strawberriesandhotmen

[strawberriesandhotmen]

You did an AMAZING job with my Niall request. Thanks so much!!

awww you literally made my day babe, im so happy you liked it 🫶🏻🫶🏻😭

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Hypnotic

a/n: This one is based on a request one of you lovelies sent in! Absolutely ate down with this, baby, I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope y’all like what I did with it. This did take me way longer than expected, exams on top of work and everything else is a lot babes. I didn't put any of the other boys in this one because I didn't really see how to put them in. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy it, love you babies 😜

pairing: fratboy!dom!Niall Horan x fem!reader

CW +18: swearing, oral (m receiving), piv unprotected (wrap it up!), dom Niall, reader gets really fucked out and cockdrunk because it’s Niall obviously, degrading (not much, slut is only used like three times I think), praise (we can have both, shut up), Niall is COCKY and we love it

word count: 4.3k

You hated this fucking bar.

You came here for a drink. One. Singular. Drink. Not an endless barrage of insecure members of the male species unleashing their arrogance on you.

It was exasperating, to say the least. Really, how difficult could it possibly be for a man to simply ask you out? Must they, instead, employ foul innuendos and caress you with their grubby hands, as if that would make you more inclined to their advances? If they did believe that, they were so painfully incorrect.

A couple of them had, admittedly, caught your eye, but the moment they opened their mouths the mirage had been spoiled. The story of your life, frankly. When wasn’t a perfect vision ruined by reality?

Most of the men had kept their attempts relatively tame, with one or two drunken exceptions. That was to be expected, of course, but not tolerated in the least. What woman would find an absolutely plastered stranger fumbling for the zipper of her dress in the middle of a bar even remotely attractive, or wanted for that matter? No one you knew of.

You hadn’t even come here in search of a one-night stand. You hadn’t even worn your sexiest dress, for fuck’s sake. It seemed only the seediest of patrons had chosen this location tonight. To be fair, you had chosen it in a rushed reverie to achieve some semblance of rest after the day you’d had. Rest, unfortunately, is that last thing you were finding.

“Two Guinnesses,” A voice sounded from beside you, the thick Irish accent slicing through the din to reach your appreciative ears. It was nice to listen to. Furtively, you shot a glance at the stranger, catching a few blonde tips in your peripheral. As you threw back a swig of your now embarrassedly watered down drink (the ice melted, okay?), you felt the stranger’s eyes on you. He didn’t stare for long before fully turning his body toward you, leaning on the bar like some character out of an 80s romcom. Someone call John Hughes, you thought; I sense a new leading man.

“Hey there, princess.” Princess? Christ. You fought back the urge to roll your eyes as he shot out that nickname right off the bat, instead politely shifting your gaze to him.

“Can I help you?” You truly had meant the words to sound more kind, but fuck if you weren’t tiring of endless pick up lines and bad jokes. You had endured them for the better part of two hours, after all. 

The smirk on his face almost made you blow your top then and there. What the fuck did he think he was accomplishing? This was practically harassment already, in your eyes. He looked like the typical frat guy: backwards snapback, loose white shirt with cutoff sleeves, and surprisingly acceptable-looking jeans. Tufts of blonde hair (likely bleached) peeked out from under the hat, concealing what were surely fading roots. You had always regarded men who dyed their hair to be walking red flags; you were sure this one would be no different. His eyes were striking, truthfully. You didn’t recall ever seeing such an intense blue, before. They were bright, ocean-like. Manipulative. Woah, there’s that feminism creeping in again. You realized you probably shouldn’t judge him so quickly, with such little basis, but at this point you had learned to trust your instincts.

“Actually, I think the question is how I can help you.” And there it is. You huffed out a sigh, rolling your eyes as you spun in the stool back towards the bar. His hand flew out to catch the seat, preventing you from escaping his hungry gaze. “Not so fast, love.”

“I’m not interested.” You shot back, avoiding his tempting eyes at all costs. You were strong, but not that strong.

“Not yet.” He corrected with a grin, craning his neck in an attempt to catch your gaze. “You’re quite pretty, you know that?” You shut your eyes for a moment, setting your drink on the bar before crossing your legs and allowing yourself to face him.

“How sweet.” Your words were not sincere, and he clearly understood that. He also clearly didn’t care in the slightest. He must’ve been quite confident in his “wooing” capabilities. He merely chuckled at your dismissive response, gripping the bottom of your stool and tugging you closer. Now, your knees clashed with his at the proximity, and you couldn’t easily look anywhere but his eyes.

God, his eyes. They were actually fucking hypnotic. You didn’t like that, not one bit. You felt attacked, cornered, and he hadn’t even touched you. Not that you wanted him to, it was just bizarre. You weren’t even conflicted, only acutely aware of the dilemma you might be facing had you not been blessed with such an iron-clad will. You were stubborn, and you liked it. Unfortunately, it was starting to seem like he did too.

“I’m Niall.” He tilted his head as he waited for you to reply, searching your features almost respectively.

“How nice for you.” You mumbled, scooting as far back on the stool as the uncomfortable seat would allow. Whoever owned this bar desperately needed to invest in better furniture; your ass was practically numb. He chuckled again, releasing his grip on your seat now that you didn’t have anywhere to go.

“It’s nice to meet ya’. What’s your name?” You couldn’t deny he had a lovely voice. Speaking voice, that is. His accent lilted through the air like a melody, one you wouldn’t mind hearing over and over. You muttered your name reluctantly, crossing your arms with a huff. What was wrong with you tonight? Usually your resolve was infinitely stronger, but perhaps you had met your match. Perhaps he was just as stubborn as you, if not more. Perhaps…no. No. You would not give in. You couldn’t. You were better than this.

He tested out your name in his tongue, smiling to himself at the sound of it. He liked it.

“Pretty name.” He complimented simply, leaning in so that his breath fanned over your ear. The warm sensation sent a tingle down your spine, and you tensed your muscles to hide the shiver that threatened to dance over your body. “I wouldn’t mind moanin’ that tonight.” He had to ruin it.

“Freak.” You insulted, shoving his shoulder with a disgusted expression.

“Hardly.” He laughed. Like, a genuine laugh. And you hated that you loved the sound. It was so real, so childlike. 

“Look, Niall.” I began firmly. “I have a boyfriend, s-” “No you don’t.” He interrupted, shaking his head knowingly. I cocked an eyebrow, sending him an incredulous expression.

“Excuse me?” He shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing, whatever he was so defiant about.

“You do not have a boyfriend.” You opened your mouth to reply, only to be halted by his finger on your lips. You could feel the calluses on his fingers scratch against your lips as you closed them; maybe he played an instrument of some sort, you thought. “I know this because if I was your boyfriend, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of this perfect little body for a single second. We wouldn’t leave the fucking house.” This was starting to get a little intense. He sensed the tension on your muscles, dropping his hand to rest on your arm and rub soothing circles into your soft, lotioned skin. For some reason, you didn’t even feel uneasy. You were…intrigued.

“Why so persistent?” You cocked your head to the side, knitting your brow together in curiosity. A playful smirk spread across his face, his eyes lighting up with the expression.

“Why so resistant?” He retorted, seeming to hold back a chuckle of amusement at his own reply. I rolled my eyes, the cycle of becoming intrigued, then frustrated, then intrigued, was quickly becoming annoying on its own. He faked a pout at your poor reaction, hooking a finger under your chin and turning your gaze to his. He leaned in close (too close for a stranger, perhaps), his lips ghosting over your ear.

“Why don’t you come home with me, princess, hm?” He hummed, his hand slowly dropping to your thigh, giving you plenty of time to reject his touch if you so desired. But he was finding that you weren’t seeming to be so averse to it; he didn’t understand the switch up, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. His calloused fingers traced absent little shapes into your plush thighs, staying only just a respectful distance from the hem of your dress.

“I don’t go home with anyone.” You whispered back, allowing him to continue touching your leg. Why were you allowing this? You had absolutely no clue. It had to be those fucking eyes.

He smirked slowly (his signature expression, it seemed), as if he’d just gotten the most genius idea of his young-adult life.

“You ever been fucked in a bar bathroom, love?” His filthy words sent a shiver down your spine that ran straight to your core, which you were just now realizing felt a little warmer than usual. You fought the urge to clench your thighs together, knowing he would immediately give you shit for doing so.

“Can’t say I have.” You replied vaguely, leaning back slightly to look in his eyes again. Big mistake.

“Tonight’s your lucky night.” He slid out of his stool, holding a hand out for you as if he hadn’t just suggested thoroughly ravaging you in a public bathroom. You somewhat hesitantly looked him over before taking his hand, trying to decide if your morals would weigh into this decision. The only response you could come up with is what morals? 

You placed your hand in his delicately, allowing him to lead you to the bathroom situated at the back of the bar. God, it’s going to be fucking disgusting in there, you thought. Upon walking into the women’s bathroom, Niall locked the door behind you, and the scrunched look on his face told you that you had thought correctly.

“You’re not a germaphobe, are you?” He asked, wrinkling his nose as he glanced around the dingy space.

“I just agreed to fuck you, a complete stranger, in not so many words. I think I’ll be okay.” He rolled his eyes at your attitude, unable to keep a slight smirk from creeping back onto his lips. 

“Don’t be a brat, princess. I don’t appreciate the unwarranted attitude.” His tone held a hint of warning as he stalked closer to you, tossing his snapback onto the counter (that would need to be disinfected) and running a hand through his unruly hair.

“Then don’t ask stupid questions.” You shot back dumbly. Maybe not the best idea. One calloused hand flew to tangle in your hair, gripping it tightly before he tugged your head back. You yelped at the aggressiveness, allowing yourself to be cornered against the cold bathroom tiles. The sudden coolness sent a shiver down your spine, raising goose bumps along your back and neck.

“What do I have to do to shut you up, hm? Such a pretty mouth, you should use it more wisely.” He chided patronizingly, not loosening his hold in your hair. It stung a little, but you were oddly turned on. You didn’t like that.

“How would you suggest I do that?” I really need to shut up. One of his hands slid down to your hip, and he shoved you against the wall again, rather roughly.

“Shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you.” Oh? Niall didn’t miss the way your bottom lip caught between your teeth, or the subtle clench of your thighs at his words. “Oh yeah? You like that, princess? Want me to shut you up nice and good?” He mocked in your ear, pulling back just slightly to observe changes in your expression. You didn’t respond, a little shell-shocked. You knew he was cocky, but you didn’t expect him to be quite so dominant. 

“On your knees.” What?

“What?” Why the hell am I asking questions? He tugged harder against your hair, the stinging in your roots returning. “Shit.” You muttered.

“On your fucking knees.” He hissed, stepping back to give you more room. Despite your pride shouting at you to disobey him yet again, you sunk to your knees, peering up at him in wait. “Good girl.” He muttered, combing his fingers through your hair. You lost his touch for only a moment while he tugged down his shorts and boxers, his throbbing length slapping up against his stomach. He let the useless clothing pool around his ankles, his hand cupping your cheek with a surprising tenderness. Just as you were reaching out to wrap your small hand around him, he caught your wrist.

“Not so fast. You haven’t earned it yet.” You furrowed your brow, momentarily confused, before realization dawned on you.

He wanted you to beg.

You parted your lips to speak, your breath catching with hesitation. He looked expectant, arrogant, staring down at you in such a pompous manner. You desperately tried to ignore the growing heat between your legs, the dampness trickling out of your poor, neglected little pussy. It had been a long time, and as much as you usually hated begging, you found yourself continually entranced by those ocean eyes, those pretty blue stars that glittered with excitement at what he knew you were about to do. He knew how fucking good he was; maybe for once, a man’s arrogance wasn’t completely unfounded.

“Please, can I…” You stopped yourself, your voice meek with the unfamiliar words spewing out of them. This dynamic was so foreign to you, but so delicious. You swallowed thickly, taking in a breath before trying again.

“Please let me touch you.” You could’ve sworn you heard a low rumble echo from his chest at your plea, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before sliding his gaze back to you.

“Not good enough.” He rasped, and you could tell the denial was forced. He had wanted to accept then and there, but he wanted to draw this out as long as possible. He wanted this to last, and he was already sure that once your pretty lips were wrapped around his cock he would come like a fucking high school virgin jerking off in the middle of the night.

“Let me, fuck…please let me suck your cock.” You tried to hide the whimper that shook your tone, but it couldn’t be hidden from him. God, every fucking noise out of your mouth made his dick twitch in anticipation, his tip already angry red and leaking with precum. He sucked in a sharp breath, composing himself.

“Give me one more, princess.” He breathed, wrapping his fingers around your hair to pull it out of your face. How gentlemanly of him.

“Please…sir.” That was fucking it for him. That was the last word he expected to come out of your mouth, but fuck did it sound pretty as it did. He couldn’t hold back a groan, turning so that he could lean against the wall as you sat up on your knees to get closer.

“Go ahead, baby, use those pretty lips for something good.” You let out a sigh, using one hand to brace yourself on his thigh and the other to wrap around his length. You twisted your small hand around him once or twice, earning a couple of gasps from him. Maybe it was the risque nature of it all, perhaps even the way he could see straight down your dress from his current angle. He was a little bit of a perv, but let’s be honest. Who isn’t?

The moment your moist lips encircled his tip, he was forced to bite his tongue to stay quiet. Your tongue swirled around his little slit, collecting the salty liquid and filling your mouth with the taste of him. He tasted good, and you were almost embarrassed at the way a little whine escaped your lips, your pussy currently ruining your panties.

God, I’m a slut.

You flattened your tongue against the veiny underside of his dick, sliding an inch or two of him into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, you wasted no time in bobbing your head up and down, reveling in the slickness of your lips against his spit-moistened cock. 

Niall’s breaths were coming in heavy pants now, his gaze fixed on the way a strap of your dress slipped off of your shoulder, exposing the swell of your breast to his hungry eyes. He could just make out the circle of pink surrounding your pert nipples, admiring the way they poked through the thin fabric of your dress. That would be off soon enough.

Without warning, his hips rutted forward, causing his tip to hit the back of your throat and pulling a gag from you. He was fully face-fucking you now, lost in the bounce of your tits with each thrust, pulling your top further down and soon freeing your chest from its pesky confines.

“Fuckin’ perfect.” He rasped hoarsely, selfishly chasing his release and ignoring the way tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the depth. “Feel s’fuckin’ good around me.” He slurred, grunting as he felt that knot in his stomach continue to grow. He was almost there. He was so fucking close he could almost imagine it. But shit, he couldn’t imagine that.

He couldn’t imagine the way his orgasm would rip through him as he abused your poor, small mouth, or the way you oh-so-obediently swallowed every drop of his come without being asked. What a good girl you were. Fucking made for him. 

He steeled himself against the bathroom wall to avoid collapsing (God, that would be embarrassing), releasing your hair as he floated down from his high. His jaw nearly dropped as he drank in your appearance, hair severely tousled from his grip on it, lips plump and swollen from their use, tits hanging out of the top of your dress so damned perfectly. You were gorgeous.

Lost in his own admiration, he almost missed the way your hips subtly rocked against the heel of your shoe as you knelt before him, trying to pay some attention to your neglected and dripping pussy.

Almost.

“You need something, princess?” Shit, he still managed to be cocky after that. You nodded pathetically, blown-up irises flickering down to his still-hard dick before meeting his gaze once again. “Stand up, sweetheart.” He coaxed reluctantly, already missing the sight of you on your knees for him. You wiped your mouth off with the back of your hand as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes flitting over your flushed face.

He was enamored.

“Want me to take care of her?” He hummed, cupping your heat underneath your dress as he held your gaze. Your breath hitched as you inhaled sharply, nodding furiously. “Need you to use your words, love.”

“Please, need you.” You whined shamelessly, bending your knees ever so slightly to achieve just the slightest friction. He smirked evilly, very amused and pleased with himself at how cockdrunk you were after a fucking blowjob. He hadn’t even touched you yet.

“What a fuckin’ slut.” He practically growled, roughly grabbing your wrist and pulling you to the counter. He took off his tank top and laid it on the counter, and you realized he did that for you. “Sit.” He ordered deeply, causing another jolt to run straight to your pulsating core. You hopped up onto the counter, appreciative of the thin but sanitary barrier he had placed down for you. He hooked onto your plush thighs, the uppermost parts of them already soaked with your overwhelming arousal. He yanked you forward to the counter’s edge, quickly tugging your dress above your hips.

Just by the look on his face you already knew your panties had become transparent, absolutely ruined by your slick seeping out of you. Without a word, he hooked your panties to the side, breathing out in a way akin to surprise.

“Cute little pussy, huh, princess?” As if you were in your right mind to actually answer him. “Gonna fuck her so good she’ll be ruined for days.” Good fuck. This man knew exactly what in the hell he was doing to you. “Open these pretty legs.” You obeyed embarrassingly quickly, spreading them as wide as your hamstrings would allow. “Good girl.” There it fucking is again.

He ran a finger through your slit, collecting your wetness and spreading it over your puffy folds. You writhed and arched on the counter, mewling softly at how teasing his actions felt. You needed him inside of you this instant. Just before you could plead with him again, the wind was absolutely knocked out of you as he slammed his cock into your delicate pussy. You cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, his hand immediately flying to cover your mouth and muffle the sounds.

“Careful, princess, we’re - fuck - in public.” He panted, allowing you only a second or two to adjust to his size before he fucked into you relentlessly. His balls slapped against your ass with each thrust, the lewd sounds of skin smacking echoing off the graffitied walls. Your muffled moans punctuated each buck of his hips, greedily pushing your ass back for more, harder.

“Greedy fuckin’ slut.” A low groan escaped from his lips, his grip on your hips becoming almost bruising as he not-so-reluctantly began to oblige your silent plea for harder. You had never been fucked so roughly, or so well, to be frank.

You could feel your walls pulsing around him, squeezing him, milking him. You could feel that thick vein on the underside of his cock dragging across your insides, his swollen tip punching your cervix every time, filling you up indescribably well.

“Ahh, please - shit - faster.” You moaned, your lips unintentionally kissing his palm as you forced out the words. You could swear he actually growled the moment he heard you, not even having the energy to chide you for your neediness right away.

“Squeezin’ me so good, sweetheart. Fuck, like this pussy was fuckin’ made f’me.” His pants turned into grunts, and you knew he was feeling as good as you. And you were feeling fucking euphoric.

“Please, please, please…” You chanted in desire, your hands gripping onto the edge of the counter for support. If you hadn’t found something to hold onto, your head would have smashed into the sink’s mirror with the intensity at which he was fucking you. Your toes were curled, your eyes slammed shut, your back arching off the counter and wrinkling his shirt that he laid underneath you. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. Such an overwhelming fullness, so deep at that.

“Takin’ me so fuckin’ well,” He huffed out, his pace not faltering for a moment. But with the way his cock twitched inside of you told you he was close. How you were coherent enough to form that thought, you had no idea.

The knot in your stomach had become unbearable, your walls clenching around his cock so tight you were sure it hurt him. But by the fucked-out look on his face, you decided he was feeling fine. His eyes were locked onto the bounce of your tits, those pretty nipples pink and swollen with arousal.

“M’so close, so close…” You moaned out, your knuckles white against the counter.

“C’mon, baby, want you to come f’me.” His thumb flew down to your clit, pressing harsh yet precise circles against it. “Wanna feel that pussy come all over my cock.” If his hand wasn’t covering your mouth, you were sure everyone in the bar would be able to hear your pornographic moans, or at least the squelching sounds of him fucking into you with how wet you were. The pressure of his thumb abusing your clit, the jolt of his tip slamming into your cervix, just the fucking expression on his pretty face, it was all too much.

“M’coming, m’coming…” Your voice came out in more of a squeal, just barely forcing out the words to begin with. That must have been the final straw for him, because with his thumb still on your clit, he quickly pulled out of you, thick ropes of come shooting out onto your heaving chest. Your orgasm followed half a second behind, ripping through your body with an overwhelming intensity. 

As you were still floating down from you high, Niall cleaned the both of you up with wet paper towels, his gentleness in after-care actually a little shocking considering how he just fucked you. He slipped a hand underneath your back and pulled you to a sitting position, tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You okay, princess?” He asked gently, rubbing small circles into your hip and cheek. You nodded with a tired smile, too blissed out to actually respond. He chuckled at your response, admiring the state of you. “What made you change your mind?” He asked genuinely, tilting his head curiously. You huffed out a small laugh through your nose, peering up at him through your lashes.

“Those eyes.” You began, almost reverently. “They fucking hypnotized me.”

[strawberriesandhotmen]

hey loviesss currently working on a Niall request one of you sent in (ate that up btw whoever came up with it); that'll be followed up by part II of Retribution and probably another random fic. have a lovely weekend babes!

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Retribution: Part I

a/n: I know I usually do blue lettering, but for this, red seemed more appropriate. This is part one of a mini series I’m writing. I’m really happy with this part and hope y’all like it too. Don’t worry, the smut is coming later, babies 😘 In this fic, Matt and the reader have an established relationship and she already knows he’s Daredevil. We’re gonna get into some pretty dark territory in the later parts, so buckle up lovelies. By the way, this whole fic is inspired by a line from the DDBA trailer, which I typed in bold at the end of this part. I did not come up with it!

pairing: dark!Daredevil/Matt Murdock x journalist!fem!reader

CW +18: swearing, violence (light), reader is an icon (i can’t help myself)

word count: 1.5k

You were fucked.

You were thoroughly, and utterly, fucked (and not in the good way).

He had told you to drop the story, warned you that these people weren’t regular criminals. They were actually depraved, not just out to make some extra money. 

But you didn’t listen. When did you ever? Your stubbornness wasn’t a flaw, really. You had to be obstinate to get what you wanted as a journalist, all the best ones were. You doubt he would accept that bit of logic, though. He never allowed you to justify your reckless actions using your career. ‘Get another job, then,’ he would say. ‘One that isn’t so dangerous.’ That sparked many arguments surrounding your capableness, which he never denied, but instead pointed out that no one is bulletproof. Not even him.

Not even Daredevil.

You called bullshit on that, of course. He wore a bulletproof suit 24/7 for fuck’s sake. You ignored the fact that he was probably talking about humans in general; you didn’t care. What were you if not faultily stubborn?

“Are you listening, you little bitch?!” Little bitch? That’s creative. You’ve been kidnapped a concerning amount of times, and you can’t explain how badly you were dying to hear a new insult thrown your way. These criminals really needed to up their game.

“It’s hard not to when your saliva keeps landing in my eye.” Slap. You let out a heavy sigh, rolling your eyes at the poor attempt at silencing you. “What the fuck is that stain on your hand?” You narrowed your eyes in disgust, craning your neck to get a better look at the shit on his hand that was now on your face. He mumbled something you couldn’t quite understand, wiping his hand on his pants almost insecurely.

“What was that?” You pressed. He threw his cartoonish-looking ski mask down in frustration, growling animalistically. 

“It’s mustard, okay?!” Okay, you thought; so we’ve got a fat-ass on our hands. You were beginning to think that Matt had been wrong; these people weren’t depraved, they were just bold. Bold enough to take you from the parking garage in the middle of the day. That is, until a new character entered the cramped, make-shift interrogation room.

Tall, lanky, gaunt. He had black hair slicked back with enough gel to fill one of those liter bottles of soda, that heavy overcoat doing little to hide his skeletal build. The shade surrounding his eyes was akin to a circle of coal drawn on for Halloween, yet it looked surprisingly organic. You assumed they originated from a lack of sleep, his mind doubtlessly consumed with overwhelming possibilities of how to take over the known world.

Oh, you don’t think so?

Shut up.

He gave you a curt once over before silently gesturing for Fat-Ass to vacate the room. Thank God, you thought. The smell was really starting to get to you.

“I heard you put up quite the fight.” He drawled, his tone low and smooth. He pulled up a rickety chair, sitting himself down across from you. You subtly struggled against the rope securing your aching wrists once more, internally complaining at the futility of it all.

“Don’t bother.” He dismissed, making it clear you weren’t subtle enough. “I tied those myself. You aren’t getting out.” You rolled your eyes at his ignorant statement.

“Sure, bud.” He didn’t seem to appreciate the nonchalance, but he was tellingly well-practiced in concealing his emotions. You couldn’t detect a smile-line anywhere on the man’s whole face.

What a petulant little thing.

He rose from his seat slowly, the creak of the old chair’s wood echoing off the empty walls. Taking a couple of steps towards you, he bent down so that his stale breath fluttered across your ear.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” He paused, whispering your name as if testing out a memory, seeing if it rang a bell. “Obstinate, evidently. But not all that resourceful.” Asshole. You didn’t have to  be resourceful, you knew Matt would already be on his way, no reason to waste your energy in such ways. And anyways, you couldn’t not believe that Matt was coming. He always did, why wouldn’t he now?

“Having doubts about your little friend, hm?” You would've kicked him in the balls without hesitation if your legs weren’t tied to this stupid chair, too. Normally your kidnappers didn’t take such precautions; you guessed he had heard a lot about you after all. The first to not underestimate you. While disgustingly flattering, in a way, it was pissing you off now. For once, you wanted to be underestimated.

At least you were used to it.

“Poor, innocent little girl. Abandoned by her boyfriend, forsaken by her only love. How tragically poetic, don’t you think?” You spat in his face, the fleck of saliva beading on his gray-tinted skin.

“You don’t know shit about me.” A poor comeback, to be sure, but you weren’t in a particularly witty mindset. He ignored your words, flicking off the droplet of spit as if it were a speck of dust. He moved to crouch in front of you, somehow still eye level. Either he was freakishly tall, or he had tied you to one of those midget-kindergartener chairs. Two valid possibilities, perhaps both correct.

“I know more than you think, darling.” Not a term of endearment in the slightest. The word rolled off his serpentine tongue almost mockingly, like a second slap in the face. Already having passed your limit, you surged your head forward and crashed your forehead into his.

Fuck, that hurt more than you had anticipated. Worth it, though, to experience the look of impotence on his face. A devilish smirk spread across your lips, peeling open the cut on the bottom. A wicked laugh left your bruised throat, your head tilting back as if this was the most amusing situation in the world.

Quite the opposite, really, but that’s irony for you.

“You fucker.” You choked out in a hoarse voice, still chuckling darkly. “Mommy didn’t love you enough, huh?” You chided cruelly, glaring up at him. It wasn’t half a second before his clenched fist collided with your already-sore jaw, snapping your head to one side. “Someone needs to control their temper.” You continued amusedly, blowing a stray piece of hair away from your eyes. You had never been good at knowing when to shut your mouth…or caring, frankly. The man, who resembled Bill Skarsgård quite strikingly, drew in a shaky breath, his demeanor dripping with a barely contained rage. You parted your busted lips to speak, but was quickly halted with an abrupt raising of his hand.

“Not one more fucking word.” His finger was pointed directly in your face; you would’ve moved to bite it, but decided that would be pushing your luck. No need to be struck for a third time before Matt arrived.

“You are an attractive young lady.” He began, already making your blood boil. You could see where this was going. “Your mouth, however, ruins the appeal.” “I’m not really looking to appeal to you, s-”

“SILENCE!” Well shit. The guy had some pipes on him, you had to admit. You merely formed your lips into a thin line, leaning back as best you could in the chair you were restrained to. A strand of his perfectly gelled hair had fallen over his forehead, painting the perfect picture of an inner rage. He seemed about to boil over, and that amused you. It was obvious he didn’t have much experience with people like you, but you were happy to be his first. That made it more entertaining, after all. 

“You are a fucking nuisance, do you know that? I have been told not to rest until you have been dealt with, and do you know how long that has been?” Don’t know, don’t care. “You make life hell for every one of us,” (criminals, you guessed), “all for your pathetic little articles.”

“My goal in life.” You smirked evilly, bracing for a third punch when a voice echoed from the darkness.

“I was raised to believe in grace.” The voice began, and immediately you recognized it.

Him.

He stepped out of the shadow-veiled corner, taking a place directly beside the now trembling man. Took him long enough, you thought.

“But I was also raised to believe in retribution.”

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Welcome Lovelies <3

Welcome to my blog everyone 😝🗣️

I started this page as a way to indulge myself by posting random little one shots, but it's gotten a lot more attention than I expected, so thank y'all so much for your support!

I'll mainly be posting one shots with the occasional reblog of something that excites me, with a couple rants sprinkled in here and there. Feel absolutely free to leave requests at any time, I will get to them as soon as possible and if I don't already know the character/person I will learn.

I hope y'all enjoy my content, I love to see any comments from y'all so don't hesitate to do so.

Love you, lovelies 😍

[strawberriesandhotmen]

i've been waiting for this moment y'all. this is an early fucking birthday present. he looked so damn good in the first one im quaking in my boots for the sequel, time to rewatch the original fifteen times to prepare

First look at Jon Bernthal in The Accountant 2! Coming on April 25!

[strawberriesandhotmen]

i appreciate everything from y'all ilysm 😫🫶🏻

how it feels to have no social media presence as an artist

[strawberriesandhotmen]

i want to hear your thoughts babies 😫

Reblog if I can go on your page and write stupid things in your ask box whenever I'd like to.

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Sound-Proof

a/n: HEY BABIES. I know Niall is not one of the main baby girls but this idea popped into my head and I just couldn’t resist. I’m imagining my blondie-boo for this particular fic, but you can envision whatever era you want, his hair color is only mentioned once. I was also really lazy with this one, sorry y’all 😭😭. Anyways, Louis is the only one of the boys I mentioned directly, but they’re all there in spirit.

pairing: fratboy!1D!Niall Horan x fem!reader

CW +18 smut: swearing, hickeys, possessive behavior, reader is a baddie I fear, kinda rough Niall but not really (rough for him in my mind), piv unprotected (wrap it up!)

word count: 2.2k

You weren’t typically the jealous type.

Well, not really.

Sure, you had moments here and there, but who doesn’t? Normally you were quite skilled at controlling your emotions and intrusive thoughts in similar situations. It wasn’t like you weren’t experienced in doing so; your boyfriend was Niall Horan, after all. Every one of the One Direction boys experienced the hordes of girls descending upon them to ‘shoot their shot.’ In your mind, though, Niall endured it the most.

So naturally, when you overheard a girl call your man ‘cutie,’ you immediately went on high alert. You were all out at a club after a show, so it was to be expected that any fan who might have heard of the boys going there wouldn’t be far behind. What you wouldn’t tolerate, however, was the touching. That was crossing a line for anyone, in your opinion, not just your overprotective self. The light brush of her hand across his shoulder was enough to ignite a fire deep in your stomach, sparking the thought in your mind of handling this before it went any farther. Niall wasn’t okay with it, as he tried to make clear, but the poor man was too nice to make a firm stand for himself. Luckily, he had you.

He had you, dressed in a matching leather set that consisted of a corset top and mini skirt that displayed the curve of your ass perfectly, lace-up ankle boots with a heel that should be illegal, and your hair done in Niall’s favorite way. You looked damn fine, and you damn well knew it. If looks could kill, everyone in the room would have been fucking annihilated the moment you walked through the door. But alas, everyone, including this bitch ass h - excuse you - girl was still standing. And that is why you decided you must handle the situation without further delay.

“Hey, cutie.” The girl drawled, her voice dripping with the most sickeningly sweet tone. She walked her fingers up Niall’s arm teasingly, biting her lip as she violated his bubble of personal space fifteen different ways.

“Wouldn’t flirt with that one if I were you, love.” Louis butted in rather coldly. He was a protective one, that was for sure, and you loved him for it. The girl poorly chose to ignore his advice, moving in closer to your increasingly uncomfortable boyfriend (if that was even possible at this point). It was at this moment that you stopped directly behind her, a patronizing smile gracing your features as you waited for the perfect time to announce your presence. You noticed Harry bite his cheek to hold in a laugh; this was the funniest thing in the world to him. You tapped the girl’s shoulder and made sure your expression was offensive enough before speaking.

“You lost, sweetheart?” You sounded almost mocking, tilting your head as if you actually cared for her answer. Your expression, however, made it clear that you did not. You could nearly hear her heart skip a beat as her breath hitched at the interruption, her body hesitantly turning to face you. The sense of reservation dropped immediately when her eyes fell on you; clearly she thought you were just a poor excuse for ‘competition.’

“Can I help you?” She scoffed, sending you the dirtiest look you had received in a while (and not the good kind). You took a slow step closer, looking her over judgmentally before responding.

“Now that you mention it, I suggest leaving my boyfriend alone.” Your tone was polite enough, but the undertones held complete bitch-energy. Before she could respond, you leaned in so your lips were right next to her ear, the tingle of your breath sending a shiver down her spine.

“Before I wipe the fucking floor with your plastic face.” She seemed shocked at your words, probably not expecting such a vivid threat, if she had been expecting one at all. She wasn’t scared, but she was certainly annoyed. She scoffed again, stuttering a bit before stumbling off around me. Mission accomplished.

“Hello, my love.” You greeted cheerfully, turning towards Niall with a grin. He laughed that beautiful laugh of his at your sudden change in demeanor, holding his arms out for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed yourself close to him, humming in satisfaction.

“Hey, princess. You look gorgeous, as usual.” Niall complimented softly, his grip on you tightening in the slightest. You pulled back to peer up at him through your lashes, a light giggle escaping your lips.

“Thank you, baby. You and the boys were amazing tonight.” The set they had played at this most recent show had been your favorite thus far, and naturally Niall’s voice sounded angelic (as per usual). His smile lit up his features as he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, releasing you from the hug. You turned to lean on the bar and signaled to the bartender you were ready to order your drink.

“Vodka, on the rocks, please.” You requested politely. Niall let out an amused huff through his nostrils, shaking his head knowingly.

“My girl likes her hard liquor.” You just rolled your eyes, smirking at him from your place at the bar.

“That’s not the only thing I like hard.” Hello? You had no idea where that comment had come from, but Niall didn’t seem to be complaining. His precious face immediately flushed crimson as he attempted to hide his flustered state with a well-executed smirk. You thanked the bartender for your drink and took a healthy swig, not flinching in the slightest as the alcohol slid down your throat like water. Niall stepped over to you, placing his hands beside your hips and effectively trapping you against the bar.

Hot.

“I don’t think I’m the only one feeling some type of way, princess.” He whispered lowly in your ear, his accent like music lilting through the air. You took another sip, setting your drink off to the side without breaking eye contact.

“Well, what are you gonna do about it?” You challenged, giving him a teasing once-over for his benefit. He returned the look, taking a step back in order to get a better view of you.

“Come with me, love.” He held his arm out for you to take as if he wasn’t implying the most ungentlemanly things. Irony is a beautiful thing. 

He quickly ushered you out of the club and led you towards his limo, practically shoving you in the backseat. The driver was there, of course, so after Niall told him to head back the apartment you blindly hit the button that put up the divider. Once the screen had closed, the two of you practically pounced on each other like animals. Niall immediately pulled you to straddle his lap, and your hands flew to undo the buttons on his shirt. He just sat there, admiring your frenzied state as you rushed to undress him. The moment his shirt is off, your lips latched onto his exposed collarbone and began leaving marks.

“Fuck, princess, you’re perfect.” He panted, his hands moving to grab onto your hips with intensity. His hips jutted upward into yours reflexively as his fingers trailed up the laces of your corset, fumbling anxiously to undo it. When he’d finally torn the garment off of you, his crystal blue eyes dropped to your exposed chest and his hands followed his gaze. You hum and let your head fall to the side as he cups your breasts, his thumbs brushing over each peaked nipple with a tenderness so starkly contrasting to his previous ferocity. Your fingers lace into his spiky blonde hair as his lips move to your breast, teasingly sucking a nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. Earning a soft moan of satisfaction from your swollen lips, Niall moves to the other side, the subtle smirk on his face showing he is pleased with his abilities. You knew damn well how good he was at this, and so did he. 

When you simply couldn’t wait any longer, you brought his face up to yours and crashed your lips into his. Niall received your intended message loud and clear, roughly tugging your tight skirt above your hips, immediately pressing his calloused thumb against your clothed (and throbbing) clit. He smiled proudly at the moan that earned him from you, teasing your puffy folds as he waited for you to further the process. Your trembling hands dropped to his pants, fumbling momentarily to unbutton them and tug the annoying fabric below his knees, taking his boxers with it. 

You actually whined at the sight of his angry cock smacking against his toned stomach, not even realizing how he was already lifting your hips to rip your panties off of you. They were useless to you now, anyways. You had soaked them through ten minutes ago.

“Shit, you’re already dripping.” He whispered, his voice filled with wonder and surprise. You would have laughed at how comical that was if your mind wasn’t consumed with the feeling of his leaking tip dragging through your cunt.

“Ni…” You whimpered pathetically, holding tightly onto his shoulders as he shifted your hips to the perfect position.

“You gonna be good f’me, princess? Gonna let me make you feel good?” He was panting himself, his pretty pale skin flushed darkly at the arousal flooding his body. You had barely choked the ‘yes’ out before he bottomed out inside of you, his tip nearly kissing your cervix at the first thrust. You couldn’t even moan then, the wind absolutely knocked out of you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” The curses flew out of your swollen lips, muttered under your breath as if you gave a shit who could hear. Niall’s movements began slow and languid, drawing long moans from you as the pulsating veins on his cock massaged your slick walls. You were almost squeezing the life out of him, and he’d barely even started.

“Already squeezin’ me so tight, princess, fu-” He breathed lowly, guiding you along his length by his grip of your hips. You were sure there would be bruises later, but you couldn’t care less. In fact, you welcomed the little reminders of when he had touched you.

“Faster, Ni, please.” You rarely ever begged for him, but when you did, he knew you fucking meant it. With only a deep, husky groan in response, he began to rut his hips up into you roughly, quickly stealing back the inhale of air you had just regained. 

Sex with Niall was like nothing else in the world; it was fucking perfect, every damn part. The way he knew exactly what spots to tease to get you soaked, the way his cock stretched your tight little pussy deliciously every time, the way his thumb drew rough circles around your clit when he knew you were close…

It was Heaven.

“Won’t last much longer if your cute little pussy keeps squeezing me like that, love. Shit, shit, shit…” He cursed, his thrusts becoming erratic as that knot in his stomach began to grow noticeable. His mumbled praises only pushed you closer to the edge, not even noticing the burning in your thighs from bouncing on his lap so forcefully.

“So close, Ni, m’gonna come.” He loved that fucking nickname you used for him, even with how simple it was. His grip on your hips tightened in response, his thrusts coming faster still (if that was even possible). Right before you teetered over the edge, he brought his hand between the two of you to roughly toy with your poor, sensitive clit the way he knew you loved. The way you moaned his name as your orgasm tore through you sent him tumbling over the edge, both of you arching into each other as the world seemed to stand still. 

Time had stopped, you were sure, your vision turning to white and your ears effectively ringing from the intensity of it all. Niall tugged you close to his as you collapsed against him, panting, a thin sheen of sweat coating you both.

“So good f’me, princess.” He hummed affectionately, pressing gentle kisses to your temple and forehead. When you had regained your senses (the gentle rub of his hands across your bare back playing no small part), you sat up slightly to smile up at him.

“Please tip your poor driver very well.” You had completely forgotten about that man in the heat of the moment, now feeling very sorry he had to experience that. Niall let out a melodic laugh, letting his head rest against the now-ruined leather seat behind him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. The divider is sound-proof.”

[strawberriesandhotmen]

yall genuinely do not understand how fucking excited i am for ddba but i have no one to talk to about it because no one watches the damn shows so yall get to hear all about it

first of all lets have a moment for bearded frank. like where the hell have you been baby welcome back (and also his damn hand on that hatchet? actually, it's around my throat) ahem anyways so

second of all matt's sexy ass daddy beard like hello? he is hopping in the dilf train and he is eating them all the fuck up i fear. that fucking shower scene is going to take me out and i'm afraid it has become my roman empire in the recent weeks. they were really serving us everything with that trailer and clearly they know what the people want

and karen? hot take im not a fan of her and never was but im sensing this show is gonna change my mind. she's looking like an icon and im predicting some major character development, maybe even a KASTLE moment dare i say? wouldn't hate it

let's all take a moment for foggy cause that damn boy grew the fuck up he is following frank and matt's lead with the beard and it's the best decision he ever made

genuinely, im really excited to see more of dex because he was a shining star in Daredevil and that character development is really intriguing for me

lastly fisk? i thought they kinda ended that on a good note but im excited to see where they go with it cause i know they'll do the most

[strawberriesandhotmen]

rip wheeler is a fine man and we all know it

excuse the rant y'all but this fine ass man needs way more recognition. like let's be real right now, the characteristic all black, the cowboy hat, the deep raspy voice, those damn hands like PLEASE. he's also such a sweetheart when you get down to it. like i know that john had to teach kayce how to run the ranch but i hate that that meant shafting rip out of his rightful place, imo. rip deserved that position more than anyone, and especially taking his past into account? idk. it had to be done but i don't have to like it. and how he treats beth? jesus christ, that woman is a bitch (an icon, but a bitch) and he still treats her with so much care and tenderness when she needs it. i feel like all the dutton boys get more recognition than him and it's a crime honestly.

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Billy Russo singing Beloved by Ben Barnes to you 🥺

i would kms 😊🫶🏻 this grown ass man needs to behave himself his digital footprint is crazy

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Shameless

a/n: Hello my lovelies. This scenario has been hiding in the back rooms for some time, so I thought I’d go ahead and get it out there. It’s a little shorter, but a beauty if I do say so myself. 

pairing: CEO!Billy Russo x fem!secretary!reader

CW +18 smut: swearing, tension, hickeys, oral (f!receiving)

word count: 2.5k

“Mr. Russo is not available right now, I’ll have him get back to you.” You sighed as you hung up the phone; that was their third call today. Couldn’t people take a hint? Your boss had been stressed beyond belief in recent days, and you, being the fantastic secretary you are, had been doing everything in your power to be sure he remained unbothered. This task had, however, proven harder than anticipated.

Your boss was a very attractive man; quite the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Those dark eyes of his rendered you unquestioningly obedient, yet not to a fault. You never failed to set him straight if you thought he was acting too rashly, and he always managed to complain about it. It was a strange relationship between the two of you.

“I need to see you in my office.” The sudden buzz of the intercom startled you, but you ignored the racing of your heart to tend to Mr. Russo’s needs. After all, that is what you’re paid for. Upon standing, you smoothed out your black pencil skirt and fixed the collar of your white button up, the click-clacking of your stilettos echoing around the marbled office building. With a quick knock, you entered Mr. Russo’s office, closing the door behind you.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” His head laid in his hands, lifting to face you only when you spoke. A heavy sigh escaped him, and he gestured to the chair opposite his own. You sat, rather hesitant internally, crossing your ankles and waiting for instructions.

“I need you to remind me of my meeting schedule for the day.” ‘Please’ was a word you had never heard the man utter, so you had come to stop expecting it. You didn’t mind, really, it was understandable to a point.

“Only one meeting today, sir, with the president of that prospective merger you’ve been considering.” He muttered a string of curses under his breath, clearly not looking forward to that appointment.

“Time?” Your eyes flickered to your lap as the answer appeared in your head.

“Fifteen minutes, sir.” He closed his eyes, seeming to be swallowing back a scolding. You hadn’t actually done anything wrong; in fact, you had reminded him of the meeting just yesterday, but you should’ve anticipated his anxious forgetfulness. “Shall I let you know when he arrives?” He merely nodded, leaving the room in silence once again. You took this as your cue to leave, making your way back to your desk once again.

After letting Mr. Russo know that the president of that merger had arrived, you decided to take your lunch break. Since the couch you ate at was sat quite close to Mr. Russo’s office, you could practically hear their whole conversation (not that the legal jargon was making much sense). It was only when you noticed your boss’s tone turning more agitated that you decided to step in.

With a swift knock, you cracked open the door and stuck your head in.

“Mr. Russo, sir, you’re needed upstairs.” He wasn’t needed, of course, but you thought a break might be helpful. You sensed a flash of relief behind his agitation, but he maintained his previously apparent expression for the benefit and ignorance of the merger president.

“Excuse me, John.” He muttered lowly, sliding on his suit jacket as he made his way to the elevator. You decided to do something to…relieve his tension, and followed behind him. Mr. Russo furrowed his brow in confusion as the doors slid shut and he saw you standing beside him; yep, definitely caught him off guard with this one.

“Don’t you have work to do, Miss-” You shook your head, interrupting his assumption. It wasn’t entirely incorrect, but it was an assumption.

“I’m on break, sir.” You clarified politely, subtly batting your lashes as you peered up at him. Billy’s eyes flickered over your face, taking in your appearance. He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to you, you were beautiful. But he tried his best not to show it, keeping his facial expression stoic.

“Ah, I see.”  He said simply, looking away from you and focusing on the elevator doors in front of them. The elevator began to move, the silence in the small space between you palpable. Billy remained painfully aware of your presence beside him.

“You seem stressed, sir.” You stepped closer, speaking in a quiet tone in an attempt to relax and soothe his anxiousness. It seemed to do the opposite, however, as Billy’s eyes widened slightly as you stepped closer, his gaze involuntarily sweeping down your figure. He took in the sight of your skirt and button up, the outfit hugging your curves perfectly. Despite his best efforts to remain indifferent, he couldn’t help the way his heart thumped slightly faster in his chest. He cleared his throat and looked away, his mind racing. 

“I’m fine.” In his attempt to sound casual, his voice wavered, betraying the facade he displayed to everyone else.

“Are you sure, Mr. Russo?” You prodded gently, placing a manicured hand on his forearm. The feeling of your hand on his arm sent sparks through his body. Your touch was intoxicating, it was driving him insane. He took a deep breath, still avoiding eye contact. He tried to keep his voice steady, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. 

“I said I’m fine.” He repeated, his tone a bit brusque. You pulled your hand away, momentarily questioning your original goal. The absence of your touch was like a jolt to his system. He missed the warmth of your hand on his arm. Despite his better judgement, he found himself wanting to pull you back towards him, to feel your touch again. But he resisted the urge, keeping his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“You don’t have to pretend, you know.” You pointed out, sharply breaking the tense silence. Billy closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He knew you were right, he shouldn't be pretending. But he had always been good at putting up a front, and he had never been good at letting people in. He opened his eyes again and looked at you, his expression softer than before. 

“I’m just…tired. I’ve been working non-stop and I feel like I’m about to snap.” He admitted softly. He leaned back against the wall of the elevator, letting his head fall back against the cool surface. He was exhausted. He had been pushing himself too hard, trying to juggle everything on his own. But he was so used to doing things alone, he didn’t know how to ask for help. Luckily, you could think of just the thing.

“Maybe you need to do something to...relax you.” You took a step toward him, fluttering your lashes again. You would get him this time. Billy raised an eyebrow at you, intrigued by your suggestion despite himself. He was well aware of the innuendo behind your words, and he surprisingly didn’t mind it.

“And what exactly do you suggest?” He asked, an uncharacteristic and playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, I am on break, sir…” I began, matching his expression. Billy’s smirk grew as he looked you up and down, taking in the sight of you in your short, tight skirt. He was getting more and more tempted by the second. He knew he should resist, it would be highly unprofessional. But he found it increasingly difficult to care about that fact.

“I suppose you are…” He said, his voice lowering to a huskier tone. He stepped closer to you, closing the distance between you. He was so close that you could feel his minty breath on your face as he let his gaze wander over your figure, taking in every curve and contour. He brought a hand up to your hip, his thumb rubbing small circles against your waist. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“You know, the elevator is currently stuck between floors.” He whispered, reaching back to push the ‘stop’ button as his fingers traced the edge of your skirt. You merely hummed in response, enjoying this.

“How unfortunate for us.” Yeah, very unfortunate. Billy chuckled softly, the raspy sound sending a wave of heat straight to your core. He brought his lips to your neck, peppering light kisses along your skin.

“What ever shall we do to pass the time?” He teased, his hand slowly trailing up your thigh.

“It seems to me like you have a few ideas, Mr. Russo.” You tilted your head to the side, granting him better access as you continued the arbitrary banter. Billy smirked against your neck, kissing his way up to your jawline. He brought up his other hand, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to look at him.

“Oh, I have plenty of ideas, darling.” He said with a low growl, his eyes darkening further with desire. Billy's gaze shifted even more as he took in the sight of you, your sultry look driving him wild. He couldn’t resist you any longer. With one swift move, he scooped you up into his arms and pressed you against the wall of the elevator, his lean body pinning you in place. He buried his face in your neck, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing up your skirt and exposing more of your skin.

As his lips trailed kisses down your neck and collarbone. His hands continued to explore your body, roaming over every inch of you. He cupped your ass, giving it a firm squeeze as he pressed himself closer to you. He could feel your breath hitch, which only fueled his desire even more.

“God, you’re stunning.” He murmured against your skin, his hands moving up to unbutton your blouse. You hummed, biting your lip as you assisted him in the removal of your top, leaving you in a white lacy bra. Kissing his neck, you rolled your hips into his, his prominent bulge poking into your hip. A low growl escaped him at the feel of you grinding against him, his lips returning to your neck. He nipped and sucked at your skin, leaving a trail of marks in his wake. He moved his hands back to the hem of your skirt, gathering up the material in his hands and tugging it up higher.

“You’re a lovely fucking woman, darling.” He rasped out, his voice gruff. You let out a gasp as he kneeled before you, the look in his eyes feral as he tugged the skirt above your hips. Now, the wet puddle between your legs would be quite clear to him. He tsked once or twice, rather feignedly condescendingly, shaking his head.

“Oh, love, you’ve ruined these already. They’ll have to go.” He didn’t wait for a response before virtually ripping off your poor panties, tossing them behind him somewhere. Cursing under his breath, he tugged your legs apart and began placing wet kisses along your inner thighs. You let out a deep sigh of contentment, threading your fingers through his hair and grasping onto it for stability. Without another word, Billy brought his mouth to your dripping center, his lips gently placing a kiss there. A low, appreciative moan left his lips before he looked back up at you.

“Fuck, princess, you taste divine.” He breathed against your throbbing pussy, his tongue slipping out to lick a long stripe up through your folds. A whimper of his name left your lips at the sensation, and your hold on his hair tightened. A strand of his perfectly gelled locks had fallen over his forehead, making him look impossibly more heavenly. 

He groaned against you as the taste of you hit his tongue, his head moving back and forth as he tried to get more of you. His hands gripped tighter at your hips, holding you firmly in place as his tongue worked to bring you ever closer to that edge, that high. You were almost to the point of dripping onto the floor, which would be quite embarrassing, but you found yourself not caring in the slightest as Billy continued to work you over with his expert tongue.

He took his time with you, not rushing in his actions. He wanted to take all the time in the world to savor you as best he could, his tongue and lips working to memorize every sensitive spot, figuring out what made you gasp and what made you moan. His hands gripped and caressed every inch of bare skin he could reach as his tongue fucked you mercilessly, shamelessly. A rather desperate-sounding groan left his lips, vibrating against your quivering folds as you felt another drop of cum leak out of your hole.

“Billy, m’close.” You moaned, fighting to keep your knees from buckling as the knot in your stomach grew with each lap of his tongue. The lewd sounds of Billy making out with your sopping cunt filled the small, confined space, drawing you that much closer to the edge. He didn’t even bother to respond with words, merely speeding up his actions, displaying how desperate he was to have your cum fill his mouth. His nose bumped your clit every so often, and when you decided you wanted more, you let your own hand travel downward to place small circles over the swollen bud. When Billy noticed this, he drew your hand away and replaced it with his own, demonstrating just how much better he was at this than you. You couldn’t contain your moans now, whimpering and gasping incessantly as you came to your peak.

“B-Billy, m’cumming, m’cumming…” You cried out, although you were sure he knew with the way his ministrations increased in urgency. He groaned lowly as your cum poured out of you, grasping your thighs tightly to keep you supported. Lapping up every last drop of your arousal, he gingerly worked you through your high, standing only when your breath slowed.

“You did so well f’me, princess.” He mumbled against your neck, placing a kiss or two down the side. “So fuckin’ pretty when you come.” You breathed deeply as you wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling softly as you looked into his eyes appreciatively.

“That was quite shameless of you, you know that?” You smirked as you teased him, absently dragging your nails along the nape of his neck. He snorted out an amused chuckle, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to your temple.“

What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Forbidden

a/n: Greetings, babygirls. I’ve been really into angst recently so I needed to indulge myself a little; I’m a sucker for this man in any and all scenarios, but fuck me if angst isn’t a topper on my list. 

pairing: rival!Punisher!Frank x fem!vigilante!reader

CW +18 smut: swearing, angst, hickeys (mention), fingering, begging, reader is a heartless little shit (but also horny so we love her)

word count: 3.5k

Forbidden.

You knew it was, you both did. And yet, somehow, neither of you seemed to give a damn.

It was only supposed to be one time; a one night stand, if you will, but you both knew that was bullshit the moment the agreement had been made.

Things had started off pretty casual; a quickie here, a blowjob there, nothing serious. Just fucking. You had intended to keep things that way; distant, far-removed (emotionally, that is). However, as most people are well aware, intentions often do not come to fruition. This situation would be no different.

You had first come into contact with the infamous Punisher on a mission of your own, attempting to extract some intel from the Russians that had recently made themselves known in the realm of ‘black market activity.’ Unfortunately for you both, Frank had had the same idea. You held your own, no doubt, feeling proud of yourself to even cut his lip in the slightest. But most people can’t take one punch from the Punisher, let alone five. Let’s just say, your jaw was very sore the next day.

You crossed paths one or two more times, each encounter holding more of the same, until a certain mission where the two of you were forced to work together. You couldn’t help that every time he cocked his gun your eyes snapped straight to his forearms. You couldn’t help the shiver that ran straight down your spine every time he uttered a word in that raspy voice of his. And, hell, who could be expected to help themselves with Frank Castle lying on top of them, shielding them from the barrage of bullets flying from the opposition? It was unbidden madness, but you found yourself welcoming it.

You could tell he felt the same, stealing side-long glances at you whenever you walked beside him, unnecessarily shielding you from incoming punches even though he could clearly see you handling it, his hand accidentally brushing against your hip at any available opportunity.

During that same mission, you began to realize the way your heart rate would pick up with each word that left his lips, and you started to understand what it is you were feeling. Well, you were feeling many things, truthfully; annoyance, exhilaration, hunger, but most of all…

Lust.

And that is how you ended up in your bed with Frank Castle. After all, you always got what you wanted, and it helped that he wanted it too. It didn’t end after the first time, with you ignoring the guilt you felt for compromising your morals in such a way. The reward, in your mind, far out won the risk. 

You couldn’t help but notice that nagging feeling, however, that you should put a stop to it, to all of it. It was dangerous, it was stupid, it was reckless. And yet, you found yourself once again falling asleep next to your antithesis, your paradox.

Frank woke up before you this time, a rare occurrence since he wasn’t really a morning person. The sunlight peeking through the blinds agitated his subconscious enough to awaken him, causing him to tiredly roll towards you. His eyelids slowly parted, his sleepy gaze landing on your angelic form.

Covered by only the thin white sheet, the silhouette of your body on full display to Frank, your hair creating a perfect halo around your head. You looked so peaceful, he thought, quite the contrast to your usual snarky attitude. 

Frank's gaze wandered down your body, taking in every single curve you had. His eyes continued to wander downward, pausing when his gaze landed on your hair. For some reason unbeknownst to him, seeing it spread out like that was extremely satisfying to him. Hell, even when it wasn’t spread out all over, it still looked good to him. His hand slowly reached out, gently grabbing a strand of your hair as he carded his fingers through. It was soft, full, and that was even after previous activities that had left you quite messy a few hours ago.

He moved a little closer to get a better look at your sleeping face. You looked really beautiful, he thought, when you weren't yelling at him or arguing about something. A small, uncharacteristic smile appeared on his lips before it slowly faded. They were supposed to be enemies…but why did you have to look so damn good?

You stirred softly in your sleep; not enough to wake, just to subtly turn your body towards him with a subconscious hum. Watching you turn towards him made something in his chest clench, but he pushed it away. He was supposed to be at war with you, not in your bed.

Despite his better judgement, he allowed his callused hand to continue running through your hair, slowly moving down to gently rest on your jawline as he quietly admired you. When he started to really feel like a creep, he decided it was time to wake you. He braced himself for you to lash out from exhausted frustration, gingerly shaking your shoulder. You must have already been on the precipice of consciousness, your eyes almost immediately fluttering open as your gazes connected. Looking down at you as your eyes opened, Frank couldn’t help but notice the way you looked at him. It was probably nothing, but he felt a tinge in his chest all the same. God, you had ruined him.

“Mornin’, princess.” he teased. You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the nickname, not appreciating it. You allowed your gaze to momentarily flit across his features, taking in the bruises and scars gleaned from his most recent mission.

“Morning.” You mumbled quietly, covering your mouth as a yawn overtook you. He chuckled softly at your tired response, watching as you yawned. You looked so cute and adorable like this, he thought, but he quickly shut himself down. Why was he getting so damn attached?

“You look a mess.” He teased again, his hand moving from your jaw to gently brush some of your locks away from your face.

“Well, I wasn’t the one who made the mess.” I shot back suggestively, sending him a look before averting my eyes to the ceiling. His face darkened slightly as a hint of a smirk appeared on his face, the memories of last night returning.

“And who was it begging for more, hm?” You rolled my eyes at his pompous reply, not dignifying his comment with a response. He chuckled, his hand trailing down and gently grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t even try it, princess. We both know you enjoyed it just as much as I did.” You uninterestedly mhm’d in response, continuing to shield yourself from experiencing any actual emotions. Letting go of your chin, he smirked again before leaning down to your neck, his lips gently brushing over a spot he’d left a mark on the night before.

“If I remember correctly, you seemed to enjoy it even more when I did this…” He paused for a moment before gently pressing his lips to the exposed skin of your neck, his hands running down your body before settling on your hips. He knew he shouldn’t be doing something like this, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be within ten feet of you, but the moment he was touching you again, all rational thoughts faded from his mind. He felt himself getting lost in you, just like he had hours ago. A small, yet all-too-influential part of him selfishly wanted more.

As your brain finally caught up to what was happening, your breath hitched at the intimacy before you pulled away, sitting up against the headboard with the sheet clutched protectively over your bare chest. He watched as you sat up, his mind still hazy with desire. He pushed it away, though, realizing that you were clearly not in the mood for anything. He rather presumptively assumed to himself that you were just tired from last night, that he must be just that good. Without a word, he sat up, his back leaning against the headboard to match you. It was silent for a few moments before he spoke again.

“You alright?” He knew you weren’t, but he knew he should ask all the same. You merely nodded in silence, not so convincingly. He studied you for a moment, noticing the way you held the sheet up, almost trying to hide yourself. Normally, he’d comment on it out of concern, but a rare voice of reason advised him to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he looked down at his lap, rubbing the back of his neck. The awkward silence nearly consumed the room before he spoke up again.

“Listen… about last night-“

“Don’t.” You rudely interrupted. You didn’t mean to be so harsh, but you had also assumed he was smart enough not to bring up the situation. You had agreed not to, after all. He paused for a moment, a bit surprised by the immediate cut-off.

“What, I’m not allowed to speak about it?” You sighed, looking straight ahead.

“It’s just better if we don’t. It was a mistake; we can recognize it like adults and move on.” Now that felt like a knife to his fucking heart. A mistake?

“...A mistake?” Frank felt a foreign sensation in his chest when you referred to it so dismissively. It wasn’t supposed to be a mistake; hell, it wasn’t supposed to be anything…so why did last night still feel so good to him?

“What, you don’t agree?” You finally looked over at him, your tone inconsiderate and rough. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, seeming to consider his response.

“I think…” he paused, trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. “I think I enjoyed it way too much to call it a mistake.” You had to scoff at that, if for no other reason than to maintain your nonchalant facade.

“It's called sex, Frank, it's meant to be pleasurable.” You stated matter-of-factly, swallowing your desire to cover your naked body as you disappeared into your closet. He leaned forward, a part of him wanting to get up and stop you from walking away. At the same time, his eyes didn’t leave your body, taking in the view for a moment before you shut the door. He swallowed the lump in his throat before leaning back against the headboard, his eyes trained on the closet door as he spoke again.

“It’s not just that, and you know it.” You sighed heavily, having tried to avoid this very conversation for so long.

“Oh, do I?” Your tone was incredulous, haughty. You were desperately trying to push him away, not all that subconsciously. He was beginning to feel agitated. Why were you trying so hard to deny it? He thought you were past that point after last night, and now it was like you were trying to run away from him all over again.

“Yes, you do. and you’re trying to deny it because you don’t want to admit how much you enjoyed it.” He snapped back. His voice had wavered slightly at the end, almost not wanting to argue with you this time.

“The sex was great, Frank, but that’s all it was.” You thought you had him there, not picking up on the ‘just sex’ he had muttered bitterly under his breath. That sentence made him feel like he got punched in the chest. He knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like this, and yet the thought of it being just sex and nothing else made him feel… strange. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or sadness or disappointment or… all three. He didn’t respond for a few moments, his hands grasping the sheets tightly as he clenched his jaw.

“You’re full of shit, you know that?” He cursed himself, knowing he could’ve come up with something better if you weren’t such a damn mind-fuck. You chuckled darkly at that, finally emerging from the closet in panties and an oversized t-shirt that had been lying on the floor.

“Got me good there, Frank.” You patronized, not waiting for a response before walking into the kitchen. You didn’t have to tell Frank you were making breakfast; You always did, no matter if you argued or not. It was strangely domestic, but you chose to ignore the implications each time, and each time you kicked yourself for it. Frank grumbled under his breath at your attitude, making gibberish comments about your unnecessary stubbornness. He was one to fucking talk. 

After a moment or two of wallowing in his disdain of you, he decided to take a shower and clean himself off. He didn’t think himself very persuasive when smelling like fish. After drying himself off, he didn’t even bother putting on a shirt, only pulling on boxers and a pair of sweatpants he had left here a week or two ago. When he stepped out of the bathroom, the smell of bacon immediately found its way into his nose, improving his mood in the slightest. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, after all. 

He stepped out of the bedroom to find you at the stove, lightly swaying your hips from side to side while humming a tune he didn’t recognize. He thought you looked like a fucking goddess, messy hair and all. There was no way in which he preferred to see you more than right now, in just a t-shirt looking uncharacteristically domestic. He was fucking enthralled by you. Tearing himself from the doorframe, he padded up behind you and snaked his arms around your waist, his chin finding your shoulder. Your muscles tensed at the unexpected contact, but you forced yourself to relax as you heaved out a sigh.

“It’s almost done, you can sit.” You said without turning to look at him. He bit back a smirk, the smell of bacon and your obstinance filling him with a new determination. He was going to have you, and you were going to enjoy it.

“That’s alright, I’ll wait.” He declined, his breath fanning over your neck. You silently cursed your body for even registering the sensation, closing your eyes just long enough to regain complete control over yourself. Flipping a slice of bacon with tongs, you inhaled as you recognized one of Frank’s hands was beginning to move downward. The thought entered your mind to refuse him, but you were so painfully conflicted that you couldn’t bear to make the hard decision. You allowed his calloused and bruised hand to snake under your tattered shirt, smoothing down the skin of your stomach before pausing at the waistband of your panties. He wanted you, but not enough to forego consent. You turned off the burner, moving the bacon pan to the back and allowing your hands to grip the edge of the counter, silently giving him permission.

You heard him let out a sigh of, what was it, relief? And with that, his fingers edged under the lace, stretching dangerously close to your subtly pulsing clit. Damn him and his coercive tactics. He turned you on more than you cared to admit (at all times), but you had moved past being embarrassed about his affect on you, and he had moved past making childish comments about it. That is, he had moved past making childish comments about it. Emphasis is important.

“I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already so wet, princess.” You rolled your eyes, not appreciating his pridefulness (not that it wasn’t completely valid).

“Bullshit, you haven’t even touched my-” You cut yourself off with an involuntary gasped as Frank’s middle finger slipped in between your folds, your body immediately betraying your previous protest. Shit.

“Fuckin’ soaked.” He huffed, sounding almost shocked at the truth behind those words. Yeah, it was shameful. You were much too turned on to even consider uttering a word, apprehensive as to whether or not your body would force a moan out of you instead.

“Not much to say now, huh?” He chided as he brushed against your clit, causing your grip on the counter to tighten in both annoyance and arousal. “What’s wrong, princess?” His lips grazed over the shell of your ear, nipping lightly before that husky voice spoke again. “Cat got your tongue?” He was a fucking menace. He was pissing you off to no end, and yet all you wanted him to do at this very moment was fuck the actual life out of you.

“Shut up, F-Frank.” Pitiful. Anyone could see through that stuttered facade. At this point, you had accepted the fact that he knew how much your body wanted this, even if your mind was screaming fifty different ways to kick him out and never be in this situation again.

“Oh, so she speaks.” What a little shit. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was only doing it to give you a taste of your own, heartless medicine. He must’ve gotten bored, slipping his finger through your folds, because he was now teasing at your dripping entrance, clearly planning to invite himself in.

“She’s so ready for me, princess. Feel that?” He whispered huskily in your ear, not waiting for a response before shoving his finger inside you up to the knuckle. Your mouth dropped open and your breath caught in your throat as he immediately found that spongy heaven inside of you, your grip on the counter so tight you thought you might break it. Frank let out a groan of satisfaction, soon beginning to pump his finger in and out of you at a torturous pace. You could see what he was doing now. He wanted you to beg.

But you wouldn’t. No fucking way.

Frank pressed his chest against your back, his bulge poking into your thinly covered ass from behind. He knew what he was doing, increasing his pace just enough to make you want more…a lot more. It was growing difficult for you to swallow back moans, to hide the gasps that caught in the back of your throat with each pump of his long finger. And just when you had felt like you had reigned in your breathing once again, he shoved a second finger into your tight, dripping hole.

Okay, so maybe you would beg.

“Fuck, Frank.” You gasp out, your hands starting to cramp as you continue to hold onto the counter. You can practically hear the smirk that spreads across his lips at your exclamation, but you were far from bothered by it at that moment.

“What’s that, darling? Something you need?” You squeezed your eyes shut at his cocky taunt, involuntarily clenching around his fingers as they ravaged you.

“F-Frank-” The plea caught on your tongue like a stale taste, foreign on your lips. You didn’t want to beg, you were sure you didn’t, except the thought of doing so sparked a fire so deep inside you that you weren’t so sure at all.

“You can do it, sweetheart, let go.” The way his breath fanned over your ear sent tingles down your spine; you wanted to let go. With a deep breath and a whimper escaping your lips, you did.

“Frank, please.” You had expected a patronizing reply, more taunting even than before. However, the response you got boiled down to a deep groan rumbling from his chest, his lips latching onto your neck as if he were holding on for dear life. His pace increased to an inhuman speed, punching your g-spot with each thrust with expert ability. His palm smacked against your puffy clit, your thoughts clouded by pleasure alone, that impending high just within reach. Your moans echoed across the walls, coupled with Frank’s groans of satisfaction. When you finally came, you didn’t think you’d ever felt so good in your life. Maybe it was the suspense, maybe it was how taboo it all was…or maybe Frank was just that good. But you didn’t care, after this you knew all you wanted was him. You had denied yourself for so long, and you didn’t want to anymore. He was yours.

After you came down from your high, Frank gingerly turned you around and pulled you into his chest, breathing heavily himself. He allowed his lips to ghost over the skin of your neck, placing light kisses here and there.

“So beautiful, baby.” The words were tender, meant. You had never heard such sincerity from him, and you felt as though you wanted to hear it again and again.

“Frank?” You whispered, tilting your head upward to meet his gaze. He looked down at you, bringing your foreheads together.

“Yeah?” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sighed.

“What is this?” You felt terribly stupid for even asking that question; it was childish, cliche, but in this situation, all too necessary. An unexpected smirk spread across his face, and he placed a chaste kiss on your lips before rasping out his reply.

“Forbidden.”

[strawberriesandhotmen]

Undone For You

a/n: Hello, my pookily bookily bears. This scenario has been running rampant in my mind for weeks, so now the rest of you get to experience it with me. 

pairing: boyfriend!Stiles x fem!virgin!reader

CW +18 smut: swearing, praise, hickeys, oral f!receiving, fingering, piv unprotected (wrap it up!)

word count: 5.5k

“Baby, I’m bored.” You whined, kicking your feet childishly as you sat on Stiles’ desk. The day had threatened to be slow to begin with, the only plans for the both of you being to hang out with Scott and Allison. Now that they had canceled, you were surely doomed to a painfully average day.

“Me too, beautiful.” Stiles let out a deep sigh as he laid back on his bed, completely oblivious to how the nickname still made your heart flutter after a year of dating. He ran a hand over his face in agitation, doubtlessly racking his brain for something to do.

After a minute or two of silence, the AC kicked on and goosebumps immediately prickled along your arms. You tended to be sensitive to the cold anyways, and sitting directly under the vent was not proving to be helpful. Being too lazy to actually walk two feet and grab a blanket, you smiled triumphantly as your eyes landed on one of Stiles’ discarded flannels that sat within arms reach. Sliding it over your tank top, you adjusted your shorts that had ridden up slightly on your thighs.

The two of you must have been a terribly oblivious pair, because it was now you who failed to notice the effect you were having on Stiles. He had always been partial to the sight of you in his clothes, but right now? With nothing else on his mind able to distract from the view in front of him? His mind began to veer to…heated things.

Those honey colored eyes were practically dripping with lust at the sight of you, his flannel draped over your curves in the most delectable way. It took every ounce of his self control to not ravage you immediately; you two had never gone further than making out, and you were worlds more important to him than sexual pleasure (however much he may fantasize about it).

His gaze fell to the way your feet didn’t quite touch the floor as you sat on his desk, the adorable manner in which you swung them back and forth absently. You looked precious, that subtle pout pulling at your features as you ran a hand through your hair, staring into the distance while your mind wandered to far off places. He was torturing himself, he knew, allowing himself to admire you like this when he couldn’t have you. Not yet. You had said you weren’t ready, and he respected that. He was even okay with it, but no amount of acceptance could stop the jolt that ran straight to his dick when his eyes landed on that teasing bit of exposed cleavage.

What was wrong with him, he wondered, was he a pervert? He didn’t think so, but he did feel as though he was properly acting like one at the moment. He just couldn’t help himself; that gorgeous skin that he knew to be so soft, those innocent eyes he could stare into for hours, your plump cheeks that flushed pink the moment a compliment reached your ears…fuck he was enamored with you. 

“Sweetheart?” He rasped, clearing his strained throat as he sat up against his headboard. You glanced up with a questioning look in your eyes, wondering if he had thought of an activity for you two.

“Yes, baby?” He smiled to himself at the nickname as it fell from your perfect lips. With a pat of his jean-clad thigh, he motioned you over to him.

“Come here.” It wasn’t a command, but a request, more like. He always spoke to you in the sweetest of tones; you never wanted to not oblige what he was asking. With an excited giggle that lit up your eyes, you hopped off the desk and padded over to him, wasting no time in straddling his lap. As his hands moved to grip your hips, your arms wrapped around his neck while you smiled widely.

“What is it?” You weren’t sure why he had called you over, but you didn’t care. You just loved being with him.

“You haven’t done anything but sit there, and I’m undone for you already.” You furrowed your brow at his words, confused, but held your tongue as he continued. “You’re just so damn beautiful, I’m losing my fucking mind.” He looked at you with an expression of utter adoration; he seemed almost reverent.

“Sti…” You whispered, a soft smile on your lips as you cupped his cheek with your hand. “I love you so much.” Those words. Those words were what made him snap. Without warning, his lips crashed into yours and his grip on your hips became almost bruising. You immediately returned the kiss, feeling no hint of hesitation anywhere in your body. His tongue bullied its way into your mouth, exploring like it was uncharted territory. As he groaned against your lips you felt his arousal grow beneath you; this wasn’t a new experience, but this time it felt different. It felt like…more.

Everything was heightened. The feeling of his lips on yours, of his hair in your hands, of your hips pressed together…it was all so intense. You hadn’t expected to lose your virginity today (or anytime soon for that matter), but now it damn well looked like a real possibility.

You had told him before that you wanted to wait, and wait a while. Technically it had been some time since that conversation, so you wouldn’t really be abandoning your morals. It would simply be an act of taking the next step in your relationship, a rather satisfying step. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little nervous; after all, it was going to hurt, even if just a little bit. But this was Stiles, he would make it better. He always made everything better.

You surprised him with a languid roll of your hips, the friction against your throbbing core absolutely delectable. You smiled against his parted lips as a gasp escaped them, pleased with the effect you were having on him. He seemed frozen in place as you began to move your hips in a torturous rhythm, your lips now latching onto the sensitive skin of his neck. You metaphorically devoured the way his breath was quickened, the way his heart beat just a little faster each time your hips met. 

You were beginning to grow impatient, needy. Your small hands migrated downward to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it eagerly.

“Off.” You breathed simply, feeling no need to beat around the bush. A huff of surprise escaped his throat at your blatant ask, but he snapped himself out of his momentary stupor and removed his shirt in one clean motion.

Fuck, you thought. How did you get so lucky?

You paused your attack on his neck to admire his exposed torso, your eyes pouring over every detail as if to memorize him. He was so…beautiful. And to think that’s what he called you. You hadn’t realized until he let out a low groan how your hands were running along his chest, then his arms, in an almost worshipful way. You desired him so profoundly, the feeling overwhelming you.

“You’re so beautiful.” You repeated in a whisper just loud enough for him to hear. A smile pulled at his features at your words, and he shook his head subtly.

“You’re the beautiful one, sweetheart.” Before you could protest, he pressed a kiss to your swollen lips, almost as if he knew you would try to argue. This kiss was different than the first; it was slower, yet more passionate, more…meaningful. It was as if you were both pouring your heart and soul into the simple, taken-for-granted gesture, as if words simply couldn’t do justice to your feelings. And you were, in fact, sure they couldn’t. 

You felt a flutter in the pit of your stomach when his hand slid under your tank top, moving to grasp your bare waist. Suddenly, it was much too warm to be wearing Stiles’ flannel. With a shrug of your shoulders, the flannel slid off your arms and you discarded it carelessly to the side. It wouldn’t be missed much, given the circumstances. Pulling back from the kiss to catch your breath, you panted heavily as you made eye contact with Stiles. His eyes were darkened with lust, his face flushed. He looked desperate.

With a deep breath, you grasped the hem of your tank top and slowly pulled it over your head, doing the same as you had with the flannel. This left you in your white lacy bra and black shorts; he had never seen this much of you before. You felt your cheeks flush as his eyes dropped to your chest, your cleavage fully on display. His lips parted, almost in awe, as he allowed his free hand to brush over your barely-clothed breast. Your breath hitched at the unfamiliar touch; you weren’t uncomfortable, you couldn’t be with Stiles. You were, however, nervous; this was uncharted territory for you, unexplored as of yet.

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” You met his gaze of sincerity, genuine concern etched into his features. You were surprising yourself in this situation, always thinking you would be the last of your friends to lose their virginity. You nodded slowly, exhaling the breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding.

“I want you.” He closed his eyes at your pleading words, seeming to swallow back a groan at the implications. You let out a gasp as he picked you up by your hips and flipped you around, now laying you on your back on his bed. Well, it seemed he would be wasting no time.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” Shit. You hadn’t heard this tone before, so deep and husky with desire. His lips pressed sloppy kisses along your neck, slowly inching down to your collarbone. It was here he decided to leave a mark, a sign that you were his.

“S-Stiles.” You breathed out, the hint of a moan in the back of your throat. Your mind had become foggy, a haze thinly veiled over your thoughts so that you couldn’t quite reach a coherent one. You had never felt so strongly about something in your life; you needed him, desperately. When you felt his hands move to the waistband of your shorts, a jolt of desire shot straight to your core.

“Can I take these off?” The request was gentle, quiet, especially when coupled with that adorable mix of concern and lust playing on Stiles’ features. A tightened feeling appeared in your chest; suddenly everything felt like it was moving so fast. But you wanted this, you really did. After all, how could you not?

You merely nodded, not feeling the need to expend energy stringing together a sentence. 

“I need words, beautiful.” He repeated his request, clearly in want of a verbal response. You swallowed hard, choking out the ‘yes’ he was looking for. A smirk spread across his face at your agreement, and his fingers moved to slide your shorts down your legs. He did it slowly, teasingly, almost as if he was waiting for you to protest. Perhaps he couldn’t really believe this was happening, like he was expecting to wake up any moment and find out it was all a dream.

You inhaled sharply when he tossed your shorts to the side. He was staring at you in pure amazement, his eyes hungrily raking over your half-exposed form.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, baby.” He breathed, huffing in disbelief. “I swear to God, you’re a fucking angel.” You smiled at his words, your cheeks flushing an even darker shade as you avoided his gaze in flattered embarrassment. You never thought of yourself as looking particularly special, so this was certainly a new feeling. His hand came to grasp your chin, turning your head to face him again.

“Don’t hide that pretty face, sweetheart.” He smiled before leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. This one was slow, languid, romantic. It was pure bliss. You let your hands fall to the button of his jeans, hovering over it in hesitation. You wanted this, you were sure you did, but for some reason you still felt like you had to convince yourself. 

Within a moment you had rid yourself of doubt with a quick glance into his eyes darkened by desire; that was all it took. Nimbly pulling the zipper down and tugging the pants off his legs, you felt the vibration of his groan against your lips. His hands gripped your sides like he was afraid you would disappear, reckless abandon consuming him as he continued to kiss you. You felt his hand slowly migrate upwards towards the clasp of your bra, sparking a thousand butterflies to life in your stomach. Unwittingly, your hand flies up to capture his wrist, momentarily delaying his intended action.

“What’s wrong, baby? Do you want me to stop?” Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself; you could do this, you wanted to, after all. It was all just so new, yet so exciting. You shook your head no, meeting his concerned gaze. He opened his mouth to speak again, but you interrupted him before he could. You knew what he was planning to say. “I want this, Stiles. I want you.” You promised yourself you wouldn’t stop him anymore, the ache between your thighs nearing a burning level. Stiles resumed his work on your bra clasp, expertly flicking it open and tossing your bra to the side where it joined the rest of the discarded garments.

“Fuck, baby. So fucking pretty.” You let out a gasp as he pressed kisses all over your breasts, not quite grazing your pert nipples just yet. They pebbled from contact with the cold air, along with pure and complete arousal. It was then that Stiles turned his attention to the rosy peaks of your breasts, his tongue darting out to tease you gently.

“Stiles,” You whined, “Don’t tease.” You were squirming underneath him, your hands wandering the bed beneath you in search of something to grasp onto. He let out a soft chuckle at your insistence, finding it absolutely adorable.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna take care of you.” Your mind became cloudy as Stiles practically worshipped your body, his lips ghosting over every inch of skin, his fingertips grazing along just after. He was almost reverent in his actions, taking his time with you. He wanted this to be special for you, he wanted you to remember it forever. This wouldn’t be one of those memories that faded into the background as others took its place; no, rather, it would claim a special place in your heart and remain there no matter what. Yes, he thought to himself, that’s how he wanted this to go.

It wasn’t until you felt his fingers graze over your clothed clit that you snapped back into reality,  your eyes flying open at the foreign sensation. A high pitched whimper escaped from your lips as Stiles teasingly rubbed your covered folds, his pace torturous and heavenly at the same time. You were sending him out of his mind at how blissed out you already were. He had barely even touched you, he thought, and yet here you were writhing beneath him. He was enjoying every fucking moment of it.

“That feel good, baby?” He cooed, the deep rasp in his tone sparking another wave of wet heat to pool between your thighs. Your brain was just now processing how wet you actually were, and it was quite shameful, in your eyes. Stiles, on the other hand, found it to be fucking perfection. You had already almost soaked through your panties, your slick now sticking to Stiles’ fingers. When his eyes glanced down to where he was touching you, they nearly popped out of their sockets. Those flimsy white panties of yours might as well have not even existed with how see-through they were, your arousal completely ruining them. He muttered a string of curses under his breath as a jolt shot through him, his dick twitching at the sight.

“Can I take these off too, sweet girl?” He had become impatient all of a sudden, his words flooding out in a rushed cadence as his fingers prematurely hooked under the lace of your panties. Staying true to your original promise, you merely nodded in agreement, flusteredly choking out a ‘yes’ when you remembered what a stickler he was for words. You sucked in a sharp breath as your panties joined the pile of clothes on the floor, realizing how exposed you were before him.

“Holy shit, baby, you’re so fucking perfect.” Your breath left your mouth in short huffs, your heart rate practically through the roof. He let his hands trail from your hips, down your plush thighs, eventually gripping them gently.

“Is this okay?” He looked up at you with need flooding his eyes, clearly using every ounce of self restraint not to destroy you then and there (yet part of you wished he would). You nodded quickly, feeling no need to play coy at this point. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, his hold on your thighs tightening. He began to gently push your thighs apart as he opened his eyes again, his lips falling open at the sight of your dripping cunt flooding onto the sheets (well, those would now be unusable).

“Look at this pretty fucking pussy.” His voice was low, the sensation of his warm breath against your sloppy folds making your head spin as he leant down close. 

“Stiles.” He nearly lost his damn head at your small whimper, the sound meek and fucking delicious. The sound only repeated as he leant down closer, his lips mere centimeters from where you needed him the most. You squirmed beneath his intensity, feeling more arousal drip onto the bed. You were making quite the mess, but Stiles didn’t seem to notice. If he did, he didn’t give a shit. His gaze met yours once more, and you noticed his lips part like he was about to speak. You already knew what he was going to say, so you replied before he had to.

“Yes.” God, in that moment he thought he’d never heard a more beautiful word in his life. In that moment, all semblance of restraint vanished, and the considerate expression on his face morphed into something much more animalistic, feral. In that moment, all he could see was you.

Before you could process what was happening, Stiles had flattened his tongue to lick a slow, lewd stripe along your core, ending at your clit with a soft kiss. You had never felt anything like it in your life, and you were somehow coherent enough to be surprised that the only noise it drew out of you was a sharp gasp. With your head pressed back into the mattress and your hands tightly gripping the sheets, you forced your thighs open as Stiles continued to lick softly at your pussy. You whined disappointedly when you felt the absence of his touch against you, lifting your head to realize he was smiling at you. One of his perfectly veiny hands reached up to softly grasp your wrist, guiding your hand to the back of his head.

“Hold onto me, baby.” He whispered. “I’ve got you.” Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you laid back against the bed and not-so-patiently awaited him to continue. When he leant down this time, after placing a gentle kiss to your clit, he began to softly suck at the swollen bud, sparking fireworks in your head. You had never thought it was possible to feel this way; it’s not like you’d never experimented on your own before, but your shower head was no match for this man and his tongue. You couldn’t help but allow your mind to wander to imaginings of what his cock would feel like, but you were soon snapped away from those thoughts at one of his fingers teasing your entrance. You immediately tensed up, not because you didn’t want this, but because you were scared. Everyone always made a big deal of the pain, and you didn’t want to feel like that right now. You didn’t want to ruin the perfect fantasy.

“Hey, sweetheart, look at me.” Stiles prodded gently. You lifted your head for a second time to look down at him. “It’s gonna feel a little tight, but it’s not going to hurt you right now.” Right now you thought? You didn’t want it to hurt at all. He chuckled softly at the expression on your face, sitting up on his forearms to look at you better. “I have to get you ready for me, baby.” Jesus Christ; those words coupled with the smug expression on his face nearly ruined you, and all doubt had immediately flown out the metaphorical window. Rather comically, you quickly laid flat on the bed again, parting your legs wider (if that was even possible), readying yourself for him. You heard him attempt to hold back a chuckle at your adorable impatience, but it didn’t phase you. Your head had been clouded by desire, and nothing else mattered.

Your mouth fell open as he sucked on your clit again, more roughly this time. It was fucking heavenly, almost overwhelming. That feeling, however, was absolutely nothing compared to when he began to push his finger into your tight cunt. Everything was heightened, doubled, earning a choked whimper from your lips as he pushed past the first ring of resistance with ease. It shouldn’t have been too hard, after all, with how absolutely soaked you were. You didn’t even register the string of curses that flowed from your mouth as he thrusted all the way in, prodding at your g-spot teasingly. After making sure you weren’t feeling any pain, Stiles began to pump his finger in and out at a torturous pace, simultaneously wrecking your clit with his perfect lips. 

You hadn’t realized you were moaning until Stiles groaned against you, the vibrations akin to shockwaves shooting through your body. It seemed this was just as pleasurable for him as it was for you, somehow.

“You taste so damn good, baby. Fuckin’ perfect f’me.” The words were muffled with him refusing to pull his lips from you, but the effect they had on you was the same. Your hand in his hair tightened and you whined as he pushed another finger in, now growing impatient himself. The lewd, wet sounds bounced off the walls, heightening what you were feeling even more. With each pump of his fingers, Stiles pressed into that spongy button deep inside you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continued his work on your clit. You soon felt a sensation in the pit of your stomach, like a knot that grew larger with each move he made.

“Stiles, m’gonna-” “I know, baby, I’ve got you. Let me hear you.” Your moans grew louder with the curl of your toes as the feeling became overwhelming. Stiles’ groan at the sound of you quickly pushed you over the edge, and your orgasm crashed through you like nothing you’d felt before. Your second hand somehow joined the first in his hair as you arched off the bed, knees bent and toes curled as Stiles fingered you through your high. When you thought you finally came back to reality, you lifted your head slightly to look at Stiles.  He was looking up at you with a smile on his face, his lips drenched in your juices. You thought you’d never seen anything more beautiful. He gently resumed his previous position over you, supporting himself with his forearms on either side of you.

“You did so good, sweetheart. So pretty comin’ for me.” You felt a jolt of desire shoot through you again as Stiles made a show of cleaning his fingers, sucking them off with a low groan sounding from his chest. “Taste so fuckin’ good, too.” He rasped as his lips attached to your neck, planting wet spots and love bites as he moved along your soft skin. Your hands remained tangled in his hair, your legs intertwined together.

“Sti?” You asked softly, breathlessly.

“What is it, gorgeous?” He mumbled, his lips now edging down to your collarbone. You were feeling sheepish, meek, for even asking. The pleasure he had just given you had been mind-blowing, but already you found yourself wanting more. The aching throb of your pussy hadn’t dissipated; if anything, your desire for Stiles had only grown since the beginning. It was an all-consuming thought, clouding your rational judgement that urged you to give yourself a moment to rest. No, rest was the last thing on your mind. You wanted him inside of you. Now.

You cupped the sides of his face with your hands, peppering needy kisses along his radiant skin. Entangling your limbs with his, you trapped one of his legs with yours and pulled him closer.

“Need you, please.” Fuck. Your beautiful, melodic voice coupled with that soft but desperate plea nearly sent him tumbling over the edge then and there. How could he possibly deny you, laying bare beneath him, waiting so readily for him to give you all he had? Pulling himself out of his lustful daze long enough to respond to you, a smile spread across his wet lips.

“As you wish.” Stiles wrenched himself away from you long enough to impatiently tug off his boxers, your eyes nearly popping out of your skull at the sight of him. The smack of his painful erection against his stomach bounced off the walls, seeping into your ears like music. His tip was angry and red, a bead of pre-cum already threatening to spill over. Shit, you thought, how had he contained himself? He bit back a smirk at your wanton expression, settling between your legs once more as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You could still taste remnants of yourself on his tongue, drawing a tiny moan out of you that was drowned out into the kiss.

“This is going to hurt, baby, but I need you to relax for me.” You closed your eyes with a sigh, willing the tension out of your body. You gently swiped your thumb over Stiles’ bottom lip as you met his gaze again, nodding in silent permission. With a shaky exhale of his own, Stiles lined himself up with your leaking entrance, intertwining his fingers with yours as he pinned your hands beside your head.

The moment he began to push into you he captured your lips in a bruising kiss, almost in an effort to distract you, or maybe even swallow the sound of your pained whimpers as he stretched your poor cunt around his pulsing cock. You tried to focus on the feel of his tongue exploring your mouth rather than his dick splitting you in two, but the pain consumed your mind enough to draw a tear from the corner of your eye. He shushed you sweetly, understandingly, pausing to let you adjust.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know, I’m so sorry.” He peppered kisses over your forehead and cheek, almost apologizing for the pain. When the feeling became bearable, you nodded, letting him know he could move. Your breath caught in your throat as he pushed further in, his hoarse voice letting you know he was over halfway now. Just when you thought he couldn’t possibly fit anymore, he squeezed the last inch of himself into you, letting out a strangled groan as he let himself experience your gummy walls squeezing the life out of him. You gasped out the breath you were holding, your head pressed back into the pillow as your breath escaped you in huffs. After maybe a minute of sitting torturously still, you could tell Stiles needed to move, and you needed it too. The pain had dissipated, replaced now by a desperate desire for him to pound into you relentlessly. You didn’t even know what it would feel like, but you were sure you wouldn’t regret it.

“Sti, I need you t-” Your request was interrupted by your own moan as Stiles exhaled sharply, finally beginning to pull out of you. He didn’t waste a minute, telling you how much he needed this too. He had probably been counting the fucking seconds waiting for you to get it together. His pace to begin with was slow and punishing, as he clearly was still attempting to be gentle with you. At this point, you were past caring about him splitting you in fucking two, now almost yearning for it.

“F-faster, please.” As if you would need to ask twice; his pace immediately picked up, pulling deep moans from your lips as the pleasure registered in your brain. A groan rumbled from deep in his chest as he obliged, the sound of your desperate whimpers sending his head into a fervent spiral of lust. With each thrust he expertly pounded your g-spot, leaving your mouth hanging open as a chorus of gasps and moans echoed off the walls. He laid his forehead against yours as he increased his pace more still, his breath ragged and shallow as he bit back moans of his own (for no reason if not to hear you better). Neither of you realized how hard you were squeezing his hands, which remained intertwined with yours beside your head. 

There was a moment when time seemed to slow, where all you could hear was Stiles’ heartbeat, and the sensation of his breath against you was amplified exponentially. You felt high as a kite, any point of physical contact akin to a fucking miracle. You sensed a knot beginning to grow in your stomach, snapping you back to reality as the lecherous sounds of skin-on-skin crowded the room. Stiles let out a moan as your soaking walls contracted around him, the sound low and husky.

“That’s it, baby. Squeeze the fuckin’ life out of me.” He punctuated each word with a thrust, each seeming harder than the last. You couldn’t even choke out a single syllable, your breath almost permanently caught in your throat as he pistoned into you with incredible force. Stiles could clearly sense your impending orgasm, shifting his grip on you so that one hand held yours as his other traveled down between you. With a loud moan from you, his fingers found your clit, circling tight movements around the swollen bud in an attempt to push you over the edge. The abhorrent squelching sounds of his cock spearing into your drenched cunt brought you impossibly closer to that high you so desperately needed.

“Sti-”

“I know, baby, I know. Fuckin’ come for me; let me see how pretty you are when you come all over my cock.” You whimpered a string of please’s, even knowing Stiles already had you dangling over the edge. The knot in your stomach had grown into a fucking boulder, the pleasure overwhelming as you arched off the bed, straining against Stiles’ grip in your wrists. And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, you cried out Stiles’ name, your toes curling salaciously as your entire body was overcome with feeling. You couldn’t even call it an orgasm, no, it was so much more meaningful than that. Mind blowing though it was, that peak also held every bit of love you had for Stiles, every ounce. 

You barely registered when Stiles pulled out and released onto your stomach, your brain completely hazed from the heaven you had just experienced. Stiles collapsed beside you with heaving breaths, immediately pulling your sweat-glazed body against his own.

“God, baby, you were fuckin’ perfect.  Feel so damn good f’me.” His voice was hoarse, the raspiness sending tingles down your spine. You swung your leg over his hip, obviously not satisfied with your previous level of closeness. Cupping his face with your hands, you smiled up at him softly, letting your thumbs trace soothing circles into his cheeks.

“I love you, Sti.” Those words had never meant more than when you said them now, and he could see it in your eyes. With a return of the same expression, Stiles brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering.

“I love you more.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Stiles let you nuzzle your face into his glistening chest. Absolutely wrecked, you soon drifted off to sleep, and when Stiles felt your body relax in his embrace, he spoke once more before giving himself over to exhaustion.

“And I always will.”