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satorusugurugurl · 2 months

Note

Currently thinking about switch reader and switch toru, where reader would be riding him while he’s a crying whining mess, maybe even tying his hands up, but as soon as she gets off of him he’s ripped the binds on his wrists and is flipping her over to give her the same treatment

-🍭

Silk

Characters: Gojo Satoru, FAB!Reader

Warnings: Bindage, silk ropes, choking, smut dirty talk, switch!gojo, switch!reader

Word Count: 1,119

A/N: F-Feral, submissive, whinning Gojo is one of my favorite Gojo’s!! 🫣

Gojo Satoru was the strongest. It was something everyone said, including himself. Yes, your boyfriend was the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. Which meant he got sent on missions a lot, which you didn't mind. He always came back home to you, cocky and ready for a sweet treat as a prize for himself.

What people didn't know was that when Gojo came back from a long or tedious mission, he needed you. Satoru needed you in a way that he never, ever let other people even know about. Because what would that into his reputation? What would happen if people knew Gojo Satoru wasn't always the strongest in bed?

Sure, Gojo loved fucking you into the mattress. But days after two week-long missions, he wanted to sit back and let you take the reins. He was beginning to regret his choice to let you do what you wanted now.

“A-Ah, holy fuck!” Gojo’s eyes flooded with tears, his blue eyes watching his cock disappear into your pussy as he slowly, and he fucking meant, slowly bounced up and down on him. “Y/N babe, please!” He cried out, choking on a sob as you clamped down on his oversensitive cock. “P-Please, move faster!”

“I'm sorry; I thought you told me to enjoy myself, Toru.”

“I-I did! But I-I need more.”

You stopped moving altogether, sitting on his lap, cockwarming his throbbing cock. He whined in protest, struggling against the blue rope binding his wrists together. There was something about seeing him like this. Gojo was so needy and desperate that it had your pussy twitching with need. Feral horny Satoru was fun, but this submissive Satoru hit a different kind of button inside of you.

His hips weakly tried rocking up into you, but you hummed, slowly pulling up off him until he was an inch from popping out. “N-No, wait, what are you doing?! Please, please don't!” With a sneer, you slammed yourself back down onto his length, taking all of him in one go. “HAA!” Blue iris’ were the size of pin pricks as you repeated the same pattern, over and over, until he was choking on moans.

“Look at you~ such a good boy, Satoru~” Your boyfriend's chest heaved, eyes shut tight as you leaned forward, your fingers wrapping around his neck. “Are you my good boy~?”

Satoru bucked his hips cock throbbing as he shook his head. “I-I’m not a fucking sub.” A sadistic smile crossed over your face as he bounced faster, moaning as you felt the coil in your tummy tightening.

“Ooh~? Is that why you're blushing like a whore~? Do you want me to stop?” he shakes his head, “I asked you a question.” Fingers tightened around his throat, and you savored the way he cried out. “So answer it; are you a good boy?”

The way you spoke the degrading tone, made everything feel better. It was like he was in his domain, and everything was much more intense. His balls clenched, and a strangled cry overcame him as the first waves of his orgasm rolled over him.

His hands fought against the silk ribbon you so cruelly bound him with. “I-I’m a good boy! I'm a good boy!” Crying out, Satoru threw his head back, cumming inside of your pussy as you bounced harder, faster before slamming down on him completely, cumming with him.

Heavy breathing flooded the room as your heart rate began to slow. Only when you were positive you weren't going to pass out from pure orgasmic bliss your gaze fell on your boyfriend's face. Satoru’s bangs hung over his eyes; his ivory-perfect skin flushed red.

He looked so fucked out of his, drool spilling from the corner of his mouth. His chest was moving rapidly; his stomach muscles clenched underneath you. God, he looked so delicious like this, but at the same time, he seemed out of it. A little too out of it.

“Satoru?” He didn't respond. “I'll go get you some water.” Inching yourself off Satoru’s semi-hard cock, you gasped as the tip popped out. With jelly legs, you got off him, standing up slowly. “Baby, I'll be rig-” Looking over your shoulder, you came face to face with stunning blue eyes. “T-Toru?”

In one swift movement, Satoru yanked his wrists apart, ripping the blue silk bindings. Large hands gripped your hips, throwing you down on the mattress. The fluidity of his actions left you breathless, his hips pressing against yours. His hard cock throbbed before plunging inside of you.

“Nnngh! Fuck!” Satoru growled, hearing your cries of pleasure. One hand gripped your hip so hard you knew you'd have bruises later. “T-Toru!”

“You thought it was cute tying me up like that?” His voice was dark, lips on your neck, breathless words tickling your ear. “Oh, you got nothing to say now?” he thrust deeper, his cock hitting your cervix head-on. “Yeah, that's what I thought.” His free hand grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them against the mattress. “Not so funny now that you're in my position, is it?”

You couldn't find the words to respond other than ‘fuck’. Satoru was fucking your brains out. Literally rendering your use of human language useless. All you were capable of doing was crying out his name as his cock slammed against your g-spot and your cervix with each thrust.

“Ah! Mnnngh T-Toru!” He chuckled, the hand in his hips moving, rubbing your clit in circles, his other hand squeezing around your wrists tightened, making your eyes roll back.

“Who's my good girl?”

“Haah, ah~!”

“Answer the question Y/N! Who's my good girl?!”

“M-Me! I am!”

Satoru took your earlobe between his teeth, picking up the pace of his sensual movements. “Then be a good girl and cum on my fat cock!” His eyes shut tight as you obeyed him, jerking and screaming, your orgasm bringing him over the edge of his second one. “That’s right, good girl~ good fucking girl~!”

The warmth from your lingering orgasm and Satoru’s body laid over you. Satoru’s bare chest hummed with a satisfied groan before trailing kisses up your neck all the way to your lips. The kiss was soft and full of adoration, his strong hands cupping your face. Before he collapsed next to you, his arms dropped over you, pulling you close.

“Next time, you'll be the one tied up.” He whispered over the back of your neck, grinning against your skin as you squirmed. “And baby, that's a fucking promise I intend to keep.”

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ackerpretty · 7 months

Text

Pervert Armin x black reader

MDNI & AGELESS BLOGS

Warnings: uhh EXTREME horniness and no self respect?

A/N: Y’all.. I barley proofread my shit so in sorry if there’s 500 typos and I just came outta writers retirement so I ask that y’all cut me some SLACK😭I’m done yapping now

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Armin knew he was going to be obsessed with you since the day you walked into the classroom. With your pretty brown gloss-covered lips and braids hanging hanging down to your ass. Your vanilla scent made all of the blood rush to his head…and dick. He had to have you all to himself. He wanted to take you back to him dorm and keep you there as his little pet. No one else would be able to see you on your knees like a puppy, tongue hanging out of your mouth and waiting for his next command. Maybe he’d tie you to his bed and stuff his shirt in your mouth so the whole residence hall won’t hear your screams (not that he’d care) . He was interrupted by his pervert thoughts when you approached him. “You Armin? I think were partners” of course y’all were partners. Armin made sure of that by rigging the professor’s spreadsheet. No, he simply refused to work with someone other than his pretty future wife. He talking bout some “Yeah! Let’s work at my dorm” knowing damn well y’all won’t be doing shit. He won’t make his princess do any work, he can bullshit this easy ass project as long as he can buy his face in your pussy for hours.

After 3 project sessions he had you wrapped around his finger….Literally. His two long slender fingers curled up into your pussy and tongue lapping up your brown-pinkish folds simultaneously.“Armin slow down please….I can’t” Amin simply ignored your ass, even flicking his tongue and a faster rate your sucking your clit until it was attached to his mouth. “just need to make you mine….wanna make my girl feel good” Your back arched off the bed as yours thighs shook around Armin’s head. Just when you were sure that you was finna squirt all over his, Armin stopped and flipped you over. “Want you to cum with my dick” This was the main event that Armin had fantasized. He opened up the little draw next to his bed and grabbed a baby blue ribbon to tie your hands behind your back with, and some vanilla coconut oil, your signature scent. That boy could not wait to oil up that ass, all for him. He slowly rubbed his hands all over your smooth brown skin, down to the back of your thighs. Armin squirts some oil of his hand, stroking his already hard dick. Without warning he slides into your pussy, almost nutting immediately after feeling your warmness. The small dorm was filled with sounds of your muffled moans and slapping sounds from Armin’s thighs against yours. “S’ the only dick you’ll ever need” He sneers through his teeth as his pace quickens and his grip on your hips create indents in your skin. Armin watched your arms struggle against the ribbon restraints and he took this opportunity to grab your arms and hold them behind your back while he fucked into your pussy.

Your breathing was becoming ragged and your walls began to spasm and clench around his dick. “Min im about to cum..ughh shit” He suddenly slows down his pace, making you whimper from the lack of speed. He grabs you by the throat, giving it a light squeeze. “Say you love me first…tell me your gonna be a good bitch for me” Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and your mouth is hanging open, and that brain is struggling to put one word together. “Say it or you get nothing” he slowly starts fucking into you faster, hand still wrapped around your throat, trying to make you break “Love you min..m’ur bitch” Your whole body begins to shake as you cream all over his dick . When you’re done he pulled out made sure to cum all over your face, globs of white sticking to your cheeks, nose, and forehead. “my good girl, baby” he says as his fingers stroked your cum covered face. After y’all get all cleaned up, he gently placed you in his bed where you knocked out as soon as your head hit the pillow. Armin couldn’t help but to admire your unconscious body, sleeping peacefully on his side of the bed. Yeah, you ain’t ever leaving his room.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

#aot smut #armin x black reader #armin smut #armin arlet smut #armin arlet x reader #attack on titan smut #armin x reader #aot x reader #aot x black y/n #aot x black reader #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan x female reader #eren x black reader #eren smut #levi x black reader #levi smut

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tinycozycomfort · 7 months

Text

made by hand

pairing: contractor!joel miller x housewife f!reader

day five of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: bondage -> read her day five here

summary: He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself.

warnings/tags: no outbreak, bondage, unprotected piv, joel's pov, age gap (joel is 40s, reader is not), yearning, dom/sub dynamics, joel is mushy, fixation, pet names (sweetheart, honey, etc), infidelity (reader is married)

word count: 1.5k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: in the same universe as this one-shot but set far enough after to be readable w/out it!

main masterlist

Joel doesn’t know what he did to be able to have you like this—to be able to steal this time from you—when you have so much else.

Even worse, you’re a dream. Soft and gorgeous and strung up for him, belly flush to the mattress with your wrists laid over the knobs of your spine, gathered in a twist of baby blue.

He sits against the backs of your thighs, his own bracketing the swell of your hips, cock bobbing in a sticky pool over the smooth surface of your inner leg. You suck in a breath and punch out a whine each time you can feel the firmness of him, grazing over every slice of skin except where he knows you want him most.

He peers down, runs a hand across the link of your wrists, smiling when he sees the way you’ve tucked two fingers into the hollow of your palm—holding your own hand—like you have to discipline yourself one extra degree.

After taking his mouth and his fingers for as long as he’d pleased without too much push-back, your efforts don’t go unnoticed, “Go on and ask me what you want to ask me, sweetheart. Think you’ve earned that much.”

“Can you touch me?” He can see you tug against where you’re bonded, an extension of your plea.

Joel thinks it’s a sad thing, the made-by-hand contraption he’s used to restrain you—a wide loop of tall ribbon sewn through the center to leave a pair of loose cuffs. He’d originally crafted it because he wanted to give you something pretty—a gift that wouldn’t cause concern or raise any unwanted attention, perfectly mundane when stowed in the safety of your sock drawer. It was the first for-you-from-him that went beyond his body, something he selfishly hoped could also serve as a memento should he ever become just the past.

It took him one weekend to make and two months to bring to you, driving up that long stretch of unfinished pavement and pulling it out of his pocket, red-cheeked and anxious. The seams are jagged where he spent hours sealing them shut, barreling over each other in a weave to keep the integrity, the deep color of the thread more than a few shades off—steel against pastel. He had tried to hide the imperfections, smooth side up in his hand as he muttered some lame preamble about something nicer than using the underwear, sometimes. He remembers the face you made at him when you unwound his hold, no huff of laughter at his break in character like he thought, telling him you loved it.

It’s the only thing you use now.

“‘M already all over you; already put so much of me on you, in you. What do you mean, baby? Be more specific.”

“I need you—need it inside.”

He tugs on the center strip—the binding—rolling a finger over the lip to tighten the slack that allows the accessory to be slip-on. That feature, other than making the contraption reusable, alleviated the issue of markings; his stomach sinks when he’s reminded evidence is even a factor.

He bends down, initially careful to keep his cock at surface level when he hovers over you, the bristle of his beard behind your ear making him sigh, that spark of possessiveness bringing something hungrier, “Say it again.”

“Can you please put–”

“Don’t be smart. You know what I want to hear; say it again.”

Tipping forward on his knees, he lets the length of him run down the crest of your ass, passing through where he can feel your heartbeat, shining folds of flesh that beg to be parted—ever the fool who can’t deny you much for long.

“I need you.”

His chest constricts, heart dimpling underneath where you’re always holding it in your clutch; just the weight of your desire for him is enough to pull his body down through the ground, to the other side of the earth. He needs you, too, so desperately. Naively, in moments like this, with declarations like that, he sees success in all of this—sees keeping you.

Joel leans back, thumb sliding against the stripe of wet at your cunt, peeling back the seam to get a better look at the hole he wants so horribly to fill. His cock aches, heavy and hot and ready to take.

He wishes he could savor it—tries to every time—but he never knows how long this will last. How long it will be before you attend the couples counseling sessions your husband asks of you. How long before you decide that a house and kids and the life he can’t provide for you might actually be enough. How long it’ll be before you just tire of him. So he’s greedy, takes everything you feed him straight to the stomach; he doesn’t have the patience to chew, in fear of not being able to finish.

He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself.

And he does—uses that exploring hand to guide the head of his cock to the slip of warmth you so meanly demand him to enter, so sweetly beg him to stay in.

“Again.”

He rolls his other wrist to gather up more of that silk, dragging the mess of limbs higher up your back, both for leverage and to remind you he’s strong—worth that, too.

When he slides himself in, he can feel the squeeze run through to the very tips of his toes, the points of his ears—boiling, syrupy heat that forces his body to lock up, terrified to fall over and take his last breath as a result.

“I’ll give you as much of this cock as you want, honey. Just want to hear a few little words.”

He pushes in firmly despite his threats, and so easily does he meet the end of you, apex of your womb perfectly made to receive him, like you’d been fitted for each other. He pants as silently as he can, setting aside his pleasure in favor of yours, not even to be distracted by his own voice.

Joel forces as much of his weight as you can handle on the bundle at your back, swinging into you with the power of everything he’s too afraid to confess. He can fuck that reassurance into you, instead—make up for his inability to be confident in those more tender moments with the role he takes in this swirl of lust.

He can tell by the way you constrict around him that you’re close, the squelch of where you meet heightening every time he moves in to the hilt.

“I’m gonna come, Joel. Fuck.”

“Don’t like askin’ twice. C’mon, focus.”

He bows again, bracing his legs so he can wedge his right arm through the slot at your hip, elbow flat to the bed as he reaches down, in. Your clit is smeared in your slick, running down from where he’s giving you everything, and thinks maybe you understand what he’s trying to tell you without words. He pushes as best he can against the bead, fingers working rhythmically to bring you there, knowing he won’t be able to take much more.

You’re crying now, it seems, from the broken shape your words take as they fall out, “I-I, Joel. I need you. Please. I love you.”

He can’t handle that, the pulse of his orgasm almost immediate, the fierce curl of your cunt around him no help. You whine under him, and if it weren’t for the risk of crushing you, he’d take his mouth to yours.

He fucks you until he can’t, until he expresses his response to exhaustion. He’s heaving by the end, forehead to your shoulder where it’s glued down with sweat.

It takes him much longer now to come down, to shimmy out from over your body, to release and turn and fold you into his lap.

Cruelly, he keeps the silk in his palm, thinking he can force another memory into it by making it bear witness to all of this; another knot in your ‘relationship’—as close as this will ever come to being that, anyway.

Joel breathes at the crown of your skull, hair tickling his lips when he finally decides to break the silence, “Do you really?” And before it has the chance to be taken away from him, “I love you, too.”

#SORRY this is late im on .... v*c*tion #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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xpao-bearx · 1 year

Text

"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 2 HERE

Read Part 3 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

SUMMARY: Steven Grant has come to the devastating conclusion that he was fated to be single forever. Marc didn't care for romance, Jake was only interested in one-night stands, and Steven was--well...Steven.

But when you started working alongside him at the museum's gift shop--a pretty girl younger than him with a bright smile and a cloying kindness he hasn't been the recipient of in a long time--he begins to think that maybe romance is in the cards for him.

Especially when you are just as awkward as him and sinfully lovely.

AKA "the man without love" falls for "the virgin".

RATING: 18+ minors please do NOT interact!!! This fic will contain romance, smut, and generally mature content (though not ALL parts will have explicit smut).

NOTES: I recently rewatched Moon Knight and have been in the mood to write my own fic after reading countless of amazing ones on here, then outta the blue Madonna's song Like A Virgin got stuck in my head and it got me thinking "Huh... This song is cute for Steven if he gets a girlfriend. ACTUALLY WAIT A DAMN MINUTE IT COULD FIT ALL THE MOON KNIGHT BOYS"

And so... Tada! Here's le result~ Although I'm still working out the details, this fic will have ✨️6 PARTS✨️ This fic will PROBABLY be quite self-indulgent, and at times the way the reader is written could be a bit similar to an OC. I'm so sorry if that is the case, but please understand that I'm writing this for fun and I'm just going with the flow!

Some things will also be different from the show. For example, all the boys are actually aware of each other in this fic. I try to stick as close as possible to the source material, but hey this is my fic and like I said I just wanna have fun 😂

Thank you sooo much and I sincerely hope you enjoy!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are STRONGLY encouraged and appreciated so please don't be a silent reader!

Now... Join me as I hopelessly thirst over this RIDICULOUSLY gorgeous man both in fiction AND reality \(^o^)/

Part 1: Didn't know how lost I was until I found you

Steven willed his legs to go faster, pushing through London's usual busy morning crowd and into the museum he was cursed to work at. Clutching his bag in one hand, and the other holding his small thermos of coffee as he prayed to any Egyptian god listening that Donna wouldn't catch him this time.

But, of course, the only Egyptian god within Steven's vicinity was Khonshu. And the old bird only cared about how his Moon Knight was upholding his duties as his "Fist of Vengeance", not of his Avatar's petty human responsibilities such as "keeping a job".

"Late again, eh, Stevie?" Donna's annoying voice mocked Steven, pausing in his tracks as he sighed deeply and begrudgingly turned towards his boss.

"Sorry, Donna." He shot the blonde a forced smile, his grip on his thermos tightening. "Got stuck in traffic. You know how it is, yeah?"

"I wouldn't because unlike you, Stevie, I'm never late." Donna returned his fake smile along with a roll of her eyes. "Anyway, enough chatter. You've got someone working with you at the gift shop from now on. Maybe this way you won't be late, yeah? Teach her how to actually sell some bloody candy."

Steven opened his mouth to retort, but was quickly cut off when his new co-worker--you--stepped out from behind Donna. You were younger than him, around your twenties, and you were such a shy little thing with your head slightly ducked down. Your E/C eyes peeked out from behind the glasses framing your delicate features, long lashes fluttering as you flashed him a sweet smile. Your fingers fiddled nervously with the pink midi skirt you wore, matching the dainty pink ribbons that tied your H/C hair in two low pigtails.

Your smile faltered as your gaze met Steven's dark brown ones. He remained silent, mouth hanging agape as he stared at you as if you grew two heads. Your eyes lowered, heart threatening to burst right out of your poor chest.

Did you do something wrong? Maybe you should've ditched the ribbons, you looked ridiculous, right? Why was he staring at you? Oh, god, why was such a HOT guy staring at you?!

"Hello, uh, I'm Steven Grant." Your head snapped up, witnessing the twist of Steven's lips into a kind albeit awkward smile that accompanied a friendly little wave. "Steven..." He seemed to be rethinking his words before, ultimately, the dorky side of him won. "...with a V."

A smile once again bloomed across your face, feeling more at ease this time. "Hi, I'm Y/N L/N. With anxiety!" You chirped the latter a little too cheerfully, a light blush dusting your cheeks as you inwardly slapped yourself. No, punched yourself. "O-Oh, uh, I-I didn't mean that! I-I mean, no, it was just a joke--but a really BAD one, oh god--"

As you rambled nonsensically, Donna arched a judgmental brow at you before noticing the utterly smitten expression on Steven's face as he watched you with a huge goofy grin. Now both of Donna's eyebrows were raised to her hairline before she slowly backed away, leaving you two to fend for yourselves.

At least this time, though, Steven wouldn't be late anymore.

'She's so...'

'Weird.' Marc piped up in Steven's head.

'Amusing.' Jake snickered.

'...lovely.' Steven finished, eyes gleaming the same way it does for Egyptology as he continued to look at you as if you hung the moon in the sky.

He adored you instantly.

♡•••🌙•••♡

It's been two months since you started working at the museum's gift shop. During that time, you and Steven got closer. He discovered that you were a college dropout, reaching a stressful breaking point one day and deciding to just work for the meantime before figuring the rest of your life out. And as it turns out, you weren't so shy after all; once you were out your shell, you were just as big of a dork as Steven was and whenever you two were together, your shift passed by quickly--too quickly.

From the very first moment, you and Steven got along splendidly. He was a complete sweetheart and it always shattered your heart whenever Donna harassed him with any snarky and insensitive remarks.

Steven was used to it so he didn't mind it too much. What he wasn't used to, though, was you. You who was always so kind, lending a listening ear whenever he went on a passionate tangent regarding Egypt and even encouraging him on his dream of becoming the museum's tour guide. You who always graced him with a genuine smile that reached your ears, eyes sparkling whenever you see him as if he was your favourite art piece in the entire museum.

You who always made his heart race, palms sweaty, mind swirling without fail.

You had an intense crush on Steven--a longing, really--but what you didn't know was that he felt the same about you. But perhaps it was more than that. He practically worshipped the ground you walked on, and it certainly didn't miss Donna's unexpectedly sharp eyes. She'd tease him whenever you left earlier than him, looking like a kicked little puppy as his gaze trailed after you.

Today was no different as he stared helplessly at you, and it was a wonder you didn't feel the invisible daggers boring into you. There were only ten minutes left before you were done for the day and you both were stuck in inventory, but for once in his life he loved doing inventory and he desperately wished that this incredible moment with you, alone, would last forever.

'You're so fucking pathetic, ese.' Jake echoed in Steven's mind.

Nowadays Jake was becoming more vocal, at least when you're around. Marc, on the other hand, remained tight-lipped. The mercenary would much rather have absolutely nothing to do with you at all costs.

'Shut up, mate.' Steven silently argued, brows furrowing as his eyes finally broke away from you and focused on organizing some Taweret plushies.

'Only saying the truth, ese. You've got her all to yourself and the only thing you can think of is that you wish this time would last forever?' Jake scoffed. 'Be a man and step the fuck up. You know you want to, especially with the way she looks today.'

Steven's burning gaze was right back on you, eyes darkening slightly. He hated to admit it, but Jake was right. You were always so pretty, but something about today made you look that much more.

You always dressed modestly, but with the weather warming up lately you opted for a black pleated skirt that fell just above your knees and a tucked in short sleeved yellow blouse with the top few buttons undone exposing the tiniest bit of your cleavage. You also wore matching yellow heels that perfectly accentuated your legs and it made him feral.

"Steven? Are you okay?"

His eyes met yours and a smile instantly curled up his lips, nodding his head as if he wasn't just ogling you like a total perv. "Yes, I just zoned out. Sorry, love." Ugh, the way he called you 'love' so casually had you swooning.

If only he actually meant it.

You nodded back, shoving your thoughts away and returning his smile before glancing towards a portrait. "A shame what they did to this, huh?"

Steven curiously followed your line of sight, seeing a portrait of the Ennead.

"Whoever did this made a major blunder. Isn't the Ennead supposed to have nine gods, not seven?"

"YES!" You flinched slightly at Steven's exclamation, whipping your head towards him only to see him with the cutest blush ever.

"Erm, s-sorry, uh..." Steven cleared his throat, sheepishly running a hand through his unruly locks. "I just got excited. I'm surprised you knew that. Not a lot of people do--or care."

"Well, I happen to know a fantastic teacher always talking about Egyptology." You giggled, grinning at him. "And thanks to him, he's caused me to become interested in it myself and do my own research."

"Really?!" The way his eyes lit up felt as if an arrow was shot straight to your heart, and if you didn't have any self-control you would've dropped to your knees and asked--begged--this gorgeous man to marry you right then and there. "Any particular god or goddess that you're most interested in?"

"Hmm..." You pursed your lips thoughtfully, and Steven had half a mind to kiss them senseless. "I'd have to say Khonshu."

'GOOD ANSWER. KEEP HER, WORM.' Khonshu's thundering voice suddenly boomed in Steven's head.

"She's not a dog, you stupid pigeon." Steven grumbled, rubbing his temples exasperatedly.

"Hm? Did you say something?"

"Nothing!" Steven answered quickly, forcing out a laugh. "Err, why Khonshu?"

"Well, I really like Astronomy!" You beamed. "And I find the moon to be one of the most beautiful things in our universe, so it feels fitting for my favourite Egyptian god to be Khonshu."

Despite Steven's distaste (to put it nicely) for the old bird, he could never find your response as such. Not when you looked so happy and comfortable sharing your interests with him, even though he did disagree with just one thing you said.

The moon doesn't even come close to being one of the most beautiful things this universe boasts. No, not when you existed.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

The alarm on your wristwatch cruelly popped the blissful little bubble you both were in, you turning it off as you saw that it was the end of your shift.

A regular person would be over the moon that they were finally free from their corporate prison, but not you. Not when you wished you could spend more time with Steven.

"Well..." Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, a pout forming on your lips. "Guess it's time for me to go home."

"It appears so..." Steven mumbled, his heart sinking to his stomach as he watched you put away the remaining items you were in charge of.

'It's now or never, Steven. Do something.' Jake urged.

'Do WHAT?'

'Fucking Christ, you're hopeless.' Jake sighed frustratedly, Steven's eyes rolling to the back of his head and his shoulders slumping. After a few seconds, he straightened up once more and approached you.

You were faced away from Steven, and you were having difficulty setting the final box of souvenirs you had on a shelf when Steven's hands reached from behind you and easily lifted them.

Your breath hitched, feeling his broad chest pressed against your back. He was so close you could feel his warm breath tickling the nape of your neck, making you gulp.

"T-Thank you, Steven..." You murmured meekly, feeling so small as he had you completely caged. You tried to turn, but his hands suddenly dropped to your hips; keeping you in place with a gentle but firm grip.

"You look so pretty today, Y/N." He leaned down, voice deliciously low as his lips ghosted just beneath your ear and a shiver ran down your spine. "But I think you can look even prettier. How 'bout tomorrow you dress all nice, and we can meet up around seven p.m. and have the best steak in town?"

Your thoughts were all jumbled up. Was this really happening or just another one of your silly fantasies? Where the hell did Steven get this sudden confidence from?

And, perhaps you were just imagining it, but he sounded...different. Not quite like the Steven you knew. He had an accent, but not the one you've gotten so familiar with and loved.

But the ache in your heart--and another part of you--was much too strong to bear. You've waited so long for this, dreamt of this, and it was finally coming true.

You definitely made the right decision to dress the way you did today and you sure as hell weren't going to let go of such a grand opportunity.

"I-I'd love to, but..." You placed your hands on top of his own still on your hips, and you wondered if he can tell just how embarrassingly sweaty your palms have gotten. "I...I know you're a vegan, Steven, so let's go somewhere else. There's a new restaurant that just opened and they've got vegan options. Um, y'know, if it's okay with you..."

The corners of his mouth tugged up into a smile and he couldn't stop himself as he nuzzled his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and revelling in your addicting scent.

"Perfect." He then spun you both around so that his back was against the shelf, but you still couldn't see him. His fingers slowly, teasingly trailed upwards along your stomach before reaching your blouse's breast pocket, slipping off your name tag and putting it in one of your hands. "I'll see you tomorrow, hermosa." He chuckled huskily, giving you a light push.

You were utterly dazed, cheeks flushed and stumbling in your steps slightly as you exited the room.

'What the bloody hell was THAT?!' Steven panicked.

"What do you think, ese?" Jake scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I just scored you a date."

'Well, I hope you're happy! Y/N looked so shocked!'

"I feel like a million dollars and Y/N looked like she liked it." Jake snickered. "Quit whining like a bitch and just be grateful, Steven. And hey, she even chose some hippie vegan place for you. Doesn't that prove she's into you?"

That immediately shushed Steven, and Jake can feel that despite Steven's complaining Steven was very much overjoyed and was already overthinking the date for tomorrow.

Jake looked down his hands, still remembering the soft curve of your hips even through your clothes and smirked.

You won't be wearing any for long now.

3K notes · View notes

chiriwritesstuff · 5 months

Text

The Girl in IT - 3. Vroom Vroom

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

The LIST │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Preview: "I want that Model X. Blacked out. The one that drives itself." He nods approvingly, not bothering to conceal his satisfaction. "Done. Anything else?" You can't help but scoff at the audacity. "Just like that?" "Just like that." "Come on, Joel. You don't just surprise employees with new cars out of the blue." "Well, lucky for you, you're not just any employee."

Chapter Warnings & Tags: No outbreak AU, Boss x Employee Relationship, Sugar Daddy Lite, Daddy Kink, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, Age Gap, Praise kink, Overstimulation, Squirting, Older Man/Younger woman, So much dirty talk, DD/lg (kinda? they're both into it), Vaginal Fingering, Exhibitionism, No PIV (yet), Virgin Reader

Word Count: 6K

A/N & Chapter Notes: Two birthdays, ten years apart.

This is filthy, and I have no regrets.

Hope you enjoy!

Ten Years Earlier.

Joel lingers outside your house, the lively sounds of your 26th birthday party spilling into the night air through open windows. He adjusts the collar of his chambray button-down, opting for a change from his usual flannel attire. With his hair slicked back and facial hair neatly trimmed, he sighs, contemplating the small bouquet of sunflowers he acquired from a nearby florist.

His mind goes to the conversation he had with the florist earlier.

"Sunflowers? That's an interesting choice." The florist smiles, gently taking the flowers from his hand. "Did you need this wrapped? Maybe a bit of ribbon?"

Joel nods. "Please. It's for—"

The florist glances at him, a twinkle in her eyes as she observes his nervous demeanor. "Did you know that the sunflower symbolizes adoration? It's the perfect flower to give to someone you're interested in."

"Oh, it's nothing like that, It's for a... a friend. It's her birthday today."

The florist gives Joel a wry look. "If she's just a friend, might I suggest daisies? Surely they would be more appropriate and cheaper—"

Joel shakes his head. "The sunflowers," he motions to her hand. "Please."

He smiles at the memory, looking at the bouquet once more, knowing he made the right choice.

He spots you through the window, the vibrant yellow of your sundress gracefully accentuating your curves, creating an ethereal silhouette that seems to glow, like a beacon of light calling out to him. His breath catches in his throat as he watches you. A genuine laugh escapes you, a sound that always catches him off guard, echoing through the air with a light that he finds irresistible.

"Joel," your father approaches, his expression clearly showing his displeasure. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello Sir, Well, I'm here for a birthday party, and-" he lifts the invitation, "I believe I was invited."

"I can see that, but the question is why. Surely, a man of your age at a party filled with twenty-year-olds? Doesn't that seem... odd to you?"

"It's only odd if you make it odd, I reckon."

"Can I ask you a serious question? What are your intentions with my daughter?"

"Well, I would like to wish her a Happy Birthday, maybe eat a little cake-"

"... and how old are you, Joel? aren't you a bit bothered by the fact that your daughter is older than mine?"

"... well, she's not, sir." Joel smiles, "She's older than Sarah."

Unamused, your father continues. "I'm going to level with you. I'm not about to let my daughter be swept away by some middle-aged man barely scraping by." He shoots Joel a stern look, shaking his head in disapproval. "My daughter deserves the world, and quite frankly, I won't have her settle for someone beneath her. Not for some small-time contractor."

"Sir, that's not my intention at all. Sugar invited me, and-"

He shakes his head in disgust. "I think you should go, Joel. Take your flowers and go. You're lucky I let you still have this job."

Joel nods in defeat, his gaze lingering on you through the window. He takes a final appreciative look at you, radiant in your yellow dress, and offers a warm smile. Turning towards your father, he speaks with sincerity, "I apologize for any disturbance, sir." Joel strides purposefully towards his truck, adding, "Please convey my regrets to your wife."

Present day.

Joel: Hey Sugar, did you head out to the office yet? Sugar: Hi Mr. Miller, Good Morning! No, I haven't. Still getting ready. Should be heading out in 15. Did you need something? Did you get locked out of the company portal again? I told you that we change passwords every six months, I wrote it on a sticky note for you like you asked! Joel: No, Sugar, I haven't. It concerns me how little faith you have in me. I am not that hopeless! For your information, I am not in the office yet. Sugar: Oh? So it wasn't you and Ellie trying to figure out how you managed to print the printer manual ten times over last week? Joel: I'm sure that was Tommy, but it's ok, I forgive you. Anyway, does this mean you're still at home? Sugar: Sure, Joel. Ellie would say otherwise. Yes?? Joel: ??? Not sure if you're at home? Sugar: No. Yes. I'm at home. Joel: Good. I'm outside.

"Joel," you say, locking your front door, looking surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm kidnapping you for the day," Joel announces from his truck. "Thought I'd give you a ride to work." He winks as he exits out of the cab, wearing a chambray shirt and jeans instead of his usual work-issued flannel. It's a nice change, being that you didn't think the man owned anything other than flannels. "Come on, I've got coffee and donuts."

You give him a wry smile. "What if I'm not a coffee person?"

Joel presents a coffee to-go cup, a tea bag tag hanging out. "Lucky for you, I've got your favorite green tea."

"Smooth move, Miller," you grin, approaching him and planting a kiss on his cheek. "Very smooth."

"What can I say? I have excellent attention to detail, especially when it comes to you."

"Just not with computers, right?"

"Alright, alright, none of your teasing this morning, why don't you hop in," Joel grins, holding the passenger door open for you. You slide into the truck, still puzzled by his unexpected visit.

As he drives away, the scenery doesn't match the route to the office. You raise an eyebrow, looking at Joel with a playful smirk. "This doesn't look like the way to work. Where are we going?"

"Well, if I told you, then it would ruin the surprise, now would it?"

You snort. "What's happening today that's so important it warrants a surprise?"

Joel glances at you, a wide smile on his face. "A little birdy told me that it's someone's birthday today."

"Yeah and? It doesn't mean that we blow work off, I actually have a scheduled meeting with Tess today-"

"Fuck Tess."

You frown. "Joel, be serious."

"I am serious. I handled Tess. She's fine, don't you worry your pretty little head off, she's ok with pushing back to tomorrow."

You look at him warily, sighing. "I got a bad feeling about this."

Joel reaches over and kisses your forehead. "Don't frown, baby. None of that nonsense is allowed when we're together, okay? Just let me do something nice for you on your birthday. Nothing too crazy, promise."

"Why do I have the feeling that you don't mean that?"

Joel drives into the mall's parking lot, heading towards Neiman Marcus, driving into the nearest parking stall to its entrance.

He cuts the ignition to the truck. "OK, I don't promise. I intend on dragging you into the store whether you like it or not, sliding my shiny Amex to the first salesperson I see, and spoiling the absolute shit outta you. Do you have a problem with that, baby?"

"What if I allow you to spoil me from the comfort of the clearance rack?"

"Sorry to break it to you, baby, but this Amex won't work on anything discounted. Do you know what it means to have a black one of these?"

"That you have a big cock and an even bigger ego?"

"Funny. What it really means is that I can walk into one of them Tesla dealerships and buy you a Model X before you can ask me if I'm being serious." He takes your hand in his. "Because I am. Serious, that is."

You scoff, sinking further into your seat. "You're not going to buy me a Tesla."

He laughs. "Maybe, maybe not. I do know you need a new car, and I know one thing for sure—" He gives you a wry smile as he lifts your chin to face him. "There's no way in hell I'm going to let you drive that damn death trap anymore, Sugar."

"Hey! I'll have you know, I've had that death trap since college, it's the first thing I bought without my father's money!" you huff, "Now that I'm not in the ninth layer of Hell at Best Buy anymore, I can finally afford to buy myself a car. You know, something sensible, like a Kia."

"A Kia? Baby... only more reason for me to buy you a new car. Tell me, if you could have any car, money, and cost be dammed, what would it be? Sky's the limit."

"Seriously?"

He leans in, eyes challenging. "Try me."

"I want that Model X. Blacked out. The one that drives itself."

He nods approvingly, not bothering to conceal his satisfaction. "Done. Anything else?"

You can't help but scoff at the audacity. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Come on, Joel. You don't just surprise employees with new cars out of the blue."

"Well, lucky for you, you're not just any employee."

A smile tugs at your lips, appreciating the unexpected attention. "Really?" you playfully inquire. "So, I'm more than just a random employee, huh?"

Joel gently caresses your chin, offering a small, satisfied smirk.

"No, Sugar, you're not just some random employee," he declares, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. "You're everything."

"You don't mean that—" you stutter, "Joel, what's going on? Why are you doing this? I'm not someone to be bought or bribed like I'm some sugar baby. I liked you back then, before all of this—"

"When I had nothing? When my company was still in the red, when your father's job was the only one turning a profit," he peers down at you. "What if I told you that I wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for you? If your father didn't talk some sense into me all those years ago, I wouldn't have worked my ass off to get where I am now."

Your eyes narrow. "What are you talking about?"

Joel lets out a heavy sigh, his gaze intense. "Your father made it clear back then that I wasn't good enough for you. He didn't think I was the right fit for you. He did me a favor if I think about it now. It was your father's skepticism that fueled my determination to prove him wrong, to build something from the ground up."

Your mind races, trying to grasp the weight of his revelation. "But why keep it a secret? Why now? You didn't give me any signs that you were interested in me, I even invited you to my birthday party, which you didn't even bother showing up to!"

Joel winces. "Yeah, about that-"

Your face softens. "Wait, Joel, the sunflowers?"

"Your father made sure to point out the inappropriateness of a middle-aged man attending a party full of co-eds. Thinking about it, it wouldn't have been a good look, especially since I couldn't take my eyes off of you, wearing that yellow dress… I was enchanted by you, baby girl."

You blush, smacking his shoulder. "Oh, that dress was horrendous. My mom made me wear it!"

"Well, remind me to thank your mom for giving me the mental image I've had of you all these years."

"You know, that explains why the sunflowers were in the trash can, I thought it was so odd! They were beautiful, by the way. I snuck them out and kept them in my room, you know." You shake your head. "I can't believe my dad would do something like this. I hate that I stuck around for so long. I wish I knew, Joel. Back then. You were the only person I looked forward to coming that night, and when you didn't, I thought-"

"Well, I was there, baby."

"… but you didn't stay! How was I supposed to know?!"

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "I didn't want you to feel like you were settling or that my feelings were tied to any of this. I needed to prove myself first. I didn't want you to think I was using you or that I wasn't good enough for you."

A mix of emotions swirls within you—surprise, confusion, and a hint of realization. "Joel, I had no idea. But why go to such lengths now? Buying me a car, showering me with gifts?"

He looks into your eyes, his expression sincere. "Because, despite everything, my feelings for you have always been genuine. I wanted you to see that I can give you the life you deserve and that I've overcome the doubts from back then. I had nothing to give to you back then, hell, I was being eaten alive by debt, I couldn't put Sarah through college - she worked her ass off trying to get as many scholarships as she could on her own. I wasn't in a position to make you mine, not yet."

"Joel," you say, taking his face in your hands, a sad smile on your face. "Do you think I care about all of this? I would have been with you then, all you had to do was ask."

"Well, I'm asking you now. Will you let me make up for missing your birthday all those years ago up to you?"

You give him a small smile. "Okay."

Joel breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay. Now, get out of the truck and into the store. That's an order."

You share a playful eye roll before complying, opening the truck door, and stepping into the crisp air outside. The familiar chime of the entrance doors signals your arrival at Neiman Marcus.

Joel walks beside you, his arm casually draped around your shoulders as you both make your way into the store. The ambiance of luxury surrounds you, and the scent of high-end perfumes lingers in the air. You can't help but marvel at the elegant displays showcasing the latest in fashion and accessories, the air smelling distinctively expensive and high class, something you would never associate yourself with.

"So, what's the plan?" you ask, hesitation evident in your voice.

Joel grins, steering you towards the women's clothing section. "I'm looking for just the right-" he stops midsentence, his eyes locking onto the stylishly dressed woman lying in wait for her next victim.

"Lenore!" he shouts, "Just the person I was hoping to find."

"Mr. Miller! What a delightful surprise," the saleswoman exclaims, her face lighting up. "What brings you here? how are your girls?"

"They're doing fine, thank you for asking."

"... and who is this pretty baby peeking out from behind you?" she asks, casting a warm smile your way. You instinctively recoil at the unexpected attention, a familiar sensation from the years spent trailing your mother at Neiman’s, deliberately making yourself inconspicuous to deter any unwanted conversations. It felt safer that way, you reflect, offering Lenore a slight smile. "There's our lovely girl. No need to hide behind this old dog; you're far more interesting to look at than he is!"

"Lenore, allow me to introduce you to someone very special—this is Sugar," Joel says with a proud smile, gesturing towards you.

"Sugar, what a sweet name! Pleasure to meet you," Lenore responds, extending a hand in a friendly gesture.

The tension from earlier begins to dissipate as you shake Lenore's hand and manage a genuine smile. "Nice to meet you too, Lenore."

"Sugar, why don't you take a look at the clothes over there and let me talk business with Lenore for a second?" You raise your eyebrows in suspicion, "Maybe you'll see something you like?"

Joel, his eyes gleaming with excitement, leans in and whispers, "Lenore, today is no ordinary day. It's Sugar's birthday, and I'm in the mood to make it special for her. We're going to be spending an obscene amount of money today, so I hope you're ready. You got your work cut out for you, I promise you that."

"Nothing can be as worse than the time I tried to convince Ellie to wear a gown for the prom last year," she winces, "Sorry about that again, Mr. Miller." She slides up beside Joel, flashing him a knowing smirk. "How obscene are we talking?"

Joel hands over his sleek black Amex, and Lenore's eyes widen in surprise. "Obscene. Don't let her talk you out of something because of the price, hell, rip off the damn tags if you have to." He steals a quick glance back at you, a vision standing amongst the designer goods, a subtle smile on his face. He glances at Lenore once more. "Do we have an understanding?"

The saleswoman nods her head frantically, pocketing the Amex in her pocket, the weight of it making an indentation through her blazer. "Understood, Mr. Miller. I'll fetch you a coffee and set up a seat for you in her dressing room. Is there anything else?

Joel nods. "Yeah. Do your worst, Lenore."

Lenore gives Joel one last look as she heads towards you, not hiding the fact that you look like a deer caught in the headlights. She places a hand on the small of your back. "Come along dear, we're on a mission." She gives you a conspiratorial smile. "You're in desperate need of Celine."

Lenore scrutinizes you for a moment, gently lifting your arms to assess your form. "I take it you're a size 10?"

Surprised, you ask, "How did you know?"

"Honey, I've been here for the last twenty years. Not only can I tell your dress and bra size, but I've also mastered the subtle art of reading people." She confidently places her hands on your hips, nodding to herself. "People are not as secretive as they think. I can dissect their entire life story the moment they walk in the door."

Curious, you inquire, "Oh? And what conclusion did you make about me?"

Lenore begins rifling through the racks, selecting a few monochromatic pieces. "Well, you seem to go through life trying to hide yourself."

"Is it that obvious?" you ask with a hint of self-awareness.

Lenore continues her assessment, her experienced eyes scanning the clothing options she's pulled out. "You go through life trying to hide yourself," she repeats, her tone thoughtful. "But, sweetheart, hiding doesn't mean you're weak or scared. It means you've faced challenges, learned to protect yourself."

She steps back, considering you with a knowing gaze. "We all wear different masks, dear. It's just a matter of finding the one that feels right for the occasion. Now, tell me, what's the story behind the layers you've wrapped yourself in?"

"Well..." you bite your lip thoughtfully, "Today is my 36th birthday. My mom, she had me when she was 26. By the time she was my age, she had her whole life figured out - the husband, the kid, the house. I remember thinking how much I wanted that for myself, how I thought my life would go... and now, at 36," you pause, sighing, "I don't have any of that. I'm not married, I don't have any kids, and I rent an absurdly overpriced shoebox that I share with my cat," you softly chuckle to yourself.

"It's not like I haven't tried to put myself out there. I have—met a few people, went on a couple of dates, which—I felt like wasn't terrible, you know?" You admire a sheath dress on the rack, adding it to the growing pile of pieces Lenore has accumulated. "...but it was always just a first date, and then rejection, maybe if they were kind, but most of the time I never hear from them again. After a while, after I hit 30, I just... stopped. I stopped trying to put myself out there. It's exhausting, and I can't keep wondering what makes me so undesirable."

"Sometimes... Sometimes I feel like I'm defective, too broken for anyone, not good enough to have the kind of life I want."

"Sweetheart, life rarely follows the script we write for it. Comparing your journey to your mother's or anyone else's is like comparing apples to oranges. Each story is unique, and yours is still unfolding," she reassures you.

She continues sorting through the clothes, selecting pieces that seem to resonate with your style. "Now, about those layers you wear," she begins, her focus returning to the task at hand. "Perhaps it's time to shed the expectations and judgments, not just from others but also from yourself. These layers, they're not defects; they're experiences that have shaped you."

Lenore hands you a beautifully tailored blazer and nods approvingly. "Try this on. Let's see how it feels."

As you slip into the blazer, Lenore continues, "You deserve a life that brings you joy, and that starts with accepting yourself. When you embrace who you are, others will too. It's not about being 'good enough'; it's about being authentically you."

Lenore, her hands expertly moving through the racks, pauses for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. "And what about Mr. Miller?" she asks with a knowing smile. "There's a story there too, isn't it?"

You glance at her, surprised by her perceptiveness. "Joel? Well, we've known each other for ten years, but we've only worked together for six months. There's nothing more to it than that."

Lenore raises an eyebrow. "Sweetheart, I've been around enough to recognize when there's something more. The way he looks at you, the way he cares—it goes beyond the confines of a professional relationship."

You hesitate, unsure of how to respond. Lenore gently continues, "I've seen people in love, and I've seen people trying to hide it. Joel's got a soft spot for you, dear. It's written all over him."

"Is it? because with my track record, all it feels like is me waiting for the other shoe to drop. I like him... I've liked him", you correct yourself, "...for a very long time. I tried to put myself out there to him back then, only for him to reject me. What makes me different now? What didn't I have then?"

Lenore listens attentively, her gaze filled with compassion. "Sweetheart, people change, circumstances change. What may not have worked before doesn't define your worth or potential now. Maybe back then, Joel wasn't ready or didn't see what was right in front of him. It doesn't mean you lacked anything—it just wasn't the right time."

She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "Love can be messy, complicated, and unpredictable. But if you feel something for Joel, and there's a chance he feels the same now, it's worth exploring. Give yourself permission to embrace the present without being burdened by the past." She gives you one last smile, her tiny frame effortlessly handling the mountain of clothes with an ease that comes with her years of experience. "Come on, we can't leave Mr. Miller waiting. He's already waiting for you in your dressing room."

Joel is already seated in the room one would call a dressing room, a vast space encapsulated by mirrors. Lenore places the clothes on the rack, giving the two of you one last-knowing nod as she makes her way to the door. "I'll give you guys some privacy," she winks, her hands on the doorknob. "You just holler if you need anything, okay?" You smile meekly at her as Joel nods. "Thank you, Lenore."

"Well', you breathe, making your way to the center of the room, taking it all in. "This is... something."

"It is, right? Perfect amount of mirrors to admire your form."

"It's just... a lot, Joel. I'm not used to seeing myself like this."

"Like what, baby?" He asks, making his way over to you as you fiddle nervously in place. Tenderly, he envelops you in his arms, hands brushing away stray strands of hair behind your ears. "Turn around and face the mirror," he softly directs, gently guiding you by the hips. You find yourself in front of the mirror, Joel standing behind you, his eyes locking with yours as his hands trace down your silhouette, fingers deftly navigating the buttons of your blouse.

"Let me paint a picture for you," Joel whispers in your ear, his eyes locked with yours through the mirror as he delicately starts to unbutton. "I see someone who drives me fucking crazy." Pausing at the last button, he eases your top from the waistband of your skirt, peeling the fabric from your skin to unveil the modest cotton bralette you chose for the day. "Beautiful," he breathes, slipping your top from your shoulders. A shiver runs through you as his hands graze your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"You think you can hide yourself behind all of these clothes but I see you, Sugar. I've seen what's inside, and I would like to get to know that girl that's begging to come out of that shell of yours." His fingers linger on the elastic at your waist, his eyes silently asking for consent. You nod, taking a deep breath as he slowly slides your skirt down your hips, leaving you standing against him in just your underthings, your body suddenly on fire as he continues to hold you against him. You swear you can feel the hardness of his desire from behind as he continues to caress you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Will you show me?"

His fingers find the skin of your torso, and you shudder and gasp at how it suddenly ignites you, the fire you kept dormant for so long suddenly ablaze from his ministrations, leaving you breathless. He places wet open-mouthed kisses along the length of your neck, his eyes never leaving yours as his fingers start to travel down to your waist.

The corner of his mouth creeps slowly upwards. "Are you going to let me show you just how much I fucking adore you?"

You swallow thickly, nodding absentmindedly as you find yourself caught in his web, exactly where he wants you. "Yes", you whisper, "Please, Joel."

"Do you know how long I've waited for you?" he whispers, his fingertips grazing the outline of your panties, inching lower and lower, the sensation driving you mad with want. You instinctively rub your thighs together, your body craving more friction than what's currently being provided. Joel tsks at the gesture, shaking his head at you through the mirror. "You keep these legs spread for me, baby." His fingers wander upwards, hooking onto the elastic of your underwear, as he watches you closely, a question written across his face. He quirks his eyebrow at you curiously.

It was all you needed to know just exactly what he was asking.

You give him a tiny nod.

"Use your words, baby girl. I need to know for sure that this is what you want. I need you to be specific," he commands, his fingers twitching against your skin.

"Please Joel," you whisper, the entirety of your body trembling against his, "Please undress me."

He grins wickedly as he complies, the fabric slipping slowly down your hips, peeling gently down your legs. "I remember the day we first met at your house, how shy and skittish you were. I remember what you wore, even then," he says, taking his time, your panties caught on the ankle of your foot. He tugs them free, his eyes darkening as he realizes that they are soaked through with your slick, glistening under the lowlight of the dressing room.

You swear you hear his breath quickening as he holds them high against the light in reverence, tucking the scrap piece of fabric into his back pocket.

"Did you know that you were going to see me that day?" he asks, turning his attention back to you. "Is that why you didn't bother to wear a bra under that shirt of yours?" He shakes his head slowly as he places his hands on your hips once more, his fingers slowly making their way down to your inner thighs. "It was downright indecent, the fabric was so thin I could practically see your tits," his voice sounds more considerably wrecked as he slides his fingers upwards until they hit your slit, a calloused finger expertly parting your lips until they reach the button of your clit.

He stops. "Have you ever let anyone touch you like this before?"

You shake your head in response, your body arching against his as you desperately seek his touch. "I came close once, back in college, but I-" your voice gets caught in your throat as Joel eases his finger through your lips once more, his fingertips at the precipice of your entrance. You can't help the moan that escapes your lips. He pulls his fingers away from your heat as he reaches into his back pocket, reaching for your panties as he holds the wad of fabric against your mouth. "Open," he commands, stuffing your mouth with the fabric, the tang of your slick so sharp it makes your mouth water even more. "This is a public place, baby, I can't risk us getting kicked out because you can't control yourself, you hear? Nod if you understand me."

You nod.

"Good." He bends forwards slightly, his fingers parting your slit once more, your pussy lips quivering as he gathers your slick, his fingertips breaching your entrance once more. "I know you're still a virgin, Sugar", he breathes as he kisses your neck once more, his eyes locking onto yours. "I'm not going to fuck you with my cock in a dressing room, but I am going to show you just how you make me feel. Is that okay?"

You nod once more, your voice muffled through the fabric of your panties. He breaches your entrance slowly, the thickness of his finger filling you as your body jolts from the intrusion, your eyes closing in pleasure.

"Look at me, Sugar. Look at what I'm doing to you."

Your eyes shoot open as you see Joel adding another finger into you, the squelch of your wetness against his fingers echoing loudly throughout the room as they slowly pump in and out of your pussy, his fingers crooking inside you slightly as your hips shift against his erection. Joel groans at that, shifting his thigh between your legs. "Lean against me, baby. Watch as I fuck you with my fingers."

You look at yourself in the mirror, the straps of your bralette sliding down your shoulders as Joel fingers you in earnest, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you wither and tremble against his thigh. Joel pulls the chair he was sitting on earlier towards the both of you, pulling his fingers out of you once more as he plops onto the seat, spreading his legs. He beckons his fingers coated in your slick at you. "Come sit on Daddy's lap like a good little girl."

You stumble inelegantly onto his lap, his hands spreading your legs to rest on his, spreading you out entirely as he gazes at your pussy in the mirror, your ass situated on his jean-covered cock as he starts to grind against you. He pulls your breasts out from the confines of your bralette, the slick of your pussy leaving a trail against your skin as he cups your tits, pinching your nipples as he groans into your neck. "Look at you," he praises, slipping his fingers into your pussy as he begins to finger fuck you into oblivion. You look completely debauched as he thoroughly fucks you, his groans growing louder as he continues to grind his cock against the swell of your ass.

"Sweet innocent little Sugar, playing hooky and getting wrecked by her boss in public", he spits, his fingers increasing in speed as you mewl against the fabric in your mouth. "What would everyone say, huh? Pulling into the parking lot with your brand new Tesla, walking into the office tomorrow morning in your brand new clothes Daddy bought you?" He rubs his thumb against your clit, your body arching back as you cry from overstimulation. "Are you going to take everything that I'm going to give you?" he pulls the fabric from your mouth, a line of saliva trailing it as you breathe harshly, desperately trying to even your breath. "I asked you a question, Sugar. Are you going to take everything I give you?" he rips his fingers out of your pussy as it clenches on nothing, whining from being so violently edged out. He slaps your pussy for good measure, and you swear you could come from the motion alone. "Answer me!" he growls in your ear.

"Yes!" you half-scream. "Joel, it's too much, I can't-"

"Yes, you can, baby. Fuck- keep grinding that ass on my cock, I'm so fucking close", he grips your hip harshly, his fingers digging into the meat of your skin you swear it'll leave a mark. "I can feel you quivering for me, baby, are you gonna come?" He's thrusting, thrusting so harshly against you it's almost to the point of pain, but you're so caught up chasing your release that the pain riles you up, you find yourself gyrating against his hardness as Joel nearly jumps out of his seat in response.

"Joel, what's happening? I feel so wet, you need to stop, I feel like I'm gonna-" You gasp, the pressure building within you so strongly it feels like you're going to implode. Your body moves in sync with his, the groans and shouts of pleasure building, the tears flowing freely down your cheeks. "It's too much, it's too-" You scream, a gush of wetness flooding out of you as Joel fingers you to completion, a look of shock on your face as he grips your hips and comes in his jeans.

"FUCK!" he groans as he shoots his load so violently you swear you can feel the ropes of cum through his jeans as he comes down from his high. You sob into his shoulder, his mouth desperately finding yours as he finally kisses you, his tongue running along the seam of your lips, begging for entrance as he grips the back of your head. You kiss him back in earnest, turning yourself around and straddling his thighs, your bare pussy raw against the fabric of his jeans. "Thank you," he mumbles against your lips, his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumbs wiping your tears away. "You did so good, baby, so fucking good, you came so hard for me you fucking squirted, FUCK! Such a perfect girl, my perfect girl-"

Your eyes widen in shock as you take in the scene before you, the wetness of your slick coating the surface of the dressing room. "Joel, I can't believe I-" You shift on his lap, panicking. "Fuck, Joel, what are we gonna do? I just came all over the dressing room, in Neiman Marcus for fucks sake-"

Joel chuckles softly, gently tucking your hair behind your ears. "Do you realize the power a black Amex wields? Silence. Lenore's commission today will be outrageous; a few stains here and there won't even register."

"But what if it ruined the merchandise? I haven't even tried anything on—"

"No need. Lenore's already taken care of it on the card. I trust her taste." He plants another tender kiss on your lips, retrieving a sleek silver card from his jeans pocket, the unmistakable Tesla logo gleaming.

He hands you the card with a smirk, and your eyes widen in astonishment as you delicately accept it.

"Happy Birthday, Baby."

The Updated List: (Line items 4, 15 & 16 completed this chapter_)

Taglist: @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat, @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115, @thewiigers,

@auteurdelabre, @quicax3, @casa-boiardi, @amyispxnk, @untamedheart81,

@paleidiot, @bbiophiliaa, @laurrrra, @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 (I apologize if I missed anyone, but if you are looking for any of my fic updates, please feel free to follow my updates blog @chiriwritesstuffnotifs!)

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whatsnewalycat · 11 months

Text

I Know

(Second Part to Bunny)

Summary: It didn't take you long to figure out that your new co-worker, Javier Peña, is a former client from your days working a phone sex line. But does he know who you are?

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 5.3k+

Content / Warnings: professor javi, former phone sex operator reader, professor reader, co-workers, seduction, yearning, dirty talk, smut, smoking, swearing, drinking

Notes: Hi, pals. LOOK I TOLD YOU I WOULD DO A SECOND PART TO THIS!!! True to my word, baby. Hope you like it.

There’s such camaraderie in a cigarette.

At the social hour after New Faculty Orientation, smokers gather on the sidewalk outside the University of Texas San Antonio’s John Peace Library. Liquor-fueled mouths babble on, letting off thick plumes of exhaust into the cloudless sky. Blue ribbons of smoke dance off the ashy orange tips of cigarettes between puffs.

All these academics broken off from the crowded meeting hall into bite-sized chunks, generally determined by field of study, familiarizing themselves with the colleagues they’ll come to rely on. Within this horde, you ask yourself: Who will have a lighter when I can’t find mine? Who will commiserate with me over a smoke when I have my first work-related breakdown? Facilitate those necessary micro-therapy sessions that get me through the hardest days?

Dr. Natalie King, whose poison of choice is menthol flavored, chatters on about her excitement to be working at her alma mater—a proud Roadrunner, through and through, eventually asking, “Where did you work before this?”

“This is my first job out of my doctoral program.”

It’s mostly the truth. You take a drag off your cigarette, then blow a chimney stack out the corner of your mouth.

“Oh, straight into academia, huh?” she smirks, and when you grin, she comments, “Brave girl. Well, if you ever have any questions about the clinical side of things, feel free to reach out to me. Lord knows us gals have to stick together in such a male-driven field.”

A flash of light catches your eye, the glare of sun off the library door opening. An attractive, dark-haired, mustachioed man steps out into the bright, buzzing Texas sun. He slides on a pair of yellow-tinted aviators and pats his shirt pockets, fishing out a little white and red box. He plucks a cigarette from the pack and meanders up to your two-person sample study in women’s psychology, asking Natalie, “Got a light?”

She nods and starts digging through the purse hanging off her shoulder while the man shifts his weight to one leg and pushes the cigarette between his plush lips. He takes a cursory glance around at the other smokers as Natalie curses under her breath.

“I got it,” you pull a lighter from the pocket of your slacks and hand it to him.

“Thanks,” he murmurs around the filter and lights the tip, inhaling until it’s a glowing ember, then gives it back to you.

“Dr. Natalie King,” your companion introduces herself, sticking her hand out to him.

He gives it a firm shake and says, “Javier Peña,” then turns to you and holds out his hand.

You take it and tell him your name through an exhale of thick smoke, meeting his dark eyes through the sunglasses. He holds your gaze for a moment, then steps back and brings the hand to his hip, jerking his head towards the library, “What’re you two in for?”

Natalie answers that you’re both Doctors of Psychology, then goes on to explain which classes she’ll be teaching when the 2002 Fall Semester begins next week.

While she does this, you tilt your head at him, trailing your eyes along the sharp edges of him. The steep slope of his nose, the squared off corners of his jaw, the defined muscles of his neck. He holds himself like there’s a restless energy burning beneath his skin, shifting his weight from leg to leg, eyes working over his surroundings. On guard.

There’s something about him that piques your interest. His voice, warm and deep and smooth, unearths nostalgia from deep within your gut. You mentally sift through acquaintances, friends of friends you might have met at a party, people from your hometown, et cetera, trying to figure out how you know him. It’s strange because you think you would remember meeting someone so handsome.

Your eyes flick to his left hand. No wedding ring. A shiny silver wristwatch catches your attention, though, when it jiggles a little. You glance up, find his eyes locked to yours, and don’t look away until Natalie asks him what he’s teaching.

He pinches the cigarette between his lips and takes a long drag, exhaling words warped by smoke, “Criminal Justice.”

“I see,” Natalie drops her spent torch on the ground and grinds it into the sidewalk with the toe of her brown loafer, then crosses her arms, “What were you doing before this?”

“Not much the past few years,” he cocks an eyebrow and shrugs, “Helping my dad out on his ranch down in Laredo, but I was DEA before that.”

“Oh wow, ok.”

You frown, “What did you say your name was again?”

He flicks his gaze to yours and answers, “Javier Peña.”

Recognition punches you in the gut. Your face gets all hot and you drop your eyes to the sidewalk, “Oh, ok. Well. Great to meet you, Javi.”

You stomp your cigarette out, turning to Natalie with a sigh, “Should we go back inside?”

“Sure.”

Don’t look don’t look don’t look—fuck.

Your eyes betray you. They snap to his. Those dark eyes, studying you with precision, narrowing just enough to twist your stomach in a knot.

Natalie starts towards the library doors, and you trail behind her, ignoring the burn of his stare following you inside.

—

Throughout the next couple weeks, when your paths cross, his gaze lingers.

Sometimes you don’t even notice he’s there until your brain’s ancient hardwiring sends out a primal pulse of warning, making your nerves to crackle. During workshops and interdepartmental meetings. While walking the halls. In the faculty parking lot. And, of course, on your smoke breaks.

You wonder what information he obtains in those small moments before your heart thuds and face flushes, urging you to put as much space between yourself and his meticulous gaze as possible.

Each instance summons the ghost of his voice as you walk away, greeting you with a cool, “How’s Bunny doing tonight?”

Asking you, “Can you do something for me, sweetheart?”

Asking, “Are you touching yourself? Let me hear it.”

It forces you to revisit the evolution of your intimacy, how the two of you gradually went from “It’s nice hearing your voice,” to, “I thought about you all week,” to, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. Don’t suppose you make house calls, do you, Bunny?”

These memories start to bleed into your thoughts with alarming frequency.

You think about him when you brush your teeth in the morning. When you go to sleep at night. Every free moment in between. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you wonder, “Does he think I’m attractive?” Then scold yourself for giving a shit.

“It doesn’t matter,” you lie to yourself, “He wasn’t talking to me, he was talking to Bunny.”

—

Only a few students and staff roam the campus at this time of day, when overnight dew still clings to the blades of grass hidden from the sun. This particular spot, a tucked-away path between the Biosciences Building and a parking garage, usually only has one visitor each morning: you.

Every once in a while, the hum of a car engine sounds from behind the big oak tree you’re propped up against, followed by the slam of a car door, then the echoey shuffle of shoes against concrete as whoever makes their way to wherever.

Mostly, though, it’s peaceful.

You raise the 22-ounce styrofoam cup of watered-down gas station coffee to your mouth and pause, gauging the heat of the steam that brushes your lips. Too hot. Lowering the cup to your lap, you spot a robin a few yards away. It hops across some damp grass, tilting its head this way and that; its keen, beady eyes scan for movement below the earth’s surface.

A deep breath expands your lungs and your eyes drift closed. You concentrate on the cool ground beneath your legs. The oak tree holding your body upright. Your head rolls back against it, like you’re trying to soak up some of its fortitude for the day ahead of you.

The dry scuff of footsteps on the cement sidewalk tugs at the edge of this meditation. They come to a stop nearby, then you hear a familiar timbre ask, “Mind if I join you?”

Your eyes snap open, spine straightening as you squint towards the source: Javier Peña.

Heat trickles through your body as you survey him. The navy blue fabric of his fitted suit stretches across his broad shoulders in a way that’s really not fair. Sunlight douses him in brightness, and his dark eyes seem to glow in the warmth. He shifts his weight to one leg and plants a hand on his hip, glancing around before he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and plugs one into his mouth, then holds the pack out to you. An offering.

Against your better judgment, you nod in approval.

A little smirk makes the dangling cigarette bob between his lips. He saunters over to where you’re seated, visibly relieved when the shade of the oak tree falls over his body. With a quiet grunt, he sits down next to you, unbuttoning his suit jacket, resting his back against the sturdy tree.

Again, he holds the red and white pack of cigarettes out to you. You take one, murmuring, “Thanks,” as you shove the filter between your lips and light it.

He does the same and takes a sharp inhale, exhaling blue smoke, “Nice spot you got here. Quiet.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, heart thumping loud and hot behind your ears, “How are your first few weeks going?”

“Fine,” he shrugs and flicks ash from the tip of his cigarette, “Pretty different from what I’ve been doing these past few years.”

“Right, on the farm?” you inquire, purposely getting the vernacular wrong to throw him off your trail.

He doesn’t correct you, just nods, “Although, some of these kids are stubborn as cattle.”

You laugh at this, “It’s been an adjustment, huh?”

He hums in accord, and you can feel his eyes on your profile, studying you.

Your insides twitch. Skin tingles. You take a drag off your cigarette, then say, “Yeah, same here. I’m straight out of school, so it’s pretty surreal being on this side of the fence.”

“I bet,” he murmurs, “Wha’d you do for work?”

“Customer service, call center stuff.”

You’re not sure why you didn’t just make something up. Say you did manual labor or clerical work or something.

Maybe it’s because you know how earnest he is, and any potential lie would feel like poison in your throat. Maybe it’s because the space between you feels electric and sacred.

Maybe there’s a small part of you that wants him to figure it out.

“How’d you like that?” he asks as he blows a cloud of smoke away.

“Well,” you sigh, looking down at the coffee cup pinched between your legs, avoiding his gaze, “I liked it, actually. I talked to a lot of different people. It was interesting. Plus, the paycheck was nice.”

Again, he hums in acknowledgement, then chuckles, “Hopefully this gig pays better.”

“Yeah,” you snort, “A lot better. It was fun while it lasted, but this… this is my purpose, you know?”

You glance over at him now, and his eyes lock to yours. The intensity of his stare inspires tiny flutters from deep within your core. Right when you start to ask yourself, “Does he—?” Javier nods, “I know.”

These two words give you a head rush. Your mouth gapes, and his gaze flicks to the open space between your lips. It lingers there for a beat too long before he looks away and takes one last drag off his cigarette. He crushes its glowing orange cherry into the earth and murmurs, “I better get going.”

“Oh—yeah, ok,” you frown, following his form as he rises to his feet and brushes grass from the seat of his pants, “It was nice talking to you.”

Javier smirks down at you, those devastatingly warm brown eyes softening when he asks, “See you around?”

“Sure thing,” you smile.

He stares at you for a moment, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, then turns and leaves the way he came.

—

Later that night, your office phone rings.

You pick it up and pinch the receiver between your ear and shoulder, “Hello?”

“What’s up, Doc?”

A knot twists in your belly. Your eyes flick to your closed office door, then to the lecture notes scrawled on index cards all spread across your desk.

“Hi, who am I speaking to?”

Like you don’t know. Like the rich notes of his voice don’t instantly send shivers down your spine.

“Javier Peña,” he answers. In the background, there’s a clink, followed by the slosh of liquid pouring into a glass.

Nostalgia hums thick beneath your skin. Hundreds of conversations flash through your head and shimmer between your legs. You lick your lips and ask, “What can I help you with, Professor Peña?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice again like this,” he murmurs, then clarifies, “Over the phone, I mean. I missed it.”

A few things happen in quick succession within the confines of your body.

First, your heart swells. You curl the cord of your phone around your index finger and smile. He missed it. He missed you.

Then, an odd feeling dims your brightness. Like you’re naked in front of a crowded room. Exposed. You sit up straight and whip your head around the empty room.

Finally, the peacekeeper inside you tells you to calm the fuck down. This doesn’t definitively prove he knows. Maybe he’s confused you for someone else. Or maybe he’s playing a joke on you.

It’s fine.

A wet swallow sounds on the other end, then he continues, “I didn’t know you’d be so attractive in person, though… Bunny.”

Shit.

Electricity floods your veins and short-circuits your brain.

“I—I don’t know what you mean,” you let out an exasperated chuckle and push your chair out behind you. The coiled cord of your phone works as a leash as you pace the width of your desk, “Professor Peña, I’m not sure who you think I am—”

“Don’t do that, sweetheart. Don’t bullshit me,” he purrs, his voice sure and steady, “I know.”

Shock steals your tongue. Your eyes clamp shut. Chest aches. Hands tingle. You take a deep, shaky breath and try to harden your tone, “Know what, exactly?”

Javier ignores your denial, just says, “Come over.”

“Javi—” you start to protest, destroying all pretense as you stare up at the ceiling.

He doesn’t say anything. The line is silent as he waits for a better response.

Eventually, you ask, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this—What do you want?” you drop your voice to a whisper, “Look, if you’re trying to blackmail me—”

“Blackmail you?” he scoffs, “Do you really think I’d do that?”

You scoff, “Well, I don’t know—”

“I promise it’s not like that, sweetheart. I’d just like to have a drink with you in private, so we can… talk.”

“Now who’s bullshitting?”

The speaker crackles with an airy chuckle, “You got me there.”

“So… what do you want with me, Javi?”

You hear the metallic flick of a lighter. A sharp inhale. His words are fuzzy with smoke when he asks, “Haven’t you wondered what it would be like?”

Heat flickers deep inside you. You imagine his hands gripping your body. His mouth hot on your skin. You lean against your desk and shrug, “It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You don’t trust yourself to say anything.

He takes a drag off his cigarette, then says, “All that talk about what we would do if we were together. How well you’d take me. What that sweet little cunt would feel like wrapped around—”

“Javi, it was a job,” you whine. It holds little conviction.

He’s quiet. The low, airy hiss of his lungs drawing smoke. Then, “Are you saying it wasn’t real?”

Heat rises to your face. You open your mouth to lie, but you breathe the truth instead, “No.”

“Then come over.”

You bite your lip, looking down at your lecture notes with indecision.

“Please.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you concede, “What’s your address?”

—

Javier’s one-bedroom apartment is small and tidy. The stark white walls are void of decoration, but the tasteful home furnishings, all wood and bronze and leather, tell you this choice is less “sad bachelor pad” than it is “I want my fucking deposit back.”

What was intended to be a dining room area has been made into a home office. A large chestnut bookcase lines one wall, displaying various textbooks and whodunit novels alongside family photos. A matching chestnut desk butts up against the adjacent wall. Stacks of papers and notebooks, most aptly described as an “organized mess,” sit atop the deep wood finish.

You lean on the kitchen counter opposite him and watch him pour room-temperature whiskey into two low tumbler glasses. Each nerve ending in your body buzzes with anticipation. You try to think of things to say, small talk to make, but it all seems flat. Disingenuous. The words all die on your tongue.

This doesn’t seem to bother him, though.

He slides a glass across the counter, then rests his elbows on the surface, eyes flicking around your face as you take a sip.

“What?” you chuckle after swallowing the burning liquid.

He shrugs, “You’re just… much more beautiful than I expected.”

“Oh yeah?” you smirk, meeting his eyes, “What were you expecting?”

He licks his lips and smiles, this big, brilliant, sly smile, “Real answer?”

Fuck, he’s handsome.

“Always,” you grin in return, batting your eyelashes at him as you lean closer onto the counter.

“I imagined you so many different ways, and none of them seemed right,” he confesses, face falling into a frown, “I expected disappointment.”

“Oh,” you wince and nod, dragging the tip of your finger along the rim of your glass, “Well… are you disappointed?”

“No,” he tells you firmly. Your eyes snap to his, and he asks, “Are you?”

“No,” you breathe, searching his face.

A hum sounds from his throat. The air between you is thick and magnetic. It clings to your skin and makes you shiver.

“Tell me something, sweetheart,” he coos, his vocal cords catching an edge, “No bullshit, alright?”

Your heart gallops. You swallow hard and nod for him to continue.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Everything seems to tilt. Marionette strings pull your spine taut. Your tongue traces your lips before you take a swig from your drink. You can’t look at him, but feel his gaze burning your face.

The counter creaks as he pushes off it. He works his way around it, slowly, deliberately, each step amplifying across your tingling skin, until he’s inches away, hovering there. Heat radiates from his body and pulses between your legs.

Javier purrs your name.

You look over at him and meet those warm, dark eyes, all hooded with want. They drop to your mouth and seem to study your lips. It’s like something tightens around your lungs and squeezes every ounce of air from them.

“I, um…”

It comes out barely a whisper.

His throat rumbles in response. He brushes his knuckles against your cheek, making you shiver, and says, “Look at you, so shy all of a sudden.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He nods in acknowledgment, but he scoots closer. Drags the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip. A shudder racks your body and you whimper.

“I didn’t ask you if it’s a good idea, I asked if you want to fuck me,” he murmurs, hot gaze flicking between your eyes and mouth. He slides his hand against your abdomen. It stays there as he steps behind you, pulling you into the heat of his chest, “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t, though, would you?”

“Javi—”

His lips press a damp spot into your shoulder, the warm tips of his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shirt, drawing soft circles on your bare skin, and he hums, “Hmm?”

You gasp as his touch ripples deeper, jolting your insides, making your eyelids flutter, “We really shouldn’t.”

But you reach back and place your palm on the nape of his neck, gently coaxing him to continue. He leaves a trail of slow, heated kisses to your thudding pulse. The wet velvet of his tongue rolls against you.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, threading his hair through your fingers, pulling him closer.

A pleased rumble sounds from deep inside him. His lips form a seal, sucking the tender skin of your neck. You moan at the wave of pleasure that gushes down your spine.

The hand at your navel slides over the zipper of your pants, following the curve between your legs, applying firm, flush pressure. He holds it there while dragging his tongue up your neck, then catches your earlobe in his teeth and tugs.

“Fuck,” you gasp, and he releases.

“Come on, sweetheart, say it.”

You let your head fall back on his shoulder and roll your hips against his hand. He draws it away and mutters in your ear, “All that dirty talk over the phone, now you can’t use your words?”

“Fuck me,” you whisper, pushing back into the bulge in his jeans, grinding into him.

He sucks in air through his teeth and grazes your cheek with his nose, “What’s that?”

You chuckle and drag a finger along his jawline, “You heard me.”

“Maybe I wanna hear it again.”

“Oh yeah?” you twist around to face him, hooking your hands at the back of his neck.

He drinks you in with this lustful gaze that settles on your lips and nods, then takes a step closer, backing you against the counter, pressing his body into yours.

“Is that what you want?” you drop your voice to a sultry whisper and tilt your head, “You want me to tell you how wet my pussy is for you? How it’s begging to be filled by you?”

A groan escapes his chest and you grin.

“That’s it, isn’t it, baby?”

“It is.”

Your teeth catch your bottom lip for a moment and you shrug, “Do you wanna feel how bad I want you?”

He nods.

“Go ahead, baby.”

Javi searches your face as a hand slips under the waistband of your pants, then under your panties. A thick finger slides between your lips, down the gooey middle of you, and he rasps, “Holy fuck.”

You gasp at the gentle way his touch explores you, moving up and down your folds, spreading your heat.

“That feels good,” you breathe, looking up through your lashes to meet his eyes.

He rubs your clit in soft, concentric motions, holding your gaze, his mouth gaping open when you whimper and nod in approval. Each flick of his wrist accumulates hot and sticky and alive at your core, prodding your pulse, warming your skin. Quiet gasps fall from your lips. Your eyelids flutter and you rake your fingers through his hair.

“Do you like that?” he asks, all rough edges, “Like the way I touch you, baby?”

“Yes,” you whine, “I love the way you play with my pussy, Javi, feels so fucking goood, oh my god—”

His lips crush into yours. You clamber closer, kissing him back, heated and needy, both of you making all these throaty, desperate noises as your mouths meet again and again, licking, tugging, kissing. His touch between your legs quickens, your entire body starts to sweat and tremble as pleasure twists inside you.

You’re overcome with this aching need for more.

“Javi—please,” you beg between kisses, hooking a finger under his belt, “I want you.”

His throat rumbles. He captures your lips in another kiss before grabbing your hand and leading you to his bedroom.

When he flips on the light switch, it reveals a few cluttered surfaces and a four-post bed. You pull your shirt off over your head and shuffle out of your pants as you absorb everything. The suit jackets hanging on the corners of his dresser’s vanity mirror. A stack of mystery novels on his nightstand. The white comforter, rumpled like he tried to make his bed but he’s not very good at it.

So much proof that this person who only existed as a voice in your life for so long is flesh and blood.

It’s surreal.

“Did you ever think something like this would happen?”

You turn to see Javier unbuttoning his shirt, gaze drifting along your body. His pants lay in a pile beside him. An amused smile spreads across your face when you notice his cock standing at attention. He shucks the shirt off his shoulders as you step towards him and slide your palms up his smooth chest.

“What, that I’d fuck a client?”

Javier nods. His hands land on your waist and he guides you back towards his bed, planting a few languid kisses on your jawline, mustache tickling your skin.

“No,” you chuckle, “I had a very strict no meeting policy… as you know.”

The backs of your legs butt up against the bed. You land on the bed with a soft bounce and crawl backwards to allow him space to follow. He does, running his hands along the curves of your body, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck, your collarbone, your sternum.

As you tell him, “You were my favorite, though,” he reaches around your back, unhooks your bra, and tosses it aside.

“Was I?”

His heated palms slide up your ribcage, over the slope of your breasts, and he squeezes them. You gasp, eyebrows threading together, and nod. He drags his tongue across your nipple, then closes his lips around it and sucks. A burst of pleasure soaks your insides, sharpening when his teeth catch the bud and grind down.

“Ffffuck,” you whine, meeting his eyes as he moves to the other nipple, licking, sucking, biting. Every motion drips hot down the middle of you.

“Do you like playing with my tits?” you coo while combing your fingers through his hair, making it stick up every which way, “You do, don’t you, baby?”

His eyelids flutter and he moans, nodding, then opens his mouth wider and takes more, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks.

Your head falls back with a moan, “So fucking good, yes—”

Javi comes off you with a pop and rolls your nipples between his fingers, “So hot.”

You watch him work his way up your body, leaving kisses on your sternum, your collar bone, your cheek, your lips. Your hands slip around his shoulders and you arch your back into him, wrapping your legs around him, soaking up the warmth of his skin, your lips and tongues meeting again and again, exchanging soft moans, hips grinding his cock between your bodies.

“I need you,” he says, eyes all wild and black, “Fuck, I need you—”

“Take me.”

He steals another kiss from your lips before sitting up to pull off your underwear. While tossing them aside, he drinks you in, sliding one heated palm up and down the curves of your body, purring, “Look at you. Fucking perfect.”

You whimper at his praise, at his reverent touch making your nerve endings buzz. He strokes your clit with his thumb, mouth hanging open as your whole body shivers and writhes in reaction.

“So sensitive, mi conejita,” he murmurs, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, “Do you want it?”

“Yes,” you nod, arching your hips, “I need it—I need to feel you inside me, Javi, please.”

A noise surfaces from deep in his chest, then he breathes, “Fuck, say it again.”

You thread your eyebrows together and bat your lashes at him, shifting your voice into the lusty, airy tone you know gets him going, “I need to feel you inside me, Javi. Need your cock to fill me, make me whole—”

“Fuck,” he groans, hips rocking forward just enough to breach you. A jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine and you moan.

“Do you want more, baby?”

You lick your lips and nod frantically as he works your clit faster, the tip of him teasing you. Pressure builds in your chest and pulls your muscles taut. You roll your hips and try to get more of him, more movement, following the heat pounding through your veins.

“Need more of my cock, baby, that’s what you need?”

“I need more of your cock,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering at the growing fire deep in your belly, “Please please please, Javi, plea—”

“You’re gonna come for me just like this, aren’t you?” his voice only amplifies the feeling, making your heart race, and then he rasps, “Fuck, baby, do it, let me feel you, let it go.”

You do.

It overtakes you, flooding you with pleasure, your whole body shaking from the force while Javi strums your clit fast and hard, cooing, “That’s it, mi conejita, that’s it, come for me baby. Doesn’t that feel good?”

You whimper and nod, unable to form words until your orgasm peters out and leaves you panting, staring up at him. He meets your gaze. His cock pulses inside you.

Seeing him like this, his hair all disheveled, skin dewy with sweat, dark eyes fiery and enamored…

“Come here,” you sit up on your elbow and bring a hand to his chin, coaxing him closer. He follows you down to the bed and kisses you with force, a groan vibrating on your tongue as you drag it against his.

He starts to roll his hips, filling you more and more with each thrust, the thick length of him electrifying your walls.

His lips don’t leave yours. Neither of you pull back to murmur filth to the other. The only noise in the room comes from your humid bodies pressing together, from whines and moans traded through panting breaths as you renew the kiss again and again.

You push back against his thrusts, digging your fingers into the broad expanse of his shoulders, losing yourself in the feel of him stretching you, the heat of his skin clinging to you, his mouth against yours.

Pleasure builds, hot and demanding, between your bodies. He fucks you faster, pumping into you at a frenzied pace that makes you gasp and nod, pulling you higher and higher. His hand grips your jaw and he stares down at you, searching your face, his puffy lips forming an ‘o’ as he watches your face contort.

Neither of you seem in control of the noises escaping you. They’re frantic and breathy and sharp.

At once, it’s like you’re sucked up into a vacuum. All the air evacuates your body and your muscles clench. The noises stop when you reach the crest of the wave, and when ecstasy crashes down, you let out a choked sob, convulsing around him. He groans, low and guttural, hips stuttering as he captures your lips in his and spills inside you.

A few languid kisses pass back and forth before he rolls off you. You follow the persuasion of his arm curling around your shoulders and tuck yourself into his side. He holds you here like this for a while, staring up at his ceiling while your breathing returns to normal, and eventually he asks, “Why was I your favorite?”

You shrug and watch your fingertips draw swirls into his chest, “You wanted me to be me, not your idea of me.”

He hums, grazing his thumb against your shoulder, then says, “I think that’s true for both of us.”

“Yeah?” you shift to meet his eyes.

He nods, dropping his gaze to your mouth. You draw closer to kiss him, slow and soft, and when your lips part, he murmurs, “Mi conejita.”

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x you #javier peña x ofc #javier peña narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 2 months

Note

Do you know any bestfriend peter and stiles fixes no steter just really good best friends I just feel like there so underrated <3

Yeah!

Accident by Chattalgi

(1/1 I 964 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Stiles hurts himself.

Derek is there to help.

I’ll Go Through a Million Tragedies Just to Be with You by Ghosted_Redacted

(1/? I 993 I Not Rated I Stackson)

Stiles is suffering after the nogitsune, but that doesn’t mean he has to suffer alone. Sure, no one in town other than an (ex) homicidal werewolf, but that’s…fine.

But then he gets a call from London.

And maybe people do care.

(In other words: everyone suffers. But everyone also finds someone to love)

Two of Swords by pixieblade

(1/1 I 7,484 I Teen I Sterek)

Denial, blocking off emotions, avoidance of and not seeing the truth, stalemate, impasse.

---

They gather to stare at the orb. It's cold, where it should be warm. There's death, where life should flourish. One reaches out a hand, takes the freezing orb and presses it deep against his chest, sharing warmth and life and love.

'Breathe, little spark,' he whispers softly. Finding gentleness when it was once so lost to him. 'Breathe,' he coaxes. 'We're here. You're not alone anymore. Never again.'

The orb shudders in his embrace. Tears, like a melodic tinkling, dance across it's surface as it gives in and sinks into the heat of the other.

Never again, it repeats, and prays the other is right.

Wild (Blue Neighborhood) by BeautyOnFyre

(1/1 I 11,029 I Teen I Sterek)

Peter's lethargic body was unresponsive as he sat in the wheelchair, endlessly staring out the window of his hospital room. His side twinged a bit from the rough scrubbing the nurse had given his mottled flesh earlier and he ached to move even a finger.

"Uncle Peter?" The small voice was behind him in the doorway. He remembered that voice. Contrary to the title bestowed from the small girl that rounded his chair into his line of sight, Stiles Stilinski was not related to Peter at all.

Or how Stiles and Peter became best friends for life and brought Stiles into the Pack.

A Wolf's Ribbon by Dexterous_Sinistrous

(6/6 I 36,091 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek had been coached on how to approach the child heir apparent while hundreds of eyes watched him. He kept his eyes focused on the cradle, leaning over the edge as best he could to see the baby everyone had been talking about.

Stiles smiled when he saw Derek, kicking his legs out as he reached a hand up for him. He cooed at Derek, his fingers grabbing at the older boy in an attempt to touch him, all to no avail. He gurgled out a laugh when Derek reached a hand down into the cradle, snatching hold of his fingers as best he could.

Derek offered a small smile in response, allowing Stiles to playfully tug on his hand.

The two children made an adorable sight before the Court and their parents. That was the moment Queen Talia and King John decided to arrange their marriage. Every second was planned out without the voiced concern of the children.

It takes a village by pixieblade

(32/? I 78,312 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles is tired. He's tired of always having to defend himself to his so-called best friend. He's tired of being ignored and he's tired of the Pack never having his back.

So this is his line. He'd draw it in the sand, but all he has is a glitter sharpie.

It'll have to do.

Baseball Bats and Sour Wolves by Erin1324

(68/? I 84,425 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek is cursed with some sort of spell, and for some reason only responds to Stiles as a result. He tries to attack everyone else, even his Alpha, he's also acting super overprotective of Stiles, hardly letting anyone get close to him.

Joining the Fang Gang by AClosedFicIsNeverRead

(21/? I 87,645 I Explicit I Sterek)

“Lydia? Lydia, look at me,” Derek urged, a slight tremor in his voice as he fought to be gentle with her despite his alarm. She blinked through tears and struggled to meet his gaze as he crouched in front of her. “What did you see?”

“Forest… It’s dark… His Dad is screaming for him…” Her lips trembled as she shook her head and gasped, “Oh, God… He’s dying, Derek. I can feel it… It hurts so much… Oh, poor Stiles…”

- OR -

The one where Stiles is turned into a vampire, hides it from the pack, and tries to manage his new 'condition' without them noticing.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #peter hale #stiles and peter #good!peter #anon

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itstheghostofmypast · 28 days

Text

13.00

Non-Idol Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: So maybe 'colour with numbers' was a serious activity after all.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.6 k

Est.Read Time: 15 min

Rating: SFW

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

@san-network

"Um...in my defense um...at least she can colour well! Look, it's inside the lines." Scratching his eyebrow he smiled nervously at the paper in hand, who knew his daughter's teacher would call him in from work for this, the poor taekwon-do sabom had to leave his students in the hand of his newest trainee- let's just say he didn't trust the kids with Wooyoung, especially since they spent the last time he had left them alone, playing Uno for two hours straight.

"Mr.Choi, I understand you're a busy man, and running a dojang is difficult, however, I specifically remember telling you that your daughter still needs to work on her 'colour with numbers' skills." She sighed, rubbing her temples, this was an ongoing issue and she was yet to understand why the father of this cute little girl would not understand the gravity of learning colours and numbers.

"I- I know, Miss, but I- I tried, I even took Saturdays off from work to teach her, but she just doesn't listen, and she's very convincing when she has a certain point of view, I think she gets it from her mother." He chuckled, trying to use all tactics he'd learned in damage control, it is not like he didn't try, he did, but when he tried to explain to his little girl how the world works - the world of colouring with numbers- she had simply refused. She had looked up at her father with a similar pout, one that he knew resembled him, as mentioned by his wife ever since she was born, her hair tied up in a ponytail with a purple ribbon, little heart-shaped clips decorating the rest of her hair, matching her clip on heart earrings- her mother really did treat her like a doll sometimes- as she pointed at the flower and let out an "Appa, I like this colour more." And that's exactly how and why he let her colour the flower blue, the leaves yellow, the sky purple and the sun green. His little princess liked it that way and who was he to say no?

"Really now." The woman crossed her arms, leaning back against her chair as she eyed the bigger man, from the way his eyes turned into feline-like slits when he gave her that dimpled smile, his uniform jacket making him look bigger or perhaps he had grown bigger, and that- "What happened to your thumb?"

"Oh...I scratched it," he mused, eying the clock on the wall, 12.56 PM, thank god this was over, he probably couldn't take any more of this interrogation, honestly who was he to tell a child what to do and what no- when it came to colouring that is, otherwise Choi San wasn't the most lenient father, even with his daughter, he was soft, there was no doubt about that, but there was a set routine she was to follow, a balanced life is a healthy life. He wasn't swayed the slightest when she'd ask for dessert after bedtime, or when she'd ask to stay up late- his little girl deserved the best, so she'd get that cookie she asked for in the morning, but there was no comprise on her sleep schedule and he was glad his wife agreed with him most of the time, unlike when it came to colouring.

"Mr.Choi," she called out, snapping him back to reality as he cleared his throat, nodding at her, though his eyes averted from the table to her face, admiring the serious look she had adorned, one that the children loved, there was something about her that radiated 'authoritative figure' energy, no wonder it was difficult for her to daughter to not call her umma in class sometimes, but then again most of the children did, which is why she let it slide. Though her authority came with a sense of femininity, of maternity and empathy, where she'd know when to use the carrot and when to use the stick- his eyes flickered back to the clock, 12.58 PM before back at her eyes when she continued, "You need to understand, she'll fall behind in class and saying 'I like blue flowers and a purple sky' isn't an excuse, Hana is smart, mature too but she can't win her way out of it just because she gives her point of view."

His shoulders slumped in defeat, perhaps to her teacher, Hana was just another student, one that had the potential to excel and she would do her best to mould and shape that raw potential into the star her parents wanted her to be.

"I understand, Miss." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat and stared at the papers on the table again, "I'll... talk to her about it, she can read though and can count to two hundred, my wife and I make sure to use interactive learning tactics with her, the whole relate and remember strategies." At this point he looked more guilty than a cat caught in the rain, head dipped in shame- did he forget he's the parent and not the student who is being talked about?

Shaking her head in disbelief she leaned forward to collect the papers, neatly stacking them together and placing them beside her purse, "I understand Mr.Choi, and not once do I doubt your efforts. Choi Hana is the brightest in the class, so I'd prefer if we keep it this way, I'm sure your wife would agree, even if it means telling your little girl she can't always have her way." She smiled at him gesturing towards the door, "Thank you for dropping by on such short notice today, knowing a parent is concerned about their child's progress, especially when both parents work, brings me great joy. I'm sure your wife is proud of you, especially since you came to the Parent Teacher Meeting, even if a bit late, it's nice to see a man supporting his career-oriented wife."

As soon as her monologue ended he stood up straight he gave her a respectable, grateful 90-degree bow, mumbling a thank you as he quickly made his way out of the classroom, closing the door as he leaned against the door, letting out a sigh. God, that woman was horrifying, it was like he was back in school again, no wonder he was horrified of going to school as a child, it's not like the woman was bad or evil, but why the hell did he feel like he was being punished, truly a nightmare.

He'd have to talk to Hana about this, he thought to himself, moving away and rolling his shoulders, trying to ease the pain, was this...old age- no, no, San it isn't, it was just the words of this teacher that made you realise the burden you carry, a responsibility you love, the responsibility of your wife and child. Taking his phone out of his pocket he glanced at the time, 13.00, finally, it was over, to think a parent-teacher conference could be this long and excruciating.

"Ready to go home?"

He turned to glance at the woman coming out from the class, closing the door behind her as she gave him a gentle smile, one that deceived his poor heart all those years ago, making him think he had fallen for an angel, who knew he was falling for -

"How was the PTM?" She asked again, wrapping her arms around his arm, shaking him slightly to bring him back to her, looking up at him with an all too familiar look, Hana, she'd look up at him like that when she knew she was winning.

"Great, babe." Smiling down at her he began walking towards the exit, "The teacher though was horrifying, she gets all worked up when she wears that blue cardigan, it was like I was her student and she was scolding me." He exasperated, opening the glass door for her, walking out to stop at the platform when she pulled away, hands on her hips as she frowned up at him- oh boy.

"Choi San, I specified what her weak areas were, she'll become stubborn if you keep this up- did you just call me horrifying!? And what's wrong with my cardigan!? Yah. Stop walking away." She called out, running down the stairs to catch up to him, watching him walk down the stairs, "Choi San!" Finally grabbing his hand when he reached the bottom of the stairs to wait for her, raising his eyebrows when she huffed out a breath, "Man, this used to be easier-"

"Old age, love?" He teased only to be smacked on the shoulder, whining in response, though he got a scoff in return, "Oh please, if that hurt you, then you should shut down the dojang."

"Nope, I can never win in this house," he mumbled shaking his head in defeat, though he tenderly laced his fingers with hers as the two continued to walk towards the gate of the primary school.

"Why were you so late?"

"I had a feeling the teacher would scold me, so I wanted to make sure no one else was there." He glanced down at her, smiling when she chuckled, "You deserved it."

"I know, I know, Saturdays are my tutoring days- I won't let my wife and my daughter down." He huffed puffing his chest with pride as he smiled at the sight of his little girl standing next to Wooyoung, waving at him- he probably let the kids go home early, that would've upset San, but seeing his two favourite girls could fix any ruined day in a matter of seconds.

Smiling up at him she squeezed his hand lovingly, taking in the way he gazed at their daughter with all the love and admiration in the world one could muster, "Like I said, I'm proud of you, both of you, and always will be."

"Yeah, that's why you're our favourite teacher, Mrs Choi."

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @jaehunnyy @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky

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dre6ming · 2 months

Note

how would austin propose to reader?

Be mine forever?

He’s been dreaming of this moment for so long and every time he saw himself doing something so over the top and special for Y/n, but then he’d take a step back and remember who he was actually dating

Austin’s had the ring for a while now and he carries it with him, just in case one moment feels just perfect

He tries not to think too hard about the time he almost lost the ring, when he forgot his jacket at a restaurant, right after he really felt like that was it, but then the food came and you started to gossip and talk and he forgot

Secretly you’ve known about the ring for just as long as he’s had it, you found it doing laundry, he had forgotten it in he pocket of his jeans and you felt the box right before you threw them in the wash.

At one point you get impatient, Austin gets impatient, his family (who gave him his moms ring) gets impatient, but he just can’t make up his mind

Until…..

One day you step into the apartment, expecting to see Austin greet you excitedly, but instead being met with silence.

Walking further you see a trail of petals leading from the main entrance to your bedroom and your heart rate picks up as you follow it.

The door is slightly cracked and you push it further, revealing the room to you.

The smell is what hits you first, fresh flowers, so many fresh flowers, flowers of all colors, pink, red, white, you name it.

You look around and you see pictures of you and Austin hanging from the ceiling, tears start to gather in your eyes as you remember all the beautiful moments

You hear footsteps and then turn around to see Austin, dressed in white and blue striped pajamas pants, chest naked and hair disheveled, he looks Devine

“Nine hundred ninety nine flowers, nine hundred ninety nine pictures, I thought we could make it a thousand?” He says giving you a pink peony to hold.

The ring is tied around it with pink ribbon and your hands shake.

“Be my wife, be my forever? I’ve been thinking of the best way to ask, but I should have just done the thing I knew you’d love the most, just us two, you and me.” His voice sounds like hot honey and you almost melt to the ground

“Yes!” You say breathless and he hugs you, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. Placing both your feet back on the ground Austin’s shaky hands take the ring off of the flower and his delicate fingers hold your left hand up, sliding the ring on.

“A perfect fit!” You whisper absently and he chuckles. “I put it on your finger once when you were sleeping, got it resized after” you laugh at his efforts and thank whatever higher force brought such a man in your life. “I love you!” You say, kissing his nose while he’s preoccupied to look at the ring on your hand, still not believing he actually did it, he finally asked you.

“Now for the one thousand picture.” Austin says, shaking his head like waking up from a dream. You furrow your brows confused as he drags you over to the bed, telling you to sit on it. “I got the camera set up, filmed everything too!” He admits, showing you the small remote used to operate the device.

He sits on the bed with you and smiles, then he hits the button on the remote and you hear the timer of the camera going. Austin takes your left hand in both of his hands and he places a kiss on you knuckles. “ I love you forever!”

Masterlist

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#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #the delicate beginning rush #austin butler fanfiction #austin #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis fans #austin butler imagine #austin butler love #austin x reader #austin butler fanfic #austin fanfic #austin butler instagram #austin butler fandom

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lilliankoo · 8 months

Text

“wanna play you like a game”series Information.

pairing: villian? antagonist! tribe leader jk x princess! y/n.

trope: “he’s mean to everyone but worships the ground you walk on” will absolutely do anything for you, strangers to lovers.

synopsis: he looks like an angel but is a devil- well that’s what your kingdom thinks. he is also the blessed leader of “lav”; even a leaf cannot move without his permission but here he was in-front of you on his knees. while the whole village bow to him- he only bows to you. there are two paths presented to you- marry him & return his love or refuse his condition & watch him conquer your father’s kingdom. power is an evil yet tempting apple-and now its in your hands- are you going to take a bite; taste the sweet poison or will you use it to tempt others? its an evil world with evil options.. do you think you can handle him?

rating: 18+

EPISODES LIST

episode 0: the satin ribbon.

episode 1: kiss the ground.

episode 2: the silver sword.

episode 3: no man can defeat him.

word count: tbd

warnings: tbd, different for every chapter but overall; smut, age gap (jk is 27 and y/n is 23), blood, rituals!!! (not too bad but still) threats, power dynamics, use of power, tribes, tribe rituals (i made them up :p), lions, horses, weapons, lovesick puppy heart eyed insanely in love jk, possessive jk, slightly controlling jk (not too bad), him spoiling his princess aka you, SMUT SMUT LOTS OF IT, will add more as series progress.

series playlist: serial killer- lana del rey, house of balloons- the weeknd, we’ve only just began- carpenters, do not touch- misamo, help me- hako yamazaki, psycho-jun, and i love her- kurt cobain, blue banisters- lana del rey, get free- lana del rey.

author’s note: HELP MEEEE LMAOO not me releasing a new series while my baby titanic! is barely done (2/7chapters- no i haven’t forgotten abt it i just need some motivation to finish it) okay yes i will try to upload the next chapter of titanic DONT WORRY AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR UNDERSTANDING. also thank you to AI for the pictures- u are scary but i love u. Anyways, so many ideas in my head rn and im slowly slowly executing them 😘 i need time. lmao ok lets goooo.

disclaimer: in no way, shape or form i intend to copy or plagiarize, this is just for fun, i do not own the pics, this does not describe jungkook hes just a "cast/actor" and so does everyone else in the fic.

taglist: let me know if u would like to be tagged.

#jungkook fic #jungkook recs #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungguk #jk fic

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the-fiction-witch · 1 month

Text

Little Bump

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Y/n Velaryon (Pregnant Wife) Rating - Sweet AF Word Count - 2288

Jace stood over the painted table in the great hall of Dragonstone he was going over his high valerian his mother had been assisting but she had been called away for other business leaving him alone at the large painted table featuring the map of Westeros. The sound of tender steps breaks him from his concentration and when he looks up he sees a beautiful sight that fills him with joy

About halfway down the steps to the hall, walks Lady Y/n, his wife. She wears a gown of blue velvet with black and silver details the colours of his house name Verlaryon. Her hair pushed back with a blue ribbon across the top of her head like a hairband, she's barefoot as she waddles slowly her hands on her baby bump "I'm not... Interrupting, am I?" She gasps in the middle as she gets her breath from the stairs

Jacaerys quickly hurries to her. “Y/n, my love!” He kisses her gently on the forehead, then moves a loose strand of his wife's hair out of her face. “How has your day been, beloved?” He brushes her soft curls back from her cheek.

"it's been slow, getting to the kitchens takes me half an hour these days" she chuckled as he helped her to the fireplace

“I can imagine. You are carrying our child, after all.” He places a hand protectively on the small swell of her abdomen. “Are you feeling well?”

"he's kicking away again. Always kicking."

“Ah, our son.” Jacaerys smiles at the thought of the new life growing in her womb. “I cannot wait to hold him in my arms.”

"I'm sure you can't, I cannot wait to see my feet again" she joked

Jacaerys laughs and sits down beside his wife. “I wish I could relieve your burden of pregnancy, however. For your sake more than my own.”

"I know you do" she smiled stroking his cheek "Remind me, to avoid your mother from now on"

Jacaerys chuckles and sighs. “My mother cares very much for you, but she can be... difficult.”

"she simply wishes to tell me stories, and her tales bring me little comfort. Of the pain. Of the stress. Of the loss. The injuries. I think she thinks she's helping... Honestly, she's just scaring me."

Jacaerys nods sadly. “I know she means to reassure but…” He places a protective hand upon his wife's belly. “My Mother's words may be dark but they contain a kernel of truth. The birth... will likely be painful. It is a fact we must both accept.”

"yes however this is our first child, she could at least attempt to offer kind words of sympathy"

Jacaerys sighs, looking at her with concern. “Perhaps... but my mother doesn't quite understand. It is not her fault, love. She has experienced so much pain and loss in her own life that I do not truly think she knows how to offer comfort.”

"I guess not. I suppose it doesn't help... There are so few good birth stories in this family of yours"

Jacaerys nods silently. “You're quite right about that. It's almost as though the Gods themselves have cursed the women of my family…”

"well I pray to them daily. So we can hope they shall spare us from this curse"

Jacaerys smiles and kisses her on the cheek. “If anyone deserves to be spared, my love, it is you.”

"ummm I have been praying to all of them, the old gods, the new, the seven, the drowned, just to hedge my bets"

“My sweet wife…” He sighs happily and strokes her stomach softly, his free hand finding hers. “Perhaps you are right in doing so... We shall know soon enough, my love. Whatever the Gods' judgement may be.”

she nodded "Maester says Only a few more weeks at the most."

Jacaerys smiles as he feels his son kick through her stomach. He grows every day, “I'm sure. Can you feel how strong he is?” He squeezes her hand fondly.

"he's very strong, I think he shall like to ride and run when he has grown, a proper little knight"

Jacaerys nods, proudly. “My little prince. I cannot wait to see his first steps, hear his first words, ride his first horse... There is much to look forward to.” He smiles, feeling the kicks in her stomach and squeezing her hand again. He leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

"Have you thought of any ideas for names?"

Jacaerys considers for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not truly. I have a few ideas, but I want him to be strong and proud of his name. Perhaps a Targaryen name... A small smile creeps onto his face....Or perhaps a Valyrian one. What do you think, my love?”

"not Aegon. Already far too many aegons in this family to keep track"

Jacaerys laughs and nods. “Fair point, fair point.” He smiles at her, a little nervously. “What do you think of Aemond?”

"Isn't that the same as your... Uncle... Cousin... Alicent’s son" she says trying to explain the Damn family tree,

“Ah, yes.” Jacaerys laughs. “I suppose that name cannot work.” He squeezes her hand again, and thinks for a second. “What of... Daemon? A strong name, no?”

"the name of your stepfather?"

Jacaerys looks a little sheepish as Y/n brings that up. “I had... forgotten of that.” He chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “It's true, there are too many names to remember in this family. Perhaps... what of perhaps Corlys, after my grandfather?”

"hummm corlys I like. I don't dislike Daemon but... I feel it would inflate the ego of your stepfather to a whole uncontrollable level"

Jacaerys laughs and nods. “Good point.” He squeezes her hand once more, and leans in to kiss her on the cheeks. “No doubt of this, my sweetest Y/n: however our son is named, whatever his personality may turn out to be like... you shall always be the apple of my eye.” More small kicks erupt from her stomach, and Jace giggles as he feels them.

"... Ohh I had an idea,"

Jacaerys smiles widely and leans forward even more, ready to hear his love's thoughts on the matter. “What do you have in mind, my dear?”

"What about Cregan? You and him have been such good friends since you met all those years ago"

Jacaerys is taken aback by the idea but warms to it the longer he considers it. “Cregan... That is... not a bad idea, my love. A fine name, certainly... I suppose it would depend a little on the nature of our son, but I do like the notion.” He smiles, considering it as he feels another kick in her stomach and squeezes her hand.

"I rather like it, or we could always make him after your little brother" she said tenderly bringing up the topic as she knew the topic of Luke was difficult for Jace

Jacaerys smiles at her, taking in her idea with his eyes sparkling. “After my sweet brother Luke, you mean?” He nods as he realizes what a sweet idea this is. “I like this even better, my love. Luke was a fine boy, with so much potential. I would be honoured to have our son hold his name, with all the honuor and prestige that title carries.”

"It's settled then. Lucaerys Verlaryon shall be his name. If if course he is a he"

Jacaerys smiles widely, wrapping his arms around his wife's stomach as he feels another kick in her womb. “A fine name, my love. He laughs a little. I suppose we would need to think of another name for our daughter, then.” He squeezes her hands and rests his head upon her shoulder. “But that is a problem for another day. We shall first see the fruit of our love born, before we plan for another.”

"umm.. I rather have visions of me being pregnant again before even Lucaerys is walking"

Jacaerys smiles and chuckles silently. “My love, I suppose I should not complain about your enthusiasm for producing heirs…” He runs his hands over her stomach, then places his hands on her hips. “How soon after little Lucaerys are you thinking?”

"I don't know see how birth treats me first"

Jacaerys nods, rubbing his nose a little sheepishly as he realizes the stupidity of his previous question. “You are quite right, love. I cannot help but get ahead of myself. Our son's birth is far more a priority than his potential sibling.” He smiles and presses his cheek to her hip, squeezing her hand once more. “And yet, it is rather exciting, too. I'm quite interested to see you with child again.”

"humm I have a feeling I need to get very used to being pregnant. I think someone likes me pregnant " she smirked stroking jace’s hair

Jacaerys blushes at her words, looking up at her and laughing. “yes, I must admit, I... really, really like you pregnant.”

she chuckled "well I best not disappoint my husband. Perhaps we shall have ourselves a branch of the family tree with many leaves have ten children"

Jacaerys laughs again, a wide smile forming on his lips as he places his forehead upon hers, gently kissing her on the cheek. “Oh, my sweet, sweet, sweet love. Ten children?” He raises an eyebrow as he chuckles again. “If you and the Seven are up for that challenge, my love, I certainly am…” He squeezes her hand even tighter.

"I'm sure you are" she giggled giving him a kiss

Jacaerys smiles and runs a hand through her hair, kissing her on the forehead and the nose before looking into her eyes. “But for now, my love, let us focus on raising our first child together. Let us revel in his presence before we concern ourselves with his potential siblings.”

"your right, speaking of Him. Have you gone out with Daemon yet? To find an egg for sweet lucaerys cradle?"

Jacaerys shakes his head. “No, not yet. I have... hesitated to leave you for any period of time, with your pregnancy. If he had to tell the truth, he had been rather terrified at the thought of leaving his pregnant wife alone, for any period of time at all.”

"you will only be gone for the afternoon. I'll be alright. I'm sure your mother and grandmother shall keep me company with scary birth stories while you and daemon go. You know you won't want to go looking for one once baby comes and you don't want Daemon to choose for us"

Jacaerys nods and smiles sadly. “Yes, I know it is a task I must complete. It is a father's role to look for his son's egg, I know.” Jace laughs quietly and looks away. “But I cannot help but have a certain level of anxiety about all this. I have never been away from you for so long since our wedding.”

"I'm sure some man bonding time shall be lovely, talk about... Dragons, dicks and swords. I don't know what men talk about. It'll be good for you. Ask him questions he's a father to five after all"

Jacaerys smiles, and nods at her words. “You're quite right, my love. You know, sometimes I forget that Daemon is a father too.” Jace laughs nervously. “I should pick his brains, you're right, to better prepare me for parenthood.”

"umm maybe he knows some secrets words husbands can say to their wives to help the labour pains"

Jacaerys laughs heartily at her ideas. “I shall ask him to do just that.” He shakes his head and squeezes her hands fondly. “You know, my love, I have been lucky to have such a woman as you by my side. Most men... have a more hostile relationship with their wives…”

"umm most hate their wives we are very lucky" she gives him a kiss "or perhaps the hatred will come after the children?"

Jacaerys laughs, wrapping his hands around her waist. “I have no intention of hating you, ever, my love. You brought up a good point, though. Perhaps there will be more... challenges after our son is born. But I hope, with all my heart, that there will never be true hatred between us. I could not bear that.”

"I know there wouldn't ever be" she cooed cuddling him before she stopped and grabbed his hand moving it to her bump as a strong movement came through "awe he's dancing for his daddy"

Jacaerys smiles when he feels the movement of their son, his face lighting up as he places a gentle hand upon her stomach, his palm flat against the bump with the fingers splayed out across the flesh. “Oh... I swear, I can feel his whole body moving from here…” His words are interrupted as he feels another kick in Y/n’s stomach. He giggles and leans forward again, pressing his face against the bump. He lets out a small squeak of happiness, feeling the child move once more. “Oh, I am looking forward to holding you, my son.”

"Im sure it shall be a very magic moment indeed"

Jacaerys cannot help but smile as he feels yet another kick from within his wife's womb. His son is extremely active today. He wraps his hands around her belly and presses his cheek up against her stomach once more. “You know, you're right. I think he likes his father... His movements feel quite vigorous now, as if he is happy I am here.”

"he's happy to see you, of course he's happy to see daddy." She giggled "say hello to daddy little Lucaerys" she cooed and just as she said that the baby kicked hard

Jacaerys laughs and gasps at the strength of the baby's kick within her womb. He smiles, stroking her stomach. “Hello, my sweet Lucaerys. Can't wait to meet you face to face…” Another strong kick emerges from her womb and Jace giggles again, squeezing her hand. He leans forward, and places his forehead against her stomach once more. “I can’t wait to be a dad.”

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vanessagillings · 10 months

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I love your art so much!!! I've also been starting to paint with gouache, and I'd love to know a little more about your process! What kind of paints do you use, do you sketch first or start with paint, do you paint in layers over several day or all at once?

Hi and thank you! I hope you don't mind me answering this publicly and apologies for length, but:

MY ART PROCESS!

Supplies: I use winsor and newton gouache and arches cold press paper blocks, usually 140 lbs (the lime green ones) and sometimes 300 lbs (the teal green ones). Even though this paper comes pre-stretched in blocks, I actually take the sheets off and stretch them myself because I've found arches' glue isn't as strong as it used to be. This is how you get watercolor paper to lay flat! I recommend youtubing some videos on how to do it -- there's a lot of great tutorials out there. Also, I use princeton brushes, and kraft paper tape and these boards to stretch my paper. (these aren't affiliate links, I just shop at blick)

A word about art supplies: these are the exact tools I use but everyone uses supplies differently and two people with the exact same supplies might get different results! A lot of it is about what works for you and what you like, so I always suggest that gouache/watercolor beginners just buy a few tubes from a couple of different paint companies and some small pieces of paper from different manufacturers to see what you like. Just changing one ingredient in the above has created massively different results for me, but maybe that'll end up being something you'd like! The first step in learning a new medium imo is to play. Just have fun!

ALSO: gouache isn't super light permanent, check your tubes for which ones hold up to sunlight. Here is winsor and newton's color chart explaining which ones will fade when exposed to sunlight -- all manufacturers will give you this. I only use the colors rated A and AA, and I still frame my pieces with UV glass just to be safe. Not all gouache is re-wettable, but winsor and newton is. I just put it in my palettes and refill my palettes if it runs low. AND SOME PAINT IS TOXIC. A lot of paints have cadmium and cobalt in them. I don't use any of the toxic colors, but if you do, make sure you don't eat while working and wash your hands thoroughly afterwards. This information is also usually available on manufacturer's websites. As more people are rejecting cadmium paint, you'll see more tubes labeled things like cadmium-free yellow. This is why. More artists should be aware that their tools can be dangerous. You don't need that many tubes of paint to begin, just a warm and cool red, warm and cool yellow, warm and cool blue, white and black. I have around 50 colors and use 20 regularly. I always mix all my colors myself, and never use straight tube paint. Most of my colors have about 5-6 different tube colors mixed together. If you use re-wettable paint a tube of paint will last you years; even as a professional I only buy new paints every 5 years or so.

Process: I ALWAYS start with a sketch first. Not everyone has to, but because I do illustration work -- where sometimes a client gets input on a drawing -- I always do a lot of preliminary work before I even begin to paint. At this point, even my personal work usually involves the exact same process:

I start with a 3" or so thumbnail that I scan (left; I traced it quickly digtally for clarity to myself here) and then either clean up digitally or print out and clean up traditionally with tracing paper (right):

Then I scan the cleaned sketch in and color rough it digitally (left, this was for a gallery show, so no one had to approve my color roughs, so it's messy!) then I transfer my sketch to my paper (with either carbon transfer paper or a light table), stretch my paper, and paint (right):

I obviously changed my mind about the color of the ribbon in the trees, ha, and made everything a lot more vibrant. The benefit again of gallery work is no pre-approval!

You are correct, I paint in a series of washes, going from lightest to darkest, where I apply the same color beneath all shapes that are the same warmth (cools under all upcoming cools, warms under all upcoming warms). I paint a piece usually in one or two days, depending on complexity. I didn't take pictures of the above painting, but here's a different painting to show you a little bit what I mean:

I painted the peach color under everything (and twice for skin tones), and the gray color of the sky under everything that would be grayish (the rocks, trees, her pants, her skirt, and coat). I do this to stop me from getting darker lines where two different colors butt up against each other, and also for color harmony. I have step by step photos of this in my process stories highlight on my instagram; also check my FAQ and tip highlights for more info on all this stuff. Most pieces take around 25-30 washes before I start adding in the details (sometimes I add in face details early though because if I mess those up it's not worth finishing the rest of the painting! 😅)

All this might seem like a lot of work (...it is) but I do it so that I can show clients previews of the final piece and so I don't have to repaint the finals. I also used to pre-test all of my washes on scrap paper like this:

I still recommend doing this if you're just beginning! But at this point I only do it when testing techniques because I know my paints really well. (the above was my test for the pine boughs in this piece)

Painting by far is the longest part of the process, so I do more work up front to not have to do it twice. Every piece takes about 6-24 hrs of actual work time to produce. Stretching watercolor paper takes about 24 hrs to dry, and because I sell most of my originals in galleries, they need to be flawless, so planning ahead is useful and in the end saves me time.

And to conclude this novel of an explanation, don't be overwhelmed by all the information I've given you! I put it here so that people at various stages of their artistic journey can maybe find something useful in it. But seriously, the first step to learning how to paint whether it's traditionally or digitally is just to have fun. Try it out, see what's working and what isn't, and then try to solve specific issues that you're struggling with. I've been doing this for a loooooong time at this point, but here's my first watercolor piece from when I was re-teaching myself how to paint traditionally nine years ago:

Obviously, I was destined for greatness. Ha, yeah, no. If you scroll back through my tumblr archive, you can see me learning how to use these paints in real time. And keep in mind that I'd been working digitally for years before then, and years before that where I didn't post my work online at all.

So for anyone who needs to hear it: there's no such thing as talent, just hard work, patience, and trying again and again and again...and sometimes again. What I do is a skill and anyone can learn it. Sometimes, progress is slow. I'm 38. I only really feel like my art was half-way decent starting a few years ago, but I've been making art my entire life, and I went to art school at 18. 20 years later I'm kind of figuring it out.

The best advice I can give, whether it's about art or not, is find the thing you love so much that you'll keep at it even when you suck at it, because most skills you'll suck at to begin with -- and perhaps for a long time. I sucked at art for yeeeaaaaarrrrs. On top of the usual learning curve, I struggled with fine motor control and dexterity. But I loved it so much I kept trying every time I failed. If I can do it, so can all of you, no matter what stage of art you're at now, and no matter how old you are.

Anyway, thank you to those still reading this deep in. I wish you all the best on your artistic journey. Art can kick your butt sometimes, but it's also pretty dang rewarding 💛

#art tips #process #art tutorial #asks

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irb-pascalito-99 · 1 month

Text

Fleeting Paradise

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Smut, somnophilia, oral both m!receiving and f!receiving, face sitting, overstimulation, squirting

Summary: Their weekend alone is ending, and Joel’s girl decides to wakes him up in the best way possible.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter 13 of my ongoing fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more visit my a03.

The night sky starts to turn a powder blue color as dawn approaches. Joel is still asleep beneath my head. A pit in my sumac grows at the thought of our time coming to an end. Ellie and Sarah will be back this afternoon, and Joel and I will be forced to return to our normal secrecy.

I’m excited to see Ellie again, and to hear all about how their trip went, but I will also miss this. Joel’s gentle snores in the morning air. Walking around the house without concern about who might be lurking behind the corner. The freedom to exist without someone relying on me. I’m not ready for it to end.

My fingers brush gently against Joel’s skin. He looks so peaceful right now. I press a kiss to his chest, and another. I can feel his hardness poking into my thigh beneath the covers. Suddenly I feel a wetness gathering between my legs.

It’s so early in the morning. I should probably let him continue to sleep, but I think back to what we had talked about the other morning. I’m sure he’ll be fine with the early morning wake up call.

I crawl carefully down his body, slipping beneath the covers slowly so as not to wake him. I listen closely to the sounds of his heavy breathing as I position myself between his legs. I have to be careful not to wake him if this is going to work.

When I hear him snore again I press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock as a test. His length twitches at the stimulation, but otherwise he doesn’t stir. I take it as my opportunity to continue, softly grazing the underside of his cock with my tongue.

I keep my hands in the sheets on either side of his hips, worried that grabbing him may wake him up. I want to keep this going for as long as possible.

He’s still not moving or showing signs of waking up, so I continue to lick along his length. Once I’m confident he’s not going to wake up I wrap my lips around the head of his cock and slowly sink him into my mouth. I keep the pace slow and gentle, swirling my tongue around him as I take him deeper.

I feel him pulse in my mouth and suddenly he shifts, a soft groan escaping his lips. I freeze, thinking he’s finally woken up, but his snores continue. I pick up the pace a little, just enough to feel him twitch more but not enough to stir him from sleep.

I can hear his breathing get deeper as I continue, his member pulsing in my mouth. I pull him deeper in my mouth as he finally starts to wake. I feel his hands reach out across the top of the covers as he mumbles my name, followed by a loud groan as he comes in my mouth.

He’s still partially asleep, unable to make sense of the pleasure coursing through his body as I welcome the ribbons of spend down my throat. His hands grip the blankets as his hips twitch.

“Fuckk,” he groans as his cock twitches once more. I pull off of him with a pop and climb up his chest so he can see me.

When my head pops out of the covers he opens his eyes fully for the first time, the sunrise starting to shine through the window. He grabs my chin with his fingers and pulls it down.

“Show me,” he growls. I open my mouth to show the evidence of him still on my tongue. He groans and pulls his fingers away. “Swallow it honey,”

I do as he says and then open my mouth again to show him. Immediately he pulls me in for a kiss, licking into my mouth.

“That was so fucking hot,” he mumbles when he pulls away, his voice still raspy from waking up. I giggle and kiss the patch in his beard.

He wraps around my waist and pulls me to lay down on top of him. I let him keep me there, my head raising and lowering on his chest with each of his breaths. We watch the soft colors in the sky make way for the brightness of the sun. I sigh, Joel’s fingers running circles in my skin underneath the shirt I stole from him to sleep in.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks. I bite my lip and look at the clock.

“I just don’t want this to end,” I say. He looks over at the clock as well and then flips it over so neither of us can see the time anymore.

“So let’s ignore that then,” His fingers play with my hair as his eyes peer into mine. “Just stay here, with me. Let me repay you for this morning.”

Joel pushes me to climb further up his body, positioning my hips above his head. I grip the headboard and tremble as he attempts to pull me down onto his mouth.

“Joel-“ I protest, unsure how I feel about sitting on his face. His fingers grip my hips harder.

“It’s okay baby, I can handle it.” He pulls my hips down again and I slowly let myself into his face. His nose bumps against my clit as he begins to lick down my center.

I hover there, letting him eat me with my hands gripping the bed frame. He slowly swirls his tongue through my folds. Once I’ve left defenses rest he shoves my hips down the remainder of the way, forcing me to put my whole weight down, as he starts to hungrily lap at my core. I throw my head back and moan at the contact, my fingers leaving indents in the wood of the headboard as he hums against me.

He thrusts his tongue inside me and curls it just perfectly enough to hit that spot that makes me squirm. I cry out and grind against his face which only spurs him on more. He reaches his right hand around to start drawing circles on my clit as I rock back and forth.

An intense pressure builds inside me as he works me higher, onscene squelching sounds filling the air with my moans. I try to pull away when I feel it approaching, the overwhelming pressure that can only mean one thing, but Joel feels it too and keeps me planted above him.

He moves his fingers and mouth at a rapid pace until I let go, gushing all over his face as a spray of liquid escapes me. He groans and takes as much as he can in his mouth, lapping it down until I have to pull him away.

I collapse onto the bed next to him and he pulls a hand up to his face, wiping my juices from his beard. I can taste myself on his lips when he pulls me in for a kiss.

To read more visit my a03.

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 3 months

Text

I MISS MY MATTHIAS I MISS HIM SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAAA

Rated: Explicit | Warning: lipstick and shibari (listen i got my favs lol)

“Needs more blue.”

“Please, (Name).”

“You're right, maybe purple.”

Matthias struggles to be still as you bite his chest, another bloom of a hickey on his breast, you lick his nipple making him jerk at action more so than the sensation, he does that to you but to have it done to him is odd— But not unwelcome. The part of his body scarred by the fire is covered with different shades of lipstick, his clothes completely off and his dick in your hand slowly pumping the weeping suffering cock.

“(Name).” This is killing him to be lying here tied down unable to do anything but endure your endless boundless undaunted affectionation. He says something in his native tongue and you giggle knowing frustration is kicking in as he no longer is speaking English.

“Shh, just a few more colors.”

This time you give attention to his cock but only by kissing it all over with blue lipstick then switching to red letting it blend with the blue.

“Argh!” He needs to cum so bad but you continue to refuse him.

“Matthias, you look so beautiful.” Examining your handy work, “Aw, don’t cry. I promise you will get all that you need and more.” Covering his lips with the color of red, “A thousand nights of lovemaking will not be enough to show you how much I love you.”

Matthias jerks his whole body up as your heat touches his cock, you moan as you grind on him, hips swaying in an erotic dance only he can witness. Your hands on his chest to keep yourself steady on top of him.

“My beautiful lover. Matthias, you are so handsome. If only you could keep me here to worship only you. I will give you everything.”

The puppeteer might actually die with how you are making him feel with all this talk.

Matthias Czernin is a master of his craft, whether unwillingly or not, he knows how to create puppets with ease. His left-hand keeps your chin up as his right hand applies the final touches of your makeup.

He has an eye for colors, blending, and applying. Something you guess is from years of puppeteering.

“There.” It seems like a waste to do all this just to ruin it very soon, but you begged him to do this for you.

“Wow, this is amazing, Matthias.” Smiling as you look at yourself with a handheld he holds up for you, “Hehe.” Giggling with glee alright as puts the mirror away on your vanity before assisting you to lay on the bed.

Naked, a strong ribbon-like fabric fashioned in an intricate pattern, you told him it is called shibari and how it works as both sensual and artistic.

The puppeteer admires the assisted work lying on his bed staring up at him trusting him not to harm them. Because this requires trust.

“Nervous?” You ask.

“Not as much before,” His scarred-covered hand travels up your body, the pattern of the ribbons and color looks lovely on your skin. “Wow.”

“Next time we should try this on you.” Nuzzling his hand when he cups the side of your face, “You will look beautiful.”

“... Maybe.” He is a bit shy about trying these things on himself given the position he will be in, however, he is learning you enjoy an equal partnership with him. He can be the dominant force but you can too have a chance for the other to submit comfortably. The topic a person of your time period could only bring up to him.

“You are beautiful, Matthias. Especially with rouge on.” Winking at him.

#idv #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #idv puppeteer #reader insert #matthias czernin #puppeteer x you #puppeteer x reader #matthias czernin x reader #matthias czernin x you

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ihavethedreamies · 29 days

Text

Birthday Surprise | Baekhyun

Byun Baekhyun - EXO

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~3.5k

Pairing: Baekhyun x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Cute, Sweet

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Kissing, Bit of Swearing, Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, Wall Sex, Unprotected Sex (Don't!)

Author's Note: This a story requested by/written for my friend @sadfragilegirl! I hadn't written something to post for EXO yet. It’s a little early for her actual birthday, but she didn't mind, so here is this as well~

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

Sighing again, you found your eyes drifting to your phone again. Tapping the screen, there were still no new notifications. You understood with the time difference and his busy schedule that your boyfriend didn't always have a second to spare and reply. You didn't take it personally; it just was hard when you missed him as much as you did. The first week of a tour was always the hardest, but then it would get easier. After time passed though, the harder and harder it would get again. At least with Baekhyun's solo career, he was gone for a shorter time than with the whole group. You also never kept close track of his tours, only what he would tell you. It was too difficult to watch the fancams others would post, because they got to be there and not you. You had to work yourself though and couldn't go with him.

Another sigh left your lips and you reluctantly went back to watching the show on the TV. You didn't even remember what you had put on initially, but it had changed. Your phone dinged and you nearly gave yourself whiplash looking at it, but your shoulders slumped. Your food was there. Grumbling, you got up from the couch, shuffling in your slippers to the door. When you opened the door, there was the food you ordered and you grabbed the bag, but there was something else too. A box was set next to your food, and it looked like it might have been there before. It was white with a red ribbon and a red envelope stuck to it. Picking it up with your other hand, it wasn't very heavy, you headed back inside. You hadn't ordered anything…

Setting the bag of food down on the dining table, you plucked the envelope off the box, a bit of the paper tearing from where it was taped on. Your name was on it, but that was it, no address, yours or otherwise. Pondering what the heck it could be, you gently tore the envelope open, pulling the card out. Your eyes widened, then stung a bit as tears sprung to your eyes. You recognized the handwriting immediately.

Hello, Sweetheart, I'm sorry I haven't been able to talk with you the way we both want, or as often. It's harder for me to leave you at home whenever I do, even more than it is for you, believe it or not. Everything I saw wherever I went that reminded me of you, I bought. I know your birthday is tomorrow, but you'll have to wait for the presents when you see me. I did prepare a surprise though. There is a dress in the box, please wear it and a driver will come to pick you up tomorrow night at 7 pm. I miss you, and happy early birthday. ~Love, Baekhyun

You sniffed, trying to hold the tears back, feeling foolish. Why did you want to cry so hard? You wondered though what the heck he had planned. Did he set up a party or something for you so you wouldn't notice his absence as much? Finally going to the box that came with the card, you opened it and removed the tissue paper inside to see the dress. A huff of surprise left your mouth, that did not look cheap. Flipping the tag over to see the brand, you were then for sure. It was a beautiful, light blue, bouffant-style dress, the fabric had a dull sparkle throughout and was made from a smooth silk. Of course it was just your size.

"Oh, Baek…" You sniffed again, holding the dress up to yourself, wondering what shoes you were going to wear.

"Are you (Y/N)?" The sharply dressed man standing by a very nice black car asked you. You nodded, and he opened the door for you. You smoothed your dress down when you got in, adjusting it as you sat to keep it looking nice. It hit you right at the knees and you paired it with a simple set of gold kitten-heels. You had curled and put your hair up and added some gold jewelry to finish off the look. The driver got back in the car and began to head in the direction of the fancy part of town. You fiddled with the strap of your bag, watching the buildings and lights pass. Maybe ten minutes later, the car pulled into the entrance of an extremely fancy hotel. You had guessed it was a party, but maybe it would be a meal in the restaurant?

"Have a Happy Birthday, Miss (Y/N)." The driver smiled, opening the door for you and you shyly thanked him, once again adjusting your dress as you entered the lobby.

"Are you Miss (Y/N)?" one of the hoteliers asked as the automatic doors slid closed behind you.

"Yes."

"Please, follow me." She smiled, motioning for you to do so, leading you to the elevators. You got in and she pulled a card out of the pocket of her vest, sliding it into the reader of the elevator, then pressed the button for the roof.

"Have a Happy Birthday, Miss (Y/N)." She smiled once again, and the elevator doors closed, heading straight up. You were feeling a bit overwhelmed with the glitz and glam of the night already. You knew that your boyfriend was an international celebrity and had been for years, granting him plenty of clout and capital, but this…

The elevator doors opened, a polished hallway leading to a set of glass doors, and presumable, the rooftop venue. You couldn't see anything pass the doors, not even lights, just those in the distance of nearby buildings. Tilting your head a bit in confusion, you walked forward, heels clicking on the floor. When you got to the door, you for some reason felt your heart surge. Resting your hand on the handle, you took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out into the night breeze.

"Surprise!" You startled, only somewhat unprepared. The lights had come on, the pop of confetti poppers and loud cheering welcomed you. It was hard to hide your smile, seeing all of your and Baekhyun's friends.

"(Y/N)!" An extremely loud voice heralded the action before you registered it, then found yourself engulfed by a Chanyeol. You let out an 'oof' as he hugged you, you rocked back on your feet from the force of his hug.

"Let her go!" Kyungsoo huffed, hitting the other one on the back, who recoiled in an overdramatic fashion. You shot the smaller man a grateful look, but then they both looked behind them. You couldn't see over them, but when they moved-

"Baekhyun!" You beamed, tears once again hitting your eyes and he caught you when you dashed forward.

"Hi, sweetheart." He hugged you close and you heard various voices coo at the reunion, "Happy Birthday." He kissed your forehead when you finally pulled away, then scoffed.

"Hey, you'll ruin your mascara." He swiped his thumb over your cheek and you sniffed.

"I…I knew you had probably planned a party or something, but I didn't know you would be here too!" Your smile brought out his own and you hugged him again as he chuckled.

"Ah, what?!" He shouted suddenly and if you hadn't known him for as long as you did, the volume would have startled you. He turned to look behind him aggressively only to have Minseok whisper something in his ear after hitting him to get his attention.

"Oh, right." He calmed down and Baekhyun pulled away from you some.

"I did not time everything right, so we're going to eat now, then do the rest." Your boyfriend smiled, leading you over to the table set up in front of all the others.

"The rest?" you asked, sitting down in the seat he pulled out for you. He joined you and everyone else was sitting at their own respective tables. He pointed to the side at a table piled with gifts and you gaped.

"You guys!" You spoke loud enough, lacing fake annoyance in your tone and your guests laughed.

"Kyungsoo picked out the menu." Baekhyun told you, servers coming out with the food. It was all of your favorites and tasted amazing. When everyone was done with the meal and plates were cleared, another group of servers came out with a beautiful two-tier cake. The rested it gentle on the table in front of you and lit the candles before excusing themselves with a bow.

"Make a wish, sweetheart." Baekhyun wrapped his arm around your shoulder, kissing the crown of your head and you pressed your hands together, eyes closed. Let it be that I can stay happy with him, forever. You blew out the candles and everyone clapped and cheered and then the real part of the party began. Another set of chairs were at the gift table, so you moved over.

"Half of these are from you!" You sent a look to your boyfriend who chuckled a bit.

"So? Just start!" He brushed it off and you started. You got a lot of things like skincare, makeup, and other such toiletries. There were some stuffed animals, a few sets of earrings, a few nice perfumes and a tennis bracelet. Like you said, half of it literally was from him, several different countries were the origin of many. One of the boxes you opened, you slammed closed immediately, face heating. You sent him a side-glare and he seemed to realize what you had opened.

"Oh, uh, you can do that one later." He grabbed it from you, setting it on the pile and hoping no one noticed that it was purposefully hidden.

"It works with a phone app, from anywhere…" He whispered in your ear and you wanted to interrogate him further but decided to do it later. After the presents were opened and the cake cut, you finally got to eat it. Trying not to make a mess with the frosting, you enjoyed the champagne that was brought out as well. People were already dancing in the large open area in the middle of the rooftop venue, and when another nice, slow song started, Baekhyun grabbed your hand.

"I thought it would be weird if we danced to one of my songs." He whispered to you as he brought you to the dance floor. It was the second slow song, but you understood why he did that. While he literally danced for a living, you were not nearly as graceful nor practiced as him. You set your hand in his, the other on his shoulder, his other hand resting on your waist.

"Just, follow the rhythm." He coached as you danced, several of your other friends dancing with their significant others. You smiled as you passed Jongdae with his wife, somewhat envying what they had. That was something to think about later though.

"I think you got something on your-" Baekhyun brought your attention back to him and he smirked before quickly kissing the corner of your mouth and you scoffed.

"Geez." You couldn't help but smile, resting your head on his shoulder as you swayed. When the song faded to a close, you reluctantly pulled away from him, but his hand stayed linked with yours.

"Yeol!" He shouted, catching his friend's attention. He flashed an 'ok' gesture and Chanyeol sent a thumbs up back and you frowned a bit. What were they planning?

"Come with me." He looked like a kid in a candy store, a wide grin spread over his pretty face and you followed after him as he led you inside. Chanyeol had started something on the little stage set up for the band, everyone's attention focused there.

"I was going to wait till after, but I can't." Baekhyun told you, pulling you with him through the only door of the rooftop shelter other than the one outside or the elevator. It was a small staging room it seemed, there was mostly just extra tables and chairs. When you turned toward him to ask him what he was talking about, his lips captured yours, and your words slipped into a whine. Your back hit the wall by the door, hands flying up to his shoulders and up the nape of his neck into his hair. One of his arms wrapped around you, hand on the small of your back, the other on the wall to steady you both. You were glad you chose a lip stain rather than lipstick since none of it transferred over to him. You sighed and his tongue slipped into your mouth, his leg coming between yours, pressing his thigh against your covered mound. You moaned, letting him pull back from the kiss reluctantly. His lips kissed the corner of your mouth again, then down to your jaw, and further to your shoulder. The off-shoulder sleeves left plenty of skin open, so he took the chance and sank his teeth in slightly. You tried to hold back your moan, not sure how soundproof the room was, grinding down on his thigh between yours. It had been way to long, and the little points of contact through the night were not nearly enough.

"How am I going to get out of here?" You scolded lightly as he moved across your collarbone, having most likely already left three or four marks.

"You can use my coat." He offered quickly, barely pulling his lips off your skin to speak, also removing said item. Baekhyun rolled his sleeves up, lips finding yours again. When his task was done, you giggled as he lightly smoothed his hand up your thigh. His finger hooked over the hem of your panties, snapping the elastic. You squeaked slightly when he pressed into you, pinning you into the wall further, teeth nibbling your ear lobe, licking over the golden hoops you had in.

"You're already wet?" He gave a huff of smugness and you just hummed, exhaling in bliss when his fingers ran through your soaked folds.

"Baek-!" You were going to try and rationalize your state, but it was a moot point because your breath left when he sank his finger inside you. You were tighter than usual, not even having been able to get off yourself, you needed Baekhyun. The remote vibrator he bought you made more sense then. By the time he added his second finger, spreading them to get you ready, there were probably three more marks on your upper chest. Your little mewls were obviously getting to him, but the night was for you, not him. He stopped his fingers and you wanted to protest, but he was sinking to his knees.

"Oh." You whispered, letting him gently pull your panties down and over your feet, tucking them in his back pocket. You would have scolded him, but all words left as he buried his tongue inside your wanting pussy.

"Baek!" You shuddered, slumping further into the wall, hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself. He tried not to laugh at your squeal as he hiked one of your thighs up and onto his shoulder to get you open more for him. His tongue left your core, flicking at your clit, two fingers finding home inside you again. Your walls fluttered around the digits and he could tell you were close. With one more crook of his fingers, and kiss to your clit, you came and he helped you ride it, eagerly lapping at your essence flowing down his hand. By the time the waves of your orgasm faded, you were shaking and he smirked, standing while licking off his fingers. You noticed his hardened cock straining against his dress pants, fingers finding the zipper.

"Wait-"

"Can't. Do it better later." You insisted and he wasn't going to argue. Just as soon as you freed him, the head of his cock was at your entrance and he pushed in. Your gummy walls pulsed around him; the stretch stung from you going to so long without him. The same leg he had over his shoulder he held up over his elbow and you were so glad you were flexible. His thrusts were shallow and hard, trying to get to the crest for both of you fast so he could get you back to the hotel room and fuck you properly.

"Shit, Baekhyun." Your breath came out in pants, trying to stay quiet, but it was hard. Your peak was getting close again, your tight core around his cock felt like heaven, so he was close too.

"Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me." His sweet voice in your ear was all it took and he had to still as you came. He let go as well, the squeeze too good. Catching your breath, you startled when someone knocked on the door hard. Baekhyun must have taken it as a signal for something, because he got himself fixed up and let you have his suit jacket to cover your shoulders. In the low light he could see the rising deep red and purple welts, a few with light teeth marks.

"Okay, lets go."

"What-?"

"Yeol got everyone distracted, so now you don't feel good, so we're leaving!" He grinned like a goof and you scoffed, shuffling after him to the elevator. Chanyeol seemed to be guarding the door, back to you, and you giggled as the lift doors closed. Your boyfriend looked at you, his hair a bit messy and you both laughed. He still had your panties in his pocket… When the elevator got to the floor for the room he booked, you slipped out, slinking past a group of what looked like college guys walking down the hall. You held his jacket over you tighter, following Baekhyun as he led you. When he had gotten you into the hotel suite, your giggles turned into a full laugh, and he couldn’t help but join.

"Come on, sweetheart. The bed is all ready…"

After unwrapping you like you were a present, he sat behind you on the bed, leading you to rest your back to his chest.

"What are we doing?" You asked, letting his hands on your hips guide you. He sat on his knees, having you straddle his lap and he sank lower as you settled on him, cock filling you back up. Sighing at the feeling of him inside you again, he kissed over your shoulders again, sucking another mark at the base of your ear. Resting your head on his shoulder, his hands guided you to grind down onto him, the angle had the head of his cock right in the best spot, rubbing and pressing you into a tizzy. You wondered why it felt so much more intense than normal, more intimate.

"You looked so beautiful tonight. I knew the dress was perfect." His voice, low and soft in your ear seemed to vibrate over you and your hips stuttered through the rhythm you both had set. Baekhyun leaned back a bit more, you followed since you were resting on him, and the shift let him slide in even deeper and you gasped at the rapidly rising pleasure.

"I loved hearing you laugh in person, being able to hold you." One of his hands slid up over your stomach, cupping your breast.

"Feel your soft skin, kiss you, taste you…" You whimpered, his hips shifting to meet yours, thrusting up to meet your rolling hips.

"Wanna see you…" You whined and he hummed, smirking.

"Okay, sweetheart." While you were not pleased that he pulled out, you were quickly filled back up when your back hit the bed. His hands wrapped around yours when they went to cup his jaw, mouth meeting yours again. Linking your fingers, he pinned your hands up by your head with his, pulling back just enough so your lips still brush slightly. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, and he snapped his hips hard, picking the pace up immediately. You couldn't hold back your moans, writhing in pleasure under him, the bed frame groaning from the force. You wanted to touch him too, but his hands on yours prevented it. He smirked against your lips, switching to using his one hand to hold both your wrists in place. The free hand gripped your thigh, shifting your leg up higher so he could get even deeper inside of you. It was hard for you to get out anything intelligible other than his name and your orgasm was rising faster than you anticipated.

"God, you're so beautiful. I love you so much, (Y/N)." His pace was stuttering, the vice of your core sending him closer to the edge as well.

"Love you too~" You managed to get out and your voice crested into a high moan as you fell over the edge. He groaned himself, spilling inside, filling you with warmth and swallowing your noises with a sealing kiss.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart." Baekhyun smiled warmly and you giggled tiredly.

"You really didn't have to do so much…" You pouted playfully and he hummed, shaking his head.

"I did. I love you, and whenever I'm gone for so long, so far away, you're all I think about. I honestly wish I would have done more.”

Master-Master List

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