#abraham h parnassus x reader
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Hey ladies... Adam Driver.... Don't won't you ass... he wont.... mine.....
#adam driver#adcu#adam driver x reader#daddy driver#kylo ren#adam sackler#clyde logan#henry mchenry#flip zimmerman#father frape#phillip altman#abraham h parnassus#pale burn this
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MASTERLIST
Under the cut are x-reader fics for:
Flip Zimmerman (BlacKkKlansman)
Pale (Burn This)
Ronnie Peterson (The Dead Don’t Die)
Adam Sackler (HBO’s Girls)
Jacques le Gris (The Last Duel)
Clyde Logan (Logan Lucky)
Charlie Barber (Marriage Story)
Abraham H. Parnassus (Saturday Night Live)
Kylo Ren (Star Wars)
Armitage Hux (Star Wars)
Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)
Phillip Altman (This Is Where I Leave You)
+ Miscellaneous fics (and more! 👀)
updated: May 21, 2024
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Discord: waywardrose
BLACKKKLANSMAN
reader x flip zimmerman
🌹 A Reintroduction
rating: teen+, 1.5k, gender-neutral!reader, flip is dishonest, but also thirsty, drug-dealing mention
Flip. Your Flip is with the cops. He has a gun and a badge and everything.
That didn’t make any sense.
🌹 Flashfic: Flip could get it ✊
🌹 Flashfic: How do you think Flip would react to his wife’s changing body during pregnancy?
🌹 Flashfic: How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?
🌹 Flashfic: How do they picture their future with their s/o?
🌹 The Handler
rating: explicit, 4.4k, sexism, violence, abusive language, blood (bc of the violence), drug mention, guns mention, child sex-trafficking mention, rape threat, jealousy, fighting
You propped your cowboy boot on the table edge and took a long drink of beer. No one sitting at the table with you paid your rudeness any mind. In fact, Johnny Claiborne promptly placed his callused hand on your bare knee.
🌹 It’s Too Late To Turn Back Now
rating: teen, 2.1k, past physical-abuse mention, brief injury description, off-screen murder, period-typical sexism
The first time Flip saw you, you were bruised and cuffed. The scuttlebutt around the precinct was you had run over and murdered your abusive ex-boyfriend.
🌹 Queen of the Roller Derby
rating: mature, 2.3k, vague injury description, anachronistic sports teams and organizations
He couldn’t believe… Well, a lot of things. First, that he’d been invited. Second, that he was looking forward to the bout. Third, that he was anxious for your well-being.
🌹 NSFW Alphabet Series
ABC | DE | FGH | IJK | LMN | OP | QRS | TU | V | WXYZ
Bonus: My five favorite things about Flip Zimmerman
rating: explicit, 32k, stand-alone vignettes, oral sex, fluff, angst with happy ending, masturbation, daddy kink, public and semi-public sex, kind-of somnophilia, drug use, under-negotiated bondage and spanking, soft domming, ass play
Your legs went limp on Flip’s shoulders, and you felt him eased them down to the bed. He ran his big hands up your sides and then under your back as he bent forward.
🌹 Still the Same
rating: explicit, 13k, fem!reader, high-school!flip+reader, vaguely 1969 (with inaccuracies), fingering, handjobs, pining, military draft/service (with inaccuracies), colorado setting, period-typical drug use, magical first time, angst with happy ending
He cracked the window, letting in the crisp spring air. It was too dark to see where specifically he was looking, but he had turned to face you. One hand remained on the steering wheel, the other over the back of the seat.
He offered, “Wanna get in the back?”
“Sure,” you said, dropping your purse on the floor, and opened your door.
🌹 Three-day Weekend
rating: explicit, 3.2k, daddy kink, daddy dom, reader is not a little, off-screen negotiation, edging, oral sex, mild spanking
You woke to a hot hand sliding across your bare middle and lips kissing your shoulder. There was the tickle of whiskers, and you turned your head towards disruption. With a sigh, you opened your eyes to watch Flip kiss your shoulder again. He looked up at you as his hand traveled under the sheet bunched below your waist.
“Mornin’, baby,” he said. His voice was sleep-rough yet tender.
🌹 Triple-Feature
rating: mature, 2.8k, old-fashioned living arrangements, making out
The Aircadia Drive-In was running a classic-horror triple-feature this Saturday night. You read in the paper they were playing The Wolf Man, Frankenstein, and Dracula. That evening, you rang Flip and asked him out on a date. You even offered to pay.
🌹 You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet
rating: mature, 2.8k, detective reader, estranged married couple, smoking, period-typical sexism, dirty talk
…you balanced your mother’s big Tupperware container filled with homemade Samoas cookies. They were Flip’s favorite, and he detested sharing them. But he would have to—because you were famous around the station for your cookies.
You hoped he only got one. It would serve him right.
🌹 You Can Leave Your Skates On
rating: explicit, 2k, almost uniform kink, roller derby mention, clothed female naked male
The sink counter was strewn with make-up and hair tools and the pair of scissors from the kitchen. Before he could ask what the hell all this was for, you kissed his cheek and closed the bathroom door behind him.
Spiritual sequel to Queen of the Roller Derby
🌹 You Light Up My Life
rating: teen, 1.4k, sneakiness, secrets, fluffy married life
The first time you knew something was up was when Flip started his car and hurried to change the radio station.
🌹 You’re the Inspiration
rating: teen, 854, past alcohol abuse, fluffy afternoon
Flip sat in his switched off car and stared at the dark house. He wanted to break something.
BURN THIS
reader x pale
🌹 In the Night We Trust | playlist on spotify
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
rating: explicit, 57k, pretty woman au, prostitute reader, 1980s/90s, drug use mention, alcohol consumption, inherent power imbalance, soft dom, choking (not breathplay), safe sex, oral sex, semi-public sex, public dirty talk, rough sex, mild spanking, fighting, abusive language, attempted sexual assault, aftercare
“So tell me, Pale, are you in town on business or pleasure?”
“Business…” He looks at your lips. “Until now.”
THE DEAD DON’T DIE
reader x ronald peterson
🌹 A Grave New World
rating: teen+, 804, canon-typical violence, missing parents
You’d only gone on one date—a really nice date, too—with Ronnie Peterson and then the zombie apocalypse happened. Like, what the actual fuck?
GIRLS (HBO)
reader x adam sackler
🌹 Flashfic: …imagine him trying to cuddle and smooch his gf in public and she’s like “😬😬 what are you doing…? Mmm, I guess it’s not so bad”
🌹 Flashfic: please. please tell me about licking sackler’s sack. its all i can think about. my mind has been infected by thoughts of adam sacklers balls in my mouth
🌹 Improving His Taste
rating: teen+, 2.2k, post s05e10, arguments with SO, making out
You were so sick of Adam Sackler and his tempestuous girlfriends.
🌹 Let Me Explain
rating: teen+, 1.2k, light angst, happy ending
“Whoa, let me explain!” Adam implored while teetering in patent leather stilettos, a chef’s knife with slices of carrot sticking to it in his hand. He grabbed the kitchen counter with his left to steady himself.
🌹 There Is A Light (That Never Goes Out)
rating: explicit, 4.3k, canon-typical buffoonery, jealousy, brief non-con element, femdom-ish reader, oral sex
“Take off your clothes,” he murmured after kissing you. “And crawl to my bed.”
THE LAST DUEL
reader x jacques le gris
🌹 Fair Is Foul
rating: teen, 1.8k, historical inaccuracies, timeline inaccuracies, anachronisms, medieval flirting, sad/open ending, minor spoilers(?), rape mention
The other ladies at court told you not to demean yourself by keeping company with a squire. You pointed out that said squire had Count Pierre’s favor. Said squire might even be favored above any knight.
🌹 To Honor and Innocence
rating: mature, 5.3k, fem!reader, young!jacques, historical/jousting inaccuracies, ✨the middle ages were magic✨, catholic imagery, reader has a spring/summer birthday, just roll with me, making out, thigh riding, euphemisms galore
You needed to look away, but you couldn’t. He was striking with the sudden high color in his cheeks and glittering eyes. His smile softened around the edges, and your heart soared at the sight.
Look away, you’d told yourself. Look away before you lose yourself.
LOGAN LUCKY
reader x clyde logan
🌹 A Newer World
rating: teen, 1.3k, PTSD symptom mention
Jimmy leaned across the patio table, bottle of Coors in hand. “So, when you gonna make an honest woman outta her?”
🌹 Lucky Me Lucky You | duck tape jukebox on spotify | ambient mix by Sushii
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9
Bonus: NSFW Alphabet [2.1k]
rating: explicit, 33k, counter-espionage, angst with happy ending, alcohol consumption
You’d had big plans for your future. He’d had big plans, too. During senior year, you’d overheard him talking before class about joining the Army. You had thought about him in that service uniform and how handsome he would look.
Thirteen years later, Clyde was tending bar, sans uniform and missing part of his left arm. At the same time, you were working at the data-entry/call-center down the road from the house you inherited from your late grandmother.
So much for big plans.
🌹 When I Saw You
rating: mature/explicit, 3k, hairdresser!reader, touch-starved!clyde, post movie, erotic fantasies
In his fantasies, he always has both hands.
Which he knows is ironic.
MARRIAGE STORY
reader x charlie barber
🌹 Finding Treasure in the Dark
1 | 2
rating: explicit, 18k, submissive!female-reader, dom!charlie, under-negotiated bdsm, impact play, nipple play, oral sex, anal sex, piv sex, restraints, rope bondage, edging, semi-public fingering, sex toys, handjobs, public teasing
“Yes!“ she hissed in delight. "I told Professor Barber straight out I didn’t do that crap. Or let him boss me around. That’s why I dropped him, you know. If he wants some Stepford to indulge his impulses, he should go to Fetster or whatever.”
Your eyes went wide, and you shifted in your seat, faux-yawning and stretching your arms to cover the movement. You knew Charlie Barber.
🌹 Sweet Angel
rating: explicit, 3k, fluff, dog adoption, insecure!Charlie, piv sex
Since moving to a house with a fenced yard, Henry has been focused on getting a dog. First, it was getting a puppy for Christmas. When that hadn’t panned out, a dog for his birthday. Nicole wouldn’t install a real fence at her place, but tried to distract him with a new iPad.
That worked for a month.
SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE
reader x abraham h. parnassus
🌹 Flashfic: …what would young!Abe do for his wife on [Valentine’s Day]??
🌹 Flashfic: Abe Parnassus vibes jacquesdemys.tumblr com/post/125815250515
🌹 His Girl On A Friday
rating: teen+, 1.2k, corporate espionage, seduction
You’ve been sent by your father, Henry Pickens, to spy on his rival: Abraham H. Parnassus.
🌹 Indulgences
rating: mature, 1.5k, fem!reader, vaguely 1950s, old-fashioned euphemisms, dub-con-ish at first, public fingering, mild edging
It’s official: Don Carlos is boring. Yes, it’s a fundraiser. And of course, you agreed to purchase tickets. Anything to support The Met. But this opera, while beautiful, is dull.
🌹 My Baby Just Cares for Me Series
rating: explicit, sheltered-artist reader, vaguely 1950s, no vintage racism, written with old-fashioned sensibilities and euphemisms, oral sex, alcohol consumption, semi-public sex, sex toys, vaginal fingering, first time
— Expanding One’s Horizons [5k]
“We all need to expand our horizons,” you said as you went to the dining room to turn off the lights.
“Indeed we do, my love.”
— Tension Tamer [3k]
The mattress trembled under you. The softly lit face of your alarm clock said it was after three. You knew it must be work that had awoken him. The company was in the middle of a merger and tensions were high.
— A Treasure More Than Gold [2.2k]
You met your husband’s eyes across the dance floor of Hotel Astor’s ballroom. He’d let his five o'clock shadow develop into a short Vandyke beard in preparation for Babe Paley’s Halloween gala.
— Minx [2.7k]
Abe groaned into the coverlet as you pressed your thumbs on either side of his spine. His muscles were slowly losing their tightness. You didn’t think his desk chair at work was supporting him properly. Most likely, he never sat in it except to sign documents.
— It’s Magic [4.4k]
Don’t go to art school, they said.
— Two To Tango [7k]
You sat at the bistro table tucked in the corner of the pasticceria. Abe sat across from you, tiny plates of bite-sized cake on the table between you.
STAR WARS
general
🌹 The Skywalker Ascension
rating: teen, 4.5k, tros revision, mc death, angst, lightsaber battles, retcon timeline
“All the Sith live in me,” he vows. “You will be empress, and we will be one.”
While disgust churns her gut, she will not hate, she will not give in.
To him or to anyone.
🌹 Unsanctioned
rating: general, 371, universe jumping, pre-tfa, my poor attempt at humor
You’re taking the walk of shame to the kitchen, arms full of dirty dishes.
kylo ren x armitage hux
🌹 Bombing Out
rating: mature, 1.4k, canon compliant, cannoli kylux, gambling, strip sabacc, alcohol consumption, afterlife, mutual pining, arguing
He didn’t know why he was playing sabacc. He didn’t like card games. There was hardly any strategy. No planning. Everything was left to chance. It was messy. And the gambling. He didn’t mind risk, of course, but one had to match their opponents’ bets. Which meant the opponent had too much control.
It was idiotic.
About as idiotic as his opponent, Ben Solo—
Who had literally lost his shirt last round.
🌹 Iron Moon Series on AO3 | photoset | spotify playlist by ayudameme
rating: explicit, 36k, canon universe, xeno-vampires, canon-typical violence, the first order wins, soft kylux, but with blood, knife play, blood drinking
He wanted to taste it, lick it all up. He wanted to run his tongue along the cauterized edges of the cut on Ren’s face. He wanted to follow it down under Ren’s ruined clothing.
reader x armitage hux
🌹 Flashfic: Armitage Hux is low key hot
🌹 Flashfic: I want Hux to throat fuck me
🌹 Succor
rating: mature, 2.4k, shy princess reader, fo-leader hux, the first order won, arranged marriage, dirty talk
You felt your dinner guests’ eyes on you, their judgements. You ignored them while hiding behind the courtly rituals you’d been taught since childhood.
reader x kylo ren | ben solo
🌹 All the Time in the Galaxy
rating: teen, 1.9k, kor reader, mutual pining, first kiss
“Lady Ren, pardon the interruption—” You didn’t know what he was interrupting. You were both standing in silence. “—The techs have noticed something strange here on Starkiller.”
🌹 Call It In the Ring Series
rating: teen-mature, college au, art-majors kylo and reader, first date, sibling fights, nude photography, assisted masturbation, phone sex, fingering
— Hotshot House Show [2.5k]
You checked the address one more time on your phone. It was right, but definitely not what you expected when Kylo offered to make you dinner.
— Worked Shoot [5k]
Photography midterms were due in two weeks, and you only had one of the four photos you needed. You silently berated yourself because you’d known this was coming. It was on the damn syllabus.
But who actually read the syllabus?
— Clean Finish [2k]
You couldn’t believe you were about to do this, you thought as you stood naked in front of the clean bathroom mirror. You didn’t know if Kylo would like it. What if he didn’t?
— Vignette [938]
Ben was all “Morning, beautiful” with a grin Flynn Rider would be proud of. He sat close to you on the sectional sofa—even though there were plenty available places to sit.
— Bonus: I want nothing more than to strip off his clothes piece by piece, kissing any and all skin bared to me.
— Dirty Pre-show [1.3k]
You’d washed at the sink in the studio, but ugh, your jeans are splattered with slip. You’re pretty sure you have some on your face, in your hair. Hell, even one of your ears feels crusty.
How the ever living fuck does it get everywhere?
🌹 Dum Dums
rating: teen, 2.3k, gender-neutral reader, suburban high-school au, fluff, mutual pining, mild angst with happy ending
“Your boyfriend’s looking this way again,” Poe sing-songed before taking a big bite of his apple.
You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly who he was talking about. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you reply as you set your bottle of water on the lunch tray.
🌹 Flashfic: Please the (fem-dom!reader) story from gc…. I NEED IT
🌹 Flashfic: FAM IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU… PLEASE PLEASE WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT GIVING SMOOCHES TO FOREVER SAD BOY KYLO
🌹 Flashfic: How does Kylo spoil his lady?
🌹 Flashfic: So, what do you guys think is Kylo’s favorite way to kiss?
🌹 Hello
rating: mature(ish), 1k, modern au, dream-sharing, pining, possessiveness, nightmare elements, magic/force shenanigans
A phone rang. Burr-ring. Distant at first. Burr-ring. Clanging. Jarring. Burr-ring. It was too dark to find it. You groped around in the cool, damp blackness to find nothing. Burr-ring. You cursed just before your hand slapped against something cold and metal.
🌹 Me and The Devil Series
rating: mature-explicit, modern vampire au, death mention, blood drinking, menstruation, oral sex, biting
— Flashfic: …I want vampire!kylo to do *very* unspeakable things to me :)
— Flashfic: Very bored tonight and [thinking] about vamp!kylo, if you have any, what’re your favorite five about him?
— You’re My Sweetness [2.1k]
“You’re sad,” he murmured, a note of confusion in his words.
“Funerals tend to do that.”
“Let me make it better.”
— Red Wings [1.4k]
So, you laid there and bled onto an overnight pad that had to be the length of a regulation cricket bat.
— Flashfic: Do you have any thoughts on vampire Kylo sensually playing with you with his teeth?
🌹 Not Like the Rest
rating: teen, 948, alcohol consumption, politics
So, Ben’s kept moving for years. He hustles. He’s on committees. He researches everyone around him. He schmoozes.
And he’s schmoozing during a dinner to honor a retiring staffer when he sees you.
🌹 On the Pulse of Mourning
rating: teen, 6.5k, ptsd, angst, disregarding an elder’s wisdom, force choking, force weirdness
He sat on the lowered ramp of his TIE and waited for the Resistance scouts to find him. He didn’t think it would take them long. He’d landed only two klicks from the base.
🌹 The Sofa King
rating: mature, 550, hs au, making out, frottage
Anonymous asked: Ben Solo is such a precious little baby I don't see him making the first move. He would be way too nervous. Like during a movie night you could literally be in his lap, rubbing his chest, purring into his ear and he would just keep his eyes locked on the screen, jaw locked, shifting uncomfortably, and he making silly comments about the movie.
reader x kylo ren x armitage hux
🌹 Precious Pet Series on AO3 | photoset | playlist on spotify
Bonus: NSFW Alphabet for Kylo and Hux [1.6k]
rating: explicit, 335k, canon universe, force-sensitive reader, departing from tfa, stockholm syndrome, force bond, everyone has issues
A hush suddenly fell over the village and you strained to hear anything. Was it over? Had the Order gotten what it wanted? You had a gnawing feeling it was only beginning.
The whoosh of energy—you couldn’t identify the noise, but you knew it wasn’t good—pierced the air. There was a collective horrified gasp and more scrabbling and then more blaster fire. Something had happened, something terrible. Someone’s death had triggered it all. Suddenly, there were screams and controlled violent blasters, and you covered your mouth to muffle your sob. The village was dead. Everyone you knew was dead. Lor San Tekka was gone. You felt it like a punch to the chest.
STAR WARS/DREDD
armitage hux x clan techie
🌹 Little Blue
rating: mature, 1.3k, incest, abuse mention, jealousy, crushes
“I see you’ve been slumming it with the radar techs again,” Armie said from his perch on Techie’s bed.
Techie gnawed on his lip, stepping through the doorway of his berth, and let the door slide shut behind him. He knew it would be stupid to deny it. He was wearing the tech jumpsuit after all.
STRANGER THINGS
reader x eddie munson
🌹 Sidetracked
rating: teen, 900, mechanic!eddie, gender-neutral!reader, domestic fluff, slice of life
Maybe something last-minute happened. Like an emergency tow. Or a quick flat-tire fix. Or a gaggle of geese had waddled into one of the bays — again.
🌹 Through A Glass Darkly | playlist on spotify | masterlist
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28
rating: explicit, 163k, canon universe, fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn, friends to lovers, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, mild spanking, reader’s father is a dirtbag, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, breaking up, angst with happy ending, running away, guns, fighting, everyone survives, suicidal ideation
Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?
Weird weird?
He shrugged. He liked weird.
In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.
THIS IS WHERE I LEAVE YOU
reader x phillip altman
🌹 Risking Thorns
rating: explicit, 12k, post-movie, ice skating, nice suburban upbringing, slut shaming, almost enemies-to-lovers, prickly reader, phillip gets a short leash, bastardization of a jewish holiday, fingering, semi-public sex, phone sex, spanking threat
Once she pulled out of the parking lot, you asked, “So, where are we going?”
“Altman’s? I thought you got your skates sharpened there, too?”
Mental alarms went off as you shook your head. You knew the Altmans…
THE WITCHER
yennefer x geralt
🌹 Nailed Into Place
rating: explicit, 14k, modern new orleans au, inspired by s01e03 “betrayer moon”, mishmash of nola folklore, i’ve altered the striga curse (pray i don’t alter it further), references to s01e05 “bottled appetites”, timeline what timeline, alcohol consumption, incest mention, pedophilia mention, injuries, blood, ableist language, a sprinkling of geralt/jaskier
Geralt Rivia is the only witcher in New Orleans. He’s typically hard to find until Jaskier decides to announce on Instagram where he’ll be performing via selfies with Geralt in the background. Baron Ostrit, an associate of mob-connected Foltest Temeria, shows up to hire Geralt to rescue his daughter from slavers. Another princess to save. Geralt finds himself in a tangle lies, from the Marigny to the Garden District—and consulting with a mage he hasn’t seen in years…
MISCELLANEOUS
🌹 Character Soundtrack
Songs and playlists for characters I (and others) associate with them. Feel free to message me with ideas!
🌹 BlacKkKlansman Supercut
Flip Zimmerman scenes only.
🌹 Logan Lucky Supercut
Clyde Logan scenes only.
🌹 Burn This - Audio
Bootleg audio recording of the play.
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if any of y’all nasty bitches have ideas for
✨ Abraham H. Parnassus ✨
...you know where my inbox is ;)
I’m just horny for him, okay?!
#idk what's wrong with me#but i would smash#abraham h parnassus#adam driver snl#abraham h parnassus x reader
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Creator Tag Game
Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!
tagged by: @morby @finn-ray-nal-beads @clydesducktape @aloneandsleepless @roanniom (Thank you so much, my talented darlings!)
I didn't write as much as I wanted this year. No surprise there. Hopefully, I'll be able to fill the rest of the prompts I have in 2021. So, if you've sent a prompt, I've been sitting on it. Racked with guilt. I apologize.
Clean Finish - kylo ren x reader - mature/e, nude photography, phone sex
I adore triplet!Kylo. I enjoy writing this college-AU series. (I promise there is another fic coming.) It was such a treat to write a different kind of Valentine's Day fic. I really like the dialogue in this fic, too. It's pretty sexy.
Two To Tango - abraham h. parnassus x reader - e, non-traditional jewish wedding, first time, old-fashioned euphemisms and views on sex
I'm proud of the whole series this fic is a part of, to be honest. I always have fun with Abe. He's a loving eccentric and worth all the effort. Because the research I did for this fic was ridiculous! I did not exist in the 1950s, so a lot of the details I had to look up. It all came together rather nicely.
Risking Thorns - phillip altman x reader - e, slut shaming, fingering, semi-public sex
I threw everything I thought Phillip would do in this fic. Well, maybe not everything. 😉
Before I began, I asked myself, 'What does Phillip need?' The answer was THE SHORT LEASH. The boy needs to be reined in. Just a little. He needs direction and someone who won't take his crap. And in walks skates a very prickly reader.
In the Night We Trust - pale x reader - e, pretty woman au, soft domming, rough-ish sex, mild spanking, drug use
This multi-chaptered fic was experimental from beginning to end. I don't usually write in present tense. I've never adapted a movie to prose. I hadn't written with Pale before. Hell, I haven't even seen the play.
While the fic isn’t everyone's cup of tea, I enjoyed myself. It was a labor of love. Or maybe a love letter to the reader? I don't know. (Though every fic I write is a love letter to you.) Either way, I discovered Pale has a marshmallow center under that hard candy shell, and that still delights me.
Finding Treasure in the Dark - charlie barber x reader - e, dom!charlie, under-negotiated bdsm, rope bondage / shibari, nipple play, edging, sex toys
This fic is a remix of Musyc's Ardent Bonds. I contacted her and proposed my idea. Neither of us had tried anything like it, but she was game. Actually, she was very gracious. I really can't praise her enough.
Anyway, let's talk about tender-dom!Charlie. He knows what he wants. What he needs is the assertive yet sexually-submissive reader. Though, he didn't know that at the meet-cute. It was fun to have Charlie be a sweet dad, a good professor, and a firm dom. I don't think they're mutually exclusive.
Charlie is undaunted, like Nicole said, and not just professionally. In Marriage Story, we see him and Nicole at their worst, their lowest. I wondered how Charlie behaves at his best or when he's his truest self.
Again, I asked, 'What does he need?' He needs someone as unflinching—undaunted—as him.
Those are the highlights of 2020! It's been a shit year, but there have been some nice moments. Thank you for your continued support, dearest reader! Stay safe and be healthy! XOXO
#kylo ren x reader#abraham h parnassus x reader#phillip altman x reader#pale x reader#charlie barber x reader#rose writes
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Hi hi hi! I was wondering if requests were open and if so what are the chances of a Parnassus ghost story? Something like Crimson Peak but Pickens grand daughter being haunted and warned about Parnassus? He’s seductive at but still crazed with soft bones and a hardened spirit. Anywho, hope you have a good day!
ajdf;sj I love this so much.
Ghost are real, that much you know. You’ve seen them all your life. But none have ever been so tenacious, so driven to make you see as the ones who inhabit the home of your new husband Abraham.
It’s late at night when they come to you, their whispers carrying on down the hall, growing louder and more unbearable until you can fight them no more and you’re awoken from your slumber. They warn you often, tell of the awful things that may befall you should you allow yourself to succumb to the charms of the infamous oil baron.
They make their appearances during your most intimate moments, showing up in a mirrored reflection, or perhaps spotting them out of your peripheral; always when Abraham is promising to fill your belly with his seed, to produce a strong heir that will some day take over the legacy that he’s created from the ground up. You’re unaware of his true intention, so blind to the fact that you’re merely a pawn in his ever evolving game of cat and mouse with your grandfather.
The ghosts, they try to warn you.
Will you listen?
#Ask#clydesducktape#Horrorfest#Abraham H Parnassus#Abraham x Reader#Parnassus x Reader#Abraham H Parnassus x Reader
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Omg I came to give compliments on the Abe Drabble and upon seeing your askbox says ‘prompt me’ then I surely will prompt u 😝 it really caught my eye the fact that Abe and his love defiled her art workshop at their home, can you tell us how that first time went? Meanwhile, I’m gonna go re-read the post because it was so goood!
Okay, I lied earlier about only combining two of the Abe prompts. I read both of these, and an idea came out of nowhere to fricken maul me! [Dr. Phil: Thank you for that…] This piece has elements of both prompts. I hope it satisfies! Thank you, sweet nonnies, for reading, the compliments, and prompting me! I really do appreciate it—and you.
pairing: abraham h. parnassus x reader
rating: mature
warning/tags: sheltered-artist reader, no vintage racism, vaguely late 1940s, old-fashioned euphemisms, creeping into sugar-daddy territory, vaginal fingering
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IT’S MAGIC
Don’t go to art school, they said.
You sighed at the large wad of clay that was supposed to be a hollowed-out mountain. It looked like a… a pile of turds. You didn’t know how you were going to fit the mirror inside the top so when the observer leaned over, they’d see themselves.
You’ll never earn enough money to live on, they said. No one cares about real art these days.
You had given the piece the working title of “Holy Mountain.”
Maybe they were right. Maybe you weren’t cut out for this life. You couldn’t even manipulate clay to make a rudimentary mountain. You didn’t know why you wanted the observer to interact with the piece. Your ideas were all over the place.
You tossed the encrusted loop tool onto the bench and looked at your dirty hands. You couldn’t believe you’d turned down a date with Abraham to work on this stupid project. The school was practically deserted on a Friday night. Though, the janitor was running the floor polisher one level down.
You could’ve had a nice meal with Abraham. Maybe gone dancing afterwards. Yet here you were: wearing a tired outfit and dirty smock, alone and hungry. You feared if you postponed another date with him, he’d find someone else.
There were plenty of girls he could ask out. Girls who wouldn’t ruin a manicure with paint and clay. Charming girls with perfect hair and safe topics to discuss in polite company. You didn’t know why he was interested in you, nor why he’d approached you during the student art show at the end of last quarter.
He was an executive with one of the corporate sponsors for the show, Sanders and Pickens Global Oil & Gas. He’d been imposing with his dark, penetrating eyes, bespoke navy suit, and impressive height. But then he’d told you an off-color joke about an unused Carnation Milk slogan. It shocked you right into laughter. He smiled, offering his elbow, and asked you to guide him through the show.
It had been easy to talk with him. He listened when you explained your piece. And then he had flirted, which made your already-thumping heart kick into high gear. He’d said your work reflected your beauty. You scoffed, but he insisted.
He’d said, “I see you here,” as he motioned to your mixed-media abstract. “And I’m spellbound.”
“You make me sound like a witch.”
“An enchantress.”
You looked into his bourbon-brown eyes to see sincerity. You were quiet for a beat too long. You didn’t know how to reply. No one had ever spoken to you like he had.
He ducked his head. “You must pardon my overstep,” he said and made to move away.
You tightened your grip on his bicep, insisting: “You haven't—!” You placed your other hand on his forearm. “Overstepped… I’m not used to…”
“A man taking interest?”
You shook your head.
“Well, I have. Is that a problem?”
Again, you shook your head.
“Are you interested in me?”
This time, you nodded with a grin.
He grinned back, the flirtatiousness returning. “Well… Are you amenable to seeing me outside this art show?”
His eyes flashed with bold warmth when you’d giggled like a little girl. He suddenly looked so young. His striking face glowed, more interesting than any art around you.
“Yes!” you’d laughed.
After that, he’d strutted around with you on his arm, all blushing smugness. Your cheeks had radiated heat, more from pleasure rather than embarrassment. He’d been so debonair at the end of the show, asking for your number and kissing the back of your hand.
He called the next day to arrange a date for the coming weekend. You recall sitting next to the house phone in the hallway and how every other boarder had something very important to do outside her respective room. You’d hidden your hot face when he again called you his enchantress.
The questions the girls had after the call were embarrassing. They wanted to know all about Abraham. They had advice for your hair and cosmetics and how to style your limited wardrobe for a fancy night out. They offered perfume and extra rollers for your hair.
It had all been so overwhelming.
You weren’t fancy. Any money your parents gave you went to art supplies. You only owned cream rouge and loose powder. Most of your clothes were from high school, and you only had one pair of black pumps.
But none of that mattered when he knocked on the door that Saturday. He didn’t notice you’d hidden the scuffs on your pumps with ink. Or that your dress was faded and the stones of your brooch were paste.
He’d smiled at you and escorted you to his maroon Cadillac convertible, which he’d parked illegally out front. When you glanced back at the house, you saw multiple faces in the big parlor windows, in multiple states of skin care, looking back. The girls cheered when you gave them a small wave.
And the end…
A new wave of heat flowed through your cheeks.
The end of that first date had been wonderful—everything you’d read about in the books you weren’t supposed to know.
He’d taken you to the Shakespeare Garden after dinner. You marveled at the riot of colors. There were waxy tulips in punchy reds and oranges. He sat with you on a bench under a magnolia tree—his favorite—and talked about art and philosophy.
You learned about his parents, finding his beginnings had been as humble as yours. He didn’t care that you had no money. He didn’t care about a lot of things a younger you had been told were important.
All he wanted was to be a successful oil-man and provide for those he loved.
Your eyes met as the sky went from coppery pink to misty purple. His arm had been behind you, thumb stroking one of your scapulae. His gaze was so direct, you wanted to look away. If he looked too closely, he’s see how out of place you were.
Instead, he gave you a soft grin and leaned in. At first, you minutely angled back, but you realized it was habit. You didn’t actually want to move away. And he gave you space to decide as he silently asked for permission to kiss you.
In the end, you’d brazenly closed the distance for the kiss. It had been awkward, your nose bumping into his. He chuckled, murmuring that his beak was getting in the way.
“No,” you whispered, smiling. “It’s a beautiful nose.”
“All the better to smell you with.”
You laughed at that, cupping his cheek in your palm. His eyes were like diamonds in the twilight as he scooted closer. You kissed him again, and he slanted his head.
And it’d been perfect.
His full lips eagerly pressed against yours. He taught you kiss by kiss how to let go. You touched his hair, the rims of his ears, his angular jaw. You tasted the manicotti and red wine on his lips—and then his tongue.
It was so wicked, and you were dizzy for more. Your body was alight with desire. You’d never felt that way before, not with anyone.
Abraham’s arm behind your back curled you towards him. His other hand rested high on your thigh, right where the garter clipped to your stockings. It made you all too aware of the flimsy fabric separating his heavy hand from your flesh.
You pulled away when you remembered you two were in public. How could you forget? Anyone could see. They’d think you fast and him a lecher.
You whispered, “Sorry,” and hid your hot face.
He gently shushed you and offered his hand, which you held in both of yours—
A sharp rap on the studio doorjamb jolted you out of your memory. You turned to see Abraham in the open doorway, holding a jug of beer and a greasy brown-paper bag.
You jumped to your feet. “Oh goodness!” Your clay-crusted hands darted to your hair until you remembered how dirty they were. “What—?”
“I couldn’t live another night without seeing you,” he dramatically announced, stepping inside.
You laughed to hide how downhearted you were about your sculpture and told him to make himself comfortable. The door clunked closed behind him as you washed your hands at the big sink at the back of the room.
You were startled once more when Abraham slid a hand around your back.
“Something wrong, my darling?” he asked.
Darling. The endearment felt so good, you almost cried. No one had ever called you that.
You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “No, it’s just this silly project.”
You turned off the water, and Abraham handed you a paper towel from the stack.
“It’s in the early stages,” he said to comfort. “What’s the concept?”
“The inviolable divinity of the spirit. Any holiness you find on a mountaintop is the holiness you brought up there.”
You didn’t want to tell him you had beatnik friends who’d introduced you to transcendentalism. Your parents would be horrified, afraid you were crazy from reefer and engaging in free love and anarchism. You didn’t want to scare Abraham away, either. He was a sensible businessman, not some feral bohemian who lived off exotic coffee and jazz. And you certainly didn’t want him knowing you were open to that sort of thing just yet.
“That is quite the topic.”
You sighed as you finished drying your hands. “It’s supposed to be a mountain.” You turned to him and looked at the pile of clay-turds on the worktop. “But look at it.”
“Mountains aren’t built in a day.”
“You’re right,” you breathed and rested your forehead on his chest.
Then you remembered you were wearing a grubby smock. You gasped, saying you didn’t want to dirty his clothes as you stepped away. His nice blue button-down, brown tweed slacks, and driving jacket didn’t look contaminated, though.
He said with a sly tone, “Then why don’t you take this off?”
Your cheeks were like flames as you admonished him: “Abraham!”
“Just Abe, my darling. You know only my mother calls me by my full name.”
While that might be true, you privately thought Abraham was a good name, a strong name.
“If that’s what you want.”
“Or you could try any number of pet names.”
“Oh?” You smiled as you took a few steps to throw the damp paper towel in the trash. “Which would you prefer?”
“How about ‘lover’?”
The smile melted from your lips as you froze. “I’m not sure that’s… right.”
“We could remedy that.”
“I’m not—” A hussy. “I want—” Love first. “I don’t think that’s appropriate.”
“What I feel for you isn’t appropriate in the slightest.”
Your breath caught in your throat, heart wrenching in your chest. You grabbed the counter next to you as your knees quaked.
“What do you feel?” you croaked. “For me?”
“I wish to hear from you every day. I want to know you. I want to kiss you good-night, kiss you everywhere.” Your ears burned at that, but he continued, “Touch you all over.”
You took a step back in fear. But you didn’t know what you were afraid of. Your heart was pounding in your chest.
“Take off that smock.” His dark eyes caressed you, ate you up. “Please.”
Your hands went to the smock’s top button. You looked down at them, wondering why they were obeying him. They trembled. Were you actually afraid? Of Abe?
This didn’t feel like fear. This was something new—something adjacent and unexplored. You couldn’t name it, had never experienced it, but you didn’t want to run away from it.
“Please,” he said again. “I won’t compromise you.”
As you unbuttoned the smock, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over a nearby stool. You watched him roll up the sleeves of his shirt. His forearms were elegantly muscled, his hands sturdy.
You felt immature and inexperienced in your pilling short-sleeved knit top and dirty saddle shoes. Your tartan skirt was starting to fray at the hem. You fisted the smock in front of you in an attempt to hide the state of your old clothes.
Abe slowly approached, holding out a hand to take the smock from you. With a deep breath, you gave it to him. You adjusted the neckline of your top and stood straight as he draped the smock over a table.
When he turned back, he looked you over with an unfamiliar mien. “My little sweater girl,” he crooned.
“No, I—” You went hot for the nth time and smoothed down your skirt. “It’s from high school. I haven’t replaced it yet.”
“Maybe I can help you replace it?”
“Oh, I couldn’t!”
“I want to,” he said and stilled your hands, taking them in his. “Let me.”
“I…”
“Let me take care of you.”
You nodded and watched him bring your hands to his lips. He kissed your knuckles and turned your hands over to kiss your palms. You cradled his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. He inched forward as he wet his lips.
He whispered, “Will you let me now?”
You nodded again, drawing him in. The second his lips touched yours, you knew you were a goner. With hands at your waist, he pressed his front to yours. He kissed you hard, invading and teasing you with his tongue. He nipped at your bottom lip, sucked at the sting.
All you could do was hang on and try to reciprocate while he teased these desperate sounds from your chest. You clutched at his shoulders and thick hair. You sucked at his tongue, feeling wonderfully dirty.
His body was all hard lines and firm muscle. He rubbed against you and groaned against your lips. The urge to wrap your thighs around his hips shocked you, had you gasping at your own shamelessness.
“Can I touch you?” Abe half-slurred, sounding so unlike himself.
He was already touching you, but you knew what he meant. The hazy thought of his big hands under your shirt had you nodding. You raised yourself on tip-toe to kiss him once more.
He swooped in to devour you. One arm went around the small of your back while his other hand glided up your side. His touch was slow and ardent, making you want so many new things.
When his palm cupped the side of your breast, you froze mid-kiss. His thumb skimmed the underside and glanced off your nipple. You shivered as a tingly wave of pleasure swept down your body.
Abe whispered, “Shall I continue?”
You knew you should say no. Good girls weren’t felt up like this—at their school, where anyone could walk in. But there was nowhere else to go. You certainly couldn’t go home with him. You’d be ruined. And he couldn’t come with you to the house. Men weren’t allowed on the second floor.
But his bold touch felt good. You wanted him to fondle you and give you what you’d only read about.
You met his gaze. “Yes, please.”
He gave you a devilish smirk before kissing you again. You let your hands wander over his shoulders and into his hair. His touch was electric, even through clothes. You arched into it, encouraging without words.
In reply, his other hand squeezed your rear. It was delicious and wrong. You shouldn’t let him do that, and you pushed at his shoulder, breaking the kiss.
“Abe, we can’t,” you said.
“Yes, we can. No one’s up here but us.”
“But…”
“Do you not like it?”
It wasn’t a matter of not liking. You wanted him to respect you. If you were easy, he’d use you and throw you away. Wouldn’t he? That’s what everyone said about dating: Men were wolves after one thing.
“It’s not that,” you replied.
“Oh?” He dipped down to mouth at your neck. “What is it, then?” he murmured.
You bit your lip at his gentle touch and breath ghosting over your skin. He drew you closer as he kissed his way up your neck to your jaw. Your head went fuzzy with his kisses. You couldn’t remember what you were protesting.
His voice was low as he said, “Tell me to stop and I will.”
“I…”
“You’re so tempting, you know. So beautiful. I can’t take it.”
“Abe…” you whimpered and took hold of his face, angling him up for a kiss.
His swollen lips crushed against yours, urgent and hungry. He forced his tongue inside to sweep over yours. All you could do was hang on and surrender. He overwhelmed in the best way. Everything—every worry or nagging fret—beyond him fell away.
His hands grasped your rear, and he hoisted you off your feet. You gasped, clinging to him like you’d die if you didn’t. He set you on the counter, nudged his way between your knees, and dragged you to the very edge.
With your torso tight to his, your skirt rucked up, and thighs on either side of his hips, you knew he could compromise you. He was already. Because you wanted more.
You wanted to feel his hands on you, know his touch and all his kisses.
He tilted your chin up. His eyes were so dark, cheeks so pink. He caressed your bottom lip with a thumb. You kissed the pad of his finger.
Abe stared at your mouth before asking again: “Shall I continue?”
You swallowed, thinking of his promise not to compromise you. Maybe he had no intention of doing so, but you didn’t know if you could trust yourself. You adjusted your seat on the counter, feeling your underwear wetly cling between your legs.
How embarrassing.
“I don’t know, Abe…” You looked away. “I’m not, ya know—” You shrugged. “I need to clean up.”
“You don’t smell dirty to me, my love.”
He leaned in and down to kiss your neck again. Your eyes rolled back as he left a path of biting kisses down your neck. You hugged him and fisted his shirt.
He whispered, “Unless you don’t mean bathing.”
“I don’t,” you replied just as softly.
“Can I make it better?”
“Better, how?”
“Can I help you forget?”
Your skirt slithered up your thighs little by little. You reached down to stop it, meeting Abe’s hands bunched in the fabric. If he saw, or God forbid, caught a whiff of how turned on you were…
“Let me make it better.”
You had a feeling he meant make it worse.
He purred, “I’ll make you feel good.”
He held the outsides of your bare upper thighs. His warm fingertips were centimeters from your underwear. You shouldn’t let him touch you like this. It didn’t matter how right it felt.
“I—”
He cut off your protest: “Just you. Only you.”
His eyes smoldered with lust. A lock of hair curled over his forehead. He was captivating, and you wondered if prey felt like this when a predator approached.
“I’ll do anything,” he rasped.
You placed your hands over his and drew them up the scant distance to your underwear. He softly groaned and kissed you hard. You braced yourself with hands on the counter, kissing him back and sucking on his bottom lip.
His thumbs slid between your legs to rub at the cotton of your underwear. You squirmed against the gentle pressure of his touch. It almost satisfied.
He purred against your lips as his fingers found your slit. He must feel how wet you are. You wanted to apologize or explain.
Abe broke the kiss to say, “Such a dirty girl you are, sweetheart.”
“Oh, I—”
“I love it.”
“Oh…”
“Shall I keep going?” he asked as he massaged your sensitive flesh.
Your mouth dropped open, and you nodded. His stroking fingers felt so good. And was even better when he concentrated at the top of your slit. Your hips rotated against his fingers. You couldn’t stop yourself, your body moved of its own accord.
He caught your lips with his own. Surrendering to his kiss and touch felt right; inevitable since that first date. You wanted everything from him.
You skimmed your hands under the collar of his shirt as you lost yourself in his kisses. His skin was silky smooth and hot. The wet rub of your underwear over your nerves sent sparks up your belly. But it wasn’t enough.
You mewled, spreading your knees and curling your pelvis up.
He pulled away to shush you. “Not enough, is it?”
You bit your lip and shook your head.
“That’s all right, darling. I know what to do.”
He drew his hands from under your skirt. You wordlessly protested, but he shushed you again.
“Trust me,” he murmured.
He snaked his hand between the ribbed hem of your top and the waistband of your skirt. You didn’t know what he was doing. Nothing up your shirt was going to help this growing, gnawing tension inside you.
Instead of going up your body, he went down. Between your stomach and underwear.
“Wha…?”
“Trust me.”
He maneuvered to the side and then plunged his big hand down your underwear. You stiffened and put a hand on his forearm. Not necessarily to stop him, but you needed the contact.
He slowed as his fingertips touched your pubic hair. You shivered and couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or anxiety. He lowly praised how soft your skin was, how he needed to touch you. You nodded and held your breath. You needed it, too.
At first contact of his fingers to your delicate slit, you drew in air. This was really happening. It was no fantasy.
“So slick and hot,” he commented.
You hid your overheated face in his broad shoulder as you fought not to beg for more. You almost lost when he pushed right between your folds. It felt so good. You didn’t want him to stop now.
He stroked with two thick fingers, slow and delicious. You breathed in his aftershave as your head swam with such new pleasure.
“One day,” he hotly said. “I’m going to lay you on our bed and take you like this.”
“This” turned out to be fingers slowly pushing inside you.
You cried out before slapping a hand over your mouth. No one could know what he was doing to you.
He continued, “It won’t be my fingers in this honeypot.” He eased them out and back in again. “It’ll be my cock.”
You groaned at his vulgarity as your body protested a little at the penetration. Though, it hardly deterred you from wanting to feel that unyielding, yet luscious fullness.
When his words finally registered, you realized he wanted more than just this with you. He wanted it all with you. He’d said “our bed” like he was setting up the future.
Your heart soared. Because that future—a future with him—sounded wonderful.
“You want that?” he asked as he steadily pumped his fingers. “Want me to be your first?”
You nodded, uncovering your mouth, and breathed, “Yes.”
He kissed your temple and edged his fingers out. You almost asked for him to push inside again when his fingertips darted over a tender bud of nerves at the top of your sex. It was as though he’d touched a live wire, except the shock went through you.
You muffled a moan with your hand again. He asked if that was good, and you nodded as you gripped his shoulder. He placed his other hand on your lower back. It steadied you, keeping you in the moment.
“I have you,” he said and held you close as he petted that hypersensitive bud between your legs.
Each slide of his fingers made your body tense. You held onto him as he tightened his hold on you. His arm flexed between your bodies. His deft fingers worked you until your whole body was tense and shaking. There was no pause, no relief.
You needed some release.
“Please,” you begged from behind your hand.
Abe pressed harder, worked faster. You weren’t sure that would help. Your eyes went wide and you bit your lip as the tenseness morphed into fevered strain. You couldn’t find the words to demur. It wasn’t bad—not at all. It was too foreign to wrap your head around, though. It seemed your body knew what was happening as it went rigid.
You couldn’t move, couldn’t catch your breath, and you weren’t sure you wanted to get away. All you could do was take it.
Without warning, the strain snapped like a rubber band. You sagged in his arms as this torrent of torrid ecstasy surged from between your legs to heat every inch of your body. It went on and on, thudding like a heartbeat.
Abe cooed, “That’s my darling.”
You numbly nodded. You were his. You didn’t want anyone else touching you like this. No one had ever made you feel like this.
His fingers stilled to rest against your body. You were so wet; slick and yet sticky. The titillating stories you’d read failed to mention this part of lovemaking. A part of you was mortified and wanted to apologize, but he didn’t appear to mind.
“You’re so beautiful,” he softly said, making your embarrassment vanish.
You met his eyes as you rested your hands on his chest. “Thank you.”
He smiled, brilliant and sly. “Oh, my love, I should be thanking you.”
“I didn’t… Is there anything— Should I…?”
You wondered if Abe wanted you to reciprocate. You didn’t know how to do that. Not that you didn’t know what a penis looked like. You’d seen medical illustrations and taken Life Drawing class. You’d also seen enough crude gestures to know what men did to themselves. However, you weren’t sure you could satisfy him with only that knowledge.
“Just let me continue to love you.”
“You love me?”
“I told you when I met you, you’d bewitched me. You’ve had me ever since.”
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Hiii I know you’re writing things slowly so there’s no need for you to do this ASAP but I’m feeling soft and it’s VDay... what would young!Abe do for his wife on such a romantic day?? He’s a grump but a sweetie too, I’m sure 🥺🥺🥺
Abe’s a total romantic, honestly. Maybe secretly, but an absolute romantic.
He’s going to have a chef cook you two a special meal. Probably something fancy and French. Candlelight glinting off crystal glasses. Wine brought up from the cellar—old and heady.
There’ll be soft jazz in the parlor. Furniture pushed out of the way, so he can slow dance with you in front of the flickering fire. You’d kick off your heels, and he’d follow suit just so he wouldn’t crush your toes with his “tugboat” feet.
Of course, you tell him you love his “tugboat” feet. You love all of him.
For the first time, he blushes.
And then you kiss him and kiss him until your knees are weak, and you have to sit down.
He’d have you wait in the parlor as he sneaks away to get your present. You’d protest he didn’t have to get you anything, but he’d smile and sweetly hush you. He’d come back with a big box wrapped in red-foil wrapping paper.
You almost don’t want to open it. It’s too much, too beautiful. With some encouragement, you do.
You gasp when you spread the crisp tissue paper. He purchased you a vicuna coat with mink collar. It’s the softest wool you’ve ever felt; the color of the deepest caramel. The mink is so thick and silky. It’s lined in tan silk. Custom black label hand-sewn in.
“Oh, Abe, I can't—”
“Yes, you can, my darling. It’s getting cold out there. I don’t want you getting ill.”
You cradle his face in your hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.” He leans in for a kiss. “I can’t have the mother of our future children catching the flu, now can I?”
“Abe!” you laugh and meet him halfway.
With soft lips that taste of wine, he kisses you as he leads the way upstairs for the rest of the presents…
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Hi! I’m the anon from the Expanding One’s Horizons promptwhich I bloody love and regularly re-read! I was reading this book and there was a point in which the protagonist leaves on a trip for work (it’s the 1880s) and gives his wife a Jade dildo as a present; it was of course very inappropriate but very entertaining lol and I was wondering if you could do something like that, Abe gifting his wife a toy and oh my the horror 👀 if you’re comfortable! If not, I’ll always enjoy whatever you write 🥳
Since these two wonderful ideas center around gifts of a sort, I decided to combine them. Because, number one, hell yes, we all want to get our hands on that athletic-club bod 👀 and, two, we want him to take care of us and give us nice things. Hopefully, you two lovelies enjoy! Thank you both for prompting me! 💝
pairing: abraham h. parnassus x reader
rating: e
warning/tags: sheltered-artist reader, no vintage racism, vaguely 1950s, old-fashioned euphemisms, sex toys
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MINX
Abe groaned into the coverlet as you pressed your thumbs on either side of his spine. His muscles were slowly losing their tightness. You didn’t think his desk chair at work was supporting him properly. Most likely, he never sat in it except to sign documents.
You hovered over his lower back to put your weight into massaging the firm slabs of muscle in his upper back and shoulders. He groaned again and mumbled something into the bed. He sounded pleased, so you kept going.
Even in a relaxed state, his muscle definition remained—evidence of his time playing racket ball with his execs. You could see where the lower trapezius met the latissimus dorsi. There was a dip at his shoulder where the thick deltoid connected.
You swept your hands down to work on his mid-back, shuffling backwards to give yourself room. You end up straddling his glutes—which were quite firm as well. Gathering the skirt of your tartan day dress behind your knees, you perched on his glutes. You then pressed your palms up his back and then smooth them down in a lazy, hypnotic rhythm.
His skin was silky, hot, and still damp from his shower. The herbal-minty scent of his soap clung to your hands. You wanted to kiss a path up the valley of his spine, but you didn’t want to disrupt his calm state. Instead, you kept working his muscles like they were clay as you admired him.
It put you at ease that he couldn’t see you. Because the more you touched him, the hotter your face became. You were overly aware of your bare inner thighs resting on his boxer shorts. The fabric was so thin, the heat of his body easily seeped through.
“Darling,” he murmured. “Could you work on my lower back?”
You bit your lip and shuffled down a few more inches. His boxers were in the way, so you took hold of the waistband to draw them down.
“Trying to get me naked, you little minx?” he teased with a wiggle.
“Abraham!” You cuffed his hip over his boxers.
“Oh! And now a spanking? I haven’t had one of those since Mother caught me stealing penny candy from Lexington’s.”
You covered your warm face with your hands. “Abe!”
He squirmed, and you raised yourself off him. You ducked your face as you crawled to the side. He caught your wrist when he flipped over.
“Now, now, sweetheart.” He gently tugged you closer. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
You knee-walked to sit next to him, your thigh pressing against his torso. He pulled at your wrist until you were half-draped over his chest. You glanced up to see his dark eyes sparkle with affection.
You situated yourself and settled against him to rest your burning cheek on his chest. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, my love, thank you.” He brought one of your hands to his lips. “Your hands are magic.” He kissed each fingertip.
You smiled as he pressed your hand to his cheek.
He continued, “I’m going to miss you next week.”
He was scheduled to tour the western refineries starting the day after tomorrow. He was going to be gone almost two weeks. It would be the longest you two had been apart. While it was necessary, and you’ve known about it for a month, you still disliked it. The house was going to be so quiet without him. The bed was too big for just you. The thought of eating dinner and watching evening television without him left you bleak and lonesome.
“I miss you already,” you croaked.
“Oh, darling, come here.”
You scooted up his body and tucked your hands between him and the mattress to hug him. You buried your face in the crook of his neck. His arms went around you, holding you tight.
“I won’t be gone long.”
“I know.”
“Would you like me to telephone every night?”
You shook your head, rubbing your nose and lips against his skin. If he did that, you’d cry every time you had to end a call. You kissed his neck.
“I’d like to phone you mid-trip. To check on you.” He rubbed your back. “Actually, I have a present I’d like you to use during that call.”
You frowned in confusion and lifted your head. “Present?”
“It’s in the bathroom. My shelf in the linens cabinet, black box towards the back.”
“You want me to open it now?”
“Oh yes, my love.” He smiled. “I do.”
You gave him a quick peck. “Thank you,” you said before sliding off the bed and padding to the bathroom.
The sconces in the bathroom threw mellow light throughout the room. You opened the build-in next to the gleaming ming-green sink. There was indeed an unfamiliar small black box with yellow type on his shelf. You pulled it out to see an illustration of two smiling people on the top with the product banner proclaiming “Wahl Hand-E—Massage Vibrator.” You studied the illustration to see both people holding the hand-held device to their respective neck or face.
He wanted you to massage yourself? Why would he want you to use that while on the phone? Maybe he wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself while he was away? That made sense. However, you hardly needed some device to relax.
Abe came up behind you and placed his hands on your hips.
You met his eyes in the mirror. “You want me to massage myself?”
“Yes, my love.” He dipped low to kiss your neck as his hands ran down your thighs.
His lips delicately trailed over your skin, sending shivers down your body. You closed your eyes and let it happen. His touch was teasing and made you anxious for bedtime. You wanted to feel his hands all over you, him deep inside you.
“Why don’t you take off this dress,” he suggested against your skin.
“Does it not work with clothes?”
That seemed unlikely. The people on the front of the box were clothed.
“I’m sure it does, darling, but I’d rather not have them in the way.” He kissed your neck again. “I want to see you.”
You frowned and looked at the box. “Abe… I-I don’t understand.”
His hands came around your thighs and pulled you tight to him. The hot mound of his growing erection nestled in the seam of your rear. Your eyes went wide as understanding dawned. The massager wasn’t just for working tight muscles. It could be used between one’s legs.
You wondered what it would feel like. You doubted any device would feel like your husband’s big hands or cock. Your face heated when you thought of his wet, flickering tongue. Nothing had ever come close to the hot touch or the delicious suction of his mouth.
He met your gaze in the mirror. His dark eyes smoldered, and his cheeks pinked. A lock of damp hair was curled over his forehead. He was so handsome and fresh.
“Won’t you open your present?” he encouraged.
You bit your lip and flipped open the box. Inside was the small L-shaped device with a few head attachments. It appeared they would simply twist onto the bare attachment arm. You unwrapped the cord and worked out the kinks.
The whole time, Abe pressed against you. The humidity between your bodies had your dress sticking to your back. Your mouth was dry. Though you felt jittery, your hands were steady enough.
Abe rose to his full height. “Take off this dress for your husband.”
You untied the fabric belt to let it hang from the loops at your waist. You watched your hands in the mirror to undo the buttons at the top half of the dress. The placket flopped open to reveal your full slip.
Abe eased the shoulders of your dress down until it fell to the floor. He drew his hands up your arms and kissed your shoulder. You couldn’t take anymore of his lips being anywhere but against your own. You turned, cupped his cheeks, and rose on tip-toe to kiss him properly.
A groan rumbled from deep in his chest as he kissed you back. His hands went to your rear and lifted you off the floor. You squeaked, breaking the kiss, as he lifted you onto the white-tile counter. The open box for the massager skidded into the sink, but you paid it no mind as you pulled Abe to you once more.
He spread your thighs and got between them as he gave you these open-mouthed kisses that short-circuited your brain. His tongue teased yours when he tilted his head. You tunneled your fingers into his thick hair as you tasted him.
“You are a little minx,” he crooned before licking into your mouth.
The title made you feel bold, and you wrapped your calves behind his legs. He silently answered by pushing his hot hands under your slip. He dragged you flush to him, your slip slithering up your legs, and rolled his hips. You could feel the fervid length of his cock rubbing against your dampening underwear.
He pulled away with a hum of pure hedonism. “How about we take these off?”
“Right here?” you asked, your boldness disappearing by the second.
“Well, I want to make sure you know how to use your present.” He sifted through the massager box one-handed. “Where else but someplace well lit?”
“The bedroom has good lighting.”
He plucked an attachment from the box. “But we’re here now, and so close to convenient outlets.”
The attachment was a small graduated rubber knob. You realized it would fit perfectly to your body, in your slit, against all those sensitive nerve endings. Again, you wondered how it would feel.
“I…”
“Won’t you indulge me, darling? I want to see your enjoyment.”
You nodded because Abraham was your husband. He had only ever been kind and generous. And you loved him so very much, and you knew he adored you. You reminded yourself this was something married people did. They gave each other all those things no one else could. And no one before him made you feel so cherished.
He gave you a bright smile before swooping in to kiss you. You wrapped your arms behind his neck as you returned his kiss. His other hand remained on your rear and kneaded your flesh. In reply, you touched him back, sliding your hands down the slabs of firm muscle of his pecs. You teased his nipples with a light touch.
With a sharp inhale, Abe arched into your hands as the attachment clunked in the sink. You took advantage of his shock to suck at his full bottom lip.
His hands went to the waistband of your underwear and gave them a tug. You released him, propped yourself on the counter, and assisted in getting them down. The grooves between the tiles became more discernible against the back of your legs when you settled.
You couldn’t believe you were going to do this. You’d never imagined doing something like this.
Abe gave you the massager and knob attachment. You felt his intense gaze as you screwed on the attachment. Once it was secure, he plugged the massager in for you. Nothing changed, of course. It didn’t spring to life like some capricious pet.
He placed his hands on your thighs again. “Turn it on. See how it feels.”
You glanced at him and then focused on the massager. There was a simple flip switch, and you turned it on. The device mechanically hummed like a small engine and quivered. The attachment vibrated. In some ways, the sound reminded you of hair clippers. You put your palm against the buzzing attachment and laughed in shock.
It felt good.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
You nodded and met his eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome,” he said as he leaned in to kiss you.
The kiss was brief, but in that time he lifted one of your knees. You leaned back and braced yourself with a hand as he directed your heel onto the counter. You were fully exposed to him. The cooler air washed between your legs as the massager vibrated in your hand.
Abe took gentle hold of your hand and led it to your soaked core. It was difficult to maintain eye contact. You watched as the massager moved closer. Your stomach clenched in suspense. You didn’t know if you were anticipating the initial touch or dreading it.
He whispered, “Look at me, sweetheart.”
You looked into his eyes. His gaze was penetrating and fervent, yet magnetic. He moved your hand closer still. The vibrating attachment head whispered against your pubic hair. You stiffened to keep yourself from pushing forward.
However, you didn’t need to move. Abe did it for you.
You gasped as the attachment head swept over your slit. Its mechanized trembling alighted your nerves. It was almost overwhelming. Your hips curled forward as you moved the massager where it felt the best.
“That’s it,” he murmured as he let go to support himself against the counter. “Show me how beautiful you are.”
You bit your lip and concentrated on the delicate bud at the top of your sex. You swirled the head around it and whimpered. You studied your husband’s handsome face as he watched you. With each pass, tension rose within. You wanted to kiss him so badly as you found yourself rolling your hips and pressing the massager head tighter to your body.
“Abe, I–” You didn’t know what you wanted to tell him. Perhaps that you were grateful, how you longed for him, how good he made you feel.
“I’m with you, darling.” He was breathless. “Keep going.”
The vibrations were foreign and overpowering and marvelous. You moaned as you felt a quickly escalating climax. It was too intense, too soon. You weren’t ready. You let your head bend forward. Your thighs were quivering like the massager. Your lowered foot banged on the cabinet door as you jerked against the massager head.
And then ecstasy suddenly surged from deep inside. You cried out as your body convulsed. It was beyond your control. You couldn’t stop, and it didn’t stop. Your body pulsated again and again. It clenched and heaved and warmed. Pleasure gushed out of you in heady, thrilling ripples.
You couldn’t catch your breath as orgasm kept going. The massager was relentless, yet you couldn’t find the strength to pull it away. You shook your head and crumpled onto an elbow. Your shoulder knocked into the mirror behind you.
“I can’t!” You wetly choked and let your head flop back. “Oh God!”
It now was too good, too much. Your ecstasy edged into fluttering agony. You let go of the massager as you shook. It wobbled its way onto the counter beside you, where it clattered on the tiles.
You cupped your mound and mindlessly thrust against your fingers. You were so wet, so sensitive, so inflamed. You were sweating despite the thin slip retaining no heat.
As you panted and tried to get ahold of yourself, you looked to Abe. He switched off the massager and stood over you. He stared between your legs, and you could feel the caress of it. He then wet his lips and yanked down his boxers.
You writhed at the tantalizing sight of his hard cock. It was red, glistening at the tip, and proudly standing from his body. You needed to feel it inside you, filling you like only he could.
He asked, “Do you think you’ve mastered your present?”
“Yes, I think so.” Though you didn’t know if that were true. You felt that it had conquered you more than the other way around.
“I can’t wait to hear you next week.”
Feeling brazen, you offered, “You can hear me now—” You swayed your raised leg out. “—if you wish.”
He said with a warm smirk, “Oh, you minx,” and leaned forward to do just that.
-
tag list: @zaneholtzwrites @bluesnowyangel @tinyplanet-explorers @isislockett @makingtimemine @adam-thotty @nightkitchentarot @strangesentimentalhuman @itsthegreatestsworld @spookynerdygalaxy @softcrybabykid @angelicaalien @opehlia-alexander @anni–hilation @ohmagawd-life @avatamriel @accio-em @artttrash @driverficarchive (comment or message me to be added)
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Hiii. My prompt for Abe was thinking about him and his wife being at a public gathering and one of them is feeling a bit mmm *turned on* for whatever thing the other did, and they basically have to get their rocks off in a semi-public space. I wasn’t thinking on the wife + shy trope necessarily, but your writing is awesome so do as you please! Have a lovely night xx
Oomph, yes, lovely nonny, yaaaas! Your offering pleases kitty! 😻 Thank you, dearest, truly. I’m in a Halloween mood, so let’s go that route. I hope you enjoy!
pairing: abraham h. parnassus x reader
rating: e
warning/tags: sheltered-artist reader, no vintage racism, vaguely 1950s, alcohol consumption, semi-public sex
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A TREASURE MORE THAN GOLD
You met your husband’s eyes across the dance floor of Hotel Astor’s ballroom. He’d let his five o'clock shadow develop into a short Vandyke beard in preparation for Babe Paley’s Halloween gala. He had you smudge black kohl around his eyes as you both got ready. It brought out the amber-gold in his irises. Even from this distance, you could discern it.
He smiled at you, looking dashing yet dangerous in his Blackbeard costume, and held up his tumbler of whiskey in salute. He had tied a red paisley scarf around his forehead, and a black cavalier hat covered his hair. His dark unbuttoned frock coat was secured at his waist via a wide leather belt. He’d tucked a real-looking flintlock musket under it. He was resting a wrist on the pommel of the cutlass hanging at his hip.
Adding to the illusion of an eighteenth-century pirate was the loose jabot at his throat and the dark buccaneer boots. He had a fierce air about him, which you’d been completely unprepared for. It wasn’t scary. It was wild and exciting, almost uncivilized. Which might have been scary to strangers, but not to you.
You had helped with the costume concept, but he was the one who’d picked out the elements. Or had delegated the task to his secretary. He’d finalized yours, excusing it by saying he didn’t want to pull you away from your art. At first, you hesitated because Abe didn’t know women’s fashion. He didn’t know what looked good on you. He was aware of the colors and styles you preferred, but that wasn’t the same as dressing you.
However, he had exceeded your expectations. He’d chosen a gold lame robe a la francaise. Every hem ended in box ruffles. It dripped with gold lace. Lines and lines of shiny gold costume coins were attached to the short stomacher and jingled when you walked. Around your neck was a choker of lace and fake oversized jewels, and on your wrists multi-strand pearl bracelets.
He called you his treasure before kissing your lips.
You raised your champagne flute in reply and then drank deep. The wine had been flowing all evening. Warmth suffused your cheeks, chest, and thighs. Your joints were loose; your spine liquefied.
And your bladder full.
You excused yourself and gave your empty champagne flute to a nearby waiter. It took a while to get to the bathroom. Mr. Taylor insisted he needed a dance with you. Mrs. Kaplan caught you right outside the ballroom to ask if you’d talk Abe into being a sponsor for the women’s clinic her husband was starting. You laughed at jokes and replied that, yes, of course, anything for you, thank you for thinking of me and Abraham, it would an honor.
The marble-and-gilded ladies restroom was blessedly quiet. You wrestled with your skirt and its flexible boning. You and your dress just fit into a stall.
At the beginning of the night, you’d been self-conscious by your lack of real underwear. The costume had come with frilly pantaloons with a split in the crotch. Now that you had to deal with all the fabric, you were grateful you only had to move the cotton out of the way.
After doing your business and washing up, you left the restroom. You walked a few steps into the grand hallway when a hand wrapped around your upper arm. You were pulled back against a male body while another hand went over your mouth to muffle any protest.
You elbowed your assailant in the gut, your coins jingling the whole time. He grunted at the hit and then again when you tried to jerk away. The man shushed you, and you sagged in relief when you recognized the voice. It was Abe. His flintlock dug into your back, which should’ve been a give-away. There was whiskey on his breath and the lingering scent of his aftershave coming from his warm skin.
He let go of your arm and snaked his hand around your middle to yank you tight to him. You drew in breath through your nose at being manhandled. You could feel the taunt lines of his body even through the layers of your clothes. You peeked down the hallway to see if anyone had noticed the two of you.
“Come, my love, I can’t stay away any longer,” he crooned in your ear.
You gripped his forearm and whined in protest. You couldn’t. He couldn’t. You were in public. The very thought sent a paradox of dread and excitement down your body. Because while you wanted him, you couldn’t imagine doing it with the whole of Manhattan society just steps away.
His arm tightened around your waist, and he heaved you off the floor. He really meant to take you here and now. If he hadn’t been your husband, you would’ve kicked his shins. You didn’t know what you would do if you were caught. You’d never live it down.
He walked you into a deep window alcove around the corner and pressed you face-first to the wall. A towering potted palm at the corner barely screened you from the hallway. He braced himself with hands on either side of you and tucked his face in your neck.
“Can’t take it.” He kissed your neck. “I’m weak for you.”
“Abe,” you whispered. “We can’t.”
He rolled his hips, driving you forward. There wasn’t boning across your rear, and you felt the bulge of his erection. You shivered and tilted your head. He took advantage to softly kiss his way up behind your ear, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.
“No one can see us, darling.”
His hands smoothed up your torso to cup your buttressed bosom. The coins chimed as he disturbed them. Your nipples hardened at his muffled touch. You realized someone would’ve surely heard the coins.
You tensed and pushed back against him. “Please, Abe.”
You didn’t know what you were begging him for anymore. He bit at the side of your ear and sucked on the upper part of the lobe. His mouth was so hot; his hands felt so good. He rutted against you in a dirty, teasing rhythm. The brim of his hat slid over the side of your coiffed hair. You bit your bottom lip, feeling scalded by desire, and couldn’t help yourself when you started moving with him.
He lowly groaned next to your ear and held your waist. You rested a cheek on the cool wall and reached back to grip his rocking hips. You knocked into the cutlass sheath, but it hardly mattered. Nothing would deter you from feeling your pirate of a husband.
The was a smile in his voice when he said, “Turn, my treasure.”
He tugged you around with your help and pressed you to the wall. His flintlock dug into your corseted belly, but you didn’t care. He was adorable with pink cheeks and crooked hat. His dark eyes glinted in the shadowed nook, all affection and lust. You grinned at him before reeling him in for a kiss.
Abe practically collapsed against you as he met your lips. He wasn’t deft with his kiss. He devoured you, biting at your lip, sucking on your tongue. You tasted the whiskey in his mouth. The warm, golden edge of alcohol spurred you on.
You dragged your fingers into the ends of his hair and yanked him closer. You wanted to feel all of him everywhere. His skin against yours, his arms wrapped around you, his hands holding your hips, his cock deep inside you.
You didn’t think you could wait until you returned home.
“Help me with this skirt,” you whispered against his lips.
His jaw flexed before he began gathering the front of the skirt, using the modest panniers on either side of you to hold the fabric up. He stared between your bodies to look at your loose pantaloons.
“Tell me there’s nothing underneath that.”
Feeling bold, you dared, “Why don’t you lift my knee and find out, Captain Parnassus.”
He huffed a short laugh at his new title and then met your dare. The split in the pantaloons gaped open as he raised your knee to his hip. The cool air was a relief on your overheated flesh. It registered then how wet you were.
“There’s that sweet treasure trove.”
His other hand stole between your legs and cupped your mound. You rubbed yourself on his hand, trying to get his fingers in your wet slit. You whined for him and fisted the shoulders of his frock coat.
Abe gently shushed you and eased two fingers right into your wetness. You pulled him to you and stifled your groan against his coat. That first touch, the promise of relief, felt so right. He stroked between your folds, caressing everything you needed.
“Please!” you hissed and reached for the fly of his black breeches.
Instead of a zipper, there was a line of buttons. The heat of his cock burned through the fabric. You struggled with the buttons. However, you were too determined to have him to let frustration get the best of you.
Once the fly was undone, you wrapped your hand around the thick girth of his cock. You wanted it in you, wanted it hard and fast. It was the only way to quell the yearning emptiness.
“Please,” you said again as you looked into his dark eyes.
He hooked your knee over his forearm. “Get it out and guide it where you need.”
You told him, “Deep inside.”
He bent his knees as you fished his cock out. It jerked in your hand and wet your wrist. He held your hip, his damp fingers leaving a trail over your skin, and shuffled closer. He let you direct his movements. You angled your hips forward and slipped the head right in your sopping folds.
You bit back a whimper when he lined up with your opening.
“Right there?” he asked.
You nodded and murmured, “Right there.”
You cradled his cock as he slowly plunged in. The hot, solid heft of him stretching you was delicious. You let go to rest against the wall, breathing through his steady penetration. He felt so big, like he pushed your body to its limits.
When he was in to the hilt, you pulled him close by the lapels of his coat. His hands smoothed over your thigh and hip to hold your rear. Your eyes met for a heartbeat before you met in the middle for a ravenous kiss.
If it were possible, he went deeper as he crushed your bodies together. You rose on the ball of your foot and wrapped your arms behind his neck. As his tongue skidded against yours, he began rolling his hips. You mewled into the kiss, forgetting everything but how he felt inside you.
“Yes?” he asked when he broke the kiss.
You nodded and whispered for him to take you. He snatched his hat off with a growl and threw it towards the window. He held you tight, his big hands burning the underside of your rear, and took you in earnest. His cock pistoned inside you. He ground his pelvis against yours. Every thrust and grind of his strong hips left you gasping at the ceiling and dizzy with ratcheting pleasure.
Abe darkly murmured, “Wanna feel this little cunny come on my dick.”
You put a hand over your mouth to smother a moan. You wanted it, too. You writhed against him, trying to find the stimulation you needed. He pressed you to the wall and lifted you off the floor.
Your eyes went wide as his next thrust hit you just right. You clung to him and cried into your palm. His swollen lips were against your shoulder. He worked his cock faster; the slap of his skin against yours was barely smothered by all the fabric. It should’ve been embarrassing, but climax was so close you couldn’t care.
Your body took you by surprise when it stiffened and quaked. Orgasm overflowed to fill you with such debilitating ecstasy, getting more intense with each thrust of Abe’s cock. You hung onto him as your pussy convulsed over and over.
Abe groaned against your neck as he hammered his hips. He was frenzied and savaged. His grip was bruisingly tight. His cock was so hard. You didn’t think you could take anymore.
He cursed and plowed into you a handful of times before stilling to fill you with his come. It was too much. It was a rapturous feedback loop that was slow to die. Each throb and jerk of his dick had you both whining and twisting against each other.
As you finally caught your breath and calmed, you guided his lips to yours. You tasted the salt of sweat on his lips. The humidity coming from his face warmed yours anew. You were sure you’d both wrecked your costumes. But it didn’t matter. It didn't—with the way he loved you, the way he ravished you.
To hell with the party.
“Let’s go home,” he finished your thought.
-
tag list: @zaneholtzwrites @bluesnowyangel @tinyplanet-explorers @isislockett @makingtimemine @adam-thotty @nightkitchentarot @strangesentimentalhuman @itsthegreatestsworld @spookynerdygalaxy @softcrybabykid @angelicaalien @opehlia-alexander @anni–hilation @ohmagawd-life @avatamriel @accio-em @artttrash @driverficarchive (comment or message me to be added)
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Your latest post literally left me like 😳☺️ hahaha. I don’t know if you’re taking requests (if you’re not just ignore this part!!) but if you are and feel comfortable, could you write about Abe’s and his wife, along the same vein, but it’s her giving him oral sex? Regardless, I love your writing and can’t wait for whatever else you might write! ❤️
(Nonny here is referring to Expanding One’s Horizons.)
Oh my, yes! I’m very comfortable with this prompt. Let’s indulge our oral fixations, bruh! 😉 Thank you for reading and prompting! Love you right back. 😘
pairing: abraham h. parnassus x reader
rating: e
warning/tags: sheltered-artist reader, oral sex, vaguely 1950s, old-fashioned euphemisms (at the beginning), no vintage racism
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TENSION TAMER
The mattress trembled under you. There was then a susurrus of fabric in the dark. You guessed Abe was pulling on his robe, which he’d earlier draped at the foot of the bed. You lay there to feel him ease away and fold the blanket over his side of the bed. He padded out of the bedroom and gently shut the door after himself.
The softly lit face of your alarm clock said it was after three. You knew it must be work that had awoken him. The company was in the middle of a merger and tensions were high.
For your part, you focused on the running of the home. You had been keeping the connections with the circle of Manhattan wives strong. You had hosted a ladies luncheon on Monday. Next month was a charity raffle, where you had donated one of your small sculptures: an inverted obelisk balanced on a pyramid. The four seasons were carved in a Cubist style on each side. You’d tried your hand at gilding for that piece. The empty jagged branches for winter were like glowing veins in the concrete.
Abe had been very proud of you. He’d put his arm around you and said it reminded him of how he loved you: perennially yet evolving. He also liked the phallic nature of the obelisk.
You’d knocked your hand against his chest as you admonished him. Your face had heated, and you couldn’t look him in the eye. That hadn’t been what you’d meant.
He’d murmured in your ear: “It looks like it’s about to plunge into the pyramid and become one with it.”
“Abe!”
He’d turned you then to kiss you and soothe your ruffled feathers. It had been delicate at first, but his ardor soon took over. He’d ran his hands down your back to clutch at your rear. His solid body had felt so good against yours. His touch ignited such a fervor deep inside that you found yourself sitting on the work table with legs spread in minutes. The skirt of your day dress bunched at your waist, and your underwear hung from your ankle as Abe plowed into you.
You couldn’t wear that dress without thinking of his big hands clutching your hips as he gave you pleasure.
You sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. Abraham needed to come back to bed. It was half-past now. Working all hours of the night was not going to help him. You neatened your hair with the comb you kept in your nightstand and drank some water from the tumbler next to the clock. You put on the matching robe of your pink peignoir set and got out of bed.
It didn’t take a genius to find your husband. There was mellow light streaming from his private office down the hall. You peeked in to see him sitting at his desk, glowering at a multi-paged document, and making notes in the margin. He had a single desk lamp on and a half-full glass of ice water by his elbow. His dark hair was disheveled from sleep, and his robe gaped open across his bare chest.
You admired him for moment. His routine visits to the athletic club to play racket ball had toned his physique. He had always been in fine shape, but now his muscles were more defined. He said the exercise helped him at work, that his thinking was faster.
You knocked on the doorjamb and offered a smile when he looked up. His frown disappeared the second he saw you. He set down his pen and ran a hand through his hair.
“Did I wake you, my love?” he asked.
You walked into the office. “Your absence did.”
“My apologies, dearest. There are these complications—” He stopped with a sigh and a wave of his hand. “Tedious details. I won’t bother you with them.”
He rubbed at his neck and let his head tip back. Even from across the room, you heard his tendons crackle. No wonder he couldn’t sleep.
You walked around the desk and stepped behind him. “Let me.”
He weakly protested as you moved his hand out of the way and began kneading his shoulders. He relaxed into your touch and groaned when you found tightness in his trapezius. You moved up to work at the rigid muscles at the base of his skull. You used the heat of your hands to help loosen them. He breathed deep as you worked.
Little by little, his body gave in to your administrations and unclenched. You bent forward, placed your chin on his shoulder, and wrapped your arms around him. He caressed your forearms and rested his temple against yours.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
You slid you hands under his robe to feel his chest. His wavy hair was soft against your cheek. He smelled clean and like sleep. You had an urge to kiss him, suck on his graceful neck, savor the taste of his skin—all over.
Last week, you’d heard two shop-girls gossiping about their boyfriends. One of them mentioned her boyfriend teaching her to love the French way. The other shop-girl was confused by the term. As were you. You tried to remain inconspicuous as you browsed through the same rack again as they whispered.
The French way, the shop-girl said, meant using their mouths on each other. There was a pointed look, and the other girl gasped in shock. The shop-girl assured her it was fun and not nearly as nerve-wracking as him pulling out in time.
You continued to listen as the shop-girl insisted she’d mastered the technique. She said she had her boyfriend wrapped around her finger because of it. With a tone of awe, the other girl asked about the technique. The reply had you hiding your blazing face from the girls:
“You suck his ya know like a big lollipop, yeah? No teeth, plenty of spit.”
“Gee, Pegs, I don’t know about that.”
“It’s fun, I swear. It ain’t gross if he’s washed. What comes out at the end is kinda bittah, though.”
The thought of kissing Abe everywhere had you squirming in desire. You’d purchased the nylons you had visited the shop for and went home in a daze. You didn’t know if you could fit him in your mouth. He was proportional—big and thick, like the rest of him. Your teeth were sharp, too. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you wanted to try.
He was always relaxed after making love with you, you mentally pointed out. And he left you feeling boneless. So, maybe this could help him.
Your hands creeped lower, smoothing down his torso. You nosed under his hair to suck on his earlobe. He let his arms fall to side as he shifted in his chair and let out a breath. You took that as encouragement, so you pulled his robe’s lapels further apart and ran your hands all over his upper body.
Abe breathlessly warned, “My love, you’re venturing into dangerous territory.”
“Full of land-mines,” you sighed in his ear, and feeling bold, kissed below his ear. “Maybe a deadly missile.” You tugged loose the bow in his belt, and the heavy silk slithered open.
His striped pajama bottoms were tented over his lap. You could just see the outline of his manhood. Refraining from touching it, you pulled his robe open to kiss more of his neck. He guided your hands to his chest. His nipples were hard, and you teased them.
He shivered as his head tilted to the side. You kissed his prickly jaw and pinched his nipples how he liked. He groaned and thrust his hips into the air. Your sex clenched at the sight.
“Here,” you said, straightening and taking ahold of the back of his chair. “Scoot back.”
You rolled him away from the desk with his help and swiveled him around to get between his spread knees. He reached for you as if to pull you onto his lap. However, before he made contact, you began lowering yourself to the rug.
Abe faltered and froze. “Darling, what are you doing?”
“Loving you.” You placed your hands on his firm thighs. “Will you show me the French way?”
“The French way?”
You gnawed on your bottom lip for a second as heat infused your cheeks. “I overheard— I know about…” You didn’t know how to articulate it. “Where one uses their mouth… to please their partner.”
“The French way,” he summed up.
You nodded and trailed your palms up his legs. He stopped you before you reached his apex, and you looked up to see if you’d already blundered. His eyes were dark and heated, somehow savage—hungry. You recognized that look. Your body thrummed in need because you knew what that look meant.
He bent and caught your mouth in a kiss so ravenous you felt already taken. You mewled against his lips and sucked on his tongue. You wanted to rub your breasts against him as he played your body like a fine instrument. You wanted to kiss his chest and work your way down to his hard, straining erection.
You felt him pitch from side to side. You broke the kiss to watch him work his pajama pants down his hips. This was really happening, you realized. You shook yourself out of the haze of lust to assist. Between the both of you, you maneuvered his pants down and off his long, muscled legs.
He had crisp, dark hair covering his calves which thinned out to almost nothing at his upper thighs. You knew this already, but had never been this close to examine him. You spread his legs further and knee-walked closer as he lay back in the chair. The clean, pleasant musk of him was pronounced this close.
His manhood—his cock—was resting at the crook of his hip. It was so pink and glossy at the tip. As you looked on, a little bead of clear fluid bubbled out. The fluid trickled down the underside to wet the crease below the crown. His plump sac was flushed, too; furrowed and barely dusted with fine hair.
You didn’t know where to start. You traced your thumbs over his smooth, warm inner thighs. You always liked when he kissed yours, so you started there. You placed delicate kisses—hearing him hum with each kiss—until you reached the edge of his pubic hair. Your chin bumped against his sac. You wondered if you should kiss it, too, or lick it. You didn’t know if that would be wrong.
“I don’t know what to do,” you murmured.
You recalled Pegs saying to suck it like a lollipop and to watch one’s teeth. Surely, she didn’t mean everything. You glanced at his cock and tried to keep from blanching. You had no clue how to do it right. You wanted to please your husband so badly.
He whispered, “Kiss your way up, my love.”
You nodded, wet your lips, and kissed his sac. It was thicker-skinned and firm. You came to the base of the shaft to feel the heat of blood under the silky skin. You braced yourself on his thighs and relaxed your lips more to give him open-mouthed kisses.
“That’s it.”
Encouraged, you kitten-licked your way to the tip. You tasted the salt of his skin and the tang of the wetness at the top. The spongey head jumped against your lips, and you pulled away in surprise.
“I’m sorry, my love. Your pretty mouth feels so good.”
You licked your lips and found you didn’t mind the flavor at all. “What next?”
You looked up at him to see him blushing. It had spread down his neck to fan across his upper chest. He was gripping the chair arms so hard, his knuckles were white.
“Hold the… the base, brace it. Lick it, get it nice and wet.”
“And then suck it like a lollipop?”
He replied with a groan. At the same time, his cock jerked against his pelvis. He hid his eyes with a hand and nodded. You watched his reaction with wonder as you did as he instructed. The heft of his hot erection was good in your hand. You licked a line from your hand to the tip. You gathered saliva on your tongue and wet the entire crown.
He nodded and uncovered his eyes. “Keep going.”
You knew that meant taking it in your mouth. You were sure you could handle a few inches, but not the whole thing. You hoped that would be good enough.
You kissed the tip, slowly opening your mouth to use your tongue.
“No teeth,” he breathed.
You thought of hollowing out your mouth and letting your jaw relax. You mustered a little more saliva and sucked in the tip. You let the supple head slide against the roof of your mouth. You wiggled your tongue as you got a feel for it.
Above you, Abe moaned. You looked up the long line of his body to meet his smoldering eyes.
“So good. Now bob your head for me.”
You focused on going down as far as you could. You wetly gagged a few times, struggling to keep your teeth away, but found your limit quickly enough. The salty-musky-male taste of him filled your mouth with each bob. The weight of his cock on your tongue, the satisfaction of giving, the rhythm of each thrust into your mouth brought an unfamiliar heat.
You twisted your head as you came up, and Abe arched in the chair with a ragged gasp. You popped your mouth off him to ask if you’d hurt him.
“No, feels wonderful.” He gently cupped the back of your neck. “Keep going, my love, use your hands.”
You took him in again and twisted your head like you had, finding the rhythm that seemed to satisfy. At the same time, you stroked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your increasingly sopping hand. You closed your eyes and lost yourself in sucking him down, over and over. It felt good. You had that same aroused, squirming feeling deep in your belly like when you laid with him.
Abe’s breathing was picking up. He rocked with your movements. You heard him whine—something he’d never done before. He panted out yeses until he sighed your name.
You looked at him and sucked a little harder.
“Going to come,” he gasped as his shaking hand tightened in your hair. “Will you let me…?” He licked his flushed lips. “In your mouth?”
You moaned around his cock at the thought of him filling you from this side. The shop-girl had said was bitter, but you didn’t care. This was your husband. You wanted to make him feel good, so you didn’t stop.
He moaned in reply as his broad chest heaved. You’d seen that from him before. He was about to climax. He choked on a wicked curse. His breath suddenly hitched, and his body locked up. Your sex clenched in sympathy.
The first warm surge of come hit the back of your throat. You stilled to concentrate on swallowing it. It seemed to go on and on, but you needed to breathe. You pulled halfway off and caught another surge on your tongue. He whined again. His come was definitely bitter and briny and tangy, a little pungent.
Gravity worked against you this time, and some of his come spilled down his shaft. You swallowed again and worked on sucking up what you missed. He groaned and rocked into your mouth, the hand at the nape of your neck holding you steady. Luckily, you weren’t surprised by his minute thrusts, and let him slow down as he needed.
His voice snagged as he whispered, “Mercy, darling, mercy.”
You eased up to catch your breath. As you sat back, you kept a hold on his softening cock. You used your dry hand to wipe at your sticky chin. Noticing you’d gotten come on your robe, you made a mental note to prewash it before putting it in the hamper. You didn’t want the maid to see how unladylike you were with your husband.
“Come up here, love. Let me hold you.”
You gently lay Abe’s cock between his legs before rising to your feet. Your knees protested and your slick sex ached for release. However, the look on his face made it all worth it. You hadn’t seen him this relaxed in days.
He offered a hand to steady you across his lap. “I’ve made a mess of you, haven’t I?”
He gently cleaned away the come you’d missed, wiping it on his chest, before offering his glass of water. You took a few hardy drinks and gave the glass back. The water mostly mitigated the bitter taste of his come.
“Give your husband a kiss,” he crooned and put his arms around your waist.
“I should brush my teeth first.”
“Nonsense. Don’t be bashful now.”
You snaked an arm behind his shoulder and gave him a closed-mouth peck. You must smell like sour come and spit. When you tried to sit back, Abe caught your chin and looked into your eyes.
“That’s hardly a kiss.”
“I don’t want you to be… disgusted.”
“Are you?”
Your eyes went wide. “No!” You weren’t disgusted at all. You held his cheek. “I liked it.”
“Then kiss me,” he said, and you felt one of his hands slide down to your rear. “And I’ll return the favor.”
You wanted to protest that he didn’t have to do anything for you right now, but you knew it was futile. Abraham would do what he wanted. Though, it wasn’t like you wouldn’t appreciate his attentions.
You snuggled closer and kissed him the way he preferred—the way you preferred now, too. He disregarded, or didn’t mind, the taste of himself on your tongue. He deepened the kiss, tilting his head and ravaging your tender mouth. You sagged against him, rubbing your breasts on his chest, and felt his cock jerk against the back of your thigh.
It was going to be a long night, you thought. Maybe you could persuade Abe to go into work late.
-
Sculpture loosely based on “Broken Obelisk” by Barnett Newman.
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Omg could you do young!Abe eating out his partner for the first time? I presume, given the era, she would be very shy, and Abe would 100% love it, helping her become more comfortable before making her cum over and over 😍
Oh boy, could I!? 😉 I think I followed your brief pretty well. I think I captured the spirit, in any case. I hope you enjoy it, babe! Thank you for the prompt!
pairing: abraham h. parnassus x reader
rating: e
warning/tags: rich people, sheltered-artist reader, vaguely 1950s, no ~*vintage*~ racism, written with old-fashioned sensibilities, and euphemisms, at least at the beginning [wink-wink], just humor me, PIV sex, oral sex
-
EXPANDING ONE’S HORIZONS
“My love,” Abe said as he closed the front door behind the last of the catering staff. “You were magnificent.”
You waved a dismissive hand. “I didn’t do much.”
“Nonsense! You organized a perfect dinner party. Guests will be talking about it for the next month.”
You silently demurred and felt heat infuse your cheeks. All you had done was organize the party. You’d gotten catering, a caricaturist, a troupe of belly dancers, and a band from the Village to play on the patio. The maid, an absolute sweetheart, had helped you rearrange the double parlor.
There had been a gorgeous feast and dancing and rubbing elbows with Abe’s jolly fellow oilmen. Their wives were friendly, too. You’d been invited to a luncheon next week and a trunk show at Winston’s after that. At the end of the month you were to join the organizing committee for a gala to benefit refugee children.
Abe continued, “No one will doubt our place in the upper echelons now, my dearest! You got them to eat— What was that again?”
“Sushi.”
“Sushi! How novel! My clever wife.”
“And pickled rattlesnake,” you added with a grin.
His smile turned sly. “And pickled rattlesnake.”
“We all need to expand our horizons,” you said as you went to the dining room to turn off the lights.
“Indeed we do, my love.”
Abe followed you from room to room, helping you tidy the first floor. The cleaning crew was coming tomorrow, but you couldn’t leave it completely untouched for them. Maybe that was your lower-class upbringing at play. Abe said nothing about your fussing.
Once the first floor was dark, he came up behind you and stopped you with an arm around your middle. He kissed your neck and slowly rocked you from side to side. His other hand smoothed around your ribcage, right under your breasts. It was approaching indecent. However, you forced yourself to relax because he was your loving husband and you adored him.
“I overheard you talking to Delilah Davenport about your sculptures in the backyard,” he led.
“She was surprised I did anything of the sort.”
“Of course, she was. Delilah’s never once gotten her hands dirty. Let alone played with mud.”
“Or concrete.”
“Perish the thought,” he fondly murmured and kissed the exposed expanse of your shoulder.
Your hands were sculptor’s hands. It was one of the first things Abe had noticed about you. In the beginning, you tried to hide them with gloves or the pockets of your skirt. But he’d kissed them and told you how much he loved them. You’d been slathering on lotions in anticipation of tonight, knowing you couldn’t wear gloves during dinner. You’d even gone so far as to get a manicure. Your nails were Revlon’s Cherries in the Snow. You thought the color looked good with your black organza-and-lace cocktail dress.
Somehow, all your hard work disguising your hands was a success. No one suspected you were one of those bohemian artistic types. Well, until you told Delilah Davenport you’d fabricated the three large sculptures in the back. You weren’t ashamed, of course. You just didn’t want your art to affect Abe’s business.
Abe kept kissing and tasting your skin. It made your head spin. He was so demonstrative—more so than any man you’d dated before. His big hands were on the top swells of your hips. Your crinoline crinkled under them as he pulled you tight to his front.
You put your hands over his. “Abe, please, we’re in the foyer.”
“Of our home. Can’t I love my wife in our home?”
“Of course, but—”
“No one can see us. The only light is coming from the street.”
You wanted to tell him how embarrassing it was—being salacious, yearning for your husband—out in the open. You didn’t want to push him away. On the contrary, you wanted to grind back against him. He’d awoken in you such hunger it was distressing. You thought about him when he was gone. You dreamed about when he’d come home and put himself inside you.
He was quiet for a second before saying: “You must be tired.”
It was an out. You could take it, but you didn’t. You turned in his hold and put your hands at the nape of his neck. His unfashionable longer hair hung heavy over your fingers, and his eyes glittered in the murky foyer.
“I’m not tired,” you said.
He outright smirked before swooping in to kiss you. Your lipstick smeared over his lips all waxy and blood red. You pressed yourself against him, feeling the hard lines of him through his suit. His touch was muted through the layers of your dress, but it hardly mattered.
The second his tongue touched yours, you moaned. You sounded wanton and shameless to your ears. Abe cupped your rear and walked you to the wall by the stairs. The plaster was cool against your back while Abe was a living furnace at your front.
You fisted his suit as you dragged a knee up his outer thigh. He made an encouraging noise and pushed his hand under your crinoline. His touch burned all the way up your thigh.
When he reached your underwear, he pulled back looking surprised. “You’re not wearing a girdle.”
“The skirt, it’s so full… I didn’t think it was necessary.”
He hummed, “You little minx. Walking around like this.” He tucked his face under your jaw and kissed your hammering pulse. “So wild.”
“H-hardly,” you gasped. “Keep going.”
He snaked his palm over the garter stay at the side of your thigh and deftly unclipped it. You stiffened then, unsure if you were up to what he had in mind. At least, what you assumed he had in mind.
“Turn around, my love,” he whispered and released your leg.
“But, Abe…”
“It’ll be fine. I’ll take care of you.”
You gazed up at him for a moment. His lips were colored red from your lipstick. Yours were probably in an equally messy state. If you thought it wasn’t going to be obvious what he’d been doing to you, you could see now you were mistaken.
“Go on now,” he encouraged.
Taking a deep breath, you turned to the wall. He lifted your skirt and pulled your hips back. You teetered on your heels, but held yourself upright by spreading feet and clinging to the wall. The weight of the different fabrics rested at the small of your back. He forced his hips against your rear, and his hardness was unmistakeable. It was a warm bulge rocking in the cleft between your legs.
He undid your garter’s other side stay, and your stockings sagged. He palmed your bottom through the silky material of your underwear. You bit your lip and shimmied, because you couldn’t help yourself. His touch was electric.
“That’s it. Let go.”
You whined and arched your back.
His warmth disappeared from your rear. You braced yourself, waiting for him to pull down your underwear and slide inside you. He shifted behind you, and you looked over your shoulder to see him drop to his knees.
“Abe!” You threw your hips towards the wall, and your skirt flopped over his arms. “What are you doing?”
“I’m loving you.”
He threw your skirt over his head. His fingers hooked over the waistband of your underwear, dragging it down until it were caught on the still-attached front garter stays.
“So beautiful.” His voice was muffled, and he pulled your rear back.
He was going to kiss you. There. He couldn’t do that. You hadn’t bathed since the morning. It was unheard of. It was dirty.
The first touch of his lips to your nether regions had you squirming to get away.
“Abe, no, please! You can’t!”
His fingers forcibly spread you open. His hot breath flowed over your wetness. It was the only warning you had before his tongue was on you. You cried out in denial and tried to get away. He held you firm and licked you.
Your knees buckled in shock. It was so crude, so far beyond decent. You couldn’t bear it.
“I can’t!” you yelped. “Please!”
Abe pushed your skirts onto your lower back. He shushed you and kissed the crease at the top of your leg. His lips were wet with more than just saliva. You hid your face against your forearm. He must be revolted. You were so wet.
“Was that too much?” he asked.
“It’s obscene.”
He straightened and folded himself around you. “If it’s between a husband and wife, it’s not. And I love every inch of you.”
“Can’t we just— Can you just…”
“Fuck you like I always do?”
Your head jerked up, and your eyes got big at his words. He’d never cursed in front of you. And while you knew men were prone to that, and you yourself had used the occasional damn when something went awry, he never used coarse language.
“I’ll give you what you want tonight, but I’m going to taste more of that gorgeous honeypot of yours, my darling wife. And soon.”
It sounded like the most tender threat you’d ever heard. It immobilized you, but it didn’t frighten you. Abe had never hurt you. Even your first time had been gentle and painless. He had touched you between your legs, massaging and stroking until you reached climax.
It had been a revelation. Oh, you’d heard about men getting their rocks off, but never women. Afterwards, Abe became determined in his pursuit of your satisfaction. When he had time, he made love with you and took his time giving you pleasure.
The sound of a zipper brought you back into the moment. You knew what that meant. You arched your back once more, eager to have him in you. This was what you needed: him inside you.
There were fabric sounds and then you felt the heat, the heft of his manhood thud against your rear. You bit your bottom lip, tasting waxy lipstick, to keep yourself from whining for him. His warm hands fondled your rear as he rubbed against you.
“Do you want my cock, my love?”
Your ears burned at his vulgarity. “Yes,” you mumbled.
“Say it.”
“I want— I want your…” You squeezed your eyes closed. “Iwantyourcock.”
“Please, again. You know how I love your voice.”
“Abe, please don’t make me say it.”
“If you don’t state what you want—” He rocked against you, his manhood sliding in the cleft of your rear. “—I certainly can’t give it to you.”
“Abe!”
He rocked your bodies together in mimicry of what you wanted. His hands gripped your hips. You wanted him to slide them around you and touch between your legs. You were almost aching now, beyond all logical thought.
He leaned his chest against your back to whisper, “Tell me what you need, darling.”
“I need it—you.”
“What’s ‘it’?”
“You—your… You know.”
“My dick?”
You nodded.
He pulled away, and you felt the tip of him ease down your body. He prodded your entrance with it, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted him all the way inside you, filling you up, making you feel loved.
You whined then, because ecstasy was this close. He grip tightened and controlled you.
“Say it,” he ordered and rocked the crown of his manhood against you.
“I want it, Abe, please! Give it to me!”
He only tsked.
You shook your head because you couldn’t say it. Ladies didn’t say that. You were supposed to be a lady. That’s what Abe wanted, right? He wanted a lady to assist him in society. You wore fancy dresses and went to garden parties because that was your duty. You were never rude or indelicate. You didn’t allow your hobby to interfere with his work. Because you were a lady.
“Dearest, you’re hurting us both.” He was against your back again. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you want me to fuck you with my hard cock?”
“I do!”
“Then you must tell me.”
You swooned against the wall and sobbed, “I want your cock!”
Like a present, he pushed inside you. He gave you that feeling once more: of fullness, of love. He took you hard. The lewd, sloppy sounds of your bodies coming together measured out the seconds.
You pressed your cheek to the wall and braced yourself. His thrusts were getting wilder, harder. His harsh breathing echoed in your ear, you could feel it on your bare shoulder.
And then Abe snaked a hand to your front. His fingers went between your legs and stroked your sensitive, wet flesh. The flash of pleasure bloomed low in your belly. You whined and locked your legs. He lovingly shushed you and told you he’d take care of you. It was easy to trust him when he was making you feel so good.
That tight, squirmy feeling increased as he thrust inside you and caressed you. You turned your knees inward and rocked with his movements. It didn’t matter what you two looked like as long as he kept going.
“That’s it, that’s it,” he groaned.
You nodded before feeling your lower half start to strain around him. Abe’s manhood—his cock—felt bigger as he took you with powerful, bone-jarring thrusts. It was as though he was working your bodies towards a precipice you couldn’t see. You knew what it meant. You knew you were approaching climax.
He rolled his clever, strong fingers harder against you, which had you gasping. You clawed at the wall because you couldn’t escape it. You didn’t want to, either.
He stroked you one more time, and that was all you needed. You keened as you crested that sharp pinnacle. Your body throbbed in a devastating rhythm, your ears rang, you lost all sense of decorum. He held you tight through it and kissed you—never letting you go.
The slap of his hands on the wall had you opening your eyes. He raggedly drove into you once, twice, three more times before you felt him seize behind you. He groaned against your shoulder. The hot flood of his milky love filled you until it overflowed and dripped onto your underwear.
As Abe pulled out of your pounding body, you wilted—enfeebled and overcome by his passions. He caught you against him and briskly swept you into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, feeling as weak as a kitten.
He tenderly smiled at you. “My sweet wife.”
-
Abe didn’t bring up the afterparty sex. It had been days. He missed two dinners by staying late at the office, in the meantime. He’d been collapsing in bed every evening. There had been the barest of conversations.
Perhaps you’d done something wrong.
You wanted to talk to someone about married relations. Abe had said what happened between husband and wife wasn’t obscene. And you didn’t want to disappoint him. After all, you were the chief factor in your husband’s happiness. It was your job to foster a good marriage. At least, that’s what you’d read in Good Housekeeping and Ladies Home Journal.
What he’d done wasn’t terrible, either. It hadn’t felt bad. You couldn’t figure out why he wanted to lick you down there. That gave you pause. You wondered if he wanted you to put your mouth on his… cock.
You let out a sigh. His cock, dick, erection, genitals, pecker. Weiner.
You laughed at yourself and headed to your studio at the back of the house. You had on your work clothes and your hair up. Since Abe wasn’t home, you didn’t have to worry about being pretty. You were in the middle of sculpting the relief for a smaller, two-part project—each sculpture being only two feet tall. The pair was in the Cubist style and inspired by a cardinal couple who’d taken residence in the ginkgo in the garden.
You were working on perfecting the seed the male had in his beak when you heard the front door bang open and shut. You cleaned your hands off on a rag and poked your head into the hallway. There were heavy footsteps that sounded like they stomped into the dining room. You thought you recognized that gait.
You gave your hands another wipe and stepped out of your studio. Before you’d even made it to the stairs, Abe bellowed for you. He sounded irate, but his anger couldn’t be about you. You breathed deep as you smoothed back your hair and straightened your clay-smeared smock.
There was no point in dolling up. You didn’t have the time, anyway.
Abe was indeed in the dining room, empty crystal tumbler in hand. His tie was loose, and his navy-blue suit jacket was tossed over one of the chairs. There was a strained look on his face as he stared out the Palladian window.
He fully turned to you with eyes like dark flames and held out his free hand. You rubbed your palms on a clean bit of your smock as you approached. He gently took your hand in both of his.
“Is everything alright?” you asked.
“Yes, of course, my love. The wells are deep, profits are up. The board is still an itchy sweater I yearn to shred.”
You shared a grin. “So business as usual.”
“More or less—which is why I left after the morning meeting.”
“Well, it’s good to have you home. Would you like something to eat?”
His look turned lascivious, and he drew you closer. “I would.”
“Abe, I’m covered in clay,” you reasoned and put a hand on his chest to keep your distance. You didn’t want to ruin one of his suits with mud.
“Then why don’t you go clean yourself up for me.”
You knew what he meant. “In the middle of the day?”
Was that even done outside of the honeymoon? It seemed so imprudent to indulge in sex. There was work to do and meals to plan and calls to make.
He put a knuckle under your chin to tilt your head up. You gazed into his honey-brown eyes, seeing affection and full-out lust. You realized you’d missed his kisses. He hadn’t kissed you in days. Yes, it was because of work, but some small part of you feared you’d pushed him away.
He moved in and kissed you, putting his all into it. He tasted like bourbon. You surrendered to him and held his cheek. His lips were so soft yet strong. His kisses made you forget yourself.
When he pulled away, his eyes were so dark.
“Indulge your husband,” he urged.
You nodded, speechless, as you wet your bottom lip. You stepped back, hurrying to the master suite. You turned on a bedside lamp, closed the heavy drapes, and shed your clothes in the hamper in the closet. You rearranged your hair in a more pleasing updo and showered thoroughly, moisturizing all over afterwards. You applied the barest amount of Vol de Nuit to your pulse points and slipped on a pink silk dressing gown. You briefly debated with yourself about makeup, but Abe liked you fresh-faced, so you opted to forego it.
The bedroom was aglow in golden amber light. The gilded crystal chandelier above the bed sparkled, and the peach-toned walls were mellow. All this lovely light gave you confidence you looked as pleasing as possible.
You padded across the huge Persian rug and sat at the edge of the bed. You’d barely settled the folds of your robe around you when Abe knocked once and came in. He stared at you as he blindly locked the door behind him.
He threw his suit jacket on the chaise in the corner as he came to you and got on his knees when he was close. He put his hands on your thighs and leaned up to offer a kiss. You cradled his face in your palms and kissed him. He deepened the kiss almost immediately. His tongue teased yours, and he sucked on your lip. It was like he was trying to pull some ineffable something, some essence, of you inside him.
He parted the lower folds of your dressing gown and slid his hands up your outer thighs. When he reached your bare bottom, he pulled you closer to the edge. You broke the kiss to ask him what he was doing.
“I’m going to love every part of you, my darling.”
You smiled. “Then get on the bed with me.”
“You misunderstand.” He parted your knees and installed himself between them. “I’m going to taste you everywhere.”
He wanted to try… what he’d begun after the party. “That’s not— You don’t have to.”
“I’m going to savor your pussy.”
Your face blazed. “Abe!”
“I’m going to lick that sweet pussy of yours and finger you. I’m going to make you come, my love.”
You ducked your head and tried to scoot back, but his hold was unyielding. No one had ever talked like that to you. You didn’t know how to feel. There was a part of you that was mortified by his language and another was all agog to understand. Because Abe had only ever given you pleasure.
What if this was just another way to please?
He loosened the sash of your dressing gown. “Will you indulge me again?”
You looked into his eyes, saw his love. His cheeks were flushed. He appeared to want this. And you had just bathed, you mentally pointed out. You were clean and scented. The worst that could happen was that he discovered he didn’t like it. Then you could go back to making love like you had.
You nodded and kissed him again. He groaned as he tugged open your gown. His hands massaged your hips, pulling you closer. Kissing down your jaw and neck, he cupped your breasts. His hands were so big and hot on your skin. His thumbs haloed your nipples until they hardened.
He glanced up at you. “What a feast you are, my darling,” he softly said before kissing and nipping at your breasts.
His sharp teeth grazed your nipples, sending a pleasured shiver down your spine. He pulled at them, which had you gasping and holding the hair at the back of his head. He mouthed at the undersides of your breasts and kissed your sternum.
Slowly, he lowered your upper body to the bed. He left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your torso. His hands smoothed over your sides before he straightened.
You watched him undo his cufflinks, ruck up his sleeves, and release the knot in his tie. You became aware of how naked you were. You stretched out before him, the only part of you covered were your arms. He threw his tie to the side and undid the first couple of buttons of his crisp white shirt.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting this.”
He bent to kiss your belly as he caressed your thighs. You put your hands on his shoulders and closed your eyes. If it kept like this, you’d be delighted.
Abe spread your legs and moved lower. You held your breath, waiting for him to do something. The first touch of his lips to your inner thigh made you twitch. His kisses were delicate, almost teasing. Your lower half clenched reflexively.
His warm hands skimmed between your legs and covered the apex. You bit your lip and fisted the heavy silk on either side of you. He pulled you open and groaned. You replied with a questioning sound and looked down your body at him. You felt so exposed despite the cooler air being a titillating sensation.
“Beautiful,” he growled and buried his face between your legs.
You moaned in shock at the slippery feel of his tongue. It felt interesting and good. He lapped over an extra sensitive part, and your hips jerked. That was more than good. That had to be what he stroked to make you climax. He traced lines with the tip of his tongue before pushing it inside you. It made you hungry to be filled by his manhood. It seemed to open you more for him, too, as he licked up your body again.
“How is that, darling? Do you like it?”
You nodded and angled your hips to him.
“Do you want me to continue?”
“Yes, please.”
“Where do you want me to kiss you?”
“B-between my legs?” you offered.
He kissed the hair there. “You want me lick your pussy some more?”
Again, you nodded.
“Please instruct me, dearest.”
“Li— Lick…” You squeezed your eyes close. You couldn’t say it, though you wanted him to continue.
He waited, ever patient. You could feel his breath on your wet… pussy.
“Lick my pussy,” you whispered.
Abe had mercy and did just that. He kissed and licked and sucked at your pussy. He found that sensitive part again and put his mouth over it. He rhythmically sucked at it, and you cried out in unexpected pleasure. He pushed your legs out and up, pinning you to the edge of the bed.
He was relentless. He was pushing your body to climax. You couldn’t slow it down. You couldn’t catch your breath.
You reached for him, you hands landing on the back of his head. He moaned and sucked harder. You almost convulsed right off the bed at that. Your whole body was starting to quiver and tense. It was the best you’d ever felt during sex.
“Oh God!” you wailed as that quivering morphed into throbbing ecstasy.
You threw your head back as you drowned in the sheer satisfaction your husband was giving you. It was more than just the fluttering of a typical climax, it was a surge of bliss. Your pussy thrummed, and your head swam. You could feel your heartbeat all the way down to your toes.
Abe eased off and gently kissed the tender folds of your pussy. You didn’t know what to say as you let him go. You’d been so wrong. Or at least partially wrong. It might be obscene, but it felt wonderful.
“Did you like that?” he asked.
You nodded and wet your dry throat.
“Would you like to continue?”
“Continue?”
In silent reply, he eased a finger inside you. Your breath caught—it felt bigger than it usually did. Maybe you were oversensitive now. And your pussy was so wet, you feared you were dripping onto the rug.
“Just relax, my love.”
You took a deep breath and unclenched your hips and legs. He hummed in approval while edging his finger in and out. This you were familiar with. This felt like sex. It made you want his cock.
“Abraham…” you whined.
He lowly shushed you. “How about another?”
You gasped when two fingers began pumping inside you. The squelch of it was so unmistakably carnal.
“Your sweet pussy’s so hot and wet around my fingers,” he crooned.
Your cheeks heated anew, and you covered your face with a hand. He bent over your leg, pulled your hand to the side, and kissed the palm. You held his face and tried not to be ashamed. He was doing this with you.
“I love it,” he proclaimed, and you could smell yourself on him. “I love you.”
You gnawed your lip before giving him a minute nod. It felt good. He felt good. “I love you, too.”
“Shall I continue?”
“Yes, please.”
He sunk back onto the floor and kissed your inner thigh again, telling you to remain spread for him. He kept easing his fingers inside you as deep as he could. With his other hand he spread your pussy. Before you could ask what he was doing, his tongue was back on you.
You moaned as he swirled his tongue over your pussy. Your hands went back to his hair. You had to anchor yourself some way. He focused once more on that sensitive bundle of nerves.
At first, he lapped at it like he was coaxing it. He pressed at the walls of your pussy as he pushed his fingers deep. Then he found some primal, perfect rhythm between his fingers and tongue.
Your mouth opened in shock, and you squealed, “There!”
You hadn’t meant to demand. It just happened. Abe didn’t stop to reprimand, though. He sucked at you again, and it was just this side of too much. His fingers plunged in with every pull. He was unflagging as he took you again and again with mouth and hand.
There was no quivering this time. Your body didn’t have time. You went from a tense shiver to total convulsions. Your pussy was clenching around his fingers. You couldn’t stop the noises you were making. Everything was heat and urgency and unabating furious rapture.
Abe pushed you to the brink, pushed you until you were thrashing under him. Your heels thumped against his shoulderblades. It was too much. There were tears rolling down your temples and wetting your hair, pooling in your ears. You cried in protest because you couldn’t survive much more.
He kissed your trembling pussy one last time before resting his head on your thigh. His fingers stilled inside you, but didn’t pull out. Somehow, that made it easier to calm, though you secretly wished it was his cock instead.
You panted and spread your hands over the bed as you let your other leg flop down. You stared up in shock at the ornamental plaster work on the ceiling. You couldn’t believe your body had pulled through that. Because that had been more than a climax. You didn’t know what that had been.
You looked down at Abe and gave him a smile when he met your gaze. That had been astounding and alarming at times, but wonderful.
His eyes twinkled as he asked, “Shall we continue?”
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HIS GIRL ON A FRIDAY
saturday night live | parnassus x reader | rating:teen+
Shoutout to @thecurlycaptain (hi, stranger, you don’t know me, but I’m a fan of your work 😘) for writing a couple of passages with young Parnassus and his wife which inspired me!
You've been sent by your father, Henry Pickens, to spy on his rival: Abraham H. Parnassus
You didn't want to do it, but your father had seen the job listing from Mr. Parnassus’ company for a secretary and sent you under the false name of Miss Mary Friedberg
Somehow, you got the job and it's now Friday evening, and everyone in the office has been sent home for the weekend
All except you and Mr. Parnassus
While he didn't demand you work whenever he does, because he almost works around the clock, he does expect you to stay a little later than everyone else
You're typing up the last of his professional correspondence, and your back is tired from sitting in your hard-back desk chair for hours
Behind you is his open office door, and you can hear him muttering to himself
Mr. Parnassus bellows your name, even though you're less than fifteen feet from him
Startled, you grab your steno pad and pencil and turn to his office
You see he's smiling, so smug, and you can feel your heart in your throat as you smooth down the skirt of your professional day-dress
His unfashionably-long, dark hair has striking gray streaks at the temple, and his suits always fit him perfectly
Even smug, his face is appealing—remarkable, stately—and so handsome
Yet his brown eyes flash with barely contained fire; his lack of temper is notorious
It was refreshing from the cowed suitors your parents presented
But if your father knew you harbored such a fascination with Mr. Parnassus, he'd command you right home
"Get in here, my girl. We haven't got all night."
You clear your throat and march in, head held high and ready to transcribe
As you're about to sit in one of the guest chairs, he corrects you and orders you to come around the desk
He pats the empty corner of his desk, indicating you should sit to his right
But that's unprofessional, your knee would almost touch his arm—it would be too distracting, even for you
You'd rather lean a hip against the edge of the desk and concentrate your job
Mr. Parnassus accepts your decision to stand and begins: "To H.R. Pickens..."
You glance over at Mr. Parnassus to see him watching you
As he talks, he leans closer, and you can smell his light cologne, but you dutifully keep your eyes on your shorthand
The more you write, the more you realize he's admonishing your father for sending one of his own to keep an eye on Mr. Parnassus' business
You try not to let it show that you're completely spooked, because he can't know about you
Can he?
"I will sow the Pickens' field with my festering seed! Your precious, beautiful daughter will be mine!"
You gasp, utterly shocked, and tilt away from Mr. Parnassus, the steno pad and pencil still in your numb hands
Mr. Parnassus is looking up at you, his eyes smoldering, cheeks flushed with passionate indignation
His lips are shiny with saliva
Oh, Lord, he knows—maybe you can play it off, act like you aren't a Pickens
"Mr. Parnassus, sir, I don't think this is an appropriate letter to send to Mr. Pickens."
"Is it not true, Miss Pickens?"
"I'm not— I don't know what you mean."
"Do you know what gave you away?"
"Sir, I don't understa—"
He cuts you off: "Don't feign ignorance with me!" His big hand slaps down on his cluttered desk, and you take a shuddering breath
"It was your stockings, Miss Pickens." He remains seated, but rolls right beside you
His arm comes around your knees, and his hand is under your skirt
He gently cups the back of one of your knees, his thumb stroking your skin through the expensive stockings
"Too fine for a secretary, don't you think?" He hums in thought. "Did your mother buy these for you?"
You should leave now, quit the job, go back home, never see Mr. Parnassus again
But you freeze, any protest dying in your chest, and you find yourself unable to move an inch—his touch is soothing yet thrilling
You want him to keep going
"Answer me."
You confess you had picked them out from a French catalog
His hand slides up the back of your thigh until it reaches the top of the stocking
The first touch of skin-on-skin has you shivering and biting your lip, his fingers are warm
Said fingertips trail over the hem to the garter-belt stay at the back of your leg and plucks at it
The taut stay snaps against your leg, and you jump a little, your thighs clenching
He stands then, hand still on your leg, sliding up as he straightens to his full height to tower over you
You clutch the steno pad and pencil to your chest, practically quivering at being touched like this
His large hand now rests at the swell of your hip, the thin silk of your tap-pants style knickers offer no insulation between your body and his touch
"Tell me to stop and I will."
You shake your head, unable to find the will to refuse him, then you realize you don't want to refuse him
He takes the steno pad and pencil from you and tells you to touch him
Your hands settle on his chest and clutch at his vest, tugging him closer
As he leans in, he asks, "Shall I continue?"
You stare at his lush mouth and nod, you've been kissed before, but never like this, never by someone like this: powerful, temperamental, and so handsome
When his lips finally, finally touch yours, your knees go weak and you wrap your arms around him
It's a delirious heaven to be in his arms, to be dominated—even overwhelmed—to be cared for, to be touched like you won't break
He's cradling the back of your head and probably ruining your pinned hairstyle, just like your lipstick, but you don't care
His other hand's now on your ass, cupping the round swell of it and tugging you against his firm body, and you two find a perfect rhythm of kissing and sliding together
You know when it becomes too much, when you know you're approaching forbidden territory, and it seems he does too
He pulls back just enough to look deep into your eyes, and you notice his lips are rouged now like yours
The smile he gives you is hardly gentlemanly, and it warms you even further
He says, "Tell me not to send that letter and I won't."
You look deep into his dark, pupil-dominated eyes and whisper, "Don't."
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MASTERLIST
Under the cut are x-reader fics for:
Flip Zimmerman (BlacKkKlansman)
Pale (Burn This)
Ronnie Peterson (The Dead Don’t Die)
Adam Sackler (HBO’s Girls)
Jacques le Gris (The Last Duel)
Clyde Logan (Logan Lucky)
Charlie Barber (Marriage Story)
Abraham H. Parnassus (Saturday Night Live)
Kylo Ren (Star Wars)
Armitage Hux (Star Wars)
Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)
Phillip Altman (This Is Where I Leave You)
+ Miscellaneous fics (and more! 👀)
updated: June 21, 2023
BLACKKKLANSMAN
reader x flip zimmerman
🌹 A Reintroduction
rating: teen+, 1.5k, gender-neutral!reader, flip is dishonest, but also thirsty, drug-dealing mention
Flip. Your Flip is with the cops. He has a gun and a badge and everything.
That didn’t make any sense.
🌹 Flashfic: Flip could get it ✊
🌹 Flashfic: How do you think Flip would react to his wife’s changing body during pregnancy?
🌹 Flashfic: How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?
🌹 Flashfic: How do they picture their future with their s/o?
🌹 The Handler
rating: explicit, 4.4k, sexism, violence, abusive language, blood (bc of the violence), drug mention, guns mention, child sex-trafficking mention, rape threat, jealousy, fighting
You propped your cowboy boot on the table edge and took a long drink of beer. No one sitting at the table with you paid your rudeness any mind. In fact, Johnny Claiborne promptly placed his callused hand on your bare knee.
🌹 It’s Too Late To Turn Back Now
rating: teen, 2.1k, past physical-abuse mention, brief injury description, off-screen murder, period-typical sexism
The first time Flip saw you, you were bruised and cuffed. The scuttlebutt around the precinct was you had run over and murdered your abusive ex-boyfriend.
🌹 Queen of the Roller Derby
rating: mature, 2.3k, vague injury description, anachronistic sports teams and organizations
He couldn’t believe… Well, a lot of things. First, that he’d been invited. Second, that he was looking forward to the bout. Third, that he was anxious for your well-being.
🌹 NSFW Alphabet Series
ABC | DE | FGH | IJK | LMN | OP | QRS | TU | V | WXYZ
Bonus: My five favorite things about Flip Zimmerman
rating: explicit, 32k, stand-alone vignettes, oral sex, fluff, angst with happy ending, masturbation, daddy kink, public and semi-public sex, kind-of somnophilia, drug use, under-negotiated bondage and spanking, soft domming, ass play
Your legs went limp on Flip’s shoulders, and you felt him eased them down to the bed. He ran his big hands up your sides and then under your back as he bent forward.
🌹 Still the Same
rating: explicit, 13k, fem!reader, high-school!flip+reader, vaguely 1969 (with inaccuracies), fingering, handjobs, pining, military draft/service (with inaccuracies), colorado setting, period-typical drug use, magical first time, angst with happy ending
He cracked the window, letting in the crisp spring air. It was too dark to see where specifically he was looking, but he had turned to face you. One hand remained on the steering wheel, the other over the back of the seat.
He offered, “Wanna get in the back?”
“Sure,” you said, dropping your purse on the floor, and opened your door.
🌹 Three-day Weekend
rating: explicit, 3.2k, daddy kink, daddy dom, reader is not a little, off-screen negotiation, edging, oral sex, mild spanking
You woke to a hot hand sliding across your bare middle and lips kissing your shoulder. There was the tickle of whiskers, and you turned your head towards disruption. With a sigh, you opened your eyes to watch Flip kiss your shoulder again. He looked up at you as his hand traveled under the sheet bunched below your waist.
“Mornin’, baby,” he said. His voice was sleep-rough yet tender.
🌹 Triple-Feature
rating: mature, 2.8k, old-fashioned living arrangements, making out
The Aircadia Drive-In was running a classic-horror triple-feature this Saturday night. You read in the paper they were playing The Wolf Man, Frankenstein, and Dracula. That evening, you rang Flip and asked him out on a date. You even offered to pay.
🌹 You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet
rating: mature, 2.8k, detective reader, estranged married couple, smoking, period-typical sexism, dirty talk
…you balanced your mother’s big Tupperware container filled with homemade Samoas cookies. They were Flip’s favorite, and he detested sharing them. But he would have to—because you were famous around the station for your cookies.
You hoped he only got one. It would serve him right.
🌹 You Can Leave Your Skates On
rating: explicit, 2k, almost uniform kink, roller derby mention, clothed female naked male
The sink counter was strewn with make-up and hair tools and the pair of scissors from the kitchen. Before he could ask what the hell all this was for, you kissed his cheek and closed the bathroom door behind him.
Spiritual sequel to Queen of the Roller Derby
🌹 You Light Up My Life
rating: teen, 1.4k, sneakiness, secrets, fluffy married life
The first time you knew something was up was when Flip started his car and hurried to change the radio station.
🌹 You’re the Inspiration
rating: teen, 854, past alcohol abuse, fluffy afternoon
Flip sat in his switched off car and stared at the dark house. He wanted to break something.
BURN THIS
reader x pale
🌹 In the Night We Trust | playlist on spotify
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
rating: explicit, 57k, pretty woman au, prostitute reader, 1980s/90s, drug use mention, alcohol consumption, inherent power imbalance, soft dom, choking (not breathplay), safe sex, oral sex, semi-public sex, public dirty talk, rough sex, mild spanking, fighting, abusive language, attempted sexual assault, aftercare
“So tell me, Pale, are you in town on business or pleasure?”
“Business…” He looks at your lips. “Until now.”
THE DEAD DON’T DIE
reader x ronald peterson
🌹 A Grave New World
rating: teen+, 804, canon-typical violence, missing parents
You’d only gone on one date—a really nice date, too—with Ronnie Peterson and then the zombie apocalypse happened. Like, what the actual fuck?
GIRLS (HBO)
reader x adam sackler
🌹 Flashfic: …imagine him trying to cuddle and smooch his gf in public and she’s like “😬😬 what are you doing…? Mmm, I guess it’s not so bad”
🌹 Flashfic: please. please tell me about licking sackler’s sack. its all i can think about. my mind has been infected by thoughts of adam sacklers balls in my mouth
🌹 Improving His Taste
rating: teen+, 2.2k, post s05e10, arguments with SO, making out
You were so sick of Adam Sackler and his tempestuous girlfriends.
🌹 Let Me Explain
rating: teen+, 1.2k, light angst, happy ending
“Whoa, let me explain!” Adam implored while teetering in patent leather stilettos, a chef’s knife with slices of carrot sticking to it in his hand. He grabbed the kitchen counter with his left to steady himself.
🌹 There Is A Light (That Never Goes Out)
rating: explicit, 4.3k, canon-typical buffoonery, jealousy, brief non-con element, femdom-ish reader, oral sex
“Take off your clothes,” he murmured after kissing you. “And crawl to my bed.”
THE LAST DUEL
reader x jacques le gris
🌹 Fair Is Foul
rating: teen, 1.8k, historical inaccuracies, timeline inaccuracies, anachronisms, medieval flirting, sad/open ending, minor spoilers(?), rape mention
The other ladies at court told you not to demean yourself by keeping company with a squire. You pointed out that said squire had Count Pierre’s favor. Said squire might even be favored above any knight.
🌹 To Honor and Innocence
rating: mature, 5.3k, fem!reader, young!jacques, historical/jousting inaccuracies, ✨the middle ages were magic✨, catholic imagery, reader has a spring/summer birthday, just roll with me, making out, thigh riding, euphemisms galore
You needed to look away, but you couldn’t. He was striking with the sudden high color in his cheeks and glittering eyes. His smile softened around the edges, and your heart soared at the sight.
Look away, you’d told yourself. Look away before you lose yourself.
LOGAN LUCKY
reader x clyde logan
🌹 A Newer World
rating: teen, 1.3k, PTSD symptom mention
Jimmy leaned across the patio table, bottle of Coors in hand. “So, when you gonna make an honest woman outta her?”
🌹 Lucky Me Lucky You | duck tape jukebox on spotify | ambient mix by Sushii
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9
Bonus: NSFW Alphabet [2.1k]
rating: explicit, 33k, counter-espionage, angst with happy ending, alcohol consumption
You’d had big plans for your future. He’d had big plans, too. During senior year, you’d overheard him talking before class about joining the Army. You had thought about him in that service uniform and how handsome he would look.
Thirteen years later, Clyde was tending bar, sans uniform and missing part of his left arm. At the same time, you were working at the data-entry/call-center down the road from the house you inherited from your late grandmother.
So much for big plans.
🌹 When I Saw You
rating: mature/explicit, 3k, hairdresser!reader, touch-starved!clyde, post movie, erotic fantasies
In his fantasies, he always has both hands.
Which he knows is ironic.
MARRIAGE STORY
reader x charlie barber
🌹 Finding Treasure in the Dark
1 | 2
rating: explicit, 18k, submissive!female-reader, dom!charlie, under-negotiated bdsm, impact play, nipple play, oral sex, anal sex, piv sex, restraints, rope bondage, edging, semi-public fingering, sex toys, handjobs, public teasing
“Yes!“ she hissed in delight. "I told Professor Barber straight out I didn’t do that crap. Or let him boss me around. That’s why I dropped him, you know. If he wants some Stepford to indulge his impulses, he should go to Fetster or whatever.”
Your eyes went wide, and you shifted in your seat, faux-yawning and stretching your arms to cover the movement. You knew Charlie Barber.
🌹 Sweet Angel
rating: explicit, 3k, fluff, dog adoption, insecure!Charlie, piv sex
Since moving to a house with a fenced yard, Henry has been focused on getting a dog. First, it was getting a puppy for Christmas. When that hadn’t panned out, a dog for his birthday. Nicole wouldn’t install a real fence at her place, but tried to distract him with a new iPad.
That worked for a month.
SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE
reader x abraham h. parnassus
🌹 Flashfic: …what would young!Abe do for his wife on [Valentine’s Day]??
🌹 Flashfic: Abe Parnassus vibes jacquesdemys.tumblr com/post/125815250515
🌹 His Girl On A Friday
rating: teen+, 1.2k, corporate espionage, seduction
You’ve been sent by your father, Henry Pickens, to spy on his rival: Abraham H. Parnassus.
🌹 Indulgences
rating: mature, 1.5k, fem!reader, vaguely 1950s, old-fashioned euphemisms, dub-con-ish at first, public fingering, mild edging
It’s official: Don Carlos is boring. Yes, it’s a fundraiser. And of course, you agreed to purchase tickets. Anything to support The Met. But this opera, while beautiful, is dull.
🌹 My Baby Just Cares for Me Series
rating: explicit, sheltered-artist reader, vaguely 1950s, no vintage racism, written with old-fashioned sensibilities and euphemisms, oral sex, alcohol consumption, semi-public sex, sex toys, vaginal fingering, first time
— Expanding One’s Horizons [5k]
“We all need to expand our horizons,” you said as you went to the dining room to turn off the lights.
“Indeed we do, my love.”
— Tension Tamer [3k]
The mattress trembled under you. The softly lit face of your alarm clock said it was after three. You knew it must be work that had awoken him. The company was in the middle of a merger and tensions were high.
— A Treasure More Than Gold [2.2k]
You met your husband’s eyes across the dance floor of Hotel Astor’s ballroom. He’d let his five o'clock shadow develop into a short Vandyke beard in preparation for Babe Paley’s Halloween gala.
— Minx [2.7k]
Abe groaned into the coverlet as you pressed your thumbs on either side of his spine. His muscles were slowly losing their tightness. You didn’t think his desk chair at work was supporting him properly. Most likely, he never sat in it except to sign documents.
— It’s Magic [4.4k]
Don’t go to art school, they said.
— Two To Tango [7k]
You sat at the bistro table tucked in the corner of the pasticceria. Abe sat across from you, tiny plates of bite-sized cake on the table between you.
STAR WARS
general
🌹 The Skywalker Ascension
rating: teen, 4.5k, tros revision, mc death, angst, lightsaber battles, retcon timeline
“All the Sith live in me,” he vows. “You will be empress, and we will be one.”
While disgust churns her gut, she will not hate, she will not give in.
To him or to anyone.
🌹 Unsanctioned
rating: general, 371, universe jumping, pre-tfa, my poor attempt at humor
You’re taking the walk of shame to the kitchen, arms full of dirty dishes.
kylo ren x armitage hux
🌹 Bombing Out
rating: mature, 1.4k, canon compliant, cannoli kylux, gambling, strip sabacc, alcohol consumption, afterlife, mutual pining, arguing
He didn’t know why he was playing sabacc. He didn’t like card games. There was hardly any strategy. No planning. Everything was left to chance. It was messy. And the gambling. He didn’t mind risk, of course, but one had to match their opponents’ bets. Which meant the opponent had too much control.
It was idiotic.
About as idiotic as his opponent, Ben Solo—
Who had literally lost his shirt last round.
🌹 Iron Moon Series on AO3 | photoset | spotify playlist by ayudameme
rating: explicit, 36k, canon universe, xeno-vampires, canon-typical violence, the first order wins, soft kylux, but with blood, knife play, blood drinking
He wanted to taste it, lick it all up. He wanted to run his tongue along the cauterized edges of the cut on Ren’s face. He wanted to follow it down under Ren’s ruined clothing.
reader x armitage hux
🌹 Flashfic: Armitage Hux is low key hot
🌹 Flashfic: I want Hux to throat fuck me
🌹 Succor
rating: mature, 2.4k, shy princess reader, fo-leader hux, the first order won, arranged marriage, dirty talk
You felt your dinner guests’ eyes on you, their judgements. You ignored them while hiding behind the courtly rituals you’d been taught since childhood.
reader x kylo ren | ben solo
🌹 All the Time in the Galaxy
rating: teen, 1.9k, kor reader, mutual pining, first kiss
“Lady Ren, pardon the interruption—” You didn’t know what he was interrupting. You were both standing in silence. “—The techs have noticed something strange here on Starkiller.”
🌹 Call It In the Ring Series
rating: teen-mature, college au, art-majors kylo and reader, first date, sibling fights, nude photography, assisted masturbation, phone sex, fingering
— Hotshot House Show [2.5k]
You checked the address one more time on your phone. It was right, but definitely not what you expected when Kylo offered to make you dinner.
— Worked Shoot [5k]
Photography midterms were due in two weeks, and you only had one of the four photos you needed. You silently berated yourself because you’d known this was coming. It was on the damn syllabus.
But who actually read the syllabus?
— Clean Finish [2k]
You couldn’t believe you were about to do this, you thought as you stood naked in front of the clean bathroom mirror. You didn’t know if Kylo would like it. What if he didn’t?
— Vignette [938]
Ben was all “Morning, beautiful” with a grin Flynn Rider would be proud of. He sat close to you on the sectional sofa—even though there were plenty available places to sit.
— Bonus: I want nothing more than to strip off his clothes piece by piece, kissing any and all skin bared to me.
— Dirty Pre-show [1.3k]
You’d washed at the sink in the studio, but ugh, your jeans are splattered with slip. You’re pretty sure you have some on your face, in your hair. Hell, even one of your ears feels crusty.
How the ever living fuck does it get everywhere?
🌹 Dum Dums
rating: teen, 2.3k, gender-neutral reader, suburban high-school au, fluff, mutual pining, mild angst with happy ending
“Your boyfriend’s looking this way again,” Poe sing-songed before taking a big bite of his apple.
You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly who he was talking about. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you reply as you set your bottle of water on the lunch tray.
🌹 Flashfic: Please the (fem-dom!reader) story from gc…. I NEED IT
🌹 Flashfic: FAM IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU… PLEASE PLEASE WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT GIVING SMOOCHES TO FOREVER SAD BOY KYLO
🌹 Flashfic: How does Kylo spoil his lady?
🌹 Flashfic: So, what do you guys think is Kylo’s favorite way to kiss?
🌹 Hello
rating: mature(ish), 1k, modern au, dream-sharing, pining, possessiveness, nightmare elements, magic/force shenanigans
A phone rang. Burr-ring. Distant at first. Burr-ring. Clanging. Jarring. Burr-ring. It was too dark to find it. You groped around in the cool, damp blackness to find nothing. Burr-ring. You cursed just before your hand slapped against something cold and metal.
🌹 Me and The Devil Series
rating: mature-explicit, modern vampire au, death mention, blood drinking, menstruation, oral sex, biting
— Flashfic: …I want vampire!kylo to do *very* unspeakable things to me :)
— Flashfic: Very bored tonight and [thinking] about vamp!kylo, if you have any, what’re your favorite five about him?
— You’re My Sweetness [2.1k]
“You’re sad,” he murmured, a note of confusion in his words.
“Funerals tend to do that.”
“Let me make it better.”
— Red Wings [1.4k]
So, you laid there and bled onto an overnight pad that had to be the length of a regulation cricket bat.
— Flashfic: Do you have any thoughts on vampire Kylo sensually playing with you with his teeth?
🌹 Not Like the Rest
rating: teen, 948, alcohol consumption, politics
So, Ben’s kept moving for years. He hustles. He’s on committees. He researches everyone around him. He schmoozes.
And he’s schmoozing during a dinner to honor a retiring staffer when he sees you.
🌹 On the Pulse of Mourning
rating: teen, 6.5k, ptsd, angst, disregarding an elder’s wisdom, force choking, force weirdness
He sat on the lowered ramp of his TIE and waited for the Resistance scouts to find him. He didn’t think it would take them long. He’d landed only two klicks from the base.
🌹 The Sofa King
rating: mature, 550, hs au, making out, frottage
Anonymous asked: Ben Solo is such a precious little baby I don't see him making the first move. He would be way too nervous. Like during a movie night you could literally be in his lap, rubbing his chest, purring into his ear and he would just keep his eyes locked on the screen, jaw locked, shifting uncomfortably, and he making silly comments about the movie.
reader x kylo ren x armitage hux
🌹 Precious Pet Series on AO3 | photoset | playlist on spotify
Bonus: NSFW Alphabet for Kylo and Hux [1.6k]
rating: explicit, 335k, canon universe, force-sensitive reader, departing from tfa, stockholm syndrome, force bond, everyone has issues
A hush suddenly fell over the village and you strained to hear anything. Was it over? Had the Order gotten what it wanted? You had a gnawing feeling it was only beginning.
The whoosh of energy—you couldn’t identify the noise, but you knew it wasn’t good—pierced the air. There was a collective horrified gasp and more scrabbling and then more blaster fire. Something had happened, something terrible. Someone’s death had triggered it all. Suddenly, there were screams and controlled violent blasters, and you covered your mouth to muffle your sob. The village was dead. Everyone you knew was dead. Lor San Tekka was gone. You felt it like a punch to the chest.
STAR WARS/DREDD
armitage hux x clan techie
🌹 Little Blue
rating: mature, 1.3k, incest, abuse mention, jealousy, crushes
“I see you’ve been slumming it with the radar techs again,” Armie said from his perch on Techie’s bed.
Techie gnawed on his lip, stepping through the doorway of his berth, and let the door slide shut behind him. He knew it would be stupid to deny it. He was wearing the tech jumpsuit after all.
STRANGER THINGS
reader x eddie munson
🌹 Through A Glass Darkly | playlist on spotify
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | ?
rating: explicit, ?k, canon universe, fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn, friends to lovers, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, mild spanking, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex
Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?
Weird weird?
He shrugged. He liked weird.
In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.
THIS IS WHERE I LEAVE YOU
reader x phillip altman
🌹 Risking Thorns
rating: explicit, 12k, post-movie, ice skating, nice suburban upbringing, slut shaming, almost enemies-to-lovers, prickly reader, phillip gets a short leash, bastardization of a jewish holiday, fingering, semi-public sex, phone sex, spanking threat
Once she pulled out of the parking lot, you asked, “So, where are we going?”
“Altman’s? I thought you got your skates sharpened there, too?”
Mental alarms went off as you shook your head. You knew the Altmans…
THE WITCHER
yennefer x geralt
🌹 Nailed Into Place
rating: explicit, 14k, modern new orleans au, inspired by s01e03 “betrayer moon”, mishmash of nola folklore, i’ve altered the striga curse (pray i don’t alter it further), references to s01e05 “bottled appetites”, timeline what timeline, alcohol consumption, incest mention, pedophilia mention, injuries, blood, ableist language, a sprinkling of geralt/jaskier
Geralt Rivia is the only witcher in New Orleans. He’s typically hard to find until Jaskier decides to announce on Instagram where he’ll be performing via selfies with Geralt in the background. Baron Ostrit, an associate of mob-connected Foltest Temeria, shows up to hire Geralt to rescue his daughter from slavers. Another princess to save. Geralt finds himself in a tangle lies, from the Marigny to the Garden District—and consulting with a mage he hasn’t seen in years…
MISCELLANEOUS
🌹 Character Soundtrack
Songs and playlists for characters I (and others) associate with them. Feel free to message me with ideas!
🌹 BlacKkKlansman Supercut
Flip Zimmerman scenes only.
🌹 Logan Lucky Supercut
Clyde Logan scenes only.
🌹 Burn This - Audio
Bootleg audio recording of the play.
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