Warnings: Sexting, Dirty Talk, Mutual Masturbation

miguel o’hara x assistant!fem! reader

SPOILERS ??!!

now we all know this man has some serious anger issues lmao but who wouldn’t love a grumpy man having this deep unspoken sexual tension between the two of you, right!? right. and along with that, SMUT! such a beautiful combo. but mild smut for now.

but here is some mild miguel smut for y’alls horny ass (and mine) <3

mild smut under the cut

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spiderman 2099. miguel. miguel motherfucking o’hara.

leader of the spider-society, an elite crew of various spider people from all across the multiverse, their mission to protect the multiverse from any threat that may come. sure, knowing how crazy it sounds that the multiverse is real and that— there are more variations of the spiderman you knew since all before this shitshow happened.

and to say, your relationship with the leader wasn’t all that bright in fact.

you’re not a spider person yourself but sometimes you wish you are seeing how fucking cool spider-woman, jessica drew, a fellow member, along with other members coming in are (hobie, gwen, pavitr and so on.) but no radioactive spider ever bit you sadly. you are human, human as ever working under miguel o’hara as his assistant (more of a manager really) even though he has lyla, the virtual sweetheart, you still had some things you can do which are a big help in all the management for the spider-society.

miguel, as a boss, well— he’s a fucking menace sometimes as you grit your teeth to yourself, walking swiftly into the familiar hallways you always passed through, captured anomalies around your vision until you arrive at the fairly narrow one, meaning you were almost close. all the people knew how fucking grumpy he was, always snapping out of nowhere, sharp comments and unnecessary hurtful ones too when he’s super mad. you’ve dealt with all of that since the foundation was found— and he’s kinda a loner. you sigh, knowing from the looks of what has happened today regarding miles morales, things weren’t looking so great. and you had to ask him somehow about the situation and see how it goes, well not or not.

your feet echoed through the vast space of his lab, his platform was up high as always and you can hear him grumbling a top, watching every scenario of what happened. your heels clicked as you stopped, looking up, blue light restricting your vision as you coughed for his attention. cringing already inside as you heard the audios pause.

then silence.

silence….

more silence….

silenceeeeeeeeeeeeeee-

“what?” he asks from above in a clip manner.

“heard from lyla.” you merely quip back, shrugging your shoulders.

“and?” he grunts, resuming his work as the platform above descends down. ah, sassy. you think, usual miguel— not the mad one, real lifesaver for whatever you’re gonna say right now.

“nothing.” you say, waiting for the damn platform to come down faster. “i may have a few questions where this leads-“

“what questions?” he asks, the platform finally stops at the usual height, making miguel who’s back is turned from you visible.

“about the situation. miles morales.”

“ask lyla about that.” he dismisses you again, tone a little sharper. the back of his muscles flex, super suit clinging tight, his mask the only one that was removed. tousled dark hair seen as he clicks away on his screen, the voices of miles and gwen emitting. you gulp, sighing as you tried for one more.

“it’s more of a personal question for you-“

“has it ever occurred that i don’t answer those kind of questions?” he cuts you off, the footage he was watching paused as he slowly turned around to finally face you. your eyes meet his, familiar red ones looking down at you, face scrunched a bit as if he was annoyed already,

“i know.” you slowly say as he crosses his arms. muscle bulging, making you avert from his gaze for a moment, which embarrassed you. “but all i’m saying or asking is that are you going to make it easy for the kid?”

something in his eyes snap at your question. he jumps down, landing swiftly in front of you as he stands up, towering your frame. you roll your eyes, his shadow blocking the light from you as his hands were situated on his waist, meaning he was ready to argue. but you can’t argue how eager you feel seeing how close he is. heat radiating from him, the way he never leaves his eyes off you and his overall presence.

“what is easy in all this, really, huh?” he harshly spits out. “the faith of the multiverse is in danger. and who’s responsible to fix that? me! so no, i’m gonna make it easy for the kid. he was the one who started all of this if you can remember.”

“oh, i remember and i remember clearly telling you how all of this— this is happening is very much-“

“no, no, no. that is completely out of the logical reason for why this happening. not the reason at all.” he says, his brow scrunching together as you too became fairly annoyed that he was cutting you off. an ass really.

“out of the reason? maybe it is the reason if you think about it!” you retort back, huffing out a sigh as he shakes his head turning away from you.

“miguel.” you call out to him. “miguel, for once, try and see through this. through miles.”

“i have a lot of things to do, y/n. arguing with you is not one.” he commands, as your shoulders sink, the familiar feeling of disappointment washing over you from his words.

“maybe if you could listen to me, we wouldn’t be arguing.” you stared at him with hard eyes, he tensed, looking to the side before he swiftly walks towards you again.

“why would i, huh?” he glares at you. “do you know everything i know enough to make everything right in the multiverse?” he stalks over to you, intent to make you listen clearly as you back away a bit from him but he doesn’t stop. “no. so no, there is no point in listening to you.” he growls the last sentence, the lump in your throat bitter as you two stared down at each other before he utters his last insults. the buzz of something blooms between you both. you could feel it, he could feel it. the two of you were just contemplating in the inside as miguel steps a bit closer to whisper it.

“you’re my assistant, know your place.”

your eyes widened at his words. but you could not shake the fact how deep he said it, the rumble in his voice making your brain go haywire at all the emotions you are feeling right now for him. the breaking point of your patience at its peak as you glared at him harshly, his face close to yours as you cursed at him.

“fuck you, miguel.” you spit out. his face suddenly changed as he fucking smirked. smirked! you stare at him as he opens his mouth to spit something out as well in retaliation for your insult.

“really? that’s all you got? i thought you were better at this, churri.” his smirk widens as you shy away, suddenly flustered at how fast he can make you embarrassed. you could feel his chest close to yours as you avert his hard gaze, making the said man snap something inside of him seeing you all crumpled beneath him.

“you’re all bark but no bite, sweetheart.” he whispers as you didn’t look at him. “look at me.”

the subtle growl in his voice caused you to obey him. you look up to meet his eyes again, seeing them red as ever, red with that low gaze that makes your thighs clench hard. the slow breaths between the two of you are only heard as miguel leans down, face closer to yours now.

“what’s making you shy, huh?” he asks, the argument from earlier clearly out of his head as he focuses on you. his one hand creeping up to gently caress yours, urging you to say it.

“miguel, please, stop playing with me.” you grumbled, ashamed how you liked how he was acting now. “it’s not funny.”

“i’m not joking around, am i?” he sasses but you held your hard gaze on him which he surrenders. “alright, i’m sorry.”

“no you’re not.” you sighed, knowing there will never be a genuine sorry from him which leaves you utterly defeated, more upset how you know he’s toying with your emotions right now. “i’ll take my leave.”

“y/n, don’t…”

“please stop.” you raise your hand for him to stop.

“i’m sorry.” he genuinely says, gripping your hand gently back down, squeezing it softly. his big gloved hand envelops yours as you studied his face to make sure he wasn’t fucking around. miguel practically knew what’s going on between the two of you, which of course why he liked arguing with you. the way your eyes would dilate all the time and beat of your heart racing whenever he gets super close to your personal space. addicting yet a dick move he was doing because in all, he very much likes you. and this time, this time it all snaps at the pinnacle seeing you shamelessly stare at his lips.

“thank you.” you softly say, glancing at his lips, the fangs subtly showing behind them as miguel swiftly dips forward to finally kiss you with such fervor.

your eyes widened as you gripped his broad shoulders, toes tip toeing, heart pounding as his arms wrapped around your waist. you moan out on his lips as you kissed him back the same passion. months of ignoring the unspoken tension between the two of you and at this moment it happened! you think that this all sinks in because of the situation, and you are right in your head. all of this should happen.

“miguel.” you pant breathily between his lips as he shushed you with another one, too lost in the moment.

“miguel please.” you begged for more as his hands dip down to squeeze your ass, lifting you up effortlessly with his spidey strength as your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips.

“i know.” he kisses your chin down to your neck, slowly walking to the desk nearby. your breasts squished together with his hard chest as you grind down, feeling the evident bulge underneath you.

“you’re an ass, ya know?” you mumbled in his ear as he sits you down on the desk, objects scattering at the impact. he continues his ministrations, the things he was supposed to do are far long gone in his head as his hand dip down to where your legs were open for him.

“that i certainly know.” he admits, you giggle suddenly knowing how defensive he is when people point that out.

“but right now, i’m being very nice, amor. very nice.” he whispers, nipping your ear as his gloved hand touches you there, the pencil skirt you were wearing scrunched up above your knees. you gasp, clutching his shoulders again as he chuckles lowly, feeling the wetness as his eyes stared at you with this animosity as he kneels down, kissing your thighs before he sharply opens your thighs wide. your covered cunt staring right before him, begging to be eaten and he sure will be. he looks up to see you, this wild look in your eyes as you nodded for approval which makes him genuinely smile.

“i’m feeling generous today. it’s a once in a lifetime scenario, huh? so you better feel lucky today.”

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I HOPE I DIDN’T MAKE MIGUEL OOC CUZ I ONLY WATCHED THE MOVIE ONCE. ANYWAYS PART 2? <3

So glad we brought it back to The Horny. You’re getting so worked up and only over his fingers, I mean Peter really has you desperate for anything he’ll give you. And you’re grasping onto his arm, trying to ground yourself but a thought comes to mind. Two can play at this game. You place a hand on his thigh, sliding it up just to barely graze his crotch. You hear a small gasp from him and it eggs you on. You’re palming him through his sweats, feeling him grow and twitch under your touch. He’s groaning your name and picking up speed with how he fingers you. But neither of you have acknowledged each other, the both of you have your eyes glued to the screen. You guide your hand under his pants and wrap your hand around him. It’s turned into a competition now, who can get the other to come first. He knows he's close, but so are you. You're faltering, and he knows exactly what to do to make you come undone. With his thumb rubbing circles on your clit and his fingers curling up to hit that sweet spot that has you clenching tighter around him. You're coming while chanting his name and the action is enough to send him over the edge too.

fwb tasm!peter x reader and peter just wants to fuck but you won’t until you clean up his wounds and he’s trying so hard to ignore how his heart skips a beat. all he brings is pain to the people he loves, which is why he only tries to bring pleasure to you instead because he can’t bare to think what could happen if he came to accept his love for you. 🥲🥲🥲

@buckys-estrella …help

this man has permission to do whatever he wants to me, like pls sir, I beg🙇🏻‍♀️

𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this man has completely overtaken my life and heart. i love him more than anything, here is some filthy thoughts

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: shang chi (shaun) x reader

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤/𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 & 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝! 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭/𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!

𝟏𝟖+ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+, language, oral (m & f), fingering, unprotected sex, mommy kink, use of sex toys (ties, vibrators, plugs), sub!shaun, dom!reader, overstimulation, breeding kink, mentions of nudes and videos, exhibitionism, light choking, soft!dom shaun, potential dub-con, if i missed one please let me know!

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex)

shaun wants to be close to you- holding your body close to his, feeling your heartbeat. if you aren't particularly fond of being held afterward, he'll trace patterns on your forearm as your body relaxes and your breathing slows down.

still bare, your legs tangled together and your head nuzzled into his chest. he'll whisper small praises and crack a few jokes to lessen the intensity. even though he praises your body while having sex, he takes a little extra time to help cool your body down.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part on themselves and on their partner)

there is nothing he loves more than your hands. how delicate they are and how quickly they can shift into a means of pleasure. your fingers dragging down his torso or gripping his as he pins them above your head- he loves how perfectly they fit inside his.

he loves how skilled they are and how easily he melts at the slightest graze or touch.

shaun's mouth does wonders. from the words that flow past his lips to the way his lips close around your clit- or nip are your neck. he doesn't even have to speak before helpless moans and desperate pants escape yours. there is nothing it can't do and very little that it won't try.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

the place he cums more than anywhere else is inside you, he is mesmerized by the sight of the cum dripping out from your cunt. every so often, he'll cum in your mouth- allowing you to taste you- before he pulls you up by the throat, kissing your lips.

"feel that? feel my cum fillin' that pretty little pussy up?" he'd grunt against your ear, keeping his pace.

D = Dirty Secret (What do they secretly want)

shaun wants you to take the reigns. there is nothing better than when you're under his body completely at his mercy- but there are times when he wants to see you pin him down, take control and leave him a whimpering mess.

"oh you like that don't you, baby?" taunting him as he lays before you, wrists bond the ends of the bed. a whimper escapes his lips as you pull down the fabric of his underwear. his cock twitching and his hips bucking upward, needy and pathetic. "so impatient, baby boy... you know mommy doesn't like that,"

E = Experience (Do they know what they are doing?)

there is an average amount of experience. being in your mid-twenties when the blip happened, refocused his attention. once everyone came back, weekend hookups became a regular thing.

even with minimal experience, shaun knows what he is doing. there was definitely trial and error that took place in college, but he is pretty well-rounded.

F = Favorite Position (Self-explanatory)

up against a wall while your legs wrap around his waist. moments where you find yourself in this position, usually resulted from the desperate and needy desire to take you to whatever karaoke bar or hole in the wall bar.

"shaun, i swear if someone sees-" clutching around his neck, moaning against his ear. "nobody will see us, i promise," his cock slid inside you with ease, arousal coating him. "fuck, baby," his raspy grunt filled your ears.

G = Goofy (Are they serious during sex or goofy

shaun believes sex should be fun and exciting, but also intense and intimate. the balance is something he's mastered. being able to keep things fresh, new, and lighthearted, but also close, intimate and tender- is not something that is easy, but he believes that you shouldn't have to choose.

he embraces the imperfect moments, like a mishandle or readjust the resulted in a head bump or the plans with food play not going right.

H = Hair (Are they well-groomed?)

shaun is well-groomed and kept.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

he rises above and beyond expectations. the average session is all about making sure you're taken care of first and that you're comfortable. one way he makes sure to achieve this, is thorough foreplay and communication.

shaun prioritizes communication. if there is something that either of you isn't feeling, then it needs to be said- or if there is something that either of you really likes, it also needs to be said. it has helped your sex life immensely.

big moments in your relationship would call for the grand gestures. those are the moments for the hotel suites, food play, experimenting with new ideas, etc.

J = Jack Off (Do they masturbate?)

yes. if you're away and he needs a release, he'll masturbate to videos of pictures you have sent him or have taken together. if you're at work, he'll usually wait it out as long as he can.

when you're way visiting family or on a girls weekend, you'll send him some throughout the time away. they'll be random times and sometimes not at the most convenient time. the worst time being while he's at work, having to greet guests and stand in full view for everyone.

that's when he'd excuse himself to the bathroom.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

the favored one being praise- giving or receiving. he loves to mumble under his breath as he kisses down your body or let a "good girl" slip through daily life. this catches you off guard, causing your to press your legs together or a flushed face.

other than the more normal kinks such as breeding, being dominant- he loves to see how far he can push you. overstimulation would be his favorite. "i know you can do it, just one more!" he coos, toying with your clit and his tongue slipping in and out of you. "almost there, baby, i can feel it,"

one that most wouldn't think about is holding. shaun would see it while scrolling and be hesitant to try- but once he saw how much you whimper and squirm as he presses on your stomach. "shaun..." the whine was like music to his ears. "you're doing so well for me,"

L = Location (Favorite place to do it)

nothing beats the comfortability of your own home, but the car rides home are one's that he loves just as much. how impatient you get or how he just can't help but rub the inside of your thigh. he'll pull over into an empty parking lot, slipping in the backseat.

you're straddling his lap, grinding against him- making out shamelessly. he nips at your neck and drags his lips down to your breasts. as the windows fog and the breathing gets heavier, shaun loses all self-control and strips you bare.

M = Motivation (What turns them on or gets them going?)

touching. anywhere or any time. if you want to get him going, it's the light finger tracing on his arm or playing with his fingers.

while cuddling and the adjustments. "baby, please," he chokes as your ass wiggles against his crotch, trying to find a more comfortable position. for a moment you'll stop, but you slide up and down fixing your shirt that got cut on the sheets. "are you trying to turn me on?"

N = No (Something they will not do. Turnoffs.)

shaun is willing to try anything once but has the basic hard limits.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc.)

shaun understands how important foreplay is- and he loves it. his favorite being oral. at first there was a lot of trial and error on finding the exact spots that made your eyes roll and hips squirm- but when he found them? it was game over for you.

shaun could stay down there for hours- he's addicted to the taste of you. holding your hips down as he continues through your high. "stay. still. i'm not done yet, i can't get enough of this pretty pussy,"

he knew your body like no other. his tongue is skilled in toying with your clit, flicking against the sensitive nerve. the motions warming your cunt, arousal coating his chin and lips. "look at the mess you made, baby,"

on the receiving end, shaun couldn't help but spew praises. as well as he knew your body, you knew his. "just like that" "you're doing so good for me!" "there you go, right there- fuck!" shaun holds your hair back in a make-shift ponytail, guiding your mouth.

P = Pace (Are they fast or rough? Or slow and sensual?)

he has mastered both. shaun understands when to be more dominant and rough- and when not to be. as much as he loves the rough stuff, shaun loves being able to connect with you and be close to you- so slow and sensual is the specialty.

the hand holding, eye contact, and kissing during sex type sensual- the bodies syncing and cumming together type sensual.

Q = Quickies (Their opinions on quickies rather than regular sex)

they are a must. happening everywhere and anytime. bar bathrooms, karaoke rooms, cars- shaun doesn't let the location stop him from taking you right then and there. of course, they aren't your main source of pleasure, but they happen more often than not. with every few

"shaun, we can't do it here!" shouting quietly as he pulls you through the crowd of people. "we'll be fine, nobody will see us, i promise!" shaun opens the karaoke booth door, closing it behind him- lips attaching to your neck. "i'll be quick," he mumbles against your skin.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

the thrill of being caught? turns him on even more. he loves the idea that he's deep inside you and someone catching you? sends him over the edge. even just a quick make-out session in the hallway of the bar drives him wild.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go? How long do they last?)

he has average stamina, they'll last a couple rounds- but he cums each round.

T = Toys (Do they own or use toys on themselves or partners?)

there is very little that he isn't willing to do to make you cum. if he wants to add a bit more, he'll add that vibrator or plug. he isn't afraid to use toys on you, especially if it means he'll hear the sweet sound of your whimpers.

he loves the videos of your playing with your toys- the sight of your fingers playing with your cunt and the vibartor against your clit- he's home within minutes.

"you can do it, baby, i believe in you," he taunts, placing the vibrator on your clit. your nails into his arm, "shaun i can't-" he coos, "yes you can, just one more for me."

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

he prides himself on how worked up he can manage to get you. out in public, the small innuendos, the text messages, rubbing the inside of your thigh? all just to see the flustered expression and rising chest.

V = Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

shaun is shamelessly vocal. he doesn't hide or holds back any sounds. he is a dirty talker, he loves to communicate during sex- making sure everyone is comfortable and everyone is safe.

W = Wildcard (Random headcanon for your character)

the soft!dom is strong with shaun. he is patient and affectionate with you, treating you with the utmost care and making sure that you are the priority- giving you everything that you ever wanted.

but the moment you cop an attitude, talkback? all bets are off. the sweet calm man in front of you quickly turns into the stern dom, not afraid to put you in your place.

"you want to try that again?" you stand your ground, "nope." this sends him over, he grips your throat- pushing you against the wall. "are you sure about that?"

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

slightly above average, nothing too insane- just right.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

once he met you, he wants you twenty-four seven.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep afterward?)

shaun is passed out within the hour if you're at home. if you're not home, adrenaline pumps through him and makes him more energized.

YES YES YES THANK YOU!

honestly so happy that you delivered on my breeding kink ask because this was just perfection!! but also very glad you didn’t crash!! I mean I would’ve probs had the same reaction tho bc I mean breeding is my #1😌

and idc what anyone else says, for sure, without a doubt in my mind, Adrian has a breeding kink

omg he’d want to constantly have you filled and full of him cum or child and the thought makes me go absolutely feral, like insane, foaming at the mouth, screaming and creaming 😩‼️

and trying every single day??? my man is determined, and I’m so glad he is, wouldn’t want it any other way

also dad Adrian??? yes yes yes 100 times yes, he’d be such a good dad, like the best, his kids would be his whole world 😭

anyways thank you for writing this🥰

idk if you talked ab this before but thoughts on Adrian having a breeding kink👀

and another

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns, has a vagina/womb)

rating: e+

word count: 1,813

one-sentence synopsis: ever since you decided to try for another baby, adrian has been determined to make it happen, without pause.

author's note: i'm sorry but i got this message while i was driving and i gasped out loud and almost crashed my fucking car holy fucking shit. i also sent screenshots of this message to a couple of my friends, one of whom said, "of course adrian has a breeding kink. any character you touch automatically gets a breeding kink by osmosis." and then i was like so of course adrian has a breeding kink and let's talk about it. and i started writing a headcanon thread but then i basically started writing fic and now i just wrote a fic. i'm so sorry. i love breeding kink i love pregnancy tropes i'm sick in the head i'm not sorry!!!! (i am sorry for my long-ass author's note though)

read on ao3!

Adrian’s on you the second you’re in the door.

This isn’t a surprise, nor is it unwelcome. You laugh, telling him, “Adrian, I just got home from work, I’m all sweaty—”

“And?” Adrian asks, breath ghosting over your skin as his lips just barely lift from your throat to speak. “What, you want to shower so I can get you sweaty all over again? Waste of water.” With his teeth hovering over your pulse point, he tells you, “Conserve.”

You huff another laugh, breathless this time. Adrian kicks the door shut behind you, twisting to shove you up against it. His hands are already tearing your coat apart, pushing the buttons through their holes with a haste that nearly rips the threads holding them together. He’s already introducing teeth to your throat, his large hands hot where they glide up under your shirt.

This has been your homecoming every day for— weeks now, actually. As soon as the two of you decided to try for another baby, he was determined to try every. Single. Day. Usually, multiple times a day. Sometimes even multiple times a time. He’s told you over and over that he’s intent on giving you as many babies as you want, as many babies as he wants— which is apparently infinite, and you’re drunk enough on him and the way he makes you feel that you’re willing to give him that in return.

Adrian reaches down, scooping you up with his hands tight around your thighs. You hitch up onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. You cup his jaw in your hands, pulling his face up to bring him into a bruising kiss.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Adrian breathes, drawing you up and away from the door.

He uses his sheer strength to carry you up the stairs, to your bedroom down the hall, where he nudges the door shut gently and throws you down on the bed. The frame creaks; Adrian reaches up to steady the headboard with one hand gripping the curved top of it.

“Shh,” he shushes the bed before ducking down to kiss you. He uses his grip on the frame to brace himself, dropping to take your lower lip between his teeth for a moment before separating again. He pushes up and off of you, stripping his shirt off over his head in a rush. You honestly don’t know why he bothers wearing as much clothes as he does when this happens every day.

Adrian is desperate to get his hands on you like it’s the first time he’s ever done it, like he’s never going to get to do it again. He gets you bare under him, his hot skin sliding hot over yours, enjoying the rub of his coarse body hair over the friction burns you’ve already gotten from him in the same spots for the same reasons over the last few weeks.

Last few weeks, months, years. He loves to do this to you, with you. His cock is already hard, gliding slick over your thigh, and he reaches between you to find your entrance already wet.

His fingertips dip inside you, his eyes flickering up to meet yours above the rim of his glasses, through the thick fringe of his eyelashes. He grins, says, “You want me to fuck you so bad already, don’t you? Look at you.”

“Yeah,” you tell him, writhing slightly, twisting on your back to push your hips, hoping for more friction from him.

“I want to fuck you so bad, too,” Adrian says, looking down to his fingers slipping inside you. He fucked you before you went to work, and you relax easily around him now. He draws you up, burying his face in your belly, mouthing at your flesh with hot breath and biting teeth and slickness. His fingers fuck into your cunt, and breath punches up out of your lungs, rasping. “Oh, fuck, look at you. I want to— want to fill you up, want to give you my baby, want—”

“Yes,” you breathe, head dipping back into the pillows. He’s twisting his wrist, getting his thumb on your clit so you inhale sharply, hands flying up to grasp desperately at him. You twist your fingers in his hair, your other hand reaching without success towards his elbow, wanting him to push harder, deeper.

“You’re soaked,” Adrian comments with admiration, staring down between your slick thighs. “Fuck. Can I fuck you? Please, can I fuck—”

“Yes,” you tell him, “I want— Go ahead, you can—”

Adrian’s already slipping his fingers out of you, and you’re crying out, wanting to draw him back in. He doesn’t waste time, slotting himself between your legs. He lines his cock up with your hole, pushes into your tight heat like he never wants to be anywhere else.

His head falls forward, burrowing into your chest. You kiss the top of his head, your hands going to his back, gripping his shoulders. Adrian gathers you into his arms, wrapping around to your back, pulling you in close, dragging his mouth up to spread the flat of his tongue over your nipple before he introduces his teeth.

“I wish you were pregnant all the time,” Adrian tells you. “You should never not be pregnant. It’s, like, what you’re made for.” He pushes deeper into you until your hips are flush with his, until he’s pressing so deeply into you that your core is throbbing. He lifts his head, bright eyes meeting yours, sweat smudging his glasses. “God, you don’t know what you fucking look like. You don’t know how you make me feel, knowing that I’m the one doing this to you, that you and I love each other so fucking much—” He lifts his head, bites into another kiss with you. Muffled, his lips to yours, he continues, “—that I just can’t stop fucking— breeding you, that I can’t stop filling you, seeing you like—”

His hand threads up, climbing your side to tangle in your hair, and you fold into him, collapsing like a house of cards. He takes his as his cue to start fucking you in earnest.

He lifts your leg to adjust your angle together, and this new slant gives you friction against it, lets you grind against him until there are sparks rocketing through your core. You grapple for him, and he fits himself into your hands, biting a bruise into the soft underside of your jaw.

You can feel the chaos in the way he moves, his madness, his hunger for you. It’s obvious in everything about him: what he says to you, what he does to you. He never wants you to stop carrying his children; you never want to stop carrying his children. It really is like you were made for each other.

“Oh, fuck,” Adrian bites off into your throat. “Can I— Can—”

“Yes,” you tell him, and he’s losing his rhythm, fucking you with abandon. His hips snap into yours, ferocious in his claiming of you, his determination to take root in you. You can’t help the prick of tears in the backs of your eyes, the burn in your nose, the smile that touches the edges of your lips. This is, you think, one of the best feelings you can feel. There’s very little you’ve found to top it, anyway.

Adrian mumbles your name into your skin, curses and praises and rambled nothings as he drags you over the edge and pulsing into your orgasm. You gasp out, shaking, trembling like you’re collapsing, a dying star inside you. You drag him in closer, unable to release him.

“Please,” you beg him, “please, please, please—”

He gathers your head in his hands and pulls you in for a long kiss, spreading you open, licking behind your teeth. The searing heat of him consumes you as he cums, floods you, fills you.

You’re gasping for breath, clinging to him, as he says, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” kissing along your hairline, smearing sweat along your skin.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to breathe. Adrian’s hand glides down your chest, between your nipples, to settle over your belly. His thumb strokes over your navel, his face dropping to kiss your flushed skin.

“Hey,” you breathe to him. He lifts his head, glasses askew, hair rumpled, waiting for you to speak. “Guess what?”

“Uhh— Is this a rhetorical guess what or a real guess what?” Adrian asks. “You really want me to guess? Because my brain, it’s not working at top—”

“Adrian,” you cut him off. He refocuses on you just as you tell him, “I’m already pregnant.”

For a second, he just blinks. Then, he laughs, surging up to kiss you again, one hand sliding up to grip at your hair. He’s still rooted inside you, and the rough movement jostles you. You bite off a noise into his mouth; he draws back, pressing a soft kiss to the bite he’s left on your lower lip before separating.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands. He kisses your cheek, your nose, your lips again, before he says, “Oh, fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes—” He laughs, then delightedly cheers, “Fuck yes!”

“Adrian, be quiet,” you tell him, unable to stop laughing yourself at his obvious joy, at your own corresponding glee. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t get so much as a hi, how are you before you were taking your dick out at the door—”

“I did not hear you complaining at the door,” Adrian says, smiling.

You’re about to respond when there’s a hard bang-bang-bang-bang against your bedroom door, a tiny palm flat against the wood.

“Are you home, Daddy?” your daughter demands from the other side of the door. You don’t know why she asks when she just heard his voice, but it makes you laugh, dropping your head back.

“If the two of you wake up the baby, I’m going to be pissed,” you promise Adrian. He ducks to kiss your cheek again before slipping out of you.

“I got her,” he assures you. “You stay here, you take care of our baby until I can come back and celebrate right—”

You have to shove him off when he ducks down to kiss at your throat again, your daughter slamming on the door, demanding his attention all over again. Sure enough, you can hear the baby start crying in the nursery across the hall.

You grab the pillow from up off the bed beside you, bringing it up over your head and burying your face in it. Adrian ducks to kiss your hip.

“Okay, I promise, I’ll deal with them,” he says. You smile as he drags his face up over your belly. There’s nothing different yet, but he still presses a kiss there, says, “Love you,” and jumps up off the bed.

-

adrian chase taglist:

@violetrainbow412-blog @bigassbisaster @amysuemc @sunflowerfive @papitas-con-sal @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @violinchick @r3tr0sp3ct @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @x-milf-hunter-x @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @jaysfav @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @pieriinova @samantha24015 @hillaryroadheadcllinton @ohmybubbletea @buckys-estrella @witchywcmans

Positioning someone to get fucked is so fun. Like you could do it roughly, toss them onto the bed and grab their hips. Yank them towards you as you grip them tightly. Laugh at the way their eyes widen and their breath hitches as you lean in and make them feel owned.

Or you could do it nice and gentle. Take your time pressing them into the bed and brushing back their hair. Guide their ass up right where you want it and then lightly run your nails down over their sides. Whisper to them how good you’re gonna fuck them and watch them blush and squirm at the thought. Either way I just love positioning my sub so that they’re right where I want them. 

LANI PLS THIS WAS SO GOOD, IM AN ABSOLUTE PUDDLE RN

A Seasoned Fighter

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Older!Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Summary: Just because the First Order dismantled, doesn’t mean the Resistance has stopped fighting for the freedom of the galaxy. You’re newly recruited and stationed at a base that’s run by the legend himself, General Poe Dameron. Based on this artwork + my shitty edits.

Warning: age gap, Poe's kinda a dick, smut - rough sex, p in v, choking, oral (m receiving), this Poe is suuuuuuper ooc.

A/N: I'M WRITING FOR POE AGAIN! YAY! Also, I might write more if people want. because i do have more ideas for this version of Poe...

Tagging: @darthdameron @abelslittlebunny

You've been with the Resistance for a short time. A little under five years. Despite the end of the First Order, that didn't mean that there weren't still people who wanted to take over the galaxy. The Resistance still remained in tact taking care of those who tried to take the First Order's place, as well as keeping the overall galaxy safe.

In the time you've been with the Resistance, you heard about the legends such as Rey Skywalker, General Finn, and General Poe Dameron. Rey and Finn were off on the other side of the galaxy, training new and upcoming Jedis. General Poe Dameron? Well, he stuck with the Resistance.

You grew up hearing stories about him. He had saved your parents, Resistance fighters as well, and if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't be here. You thought that when you'd meet him, he'd be just as witty and charming like your parents described.

Unfortunately, he was the opposite.

Keep reading

where she goes ᅳ miguel o’hara

“mami, te vo’a a dar hasta que te duela la popola como a glou.”

｡･* +18. dom!miguel. messy throat fucking. cumshot. use of toys. spit k.

“buena niña, look at you drool all over my cock.” miguel´s groan was rough and deep, watching the spit drip from your mouth as you held him as far as you could take him down your throat; spit running over your chin and dripping down to his balls.

it was one of miguel´s favorite things to do: thrust deep into your throat, over and over again to make you gag around him, taking himself out to let you breath but having a firm grip in your hair, it was a proper scene to be filmed, for miguel to remember your face full of tears as you took him whole into your mouth.

“you look so pretty when you’re a mess for me. quién habría dicho que mi pequeño ángel era una zorra...” miguel groaned as he pulled himself off your drooly mouth, taking his thumb and opening your mouth, he leaned down, spitting on your open mouth before sliding his cock back in to mix it together, your spit and his now all over his hard cock. (who would´ve said my little angel was such a slut,)

you looked so pretty with your face flushed and eyes watery, chin slick with spit and the hungry glint in your eyes, miguel was aware that you loved this as much as he did.

“se siente bien, no es así?” he said, inside of your cunt, the tiny bullet toy sat snug, low vibrations that were controlled by miguel making you soak through your thin panties, feeling your desperate hum around his cock only added to his pleasure, head tilted back while his fingers ran through your hair. (it feels good, doesn´t it?)

knowing his baby was getting pleasured and genuinely got off on making him feel good? it was a good cycle to have, you both worked to make sure each other got what you needed.

“what do you think? quieres más? i want you to come while you suck me dry.” he murmured, holding your cheek in one hand and the remote to the toy in the other, your lips were wrapped around his tip as you gave him the most pathetic little whimper paired with a nod. (you want more?)

your moan at the rush of new vibrations were enough to make his cock fall out of your mouth, but it was quickly resolved when miguel grabbed your hair with one hand and threw the remote back on the side, keeping a tight grip on your head while he fed you his cock, your nose grazing the small hairs on his base while he made you take him whole.

“i didn´t say to pull off, mami.” he warned. "you gotta do better, baby.” with a new eagerness, he helped you bob your head up and down, watching you closely, seeing that you enjoyed it, your little noises of satisfaction made it even better.

miguel knew your reactions and your body better than you, and when he felt you get squirmy and your nails digging into his muscular legs, he knew you were about to cum. "i knew you were dirty, baby, but getting off with this? eres mi pequeña zorra.” he smirked, pulling you off his cock for a moment. (my little whore.)

“mhm, miggy, i can’t....” your eyes crossed slightly when he pressed the button on his remote to speed up the vibrations. “ungh- miguel.” your mouth fell open as you moaned his name.

“no puedes qué, niña linda? no puedo entender que necesitas, princesita.” he cooed, looking at his lover. you looked always so beautiful, but seeing you a complete mess, on your knees all because of him made a rush of blood go straight to his cock, getting him closer to his realease. (you can´t what, pretty girl? i can´t understand what you need, little princess.)

“please, please, i-i want to cum.” your voice got higher pitched, breathless as the vibrations rocked you, pulsing inside of your soaked cunt, it lacked the stretch his cock gave on your gummy walls, but you was happy with it in your mouth.

“oh my.... god, miggy, please....” the desperation in your voice was obvious and to him, it was delicious, miguel´s always been a weak man for begging.

“hazme venir como la buena niña que eres, and then you can.” (make me cum like the good girl you are.)

as soon as your mouth was back on him, your start sucking and licking, drooling all over his cock, and his vocals come out to play, moaning your name and groaning deeply.

“mi ángel bonito, you make me feel so good.... joder, right there. suck right there.” he hissed through the lewd actions, the slick sound of your sucking, the vibrations and your whimpers filled the room. “listen to how dirty you get me. soaking my cock with your spit, como lo haría una verdadera zorra. mierda.” (my cute angel/like a true whore would.)

knowing his weak spots, it isn’t hard to make him cum; right at the tip, rubbing your tongue up against that spot while your hands work on his length, stroking up and down while his curses continue, sometimes slipping your hand to his tightened balls.

“mierda, justo así. you dirty slut, just got to get that cock in your mouth and you show what a dirty little girl you are.” his hisses are heard through the messy strokes of your hands.

it was when you began to whimper around him that he felt the orgasm bubble over.

“oh yes. mhm, that’s it. keep moaning for my cock, voy a correrme en tu boquita.” and with one more press of the vibrator remote, the both of you became a mess, his cum in your mouth, your thighs shaking as you came around the toy and held onto him for stability. (i´m gonna cum in your little mouth.)

pulling off to moan at your orgasm, his cum started dripping from your mouth as you moaned his name.

“ah, my messy angel.” he chuckled, rubbing his cock through the mess of your lips and chin while stroking himself to get every last drop on your face.

you are the only one

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns, gn sex descriptions, wears a dress/long hair/jewelry/make-up)

rating: e+

word count: 8,791

one-sentence synopsis: you and adrian have to pretend to be in a relationship for a mission, but you're already in a secret relationship, and this would be a lot fucking easier if adrian didn't look this good in a suit.

author's note: this was just indulgent!! just very self-indulgent!! also i started rewatching peacemaker and i'm unhinged!! i want us to wear fancy clothes and go bonkers on each other!! and he's not even real!! that is all!! sorry i wasn't very active tonight i was determined to finish this and upload it!!!!! and again, for pre-emptive clarity: features reader with gender-neutral pronouns, and gender-neutral sex descriptions, but the reader is wearing a dress, long hair, jewelry, and make-up because that's what i'd want to be wearing and i'm nb and really this is so so soooo self-indulgent so!!

read on ao3!

It’s not often that you actually get to go out on a mission that could be considered fancy, but, tonight, that’s exactly what you’re doing.

The basic rundown of the mission isn’t all that difficult. It’s Emilia’s responsibility to get close to your target, a wealthy older Swiss fellow who apparently needs to be very covertly killed. She’s meant to get close enough to do the job— it was recommended they poison him but, knowing Emilia, she’ll probably end up luring him away to just shoot him in the face or something simpler— while Chris serves as her backup.

They work well enough, especially with Emilia with her hair done and makeup in place and a shockingly stunning gold dress on. She doesn’t like to dress up; you rarely ever see her in clothes that aren’t also tactical and/or practical. The effect, as a result, is a little overwhelming, because she is beautiful and she so rarely shows that off. Chris is meant to be playing the role of her bodyguard, but he keeps just— staring at her. Which, you figure, is fair enough, because she does look incredible, and it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for his character to be infatuated with hers, so nobody says anything.

It’s an open secret that they’re already essentially together, anyways. Not like with you and Adrian, whose relationship is still a secret secret, kept hidden under wraps. You worry often about what would happen if any of the higher-ups found out that you had started a relationship with somebody you weren’t even supposed to be working with in the first place.

They barely let Adrian join the team at all in the first place. You’re not about to go and fuck it all up for him just because you’re in stupid love with him.

Besides, he agrees with you that you should keep your relationship secret. Though, of course, he’s more worried about what he refers to as one of his “many, many, many evil nemeses” getting their hands on you.

“Babe, I’m a superhero,” he had said to you, like he was Superman or Captain America and not the masked instigator of half of Evergreen’s fights. To you, though, he’s a greater superhero than the rest combined, so you’d just nodded, unable to stop smiling. “There are so many people who would want to use you to get to me. Like, so many. I can’t let that happen.”

You both had your reasons, and, right now, those reasons were too important for the two of you to reveal your relationship. To you, it was enough that you were with each other at all. Eventually, you’ll have to do something— You’ve already told each other, “I love you,” eventually this is going to have to go somewhere.

Today, though, is luckily not that day.

However, a big part of you wishes it was, because you think you’re about to actually go insane otherwise.

Because John and Leota had opted to stay behind in your team’s new van and provide behind-the-scenes support, the tech and tactics John’s so good at and Leota wants to be better at, you and Adrian had been the ones assigned to monitor Emilia and Chris while you were all inside the lavish hotel ballroom together. The cover Emilia’s assigned to you is a married couple that’s visiting the city. You’ve been invited to this party— which isn’t really a party like parties you go to, but seems like more of a gala like you’d seen in movies— because a friend of a friend of “yours” is here. It’s all made up, but you’re used to going undercover. You can sell this.

It is the responsibility of you and Adrian to keep an eye on Emilia and Chris all night. Don’t let anyone get too close; keep track of any suspicious figures; make sure nobody gets hurt. Pretty basic. You could do a mission this easy in your sleep; you don’t even think you’re going to have to shoot anybody tonight. By the end of the night, you’re all supposed to go to the hotel rooms you’ve been assigned, sleep there, and regroup in the morning. When you’d asked why you all had to stay, Emilia said it was less suspicious than if someone checked later and saw you were the only guests who had neglected to stay afterwards.

So, really, it’s not that bad. You just have to have your friends’ backs, eat some nice food, and sleep in a fancy hotel room. Really, it’d be nice if all missions were like this.

The major problem here has nothing to do with the target, or the gala, or the mission itself. It has to do with your assignment, with Adrian’s assignment, with your roles together; it has to do with what you’ve been told to do, and what you’ve been dressed in—

—Which, you can’t be too mad about. Your clothes fit you perfectly, shimmering and ornate and just— fancy, much fancier than anything you’ve ever owned before, or even worn before. Even the fabric feels rich, so silkily textured beneath your fingertips. The material had practically slipped out of your fingers when you first lifted it out of the box Emilia had given to you. It was thin, nearly sheer; the material’s so dark blue that it nearly shimmers to black in some places, small drops of brightness beaded throughout. It drapes off your shoulders, hugs your frame tightly down your body. At your waist, the tight bodice of the dress flows into a looser skirt; a slit comes up the side of your right leg to stop shockingly high. The overall effect of the dress, when you put it on, is like stars in the night sky, or moonlight on water— light winking in and out of existence as you move, twisting in the mirror to examine it from all sides.

You’d protested the dress on instinct, telling her that you had no protection while wearing a dress like this, but she informed you that wearing a dress like this was your protection.

“You’re supposed to blend in,” she’d said, and then stepped in to adjust the front, checking the fit. “This is your armor. Now, turn around so I can button it and make sure it fits.”

It had fit you well enough, but Emilia had pinned it in a few places anyways, determined that it fit exactly right. It’s part of your costume, she told you; people as wealthy as you’re pretending to be would be wearing something bespoke, that fit them perfectly, so you have to, too.

The same had happened with Adrian, even if you hadn’t actually gotten to see his clothes yet. He’d been too embarrassed to show you then, even though you reminded him you’d see him in it eventually.

It’s not until you’re actually showing up at the coordinates Emilia gave you that you’ll get to see Adrian fully dressed.

You get there before he does, tragically, showing up in a parking lot you’ve all used as a pre-mission meeting spot before. It’s easy to find Chris, Emilia, Leota, and John already there. With your arrival, you’re all just waiting for Adrian.

When you get out of your car, already ready to go, John playfully whistles at you. You laugh, unable to stop yourself from actually blushing— partially because you’re not all that used to compliments on your appearance, and partially because you’re embarrassed, you never look like this in front of them. It feels strangely revealing, to be dressed so well in front of people who frequently see you at your worst; it’s like you feel like they’ll know it’s all fake, or something.

Chris and Emilia are dressed up, too, though, and they look incredible, and that doesn’t feel fake to you, so— maybe there is something real to their compliments of you. Emilia’s golden dress falls down her body like shimmering water, clinging tightly to each small dip and curve of her body. She has her hair straightened, sleek and shining and elegant; her makeup’s done even more beautifully and dramatic than normal, her eyes, just— stunning. She looks incredible. You’re not surprised seeing that Chris is having a hard time not looking at her. Even you’re having a hard time not looking at her.

For his part, Chris looks handsome, too. Emilia must have dressed him, because he actually looks muted, for once. She’s put him in all black, and he looks the perfect picture of an imposing bodyguard— even if he can’t stop looking at his supposed employer. You feel like you’re practically invisible next to them, even if you spent way longer than you would normally doing your hair and everything to make sure you looked as perfect as you could tonight.

For the mission. Obviously. Not for Adrian.

“You’re going to be taking this,” Emilia tells you, motioning you over to one of the two cars beside your team’s mission van. They’re impossibly nice, sleek and clean and new, a car you’ve never even seen before, let alone driven in. “Chase should probably drive.”

“What, don’t trust me?” you ask, examining the gleaming black exterior.

“No,” she says. “Because that’s not your role. He’s the head of the household, you’re—”

“The demure partner, I know,” you finish for her. “I read your whole bio you made up. You should be a playwright or something, it was pretty good.”

Emilia actually laughs, then says, “Glad you liked it,” and you can’t help smiling. It puts you at ease that she’s in a good mood. She’s relaxed, and you’re relaxing, and—

—And Adrian’s car is pulling up along the other side of the mission van. Your heart is instantly in your throat, the same way it usually ends up whenever you see him while there’s other people around. You always want so badly to go right to him, but you almost never can.

Tonight, the feeling is amplified, multiplied infinitely because of the way he looks. You have never seen him like this, never. Adrian’s usual wardrobe consists of one of only a few different options. He’s either in one of his favorite sweater-jeans combos; his Vigilante armor; shirts and shorts that are legally color atrocities; his work uniforms; or nothing at all, which seems to be his personal favorite when you’re alone at one of your places together.

You can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve seen him in actual formalwear. And this is more than just him wearing nice clothes because he’s trying to take you out to dinner somewhere he has to wear a tie. This is—

This is Adrian rounding his car in a suit. His clothes fit him so perfectly, and they’re so— so fucking nice, beautiful and dark. You can’t look away from him, from the broad spread of his shoulders in the well-fitting suit jacket, over his strong chest beneath the white dress shirt underneath, down his legs that feel impossibly fucking long in these pants, the way they’rethey’re fitted to his legs, tucked up around his body. His satiny-looking shirt is buttoned up to the top, a black bow tie in place at the center of his throat. He’s even combed his hair back, though the way his hair is curling can’t really be held back, already loosening in a couple places.

When you actually manage to focus on his face, he’s adjusting his glasses, a flush melting over his cheeks, spreading red up his ears. You linger over the dimples at the smiling corners of his mouth, the freckle by his eye, the tiny scars along his jaw. He’s cleaned the lenses of his glasses, you notice, and his eyes seem so bright through them.

His eyes don’t meet yours when you look at them, though. They’re below your eye level. They’re looking— right at you, burning over your body everywhere, moving from your throat down over your chest, your waist, your hips, your thighs, down and back up. You can’t stop yourself from blushing, too.

“Jesus, Adrian, put your eyes back in, you’re being a creep,” Chris says, and you snap back into yourself. You’re embarrassed, heart belatedly pounding. You hope nobody thinks too deeply about the way you were just fucking— eye-fucking each other in this parking lot.

“Sorry,” Adrian says. “I really— I wasn’t trying to be a creep, you just look stupid nice. Like, you should dress like that all the time, you look—” He huffs a little nervous laugh, says, “Ah, fuck, I’m being a little bit of a creep. I don’t mean to be. Uhh— This is— What if— Okay, so, this is me being normal and trying to be not creepy: you look really, really nice.”

You can’t help the smile that comes up at that. In the back of your mind, you wonder what Adrian would be saying if there weren’t people here and he could say anything he wanted. You wonder what he’d do, if he could do anything you wanted.

Your eyes flicker up to meet his again, and you make yourself be as normal as you can be, too, when you want to run and just— jump at him.

“You look really nice, too,” you tell him. “And you’re not being creepy, don’t worry. Not everyone has to be so distracted by Emilia that they can’t compliment anyone else.” You have to force yourself to smile at your own joke, to tear your eyes away from Adrian to look at Emilia instead. “Not that I blame him, obviously. You did a great job with all of us, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Emilia replies. “Literally ever.” She tosses the keys to the sleek car you’re standing beside to Adrian. “The location’s already keyed into your car’s GPS. Remember, watch us until eleven, make sure you see my signal, and then go up to your room like you’re sick and going to bed early. There should be pajamas and toiletries— like, toothbrushes and all that shit— provided for you by the hotel, and I’ll have clothes for you to change into in the morning.” She hands you a hotel key in the form of a card, says, “Sorry, you’ll have to share a room tonight to keep up the act, but it’s got a huge bed so just— build a pillow wall so he doesn’t hump you while you’re sleeping.”

“Got it,” you reply, smiling up at Adrian as he draws closer, trying to make it clear to him— without making it obvious to everyone else— that that’s not necessarily unwelcome.

His eyes catch yours, blown mostly black; his movements are stiffer than normal, and you can’t help reaching out to catch him by the shoulders. He stiffens impossibly further, back straightening, shoulders spread. You slip the hotel key card and your phone into the inside pocket of his jacket to hold for you before fixing his lapel for him. Your fingertips reach for his collar next, straightening it out for him. Just to keep touching him, you continue moving to pick at the sleeves of his jacket, loosening them up a bit, giving him a little more movement.

When you reach up to fix the very top edge of his collar, you can feel his pulse rabbiting in his throat, impossibly fast. His skin is warm under your touch, and you exhale with a hint of a shake to your breath. When you glance up at him through your eyelashes, he’s already looking at you. This close up, it’s hard not to drag your palms flat down his chest and yank his hips into yours and just— beg him to do— something, anything, but you make yourself just smile, even as the backs of your knees sweat.

“There you go,” you tell him, taking your hands off him. He exhales, but doesn’t step away, leaving it to you to do it.

You separate, making to head for the passenger side door, but Emilia says, “Wait, hold on,” and you turn back, brow furrowed. She’s fishing through the tiny bag she’s carrying before she holds something out. Adrian reaches out automatically, and she drops whatever it is into his palms. “There’s your wedding rings.”

“Congrats,” Leota laughs. Your pulse jumps, even though it’s fake, even though there’s no way Leota actually knows anything. “Should I have gotten you something?”

“Haha,” Adrian says, out loud. You glance up at him, bewildered. “Yeah, because— it’s fake, so— There’s no real— Anything. That’s super funny, actually.”

There’s a beat of silence before you try to salvage his brief mental lapse, saying quickly, “So, are you going to give me mine, or are we already divorced?”

Adrian’s eyes snap to yours. His fingers briefly curl around the matching rings in his palm before he steps closer to you again, reaching for your right hand. He pauses, reconsiders, then reaches for your left.

“That was my left,” he comments, humor and anxiety lacing his tone. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you reply. He takes your hand in his, slips the ring onto your left ring finger.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at it.

Then, you say, “Okay, let me,” and take his to do the same for him. You slide it on, then turn his hand over, running the pad of your thumb over the band. “This is really nice.”

“And here,” Emilia says, fishing through her bag. She motions to you, says, “Come here.”

You step closer, and she gives you another ring. This one is less of a band, and you realize it’s meant to be an engagement ring.

“Almost forgot,” Emilia says, and you want to just— lay down and breathe, for a second, but you have to make yourself be normal.

You slip it on, avoiding looking at Adrian again as you do so, while Emilia busies herself fixing a heavy jeweled necklace around your throat. You shift it where it sits, readjusting the weight against your chest; Emilia moves to your ears next, slipping earrings in that probably cost more than your own fucking car. You should definitely be getting paid more than you are.

“There,” Emilia finally says. She sweeps your hair up and back. “Alright, perfect. You actually do look really nice.”

“Thanks,” you reply, “though I could do without the surprise,” and she laughs again.

“We ready to go?” John asks, hauling open the back door of the van so Leota can climb in.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Emilia says. She pushes her keys into Chris’ hand, says, “You’re driving me,” before she turns to you and— you think— fucking— winks at you.

You’re not sure you saw it, before you have to move and get into the car. You’re pretty sure you didn’t, actually, but— it would be funny if you did.

You climb into the passenger’s side of the sleek vehicle, slipping down into the low seat, the material of it soft and warm beneath you. When you’re sitting inside, you tug the door shut and turn only to find Adrian already beside you.

“When we get there,” Adrian says, “You should let me get out and get the door for you. It’s— It’s probably what Jack would do.”

Your characters for the night are Jack and Morgan Curtis, a newly-married couple; you are just supposed to be a trophy partner, whereas Adrian’s character is meant to be some wealthy media investor. His bio also said he was very shy, and prefers to spend time alone with only his partner— which you assume is Emilia’s way of trying to avoid letting Adrian talk too much and allowing something to slip by accident.

“Okay,” you agree. Adrian draws his driver’s side door closed behind him, then exhales.

Looking down at the wheel, he says, “I’m not gonna crash this. Right?”

“Right,” you agree. He takes another breath before actually moving to start the car. When the engine snarls, pushing a light little vibration through the car, you can’t help leaning back a bit, getting comfortable in your seat.

Adrian glances over at you, then forcibly looks away, eyes snapping violently forward.

“P— Do you think they can hear me?” Adrian asks abruptly, voice dropping down.

You glance backwards, then towards him again, shaking your head.

“I want to fuck you so bad right now,” Adrian tells you in a rush, his head still down. He’s staring hard at the car’s little screen; you can see his pulse throbbing in his throat, his face pinking again. “Oh, my God, I’m so fucking hard right now, I’m going to go insane, I don’t know how the fuck I’m gonna do this without cumming in my pants.” You huff a tiny laugh, heat throbbing between your own legs. “No, I mean it, I’m serious, I’m so fucking— See, here, feel— No, wait, don’t—”

“Adrian, goddamnit,” you laugh, a little breathless. “We still have three hours until eleven o’clock. Fuck, we still have to get there.”

“Good fucking luck with that,” Adrian replies. “Can I even drive like this? Wait, hold on—” He reaches down, readjusts his dick in his suit pants. You look down, then back up quickly. He wasn’t lying; he’s very hard, and it’s impossibly obvious, when he’s grabbing it in his own hand. “Okay, f— fuck, there.”

You close your eyes for a moment, then look out the window, just trying to breathe. You hear Adrian take another deep breath himself before he’s buckling himself in and moving to start driving.

“Buckle up,” Adrian tells you. “It’s the law.”

You smile to yourself again as you do as he says. “Would you kill me if I didn’t?”

He considers your question for a moment before replying, “No. But that’s not an invitation to break the law, just because I have a soft spot for you, alright? Because people are gonna figure me out if that happens.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you reply, still smiling. He nods, eyes fixed ahead on the road.

The air in the car is— impossibly warm, and thick, and charged. At least, to you, it is— and you think it is to Adrian, too, because his muscles are all still stiff as he drives. He’s keeping all of his focus on the road, which, for Adrian, means his mind is definitely somewhere else, because he can’t really ever do just one thing at a time.

Eventually, you can’t take it anymore, and you tell him, “I think you look— insanely good tonight. And it makes me feel kind of crazy that nobody knows about us because part of me wants to just— kiss you so fucking hard—” You bite your words back, say, “I’m sorry, that’s not helping—”

“No,” Adrian replies, a little strangled. You don’t know if that’s a, ‘No, it’s not helping,’ or a, ‘No, please, keep going,’ so you risk leaning over the center console between you a bit. There are low blue lights in the car, casting his handsome face in sharp shadows, defined by the angles of his jaw, his cheekbones, his nose, his brow. He glances at you, eyelashes casting a shadow down his cheek.

You can’t really resist him, especially not now that you’re alone. You chance another shift, leaning up to gently press your lips to his lower cheek, close to the line of his jaw.

Adrian’s grip tightens on the steering wheel until his knuckles are white, and he says, “We have a mission, we have a mission, we have a mission,” over and over on a loop, like he’s trying to remind himself of that fact.

You pull away from him, making yourself let him go. You practically have to push yourself against the passenger’s side door in the car, near the comparatively-cold glass of the window, just to cool yourself down. When you turn back to Adrian, you see him glancing down at the GPS screen, then starting to make a turn. He flicks on his fucking directional, then executes a madman’s turn, winging around the corner.

You reach over, letting your fingertips rest just inside his elbow. The fabric is silky-soft beneath your touch, and you glide upwards until your fingers are gliding over his on the wheel.

Adrian takes that one hand off the wheel so he can turn it over in yours. After a beat, he glances down, then draws the back of your hand up to his mouth. He presses his lips to the fine bones in the back of it. After a beat, the kiss pushes a little firmer. The throb of heat between your legs is pretty much impossible to ignore.

Adrian separates you, then, letting your fingers thread with his as he draws your hand away from his mouth. Tangled up, your hands rest between the two of you. You stroke your thumb over the strong back of his hand.

“I wish I could give you road head,” you comment, and Adrian accidentally flicks on the turn signal again. Face pink, he turns it back off, eyes fixed ahead.

“We’re going to be there in two minutes,” Adrian tells you.

“I think I could still get it done,” you reply,

Adrian makes a strangled noise. “Please, I think I’ll die, and we’ll crash, and then you’ll die, but—” You let your fingers drift up the soft skin inside his wrist for a moment. “—But, you know, I’m actually a pretty good driver, and you’re pretty good at sucking dick, so maybe we c—”

“You have reached your destination,” the tiny, robotic voice of the GPS says, and Adrian bangs his fist on the wheel.

“Motherfucker,” he curses. “You fucking— cockblock GPS, you’re a bag of fucking dicks—”

A valet waves Adrian up, and he instantly changes his entire demeanor, beaming at the guy. He rolls his window down, says, “What’s up?”

The valet hesitates, like he’s not sure he wants to say something. He chances it, though, and says, “You have to— step out of the vehicle, sir.”

Adrian blinks up at him, then says, “Oh, d— Yeah, right. Yes, of course.” And then actually parks the thing to get out. He practically sprints around the car to get to your side before you can get your hand on the handle, jerking it open for you.

He holds out his hand to you, and you take it. You are, actually, grateful for his help standing; you wobble for a second, climbing out of the low car, but he steadies you, keeping his hand in yours, reaching to balance you by the shoulder. When he offers you his arm instinctively, you take it, looping your own through his.

“I wish I had more guns,” Adrian whispers to you as he helps you up the hotel stairs. The entire place seems old as shit, like it’s from a hundred years ago, all huge cream columns and beautiful statues and rich, lush carpeting. There are incredibly strange and intriguing paintings on the walls that you examine as Adrian scopes out the other guests. He’s doing what he always does, you know that: automatically looking for every way he could kill everyone in your immediate vicinity.

“I have a knife strapped to my thigh,” you tell him, voice low. He glances down at you in a snap, then looks up again, eyes scanning the lavish hotel lobby.

After a beat, he says, “Oh, shit. We’re supposed to be married.”

You’re about to ask what he means by that phrasing, exactly, but then he’s ducking down to press a kiss to your cheek. It doesn’t have any finesse, just a quick, smushing press, his glasses digging into your temple before he withdraws.

That’s when you get what he means. The two of you can be as close as you want tonight. Everything you usually suppress— every kiss you want to give him, every touch, everything— can come up and out tonight, spilling right out of you. You’re allowed to do any of it, all of it. The others will just see it as you being good at your job, if you do.

You turn to look up at him, reaching to touch the side of his face. He looks briefly startled, for a moment, before his eyebrows lift and he’s smiling. You guide him down into a soft kiss— your first like this— and your heart leaps up into your throat. You’re glad that it would be too obvious for you to have an earpiece; only Chris has one tonight. If Leota or John needs to tell you anything, Chris will have to pass you the message. That means you can’t hear them— and they can’t hear you.

You shift into him slightly. When you twist up, you can see the light of the chandelier above your heads reflecting over his face, in his bright eyes. You hadn’t even noticed it before; you’ve been too distracted by Adrian.

It says a lot, you think, that this is one of the nicest places you’ve ever been invited to go to, let alone been, and you’re too focused on Adrian to notice any of the finer details. Instead, you’re just captivated by him as you lean up into him, reaching up to thread your hand through his soft curls, feeling the light product he’s combed through it under your fingers.

“That’s true,” you reply, heart racing. You lean in closer, adding, “Husband,” and his cheeks flush pink. You drag your touch along his face, your thumb pressing into the freckle beside his eye.

All his breath punches out of his lungs, and he says, “Oh, my God, I think you found a new kink for me. I kind of want to be married to you so fucking hard— Oh, shit, should we get each other pregnant?”

“Adrian,” you whisper softly.

Adrian makes a soft whining noise, then hisses to you quickly, “No, my name is Jack, remember?”

You kiss the line of his jaw before releasing him. He doesn’t let you go far, reaching down to snag you around the waist. He’s a little too jerky to be subtle, but that’s okay, if he’s supposed to be shy and newly married. You think he’s giving off the honeymoon phase vibe pretty well.

“Well, Jack,” you reply. “You have three hours to keep it together before we can go up to our room. Do you think you can handle it?”

Adrian shakes his head automatically. “But I’ll try,” he tells you, impossibly earnest.

You huff another laugh, not sure of your own abilities, either. You push up into him one last time, drawing him into a proper kiss. He smiles, briefly, before you deepen the kiss, parting your lips so he gets the hint.

His hands reach up, threading into the intricate weave of your hair as he draws in closer to you, licking into your mouth for a moment. You feel the fleeting press of his hard cock against your thigh before he’s withdrawing again, chest heaving, practically yanked backwards.

Actually yanked backwards, you realize, as Chris and Emilia pass you by, and Chris subtly grabs Adrian by the back of the jacket and jerks him away from you.

“Keep it subtle, dude, you’re gonna freak ‘em out,” Chris hisses to him on the way past. You don’t think you’re supposed to hear that; judging by the way Adrian’s eyes dart to yours, you think you definitely weren’t supposed to. You wonder how long Chris has been trying to set the two of you up, not knowing you’re already together.

“Okay,” Adrian breathes. He shakes himself out as Chris and Emilia leave, passing you by to continue onward into the ballroom. Exhaling, tilting his head so his neck cracks to one side, then the other, Adrian attempts to refocus on the mission. He starts guiding you to follow after Chris and Emilia into the ballroom, saying, “Alright. Let’s do this. We can do this, I can do this. I’m a professional. I am not going to cum in my pants—” as you laugh at him, hoping desperately he’s right— about the both of you, honestly.

— — — — —

There’s only about half an hour left to go, and you very deeply, sincerely, genuinely don’t think you and Adrian are going to make it.

The entire night, the two of you have only been getting— closer, and closer, and closer to the edge. It’s by the grace of some fucking god you don’t even believe in that the two of you make it through the dinner part of the evening without anything illegal happening in public. His hand does push your skirt up to trace along the bare inside of your thigh more than a few times, but you keep enough strength of will to keep pushing him away.

You’re weakening more every moment, though. As the night wears on, the two of you really start losing your handle on yourselves. You can’t keep your hands off each other. The fact that you’re not only allowed to be doing this with each other, but encouraged to, is making the both of you a little bit unhinged.

You’d had drinks next before music had started and you’d been encouraged to dance. The night was coming to a close, and Emilia was drawing nearer to your target. You and Adrian are both half-keeping an eye on her and Chris, half-focused on each other.

Adrian had held his hand out to you, and said, keeping his voice low, “I don’t really know how to dance, but I’m willing to try,” and you just couldn’t resist that.

You’d taken his hand, and Adrian had drawn you close, and then it didn’t matter if he didn’t know how to dance. Just being close was enough, and the music had gotten slow, and you just— how the fuck could you say no to something like this? You’re usually not allowed to touch him in front of your friends, and now you’re basically being told to dry-hump him in a ballroom, for your job. It feels like a dream come fucking true.

Adrian lifts his eyes, watching Emilia as she finally gets close enough to the mission target to strike up a conversation with him. Adrian spins you, just slightly, so you can both watch subtly, sideways.

You both see as Emilia drops something in his drink without anybody looking, Chris’ bulk covering the only camera with eyes on her from the angle they scouted previously. You’re experts, you’re good at this.

Emilia turns to you then and inclines her head, then signals to you with a glancing motion along her hip. You nod your head in return, returning your attention upwards to Adrian.

“All set,” you inform him, voice low.

“Mission accomplished,” Adrian says, throat tight.

“Well,” you reply. “First mission accomplished.”

Adrian’s eyes are dark, his face flushing as you slip a little closer to him. One of his hands drifts down, slipping just beneath the slit cutting up your dress, gliding up your thigh to find your hip beneath the material.

The juxtaposition of the Adrian you usually know and this Adrian is just— incredible. You love everything about him, and seeing him dressed up like this is so— so— so. He’s such a fun guy, and goofy, and he’s an excellent murderer, but so rarely do you see him dressed up. It’s impossible how handsome he is; you feel a little wild, knowing that anyone else can see him right now. You want him all to yourself.

With the way he’s looking at you, so hungry as to seem fucking starving, you think he might just be feeling the same way about you. The edge of that thought has your skin prickling in the darkness of the ballroom, beat pounding through you. Your skin is prickling with heat.

“Sorry I’m not so good at dancing,” Adrian says. “I’m good at, like, other kinds of dancing, though. If you ever wanted to go out. I could definitely take you. Or I could learn— Aah,” he bites off near your ear when you slip your arms up behind his head., winding to tangle your wrists at the nape of his neck. “Oh, fuck—”

“I think you’re pretty good at it,” you murmur upwards to him. You take his hips in your hands, helping him move along to the rhythm with you.

You can feel Adrian’s heart galloping where he’s pressed against you. Yours is paced to match, thundering in your chest, up into your throat. Every shift of his body against yours with the music has your blood pulsing madly through your body, surging down to your core, beating between your legs. You can barely breathe when he drops his head down, cheek dragging along yours. You don’t care if it does anything to your makeup; it’s about to very severely not matter anyways.

“Oh, shit, I’m going to lose it,” Adrian murmurs near your ear. “Please, please, please, are we done? I promise we can go dancing some other time, but, fuck, I’ve spent, like, three hours just getting harder and harder and I think I’m going to fucking die—”

“Okay, yeah,” you breathe. “We can be done, I can— I can— What am I doing?”

“Playing sick,” Adrian says, dropping into your throat. “Pretend you’re about to shit yourself or something so we can get out of here.”

You huff a laugh, then draw away from him. You drag your hands down, over your own stomach, then lean into him. If anyone were watching, they’d see you weakening, leaning into him. They probably don’t know why your face is flushed all red and your knees are nonexistent, so you use it to your advantage.

“Oh, no,” Adrian says loudly, in the affected little voice he’s adopted for this character. “You don’t look good, darling,” and the endearment rolls off his tongue so well that a bolt of lightning crackles down your spine. “I think you should lay down, you look awful.”

He drops down and scoops you up into his arms. Apparently, it doesn’t matter to him that people don’t just— do that, scoop their spouses up off of the floor in ballrooms when they’re wearing fucking gowns, and there’s something about that that’s even more endearing than you thought possible. And— fucking hotter than you ever thought possible.

“Let me take you to our room,” Adrian begs you. It’s not so much an instruction as it is a plea. Hopefully, nobody’s actually paying enough attention to notice the exact cadence of his tone. “Make you all— all better.”

You have to fight back a laugh. Instead, you turn your face into his chest. If he’s going to carry you, you’re going to play up needing to be carried, weak in his arms. You know you’re not supposed to want to feel weak— and you’re not, and you don’t, but— but there’s something really comforting about letting him take care of you, and something erotic about how badly he wants to do it, and you’re just— overwhelmed by how much you love him.

You’re also overwhelmed by how badly you want him to fuck you, but you’re so close now, you just have to— focus on getting there.

Adrian carries you to the elevators, pressing the up button with his elbow. He’s watching the numbers ticking above the doors, for a moment, before he glances down at you. When his eyes meet yours, you can see intent blazing there, hard, dark determination.

He exhales shakily, and looks up again. Staring straight ahead, he says, “I want to totally just— obliterate you. You make me feel crazy. Like I was born to climb inside you.”

You clutch at his suit jacket with your fingers. He gathers the skirt of your dress up so he doesn’t trip on it as he carries you into the elevator, your hands slipping the top buttons of his shirt free. You glide your palm along his heated skin beneath, seeking his chest, and he exhales in a punch.

“Please, we’re so close,” Adrian says. “Don’t make me cum in my pants here, I really think I’m gonna make it—”

As the elevator doors are dinging shut, you draw Adrian into a searing kiss. Away from eyes that are supposed to think you’re sick, you let Adrian dive into your mouth. He licks behind your teeth, pushing over to the wall of the elevator so he can use the railing there to balance your body. He kisses you so hard his teeth drag along the seam of your lips when he draws back; he makes a sharp little sound, strong muscles moving in his broad arms beneath you as he tries to keep his grip while losing his control.

The elevator dings again, the doors starting to open. Adrian nearly staggers before he remembers what he’s supposed to be doing, and then he’s hauling you down the hallway.

“Get the key card,” he tells you, and you reach inside his jacket to pull it out, as told. “What’s the—”

“1018,” you read the room number off the card. He’s reading the signs on the wall, then taking off. After a beat, he turns, realizing he’s supposed to be going in the opposite direction. He’s moving faster than you think you’ve ever seen him move, and you reach up, dragging his head down a bit so you can suck a kiss into the column of his throat.

Adrian groans, guttural and primal, as he finds the door and nearly slams into it. You reach to push the card into the slot in the door, and then Adrian’s kicking it in, the two of you fumbling with and at each other desperately, spilling through the doorway into the room.

You barely have time to notice anything about the room. Later, you’ll get to spend the rest of the night alternatively fucking each other in the suite’s enormous bathtub, and in the shower, and over the balcony edge, and on the long sofa in the little sitting area, but right now, Adrian doesn’t even stop to look at any of that. He heads right for the huge bed in the center of the suite’s bedroom, not hesitating, single-minded in his quest.

You have to agree with his methods, because you’re pretty much out of your mind yourself, by now. The bed is enormous, taking up most of the space in the bedroom, lavish, heavy curtains hung around the entire thing. He kicks open the curtain at the foot of the bed in dragging jerks before he’s throwing you down on the mattress.

The covers are so impossibly soft beneath you, just like the sheer, silken material of your dress, and the satiny glide of Adrian’s suit over your bare, hot skin. He shoves you up until your head is on plush pillows, dragging himself down between your legs.

“Fuck,” he groans, already pushing your dress up. He gathers the sheer material in his strong hands, trying his best not to rip it as he noses along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He finds the knife holster you told him about; smiling, he murmurs, “Gotcha, you little fucker,” before biting the clasp apart with his teeth.

The holster comes off, and he lifts it in his hand. Sitting up, he evaluates you, then removes the knife from the sheath.

He drops down over you, bringing the knife up to the hollow beneath your throat so he can drag the blade down. You keep it as sharp as you can, and so it easily parts the material of your dress, splitting it apart, exposing you like he’s unwrapping you, all your skin on display underneath. Your heart throbs beneath the glint of your blade in his hands. You’d opted to wear nothing underneath to avoid lines in your form-fitting clothes, and Adrian moans when he realizes, dropping down to bury his face in your belly.

“Holy fuck, oh, fuck,” Adrian curses into your skin. He drags down between your legs, his hand coming up to push your thigh slightly further apart. His eyes coast over your center, starving. “Please, can I—”

“Yeah,” you breathe, and he drops down over you, hungry, desperate to get his mouth on you. His tongue is— fucking insane, because all that talking he does is not for nothing. He knows how to use his mouth, his lips, his teeth, his tongue. He’s devouring you like he’s dying without you, like this is the only thing he actually wanted in his mouth tonight.

Adrian’s hand glides up over the fabric of your dress, dragging up roughly to your chest so he can thumb your nipple. You cry out, back arching; tilting your head down so you can see Adrian, you almost sob.

He’s still fully dressed in that fancy fucking suit, but he’s humping the mattress beneath him like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. The unconscious movement just keeps— happening, his hips moving as his mouth works on you, lower lip dragging, and then his hand is dragging in closer, and you reach down to thread your hand through his thick hair. You can’t stop watching his dark head moving between your legs, and you can’t help it— You need to kiss him, now.

Watching him enjoy putting his mouth on you like this so much that he can’t fucking control himself, grinding down for friction because of how he feels giving you pleasure, you think you’re about to fucking pass out. You tug on his hair, and he lifts his eyes to you. Seeing the green shine of them meet you sends a jolt through you, and you say, “Pl— Adrian, please,” practically begging.

Adrian seems to get what you’re saying without you even saying it. He draws away from you so he can climb up between your legs, dropping down to brace himself on the bed beside you. He threads his fingers up through your hair, guiding you into a hard kiss; you can taste yourself in his mouth.

He makes a soft noise, then a harder one, reaching to push your dress further away so he can touch you anywhere, everywhere. His touch is practically tearing you apart; he is rending your dress in strips, destroyed where it lays in a pile along the edges of the bed. You hope Emilia won’t care, but you can’t bring yourself to care, right now. All you want is him.

Adrian guides himself to where he’s just had his mouth on you, where he’s just eaten you apart, sloppy and loose and wet. He almost seems to forget that he’s fully dressed himself.

“Fuck,” he curses, pushing back up onto his knees. He tears his jacket backwards off his arms, throwing it blindly backwards. His dress shirt joins it, bow tie practically ripped apart, buttons being torn off to fly and land in all random places across the hotel room. He practically breaks his pants opening them, but then, then he’s drawing his cock into his hand, melting with the relief of it. He groans, spine relaxing, wrapping his hand around it. “Oh, fuck, I’ve wanted this so fucking bad, oh, shit— I’m not gonna last—”

“I don’t need you to, just— Get in me,” you beg him, feeling so impossibly empty.

He doesn’t waste any more time. The mission was a success, and nothing else matters but the two of you, and you’ve been on the edge all night, and he’s finally, finally bringing his cock to your entrance and pushing in.

You swear, you fall apart around him. All your muscles start falling apart, and Adrian gathers you up in his arms, drawing you nearer. He fucks into you in a smooth slide.

Your name falls out of his mouth, and he falls over you, hand slamming down onto the soft sheets beside your head. His eyes find yours, and then he’s kissing you, finding a slamming rhythm with his thrusts into you. You grind up into him, grasping for him, grappling to get more friction. Mumbling his name into his mouth, you thread your fingers up through his hair, breath coming fast, faster. Heat and lust is gathering in your spine, pooling like lava, spreading like fire, and it’s all-consuming. It’s been building for so long that just feeling it is overwhelming.

When you look up at him above you again— at the strong lines of his face, at the dark sweep of his eyelashes above his light, bright eyes, at the shine of his this glasses still on his face so he can see you when he looks up at you, at the pink flush spreading across his handsome, sharp cheeks, over the freckle beside his eye, until you chase it up into his dark, sweat-slick hair— you’re falling apart. This is Adrian, the person you love more than anyone, and you just can’t fucking deal. He’s all you can think about, all you can feel, right now.

His hand comes up, dragging up your side, and you can feel the press of his wedding ring where it pulls along your skin. You’d forgotten about them, and it doesn’t matter if they’re fake; seeing it on your hand, feeling it on his, has you almost about to cum, just so close to the edge—

“Fuck, I love you,” Adrian says, like he knows. He drags you in for another kiss, says, “Oh, my God, you’re like— the hottest person ever, oh, God, I want to— I want to lock us in a room together until we die there, I just— I want— I want you forever, holy shit—”

The nonsense ramblings of his brain spill out of his mouth as he gets closer and closer to losing it. He’s falling apart, unable to keep his rhythm as his kisses along your throat grow sloppy, his grinds into your slick heat dragging and pulsing. He takes all of you, slams into you as fast as he can. He even pulls your leg up, hitches it so he can fuck deeper into you, and you drag him into another kiss.

It’s then that you tell him, “You have me forever,” and he cries out, kissing you with a loose jaw, unable to coordinate himself. He’s making out with you like he can’t breathe without you, his cock impossibly hard and thick inside you, taking you to pieces. “I’m yours, c’mon, Adrian, fuck—”

He yanks you back in for a half-biting kiss, your name falling off his lips in half-syllables down your throat as he cums inside you. He breaks off into gasping for breath, just trying to keep his mouth on you as he fucks you through his orgasm, unable to stop moving. It’s enough to drag your orgasm out of you, too; an explosion that sparks inside you, rocketing to blow a haze through your limbs and your mind until all there is is him.

As you come back into yourself, all you want is him, so you open your eyes to find him. He’s still keeping himself half-upright above you—

You realize it’s so he can look at you, his bright eyes fixed on you. He’s smiling, and you can’t help smiling back, automatic when you see him so happy.

“What is it?” you ask him.

“I kinda love you,” he tells you. It’s something you’ve said quite a few times to each other, now, but it still makes your stomach twist, your aftershocks rattling pleasantly through you. “I kinda wanna really marry you or something. Maybe we should— Maybe we should think about doing, like— relationship paperwork or something. Right? Like, something dumb like that, maybe? That says I’m yours and you’re— You’re mine, maybe—”

“Is that what you want?” you reply lazily, catching him. His red face goes even redder, caught, and you drag him in for a smiling kiss. He shifts slightly inside you; you both make soft sounds in response, broken off into each other. When you gather yourself, you ask, “You want me to say I’m yours? That I’m only yours, that—”

“Please,” he begs you, “give me, like— five minutes, babe, okay? I’ll get so hard, but right now— Oh, fuck, you have to stop looking so hot, you’re gonna make my dick explode—”

“Jesus fuck,” you laugh, and tug him into another kiss. He whines, dragging his hands along your sides, gripping you as tight as he can.

“Okay, two minutes, then,” he amends. Your next laugh disappears down his throat, and he’s already dragging you off the bed, intent on the bathtub he knows he saw on the way in here.

-

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I Was Made For Lovin' You

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

song inspo: I was made for lovin' you by kiss

main masterlist // nsfw masterlist

word count: 3.4k

summary: Eddie believes you're a "quiet miss goody-two-shoes". You're going to prove him wrong.

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI!, both eddie and reader are 18+, fingering (feat. ring kink), oral (m), sub/dom dynamics, PIV, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), cowgirl to missionary, dirty talk, praise kink, biting kink/leaving hickeys, creampie, language, mutual pining, fluff, eddie being sweet, tattoo tracing, way too many fucking italics and semi colons, it ends real sweet tho

A/N: This is a part two to I wanna be with you but I wrote it so it could be read as a standalone. Also, I’ve never written a smut oneshot, so this was definitely a challenge, but I tried my best. :)

It's silent between the two of you on the drive back to Eddie's place. He has the radio tuned to the local rock station, and you can hear Metallica's Master of Puppets playing through the speakers. You were bopping your head, drumming your fingers, and silently singing along to the song. Eddie could hear you and would turn to look at you during stop lights. He couldn't fucking believe that you, quiet miss goody two shoes, were in his van and heading back to his place. He thought he was losing his mind but in the best way possible.  

It wasn't much longer 'til he pulled up to his trailer. As soon as he parked, he turned the car off and got the keys out of the ignition. Then, hopping out of his van, he makes his way to the passenger side, opening the door for you and helping you step out. Eddie led the way to his door, unlocking it and stepping off to the side to allow you to get in first before closing the door behind you.   

He kicks off his Reeboks and leaves them by the door as he explains, "Sorry for the mess, uh, the maid took the week off."  

You mimic his actions while asking, "You live here alone?"   

He shakes his head and clarifies, "With my uncle. But, uh, he works nights at the plant. Bringing home the big bucks." 

Smirking up at him as you took in his words and realized, "Well, at least now I know there won't be any interruptions."  

You've been messing with Eddie's head since your first propositioned this whole thing to change his mind. He really did think you were a saint, though. He thought about you a lot his (second) senior year. He had the habit of watching you, just across the cafeteria or passing by in the hall or your shared English classroom. He tried his best to be subtle, and he was sure you never noticed him because every time he looked in your direction, you were looking anywhere but him. But from what he saw, you were introverted, sweet, smart. Everything about you pointed to being a quiet miss goody two shoes that guys wanted to bring home to meet their parents. And now, here you were, at ‘the freak’s’ trailer, looking entirely out of place.   

"Hey, you know, you don't have to do this. I'll understand if you were just messing around." A selfish part of him wishes you aren't. That you actually do want to be here with him. He started drumming his fingers against his thigh, a little nervous or bored habit he picked up. In this case, it was for the former reason.   

Your eyes went to look at his ring-clad fingers before bringing your gaze up to meet his. You didn't say anything yet, just quietly made your way over to him until you were standing toe to toe. You noticed his breath hitch at your proximity, and there was the start of a light pink blush dusting his cheeks. Your gaze flickered down to his lips before looking back up at him.  

"Can I kiss you?" as soon as the words left your mouth, his nod and whisper of a yes were all you needed before bringing your lips to his. Eddie leaned closer to you, gingerly placing his hands on your hips. You brought your hands up to his hair. God, how you had dreamed of running your fingers through his hair. It was just as soft as you imagined. Tugging on his hair, Eddie groaned in response and deepened the kiss. His tongue making its way past your now open lips; you always thought that he'd be a great kisser, but you never could've known it'd be this magical.   

You pull away a little bit, your hands making their way down, trying to take off that Dio jacket he wore all the time. He took his hands off your hips, and an involuntary whine came out that was soon replaced by a sigh as he fully took off his jacket, and you saw his forearms, his bat tattoos on display. You always wanted to get a closer look at his tattoos, wanted to see just how much ink covered his body and where.   

Before you knew it, he was back on you, kissing you with such fervor that you almost believed this must be his last day on Earth. Your hands slipped under his Hellfire shirt, feeling the warmth radiate off his skin. He was quick at work unbuttoning your blouse and untucking it from your skirt. As he slipped the shirt off your body, he pulled away and let out a groan at the sight of your breasts still contained in your bra.   

"Take it off," he begged, "please."  

You could never deny him when he pleaded with you, so you reached behind to unhook your bra as you watched him pull off his shirt. A moment of silent appreciation passed as you both took in the appearance of each other. You wished he had granted you more time to appreciate the tattoos that graced his chest, but Eddie had other plans.   

He leaned down towards you, hands on the back of your thighs and lips brushing against your ear as he whispered one word: jump.  

With your help, he wasted no time picking you up and leading you the short distance down the hall to his bedroom. He laid you down on your back, trailing kisses down your neck towards your chest. You could feel the sting of his teeth scraping and biting against the sensitive skin of your breast. He was marking you. The dizzying realization sent shivers down your spine and sighs parting from your lips.

The feeling clashes with a new one, the one of his hand trailing up your thigh. Rubbing circles on the soft flesh just below your aching cunt. His fingers start to make their way farther up until you can feel them brush against your swollen clit over your panties.   

"Can I?" He pleaded as he toyed with the seam.   

You nod, choking out the words, "Yes, please."  

Eddie hooks his fingers under the band as he slides your underwear down your legs before dropping it onto the floor nearby. You squirm under his set gaze on your bare pussy, feeling insecure under the full attention he's giving you. Unconsciously, your legs try to close, to shield yourself. Eddie places a hand on your knee, not using any force to open you up again.  

"You okay, sweetheart?" You can see the concern in his deep brown eyes. Those same eyes that just moments ago you felt insecure under. Why? There was such adoration in them that you couldn't imagine feeling anything but secure and safe around him. Without thinking much of it, you let your legs spread open in front of him. A breathy thank you left his lips as he started up his marking again.  

You gasped as you felt Eddie running a finger up and down your slit, teasing you. "Please, Eddie, I need you." You were desperate, whining at this point, waiting for him to give you any sort of relief. Finally, he surrendered to your begging as he slipped a finger inside your weeping cunt.   

"Jesus, darling, you're so wet— all this for me, huh?" All you could do was nod as your mind focused on the coolness of his ring against your skin as he pumped his finger in and out of you at a rhythmic pace. He soon started to stretch you out further, adding a second finger. You clasped your hand over your mouth, trying to stop some of your moans from spilling out. Eddie noticed, shaking his head at you and placing his free hand over yours.  

"C'mon baby, no one's here, just you and me." He started to guide your hand away from your mouth as he went on, "We can be as loud as we want." As those words fell from his mouth, he curled his fingers up, hitting that spot that drew you so close to your release. Once his thumb started rubbing circles on your clit, you were a goner. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders where you were gripping tightly, pulsating clenches on his fingers as your orgasm washed over you and crying out for him.   

You feel Eddie let his fingers slip out; they're glistening in the dim light, covered with your juices. You look up to see him holding your gaze as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean. Your whimper is soon swallowed by his mouth on yours, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. You use this as an opportunity to switch positions, having him lay down under you. Eddie starts to move his hands down to land on your hips once again, but you're off him before he can.   

He sits up at the edge of the bed now, cocking his head to the side in confusion. You lean down towards him, placing a short kiss on his lips before heading further south. You're trailing kisses down his neck, across the expanse of his chest, paying particular attention to the tattoos that litter his skin. As your lips leave kisses further south, you get down on your knees. You hear Eddie gasp above you as you place one last kiss over the bulge straining against his jeans.   

 Your fingers work deftly on his button and zipper, nudging him to lift his hips to help you get his pants off. He takes the opportunity to pull his boxers down along with his jeans. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock, aching and dripping with precum. The moment you wrap your hand around him, his head is tossed back, whimpers and moans tumbling out of his mouth. You wanted to taste him, to feel the weight of him against your tongue. Wrapping your lips around his tip and sucking, you nearly purred at the words of praise from him.  

"Please don't stop." He begged, "You feel so good—" Looking down at you, gazing up at him through your lashes, he can't stand it. Eddie feels like he's going insane. He can't fucking believe that here you are, on your knees, sucking his dick like you've done it a hundred times before.   

"Shit— you're really good at this." But he doesn't want to think it's because of practice. He'd burst at the seams with jealously at the idea of another man ever having been in this position before with you. So, he won't; instead, he's focused on the fact that he can feel a pleasant vibrating sensation whenever you moan with him in your mouth. All the more incentive to get you to make those pretty noises.  

"Oooh yes— just like that, keep going, darling." He's gripping the side of his bed so tight that his knuckles are turning ghostly white. He began gently thrusting into your throat just a few times before you pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the head of his cock. Eddie started to whine, saying he was so close.   

His protests soon died down at your request, "Scoot back and lie down." He followed your instruction without hesitation as you started taking off your skirt and made your way back to him. You're straddling him, a hand placed on his chest to steady yourself while the other reaches down to guide his cock right at your entrance.   

"Say you want me, and I'm yours." Eddie looked up at you with those pretty, big, brown eyes, already pleading with you with his gaze. He placed his hands on your hips, not forcing you down but preparing for your actions as he said what you were waiting for.  

"I need you, please— I'm begging you, darling." That was all you needed to hear before sinking down on him, slowly, inch by inch. You can't believe how full you feel; you've never felt like this with anyone before.   

"Good girl, fuck, you take me so well, like you were fucking made for me." And you believe it. You really believe that you must be made for each other because there's nothing else that can explain just how right it feels to finally have him inside you. Right now, you just want to take your time with him, slowly working your way up and down on him, focus on how he pulses inside you, on his praises.  

"Shit, that's my girl." My girl. You can feel yourself flutter and tighten around him just at the thought of being his girl.   

"Mhm— your girl, Eddie." At these words, he sits up, arms wrapped around your waist and flipping you both, your back now pressed against the mattress. He stills for a moment, cupping your face to look into your eyes. Then, running his thumb along your bottom lip before closing the gap between you two. You moan into his kiss, feeling him thrust, slow but firm.   

He pulls away from your kiss, placing his hands under your thighs to push them up towards your chest. You cry out as you feel this new depth, fuck, you didn't know he could get even deeper.   

"Love the sounds you make when I'm 'side you, sweetheart." You could say that same, that you arch and clench for him whenever you hear him. But you can't say anything, not when he's getting rougher, faster— pounding into you with a new force and determination. You can feel that familiar feeling building, that knot getting tighter at the base of your stomach.   

Eddie can sense it too, "That's it baby, I know, I know, c'mon, let go for me." He's all but begging you; he needs it, needs to feel you come on him. There's no way you can deny him or yourself that. That knot finally snaps, your eyes rolling back as you scream out over how intensely your orgasm is wracking through your body.   

"Jesus— You're so pretty when you come all over my cock." And he's still going, still pumping into your sensitive cunt with the same force. Your senses are so overwhelmed; it's like you can feel every single one of your nerve endings.   

"Fuck I'm close, christ, where do you want me?" You're so cock drunk you can't say anything; nothing at all. All you can do is wrap your legs tighter around him, trying your best to send the message that you need him to stay inside you; that's where you want him.   

"Shit shit shit— gonna fill you up, that's what you want, right? Wanna feel full of my cum?" You're nodding desperately as you start to babble nonsense that you want him, need him, everything he wants to give you, you'll take. And with one final deep stroke, your wishes are granted. Eddie holds himself over you as he empties himself inside you, milking him for all he's worth, you feel every drop of him, and you're addicted. Addicted? Can you be addicted after only one time?   

With Eddie Munson? Absolutely.  

You're brought out of your trance as you feel him maneuver to lay down beside you. You turn to look at each other and are met with a dazed, lovestruck smile on his face. You can only assume you look the same way to him.   

"Told ya." Those are the only words you can think of in this hazy moment.  

Eddie's smile falters a bit, and his brow furrows, "What?"  

"Told ya I wasn't a saint." You assume the grin on your face has taken on a cocky demeanor at your statement.  

He laughs, almost in disbelief, "Please tell me you didn't sleep with me just to prove a point."  

You're taken aback, a faux offended gasp leaving your lips, "Of course not! I've wanted this for a while; proving myself right was just a bonus." And it was a great bonus. You loved being right, especially when it proved others wrong.   

Eddie didn't mind much, simply focusing on one part of your response, "A while, huh?" His raised brow had such a smug air to it that you couldn't help but lightly smack him on his chest.  

"Oh, hush!" You left your hand on his chest, placed right over one of his tattoos. So, to avoid being teased further, you moved your attention to the ink on his skin. You began lightly tracing it but soon noticed Eddie squirming under your touch.   

"Are you ticklish?" Your eyes widened at the possibility, already planning on how you could use this to your advantage in the future.  

He nodded, adding, "Just a bit, but I'll hold it off just for you." Sending you a sweet, dimpled smile, like he was doing you the biggest favor in the world.   

You shook your head and laughed, "You're such a dork." Eddie shrugged and just accepted the title. At least it was better than 'freak.'   

After some more mindless tracing, you notice the handcuffs hanging on his wall; nodding towards them, you ask, "Maybe we can use those next time." It was a test of sorts, trying to get a feel for how he'd react to the possibility of this becoming a recurrent thing.  

"Next time? There's gonna be a next time?" His smile soon morphed into a smirk.  

"Well, only if you want to." The ball was now back in his court; up to him to make up his mind about the two of you.   

"Fuck yeah, I do! I've waited so long for this; I'm not gonna let you go now. I can't get enough of you." Of course, that's not entirely the answer you expected, but you gladly took it.  

"Waited so long? Jesus, Eddie, did we like each other this whole time? Are you trying to tell me I had a chance with you a year ago?" There's no way. You spent the entirety of your senior year pining over him. If there was even a chance that something could've happened, you feel like you'd create a time machine just to go back and smack some sense into past you to get the nerve to make a fucking move on him.   

Eddie's eyes widen in shock, "A chance with me? I didn't even know you knew I existed 'til a few hours ago!" Now he couldn't believe it. That entire past year, he was sure that you had no clue who he was. And now? Now he's finding out that you liked him for a year? If he had just talked to you at least once, you two could've already been together.  

You groan out, exasperated, "We're idiots!" He snorts at this because you're right. You two were idiots in love.   

"Well, at least I'm your idiot." His gaze steady on your face, testing his luck with you, "Hopefully."  

You're beaming at him, basking in the meaning of his words, "Wouldn't have it any other way."  

You take this newfound confirmation and comfort to cuddle into him more, sighing against him, "I like being close to you. You're warm." And he was. So warm and soft and comfortable, everything about him felt like home.   

He smiled down at you, "You too, darling, could have you in my arms all night."   

He started to pull you in closer, but you glanced up at him and asked, "You want me to stay all night?"  

He looks at you, baffled, "Did you think I'd kick you out or something?"  

You feel yourself heat up a bit in embarrassment, "Well, no... but I don't know how you're gonna explain this to your uncle when he gets home."  

His smile made his whole face glow as he said, "Easy, my girlfriend spent the night; he'll understand."  

You couldn't fight the smile that mimicked his own at the fact that he now called you his girlfriend. With the knowledge that you could stay here with him, you started to relax more into him, closing your eyes and awaiting the peaceful bliss of sleep in his arms. You were just starting to drift off when:  

"Shit! — I should probably do some aftercare, right?"  

You can't help but laugh. 

  ~~~

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eddie playlist

IVE BEEN DRIVEN TO INSANITY FR

On mating seasons there was nowhere you could hide from Miguel. Be it on another dimension, up in the roof, some hidden spot in the city, he didn't care. He'd always bring you back to his private quarters and wouldn't let you go until your womb was full of him.

Hands held by his webs above your head, body slick in sweat as he ripped another crushing orgasm out of you. Legs shook in a poor attempt to prevent him start another. The count was lost after the fifth one.

"T-Too much" you whined in between coarse breaths. His hands melded you like putty, this time he brought your knees up to your shoulders as he propped above you in a mating press position

"Cute you think I care, preciosa." as he spoke, you felt the so ever good stretch of his cock deep in your already punished and full pussy.

"Uno más y ya está.*"

To your luck, that's what he had been saying to you for the last couple of hours.

----

Uno más y ya está*- One more and that's it.