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honestsycrets · 10 months

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mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it.

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free.

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.”

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--”

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--”

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.”

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face.

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets.

“She likes it.”

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.”

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar.

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.”

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.”

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,”

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face.

“As many as will make you happy.”

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.”

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?”

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for.

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father.

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.”

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable.

Low sperm count his ass.

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it.

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.”

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.”

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel.

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them.

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.”

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly.

“Sí, Miggy?”

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so.

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that.

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place.

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder.

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck.

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone.

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day.

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is.

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready.

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall.

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.”

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.”

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.”

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck.

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.”

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest.

“Who would come in?”

“Peter,” you answer.

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see.

“The balcony, then.”

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?”

“Maybe.”

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter.

“Bend over.”

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now.

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.”

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth.

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?”

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again.

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back.

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability.

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable.

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach.

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body.

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs.

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days. “Like… not this.”

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.”

“Don’t start.”

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging.

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--”

“Let me guess. She told you.”

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?”

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe.

“Are you sure? I know--”

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.”

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?”

He leers. Peter scuttles away.

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

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runnning-outof-time · 10 months

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The Brother That Always Wins | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @kpopgirlbtssvt

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader, with hints of John Shelby and Arthur Shelby trying their hand at flirting with the reader

Summary: (Y/N) is oblivious to the fact that three of the most powerful men in Birmingham are interested in her. When it's all said and done though, the brother that always wins, wins.

Warnings: language, drinking, terribly written flirting

Word Count: 4350

A/N: this story turned into an absolute ride, one that I enjoyed much more than I thought I would. It’s a bit of controlled chaos…I hope you’re ready for it. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"The fuck are you grinnin' for?" John Shelby asked as soon as his brother, Arthur entered the snug. He couldn't help himself, his older sibling's grin was able to be seen from a mile away.

"I just helped the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen in me life," Arthur proudly answered, his chest jutting out slightly as he spoke.

"Helped in what way, eh?" Tommy questioned, his one eyebrow raised. He'd been reading the newspaper and keeping to himself, only half-listening as John talked away about whatever, but he couldn't deny that he was interested in what Arthur had to say.

"I bet you he just stood there and gawked at her!" John chimed in before Arthur could respond, a smug grin on his face.

"I did not!" Arthur snapped back at his younger sibling, sending a glare his way, "I had a bloody conversation with her and all!"

"What happened?" Tommy asked another question, slowly losing his patience as he waited.

"So she was walkin' with a box, right? A big ass box...one that's too big for a lady like her to be carryin’. But she was walkin' with it. And so I was watchin' her from across the road, because she was goin' the same way I was. We must've walked for some time, how long I don't remember. Anyways, she gets to this one stretch and she trips...loses her fuckin' balance or something. All of the things in the box go flyin'. So I did what any man does and ran 'cross the street to help her. We put all the shit back into the box and then when she looked up at me, I thought I was gonna die on the spot. She was so fuckin' beautiful, lads. Shy, and sweet, and just fuckin'...gorgeous. I swear to you that if she would've..."

"Get on with the story, Arthur," Tommy interjected into Arthur's tangent, making him snap out of the attraction-riddled daze that he was quickly slipping into.

"Yeah, right," Arthur nodded, shaking his head slightly as he tried to recall where he was. "She was actin' so shy and thankin' me for helpin' her clean the stuff up that I couldn't but just be, fuckin'..."

"Arthur," Tommy said in a warning tone.

"I'm gettin' on with it," he brushed his brother off before continuing, "I couldn't help but not want to leave her. So I asked her where she was goin' and she said to the school. That was out of my way, but I didn't fuckin' care. I carried her things to the school she went on with thankin' me again. She was so fuckin' gorgeous and...shit, boys, I think I might be in love," he finished up his story, continuing on with it despite the scoffs or stiffled laughter coming from his brothers.

"You said she was going to the school?" John asked a question once it was clear that Arthur was finished with his story.

"Yeah...she's a fuckin' teacher, mate. Even better," Arthur grinned.

"Did you get her name?" John asked another question.

"Course I did!" Arthur responded like it was obvious.

Silence fell in the snug then, the three men looking between each other. John waited on bated breath for a few moments before it became obvious that Arthur wasn't going to say it without being prompted. "What was it?"

"(Y/N), I think it was," Arthur recalled, his answer making John choke out a weird sound, one that seemed to be a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. "What?"

"She's Katie's fuckin' teacher, mate!" John exclaimed, his declaration making Arthur's eyes widen. "She is fuckin' gorgeous, I'll tell you that," he then agreed with Arthur, a wide grin now plastered across his face.

John and Arthur then went about talking about her after Arthur prompted his younger sibling to tell him all that he knew about her. Tommy sat in his chair, half reading the paper and half listening to their conversation. He couldn't deny that he was intrigued by his brothers' stories, and everything they said about her made him want to go and meet her for himself even more.

"Can I help you?" (Y/N) (Y/L/N) asked the man that she swore appeared in her doorway out of nowhere. He was dressed in an expensive looking three-piece suit with an equally as expensive looking overcoat over top of it, as well as a peaked cap atop his head.

"I'm looking for (Y/N)," the man answered.

"You found her," (Y/N) smiled, setting her book down on the desk to give the man her full attention. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I was directed to you by the front office. They said you're in charge of the donations?"

"That depends...if you're looking to donate to the building, you'll need to speak with our headmaster, but if you're looking to donate directly to the children, you can speak to me," she explained with a smile. She was proud to have been named the head of the board that made sure the children in the school had the tools they needed in order to thrive in the learning environment.

"I'm looking to donate to the children."

"Then you're in the right place," she chirped, "you can come over here and we'll get into the details of it," she said then, waving him over to her desk.

He finally entered the room, and as he walked over, (Y/N) felt the commanding aura that swirled around him. It wasn't one that made her scared, but rather one that filled her with intrigue.

"Can I have the name for the donation?" she asked once she had a piece of paper and a pencil ready.

"It's Thomas Shelby," he answered her, watching as realization sparked in her eyes. He couldn't help but think that Arthur was absolutely right - for once in his life...she was absolutely gorgeous.

"Shelby? I have a student whose last name is Shelby."

"Katie?" Tommy questioned, even though he already knew who she was talking about.

"Yes!" (Y/N) happily answered, "Katie's such a lovely girl. Who is she to you?" she couldn't help but ask.

"She's my niece," he shared, his words making her nod in understanding.

"What sort of donation would you like to make, Mr. Shelby?" she asked then, the pencil ready in her hand.

"I'd like to make it so that all of the children in the year you teach have whatever they need to excel in their classes," he answered, speaking in a nonchalant tone.

"Oh...my goodness," she gasped, stopping what she was writing as the weight of his statement finally clicked in her mind.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, it's just that..." she trailed off, unable to put her thoughts properly into words, "no one has made such a generous donation before."

"I like to make sure that others benefit from the wealth I've gained," he told her in an assured tone. Well that was one of the reasons why he'd made such a donation.

"I...uh, goodness, I don't even know where to start," she confessed, still genuinely baffled by his generosity. "Usually I'd go through with the person donating and we'd make a list of where the funds can be allocated, but with your overwhelming donation, I'm not sure I know what to do first," she added, a sheepish smile present on her face when she looked up at him again.

"It's nothing you'd need to have done in a hurry," he told her, showing that he wasn't upset by her unsuredness.

"I'd hate to waste your time now and make you wait..." she trailed off, biting on the end of the pencil as she tried to think of some ways his funds could be used.

Spending time with you would not be time wasted, Tommy thought to himself just as an idea came to mind: "what if we go for dinner at the end of the week? You can have time to think of ideas and you'll share them with me then," he proposed, his eyebrows raising slightly as he awaited her response.

(Y/N) took a moment to think about his proposition. It'd certainly be a good idea for her to have more time to think about it, and she couldn't say that she'd be opposed to having dinner with this man. "Dinner sounds nice," she gave her answer after a few moments had passed, "I'll come prepared with good ideas," she assured him with a smile.

"I'm sure whatever ideas you'll bring will interest me," Tommy told her, nodding once before he took a step back towards the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. It's a great pleasure to have you working with us," (Y/N) smiled, still truly overwhelmed by his generosity.

"The pleasure's mine, (Y/N)," he couldn't help but let a smile break onto his lips as he looked over her one last time. They said their goodbyes then, and Tommy exited the school. He was genuinely pleased with the fact that she'd agreed to have dinner with him. It was certainly a step in the right direction with her.

John Shelby entered the school that his children attended two days after his brother did. He was unsuccessful in finding someone who could help direct him to the room he wanted to visit, but thankfully found the woman he was looking for as she walked towards the main doors from down a hallway.

"Miss (Y/L/N)!" he called to her, hoping to get her attention.

To his luck, she heard him. "Can I help you?" she asked with a smile, one that made John feel like he was going to go weak at the knees.

"Yes. You're my daughter's teacher. Her name's Katie Shelby. I wanted to ask how she's been doing in class," he told her the reason behind him being there. Truthfully he couldn't care less about Katie's performance. School wasn't something he was ever interested in, but if it meant he'd be able to talk to an utterly gorgeous woman, he'd give the performance of the century.

"Oh Katie!" (Y/N) answered, her smile growing wider as she recalled one of her students, "she's amazing...such a pleasure to have in class. She's always working hard and staying on top of her assignments," she then gave him a run down on his daughter's performance.

John nodded as she spoke. He had no shame in the fact that he was only half listening to her answer; being too preoccupied with drinking in her appearance. Silence fell between them then as that topic of conversation passed quickly. John didn't want her to leave just yet, so he scrambled for another talking point. "I heard that you met my brother, Arthur, the other day," he said then. It wasn't his best choice of topic, but he hoped it would keep her around. His hopes fell when a look of confusion formed on her pretty face. Shit, John...save yourself here! "He, uh...he told me that he helped you with one of your boxes...?" he ended his statement like it was a question, hoping that she'd show some sort of recollection.

Realization did appear on her face, but the sentence that accompanied it was one that left John confused: "oh...it seems I've met two of your brothers," she informed him, effectively making him wear the same expression she had moments ago. She took the time to explain then: "Thomas came in a few days ago to arrange a generous donation to aid the children who come here."

Fucks sake. John couldn't help but sigh internally. Tommy had already sunk his paws into the territory John thought he'd have a leg up in. "Oh he did?" he decided to play it cool, hoping that his aggravation didn't bubble up to the surface.

"He did. The other teachers and I are all so thankful for the contribution," (Y/N) answered, her smile telling John that he was doing well at masking how he was really feeling.

"Well I'm happy to hear that," John stated, running a hand over his face as he tried to think of a way to divert the conversation away from Tommy. "I can't say enough how happy I am that my daughter has a wonderful, smart, caring teacher like yourself," he said then, deciding to go the compliment route. There were many other things he wanted to include while referring to her, but he didn't want to overdo it.

"Awe thank you, Mr. Shelby. As I've said before, Katie is such a pleasure to have in class," (Y/N) accepted the compliment with grace, a bashful smile forming on her face.

Silence fell around them for a few beats before John spoke again: "you're probably wantin' to get home, so I should probably go," he stated, nodding his head back towards the main doors of the school.

"Oh yes, it's certainly been a long day," she answered with a nod.

"I'll see you around sometime then," John began to say his goodbyes.

"You certainly will," (Y/N) sent him one last smile before John turned and exited the school.

John was thankful to see the majority of his family sitting around the main table of the betting shop when he entered it that evening.

"Where've you been, John Boy?" Arthur asked, everyone's eyes following John as he made his way to an open chair.

"I just left the school," John answered, his face straight as he spoke.

"The school?" Arthur questioned.

"Something happen with one of the children?" Polly asked, her brows furrowed.

"No, everything's fine with them," John quelled her concern.

"Why were you at the school then?" Polly asked another question.

"Ah I know...you were tryin' to see the hot teacher, huh?" Arthur chimed in before John could answer, a grin now present on his face.

John shot a glare in his brother's direction, slightly annoyed by the fact that he was a little too anxious to know. But with all of the eyes in the room on him, he figured he may as well give up. "Yeah, I went to see her."

"Did ya talk to her?" Arthur eagerly asked.

John didn't miss Polly's eyeroll before he answered his brother: "yeah, I did...and I was told that Tommy already went and talked to her." He couldn't help but glance at Tommy from the corner of his eye, seeing if his statement roused any type of reaction from him.

"Why would you have gone to talk to the childrens' teacher, Thomas?" Polly was the one to ask, her eyes now zeroed in on him.

"She told me that he wanted to make a donation to the school," John offered more information, a sour tone still present in his voice.

"Tommy," Polly sighed, bringing her hand up to her forehead.

"We've arranged to have dinner one of these upcoming evenings to discuss it further," Tommy nonchalantly shared more details of his meeting with (Y/N).

"Bloody hell, Tommy," Arthur grumbled, a frown on his face as he shook his head. He'd have no chance in hell with her now.

"Why was this not brought up in a family meeting?" Polly asked a sensible question, seemingly unaware of the brothers' reason behind their responses.

"Because I have decided that we need to start putting back into the city," Tommy answered, an authoritative tone laced into his voice.

"And you thought that the school would be the most logical place to start?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"Why not?"

"You're putting yourself into places you shouldn't be...if this blows up in your face, I won't be here for it," Polly spoke in a firm tone, showing her distaste for his decision.

Tommy held his gaze on her, an uninterested look present in his eyes. He didn't quite care what his aunt had to say about this, he was going to continue on how he saw fit.

Polly held his gaze, waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, she rolled her eyes and let out a scoff before turning and stalking over to the door. She stopped before she could grab the handle, abruptly turning to look at the three men sitting at the table. "If any of you make her cry or so much as hurt a single strand of hair on her head..." she paused, pursing her lips as she shook her head slightly, "you will have hell to pay." Her voice was flat, but her tone was serious, and she let no one respond before she opened the door and exited the betting shop.

"Ms. Gray, it's so nice to see you again," (Y/N) said with a smile as she found the older woman standing in the doorway of her classroom. "Is everything ok with Katie? We missed her in class today."

"Katie's fine," Polly quelled the teacher's worry, "she was feeling ill so she stayed home."

"Oh, ok. I hope she gets better soon," (Y/N) offered her regards with a smile, one that Polly reciprocated. "Is there something that you need?"

"Yes," Polly didn't beat around the bush, "my nephew, Tommy, came to speak with you the other day..." she began, trailing off in hopes that (Y/N) would continue.

"Yes, he did!" she took the bait without question, "he made a very generous donation, and then suggested we have dinner to work the smaller points of it out."

"And how did that go?" Polly asked with raised eyebrows.

"Very well," (Y/N) smiled in response, "the children are already benefiting from the money he's given. It was very kind of him to do this."

Nothing Tommy Shelby has done was done just for the sake of 'being kind', Polly thought to herself as she mentally scoffed at the younger woman's statement. "I'm happy to hear that the children are benefitting from it," Polly said in response, keeping her thoughts on her nephew's intentions to herself.

(Y/N) smiled in response, completely overjoyed by the kindness of the Shelby family that she was oblivious to even the mere thought of Tommy having other intentions behind his decision to donate. Nothing else was said then as the women exchanged parting words.

(Y/N) smoothed out her dress as she reached the doors of the establishment. She hoped that the outfit she chose didn't make her over, or under, dressed for the occasion. With a deep breath, she grabbed the handle and opened the door, the sounds of chatter and music smacking her in the face. She entered the pub with a smile, hoping to quickly find a familiar face.

Of course one of the Shelbys quickly found her at the door. It was their re-opening party after all, and a beautiful woman like (Y/N) was most certainly not going to go unnoticed.

"Oi, you came!" Arthur was the first of the brothers to spot her, and a big grin was plastered across his face as he moved over to greet her.

"Yes! This place looks lovely!" she answered, smiling as she looked around the room.

"We made sure to get the best of the best," he boasted, his grin still present. "And speakin' of the best...can I offer one of the best women I've seen a drink?" he smoothly transitioned, his one eyebrow raised as he looked at her.

"I'd love one, thank you," she answered, smiling at his kindness.

"Come on then," he stated, offering her his arm so that he could lead her to the bar.

She accepted it, walking over to an open seat so that he could go around the bar and get her a drink. She thanked him again when he set it down in front of her, and just as he leaned up against the bar, ready to chat with her, Isiah came to him with a matter of business. He left her with a slight frown and an 'excuse me, love,' before going off with the younger man. (Y/N) sat by herself, sipping her drink and enjoying the revelry around her. She wasn't alone for long though.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)...I didn't think I'd see you here," shock was present in John Shelby's voice as he came up beside her.

"I decided to stop in and see what all of the talk was about," she smiled at him.

"Well we're certainly happy to have you here," he grinned at her, trying so hard not to give her a once over. "Say why don't you come and share a dance with me?" he suggested.

"Oh, I couldn't," she turned down his offer, her shyness creeping in.

"Come on...a quick dance wouldn't hurt," he didn't quite give up hope.

"I'm rather terrible at dancing."

"You've not seen me dance then."

(Y/N) bit her lip to conceal her giggles, surprised with how forward he was.

"Come on..." John coaxed her, hand outstretched in her direction. She was hesitant, but accepted it, allowing him to lead her to the floor. "Just follow my lead and you'll be fine," he said, assuming the position before he began to lead her in a similar dance to what the other partygoers were doing.

(Y/N) couldn't help but smile as she danced around the floor with John. She certainly was having fun, not really thinking about what she looked like or what others thought. John couldn't believe that he was dancing with one of the most beautiful women in the room.

They danced for about two songs before (Y/N) excused herself, wanting to go have a seat. John allowed her to go, deciding that he'd go into the snug and check on Finn - who he knew was sneaking stronger drinks than what his brothers originally told him he could have.

(Y/N) found a newly opened seat at the bar as soon as she came to it. She was bummed that her drink had been lost, but she didn't need to worry about that for too long.

"You made it," Tommy Shelby's voice came from her left, making her turn slightly to see him approaching her from behind the bar.

"I did, thanks for inviting me," (Y/N) smiled at him, "this party's amazing!" she commented, glancing around the room.

"It is," Tommy agreed once she focused on him again, "can I get you something to drink?"

"Please," she smiled kindly at the offer, watching as he went about grabbing a bottle from the shelf. "I wanted to also thank you, again, for the dinner and the donation. The children have already gotten some of the supplies that we've received, and they're loving them," she shared some information once he came back with a glass for her.

"That's good news," he nodded, taking a drink from his glass then. "You know I was thinking maybe...maybe you and I could have dinner again, without the need to talk about the donations this time," he proposed, watching her intently as he waited for a response.

(Y/N) couldn't stop her eyes from lighting up at his suggestion. She had a lovely time with him at their first dinner. "I'd like that," she answered with a smile.

"Figured we could get to know each other better."

"That would be lovely," she agreed, giggling slightly at the fact that he was practically reading her mind.

The two then went about planning the dinner, agreeing on a time and place. (Y/N) couldn't help but feel giddy when he suggested a restaurant that was far more classy than the first place they'd met. If she wasn't excited before...she certainly was now.

As they spoke more, Polly Gray kept a close eye on them from across the room. She'd been watching the brothers all evening as they tried their hand at her. It became clear to her, though, that Tommy had ended out on top as she watched them converse at the bar. She could easily tell from how (Y/N) was invested in their conversation, giggling and leaning closer to him when he'd speak, that what he was doing was being received well. John and Arthur wouldn't have much of a chance now.

-One Year Later-

Slowly, Tommy lifted the veil up to reveal (Y/N)'s smiling face. He draped it over her head and let his eyes dance across her features, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he felt the joy radiating from her.

"We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) and Thomas Michael Shelby," the officiant began, commanding the attention of everyone in the church.

Ever since the evening of the party at the Garrison, (Y/N) and Tommy found themselves wrapped up in a whirlwind of a romance. Tommy proposed after five months of them being together, knowing that he wasn't going to find another woman like her. They spent five months being engaged and doing a great amount of traveling - it was the summer holiday for (Y/N), so she was able to follow Tommy wherever he went. Now they were standing at the altar in front of a great number of guests who were anxiously waiting to see them pronounce their love for each other.

Well...two of the guests were exactly anxious. John and Arthur sat on Tommy's side of the church, watching as the ceremony commenced. Both were happy for their brother, but they'd be lying if they said that they weren't bummed that it wasn't them up with (Y/N).

Everyone stood up and celebrated as the officiant pronounced Tommy and (Y/N) 'man and wife', and they shared their first kiss as a married couple.

"As always..." John started, elbowing Arthur in the ribcage as they both clapped for their brother, "Tommy gets the girl, and we've gotta sit back and watch."

Arthur couldn't help but snort as he heard what John had to say. "You're right, John boy," he agreed, shaking his head but nonetheless continuing clapping.

No matter what happened, or how hard John and Arthur tried to get ahead, Tommy would forever be the brother that always wins.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

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joshfutturman · 4 months

Text

"good boy" 18+

oneshot (request) - inexperienced virgin failure josh futturman asks the reader over for some 'video games' (4.4k words) pairing - josh futturman (future man) + reader (no gendered pronouns, reader is afab) tags: utter filth lol, porn with tiny plot, dom/sub, dom!reader, sub!josh, LOTS of good boy mentions, oral both receiving, penetration, kissing, no use of y/n, missionary, slight dumbification ig, lots of wet mentions lmao, orgasm control, probs more i cant remember rn

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

the janitor from work was cute in a nerdy, adorable yet super naive way. in passing he'd attempt to flirt with you at your reception desk, attempt being the keyword here. but you'd flirt back, stronger and harder - which most of the time simply flew over his dense little head.

"i'd love to see it sometime," you say enthusiastically, referring to his video game collection he'd rambled about for 10 minutes straight. again.

his face lights up and a smile tugs on the corner of his lips, "yeah? really? you should totally come over - i've been dying to play this new one i picked up on co-op. - i mean," he falters, "if you want to. . ."

oh my god. was he asking you over? finally? josh futturman asked you over to play video games in his bedroom. alone. score.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

notes: this was requested by @fatinhadesiners06 hehe, i hope you like it! tried to make josh as much of a virgin failure as i could but turns out that he's pretty good at eating pussy ig ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) officially the first smut ive written and finished

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

"i'd love to see it sometime," you say enthusiastically, referring to his video game collection he'd rambled about for 10 minutes straight. again.

oh my god. was he asking you over? finally? josh futturman asked you over to play video games in his bedroom. alone. score.

. . .

however, that's exactly what you do. you play video games together. on his cramped single bed.

it's not like you don't enjoy it, it's actually pretty sweet. he allows you to choose your character first, he guides you through the levels he knows off by heart, and he even offers you his favourite controller.

but you can't help but note the uncomfortable silence that lingers every so often. you notice him glancing at you in between games. you wonder what he's thinking about, is he thinking about how his hand would feel inside your underwear? how his fingers would get slick and glide over your folds and slip beneath the surface and - ...

well, you certainly know what you're thinking of.

high scores flash on the screen at the end of the level, yours and his. yours is a few hundred points higher to josh' surprise. this earns a loud laugh from you and a laugh from him, tossing his controller down in defeat.

"beat you at your own game." you tut and turn to him with a smirk.

josh grins and looks down at his lap with a shrug, "what can i say? you're pretty good at this."

scooting a little closer, you tilt your head, trying to catch his gaze again. "do you think so? or. . . do you just like it when i come out on top?" a hum sings from your lips.

his eyes widen and he looks at you with an arched eyebrow, finally catching on to at least one of your dirty jokes, or at least partially. it was about time. "it was only a two-hundred point difference." he says, glancing at your lips with an unsure smirk, "i'll dominate next time, for sure."

"who are you kidding, futturman." you whisper, leaning in towards his lips. "i was always going to be the one to dominate you."

you're both inches apart. you can hear how his breath hitches in his throat slightly with each inhale. shaking, his hand raises in an attempt to cup your cheek. but you reach up to grab it, lacing your fingers in his as your lips connect.

immediately, futturman melts into you. you swear you hear a whimper escape his lips as your tongue glides along his bottom lip, seeking entrance. he allows you in, squeezing your hand. he's sloppy, but you don't mind, you like it, actually. it's hot that he's so lost in it that he can't even control his tongue.

his other hand grips the bedsheets, knuckles turning white. he's trying to ignore how his cock is already twitching in his boxers, wondering if you're already wet. josh sighs your name into your lips and you take this as a sign.

your hand finds his crotch as your kiss intensifies and you begin to palm his hardened dick through his jeans, grinning. his mind goes blank and all he can focus on is the fact that your hand is on him, it's actually on him. this isn't just in his head. you're touching him and - fuck, it feels so good.

"you like that baby?" you ask him, his kissing growing sloppier and slower as his breath picks up. you're hardly touching him and he's already squirming under you. hot.

josh hums in response and you find his hand, bringing it to your skirt, slowly sliding it under to meet your growing heat. his fingers feel wetness through the material of your underwear and he swallows hard. gingerly, his fingers dance across your panties.

a giggle slips from your lips as you pull back slightly, ". . . is this your first time?" you ask with a smile.

he's taken aback by this question, suddenly embarrassed as his cheeks begin to flush. "i . . ."

"it's okay, i'll take care of you," you reassure him, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips, "don't worry."

it's time for you to take the lead and you remove your hand from his crotch, this earns a soft whine from him that causes you to bite your lip. placing a hand on his chest, you push him back slowly until he's flat on his back. carefully, you straddle him, sitting just below his waist.

your fingers find the button on his jeans and unbutton it at an excruciatingly slow pace. josh looks up at you with pleading eyes, panting softly as his tummy rises and falls with each breath. "are you. . ."

"i want to taste you." you admit, licking your lips as you unzip him, pulling his jeans down to reveal his boxers.

"f. . . fuck. . ." he whimpers, leaning up on his elbows to watch you.

the outline of his cock is clearly visible through his blue boxers, he's so hard already, it's adorable. josh' heart pounds as he eyes you, his dick springs free and he gasps at the cold air around it. he holds himself back from begging you to touch it in some way. you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little surprised by the girth, it makes your mouth water.

your warm hand wraps around him and his eyes glaze over, head tilting back. he swears he could cum right there just from your touch and if he looks at you again, he just might.

"look at me, baby." you whisper, beginning to pump him slowly. "i wanna see your face while i touch you."

josh pulls his head up, brows furrowing as he tries to slow his breathing. the strokes are slow and deliberate, he moans under his breath. watching him slowly come undone underneath you, you can't help but feel the pulsing of your wet cunt intensify.

lowering your head, his eyes begin to widen and before he can figure out something hot to say, your lips are on his cock. tongue swirling on the tip, he swears he's seeing stars. his trembling hand desperately reaches up to find the back of your head, lacing his fingers through your locks.

"holy fuck, that. . . that feels so good." he mumbles with a gasp as you begin to take his length into your mouth. a high-pitched whimper escapes him as he bucks slightly. you keep your eyes on him the full time, taking in as much of him as you can until he hits the back of your throat.

picking up pace now, you start bobbing on him, lapping your tongue all the while. josh is curling his toes, gripping your hair and whispering your name into his bedroom like he's trying his best to tell a secret. he wonders how he got so lucky, the way he'd fantasised about this constantly and for it to actually be happening? it was his lucky day.

he'd imagined you both at the lab, in the back room, he's bent you over and you're dripping wet. he slides in with ease and you call his name a little too loudly. or, behind reception, he would crawl beneath your desk and you'd spread your legs and he'd dive in like a man starved. or sometimes, you were in this very bed, your juices coating his sheets.

you swirl your tongue on the tip once more, causing him to let out a loud, pleading moan before pulling away with an obscene pop. this allows him to catch his breath slightly, but man - he was so close. it takes everything within him not to beg you to put those pretty lips of your back around his aching cock.

glancing over your shoulder, your eyes find his gaming chair and you grin. you wonder how many times he's jerked off in that overused thing, thinking of you. pumping his cock, wishing it was coated with your wetness instead of some cheap lube. calling your name into the palm of his hand as ropes of hot cum land on his soft tummy.

it drives you crazy just thinking about it.

and you need him, more of him.

you shuffle off the bed and walk towards the chair before sitting in it, facing him on the bed. legs spreading, you relax them over his armrests, exposing your underwear beneath your skirt. josh watches on, mouth agape, blinking.

"c'mon baby, don't you wanna taste me too?" you ask and his eyes sparkle. you've never seen him move so fast - he scrambles from the bed, boxers and jeans around his ankles. kneeling like he's about to pray for you, (and maybe he should, with the sinful images plaguing both of your thoughts), he looks up at you with that same puppy dog look.

"please," you whisper, exhaling, "i need you, josh."

he bites his lip at those words and has to actively try and suppress a moan. hearing you plead like that. . . fuck, you were so hot.

slowly easing closer, josh hooks two fingers into your underwear and pushes it to the side. your cheeks flush as your wetness is exposed to him, but you can see by the look on his face that he's elated.

"your pussy is so fucking pretty. . ." he exhales, gradually getting closer before his tongue begins desperately lapping at your dripping cunt. a squeal escapes you as you arch your back, finally getting the relief you need. his licking is messy, it's wet, he's drooling and mixing his saliva with your juices but it's so filthy it's hot.

your gaze finds his and watch as his nose glides up your folds. his name falls from your lips repeatedly as you reach for his head, getting a firm grip on those messy curls. you guide him higher with your grasp and his tongue finds your clit finally. it's so sensitive, you'd been edging for days leading up to this.

"s. . . slow." you purr, "i'm. . . i'm gonna- fuck, i'm gonna cum if you keep going so fast."

he abides, slowing his tongue on that spot you enjoy so much. his hand presses into your thigh, pushing your leg out further to get in closer. wetness drips down his chin as he laps long licks, stopping briefly and hesitantly only to begin sucking your clit gently. he looks up at you for your approval.

a gasp and your head is thrown back, fingers in his hair tightening. there's pleasure building in your core, little sparks working inside your belly as josh obediently eats you out.

"good boy," you manage to say through breathy moans, "good boy. . . you're doing so good for- for your first time. . ."

and it was true - though he was sloppy, clumsy and got a little lost in the moment, that only served to turn you on more. his inexperienced moves were endearing, they were hot, and it felt kinda good that you were the one to finally experience this with him.

small moans sing from his mouth at the pet name 'good boy' - and you make a mental note to call him that more often. this urges him on. he moves his hand to your pussy, massaging with two fingers around your tight hole, fluttering at the sudden contact. it takes him a few circles to find it properly before sliding one inside.

the chair almost tips back as you feel him slide in, his tongue back to flicking over that sensitive spot while his digit pumps into you. your hand grips the back of the fake leather chair, digging your nails in. it's not long before he inserts a second one, and though his rhythm is off with his poor coordination, it's such a relief to be filled, even if only a little.

hand combing through his hair, you look down at him, encouraging him with every moan. wet sounds fill the small bedroom now, between his tongue on your clit and his fingers exploring your slick hole. his dick is aching to be touched, desperate for any sort of friction as it spasms occasionally under the chair - but he'd stay here forever, eating you like this, if it meant he could hear those sounds sing from your lips.

"you sound so fucking hot. . ." he mumbles, the low vibrations of his voice against your pussy, sucking harder to increase your pitch and it works. you're almost there and you'll cum all over his sweet little face soon if you're not careful. who knew that josh futturman could be so good at eating pussy?

"-n. . . need you to fuck me," you blurt out, completely breathless. josh pulls back a little to look up at you fully with wide eyes, excitement piquing. the dim light from the television dances across him and you notice the lower half of his face is completely coated in your juices.

you continue, "you need to fuck me too, i bet. you're aching, aren't you? i bet you've been thinking about this for years." - and he had, fuck, he had. he'd lost count of the number of times he'd imagined you both here, a writhing, moaning, wet mess against each other.

"please, please let me fuck you." josh begged, fitting that he was on his knees. he looked good down there, you thought, pleading with his hands grasped together and that pathetic, lovable, pussy drunk expression of his as your wetness drips from his chin.

staying there for a few moments to admire him in this position, and to hear him beg just a little longer - you finally stand and step over him deliberately to watch him underneath you for just a little longer. wriggling out of your soaked panties, you throw them towards him and collapse back onto the single bed whilst removing your skirt. surprisingly, he catches your underwear and relishes how wet they feel in his palm.

you spread your legs once more for him and he watches in awe like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. wiping his chin a little, he scampers to you like a lost puppy, crawling up onto the bed and kicking his jeans and boxers off in the process.

he slots between your thighs and you see how his jaw goes slack when his dick brushes against your dripping cunt. you grab his chin, still a little wet, and pull him in for a deep kiss. when his tongue enters your mouth, you can taste yourself and it makes you smile. letting go of his chin, your hands roam to his hoodie, yanking it off and tossing it to the side. the only barrier between you both now was your damn shirts.

pushing him back, you begin to slowly pull your shirt up revealing your bra. josh bites his lower lip, swallowing hard as his eyes roam across your chest. his hands inch closer and you slap them away. "your shirt first." you tease.

he holds back a whine and removes his shirt, throwing it far across the room in frustration. "now, can i?" he hums, glancing at your chest and then back to you.

you wait a few moments, then a few more. and then nod.

your shirt isn't even fully off when his hands are desperately roaming your chest, squeezing both breasts as you gasp. his eyes glaze over as he continues to squeeze and you feel his dick twitch once more against your pussy. you begin to grind against him, his saliva and your wetness mixing against his cock.

holding back some moans, josh slips his hands behind your back to unhook your bra. it takes him a little longer than he'd have liked, and you arch your back a little to help him - but he finally removes it to reveal your chest.

between your perfect fucking body below him and the way you were slowly working his desperate cock along your pussy lips - he was in heaven. immediately he's sucking on a nipple, flicking his tongue over it with soft, breathy moans. you moan in return and cup the back of his head, petting him softly - "good boy," you whisper, "good, good boy. . ."

fuck, he loved it when you called him that. it lit a fire in his belly like he'd chase you to the ends of the earth just to hear you call him a good boy one more time.

he moves to your other nipple now, giving them both equal attention and you squirm a little, gripping his hair. the cold air drifts across your erect, soaked nipple he'd left behind but the coldness is quickly replaced by his fingers, rubbing.

"your tits are fuckin' perfect-" he mumbles with his nipple still in your mouth, pulling himself away finally as he begins to move in rhythm with you.

"josh." you say, commanding his attention with a sultry tone.

he snaps out of his dizzy state and looks at you.

"fuck me," you demand, reaching down to push his cock harder against your drenched cunt, "i need you inside of me. can you do that? can you be my good boy and fuck me?"

jesus fucking christ. josh wasn't sure he'd ever been this hard in his life.

josh nods with a whimper, it's so cute. he's so desperate. just as he begins to move into position, you reach up to grab his chin.

"use your words." you instruct him.

those hazel eyes widen, taking a breath to compose himself before nodding, "i'll fuck you. i'll be your good boy and fuck you." his voice wavers. he wants to be so good for you. he wants to be your good boy so badly, "please? please." josh pleads whinily.

"good boy." you grin and let go of his chin, trailing your hands down his chest and his soft tummy, taking great pleasure in grazing your fingers past his fuzzy snail trail.

lining himself up with your entrance, he makes a few sweeps with his cock, lubing it up and enjoying the feeling of your hole sucking his length in. his eyes glance to you for permission one final time and this makes your stomach flip, he's too fucking cute.

you signal, giving him permission with a nod and he slowly pushes inside of you.

he's slow, purposefully, so that one thrust doesn't cause him to immediately explode inside of you - cause the way you'd worked him up, it wouldn't be long before his cum was stuffed deep in there. your walls wrap around him so perfectly, his words get caught in his throat and all he can do is whine. but it feels so fucking good to finally have him inside of you. his thick fingers pumping into you were fine, sure, but his cock is what you craved all along.

your stomach tenses as he fills you completely, eyes locked on his to see him fully experience this for the first time.

"does that feel good, baby?" you ask him, trailing your hand across his lower stomach.

"s. . .so fuckin' tight- ah-" still, he can hardly speak, bottomed out inside of you with his cock pulsing, "so wet, so so fucking wet."

"just for you." you coo, beginning to roll your hips slightly to help him along. this earns a loud gasp from him, positioning his hands on your hips to get a proper grip on you. slowly, you both find a rhythm and he's thrusting inside of you at a slow pace.

each thrust has you moaning as you roll your hips to meet him, his strong grip on your hips only intensifying the feeling as he gets lost in the sensation. already, you can tell he's close - having almost finished him off earlier definitely adding to his desperation.

"faster," you tell him, gripping his stupid blue patterned sheets and holding one of his wrists in your other hand.

a whimper - no two - no three, falls from his lips as he picks up pace. josh is slamming into you now, his hands glide up the side of your body to meet your tits again and he leans over, unable to keep himself upright through the thrusts. his lips find yours once more, half to muffle his moans and half to ground himself a little.

over and over, his cock pumps into you speedily, creating loud, wet, slapping noises. you wrap your legs around him to pull him in deeper, closer and arch your back.

"-g...gonna. . . i'm. . ." his words are muffled by your lips and you pull back slightly, your breath mingling together as his eyes struggle to stay open through the pleasure.

"you gonna cum?" you ask with a grin, pulling his chin up for him to look at you.

"ah - yeah. . ." he swallows, and you squeeze around his dick causing him to whine loudly.

the thought of him exploding inside you had you close too. that girthy length was slamming you, over and over, slick from what he had done to you. josh was totally lost in the pleasure, sweat coating his brow as his hips worked hard to chase your climax and his own.

"can i?" josh suddenly asks, gasping for breath.

you deliberately don't answer, but moan louder and squeeze your cunt around him - you feel his rhythm waver in response.

"fuck - baby, please," he cries, locking eyes with you as his brow furrows, "please, i need to cum, please let me cum."

the words falling from his lips were so fucking hot, he was begging you for release. all he wanted to do was unload inside of you and he was pleading and wet and adorable. how could you possibly say no to that face?

"have you been a good boy?" you ask.

"yes!" he almost screams, "yes! i've been such a good boy, please, please. i need it, i need to cum in your tight, fuckin' perfect - ah, ah. . . - pussy, please." the words trip over themselves and he's really sweating now. the way he's pistoning into you, you can feel the desperation in every thrust of his hard cock.

"then cum, my good boy." you finally say, pushing him into you with your legs around his back for a hard deep thrust - and he keeps this up.

his whines heighten in pitch, going higher and higher as he gets a little rough. with each thrust, you're thrown back a little on the bed and it earns large explosive moans from you each time. his hands are back on your hips and he digs his fingers in, leaving harsh red marks.

you don't care though, watching him lose control is the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen. a desperate, whining, whimpering, cumming mess.

josh tries to announce it, let you know he's really about to cum, but all that comes out are breathy moans as his rhythm falters and his eyes start to roll back. you can feel it too, the way his cock is twitching and pulsing harder inside you. it brings your own climax closer, the inevitability of your pussy walls being painted white with all of his cum. . .

and though you try to hold off, you cum. lights flash behind your eyes as you reach out for him, pulling him by the back of the neck down to you. pressing your forehead to his, your hole flutters around him, squeezing and clamping down as your orgasm milks him - causing him to cum. ropes of hot, white cum fill you over and over, his mouth stuck half open.

you continue to grind through the orgasm, albeit with a faltering rhythm due to your climax, as he's mostly still beside the way his dick is jerking as it empties inside of you. his cum begins to leak out of you slowly with each grind you make against him and it causes you to gasp at the sensation. your moans fill his mouth, looking into his eyes as he struggles to make eye contact through the blinding pleasure. praises sing from your lips for him, coaxing him through it as you feel his movements slow to a halt.

he pulls out reluctantly and slumps against you with heaving breaths, his head falling on your chest with his cheek flush against your skin. his body is hot, and sticky. you begin to pet his head gently, your other hand tracing your fingers across his arm around you.

"that. . ." he pipes up, "- was amazing," josh tilts his head to look up at you with a dumb smile on his face.

"yeah?" you answer, smirking, "it was pretty fucking amazing, wasn't it?"

and you admire him like this, the way he's looking up at you with that familiar smile, practically with hearts in his eyes as your fingers pet through his hair. his eyes are sleepy, half-lidded - and the rest is deserved too, after what a good, hard-working boy he's been.

"you were so good for me." you lean down to kiss his forehead, peppering soft kisses all across it.

he giggles and snuggles against you closer, "stop - you'll get me goin' again." if his cheeks weren't already flushed from exertion, they'd be red once more.

"right, i'll save the praise for next time - since i know you love it so much." a grin tugs on your lips.

and he likes the sound of that.

his head suddenly springs up, his smile growing wider with his mouth half open, joy filling his face. ". . .next time?"

676 notes · View notes

demieyesore · 2 months

Note

U WRITE SO GOOD?!? I HAD TO HIDE MY PHONE IN PUBLIC 💀😭 more dark Anakin PLS. I loved the dom side but now I wanna see sub side and the differences. I personally think he’s a switch tbh. It would be too boring to be dom or sun all the time BUT ANYWAYS sun dark ani.

If you need ideas: he tries to convince reader to do something (you choose), reader is his master, paranoid toxic reader and he makes it worse IDK man I just love these types of fics 🤭 I eat them up. It’s even better when the reader acts innocent but is worse 😭 honestly you could just combine shit atp and I’ll eat it up anyways

Pretty When You Cry - Anakin Skywalker

Summary - Anakin tries to manipulate you by crying after overhearing Obi-Wan convince you to leave him.

Warnings / Mentions - Kenobi!Reader, GN!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Dom!Reader, Sub!Anakin, Padawan!Anakin, Master!Reader, Toxic!Reader, Paranoid!Reader, BPD coded reader, basically just BPD x BPD couple, Reader has an innocent façade, Reader actually believes their innocent so victim complex reader, Anakin triggers reader to have an episode, def angsty fic but ends with smut, literally so much manipulation...breeding kink, crying kink, biting kink, mentions of babytrapping

A/N - The Dom part of me aches when I see men crying, I both want to care for them and make them worse, also I want to make it known that I was diagnosed with Bipolar and I'm pretty sure I have BPD as well, so I'm hoping that anyone who reads this that has BPD relates to it and that it isn't just my bipolar lol, ALSO THANK YOUUUUU❤️❤️❤️

Requested - Yes

Word Count - 2556 words

Taglist - @vixxensvoid @maevesversion @sockiess @stylesslytherinskywalker @myheadhurtscutely @yourenogoodforme @xzaddyzanakinx (just bc I thought you might like this one, let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future)

It was really no surprise when you were yet again talking to your older brother about your problems with Anakin. He was already well aware the both of you were breaking the code, but he never said anything to anyone since you were his beloved sibling. Obi-Wan always assumed that he could get you to stop the relationship with Anakin but he never anticipated just how abusive you were to each other.

He often remembers the time when he saw tears streaming down your face, you were sobbing, begging Anakin not to leave you, even at some parts yelling at him. Obi was quite shocked when he heard you yelling at Anakin about how much you hated the Padawan. It was like you were so full of love for young Skywalker, most days you would do anything to make him smile. But there were times, periods where you would do nothing but scream about how much you hated life. Episodes where you were so paranoid about people leaving you, that it was like a flip switched.

One where the light pink aura of love would turn to a fire of red hot flames. It was such a black and white way of thinking. Obi-Wan knows that it's not your fault you act this way. The abusive household you were in wired you to be this way. And it was clear that Anakin had a similar experience.

You and Anakin were so complicated. You both were so devoted to each other. Always making sure to have the other's back on missions. But at the same time, you made each other worse.

Anakin was originally Obi-Wan's Padawan before getting transferred to you. You had just become a Master Jedi, when Obi requested the switch. He truly believed at the time that you would help Anakin become the best Jedi he could be. He saw how you interacted before Anakin became your Padawan. He had no idea about the little crush you both had on each other, only seeing how motivated Anakin would get around you to be better. A passion that Anakin didn't have when working with Obi-Wan.

This time, you were wrapped in your brother's arms. He was whispering reassuring things to you, trying to get you to calm down. The three of you were on a mission, body guarding and sworn to protect Padme. Anakin was currently watching over her as she slept. But as soon as you saw how Anakin looked at Padme, that little flip switched.

The one where you felt so much hate for him. The one that kept teeter tottering between the love for him and the feeling that he was about to abandon you.

"Obi- I...I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I thought he loved me but the way he was looking at her. He was openly flirting with her. Right in front of me, like I wasn't even there. He can't leave me, I won't let him Obi. I swear to the maker that he won't." Your brother felt...distraught for you. It was a hard emotion to explain. He was worried for you, and for Anakin. But he felt that this whole situation was his fault. If Obi-Wan hadn't asked the council to let Anakin train under you, you wouldn't be in such despair. You wouldn't feel physical pain in your chest just from your emotions.

"I fear I've made a mistake." Obi-Wan admitted as his hand caressed your hair in a soothing manner. "I believe that it would be best if Anakin were to be my Padawan again." He tried to tread lightly on the subject, not wanting to make your episode worse.

"No, no, no, Obi please, it's fine, I'll be fine. I know that he's- that I'm...I know that Anakin and I aren't..great for each other but please. I can't be without him." You desperately gripped onto his shirt, trying to make your point clear to him. Anakin was just outside, eavesdropping on the conversation. Padme was sleeping soundly in the next room, he didn't need to be in the room with her to know if something was happening. But he did need to hear this conversation. He needed to make sure that you wouldn't leave him. He wanted to make sure that Obi-Wan wouldn't...influence you into making any bad decisions.

"He's hurting you, don't be blind to that. You're hurting him too. You don't want that, do you?" Obi-Wan asked, his face showing sincere concern.

Regularly, if Obi were to have said that, you would have flipped at him for trying to take Anakin away from you. But in the confusion and pain of your mind. The images flooding into your brain of Anakin and Padme. You only heard the first part of your brother's sentence.

"He's hurting you..." Kept repeating in your head, like someone recorded a hologram of his voice and played it on loop. It just kept getting louder, the button being pressed again, putting you into a fit of rage.

"You're right." You couldn't bare to say anything else. The silence afterwards was so deafening that Anakin had to hold back his tears in fear of you hearing his breath through the door. It was like an emptiness was injected into your veins. A thick silver liquid that would taste like you were choking on mercury. Your mind was so...blank. There were no longer multiple voices in your head yelling. This one was quiet. So eerily quiet.

Anakin wiped his tears, going back towards the room where Padme lays asleep. He felt betrayed, but he couldn't blame you. All his anger was pushed onto Obi-Wan. Anakin was delusional, he fully believed that Obi was the problem. Not him and definitely not you. He knew that he had to persuade you into changing your mind. And what better way than for you to see him crying? Your heart was always so...malleable whenever he was crying. You would always comfort him, your left hand running through his hair while your right would rest on the nape of his neck, playing with the baby hairs.

You'd have your eyebrows furrowed in concern for him but he could always see the part of you that enjoyed it. The way that when he'd wipe his tears or the way that his lower lip would quiver always sent a small smile to your face. Even while crying, you thought he was pretty. You'd look at him with such...adoration, admiration and even a little lust. When he'd look into your eyes and ask for help, when he'd beg for you to save him, he'd notice how your pupils expanded, dilated with desire. The way that your thighs would clench shut.

Once Obi-Wan calmed you down enough, you collected yourself, thanking your brother for once again helping you to see straight. You pushed open the door, Obi following behind you into the hallway only to see Anakin sitting against Padme's door. Tears dripping down from his eyes. His hands were hanging loosely over his knees as he stared harshly at the ground.

Obi-Wan held up his hand, signaling to you that he would watch over Padme as you talked to Anakin.

Anakin moved, leaning forward to let Obi into the Previous queen's chambers. His tearful eyes glanced up into yours, already taking note of how you stared back at him like he was nothing. He would have to play more into it just to get you to come back to him. He'd be lying if he said that your empty eyes didn't scare him.

You grabbed his wrist, pulling him into one of the spare bedrooms far away from Padme's. Not wanting to disturb her sleep.

You said nothing at first, not even looking at him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Your back face him as you zoned out, still staring at the now closed door. You had nothing in your mind, absolutely nothing. But you were still so wrapped up in your mind. You felt like you weren't present in your body.

The only thing that brought you back to the present moment was the sound of Anakin beginning to whimper. He sounded like he was in pain. And even though you were so upset and mad with him, you'd rather slit your own throat than to hear him in agony. You quickly turned around to see Anakin sinking in on himself, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to not let more tears fall. Your heart ached, your body reacting before you even thought.

Your knees hit the floor in front of the bed, your hands resting on his knees as you looked up into his eyes. Wet droplets falling onto his shirt, the material soaking it up.

"What's wrong Babyboy?" You were slightly shocked to hear your own voice, your body still responding out of impulse. Anakin immediately knew that he had you, you were back in his grasp and it was time for him to mold you into what he wanted, what he needed you to be.

"He turned you against me." Anakin said sharply, making eye contact. You could see the anger and betrayal in his soul. "Ani, what are you talking about?" The sweetness ripples out of your mouth, despite the fact that you knew exactly what he was talking about. You knew that he must have been listening if he was crying.

"Obi-Wan. He made you hate me. You're gonna leave me. How could you?" His voice shook, cracking at the end from pain. Your hand shot up to his cheek, wiping a stray as you caressed his face.

"I could never hate you. Not entirely..." You breathe out in a sigh. You were so worried about him but then you saw the little tremble of his bottom lip, the way he leaned into your touch, making you feel so loved, so appreciated, so important.

"You know that I hate seeing you cry..." You lied through your teeth, trying to keep up the mask of only worry. of course you were worried about him, but you never wanted him to know the deeper feelings you feel when he cries.

"Liar." Ani let out a choked laugh, a cute grin spreading across his face albeit tears were adorning it. "You love seeing me cry." He whispers, like he was reminding you of your own secret.

"It's not my fault." You defended as a joke, your face full of devotion for him.

"That's just what you do, because I'm pretty when I cry." Anakin rolled his eyes, the redness and puffiness from crying becoming more evident on his face. His lips were swollen, bitten raw.

"The prettiest." You said, leaning up to peck at his lips, just giving him a quick little kiss, but Anakin wanted more. He whined when you broke the contact, inviting you to kiss him more, kiss him with passion and fire. So you did just that, reconnecting your lips, practically devouring him in the kiss.

He moaned into the kiss, the sensation reverberating throughout your bones before settling in your core.

"I don't care how bad we are for each other, you're mine and always will be." You muttered against his mouth, feeling when he smiled into the kiss. You stood up from your spot on the floor in front of him and quickly discarded your clothes, leaving yourself in just your bra and underwear. You straddled his lap, kissing him once more as you tugged at his shirt.

He aided you in the removal of his shirt, groaning against your lips when he felt you grind against his boner.

"Stop..." He mumbled in a whimper at your teasing.

You held onto his shoulders, feeling the muscles just beneath the skin. Trailing your hands down to his pants, swiftly undoing them. You pulled them as far down as you could while straddling his lap. Your hand slipped past his briefs and gently grasped his length. Anakin shifted uncomfortably at the touch, his back straightening as his breathing stopped momentarily.

Your touch always was the death of him but your breath, your kiss, always brought him back.

"Master, please-" He whimpered, his mouth wavering into a quick frown. You bit at his lip, shutting him up. You pulled away from the kiss, looking down as you pumped his cock in your hand a couple of times, collecting the shared saliva from the kiss and spitting onto his tip.

His Adams apple bobbed, his hands gripping the side of the bed sharply. His head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as your hand worked up and down his length. He clenched his jaw, trying his hardest to keep his mouth shut but it was nearly impossible to stay quiet. The pleasure he felt from your voice alone would make him cum almost instantly, your hand just added more shockwaves.

"You don't have to be silent..." You remind him, mocking the way he's trying so hard to not make any noise.

He moans, whimpering and squirming under your touch when he leans forward, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

"Please just..." He stutters out, biting his tongue as he lifts his hips, sliding his cock up into your hand more.

"So needy..." You teased, stopped all your movement. Anakin's head flew up, looking into your eyes with desperation. He was about to complain when you lifted yourself, pulling your underwear to the side and swiping his tip through your folds. The feeling made him groan in pleasure, sucking in a deep breath of air.

You teased him for a little bit longer, his pre-cum pressing against your clit when you finally put all your weight onto him. His cock sinking into your entrance. He choked out a sob of pleasure, feeling how tight you were around him. He wrapped his arms around you, his mouth latching onto your shoulder, biting down as he thrusted up into you. Your own moans just fueled him to do better, reach deeper. His tears stained your skin, his whimpers vibrating against your shoulder.

"Please, I want-" His question is cut off when he feels you pulsate around him, his eyes widening with need. "Please, baby just let me- need to cum so bad...Master please, I need to cum- cum inside you-" He begged, his desperation dripping off him in the form of sweat.

"You want to cum inside?" You ask, mocking his need. Anakin swallowed thickly, "You can't- you can't leave me if you're pregnant." He whimpers as he kisses the side of your neck, sucking the skin and leaving purplish red bruises.

You grind down, meeting him when he thrusts. "Such a pretty boy, I'd be so mean to say no...only because you're crying all pretty for me." You mumble, kissing the spot of skin closest to where your head rests against him.

Anakin holds you tightly, almost as if he's afraid you'll whither away, a bead of sweat drops from his forehead as he comes undone with one last thrust. His white hot cum leaking out from his tip and filling you. He thrusts up into you twice more, his grip on you possessive.

"I won't let you ever leave me." Ani mutters as he comes down from his climax, while you're still catching your breath, your cunt fluttering around him.

#anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #yandere anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin fanfiction #dark!anakin #sub!anakin #toxic!anakin #demieyesore

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candycandy00 · 4 months

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The Doll House - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic Part 1

You sell yourself to the Doll House to pay your mom’s medical expenses, only to discover your trainer is the guy who bullied you relentlessly in high school: Gojo Satoru.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.

Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Gojo’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Chubby Reader. Dubcon. Pet Play. Bullying. Collars/Leashes. Fingering. Anal sex. Gojo being an asshole.

You stand nervously in the welcome room of the Doll House. The owner is looking you up and down. “Alright, we’ll take you,” she says.

“Really?” You’re surprised. When a friend suggested selling yourself as a doll to pay for your sick mother’s exorbitant medical expenses, you initially laughed off the idea. Dolls are all slim, sexy women… right? But you’re desperate, so you decided to check, just in case. The Doll House has a reputation for being fair and treating dolls well, so it’s the first shop you went to.

“Of course,” the owner says. “Tastes vary. We often get requests for… softer women.”

That was a very polite way of putting it. You’ve been of the thicker variety since high school, with more curves than you’d like. But the owner must know what she’s talking about. Still, you’re quite insecure, and the idea of a strange man seeing you naked, seeing every little roll and flaw, was frightening.

The owner gives you a price, what she’s willing to pay for you. It’s way more than you expected, and plenty enough to cover the medical bills and then some. You think of your poor mother sitting in a hospital bed, waiting for an operation she can’t afford, and your choice is clear.

“Okay, it’s a deal,” you say.

A contract is signed, money is transferred to your mother’s bank account, and you’re left standing in the welcome room, waiting to meet your trainer. The whole experience is embarrassing, but you did this in secret, telling no one in your family. You instructed your friend to explain things to your mother when she’s well enough to understand, but to tell everyone else you moved far away. At least you’ll be able to maintain a little of your dignity. You don’t want anyone to know you’re in such financial trouble that you had to resort to desperate measures to help your own mother.

You’re standing in the middle of the room, looking at the floor, when you hear a voice that is horrifyingly familiar.

“Chubby Bunny? Is that you?”

Oh no. Please no. Not him.

You slowly look up. Standing in front of you is the tall, gorgeous guy you had a crush on in high school… until he started bullying you relentlessly.

“Gojo?! Why are you here?” you ask. He was a pompous rich boy in high school. Of course he’s probably here to buy a doll. You’re just mortified that he’s seen you here.

He smiles as he pulls off his sunglasses. Ugh! Those eyes are so bright, they’re practically blinding you!

“Looks like I’m your trainer,” he says.

You feel like someone poured ice water down the back of your shirt. “What?!”

He laughs. “I was surprised when I saw your name on the file, but here you are!”

“I can’t do this,” you say, looking around frantically for the owner. “I’ve changed my mind!”

“Huh? But you already signed the contract,” he says, his smile dropping. “Isn’t it better to have a trainer you already know?”

No. It’s way worse. Indescribably worse. Maybe if it was someone else, anyone else, but not Gojo.

You met him in high school. Initially, you had a crush on him, like every other girl in the school. He was so tall, with soft white hair and the most beautiful blue eyes you’d ever seen. There wasn’t a soul in the school who didn’t go weak when Gojo looked them in the eyes.

But you were so shy, and totally certain that a guy as hot as him would want nothing to do with you. So you avoided him. If you saw him in the hallway, you went the other direction. When he said something funny in class, you held back your laughter. When he pulled some stupid stunt for attention, and the rest of the class was cheering him on, you focused on your school work and pretended not to notice.

Until one day he actually spoke to you. Gojo Satoru, the hottest, most popular guy in school, spoke to you! Unfortunately, what he said was hurtful. He walked by your desk and noticed the cute, round, bunny-shaped keychain attached to your bag and said, “Your keychain looks just like you! You’re both Chubby Bunnies!”

He’d smiled when he said it, making the words seem even more cruel. A few of your classmates heard him and started laughing. From that point on, your nickname was Chubby Bunny. Everyone in class called you that, especially Gojo, who seemed to get a kick out the fact that he’d started the whole thing.

Every day after that, Gojo teased and bullied you. He made rude remarks about your clothes, “accidentally” knocked your books out of your hands, took your belongings and hid them in his own desk or pockets, just to force you to come and beg him to return them, and even purposely embarrassed you in front of other boys. When you started to like another boy from a different class, Gojo caught you trying to slip a love letter into the boy’s locker. Gojo grabbed the letter, opened it, and read it out loud in front of everyone. That was particularly traumatic.

The worst part of all was that you had lingering feelings for him that wouldn’t go away, no matter how badly he treated you. Throughout your entire first year of high school, you nursed a pretty serious crush on him. You might have even been in love with him. So when he started bullying you in your second year, it was hard to simply turn those feelings off.

Now he’s standing in front of you, as your trainer. The very idea of it is unthinkable! Being intimate with him? Being naked in front of him? Who knows what sort of cruel bullying and mockery he would subject you to?!

“Uh, is there another trainer available?” you ask, trying to keep yourself from freaking out right in front of him.

“Nope, everyone else is occupied,” he says. “Why don’t you want me to be your trainer? That kinda hurts my feelings.”

His feelings?! After everything he did to you? Unbelievable! But you keep your voice as steady as possible and say, “It’s just kind of awkward, you know? Since we went to school together.”

He puts one hand under his chin, as if he’s thinking it over. “Hmmm, I guess so. By the way, Suguru works here too. You remember him, right?”

You feel like crawling into a hole and never coming out. What are the odds that you’d end up at a doll shop where two of your high school classmates work?

“Oh, and Nanami too. He was a year under us but he was pretty popular.”

You turn around, putting your face in your hands. “This is my nightmare come to life,” you mutter.

Gojo laughs behind you. “Come on, it won’t be so bad. It’ll be like a high school reunion! We can catch up on old times! And besides,” he says, his voice dropping to a lower tone, “you already signed. The owner hates it when people back out of contracts. She’ll destroy you financially. And that would be bad, right? Your file says you have a sick mom.”

You turn to look back at him, and he looks so smug, just like he did back then. But he’s right. You’ve already signed the contract. Backing out now would make your situation a thousand times worse than it was before you came here.

“The training only lasts six weeks, right?” you ask him. Maybe you could stand it for six weeks. Then someone would buy you and you’d never see Gojo again.

“Right,” he answers, grinning. “Unless I just keep you!”

A chill runs down your spine. “Haha, very funny.”

You’ve heard about the fact that trainers at the Doll House can keep a doll they’ve trained, but Gojo would never keep you. He treated you like shit in high school. He hated you.

With a heavy sigh, you lower your head in defeat and say, “Okay. I guess I don’t have much choice.”

Gojo looks happy, and you can only assume it’s because he’ll get to bully you even more.

“Great, let’s go to my room and get started,” he says, starting down the hall. “Oh, but don’t expect any special treatment just because we’re old friends.”

Friends? That’s laughable. But your fate is sealed, so you can do nothing but follow after him.

********************

Gojo can barely contain himself as he walks down the hall. His Chubby Bunny is here! And she’s all his for six weeks. For six long weeks, he can do whatever the fuck he wants to her. He’s already getting hard at the thought of stripping her, exploring those curves with his hands, burying his cock in that plush round ass.

The first time he saw her in high school, he wanted her. He’d always been drawn to soft, cute things, and she was the softest, cutest girl he’d ever seen. He was the most popular boy in school, so he couldn’t understand why she never seemed to notice him. No matter what sort of antics he got up to, she wouldn’t even look his direction. The way she ignored him only made him want her more. He wanted her to look at him, to acknowledge him. But he couldn’t bring himself to directly approach her.

Then one day he noticed an adorable keychain hanging from her bag, and it reminded him of her. It was a cute, fluffy bunny with big round eyes. Without really thinking, he blurted out that her keychain looked like her, and called her a Chubby Bunny. In all honesty, he meant it affectionately. He thought it was such a cute nickname, and it suited her perfectly. But the other kids in class laughed, and she looked hurt.

Most importantly of all though, is that she looked at Gojo. For the first time, her full attention was on him. Her eyes were wet as if she were about to cry, and her face was flushed in embarrassment, but she was looking at him!

The next day, Gojo noticed another boy in class staring at Chubby Bunny’s soft tits, straining against the tight white button up of her school uniform. Gojo didn’t like that. So when she walked by him later, he said, “Don’t they make shirts any bigger than that? Yours is busting off you.”

She looked at him with a shocked expression, but it quickly changed to embarrassment and then anger. She ran out of the room as if someone was chasing her. Shoko, who was standing nearby, slapped his arm. “Don’t be a dick. You shouldn’t make fun of a girl’s weight.”

“Huh? What does her weight have to do with anything?”

Shoko stared at him. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re being mean or being stupid.”

It didn’t take Gojo long to figure out that the one surefire way to get Chubby Bunny to pay attention to him was to make her mad. So he knocked her books out of her hands as a prank, then enjoyed the sight of her ass in the air as she bent over to pick them up. He took things from her bag when she wasn’t looking, but let her know it was him so she’d have to come over to him and ask for them back. He liked it when she spoke to him, said his name, glared at him. Any interaction was fun for him. From his perspective, he was simply teasing her, getting reactions out of her.

But it all changed one day when he saw her trying to slip a love letter into another boy’s locker. He’d seen her staring at the boy from afar, and it bothered him. He couldn’t let them hook up! So he snatched the letter from her hand. She’d looked at him with anger. “Give it back, Gojo!”

He looked at her for a moment, not even sure what he wanted to do with the letter. He just didn’t want her to give it to the other boy. On a whim, he tore the letter open.

“What’s this? A love letter?”

She tried to reach for it, but he jerked it out of her reach. She was so desperate to grab it, she had pressed her soft body against his in her attempts. He wondered if she saw the blush on his face when he unfolded the letter and began reading it. The more he read, the more desperately she struggled to reach it, and the closer she pressed against him. Then, all at once, while he was still reading it out loud, she stopped reaching for the letter and backed away.

Tears streaked her cute face, causing Gojo to pause. “You’re an asshole,” she said, and then she turned and walked away.

He hadn’t intended to make her cry. He just got caught up in the moment. He suddenly felt guilty, realizing he’d gone too far. After that, he stopped teasing her.

It was nearly a year after graduation that he was out with Shoko. She was drinking and Gojo went along to make sure his friend got home okay. They got to talking about high school and Gojo mentioned Chubby Bunny, wondering what she was up to.

Shoko had given him a dirty look. “I don’t know why you had to be so mean to that poor girl. She liked you, you know.”

He perked up. “She liked me?”

Shoko took another drink. “Our whole first year, she was always staring at you longingly when you weren’t looking. It was really obvious that she had a crush. Then you had to go and bully her.”

Gojo was still absorbing the fact that the girl he’d liked so much had also liked him. And he’d blown it by being a jerk to her.

Now, several years later, fate brought her back into his life. This time as his personal toy for six weeks. He’s so excited he can barely breathe. He can’t wait to hear what sorts of cute sounds she’ll make when he fucks her, what sort of face she makes when she cums. He’s going to enjoy this.

******************

Gojo leads you to his room, and once inside, he closes the door behind you. He stands a few feet away, facing you, and says, “Okay, go ahead and take your clothes off.”

You give him an incredulous look. Is he serious? That’s literally the first thing he tells you to do?

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “You’re not shy, are you?”

This sarcastic asshole! He has to know how insecure you are! He made fun of you for years! He couldn’t know it, but you’ve never been fully intimate with anyone before. Partly because of your own insecurity and partly because you’ve been so busy working various jobs to support your mother. You dated one guy for a few months and he never even saw you naked. You gave him a few blowjobs and that seemed to keep him happy. Until you broke up at least.

“A little,” you say.

He steps closer to you. “I can help you,” he says, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt and beginning to slide the fabric up. “Raise your arms.”

Numbly, you do as he says, letting him pull your shirt off. He doesn’t even take a moment to look at your bra before he’s reaching behind you and unhooking it, sliding the straps off your shoulders. His hands seem to fly to your skirt, quickly pulling it down as if he’s in a hurry. Then he jerks down your panties, sliding them off your feet. It all happens so fast, you barely have time to be shocked.

Once you’re fully naked, he steps back and stares at you for a moment before he circles you, like a shark. You feel your face burning. Those beautiful blue eyes are seeing every inch of you, and you hate it. You would have preferred Geto or Nanami. At least they never made fun of you. Being stripped and ogled by your bully is mortifying.

After making a complete circle, he stops in front of you. There’s a strange look in his eyes. Excitement? Hunger? Is he looking forward to bullying you that much? You use your arms to cover as much of yourself as you can, deciding you’ve given him enough ammo to mock you with.

“Oh! I have something for you! Hold on,” he says, walking over to his closet. He digs around for a minute before coming back with a small box. He sits it on a nearby table and opens it, then pulls something out.

You almost wince when you realize what it is: a pair of white bunny ears attached to a headband. They’re high quality, looking rather realistic. These didn’t come with a cheap Halloween costume. He places them on your head and grins. “Wow, so cute! Now you really are a Chubby Bunny!”

This. Fucking. Guy! You glare at him, and in return he just smiles and says, “You’ll get your tail later.”

Tail? You don’t have time to question that before he returns to the box and comes back holding more items. He holds up a pink leather collar with a silver heart shaped ring in the center, then places it around your neck. It’s a little tight, but not overly uncomfortable. He hooks something to the heart ring, and you realize he’s holding a silver chain with a pink leather handle that matches your collar. Is this a fucking leash?!

Of course Gojo is into some freaky shit. Of course!

“What is this?” you ask, touching the collar with your fingertips, lightly pulling it from your skin to see if it stretches at all. It doesn’t.

“I never told you my specialty, did I?” he says, stepping toward his bed. “It’s pet play. Which means you’re my pet for the next six weeks.”

Oh God. This is going to be worse than you imagined.

As he moves to his bed, he lightly tugs on the leash, pulling you along with him. When he sits down, he pats his lap. “Sit,” he says. You don’t know if it’s a suggestion or a command, so you just stand there, still trying to cover yourself. He pulls on the leash, a little harder this time, and says again in a deeper voice, “Sit.”

You don’t think you’ve ever had real physical contact with him before. Maybe when you were trying to retrieve something he’d taken from you, but that was so quick and frantic, you don’t think it counted. But you have no choice, so you step closer and slowly lower yourself onto one of his thighs. You’re bracing yourself for some kind of joke about how heavy you are, but he just grins at you as one of his hands, the one not holding the leash, begins rubbing and groping all over your body.

“You’re so squishy,” he says, squeezing one of your breasts. His hand is warm, but you can’t help cringing. You’ve been groped over your clothes before, but this is the first time a man has touched your bare chest. And it had to be fucking Gojo.

He moves his hand down your stomach, and you stiffen in his lap, hating that he’s seeing and touching everything you’ve ever wanted to hide. But those thoughts evaporate when his hand slips between your legs. If you were stiff before, you’re absolutely frozen now. You close your eyes tightly, turning your face away from him, but he tugs on the leash and says, “Look at me. Look me in the eyes.”

You open your eyes and glance at him, only to find yourself locked in his gaze. God, those eyes. He knows they make people weak. He knows exactly what he’s doing. It feels like he’s staring deeply into your soul as one of his fingers slides between your folds and strokes your clit.

Your body jolts, and you instinctively try to scoot away from his hand, but he’s holding you firmly in place. Your clit has always been extremely sensitive, so much that you can’t even bear to directly touch it while masturbating.

Gojo notices immediately. “Have you always been this sensitive?”

He gives the leash another tug, making you look him in the eyes again. You nod. His finger keeps rubbing you, making you whimper.

“Why are you acting so scared of me?” he asks. “We’ve known each other for years. You know I’m not going to hurt you.”

You just then realize you’re trembling, still trying to get away from his hand, pathetic little sounds coming from your mouth. Of course you’re scared! This man hates you, and he’s currently playing with the most tender spot on your whole body! But you can’t say that out loud. You shake your head and say, “I’m just… not used to stuff like this…”

His finger switches to rubbing circles around your clit, which gives you a small bit of relief. “Oh come on. Your old boyfriends must have had a lot of fun with such a sensitive little clit.”

You’re still shaking, and you try to look away, but he tugs the leash again.

“Hey, don’t break eye contact!”

You look back at him. You hate looking at those eyes. They take you back to a time and place you’d rather forget. And even worse, they awaken feelings in you that you’ve fought hard to bury.

“So?” he asks. “Didn’t any of your boyfriends know how to pleasure you?”

“N-no,” you answer.

“Really?” He has a confused look on his face for a moment as he regards you, his finger still circling your clit, his eyes watching your reactions. “Wait. Have you ever even been touched like this before?”

When you don’t answer, he tugs on the leash again.

“No,” you finally say, feeling like you want the ground to open up and swallow you. He’s just getting more and more material for making fun of you later.

His eyes widen, and he says under his breath, “Oh fuck.”

His finger begins rubbing your clit directly again, causing you to jerk and gasp. He’s staring at you, forcing you to maintain eye contact through this whole degrading situation. “Someone told me something interesting a while back,” he says, his face suddenly looking serious. “They said you had a crush on me in high school. Is that true?”

“No!” you yell, tearing your eyes away from him. The only possible way this situation could be worse is if Gojo knew how you felt about him. He’d never let you live it down! He’d mock your feelings mercilessly!

“What a reaction!” he says, making you look at him again. “Don’t look away now. Look me in the eyes and tell me you never had feelings for me.”

Locked in his gaze, words fail you. You can feel your cheeks heating up, and you know the truth must be written all over your panicked face.

A grin spreads over his face again. “Say it,” he says, giving the leash another tug and rubbing your clit harder, faster.

You cry out, squirming under his touch and his stare. Your breaths catch in your throat, but he’s not going to stop until you answer him.

“I did! I did… have feelings for you!”

His finger slows but doesn’t stop. He gives you a strange look, one you’ve never seen on his smug face before. “Oh man. I wish I would’ve known back then.”

Why? So he could’ve made your life even more miserable? You feel tears coming on, but you’re still being forced to look him in the eyes. You can’t imagine how any of this could possibly be more hellish.

“But, hey, you’re here with me now,” he says. “We can make up for lost time. I’m gonna make sure you remember these six weeks for the rest of your life. I bet you’re excited, huh? The guy you had a crush on is gonna be fucking you every day! You’ll be sucking my cock all the time. I bet you can’t wait for me to cum in that cute mouth! And I’ll play with this suuuuper sensitive little clit every day!”

You sniffle as tears start to leak out. Why is he saying all this? Just to torment you? All the while, you’re feeling the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt in your life. You’re going to cum right here while your bully watches, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Gojo is still watching you intently, those accursed eyes almost glowing, not allowing you to look away. “I know, I know it feels good,” he says in a soothing voice, his finger relentless. “I bet you’ve never felt like this before, huh? It’s okay. Just ride it out. You’re gonna feel this same pleasure every day from now on.”

It’s all too much. His heavenly eyes locked onto yours, his sultry voice in your ear, his hand at your pussy, him pulling the leash so that your face is almost touching his. You can’t hold back any longer, and an earth shattering orgasm washes over your body. The moan you let out turns into a sob, and you’re left crying freely, your body shaking.

Gojo watches the whole thing, and once you finally go still in his lap, he removes his hand and wraps his arm around you. “Now wasn’t that fun?” he asks, either oblivious to how totally overwhelmed you are or just sadistically enjoying it. Then he suddenly jerks the leash forward, causing your mouth to crash into his. He kisses you deeply, his tongue in your mouth, his hot breath melding with your own. It’s the kind of kiss you share with a lover, not… whatever nightmare this is. It’s probably his idea of a sick joke.

“Now,” he says after breaking the kiss, “want me to fuck this virgin pussy?”

You feel dazed, like your mind is going blank. You don’t even care any more. Let him mock you. At least his touch feels good, physically. It’s not like you have a choice in any of this.

“Yeah,” you mutter as he eases you off his lap.

“You have to say it properly, Chubby Bunny,” he says, standing up.

Numbly, you lower your eyes and say, “Please fuck my virgin pussy.”

“Okay, Bunny. Get on the bed.”

You stand there for a moment, feeling lost and vulnerable and uncertain. You don’t even know what you want anymore. Once upon a time, you daydreamed about the idea of losing your virginity to Gojo. You fantasized about him making love to you in some unrealistic romantic setting. So yes, some part of you does want to be fucked by him. But it’s a part you hate.

While you hesitate, Gojo unbuttons his pants, not bothering to take his shirt off. Then he pulls his dick out, and all the fog from your brain instantly clears.

Holy shit. Oh fuck. That dick is unnaturally huge. It makes your ex boyfriend look tiny by comparison. How the hell is that monster of a dick going to fit inside you?!

He notices you staring and gives you the smuggest grin you’ve seen yet. “Like it? This is the cock that’s gonna pop your cherry. Take a good look.”

You hate to admit it. You really really hate to. But that is one beautiful dick. The color, the shape, even the extravagant size… it turns you on. So fuck it. Let him do as he pleases. You start to climb onto the bed, and he adds more instructions.

“Get on your hands and knees, and face away from me.”

He’s going to take you from behind? On your first time? You’re not sure how you feel about that, but you do as he said. After you get into position, he scoots you back closer to the end of the bed, and stands behind you. You feel his hands groping your ass as he says, “I know you want me to fuck your pussy, and I will. But right now, I really want another one of your firsts.”

“What?” you ask, turning to look back at him.

He has a bottle of some kind of liquid or ointment in his hand, and he squeezes some out. You feel it hit the crack of your ass, and then his fingers spreading your cheeks and rubbing it in. Wait, is this lube?

“H-hey! What are you doing?!”

He gives you a dazzling smile. “I’m prepping you, Bunny. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, remember?”

“This is definitely gonna hurt!” you screech. “There’s no way that huge dick will fit!”

He gives your ass a light, playful smack. “Calm down. I have a lot of experience with this stuff. It’ll feel great, I promise. Now take a deep breath.”

“Wait-“

“Here we go!”

Your body tenses up as you feel his tip pressing on your asshole. It starts to slip in, and you shudder as you feel the first inch.

Behind you, Gojo rubs and squeezes the fat of your ass. “Hey, you have to relax. It really will hurt if you stay so tense.”

You take several deep breaths, trying to force your body to loosen up. He slides in a little more, slowly, and then stops. It doesn’t feel like he’s all the way in, but he starts making shallow thrusts.

It’s uncomfortable, even unpleasant, but it’s not painful. After a while, you hear his voice again. “I’m going in a little deeper, okay?”

You squeak out an “Okay” just before he pushes further in. You feel your ass stretching to accommodate him, and the first hints of pain as he goes even deeper, then starts to pump in and out of you.

He moves slowly at first, but gradually speeds up, and goes deeper still. How big is he?! It feels like he’ll never be fully in.

“Ahh… fuck… you said it wouldn’t hurt!” you cry out.

Gojo suddenly yanks on the leash, pulling you up, arching your back. His free hand reaches around to grab your tit. “I said to relax,” he breathes into your ear. “Just enjoy it. Stop fighting your feelings.”

Again, you try to relax your ass as he continues thrusting into you. It helps, but it’s still uncomfortable. You close your eyes and try to think about how you felt in high school, how you felt the day you first saw him. He was so beautiful, you almost thought he wasn’t human. He surrounded himself with other beautiful people, and you knew those gorgeous eyes of his would never even look your direction.

Now that impossibly beautiful person is fucking you, not in the way you’d hoped, but he’s still inside you, still gripping your flesh, still grunting out lusty sounds with each thrust. He’s enjoying this. It’s probably just because he gets some kind of thrill from doing something humiliating to you, but the fact remains that Gojo Satoru is enjoying fucking you.

Thinking these thoughts makes his cock in your ass feel good. It makes your pussy wet. Eventually, it makes you cum, your body going weak as Gojo releases his hold on the leash and you fall face first onto the mattress. Your ass is still up, and Gojo is still pounding it, over and over until you hear him sharply inhale, and then his pulsing cock releases a stream of cum inside you.

After he’s completely empty, he pulls out, and you fully collapse onto the bed, exhausted.

********************

Gojo pants as he looks down at Chubby Bunny, at the plush ass he just came inside. Fuck, she’s so cute!

He lets her rest for a little while before he goes to the corner of the room and pulls out a large, round pet bed. He places it on the floor beside his own bed and waits until she sits up and looks at him.

“You’ll be sleeping here,” he says, pointing to the pet bed.

She stares at it as if she’s taking a moment to process it. Then she shrugs as if nothing surprises her anymore.

After they both clean up in the bathroom, Chubby Bunny curls up in the pet bed. She’s wearing adorable pink pajamas, and Gojo gives her a blanket before getting into bed himself. Before turning out the light, he hooks his end of the leash onto a knob he’d installed on the side of his nightstand.

“What if I have to go to the bathroom?” she asks.

“Then wake me up,” Gojo says with a smile.

“You’re not going with me, are you?”

“Nah, I’ll just unhook your leash until you come back.”

She looks relieved as she makes herself comfortable. Gojo watches her until she seemingly falls asleep, still not quite believing she’s here, with him. He really wants her to sleep in his bed with him, to feel her soft, squeezable body against his all night, but he is still her trainer. He can’t neglect his duty. So he goes to sleep, excited for tomorrow.

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx @deegausserr @voids-universe @hinata7346 @maflorex @issracollen

If I missed anyone who wanted to be tagged, please tell me!

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo smut #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jjk smut #x reader

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writethrough · 4 months

Note

Please I am craving a Billy request that is just mindless fluff about you noticing how his eyes crinkle slightly when he smiles or how his chains get tangled sometimes or how he is actually a soft person on the inside who’s never been able to fully express himself and how beautiful his genuine smile is that you hardly get to see and anything and everything in between (your writing is so dreamy and beautiful how how you write Billy is so 😍😩🫶🏻)

Found You

(Billy Hargrove x Gender Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: You give Billy what he's always needed.

Warnings: So fluffy you could suffocate.

Word Count: 513

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this in! (And for the lovely compliment!) I hope you don't mind, but I wrote this in the same way I did Sun Daze and Morning Blue. It's short, but (I think) super sweet.

He comes alive when he smiles.

Not the smirks he throws with the cocky click of his tongue, or the slow pull of his mouth that reveals his teeth one by one, like a predator.

His real smile. The one that crinkles his eyes and scrunches his nose and pulls you in until you’re so close you feel everything. The mint from his gum, the sun baked into his skin, his hands holding your hips, and the softness of his kiss.

He steals your breath every time. You’ve always been the first to retreat to take in more, and he’ll relent for a few moments, busying himself with those teeth dragging along your neck or his lips gliding from the corner of yours to your ear. He's fed up with waiting when he nips whatever flesh is in front of him before returning to claim the artificial watermelon from your mouth.

You’d do just about anything to keep him smiling. To pull his laughter from deep within his gut and have it play like music.

He didn’t laugh much when you first met. Unless it was that taunting one you didn’t like, the one he forced out like armor.

You still remember the first time you made him laugh out of pure joy. He said he didn’t know the last time that happened. And you made a silent promise to bring it out of him as much as you could.

He has such capacity for all of it. Laughter...joy...happiness...he just needed someone to help him find it.

And he does.

He finds it in the sound of your voice, even when you’re mad at him. It’s different. You’re mad at him because you care, because you love him and want what’s best for him.

He finds it in your eyes, that burning fire that ignites just for him. The way he touches you. The way he speaks softly, just for you—because of you. The way he strips off his shirt and pulls you flush to him just to see that fire turn into an inferno.

Then there’s the way you touch him. Not with hate or anger, but like he will break. Your fingers graze his forearms, up to his shoulders, and wind around his neck just to hold him—just because you want to.

You press kisses into his shoulder as the shower cools, your front to his back because it’s getting cold and he’s so warm. You make it beneath the covers, and he drapes himself over you, face shoved into your neck while you rub his back, following the dip of his spine from top to bottom. And if you’re feeling a certain way, you’d give a little pat. And he responds with a suck.

Infectious.

That’s the only way you can describe him.

He pulled you into his orbit and you’ve never been the same.

He gives you trust. And you give him safety.

So, when you say you love his smile, that his laugh is your favorite sound.

His response, every time is:

It’s because of you.

Taglist: @periwinkle-quill, @steph-speaks, @bookshelf-dust, @nix-rose, @realmermaidariel, @eddiesdruid

If you'd liked tagged in future fics, comment or message me!

(Not sure why two tags won't work. Hopefully, you both see this/are magically notified.)

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #Billy Hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #Billy Hargrove x you #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargove imagine #Billy Hargrove fanfic #Billy Hargrove one shot #Billy Hargrove stranger things #stranger things #stranger things billy hargrove

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pacentia · 8 months

Text

Title: Forever

Summary: After BG3 events, Astarion and reader feel ready for a child.

Pairing: established relationship fem!reader x Astarion

Tags: NSFW, rough sex, sweetness, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, bloodsucking, kissing, L-bombs

Word count: 1,704

Note: listen up folks. no idea if vampires thralls can make people pregnant. but in my world they can. Pls enjoy. i haven't finished the game, so this is my own fantasy after bg3 events:)). Drabble/fic/headcanon requests about our darling husband are welcome :))

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and eventually months into years, together with your darling Astarion. After the events of tadpoles, mindflayers and vampire masters, the time had come to settle down and live quietly, close to Baldur's gate city. Close enough for easy supply runs, yet far enough to enjoy the privacy of your very own house. Astarion was quick to realize he'd want no one else in his eternal life but you - and asked you - on one knee - to be his forever.

The wedding was held shortly after, with only a close circle of your friends present. Karlach shed a tear from happiness - knowing you two were destined to be together, while Halsin felt just… Bittersweet. Astarion wed a fine woman, although he was secretly convinced that an Druid like himself: alive, warm, and aging could take better care of your needs.

This was often also the subject of certain discussions that popped up in your marriage as you were reading in the garden, or drinking hot tea beside the hearthfire. Worries that washed over him about the coldness of his touch - or the eventual loss he would have to endure somewhere in the far future, when you would eventually lose the battle against time. You understood where his worries came from, but you were always there to comfort your darling husband. You possessed no interest in anyone's touch but his and you pledged to him that you'd always be present in his undead heart.

Of course, the latter made you interested in if his vampirism could be cured or, if you could transform into one. Yet, both choices were frustratingly impossible. Curing him would just mean ending him, heaven's forbid. Transforming yourself would mean serving another vampire lord, a fate that Astarion would never want you to experience.

Though tonight - nothing of that sort mattered and you found yourself intertwined in one another, the soft duvet covering your bare bodies. Your fingers played with his light-grey curls, while his arms were wrapped around your shoulders, ready for bed.

"Say, love," Astarion suddenly spoke up, "I heard you took care of a lost little girl in the city today."

Right. A young Tiefling girl had lost her mother inbetween the packed crowds of the city, and the girl came to you for help. How exactly did Astarion know that?

"Karlach told me of course." The vampire stated as a matter of fact. "She saw you and passed by this noon for tea." You nodded and explained the situation - how you held the little girl's hand right until you found her mother together. The woman thanked you over and over again.

A small silence fell between you two, until the man continued his stream of thoughts, "Karlach then asked me if we'd ever have children and I said that I didn't know what you would think of it and I -" Astarion's gaze avoided yours until he remembered he was probably rambling again, "Sorry love, I just wanted to know if you and I could have that sort of future together?"

Your heart fluttered at the thought of Astarion as a father. He'd definitely spoil his little ones and love them unconditionally.

"A little one to raise in our house." The pale man smiled, lost in his thoughts. "We already have a spare room that we could decorate for them."

Of course those thoughts had crossed your mind. It would be a new chapter in both of your lives, and you felt ready to take it on together with him. Behind his cheeky and often sarcastic banter, there was a sweet and caring man - only revealed to the closest ones he trusted.

"You know they'll be incredibly mischievous and stubborn, right?" You smirked up at him, to which the vampire quickly retaliated, "Darling, you wound me. Besides, that's why you're there to teach them kindness." Astarion sing-songed, nuzzling into your hair.

No hesitation was present in your words, '"Of course, Astarion. I want this with you." You smiled sweetly, gently guiding his cold digits over your belly, making your vampire husband rub it with such fondness.

Something within him stirred, yet another level of deeper protectiveness that he would soon feel over you. Any other man that would come too close to you, would feel his deadly fangs buried into their jugular. Rip them to shreds. Kill them in cold blood. In fact, it made him involuntarily bare his fangs to you, accompanied by a low growl reverberating in his chest.

You grinned at his primal reaction, and whispered as you caressed his chin, "Dear Sir, you know you can't drink anything from me when you've put your little one in me, right?"

He was taken by a frenzy, and rolled his heavy body over yours - his nose buried into your neck, inhaling the delicious smell of your perfect blood. His cock hardened at the thought of drinking from you, his icy tongue lapping over the countless bite marks that he'd decorated your neck with.

"I know, sweet love. Sadly, I'll have to return to …inferior blood." An adorable pout covered his beautiful features - which made your heart flutter.

"You should get to work then, my love." You whispered in his pointy ear, pressing small kisses along his cheekbone, and you wrapped your legs around his strong back. The vampire chuckled at your words, "Oh, darling." He groaned, elated to see you so eager to get bred by him. His hardness teased over your wet and warm folds, making himself slick before he'd slide home. His arms snaked under yours, to completely wrap himself around you protectively, burying his face into your neck. The intoxicating smell of your blood so close to his lips, made him lose control over his pace and bucked his strong core into yours, drenched cock sliding deep in your sex.

"Fuck, Astarion…" You gasped in pleasure, his large cock burying itself deep deep deep within your folds. The vampire watched your features contort into pure bliss, and bit his lips in return - until he was nestled as deep as possible.

"This is what you want, isn't it, my darling?" Astarion whispered, while you clawed at his back - sweet agony from his pressure on your cervix. His way with words was too much to bear. Icy lips found your ear again, dripping with sin, "Completely inside your warm, wet, delicious cunt."

You could only whimper Astarion and nod, your fingers buried in his soft curls, as his hips started to gently, slowly thrust inside you. His cock felt so perfect. Big, firm, as if he was carved just for you.

"Fuck, darling," Your husband growled, losing himself deep inside you, speeding up his pace, shifting his position so that he could hold onto your hips for leverage. His red eyes feasted on your body, the most beautiful creature he'd ever set his gaze on. He could hear your heart beating faster. Blood pumping through your veins. Cheeks flushed red. He was salivating for you.

"Please, Astarion…" You cried out in delicious agony, needy for him to grab and fuck you harder. Impregnate you. Show Faerûn that you completely belong to him.

"What is it, my love?" He growled with bared teeth, sounds of wet, sloppy thrusts filling the bedroom.

"Bite me once more." You begged, holding onto his strong shoulders, "Just one last time, please."

Yes. One more time he could have you. His sanguine hunger kicked in, and he couldn't restrain himself anymore, "Oh my, darling…" He moaned In relief, his thrusts never faltering, thanking you over and over again for your gift - until he set his fangs in your neck.

One last time that sharp, ice-cold feeling washed over your senses - unable to move or do anything. Delicious pain mixed with heavenly pleasure, both of your orgasms were nearing. No combination more delicious for your husband - your fresh blood spilling from his lips and your cunt wrapped tightly around him. Pleasure welled up inside of your belly, enduring your vampire's violent kiss - until you reached your peak while he drank from your neck.

His digits dug into the sheets, pupils dilated as he released from your neck in time, overcome with adrenaline and power.

"That's it, my darling…"

His thrusts became harder, faster - his bloody lips finding yours, tongue invading your mouth. You were absolutely spent already, having lost nearly two pints of your blood again - so you held onto him for dear life. The metallic taste of your blood made you nearly gag if he wasn't lapping it up off your lips like a hungered animal.

"Astarion, fuck… Make me fucking pregnant." You cried desperately against his lips, his big cock bumping against your cervix with each thrust. And like always, he delivered your plea - and with a deep and primal groan he reached his peak. "Fuck, oh - Fuck - darling!" He growled with bloody fangs, his crimson eyes rolling in the back of his head, jets of his release splattering right against your cervix. Filled up to the brim.

Sated with blood and pleasure, he collapsed on top of you, holding you dearly in the afterglow of your pleasure. Sweaty, bloody bodies pressed against each other. His face buried against the side of your neck, lapping remnants of your blood one last time.

"Can't get enough of it, can't you, sweet?" You grinned.

"Never, my love." He smiled against your flesh as his cold hand gently caressed your lower belly - hoping that his love would nestle itself deep inside of you tonight.

"I love you, Astarion."

"And I love you, my darling. Forever."

#astarion x you #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

Winter's King 12

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: have a good weekend.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You stand, still uncertain. You look at the king as he tilts his face up to the moonlight. The silver sheen washes over him with an unearthly glow. He looks lupine, much like your dream.

“Your highness?” You echo again, hands curling around the sides of your skirt.

“Will you continue to disregard my order?” He challenges as his gold eyes meet yours. You wince at the way they shine.

“No, your highness, I am only...” you hush yourself and clamp your lips tight. You turn and search around, numbly walking along the curve of the pond.

He growls as you reach the line of hedges into the next walkway.

“You will want to go much faster than that,” he warns as you hear him stand. “I will allow you some advance...” He exhales as you glance back at him, “ten...” he stares at you, his figure shrouded in shadow from far away, “nine...”

You blanch and tumble backward through the gap. You spin and stagger on your soles, throwing your arms out as your heart pulses madly. Something about his timbre, about his words, has you alight. There is something amiss about him.

You push your legs against your skirts and hurry blindly into the nocturnal void. The moonlight seeps in around the silhouette of leaves as you keep your hands ahead of you to prevent a collision. You try to see through the dark, like silk across your eyes, making out little more than hazy orbs.

You crash into a thicket of thorns and pull away from the rosy bunch. Their scent clings onto you as you turn to the left and dive down the next path. You don’t know these gardens, not like Debray. For all you know, you’re going even deeper.

You hear a step behind you and swirl to face it. You squint, trying to see who is there. Is it the king? Do you want it to be? What does he mean to do when he catches you? What is the meaning of this game?

You plunge back into a sprint, puffing as you pump your arms. You whimper and whine as you slow, legs heavy and feet dull. Where are you going? You don’t like this. You remember a night like this before, how the cold dew of the forest crept up your legs, feet hitting the earth in quick succession, the holler of men and snort of horses behind you.

You stagger and spin back. No, you can’t run anymore. You don’t like this. You don’t like those thoughts. That last night before you were taken to Debray, before you dawned the cap of your bearing. That orphan girl running from servitude.

You walk forward, shaking as you peer back and forth. You wade through the thick grey air. You hear a twig snap and a bush rustle, each noise from a different direction. Perhaps it is a rabbit or a chipmunk. You sniffle and wring your hands.

You must find the king. You will surrender this game and ask that he takes you back to the castle. You trudge over the beaten path and hear the soft trickle ahead. It must be the pond. The silver light blooms brighter as you come upon a space in the hedges.

Suddenly, there is only air beneath your feet. You kick out as something rigid wraps around your waist and lifts you. You wriggle desperately and cry out, your eyes tinging but not overflowing. Your fear has you clawing at the hold around your middle.

“Please, please, don’t hurt me!” You plead as you flail, “please, sir, I’ll go back to the castle--” you choke as the grasp on you slackens but your feet still do not meet the ground. You quiet as you recall your present, that you are not in that forest, that you are far from Debray.

You are sat upon the bench, the silver moon gleaming down on you as it outlines the broad shadow before you. King Geralt faces you, kneeling as you tremble and hug yourself. You put your head down in shame.

“Apologies, your highness, I was lost,” you reach to rub your cheek, flicking back your tears with your lashes, “I got confused.”

“No, it is I who should apologise, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he takes your hand between his big ones, “I only meant to make some fun.” He brushes his touch up your arms and squeezes as you drop your hand to your lap, “little maid, did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, “I was only... delirious. It is too dark out here. I cannot see,” you bite down and look away, “apologies, I did act out.”

“Little maid,” he tickles along your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine, “I would not let you get lost or hurt.” He tilts his hand to cradle your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “what was it you were running from in your head? Who?”

“No one,” you lie. “Just a memory.”

“Memories are not just that,” he insists, “but I understand how they can hurt. Forgive me, treasure, I wasn’t--”

“Your highness,” the sullen voice has the king recoiling. He quickly plants his foot and stands. You rise as well, toying with that word he called you. Treasure. “The queen sends for you.”

Bryce steps out into the moonlight. You look at him then the ground. How long had he been there? How much had he heard?

“The queen,” King Geralt grumbles, “what is it she wants? It is late--”

“She would not say and I would not guess,” Bryce says, “but she screams for it. Like a yowling cat.”

The king sighs and lowers his head. He squares his shoulders and resets his posture. He steps away from you and gestures to his soldier. The king twists around and marches away. Bryce falls into pace with you as you follow. He is silent, you all are.

You approach the castle, guards lurking in the shadows, and are let past the front doors by a sombre pair. Inside, you follow the king through the great hall and up the stairs. You peek over at Bryce as you proceed down the corridor. He gently squeezes your wrist, just briefly, and carries on.

“Your highness,” Bryce speaks as you hear a racket ahead of you; screeching and crashing. “Should I escort the maid back to her chambers?”

“Cursed woman,” King Geralt mutters as he slows, Queen Jazlene’s door just ahead. He pauses and looks over his shoulder, “the cost of a kingdom...”

“Your highness?” Bryce prompts once again.

You echo him and step forward, “I could calm her. Bring some wine--”

“No, she will have no more of that,” the king declares sharply. “I wed her, I put my name next to hers, so it is I shall attend to her. Sir,” he looks at Bryce, “do as you suggest, put the maid in her chambers and I will put the queen in her place.”

“Aye, your highness,” Bryce bows his head and points you back, “come, maid, the night wears on.”

You glance up at the king. His golden eyes are wrought as his gaze holds yours for only an instant. You see the hesitation bob in his throat before he turns away. You mirror him and follow Bryce back along the corridor.

As you climb to the next floor and continue down another corridor, Bryce slows. He stops as he gets to the door and faces you. He takes a breath as he looks you up and down.

“It’s treacherous here in the summer kingdom,” he says, “but that will not change on the road. Mouse, you keep yourself well.”

“Thank you, sir, I am fine.”

“Aye, you do not take my meaning but you do not take the king’s either,” he puts his hand on his belt, “his favour might do you fine in this moment, but it is dangerous. Let not others notice so they may not envy it.”

You grimace and shake your head, “what do you mean?”

“Your little games do not need an audience. It is no tournament.”

Your chest sinks and your skin speckles. Is he accusing you of something?

“I... I haven’t done anything untoward. I would not, sir--”

“You may not,” he intones, “but we are all ruled by the will of the king.”

“Sir, the king is married to Lady Jazlene--”

“And we both see how they fare,” he states bluntly. “Carry my words with you, do with them as you may, but I could not leave them unsaid.”

Your eyes gloss and your nose tingles once more. He’s mad. Truly, he can’t think you and King Geralt. A maid and her master.

“I would not,” you repeat.

He huffs and nods curtly. He turns to the door and unlatches it, “go, rest your head while you can.”

“Sir Bryce--”

“I am bid protect you by the king,” he pushes the door inward and rests his hand on the frame, “not from him.” He looks past you, as if through, “little mouse, I do hope I am wrong as well but I know better than to depend on that.”

You shudder and tug at the end of your sleeve. You slump and drag your feet through the doorway. You stop, just inside, “good night, sir.”

He grunts and pulls the door shut. Your lip trembles as your heart races, just as it did in the garden. He is wrong. He must be. You saw yourself how the king is trying, he even said it was the queen he meant to game with earlier. It was only that she was too unwell. He said it!

And he goes to the queen’s chamber that night. He is not there. He has not been disloyal. The matter is not your concern. You serve wine, you lace gowns, you braid hair. You are only the maid.

⚔️

You return to the queen’s service the next morning. The world is a bit more familiar as you help her into her gown and twine her hair into an elaborate coif. Servants pass in and out of her chambers as they prepare for the royal party’s imminent departure.

“Why can we not keep this capital?” Queen Jazlene whines, “but my husband does insist on return to his frigid homelands.”

You say nothing as you sift through the old monarch’s jewelry chest. You present to her successor each gem, brooch, and chain. She has yet to turn any away though you wonder if there would be room in her already bustling luggage. Perhaps the cart will be a touch more crowded on your ride north.

“And yet my husband did come to me,” she boasts, “I think... hmm, well, perhaps this marriage won’t be so turbulent.”

You show her a cuff and she snatches it. She puts it on her wrist, turning her arm this way and that, as she oohs and aahs. She wiggles excitedly.

“I recall this piece. One year, when I came with father to court, the queen wore this cuff. You see the emeralds. I remember she was so proud of it even though all the court knew it was only gifted to her by her husband to distract from his mistress,” she trills, “oh, how foolish. But the old queen was so boring. It is a wonder the king didn’t dispose of her, who can blame him for taking an amour?”

She sighs and looks at the mirror, “and she wasn’t half so pretty as me.”

You remain silent, continuing to sort with her endless approval. You don’t think there is a single trinket she could ever turn away. You don’t see the need for so many of the same thing. Some stones are brighter than others but why not keep the brightest and do away with the rest.

“As I was saying,” she goes on, “last night when the king came to me, he was... almost meek. That man. Can you imagine? I admit I was distraught after the day I suffered but he listened and we spoke.” She strokes her fingers as she admires her oval nails. “There are some southern lords who will come north as well, some northern to stay behind. He says it will help us acquaint the two kingdoms into one.”

She drops her hands and pushes her shoulders straight, “he is wise. I suppose I should heed him if I am to be a good queen.”

You are want to agree but to do so aloud may be taken as insult. She might have done it sooner and saved herself some trouble. Yet it isn’t your place and you haven’t the wisdom of a queen. You’re merely a servant.

“Once I give him an heir, he will have to listen to me too. Yes, I will do what mother could never. Give my husband a son,” she drags her hand to her midsection, “I think last night...” she flutters her lashes dreamily. Her suggestion makes you squirm. Her and the king’s relations are hardly your concern. “It was better,” her voice is brittle, “even if...” she peers around and clamps her lips. She narrows her dark eyes, “close the door.”

You obey. You come back to her and return to your previous task. She reaches in to pluck out a string of pearls.

“He puts me on my stomach,” she whispers, almost as if she thinks you won’t hear, but she is speaking to you. There is no one else in the room. Perhaps she is only embarrassed that she has only to the courage to tell a maid. “And he behind me so I can’t see him and... he can’t see me but... but if he could...” she toys with the pearls, “if he’d just look at me, he might like it better.”

You lift a pair of medallions earrings and she ignores them. She tosses the pearls back in the chest and stands. You back away.

“He won’t let me touch him otherwise,” she mulls as she paces. “But he is warming. It is early, isn’t it? And compared to the first night... I don’t know. It will get better. It must.”

She quiets and stands by the window. Her anxiety is palpable. It’s uncharacteristic. You’ve never seen her uncertain of anything yet you can understand it. She is soon to set off to a new life and to brave a long road. When she reaches her destination, she will be a true queen. When you get there, you’ll still be a maid.

“I’ll go to him tonight,” she says and raises her head, “yes, yes, I will go to him and try again.” She spins and smirks at her grand idea, “maid, I must find something to wear for him. Well, nothing very much,” she remarks coyly, “but I will need a robe. Yes, I saw a satin one in the queen’s closet.” She swallows and stands as straight as she can, “my closet.”

You diligently cross the chamber and search the wardrobe. You find a white satin robe stitched with gold and silver. You turn to show the queen. She giggles and claps her hands.

“Wine,” she says, “I must find some courage too.”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the witcher #series #au #medieval au #winter's king

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spacebarbarianweird · 6 months

Note

I haven't seen much of Astarion n Elf!Tav, so I was wondering what you would think about them together 🤔

Hi! I've got so many requests for headcanons I really felt like I couldn't decide which one to take next so I asked my subscribers to choose the race for me.

The most voted for Elf! Tav. Since I have separate requests for Drows and Wood Elves, this one is going to be about High Elves.

Hope you will enjoy it!

Astarion x High Elf!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

You are young by Elven standards, still many years from receiving your adult name.

But you already have a lot of life experience - and there is sorrow in your eyes since many of your friends are already too old to accompany you.

And you know sooner or later you will be able to share company only among ones of your kind since the world will change too fast for you to grasp it.

You fall in love with Astarion at first sight. He is your Thiramin, a soulmate, a forever love.

Maybe you were together in your past reincarnations. Or in your past life, you met him as a mortal.

Or it's something new for both of you.

Astarion shrugs this idea away. He doesn't have a soul. He will never see his past lives in his dreams when he gets older (because he will never age), he won't reincarnate when he dies (because he is already dead). There is nothing, only the existence of the undead.

To have a Thiramin you also need to have a soul.

Which he doesn't.

But he still loves you. You are the first person he cares and loves. And unless you don't want him in your life, he won't go away

He also has come to terms with your mortality.

First, you will be around for many centuries. He has at least six hundred years together with you or even more.

Second, you will come back. Not right away, but you will. You will come to him, in your new body, and he will recognize you the same way older elves recognize their long-dead friends in children.

Post-game, you travel. Elven wanderlust takes you places - other continents and planes. Halrua, Kara-Tur, the Vilhon Reach, the Sea of Stars. Sometimes you settle for a bit, but never longer than a decade or two.

You speak Elven to each other. Astarion feels safe speaking his mother tongue to you.

You call each other "Salen Aester" and "Salen Thiramin": my love and my soul.

He likes teasing your ears, caressing and love-biting them.

You do the same to him, though, he wasn't comfortable at first.

But you just made him sit in front of you and allowed him to touch your ears while copying his movements.

He ended up a crying mess.

You also decide to spend some time searching for his family though it's difficult since he doesn't remember anything about his past life.

His surname is though of an Elven origin ("The one who learns by hand") sounds unfamiliar to most Elves you meet.

And Astarion is hesitant about searching for his past life.

"Whatever it was, I don't want it. I want the future. With you."

Once you turn 110 years, you return home to get the adult name.

And marry Astarion.

It's difficult for the elders to accept Astarion - a vampire, an undead, a person with no family or kin.

But they do.

It's a sin to separate Thiramins, after all.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

#spacebarbarian headcanon #dnd elves #high elves #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #tav x astarion #astarion x f!tav

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yooglefics · 1 month

Text

Reveal — Part three: celebrating

Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader ( camboy!yoongi x camgirl!reader ) Wordcount: 4,513 words Genre: 18+ / smut. mdni! remember to not use fics as your only source of sex ed. Summary: Your birthday celebration takes a turn when Jungkook forgets to uninvite a particular guest. Part 3 of Recording & Editing. Read it in that order for context. More warnings under read more.

Includes: 3k words of just smut. Mentions of posting / selling sex content. Dirty talk. Use of pet names ( baby, doll, good girl? ). Fingering ( f ), Oral sex ( f and m ). Frottage. Cum play? A bit of overstimulation? Possessive Yoongi because Reveal!Yoongi is just like that and I can't do anything about it. It's true, I tried. Author's note: Okay, I think this is actually the last one for this. A trilogy is fine, right? But also don't quote me on that because clearly I can't seem to know how to stop writing this pair and I'm watching Jungkook from a distance like 👀 but shhh Which speaking of, I was thinking and if you want to know more about the characters in this verse specifically, you can send an ask with “( reveal!verse )” at the beginning, maybe specify if you want it to be answered ic with “( @ reveal!theirname )” , and a question or whatever you want to say. Idk, thought it could be fun~ Also, I made a post with different options for tag lists in case anyone is interested. You know, for future projects and stuff. But don't feel preassure to request it, and thank you for following this mini series. Anyway. I hope you like this and if you do please remember to comment, reblog, ask, follow, and whatnot. And again, thank you for reading <3

“You know, you could reply instead of just staring at it,” Jungkook says, over your shoulder.

You're sitting in your living room, phone in your hand with the audio post on screen. There was no way of denying you were caught, you had already embarrassed yourself by acting like a schoolgirl when telling him about SugaD leaving a comment.

“But what if I say something dumb and he deletes it?”

“Why would he do that? He thinks you're cute,” he teases.

“The cutest,” you correct, silly smile on your face once again.

“See. You should shoot your shot and talk to him, he clearly is interested in you too,” he winks, finally walking around the couch to sit at your side, fresh bowl of popcorn on his lap.

“But it's all so crazy. I don't even know how he found my page, he only follows big creators.”

“Well, he asked me.”

“What?”

“He asked who you were,” his Bambi eyes blink at you, fear creeping on his soft expression, “I… don't kill me, please.” He moves away from you and that makes you turn to him, leg over the couch and phone forgotten.

“Jungkook? What did you do?” All the scenarios go through your mind, imagining the worst. He told him you kind of have a big old crush on him even if you have never seen his face? Did he tell him about the joke of suing him because he is so—

“And I was busy so I thought, you know, he works with music and edits his own content and it seemed like a good idea,” he is talking so fast and you realize you missed the beginning of it, but before you can ask him to start over he just burst it, “so he edited it.”

“He what?”

“The audio. Your audio. He edited it.”

“My… audio.” The audio you're sure included the start of his video.

Fuck.

Shit.

That's so much worse.

You should delete your account. Delete yourself. You want to move to another country and change your name.

“Fuck.”

“I'm sorry. I should have asked you, but I figured…” he trails off, coming closer again. “I just… I didn't think it was a big deal because… well, I didn't know he was gonna subscribe to you. He only subscribes to people he is friends with and I know he doesn't even watch their stuff.”

You can tell he is trying to make you feel better, and although you appreciate the effort, everything is confusing. Does that mean he wants to be friends? But he doesn't watch his friends's content so… no friends?

“Fuck.” You murmur again.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asks softly, worrying the ring on his bottom lip.

“I… don't know.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No. Let's finish the movie.”

But you can concentrate for the rest of it, and know that you'd have to watch it again another time in case your friend brings up something important about the plot. But now, the only thing in your head is theories about what you're going to do about that one particular comment and, again, you consider just deleting the whole thing.

Jungkook invites you the next weekend to the restaurant, it's his free day but he tells you he can get you the birthday special even if it’s one day early and he can even sing for you. You tell him you are only going if he doesn't make a whole thing out of it. You'd wear the birthday hat and blow out the candles, but if he dares to bring more attention to you, you actually will kill him.

He believes you.

And so, here you are. Sitting in a booth in front of Jungkook and Hanna, your best friend. Big chocolate cake in front of you that they insisted on getting because “you can have it for dessert for the next week and think about how much we love you”, and also because you love chocolate.

“Sorry. Am I late?” A voice behind you interrupts the end of the birthday song, your smile falling because you could recognize it anywhere, and the fact that he is here makes you panic.

“Oh, shit… ah…” Jungkook stumbles over his words, even comes close to knocking his drink. “Sorry. Hi.” He greets the guy and throws an apologetic look your way. “This is my friend Yoongi.”

“Oh, hi. I'm Hanna and didn't know we were waiting for someone, but good thing we got a big cake, uh?” she jokes and looks at you. She does that whenever you're around people and you don't talk, her way of making you feel included.

But right now you want to disappear. Birthday crown and all. Maybe take the cake too.

“Hi,” you say timidly, eyes on Jungkook instead.

“I…” he starts, remorseful look on his face as he explains, “invited Yoongi last week, didn't want to third wheel with you two.”

“Oh, that's fun! Well, you want to sit there or should I move?” Hanna proposes and you're about to say she should come to your side even if that means Jungkook has to stand up too, but Sug— Yoongi speaks faster.

“I’ll sit here. Is that okay?”

You only nod, scooting to your right to make space for him. To not be so close he notices how nervous he makes you just with his presence.

He smells nice. Fresh and woody at the same time, and is only overwhelming because is him. Because a lot of things about him are a mystery still and you are about to unlock them all right now.

“Those are cute,” Hanna says.

“Ah, yes. I… these are for you,” a bouquet is presented on your line of vision. Is not big nor too much, the perfect size to be a nice present and it lets you admire the flowers’ beauty. “Happy birthday.”

“You didn't have to.”

“You don't like it?” If you weren't so focused on your own nerves you'd have noticed the ones on his voice.

“I do.” You quickly say. It's cute. The lavender mixed with two types of white flowers you don't recognize but you love the look of, mostly the one that looks like little stars. “Is really pretty. Thank you.”

“I'll bring you a drink,” Jungkook says, and looking at him you know he needs one himself. You could actually kill him after this.

“Wait, where is the restroom?” Asks Hanna and your eyes lift from your present so fast your neck almost hurts, but she is quickly disappearing in the direction Jungkook points her to.

And that's what you get for keeping everything a secret from your best friend. Karma as its finest.

“Pff,” you breathe, sinking into your seat.

“I can go if you want me to,” Yoongi says softly at your side.

“What? No, no is—” you try to explain is not him. Nothing is wrong actually. Everything is perfect and you're totally not freaking out.

“You haven't looked my way,” does he sounds hurt? “Is alright. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything, I just thought… I don't know. JK invited me weeks ago and then I found out who you were,” you cringe at that, knowing he most likely means when he listened to your audio. “I figured I'd take the chance and meet you.”

“Why? I mean. Don't you feel uncomfortable because of the…” finishing your sentence feels unnecessary and saying it at loud is embarrassing.

“The fact that you watch my videos?”

“I swear I only watched like three and I don't do that with all of them is just— Are you laughing?” Finally you turn to him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Sorry, sorry. But is that supposed to make me feel better?”

You don't answer.

“Of course I don't mind.” He leans in, "If you sound that cute, I'll let you watch all of them for free.”

Breath caughts on your throat, looking at him with big round eyes. His face is right there and you try to take it all in. Clean shaved, jawline not too harsh and with soft features, crested moon shaped brown eyes, pink lips, and the way they curve up when he catches you staring at them.

“I don't want to go, but if you want me to, I'll do it.” he backs out, and somehow you can tell he is genuine.

“Stay.”

After dinner and some chatting, Jungkook offers to drive Hanna home and Yoongi takes you to his place. It’ss fancy, looks like taken out of a magazine and you tell him exactly that. He tells you if you want to judge his room too and with a laugh you tell him yes, because honestly, you're curious now.

You tell him it doesn't look too cozy and suggest investing in a nice blanket, he raises an eyebrow at you and finally you confess you're an interior designer by day. He tells you he is a music producer. And then you talk about how and why each of you decided to join OF and what kind of things you have discovered you like during that journey.

“Interesting,” he says when you confess you started following him because of a hand picture you saw somewhere else. He has been playing with your fingers while you lay on his bed, is relaxing and you don’t mind at all. “You said you were going to sue me, should I even be this close?”

“Oh my—” you pull away, covering your face. And he laughs. “Go away.”

“No, c'mon. It's cute.” He tries to turn your body to its side, but you don't give in. “Look at me, please.”

“No. I can't.”

“Why?”

“Because no.”

He laughs again, hand on your hip, “Baby, please?” Head shake is your answer, “I'm sorry. Should I confess something too?”

“Yes.”

“Let's see,” he props himself on his elbow, looking at you even if you are still covered. “I knew about you before the audio.”

“You did?”

“Well, Jungkook talks about you all the time and I was curious. I think it was the third time you guys collabed that I saw a picture and he mentioned your name on his page.”

“Which picture?” You ask, uncovering half your face to look at him, he smiles.

“The one with the books. You were holding one in front of you.”

You remember that. Like all your pictures with Jungkook, it was suggestive more than anything and in that one the pose made it look like you were touching yourself.

“And now I know what you sound like doing that,” he teases, “wonder if I'd be lucky enough to see it someday.”

“You've to stay subscribed and see,” is your turn to have fun.

“Should I make another instruction video for you?” or maybe not. And before you cover yourself again, he holds your wrist, bracelet digging a little on your skin but not enough to actually hurt. “Don't. Let me see you.”

“Yoongi…”

“Fuck. Don't say my name like that,” is only half joking, but he knows you can tell he wants you just as much. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod and his lips touch yours in a millisecond. They are soft, but his movements are quick, and soon his tongue is asking for permission to enter your mouth. With a moan, you granted happily and hungry to taste him.

His hand goes back to your waist, only resting before squishing it gently. Your own hand traveling to his nape and bringing him closer, your chests touching.

In need of air you break the kiss, and instead of stopping, his mouth keeps working down your jaw and neck, “ohh…” you try to breathe, throwing your head back just enough to give him space. It feels so good you don't want to stop.

And he doesn't. He continues until he reaches the fabric of your dress, covering your chest. He imagines your little gold collar he saw in some pictures. He thinks about buying you one on silver to match his own jewelry or buying a chain for himself the color of yours. Anything would do, he just wants you to be his and for people to know.

“W-wait,” your voice brings him back, and he stops immediately, “don't leave marks. At least not visible.”

“Okay, I can get creative.” A wink seals his promise and his hand moves to the buttons in the front of your dress, his lips following soon behind to attach themselves to the exposed skin. To your breast. He licks and kisses and when he reaches your nipple he flicks his tongue a few times.

That gets a good reaction from you, but he still asks “You like that?” because it does good to his ego and the mid-erection on his pants.

You nod between whimpers and can feel his laugh through his chest resting on your stomach, “is that enough?” You look at him, the lust on his eyes and his stupid smirk on his lips when he frees your abused skin from his mouth, leaving a bruise on your breast. “Is my tongue enough to make you cum, doll?”

And your pussy answers for herself. Legs impossibly close in search of some friction and, of course, Yoongi noticed.

“You need something?”

“P-please…”

“Tell me. I'll give you anything, baby.” His voice is raspy like on the videos you watch alone at night. Except is not through a screen and is actually directed to you. Is everything you wanted while touching yourself and for a second you wonder if it's really happening.

Running your hand through his hair you look at him, now lower on the bed and playing with the bottom of your dress while he waits for a sign between your folded legs, cheek against your thigh, letting you catch your breath.

“Yoongi?”

“Hmm?” his hand stops on your leg, heavy and warm.

“Touch me, please.”

And you don't have to tell him twice. His hands roam your body, while he leaves kisses here and there. Too desperate to finish unbuttoning it, the bottom of your dress gets pooled at your waist, revealing the lilac lingerie he saw a picture of the other day.

“So pretty,” he whispers, fingertips traising the embroidered details. It makes you shiver. “Fuck, I can see how wet you are.” His movements travel south to the patch over your entrance, and you respond just as he expects, moaning.

And before you can get used to that, his tongue is on you, flat over the wet and thin fabric. “Can't wait to taste you properly,” sounds a lot like a promise.

Biting your lip, you contemplate asking him to hurry, to give you anything. To get rid of all of your clothes yourself.

But he knows exactly how to drive you crazy.

Moving your panties to the side with the help of his left hand, the fingers on his right one make an appearance again. Collecting your wetness and using it to rub over your pussy, only applying little pressure at first. Moans echo throughout his room once again, louder and this time in the company of a couple groans from him when he finally pushes in.

“O-oh… oh my,”

“That's it. Let me hear your pretty sounds,” he encourages, letting you get used to the sensation before adding another one, his eyes on you the whole time. In the way you lick your lips before moaning, the way your hips move towards his hand asking to be fucked, the way your pussy wraps around his fingers.

“...more.” Is barely a whisper but he hears it, smiling at you.

“Want more? Is not enough?”

“Need you, please”

And how can he say no to you when you look at him that way. Like he is the only one that can give you what you need, how you want.

His head disappears between your legs, mouth watering at the thought. He can't even deny he was waiting for you to ask him to eat you out, he would do it in a second, whenever you want, because “oh, god, you taste so sweet.”

Feeling your legs closing he holds them back, pushing them against your torso with his free hand and squishing your soft skin just as tight as you are doing to his fingers. Thinking about how much force he would need to apply to leave a mark.

“F-fu… fuck. It, it feels so good, please.”

He is proud, lips curving lightly but without wanting to pull away to smile properly. His tongue laps at your entrance alongside his fingers, moving faster and faster, against that spot that makes your body tremble and makes the knot at the bottom of your abdomen want to scream.

“Please, please, please…”

And he knows what that means. Knows you're close and just need a little push, and he gives it to you in the form of a “Cum for me, baby.”

And you do. Head back and pussy tight around him, legs closing and hand pushing him away when his tongue keeps working, overstimulating and catching all that you give him.

“Oh… my…” you breath. Legs still shaking but feet finally on the mattress again.

He is standing at the end of his bed, one hand pushing his long hair back and the other unbuckling his belt, eyes on you while he takes you in. “Was that good?” He asks, you nod and he smiles matching yours. “Great. You deserve it.”

“You want some help with that?”

“What do you want?” Yoongi throws back, “You’re the birthday girl, after all.”

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, thoughts filled with ideas of the things you had wished to be able to do before, you watch him get rid of his jeans and boxers, his dick on full view for you. Only you. “Can I suck you off?”

Obviously, he can't say no, so he nods and you are quick to stand up, legs still feeling a bit weak after your orgasm, but it isn't a problem because as quick as your dress falls completely to the floor, you're kneeling in front of him, between his legs and hands on his tights.

You watch him stroke himself a couple times through gritted teeth, his other hand coming to cup your cheek as you get closer to his length. Saying you had been waiting for this wouldn't be an exaggeration, and without breaking eye contact you stick your tongue out, touching the blush tip slowly.

He sighed, as if he was, too, relieved at the contact. “So pretty.”

You push his hand away, taking his hardened length into your hand, only realizing then how big he actually is.

Tapping his dick on your tongue gets you a groan from him and you hum as you wrap your lips around the head, circling your tongue around it inside your mouth before letting go. He smiles at you, his chest moving fast as his breathing increases and his eyes are filled with lust. Your hand moves up and down when your mouth is not working, still wanting him to feel good.

Preparing yourself, you get closer again, taking more in and closing your eyes, adjusting to the girth.

“Fuck,” he moans, thumb softly stroking your face as his hand moves to the back of your neck when you imitate the previous movements of your hand, going up and down, taking more and more into your mouth. “Y-yeah, just like that.”

The encouragement helps the filling on your lower abdomen to build in again, pussy squeezing around nothing and moaning around his dick, making Yoongi clench his jaw, bucking his hip up, and letting his grip go only at the last second. He wants to fuck your mouth so bad. Only watching your lips around him is driving him crazy and you feel oh, so warm.

“So pretty, doll,” he compliments as you try to keep your eyes on him as much as possible, only closing them when he hits the back of your throat.

You come up, catching your breath as you let your hand do some more work. Collecting your spit and rubbing your thumb on his sensitive tip. He reacts just as you expect, groans and head tilted back slightly, with his hands on either side gripping the black sheets. And that gives you an idea.

“Can you…” eyes are on you immediately, but you wish they weren't because that makes you shy and is even more difficult to ask.

“Tell me, baby.” He pleads, “I'll give you anything, just ask.”

But is easier to show than tell, and your finger grab around one of his wrists, positioning his hand on the back of your head. “Just… hold it.”

“Fuck.” He has to inhale quickly before nodding, are you reading his mind? “tap my thigh if it gets too much, okay?”

A nod of your own, licking your lips before taking his dick in your mouth once again, the simple weight of his hand being enough to encourage you to take more in and staying there a bit longer before bobbing your head.

Yoongi alternates between letting you follow your own peace and holding you down for a few more seconds every once in a while, finally letting himself slam his hips more harshly against your mouth and the back of your throat. His moans fill the air as he pushes into you. “feels amazing… you take my cock so well.” You hum, making his hips fuck into you at the vibration, increasing the tension on his lower abdomen. “Such a good girl.”

“I could fuck your pretty mouth all night,” he goes on, looking down at you and all the mess you've created between his legs. “Oh f-fuck. What a beautiful sight.” opening your eyes makes the view even better, and he holds your head down, making you gag around his dick, “ah… ah…” he lets go, not wanting to come just yet.

And it might be the first time you see him and his beautiful dick in person, but SugaD’s last video is fresh on your mind, —how could it not after the anxiety of him finding out— so you remember he likes to hold back. And is hot. But he is right, is your birthday celebration and you don't want to play by his rules.

“Are you close?” the hoarseness in your voice is surprising for a second, but you don't have time to think about how it's most likely going to hurt tomorrow because he is fixing your hair behind your ears with a devious smile on his beautiful face.

“Want me to come in your pretty mouth?”

“No.” He raises an eyebrow at the quickness of your answer. “I have an idea.”

Standing up, your knees thank you, only realizing then you'll also have to deal with that later, being so in your head while giving head, the weight of having him in your mouth a priority, that you didn't even care until then.

You're back laying on his bed, pulling Yoongi to be in front of you, between your legs. “Is going to be embarrassingly fast if you ask me to fuck you right now.”

And for a second you consider it. Because he is not saying no and because he looks so good like this, hands reaching down to hold your waist and bring you closer to him down the bed. But you shake your head no. “You ruined my plans today,” feeling the need to justify your pervy desires you explain, “I was supposed to take pics today for my birthday post, so now you have to help.”

“You want me to take pictures of you?” also not saying no, just clarifying, and you can see in the lust of his gaze he likes the idea.

“I want you to do something first,” shyness invades again but looking down at his hardened length is enough to deliver the message, “and then take a picture. If you want.”

Yoongi is close to you again, bending down to kiss you with a “fuck yes, I want to.” His dick is resting over your pelvis, and you can't help the involuntary thrust your own body does. It feels heavy, and warm, and just so perfect. And when he thrust his hips, frotting against yours, you can't take it.

“Y-yoongi,” and he does it again and again, and soon you're cumming by just the feeling and the thought of how would it be to be actually fucked by him, how much would he reach inside you, making you feel so full and “Ohhh… oh”

He holds you and kisses down your neck as you come down your high a second time, before kneeling once more at the end of the bed. “You look so fucking precious, baby,” he notes, hand wrapping around his dick once more.

“You look great too,” you offer, bitting your lip before letting honesty take over shyness, “I finally get to see you.”

“You been thinking about it?” He knows exactly what you mean. The reason he cuts it off his videos isn't just for privacy, is to give people something to wish for, to yearn.

You nod.

“Baby wants to see me cum?” Another nod, lost for words, but he is not having it. “Tell me.”

“Yoongi…”

“C'mon, baby. Tell me,” he taps his dick over your clothed pussy. Once, twice. Making your body jump at each touch. He teases the tip over your over-sensitive area and then taps again. Honestly, is hard to tell if he is teasing you or himself, but either works.

“I-I want to see you, please.”

His wrist moves in a faster rhythm, his other hand resting on your leg because he just needs to touch you. “Yeah? I'm going to cum,” he pants, “and you're going to show people how gorgeous you look covered on it.”

You really don't know how much he loves the idea of that, how much he wants to show the world you let him ruin you, how you whisper “please, please,” as he finishes, head thrown back and your name escaping his lips on a moan, shooting white over your naked stomach.

But you can imagine, his victory smile gives him away. And the way he keeps complimenting you all the while grabbing his phone and snapping picture after picture just confirms it.

But you can judge Yoongi too harshly, it does something to you as well. It helps your confidence and a proud smile matches his as he tells you people are going to hate him if you really post this on your page. And that newfound confidence tells you is going to be the first time you click upload without second-guessing yourself.

[ afterhours(y/n): Thank you for the birthday wishes! I indeed got a nice present, don't you think? [ picture ] ]

[ SugaD: Unbelievable 😻 Can we do something for my birthday too? �� ]

♡ Tag list: @m00njinnie , @sexytholland , @seoullove96 , @thelilbutifulthings , @disneyprincessshuri , @yoongibaybee ,

Thank you so much guys for your interest and support on this little series, I appreciate you 🥺💙

➪ Part one. | ➪ Part two | ➪ Updates for this verse | ➪ Ko-fi

➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Updates in general | ➪ Request & chats ♡

#( writing. )#( reveal )#( reveal: celebrating )#min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi x f!reader

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inklessletter · 11 months

Note

Congratulations, first of all, for reaching the milestone 💐💐💐 you deserve every single follower, and then some. Your art is always so pretty and I love how you bring us along during your process.

Secondly, would you like to make art based on this fic of mine? I'm thinking right at the beginning, when Eddie falls to his knees on stage and he and Steve have their "moment".

Thank you for hosting this fanart party ❤️

Steve tilts his head, and Eddie prepares for a kiss. He gets no lips, only tongue; Steve licks his mouth, from one corner to the other.

🎸🎸🎸

@2btheanswertothequestion

This one was SO MUCH FUN TO DO. I had trouble finding good references for the ambiance, but I love the result. Please, go read the fic, it's so good.

I know that I don't know many of the users that sent me requests a few weeks ago, but I've got a tiny story to tell about this one (I'm getting to know you little by little and I'm falling for every single one of you, you talented fuckers). They are the reason I am in Tumblr. It happens that I created an account many months ago, and didn't know how to use this, I just clicked "follow" to the tags and the blogs ST/Steddie related that posted fics and arts, and on my way to work, in the bus, I read the first chapter of a fanfic that made lose my stop (literally, I got late to the office that day).

Sad thing is the next time I opened the app, the fic was gone. I just remembered a few things and god knows that the search bar in this site works... well, works. Sometimes. I couldn't find it. I made it my personal goal to actually find this fic again, and this user, whose name I didn't catch because, again, I didn't know how to use Tumblr. This user pulled a full Cinderella on me, reading with intent every fic until the shoe fit. And I found it by mere coincidence, because they posted the third part, and I was like "WAIT IS THIS IT?". And it was it.

In the meanwhile, I actually completed my account, like you know, trying not to make it look like a bot (that I learned that it was a bad thing that could get me blocked), I put a profile picture, I made it decent, I learned how to use Tumblr (a bit). So, you see. This user, my beloved @2btheanswertothequestion is the one to blame that I actually stuck in this place. If you're wondering which one was the fic that got me so hooked up it was November Paramedic. (Here the AO3 link). Go read it, you're gonna love it.

(I'm kinda mad that they didn't asked me to draw the actual picture of the calendar, though. I have some ideas, I might draw it the future, because when I say that I hold this fic very close to my heart, I mean it.)

I really, really hope you like it, I worked hard on it and I did this with every bit of love stored in my heart ❤️❤️❤️

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runnning-outof-time · 8 months

Text

Actions Speak Louder | Pre-War!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - based off of this post by @thomashelbyswife

Pairing: pre-war!Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy’s never one to say sorry…that doesn’t mean that he isn’t though.

Warnings: one bad word

Word Count: 1404

A/N: M, your headcannon immediately sparked this idea. I just had to write it. And I may have gotten a bit carried away. This is the fastest I’ve written something in a long time. Thank you so much for the inspiration!! I hope you like it. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

Tommy knew he’d messed up the second he entered his bedroom to see (Y/N) standing at the bedside with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. The problem was he didn’t know what he’d done.

“Hey,” he tried, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she made sure he’d caught her look before she went about taking off her jewelry and getting ready for bed. Tommy frowned at her lack of response before he shut the door and walked over to her. He said her name in a soft voice, hoping that it would get her to turn.

She continued with what she was doing, not yet acknowledging him. Tommy sighed in response. He tipped his head to the side in thought, thinking of how he could get her to look at him. It wasn’t hard to notice that she was not happy with him. Words weren’t working, so maybe actions would.

He reached out and took hold of her hips, holding them for a second to test the waters. (Y/N) didn’t resoond. So he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him so that he could tuck his chin into the crook of her neck. “What’s wrong, love?” he queried, attempting to press his lips to her neck, but she titled away from him. This only added to his confusion.

“I can’t believe you, Tommy,” she huffed under her breath, dropping her hands to his firearms and applying pressure to them, hoping he’d get her hint and let go.

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out what her statement meant. Meanwhile she was still pushing down on his forearms. She held the pressure on them until he dropped them from her, allowing her to step away and finally turn to face him.

“What have I done?” he asked after a few moments had passed and his brain-wracking had turned up empty.

(Y/N) scoffed at his question, shaking her head at his answer. “Of course you wouldn’t have remembered.”

“Remembered what?” he was still lost. It only added to her irritation.

“You were supposed to come to dinner with my parents tonight. We were going to go over plans for the wedding. My father was going to give us some money towards it, but now he’s not so sure if he should be letting me marry you at all,” she filled him in on the commitment he’d forgotten while biting on the inside of her cheek in hopes that it’d stop her welled up tears from falling.

Tommy froze upon hearing what he’d missed. His jaw went slack as he wracked his brain in hopes that there’d be some sort of inkling of rememberance of the day’s plans, but there was nothing.

Anger was building up inside (Y/N) with each quiet second that passed. His silence was frustrating her, maybe even more so than his earlier absence was. “Do you have anything to say?” she asked him, her eyebrows raising as she spoke.

“I got caught up at the stables,” he told her, his answer making her scoff and look away as she rolled her eyes. Obviously it wasn’t enough to clear him of his wrongdoings.

Silence fell between them then. A couple beats passed before (Y/N) looked at him again, expectantly this time. It was obvious that she wanted something else from him. But Tommy wasn’t catching onto it. “That’s all you have to say?” she finally questioned him when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to speak unless spoken to.

“Love, I…” the words died on this lips as he then stepped back from her, turning to the armoire as he began undoing the buttons of his waistcoat.

Shock filled (Y/N)’s features as she glared at her fiancé’s back. What are you doing?! she screamed at him in her mind. But nothing was said as she watched him take the waistcoat off and drop the braces from his shoulders. He then worked on taking his boots off, kicking them to sit next to the wardrobe before he finally turned back around. (Y/N) was still glaring at him.

“Are you seri—” the exasperated question got caught in (Y/N)’s throat as Tommy cut the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her frame.

His hug was tight, and he swayed her from side to side as his arms stayed fastened around her waist despite her hands pressing against his shoulders.

“Tommy, you can’t just…whoa!” the direction of her statement changed as he spun them and dropped both of their bodies to the bed.

His arms unraveled from her waist as they were falling so that he wouldn’t crush her with his body weight. They moved up to trap her underneath him. He immediately tucked his face into her neck and began placing kisses to the skin he found there.

“Tommy,” she breathed as she tried to push him off of her, but to no avail. “Tom, you’re not being fair!” she shrieked as his lips connected with the sensitive spot on her neck; a spot that he knew all too well.

His kisses trailed up to her jaw and across her cheek before his lips found the corner of hers. The feeling was now driving (Y/N) wild, slowly making her forget what she’d been upset over as all of her senses became focused on his actions.

He pulled away just slightly so that he could look at her, his eyes traveling over her face; seeing that her look of frustration was slowly slipping away. “Fuck your father’s money. I’ll get what we need to pay for our wedding,” he told her before his lips matched hers, properly this time.

“I can’t believe you,” she breathed when they pulled away, biting on her lip to hide her smile as she took his cheeks into her hands, lifting his face further away from hers. Their eyes met and he cracked a smile, one that made her insides flutter. She tried to act angry, scrunching her nose and eyebrows in hopes that her true feelings didn’t show. Tommy found it adorable.

“What?” he asked her, reaching up to brush a piece of hair from her face.

“You’re trying to get yourself out of this,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Is it working?”

“No.”

Tommy pouted upon hearing her response, and he dropped his head against her chest, burying his face into her sternum and breathing in her intoxicating sent before he let out a whine.

That did (Y/N) in. She tried to hide it, but the shaking of her chest was a dead giveaway that she laughed at his actions. He clocked that immediately, his hands moving to her sides where her shirt had rode up so that he could brush his fingers against her sensitive skin. She shrieked at the feeling, squirming under him as she tried to get him to stop. Now her anger was the furthest thing from her mind.

His actions continued until she managed to grab his hands and remove them from her sides. She then lifted his face again, making him look at her once more as she tried with all of her might to keep a straight face. “You’re ridiculous, Thomas,” she told him, unable to stop the smirk from tugging one corner of her lips upwards.

“Am I forgiven?” he asked with raised eyebrows, waiting on bated breath for her answer. When it didn’t come right away, he jutted his bottom lip outwards, hoping that pouting might help.

(Y/N) sucked in a breath at the sight in front of her. She just couldn’t resist him when he was like this. Somehow, he’d managed to make her mood do a complete flip. His persistence was something that drew her to him, but it was times like these when she hated it. She wanted to stay angry at him, but she really couldn’t. Not when his lips were looking more kissable by the second.

“Hmm?” he asked her, getting antsy with each second she stayed quiet.

(Y/N) bit on her bottom lip, sending him one last glare before giving into him and mumbling a “yes”. Tommy couldn’t even celebrate. She didn’t give him time to. The second she spoke, she pulled his face to hers so that their lips could crash together. It wasn’t like he was going to dispute it though…her kiss told him everything he needed.

Read Part 2 -> HERE

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @dlmlufics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

673 notes · View notes

ginnsbaker · 9 months

Text

Bulletproof (10/10)

Part Summary: After figuring out your feelings for each other, you and Wanda return to the Avengers compound to determine your future.

Chapter word count: 4.1k+ | Tags: Smut (18+ only), Fluff, Steve being Steve, A little reunion with everyone else | Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Author's Note: Another series comes to an end! But wait there're more--the alternative ending which will be posted tomorrow (or the day after tomorrow at the latest!). I had so much fun writing "Bulletproof" and it wouldn't be possible without the anon who initially requested a oneshot. Thank you to all who commented, reblogged, liked and read this mini series. Many of you are unaware that this blog was primarily a fanart blog before I started posting fics here, and I've been thinking about whipping up a short comic strip of a scene from Bulletproof, so watch out for that :)

Series Masterlist

As the morning sunlight filters through the window, Wanda stirs from her slumber. Blinking open her eyes, she's greeted with the sight of you, peacefully sleeping next to her. She can't help but remember the previous time she woke up with you beside her. That morning realization, that she had fallen for you, had sent her into a panic, eventually causing her to slip away to her room before you could wake up.

But this time is different. There's no urge to run, no lingering fear. Instead, there's an overwhelming sense of contentment and a desire to push closer to you. Wanda reaches out, letting her fingertips trace the curve of your nose, moving down to trace your slightly parted lips. A soft smile graces her face, watching as your brows furrow in mild annoyance at being disturbed.

She doesn’t think she’s ever felt this way for anyone. With that conclusion, rather than pulling away, Wanda leans in, her lips brushing against your forehead in a soft, chaste kiss.

When your eyes flutter open, they're met with Wanda's gentle gaze, filled with warmth and adoration. “Good morning,” she giggles happily.

Your lips stretch into a sleepy grin before your eyes travel down her naked form. “Mmm, it certainly is,” you mumble, pulling her closer, nestling her against your chest.

Wanda's eyes glitter with a mischievous spark as her fingers gradually drift down from your waist. The slow, deliberate journey of her fingertips over your abdomen has your heart rate quickening, and her touch alone makes your skin prickle with anticipation. By the time her hand settles between your thighs, cupping you softly, the drowsiness that once weighed down your eyelids is entirely forgotten.

A gasp leaves your lips, your body instinctively pressing into her touch. The sensation of her fingers teasing over the sensitive skin makes warmth pool in your belly, the heat of your arousal becoming impossible to ignore.

Wanda's tongue traces the contours of your ear before playfully nipping at your earlobe. Her breath is warm as she whispers, “Did I wake you?” Her tone is dripping with innocence, but the mischievous glint in her eyes tells a different story.

You swallow hard, finding it difficult to form words with her hand expertly coaxing out your desire. “You... have a unique way of saying 'good morning',” you manage to reply, a lump forming in your throat as her hand continues to move deliberately between your legs.

Wanda's smirk is devilish, full of promise. “I thought you'd appreciate it.”

“I do,” you reply, voice husky, as you shift to sit up against the headboard. Wanda takes the cue, momentarily halting her touch, only to move herself gracefully and straddle your lap. As she does, the sheets cascade from her waist, revealing the tantalizing wetness that's gathered at the juncture of her thighs. Your gaze locks onto the dampened patch of hair above her core, and you can't suppress a smirk, realizing she's been aroused for some time—perhaps the entire duration you’ve been asleep.

Locked in an intense gaze with Wanda, your fingers precariously trace her inner thighs, until they finally meet their intended mark, lightly brushing over her slick entrance. The mutual sensation prompts an audible sigh from both of you: Wanda, overwhelmed by the electrifying touch, and you, awed by the fervent response of her body as she dampens your fingers even further.

She’s so wet and so eager for you. You can’t believe how lucky you are to have her this way.

“Shit, baby, you’re gonna be the death of me…” you trail off before claiming her lips into a heated kiss, while Wanda keens against your mouth at the term of endearment.

With each light, teasing touch, Wanda's breath catches, soft whimpers escaping her as your deliberate pace keeps her on the precipice of desire. For a moment, she seems content with the languid rhythm you've set, a mix of frustration and pleasure playing on her face. But as the minutes tick by, that patience wanes. Her hips begin to grind against your hand, trying to draw you deeper, to elicit more than just a graze. Each time she attempts to capture your fingers within her, you deftly pull away, drawing out the dance and stoking the fire of her desperation.

The room fills with her ragged breathing and soft pleas, a sob catching in her throat as her need grows more pronounced. Recognizing the edge she's on, you decide it's time to give in—but not entirely on her terms.

Guiding her, you position her over your waiting fingers, the slickness making for easy entry. Whispering sultrily into her ear, you urge, “Ride me.”

The command ignites something in her, and Wanda starts moving, her rhythm gaining momentum as she rides your fingers, the sound of wetness and her moans filling the room. You take the opportunity to explore the canvas of her skin with your mouth. You suck, nip, and kiss, marking her pale, porcelain skin with more bruises to add to the collection from last night.

The fervor in Wanda's eyes intensifies, her movements becoming more frantic. You can tell she's on the edge, so close to her climax, and that's when you decide to change the game.

“Stop,” you whisper, and Wanda freezes, her eyes wide and pupils dilated. You carefully slide your fingers out of her, and she whines from the sudden emptiness, her eyes pleading. With a smirk, you bring your wet fingers to your lips, savoring the taste of her.

Wanda's breathing is ragged, her chest heaving as she looks at you, equal parts frustration and desire evident in her gaze. “Why?” she breathes, her voice almost a whimper.

“You'll see,”you reply cryptically, instructing her to lie on her back. Wanda obeys, and then you position yourself over her, placing a leg between hers. Your eyes lock onto each other as you lower yourself, allowing your centers to meet, the sensation immediately sending jolts of pleasure through both of you.

Surprised by the overwhelming feeling of feeling her against you, you wait for the tightening in your stomach to subside before you start to move, grinding your hips against hers. The friction between your sexes is intoxicating, driving both of you wild. Your hands find purchase on Wanda's hips, guiding her to meet your thrusts. Her hands wander up to grip the sheets, her knuckles white as she tries to anchor herself.

Your rhythm builds, each thrust deep and unyielding, fucking Wanda further into the mattress. The intensity of your movement eventually pushes her to find purchase in you, and as you feel Wanda's nails dig into your back, you can't help the low growl that escapes your throat. The blend of pain and intense pleasure from her touch makes your head spin.

“I'm sorry,” she breathes out when she feels the wetness of blood under her fingers.

But you shake your head, urging her on. “It's okay,” you assure her, a wicked grin on your face. “Feels good. Do it again.”

Her fingers once more find their way to your back, and each time she scratches, the sensation of your skin repairing itself serves to heighten the pleasure for both of you. It becomes a dance of sorts—Wanda marking you, you healing, both of you lost in the deliriousness of the exchange.

Her moans become more frantic, her mouth falling open as you drive into her again and again and again. “Don't stop. Please, just like that.”

And you're more than happy to oblige.

In a bold move, you shift your weight, seamlessly flipping Wanda beneath you without breaking contact, the newfound angle allowing you to delve even deeper, each thrust meeting her sweet spot, causing her to gasp and cling to you desperately. Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, urging you to go faster, harder.

You can feel the build-up, the familiar pressure that signals an impending climax. “Wanda,” you gasp, your voice heavy with need.

She responds with a keening whimper, her walls pulsating against you, urging you on. The two of you move in a frenzied manner, chasing that peak together, moving as one. The feeling is so intense, so raw, that when you both finally shatter, the pleasure is all-consuming.

As the aftershocks ripple through you both, you collapse onto the bed beside her, both panting heavily.

After a few moments of silence, you turn to her, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “Hey,” you begin, swallowing hard, “I know it might seem too soon, but I can't help how I feel.”

“What are you saying?” Wanda asks, looking up at you, chest still heaving and you think she’s redder than she was just a few seconds ago.

“I’m saying I love you,” you answer with a soft smile.

Tears pool in her eyes, catching the morning light in a shimmering dance. She reaches out, cupping your face, and whispers, “I love you too.”

You might not recall much of your past self, but somehow, you wouldn't change this present for anything.

The two of you are nestled on the couch, mugs of steaming coffee in hand. Every so often, your eyes meet Wanda's, a smile forming on both your lips as the remnants of the morning's escapade play on repeat in your minds.

Soon, however, the serene atmosphere is interrupted by heavy footsteps approaching the front door.

“Were you expecting a visitor?” you ask.

Wanda shakes her head, placing her mug on the coffee table. “No…”

The apprehension in her voice is evident, and the two of you exchange worried glances.

“Hide,” she whispers urgently, her eyes darting to the bedroom door.

“Why? I've got my powers back,” you argue, rising to your feet.

Wanda's lips press into a thin line. “You might not remember how to use them,” she whispers urgently. “You could get hurt.”

You smirk, rolling your eyes. “Pretty sure I can take a bullet or two.”

Wanda looks like she's about to argue further when the front door slams open, the force of it sending it crashing into the adjacent wall. Her reflexes are instantaneous: Scarlet tendrils of magic emanate from her fingers, weaving a defensive barrier between the intruder and the two of you.

However, as the dust settles and the silhouette becomes clear, Wanda's magic falters, her eyes widening in recognition.

“Vision?”

Vision, slightly wary or Wanda's immediate defensive response, raises his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Sorry for barging in unannounced,” he says.

Wanda lowers her hands slowly, the red magic dissipating. “What are you doing here?”

“Steve has ordered both of you to return to the compound immediately.”

Wanda narrows her eyes. “Why?”

“He didn't specify, but it seemed urgent,” Vision replies, his tone indicating that he's as much in the dark as Wanda.

“Is it about the organization that's hunting Y/N down?”

Before Vision can answer, the sound of soft footsteps signals another arrival.

“They've been subdued,” Natasha declares without preamble, her eyes locking onto yours, a recognition in them. “The organization was kidnapping ex-agents who chose to live a normal life. And when your powers resurfaced, Y/N, they were hellbent in wielding you into a weapon.”

Wanda's protective instincts flare up. “Nat, I'll only return to the compound with Y/N if you can guarantee they'll be free. They've been through enough.”

Natasha hesitates, shifting her weight on one foot. “I can't promise freedom, Wanda, but I can promise safety. We need to ensure that no one else poses a threat to Y/N, or to any of us.”

Wanda looks torn, her eyes darting between Natasha and you, weighing the options and the promises. After what feels like an eternity, she exhales deeply. “Alright, but the moment Y/N is in any danger, we're out. Understood?”

Natasha nods. “Understood.”

She then takes a moment to glance around the room, an appreciative smile forming on her lips. “I must admit, you two found quite the hideout,” she comments, observing the tasteful yet cozy decor, the soft lighting, and the clothes thrown carelessly on the couch.

With the bedroom door ajar, Natasha's keen gaze settles on the slightly rumpled bed, a few candles still burning around it, and a teasing grin crosses her face. “Although,” she tilts her head, studying the two of you, “It looks more like a love nest than a hideout.”

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks at her words. Though she doesn't say it outright, the implication is clear, and it's even more embarrassing given how accurate her observation is. You avoid her gaze, feeling slightly guilty as you remember the passionate moments shared with Wanda just the night before and again this morning.

Your face fails to hide anything and Natasha chuckles at you knowingly.

“Aren't there better things to spy on than our personal lives?” Wanda asks, the tips of her ears turning a pink hue.

Natasha laughs lightly, her arms crossed over her chest. “I can’t help it when the evidence is all around,” she teases, while you groan in embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands.

She then pretends to sniff the air, prompting a flustered Wanda to hurriedly nudge her towards the door before she can make any more cheeky remarks.

Steve is not happy.

But he isn't frowning either.

He has that ever-present solemn look on his face, and the only giveaway that something's off is the small patch he missed while shaving his chin earlier. Just as Vision is about to mention it, Natasha silently warns him off with a subtle shake of her head.

Steve leans forward, resting his hands on the table, his knuckles white with tension. “Wanda, seriously? Again? I can't keep covering for you every time you break the rules.” The disappointment in his eyes says more than his words ever could.

Wanda, defiant, steps forward. “If I hadn't been breaking those rules, Y/N would be in some corner of the world right now, being used by those monsters for their wicked games.”

“That doesn't justify your recklessness. We have protocols for a reason.”

Wanda's eyes flash with determination. “And sometimes, those protocols fall short, Steve. Y/N needed protection, and I gave it.”

Steve drags a hand through his hair, attempting to keep his composure, but it's slipping away with each passing second. “It's not just about the safety of one individual, Wanda. It's about the safety of the entire team. If we don't trust each other to follow the rules, then how can we function as a team?”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Steve,” Natasha says sharply from behind them. “Half of these rules are outdated, and you know it. If Tony came up with these, you wouldn't agree to half of them anyway.”

Steve's eyes narrow at Natasha, a silent question in them.

She doesn't flinch. “Wanda did what she thought was right, and she's not the only one bending rules around here. Some rules are meant to be questioned, especially if they compromise the safety of our own.”

“But I’m not one of you right?” you chime in, surprising everyone, but Wanda most of all. Throughout the ride back to the compound, you'd been uncharacteristically silent, leaving Wanda tempted on more than one occasion to delve into your thoughts, seeking answers.

“Y/N,” Wanda mutters, but you raise a hand, stopping her, your eyes trained on Steve.

“I understand the need for rules, for protocols,” you say, your voice steady. “But this entire conversation assumes that I'm just some defenseless outsider. Wanda did what she did to protect me, yes. But she also did it because she knows what I'm capable of and how my abilities, and the knowledge I possess, could've been misused.”

Taking a step forward, Wanda catches a fleeting glimpse of the person you once were in the way you now stand before Steve. “The truth is, I'm not sure where I belong—here or anywhere else. But I do know this,” you say, pausing to look at Wanda and smiling. “I belong with her.”

Wanda meets your smile, her eyes shining in the wake of your confession. If the choice were hers, the two of you would be anywhere but here—maybe in a distant place where you could learn to find happiness, unburdened by duties and weight of the world.

Natasha, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, comments, “Well, this day just got a lot more interesting.”

Steve's shoulders sag, and for a moment, he appears older than his years, the burden of leadership is evident in every line of his face. “Wanda, I understand more than anyone the pull of duty and personal attachment. It's not always about the bigger picture, sometimes it's about the person standing next to you.”

He looks directly at you. “You still don't remember everything, Y/N. And with your powers resurfacing, it complicates matters. You can't just be thrown back into the role of an Avenger. You're essentially starting from scratch. There will be evaluations, both physical and mental. Training. Reacclimation. The compound isn't the ideal place for that.”

He then turns to Wanda, “But Wanda, you belong here with us. You're an Avenger.”

“Perhaps,” Wanda says before standing next to you and interlacing your fingers together. “But I also belong with Y/N. If I have to choose, then—”

“Maybe you don’t have to,” A voice from outside announces. The room's automatic doors slide open, revealing Tony Stark.

Steve regards him with a short nod. “Tony.”

“Interesting conversation we're having here,” he says, glancing at the group. “I think I might have a different approach.”

Everyone looks to him expectantly. But he turns to you and says, “What if we could get your memories back, Y/N?”

Wanda straightens up, her attention immediately drawn to Tony's words. “What do you mean?”

Tony taps a holographic tablet that suddenly appears in his hand. An intricate blueprint springs to life in the air, hovering above it. “While you guys were deep in your heart-to-heart, I've been in touch with T'Challa in Wakanda.”

“Wakanda? What do they have to do with this?” Steve asks.

Tony continues, “They've developed a technology that accesses areas of the brain we've barely touched on. Something that's way ahead of anything we've seen or worked on. If Y/N's memories are locked away somewhere in there,” Tony gestures to your head, “I’m not promising anything, but they might have the key.”

You swallow hard, Tony’s proposition sinking in. The idea of venturing to Wakanda, a place both unfamiliar and undeniably imposing, is overwhelming. But if it brings back your memories…

“I’ll do it,” you tell them.

“I’m coming with you,” Wanda says.

Steve hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wanda, it's not that simple. It's a highly sensitive mission, and with everything that's happened recently…”

“Steve,” Wanda cuts in, “I'm not asking for permission. I'm telling you.”

He lets out a weary sigh. “Tony? What do you think?”

“Why are you even asking me, Cap? You're the captain here. And if I remember correctly,” he adds with a smirk, “I'm not the one who can assign Wanda a 'mission' to formally accompany Y/N to Wakanda.”

Wanda catches onto Tony's implication immediately. “That's right. This can simply be a mission assignment. Y/N's retrieval of their memories is crucial, and who better to assist and protect them than me?”

“She's correct,” Vision interjects. “The restoration of Y/N's memories is of utmost importance. Wanda is uniquely qualified to help and ensure their safety.”

Natasha chuckles from the back, “Looks like you're cornered, Rogers. Majority rules.”

Steve looks between you and Wanda. After a moment, he nods slowly, a hint of a smile appearing at the corners of his lips. “Alright,” he concedes. “Wanda, you'll accompany Y/N to Wakanda. It's a mission.”

Wanda exhales, relief flooding her features. She turns to you, squeezing your hand, “We'll do this together.”

Tony, satisfied, adds, “And just to be clear, I'm always up for a trip to Wakanda. Count me in.”

From the doorway, a grin appears on Bucky’s face. “Great timing,” he comments, sauntering in. “I’ve been meaning to make a trip back to Wakanda. Now I can hitch a ride with you all.”

Natasha, already with a sly smile, says, “I’ll make the sandwiches. Wakandan cuisine is great, but I know how some of you are with new food.”

Sam, who’s been eavesdropping with Bucky, rolls his eyes from behind her. “Speak for yourself. Last time you tried their spicy dish, I thought we'd need to call in a medic.”

Steve looks around at his team, utterly confused. “Why is everyone suddenly so eager to go to Wakanda? This isn't a field trip.”

Bruce, peeking from behind Sam, adds, “Well, I’ve heard they have some impressive labs. Wouldn’t mind taking a look myself.”

Steve throws his hands up in mock surrender. “I give up. I can't control any of you.”

You laugh, nudging Wanda playfully. “Looks like it’s going to be a full house.”

Rather than reply, Wanda tugs you aside for a more private moment. “You do have a place here, you know? With all of us, as family, not just beside me.”

“It doesn’t feel like I’ve earned it,” you admit.

“You have,” Wanda says softly, leaning in to place a tender kiss on your cheek. “You just haven't realized it yet.”

Before you can react further, the door bursts open again and Daisy storms in, her face lighting up when she sees you. In an instant, she's wrapping her arms around you in a tight embrace. You stiffen slightly, taken aback by the sudden gesture from someone you don’t recall knowing. But not wanting to be rude, you return the embrace lightly.

Wanda clears her throat pointedly, and Daisy's eyes widen in realization. She pulls back, a sheepish grin forming. “Sorry, I got carried away. I just missed you,” she chuckles, but the apologetic glance she shoots Wanda suggests she remembers very well whose territory she's treading on.

“Hey, I’m Daisy,” she says with a grin, extending her hand to you. “We’re friends, you know. Actually, you’re my favorite teammate.”

From the corner of your eyes, you catch Wanda's expression, tight and slightly guarded. You smirk inwardly, amused by her obvious display of possessiveness.

Taking her hand, you give it a friendly squeeze. “I’m sorry, Daisy,” you mutter, letting go. “I don’t remember.”

“Don’t worry about it. On the bright side, at least you won’t remember all the embarrassing moments we’ve had together.”

Puzzled, you ask, “What moments?”

Before Daisy can answer, Steve yells over the growing chatter in the room. “Alright, everyone! Thirty minutes to pack. We're headed to Wakanda.”

Before you can process what’s happening, Wanda’s hand wraps around yours, pulling you towards the door. You're yanked forward, stumbling slightly in her rush. Glancing over your shoulder, you manage a quick, “Sorry, Daisy. See you soon?”

Daisy just chuckles, shooting you and Wanda a knowing, amused smile.

The sun dips low over Wakanda, painting the city and its green expanse in rich gold. The past couple of days blur with laughs, music, and dance as everyone celebrates the homecoming of old friends. But as the last aircraft departs, leaving a trail of smoke behind, the compound becomes eerily silent, except for the two of you.

The suite you're given overlooks the heart of Wakanda. From the balcony, the lulling sound of the waterfalls adds to the allure of the den you and Wanda have created within the room. Time seems to lose meaning. You seize every moment, every opportunity, tasting and immersing in each other fully.

The days merge into nights and back into days. You emerge, mostly together, to grab a quick meal. The only other commitment you hold is to work with Shuri, who is eager and hopeful that her technology can unlock your memories.

On one of those ordinary nights, you lie on your back, gazing at the ceiling. For once, your mind is at peace, void of its usual chatter, because you've never experienced contentment quite like this before. Beside you, Wanda lies, her skin bare and glistening, evidence of your ardor still evident between her thighs.

Wanda traces patterns on your arm, her fingers light and feather-soft. “You know,” she begins, her voice husky from recent activities, “This is the best mission I've ever been on. I don't want it to end.”

Turning to face her, you take in her flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Your hand reaches up to tuck a stray lock behind her ear. “It doesn't have to end, Wanda,” you reply, locking your eyes with hers. “With or without my memories, with or without my abilities, I'll always stay by your side.”

She pulls you closer, seeking comfort in your embrace. “Promise?” she murmurs.

You smile, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Promise.”

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