HIII I love your work!! can you make bimbo!fem! reader x mature!michael headcannons? I LOVE the idea of michael spoiling the shit out of his girl
hii pooks, thank u sm :DD
i can try 😭😭
this is my first time ever doing headcanons so pls bear w/ me and i apologize in advance
mature!michael x bimbo!fem! reader
◞♡ mature!michael who loves it when you wear your short little skirts, prancing around him when the two of you go out. naturally, he’s very possessive, so his hand is always resting on your hip or the small of your back. every now and then, he’ll gently tug the hem of your skirt to keep you from flashing everyone. he loves having any excuse to keep his hands on you.
◞♡ mature!michael who refuses to have you sit anywhere but his lap. he’ll happily let you talk his ear off for hours just because he loves hearing you talk about anything. he’ll sit there while you tell him about your day, the cute things you bought (all on his card, ofc), or the latest gossip you’ve heard. half the time he’s replying with a distracted “oh yeah?” or “is that right?” because he’s too busy peppering kisses along your cheek, your shoulder, your jawline, or wherever else he can reach.
◞♡ bimbo!reader who absolutely melts whenever michael praises you or uses certain pet names. he’ll call you pretty, beautiful, sweetheart, angel, or his sweet girl and suddenly your head gets all fuzzy. you’ll be in the middle of a conversation and completely lose your train of thought the second he says it. michael catches on pretty quickly, so he starts doing it on purpose.
◞♡ mature!michael who loves watching you get ready for bed. you’ll be standing in front of your vanity in your short little pink nightdress, just locked in on your skincare routine while he’s sitting on the bed watching you. he swears up and down that he’s a gentleman, but every time you glance up, you’ll catch him practically eye-fucking you through the mirror. he thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
◞♡ mature!michael who always notices when you’ve gotten something new. whether it’s your nails, your hair, a new outfit, perfume, or lingerie, he’ll make you do a whole try-on haul for him, sitting back and watching while you model everything you bought. half the time, you can’t even get through all the outfits because he just can’t get over how good you look. before you know it, he's pulling you down onto his lap and fucking you right then and there.
◞♡ mature!michael who books out entire stores whenever you go shopping together, just so you can shop in peace. sometimes you’ll step out of the fitting room in a skimpy little outfit, and he won’t even be able to wait until you get home. he’ll follow you right back inside and bend you over against the mirror.
◞♡ mature!michael who loooves dressing you up. he'll spend forever with you in your closet, pulling dresses off hangers and holding them up against you while deciding which one he likes best. he'll fix the straps on your shoulders and make you do a little spin for him. sometimes you'll end up trying on ten different outfits because he keeps changing his mind. he loves seeing you all dressed up.
◞♡ mature!michael who never makes you ask for anything twice. mention that you like something once and it'll end up in your hands a day later. sometimes you don't even have to ask. he'll catch you eyeing something for a little too long, and suddenly it's yours before you even get a chance to realize you want it.
◞♡ mature!michael who loves when you get your nails done. he'll take your hand into his, turning it over to admire them and looking at them up close. but one of his favorite views has to be the way your hands look when they’re wrapped tightly around his dick.
◞♡ mature!michael who’s the exact same way with your lipstick and lip gloss. your lip combo never stays intact throughout the day. it'll always get smudged all over his lips... or his dick. he loves the mess he makes out of you.
◞♡ bimbo!reader who lowkey has an oral fixation. he finds it so endearing how much you love having his fingers in your mouth. whenever the two of you go out, he’ll buy you lollipops just to keep you satisfied until you get back home and he can finally give you the real thing (iykwim :p)
◞♡ mature!michael who will eat you out while making you talk about your day. you’ll be in absolute pleasure while he’s tongue-fucking you so good, leaving you hiccuping and breathlessly trying to keep up with your sentences. he’ll teasingly threaten to stop if you get quiet, but eventually, you’ll both get so wrapped up in the pleasure that he’ll just give it to you no matter what. the noises you make are music to his ears anyway.
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i hope this was ok... i wrote it during my break at work😭
being mature!michael's controversially young girlfriend ❤︎ minors dni
mature!michael that shows you off in any way he can. takes you to big galas, introduces you to important people you could only see on the head pages of the magazines, invites you on stage during his acceptance speeches. he prides himself in being your boyfriend and doesn't hide how he truly feels about you — and you don't either. you don't ever hesitate to kiss him in front of the cameras, performative but real at the same time, letting everyone know that you're his and he is yours.
mature!michael that has his arm wrapped around you at all times. he claims you that way, a silent, possessive gesture that sends a clear message: stay away.
mature!michael that spoils you to the limit — takes you to shopping malls (with his bodyguards staying right behind you the whole time) and lets you pick whatever you want, complimenting you as you try yet another dress on. bonus points if you ask for his opinion on a set of fancy, sexy lingerie. he won't let you leave that changing room for a hoooot second.
mature!michael that takes care of you each time he's close. he won't let you lift a finger — he prepares bubble baths for you, makes dinner (he's a surprisingly good cook!), washes your body in the shower after you've had a particularly hard day. he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he massages the shampoo into your scalp, pressing soft kisses onto the sides of your wet face.
mature!michael that, even though he'd never admit it, gets off to your age gap. something about you, so young and innocent, giving all of your undivided attention to the man twice your age, makes that sick satisfaction bloom in his stomach.
mature!michael and his daddy kink. he'll have you bent in half, cock nudging that sweet spot deep inside you with every, perfect stroke, voice dropping to something dangerous and delicious while he talks you through it. 'feels so good to have daddy so deep inside, doesn't it, baby?', 'daddy fills you up good, huh?', 'are you gonna be a good girl for daddy?' 'daddy's gonna cum so deep inside you you'll feel me for days' while he's pressing on your stomach. on and on. that man's a beast.
mature!michael that loves fucking you in public. you might be on a gala, even a family dinner, and he'll still find a way to get into your panties. he'll love to tease you about it, too; whispering how much of a dirty girl you are for giving yourself in to him like that, letting everyone see how good he fucks you. he'll cover your mouth with his hand, too, silencing your moans and whimpers so that no one else besides him hears. if he's feeling generous, he'll stuff your mouth with his fingers so you have something to suck on while he fucks you against the wall.
mature!michael that has learned to save photos into his phone just because of the nudes you send him. he might be on an important meeting when all of a sudden his phone buzzes, and he sees the most obscene, delicious picture of you he's ever seen with a little, cute message underneath: missing you extra hard right now, daddy x. — best believe, you'll regret sending those pictures as soon as he comes home.
mature!michael that facefucks you as a punishment for disobeying him and acting like a brat in public. he'll have you with your head hanging off the side of the bed, tongue lolling out and eyes watery as he drills into your mouth, not stopping until he's had enough.
mature!michael never ever leaves you without some proper aftercare. he'll massage your back, kiss the bruises he left on your skin and shower you with attention, letting you fall into that familiar headspace. he'll cradle you in his arms until your breath evens out, only then allowing himself to sleep.
mature!michael that can't sleep unless he's by your side. he needs to feel your smaller form cuddled up against him to properly rest. best believe, he's not going anywhere without you.
mature!michael that treats you like his personal muse. he's bought a digital camera to take multiple pictures of you (some less explicit than the others). he takes them to the studio with him, looking at them while he's stuck on a certain lyrics he just can't finish — immediately feeling that surge of inspiration come over him as he sees you.
mature!michael that doesn't let you be alone for a second. he takes you everywhere with him, knowing just how much you need to be close — you're too clingy to stay away for more than an hour.
mature!michael that knew he loved you as soon as he saw you. it took longer for you to feel the same way, but you fell for him sooner or later. he fell first, but you fell faster doesn't apply to your relationship — he would hang the stars for you if you asked him to. yeah, he definitely fell faster.
Bob Reynolds x wife!reader who loves eating spicy food every day, no wonder yelena and the reader are best friends
Spice Lover
Summary: A series of events where you love spicy food and Bob watches with love for you.
Warnings: spicy food, Bob lowkey judging, mentions of using the bathroom, Joaquin having terrible spice tolerance, reader eats hot wings
Bob's eyes flutter open from the sunlight peaking through the bedroom window. He rubs his eyes as he stretches his arms out with a groan. He turns on his side to reach out for you on your side of the bed. His eyes shoot open, fully awake now, when he doesn't feel your warmth beside him, only the cold bedsheets left with an indent of your body.
He sits up fast and quickly scans the room for you. He frowns when he realizes he's alone and lazily throws the blanket off of his body. He treads towards the door with a disappointed sigh, sad that he couldn't get his morning cuddles with you.
As soon as he opens the bedroom door, he's hit with the delicious smell of breakfast and he immediately makes his way towards the kitchen. His feet shuffle along the hard wood floor, sleep still lingering on him as his body draws closer to you.
You're stood at the stove cooking eggs when he wraps his arms around you and rests his cheek against your shoulder. "I found you," he groggily mumbles in your ear.
"You found me," you giggle. "And good morning sleepy head." He mumbles a reply back before burying his face further into your neck.
"Breakfast is ready. Go grab a plate." You rub his arm and he reluctantly let's go of you, but not before lazily placing a kiss on your cheek. He pours you both a cup of coffee and places it at your spot of the table.
He waits for you to sit down before eating and he can't help but watch in amusement as you practically drown your food in hot sauce. He can already feel the burning in his stomach and he's not even the one eating it. "I don't know how you can handle all of that hot sauce."
You shrug, "what can I say? I love hot sauce."
"Yeah," he chuckles, "and then you suffer later in the bathroom."
You shrug once again, "it's a risk I'm willing to take."
-
The elevator opens with a ding and you're hit with the smell of cooking. When you walk into the kitchen of the tower, you see Yelena remove a pot from the stove. "Oh! Hi! I made macaroni, if you want some."
"I can eat." Bob says, immediately pulling out two bowls, one for him and one for you.
"I was going to add hot sauce, but since you two are here, I didn't." Yelena tells you as she brings her bowl of mac and cheese to the table.
Bob chuckles, already knowing what's about to happen.
"I love hot sauce!" You announce, ignoring Bob's little 'there you go.' "I've never had it on mac and cheese before though." You join Yelena at the table, sitting across from her.
"Try it. It's so good!" She slides the bottle of hot sauce over to you and you immediately drizzle it all over. Bob sits next to you and watches as you take a bite, waiting to see your reaction.
Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head as you chew. "Mmm oh my god," you say with your mouth still full, "you just changed my life. I'm definitely doing this everytime I make Mac and cheese."
"I told you!" Yelena points to you.
Bob shakes his head at the two of you with a smile, "you two really are best friends."
"And you ever doubted that?"
-
You and Bob walk into the restaurant hand in hand. Joaquin had arrived before you and is already seated at the table. He puts his phone down and immediately stands up with a smile when he sees you. "Hey guys!" He shares a bro hug with Bob and then hugs you. "Nice to see you again."
"Nice to see you. Sorry we're a bit late. Have you been waiting long?" You smile up at Bob when he pulls out your seat for you.
Joaquin shrugs off your apology with a wave of his hand. "Nah, I got seated like five minutes ago? Waiter hasn't even come with waters yet."
You nod and pick up the menu. You scan the appetizers first, your eyes immediately falling onto the hot wings. You gasp and before you even say anything, Bob speaks up.
"You saw the hot wings?"
"Uh huh!" You nod indefinitely.
Joaquin laughs, "I'm guessing you're a fan?"
"Oh yeah! She loves spicy food. Anywhere we go, she's ordering something hot." Bob answers for you.
Joaquin shakes his head, "That couldn't be me, my spice tolerance is... not the greatest."
Bob turns to you when a story pops up in his mind. "Yeah he took me to a taco place a while back and he forgot to ask for mild sauce instead of hot. He had to get multiple refills of ice water and a glass of horchata, that's how bad it is."
Joaquin stares at his friend in disbelief while you laugh. "So you're just exposing everyone here aren't you Reynolds?" Bob shrugs in response before focusing his attention back onto the menu.
As soon as the plate of hot wings is set down on the table, you're immediately reaching to grab some. Bob pushes the plate closer to you, knowing that it's all for you.
He holds out his hand expectedly and you take off your wedding ring. He puts it on the necklace specifically designed for it so you don't get sauce on it and places it back around your neck.
You hum in satisfaction when you take a bite of a wing. "Good?" Bob asks and you nod, still chewing.
You push the plate a little further from you, silently asking if Bob or Joaquin wants any. Bob declines but Joaquin takes one. "Who knows, maybe my spice tolerance has gotten better." Bob watches with a raised brow as Joaquin takes a bite, the heat immediately washing over him.
"Oh fuck..." Joaquin drops the wing back on his plate and drops his head in shame and regret. "Nope! Still bad!" He immediately reaches for his glass of ice water and begins chugging, not even caring if he gets a brain freeze.
Bob laughs at his friend as you continue to eat, "more for me I guess."
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Taglist (lmk if you'd like to be added): @sweetheartlizzie07
pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x f!reader
synopsis: Bob shoots a TV special with the New Avengers and it leaves him with a spot of baby fever
content: [18+ MDNI!!] established relationship, rough sex, multiple positions, couch sex, dumbification (sorta), breeding kink, pregnancy fetish (idk but i'm putting here to be safe), vaginal fingering, dirty talk, power use, he levitates, super fast fingers, unprotected pinv (u guys know the drill), multiple orgasms (f and m), multiple creampies, overstimulation, reader cries a little, fingers in reader's mouth, slight family talk, reader is on birth control, there's probably other stuff i forgot but these are the big things
word count: 4.1k
author's note: y'all... well... head in hands. hope you guys enjoy <3. also idk if any of u are kpoppies but fully got the TV special idea from those hello82 vids they make idols do (specifically the piwon vid. if u are a p1ece come say hi #mypeople). likes and reblogs are veryyyy appreciated hehe thank you for reading!!
Soft morning light filters into your room through the gaps in your blinds, and you stir, trying to escape Bob’s strong hold.
“Bob, baby, wake up. You need to be out of here soon,” you whisper softly, patting his hip. His arms tighten around your waist and he pushes his face into the nape of your neck.
“Don’t wanna. Wanna stay here with you,” he mumbles.
“It’s the last thing you need to do and then we have three uninterrupted weeks together.” He lets you wriggle free from his grasp and you turn to kiss him on the nose. He smiles.
“But it’s children. God, what if I suck? What if they hate me? What if I accidentally break their tiny little bones,” he mumbles. You put a hand on his chest and he lays his hand over yours.
“Bob. You’ll be alright, they’re children and you’re a superhero, and unless you’re rough housing with them I highly doubt you’re going to break their bones. Your control is so much better now. ”
You shift so you can kiss his forehead.
“I think you’re forgetting the part where this interaction is being filmed and aired to the entire country later this week.”
“Even if you suck. They’ll either make you look good or focus on everyone else. Don’t worry about it okay?”
You actually give him a peck on the lips, and he takes the opportunity to pull you even tighter, his hand caressing your face.
You pat him on the chest again.
“Do you want me to come with? For support?”
“No. Definitely not. What if you get the ick?”
“The ick?”
“The ick.”
“I think you’re letting Alexei show you too many TikToks,” you snort as you extricate yourself from his arms. “Why on earth would I get the ick?”
“Maybe you’ll see how terrible I am with kids and you’ll hate me after,” he’s pouting, and it takes a lot of effort not to let a laugh slip past.
“Bob I’m telling you. Kids aren’t as complicated as you think they are. You are the Sentry. You have a cape and a deep voice and your eyes glow. They’ll love you for that alone,” you reassure as you tousle his hair.
“Wow. You’re very confident,” he whispers, lips ghosting over yours.
“I have nieces and nephews, remember? They ask me if I’ve seen the Sentry every time I go visit.”
“And what do you say?” he kisses your shoulder, turns so that he’s pressing you into the mattress.
“I tell them that the Sentry doesn’t shop in cheap corner stores,” you laugh weakly as he attaches his lips to your neck. “I also tell them that I bet the Sentry has great discipline and gets to his job on time,”you say, pushing feebly at his shoulders.
He just sighs.
“Are you sure we don’t have time? Just for a little bit?”
“It’s never a little bit with you. Go get ready,” you whisper, kissing him on the cheek.
Bob is evasive when you ask how filming was, but over the next few days, it is impossible to pry him off of you. Not that you want to, but he’s never been this clingy before. He clings to you in the mornings, refusing to let you get out of bed until you absolutely have to. He comes up behind you while you brush your teeth, snakes his hand under your t-shirt and just lets his hand rest on your stomach while he presses small kisses behind your ear.
“What is wrong with you?” you ask him when he buries his face between your thighs one day and absolutely refuses to get up until you’re a sweaty panting mess.
“Nothing, just love you,” he says as he kisses his way up your torso until his lips are over yours and you can taste yourself on him.
He’s extra touchy after you’ve video called your sister one day, cooing at her new baby. He even waves shyly from the other side of the bed when you turn the phone so the baby can see Uncle Bob, the gold in his eyes dancing as she gives him a toothless smile and gurgles at him. You’ve never seen him like this, he preferred to leave the room when you FaceTimed your siblings and any of their kids, citing privacy as his reason. When you hang up he’s all over you, barely giving you time to process what’s going on before he has you pressed into the mattress and he’s sliding your underwear off.
“Okay, seriously,” you laugh, even as he kisses your face.
“You’re just so pretty when you’re in aunty mode. So sweet, turns me on,” he whispers.
“Freak,” you sigh, when he drags his teeth over the part where your neck and shoulder meet.
“And yet,” he presses his fingers to your clit, drags them through your folds as he collects the arousal gathering there, “you seem to like it.”
You don’t deny it, can’t deny it when he has you gasping under him, desperate for release.
He’s muttering under his breath, too low for you to hear but every now and then the words “knock you up,” and “beautiful mom” break through the haze.
I’ll ask him later, you think as you feel your stomach tighten, feel yourself coming apart underneath him, but by the time he’s done with you, you’re too worn out to remember what you’re supposed to be asking him.
You’re sitting on the couch, Bob’s head in your lap while you play with his hair waiting for the segment they filmed earlier in the week to come on. Your whole place seems to hum with a restless energy, but when you look at him he’s still, eyes closed; the only evidence that he’s amped up the tiny flickers of gold that flash under his skin.
“So, what am I in for?” you ask, carding your fingers through his hair. He opens his eyes, gold irises meeting yours.
“Birthday party, we were the special guests,” he says. He slips his hand under your t-shirt, letting it rest on your stomach, nice and warm. He presses a soft kiss just underneath your bellybutton, then turns so his cheek is pressed flat against your stomach.
Sure enough, when the episode starts playing it opens with a shot of children in someone’s backyard. The birthday girl is in a combination Thor costume and princess dress, hanging upside down off of a playset when the host for the show asks them whether they’re excited for the guests. The children take turns guessing who might be coming, and only about two of the kids manage to guess right. It doesn’t matter, the children let out high pitched peals of laughter when the Avengers walk in through the rickety gate, larger than life.
Something twists in your stomach when you see just how much bigger Bob is than the kids. They all are, but Sentry has … presence. There’s an awkward round of introductions, but mostly the kids just want to play. They’re weaving in and out of legs, threatening to knock Alexei over, roping John into a game of tag and asking questions about his taco shield.
Bob immediately finds refuge in the kitchen, helping the mother arrange finger foods on a plate, then moves to the living room to help package goody bags. He looks peaceful, bent over the table and fumbling with the mini juice boxes and kinder eggs — that is until a gaggle of children come inside and practically drag him by the cape back outside.
You’re surprised at how quickly he eases into their attention, the children practically hanging off him. He throws them up in the air and catches them, spinning them around before putting them on the ground again. One little girl in particular is smitten with him, tugging at his cape and begging to be held in his arms the entire time. She’s got a captain America costume on, paired with a bright pink tutu and her shoes are just a tiny bit too big for her feet but she doesn’t let that deter her as she follows Bob around like a shadow. When the children get treats she lets him split a cookie with her, giving him the bigger half because he has ‘so many muscles’.
“What’s your name?” she asks him at one point, when he crouches down to help her tie her shoelaces. She takes the opportunity to slip her tiara on his head.
“Sentry,” Bob smiles and she just giggles, flashes him a wide gap-toothed grin.
“No silly! Your real name, not just your superhero name,”she laughs. She runs off to go get a slice of pizza before Bob can react and by the time she comes back her attention has shifted to playing with his hair. She weaves loose braids into it, then asks the birthday girl for clips. Bob ends up with a bunch of multicolour clips in various shapes all over his head, with no purpose other than to look pretty.
“This is how my mommy does my hair,” she smiles at the cameraman before showing a very loose braid to the camera. “Now the Sentry is pretty like me,” she beams. The producers and parents all laugh.
She falls asleep on him when he starts reading The Lorax, seemingly tired out from crawling all over him. Her head rests on his shoulder, and Bob balances her in his lap, taking all the care in the world not to jostle her every time he turns a page. The other kids are rapt, sitting at his feet, slices of cake forgotten as he does silly voices. Even the other Avengers seems surprised at the way he takes to temporary princesshood.
The episode ends with everyone waving bye to the Avengers (all sent on their way with personalised goody bags) and you and Bob sit in silence while holiday ads drone in the background.
“Did you like it?” he asks. He’s looking up at you, wisps of his hair falling into his face. You push them out of his face as you nod.
“You did so good, and made a new friend,” you laugh softly.
“Yeah. Her name’s Addie and she’s six years old,” he holds up five fingers and the two of you break out into giggles.
“See? Nothing bad happened,” you say as you drag him up to kiss you. “God, women all over America are probably fantasising about you right now,” you whisper.
“You think so?” He presses a kiss into your neck, and you can feel him already half hard in his shorts, as his hips rock gently against yours. You take a deep breath in an attempt to focus on the conversation at hand, your stomach already turning in anticipation as his hand slides into your pyjama pants.
“Yeah. Something about men who are good with kids is– it’s so good,” you sigh as his fingers press into your clit in tight circles.
“You feel that way too? You like that I was good with the kids?”
He’s slipping a finger inside you and you’re trying not to lose all composure as he curls it, your hips bucking up.
“You gotta answer me sweetheart. You like that?”
You manage a weak “yes” as he slips another finger in, moans into your neck when he feels you tighten around them.
“Good. Oh god, that’s good,” he sighs into your neck. He doesn’t stop rocking into you, but he pulls his fingers out of you and pushes them into your mouth. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, as he watches you clean them up, eyes locked on his. “Gonna make such a beautiful mom for me,” he sighs as he uses his other hand to push your t-shirt up.
“Didn’t know that was something you wanted,” you mumble when he’s dragged his fingers out of your mouth.
“Didn’t know until this thing either,” he undoes the drawstrings on his shorts, and he laughs when you prop yourself up on your forearms to watch as he shucks his shorts off. He’s so hard it looks like it aches, but he’s not in any rush as he spits into his hand and wraps it around his shaft. “Fuck, didn’t know it until that kid fell asleep on me and I thought about how cute you’d find it. Then I started thinking about the way you talk about your nieces and nephews and,” he leans down so he can press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, “you get this look in your eyes. I didn’t see it before but I couldn’t stop seeing it, thinking about it. When you showed me the baby all I could think about was you holding one of our own,” he finishes as he pulls your shorts and underwear off, discarding them on the floor.
You don’t have time to think about his admission before the sound of him spitting on your exposed cunt echoes through the room.
“Drove me insane. Kept picturing you pregnant, didn’t know what to do,” he says as he finally pushes into you, barely controlled as he kisses you again, nice and slow.
“Bob, baby,” you gasp as he fills you up.
“I know, I know, not yet but shit I want it so bad,” he whispers into your ear. “Wanna get you full of me,” he pulls your t-shirt over your head, hands squeezing your tits together when you’re free. He looks like he’s glowing as he looks down at you, soft waves of blond framing his face in an almost halo. You lean up, pushing your fingers under his shirt.
“Please?” you ask, and he just smiles at you as he pulls it off.
You’re in awe. You’re always in awe when he’s like this, the soft glow of his skin, the tight muscle of his body, the way he has a light dusting of freckles across his chest. He kisses your jaw, then he’s shifting, laying down on the couch and pulling you on top of him.
“Want you on top, before you get too tired,” he says, repositioning himself and pushing into you so fast you have to lean forward, your hands flying out into the couch on either side of his head for support. His hands are on your hips, his thumbs digging into the crease where your hips and your thighs meet.
“So, so beautiful for me,” he grunts as he bounces you on his cock his eyes half-lidded. There’s an electrical humming that fills the room as he speeds up, his grip getting tighter.
“Bob. Sentry–” you start, tears pricking at your eyes as he pushes up into you.
“Love when you call me that. Love when I’m both,” he says, leaning up so he can kiss your chest. The glowing of the overhead light is brighter, but steady.
“Fuck, you feel so good, it’s like you want me to fill you up,” he groans, pushing his face into your breasts, mouth opening so he can take one in his mouth. He’s sitting up again, arm wrapping around you so that his other one can squeeze. “Oh my god, you’re so soft. Soft now, softer when you’re pregnant,” he sighs into you. He lets go of your boob to press his hand into your stomach.
“Right here, gonna put a baby right here,” he says around your nipple, pace still relentless.
You can’t answer, you just dig your nails into his shoulders as you whine out for him, thighs growing slicker as he fucks into you.
“You want that? I know you want that, can feel you, honey. Fucking… swallowing me, fuck,” he mutters, tilting his face into yours as his lips come over yours in a messy kiss. He slides his fingers down to your clit again, and you let out a surprised gasp when you feel his fingers vibrate against your clit. It’s instant, you’re tightening around him before you can even grasp what’s happening, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.
“Aww don’t cry honey,” his voice slips into condescension on the ‘honey’, and against your better judgement you feel a tug of want. He’s kissing the tears, tongue coming out to lick at them gently before he kisses your cheeks. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t let you catch your breath as he cradles your head.
“Look at me,” he demands, and you open your eyes, stare right down into gold pools of his. “Gonna fuck you stupid,” he says, “right here on this couch. Then on your bed, ’til all you know is me. Fuck you stupid and full ’til we have a baby,” he grunts. His hand is on your stomach again, warm and you watch as little trails of gold seem to shimmer under his skin. “That good with you?”
You nod, but he isn’t satisfied.
“Asked you a question,” he kisses your throat, then sucks at the skin until he’s sure he’s left a mark.
“Yes, yeah. ’Til I’m full,” you reply.
You feel his chest rumble with a chuckle as he lays you back down, putting a pillow under your hips so he can prop them up. You’re sensitive, still recovering from your orgasm and everything feels heightened; the way he kisses you, the way his hands drag over your body, feeling at you like you’ll disappear. He throws your leg over his shoulder, letting out a low, drawn out moan as he manages to push even deeper into you.
“Fuck you feel so good like this,” he mutters. He keeps his hand on your stomach, watching as your breasts bounce with every thrust, hand slipping down to your lower abdomen so he can feel himself as he pushes into you. “Made for me,” mumbles, “made for me. We go so good together, gonna have perfect babies aren’t we?”
You nod when he looks at you, incapable of speech.
“Awww… can’t speak?” he sneers, pushing his thumb into your mouth. You press your tongue against the underside and he twitches, momentarily surprised. He presses his hand a little harder into your stomach, and you whine, head fuzzy as you feel yourself climbing again, skin humming with pleasure as you pulse around him.
“That’s it, honey c’mon,” he grunts, thrusts growing erratic.
Your bodies are slick as they move against each other, and you’re grabbing at his forearms, begging him to come down and kiss you. He does, but only when he’s right on the edge, only pressing his lips to yours as he starts spilling into you, chest heaving against yours. He doesn’t move, even when you push your hands against his chest.
“Gotta keep it in, keep you full,” he whispers into your ear. Then you realise he’s still hard, throbbing inside of you like nothing happened.
“Holy fuck this serum is the second best thing to happen to me,” he says as he presses his nose into the crook of your neck. “Gonna be so easy to fuck a baby into you like this, can keep you here for so long just like this,” he starts moving again, hips moving slowly against you even as you let out low, pathetic whines, arms tightening around his neck in a hug. Your bodies are flush against each other and your thighs ache with the effort of staying spread. The weight of his body on yours makes your brain cloud with pleasure. He presses a kiss into the side of your head.
“It’s so easy like this,” he presses a kiss to your jaw, “can feel all of you,” he mumbles. He leans down so he can kiss at your collarbone, then he’s wrapping his arms around as he picks you up and stands in one smooth motion. His hands under your ass keep you in place as he keeps himself inside you. It’s only when you open your eyes you realise that he’s not touching the ground, floating as he moves through your apartment. He shoulders the door to your bedroom open (gently) before his feet touch the ground again.
“There we go, more comfortable?” he asks, as he lays you down again, pulling out briefly so he can turn you onto your stomach. You sigh in relief, but it’s short lived because the moment he gets behind you he’s spreading you open again, his hand pressing in between your shoulders until your chest is flush with the mattress. When he pushes in again, it’s so easy you’re almost embarrassed and he lets out a low groan.
“So fucking easy,” he says as he uses his other hand to move your hips against his, “you like this? You like taking it like this?” He speeds up, only letting go of your hips so he can pin your wrists behind your back. His hand presses your head into the mattress a little as he pushes deeper, faster. “Won’t be able to fuck you like this when you’re knocked up,” he says, like it’s a given. “Gotta keep you nice and safe, be gentle. Gotta fuck you rough now,” he mutters into the room. Your moans are muffled by the sheets but the way you tighten around him is enough for him.
“Again? Already? Spoiled tonight aren’t you?”
He lets go of your wrists so he can squeeze at the flesh of your ass, sliding it up and down his length. “You should see yourself honey, see the way she’s creaming on it. It’s so good, wanna keep you like this forever,” he mutters as he keeps thrusting into you. He leans down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades, a small act of tenderness in contrast to the brutal way he fucks you, his hand still tight around your wrists. “Gonna fill you up again, you want that honey?”
There’s a small sound of agreement as you nod, his name tumbling out of your lips in hoarse cries. It seems to spur him on, push him even deeper into you as your thighs twitch. You feel his chest press against your back as he takes deep breaths. “You’re so good for me. Just a little longer okay I’m not… I’m not finished,” he says as he kisses behind your ear.
“Sentry,” you whine, and you feel him twitch inside you.
“Call me that again and we’ll be here well into tomorrow. Fuck I can’t help myself,” he says as he turns you over onto your back, pushes your knees into your chest, “you just look so good under me. And I keep imagining you all round, tits full of milk. You’ll be so soft,” he says as he presses more kisses into your chest. “Oh my god, honey.” His hand is over your stomach again, rubbing as if his baby is already there. “Wanna see you so full, so full you do that little waddle,” he kisses you just above your belly button. Then his mouth moves to your breasts again, taking turns with each, teeth grazing the nipples slightly. “I’ll take such good care of you baby, won’t have to worry about a thing. Back massages, massage these when they’re sore,” he promises as he puts a nipple in his mouth again.
You just babble in agreement, cunt still aching at the feel of him, how he splits you open when you’re like this. You want to tell him you’re not sure you bend this way, but he’s already making you, his hands pressed firm into the back of your thighs. He starts thrusting into you again when he slots his mouth over yours, tongue pushing into your mouth, messy and hot.
“We’re gonna have such perfect babies,” he pants, “gonna be so beautiful, just like their momma,” he continues.
“Honey–”
“I know, I know, almost there,” he grunts. “Need you to give me one more too,” he says.
You think you might be numb, unable to focus on anything but the press of his hands into your thighs and his voice in your ear begging you to cum. His fingers are on your clit again, slow and gentle, the push you need to finally let go. He follows soon after, his lips on yours again and his hips stilling as he empties into you.
He pulls out of you gently, rolls over and lays next to you as he stares at the ceiling. Your hand finds his as you wait for your skin to stop humming and the buzzing in your head to die down. You’re about to speak when you hear a nervous “honey?” from beside you.
“Yes, Bob?”
“You’re on birth control right?”
You snort, then laugh.
“Yes. Not sure it’s Sentry proof, but yes.”
You hear him sigh in relief.
“Thank god. I might have gotten ahead of myself,” he replies.
“Oh feel free to get ahead of yourself more often. It’s nice when you tell me what you want. Then take it.”
You hear him sigh and then: “Please don’t talk to me like that. We’ll be here all night.”
tell you what i want rhett to go ham when he eats you out. like i just know he does. he overhears some of his rodeo buddies talking about it and he’s like “do i eat pussy? obviously, what the fuck? why wouldn’t i?” 🤨
A/N: I’ll raise you twenty and say this man also goes down on you before every ride because eating you out seems to be his good luck charm.
Word Count: 2,232
The air hung thick and humid inside the cab of Rhett’s battered pickup truck, saturated with the earthy aroma of dust-kicked rodeo grounds, the sharp bite of his polish from the protective vest he was wearing, and the heady, intimate perfume of your arousal mingling with his clean, sweat-salted skin. Faint echoes from the arena filtered in–the muffled cheers of the crowd, the low bellows of agitated bulls, the crackle of announcements over tinny speakers–but it all felt like they were states away, totally irrelevant in this stolen bubble of time where nothing existed but the press of his body against yours.
“Rhett! Oh God, Rhett, fuck! Keep going!” Your voice broke in a desperate urging, laced with a raw edge of need, as he gripped the undersides of your thighs with unyielding strength, hoisting them higher until your knees were pressed against your stomach. The movement opened you completely to him, your aching core fully exposed, slick and throbbing under his relentless touch. He buried his face deeper, his breath hot and ragged against your most sensitive skin, his tongue delving into the gushing wetness that spilled from you like a forbidden spring, lapping with a hunger that bordered on starvation.
The truck’s aging suspension groaned and squeaked in protest with every subtle shit–your hips arching upward in a seeking rhythm to chase the velvet stroke of his tongue, while he rutted against the seat beneath him, the hard ridge of his erection grinding into the unforgiving denim of his jeans. That friction offered him a tantalizing whisper of relief, a fleeting counterpoint to the insistent throb of his cock, which wept pre-cum in steady pulses, darkening the fabric of his boxer briefs and leaving him aching for more, yet he remained utterly focused on you.
A deep, vibrating moan escaped his lips, resonating through your folds, as he captured your clit between them–soft, plush, and insistent–his tongue flicking over the swollen nub with precise, teasing swirls that sent jolts of pleasure radiating outward, coiling tight in your belly and tingling down to your curling toes. Your nails dug into the taut wrapping around his wrist, a protective bandage from his last rough ride, grateful for the barrier that kept your marks at bay; your other arm braced firmly against the door panel, muscles straining to hold you up, allowing you to drink in the sight of him without your head thudding against the armrest.
The windows were a misty veil, condensation beading and trickling in lazy rivulets from the inferno of your combined body heat, turning the cab into a steamy sanctuary. Your dress, a lightweight cotton number in soft lavender that clung to you and complimented every inch of your body perfectly, was rucked up haphazardly around your waist, with the bodice yanked low to bare your breasts–their swells glistening faintly with perspiration and drying saliva, and nipple taut from the cool draft slipping through a hairline crack in the window. He had tugged the fabric down with impatient hands, suckling each peak until they ached, before trailing down your body, leaving the disarray untouched because he revelled in the erotic tableau: your chest rising and falling in erratic waves, each inhale drawing your breasts higher, and each exhale a soft quiver that made his pulse race.
In those fevered moments, anyone could have wandered by from the bustling parking lot–a fellow rider, a curious spectator, one of the ranch hands–and peered through the haze to catch you mid-act: your spine bowed in exquisite abandon, head thrown back against the seat as waves of ecstasy rippled through you; Rhett, utterly unapologetic, his light brown hair disheveled and falling in sweat-dampened strands across his furrowed brow, his piercing blue eyes–darkened to sapphire with lust–fixed on you as he feasted like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, determined to drown in your essence before he’d relent.
But he couldn’t muster a single damn about the risk; this was necessity, primal and unyielding. He craved the tang of you on his tongue, the slick glide over his lips, the way it clung to his stubble shadowing his jaw and cheeks. You were his pre-ride talisman, a ritual etched into his bones, and no prying eyes would deter him from this devotion–especially not when he’d made his escape so blatant, steering you away with a hand on your elbow and a flimsy pretext of ‘needing to talk’ whispered to your friends, who exchanged smirks because they knew damn well your ‘conversation’ would involve far more moans than words.
“God, baby…You taste so fuckin’ good,” He rasped against you, his voice a gravelly drawl thick with desire, vibrating straight to your core, “Wish I could be down here forever…Might just forfeit the ride to keep pleasin’ you like this.” The words were punctuated by a grunt as your fingers released his wrist to weave into his hair–which had been begging for your grip–scrunching them between your digits, tugging with just enough force to elicit a pleased hiss from him as you bucked your hips, grinding your slick heat against his open mouth and the masterful flick of his tongue. Your arousal smeared across his features in a glossy claim, mingling with his saliva to coat your swollen clit, your tender folds, and the line of his chin.
You felt the rough texture of his calloused palm–hardened from endless hours gripping reins–glide down the supple curve of the back of your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, before reaching your fluttering entrance. With effortless familiarity, he slipped two thick fingers inside, the stretch a perfect burn that drew a sharp, breath-stealing gasp from your parted lips. They curled inward with unerring accuracy, stroking the velvety, ridged spot that made your walls clench and your thighs quiver involuntarily, while his lips sealed around your clit once more, sucking with a rhythmic pull–gentle tugs alternating with firmer draws–that melted your resolve, turning your limbs to liquid fire against the worn upholstery.
You yanked at his hair, the strands slipping silkily through your fingers as his rhythm accelerated, fingers plunging in steady, rapid thrusts that coaxed obscene, wet sounds from your body–sounds that were music to Rhett’s ears, spurring him on like applause. He detached from your clit with a slick, audible pop, his breath fanning hot over the swollen nub. ”Mmm, you gonna give me one more, sweetheart? Gonna let this pretty little pussy soak my fingers? Huh?” His query was a sultry challenge, the pace of his fingers ramping up, relentlessly massaging that inner sweet spot until your legs trembled , your core gripping him in desperate pulses.
“Tell me, baby…C’mon…” He cooed, then spat directly onto your clit–feeling the warmth of it sliding over the skin, flowing over to where his fingers were thrusting into you–before diving back in, his blue eyes snapping up to ensnare yours, intense and unblinking, as if he’d halt everything if you didn’t give him an answer.
Through the swirling fog of lust and arousal in your mind, words formed in fragments: “Go-Gonna give you…Everything you want.” You whined it out the sound high and needy, watching as he nuzzled impossibly closer, his nose brushing your mound while his tongue lashed with focused intent, driving you toward the precipice of your orgasm for the second time that evening. He knew this was merely the prelude; after the circuit, with the night’s adrenaline still coursing through him, he’d take you home and he’d spend endless hours coaxing climax after climax from you, his appetite being utterly insatiable, especially if victory sharpened his edge.
Your core throbbed around his invading fingers, drenching them in fresh waves of slick as tremors built in your legs, escalating to full-body shudders. Then it finally hit–an avalanche of pure overwhelm, unleashing in a symphony of whimpers and gasps as you tugged his hair harder, feeling the damp sweat at his scalp seep into your skin. Your release surged, bathing his fingers, his tongue, and his face in a warmth that painted him in your ecstasy. Every nerve ignited, an electric surge racing from your center outward, heightening the brush of air on your skin, the rasp of his stubble, the lingering pressure inside you until overstimulation set in, your body quaking as he lapped a few final, languid strokes before withdrawing with a contented sigh. He eased his fingers out deliberately slow, letting you savour the drag against your fluttering walls one last time.
They emerged glistening, coated in your release like a trophy, and he lifted them to his mouth, sucking on each finger slowly–tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing–as he held your gaze, witnessing your laboured breaths, the way your breasts undulated with each pant, a subtle sheen of sweat illuminating their contours. With a soft pop, he released them, trailing the saliva-slick digits to your tender nipples, circling them in lazy spirals that drew fresh shivers from you.
Leaning in, he bestowed gentle kisses upon each, his stubble grazing like fine grit against silk, before claiming your mouth in a kiss that shifted the heat in the truck–it was tender now, a soft melding that belied the feral storm he’d unleashed, letting you taste your own sweetness on his tongue, an elixir you drank down greedily, as if it were sustenance from him alone.
He draw back gradually, your mingled breaths filling the space between you, warm and syncopated, as his eyes–framed by faint crinkles of satisfaction–traced the planes of your face, a small affectionate smile tugging at his swollen lips, softening the rugged angles of his features.
“Fuckin’ perfection,” He murmured, cupping your cheek with a gentleness that contrasted the fervent need that he had when he was between your thighs, his thumb sketching delicate paths just below your eye, brushing away and errant lash, “My good luck charm.” He added. You smirked, leaning into the warmth of his hand, the callouses a comforting roughness against your skin as you exhaled a contented sigh.
“Won’t be your good luck charm tonight if you don’t start making your way back to the gates. I’m sure the ranch hands are looking for you.” He shook his head, stealing a swift peck from you.
“Pretty sure by this point they know my routine…What d’you think they assume I’m doin’ when I disappear before a ride?” You shrugged, your fingers deftly straightening the rumpled collar of his plaid button-down, the fabric cool and slightly damp under your touch from his sweat, before resting your palm on his shoulder–the solid bulk of his protective vest absorbing your heat, the stark chill enveloping your fevered skin.
“Maybe they think you’re leading a double life.” A rich, resonant laugh bubbled from deep in his chest, sending vibrations through you as he eased back a fraction, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
“I think you forget I’m such an open book there’s no way I could lead a double life…Why d’you think some of the rodeo guys say I have a silver tongue?” The question hung playfully, your brows lifting as you felt his hands–still warm from your body–gently readjust your dress, smoothing the wrinkles with care to restore your composure.
“I thought it was because you flirted too much and had a way with words…Cause that’s what silver-tongued means.” He hummed thoughtfully, shaking his head as he pushed your hair from your face.
“It’s more ‘cause they know I have an affinity for buryin’ my face between a specific set of thighs.” Your jaw dropped in feigned astonishment, a disbelieving laugh escaping you as you gave his shoulder a light shove.
“You told them?! Rhett! We hang around with these guys and their girlfriends after almost every circuit!” He leaned forward undeterred, pressing lingering kisses to the swells of your breasts, leaving moist imprints that cooled instantly in the air.
“So what? If anythin’ their girlfriends are probably jealous of you…” His tone was casual, but laced with smug pride, prompting your brows to arch higher.
“And why’s that?” You prodded, tilting his chin upward with a finger, locking eyes with those captivating blues that gleamed like polished stones.
“‘Cause their partners aren’t as enthusiastic about eatin’ them out like I am with you…The boys were shocked when I even referenced that we do it more than we have sex, so…Pretty sure that gives away their preferences.” He quipped, then dotted your face with feather-soft kisses–along your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, your forehead–eliciting a giggle from your throat.
“Or you’re just absolutely obsessed with going down on me that these guys are worried about you…Not that I have any complaints, though.” He placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss at the corner of your lips, humming in agreement, his breath a warm caress over the damp spot.
“Shouldn’t be worried about me when it’s exactly where I want to be.” With one final, deep kiss that taste of lingering promise, he shifted away fully, his weight lifting from you as he meticulously fixed your dress, hands lingering on your hips in a silent vow. “But right now…I better take your advice and get back to the ranch hands. Gotta change these jeans and use all the luck I got from you to win.”
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