron... fuck. I'm so, oohhhh, s-so close."

"I know, sweetheart. I can see the way your hole grips that toy. Do you wanna cum?"

You nodded your head frantically. "Please! Please, I need to cum!"

"Turn the setting higher, princess, and press the shorter handle to your clit."

You followed his instructions, turning the vibrator to its maximum setting and touched the smaller simulator to your engorged clit. A euphoric scream fell from your lips at the overwhelming sensation, and before long, the coil in your belly finally snapped into pieces.

"I'm—oh, I'm cumming so much, Aaron! Ah! Ah! Yeesss, 'm making such a mess, mmmhhh."

You kept the vibrator on until the last ripples of your orgasm subsided. Once you tossed the toy aside, you crawled off the bed and sauntered towards where Aaron was sitting.

Your state of undress was a contrast to Aaron, who was still clad in his buttoned-up shirt and slacks. You threw your legs on either side of his thighs to straddle him, pressing your bare core directly on top of his nether region. Without wasting a breath, you began to move your hips against the tent in his boxers, smearing juices and cum on Aaron's pants as you ground your pussy against his clothed erection.

"Sweetheart." Aaron's hands went to your hips. "Not tired yet?"

"Never for you, Aaron."

You leaned down to claim his lips, kissing him fervently like he was the singular source of oxygen you breathed. Your kisses soon trailed down his body as you made quick work unbuttoning his shirt and pants. When you suddenly got up from his lap to kneel on the ground, Aaron studied you in wonder.

"What are you doing, angel?"

"Wanna taste you, Aaron. Wanna make you feel so good. Please?"

Who would ever say no to that?

In a flash, the two of you freed Aaron from the confinement of his pants and briefs. His erection sprung free once his clothes were out of the way, standing proud and tall against the muscles of his abdomen.

You licked your lips at the sight of his beautiful cock. Before tonight, you never allowed yourself to stare directly too long at it in fear of the repercussions it might bring due to your addiction. But as you knelt there, arousal dripping between your thighs like waterfall, you couldn't help but curse your past self for denying you such pleasure. Aaron's cock was beautiful, moderate in length but gifted in girth, leaking pre-cum from the tip, making the head red and shiny.

You wrapped your hand around his shaft, giving a few lazy tugs to smear the pre-cum around before intensifying your ministrations. At the first touch of your lips on the tip of his cock, Aaron couldn't stop the hiss from escaping his throat.

"Fuck. Feels so good, princess. You're making me feel so good."

Aaron's praises only spurred you on even further. You began bobbing your head up and down his cock, matching the rhythm with your hand's movements around Aaron's girth. The moans that tumbled free from your boyfriend's chest were music to your ears. You had even started to rib your thighs against one another, desperate to create any level of friction that would alleviate the throbbing need in your pussy, a fact that didn't escape Aaron's notice as he watched you with lust-lidded eyes.

"You're getting yourself off, sweetheart? Does sucking my cock get you all hot and bothered?"

Aaron's words went straight to your core, making you whine around Aaron's cock. The vibrations Aaron felt from your mouth made him groan loudly.

"Fuck. I'm so close, princess."

You released him with a pop at the new information. Your lazy eyes took in the sight of Aaron's face that had seemingly been taken over by euphoria.

"Use me, Aaron."

Aaron's eyes fell wide open at the request.

"Go and use my mouth for your pleasure. Wanna make you feel so good, handsome."

With that, you wrapped your mouth once more around his girth. Aaron's fingers instantly went to your head, holding you in place as he began fucking your mouth as if it was his personal fleshlight. In a way, it probably was. You could've smiled at Aaron's dominance if you weren't so busy trying to control your breathing.

"You feel like heaven, sweetheart. Holy shit. So warm and wet. I'm gonna cum down your throat, 's that what you want?"

You nodded your head frantically, feeling tears already starting to pool around your waterlines.

"Go on, then. Take it all, goregous. Swallow all of it—every. single. drop."

One last thrust into you, and Aaron was emptying himself down your throat. You swallowed every single drop you could while the rest was left to drip down your chin. You withdrew at last only to clean up the residual cum along Aaron's shaft, grinning in pride when he hissed at the feeling of your tongue running along his protruding veins.

Your kisses eventually wandered upward, towards Aaron's awaiting lips that welcomed you eagerly when you pressed against them in a kiss. Aaron's hands instinctively gripped your hips when you settled back on his lap, your fingers rushing to peel the loosely hanging shirt completely off his back.

When your hand flew down to wrap around his still half-hardened cock, Aaron's entire body shuddered in reflex.

"Sweetheart—"

"Please, Aaron. Need to have you inside me. Hm? We'll go slow, I promise."

There was no way he could have such a beautiful and tantalizing woman such as yourself, begging to fuck him, only for him to say no. Aaron would be the most idiotic man in the world if he let that happen.

So, he rested his head back against the seat as he watched you pepper a million tiny kisses across his chest, all the while never diminishing the ministrations on his cock. It didn't take long for Aaron to get hard again, and when he did, you wasted no time in pressing his swollen red tip against your puffy pussy.

When you finally slid him inside your throbbing walls, Aaron thought he was going to pass out.

"Ohhhh, Aaron," you mewled once he was fully seathed inside. "You're filling me so good, baby. You're so fucking big."

Aaron was sure words would fail him miserably at that moment, so he settled with planting his hands on your hips instead of a verbal response.

In no time at all, you began moving above him. Slowly, at first, but then the rhythm found you almost immediately. You were warm and wet from the previous orgasms you had, and the amount of juices leaking out of your cunt only amplified the obscene sound of your lovemaking within the four walls of the bedroom. Aaron watched in awe at the sight of you on top of him; so lost in pleasure and visibly free for the first time in what felt like a long time. You caught his stare when you looked down, leaning closer to kiss him between the gasps tumbling past your lips.

"Shit, princess. You're gripping me so good. I can smell you, sweetheart."

Your responding moan was the most melodic thing that ever graced Aaron's ears. "Yeesss, Aaron, you're so fucking deep in my pussy—ohhh. Can feel you all the way inside, baby."

Your lips strayed towards the column of Aaron's neck, where you trailed wet kisses all the way across his collarbones. The movements of your hips only became that much more frantic with every second that ticked by.

"You're so beautiful, Aaron. I love you so much." You sobbed against his chest. Aaron instantaneously circled his arms around your torso. "You're the only one who makes me feel good like this, baby—mmphh."

"Yeah? I'm the only one?"

"Just you. No one else."

You gasped out of the blue in the next second, your mind going hazy when the head of Aaron's cock punched the erogenous spot inside your cunt right at its center. Your hips grew even more erratic. Aaron could feel your walls gripping him tighter, and knowing what was certainly about to come, he brought his hand down and started drawing circular patterns over your sensitive clit.

"Aahhh! Aaron! I'm s-so close, mmhh. I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"

Aaron continued fucking up into you as your climax washed your entire being like a tsunami. The constant stimulation in your pussy, along with the one administered to your clit, prolonged the orgasmic bliss until you couldn't sit upright anymore. With a few more powerful thrusts, Aaron came shortly behind you, shooting loads and loads of cum into your womb until your insides were flooded with warmth.

In the aftermath of both of your pinnacles, you and Aaron clung to each other as if it was your last day together on earth.

"So—" Aaron's voice aroused in the otherwise silent bedroom.

"So—" you parroted, glancing up at your boyfriend who was already looking down towards your face, "—how was it? Too much?"

Aaron shrugged. The smile on his face was the perfect picture of smugness. "I think I can keep up."

You punched him lightly on his shoulder. "You say that now. You're gonna be thinking differently when sex doesn't become exciting anymore since I ask for it every single hour of every day. You'll look at me differently."

"Hey. I told you, that's not gonna happen." Aaron slid his hand against your cheek, keeping your head in place so he could stare directly into your eyes. "I'll help you with your needs to the best of my capacity, and I promise to tell you whenever I feel like I need a break. It's a compromise. You have me, sweetheart. And you're still going to therapy as well, so you're gonna be fine. Trust me."

Aaron secured his declaration with a sweet kiss to your forehead. As you lay there in his arms, you couldn't help but thank the stars for sending someone who was willing to try to understand you better despite what society would expect him to. You knew that in a few hours, your condition would cause the raging arousal to burn once more in the pit of your belly. But at that specific moment in time, you were quite pleased to just rest in the safety of Aaron's embrace, where being yourself finally didn't feel like a crime that could potentially sentence you to a lifetime of imprisonment.

In the safety of Aaron's embrace, you were finally free.

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

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𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 • eddie munson x reader

sequel to 𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗲 and 𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 • another album, another tour, this time with a stop in Indianapolis featuring a local opener that proves to be more familiar than you expected.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 • 5.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 • smut (18+ only), semi-public sex, extreme fluff, jealous reader, cocky eddie, hatefucking (at first), emotions!!

Objectively, Eddie was never the best you ever had. Considering your long and storied history included a lot of very talented people— sometimes multiple at a time— it was hard to compete. He didn't make you come the hardest, or the fastest, or the most.

But for some reason, he was always your favorite.

Even if he wasn't a sex god, he managed to keep up with you and he was just the right balance of everything: sweet but not too grovelling; good-looking but not too self-obsessed; young but not too naive.

Truth be told, every time you thought about it, you wondered if you should've taken him on tour with you. You imagined a life where you had this little boytoy to keep you company, where he held you close at night in that big empty bed while the bus was on its way to the next stop; where you finished your sets and walked just off stage to find him waiting, and he'd give you a big kiss and tell you how amazing you were.

But it was just a fantasy, something to get you through especially lonely nights. You’d been thinking about him leading up to your tour stop in Indiana, wondering if you should find some way to reach out— all you had was an old phone number, and that was nearly a year ago now that you found out he graduated and moved away. After considering looking him up a few times (and realizing you didn’t actually know if Eddie was short for Edward or Edmond or Edgar or… not short for anything), you decided it was best left alone. After all, your presence in Indiana was pretty heavily anticipated, it’s not like he couldn’t figure it out if he wanted to find some way to see you.

Danny nodded at you from behind the drums as you walked onstage for soundcheck.

“Okay, we’re just gonna tune and run the first song on the setlist,” the sound technician announced over the speakers as you put in your earpiece.

“Great,” you answered into the microphone, slinging your guitar on over your shoulder and starting to pick at it to get it perfectly in tune— yes, most big stars have the venue techs or their roadies tune instruments for them, but you preferred doing it yourself. It was like… well, it was sort of like foreplay. You preferred warming up your guitar yourself.

“Hey, you heard of this band that’s opening for us?” Jerome, your second guitarist, asked you as an assistant adjusted his mic stand. “I was talking to the venue manager— he said a ton of people are here to see them. They’re local legends or something.”

“I didn’t even read who’s opening for us,” you admitted. “I haven��t slept since Louisville.”

“They’re called Corroded Coffin,” he said. “Real grungy stuff.”

“Well, it’s a decent name,” you offered. “I’ll have to watch their set and see if they’re any good.”

When soundcheck ended, you retired to the green room for a drink and a rest, the closest thing you had to a pre-show ritual. This venue was nice enough that you had a TV by the vanity, meaning you totally zoned out and lost track of time watching National Geographic; you didn’t even realize the show had started until you heard loud, echoing guitars from outside.

Turning the volume down, you listened to the muffled sound for a couple minutes, nodding to yourself. Hey, they’re not bad.

Deciding to venture out and get a proper listen, you navigated the crowded backstage— roadies, assistants, and for some reason a crowd of kids in matching t-shirts?— so you could peer in from-offstage to see the band. The first thing you saw was the pit; it was full of girls. Screaming, desperate girls. Shit, who is this guy? You figured you weren’t likely to get the same reception from that section of the crowd, unless there was a bisexual convention in town.

Leaning further in, you finally saw the back of the guitarist’s head. Any other context, and that mess of long, curly brown hair would give it away— but this was the metal scene, after all, and most of the guys looked like that.

He took a step back, disappointing the girls who had been climbing over each other to try to touch his ankle, and shook his head to get his hair out of his face. That was when you got a proper glimpse of him for the first time, and your breath caught.

No, it’s not…

He was too far away for you to be sure, and if you leaned forward any more, you’d be visible to the crowd which was not worth the trouble. Spinning around, you saw the group of kids behind you, and narrowed your eyes at their shirts. “Hey,” you yelled over the music to get the attention of one of them, “what do those shirts mean?”

“They’re for our D&D club!” he answered emphatically. “That’s our Dungeon Master!”

As he pointed to the frontman again, you spun around. Fuck.

“EDDIE, WE LOVE YOUUU!!!” a girl with braces screamed from the front row, literally sobbing, and you wondered how you could physically fit in your body every emotion you were feeling in this one moment.

Euphoria, confusion, devastation, excitement, anxiety— he was here, he was opening for you, he really made it. But was he too good for you now? He was the next big thing— you could already tell, hearing him play, that he was the real deal— and you were… well, you were the last big thing. He was Van Halen, you were Black Sabbath; he was video, you were the radio star. He was the nineties, coming around the corner faster than you were ready for— wasn’t it 1979, like, an hour ago?

It didn’t hurt from a stardom standpoint— the record sales didn’t bother you, even when there were less of them. You didn’t need to be famous, half the time you didn’t even like it, you just loved the music whether it was yours or someone else’s.

But it hurt seeing Eddie, because it made you realize how long it had really been. It hurt wondering if tonight was the beginning of the end— but you had hope that you wouldn’t be facing the end alone.

As he focused on playing a complex solo, his tongue curled up over his lip. Be careful, Ed, I dunno if these girls can handle that…

Looking out over his crowd again, your gut burned as you saw the girls fawning over him, even if you couldn’t blame them.

You watched the rest of his set from the best seat in the house, which was actually standing up just behind the curtain, until you heard Eddie speak into the microphone: “You guys have been great! We would stay forever if we could, but this is our last song…”

Heart pumping, you stumbled back and out of the way, retreating to your green room— you weren’t ready for him to walk by, you weren’t ready for him to ignore you, or kiss you, or slap you, or whatever he was going to do.

He was probably over it; he probably didn’t even care, so casually flaunting his one-that-got-away-ness in front of you. You slammed your door shut behind you, pouring yourself a quick drink and tossing it back in a second. It dulled your nerves but only worsened the sickness gathering in your stomach. This was everything you’d been waiting for since 1985, but it was so terrifying now that it was here. Everything could go wrong.

But of course he still wanted you, right? He had to, he was one of your biggest fans just a few years ago. But wow, time can change so much— and you had no idea he could play like that. It only made you more attracted to him, right when you were trying to play it cool.

You heard the crowd going wild, you heard the music come to a halt, and you knew you were supposed to be getting ready for your own set. Right now, you weren’t sure if you could even name one of your own songs…

Well, probably just one— the one about him. In your mind, it was sort of a graduation present from you to Eddie— but you weren’t even a hundred percent sure he ever heard it.

You waited a few minutes, hoping maybe Corroded Coffin would be gone when you stepped out— yet praying that they wouldn’t be— but when you entered the hallway again, you found a typical scene between the opener and headliner: musicians and their most privileged fans everywhere, getting in the way of crew trying desperately to set up between acts, and Eddie right there in the middle of all of it.

He was sitting on an amp, fiddling around on his acoustic, girls hanging off of his arm and sitting in a circle around him. Christ.

Hesitantly, you walked up to the group, crossing your arms and watching for a moment. "Guess you made it out of your garage phase," you smirked.

He looked up at you, his strumming coming to a halt, as he gave you a knowing smile. "Yeah," he offered; his voice was eerily familiar yet different, and you wondered if things were too different now. If you and him were basically strangers, and you'd just have to wave hello and leave all that history behind.

After all, you'd only met once before, technically. But to you, it felt like your story wasn't over yet.

“Oh my god,” one of the girls jumped up to you, “I— I’m such a huge fan!”

“Oh? That’s nice to hear,” you offered her, glancing between her eyes and Eddie’s a few times. “I— do you want me to sign anything?”

“That would be amazing,” she beamed, “I’ve— I’ve got one of your CDs right here.”

“Ah, a CD,” you nodded as she pulled it out of her purse and you got your trusty metallic Sharpie from your back pocket, “that’s how I know you’re one of the new kids.”

“You can make it out to Pearl,” she decided as you took the album from her, “that’s me.”

“Will do,” you agreed, uncapping the pen with your teeth and writing over the cover.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she said.

“Yeah?” you prompted, mostly focused on writing.

“My favorite song of yours is Pretty Boy,” she explained, “from your new album? I wanted to ask you who it’s about.”

You glanced at Eddie again, finding him still smiling at you. Of course he knew, he barely had to listen to the verse to figure it out, it wasn’t exactly cryptic. Can’t take you home when there’s no home to go to, still remember you with all the guys that I go through, it was pretty obvious. “Uh,” you stalled, voice slurred a bit from talking with a pen cap in your mouth, “it’s… not really about anyone. It’s just about the idea of someone.”

You handed her back the CD and put your marker away. “Wow,” she smiled when you gave it back, reading the message to herself. Pearl— don’t be a slut, with your signature across the bottom. Her smile faltered slightly, but she thanked you weakly.

“That’s good advice,” you informed her sternly as she sat back down.

“You know,” Eddie piped up, making your heart beat faster, “I wanted you to sign something of mine, too.”

You smirked at him, summoning some confidence from deep within yourself. “Kid, you’ve already got my name written all over you.”

A few of the girls started whispering to each other, and Eddie glanced down— he didn’t seem too caught off-guard, but his cheeks did flush. “Then maybe you can make my guitar match,” he suggested.

“Sure,” you agreed, and he stood up, lifting the guitar’s strap over his shoulder so he could hold it out for you and your re-uncapped marker.

Your hands were almost shaking, at the worst possible time, as he stood so close, staring at you with those eyes. You thought about what you might write, and decided as you made contact with the glossy wood.

Eddie,

I’m still waiting for you.

As you put your signature at the bottom, you were startled slightly by a flash; you turned to see one of the girls had taken an instant photo, and she pulled it out and shook it as it developed. “Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly, “just a little piece of rock and roll history. Legends meeting for the first time!”

You didn’t correct her; Eddie just nodded. “You’ll have to send that to Rolling Stone,” he decided.

“There you go,” you announced as you finished the signature, watching him read what you’d written.

“Thanks,” he smiled, turning the guitar and holding it forward so he could look at it better before looking at you again. “Any chance I could bum a smoke?”

One of the girls started to reach into her bag, but without even looking at her, Eddie held his hand out and she froze. “Actually, I—” quit, you were about to say, but then you met his gaze. He really was still that boy you found waiting outside the back of a smaller stadium nearly four years ago— his eyes were the same: tender, pleading, hopeful. You knew the feeling well. “I… have a pack in my dressing room,” you offered.

“Great,” he smiled.

“Aw, don’t go!” one of the girls whined, the rest joining in a chorus of moping.

“Uh— hey! There’s Gareth!” Eddie pointed. “Will you girls go cheer him up? He, uh, just broke up with his girlfriend.”

Eddie gave his best sympathetic sigh as the girls’ eyes lit up; and while the cloud of adorers descended on the drummer, you guided Eddie back with you across the backstage tunnel, tumbling through the green room door with him.

When you were both on the other side and the door shut, he didn’t even give you a chance to offer him a drink, now that he was definitely old enough— he just kissed you, with every ounce of passion he’d been saving for you all this time. You whimpered and grabbed his face, holding him close, letting his tongue roam wherever and tasting his smile in return.

He pushed you back against the wall, pulling your hips against his, pressing all of himself against you; he tried to break the kiss to say something, but you pulled his face towards you again, you just needed a little more.

He hummed against your lips, and you let him go so he could kiss your neck instead. Your back was already arching up off the wall, and you felt his hands slide up the back of your shirt, tickling the dip of your spine, finding the clasp of your bra and undoing it in a moment so he could bring his hands around to the front and grope your chest.

You grinned as his fingers toyed with your nipples and squeezed your sensitive skin; there was more experience behind his movements than before, yet the same boyish eagerness under it all.

That said, your grin faded when he pulled your shirt and bra up, exposing you to the air, indulging himself in a glance and a sigh at your breasts before he put his mouth on them. “Fuck,” you whined. “Eddie, fuck.”

Your hands reached up and tangled in his hair, and he moaned around your skin, moving to the other nipple while his fingers gently pinched the first. “Say my name again,” he demanded.

“Make me,” you countered.

He stopped right away, spinning you around as you held your hands against the wall to keep yourself upright. He pressed his back up to yours, letting his hips rock so you could feel his erection against you and you purred. The way his fingers quickly unbuttoned your jeans reminded you a bit of the way he fingered his guitar on stage; the way he pushed your pants and underwear down and grabbed a handful of your ass before giving it a sudden spank reminded you of someone totally different from Eddie. I guess a lot can change in a few years…

“You gonna fuck me or what?” you sighed. “I’ve gotta be on stage any minute now.”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he promised— or maybe it was a warning. "But I'm not your groupie anymore, sweetheart, I'm a star, and I fuck like one. All those girls wanted me to do to them what you did to me— but all I want is to be buried in you."

You hummed proudly turning around and facing him so you could start working on his belt for him. “Did you miss me?” you wondered, taunting with your question, but he wasn’t fazed.

“‘Course I did,” he smiled. "I wasn't a virgin when we met, but I still think you made a man outta me that night. You even let me come in you, you remember that? So dirty," he smirked, a hint of a snarl on his smile as he scrunched up his nose for a second. "You just want this cunt bred, huh?"

"Damn," you sighed, "you’re all grown up— and you got nasty."

He laughed breathlessly, looking down. "Guess I did. You haven't changed, though."

He guided you across the room, to the vanity, where he spun you around and bent you over quickly— not too rough, but definitely hurried— yanking your head up by your hair so you had to look in the mirror.

"Want you to see how pretty you are taking my cock."

He was inside you a moment later, and your eyes rolled back. “Fuck,” you groaned, legs quivering as he started off right away; he gave you long, deep strokes that made your walls clench.

"I remember how you like it," he purred. "Deep, and rough— and you like being in control. But right now, I wanna see you lose control."

Well, that was the plan if he kept talking like that…

“I wanna see you come for me,” he continued, “exactly when I tell you to.”

“Yeah?” you chuckled breathlessly. “If you wanted obedience you should’ve snagged one of those little tarts from the pit.”

“If you wanted me to play nice you should’ve taken me with you when we first met,” he shot back, fucking you harder as anger tinted his voice and his movements. “Back when I was still an impressionable kid.”

“That’s— that’s exactly why I didn’t,” you explained through your teeth. “I was trying to do right by you.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes!” you admitted. “Yes, I wish I wasn’t such a damn good person, okay? Now just fuck me, damn it!”

He laughed a little, but finally did as he was told, taking hold of your hips and setting a brutal pace.

“S’this… this how you fuck your groupies?” you choked out.

He laughed as he shook his head. “No, I take my time with them.”

Fuck. “I liked you better when you were nice.”

He smacked your ass again, making you whimper. “Don’t lie to me.”

Touche… “Did you like me better when I was just your fantasy?” you managed to get out.

“No,” he sighed, leaning down and laying his body over yours, holding you tighter. “No, I like you best like this— here, with me. Real.”

You whined and dropped your head down, hoping to hide your watering eyes, but he cooed as he pet your hair before grabbing it pulling you up again.

“Look, baby,” he insisted, “I want you to see it— god, you’re so beautiful. Look how beautiful you are.”

“Y-you’re beautiful, too,” you blurted out as you watched his face in the reflection, still a bit red as he panted behind you, and he gave you a breathless smile

"Tell me how good it feels,” he instructed.

"So good, Eddie, your cock is so good," you groaned.

“Y’love it, huh?” he taunted, but his eyebrows knitted together when you shook your head.

“No, Ed— I hate this… I hate that I’m the one that made you bitter,” you admitted. “You were so sweet before…”

He slowed down a bit, one hand brushing your hair out of your face as the other held your hips— tight, but not painfully so. “I’m still yours,” he whispered by your ear, making you bite your lip to hold back a sob. “Baby, I’m still yours.”

“Then why are you angry?”

“Because you’re not mine.”

You laughed— you actually laughed, and he hissed as it made you tighten on him. “Damn, you got older, but you didn’t get much smarter, huh?” you noticed. “I was yours from the start, Eddie.”

He fucked you harder— but not exactly in the rough way. In a patient, but needy, way; and you felt him smile as he kissed your neck again. “You’re just saying that,” he presumed teasingly.

“No— god, it’s real, it’s not just ‘cause we’re fucking,” you promised. “I’m yours.”

He pulled out and dropped to his knees, suddenly colliding his mouth with your sopping cunt. You whined as your legs quivered. "Fuck, Ed—!"

He growled as he lapped at you hungrily. "So sweet,” you could barely make out his mumbled groan when it was spoken right against your wet skin.

You were amazed he had the patience to stop fucking you in the middle of that— amazed and slightly pissed. “Fuck me,” you begged, “c’mon, I said I’m yours— I meant it.”

“You’re gonna make me come too fast if you keep saying you’re mine,” he explained. “I don’t want it to end yet.”

“Well, we’re already out of time,” you noticed as you glanced at the clock, “I should be on by now… they’re probably looking for me.”

“Well, let’s help them find you,” he encouraged with one more lick up the seam of your cunt before he stood up and shoved his cock inside you roughly. His pace was faster after that, careless to the way he hit the end of you every time— except it wasn’t careless, it was intentional. "Uh huh, scream for my cock, it'll get your voice warmed up,” he encouraged with a smile.

“God, I’m way too close,” you groaned, toes curling inside your boots, back arching deeper even as he held your hips steady. “Don’t make fun of me for coming so fast… I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“I’m— Christ, I’m not in any place to judge, am I? M’gonna come too,” he promised, “inside you. Gonna let it all drip out of you while you’re playing your set.”

Imagining that was what pushed you over the edge, actually. “Eddie, I’m coming,” you sobbed, “fuck, I— don’t stop, don’t stop—”

“I’ll never stop, I’ll never fucking stop, I swear,” he grunted— and even though he stopped barely ten seconds later as his own orgasm hit him, you knew exactly what he meant.

You both caught your breath, and he held you close as his legs gave out— which meant you both fell onto the floor, but you hardly noticed; you just let him pull you closer as your eyes fluttered shut.

It was a beautiful, peaceful moment for exactly two seconds before someone banged on the door. “WE NEED YOU TO SET UP!!” a crew member bellowed through the wood.

“GIMME A MINUTE!” you screamed back, making Eddie laugh behind you— and you followed suit. “Not so romantic, huh?”

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he assured softly, running his fingers down your back. “I’m sorry I was mean.”

“I deserved it,” you sighed, “I’m sorry I left you in Indiana in 1985.”

He scoffed. “I deserved that, too.”

You relaxed as he pulled your back into his chest, kissing along your neck. “I’ve gotta get up and get myself together,” you reminded him.

“Okay,” he sighed, letting you go so you could awkwardly climb up and start pulling your pants back on.

He just laid on the floor and watched you for a second, before shoving his cock back in his own jeans and standing up to correct his button and fly.

You bent down to look in the vanity again, wiping under your eye to carefully remove the evidence of an eyeliner-stained tear.

"I fell in love with you back then," he said suddenly, and you smiled, though you didn’t turn around.

"When we met?" you assumed.

"Before that," he replied. You stood up this time and faced him, heart beating so hard it made you wonder if he could see your chest moving. "Before you even knew me, before I really knew you, I loved you. I worshiped you. And before you even took me for yourself, I was yours. I still am, baby— I'm still yours, and I always was."

“Do you still love me?” you asked hesitantly— only because you knew you were ready for a no.

“Yes,” he smiled, stepping closer to you, “of course.”

"I never stopped thinking about you," you promised quietly. "I never forgot you."

He grabbed your hands suddenly, holding them up with his between the two of you, and you stared at them before you looked up at his eyes instead, brimming with optimism just like you’d dreamed of him for years. "I'm not letting you leave me again," he insisted. "You know how good we are together. You know I'll always love you. C'mon and let me be yours, angel— I'm gonna love you so much you won't know what to do with yourself."

You smirked. "I think you're always mine, whether I let you or not."

"I think you wanna marry me."

You nearly choked, and you felt your cheeks burn but you tried to keep your cool. "Bold claim."

"What if I ask you now?"

"You got a ring?"

"Do I?" he snorted, pulling a skull off of his right middle finger and getting down on one knee as he brandished it for you. "I don't want anyone else. You don't need anyone else. No more of this ships in the night crap— us, forever."

"A skull? Not the most romantic."

"Oh, but it is," he grinned, "til death do us part, babe. It was almost four years ago I said I'd follow you anywhere, I meant it, and I'll follow you to the grave."

The sound tech banged loudly on the door again. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON TEN MINUTES AGO, THE CROWD'S GONNA REVOLT," he bellowed.

"I need to play my set, Eddie," you reminded the man on his knee before you.

"Then play," he agreed, "and give me your answer after the encore."

You leaned down and kissed him, more gently than you’d allowed yourself before. “I will,” you promised.

You dashed out of the dressing room and towards the stage, a thousand people swarming around you to put your earpiece in, fling your guitar around your shoulder, brush powder over your face— and in a whirlwind of a few seconds, you were right there in front of the crowd, your band surrounding you. The crowd cheered, and your heart swelled; I’ve still got it.

“Good evening, Indianapolis!” you greeted through the microphone, and the roar grew. “Are we having fun tonight?”

It was easy, but it worked, and they applauded and whooped excitedly.

“How was that opener?” you prompted, and they cheered again. “Is it just me or was that frontman kinda cute?”

A more feminine cheer answered as if to say, it’s not just you.

“Hope you like this first song,” was your simple introduction before the drummer counted you off and you all began to play.

All in all, it was a great show. Crowd was good, band killed it (as always), and aside from a moment of feedback from one of the speakers, it all went pretty much perfectly. And that was all in spite of your mind being totally overwhelmed with thoughts of Eddie. Normally, music cleared your head, but nothing could keep your thoughts from everything that had just happened— and not even just that! You were thinking about that first night, about how young he was then; about when you called him and he stayed on with you until you fell asleep so you wouldn’t have to spend another night alone; about when he first looked at you backstage half an hour ago, holding onto his guitar, surrounded by girls but looking at you like you were the only woman in the world.

Shows always went by fast, especially when they went this well, but this one seemed to go by in a moment— and there you were, waiting in the dark, hearing them chant.

Encore, encore, encore!

You were about to go back out, but you smiled to yourself as you grabbed a stage manager by the sleeve. "Get me the lead guitarist for Corroded Coffin— bring him out on stage."

"Now?"

"Now."

He ran off to search for Eddie, and you turned to your bassist, Alex: “Think we’ve made ‘em wait long enough?”

Jerome answered instead. “Everybody knows you like to tease,” he smirked.

True, but not as true as it used to be. “Let’s go back,” you announced, hearing a roar of applause wash onto the stage as the musicians took the stage once more.

"We missed you," you offered into the mic, hearing the crowd cheer. "Want us to play one more?"

They screamed again, almost deafeningly, and you laughed. You glanced over at the side of the stage and felt your heart melt just at the sight of Eddie there, the stage manager getting him ready to go out.

"I've got someone I want you guys to meet first," you explained. "An old friend of mine. You know him best as the guy who rocked the fuck out of this place before I came on…"

As they figured out who you were talking about, their applause restored.

"If you don't mind, I'd like him to come out and play this song with me."

Of course, that only made them more excited. I’ll show you rock and roll history, boys and girls.

You motioned for him to come out, and he walked on with a smile and a wave to the encouraging crowd. "But I want you to know something else about him,” you continued as he grabbed one of your guitars and put it on, fiddling with it for a second to make sure he knew the sound and feel of the instrument. “He's not just the hottest new sound in metal, and he's not just a heartthrob—"

The girls cheered louder at that.

"He's also—" you glanced at him, standing beside you at the other microphone, smiling back at you with slight confusion. You took a deep breath in and out, surprised at how shaky it was. You didn't think you got nervous anymore. "He's also my fiancé."

You expected a huge reaction to that, but there was a pause first— a stillness that said, did we just hear that right?

Time seemed to slow down as you stepped up to him. The crowd was frozen, and silent, and then they were gone. Your band was gone, the crew was gone, it was just you and him in an empty stadium.

When you were in front of him, his eyes blinking at you, his smile soft and patient, you reached up and held his cheek. "I promised I wouldn't forget you, Eddie," you whispered. "Believe it or not, I tried. But I couldn’t— because I love you."

He smiled back wider. "I love you too," he returned. "Wanna get married?"

You laughed a bit. "Okay," you answered flippantly, and he pulled you into a sudden, powerful kiss.

Then the crowd was back, and louder than ever. You felt Eddie's hand take yours, squeezing it before gently slipping the skull ring on your finger. Yes, it was a little big, but it would do for now.

You returned to the mic with a smile as you addressed the crowd again. "We're gonna play a song for you all, it's called Pretty Boy. Do you know that one, Eddie?"

"I think I can keep up," he answered into his own microphone with a smirk.

"Then let's show 'em how good we are together," you decided, turning over your shoulder to make eye contact with the drummer as you counted off: "one, two, three, four!"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you

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lindszeppelin · 2 years

Text

Show Me Your Wild Side

pairing: Austin Butler x Fem!Reader

summary: Austin has been your adoring boyfriend for quite some time now. On a rainy day spent inside, you two spend some much needed quality time together. pretty simple premise but will pack a punch...trust me.

rating: Mature, 18+. Minors, get yo self outta here! Avert your eyes.

warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, dom and sub dynamic, edging/orgasm denial, thigh riding, over-sensitivity. maybe more i forgot to mention?

word count: 10.2k. listen, i didn’t come to play around.

a/n: Hey loves!! This is my first go at writing fanfiction in years, so do forgive any grammatical errors and things like that. I hope you enjoy!

tags: @elvisstyles

From the moment you first set your eyes on Austin Butler, you knew he was gonna be trouble -- but the best kind. He courted you properly like the gentleman he is, taking his time with you. Getting to know all the little details about you and making sure to remember important things you told him like names, dates, places you loved to visit, your favorite things. That sickeningly sweet honeymoon phase that usually fizzles out after a few months with most couples never went away with you two. In fact, your love story is still drenched in desire. The flame between you both never dying out, only getting stronger as time goes on. You were a perfect match.

Not long after he successfully wooed you into his life, he offered for you to live with him full time. He was bi-coastal, spending the majority of his time in California, but he had a little loft in Manhattan that complimented your already existing lifestyle. This was where the two of you would start to make a home that was yours. He didn’t complain when you took over half of the available bathroom sink space with your makeup and hair tools -- in fact, he bought you your own vanity table that you knew was far too expensive, but he wanted to show how much he appreciated you.

Your perfectly imperfect lives intermingled like something out of a fairytale. Suddenly you were not just two people coexisting in the same space. You were one in the same. It was the little things about one another that made the love deepen with each day. A prime example -- When he would get sucked into a new script he was reading, he had a pen he would use to take notes that would find permanent residence in his mouth, the cap of it being chewed to smithereens by the time he was finished annotating. The little gnawing noises and hums he made was one of his quirks that might drive anyone else batshit insane. But you loved him for it.

Slowly but surely, you managed to fine a routine within your busy lives. The weekends specifically were centered around one on one time with each other. No one else, no distractions, just you and Austin. The day would typically start with a slow, passionate love making session in bed, followed by breakfast and maybe some light reading. You two also loved to play board games and had stacks upon stacks high up to the ceiling of old fashioned games and puzzles -- he was a master Monopoly player, and you a wiz at Scrabble. As the day turns into evening, you would make a homecooked meal together, which he loved to do with you. Cooking was one of his love languages. He couldn’t get enough of your reactions to his creations -- how you sighed in delight at a new recipe he was trying out. It made his heart soar. And to cap off the night, you two either found yourselves dancing to records or you put on a movie. Some of the times you actually watched the film, but it usually ended with clothes on the floor and you two fucking into the early morning hours.

Today was one of these nights. You and Austin lay comfortably in your king sized bed, the blinds were open just enough so that the orange hues from the New York sunset were cascading over you. The pitter patter of rain landing delicately along the old rusty windows of your loft added to the relaxing ambiance. On the tv in front of you was A Street Car Named Desire, one of yours and Austin’s favorite films. You both had an affinity for classic films.

This was your version of heaven on Earth. Nothing else mattered but you and him exactly like this -- his arm draped along your waist pulling you into his side, his fingers lightly dancing across your silk nightie. Your head rested on his chest, his heart beating a steady rhythm became one of your most favorite sounds. This was perfection, and you wanted to trap time in a bottle so it could never be forgotten.

At some point during the night, you had dozed off into a peaceful slumber in his embrace. He didn’t really notice right away, as he was paying attention to the film. But he turned his attention away from the movie for a split second and looked down at the sight before him -- you asleep in his arms. He smiled warmly, wondering if he should continue to let you rest or rouse you. He decided on the latter.

“Y/N?” He shook you gently. The hand that was glued to your waist found its way into your hair, stroking your head with such care as he turned and kissed you awake on your forehead.

“Hmm?” You stirred beneath him and slowly lifted your head up to meet his gaze. You could look deep into Austin’s crystalline blue eyes all day. They sparkled with nothing but pure love and adoration for you, his girl.

“Sorry doll, I was just checking on you, You were silent for a long while.”

“Oh shit, did I miss the part where Stanley tries to win Stella back?”

He chuckled. His hand left your head and trailed it’s way slowly down your back, his fingers grazing your spine in a way that made you shiver at his touch. “ ‘fraid so baby. The movie’s almost over.”

“Damn, that’s my favorite part too.” You whined.

“I mean, between us both I think we’ve watched this film at least 1000 times. You didn’t really miss anything.” He reasoned.

“I know! But there’s something about that scene that I love. Sure, Stanley is an asshole. But it’s kinda romantic when he calls out for her, pleading with her to take him back. And she goes to him like she knew she would. Then he whisks her away in his arms.” You signed, somehow even getting more comfortable around Austin’s tall frame as you drape your leg over one of his. You always were a big hopeless romantic. And he was too, which made you somehow swoon over him even more than you ever thought was possible. Any book, song, or film to do with love was exactly what you were both into. And these classic films just knew how to paint the perfect picture of a love story that unfurls with such realism. It reminded you of what you cultivated with Austin -- an unbreakable, cherished bond.

You snuggled deeper into him now, and placed a tiny kiss upon his chest before your ear found it’s way back home to his heartbeat. The corners of his lips upturned in a content smile. He appreciates your sentimentality for the classics like he does, and your idealistic way of looking at the world.

“Yeah, you’re right baby I like that moment too. When I first started getting into acting as a kid I studied that scene far too many times. Probably annoyed the hell outta my parents. Brando is just phenomenal.” Austin could ramble on for days about his extreme love of film, but he stops himself short, leaving it at that. You thought it was so cute when he would open up to you about his passion for the arts. It was such a turn on seeing your man’s face light up about the subject. You wouldn’t mind listening him drone on about it until his voice was hoarse. And some days you did just that.

“mmm.” You hummed peacefully. He let himself stare at you for a little while and tried to commit this to memory. It was unfortunate that his hectic work schedule left you two with not a lot of time during the week. On those particular moments of separation, he would dive deep into the recesses of his mind for all the delicious remembrances of you and get off on them.

He made sure to remember your soft skin, your long hair cascading down your back that tickled his arm draped around your waist, the feminine floral scent of your perfume lingering all around him, sticking to his clothes. Your silk nightie riding up your thigh, showing him a bit of tantalizing skin. And of course, one of his favorite mental notes, the way your ass fit perfectly in the palms of his big masculine hands. It was intoxicating.

Austin eventually came back down to reality after being lost in his own fantasies and brought his other hand up to his face, checking the time on the vintage watch that adorned his wrist. It was getting really late and the film was basically over at this point. He took the remote beside him and switched off the tv. The room was now filled with a comfortable silence, the sound of the rain, and your combined breathing. Total bliss.

“What do you think, you wanna get ready for bed?” He asked you, in a low rasp that reverberated within you, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up to attention.

“No not yet...not yet. i don’t wanna move ” You squeezed yourself even more impossibly tighter to his body, melting into him. You definitely were not planning on letting him go anytime soon. He was okay with that.

“Alright, i’ll allow you to keep using me as your personal pillow for a little while longer.” He joked. He definitely was not complaining either. Austin could stay in this position for the rest of his life. And he was the comfiest pillow you’ve ever had the pleasure of resting on.

“Good, cause i like it here.”

“Me too.” He cooed.

Contentment. Pure, unadulterated contentment. You and Austin laid there in bed, happily enjoying each others company. As you allow yourself to just simply be with him in this moment, you fluttered your eyes closed and honed in on every sensation he was making you feel. Just as it was so intoxicating for him to be around you, he had you wrapped around his little finger. You were completely at his mercy. Even when he wasn’t trying to be sexy, he just naturally was. All the time. Never have you met a man that brought you to your knees as quickly as Austin. Just the faintest touch or a certain look from him could make you crack.

You focused intently on the way his finger tips were drawing lazy circles on your back. His calluses from many years of guitar playing were rough, but it elicited such an electrifying buzz, sending a chill of pleasure running throughout your body. This sensual act alone was enough to start the coil turning in your stomach. Your leg that was hung over his rose up just a little higher, daring to make contact with the part of him you craved. His jean clad thigh resting flush against your soft core stirred the fire within you. The lace panties you were wearing were sure to be drenched any moment, and yet again you’d have to toss them and buy yourself another pair. But what the hell, if that’s one of the prices you pay for being with this gorgeous man, then that was alright with you.

You bit your lip to stifle the tiniest moan that wanted to escape your lips. You wanted to devour him whole and send him reeling down the path of aching desire for you -- moaning your name, spilling inside of you hot and fast while he peppered your body with wet kisses, milking him for every last drop of his come. This was now your sole mission for tonight. You needed him.

Slowly peeling your upper body away from him, your large doe eye bore into his with intense lust. Your hand that was lovingly resting on his stomach was now making it’s way up to land in the crook of his neck. Your thumb tenderly stroked his jaw, and he flexed beneath your delicate hand. Austin didn’t even need you to utter a single word for him to understand what you wanted.

He was no match for the sexual prowess you beguiled him with. Your cheeks were flush, hot and red for him. That was one of your telltale signs that you were yearning for him, he knew your body all too well. You may be the sweetest little thing, acting all innocent around other people. But when it’s just you and him in a room together, the sexual hunger is so intense it drives you both wild with passion. He loved that special side of you that no other man gets to see. Only he can make you come in a matter of seconds, and that knowledge is powerful.

As he stared back at his beautiful girl gazing at him with an innate yearning for his touch, he too felt the embers inside of him start to unfurl. The energy in the room shifted, the primal desire to be inside of you was the only thing that mattered. Austin’s shaky hand reached out to cup your face tenderly. Adrenaline coursing through his veins. He needed you too, and now.

“Aus...”

As soon as his name left your lips, he was on you in a flash. Wasting no time in crashing his plush mouth onto yours. Your lips danced together in tandem, perfectly in sync with one another -- pushing and pulling exactly when warranted. It was so sensual and laced with want. He had one hand tangled in your soft hair, and the other one clutching onto your waist desperate for your curves against him. You shimmied a little higher up onto his leg, still not letting yourself get too close to his cock. You wanted to savor every bit of this feeling right now.

Each moment your lips met you relished in the way he worked his mouth against you. He was delicate, as if not wanting to break you, but yet pining inexplicably for you in every feasible way. His tongue probed your bottom lip, testing you to see if you would let him in. And you do, eagerly. Soon enough your sweet, wanton kisses turned hot and sloppy. The rich taste of bourbon from dinner was still lingering on his breath, and the seductive taste of his mouth on yours had you moaning into him. He happily swallowed every noise you made, and returned them right back to you. God you loved it when he let himself unravel into nothing but whimpers. Knowing that you were the one to elicit such delicious sounds from him made you instantly soaked.

With your leg still tangled over his, you roll your hips into a position where your core was directly in contact against his upper thigh. You reluctantly pulled away from his flushed, pouting mouth to prop your hands on his chest for leverage, angling yourself in such a way that your clit was rubbing right against him. As you rolled your hips you let a slew of breathy moans fall from your lips, looking him square in the eye as you grind your wetness against his leg. His chest heaves, so turned on by you mewling and writhing on top of him. To think that this is how you react with just his leg has him dying to have his way with your pussy in the most sinful ways.

“Fuck. So needy for me, baby.” He places his hands on your hips and grounds you even harder against his leg, picking up the pace just a tad. Your panties can no longer contain how turned on you are, and your juices starts to seep out into a giant wet spot on his jeans. He doesn’t care one bit. Seeing you fall apart in his hands makes him rock hard.

“Austin...I...” You have your head thrown back in euphoria. You could easily come like this in a matter of mere seconds. However, you definitely need more of him. You want every single inch of him all at once to fill you completely. But your brain is too fuzzy to relay any of this to him. Only his name repeated over and over again like a prayer is what you choose to latch on to.

“Come on baby, use your words.” He eggs you on, biting his bottom lip. He digs his fingers a little more into your hips, sure that it would leave bruises on your delicate skin. You try your best to muster up something to say but you’re still on cloud 9.

“I need...I need you.”

Amused by how completely blissed out you are riding his thigh, he lets out a devilish chuckle. “That’s a start,” He lets go of your hips with one of his hands, placing his thumb and forefinger on your chin, tilting your head down to meet his striking blue eyes that have turned dark with carnal lust. “How do you need me? Let it out.” He growled.

As much as you desperately need Austin to fuck you senseless into the bed and have you screaming, you still wanted to keep the sensuality going. Foreplay was his specialty, and he was a generous giver. He knew exactly how to use his fingers and mouth to have you crumbling beneath him. As you keep grinding down on him, your clit throbs at the image of his tongue lapping up your juices. This is what you needed.

“I need you...to eat me out.” You finally answered back eagerly. You were not beneath begging for Austin to take you. The submissive side of you loved to be unashamed at how desperate for Austin you were. And to him, there was nothing hotter in this world than seeing you beg for him.

His lips twitched into a smirk. He fucking loved how much you wanted him in every possible way. And if one thing was certain right now, it was that he was going to eat you out like he was a starved man in search of sustenance.

He swallowed thickly. “Sit on my face babygirl.”

Your heart thumped hard in your chest at hearing those naughty words come out of his mouth. Wasting no time at all, you pry yourself away from his thigh, briefly looking down at your handywork where you noticed that spot on his jeans. What was also plain as day was the fact that he was already painfully hard. Your eyes widen as you sucked your bottom lip into your teeth, admiring the outline of his cock.

You feel the blood rush to your chest and face, completely hot with need for his mouth on you. Remembering the task at hand, you swiftly stood up at the foot of the bed and took off your drenched panties, throwing them somewhere behind you, having no care in the world if you lose them later. Along with it, you shimmy your nightie off your shoulders as it pools to a heap at your feet. Austin sits up on his elbows, his eyes roams your body in an obscene way, admiring your beautiful naked form in front of him. His cock twitches in his pants.

Seeing him so hungry for you gave you a momentary flash of courage during a moment where you would otherwise be shy as a wallflower. “Like what you see?” You said dreamily, making sure to skim you hands down your shoulders and cup your perky breasts. His stifled moan was the answer to your question.

Austin made quick work of the t-shirt he was wearing, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor without a care. Your mouth went slack as you admired his gorgeously toned body. This man was to be the death of you.

Noticing your obvious staring, he smirked and raised a cocky eyebrow, giving you a taste of your own medicine. “Like what you see, darlin’?”. God, did you ever. He may have won that little innocent moment of power play, but the ball was now in your court to make a bolder move.

Like the sex kitten you know you are, you crawl your way onto the bed, giving him a show as you sway your hips like an enchantress. His hands roamed the peaks and valleys of your divine figure, shivering beneath his fingers. As you climb up the bed your let your breasts get tantalizingly close to his face, just to keep teasing him further. He absolutely was not about to let the opportunity go by though. So before you could get out of his reach he languidly let his tongue capture one of your nipples, rolling it into his mouth. He spent ample time lavishing your breast before moving to the other one.

“Baby...” you moaned. The sensation was delicious, sending a new wave of wetness pooling between your legs. He grazed his teeth against your nipple ever so gently before letting it pop out of his mouth. The breath hitched in your throat. He knew your breasts were extremely sensitive to his touch, but he loved teasing you in every conceivable way, making you squirm. “Austin!” You shuddered.

“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t resist.” His hands found their way to the backs of your thighs, giving them a firm squeeze. “Now get moving. I wanna taste you.” And with a gentle tap on your ass for encouragement, you were off. You didn’t need to be told twice.

You made quick work of moving your self up to the top of the bed. Once there, you swing your legs over and around Austin’s shoulders, getting yourself settled into this new position.

His hands take hold of your hips, resuming their previous position and digging into your flesh once more. He slides down a little so his face is in direct alignment with your dripping core. You shake in suspense, anticipating his needy tongue on your folds at any moment.

He licks his lips, fully taking in the glorious sight above him. “That’s it, let me see that perfect pussy.” His voice oozing with sex. He’s so eager to have you smother him completely and drown in your juices. His hot breath underneath your wetness makes you quiver. As he places chaste kisses on your inner thighs, you grasp onto the wall Infront of you in preparation for the onslaught you’re about to receive.

Austin would and probably could swallow you whole right now. But he was holding back every urge in his body to resist making you come too fast. So he decided that he would take his time with you.

You practically saw stars when you felt his tongue lick one long flat swipe across you and flick up to your clit. He was savoring your taste. Teasing you. Enraptured in how your luscious folds felt against his mouth. Your perfect swollen bud between his lips. He adored you completely. Your hearts were beating at rapid fire in your chests. The passion was palpable and hung thick in the air.

With no time to waste, Austin began a steady pace of broad, sensual strokes against your pussy, making sure to flick up the tip of his tongue on your clit before diving back down into your folds. Over and over and over again his firm tongue glided effortlessly through your slick. He greedily slurped up every single drop you had to give him. You were already like putty in his hands.

“Ooh, Aus...your tongue feels so good.” You arched your back and started slowly riding his face. He moaned against you, encouraging you to use him however you want to get yourself off, the vibration sending shockwaves of extra pleasure straight to your aching clit. The stubble on his face was scratching against your thighs as he ate you out, making you hiss at the burning sensation. But it was overwhelmingly delicious.

He couldn’t control his carnal urges anymore. In no time he worked his mouth faster against your sopping cunt, diving his tongue deep into your folds, licking and sucking every inch of you as you rode him. A few times he let a wandering hand travel to his erection as he palmed himself through his pants to relieve the pressure building inside of him. And occasionally, he dipped the entire length of his tongue right inside of you, exploring every single nook and cranny to drive you insane. Your walls instinctively clenched around him, sucking him as far as he could go. “Fuuuck yes baby...” You groaned.

It was absolutely primal, you were being sent to the precipice with every swipe of his tongue. The obscene sloshing noises of your soaked pussy and his wet tongue was absolutely pornographic. It was music to both of your ears. You were in complete awe of the way he utterly worshiped your body. Austin always made sure to do right by you and treat you like a goddess. And it showed in the way his mouth engulfed your pussy in a fervor.

You couldn’t help yourself, you had to look down and see what this man was doing to make you feel so good. You moaned loudly as your eyes were locked with his in a soul snatching stare that set you ablaze. This turned you on like no other. As you ground yourself harder against his velvet lips you swear that you saw him wink at you.

He clung onto your hips, almost afraid that you would float away on this intense high. You gushed around his mouth and he hummed against you. After giving some generous attention to your folds, he had his sights set on your clit. You were a goner. He set a dizzying pace as he maneuvered against your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending you into a frenzy of needy moans.

Austin new exactly how to pleasure you, and he took pride in doing so. He mixed his go-to techniques all at once to bring you to your peak. He first brought your clit into his mouth and shook his head back and forth vigorously, coating his face with your slick in the process. Then he went to flicking with just the tip of his tongue at warp speed. The last ingredient to this orgasmic recipe was deliberately switching things up by slowly lapping at your bud. This man has the most talented mouth on the planet. You felt like your heart would explode out of your chest if he kept this up.

The coil in your stomach was impossibly tight, letting you know that your crashing orgasm was on it’s way. He just kept going to town on you ferociously, unrelenting. Ravishing you like you were his last meal. He brought your clit into his mouth and masterfully sucked away, his tongue lapping and collecting all of your juices in his mouth, groaning against your pussy...it was all swirling into a cacophony of otherworldly, indescribable sensations.

“Fuuuuck, Austin...” You moaned, head thrown back in ecstasy.

One of your hands trailed it’s way down to his mop of dirty blonde locks between your legs. His curls were plastered to his face with sweat from exertion, and you gripped him for dear life as he devoured your sweet cunt. He loved this, because he gave your ass a smack in approval. You were so love drunk on him, and he on you. You didn’t know exactly how much time you had before you collapse on top of him, but you knew it wasn’t very much longer. Your walls began to flutter around his tongue.

“I’m gonna fucking come all over your face.” You squealed, feeling the wave of your climax attempting to pour out of you and suffocate him.

The high pitched moans that were cascading out of your mouth like a waterfall was his signal that you were close. He could play nice and let your juices drip down his chin as you rode out your orgasm. However, even though that idea sounded amazing, he had other plans for you this evening. And Austin certainly was not about to let you come so quickly. A part of him felt bad for doing this to you right now, but only a little.

As you were in the throws of passion, chasing your high and your impending climax, Austin swiftly pulled his lips away from you. Your clit coming out of his mouth with a wet plop. You felt the wind knock out of you, like you were hit by a freight train at 100 miles an hour. Being on the edge of reality and crashlanding back down to your Manhattan loft was jarring to say the least. Trying to gain hold of your senses, you looked down at him. The look on your face flashed with multiple feelings - but mostly annoyance, horniness, and utter confusion. You literally were seconds away from coming.

Austin peppered kisses along your inner thighs and looked up at you through his long lashes. His breath was heavy and labored, eyes half-lidded and pupils completely blown out with with a raging fire behind them. Swallowing any remnants of your juices left in his mouth, he threw you a playful smile from below.

“Sorry doll, but you’re not coming just yet.”

Seriously?! This man had you on the very brink of a powerful orgasm, and he took it away from you just as quickly as it came. Your mind was a jumbled up mess. How can he just..do that without warning?! You definitely heard what he said, but it went in one ear and out the other. All you were really focusing on is your throbbing clit begging for release, and the fact that you couldn’t have it.

“Austin, please! That’s not fair!” You whined.

“Well, life isn’t always fair baby. We’re playing by my rules tonight. Now hop off me.”

Exasperated, you refused to move. In fact, you really couldn’t move even if you tried. Your legs were like jelly beneath you. Your thighs clamped around his head for so long that the thought of moving now sent a harsh wave of pins and needles prickling down your lower extremities. A part of you wished that this was some kind of sick joke and that he would finish what he started. But alas, that wasn’t about to happen. He was for real.

Austin noticed your reluctance to do much of anything, and doubled down on his command. Something wicked inside of him was brewing, and you were now on the receiving end of his games.

“Hey,” He says firmly, smacking your ass “Quit being a brat and get down here.”

As much as you strongly wanted to protest, you let out a loud sigh and followed his orders. Gathering up whatever strength you had left, your shaky legs gave way under you as you swung them off of Austin’s face. A string of his saliva trailed along with you as you rolled onto your back. As you collapsed onto the bed, you tried to gain some kind of composure. It seemed a little cruel that he would pull the rug from underneath you.

But as quickly as your head hit the pillow he was on you in a heartbeat.

Austin straddled either side of you as he pressed his body against yours. You instinctively went to wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him close. But he was faster than you, forcing your legs apart at your sides, capturing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs with the palms of his hands.

You were no match for how strong he was, no matter how you tried to buck yourself free from the confines of his vice grip, it seems like a fruitless effort. He hovered over you, his breath hot on your neck.

“Uh uh, not so fast. I have...other plans for you.” He growled. You knew that he was going to have his way with you tonight according to how he saw fit. As badly as you wanted him and your own release, you came to the realization that fighting back would be useless.

Relinquishing any power you had left in that moment, your thighs gave into the weight of his hands. He opened you up as far as you could go, exposing the heat of your core to the cold air. Your drenched pussy was on full display for him in an intensely erotic fashion.

“That’s my good girl. Now, you may not like my rules. But be forewarned. Disobey them and I won’t give you what you want. Follow my rules, and you’ll be rewarded. Understood?” Your eyes widened at this display of dominance. It wasn’t all too often that you and Austin played this dom/sub dynamic. But you couldn’t deny how hard and fast he could make you come by simply taking what's his. As frustrating as it was that he was keeping you on the edge, it was also exhilarating.

Finally understanding his game and playing along, you nodded in accordance to the guidelines he set. This pleased him, but he knew that you probably would break his rules and he’d have to find a way to punish you. But for now, he knew he had you under his spell.

“Good.” He slowly released his grip on your inner thighs and got up off the bed. Standing in front of you, he places his hands on the fly of his jeans. He knew you wanted to see his massive cock spring free, but he purposefully pulled down the zipper at a snails pace. Your chest rose and fell sharply, the anticipation building.

After what felt like an eternity, Austin allowed himself to push his pants and boxer briefs down his legs. He toed both garments off to the side and stood there intently watching your reaction.

A soft moan fell from your lips as you took in the sight of his thick cock standing to attention. He was definitely the biggest you’ve ever had, compared to your previous lovers. And you were craving for him to stretch you and fill you completely. The fact that you knew you couldn’t have him right here and now was agonizing. And he knew this, which he used to his advantage.

Looking down upon you with intense lust in his eyes like a predator watching their prey, he took his aching cock in his hand, smearing the bead of precum on his tip and spreading it over himself. He lazily pumped himself a few times, his eyes trailing up and down your body and eventually settling on your needy cunt. The sight of his saliva and your wetness smeared across your pussy and thighs, flushed red like the most beautiful rose, created a newfound thirst for you that needed to be quenched.

He licked his lips and pumped himself faster, flexing his toned biceps as he stroked himself. He was putting on a show for you, exactly like how you were moments ago for him. This was torture. “Fuck...” A staggered moan falling from his lips.

Watching him just stand there like the sexy man he was, touching himself and ogling at your pussy, was too much for your feeble willpower to handle. To relieve the pressure, you let one of your hands slide down your stomach, about to touch your clit. But he was quick to stop you.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself, you hear me? That’s an order.” He snapped. That alone got you so wet. Him being aggressive like this turns you on so much. Although you so badly wanted to touch your needy clit, you figure that the sooner you followed his rules the sooner you could come. So you once again, you obeyed. Your hands left your stomach and idly fell on the bed. You were a good girl and you were gonna show him.

Satisfied with you actually listening to his order, he took his hand away from his throbbing cock and crawled back onto the bed. Instead of moving directly on top of you, he settled down next to you, propping himself up on his forearm. Your legs were still spread wide for him, and he ensured you stayed in this position by moving his leg over one of yours to hold you there with his weight.

He took his free hand and palmed your face, gripping just hard enough to accentuate his authority.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

You nodded.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded a little harder. He chuckled under his breath.

“You want me to touch you, don’t ya?”. That was obviously rhetorical.

You nodded even harder.

“I know darlin’, I know what you want...I always know what you want...”

And sure enough, he knows exactly what you want. He collides his lips with yours. It’s all teeth and tongue. Its raw, passionate, and needy. Desperate. You both moan into the kisses, starving for each other. The hand on your cheek travels down your throat, giving you a tentative squeeze, reminding you who was in control. Austin turns his attention to your breasts. He cupped them, the fullness of your tits sitting perfectly in his large hand. He let his thumb skim over your nipples, ghosting them with light circles making them instantly hard under his touch. Sighing in delight, you tangled your hand in his golden hair, bringing him closer to your crashing mouths.

You scream internally when he finally moves his hand, albeit agonizingly slow, down your stomach. It was close but not close enough to where you want him. He takes his time in getting there inch by scorching inch to your core. Austin enjoys toying with you a little too much for your own liking, but he knew it riled you up in the best way.

His long middle finger skipped past your clit and went down to collect the wetness from your weeping hole before sliding it up your slit. This elicited a deep moan from the pit of your stomach. He spread your juices all over your folds, tenderly, knowing this was driving you wild.

“Austin...” You whined into his kisses.

Finally, he caved in and allowed himself to give you a taste of what you wanted. With your slick dragging along his fingers, he places circles on your clit. In a double whammy move, he also took your bottom lip in his mouth and bit down at the same time. Both of these sensations caused a strangled moan to erupt from within you.

Releasing your lip from his teeth, his tongue licked the shell of your ear. His breath sending shivers down your spine. “So fucking wet for me.” He mused.

He trailed hot kisses down your neck, finding the area he knows is your weak spot and ravishing it with his mouth. Your legs splayed even further out from your sides, giving him more access to your pussy in a display of submission. He was playing you like a finely tuned instrument, the music being the beautiful sounds falling from your lips and your dripping core.

After a few teasing circles on your clit, he went back down to play with your pussy lips with more fingers. He probed your entrance with his middle finger, both of you hissing at this newfound sensation.

“Goddamn baby, still so tight for me after all this time.”

He pushed his finger as far as it could go, brushing against your g-spot. Another strangled moan cascaded out of your mouth and into his ear, savoring every second. “Oh yes...”

He slowly began to leisurely pump his finger in and out of you, taking your pussy for a test ride before adding a second finger inside you. The feeling of your walls contracting and stretching around him was intoxicating. He wanted so badly to replace his fingers with his cock, but he had to show restraint. Not now...later.

“Aus!” Your head was thrown back against the pillow. He watched as his fingers slide in and out of you effortlessly, your tight walls hugging around him. He was power hungry off of watching you fall apart in his arms.

Austin wasn’t about to ease up on you. He went faster, fingering you like his life depended on it. Slamming into you, applying just the right amount of pressure to your g-spot. Your pussy was making loud squelching noises in no time.

“You like that baby, hmm? Being fucked mercilessly by my fingers?” He groaned in your ear.

“Yes!...just like that...” You screamed.

This man would be your undoing. Here you were, completely at his mercy, letting him use your body in however way he saw fit. As much as he was in the drivers seat right now, you wanted to show him how good you could be. You were playing a dangerous game, but your mind was already made up on the card you were going to deal right now. You were lost in the pleasure, and you needed more of him.

You couldn’t stop your hand from gliding over his toned chest and abs, earning a lustful sigh from Austin. Bolder yet, you instinctively went lower and lower until your fingertips brushed against the tip of his cock. His jaw flexed, tightly shutting his eyes, biting his tongue and swallowing back a moan. While he was having his way with your body he mostly neglected himself in favor of getting you off first. Your hand making contact with his hard cock drove him wild.

As you dipped your toes in the water to see if this was acceptable to continue, he looked down at you. No longer could you see the icy blue eyes you so lovingly adored. They were completely black. If looks could kill, you’d be dead in this very moment.

You knew what you were doing was okay when he rolled his hip in your hand, asking for you to go on, your fingers sliding along his shaft. He was pleading with his stare for you to touch him. His pulse quickened, waiting with baited breath for you to give him more.

You knew better than to go any further with a dry hand, you weren’t a sadist.

He huffed when you briefly pulled your hand away from his length, but his eyes widened when you went to spit generously into your palm. You felt him throb strongly against your leg. He knew he would be a done for as soon as your delicate hand milked his thick cock, but he also reminded himself that he was still in control -- his fingers were still buried to the hilt in your pussy after all.

The guttural, loud groan that erupted from within him when your slippery hand wrapped around his pulsing shaft made your walls clench stronger around his fingers. You could have come just from hearing your man fall to pieces in your hand, literally. The pillars of power were now balanced.

You started jerking him off, rotating your wrist expertly up and down his shaft and paying particular attention to circle the tip as you squeeze just the right amount of pressure.

Austin threw his head back and closed his eyes, blissed out on his cock finally being lavished with attention. “Goddamn it Y/N...my girl, my best girl.” He thrust his hips into your grip to get even more friction.

All bets were off now. You may have gained the upper hand with how good you were stroking his cock, but you ignited something within him. He was about to turn animalistic on a dime.

Somehow beyond your comprehension, he started brutally fucking you on his fingers even harder than before. His fingers were long, and your cervix was already feeling the beating it was getting by how sinfully hard he was thrusting into you. A thunderous growl erupted from his chest.

A strangled cry got caught in your throat. “Oh my god, Aus! Fuck!” You could have cried at how intense this feeling was. Your were riding off the back of your previously denied orgasm, and now you felt the familiar waves of another one lurking around the corner. He hasn’t even properly fucked you yet and he has you eating out of the palm of his hand. Both of you were caught up in the feeling of each other.

Now you were a woman on a mission. Not only were you going to get your climax, but you were going to have him chase his. The speed at which you were working his cock increased, making sure to give extra attention to his red tip.

He tried his damndest to gain control of the situation, but you were jerking him off in a way he couldn’t help but give in to. For a split second his brain almost allowed himself to surrender, forgetting this game he started and take you right now, or come in your hand and be done for. He could honestly take either route right now.

But he couldn’t faulter that easily. The gears in his brain started turning. As much as he wanted to focus on his pleasure, he flipped the situation back around to his favor. He started something he had to follow through with.

“You’re my filthy little slut aren’t you?” He gritted through his teeth. You almost screamed in ecstasy when his thumb finally starting rubbing furious circles on your aching clit. “I know you wanna come baby...I know you’re close...so close”. Goddamn him, you both knew he was right.

With his fingers sloshing around in your cunt, relentlessly pressing into your g-spot making your toes curl, and his thumb working your clit, it was only a matter of seconds before you collapsed around him with an earth-shattering orgasm.

“P-Please...please” You pleaded, begging him with a string of loud squeals. Surely he wouldn’t let you go without another release. This had to be it this time. You gave his cock a harder squeeze, spurring him on, which earned you another deep, lustful groan he couldn’t suppress.

He bit his lip as he got off on watching his masterful hand bringing you to the edge all over again. The ungodly noises emanating from your mouth and your pussy was wicked. The ball was completely in his court, and unfortunately for you it was game over.

Austin’s fingers pumped into you once, twice, three times before he finally slid them out from you, your slick pouring out from your hole and getting the sheets underneath you drenched.

It seems like the universe was laughing at you in this moment.

Are. You. Kidding me?

Your eyes sprang open and you peered down to your pussy where you saw Austin bring his fingers covered in your juices up to his mouth where he licked them clean. You fell back against the pillow, your chest heaving from having been denied a second orgasm. Frustrated didn’t even begin to describe how you felt right now.

He made sure you locked eyes with him as he slowly sucked on his fingers, a boyish smirk appearing on his face, well aware of the torture he was inflicting upon you. “You taste like fucking heaven.” He purred. At that point he was twisting the knife further in the wound.

“I hate you so much right now.” You sighed in agony, defeated. You released your grip on his cock and ran your hands over your face. This felt like your own personal hell.

“You love it.” he said smugly.

As much as you didn’t want to admit to yourself that you were actually enjoying this, it was far too late for that. He was keeping you on edge for so long, denying the thing you so desperately ached for. But in the heat of the throws of passion, you were enjoying yourself. Yet again, he wasn’t wrong. There was an obvious pattern forming here. Your body was shaking at how badly you wanted to come, how close you were. Is it even possible to be this turned on?! Clearly, the answer was yes. But the real question was, when would he give you what you wanted? It surely wasn’t right now.

As you lay there pondering all of these questions, he moved onto his knees and placed himself in-between your legs. You could clearly see that your handjob did the trick -- he was leaking like a faucet about ready to burst. You were sure that Austin couldn’t contain himself for much longer either. The two of you were thoroughly enjoying this cat and mouse game.

He took hold of his cock with one hand and teasingly rubbed the tip through your slick folds, punctuating your clit with a few brisk taps. The moan that fell from your lips was almost blood curdling. He was so close yet so far from being done with you.

“Look at you, so strung out for my cock.”

As you writhed on the bed, clutching the bedsheets for purchase, he trailed hot kisses from your navel all the way up to your neck. Each and every touch of his mouth on your body reignites the already blazing inferno within you. His final destination lands him at your ear, where he takes your earlobe between his lips and gives a little nibble.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you wont even remember your own goddamn name.” You shiver at his hot words. He doesn’t let up on rubbing his cock against your pussy, he’s just getting started. “But first things first...”

Before you had time to react, he had his other hand wrapped around your throat. It wasn’t hard enough to choke you, but it was firm.

“What’s my name?” He growled.

Instinctively his name falls from your lips. “Aus-” but before you can finish, he applies more pressure to your neck, halting the air from entering your lungs.

“Wrong answer. Try again, darlin’.” The previous times you and Austin explored a more dominant and submissive role in the bedroom, you remembered the conversation where he specifically requested that you don’t refer to him by his name. He wanted a title. He liked exploring this illustrious form of power play with you, but obviously he would never take it to far extremes. Suddenly, the correct answer sprang back into your memory.

“Sir.”

He flashed a crooked grin. “Atta girl”. As he released your neck from his grip, he got himself situated in the right position. He hovered over you, leaning his weight onto his forearm propped up by your head. Your heart beat loudly in your ears, you knew what was coming and your walls immediately clenched.

Austin took hold of his cock and aligned himself perfectly with your weeping entrance. His brow furrowed, his jaw slack as he pushed the tip inside of you. The pair of you moaning loudly at the intense feeling of pleasure cascading over your bodies. And then slowly but surely, he filled you up completely to the brim. Your tight pussy eagerly swallowed him whole, taking every single delicious inch of his massive cock.

There was a look in his eyes of pure ecstasy, of your dripping wet walls enveloping him to the hilt. The wild desire was evident on his face, but also he couldn’t hold back the unbridled love he had for you. He cherished the way your pussy enveloped him every single time he took you.

He didn’t give you too much time to adjust to his size. You couldn’t hold back the loud moan you roared from the depths of your soul when Austin started slamming his cock into. Tonight was not a night for soft niceties. This was about burning, aching, primal fucking. His breath was hot on your face, never once looking away from how your beautiful features contorted with intense pleasure.

“Oh F-Fuuuck!” You sobbed, head thrown back. Your nails dug into his biceps, trying to ground yourself in any possible way. He was fucking you so raw but so good. The feeling of your walls accommodating his girth was sinful for both of you.

“That’s it baby, take my cock.” He groaned. Austin was pounding into you, unrelenting. He kept a rhythmic and steady pace, your juices coating him like a warm blanket and letting him back in every time he thrust into you.

Getting lost in the overwhelming feeling of you, Austin captured your lips in a zealous kiss. His tongue working against yours, exploring the crevices of your mouth. He cupped your face. and your hand tangled through his hair. He pined for your release, expertly working your pussy in a way that only he can do.

Your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, trapping him even closer to you, pushing him deeper into the expanse of your heat. Austin suddenly pulled away from your flushed lips and sat back on his heels, grabbing hold of your hips as he elevated your ass off of the bed to meet his cock, snapping into you at a furious speed.

This new angle had you spiraling, his cock was ramming into that sweet spot deep inside your pussy in a brand new way that had you gushing around him, gasping for air. Your tight walls giving him an encouraging squeeze.

“Oh my god! Yes! Just like that.” you scream. The pleasure was forming with tenacity in your stomach. If you felt like you were floating only moments ago, then you were sure that your soul was leaving your body at this very moment. As he was riding you hard into the mattress you admired how drop-dead sexy he was. You studied this adonis of a man fucking the life out of you -- sweat was dripping down his furrowed brow, blonde tendrils fell down the slope of his forehead, his plush lip sucked into his teeth. You felt tipsy on his visceral sexuality as his throbbing length macerated the juices in your pussy. It was absolutely dirty.

You were sure that all of New York City could hear you two caught up in the feeling of each other's bodies. But you didn’t give a damn.

Austin knew all too well that he would be on the brink to spilling into you if he didn’t control himself. So he flipped the switch yet again. He quickly pulled out of you, suddenly leaving you missing the feel of him.

“Get on your knees. Face down, ass up. Now.” He said hard and fast, he needed to be back inside you as quickly as possible. Austin guided you along as his hands smoothly flipped you over onto your stomach. Your face was buried in the pillow, your arms tucked in by your side and your ass high in the air on full display for him, just like he wanted. You were a good listener when you wanted to be.

He couldn’t help but smack your voluptuous ass before he took hold of his cock again, running the tip over your slit, before bottoming out in your pussy in one fluid motion. You both moaned at the sudden intrusion and his thick cock back where it belonged. You were truly dickmatized.

He tightly clutched your hips as he brutally fucked you. Somehow his dick reached the depths of your pussy that you never even knew needed his upmost attention. Eagerly, you matched his his thrusts, slamming your hips back against him. This earned you a deep groan from him.

“Goddamn, such a good girl riding my rock...”

Your strangled moans were trapped between the pillow, your knuckles went white from keeping a vice grip onto the bed sheets. If he kept this up you knew you were on your way to your third impending orgasm. You just simply couldn’t get enough of him. He filled you wholly in the most naughty way, knowing exactly how to hit your g-spot every single time. It got all too much for you to bear, and tears sprang to your eyes threatening to spill over. Your senses were on fire, overstimulated by everything this man had to give you.

Somehow reading your mind, Austin balled your hair in his fist, making a makeshift ponytail, and pulled, jerking your head back towards him. You gasped for air as you finally could breathe properly without the pillow suffocating you.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” he groaned.

“You. F-Fuck, it belongs to you. My pussy is yours, Sir.”

“That’s right baby. It’s mine. All mine...”

Thrust.

“All mine.”

Thrust.

“Mine.” He snarled like a ferocious animal marking their territory. Your pussy was like the most addictive drug. He shuddered at how greedily your walls were milking his cock. He could have you like this for the rest of eternity.

He let his tongue lick a hot stripe up the side of your neck before releasing your hair from his grip, your head falling forward like a ragdoll completely at his whim. As you turned your head to allow yourself to watch Austin railing your pussy, you bounced yourself back against his cock.

The waves of pleasure were starting to roll stronger with each stroke. You hoped that you had acted like his good girl - no, his best girl, to get rewarded. One solitary tear fell down your cheek, his cock was expertly sending you to the path of no return.

“Please...I-I can’t...I’m so close”. You pleaded with strangled moans. In all honesty, he was dangerously close too. He sputtered inside of you, his fingers digging even harder into your flesh.

“I know, baby”. He mused. As much as he loves tormenting you, keeping you at the precipice, he desperately yearns for both of your releases. He needs to feel you explode on his cock, your wetness spilling out onto him. And he needed to paint your walls with his come.

His thrusts became sloppy, his hips snapping with a violent force, grazing your cervix in a deliciously painful way. Austin would at long last give you what you craved. In a devastating finishing move, he took two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them generously with his spit, and strummed your clit with determined ferocity.

“You wanna come, baby?”

You screamed at the sudden contact to your throbbing clit. “Y-yes!! Please, sir, please let me come...”. You were hell-bent on coming if it was the last thing you’d do. As he was playing with your clit you bounced yourself harder on his cock, trying to coax both of your climaxes.

“Do it. Now. Come all over my cock.” He howled through his clenched jaw.

Finally, you saw the finish line that was so far out of your reach the entire night. You let out a string of strangled crying moans, forcefully coming all over him. Your walls fluttered around him, engulfing his cock with your wetness. You came so hard you swear that you practically squirted. Your vison went white and you nearly passed out from the magnanimous orgasm he gave you. And he was in heaven. Watching you come undone was his kryptonite.

“God, Y/N! I’m gonna fucking come...” He roared loudly, head thrown back in bliss.

Mustering the last bit of strength you have in you, you coo to him seductively.

“Fill me up, Austin. Come inside me.”

And with that, he chases his orgasm right after you, snapping his hips one final time and coming so hard he sees stars. He groans an enchanting mix of profanities and your name until he collapses on top of you, unable to hold himself up anymore. He was dead weight, but the feeling of his body brought you a sense of comfort.

You both lay there for a while, a pile of sweaty limbs entangled on the bed, until he musters up some strength to lift himself off of you. Austin takes hold of his cock and slowly pulls out, watching his come seep out of you. He gathers what he can and pushes it back in, wanting every part of him to stay trapped inside your pussy for as long as possible. You moan at the intrusion from his fingers.

This was surely the most intense sexcapade you two have had to date. How the hell can sex with Austin keep being so fucking mindblowing?! This was one for the books. You sighed at the loss from his cock, your empty pussy still craving him inside of you. But you knew that you’d be feeling helplessly sore for days to come.

Austin rolls over to his back, running his hands through his hair and trying to catch his breath. Making love to you was the only exercise he ever needed. A massive, stupidly beautiful grin was plastered on his face. The alpha male energy that took over him has now subsided, and the gentle Austin was back.

As you turn over on your side to be drawn back into his loving arms, you rest your head on his chest. He brought your lips to meet his in a tender kiss, marking the end of the best sex you’ve both ever had.

“I didn’t hurt you at all did I? I probably over did it at times. Sorry, baby. You just get me so worked up.” He spoke softly.

“No not at all Aus. Honestly, being manhandled by you is such a turn on.” You nuzzled into him. He chuckled contentedly, placing another chaste kiss on your lips.

“Will keep that in mind for next time.”

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #ausitn butler fanfic #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler smut #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #austin butler x you #austin butler x fem!reader #austinbutleredit #austin butler x y/n #austin butler elvis #austin babe-ler #what other tags go here? idk

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its-time-to-write · 9 months

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Can you write a Jamie Tartt request where he and the reader are in the "between lovers and friends stage" and they finally get together when he has her sleepover at his place after finding out her ex was loitering by her apartment?

I’m alive (mostly!) and I’m starting to go through the asks in my inbox again! Sorry to all y’all who have been waiting. I love you!😇😍

p.s. I’ve been obsessed with the song “Margaret” by LDR, which is where the title comes from

(oh also I barely responded to this prompt so that I could write this dumb fic that’s been on my brain forever. so. apologies for that too)

maybe tomorrow you’ll know

It goes like this: boy meets girl, they go to the same primary school, girl kicks around football with boy and sneaks into his room to hug him when his dad’s a prick, boy moves away to become a Premier League footballer and girl cries her heart out because they’re best friends.

Fucking typical.

And yet, he still picks up every phone call. Still answers every text you send. He’ll never say the word “love,” especially not when he’s with Keeley Jones and their faces are all over tabloids and instagram. But you’ll feel it in the way he’s a prick to everyone but you. It’s in the way his voice goes soft when you call him at 2am crying about being dumped by your first boyfriend.

He doesn’t visit, doesn’t phone his mum, but he’ll send you a quick voice message when he can. Usually not saying much, just a snip about training. First it’s all about Pep and the lads at Man City, then it’s about some gaffer named Cartrick and the fact that he’s teammates with Roy fucking Kent.

Jamie never tells you that Roy absolutely fucking hates him, but you know anyway.

Jamie also doesn’t call you when Keeley breaks up with him. In fact, you don’t even find out about it until pictures of Roy and Keeley surface online. You call him as soon as you can, and in typical Jamie fashion, he picks up on the second ring.

You don’t ask him about Keeley, just let him talk about football and the new manager from America, and the fact that maybe Richmond isn’t so bad and maybe he can let his armor down just a little bit.

He’s sent back to Manchester the next day.

The bonds of childhood friendship run strong, because he’s on your doorstep in no time at all, and though it’s been years since you’ve seen him in person, there’s a part of you that feels like he never left.

It never goes beyond friendship with you two. You don’t allow yourself to consider him in any other light because this friendship is special and important and neither of you will let anything ruin it.

It’s so strange sometimes to see him on tv or in an interview, eyes sharp and mouth full of barbs. Always on the offensive, always cutting others down before they have a chance to do the same to him. You have a hard time believing it’s the same boy who’s on your couch staring at the ceiling as he fiddles with the hem of his sweatshirt.

He’s never spoken that way to you, and you have a hard time believing he ever will.

So you feed him and make him smile and go to as many matches as you can (he leaves tickets on your kitchen table so you won’t protest) and give him a house key so he can come and go as he pleases.

But then he’s gone again, it’s the off-season and he’s on some tv show and you’re watching him flirt and seduce and pull at people’s heartstrings like they’re marionettes, and you realize (perhaps for the first time) how deep the damage has gone.

He gets absolutely shredded online, called all sorts of names by fans of the show and football alike, and you wonder if you’re the only one who can see what’s happening. That it’s all a show and that person, that Jamie Tartt on the screen is not the Jamie Tartt who used to throw pebbles at your window to come see if you wanted to ride bikes together.

It’s different than when he went to the Premier League. He doesn’t answer your texts.

It’s fine though, because your life doesn’t revolve around him. You have other, real friends and a boyfriend and a nice little flat and a good job. So he can go do what he wants and when he needs someone to pick up the pieces, you’ll go because you understand that sometimes this friendship is a one-way street.

You miss him, though.

You don’t watch his season of Lust Conquers All until your boyfriend calls you and says, “Hey, it’s been fun, but I’m just not feeling it anymore, thanks for understanding,” and then you binge every episode right up to the current one.

So now you don’t have a boyfriend. You’re glad it hadn’t gone too far, but his words still stung. But you drown your feelings in ice cream and shitty tv and it’s alright because another episode airs in an hour, so you can see more of Jamie and hope he’s doing okay.

He’s not. He gets voted off and you think that’s stupid but also maybe a little bit good.

—

Jamie just thinks it’s stupid. He’s kicked off his only lifeline, and then Man City flat-out refuses to take him back and he has to find out on live television for fuck’s sake. And then he has the brilliant idea to ask Ted Lasso to come back, because of course Ted will take him, what with his yeehaw can-do bullshit. Except Ted tells him no, and now he has nothing.

He’s cut out every friend, every family member and is resigned to life as a has-been before he’s even twenty-five years old.

Now, he’s at home with the blinds pulled. He’s not even sure what time it is anymore because it’s all meaningless, innit? So when there’s a knock at the door, he has to blink a couple times from his place on the couch before turning off FIFA and going to see who it could possibly be.

He hopes it’s you, even though he knows there’s no way. Not after he ghosted you for months. He ignores the uncomfortable flip-flop in his stomach at the thought of seeing you, and the way his heart beats a little faster when he thinks of holding you.

He won’t cross that line. Your friendship (if it still exists) is too important.

So he opens the door, ready to see who the fuck is bothering him.

It’s Ted.

Ted asks, “Can I come in?” but he’s obviously not going to accept no as an answer, so Jamie steps back to let him inside.

Ted’s just standing awkwardly in Jamie’s kitchen, not even pretending that he isn’t shocked by Jamie’s decor.

Jamie isn’t going to defend his choices to Ted of all people. Nor is he going to do anything to lessen his awkwardness. Finally, Ted clears his throat and says, “Well Jamie, it seems we need to revisit our last conversation.”

Jamie stares at him, refusing to speak until he’s sure what Ted is saying, so Ted continues.

“I think I was a little bit too hasty when I said you couldn’t come back to Richmond. I’ve been giving it some thought, and we’d love to have you back.”

Jamie looks at Ted, all rumpled in his sweatshirt and shorts, hair as undone as it’s ever been, and is supremely unsure of what he’s supposed to say.

Yeah, I’ll come back to Richmond.

Fuck off, you’re too late.

He’s saved from saying something stupid by the sound of the front door rattling as someone punches in the code.

“You expectin’ someone?” Ted asks.

Jamie shakes his head, equally puzzled. “No one has the code, except-”

The door is shoved open and you burst through in a flurry of motion. You call, “Jamie?” but you can already see him in the kitchen so you make a beeline to his location and launch yourself into his arms.

He’s solid as always, smelling like day-old Lynx. His arms are tight wrapped around you, body warm as you press your cheek against his.

He sets you down after a moment, and brushes away a stray strand of hair from your face.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks softly, still not quite letting you go. Ted notes that this is a new tone for Jamie. Or at least, the Jamie he’s interacted with. It’s not a performance, not something designed to make people love or hate him, it’s what Ted suspects is the most authentic version of Jamie. Whoever you are, you must be important.

“Wanted to make sure you were ok. I saw your interview.”

Jamie makes a face. “Fuck’s sake, has everyone seen that shit?”

You shrug. “Hard to miss it. Your mum sent it to me. She’s kind of why I’m here, actually.”

“You know Jamie’s mom?” Ted asks, surprised. It’s only then that you notice he’s in the room. Your face heats up because you wouldn’t have been that grabby with Jamie had you known he weren’t alone.

“Hi, I’m Ted,” he says reaching out to shake your hand, “Seems to me like you know this one from a while back.”

“Uh, yeah,” you reply. “Which is why I figured something was wrong when he ghosted me for fucking ever.”

Jamie winces and Ted takes his cue.

“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” he says. He points a finger at Jamie. “You let me know what you decide, son.”

“It’s a yes, Coach,” Jamie calls as Ted heads out the door. You crane your neck in time to see Ted pump his fist in the air before the door shuts behind him.

“So,” you say, arms crossed, “you have a big fucking excuse for not answering my calls. But you better never fucking do it again, or I’m showing back up here with Georgie and she’ll kick your ass.”

Jamie grimaces. Sure, Georgie was never violent with him, but there’s something particularly terrifying about the way she says Jamie Tartt you have got some explaining to do, while her eyes do that thing where they flash and stare straight into his soul.

“Right, yeah, I’m really sorry,” he says and he’s lucky that his tone backs up his words because if he had one ounce of prick in his voice, you’d make him really sorry. I mean come on, who ignores their family?

The thought passes through your mind just long enough for it to freak you out before Jamie’s tentatively reaching out to hug you again.

You let him rest his head on your shoulder as you scratch his the back of his head.

—

You’ve been on Jamie’s couch for the better part of two hours, talking and letting him pretend like he’s not on the verge of tears because at least he’s being open and honest for once, when he shoots up and says, “Jesus Christ, fucking Kyle.”

He turns to you, eyes wide as he asks, “Isn’t he gonna wonder where you are? Shit, and you’re with me. He’s not gonna like that shit at all.”

You shrug infinitesimally while you examine a spot on the wall.

“We’re not together anymore,” you answer as casually as possible.

Jamie sighs and settles back onto the couch. “Shit. Glad you finally dumped that prick.”

You glare at him. “I didn’t. He dumped me. And then I found him lurking in my fucking bushes yesterday like a total creeper.”

Jamie’s up again off the couch, this time heading for his car keys as he yells, “For fuck’s sake, love, you should’ve called me.”

“I did!” you shout back. “I did, and you didn’t pick up, did you? Anyway, it’s probably not going to be an issue anymore.”

Jamie returns to the living room, face ashen. “Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit. I’m so sorry.”

You shrug and say, “It’s not a big deal. He decided that he liked certain body parts he owned more than he liked intimidating me.

Jamie grips his keys so hard that his knuckles turn white as he says, “Right, you’re sleeping over tonight because no one fucking treats my girl that way.”

Then he freezes.

You’re not frozen, because a single shiver has worked its way up your spine.

My girl.

It came out so naturally.

And it implied ownership? But of the mutual sort? And in a way that two best friends simply did notbelong together.

The entire house is so silent, you swear you can hear Jamie blink. Well, that is, if either of you actually moved a muscle as opposed to staring at each other across the room.

“What-” you start, but your throat is all weird and tight, so you clear it and try again. “What did you say?”

It still comes out much lower than you anticipated and Jamie has a split second to assess your body language and make a choice.

You’re fully angled toward him, eyes wide. You’re not giving him a look that says, shut the fuck up right now, Jamie Tartt, so he takes it as permission.

Permission to take one step closer, then another, then another until he’s standing right next to you. He slowly sinks down on the couch next to you as his says in a low, gravely voice, “I said, ‘no one fucking treats my girl that way.’”

Ah. So this is where over a decade of friendship has gotten you. On Jamie Tartt’s couch as your lips crash against his, both wondering why you hadn’t made a move sooner.

But it doesn’t matter, you’re here now and you’re sure you won’t waste a single second.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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