Pairing: club!Blue Jones x fem!reader
Summary: Blue Jones was a sensible man: he knew damn well that you and the other girls of his club were plotting something behind his back. Regardless, Babydoll’s escape plan couldn’t succeed without the master key, and now, a gun. Naturally, you’d think that she, being Blue’s favourite, should retrieve those items. However, surprisingly enough, you were chosen for the task, as the girls reassure you that Blue adores you the most. Without a second option, you decide to seduce him with your body and get the final possessions. Praying that he’d take interest in you. No matter what it took.
Word count: 4.4k
Content warnings: dark romance, POV Second person, power imbalance, sadism/masochism, gun kink, choking, boss/employee relationship, obsessive/possessive behaviour, smut (MDNI), hate sex, possessive sex, dom!Blue (though he switches back and forth), vaginal fingering, no use of Y/N for reader-insert (but reader is given a nickname/stage name), not beta-read.
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Tags: @have-you-seen-my-sanity @wspia @rachelwashere @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
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A/N: I knooow that Blue said that he doesn't like guns and that our baddies didn't need a gun but listen... I'm stressed, horny and tired, so let me enjoy myself a lil... Anyway he's so sick and twisted... This is so "He's my man" by Luvcat coded (I say while writing every fic).
Hopefully this will be a fun lil read, sorry that this is lowk rushed, I needed to get this oneshot out of my damn head before it actually had the chance to kill me abdakbsjk— Also, I kind of liked this concept so I might make a longer fic out of this idea!
“Let us mix the Erotes’ (Loves’) rose with Dionysos [Wine]: let us fasten on our brows the rose with its lovely petals and drink, laughing gently. Rose, finest of flowers, rose, darling of spring, rose, delight of the gods also, rose with which Kythere’s (Cytherea’s) [Aphrodite’s] son [Eros] garlands his lovely curls when he dances with the Kharites.”
—The Anacreontea, Fragment 44
Knock. Knock.
Your hand dropped to your side as you impatiently waited for a manly voice to answer from the other side of the door.
A loud exhale left your chest.
The cool air brushed your skin, flowing underneath the almost translucent slip dress that barely covered your privates. Perfectly displaying your body, emphasising all of you to the eyes of the beholder. Silky hold-ups tightly wrapped your thighs, and heels forced you to stand taller than before. You were dressed as if getting ready for bed, though with a promiscuous intent, because there was a special someone you had to seduce.
That was the crucial part of the plan—you had a responsibility to fulfill, to be strong and stand up for every woman that now relied on you. You especially had to find the strength for yourself.
Babydoll’s escape plan was nearly complete as you and the remaining girls gained a map, a lighter, and a knife. All you needed was the master key of the brothel, and, to your misfortune, now a gun.
Essentially, you imagined that Babydoll would be the one to retrieve the final objects, as she was Blue’s favourite. Instead, all of the girls decided that it was you who needed to retrieve them in one go.
Your heart was beating in your ears; you had a hard time standing on your feet. Your body shook, making you question whether this reaction was the consequence of the coldness or stress.
Naturally, you overthought this plan because you had never stood out among the other girls. You weren’t a top dancer, but neither a back-up dancer. You weren’t talented, but neither were you unskilled. You weren’t sexual, but neither were you ugly. You just weren’t special, and it kept you safe from the eyes of perverts that frequently visited the club. Surprisingly, you didn’t even have a stage name. However, it meant that you never caught Blue’s attention. You knew that he fawned over Babydoll, the star of the show. It didn’t bother you whatsoever, in fact, you were glad to be out of his view. Though now that fact proved your disadvantage.
Therefore, you couldn’t understand why you were sent to complete the task. Sure, every girl fulfilled her role in this mission, Babydoll especially, but you were nearly certain that it’d fail because of you. Blue Jones was a sensible man; the fact that he was onto you all made you nauseous. He’ll smell your anxiety and shoot you in the head.
However, the girls insisted that it was you he adored the most. You tried rationalising that fact for the love of God, as Blue had nothing to do with you. Not even once he had come to the studio to watch you dance, nor had he ordered you to bring him something, to please his clients. You didn’t even know if he truly remembered your name. Not that it was a bad thing, at least before, yet now you prayed that he’d recognise you.
You knocked on the door again, eagerly this time.
You. Had. To. Make. It. Work—
“Come in!”
Speak of the Devil.
With a painful gulp, you welcomed yourself into Blue’s office, turning down your natural glare.
Every time you had a chance to look at him, hatred coiled inside your chest. Directed at him only.
He didn’t even look up at you when you closed the door behind yourself, or at least it seemed like it, as his slim glasses covered his pupils. His attention was entirely dedicated to the papers on his desk; maybe he was calculating the finances, planning arrangements.
Nonetheless, you stood as if impaled on a pole. You knew well enough not to overstep his boundaries—you didn’t need to be punished in a crucial moment.
“Well? What do you want?” Blue rushed you while rubbing his moustache; it sounded like you disturbed him.
“Sir, I have a favour to ask,” you started, somehow managing the tremble of your voice and stepping closer.
Even the clicks of your heels didn’t bring his attention to you.
At this point, you had no doubts that your plan wouldn’t work, but you had to push through it. You prayed to every god existing in the universe to guide you through this terrible idea. Eros, especially Eros, hoping that the god of love and lust will sort this situation out for you.
“Go on,” Blue responded briefly. The frown of his brows deepened with every sound you made.
Only when your shadow fell on top of him did he raise his gaze. You found a pinch of surprise in his expression—good sign. Surely, it must have been the seductive appearance that drew him in, making him place his pen beside the scribbled papers. His eyes gave their utmost attention to the perk of your breasts, the clear outline of your practically naked body, the marvelous skin.
He licked his upper lip in thought. “Well?”
“I have this problem…” you said. Humiliating yourself, but with a purpose of luring him. You lifted your dress only slightly, revealing lace panties. “I need this problem taken care of… My fingers aren’t enough to make me cum and I just don’t know what to do with myself—”
“Come here,” Blue commanded, pulling back his chair. His breath quickened, chest rising and falling visibly while his hand patted his knee impatiently. “Sit.”
You almost managed to suppress a smile, disbelieving that he’d give in so easily. You expected a rejection, to be yelled at, or be told to please a client instead.
Without needing to hear the order coming out of his mouth for the second time, you swiftly came around his desk and seated yourself on his lap.
Immediately, Blue’s calloused hands slithered around your body, unable to contain themselves from the present that was placed right in front of him. His fingers straightened the folds of your dress, circling around every inch of your torso. Maybe he tried to suppress the shivering of his fingers as you felt light vibrations underneath his touch. It was rough, pressing down your flesh almost uncomfortably, painfully. You couldn’t possibly fathom the reaction you had so easily managed to induce.
He licked his lips, as if battling with something. “Tell me what you want me to do. I can’t hear your thoughts…”
You brushed your palms over his shoulders and down his arms, then up again, finally landing on his chest. You had to do everything in your power to make him unaware of his surroundings, so you slowly rolled your hips to create some friction against his erection, which, to your delight, already seemed to ache for an intimate touch.
Your success was astonishing so far.
You pressed yourself against his body, gliding your hands down his torso, and leaning closer.
“Sir, I want you to touch me. I want to be filled up so badly, I can’t take it anymore,” you practically moaned into his ear, hoping that he’d take the bait. “I tried stuffing my fingers inside but they’re too tiny… I need something bigger, warmer, something real. I want you, Sir, no one else. You know, I was dreaming about you the other night and I…”
“Tell me more about this dream,” he groaned, trying to contain stability in his voice.
His body shivered so badly at your touch, you could feel it, no matter how much he tried to control it and show you his disinterest. He probably wanted to grind himself into you as well, but how could a powerful man like him melt in your embrace so easily?
“I had a dream last night where you fucked me. It felt so good, I was so sad to wake up!—”
“And what did I do to you? In your dream?” he interrupted, squeezing your asscheeks roughly.
“Well I…” That simple action caught you off-guard, yet, you needed to continue the show and think of something quickly. Your hands did their best to detect where the needed objects hid. “You fucked me so roughly here, on this desk. You folded me in half. I thought I’ll pass out—”
“Did I? Really?” he breathed out against your neck, resisting to place kisses on it. You felt something damp land against the skin of your neck—it was his sweaty forehead. “And what did you do when you woke up?”
“I masturbated because I really wanted to feel you inside…” you whimpered, pulling yourself even closer, if possible, to his hot body. His cock was rubbing against your sex; surprisingly, it felt pleasant.
“Really? Oh— You poor thing,” he cooed into your ear.
“I was so scared to disturb you… I know that you’re so busy, I hope I’m not taking much of your time—”
“No.” Finally, he kissed your bare shoulder, gently pushing the straps out of his field. “Not at all, I’m more than happy to help you. I know how hard it can be; I know how all of that suppressed… Energy can hurt you. You poor thing, let me take care of you…”
You threw your head back, giving him access to kiss all over you.
Your chances rose up—something hard caught on your fingertips, right under his jacket. Your fingers gently drew around its outlines. A gun; he was hiding a gun inside an inner pocket.
Blue lavished over your neck, running his fingers over your body, and rutting against you like it hurt him. But you didn’t care.
You breathed in as your hand sneaked inside his jacket.
The kisses he had planted over your skin were desperate and wet, even passionate somehow. It made you wonder whether you truly managed to seduce him, but you didn’t overthink it as you’ve successfully managed to pull his gun out.
You carefully snuck your arms around his neck, pulling him closer into your embrace.
To him, it was a signal that he could continue, play with your body however he wished; to you, it was a way to hide the heavy pistol behind his back.
You were ready to endure his scorching touches; fortunately, your overwhelming joy numbed your senses. You didn’t feel his soft lips landing on your skin, or his rigid hands massaging your flesh, creeping past your dress. You couldn’t comprehend how his fingers caressed your breasts, giving special attention to your sensitive nipples, and how they then ran down to your hips. Sure, it felt nice, but it didn’t make you breathe louder, though your panties felt damp probably by reacting to the physical sensations.
Perhaps you were used to being touched by men you didn’t care about. You were used to men violating your flesh for pleasure; it didn’t feel any different.
Your wrist ached from the weight forcing it down.
That’s why your mind was preoccupied by more important thoughts, for example, how you could obtain the last object: the master key—
You gasped and squeezed your eyes shut, pushing your face into Blue’s neck as something suddenly plunged inside of you.
Something drew itself in and out slowly, teasing your pussy in a slow but steady rhythm.
It nearly made you drop the gun that you held onto desperately.
You only then realised that Blue snuck two of his fingers inside, stretching you. How and when—you didn’t remember. The sly smirk plastered on his face was sadistic, but his eyes behind those slim glasses seemed interested in observing your shifting reactions.
To your disadvantage, your arms loosened their grip and fell to his shoulders.
The gun was exposed to his sight.
His fingers stopped their rhythm, though they were drawn deeply inside of you.
“What’s this all about?” he asked you quietly, yet with distinctive frustration in his voice.
“In my dream— We—” you stuttered, thinking of an immediate excuse. Subconsciously, you rolled your hips, guiding yourself on his fingers; it made you moan even in a dire moment. “We— We used it—”
“Oh really? How?” He got closer to your face, searching for deceit. He didn’t blink, but didn’t show obvious distrust. In fact, he managed to conceal all of his underlying disappointment.
Even then, he breathed deeply against your face—still seemingly aroused by the course of action, maybe even more than before.
“Well…” You stared at the gun in your hand for a split second, suddenly gaining control over your body. Then you’ve generated a mimic, looking up at Blue with artificial lust as you rode his fingers proudly.
You didn’t want to point the gun at yourself, fearing that it might give him some dangerous ideas. Surely enough, you’d end up dead either way, so you tried your luck, moaning out a bit too dramatically, “I held it against your head in my dream.”
Blue stayed silent for a minute before laughing with the nastiest grin you’ve ever seen, “Oh really? Show me how.”
Luckily, you were in a creative mood, pressing the tip of the gun against his lips while licking your own. “I asked you to clean it. It’s dusty.”
Blue’s breath hitched for a second.
You mentally told yourself you were dead the second you decided to be bold.
To your surprise, you noticed his face flush in bright red, feeling his hand gripping your hip a bit tighter while the other glided the inserted fingers in and out of you again. His bulge twitched against your clit, making you almost sigh in relief.
Blue parted his lips and licked the tip of the pistol, rolling his tongue over the muzzle, front sight and other expressed brims. Then he used his mouth to suck off the slide.
The wet squelches of your sex, the provocative view, the dark beam behind those glasses; the way his two fingers rhythmically thrusted in and out of your pussy, curling in spots that you didn’t know existed, stretching the spongy walls from time to time; how his hardness caused friction against your clit made you lose your mind.
You never moaned, never threw your head back with a silent prayer for more, never felt so much pleasure from other than masturbating in utter darkness. Never did a man make you feel this good.
Not that they could’ve touched you so intimately. This was the first time when someone, besides yourself, had their fingers up in your wet hole. You never knew why you were prohibited from pleasing Blue’s clients through sex. The only thing you did endure were kisses all over you, dicks rubbing against your body. But nothing more.
Only in this moment did you realise the odd circumstances; you almost pulled the trigger on Blue as you daydreamed, and felt the unknown desires seeping deeper into your bones.
Not for a second did Blue peel his gaze away from you, staring at you intently.
You didn’t know what to make out of it: was it love or possessiveness?
“I never gave you a name,” he groaned, though it sounded like a whimper. “What should I call you?”
He pushed the leaking gun away with his cheek and feasted on your neck instead, later moving up to your ear. “What if I called you Rose? Rose Petal? Wanna know why?”
You didn’t reply, only clenching onto his shoulder desperately.
Then you whined when his fingers suddenly stopped.
You looked at him at last, pleading to continue with that sad shimmer in your eyes.
Blue pouted, cupping your cheek and rolling his thumb along your lower lip. “You need to give me a signal. Anything. I don’t know when you want me to talk! So, let me repeat myself one more time, do you wanna know why I’d call you Rose Petal?”
You nodded eagerly, trying to ride his fingers again, but it was difficult to do so.
His touch burnt you; you hated him so much for teasing you and making you beg for more. You hated him with all of your heart for who he was, and yet—why did that soft caress on your cheek feel so right? Why did he bring himself so close to your face, almost kissing your lips? Why did his eyes, that were usually filled with so much mischief, were now of a wounded animal?
You wept from joy when his fingers stretched you again, moving in and out repeatedly. You were about to drop your head on his shoulder, but his hand firmly held your lower jaw in place; his eyes caught yours.
His voice was filled with some kind of longing, gentleness, as if he were on the verge of tears, “You are so beautiful, so delicate. Like a flower. But even more delicate… Would you believe me if I told you that I couldn’t let anyone else have you? I was so scared, so scared that those brutes would break you… You’re so fragile, so delicate, so soft. Like a petal. And what’s more sexual and symbolic than a rose? You— You— Even your pussy feels like a flower… Your folds, your insides are so soft. You smell so— Oh? Did you just clench around my fingers?”
Your body did react to his words; never had you heard Blue speak to anyone like that, though your mind had difficulty understanding him completely. You felt a knot forming in your lower abdomen, as you rode his fingers and grinded yourself against his clothed erection. With one hand you squeezed his bicep, maybe harshly, while the other pressed the tip of the gun to his temple.
A pathetic whine left your lips when he suddenly removed his fingers, stripping you out of pleasure.
However, that heartwarming moment greatly contrasted with reality when he slammed you onto his desk. That sudden force and pain made you drop his gun next to your head; you were thankful that it didn’t go off by accident.
The temporary ache in your back was quickly forgotten when Blue rose those sticky fingers to his mouth, licking them off cleanly. A tongue ran over his lips, collecting the remaining juices of your sex; now his gaze was as malicious as before. It reminded you of the passionate contempt in the depths of your heart.
And yet, you didn’t stop Blue from pulling your fragile dress over your chest, exposing your body to his hungry eyes, or from sliding off your panties.
His rough hands placed your thighs over his shoulders, folding you in half. Just like you’d described. You glanced down at him, realising that you didn’t notice when he removed his glasses, threw away his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, or pulled down his trousers, aligning his leaking cock with your entrance.
Without a warning, Blue shoved himself inside of your pussy.
The sensation of your insides being stretched by a thick hot cock overwhelmed you, forcing out a mixture of a hiss and a moan from your throat. It felt so much different compared to his fingers. Not to mention that this angle allowed him to push himself even deeper.
He thrusted in and out of you slowly at first, teasing himself more than you. “Now, Rose Petal, the gun. Pick it up,” he ordered through clenched teeth.
Overwhelmed by the contradicting emotions, the heat and proximity, and your racing thoughts, you couldn’t understand his words, feeling how the world was spinning. Even your vision blurred.
That must have irked him, as he slammed himself into you harshly with every spelt word:
“Pick. Up. The. Gun!”
Your sensitive walls burnt from pain; your shaky hand immediately grasped the pistol beside you.
“To my head,” he commanded again. “C’mon…”
You obeyed without wasting another second, pressing the tip of the gun against his forehead.
“Good, very good,” he moaned, dragging out the ‘o’. Blue’s eyes rolled back into his skull as his hips sped up the pace. “I know that you fucking hate me. All of you do. I know how much you want me dead. You’re thinking about it, I know you do—”
You were confused, overfilled with pain and pleasure as he used your body to chase his own pleasure. Your hand shook while holding up the weapon.
“Pull the trigger,” he breathed out silently.
Your insides clenched around his cock; you were afraid that he might be testing you.
That made him upset again, as he slammed harshly with each word, gasping for air:
“I said… Pull. The. Fucking. Trigger!”
You fought back against his command at first, feeling way too scared to commit to it. However, you had no other choice as Blue decided to hit your cervix repeatedly, making you cry in pain. He was pushing you over the edge, forcing you to submit to his design.
Overwhelmed by the varying feelings, you accidentally pulled the trigger.
For a moment, you expected to hear a loud bang, for blood to splash all over your face.
But nothing happened.
There were no bullets in the magazine of the pistol.
That made you disappointed, so you pulled the trigger again and again, hoping to hear a shot. You partially wished to see him dead; you wondered whether it was truly worth risking your life to get a gun with no bullets.
Unless Babydoll had them.
That visible rage in your face, and tears of frustration in your eyes, seemed to arouse Blue, as he moaned loudly, “Disappointed, aren’t you?”
He pounded inside of you with less force—in an attempt to rub the spots that numbed both the previous pain and your hatred. To finally make love to you, to show you how well he knew your body and cared about your pleasure.
“You really wanted that gun to go off, huh? Wanted to blow my brains out, yea? Wanted to see me dead? You think I don’t know what you’re actually thinking about?”
You dropped the gun beside yourself again just to drag your nails over his back, in part upset that you couldn’t claw at his bare skin. You wanted to hurt Blue because you despised him. You wanted to tear him apart while he gave you all he had.
“You hate me so much,” he whispered, making you glare at him. “I know what you and the other girls are plotting against me. How could you leave me?.. Especially when I care about you so much! When I did my best to protect you from all of the perverts that begged me to give you up! Oh— Rose Petal, my angel, I couldn’t do it— You’d make me so much money— But how could I give you up when even I didn’t allow myself to play with you? I need you so much… You have no clue how happy your little request made me. I masturbated to that idea for so long… I don’t know how much longer I could’ve lasted without you, your body— I— I wanted you for too long. I watched you when you didn’t even know that I was beside you. When you sleep, when you eat, when you dance… Bathe… Get dressed, get ready… You are so… Perfect, so beautiful. So delicate… Oh—”
But you couldn’t handle it. Your hands slithered around his neck and squeezed it, making him yelp in surprise.
Even then, he choked out, “O-Oh, you— H-Harder… Do it— Harder— Show me how m-much you hate me!”
And you listened, obediently tightening your grip and watching him struggling in your grasp.
However, Blue neared his body towards yours and the master key dangled over your chest. It restored your faith in Eros; yet, your focus quickly shifted to Blue pressing himself against you, pushing your legs over your head and snapping his hips into your pussy ferociously.
His tongue darted out, poking your lips. You denied him at first, but essentially gave into the temptation, realising that you still needed to distract him in order to obtain the final possession.
Secretly, you wanted to feel his lips clashing against yours, to feel his tongue dancing with yours, exploring your mouth. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth, taking all of his remaining breath.
Oh, his hands holding your thighs in place, his smell, the weight of his body crushing you, the gentle scratches of the papers behind your back, his lips on yours, the slapping skin and that deep penetration—all of it drove you mad.
Blue shook from the lack of oxygen in his body, his face turning from red to purple, but he still didn’t want to stop you from choking him.
When your blurry gaze finally focused, you saw his eyeliner running down his cheeks.
Combining the overwhelming sensations running in and around your body, the previous feeling of an approaching orgasm took over you, making you clench around his length involuntarily and cry in his embrace out loud.
“I-I love you,” he choked out against the plush of your lips, sobbing, but you still held onto his neck firmly. “So— So!..”
Then Blue let out a sound of a muffled moan or a groan, maybe even a pathetic whimper, pushing his length into you completely for the last time while your insides spasmed, making you see white.
Amid your own climax, one of your hands released his neck and searched for the master key that rested on your breasts. You quickly broke the fragile chain, securing the desired object in your palm.
At last, you enjoyed the last seconds of the intense pleasure overriding your body, and the feeling of Blue’s lips caressing your face, his cock twitching inside your desperate pussy while it milked him dry.
To enjoy the last second of passion with your cursed lover, kissing him on the lips for the last time, tasting the salty drops of sweat on his moustache.
Creating a memory for the whole eternity.
When his body gave out from the release of unspeakable pressure and crisis of oxygen, you pushed him off to the floor. Luckily, he didn’t have the strength to restrain you.
You pulled your dress down, panties up, and picked up the worthless, sticky gun. You double checked whether the master key remained in your other hand.
And you ran as much as your weak legs and high heels allowed you, slamming the door behind yourself, not even bothering to look back at the man that you both hated and lusted over at the same time.
Now your life could be better than this.
And you only prayed that your sacrifice was worth the price; though you’d secretly do it again, and again, just to feel his touch again.
Credits for the dividers: @uzmacchiato @cursed-carmine @cillmequick
Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)
CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)
These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.
(Lmk if you want more in the future)
Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse
Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.
So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.
Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.
You’re in his office? Bend over.
You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.
Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.
Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.
If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.
His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.
Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.
When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.
“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”
Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight
Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.
Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.
Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.
He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.
His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.
When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.
Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.
“You did so good for me, darling…”
Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.
But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.
Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.
Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.
His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.
Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.
He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?
Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.
He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.
“So pretty… so pretty…”
Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.
As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.
He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.
Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.
Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.
He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.
Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.
“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”
All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.
Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.
Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you’re getting sore from being stuck in one place.
Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3
Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.
Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.
“Our beautiful darling…”
Basil Stitt - Lightningface
Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.
Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.
He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.
Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.
As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.
He needs you to feel good. He needs you.
When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.
His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.
“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”
Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick
Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.
Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.
Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.
Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.
Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.
Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.
Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.
Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.
“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”
Blue Jones - Sucker Punch
Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.
He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.
You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.
Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.
With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.
Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.
Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.
You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.
When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.
“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”
Poe Dameron - Star Wars
Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.
Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.
He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.
After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.
As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.
He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.
Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.
With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.
His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.
When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.
“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”
Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina
Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.
This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.
The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.
You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.
As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.
Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.
His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.
He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.
His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.
When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.
“Get up. It’s my turn.”
Duke Leto Atreides - Dune
Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.
Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.
Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.
He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.
Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.
He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3
His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.
Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.
When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.
When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.
“I still have time, shall we go for another?”
Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)
John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.
He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.
John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.
Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.
With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.
His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.
John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.
At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.
He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.
Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.
John pats his shoulder.
“Come, rest your head.”
Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier
Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.
He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.
You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.
He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.
As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.
As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.
When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.
“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”
—————————————————
Thanks for reading!
Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)
You fall for the character, become obsessed with them to the point where you think that they're the only fictional character you've ever loved, like if they were real, you'd marry them in a heart beat
Then you fall for a new fictional character while still being obsessed with the current one, it feels like an affair, but you accidentally became too obsessed with the new one, so you start to ignore the current one slowly, until you completely ignore them, and start to focus on the new one, falling for them now, it's like divorce and remarriage
The cycle continues until you have at least 10 fictional characters
Then you remember your previous fictional crush that you were obsessed with 2 years ago, and then you fall for them again, and become obsessed with them like you used to, it's like falling in love and marrying your ex-spouse again
Description: You haven't been working at Lennox Club for long, but somehow you've ended up with the job of kitchen runner. You're fetching Blue's dirty dishes at the end of the night when you make a mistake. (1.1K~ words)
*Fem-presenting Reader
Warnings: "prickly" Blue Jones, Swearing, pet names (ex. "doll"), innuendo.
**Originally published on AO3; posting here for FeBLUEary.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💙🎙️💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm so sorry, Blue! I'll clean it up right away!" You feel your face flush as you crouch over the shattered remains of his empty dinner plate you just dropped on the floor. You glance up at him and notice the frown forming, along with his tightly-closed eyes. You rush to pick up the pieces with your bare hands, stacking smaller bits onto the largest piece as quietly as you can.
The scrape of his chair on the floor makes your heart pound even faster, and you fold in on yourself even further, instinctively making yourself as small as possible. You can feel how close he is to you even before you see the points of his shiny shoes stop next to the mess.
"Get up," he barks.
You stand up immediately, not even stopping to put down the small pieces of glass you had collected in your hand. Despite the adrenaline running through your body, you do your best to stand still, eyes trained down on the floor.
Blue clicks his tongue at you, clearly displeased. He uses one foot to shift a small trashcan over between the two of you.
You flinch as his fingers grip your wrist, but you don't fight his hold. Blue brings your hand over the trashcan and carefully rotates it, letting the pile of broken glass fall into the bin. You keep your eyes on the floor, praying that whatever punishment he gives will be swift. You flinch again at the feel of his well-manicured nails trailing down your palm lightly, carefully removing any smaller shards of glass still stuck to your sweaty palm. Something warm ghosts over your fingertips; you steal a startled glance up. Blue's face is so close to your hand that you can feel his breath on your skin. His dark eyes scan your palm, then he traces his fingers along the same path. A shiver zips down your spine from the feeling; the tremor flows down to your arm where he grips it.
Blue looks up at you without moving his face away. His eyes meet yours, and he kisses your palm gently, smirking at your answering shiver.
"The next time you clean up broken glass, I want you to wear gloves," he murmurs over your fingers.
You wince at his words. Of course you should have worn gloves. You could have cut yourself and bled all over his office.
"Yes, Blue; I'm sorry," you answer quickly.
He smirks a little wider. Blue rubs his thumb in slow, hypnotizing circles over your hand. "I know you are, sweetheart. That's been your catchphrase since you got here. I've tried to give you some time and space to adjust, come out of your shell a little bit, but that's not happening, is it?"
The purr of his low voice almost lulls you enough to relax, but you know better. His accusation freezes you in place. You quickly look down and swallow hard, then tightly nod your agreement.
Blue tuts at you. "What is happening in that pretty head of yours to make you so timid?"
"I'm sor-"
Your apology turns into a squeak of surprise as he yanks your body towards him and wraps a strong arm behind your back. "Stop that. I don't want to hear another apology from you for the rest of the night. Is that clear?"
You nod quickly, body tense against his.
"Good girl. Now, I'm going to sit at my desk, and you're going to sit on my lap while we chat."
Tears start in your eyes, but you swallow past the tightness in your throat. "Yes, Blue."
He gives you a slight squeeze before stepping back and leading you to his chair. Once he's sitting down, he pulls your hand until you're standing sideways, then guides you down to his lap by your hips. His hands move over your body to mold you against him, urging your head down to rest your cheek on his shoulder.
"That's it, sweetheart. Just like that." Blue slides one arm to support the middle of your back, fingers wrapping over your elbow in a loose grip. His other hand cups your hip, keeping you close with just the weight of it resting on you.
"Take a deep breath, and when you let it out, relax against me," his orders rumble through your chest where it's pressed close to his.
You take a shaky breath in and let it out, releasing some of your tension with it.
"Good. Again," Blue commands softly.
Your next inhale is smoother, and you relax against him enough to feel each rise and fall of his chest move you.
Blue lets out a deep sigh. "Good, sweetheart. That's perfect, just like that. I don't want you to move, alright?"
You almost nod but stop yourself. "Ok," you whisper instead.
You feel his low hum more than hear it. "Thank you, doll. I like it much better when you're calm like this. It lets me calm down, too."
You consider his words for a moment, turning over his gratitude in your mind, looking for a catch and not finding one. "You're welcome," you finally murmur.
He shifts underneath you.
"I'm not…too heavy, am I?" you ask tentatively.
Blue scoffs quietly. "No, you're not too heavy, and even if you were, do you think I'm the kind of guy to sit here in pain without saying anything?"
You tense against him and have to consciously relax again. "No, you're not," you agree.
"See, you already know me so well, don't you?" He squeezes your hip a little. "It's not you, just this old chair. This would be more comfortable in a bed, but I don't want to move right now."
You suck in a sharp breath. "Are you going to ask me that later? Ask me into bed with you?" You can't keep the anxiety out of your voice.
"No, honey. Not that I don't want to, but if I ask you now, you might say yes just to appease me. You'd probably shake the whole time, like a scared little bunny," he explains quietly. "I keep people in line all day; I don't want any drama at this time of the night."
"So…I'm not in trouble?" you venture the question.
"Oh, you're in trouble," he draws out in a sing-song voice, "but you're already being punished. So be a good girl and take it. We'll clean up the mess later." Blue punctuates his words with a heavy sigh and shifts down further on his chair.
You breathe a sigh of relief. "Yes, sir."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💙🎙️💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tag List: @have-you-seen-my-sanity @ierofrnkk @mylittledelulucorner @ruegoreos @beloved-by-the-moon @moonknightly @iolaussharpe-24 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction
I've never done many recs but I want to make sure my lovely following, at least, knows about these gems 💎✨' (in no particular order...)
If you aren't reading the Beer Money series by @mysticalmoonb3ams, your life isn't complete. Let's be honest, some of us are snobs about reading an OC and you only want x reader but you are gonna love this girl with Cecil. They are PERFECT and this little series is DELICIOUS.
Undertow - Santiago Garcia - @rhapsodyofdarkness - The prose is breathtaking, the angst, the longing, Santi needs some relief. I can't say enough about how beautiful this story is
Thirsty - Victor Frankenstein - @reallyrallyauthor - BLISTERINGLY HOT
Bound to the Tide - Rydal Keener - @campingwiththecharmings - clever, lovely, much needed Rydal content
Genius, Unmade - Victor Frankenstein - @greenandsorrow - the yearninggggg, needy Victor
The Hanky Panky Triology - Moon Knight System - @backp0rchpoet - Marc has me on the kitchen table, enough said. But all 3 boys are featured in their own part. Scalding!
Timid - Blue Jones - @ingoldthewizard - clever, hot, surprising
After Hours - Steven Grant - @opheliarae - library sex ok
Eat Your Heart Out - Jake Lockley - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction - my favorite fluffy surprise I've read in a while
In Death I Have Found Love - Victor Frankenstein - @missdictatorme - monster!reader, what could be more amazing and unique
explicit ✨ club!blue jones x f!reader✨ sucker punch (2011) ✨ 12 mins
🔖 begging, established relationship, light dom/sub, lingerie, not beta read, pov second person, teasing
✧ read below or on ao3 ✧
The the club smells of expensive cigars, floor wax and the metallic tang of nerves. It's a sensory overload that you've learned to navigate like a second skin. As the wife of one, Mister Blue Jones, you aren't just a figurehead; you're the oil in the machine, the soft voice that keeps the girls from snapping under the weight of their performances.
You stand in the centre of the dance studio, your heels clicking rhythmically against the hardwood. Beside you, Madam Gorski — Vera — is a statue of stern discipline. Her sharp eyes track every movement of the girls.
"The High Roller arrives in four days, Vera." You murmur, crossing your arms. "He doesn't just want technique. He wants the soul. If they look like robots, he'll lose interest before the first act ends."
"They are tired." Vera responds, her voice a low rasp. "But they will be perfect. I will see to it."
You nod gratefully but your mind is already pivoting to the logistics of the wardrobe and the temperaments of the newer arrivals. You've been on your feet for twelve hours, juggling the delicate egos of the staff and the mounting pressure of the club's biggest night of the year.
"Baby." His voice echoes in the high-ceilinged studio, turning every head but your own.
You try and keep a modicum of separation when it comes to Blue. After all, it'd be unprofessional for you to be fawning over each other every hour of the day. Still, that doesn't stop him.
"Blue, I'm working." You reply flatly but you hear him close the distance between you as the girls go back to rehearsing.
"I know." He purrs, stopping right beside you. A large, warm hand finds your lower back and you stiffen as his thumb traces small circles at the possessive gesture. Of course, it's not that you hate the man — far from it — but you need to keep up appearances. He leans in to press a kiss to your temple and you let out a little huff through your nose.
"Mister Jones, was there something you needed?" You ask pointedly, finally turning your head to look at him as Vera walks over to Blondie, correcting her posture. The hand on your back tightens slightly.
"Yes, actually." He lies. It's obvious. Dark eyes drop to your lips briefly before meeting your challenging gaze. "I need you to come with me for a second."
"Oh? What's so important?" You press and his eyes scan the room but no-one seems to be paying attention, all of the girls practicing their respective dances.
"It's...confidential." He says smoothly but you know full well he's just trying to get you alone. Everything's been pretty busy with the High Roller turning up in a few days so you've not had much time together, apart from getting ready in the mornings and going to bed at night, barely able to keep your eyes open. "The office. Now, if you can." He turns and walks away without looking back, expecting you to follow.
Sighing, you throw Vera an exasperated look and walk out of the studio, your heels clicking on the floorboards.
You meet Blue in your shared office and you close the door behind you. The room is dim, a lone desk lamp casting long shadows on the walls. Blue isn't behind his desk though, instead he's leaning against the minibar, pouring a finger of bourbon. "Lock the door, would you, Missus Jones." The use of your married name is deliberate and dripping with possessive authority. But you both know that could be undone in a minute flat.
You lock the door and untie your hair, shaking it out of its high ponytail and sighing in relief as it falls about your shoulders.
"Blue, I'm trying to be professional, here." You complain, taking a seat on the sofa and the corner of the room and folding your legs elegantly. He watches you move with hooded eyes.
"I know, I know." He replies placatingly, taking a sip of his drink.
"I need that work-life balance, you know that." You tell him firmly and he hums in response, sitting on the sofa opposite you and crossing one leg over the other; the picture of casual sophistication.
"And you know I respect that." He pauses, swirling his drink. "Usually." A slow smirk spreads across his face and you lift a brow.
"Barely."
"Hey, I'm trying." He defends but the smirk never leaves his face. He knows damn well he's always pushing those boundaries. He sets his drink down on the coffee table and leans forward slightly. "But, c'mon, baby. It's been ages since we had any alone time." Ah. So that's why... Your eyes soften ever so slightly.
"We've been busy getting ready for the High Roller, that puts everyone on edge." You explain and he sighs, passing a hand over his perfectly-styled hair.
"I know, I know..." The façade slips just a little; a flicker of genuine exhaustion crossing his features. He stands and walks over, sitting beside you on the sofa, a finger tracing your knee, the velvet of your pants soft under his skin. "I miss my wife."
"Aww. Poor baby, Blue." You coo playfully and his hand slides up your thigh as he leans in closer, resting his forehead against your own.
"Don't tease me." He murmurs softly, his voice low and sincere. The playful banter is gone, replaced with genuine longing. "Just gimme five minutes; no sex, no nothing." A fond smile curves at your painted lips and you cup his jaw.
"Honey, you're wound up tighter than a spring. We both know that means sex." You state and he laughs, a rare sound; genuine, warm.
"Okay, fine, maybe I want sex." He admits, nuzzling his face against your palm. "But I also just wanna kiss my wife for five damn minutes. Is that so much to ask?" Your thumb drifts from his cheek to his lips, passing lightly over the soft flesh there. Your smile evolves into a sly smirk.
"Beg for it." You tell him and his eyes snap to yours, a hunger igniting within them. He loves when you get like this; all dominant and demanding. His voice drops to a low, pleading tone; he's not above begging when it comes to getting what he wants from you.
"Please, baby." He murmurs but you know that's nowhere near the depths he'd sink for even just a kiss. You lean in and barely brush your lips against his forehead, leaving a faint smear of red lipstick.
"Get your jacket off and we can have some 'alone time with totally no sex at all', alright, hon?" You tease him and he nods.
"Yes, ma'am." He obeys quick enough, standing and removing his jacket before laying it over the back of the sofa. His tie follows next, loosening it before pulling it off completely. "Just five minutes." Once he's ready, you nod to the spot between your feet.
"You know where to go." And he drops to his knees between your feet without hesitation, the consummate professional at his wife's command. His hands rest on your knees, thumbs tracing slow circles on the velvet. He peers up at you with dark, hungry eyes; his version of begging without words. And, Christ, he's so beautiful like this; all that power and control humbled just for you.
"Missus Jones..." You take his face in your hands, running your thumbs over his cheeks and your fingers teasing the shell of his ears. His eyes flutter closed, lashes fanning against his cheeks, as a groan rumbles in his chest.
"Yes, love?"
"I missed you." He breathes, leaning into your touch like a large cat. The cruel, tyrannical club-owner is gone now; leaving behind just a needy man who craves his wife.
His hands grip your knees tighter, fingers pressing into the velvet. "I've been good." His voice is soft, almost childlike in its neediness. "Real patient too."
"Oh, I know, sweetheart." You lean down to rub your nose against his and he hums. "I know you've been trying your best to wait until everything cools off and we have more time to ourselves."
"I've been so good for you, baby." He whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. "So patient. So obedient."
"Then, I guess, I owe you a bit of a reward, huh?" You lightly rub your thumb just forward of his ear, teasing the short hairs there and making him whine before he can bite back the sound.
"Fuck—" His hands slide up your thighs, grip tightening. "Baby, please..." He presses his brow to your knee. "I've been so patient."
You reach down and pop open the first few buttons on his shirt, lightly scraping your nails along his neck and collarbone. He shudders violently at the contact, tilting his head back slightly to give you better access. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat and you suppress the urge to bite. "Oh, my God." He whispers, voice ragged and breathy. "Oh, my God, baby, please..." His hands are trembling where they rest on your thighs. "Please, touch me." You run your hands over his chest through his shirt.
"Mm... You're running warm, honey. Maybe you have a fever coming on." You comment teasingly and he nods, unconsciously arching into your touch.
"Mmmyeah... I feel so hot, baby." He swallows hard. Leaning in, you redirect his attention by kissing his temple, leaving a red print of lipstick on his skin. He closes his eyes, just breathing you in for a moment, savouring the scent and warmth of your lips against his skin. When he opens his eyes again, they're glassy and dazed, pupils blown wide. You pepper kisses all over his face, leaving lipstick kisses on his forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw; anywhere but his lips.
Finally, you hold his head back, playing with the short hairs at his nape, your breath warm against his ear.
"When's the High Roller coming, honey?" You whisper and he shivers.
"Next week." He replies, voice barely audible from his heavy breathing. "Thursday." He adds, words coming out in gasps. "But, baby, please— I need you. I can't think straight. I'm so wound up—"
"Next week... That's a long time, isn't it?" Slowly, you inch your leg between his thighs, lifting the toe of your boot and pressing it against the crotch of his pants. A raw, desperate sound rips from his throat; half-gasp, half-strangled moan. His whole body jerks, hips bucking forward involuntarily against your boot.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" He hisses, eyes flying open, brows drawn up. "Baby, no, don't stop..." His forehead drops to your knee, breathing hard, completely unravelling. You comb your fingers through his hair, mussing it slightly, as you put a little more pressure on his crotch.
"Why don't you tell me what you want, honey? And I'll see if I can't do something to help, hm?"
"Want you." He chokes out immediately. "Want my wife." His hips stutter against the sole of your boot, chasing the pressure, barely able to form coherent words. "Want you on your back. Want you under me. Wanna feel you wrapped around me—" His fingers curl around your thighs. "Want everything. Forever."
You pull your foot away from his crotch and stand, satisfied at the level he's stooped to.
"You just stay nice and still for me." You tell him and he freezes, watching you, his hands falling from your thighs. He's practically panting now, his shoulders trembling ever so slightly. He nods quickly, jaw clenched tight.
You slowly shrug off your jacket and carelessly toss it over the back of the sofa. Next comes your turtleneck sweater. Your hair spills over your shoulders beautifully but Blue's eyes hone in on your nipples, stiff and visible through the lace of your bra. "Would you be a dear and help me with my boots?" You ask and he nods eagerly.
"Mhm. Yeah. Of course." His voice is rough and eager, hands shaking with restraint. He carefully unlaces each boot and sets them aside, fingers brushing over your ankles and calves like he's touching precious silk.
"Thank you, honey." Now you reach for the buttons of your pants. You pop them open, one by one, before pushing them down to pool around your ankles. The gesture reveals the matching panties you're wearing as well as the garter-belt, holding up sheer black stockings with a lace trim, hugging your thighs snugly. "Mm... That's better." And he's frozen, staring up at you like a goddess. His mouth is slightly open, his breathing shallow and quick.
"Jesus Christ..." You lay a hand on his head, stroking his hairline.
"Unbutton your pants for me, honey." You tell him and he nods dumbly, hands fumbling to get his slacks open. He shoves them down along with his damp briefs, exposing his sore, aching cock to the cool air. He looks up at you with pleading eyes.
"Baby, please..." He manages through shaking breaths.
"Ohh, that looks sore." You coo and he lets out a sound you could describe as nothing else but a whine.
"Mhmm." He spreads his legs wider for you. "Hurts so bad." His cock twitches visible, precum beading at the tip. "You need to make it better, baby. Please. I'll do anything you want—"
"Spare me the dramatics, Mister Jones." You purr, hooking your fingers under the waistband of your panties and slipping them over the curve of your hips, letting them land around your ankles. He actually whimpers now, his eyes following the motion greedily as they lock onto your bare pussy like a man starved. You lips curve up into a devilish grin. "Now, when you said you'd do anything..."
if you got this far, it'd be lovely if you dropped me a kudos or a comment (whatever you have time for) on ao3. thanks for reading 💛✨
