Summary: you've always been jealous, a bit insecure even. Selina's little 'friend' drives you mad. Masterlist Catwoman Masterlist
Tag(s): 18+ | 1.3k words | language, jealous bitching, anger issues, strapon sex, chair sex
She's been out all night. You check your chipped digital watch and see it's nearly 2 hours until dawn. You did not take a sucker punch to the jaw just for Kyle to go home with that fucking Bat.
"SELINA!"
Your gravelly voice echoes menacingly through the Gotham alley so loud they probably heard you in Metropolis. When the blanket of night inevitably does not answer you back, you stomp your heel and walk home.
You throw the door to your home open wide (there is already a hole where the knob hits, you do this often). You are not entirely surprised to find a light appears to be on in the back room. You kick the large oak door closed and leave a muddy boot print on it.
"Selina…" you growl as you come to the last door in the hallway.
She's sitting on the luxurious armchair, legs curled up under her, eyes trained on you the moment you walk in. She's been waiting for you. Her high heels are stacked nearby and on the table beneath the light, there's something hidden draped over with red velvet cloth.
You growl deep in your throat.
She does not flinch, but she is statuesque, silent, cautious.
As you take a few steps towards her– your boots thunderously loud in the quiet of your lavish home– Selina slowly slides to the floor, kneeling in search of forgiveness. Will you give it to her now? She always seems to be asking for it more and more the more she disobeys you.
"Where were you?" Your voice is rough and muffled by your clenched teeth.
"I was here," she murmurs, "I knew you'd be angry, I stayed later than I meant to. I didn't know how long you'd wait for me there…"
Hours. You had waited an extra three hours in the cold, damp alleyways of Gotham for your princess of pickpockets to crawl back to you from the big fancy Wayne party. At least she was groveling now…
Selina had more planned than just groveling, though. "I should be punished, don't you think?"
Your eyes narrowed dangerously. She loved being punished– so where was the actual punishment in that? You were debating simply going to bed and locking her out like a real punishment, but you hesitated. You'd never be able to get sleep if you did. Too busy thinking about her crawling to that bastard rich boy Wayne for solace.
"On your knees," comes the simple but gruff command.
Selina slides down with ease and tries to hide her pleased smile. Her dress pools around her thighs and spills onto the floor, the white fabric a shiny silk that looks like liquid around her. You take a few steps around her and pull on the red velvet cover to reveal a strap-on on the nightstand.
Good girl, you think but do not say.
You're still mad at her.
"Close your eyes and count to fifty," you command.
Selina starts to protest but is silenced with the raw look you give her. In compliance, her delicate, silver ringed hands cover her eyes and she counts, albeit backwards from fifty. You meanwhile, remove your gun belt and unzip your pants. Without removing them, you start to tie the strap to yourself and find a bottle of lube in the small drawer.
"...32, 31, 30…" you hear her skip a few numbers, no more than three at a time and cannot stop yourself from smiling. She's always been an impatient one (but then you have that in common, don't you?). "...15, 13, 11–"
"-- stop," you command and she obeys. You don't give her permission and she continues to cover her eyes. Good girl, returns the voice in your head. "Stand."
You find delight in watching her minor struggle. Her eyes are crunched tight as she gathers her long skirt into her hands and rises to her feet carefully. Even with the single light on beside you, her eyes are closed so she cannot see even that, and she accidentally gets turned around, presenting you with her back.
You like this dress. The hem dips so deep you can see the dimples above her butt and all of her tiny tattoos. Selina's skin is unblemished save for a few scratches and despite your jealous streak, you are instantly confident she got them from her work and not him.
You fall into the comfy armchair and finally permit her to open her eyes. You can sense her brief confusion before she turns around to face you. As you make her wait for further instruction she appraises your form– relaxed, fully clothed, and the obscenity of the dildo standing proud, dry, and upright upon your lap.
You reminisce when she came to you having cut her hair short. In the moment you had been furious, even thrown a chair to the floor. But, as she often always is, she was right (and it was her hair no less).
Finally, as even you cannot bear the anticipation any longer, you wave your hand vaguely and say, "have a seat."
Neither if you can stifle the awkward laugh at the innocuous phrase being used so suggestively. Selina bites her lip and saunters closer, swinging her long, smooth legs over your manspread position and leaning down to kiss you.
At the last second, you turn your head and her lips meet your cheek. You avert her questioning gaze and thrust the lube into her hands. "Get to work."
A small glimmer in her eyes makes you feel, for a moment, sorry you denied her a kiss. She slicks up the dildo and, as it's not a particularly big one, doesn't need too much preparation. She still hisses though as she slides down onto it. Once she's fully seated, Selina sighs and lolls her head back.
“Fuck yourself, kitten,” you whisper.
Her hands slide up from your arms to your neck. Your eyes are transfixed on the way she lifts and lowers herself in your lap. Selina cradles your face and hovers her mouth near yours without touching.
"You know I'm yours, right?," she asks with a huff of breath, still bouncing gently. "That Bruce is just a friend and you're the only one for me?"
You can't choke down a sardonic chuckle. "I bet you say that to all the pretty girls."
For a moment, she stops. Your eyes dart in every which way but at her until you can't stand the feeling of being watched. You fall right into her bottomless, dark eyes, shiny and bright. Perhaps not filled with love but not entirely pitiful either.
You know your jealousy makes people find you pathetic and usually pushes even the strongest away. You realize you do not want to do that to Selina. She's not all that you have left, but she's the best part for sure. A part that you're going to have to trust a little more.
You sigh. "Ok. Fine. You and Bruce and just friends. Honestly, I don't want to think about him right now though."
To show her you're not mad anymore, you pull her down for a kiss which she returns enthusiastically. It leaves you both breathless and aching and wet between your legs.
"Now where were we?," you tease, "ah, yes. You were fucking yourself, and I hadn't told you to stop."
The soft smile Selina presents you is genuine and warm. The show she puts for you, soft sighs and swirling hips, you can't keep your hands from her body. You skim your fingers over her ribs and pinch her hard nipples and grab her arms to pull her down harder with every thrust.
It's your name on her lips as she comes, her body curling forward into your arms so you could hold her as she came back down from her high.
"Only you," she whispered. "Always you…"
You wrap your arms tighter around her back to keep her head tucked into your shoulder as a few tears fall over your cheeks. For her sake or maybe for yours, you try to believe her for once.
Summary: You find some unworn lingerie and try it on | Masterlist
Tag(s): 18+ | 2k words | takes place between 1950-1959 (interracial marriage was illegal until 1967 in the US, this has not changed in the story), lingerie, established relationship, po orn without plot, oral sex (female receiving), clothed sex.
AN: unedited/ no beta. Happy first day of black history month MUTHAFUCKAS 🖤
Your husband bought it for you during your second year of marriage. It was an anniversary present– one that made both of your faces warm– and since then it lay at the bottom of your bureau drawer, clean and untouched.
You were cleaning out old clothes when you uncovered it. You run your fingers over the intricate lace and wonder how it would feel on your skin.
You had never worn anything else with more than a tiny trim of lace before, and certainly nothing made of silk fabric. You had time... before Rick would come home to try it on, feel it, then throw it out with the rest of the old clothes.
After placing a call to your friend to reschedule lunch, you close all of the windows in your apartment and draw the blinds before returning to your shared bedroom. Your heart pounds with anticipation as you strip down, feeling a strange tingle in your thighs as you try to stay standing.
You glance at your naked body in the mirror and can't help but cover yourself. Is this what your husband sees when he looks at you? He always seems so enamored, so bewitched, so taken by your physical form that as blasphemous as it may seem, it makes you feel divine.
The silk is cool on your heated skin as you pull the underwear up your legs. The garter belt is wide but fitted and lightly boned like a corset. The cups of the bra fit surprisingly well, so much so that you wonder what lucky girl had the pleasure of watching Rick's ears turn red trying to explain the size and shape of your breasts. You chuckle to yourself as you buckle the top of your stockings to the hanging garter clips.
You look at yourself in the mirror and gasp. "Oh wow…"
You turn around, slowly, watching how the fabric hugs and accentuates your figure, the color of apricot glowing against your skin. It takes your breath away. You find the silk has warmed fast against your body as this breathable fabric catches the light and seems to glisten.
"Maybe…" you bite your lip, "maybe I'll wear it a little longer…"
You end up unknowingly missing your late lunch date and keep finding tiny things to clean around the house. Anything to keep you inside, shielded from the eyes of onlookers and free to wear your comfortable and coquettish undergarments. If only your husband could see you now.
He can. See you, that is. In fact, the sight of it is so shocking that his briefcase slips through his fingers and clatters to the floor, startling you out of your wool gathering. He hasn't even had the time to remove his hat and coat yet, just staring at you with an open mouth and wide eyes.
"Oh dear," you press your hand over your heart, "I'm so embarrassed… I…"
You look at the clock in the kitchen. "I hadn't the faintest idea you'd be home, I must have lost track of time or I'd be dressed properly..."
"Why are you wearing that?" His voice is dark and he's standing as rigid as stone.
You try not to feel intimidated as you answer. "Well, I-I found it with some old clothes and I never wore it, so I thought I would try it on… honestly, I was going to wear something over it…"
Your gaze is glued to the floor as you chew on a finger. The tips of Rick's recently scuffed shoes enter the edge of your vision and he uses a finger to gently lift your chin. When you look at his face, his pupils are blown wide and his body holds the same intensity you feel before he usually makes love to you…
"I didn't know it would look like this," he whispered. "The girl who sold it to me wanted to sell me a 'nude' color, but this? This looks so much better."
"You must have left out some very important information about me," you chuckled, running a hand down his forearm and feeling the hair there stand on end. He shed his coat which lay on the floor but you ignored it for now.
"Nothing she didn't need to know about." You know he hates the way people react when they find out about the two of you. They tended to be friendlier when they assumed certain 'traits.' "Is it comfortable?"
You hum affirmatively. "Do you want to touch it?"
You watch his Adam's apple bob and he nods his head minutely. You let him smooth his hand down the column of your neck, fingers leaving a warm, tingling feeling as they skim over your collarbone. They slip right over the decorative bow tying your cups together and down to smooth over the silk slip covering your belly and hips.
His hand feels warm like a wood fire in winter, caressing your body with a patience that seems juxtaposed by the dark lust he harbors behind his gaze.
"Sweet girl," he mutters as he fingers the hem of your slip and dips under to run a finger over the garter. "So very pretty…"
Your heart is pounding in your ears. You want to ask him about the new cut on his brow but you are distracted by your need for him taking over you. Instead, you let your hands wander up his suspenders, tugging on them lightly and watching him shrug out of them for you. The anticipation of more is driving you to salivate almost uncontrollably.
"Aren't you going to kiss your wife?" You didn't mean for it to sound so commanding, but Rick takes no offense as his lip curls upward in the corner and he leans down to plant a chaste kiss upon your lips.
"Is that what you wanted, darlin'?," he growls against your lips.
It makes you beyond impatient but you tamp it down and try to match his painfully sluggish pace for no other reason than to make him as mad as he makes you. What you do do is close the gap between you, wrap your arms around his waist and give him a hug, sighing pleasantly and smirking as you feel him tense up suddenly.
"I've missed you so much, sugar," you raise your head and plant your chin on his chest. "Do you get to stay for the rest of the night?"
Rick's jaw tightens to the point of grinding his teeth. They couldn't drag me back to that office if they tried, he thought as he lost himself in the sight of your needy little face and scantily clothed body. But he answers quite simply with, "yes dear, I can stay."
You light up like the summer sun after a rainfall. Rick does not resist following when you take one step backwards, then two. You chat innocently all the way to the bedroom as you pull him along, pointedly ignoring the prod of a certain male appendage pressing into your stomach. Rick plucks a downy feather from your hair and carefully maneuvers you around furniture and through doorways until the back of your calves touch the edge of the bed.
"Let's just…" you flick his hat and he lets it tumble to the floor. "There, that's better."
Rick leans down for a kiss, taking you in deeper than before. He wraps his arms around your shoulders to hold you close and draws the scent of your perfume in until he's drunk on it.
You moan into his mouth as he rolls his hips and rubs his clothed erection against you. He must be aching by now, a product of his own time management and teasing. He parts from the kiss for a moment and trails a finger delicately over your jawline.
"Lay down, darlin'," he whispers.
Your body obeys before your mind processes his words. You bounce a little on the springs and suddenly feel naked beneath his wandering gaze. Everywhere his eyes glance is like it's own touch, igniting your skin with a burn so hot that it feels cold, too.
"Touch your wife, Colonel," you gasp.
His eyes flick to your face and there's a dangerous darkness to them suddenly. It's all you can do not to squirm cowardly beneath his intense gaze as he gently parts your thighs to stand between them.
"Yes ma'am." His voice is teasing, and so is the warm breath you feel ghost over your clothed sex. "Smell so good, darlin'."
Your face heats to a molten degree and hands fist the sheets as his aquiline nose brushes over your mound. His tongue is not far behind and presses against that lovely little pearl that makes you see stars.
You gasp as you feel one of his sturdy fingers (you just know it's the one with his wedding band) rub against the damp patch of your unmentionables before he pulls away and gently discards them. Rick kisses his way back up your stocking covered leg before tossing both of them over his shoulders.
"So soft," he mutters between your legs and you are unsure if he means your stockings or you.
"Ricky, you don't have to," you pant and whine, "need you up here, sugar, all over me… please…"
His tongue goes right back to your sensitive pearl, this time without a barrier. "Love it when you beg for me, dear," he purrs.
It's taken all your control not to tug on his hair, now a darker blond as perspiration gathers to slicken it. You do thread your fingers through it and hold on as your husband laves at your entrance, interrupting long, deep strokes of his tongue with open mouthed kisses.
He penetrates you with his long, pink tongue and hums, causing you to jerk unexpectedly. At the sudden tug of his hair, his groan deepens and acts as a switch. His touch alters from exploratory to militial and greedy in an instant, as if seeking out his own pleasure by pleasuring you.
You pant, voice rising as he plunges two experienced fingers inside you and his mouth works over your pearl. "Ricky, dear… oh Rick…"
You are vaguely aware of the hand anchoring your hips to the bed disappearing but you're so lost in the active sensations of Rick trying to eat you alive that you are completely unaware of him squeezing himself through his tented trousers. He groans against your clit and it's the last straw as you are pushed from the edge of pleasure into pure, blinding bliss.
Your thighs clamp down around his neck and draw him closer. As your back arches, Rick smiles to himself as you attempt to ride his face for more. He rubs himself through his pants faster and just as your hips stop rolling against his chin, his eyes roll backwards and you both sigh as he comes in his pants.
You feel light headed, almost giddy with dizziness to the point where you giggle as your husband gets up from his knees to lay beside you. You reach for the button of his pants only to find a dark, wet patch down his pant leg. Rick looks sheepish, his ears turning slightly pink as your eyes widen in disbelief.
Your shocked face softens and you tug him down for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. "You make me crazy, sugar."
He threads his fingers in your searching hand and kisses the back of your hand. His hair is falling into his eyes. He said only:
"the things you do to me…"
"Not as crazy as you make me," he replies with a loving smirk.
Tags: 18+ | 2k words | swearing, unprotected sex, undercover, established relationship, semipublic sex, oral sex (female receiving), standing sex, choking, pregnancy mentioned
AN: unedited and inspired in part by blueeyesatnight's Marcus Moreno fic
Rick's knuckles wrapped gently on the bathroom door. "Enter."
He opens the door and whips his head back in exasperation. "... you know if you weren't done, I woulda been more than happy to wait outside…"
You chuckle. "It's fine. I'm on the toilet but I'm not on the toilet."
Rick cautions a glance over his shoulder and realizes you are wearing sleep shorts and sitting on the lid. He steps into the bathroom and examines the empty countertop with some confusion.
"Are you ok?"
You purse your lips and show him the object in your hand. A pregnancy test. Rick's heart skips a beat and he tries to keep his breathing even.
"It's been over ten minutes but I can't bring myself to read it," you say sheepishly.
You see the way Rick puts on his mission face. He offers a hand and helps you stand, slipping an arm around your waist to hold you close and taking the stick from you.
"You pee on it already?" You snicker and nod your head. "Ok, I'll look."
He sees you hide your face in his shirt and doesn't catch your 'dont tell me what it is' because it's muffled. A quick assessment of the mostly unfamiliar object tells him it's a test, it has a handle, a specimen strip (currently capped), and a window for results. A window that says…
"Uh what does one line mean?"
You lift your head. "...not pregnant."
You both sigh in relief. Someday, you agreed silently, someday... just not today. You push off Rick's warm chest and toss the test in the trash.
"Get dressed, we've got some state secrets to steal."
~
As per usual nothing goes as planned and running would be so much easier if you weren't wearing heels. You look dazzling in your dress but you have to pull it up and out of the way and can't really carry anything else in your hands.
Gunfire lights up from the stairwell as you pass and you hear the door being kicked open. You throw the silver needle adornment from your hair and very nearly kill Rick Flag, who's standing there in black tie with a gun.
"Sorry," you say, "where'd you get the uzi?"
"Found it– don't you need something, darlin'?"
You whip around and start to jog down the hallway, Rick easily keeping pace with his long dancer's legs and flat oxfords. "We were never going to give him that case right? America doesn't want a foreign dignitary with an orbital strike system, right?"
"No shit." Rick breaks the handle of the door to your room. "Elevator broke?"
"Elevator weighed down with bodies."
"Of course it is…" Rick secures the room and comms the other members. Half are still alive and distracting the target, but he's entered a murderous rage and if they let him get any feistier they won't be able to stop him. Rick turns when he hears his name and sees you standing there. "What you need?"
"A hand up." You point at the vent in the ceiling. "I stored the briefcase in there."
"Why?"
"Why are we stalling with questions– I can't reach it without you!"
Rick huffs and sets his gun down. He takes a knee and cups his hands, not expecting your barefoot to be there but a second later your knee is on his shoulder for balance and he stands back to his full height. He hears you slide the grate aside and watches the door for movement.
"Find it?"
"Patience is a virtue," you sing.
"Not right now it isn't!"
Something rocks the building like an earthquake and thinking fast, Rick puts his hand on your butt to steady you. He inadvertently reaches up underneath your dress and makes a very interesting realization.
"No underwear?"
"In this dress?," you fire back. "Let me down, I got it."
The day is saved thanks to a precision orbital strike from a satellite that happened to be in position where you needed it most and your minor experience with coding language. The only thing that blew up that day was the jekyll hyde changing monster and the hotdog stand he was about to throw at Deadshot.
Since the mission took place in the wildly crowded streets of urban Japan, everyone is forced to flee as evac would not be available until the following night and sticking together would make you look extra suspicious.
The briefcase was, sadly, destroyed by a mysterious second strike, rendering the weaponized death ray once again nothing but an orbiting hunk of metal above the earth's atmosphere.
You specifically get a room in a hotel with Rick posing as honeymooners. You pout at you look out the window and lament how you wanted to fuck him on the balcony. Rick laughs from the bed and takes his shirt off, flinging it onto the pile of clothes on the lounging chair.
"Didn't have time for that, sorry baby."
You discard your dress in one go, flinging the shimmering red thing into the pile and walking around naked. "We should do that the next time we go up to the cabin."
Rick hums in agreement and watches you strut like you own the place.
"I could get used to this view," he says, reclining by the headboard.
You stop by the window and lean over it, dangerously close to exposing yourself to the busy street below. "What? This view out here?"
Rick feels a stirring in his gut. Your nipples are hard, hair loosened from it's binds and the neon signs paint your sink in bold colors. Instead of answering you, he gets up from the bed and approaches.
"You've got that look in your eye again," you say with a smirk.
"And what look is that?" He stops in front of you and he's so close you can almost feel his body heat despite him not touching.
"That I'm gonna fuck you six ways til Sunday' look."
Rick hums in approval. "I was considering it."
"Well? Hop to it, Colonel."
He picks you up almost effortlessly and it has you in a fit of giggles. God, you missed going on missions with him. Waller and every crooked government agency with a hand on her pulse could suck an egg but sometimes those suicide missions were worth it just to be with him.
You kiss him deeply and pull back, touching his ear for no other reason than to admire the engagement ring on your finger. "I'd say after that pregnancy scare, we should treat ourselves."
"We can order takeout and fuck til tomorrow night," Rick offered.
"Fuck first, food later."
Rick laughed at you, "damn you must need it bad then! My girl gets what she wants…"
He kisses you again and helps you wrap your legs around hips. His boxers are soft like silk and slip right down with the right maneuvers. Rick is content to knead your ass and bury his nose into your neck before pressing you into the window.
You hiss. "Fuckin cold!"
Rick pins you to the glass with his body and the contrast is stark. "See that? All those busy people down there just going about their mornings?"
"Sun's going to be up soon," he growls as he leaves kisses all over your neck, "and traffic'll get backed up, there'll be hundreds of 'em out there."
"What would happen if just once they looked up?"
His query sent a shiver down your spine colder than even the glass. You didn't think you were into public shows– not really a PDA kind of person– but… something about a stranger happening to catch sight of you and your fiancée…
You can't pretend it doesn't excite you. "Better give 'em a good show, don't you think?"
Rick puts you down on your feet and makes you turn around. With a gentle hand on the back of your head, he guides you to press your face against the glass, then glides down until your breasts are pressed against it too. You can't see him bite his lip but you do notice when he bends the knee.
"So pretty, darlin'," Rick praises, "and always taste so good, too."
That was your only warning before Rick's hot tongue swipes up the base of your spine. A second later he's pulling your butt cheeks apart and licking you again in your intimates and you can't stop the mewl that escapes your body.
"Rick…"
The tip of his tongue greets your folds like a familiar friend and penetrates your entrance as a harbinger of things to come. He lowers his hand and uses his thumb to circle your clit knowing how wet you get when he's rough with you.
The vibration of Rick's hungry moan has your eyes rolling back into your head. You've forgotten all about the numb tips of your breasts and the very viewable window you're pressed against. You can only think of Rick and his skillful tongue thrusting until it is replaced with two of his long fingers stretching you out.
"Gonna come for me, darlin'?"
You shake your head and your whiny breath fogs the glass. Rick pumps your pussy in long, deep strokes as he stands and leaves kisses all over your back.
"Pretty girl, what am I going to do with you?"
"Fuck me," you use your CO voice and you feel his cock twitch against your thigh. "We have all day to do it slow, I need you now, baby."
"Yes ma'am."
Rick pulls you back by your arms and once his tip breaches you, he pulls you back onto his cock like he's putting you on a pike. Your moan is long and loud, prompting him to pause as he bottoms out to regain a sense of control.
You're probably disturbing your neighbors but you'll be gone soon.
You can't stay still for long and wiggle, trying to get friction. It drives Rick into a frenzy, him locking your arms behind your back and fucking you hard inti the window. The slap of his damp hips makes you somehow even wetter with the obscenity of it.
"Fucking love you," he hisses over your shoulder. "Always drive me crazy, good and bad, got nothing without you…"
Rick's declaration of love is punctuated by the hand that slips around your neck and squeezes just a little. He probably can't hear himself think over how loud you're being. His day old stubble scratches your face as he whispers in your ear.
"Wanna get a big house and a dog and make you mine forever."
You come hard with tears in your eyes. Rick releases your throat and trapped arms, bracing one hand against the window and the other in a bruising grip on your hips as he fucks you to completion. He narrowly manages to remember to pull out and his cum paints your ass in ropes aplenty.
You both fall to the floor, boneless and breathless. After a minute, you sit up on your elbow and laugh.
"I want a cat," you pout.
"No cats," Rick rolls his eyes.
You hum knowingly. "You're going to be one of those dads, I just know it. You and a cat you didn't want becoming inseparable."
Rick fake laughs. "Since you're in such good spirits why don't you call for takeout?"
~
A week later you're still experience whatever weird symptoms you had before you toom that pregnancy test. Rick halfmindedly tells Harley over a breakfast back at the prison about it.
"Was it a drug store test?"
"I didn't look at the price tag on the packaging, Harls," he shrugs, "she said one line means negative."
Harley nodded but as he went back to cleaning a piece of his disassembled gun, she said offhandedly, "48% of cheap pregnancy tests of varying brands reported false negatives in a clinical study, but what do I know, I guess."
Summary: getting comfortable with your new routine Masterlist
Tags: 18+ | 3.3k words | swearing, reader works in homicide, minor fighting, breast play, stuck in traffic, attempted fingering, unprotected sex, pulling out, and mild restraints.
AN: unedited no beta, this story had no business taking me this long to write but it is what it is
As soon as you close one case, your lieutenant throws another one on your desk. This one kept you out two nights in a row chasing a little snot 20 year old perp who apparently has never heard of a job. The whole time you watched him bounce from one girlfriend's house to a trap house to another girl's house. He finally went home after getting a call and your partner decided to call it a wrap.
You had nothing but you were both tired of living off of coffee, cigarettes, and vending machine concessions. You took a shower first thing when you got home, cooked some real food, drank a glass of wine, then took a warm bath and almost drowned falling asleep in it.
You texted your boyfriend Stephen knowing he wouldn't answer if he was with Linden and sure enough, no response. Come morning, you ate leftovers from the night before and chilled out on the couch in comfy socks. It was 9 am when Stephen called you.
"Hey babe, I was thinking we could get something for dinner at that place you like," he said.
"You're really not going to be home until dinner," you replied, unamused.
Stephen started to say something but you tsked and flipped the phone closed. You tossed the offending device and turned the tv off. This always happens now: he promised to be over late and then never showed up at all because of her. Linden was obsessive about her cases.
Your Friday is spent working of course. Your partner Andy lets you pick the first potential witnesses to interview. You started with the victim's sister who lived with him and then you both drove out to talk to their parents in Bellingham. The sister gave you more current hobbies to work with, but the parents gave you more names to friends and family who might have known what kinds of people the guy was involved with.
The drive up to Bellingham and back took 2 hours each way due to a few minor roadside accidents. You and Andy took a detour, stopped at a pancake house in Arlington, and by the time you made it home it was well into the night. You kick off your shoes and don't bother looking for Stephen's things– he said he'd be here by now and he wasn't. This wasn't news to you.
You let it slide because Linden, though overly ambitious, was a good detective. Stephen didn't have to stay out with her but they seemed to pick up cases that needed a little extra work to close. You stripped into your underwear and socks, tossed away your bra then slipped into bed to sleep.
It was around 2 am when you heard keys in the door. You had taken a shower and eaten since dinner had been so early and were lying in bed in one of your oversized sleep shirts. You ignored him as he opened the bedroom door, raising your arms and folding your hands behind your head to appear relaxed.
"-- sorry I'm late, I–"
"-- don't wanna hear it actually," you interrupted. "Just… be quiet, please."
Stephen hung his head and kicked his shoes off. He knew you'd be angry– there was a very brief period between getting clean and joining homicide where he actually showed up on time for things between his NA meetings. You had adjusted somewhat unhappily to the missed dates, unanswered texts, and lonely nights and weekends. He knew when to take a break but it never felt right leaving Linden to her own devices. Lucky for him, he knows how to make it up to you.
He passes over you like a shadow and suddenly there's a weight dipping in the bed. Stephen has a big dumb smile on his face as he says, "I missed you girls!"
"Girls?--" you have virtually no time to think and laugh in surprise as you feel his hands cup your breasts followed by your boyfriend burying his face in your chest.
"Oh, my sweet girls," his voice was muffled by your shirt as he laid a hundred kisses on your unsupported boobs. "Did you miss daddy?"
He slips his head underneath your big shirt and sucks a nipple into his mouth. You gasp softly and your legs fall open to allow him to fit between them more comfortably. Your forgiveness is easily gained as you slip your fingers into his dark sandy hair and his beard causes tingling sensations on your sensitive flesh.
He releases your nipple with a pop. He meets your inquisitive eyebrow with a broad, unbothered smile.
"So it's daddy now, huh?"
He answers by burying his face in your chest again and snuggling close. You're warming to him fast because damn it you love him and you know he doesn't like being away all day and night. You stroke his hair and wonder if you should go to bed or make the most of having him here and now…
Stephen slaps your thigh and starts to stand. "Get up."
"Why," you whine.
"We're going to mines," he says, and slips his shoes back on. "Come on get your coat, shoes–"
You groan. "No! I'm not putting on pants."
"Who said you had to put pants on?" Stephen grabbed your ankle and pulled you down the bed, rolling his eyes as you groan and kick at him weakly. "Come on, I'll make you tofu empanadas~"
You stop kicking for a second. "...with eggs?"
"Mmhm," he leans in and kisses you deeply. "And butter and corn and carrots…"
Your stomach growled angrily. "Fine."
~
Stephen laughs at you on the way to the car. "I said I'm not putting on pants!"
"Suit yourself, babe."
You walk out of your apartment in little more than a winter coat and snow boots to keep you warm. Honestly, they're not cutting it. November in Seattle is a fucking bitch, hovering just above freezing and windy.
"Get in get in get in get in," you hustle over to the passenger side door and pull the handle violently. "Come on Holder!"
"Whoa whoa slow your roll, babydoll, I'm coming."
He's taking his sweet ass time unlocking the vehicle, enjoying your stupid little dance and quivering bottom lip. He feels bad when you sit down and hiss at the cold leather seats. He grabs an old hoodie from the backseat (he doesn't tell you about the small bloodstains on it) and hands it to you to sit on and protect your bare legs with it. He's heater is shit too– smells like something is burning and takes forever to warm up while also fogging the windows something fierce.
He can hear your teeth chattering and pats your knee. "It's a short ride, hang in there."
~
"Short ride, my ass..."
"How the hell was I supposed to know there'd be traffic?! It's 3 am!"
Stephen sighs and flops back into his seat, exasperated. It's like a fucking parking lot on the road on his usual route home and the side streets are blocked by people. You're still shivering but it's not as heavy as before, so there's that.
You feel his warm hand slot between your thighs. You look at him and he's watching the road and not actually paying attention to what he's done. As if it's just a reflex to be touching you. This does nothing but make your desire for him from earlier swell.
At first, he ignores the tickle of your fingers brushing over his hand. He's looking for any side streets he can take and calculating how to get home from there. If he could just…
But then you're twining your fingers with his and sliding his hand closer to the apex of your thighs which radiates heat unlike the rest of you and he can't ignore that.
"Hey hey," Stephen very gently pulls away with a nervous chuckle, "how 'bout we wait til we get home, baby."
You whine. "If we were still at mines, you could be having a post fuck cigarette right now."
Stephen growls. "Patience. Don't forget that you about to get dick and food."
You pouted and kicked your feet up on the dashboard. Stephen let it slide because it was keeping you busy and giving him a chance to ignore the tightness in his pants. He lifted his foot from the brake and moved 4 feet before having to stop again in the line of traffic. .
"Goddamn it…"
He taps his fingers atop your thigh and thinks maybe just to pass the time when someone knocks on your window. Stephen tears his eyes away from the endless sea of stopped cars before him to the uniformed cop making a cranking motion with his hand.
You roll down the window and the very young looking cop barely notices.
"Need something, squirt?," Stephen says.
You glance at him with a poorly suppressed smile. The young buck however is deeply unamused. "Do you know why I pulled you over, sir?"
Stephen shrugs. "Y'ain't really pull me over, it's a jam, traffic cop. Look, I ain't got all day kid– what's this about?"
The kid (he was just so baby faced, had to be fresh out of the academy), opened his mouth to start in on him but seemed to finally become aware of the passenger of this vehicle. The half naked and deathly quiet passenger…
"... detective L/N?"
You give him a small wave. "Hi Hayes. If this is about his tabs, I told him weeks ago. I'll make sure he gets it fixed next weekend, ok sugar?"
Officer Hayes' face is beet red but he still manages to glare at Stephen. "If he's taking you–"
"No, no," you chuckle, "this is detective Holder, sweetheart. No abduction, I'm very much here by my will. Why don't you hand me the citation and get back to work?"
It's a question that sounds like a command and he looks nervous, turning from red to ash white in seconds. "N-no citation ma'am. S-sorry to bother you, sir, I'll…"
Hayes backs off and ducks his head as he stomps off to hide at his post. You finally laugh and close the window, thankful for Stephen's still warm hand protecting your thigh. Your boyfriend gives you a look but whatever jam was blocking the road must have been cleared up because traffic starts moving steadily at 20 mph instead of 1.
"You know that asshole?"
You hum. "New kid, he spilled coffee on my skirt on his first day, I almost made him cry."
Stephen grunts, "must have a crush on you, looked like he was about to pass out seeing you in your underwear."
"I think it's more of a fear thing, honestly."
"Well I saw him walking away with a fear boner then."
"Shut up!" You laugh and slap his chest. "Take me home and feed me, motherfucker."
You get to his house at almost 3 am despite him only living 2 miles away. You let him cook but complain the whole time and steal his hoodie and pinch his butt. He lets you because, damn it, home just doesn't feel like home anymore without you.
"Open," he says, and you take a healthy bite of the proffered empanada he made. "Good girl. You like it?"
"You know I like it," you say.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," he laughs.
He hands off the empanada and starts to clean up in the kitchen, loading pots and pans into the dishwasher and putting ingredients back. You watch him in his low slung jeans, the muscles in his back flexing beneath his plain white shirt. The ink on his arms dances too.
Stephen catches you staring hungrily at his backside. "Careful mama, or Imma come over there and knock you up."
The noise you make sounds like a purr and he jumps a little when he feels your hands circle his waist. You walk backwards, pulling him along with you towards the bedroom. Stephen resists and sets the sudsy pan on the counter before grabbing your arm with his still wet hand.
"Hold on, I still got–"
You interrupt him with a whine. "Baby you promised! Come play with me…"
You cover the bulge in his pants with your hand and dry hump his leg. He isn’t laughing for long as you continue to drag him out of the light from the kitchen and into the short hallway to his bedroom. He curses when you slip past the waist of his pants and into his underwear, squeezing his hardening cock and he inadvertently crushes you against his bedroom door.
“Want me to play with you, baby?,” Stephen hisses. “I’ll play with you…”
He picks you up and throws you onto his bed. For only a moment you are completely airborne, and then you come crashing down amidst a flurry of pillows and blankets that swallow you whole and muffle your shocked scream.
“Did I lose you, baby? Where’d you go?” He’s laughing at you and trying to avoid your flailing legs. He parts the blanket and finds somehow his hoodie is pulled up over your face, exposing your naked breasts. “Hey ladies.”
You gasp as you feel his cold hands on your boobs. He straddles your hips and massages your curves as you free yourself from the loose bedding. Remorseless, Stephen simply smiles and pinches your nipples, offering a slap to one just to make you jump.
“I love your fuckin’ tits, baby.” Stephen leans down and sucks a nipple deep into his mouth. “Think I could make you come like this?”
“You,” your panting and squirming and wet beneath him, “you promised me dick, Holder.”
He hums and the vibrations make your eyes roll back. “You right. Roll over for me.”
Stephen takes a hold of your underwear as you roll and pulls them down your legs, giving a swift lick to your crevice as you reposition yourself. He pulls his hoodie back up over your head, effectively trapping you again. He chuckles at your annoyed ‘hey!’ and grinds his clothed cock over your ass. He fumbles with his pants knowing you don’t want it gentle tonight. He has been effectively teasing you since he came over to your place– maybe even before– and he wasn’t about to make you wait any longer. Taking his pants and boxers down to his knees, Stephen watches his dick flop and bounce on your asscheek, his leaking tip leaving a wet smear where it landed.
He watches you wiggle your hips and rock so his tip catches on your entrance. “Just like…” His hand fists at the base of his cock to steady it as you guide him inside your tight channel. Stephen’s eyes roll back into his head as he feels you stretch around him, warmer than any fire and tight like a second skin. He sinks to the hilt and rolls his hips to get just a tiny bit deeper.
“...that.”
Stephen sighs and caresses your hip to give you a chance to adjust to his size. You, meanwhile, manage to slip the hoodie over your head so you’re basically clad in nothing but socks and sleeves, sitting back to ride your boyfriend’s cock. In response, he rocks back in perfect time to lengthen his thrusts and slam deep inside you every time your hips reconnect. Nothing makes you happier than this– fucking your boyfriend, admittingly preferring his bed to yours with your face buried in the scent from his hoodie. You sit up to fuck him harder but end up sat in his lap and barely able to move off of him until he wraps his arm around your waist to force you back to the bed and thrust into you, essentially taking control.
“Love you, baby,” he whispers. “Need you… always fucking need you…”
Hips grip on your waist tightens and his thrusts become shallow and fast, his breath fanning over your neck as he fucks you. The coolness of his sheets causes your nipples to harden into buds and the sensation becomes too much to bear alone. You slip a hand underneath your belly and rub your clit in tight circles, loving the way the pitch of Stephen’s grunts elevates as he gets closer and closer to coming.
You repeat his name in a breathless mantra. It's the only thing reminding you to breathe as he fucks you, kissing the side of your face with reverence and admiration. His hand joins yours beneath your belly and he takes over, circling your clit the way you like it but a little rougher, more frantic.
You come seeing stars and bow beneath his body. Stephen comes a few thrusts later, pulling out and spilling on your ass. You're both panting wildly as you lay together with satisfied smiles on your face.
You're half asleep when you feel him kiss your forehead. "Should clean up. Get some sleep."
The bed shifts as he climbs off and to his surprise you're right behind him– pushing him out of the way. "Move, bitch! I gotta pee."
Stephen chases you but you thankfully beat him to the toilet and sit to relieve yourself. For his part, he is unbothered and operates without a care– wiping cum off his cock and sweat from his back with a warm washcloth before brushing his teeth. He waits for you to fix your hair for bed and pulls you into his side to kiss your neck as you brush your teeth.
"Move in with me," he says into your shoulder.
"Wha?"
Stephen lifts his head and murmurs, "home ain't home without you, mama. Move in with me."
You spit into the sink and wash the brush with care to gather your thoughts. "Are you serious…?"
Stephen's hold on your waist tightens, squishing you against him in a half hug. "Course I'm serious. I wanna see you every day and night. I promise– if you move in, I'll keep you warm and fed and love up on you all the time."
You press your forehead into his with a giggle. "All the time?," you say with pretend skepticism.
You already decided the answer is yes. You have no second thoughts about moving into your place or getting a separate apartment together– you love his cozy little starter decor and it's convenient for coming and going to work anyways.
Stephen closes his eyes and rocks you side to side in his arms, waiting patiently. He feels like he needs you to say yes. Every second of the past two days working, frustrated out of his mind with his case, his anger was constantly interrupted by the thought that what he truly wanted was to see you and how much easier that would be if you lived together. The only things of yours in his apartment are some clothes, books, and kitchen utensils.
In the bathroom, you let him sway your body until you're practically falling asleep standing up. With a tired grunt, you pull him back into the bedroom and crawl into bed, tossing his hoodie aside to press fully naked against your boyfriend. You feel the tickle of the hair on his chin and sigh.
"I'll get boxes from my pops on Tuesday," you mumble.
Stephen freezes as he pulls the blankets tighter around you. His face lights up in the dark and his arms once again swallow you up. He is practically beaming from happiness as he says, "alright girl, do what you do. Just know as soon as your pops is gone, Imma christen this whole fucking house with you."
You chortle into his chest. "Shut the hell up– "
"-- I mean we gonna baptize these walls with your–"
Tags: 18+ | 1.3k words | swearing, outdoor sex, half clothed, biting, mutual masturbation, one (1) gun
AN: UNEDITED this one is a long time coming let me tell you. Predator 2018 was good actually, y’all are just mean and Nebraska is my favorite character.
“Listen I’m just saying when I signed up for active duty I did it for the pussy–”
“Shut the fuck up, Coyle–”
“-- Coyle, shut the fuck up–”
“I signed up because I had a dream Jesus told me to…”
McKenna picks up his radio and barks in a hushed whisper, “will you chucklefucks act like you got a couple brain cells between you? Be. Quiet.”
The line goes silent though you’re sure Coyle is simply choosing to bother his partner Baxley. You know exactly who that last voice was and you hop on comms to say, “that’s nice, Nettles. Keep your eyes peeled for movement.”
McKenna looks at you annoyed, but you pay him no mind. He’s the leader– he has to be the bad guy, not you, you’re just being polite. You and McKenna are in a fox hole and it’s fucking tiny width wise. McKenna’s assault rifle is going to be completely useless, he’ll probably break your nose if he tries to raise it.
"See anything?"
You check the portable monitor in your hands. "No signs of movement or heat signatures beyond a few squirrels and an owl."
The two of you are quiet for a while and then you feel something brush the inside of your thighs. You manage to stifle a yelp and look down to find McKenna's leg between your thighs. The man has the gall to shush at you.
You punch his arm. "What are you doing?"
He shrugs. "Trying to get comfortable– is that a crime?"
He seemed to be leaning against the wall and putting his foot up to lean on the wall behind you as well. Reclining to the best of his abilities given the situation. But there was so little room his knee was inches from your behind and thigh firmly slotted between yours…
You tried not think about how stupid it was you wore a skirt today.
In fairness, you're a lab tech not a field agent, and no one was expecting a Yautja scout on Earth so soon. Why they thought you'd be useful in a hole was beyond you, McKenna's just here for your protection.
After almost an hour of nothing, you find yourself sliding down the cold, damp dirt wall. This leads to McKenna's eyes snapping towards you as he feels a slight shift of warmth– you're core brushing his thigh.
It's barely tangible because of the thickness of his canvas pants, but it's a reminder of what he wanted to do to you when he first saw you in a dive bar bathroom.
You startle when you feel pressure between your legs. Then there's McKenna hissing "wake up" like there's nothing inappropriate about this position. "Anything new on that monitor, Eagle Eyes?"
Your vision is blurry and eyes burning from dryness. "No, Captain. Still got diddly squat on the target."
"Damn it." McKenna whispers orders to stay alert over the comms and a chorus of bored "yes sirs" answer back. McKenna turns his attention back to you 'resting your eyes.' "Tough it out, soldier. What, is it past your bedtime?"
"Yes it is actually," you grumble. "And not that you asked but in my professional opinion, I think we've lost the Scout."
McKenna nods. "Yeah… me too. And I can tell you believe that otherwise you wouldn't be nodding off with that killing machine on the loose."
It does make the hairs stand on the back of your neck. "Right…"
"Boss is gonna make us wait it out all night," McKenna cautions, "you wanna…"
You raise your eyebrow when he doesn't continue. "What? Wanna do what?"
"Nevermind." McKenna goes back to staring at the black canopy of trees that seem miles above your heads.
You think a little bit about your situation and your connection with Captain McKenna. Sure he's handsome, and sure you've thought about it ten times but hey work relationships have never really been your thing.
He's not offering you a relationship, though...
McKenna feels you squeeze your thighs together and he looks down to find you looking back. He watched you test the waters by rocking your hips forward and back, humping him through his clothes.
You bite your lip and wonder how you were going to look him in the eye after this. Instead of thinking about it too much, you simply begin to rub your core along the topside of his thigh, feeling hot ears and trying to focus on steadying your breath. You never realized how… meaty his thighs were. You have to plant your feet pretty wide to get your legs open enough to feel him really brush your core but only manages to get friction on your clit.
Almost as if he can sense your thoughts, McKenna raises his thigh to give you a flatter surface to fuck yourself on. He inadvertently pushes you forward into his chest. He sets his gun aside and holds you steady by your arms. Once you’re stable and able to continue humping him, his hands ghost over your breasts to settle on your hips.
“Atta girl…” McKenna admires your form. “Damn… I’m gonna been thinking about you doing this every time I close my eyes, princess.”
You grab him by the collar of his shirt and drag him closer. McKenna’s hands on your hips turn hard and he starts to pull you against him, pressing his leg even harder against your clothed sex. You’re breathless and so, so close, but it’s not enough.
“Take your underwear off,” McKenna whispers.
“Are you crazy,” you hiss, “it’s fucking dirty down here– you’re dirty!”
McKenna smirks impishly at your incidental double entendre. He releases you all at once and you can feel your pulse throbbing in your clit as you watch him take his belt off. He’s not as tacked up as he usually gets since your team went out on such short notice, and he drops his pants down to his ankles. His cock bobs as he stands back up, hard as iron and leaking precum.
You fumble your way out of your underwear and McKenna wraps his arms around you. You think he’s going to spear you onto the head of his cock but instead he sits you right back on his thigh, higher so his cock is pressed between you.
“Come on sweetheart,” McKenna whispers, “show me what you got.”
He squeezes your ass and slips his finger into your hole. “Damn baby, you’re wet as fuck. All this for me? Like to see you polish my hog.”
He feels you tighten around his finger and you chase that sexual high again, this time climbing to the edge faster. You’re almost feral at this point– McKenna’s making you hot and you can see how much you’re affecting but he still wants to watch you come. You obliged, planting your mouth over his and feeling his mustache tickle your nose. McKenna wraps his arms around you and crushes you against him.
He groans into your mouth as he feels dripping down his leg over his knee. He hisses as your hand accidentally brushes over his sensitive, pink head and he reaches down to finish himself off. Your head lolls back and you slump against him, fucked out and sweaty.
McKenna digs his teeth into the skin of your neck and comes in spurts. Barely managing to keep both of you cum free. And when his high subsides, he drags his tongue over the marks on your neck with a contented sigh.
~
… “you say anything to anyone about this, McKenna and I swear to god–”
Tags: 18+ | 1.7k words | you're engaged, small angst, bad joke, self consciousness, male body worship, so many kisses guys, lipstick smears, unprotected sex, pulling out
AN: I fucking got so far into this and said “WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T I DO BEETLEJUICE FOR THIS”
You never expected to see the day. Dewey Finn in shorts made for a child's uniform? Sure. Dewey Finn in a band t-shirt and old jeans? Duh. You had accepted his engagement proposal fully aware that he would probably meet you at the altar in a zipper hoodie and sneakers.
And yet here he is before your very eyes at a fancy dinner to celebrate Ms. Mullins' award in genuine black tie wear. Every time you look away from him, you feel like you simply imagined it, but then you turn back and see him and he's actually wearing a nice, fitted black and white suit and tie.
"Are you ok?" Dewey tried to measure your temperature by putting the back of his hand to your forehead, smiling. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
You chirp, "Have you seen what you're wearing? I think hell is freezing over."
You gesture with your glass of wine at his attire and he smirks. "Ooooh, your original home is cold! Do you want my jacket, babe?"
"Fuuuuck yooouuu, Finn," you stage-whisper.
Dewey spreads his arms out wide. "You are more than welcome to! You put a ring on it after all."
Someone cleared their throat and you jumped– caught under the watchful eye of Rose Mullins herself. You sputtered an apology and dragged Dewey over to Ned Schneebly so he would have someone to keep him somewhat appropriate while you talk to other teachers from your school.
A couple hours later you overhear a tipsy conversation they're having. "I can't believe you wore an actual suit! It looks good on you, man."
Dewey blew a raspberry. "Come on, this is so not me, Ned! I mean look at me, man– I used to be somebody. A rockstar on the rise and now I'm in a real relationship with a teaching gig and soon to be married.
"Can you imagine? Me! Married! I'm falling apart," you hear him say.
Ned scoffs loudly. "What are you talking about, man? You've got so much good going on!"
"I know, it's crazy!"
You're… well, you're not sure how to interpret Dewey's revelations. And you had your back to each other so he probably doesn't even know you heard him. The more you get to thinking about it the more angry and nervous you become.
Did Dewey not want to be marrying you? But he asked!
Was it just out of obligation? Was he just afraid that if he didn't, you would leave him? You thought he loved you and his job but it sounded like he was complaining…
You let it boil and simmer for the rest of the night, ignoring him when he asked you questions and not responding to his attempts to joke around. You made him drive so you could attempt to sleep and see if that made you feel better, but all it did was give you a nightmare about being 50 and miserably married.
"Hey," Dewey pokes you in the ribs after you both got out of the car, "what's gotten into you?"
You ignored him all the way up to your bedroom while he fired off at the mouth as per usual. By the time you reached the bedroom he had exhausted his supply of gags and called your name worriedly.
"Hey, seriously: what's wrong?"
You plop yourself on the end of the bed to take your shoes off, clearly pouting despite your efforts. "Nothing."
Dewey hums. "Oh it's nothing, that's why you've been avoiding me all night."
"Just drop it, Dew, I'm not in the mood."
"I can't!" You glare at him and he flounders around for words until: "babe if I leave it, you're not going to want to talk about it at all, and then the next time we have an argument, it's gonna come back with a vengeance."
… ok, so you did do that once or twice before…
Dewey waited. “Ok? What did you hear?”
You sigh and flop your head on your pillows, earrings in hand and feet aching. "I just… I heard you…"
“Marriage isn’t you.” You glared at him. ‘You told Ned marriage wasn’t ‘you.’ So what, I’m a burden now?”
“H-wha-hat?,” Dewey laughed, “what are you talking about? AAAH–”
Dewey ducked as a shoe flew at him. “What? What??”
“Dewey Finn, if you don’t want to marry me, why did you freaking propose?”
All of the goofiness was sapped out of the air. Dewey’s face dropped and he really looked at you now. He sighed and kicked his shoes off and sat on your side of the bed, somber.
“I don’t know how to tell you I love you more than I already have,” he starts, then back peddles. “What I mean is… babe, what you heard was just a joke.”
He looks to you and freezes under your deeply unamused stare. “Uh… Ned didn’t find it funny either, soooo I guess you could say it was in pretty poor taste.
“Listen babe,” Dewey scoots closer and takes your hand. “You’re on the right track: if I didn’t want to marry you, I wouldn’t be! But I am so, you know, I do! I love you, babe, honestly.”
He turns his head and gives you big puppy dog eyes. “I just… I just…”
Being cute was easier than being real. Dewey plants fat, wet kisses on the back of your hand. He sighs and makes you scoot over to lay down on the bed next to you. “I don’t know why I… I guess I just never imagined anybody would want to shackle themselves to a guy who looks like me. Or even the other way around– I never imagined I’d be the type of guy to settle down, you know?”
You hadn't considered it before. Sometimes people who rail against 'the institution of marriage' are also people who never got the chance to believe they could love or be loved that way… hang on–
A thought interrupted you– "I thought you said 'who could love a guy like me.' What's this about 'who could love a guy who looks like me' business?"
You look at him for an answer and he raises an eyebrow at you. He thinks you're not serious but when you don't back track he scoffs. Dewey shows you what he means by patting his belly firmly and making it jiggle.
"I guess I didn't realize you were self conscious about that," you wondered aloud.
"I am not," he pouts. "I'm fat, that's all. Nobody wants a fat guy if they can help it or– or do better."
You shrug. "Ok so you're fat– it's not a bad word. It doesn't have to be a bad word. And I can assure you, this?" You pat his stomach. "This is very good to me."
That's how you end up with him trembling that night, hands balled into fists at his side trying to obey your no touch command and covered in hickeys and love bites.
It took an hour to undress him fully because for every piece of cloth you removed from his body you showered him in kisses and praise, announcing all your favorite things about him. He felt silly when you were fiddling with his bowtie, but his arousal skyrocketed with every brush of your hand over what piece you would take next and what you would say next.
It was embarrassing. It was sexy. And it filled him to the brim with warmth at how passionate you are about him and his body. It's not a 'despite your flaws' kind of love, it's included.
He's laying on his back and naked when you finally come back to worshipping his belly. His hard member is so close but you ignore it in favor of peppering his pooch with refreshed lipstick. Dewey has to put his hands up by his head to stop himself from stopping you.
It's like it stings. It stings to have anyone openly notice his stomach but to know you do it out of love, your own arousal and interest, that sting is accompanied by a deep pleasure.
You were planning to suck his dick but you're dripping and you need him just as much as he needs you right now. You fit your thighs on the outside of his, almost getting bucked off balance as he realizes oh shit, you're really done teasing and you sink down onto him with a gratuitous sigh.
When your hips are pressed flush together, Dewey rocks his to feel something– anything. It's like you were made for each other. He's not going to last and frankly neither are you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and push and pull to get you to work.
"Come on baby," he says. "It's all yours. Take it."
God he looks like a dream. You start to ride him at a steady pace and watch his eyes flutter for a moment. His hair's a fluffy mess, lip swollen from being bitten, stomach arms and chest littered with lipstick marks. It's not long before he's glistening with sweat and his hips are meeting yours to push you both closer to the edge.
"M close," you grip his shoulders and ride him harder, "fuck! Dewey."
"Almost…" Your fiancée catches your hips in a bruising grip to gain back some of the control. He knows when you come you'll slam back down and he'll have no choice but to come inside you. He pulls you towards him, making you bend and he captures a nipple in his mouth and drives his hips up, up, up until he feels you clamp down with a scream.
You're too much and he barely pulls out before he's coming too. His pearly ejaculate paints your lower lips, your ass, and the last of it paints his own stomach.
You're panting together in the moonlight, hugging each other fiercely to try and make the moment last just a little longer. In this crazy, fucked up world you managed to find your person and god help the world you should ever be parted again.
AN: SPOILERS FOR ALTERED CARBON SEASON 2 AU where Tak gets away with double sleeving by changing his double's last name (to Kawahara), so there exists 1 (one) Anthony Mackie Takeshi Kovacs on Harlan's World and 1 (one) Bancroft sex island Tak.
Goddamn this show is weird and confusing but I love it.
You are enjoying a nice bubble bath. You've got your favorite scented candles going, the water's fresh, bubbles aplenty, and music playing low from the counter top. The only thing you're missing is–
"AAAAHHH"
Oh there he is! Stepping into your bathwater. Fully clothed and drenched in so much mud and blood you can barely make out who he is under there. The now darkening water sloshes over the sides of the tub as he sits between your legs casually.
How the fuck did he get in the bathroom without you noticing until now??
"What the fuck?"
Tak spares you nothing more than a glance before digging into the top pocket of hos tactical vest and pulling a cigarette out. His lighter is fucked, waterlogged from his back pocket and he throws it to the side in a huff.
"Bad day," he grounds out. "For the other guys."
"You know what– " you take a second look and confirm that he is covered in a lot more blood than you thought "-- I don't wanna know."
You stood up in shock when Tak suddenly appeared before you but now you climb out of the bath fully, shivering and using the heated towels on the rack to cover your goose pimpled flesh. Tak's eyes follow you lazily and the water still in the tub turns black as he scooches down to submerge his shoulders and rests.
"Enjoying yourself?"
The man ignores your snarky tone and grunts in the affirmative. You roll your eyes and track the muddy boot prints back to the front door he left wide open. It's times like these you question whether or not sleeping with the Last Envoy is really to your benefit in the end– especially knowing how many enemies he probably still has.
You set the roomba Roameo to clean and return to the bathroom. You push Tak out of the way by his filthy head and pull the cord to drain the water.
"Um, ocupado."
"Shut up, nasty. Take your clothes off and give them to me," you wait impatiently as he struggles to get his wet clothes off his body. You empty the pockets as he hands stuff to you and drop them in the sink for him to sort through later. You leave him to drop the clothes– boots and all– into your washer and hear the shower running.
You come back to the bathroom to wash the gunk off you when Tak snatches your arm. "Fucker! Don't scare me like that."
Tak just laughs at you. "Come here," he pushes your robe to the floor and pulls you into the shower with him.
His hands find your hips easily and you watch grey rivulets pour down from his shoulders. His face is clean, hair scraggly and blackened though. You grab the shampoo and lather it up, scrubbing it through his hair until the suds run clear. Tak closes his eyes and lets you work as his fingers caress your sides.
"Tak?"
You tap his chin and direct him to tilt his head back. The white column of his throat is open to you and you lay a kiss on his Adam's apple. Tak pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you and shielding your face from the spray with his body.
"Tak." He still doesn't respond to you but he tightens his hold and stands there.
You suddenly feel exhausted. When he's clean, he turns the shower off and returns to your tiny bedroom. He doesn't live here but he might as well, he knows every inch of this place by now. He sits on the bed with a sigh knowing he's not going to get much sleep tonight.
He doesn't sleep but he does close his eyes for a few minutes and when he feels eyes on him, he finds you standing in the bathroom doorway. "What?"
You crook a finger at him, beckoning. Tak follows you into the bathroom which is set up almost exactly as it had been when he'd first arrived– fresh bubbly bathwater, warm pinkish gold glow from the candles, and music turned down low. He watches you climb back in with a shiver and reach out to him.
"You used all my hot water," you pout, "come keep me warm."
Well you don't need to ask twice. It's way colder than you let on and almost gives him cramps when he puts a foot in. You laugh maniacally and help (more like drag) him in the rest of the way.
"Ffffucking ffffucking ffffucker." Tak's teeth are chattering and he can see yours are too. "I think my balls are inside of me..."
You snort this time. "I can fix it, come over here!"
Tak pulls you into his lap. He can feel the goose pimples all over your skin, but you feel warm in comparison to his own. You wrap your hand around his shaft and stroke him beneath the water.
"Better?"
"Keep going."
Your nipples are diamond hard and he takes one in his mouth. You hiss at the sudden temperature change and feel the floor of your pussy clench. Tak switches to the other nipple and runs a freezing cold finger over the last, causing it to tighten almost painfully.
"Goddamn…" you purr.
Tak chuckles in response and sucks marks up your chest to your neck. Your thighs slide right against his as he squeezes your ass and brings you closer to him, your mound pressing against his hardening cock.
"What the hell were you thinking," he kisses your lips roughly, "water's fucking cold."
"What were you thinking when your raggedy ass got into my very nice, very relaxing bath from earlier?"
Tak picked you up so you could line his cock up with your entrance. "We could be doing this in your bed…"
"We could," you agree, then slide down onto his awaiting cock.
You both moan, you feel him bottom out inside you and clench down as if to keep him there. Tak's breathing was ragged as he closed his eyes and tried to bring himself back from the brink. There was nothing better than your body, your sounds, your face when he's making you feel good.
Once you've adjusted to the stretch of his member, you begin your little dance. That familiar sway, up and down and up and down, holding the back of his head to keep him close for both warmth and closure. Tak lets you take the lead, only helping the push and pull motion by gripping your cheeks and moving with you.
The water is lukewarm, no more toe cramping cold. Your nipples are still at attention and aching but it's not the icy burn from before. Your breathing picks up pace as you continue to bounce lazily in Tak's lap, savoring the feeling of him gliding in and out of you, feeling every curve and vein of his length.
Said partner continues to suck marks into your skin, dipping his tongue into the hollow of your throat in response to a particularly enthusiastic downward thrust. Then Tak is leaning back and meeting your thrusts with his own. The bubbles in the bath are almost gone now and the water is clear enough to see the pink expanse of his chest rising and falling as he admires you from below.
"Come one, sweetheart," he purrs.
You know his envoy intuition tells him everything including the immense power trip you seem to get when topping. It surges through you like a wildfire, scorching everything in its path and leaving it raw. You grab a hold of his shoulders and fuck him harder, causing the water to now splash over the sides of the tub and soaking the tiles all over again.
Tak is deeply amused by this but still taken, biting his bottom lip and burning you with his steamy gaze. He watches your breasts bounce wildly, cupping one to play with and it's all too much to keep going. You gasp as your orgasm hits you at the speed of light and you take Tak with you a few seconds later.
You drape yourself across his heaving chest and almost fall asleep if it weren't for this damned cold water. Tak carries you out and wraps you in several warm towels before laying you down on your bed.
You're asleep by the time he's done blowing out all of the candles and sending Roameo to his little dog house. At least, he thought you were asleep until he voice commanded the lights out andaid in bed ready to fall asleep when you–
"So, you gonna tell me what kind of trouble we're in or what?"
Tak scoffs. "It's nothing I can't handle."
"Last time you said that I got my face ripped off, so I'll just go ahead and assume the worst."
Tags: 16+ | 1.7k words | jealousy, swearing, almost black widowing, theft, candle wax obvi, and well no sex? I don't know, girls just hit different sometimes and I feel soft about them.
AN: Zoe Kravitz as catwoman has me in my feelings and I'm burned out on Rick Flag for the time being.
You knew Selina in her pre-cat burglary days. Before she was robbing bankers and museums blind, she stole cars from parking lots and took them out for joy rides.
You've met every single one of her boyfriends– from the kindergarten crushes to her first homerun to her "long standing" back and forth with a foreign exchange student. You always thought she had a type– rich, usually white, and stupid.
Damn it if you weren't basically obsessed with her. That's how your parents described it anyways, but they didn't understand you growing up and they don't understand you now. Yes, you would jump off a bridge if she asked you to. Because she would be right there with you, holding your hand and screaming the lyrics to a cheesy song as you took a deep drink in the briny water.
She's your ride or die and that's why the boyfriends never really bothered you. They could never have what you two have, never achieve that level of devotion and commitment that the two of you had forged naturally through thick and thin.
But you had started rolling your eyes whenever she said the name of her latest sucker and Selina was starting to notice. "What? What's so bad about this one?"
"He's such a douchebag!" He's truly awful, a spoiled brat that made Veruca Salt look tame by comparison. "He's not even in the will, Seline, they took him out of it when his baby brother was born."
Selina nodded. "And his brother will inherit the family fortune if Mr and Mrs. Whalen bite it but Charlemagne is going to inherit the key to his grandmother's jewelry box."
"That the fuck are you going to do with one jewelry box??"
Selina did not rise to your attitude, she simply replied, "you'll see. I have a plan, sugar, and it's working perfectly."
~
You acquiesced and let Selina work. It's just what she does, you reason, she tricks people into getting her close to their riches and robs them. She's not stupid, she's scheming.
And she's hardly in love with this American Psycho Yuppie.
She found you sitting in your little rooftop nest with fairy lights and blankets for walls playing animal crossing.
"Girl you were right."
"Oh?" Selina hated admitting she was wrong. "Do tell in great detail, please."
The woman rolled her eyes and sat down taking the handheld game from your hand and starting the save function. "Soooo… Grandmother Whalens passed away this weekend."
"Damn," you say, "bad for him but good for you…?"
Selina sighed. "Well it would have been if not for some fine print in her will which stated that even though Charlemagne is supposed to inherit all of her jewelry, there is one person who can veto that decision."
You nod. "His mother."
"His cousin," she said. is great-great aunt Marlene Arnold. A person he has literally never even heard of until yesterday."
You whistle in awe. "That has to sting."
"Do you wanna know why she vetoed such a seemingly harmless inheritance?"
You raise an eyebrow. "Come on Selene you're killing me, we don't have all night."
She was smiling that toothy smile that either meant she was truly amused or deeply enraged. "A fucking pissing match."
"Marlene has beef with is dad's brother and just to piss him off, she vetoed Charlemagne's inheritance and plans to bury his grandmother with every piece of jewelry except for a pair of cuff links."
Your jaw drops. "That is un-fucking-believable. No seriously that is petty as shit, girl, I mean– I do not like that brat by any means but holy shit he does not deserve that."
Selene laughs until she falls against the stack of pillow, breathless. "I know! What a fucking bitch…"
You lay against the pillows beside her, looking up at the tent display of gathering sheet fabric and gold lights. Selene is quiet for a while and all you can hear is the idle music from your game and the city streets and sirens.
"You know I was doing it for you…" she said. "Grandma Whalen she uh… she had this necklace that I thought would look amazing on you."
You roll your eyes. "All that for a necklace? Bullshit."
Selene chuckled but her heart wasn't in it. "You're right, you know? Not about that but… I don't like them. These guys I mean...
"Not like I like you."
You almost don't want to acknowledge it. How long had you pined for her, seemingly unnoticed? How many times have you watched her start relations with ulterior motives and leave them heartbroken in dust? What was her endgame here?
You feel… a sort of anger rise in you. It feels like teasing but she's hit a truly sore, infected spot in your psyche. You're contemplating getting up to just leave and never come back when the entire city of Gotham turns black in the blink of an eye.
You're afraid for a moment you've gone deaf and blind until you hear the squealing of tires, breaking glass, and Selina whispering "what the fuck?"
You sit up and blink a hundred times. Nothing. "Are you OK, Seline?"
"I'm fine, are you…"
You reach over her and grab your danish cookie can of emergency supplies. "I have candles and matches. Here–"
There's a flicker of light in the pitch black that almost blinds you. When your vision clears, it's just Selina with a lighter. She looks at you like she wants to say something but she changes her mind.
You trade her the lighter for some tea lights and candle holders. You light each of them one at a time and take the tent walls down until the two of you are surrounded by warm candle light on the rooftop.
Selina checks the radio and finds an emergency broadcast warning of a massive power outage.
"Probably another supervillain." You roll your eyes like you're bored and it makes her laugh.
Seline's quiet for a second before she asks hesitantly– " are, uh, you gonna say anything about–"
You shake your head. "I'm… I'm not ready to have this conversation right now."
You look away because you can't stand to see the disappointment she can't hide. Your winter jacket becomes a little too warm and you take it off, leaning back on your hands and looking up at the stars.
"Holy shit, Seline," you whisper, "I bet Gotham sky hasn't looked like this since the fucking dinosaurs."
The sky is streaked in gold and purple and white. Stars big and small dot the sky horizon to horizon, innumerable and unknowable. A photograph could never truly capture the depth of its beauty.
Selina has no interest in a rare starry night because she only has eyes for you.
"That's a new shirt, you go somewhere nice?"
You look at her incredulously. "I went to that new nightclub on 5th. It's a mile high, pervy Pete let me in VIP for a couple of homemade beignets."
Selina hums. "The ones with the powdered sugar and honey?"
You scoff. "You ever know me to make 'em any different?"
She chuckles longingly. "You right, you right. Why mess with a perfect formula and all that."
When the laughter dies down you assume its the end of it and go back to stargazing. Selina isn't finished though.
"It looks good on you. That shirt."
It's hardly a shirt. More like a bandeau with mesh sleeves. It's making you cold even. You lay back on your jacket and feel the tickle of the fur lining the hood. You wish you could stay here forever, with Selina and pretend like all that other shit doesn't bother you more than you let on.
Speaking of the devil, she leans over you with a mischievous look. You glare at her but can't decipher right away what's so funny.
"Can I help you?"
Selina holds up a white candle with wax melting down the sides. "$2000 says you won't let me draw a rose on your skin with this."
You open your mouth in shock. "You're nuts. You're an insane person and I know for a fact you do not have $2000."
"Pussy," Selina teases. "I'm good for it. Have a stash at my old man's place, brick in the wall. Come on…"
Fuck it. What do you have to lose? You'll hardly get third degree burns from candle wax. "You better be good for it. Good at it."
Selina chuckles evilly and tips the candle over the holder to get rid of the excess before using it. Now that you're in it you're not sure–
"Hsssss!" You bite your lip to hold in the HOLYFUCKINGMOTHEROFJOSEPHTHATSFUCKINGHOT that wants to burst forth from your chest like a xenomorph.
She knows it too and smiles like the cat that got the cream. "You tapping out?"
"Better be a rose, you bitch," you grunt and brace your hands against the seam of your jeans.
Selina continues to drip candle wax on your chest, just between your collarbone and along the top of your breast. It fucking burns, you can feel her trying to spiral it in an outward pattern growing larger and large. She sits on your lap for a better position and you unconsciously settle your hands on her hips.
"You're doing so well," she praises, "almost there… feel free to choke at any point."
"Fuck you."
You win. You know you've won when she gives up and admires her handy work. "Got a mirror?"
Selina takes out her phone and takes a picture instead. It is immediately made her lockscreen, which replaces her previous lockscreen of you drunk dancing on a minigolf court in a tutu and leather jacket. You take a look at the wax art and… "Nice fucking job, Michaelangelo, it's a blob."
"Hey! It's a rose!," she pouts.
"It's a shit rose!"
"Fuck you–"
"No fuck you– " you were laughing and tickling her sides when she leaned down and kissed you.
Selina sits back up slowly and gives you a calculated look to see if she just fucked up but you can't bring yourself to mind anymore.
"No more rich idiot boyfriends," you tell her. "Let's just steal cars and paintings, ok?"
Selina nods. "Deal. Hey you know I have some safe candle wax in my room... it burns at a lower temperature and we can out it anywhere..."
